Fun

One of my students asked me yesterday if the Romans had a word for fun. I didn't know. I still don't. The concept of fun is a... well, a funny one I suppose. Easy to recognise, but hard to define. Romans played and laughed and enjoyed themselves just like humans throughout history, I assume, but did they have a specific word for fun? I suspect that someone like Cicero would have been a bit scornful of the notion of fun (virtue is much more important), while for an Epicurean such as Lucretius pleasure had a much more nuanced meaning than simply fun. No doubt Catullus or Ovid appreciated the concept, but what words did they use to express it? How would you say 'This is fun!' or 'I am having fun!' in Latin?

Romae ningit

[more photos]

ningit or ninguit, ebat, nxit, 3, v. n. [Gr. nifei; cf. nix…], it snows. I Lit. ningit… cum ninxerit caelestium molem mihi… – (b) in the pass. form: torum istud spatium, qua pluitur et ninguitur… * II. Transf. to shower down, scatter: ningunt rosarum Floribus Lucr. 2, 627.

*ningor, oris, m. [ningo], a fall of snow

Social Morays

I recieved an email from the (former?) Director General of Education and Training NSW this morning, regarding 'Social Media Policy and Guidelines'. It contained the following:

The highest performing education systems in the world use technology for collaboration between peers and have professional development for peers, led by peers.

To get a taste of how we’re doing that, take a look at the professional learning network, Yammer. Scroll through the posts and you’ll see staff sharing teaching practice, resources, research and ideas, solving problems and posing questions...

But an online community, like any community, has its own morays and protocols. With opportunity also comes responsibility and, as public sector employees, we are subject to external scrutiny.

I think he means mores...

ero cras

One of my favourite Christmas hymns (it's too good to be simply a carol) has always been O Come, O Come Emmanuel. I discovered a couple of years ago that it's based on a Latin original which dates back (possibly) as far as the 8th century.

I thought that was pretty cool, but last weekend I mentioned to a friend how much I liked it, and she started telling me about the seven O Antiphons. I'd never even heard of the word, so she explained to me that an antiphon is simply a verse or a stanza, particularly of a religious song. The seven O Antiphons are the seven verses of the hymn (there are a few different versions around; most of the English ones have just five verses I think), which each start with an appeal to the awaited Messiah, using a different title or image. The seven titles are:

• O Sapientia (Wisdom)
• O Adonai (Lord)
• O Radix Jesse (Root of Jesse)
• O Clavis David (Key of David)
• O Oriens (Dawn - often 'Day-Spring' in English versions)
• O Rex Gentium (King of the nations)
• O Emmanuel (Emmanuel - God with us)

urna movet

urna, ae f. a vessel of baked clay, vessel for drawing water, water-pot, water jar, urn: a voting-urn, ballot-box: An urn for lots, vessel for drawing lots.


The recent Latin Extension HSC paper had what I thought was a pretty difficult unseen in it. There was some pretty difficult language and a typo (don't tell the SMH) didn't make things much easier. But I thought the most difficult thing  was to understand what on earth Horace is talking about, with very little context. The end of the extract in particular contained the phrase movet urna, which has a particular, pretty specific meaning. Here's the extract the kids had to translate:

Gerundives

Kennedy discovers the gerund
and leads it back into captivity.

Apropos nothing, I was thinking about gerundives the other day and thought I’d put together a bit of a list of the gerundives English has appropriated from Latin. Firstly though a gerundive is a verbal adjective (not to be confused with a gerund which is a verbal noun), in Latin often conveying a sense of compulsion or necessity or obligation. That is a gerundive describes something which must be done. It can be a bit of a tricky concept to get your head around, since there’s no real equivalent in English, although as I mentioned before English has appropriated several gerundives from Latin to be used as English nouns.

