Socrates

I read an article the other day comparing the late Jack Gibson to Socrates. Here are a few excerpts:

Jack Gibson was rugby league's Socrates. Just as the 5th century BC Greek father of philosophy taught by asking questions, Gibson - Australia's greatest football coach - encouraged thought with epigramatic one-liners.

Take the brawl at St George Leagues Club in 1970, when Gibson was the Dragons' coach. Gibson... turned to his young winger from Grafton, whom he called "Boy Carr".

"Boy Carr, I've got a question for you... If you put a mug in a tuxedo, put him in a Rolls-Royce and open the door, what steps out?"

Carr was unable to provide an immediate answer and surrendered, saying, "I don't know."
Gibson said: "A mug."...

...like Socrates, who taught Plato, who taught Aristotle, Gibson inspired Wayne Bennett, who mentored Craig Bellamy.

Here's a bit about the real Socrates:

Socrates is the saint and martyr of philosophy. No other great philosopher has been so obsessed with roghteous living. Like many martyrs, Socrates chose not to try to save his life when he probably could have done so by changing his ways. According to Plato, who was there at the time, Socrates told the judges at his trial that '[y]ou are mistaken... if you think that a man who is worth anything ought to spend his time weighing up the prospects of life and death. He has only one thing to consider in performing any action- that is, whether he is acting rightly or wrongly.' But, unlike many saints, Socrates had a lively sense of humour; this sometimes appeared as playful wit, sometimes as pregnant irony. And, unlike the saints of any and every religion, his faith consisted not in a reliance on revelation or blind hope but in a devotion to argumentative reason. He would not be swayed by anything less.

[Socrates, Anthony Gottlieb, 1997. p1]

an essay

Here's an essay, which I've just finished writing. I set the question for my year 12 class recently, and thought I should have a bash at trying to answer it myself. If you're not in my year class, you may not find it very interesting (sorry). If you are in my year 12 class, I hope you find it helpful. Feel free to leave a comment (even a negative one).

What can we learn about Horace’s approach to life from his poetry? In your answer refer to at leas three poems we have read this year.

Though it may be a dangerous task to try to discern something of a poet’s character from his work, a strong impression of Horace’s approach to life presents itself throughout his Odes. He writes often about the brevity of life and the inescapability of death, and consequently urges his readers to make the most of the short time they do have, without worrying too much about the future.

One important motif which seems to have an important influence on Horace’s approach to life, and which we see again and again in his poetry is that of the transience of life and the certainty of death. In Ode I.9 for example Horace vividly juxtaposes youth and old age to impress upon his readers that though they may be young now, old age is inevitable. The vivid contrast of green youth (viridi) with white old age (canities) is a poignant reminder of this fact. This is also highlighted by the imagery of cold winter (nive, gelu, frigus), associated with bitter suffering (onus, laborantes, acuto), used as a metaphor for old age.

Similar imagery occurs in IV.7, where the cycles of the seasons (mutat terra vices) and of the moon (damna tamen celers reparant caelestia lunae) lead Horace to reflect that once we are dead (cum semel occideris) nothing can bring us back (restituet). We are, he says, ‘dust and shadows’ (pulvis et umbra), the present tense of sumus emphasising that as robust as life may seem to us, in reality it is fragile and fleeting.

Then there is the heartfelt lament of II.14 (eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume, labuntur anni), in which Horace grieves the swift passing of the years and the approach of inevitable old age (instanti senectae) and unconquerable death (indomitaeque morti). The negative epithets here vividly convey both the tragedy and the unavoidability of these things. The gerundives scattered throughout this poem (enaviganda, visendus, linquenda) also reinforce the inescapability of death, as does the repetition of ‘frustra’ (emphasised through word placement), as Horace describes the futility of trying to avoid (carebimus) death. The recurrence of this concept seems to suggest that it was important to Horace, and that it influenced his approach to life significantly.

In fact, in each of the poems discussed above Horace makes explicit what he believes is the best way to respond to the inevitable approach of death, that is to enjoy the present as much as possible. In I.9 he urges his readers to break out the wine (deprome quadrimum Sabina… merum diota), and to seek out love (dulces amores) and dancing (choreas) while they are still young. In IV.7 and II.14 he encourages us to enjoy what we have now, lest it pass to our greedy heir (manus avidas heredis, heres… dignior). These exhortations can be summarised in a phrase famously used by Horace in another of his Odes, I.11. There, again urging his readers to break out the wine (vina liques) he writes carpe diem- ‘seize the day’.

From the examples already given it becomes clear what Horace means by this metaphor; he believes strongly that to live life fully is to take advantage of all of life’s pleasures (eg wine, love, dancing). There is no point saving one’s possessions or hoarding them up as he makes clear in several of his poems (II.14 as already mentioned; cf IV.7.19f), the pleasure of life is found in enjoying them now. We see this, for example, in I.9; the repetition of nunc in the fifth and sixth stanzas makes it clear that there is no time to waste, and in IV.7 Horace urges his readers (to paraphrase line 19f.) to enjoy what they’ve got now, lest someone else enjoy it when they’re dead. The hyperbole in poem II.14 also highlights the futility of storing up one’s riches; there is no point protecting your wine with 100 locks (centum clavis- note too the alliteration) if you never get to enjoy it.

Another interesting, though more subtle example is seen in Ode I.22. Here Horace writes of how the ‘righteous’ person (integer… purus) has the favour and protection of the gods, but his definition of righteousness turns out not be what we might expect. According to Horace the righteous person, the person whose life is to be most admired and emulated, turns out to be the lover; the wolf fled from Horace because he was in love and singing about his girlfriend (canto Lalagen), and it is his love which will enable him to endure even the harshest of circumstances.

