Constantine's Silver Medallion: Ticinum, 315

I was doing a search for a specific silver medallion of Constantine struck in 315 and, surprisingly to me, the third google result was apost from here from a few years ago, in which I quoted Averil Cameron as follows:

Like other Christian signs, the chi-rho emblem is in fact rare on Constantine's coins, and the early silver medallions of 315 from Ticinum (Pavia) showing the Emperor wearing a high-crested helmet with the Christogram are exceptional.

As it turns out, the medallion referred to there was the one I was looking for today, from here:

What is interesting about this one especially is the chi-rho on the helmet, and the traditional she-wolf suckling the twins in the bottom right on the shield.

Bad tattoo Latin!

Okay, this one actually makes me feel bad. I hate the thought that some well-meaning Marines have (semi-)permanently scarred themselves with something nonsensical:

It's supposed to say, "Father and Son: Brothers Forever." Of course it really says "Father and Growth: Brother! Endlessness!"

(Punctuation added, of course, for emphasis.)

NOTE: I know that natus (2nd declension) can mean son (or at least man-child), but why not use filius? I think it's funnier this way (4th declension).

Studia Callimachea

There was a footnote in something I was reading today referring to Koenraad Kuiper's discussion of oppositio in imitando, so I decided to check Google Books to see if they have it, and they do:
Studia Callimachea (1896)

Actually, use this one instead. I went to p. 114, which is the page to which the footnote pointed (or toed) me, and a little bit of the right side of the page is cut off. This is not a problem in the second link.

The discussion starts thus:

Studia Callimachea By Koenraad Kuiper

Luttwak on Millar

Just when I was considering dropping my BMCR subscription (how many times can I delete a dry paean to pedantic postmodernist drivel?), along comes the HESPEROS review and now something perhaps more intriguing: the controversial American military historian Edward Luttwak reviews Fergus Millar, the great British historian of the Late Roman Near East, on the transition of Rome from a Latin- to a Greek-speaking empire. Has someone been reading my thoughts?

HESPEROS: Studies in Ancient Greek Poetry Presented to M. L. West on his Seventieth Birthday

The cleverly-titled Hesperos, a Festschrift for M.L. West (get it?), has just been reviewed in the BMCR and has opened a hole in my library that I hadn't noticed. As the reviewer notes in his curt close, "The price of the book is hideous." It's listed at $199, a small sum for Croesus, but Amazon has knocked off 32% for the moderately wealthy among us.

I'm most intrigued by Kenneth Dover's contribution, a 'lyric Encomium' that

sets itself the familiar task of encoding the honorand's achievement in a few well-chosen phrases. In West's case, this would be hard enough to do in English, but Dover pulls it off in clever and elegant Greek. His epode praises West's pioneering efforts to make students of Greek poetry more aware of its interactions with Near Eastern culture.

So without further ado:

ΕΣΠΕΡΩΙ
ΣΟΦΙΑΙ

μελετᾶν ἄνδρ' ἔμπειρον ἀκριβέων      (στρ.)
ἔδοξε βουλᾷ συνετῶν ἐπαινέσαι
ἀφνειόν τ' οὐ κατὰ δαμόταν θέμεν,
ἄξιον ὄντα χρέος πράσσειν μέγ' ὀφειλόμενον·
τοσαῦτα κείνου μεμαθήκαμεν ἄμμες.      (5)

γενεὰς τὰς καθ' Ἡσίοδον θεῶν      (ἀντ.)
σαφανίσας κ' Ἀρχίλοχον καὶ Θεόγνιδας,
τέτραπται πρὸς Διόνυσον ἠδ' Ἄρη
ἁρμονίας τε λυρᾶν καὶ τέθμα Τερψιχόρας
ὥστ' ἐξικέσθαι σοφίας ἐπ' ἄωτον.      (10)

τολμᾷ δ' ὑπερβαίνειν ὅρους ἐθνέων παλαιῶν·      (ἐπ.)
ἀλλ' οὐ γὰρ ἑλλανίδα μῆτιν ἐλέγξας
ἀπώσατ', ἰχνεύει δ' ἰδέας ἀοιδᾶν
φαίνων ἄρα μοῦνον ἐὸν Μοισᾶν γένος.
     K.J.D

I should point out the synizesis in Θεόγνιδας at the end of line 7.

'Silver Age' Again

Chris comments in the post below:

If I recall, some "silver age" authors actually first designated Cicero, Vergil, and company as authors of the "Golden Age". So naturally taken up from that Silver Age would be a complement. My OED is packed before the move, so I cannot check it at the moment.