Two of my favourites are the names Amanda and Miranda, meaning she who must be loved and she who must be admired respectively.

expletives

I’d never pondered the link between expleo, explere (to fill) and the word ‘expletive’ before, but it was brought to my attention the other day in a very interesting book I’m reading about swearing. Here’s the link:

With toe-stubbing swearing, the actual expletive used is functionally immaterial. It’s the act of letting off steam, emitting some pent-up emotion that speaks, if you like, independently of the words used. This semantic vacuum is highlighted by the secondary meaning of the word ‘expletive’, that is, ‘any syllable, word or phrase conveying no independent meaning, especially one inserted in a line of verse for the sake of the meter’, such as ‘Tra la’ in ‘The flowers that bloom in the spring, Tra la’. That’s one to remember next time you get pulled up for swearing.

(Language Most Foul, Ruth Wajnryb)

Hearts and Minds

Here's an interesting (at least to me) exchange from Column Eight over the past couple of days:

A cry from the heart, literally, from Fee MacGregor of Randwick: "My son is getting married in August to the lovely Anna. The wedding will take place at Lewes Castle in Sussex (not far from Hastings), and my husband was asked to design a card. He chose to make it look like a panel from the Bayeux Tapestry. He wanted to have something in Latin on the card, along the lines of 'From opposite sides of the world - two hearts joined', the sort of thing which, when translated, will draw sentimental sighs from the fairer sex and involuntary retching from those who despise public displays of affection. Can you translate? In my translator program 'heart' always comes out as 'viscus' or 'pectus', but if you convert that back it comes out as 'chest', or viscus can come out as 'entrails', which is slightly off the mark. We have been trying for weeks to find a Latin scholar." Any takers?

Des Cahill, MA (Latin), of Manly is one of many readers to offer a translation of "From opposite sides of the world, two hearts joined", for the Bayeux Tapestry wedding card... "Adversis partibus orbis terrae duo corda coniuncta."

There are, of course, myriad other interpretations, including this, from Zenon Alexander of Balmoral. "My alma mater, Sydney University, solved this problem long ago by adopting as its motto 'Sidere Mens Eadem Mutato', loosely translated as 'One at heart though poles apart', referring to its relationship with Oxford University. 'Mens', the mind or intellect (or heart), is emotionally more poetic than 'entrails'." Who are we to doubt the classical credentials of a man named Zenon?

Hi, my name is Elizabeth Smith," writes none other than Elizabeth Smith of the Blue Mountains, "and I am a first year Latin student at Macquarie University... I was able to do a translation into classical Latin of 'From opposite sides of the world - two hearts joined'. It reads as: 'Ab adversi lati mundi - duo animi conveniebamus'. The translation of 'joined' is a bit tricky, as to whether they would like the infinitive - to join, or in the past tense, have joined. In any case, the infinitive meaning is 'convenire', the literal meaning, 'to come together'. Anyway, I hope this is right, as I'm sure my professor reads Column 8 and I'll be reprimanded if incorrect." Don't worry about the prof, Elizabeth - you're already better at Latin than Column 8 ever
will be.

There are lots of words for heart/mind/soul in Latin which are often used interchangeably. here are some of them:

anima: soul, spirit, vital principle, life, breathing, wind, breeze, air

animus: mind, intellect, soul, feelings, heart, spirit, courage, character

cor: heart, mind, soul, spirit, intellect

mens: mind, reason, intellect, judgment, plan, intention, frame of mind, courage
pectus: breast, heart, feeling, soul, mind

spiritus: breath, breathing, air, soul, life

viscer: entrails, innermost part of the body, heart
viscus: soft fleshy body parts, internal organs, entrails, flesh

For the record, I would probably translate the phrase something like adversis terris, animi coniuncti, which may not be exactly right, but at least has the virtue of simplicity. I think animi is probably the most appropriate word for hearts in this context, though why I say that I'm not sure- none of the others feel quite right.

For the dangers of using internet translators see these Latin tattoos.