Another important aspect of Horace’s approach to life is his insistence on not worrying about the future. This is obviously related to the two points already mentioned; one of the consequences of life’s transience (at least according to Horace) is that there is no point in worrying too much about the future- old age and death await us regardless. On the other hand, spending too much time worrying about the future also prevents us from living in the present, another concern of Horace’s as we have already seen. Worrying about the future is thus both futile and undesirable.

In several places Horace refers to the impossibility of knowing the future. In IV.7 for example he asks ‘who knows’ (quis scit) whether the gods will add tomorrow to today, and similarly in I.11 he stresses the impossibility of knowing whether we have many winters (plures hiemes) left, or just one last one(ultimam).

But more importantly, Horace emphasises the undesirability of knowing the future. We see this most noticeably in I.11. The poem begins with a strong warning not to attempt to find out what the future holds (quem tibi finem di dederint), and Horace goes so far as to say that it would be wrong to try to discern the future, with the word nefas carrying strong moral and religious connotations. Instead Horace urges his readers to give up their hope for a long life (spem longam reseces; cf. IV.7, immortalia ne speres), and focuses on how much better (ut melius) it is to endure whatever may happen (quidquid erit). Similarly in I.9 we are encouraged to let the gods take care of the future (permitte divis cetera), to flee (fuge) from knowing what the future (futurum cras) will bring, and instead to consider each day as a bonus (lucro appone), the imperatives conveying Horace’s passionate conviction.

hic et illic

Here are a few posts from other people's blogs which I've been enjoying lately:

• A useful post on homographs from LatinLanguage.us
• Gifts for the god who has everything from Eternally Cool
• Pilcrows and Octothorps and rare plants and their Latin names from Laudator Temporis Acti
• Finally a post on grammar which is definitely not about me

books

Every month I get an Abbeys catalogue in the mail- I thought I’d post the reviews of some of the book which looked interesting to me from this month’s catalogue.

Imprimatur
11 September 1683, Rome. The citizens of the city wait anxiously for the outcome of the battle for Vienna as Ottoman forces lay siege to the defenders of Catholic Europe. Meanwhile, a suspected outbreak of plague causes a famous Roman tavern to be placed under quarantine. A plot to assassinate the pope and plans to use the plague as a weapon of mass destruction in the battle between Islam and the West are discovered. Drawing on original papers discovered in the Vatican archives, this meticulously researched and brilliantly conceived thriller sheds new light on the power struggles of 17th century Europe, the repercussions of which are still felt today.

Cleopatra: Last Queen of Egypt
She was the last ruler of the Macedonian dynasty of Ptolemies who had ruled Egypt for three centuries. Highly educated (the only one of the Ptolemies to read and speak ancient Egyptian, as well as the court Greek) and very clever (her famous liaisons with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony were as much to do with politics as the heart), she steered her kingdom through impossibly taxing internal problems and against greedy Roman imperialism. Stripping away our preconceptions (many of which are as old as her Roman enemies) in this magnificent biography, Tyldesley uses all her skills as an Egyptologist to give us a rich picture of a country and its Egyptian queen.

A Brief History of the Private Lives of Roman Emperors
Blond’s scandalous expose on the life of the Caesar’s is a must-read for anyone interested in what really went on in ancient Rome. Julius Caesar is usually presented as a glorious general, when in fact he was an arrogant charmer and a swank. Augustus was so conscious of his height that he put lifts in his sandals. But they were nothing compared to Caligula, Claudius and Nero! This book makes fascinating reading, eye-opening in its revelations and endlessly entertaining.

Augustus

I've posted quite a few words lately, without many pictures, so here's a picture without many words. It's a photo of a statue of Augustus which I took (or perhaps it was my wife) while on holidays in Rome last year. What a man!

superbus

Superbus is an odd Latin word. It’s obviously the root of ‘superb’, but the meaning of the Latin word is quite different to that of its English derivative, which generally has only positive connotations. Superbus has the basic meaning of ‘proud’, but can be used in a positive or a negative sense. For example in Book VIII of the Aeneid (where the word occurs seven times), it can be used to describe Hercules, the heroic slayer of the monster Cacus (and 'type' of Augustus):

nam maximus ultor
tergemini nece Geryonae spoliisque superbus
Alcides aderat…

For our great avenger, the son of Alceus [Hercules] was at hand, exalting in the death and spoils of three-bodied Geryon…

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.201-2

It is also associated with Agrippa and Augustus, heroes of the Battle of Actium depicted on Aeneas’ shield:

parte alia ventis et dis Agrippa secundis
arduus agmen agens, cui, belli insigne superbum,
tempora navali fulgent rostrata corona.

On another part was Agrippa, with the winds and gods favourable, standing tall, leading the column of ships, on whose temples shone the beaked naval crown, the proud insignia of war.

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.682-4

ipse sedens niveo candentis limine Phoebi
dona recognoscit populorum aptatque superbis
postibus;

He himself [Augustus], sitting before the snow white threshold of shining Phoebus, was accepting gifts from the people and fixing them to his proud door-posts.

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.720-2

On the other hand it is also used to describe the Trojans’ enemies, the Latins:

'Troiugenas ac tela vides inimica Latinis,
quos illi bello profugos egere superbo.

‘You see before you the Trojans and their weapons, hostile to the Latins; they have driven us here as exiles by their proud war.’

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.117-8

'en perfecta mei promissa coniugis arte
munera. ne mox aut Laurentis, nate, superbos
aut acrem dubites in proelia poscere Turnum.'

‘Behold, these promised gifts, perfected by my husband’s skill: so that no longer need you hesitate to demand battle against the proud Laurentines and fierce Turnus.’