I would be interested in any references in which 'silver' writers refer to the Augustan writers (or even to late Republican literature if we want to extend back to Cicero, as we probably should) as having written in a 'Golden Age'. To be sure, 'silver' writers sometimes made a trope of their secondariness; for example, Statius Thebaid 10.445-6 (Hinds discusses this and other passages relating to 'secondariness'):

vos quoque sacrati, quamvis mea carmina surgant
inferiore lyra, memores superabitis annos.

Also of interest is the pseudo-Ovidian Argumenta Aeneidis, praefatio 1-4 (text from Ziolkowski and Putnam's The Virgilian Tradition):

Vergilius magno quantum concessit Homero,
tantum ego Vergilio, Naso poeta, meo.
Nec me praelatum cupio tibi ferre, poeta;
ingenio si te subsequor, hoc satis est.

Vergil refers to the return of a golden age in general terms in Eclogue 4, which he specifically relates to Saturnian myth (e.g., redeunt Saturnia regna, 6): ac toto surget gens aurea mundo (9); but a quick glance through Ziolkowski and Putnam's index s.v. 'golden age' didn't yield anything relating to literary designations (but I was skimming pretty quickly and don't have time at the moment for a really thorough search).

In English, the term 'golden age' to refer to Augustan literature seems to have come into play earlier than 'silver age'. The OED's earliest reference is from Dryden in 1700: 'With Ovid ended the golden age of the Roman tongue.' Interestingly, Dryden uses the term mythically 15 years previous to this: 'Those first times, which Poets call the Golden Age.'

'Silver Age' Literature

I was intrigued by a footnote in Stephen Hinds' Allusion and Intertext regarding the post-antique designation of early imperial literature as 'silver'--namely, how long this designation has been around, which according to the OED goes back at least to 1736 (p. 83 n. 66).

So I went to the OED entry for 'silver age'. The first meaning is the mythical one: 'The second age of the world, according to the Greek and Roman poets, inferior in simplicity and happiness to the first or golden age.'

Definition 1.b is the literary meaning: 'The period of Latin literature from the death of Augustus to that of Hadrian.' And indeed, the first use is from 1736, where Ainsworth writes: 'Tacitus, Pliny the historian, Suetonius, and some other prose writers, flourished in the silver age.' The next use comes in Charles Butler's Life of Hugo Grotius:'The language of the Pandects is of the silver age.'

What I find most interesting is the way in which a term used to describe a mythical period in ancient literature (cf. subiit argentea proles, Ovid Met.1.114) has made its way into English as a literary-historical term to describe the actual poetry (and prose) of certain ancient writers. Huh.

Cumont on Google Books

I was just poking around on Google Books and thought I'd post some Franz Cumont bibliography.

The Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism

Les religions orientales dans le paganisme romain

After Life in Roman Paganism

Astrology and Religion Among the Greeks and Romans

The Mysteries of Mithra

Die Mysterien des Mithra

Les mystères de Mithra

Sur l'authenticité de quelques lettres de Julien

Alexandre d'Abonotichos: Un épisode de l'histoire du paganisme au IIe siecle de notre ere

Philonis de aeternitate mundi (ed. + prolegomena)

Seven Hills Mnemonic

I picked up Robert Harris's Imperium as a little bedtime reading and as I opened to the map of Republican Rome just before the start of the book my eyes passed over the first letters of Quirinal, Viminal, and Esquiline. In a flash I'd read them as QVE, and it wasn't a second before I read the top half of the map as CapitolinvsQVE.

The bottom half gave me AC Palatinvs, but putting these two together in that order didn't quite work, so I decided to take another tack:

What are the three most important hills in the city's history?

Ianicvlvm
AC Palatinvs
CapitolinvsQVE.

This has the advantages of (1) requiring students to memorize only three names (while they can more easily recall the others from the abbreviations), (2) using Latin conjunctions for the abbreviations, reinforcing a bit of the language, and (3) being somewhat visual. It gives the Seven Hills and the Janiculan, an important defense across the Tiber, read in a kind of S shape from bottom to top. I can't help but visualize a map of Rome when I recite this and follow a steady S-shaped trail (Janiculan, then Aventine, Caelian, Palatine, Capitoline, Quirinal, Viminal, and Esquiline).



You can also think of the first line as giving what's west of the Tiber, the second line naming the hills of the southern half of the city, and the third line those of the northern half of the city.

