The most multi-lingual student in Britain

Here's an article about Britain's most multi-lingual student, who at the age of 20 is fluent in 11 languages.

Alex, who was brought up in London and went to Latymer School – one of the country's leading fee-paying schools – reckons he had a head-start. "My mother is half Greek and she spoke to me in Greek and a little bit in French when I was young," he says. "My dad had a job in Japan at a university for four years and we went out to visit him."...

For the record, the 11 languages he speaks fluently are English, Greek, German, Spanish, Russian, Dutch, Afrikaans, French, Hebrew, Catalan and Italian. He took A-levels in German, Spanish and Ancient Greek – and also studied French and Latin at GCSE level.

 That's an impressive list, although it should be noted that four of the languages in which he's fluent are really just modern Latin, which he studied to the GCSE (roughly the equivalent of the old year 10 School Certificate in Australia).

And in related news, this article explains why bilinguals are smarter.

Many are the terrors of the earth...

Boris Johnson (my favourite classically trained conservative politician) has written an article in response to the recent horrific earthquake in Japan and the unfolding situation with its nuclear power plants. I disagree with a lot of what he says, but, as a Latin teacher, I've got to admire the style with which he says it. Here are a few examples:

Whatever happens in the world, whatever the catastrophe, we just have to put ourselves at the centre of the story. In the second millennium BC, there was a huge earthquake and tsunami in the Mediterranean, an event that has been associated with the eruption of Greece's Santorini volcano. It was obvious to the ancients that this must have been to do with mankind - and specifically the misbehaviour of the people of Atlantis, who got uppity and dissed Poseidon. So Poseidon struck back. Of course he did...


I am afraid to say that our manic post hoc ergo propter hoc-ery survives to this day. When Phuket in Thailand was hit by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami, there were a large number of religious nut-jobs - and not only in America - who were convinced that this was some kind of divine vengeance on that town for the alleged immorality of its residents and its reputation for sex tourism. It is always us, us, us. Many are the terrors of the earth, says the chorus in Sophocles, and nothing is more terrible than mankind.

Well, the only good thing about an earthquake and tsunami on this scale is that they remind us that even Sophocles was capable of talking bilge. There are plenty of things more terrifying than man, and they include asteroids, earthquakes, tsunamis and anything else that reminds us that we are tiny blobs of flesh and blood crawling on the thin integument of a sphere of boiling rock and metal, and that there are events in the life of the planet that are simply nothing to do with human action...

The response to the Japan earthquake is to send all the aid and the logistic support that we can. But we don't have to treat this as any kind of verdict on mankind's activities. We don't have to make amends by sacrificing a hecatomb to Poseidon. We don't have to lead 100 garlanded men and maidens to the top of the pyramid and then cut out their beating hearts. We don't have to stop drilling for oil, and we don't have to sacrifice our efforts to provide safe, clean and green nuclear power.

Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus

I woke up this morning to hear Adam Spencer on the radio asking if anyone knew by what name Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus is better known. I pitied the poor fool who rang up to answer "Augustus, the first emperor of Rome" but the next caller was spot on with "Caligula".

He was asking the question in response to this article about the apparent discovery of the emperor Caligula's tomb. The article explains how he was given the name Caligula - as a kid he used to accompany his dad (confusingly known as Germanicus) out to the battlefield, dressed up in a mini-soldier's uniform, including boots. The boots were known as caligae - caligula is a diminutive form meaning 'little boot(s)'. Interestingly the statue of Caligula which led to the discovery of the tomb is wearing a pair of these boots. The learned Rogue Classicum has more on the news, but is cautious (to put it mildly) about the authenticity of the discovery.

The article in the Sydney Morning Herald also trots out all the usual stuff about Caligula, as in this sentence:

After reportedly sleeping with his sisters, killing for pleasure and seeking to appoint his horse a consul during his rule from AD37 to 41, Caligula was described by contemporaries as insane.

The article is decent enough to say that he only 'reportedly' slept with his sisters, but is pretty vague on who Caligula's 'contempories' might be. I'm not much of an expert on any aspect of Roman history, but the biographies of the emperors are generally not straightforward, and a lot of the most sensational stories often have to be taken with a fairly large grain of salt. In Caligula's case, the major sources of information about his life come from Suetonius and Cassius Dio, who are writing about 80 and 180 years respectively after his death. Wikipedia has a pretty good summary of the various sources and their reliability.