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.612-4

And it is even associated with the monster Cacus himself, symbol of madness, chaos and evil:

semperque recenti
caede tepebat humus, foribusque adfixa superbis
ora virum tristi pendebant pallida tabo.

The ground [of Cacus’ cave] was always warm with fresh blood, and human heads, fixed to his arrogant door-posts, would hang there, pale and wretchedly bloody.

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.195-7

In Livy (where it is used nine times in Book I, not counting proper names) it seems to have more consistently a negative flavour, as in the following examples:

Sed ipse Romulus circumibat docebatque patrum id superbia factum qui conubium finitimis negassent;

But Romulus himself was going around to all the woman, and telling them that this had been done because of the arrogance of their fathers, who had denied marriage to their neighbours.

Livy, Ab Urbe Condita I.9

Addita superbia ipsius regis miseriaeque et labores plebis in fossas cloacasque exhauriendas demersae;

He added to the list of complaints the arrogance of the king himself, and the sufferings of the people forced underground to clean the ditches and sewers.

Livy, Ab Urbe Condita I.59

But in Horace (who uses the word 13 times in his Odes) again it has a wider range of meanings, being used of a good wine (something dear to Horace’s stomach):

absumet heres Caecuba dignior
servata centum clavibus et mero
tinguet pavimentum superbo...

Your more worthy heir will consume your Caecuban wine, guarded though it is by a hundred keys, and will stain the pavement with proud, pure wine...

Horace, Odes 2.xiv.25-7

and of Horace himself, who dares to boast in the immortality of his poetry:

Sume superbiam
quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica
lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.

Accept my arrogance, earned through merit and willingly wreathe my hair with the Delphic laurel, Melpomene.

Horace, Odes 3.xxx.14-16

and with begrudging admiration the word is used in association with Cleopatra, the great enemy of Augustus and Rome (who is likened to Cacus back in Book VIII of the Aeneid):

saevis Liburnis scilicet invidens
privata deduci superbo,
non humilis mulier, triumpho.

She scorned of course his hostile fleet, robbed of all she had, and refusing to be led away in a proud triumph- no lowly woman was she.

Horace, Odes 1.xxxvii.30-2

I would suggest that this range of examples shows not only the ambiguity of the word superbus itself, but also the ambiguity of the political situation in which Virgil and Horace particularly were writing. That the same word can be used of both the heroes and enemies of Rome reflects the fact that in the recent civil war the enemies were in fact other Romans- and the supposed 'good guys' (Augustus and co, who emerged victorious and so got to propagate their version of events) were far from innocent.

monsters and portents

If you had to guess the meanings of the Latin words monstrum and portentum, chances are you'd go with their English derivations; 'monster' and 'portent' (i.e. an omen, or sign from the gods). And you'd be right. For example, have a look at the following passages:

huic monstro Volcanus erat pater: illius atros
ore vomens ignis magna se mole ferebat.

Vulcan was the father of this monster: vomiting his father’s black fire from his mouth he would move around with his huge bulk.

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.198-9

tum memorat: 'ne vero, hospes, ne quaere profecto
quem casum portenta ferant: ego poscor Olympo.’

Then [Aeneas] declared: ‘There is no need, my friend, no need to ask what these portents mean: I am called for by Olympus.'

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.532-3

That seems fairly straight forward. Except monstrum doesn't usually mean 'monster'- its basic meaning is 'portent'; portentum on the other hand, can sometimes mean 'monster'. In the following passages for example:

Ecce autem subitum atque oculis mirabile monstrum,
candida per silvam cum fetu concolor albo
procubuit viridique in litore conspicitur sus;

Now suddenly before his eyes there appeared a portent. There through the trees he caught sight of a white sow with offspring of the same colour, lying on the green shore.

Virgil, Aeneid VIII.81-3

namque me silva lupus in Sabina...
fugit inermem.

quale portentum neque militaris
Daunias latis alit aesculetis,
nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum
arida nutrix

For in the Sabine forests a wolf fled from me... unarmed as I was. A monster such as not even warlike Daunia rears in her broad oak forests, nor the land of Juba, that barren nurse of lions.

Horace, Odes I.22.9, 12-16

Why is this so? The basic meaning of each word is to do with signs and omens; each noun derives from a verb- monstrum from monstro, monstrare (to show; cf ‘demonstrate’) and portentum from portendo, portendere (to reveal), thus both words mean something which has been shown or revealed. The secondary meaning of ‘monster’ comes from the idea that monsters are somehow sent from the gods, often as a punishment for some kind of wrong doing (eg the Minotaur, the Calydonian Boar), or that they are able to show the will of the gods in some way.

[These two articles also discuss the word monstrum and related English words]

Anzac Day

Mytho-poetic vapours… clouded many a mind during the Gallipoli campaign of 1915: in many ways an attempt to liberate the ‘holy land’ of Attica, so dear to the West’s imagination, from the Ottoman scourge. Young hoplites from Britain, France and the dominions were sent into battle against walls of flying metal because this place was still an ideal. When the time came to address his troops before their blooding, the romantically minded Commander-in-Chief of the expeditionary force, General Sir Ian Hamilton, invoked the eternal fame of the Homeric heroes. ‘You will hardly fade away until the sun fades out of the sky and the earth sinks into universal blackness’ he declared, ‘for already you form part of that great tradition of the Dardanelles which began with Hector and Achilles…’

By the time of the Great War, glamorous myth had replaced hard-edged history as another armada sailed for the Hellespont. The Englishman Patrick Shaw-Stewart, combatant and classicist, took an old copy of Herodotus on the boat to Gallipoli. ‘The flower of sentimentality expands childishly in me on classical soil,’ he wrote. ‘It is really delightful to bathe in the Hellespont looking straight over to Troy’...