However you break it down, I think it may turn out to be effective and I plan to use it next semester.

'Profusely Illustrated'

I got a kick out of the title page of Rodolfo Lanciani's Pagan and Christian Rome and thought I'd post it here.
""
That's right. If you've got a lot of illustrations, own it.

Henry Chadwick, R.I.P.

Rowan Williams' obituary of the great church historian is here.

(L/v Ref21.)

Macrobius Stuff

Just wanted to post some links here to a couple of items on Google Books that are useful for the study of Macrobius.

Ludwig von Jan's edition of Macrobius' Works (2 voll., 1848-52):
Volume 1
Volume 2

The older Teubner edition of the text, ed. Eyssenhardt, here (There is also a newer Teubner edition, ed. J. Willis, but not available on Google Books.)

O TEMPORA! O FVRES!

The Scottish Parent Teacher Council (SPTC) said pupils are turning to websites and internet resources that contain inaccurate or deliberately misleading information before passing it off as their own work.

The group singled out online encyclopedia Wikipedia, which allows entries to be logged or updated by anyone and is not verified by researchers, as the main source of information.

(Emphasis added.)

Remember the good old days, when students plagiarized from BOOKS and actually PASSED the exams and wrote respectable papers? And then along came Wikipedia!

Isn't the real problem that students are passing something off as their own (and probably always have?)--not that they're now using a less reliable and more easily identifiable source?

Do we really want to hearken back to the days of unverified theft?

Google Books, however, is beginning to make it more difficult for the old school plagiarists.

NOTE: The best and easiest way to prevent plagiarism is to give students very specific guidelines with a personal response component. I would assign a set number of paragraphs (say 5), with limits as to where the student is expected to report facts or research, and where opinion and reactions should be recorded. Citations are a must. When reading 60 or more essays the uniformity helps in so many ways: you already know what belongs where, and have a better idea which bits should be checked on the internet for plagiarism. But next year I may use www.turnitin.com, as many other teachers do already.

On the Virtues of Keeping Your Mouth Shut

Inspired by Dennis, I was looking through the Disticha Catonis and found a few good ones on holding your tongue, and thought I'd post them here.

3. Virtutem primam esse puto compescere linguam:
Proximus ille deo est, qui scit ratione tacere.

10. Contra verbosos noli contendere verbis:
Sermo datur cunctis, animi sapientia paucis.

12. Rumores fuge, ne incipias novus auctor haberi,
Nam nulli tacuisse nocet, nocet esse locutum.

New Latin School in Philadelphia

A really interesting article on the new Boys' Latin School in the Philadelphia Weekly. Here's the beginning:

An ambitious Southwest Philadelphia charter school uses an ancient language as a new formula for learning.

There are minefields on the path to maturity for every young person in this city. But for many young male Philadelphians, the danger runs deeper.

Young men in Philadelphia public schools are more likely than most to live with one parent, have a parent in jail, reside in drug-addled neighborhoods or experience violence. Students in too many Philadelphia public schools can’t be guaranteed basic safety, let alone a decent education.

Enter the Boys’ Latin of Philadelphia Charter School, a new college prep school at 55th and Cedar in Southwest Philadelphia with an ambitious plan to avert the tragedy that defines the city’s public school system. Boys’ Latin’s first batch of students—144 ninth-graders—occupy a 10-room temporary structure as they wait for contractors to finish renovations on the building next door.

Last year there were 11 murders within five blocks of where Boys’ Latin sits. “I worry about the students,” says teacher Paula Sahm, who lives in the Art Museum area of Philadelphia. “I’ll sit and watch the news, and if I even hear Southwest Philly, I get chills.”

Next to the trailer setup is the shell of a former school, once attached to Transfiguration Church, which was destroyed by fire in 2006. Boards cover most of the windows, and pickup trucks occupy most of the adjacent lot. But by next year the school building plans to house 300 Boys’ Latin students, with plans to grow enrollment to 600 by 2010.

The school's website is here.

Blog Spam from fellow classicists?

On my recent post on the tattoo, I found an oddly proselytizing "comment" which I have refused to publish. (Comments are moderated to prevent blog spam.)

The comment seemed automatically generated, but if it wasn't it was posted by someone who has no sense of etiquette or no shame. Expounding off-topic upon the benefits of the Latinum podcast and the Schola social networking community, then telling me that "These sites should be enough to help you get on with learning to read, write and if you want to, even learn how to speak Latin" smacks of insult or ignorance.

