If Catullus is like Seinfeld, Virgil must be like the West Wing. The writing is sharp and richly dense, issues are rarely black and white, and it deals with contemporary politics, complex characters and the human condition.
[Disclaimer: I have never actually seen an episode of the West Wing either, but sometimes it feels like everybody I know watches it- this post is based on their opinions]
Friday, June 27, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Orpheus Rising
An interesting book review caught my eye the other day, which may be of interest to my year 11 class. The book is called Orpheus Rising- here's part of the review:
My year 11 class recently read Virgil's version of the myth from the Georgics. This is how he describes the moment when Orpheus looks back at his wife, following behind him:
...subita incautum dementia cepit amantem,
ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.
restitit Eurydicenque suam iam luce sub ipsa
immemor heu! victusque animi respexit. Ibi omnis
effusus labor atque immitis rupta tyranni
foedera...
A sudden madness seized the unwary lover, forgiveable indeed, if only the dead knew how to forgive. He stopped and, alas, forgetful of his dear Eurydice, now on the very verge of daylight, conquered in his resolve, he looked back. Then all his work was wasted, and the conditions of the cruel queen were broken...
It's a sad moment, and Virgil wants us to feel sorry for Orpheus- he portrays him as the passive victim (seized by madness, conquered in his resolve), he repeats himself (ignoscenda, ignoscere) as if to say he understands what Orpheus has done, and he gives us a glimpse of his own feelings when he inserts himself into the story, crying immemor heu (alas, forgetful).
You can watch the story of Orpheus and Eurydice at Winged Sandals, and over at Eternally Cool there are some modern retellings of myths from Ovid's Metamorphoses, such as Apollo and Daphne and Cupid and Psyche.
Ryan's story is a modern retelling of the Orpheus myth: an artist goes to the underworld to retrieve his beloved lost wife but disobeys the gods by looking back and so loses her forever. In his quest to reconnect with his murdered wife, Ryan becomes a medium who can see and talk to dead people, and convey their messages back to the living...
The whole thing is elaborately crazy but in an entertaining, Irish way.
My year 11 class recently read Virgil's version of the myth from the Georgics. This is how he describes the moment when Orpheus looks back at his wife, following behind him:
...subita incautum dementia cepit amantem,
ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.
restitit Eurydicenque suam iam luce sub ipsa
immemor heu! victusque animi respexit. Ibi omnis
effusus labor atque immitis rupta tyranni
foedera...
A sudden madness seized the unwary lover, forgiveable indeed, if only the dead knew how to forgive. He stopped and, alas, forgetful of his dear Eurydice, now on the very verge of daylight, conquered in his resolve, he looked back. Then all his work was wasted, and the conditions of the cruel queen were broken...
Virgil, Georgics IV.488-93
It's a sad moment, and Virgil wants us to feel sorry for Orpheus- he portrays him as the passive victim (seized by madness, conquered in his resolve), he repeats himself (ignoscenda, ignoscere) as if to say he understands what Orpheus has done, and he gives us a glimpse of his own feelings when he inserts himself into the story, crying immemor heu (alas, forgetful).
You can watch the story of Orpheus and Eurydice at Winged Sandals, and over at Eternally Cool there are some modern retellings of myths from Ovid's Metamorphoses, such as Apollo and Daphne and Cupid and Psyche.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Catullus and Seinfeld
The other day while marking some year 12 essays I had a revelation. It struck me that Catullus’ poetry is a lot like the TV show Seinfeld, while Horace’s is more like Sex and the City. Let me explain.
Seinfeld was a show which claimed to be about nothing, but in fact was about lots of stuff- based around the everyday lives and relationships of four friends. Sex and the City on the over hand claimed to be revolutionary television, but when you stripped away the rhetoric it too was about the everyday lives and relationships of four friends.