Of course, none of the sources portray Caligula as a saint, but he wasn't necessarily as insane and perverted as he's often made out to be, and in fact he seems to have been responsible for some genuine achievements during his reign.

Pompeii in the news

Pompeii has been in the news twice in two days. Firstly this article which claims to give a new explanation of how the people in Pompeii actually died. I'm not an expert, but I didn't think the article contained anything new, and I'm not sure how accurate their conclusions are either.

Then there was some trouble with Tuesday's HSC Ancient History Exam, and a mix-up over some funerary inscriptions found near the Herculaneum Gate (which is located, somewhat confusingly, in Pompeii, not Herculaneum).

Reasons to Learn Latin; #3974

[The respective mayors of Sydney and London; Julius Caesar (left) and Boris Johnson]

A couple of articles for some light reading of the weekend. Firstly an entertaining and insightful piece by Boris Johnson (mayor of London) on the value of learning Latin. Here's a taste:

...there are times when a minister says something so maddening, so death-defyingly stupid, that I am glad not to be in the same room in case I should reach out, grab his tie, and end what is left of my political career with one almighty head-butt.

Such were my feelings on reading Mr Ed Balls on the subject of teaching Latin in schools...

(Thanks to Rogue Classicism for bringing this to my attention)

And closer to home Charles Purcell (of Chaser fame) imagines what Caesar would be like as benevolent dictator of Sydney.

If Julius Caesar was in charge of Sydney, we wouldn't still be arguing whether to build a cross circus maximus or integrated rail/ferry/chariot link. No longer would the scrolls and papyruses of the day have headlines like "Welcome to SnailRail", "Ferry system slow than horse-drawn buggies", "ancient Egyptians got to work quicker than Sydneysiders - study". Caesar would declare: "I came, I saw, I ordered the building of an integrated transport network." He would order construction immediately and no senator would dare object, lest he be sent to govern the barbarian provinces of Gaul (aka Mount Druitt).

The benign dictator would announce that Sydney's much-needed second airport would finally be built - in Mosman.

Don't miss the article's comments if you're a Terry Pratchett fan.

(Thanks to Lilian for bringing this to my attention)

sidere mens eadem mutato

My alma mater was in the news yesterday over plans to drop the Latin motto from its publicity materials.

AFTER 150 years the University of Sydney has abandoned its status quo, dropping the Latin motto from its redesigned coat of arms and logo...

The motto - most commonly translated as ''the constellation is changed, the disposition is the same'' - has been part of the university's coat of arms since 1857. As a first-time astronaut, Greg Chamitoff, a former university staff member, even took a patch of the crest into space on the shuttle Discovery in 2008.

Marian Theobald, the university's external relations executive director, said market research, overseen by the Chicago-based firm Lipman Hearne, had found the university relied too heavily on its sandstone heritage and something ''bolder, more energetic and more modern'' was needed...

''The motto will still be used by the university and will be maintained for more formal purposes, such as on testamurs....''

Emily Matters, president of the Classical Language Teachers Association, said the removal was hugely disappointing.

''I think this goes against everything what universities stand for where one generation hands over its culture to the next,'' she said.

Anthony Alexander, president of the Classical Association of NSW, who also teaches Greek and Latin at the University of Sydney, said the deletion was far from a dumbing down of the university or a denigration of Latin.

''What matters is what we teach, what we actually do in the classrooms,'' he said. ''I don't think it compromises Latin, which is stronger than ever.''

Magnapinna

This article in today's paper about a rare species of squid caught my eye. The squid was filmed more than 2km under the sea by a remote control camera, and has been identified as belonging to the magnapinna genus. Magnapinna is Latin for 'big wing/fin', and if you have a look at some of these pictures you can see how it got its name- from the huge size of the fins on the side of its head.

Related Post:

• Quid est?

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.

audio video disco

Here's an article (with thanks to Latinlanguage.us) about Latin in everyday speech, which explains the title of this blog (in case you didn't know already).

labels

I've updated my sidebar, to include some labels (primarily for the benefit of my year 12 students); now if you want to look up everything I've ever written about the HSC (for example), just click on the HSC link in my side bar.

