plagiarism? /  by Anthony Gibbins

I prefer allusion. Or sampling. Maybe referencing? Intertextuality? A shout out?

Anyway, here is the original text from the Cambridge Latin Course, Book 1. As you can see, only the names have been changed (to protect the guilty).

tonsor est occupatus. senex in sella sedet. Pantagathus novaculam tenet et barbam tondet. senex novaculam intente spectat.

And, by the way, how great is the interior of the barber store! It was the first Lego kit to come with an actual mirror. And I LOVE Alan's moustache. His head came in a small kit, and originally belonged to a robber escaping a policeman on an inflated tire. I bought the hair piece from a guy at a comic book convention. The razor came with a Peter Pan minifigure. I wasn't too fussed by the Disney range, but I bought a few, just to check them out.

Alan is busy. An old man (senex) is sitting in the chair. Alan is holding a razor (novaculam) and trimming [his] beard (barbam). The old man is watching the razor intently.

et tu, Brute? /  by Anthony Gibbins

One of Shakespeare’s most oft quotes lines, et tu, Brute? are the final words spoken by Julius Caesar in the play of that name. It means something like ‘You too, Brutus?’ or ‘Even you, Brutus?’. Even during the shock of assassination, there was room for further disbelief at Brutus’ involvement.

According to one ancient biographer, Plutarch, no such utterance was made. His account; ‘Some say that he fought and resisted all the rest, shifting his body to avoid the blows, and calling out for help, but that when he saw Brutus' sword drawn, he covered his face with his robe and submitted, letting himself fall.’ Another, Suetonius, has him exclaim ‘You too, young man?’ instead. But not in Latin. In Greek; καὶ σὺ, τέκνον;

But why Brute and not Brutus? The answer is this; some Latin Nouns have a special form used for addressing someone (or something) directly. The form is called the Vocative. Mostly, the vocative looks and sounds exactly like the Nominative. But for some nouns (Second Declension Masculine Nouns in the Singular to be exact) the Vocative looks and sounds a little different.

So, Brutus might be Brutus, but to greet Brutus you would say salve, Brute! To greet Marcus, salve, Marce! To greet Antonius and Gaius, salvete Antoni et Gai. To greet ‘my’ dear son (meus filius carus), salve, mi fili care! To greet Alan the barber and Claudia, salvete, Alane tonsor et Claudia. (Neither tonsor nor Claudia are Second Declension Masculine Nouns).

Today Alan is working in the barber shop. Claudia enters. ‘Salve, Alan,’ Claudia says. ‘Salve Claudia’, Alan responds.

the hairy Lupercus /  by Anthony Gibbins

I am going to type out the entire first paragraph of Victoria Rimells’s Martial’s Rome. I’m a slow typer, but I think you’ll find it worth the effort.

Think back. It’s the mid-nineties. We are on the brink of a new century, and are living and breathing the ‘New Age’ people have been preaching about since the eighties. Thanks to more efficient communication, and the regularising machine of empire, the world seems to have got smaller, and more and more provincials are gravitating towards the sprawling, crowded metropolis, all manically networking to win the same jobs (they all want to be ‘socialites’ or ‘artists’). Many of us are richer and more mobile than ever, but arguably have less freedom. Modern life is a struggle, it seems – it’s dog eat dog in the urban jungle, and those who can’t keep up the pace become victims (actually, being a ‘victim’ is the in thing). ‘Reality’ is the hottest show in town: we’re done with drama and fantasy, as amateur theatrics and seeing people actually suffer is such a blast (as well as being a really ‘ironic’ creative experiment). This is a culture that has long realised Warhol’s prophecy, where everyone wants their bite of the fame cherry, but where fame itself is a dirty shadow of what it used to be. The young recall nothing but peace, yet fierce wars still bristle at the world’s edges, and even as the concrete keeps rising, a smog of instability and malaise lingers. A cynical, middle-class sketch of 1990’s Manhattan or London, or a summary of Martial’s Rome at the peak of his career under Domitian?

And here is one of Martial’s short poems, chosen for containing a tonsor;

Eutrapelus tonsor dum circuit ora Luperci

expingitque genas, altera barba subit.

While (dum) Eutrapelus the barber (Eutrapelus tonsor) goes around (circuit) the mouth of Lupercus (ora Luperci) and (-que) paints (expingit) his cheeks (genas), another (altera) beard (barba) springs up (subit).

I see in this a fairly funny joke about the hairiness of Lupercus. After all, lupus is the Latin word for wolf. But this anonymous translator from 1695 provides a different interpretation;

Eutrapelus, the barber, works so slow,

That while he shaves, the beard anew does grow.