Related Posts

• Politics- Roman Style

Myoparones

Translating Cicero’s In Verrem V with my year 12 class recently, we came across an unusual Latin word. Verres had been accused (among many other things) of accepting a bribe to release a pirate, and keeping the plunder for himself and his cronies, and Cicero, in summing up his behaviour, writes:

Haec igitur est gesta res, haec victoria praeclara: myoparone piratico capto dux liberatus, symphoniaci Romam missi, formosi homines et adulescentes et artifices domum abducti, in eorum locum et ad eorum numerum cives Romani hostilem in modum cruciati et necati...

And so this is what he accomplished, this outstanding victory: having captured a pirate myoparo, the leader was set free, the musicians who had been on board were sent to Rome, as for the pirates’ captives, the good-looking ones, the young ones those with any kind of skill were taken away to his home, and in place of the pirates whom he had set free, and to make up their number, Roman citizens were tortured and killed as if they were enemies…

The unusual word here is myoparo, in the first line; it seems to refer to some kind of pirate ship, but what kind of ship exactly? Levens has this to say:

myoparone: this word, which is used later in the speech (§§89, 97, 100), to describe other pirate ships, was a grammarians’ puzzle until the discovery in Tunisia [i.e. the Ancient city of Carthage] of a mosaic depicting various types of a ship with their names attached… There a myoparo is shown between a vessel called mydion or musculus (Gr. and Lat. diminutives of mus, which in both languages, means a rat or mouse) and another called paro, so we suppose it to be a portmanteau word denoting a ship combining the characteristics of these two types. The first half of the compound suggests that the myoparo was small (cf. §§89; 97) and fast-moving (in the mosaic it has both mast and oars), as pirate ships would need to be…

R. G. C. Levens, Cicero; The Fifth Verrine Oration

I tried to locate a picture of the mosaic referred to by Levens, but the best I could find was at this site. Here are two other discussions of what kind of ship this actually was:

As a rule we do not find that the pirates made use of any particular rig or build. Probably, in most cases the would-be pirate was content with the first boat that came to hand by theft or purchase… The two vessels which in Hellenistic and Roman times are most closely associated with the pirates, the hemiolia and the myoparo, were [also] widely used by others… The myoparo, according to Mr Torr was broader than the regular warship in proportion to its length, and, we may assume, more suitable for stowing loot. Both vessels were sea-going ships, the myoparo, at any rate, possessing a mast and sails, as well as oars.

H. A. Ormerod, Piracy in the Ancient World

[Myoparones] were fighting ships of no great size. They were in use throughout the Mediterranean in the First Century B.C. for warfare and for piracy. Apparently they were broader than the regular war-ships in proportion to their length, and therefore better able to keep the sea. [The evidence of Appian and Plutarch] would naturally define the myoparones as vessels of a hybrid species between the long ships and the round ships… vessels termed parones and parunculi are mentioned in verses that are ascribed to Cicero…. The myoparones therefore bore a compound name: and a compound name would naturally be given to a ship of an intermediate type.

C. Torr, Ancient Ships

derivations by association

The other day I was thinking about the word voracious, and how it comes from the Latin word voro (to devour), which is also the root of the word carnivorous; carnis is Latin for meat or flesh, and the source of the word carnival, which was originally a celebration to mark the beginning of Lent, a time when you didn't eat meat- since vale is Latin for good-bye, carnival is literally 'good-bye to meat'; similarly a valediction (see, for example, this poem) is a fancy word for a farewell (dico = to say), and a benediction is a blessing, bene being Latin for good/well- which we also see in the word benevolent, coming from the Latin word to want (volo), as does malevolent, which has the opposite meaning (malus = bad).



That's all really...

destructive derivations

For no particular reason here are three English similes for 'destroy' and their Latin derivations:

• to annihilate comes from ad+nihil, to turn something into nothing.

• to obliterate comes comes from the Latin verb oblittero (to blot out or erase), which I presume comes in turn from ob+litterum and must have been originally used in the context of written records.

• to pulverise comes from pulvis (pulveris), and so means to turn something to dust.