And while we're talking about the HSC, here's an article I saw in the paper the other day, suggesting that the cure for HSC stress is to write less.

fusionman

I hope that fusionman has read the story of Daedalus and Icarus in Ovid's metamorphoses, and takes Daedalus' wise advice:

instruit et natum “medio” que “ut limite curras,
Icare,” ait “moneo, ne, si demissior ibis,
unda gravet pennas, si celsior, ignis adurat
inter utrumque vola. nec te spectare Booten
aut Helicen iubeo strictumque Orionis ensem:
me duce carpe viam!”

Daedalus equips his son, and says "Icarus, I warn you to fly by the middle course, so that the waves won't weigh down your wings, if you go too low, and so that the fire of the sun won't burn them, if you fly too high; fly between the two. I order you not to look at the bear-watcher, nor Helike, nor the drawn sword of Orion: take to the sky with me as your leader."

Of course, we all know what happened next:

cum puer audaci coepit gaudere volatu
deseruitque ducem, caelique cupidine tactus
altius egit iter. rapidi vicinia solis
mollit odoratas, pennarum vincula, ceras:
tabuerant cerae; nudos quatit ille lacertos
remigioque carens non ullas percipit auras,
oraque caerulea patrium clamantia nomen
excipiuntur aqua, quae nomen traxit ab illo.

The boy began to revel in his daring flight, and deserted his leader, and touched with a longing for the heavens, he steered his course higher. The nearness of the scorching sun softened the sweet-smelling wax, the bonds of the feathers: the wax melted; he shakes his bare arms, but lacking the power of his wings he cannot catch any air, and his mouth, calling the name of his father, is swallowed up by the dark-blue sea which now bears his name.

[Ovid, Metamorphoses VIII.204-9, 223-30]

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]

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]

Thinkers rather than droids

An eloquent article from a Latin student who has just completed his HSC, on the benefits of studying the Classics.

There's also a documentary on the vigiles on the ABC tonight at 8:35 which looks interesting, called the Guardians of Rome. You can watch a review of it here.

• Related post: Latin letters

The Cave of Romulus?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lysistrata

I missed this stunt when it first came out, but I came across it in a copy of the Green Voice which I found on the train last week, and thought it was worth putting up here.

On the Sunday of the APEC weekend, Greens MP Ian Cohen took to the seas off Bondi in an action directed at APEC spouses, asking them to withhold sex until their husbands or wives stop all war and commit to binding greenhouse targets. Ian paddled out surrounded by police (on jet skis this time) to reveal a novel but historically proven message.

In keeping with the universal concept of survival ‘Make Love Not War’- Ian painted one word onto his surfboard and paddled through the waves.

The APEC spouses having lunch at the Bondi Icebergs were invited to consider a simple but potent word displayed by Ian from the water: ‘LYSISTRATA’

“Aristophanes wrote this tale about women who had grown weary of war. Led by Lysistrata, they succeeded where other aspirational strategies had failed,” Ian explained to waiting media. “My goal today was to place firmly in the minds of the political partners this ancient Greek play, which features the women of Greece going on a sex strike to prevent their husbands going to war.”

“It worked in Ancient Greece. It can work today. Spouses withholding sexual favours can change the world for the better.”

Asterix and the Archeologists

There was an interesting article in Monday's newspaper about some archaeological digs going in central France. The archaeologists have found all kinds of things which suggest that the Gauls had a much more sophisticated society than is popularly imagined. I'm not sure that it's as revolutionary a discovery as the article makes out, but it's an interesting read nevertheless. Here's an extract:

Rather than the random gatherings of rudimentary thatched huts illustrated in the Asterix books, first published in 1961, archaeologists now believe the Gauls lived in elegant buildings with tiled roofs, laid out in towns with public squares.

Ironmongers' tools, coins and scales suggest they also crafted metalwork just as complex as anything produced by the Romans, even before the Roman invasion in 52BC. The findings have been made at a dig in Corent, near Lyon, where archaeologists have uncovered what they believe is the palace of Vercingetorix, a prince and the last military leader of all Gaul.