The much-loved Rupert Brooke, sailing to the Dardanelles- he was to die off Skyros of an untreated mosquito bite two days before the dawn landing of 25 April 1915- also pictured the impending battle in the colours of a glorious past:

They say Achilles in the darkness stirred…
And Priam and his fifty sons
Wake all amazed, and hear the guns,
And shake for Troy again.

The officers and soldiers of the Australian Imperial Force were hardly immune to the resonance of their surroundings. An Australian contingent, pushing out their trenches at Gallipoli, chipped away at the buried remains of an ancient settlement, but there was no time for amateur archaeology and enemy fire propelled them on. Charles Bean, the classically educated war correspondent and official military historian, later kicked at the dirt and uncovered a coin of ancient provenance. The Australians may not have penned war poetry of lasting merit, but their waggish doggerel offers a distinctly ironic counter to the high-toned myth of war:

An then ol’ Joe- ‘e was a well read chap-
Starts tellin’ us about a ten years scrap
They ‘ad in Troy which wasn’t far away
So Joe made out, from where we were that day.
A bloke ‘ad pinched a bonzer tabby, then
‘Er own bloke came to get ‘er back again,
An all ‘is cobbers came to see fair play,
An’ in the end they got ‘er safe away.
But Bill ‘e didn’t think a scrap could start
And last ten years about a blanky tart;
No Jane ‘e’d ever met was worth a brawl.
There must be something else behind it all.

Within a few short years of the homecoming the Anzac experience of blood, mud, and gore had been burnished into the much more brilliant Anzac legend; the hard-bitten Australian digger was openly likened to both the Greek citizen-soldier and the Homeric warrior of myth. For the author of The Trojan War 1915, a member of the Australian Field Ambulance on Gallipoli, the digger was already a reincarnated Greek hero:

Homeric wars are fought again
By men who like old Greeks can die;
Australian backblock heroes slain
With Hector and Achilles lie.

Dating Aphrodite; modern adventures in the ancient world

Luke Slattery, pp 3-8

dies romae natalis

[The forum Romanum from the Palatine hill, where Romulus (supposedly) recieved his favourable omen from the gods]

I'm meant to be on holidays, but I couldn't let such an important date go unremarked. Yesterday Rome celebrated its 2761st birthday. There are some great photos of the celebrations at Rome here, here and here.

April 21st, 753 B.C. is the traditional date for the founding of the city by Romulus and Remus; this is how Livy recounts events:

Ita Numitori Albana re permissa Romulum Remumque cupido cepit in iis locis ubi expositi ubique educati erant urbis condendae...

Romulus and Remus, after the control of Alba had passed to Numitor in the way I have described, were suddenly seized by the desire to found a new settlement on the spot where they had been exposed and subsequently brought up...

Intervenit deinde his cogitationibus avitum malum, regni cupido, atque inde foedum certamen coortum a satis miti principio.

Unhappily the brothers' plans for the future were marred by the same source which had divided their grandfather and Amulius- a lust for power. A disgraceful quarrel arose from a matter in itself trivial.

Quoniam gemini essent nec aetatis verecundia discrimen facere posset, ut di quorum tutelae ea loca essent auguriis legerent qui nomen novae urbi daret, qui conditam imperio regeret, Palatium Romulus, Remus Aventinum ad inaugurandum templa capiunt.

Since they were twins and no distinction of age could be made between them, they determined to ask the gods under whose care those places were, to declare by means of augury who should govern the new city, once it had been founded, and give his name to it. Romulus took to the Palatine Hill, Remus to the Aventine, in order to take the auguries.

Priori Remo augurium venisse fertur, sex voltures; iamque nuntiato augurio cum duplex numerus Romulo se ostendisset, utrumque regem sua multitudo consalutauerat: tempore illi praecepto, at hi numero auium regnum trahebant. Inde cum altercatione congressi certamine irarum ad caedem vertuntur; ibi in turba ictus Remus cecidit.

Remus, so the story goes, was the first to receive a sign- six vultures; and no sooner was this announced than double the number of birds appeared to Romulus. The followers of each promptly hailed their own master as king, one side basing its claim upon priority, the other upon number. Angry words ensued, followed by blows, their anger turned to violence, and there, in the crowd, Remus was struck and fell down dead.

Volgatior fama est ludibrio fratris Remum novos transiluisse muros; inde ab irato Romulo, cum verbis quoque increpitans adiecisset, "Sic deinde, quicumque alius transiliet moenia mea," interfectum. Ita solus potitus imperio Romulus; condita urbs conditoris nomine appellata.

There is another, more common story, that Remus, making fun of his brother, jumped over the newly-built walls, whereupon Romulus killed him in a fit of rage, adding the threat, 'So perish whoever else shall overleap my battlements.' In this way Romulus gained sole possession of power; the city, having been founded, was took its name from its founder.

Holidays

[Mt Ossa, Cradle Mountain National Park, Tasmania]

I'm off on holidays again, so there won't be much posting action for the next fortnight. no exciting plans this time round, so I'll leave you with a photo of mt Ossa from my last trip.

Mt Ossa is the highest mountain in Tassie, named after a famous mountain in Greece. According to Greek mythology (and my trusty Oxford Companion to Classical Literature) Otus and Ephialtes piled Mt Pelion on top of Mt Ossa, and Mt Ossa on top of Mt Olympus in their attempts to overthrow the gods.