Cicero in Sicily

Preparing to teach Cicero's In Verrem V for next year, I came across a passage where Cicero reflects upon the time he spent in Sicily as a quaestor. Cicero is deservedly known for his arrogance and high opinion of himself, but in this passage we get to glimpse a rare side of his character; a less serious, and more self deprecatory side.

non vereor ne mihi aliquid, iudices, videar adrogare, si de quaestura mea dixero... vere me hercule hoc dicam: sic tum existimabam, nihil homines aliud Romae nisi de quaestura mea loqui. frumenti in summa caritate maximum numerum miseram; negotiatoribus comis, mercatoribus iustus, mancipibus liberalis, sociis abstinens, omnibus eram visus in omni officio diligentissimus; excogitati quidam erant a Siculis honores in me inauditi. itaque hac spe decedebam ut mihi populum Romanum ultro omnia delaturum putarem.

I’m not of afraid of appearing to boast, gentlemen, if I speak about my quaestorship… Indeed, by Hercules, I will say this; at that time I imagined that people at Rome were talking about nothing else, apart from my quaestorship. I had sent a huge amount of grain when prices were high; I was friendly with the businessmen, fair to the merchants, generous to the contractors, honest with the allies, I appeared to be most diligent in every job for everyone; certain unheard of honours were devised for me by the Sicilians. And so I left Sicily with such hope that I thought that the Roman people would confer upon me everything of their own accord.

Cicero starts true to form- he's not afraid tell people about all the things he achieved in Sicily, and his high opinion of himself is clear from the reception he expected when he arrived home in Rome. But things weren't quite as he imagined, as an encounter in Puteoli proved:

at ego cum casu diebus eis itineris faciendi causa decedens e provincia Puteolos forte venissem, cum plurimi et lautissimi in eis locis solent esse, concidi paene, iudices, cum ex me quidam quaesisset quo die Roma exissem et num quidnam esset novi. cui cum respondissem me e provincia decedere: 'etiam me hercule,' inquit, 'ut opinor, ex Africa.' huic ego iam stomachans fastidiose: 'immo ex Sicilia,' inquam. tum quidam, quasi qui omnia sciret: 'quid? tu nescis,' inquit, 'hunc quaestorem Syracusis fuisse?' quid multa? destiti stomachari et me unum ex eis feci qui ad aquas venissent.

But in those days when, as I was leaving the province, I happened by chance to come to Puteoli for the sake of making a journey, when a lot of fashionable people were accustomed to be there, I almost died, gentlemen, when someone asked me on what day I had left Rome and whether there was any news. I replied to him that I had come from the provinces: ‘Of course, by Hercules!’ he said, ‘from Africa, if I remember rightly.’ Getting annoyed now, I said pedantically to him: ‘No, from Sicily.’ Then someone else, like some kind of know-it-all, said ‘What? Didn’t you know he’d been quaestor at Syracuse?’ What else could I do? I stopped getting annoyed, and pretended that I was one of those who’d come to enjoy the waters.

(Pro Plancio 64-5)

There were two quaestors assigned to the province of Sicily, one based at Syracuse, the other at Lilybaeum- Cicero had been at Lilybaeum. Despite what Cicero had imagined, people at Rome were oblivious to his achievements.

The word Cicero uses for 'getting annoyed' is a great one- stomachor. Obviously it's related to the word 'stomach' and reflects how Cicero felt physically as well as emotionally. I suppose we mean a similar thing when we say that we find something 'hard to stomach'.