Vercingetorix was a leader of the Gauls, who fought a long war against Julius Caesar. Plutarch records a dramatic account of his surrender to Caesar:

But those who held Alesia, after giving no small trouble to themselves and to Caesar, at last surrendered; and the leader of the whole war, Vergentorix, putting on his best armour, and equipping his horse, came out through the gates, and riding round Caesar who was seated, and then leaping down from his horse, he threw off his complete armour, and seating himself at Cæsar's feet, he remained there till he was delivered up to be kept for the triumph.

[Plutarch, Life of Caesar, XXVII]

Caesar himself gives us quite a different account in his own history of the Gallic wars:

Vercingetorix, having convened a council the following day, declared that he had undertaken that war, not on account of his own exigencies, but on account of the general freedom; and since he must yield to fortune, he offered himself to them for either purpose, whether they should wish to atone to the Romans by his death, or surrender him alive. Ambassadors are sent to Caesar on this subject. He orders their arms to be surrendered, and their chieftains delivered up. He seated himself at the head of the lines in front of the camp, the Gallic chieftains are brought before him. They surrender Vercingetorix, and lay down their arms.

[Caesar, de bello Gallico VII.89]

defectiones lunae

I enjoyed very much watching the lunar eclipse we had in Sydney earlier this week. It's interesting that such a natural and well understood phenomenon can inspire such excitement and wonder. Lots of natural events (eg earthquakes, volcanoes) were mysteries to the Romans, but eclipses, of both the sun and the moon were things they could not only understand, but even predict.

Lots of Roman writers mention eclipses- Pliny in his Natural History, Seneca in his Natural Questions, and even Cicero refers to them from time to time. Here's one example from Cicero's De Republica, part of a conversation between Scipio Aemilianus and his nephew Tubero:

Scipio: I remember when my father was consul in Macedonia and we were in camp (I was quite young at the time), our army was troubled with superstitious fear because on a clear night the bright full moon suddenly failed. Galus was then our staff officer, about a year before he was elected consul. On the next day, without any hesitation, he made a public statement in the camp to the effect that this was not an omen; it had happened then, and would continue to happen at fixed times in the future, when the sun was in a position from which its light could not reach the moon.... He relieved those desperately worried worried soldiers from groundless superstition and fear...

Something of that kind also happened in the great war which was fought with such ferocity between Athens and Sparta. When an eclipse of the sun brought sudden darkness, and the Athenians' minds were in the grip of panic, the great Pericles is said to have told his fellow citizens a fact which he had heard from his former tutor Anaxagoras, namely that this thing invariably happened at fixed intervals when the entire moon passed in front of the sun's orb; and so, while it did not occur at every new moon, it could not occur except in that situation...

At that time it was a new and unfamiliar idea that the sun was regularly eclipsed when the moon came between it and the earth- a fact which was reputedly discovered by Thales of Miletus. On a later occasion the point was also made by our own Ennius. He writes that about three hundred and fifty years after the foundation of Rome:

On June the fifth the moon and night blocked out
The sun.

In this area there is so much scientific sophistication that earlier solar eclipses are calculated from this day (recorded by Ennius and the Major Annals) right back to the one which occurred on July the seventh in the reign of Romulus. In that darkness nature carried Romulus off to a normal death; yet we are told that on account of his valour he was raised to heaven.

The banishment of superstition is a common theme throughout Cicero's philosophical writings- the good life (vita beata) is the life lived in accordance with reason (ratio) and nature (natura). And so notice how he applauds the calm rationality of Galus and Pericles, and provides a rationalistic version of the death of Romulus- 'nature carried Romulus off to a normal death', at the same time distancing himself- 'it is told'- from the supernatural or superstitious version of events.

[If you're interested in reading more about eclipses and Romans I found this essay fascinating]

Elvis Rex

In case you missed it, this past week has been Elvis Week- 30 years since the (rumoured) death of Elvis Presley. I'm not much of a fan, but someone who is, is Jukka Ammondt, who has released a recording of Elvis' songs in Latin. Why? In his own words: "Latin is an eternal language and therefore I believe it is important to document Elvis' songs also in this eternal language." You can order his CDs (including his most recent hit 'Three Songs in Sumerian') from his website.

These are a few of the songs he has covered; see if you can work out their English titles:

• non adamare non possum
• tenere me ama
• ne saevias
• glaudi calcei