The phrase 'heaping (or piling) Ossa upon Pelion' is sometimes used today to refer to an extremely difficult, but ultimately fruitless, task.

mel

I was given a very kind gift by one of my year 11 students on Monday; a jar of honey collected by her dad from the bee-hive in their backyard. I love honey, and I've been eating it on my sandwiches all week. Honey was an important ingredient in Roman cooking, as it was the only form of sweetener they had; the Roman poet Vergil calls honey 'the gift of heaven' (caelestia dona).

In fact Vergil dedicated a whole book of his Georgics (pastoral poems, written to instruct his readers on various aspects of agriculture) to bee-keeping. You might think bees are not a particularly grand topic for Rome's greatest poet, but Vergil explains in his introduction that the life of bees has a heroism all its own:

Admiranda tibi levium spectacula rerum
magnanimosque duces totiusque ordine gentis
mores et studia et populos et proelia dicam.
In tenui labor; at tenuis non gloria, si quem
numina laeva sinunt auditque vocatus Apollo.

I shall tell of the displays of these tiny creatures, worthy of your admiration, and of their great-hearted leaders, and the customs of the whole race with their order and their pursuits and their peoples and their battles. The work may be slight, but the glory will not be slight, if the gods' will allows it and Apollo hears my prayers.

Later Virgil describes a hive of bees as a well-ordered, ideal community

Solae communes natos, consortia tecta
urbis habent magnisque agitant sub legibus aevum,
et patriam solae et certos novere penates,
venturaeque hiemis memores aestate laborem
experiuntur et in medium quaesita reponunt.

They are the only creatures to bring up their offspring communally, they share the buildings of their city and they live their lives beneath the shelter of majestic laws, and they are the only creatures to know a country and a fixed dwelling, and in summer, warned of the approaching winter, they prepare for it, and store up the things they have gathered for general use.

Namque aliae victu invigilant et foedere pacto
exercentur agris; pars intra saepta domorum
Narcissi lacrimam et lentum de cortice gluten
prima favis ponunt fundamina, deinde tenaces
suspendunt ceras: aliae spem gentis adultos
educunt fetus, aliae purissima mella
stipant et liquido distendunt nectare cellas.

For some watch over the provision of food, and do their work in the fields, according to their settled contracts; some within the confines of their homes lay down the honey-comb' first foundation with pollen (the tears of Narcissus) and the sticky sap from the bark of trees, then they hang the clinging wax from it: others lead forth the full-grown young, their country's hope, others press the purest honey and stretch their cells with the bright, sweet nectar.

Sunt quibus ad portas cecidit custodia sorti,
inque vicem speculantur aquas et nubila caeli
aut onera accipiunt venientum aut agmine facto
ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent.
Fervet opus, redolentque thymo fragrantia mella.

There are those to whom it falls to guard the gates, and they take turns to watch for rain and cloudy skies, or they recieve the cargo of those who arrive, or they form a column and drive off the drones, a lazy herd, from their turf. The hive seethes with activity, and the honey gives off the fragrant scent of thyme.

Senior Classics Dinner

I took a group of my year 11 students to the Senior Classics Dinner, at Trinity Grammar School last night. The dinner is organised by the CLTA every year and is always lots of fun. For me it's good to see my Latin teaching colleagues, and for the students it's good to meet other like-minded students from around Sydney, to dress up, to have a nice meal and to play a bit of trivia. The trivia is always fiendishly difficult, here are a few of the questions that I had trouble answering myself*:

What is the literal translation of the names of the following pieces of equipment?

• stethoscope
• microphone
• camera
• seismograph
• television
• hypodermic

With which particular bodies of water were the following types of Naiads associated?

• Crinaeae
• Limnades (or Limnatides)
• Pegaeae
• Potameides
• Eleionomae

Which modern day public holidays in Australia fall very close to, or on, the following Roman festivals?

• Quinquatria (in honour of Minerva)
• Robigalia (in honour of Robigus)
• Vestalia (in honour of Vesta)
• Ieiunium Cereris (Fast of Ceres)
• Dies Natalis Invicti Solis (Festival of the Invincible Sun god)

I'll give the answers in the comments next week.

[*this may say more about me than the questions]

Narcissus

[Narcissus river, Cradle Mountain National Park, Tasmania]

My year 11 class have been looking at some of Ovid's Metamorphoses recently, in particular the stories of Pygmalion and Galataea. Pygmalion is a sculptor who carves a statue so beautiful it seems to be alive. In the story of Narcissus things are the other way round; Narcissus is so beautiful that he is compared to a statue.

hic puer et studio venandi lassus et aestu
procubuit faciemque loci fontemque secutus,
dumque sitim sedare cupit, sitis altera crevit,
dumque bibit, visae correptus imagine formae
spem sine corpore amat, corpus putat esse, quod umbra est.
adstupet ipse sibi vultuque immotus eodem
haeret, ut e Pario formatum marmore signum;
spectat humi positus geminum, sua lumina, sidus
et dignos Baccho, dignos et Apolline crines
impubesque genas et eburnea colla decusque
oris et in niveo mixtum candore ruborem...

Here the boy, worn out from his eager hunting and from the heat, lies down, attracted by the beauty of the place and its spring. While he seeks to calm his thirst, another thirst grows, and as he drinks, he is enchanted by the beautiful reflection he saw. He falls in love with a disembodied hope, he thinks that what is but a shadow, is a body. He is amazed by his very own self, and motionless stares at it with fixed gaze, just like a statue made from Parian marble. Lying on the ground, he watches the twin stars, his eyes, and that hair, worthy of Bacchus, worthy of Apollo, and those smooth cheeks and ivory neck, and the glory of his face and its blush, mixed with snow-white radiance…


inrita fallaci quotiens dedit oscula fonti,
in mediis quotiens visum captantia collum
bracchia mersit aquis nec se deprendit in illis!
quid videat, nescit; sed quod videt, uritur illo,
atque oculos idem, qui decipit, incitat error.