Catullus claims in his introductory poem that his poetry is also about nothing when he calls his poems mere trifles (‘nugas’). What I think he means is that his poetry doesn’t deal with any of the subjects which were considered in his time to be serious and important; subjects like mythology, gods, heroes, wars, history and even philosophy. Rather his poems are (generally) about his everyday life and relationships. Catullus was not the first to write this kind of poetry, he was heavily influenced by the Alexandrian poets of 200 or so years before (especially Callimachus)
On the other hand, Horace (in Ode III.30, a kind of epilogue, reflecting on his own poetic achievements) claims to have completed in his poetry a monument more lasting than bronze (‘aere perennius’) which will ensure his immortality as long as Rome exists. His boast rests on the assertion that he was the first (‘princeps’) to bring Greek poetry to Rome – though this is not strictly accurate. Catullus and the other poetae novi (whose work is for the most part sadly lost) also experimented with Greek themes, forms, meters and conventions in the same way that Horace did.
So, like Seinfeld, Catullus claims that his poems are nothing, when really they are something, and Horace, like Sex and the City, claims that his poems are revolutionary, when really they are heavily indebted to what has gone before.
[Disclaimer: I have never actually watched an episode of Sex and the City - this is just the impression I get of the show]
Seinfeld was a show which claimed to be about nothing, but in fact was about lots of stuff- based around the everyday lives and relationships of four friends. Sex and the City on the over hand claimed to be revolutionary television, but when you stripped away the rhetoric it too was about the everyday lives and relationships of four friends.
Catullus claims in his introductory poem that his poetry is also about nothing when he calls his poems mere trifles (‘nugas’). What I think he means is that his poetry doesn’t deal with any of the subjects which were considered in his time to be serious and important; subjects like mythology, gods, heroes, wars, history and even philosophy. Rather his poems are (generally) about his everyday life and relationships. Catullus was not the first to write this kind of poetry, he was heavily influenced by the Alexandrian poets of 200 or so years before (especially Callimachus)
On the other hand, Horace (in Ode III.30, a kind of epilogue, reflecting on his own poetic achievements) claims to have completed in his poetry a monument more lasting than bronze (‘aere perennius’) which will ensure his immortality as long as Rome exists. His boast rests on the assertion that he was the first (‘princeps’) to bring Greek poetry to Rome – though this is not strictly accurate. Catullus and the other poetae novi (whose work is for the most part sadly lost) also experimented with Greek themes, forms, meters and conventions in the same way that Horace did.
So, like Seinfeld, Catullus claims that his poems are nothing, when really they are something, and Horace, like Sex and the City, claims that his poems are revolutionary, when really they are heavily indebted to what has gone before.
[Disclaimer: I have never actually watched an episode of Sex and the City - this is just the impression I get of the show]
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
palindromes
Over at LatinLanguage.us there's a palindrome challenge: how many five letter Latin palindromes can you think of? Even my year 8 class should be able to think of one, if not two, present tense verbs; the others are a little more obscure. Here are the answers.
For some more Latin palindromes and other word games see this related post.
For some more Latin palindromes and other word games see this related post.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Landscapes of emotion: Aeneas and the Tiber
For my year 12 class, studying hard over this weekend for an assessment task, here are some excerpts from an article (by Richard Jenkyns) I found in a back issue of Omnibus:
It is Virgil's habit to look at familiar things as though they were strange... [and in the Aeneid] he takes the landscape of Italy and... makes us see the familiar as strange. It is also his practice in the Aeneid to look at people and things from various different viewpoints... The Sibyl calls Turnus a second Achilles, but in the end he will play the role of Hector. To Juno and Amata Aeneas seems like a Paris (or so they unjustly claim), but at different times we see him in lights that suggest Hector, Achilles, Jason, Augustus and so on. Virgil walsk round his characters, so to speak, examining them from different angles, casting different lights upon them...
Let us then... apply [these two practices of Virgil's] to the voyage up the Tiber. He allows the reader to the scene from four or five separate points of view, and in each of them the familiar is made strange in at least one way.