Balderdash

As an end of term activity with my year nine class today we played a bit of Balderdash. The girls were given a Latin word, for which they had to invent a definition. Then their definitions were pooled together, and they had to try to choose which one was correct. Here are some of the words, and their definitions; can you tell which one is correct?

vermino, are, avi, atus:

• to have worms
• to walk with great pride
• to be truthful, to tell the truth

olfactoriolum, i (nt):

• a factory used for making wine in Roman times
• a lazy person
• a little perfume bottle

mansuetarius, i (m):

• a complex sewerage system made for a large city
• a bull that is used for agricultural purposes
• a tamer of wild beasts

stomachor, ari, atus:

• to be irritated, annoyed
• to put up with a difficult situation
• to make extremely loud sounds, like the trumpeting of an elephant

catillo, nis (m):

• a porch, outdoor patio
• someone who licks plates
• a public place for women to bathe

How to turn a lion into a mouse

Can you change leo to mus in five steps, changing one letter at a time to form a new Latin word?

Related Posts

• Latin word games
• word ladders
• Lewis Carroll

grex

My Latin word for the weekend is grex, gregis (m), meaning 'flock, herd, crowd'. It's a pretty unremarkable word in and of itself, but it's got a number of interesting (at least to me) English derivations.

• gregarious, meaning 'fond of the company of others; sociable' is obvious enough- it describes someone who likes being part of a grex.
• a congregation is a 'gathered or assembled body' (particularly in a religious context); i.e. a grex that's come together (con).
• segregate means 'to separate or set apart from others', i.e. from the grex.
• egregious, once meant 'distinguished or eminent', but has now come to mean the opposite 'extraordinary in some bad way'. The idea that goes along with both these meanings is that an egregious person (for example) stands out of (e) the grex in some way.

Lewis Carroll

Until I stumbled across it earlier this week on wikipedia, I never knew that Lewis Carroll (the author of Alice in Wonderland) is credited with inventing word ladders. Lewis Carroll wasn't actually his real name, but a pseudonym created by translating his first two names (Charles Lutwidge) into Latin (which gives you Carolus Ludovicus apparently), switching the order of the two names, then translating them back into English*.

To find out what your name would be in Latin, have a look at this site (though some of the names it comes up with are a bit lame), or for a more serious look at Roman names you can try here- scroll down to the bottom of the page for tips on Latinising your own name.

Lewis Carroll's other notable link to the Classics is that the character of Alice seems to have been in some sense based on or inspired by Alice Liddell, the daughter of Henry Liddell, who helped write the Liddell and Scott Classical Greek dictionary, still in use today. I was sure he was also somehow related to Charlton T Lewis, who wrote most of the Lewis and Short Latin dictionary, but I can't find any evidence- even on wikipedia.

*[Carolus is the Latin equivalent of Charles, which is why Charlemagne (Carolus Magnus in Latin) is known as a Carolingian king, and if Prince Charles ever becomes king we will be living in Carolingian times.]

word ladders

When I was in primary school I used to love doing word ladders- where you start with one word and change one letter at a time to arrive at a new word in a certain number of steps. For example, to change dog to cat in three steps would be dog, dot, cot, cat.

Here are a couple of Latin word ladders (scala verborum?) I made for my year nine class, see if you can work them out.

• canis to lupus in five steps
• nox to die in five steps

10 points for the first correct solutions!

[N.B. Apparently for proper word ladders jumbling letters or adding/subtracting a letter can count as a step, but for these ones it's not necessary.]

Related Posts

• Latin Wordplay

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.

onomatopoiea

My learned language teaching colleagues and I were discussing onomatopoeia over lunch today, particularly the noises made by animals in different cultures. Did you know, for example, that although dogs say 'woof' or 'bow wow' in English speaking countries, in Germany they say 'wau wau', in France the say 'ouah ouah' and in Japan 'wun wun'?

I'm not sure what dogs said in ancient Rome, but many of the latin verbs which describe the sounds animals make have an onomatopoeiaic quality. Can you guess which animals are most commonly associated with these latin verbs ?

• balo
• baubo
• coaxo
• maumo
• mugio
• pipio
• ululo
• vagio

While we're at it, there's a famous play by the Greek comedian Aristophanes, in which the chorus dances around singing 'brek-kek-kek-kek koax koax, brek-kek-kek-kek koax'. Which animal are they imitating (it's also the name of the play)?

• Related post: Cats and Dogs

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