How often did he did he give vain kisses to the deceitful pool, how often did he sink his arms in to the middle of the waters, trying to embrace the neck he saw there! But he could not find himself in them. what he saw, he did not recognise; but what sees he burns for, and that same illusion which deceives him, excites his eyes.

[Ovid, Metamorphoses, III.413-23, 427-31]

Narcissus eventually wasted away, and was transformed into the flower which is named after him. He also survives in our language today in the word narcissism.

Monsters

The Greeks were fond of introducing monsters of various kinds, many of them derived from eastern sources, into their myths. These monsters of various degrees of strangeness, can be classified according as they take the form of (1) human beings of merely exaggerated size; (2) human beings with some extraordinary feature, such as excess or deficiency of the normal limbs and organs; (3) creatures combining human and animal shapes; (4) creatures combining the shapes of two or more animals.

Class 1 consists of the Giants as primitively conceived, creatures of human form so huge that after the defeat of their attack on the gods they were buried under islands, Enceladus for instance under Sicily, and Polybotes under Cos; while Tityus in Hades covered nine roods of ground. But in course of time, to differentiate them from gods and heroes, their attributes became more terrific and they passed into classes 2 and 3. Giants, in the traditions of various races, were the personifications of violent forces of nature, such as volcanoes.

Class 2 includes such monsters as the Hecatoncheires (the Hundred-handed Giants); the three Graiae, having only one eye and one tooth between them; the Cyclopes, with a single eye apiece; the Medusa with her huge and hideous head and petrifying eyes; Argus, with eyes all over his body.

Class 3 embraces a very large number of monsters: the Giants, as later represented, with their legs terminating in serpents; Cecrops and Erechtheus, whose bodies also terminated in serpents; Typhoeus, a particularly terrible creature, with a hundred serpents’ heads; Echidna, with the head and bust of a young woman, the rest a serpent; the Arcadian Satyrs, goat-footed with horns and tail, and the Anatolian Satyrs with the ears, feet and tail of a horse. The Sphinx of the dramatic poets is a winged woman with the body of a dog or lion; she was derived probably not from Egypt, but from Chaldea. Scylla, a marine monster, had, according to Homer, twelve dangling feet, six long necks and a hideous head on each, with three rows of teeth, the body lying concealed in a cavern. The idea was perhaps derived from some kind of squid. Later she was given a more human form: Virgil describes her as having the body of a young woman, the tail of a dolphin, and a girdle of dogs’ heads. The Tritons were monsters combining a human body with a fish’s tail. The Centaurs had a human body, rising from the body and legs of a horse; in primitive representations the front legs are those of a man. The Minotaur had a human body with the head of a bull... Two types of monster, the Sirens and the Harpies, joined a woman’s head to the body of a bird, a widespread fantasy found in fables in all parts of the world. The Harpies were primitively represented as women with birds’ wings, later as birds with women’s heads.

In class 4 may be included the Dragons, though the dragon (Gk. drakon, L. draco) is not properly a monster at all, but merely a large serpent. It figured frequently as the guardian of shrines (e.g. the Python at Delphi slain by Apollo), as an attribute of Asclepius, or as a genius loci. But dragons were sometimes given monstrous peculiarities, such as wings or additional heads. Winged dragons drew the cars [chariots] of Triptolemus and Medea. Fire-breathing dragons are especially a product of Christian art. In the same class we have such monsters as Cerberus, with his three heads and hair composed of snakes; the Chimaera, combining the head of a lion, the body of a goat and a tail ending in a serpent’s head; and the Griffin, part eagle and part lion (see Tenniel’s illustration of the Gryphon in ‘Alice in Wonderland’). The Griffins were first referred to, we are told, by Hesiod (in a lost passage); according to Herodotus they guarded the gold in Scythia. One of the strangest monsters is the Hippalectryon: it had the head and forelegs of a horse, and behind these the legs, tail and body of a rooster. There are extant representations of it on two vases by Nicosthenes, and it is mentioned by Aristophanes (Ran. 937-8), from whom we learn that it (as also the Tragelaphus or goat-stag) was copied from Persian sources. It is not surprising that so inelegant a conception disappeared before long from Greek art and finds no place in Greek myth. The Hippocampus was a horse with fish-like tail, on which the gods of the sea are often represented riding.

Monsters made little appeal to the Romans. In the comparatively rare cases where monsters figure in their literature (e.g. Scylla in the ‘Aeneid), it is generally in imitation of Greek models.

[From The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature]

Livy trivia

This post is dedicated to my year 12 class who are studying hard for their Livy exam. Here is some Livy trivia (some Livia, perhaps?) which you may not have known:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Livy!

1. Olympic badminton rules say that livy must have exactly fourteen feathers!
2. Livy was originally green, and actually contained cocaine.
3. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and livy has 7.
4. Livy cannot burp - there is no gravity to separate liquid from gas in his stomach!
5. The first domain name ever registered was livy.com!
6. Livyolatry is the mindless worship of livy.
7. When livy is swallowed, he will enter the blood stream within twenty minutes.
8. If you lick livy ten times, you will consume one calorie.
9. Marie Antoinette never said 'let them eat cake' - this is a mistranslation of 'let them eat livy'!
10. Livy is the world's tallest woman.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

For more random trivia visit this site (gratias to Byron for the link)

Enceladus

Enceladus is not justy a tasty mexican dish, but also one of the moons of Saturn. It's been in the news recently as NASA's Cassini space probe has been passing close by taking photos, and analysing a huge geyser that is pouring out nearly 500km into space from beneath the surface of the frozen moon.