First there is the Trojans' viewpoint. They are witnessing a miracle, and they are penetrating into the unknown: the 'cutting through the green woods' is splendidly jungly, and the fine phrase longos superant flexus, which has them 'conquering' each new bend, conveys the sense that they are discovering and exploring things utterly unkown before. Then there is the viewpoint of ourselves, Virgil's Italian readers (I say that because we must imagine ourselves to be Italians of the Augustan age if we are to get into the spirit of the poem): we see the familiar stretch of river between Ostia and Rome made strange in two ways. We see what in our own day is the most densely populated area in the world turned into jungle; and we see the turbulent silty Tiber turned by miracle into a glassy calm (Tiber was notoriously yellow from the mud it carried; we see it in this form, yellow and eddying, near the start of the seventh book)...
One last point of view remains, that of the landscape itself. The passage is flooded with words for wonder: 'mirantur... miratur' But by a stroke of genius Virgil attributes this not to the Trojans - we can take it for granted that they marvel - but to the woods and waters... Virgil makes us suppose that the wonderment of nature here is not just a loose way of talking but a reality, part of the wonder itself: one aspect of the miracle is that the landscape comes alive and feels.
Classicum
Last week a copy of Classicum- the journal of the Classical Languages Teachers’ Association- arrived in the post. There were a couple of interesting articles, including one by Dexter Hoyos (who taught me Latin at Sydney Uni), on why we translate from Latin to English. It seems an odd question, but his point is that focussing on translating Latin makes us overlook the skills we need to read and understand Latin. Here are a few excerpts:
The full article was originally published in CPL online and can be down loaded here. Professor Hoyos is also the author of the book Latin, how to read it fluently : a practical manual (read more about this book here- you'll need to scroll down the page a bit to find the relevant info).
Why do we translate Latin into English in our Latin courses? The answer might seem incontestable: to enable students to practise their grasp of Latin grammar, and teachers to have a ready check on their progress. Another question is perhaps more pertinent: why does translating from Latin (and, in some courses, into Latin) persist right through secondary school study and then university study too? And most pertinent of all, why do we in effect kiss goodbye – from the very beginning – to all hope that our students will understand what Romans wrote without making it into English?…
[Translating] does have its uses. We cannot teach elementary Latin without it to clarify points of grammar and meaning. Even at advanced levels it can be useful for explaining some points to students. Translating well is also intellectually satisfying in itself. Even so, as an element of Latin study it is like using a teaspoon to eat a meal: at best , useful but not ideal; at worst, a misdirection of effort…
There are two critical drawbacks to this [approach]. The first is obvious: if to understand one has to translate, how much of one’s life is needed for ‘reading’ the twelve books of the Aeneid or twenty-nine of Cicero’s extant speeches (not to mention all fifty-eight)? ... The second drawback is still more damaging. Translating-to-understand encourages learners to assume… that the proper medium for understanding and absorbing Roman literature is English… This is killing to any in-depth comprehension of a text…
The full article was originally published in CPL online and can be down loaded here. Professor Hoyos is also the author of the book Latin, how to read it fluently : a practical manual (read more about this book here- you'll need to scroll down the page a bit to find the relevant info).
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
monumentum aere perennius
Horace's Ode III.30 is a reflection on the completion of his first three books of poetry. It begins:exegi monumentum aere perennius
regalique situ pyramidum altius...
I have completed a monument more lasting than bronze
and more noble than the pyramids of kings...
Obviously he had a pretty high view of his achievement (see previous post if you want to know more), but it turns out he was right. In fact more right than he could have imagined. Later on he writes:
non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei
vitabit Libitinam...
I shall not die completely, but a great part of me
shall avoid death...
...dum Capitolium
scandet cum tacita virgine pontifex.
... for as long as the chief-priest
ascends the Capitol with a silent maiden.*
Roman sacrifices on the Capitoline Hill stopped long ago, but Horace's poetry is still read (and even sometimes appreciated) widely. If you don't believe me check out this post.
Anyway, this picture is a statue which is at least as old as Horace's poetry; from the Museo Nazionale Romano at the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme in Rome, where it lives in the same room as this statue. The statues in pretty good shape, which is Horace's point - bronze lasts a long time, and so will his poetry. I guess only time will tell whether Horace outlasts the statue in the long run.