This blog, as spotty as our record has been in keeping the posts current, has been around far longer than either Latinum or Schola, and I don't need help in getting on with learning Latin, despite what a certain dark moment (since deleted) on Catullus might suggest to long-time readers.

In other news, my job, the school's internet filters, and my mother's battle with cancer all had their hand in keeping me away from the site for much of the past year. I even suggested to Eric at one point that we retire the site, and reserved another site name ("Campus Mortuus: Long Live the Campus." Ha ha.). But my year ends officially on Tuesday, I've got lots of things on my mind, and a mountain of reading to work through. There's bound to be enough material for the summer and beyond.

Latin tattoo (p.s.)

I forgot to add (and I'm forced to post via e-mail thanks to the school's filters) that I think the butterfly that accompanies the Latin phrase adds to the reading "I have been raised well," as a metaphor of it's own.  The cocoon = the tutela of the parents, the woman who has emerged is the butterfly.

Latin tattoo

Rogueclassicism has a post about a Latin tattoo on the back of the "escort" whom Eliot Spitzer had employed, and there are a lot of very bad interpretations, including silly jokes by those laughing at the supposedly bad Latin and punning on her work as a call girl.  (David's reading, at least, was sensible and accurate, unlike those cited in the piece.)

The phrase in question is tutela valui.

Some of the bad ones (inadvertently, I think) approach a decent and amusing reading: it should be "I have been well-kept" (literally "I have been well through guardianship").  This is in keeping with the Roman tutela mulieris.  The less provocative (and more likely) reading would be something like "I was raised well."

But my genuine reaction (again, taking tutela is an ablative of means) was that the phrase -- written by her bikini line -- means "It takes work to maintain a figure like this."  Literally "I have been well through upkeep."  This works through a metaphorical usage, e.g., where tutela refers to maintaining a building.

If that's the case I think it's a pretty cool tattoo, though I've never been one for "body art."

Wise man say ...

multa legas facito, tum lectis neglege multa;
nam miranda canunt, sed non credenda poetae.

"See to it that you do much reading, and then overlook much of what you've read; for poets sing things to be admired, but not to be believed."

This comes from the famous Distichs of Cato. At least they were famous in past ages. Since it's been established that they were not written by Cato the Elder, they've lost their luster.

They were famous enough even in Byzantine that the great scholar Maximus Planudes wrote a Greek translation (I'm sure I've mentioned it before). It was for centuries a textbook, and was apparently used by Benjamin Franklin as a schoolboy, and later quoted frequently and published by him in translation (though not his own).

I should like to bring selections into the classroom early. The benefits are many: they offer authentic Latin with a long history of readership; they present the meter of epic in self-contained, digestible couplets; they offer a small, manageable context from which one might easily introduce new vocabulary or grammatical concepts; they are generally of intrinsic interest.

Few things are more memorable than maxims, and this collection has the additional merit of having influenced centuries of students, influencing the the makers of the middle ages and beyond. Is there any disadvantage in allowing students to share in this tradition, perhaps to understand the spirit of past ages? They need not agree, or take it as moral council, yet they may still feel connected to the past. And tis collection more points for discussion than "canis latrat" or "Quintus ad terram cadit".

Looking back where we began, I think some of my students could benefit from this advice today, as could many scholars who want to mine poetry for biographical or social data, or to apply theories and produce results.

Communicating in the classroom

Eighty-some years ago a Latin teacher by the name of Wren Jones Grinstead (and what a name it is) wrote a piece for the Classical Journal about the use of projects in the beginning Latin class.

By far the most interesting and provocative part of this most interesting article is the suggestion that we introduce our students to two characters whom they should always keep in mind: Romanus (who knows no English) and Barbarus (who knows no Latin). The argument goes that Language exists in a dualistic mode, between the first and second person, one aiming to be understood, the other to understand.

Now one of the chief reasons for the stiff and silly translations too often offered in our classes lies in the fact that the pupil does not visualize Romanus as the speaker of the Latin sentence, and then in turn make himself the utterer of the same thought to the English- speaking Barbarus in his own vernacular. Hence he is merely solving a puzzle, and his only criterion of success is the teacher's authority; whereas it should be found in the socialization of his own imagination. For the perennial query to the teacher, "Is this right?" the pupil should come to ask Barbarus (or Romanus, as the case may be), "Do you get me?"

This is shockingly good, and I plan to introduce these guys immediately.

(Grinstead, Wren Jones. "The Project Method in Beginning Latin." The Classical Journal 16.7 (1921): 388-398.)