The moon was named in 1789, long before the geyser was discovered, but it's turned out to be an extremely appropriate name. In Greek mythology, Enceladus was one of the Giants; he was wounded in the war between the giants and the Olympian gods, and buried on Sicily, beneath the volcanic Mt Etna. The volcano's eruptions were said to be the giant's fiery breath, and earthquakes occurred when he rolled over. Scientists still aren't quite sure what is causing the geyser on Enceladus- perhaps they should consider the existence of a giant imprisoned under the icy surface.

[there are more great photos from the Cassini probe here]

Catullus' man-crush

Yesterday my year 12 class did an exam, in which they had to translate a poem from Catullus to a fellow poet, Licinius. Here's part of the poem and it's translation:

Hesterno, Licini, die otiosi
multum lusimus in meis tabellis,
ut convenerat esse delicatos:
scribens versiculos uterque nostrum
ludebat numero modo hoc modo illoc,
reddens mutua per iocum atque vinum.
atque illinc abii tuo lepore
incensus, Licini, facetiisque,
ut nec me miserum cibus iuvaret
nec somnus tegeret quiete ocellos,
sed toto indomitus furore lecto
versarer, cupiens videre lucem,
ut tecum loquerer, simulque ut essem.
at defessa labore membra postquam
semimortua lectulo iacebant,
hoc, iucunde, tibi poema feci,
ex quo perspiceres meum dolorem.

Yesterday, Licinius, we had a lot of fun
relaxing with my little writing tablets,
since we'd agreed to be frivolous.
Writing light verses, we played together,
now with this meter, now with that,
toasting each other with jokes and wine.
I left your place so inflamed, Licinius,
by your wit and your jokes,
that food didn't help me in my misery,
nor did sleep bury my poor eyes in rest,
but wild with madness I tossed and
turned all over my bed, wanting to see the light
so that I could talk with you, so that I could be with you.
But when my weary limbs, exhausted from their suffering,
lay limp on my little couch,
I wrote you this poem, dear friend,
so that you could fully appreciate my pain.

I think it's clear from this poem that Catullus is suffering a major man-crush. He can't stop thinking about his time with Licinius; he can't eat, he can't sleep, he tosses and turns all night mad with excitement, all he can think of is seeing and talking to Licinius again.

Some of the words and phrases he uses here are usually used by poets to describe passionate love. 'me miserum' (me in my misery) for example is used by Catullus himself in poem 51 when he first spies his girlfriend Lesbia across a crowded room. Poem 64 describes both Peleus and Bacchus as 'incensus amore' (inflamed with love). Catullus also often writes about the pain ('dolorem') and suffering ('labore') of being in love (poem 85 is an obvious example). In fact, reading Catullus often makes me think of this exchange from the movie Love Actually:

Daniel: Aren't you a bit young to be in love?
Sam: No.
Daniel: Oh, OK, right. Well, I'm a little relieved.
Sam: Why?
Daniel: Well, you know - I thought it might be something worse.
Sam: [incredulous] Worse than the total agony of being in love?
Daniel: Oh. No, you're right. Yeah, total agony.

eternally cool

I discovered (thanks to rogue classicum) a funky new site the other day. It's a collection of lots of random but cool things to do with Rome- in the present as well as the past. Recent posts include Romans of the past as lego figures (see here for more), a chocolate coliseum and a pair of cons painted in the style of a Greek vase.

10 points if you can identify the mythological character depicted above- no cheating!

res

Sometimes the smallest words in a language can be the hardest to translate. The word ‘res’ in Latin is a bit like this. If you look it up in a dictionary the first meaning is usually ‘thing’, but as my old Latin professor Dexter Hoyos used to say, 'res' hardly ever actually means ‘thing’- it is like a sponge in that it soaks up its meaning from the context in which it is used, and can therefore mean just about anything else you want it to mean.

To give you some idea of what I mean, here is a sample of the definitions provided in my dictionary: object, matter, affair, business, event, fact, circumstance, occurrence, deed, condition, case, advantage, the most beautiful thing in the world, wretched condition, good-fortune, what has happened, matrimony, dowry, battle, cattle, agriculture, administration of justice, play, story, history, reality, truth, property, possessions, estate, benefit, profit, interest, purpose, reason, ground, account, lawsuit, action, state, revolution, naval battle.

In my Lewis and Short dictionary the definitions fill 4 columns in very small writing (including examples of its use from Latin literature).

The verb-al equivalent of ‘res’ is ‘ago’. The basic meaning of ‘ago’ is ‘to do’ or ‘to drive’, but like ‘res’ it soaks up meaning from its context; my Lewis and Short takes 9 columns to go through all the shades of meaning of 'ago'.

Again here is a brief sample: to put in motion, move, lead, tend, conduct, crucify, carry, go, stride, march, steal, rob, plunder, chase, pursue, hunt, press, push forward, advance, bring up, open, strike, make way, throw out, stir up, shoot up into the air, expire, exert oneself, risk one’s life, guide, impel, excite, urge, prompt, induce, rouse, blind, occupy, persecute, disturb, vex, attack, assail, think, reflect, deliberate, treat, represent, exhibit, exercise, practise, act, perform, deliver, pronounce, be idle, fight, be busy with, manage, transact, propose, plead, prosecute, sue for, give thanks, spend time, address the people in a public assembly for the purpose of obtaining their approval (or rejection) of a thing.

Just for the record, the English word with the most meanings is probably ‘set’ which (according to Bill Bryson):

‘has 58 uses as a noun, 126 as a verb, and 10 as a participial adjective. Its meanings are so various and scattered that it takes the OED 60,000 words - the length of a short novel - to discuss them all.’