*[Just to clarify, the maiden, the embodiment of goodness and purity etc, was to help out with the sacrifices, not to be sacrificed. The Romans didn't do human sacrifice. Much.]
another essay
Friday, June 06, 2008
sputnik
I wrote a post about a guy called fusionman the other day, with some advice from Daedalus and Icarus (stay away from the sun!). Now I notice there's a guy with the nickname sputnik doing a similar thing- flying unassisted at 250km/h.
In the Metamorphoses when Daedalus creates wings to help him and his son escape from Crete, Ovid comments that he is 'changing nature' (naturam novat); it's not natural for people to fly, but it seems like there are a few people out there who just won't accept that.
In the Metamorphoses when Daedalus creates wings to help him and his son escape from Crete, Ovid comments that he is 'changing nature' (naturam novat); it's not natural for people to fly, but it seems like there are a few people out there who just won't accept that.
Sarpedon
I found this comic (drawn by Martin Pickles) the other day while going through a back issue of Omnibus magazine. The inspiration comes from the Iliad, where Sarpedon (a mighty warrior, allied to the Trojans) attacks the Greek camp. Here is how Homer describes the scene:
Even then the Trojans and glorious Hector would not yet have broken through the gate of the wall and its long cross bar, if Zeus the counsellor had not set his own son Sarpedon at the Argives, like a lion on twist-horned cattle. He held the even circle of his shield in front of him... and with two spears in his grip he set out like a mountain lion, who has been long without meat, and his proud heart urges him to break right in to a close-built fold and try for the sheep: even if he finds herdsmen there, watching over their sheep with dogs and spears, he will not run from the pen without an attempt, but either he leaps in and makes his kill, or is himself hit in the first defence by a spear from a quick hand. So then his heart prompted god-like Sarpedon to storm the wall and break through the battlements.
Iliad XII
Lion similes are common both in Homer and Virgil; at the beginning of Aeneid XII Turnus is compared to a lion in a simile that tells us much about his character:
Turnus ut infractos adverso Marte Latinos
defecisse videt, sua nunc promissa reposci,
se signari oculis, ultro implacabilis ardet
attollitque animos. Poenorum qualis in arvis
saucius ille gravi venantum vulnere pectus
tum demum movet arma leo, gaudetque comantis
excutiens cervice toros fixumque latronis
impavidus frangit telum et fremit ore cruento:
haud secus accenso gliscit violentia Turno.
Turnus, when he sees that the Latins, broken by hostile Mars, had become tired, that now he was being forced to fulfil his oaths and that everyone was seeking him with their eyes, burns with an unquenchable fire, and encourages their spirits. Just like a lion in the fields of Carthage, suffering from the hunters' deep wound in his chest, when it finally picks up the fight, and takes heart, shaking the hairy muscles of its neck, and he fearlessly breaks off the piercing spear of the bandit, and roars with its bloody mouth: just like this did the violence swell in the enflamed Turnus.
Aeneid XII.1-9
Monday, June 02, 2008
hospites Romani
If you could have dinner with three Romans, who would you invite? I was thinking about this the other day, and here is my guest list:
Cicero was my first choice. I suspect that he was a bit of an arrogant git, but there’s no doubt that the man was a genius. From humble(ish) origins he rose to become one of the most influential men in Rome. He was consul in 63 BC, and Julius Caesar invited him to join the first triumvirate (Cicero refused because he hated Caesar, but that’s another story). He had a sense of humour and a bitterly sharp wit, and was incredibly educated- he studied oratory in Athens, and in his later years when he was effectively side-lined from politics he spent his spare time translating Greek philosophy into Latin. He also lived in one of the most interesting periods of time in Roman history- the final years of the republic- and knew lots of fascinating people- not only Caesar, but Antony, Octavian, Cleopatra, Catullus (and Lesbia/Clodia). He didn’t like most of them, but that only makes him a more entertaining guest.