Perhaps you are asking what a tonsor is. A tonsor is a man or woman who clips (tondet) hair (literally, hairs) and beards. The shop where a tonsor works is called a tonstrina.

multus sanguis fluit /  by Anthony Gibbins

Ask someone who studied Latin from the Cambridge Course (long enough ago that they have forgotten most of what they knew) what they remember. I’ve tried this on numerous occasions and the first response has always been one of the following. Metella est in atrio. flocci non facio. multus sanguis fluit. Metella is in the atrium. I don’t give a damn. Much blood flows.

In the pages that follow you will read a retelling of the Cambridge story that ends with much blood flowing. I taught myself Latin from the Cambridge course, and I have a hell of a lot of respect for its methods. It’s not perfect – no text is – and it only got me so far. But it revolutionised how Latin was being taught at the time of its publication. It’s the reason that I read Latin, rather than translate it. And there are some really great stories. versus scurrilis est.

At this moment Claudia is walking to the tonstrina to visit the tonsor. The tonsor, named Alan, is her friend.

(not) Walking with Virgil /  by Anthony Gibbins

Just for something different, I thought that today I would pick a couple of verses from Virgil that contain any form of the verb ambulare and translate them for you. I imagined I would be spoilt for choice, and able to pick four or five favorites from the Aeneid.

I have just the book for this sort of thing, too; an 1822 edition of Virgil’s complete works that I picked up in a second hand bookstore in Armidale, rural New South Wales. Among some other wonderful features, it has an index of EVERY word in EVERY work; index vocabulorum omnium quae in Eclogis, Georgicis, et Aeneide Virgilii leguntur.

But here’s the rub. The word ambulare does not appear anywhere in any work of Virgil. It appears in Ovid, and Seneca, and Plautus, and Cato, and Martial, and Terrence, and Cicero, and Quintilian, but not in Virgil. Anywhere. Weird.

Meanwhile, a woman who is already (iam) known to you, named Claudia, is walking in the street. Do you wish to know to-where (quo) our Claudia is walking?

 

present contrary to fact conditional clause /  by Anthony Gibbins

What to make of all the ridiculous grammatical terms we encounter when studying a language? If I were in charge, they would all be outlawed! ‘If I were in charge’, for example, is a present contrary to fact conditional clause.  Conditional, because they would only be outlawed under the condition that I was in charge. Contrary to fact, because I’m not. And so they’re not either.

There is a contrary to fact conditional on today’s page, but it is called ‘mixed’ rather than ‘present’ because it crosses time-zones (so to speak). The narrator says si possem (if I were [now] able), te certiorem faciam (I would [in the future] make you more certain). certiorem facere (to make more certain), by the way, is the Latin expression that best means ‘inform’.

Without a doubt you wish to know what this suitcase holds inside (intus). Believe me – if I was able, I would tell you.

nondum /  by Anthony Gibbins

nondum is a very powerful and positive word. The same is probably true of the expression ‘not yet’ in English, but it became more obvious to me when I began to speak Latin. Perhaps that was because I was surrounded by positive people, or it may have more to do with how good the word feels in the mouth. Try saying it out loud. nondum, nondum, nondum. Now try the same with ‘not yet’. Am I wrong? Doesn’t nondum just feel a whole lot better?

But why is it so positive? Imagine a Latin learner who desperately wishes to read Virgil’s Aeneid in the original Latin. They are asked, potesne Virgilium legere?, ‘Are you able to read Virgil?’. One possible answer is non possum, ‘I am not able’. It is definite and final. Another is nondum. It is full of promise and hope for the future, of plans that may well come to fruition.

Which reminds me of a wonderful book by William Fitzgerald, Professor of Latin at King’s College London. The title is ‘How to Read a Latin Poem: If You Can’t Read Latin Yet’. The italics are his. If you can’t read Latin yet (or not as well as you would like), that is fine. It is a long and enjoyable journey.

But first, today a certain sailor, not yet know to you, arrived at the town. This sailor is carrying a suitcase (sarcinam) in his right hand.

Claudia /  by Anthony Gibbins

If Claudia was a real person, I think she’d be pretty cool. We don’t know much about her as Legonium pars quarta opens, but we do know that she shoots pool, has an amica called Miranda and likes talking about ancient monuments. We learn quite a bit more about her in par quarta, more from what she does that what is said about her. She is thoughtful of others, smiles at a joke, and is maybe a bit of a peace keeper. She has other adventures ahead – including an overseas trip – but I really shouldn’t say too much about that.

The narrator, on the other hand, is a bit more eager to please. I guess she reflects that part of me that hopes that these stories are well received. She rejoices because you are back to hear more. I rejoice whenever I get the sense that these stories are being enjoyed. So, thank you for coming back and enjoying them!

Hello reader. I rejoice because you have returned to hear more of my story. Today I want to narrate to you more about Claudia.