[Mother Tongue, p63]

beelzebufo

I was going to post about the discovery of Beelzebufo, but I was beaten to it, so I'll leave you with a quote, and direct you elsewhere to find out more.

Beelzebufo had a wide mouth and powerful jaws, plus teeth. Skull bones were extremely thick, with ridges and grooves characteristic of some type of armor or protective shield. The name comes from the Greek word for devil, Beelzebub, and Latin for toad, bufo.

a puzzle

Here is a puzzle for you, inspired by last week's visit to the cricket (twenty points will go to the winner).

What do these three people have in common (apart from being white and male)?

Robin Williams (actor) Michael Clarke (cricketer) Wilfred Owen (poet)

gratias maximas...

Last Friday I had the great pleasure of spending the afternoon at the cricket, thanks to the exceedingly generous girls from last year's HSC class. Australia won, it didn't rain, Adam Gilchrist and Michael Clarke both scored fine half-centuries, Sangakkara put up some spirited resistance, Nathan Bracken took five wickets, and I had a pie with sauce for dinner. A great night all round. vobis gratias maximas do.

Meditations

Over the holidays I took great pleasure in dipping in and out of Marcus Aurelius' Meditations (a very kind Christmas present). It turns out I wasn't the only one; Canadian author Yann Martel (who wrote Life of Pi- one of the best books I've read in the past few years) has been sending the Canadian prime minister a book every fortnight- accompanied by his own reflections on each book. He has also been publishing the letters on this website. As his 22nd book for the prime minister he chose the Meditations.

The whole letter is well worth reading; here is just a short extract:

The case of Rome is worth studying. How a small town on a river became the center of one of the mightiest empires the world has known, eventually dominating thousands of other small towns on rivers, is a source of many lessons. That Rome was mighty is not to be doubted. The sheer size the empire achieved is breathtaking: from the Firth of Forth to the Euphrates, from the Tagus to the Rhine, spilling over into Northern Africa, for a time the Romans ruled over most of the world known to them. What they didn’t rule over wasn’t worth having, they felt: they left what was beyond their frontiers to “barbarians”.

Another measure of their greatness can be found in the Roman influences that continue to be felt to this day. Rome’s local lingo, Latin, became the mother language of most of Europe, and Italian, French, Spanish and Portuguese are still spoken all over the world. (The Germanic hordes beyond the Rhine, meanwhile, have managed to sponsor only one international language, albeit a successful one, English.) We also owe the Romans our calendar, with its twelve months and 365 1/4 day years; three days in our week hark back to three Roman days—Moonday, Saturnday and Sunday; and though we now use the Roman number system (i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi...) only occasionally, we use their 26-letter alphabet constantly.

Despite their power and might, another lesson about the Roman Empire forces itself upon us: how it’s all gone. The Romans reigned far and wide for centuries but now their empire has vanished entirely. A Roman today is simply someone who lives in Rome, a city that is beautiful because of its clutter of ruins. Such has been the fate of all empires: the Roman, the Ottoman, the British, the Soviet, to name only a few European empires. Which will be the next empire to fall, the next to rise?

[Thanks to rogueclassicum for bringing this to my attention]

The keys to inner calm...

A read a great little book towards the end of my holidays, called Dating Aphrodite: Modern Adventures in the Ancient World, by Australian Luke Slattery. It's a collection of short reflections on the influence of the Classical world on our times and on the author himself, and some very insightful thoughts on what we can learn from the Greeks and Romans today.

One of the most interesting chapters was called The Good Life, where Slattery discusses Stoic, Epicurean and Sceptic philosophy in a really accessible way. Here's a short taste:

The symptoms of anxiety are too common to categorise, yet they manage to sustain the psychiatric profession, the pharmaceutical industry, and perhaps late capitalism itself. Where would the market be without consumer therapy? Many seek answers in the New Age: in Eastern religions, Celtic earth worship, dubious gurus, dietary fads, crystals self-help manuals, spas, colonic irrigation. In reality the keys to inner calm are where they have always been- hanging by the door to Western Civilisation.

Stoicism and Epicureanism are worthy of re-examinationand rehabilitation in our restive anxious age. These two antagonistic creeds - an argument between body and soul, pleasure and virtue - are not easily reconciled. Nevertheless, it is possible to negotiate between them a pact that meets concrete human needs... The unfettered energies of Scepticism give us the confidence to put such famously antagonistic creeds to work in a united cause. After all, a truly therapeutic philosophy of life has first to align itself with the vicissitudes of life.

Epicureanism is a philosophical shelter which nourishes the fraternal bonds between men and women, because friendship, in the words of Epicurus, 'dances around the world, announcing to us all that we should bestir ourselves for the enjoyment of happiness'. The Stoic, on the other hand, has no need of a physical sanctuary; for the wise, the tranquil self is retreat enough. The aim of Stoic meditation, though Marcus Aurelius, was to 'send you back without repugnance' to life. Armed with the shield of Stoicism we advance upon life; lured by Epicureanism we retreat and repair. Zeno and Epicurus may have been opponents in the ancient world, but to me they are the most companionable of rivals: encountered long ago at a time of illness, I think of them as physicians of the soul.

Horace Online

Here are a bunch of sites which I hope my year 12 class will find useful as we read some of Horace's Odes.

You can of course find the Horace’s complete works at the Latin Library .Translations of all of Horace’s poems can be found at Perseus (with notes) or at about.com. Unfortunately some of their translations can be a bit hard to follow. These three sites (with notes) have better translations but only offer a selection of poems.

Wikipedia of course has information about Horace's life as well as a separate page on the