It would be tempting to invite some of Cicero’s acquaintances (perhaps Catullus and Lesbia?) just to watch the fireworks, but in the interest of variety my next guest would be Agrippina, mother of the emperor Nero. Agrippina was one of the last of the fascinating, but troubled, Julio-Claudian family. Her brother was the emperor Caligula, and her uncle (later also her husband) was the emperor Claudius. Caligula didn’t like her much (he sent her into exile) but she had considerable influence over Claudius, and when Nero came to power she was for a time effectively co-emperor. Later Nero grew to resent her, and eventually had her killed. Such a powerful and ambitious woman so closely connected to three different emperors would undoubtedly have a few good stories to tell, though you’d probably need to watch the food closely (she was said to have poisoned Claudius).
I can imagine the conversation at my dinner party getting pretty heavy with those two, and can think of no one better to liven the mood than the poet Ovid. Whereas Cicero’s humour was (I suspect) bitter and vicious, Ovid comes across in his poetry as fun-loving, warm and generous, if sometimes a bit vulgar. At times he is completely over the top and it seems like he has trouble taking anything seriously, though he was by no means a light-weight- in addition to his love poems and manuals he wrote mythological poems (not just the light-hearted Metamorphoses, but the Heroides as well), a kind of historical calendar (the Fasti) and a version of Medea, sadly lost to us. As part of the literary circle of Maecenas he knew many of the other eminent poets of his day (Propertius, Tibullus and Horace for example), and probably Augustus himself. Whether he knew Augustus personally or not he certainly did something to upset him (we don’t know exactly what- it’s one of the things I would ask him if I had the chance), and he was banished from Rome in AD 17 never to return.
That’s my list, who would you invite?
Cicero was my first choice. I suspect that he was a bit of an arrogant git, but there’s no doubt that the man was a genius. From humble(ish) origins he rose to become one of the most influential men in Rome. He was consul in 63 BC, and Julius Caesar invited him to join the first triumvirate (Cicero refused because he hated Caesar, but that’s another story). He had a sense of humour and a bitterly sharp wit, and was incredibly educated- he studied oratory in Athens, and in his later years when he was effectively side-lined from politics he spent his spare time translating Greek philosophy into Latin. He also lived in one of the most interesting periods of time in Roman history- the final years of the republic- and knew lots of fascinating people- not only Caesar, but Antony, Octavian, Cleopatra, Catullus (and Lesbia/Clodia). He didn’t like most of them, but that only makes him a more entertaining guest.
It would be tempting to invite some of Cicero’s acquaintances (perhaps Catullus and Lesbia?) just to watch the fireworks, but in the interest of variety my next guest would be Agrippina, mother of the emperor Nero. Agrippina was one of the last of the fascinating, but troubled, Julio-Claudian family. Her brother was the emperor Caligula, and her uncle (later also her husband) was the emperor Claudius. Caligula didn’t like her much (he sent her into exile) but she had considerable influence over Claudius, and when Nero came to power she was for a time effectively co-emperor. Later Nero grew to resent her, and eventually had her killed. Such a powerful and ambitious woman so closely connected to three different emperors would undoubtedly have a few good stories to tell, though you’d probably need to watch the food closely (she was said to have poisoned Claudius).
I can imagine the conversation at my dinner party getting pretty heavy with those two, and can think of no one better to liven the mood than the poet Ovid. Whereas Cicero’s humour was (I suspect) bitter and vicious, Ovid comes across in his poetry as fun-loving, warm and generous, if sometimes a bit vulgar. At times he is completely over the top and it seems like he has trouble taking anything seriously, though he was by no means a light-weight- in addition to his love poems and manuals he wrote mythological poems (not just the light-hearted Metamorphoses, but the Heroides as well), a kind of historical calendar (the Fasti) and a version of Medea, sadly lost to us. As part of the literary circle of Maecenas he knew many of the other eminent poets of his day (Propertius, Tibullus and Horace for example), and probably Augustus himself. Whether he knew Augustus personally or not he certainly did something to upset him (we don’t know exactly what- it’s one of the things I would ask him if I had the chance), and he was banished from Rome in AD 17 never to return.
That’s my list, who would you invite?
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