… I wonder how this would fit into Lynn Catterson’s theory on Michelangelo actually sculpting the Laocoon (see, e.g., Scholar: Michelangelo faked dazzling archaeological find)
The incipit of a piece at the CBC on the war in Afghanistan:
When a Canadian soldier dies in Afghanistan (as more than 150 have so far), it makes front-page news. In Ontario, a stretch of the 401 has been renamed the Highway of Heroes, and Canadians pay tribute by lining the overpasses from Trenton to Toronto.
Now cast your mind back a couple of millennia. In 216 B.C., 48,000 soldiers were killed in a single battle on a single day. The place was Cannae, on the Italian Peninsula, and the occasion was a battle in the Second Punic War between those imperial rivals, Rome and Carthage.
Not only did these 48,000 men – there were only male soldiers then – die in a single day, but they were butchered in what military historian Robert L. O’Connell calls a “massive knife fight.” As he told me on a recent Ideas episode, those men, mostly Roman, were herded together and slaughtered by the cunning Carthaginian general Hannibal. O’Connell is the author of The Ghosts of Cannae: Hannibal and the Darkest Hour of the Roman Republic. There is no doubt in O’Connell’s mind that the most hellish place on Earth that day was a patch of ground on the Italian peninsula.
Military historians have a way of graphically presenting their facts. Based on what O’Connell estimates was the average weight of a Roman soldier – 130 pounds, or almost 59 kilograms – there was, on the battlefield, “6-7 million pounds of freshly slaughtered human meat.” A feast for carrion, a “bonanza” for foxes, wolves, vultures and other rummaging creatures.
… the Ideas episode with Robert O’Connell, alas, does not seem to have made it to the CBC podcast pool …
(tip o’ the pileus to Barbara Saylor Rodgers):
William F. Wyatt Jr., 78, professor emeritus and former chairman of the department of classics at Brown University, and a prolific contributor to the op-ed page of The Providence Journal, died March 25 in The Miriam Hospital, Providence.
Wyatt’s op-ed pieces over the years ranged across an eclectic landscape in which he tilled such fields as the culture of Fall River, road rage, famous wartime phrases, Latin, and the importance of mothers talking to their youngsters.
Addressing the rites of Halloween in a 1997 article, Wyatt discussed “hysteron proteron,” the reversal of the logical order of ideas in a phrase, such as in “I die, I faint, I fail.” Wyatt said the familiar children’s plea, “Trick or treat,” provided another example: “The statement, were it to be well-formed logically, would be: ‘If you do not give me a treat, I shall perform a [possibly unpleasant] trick.’ ”
Also that year, he addressed road rage and advanced the proposition that the phrase’s popularity had to do with its “alliterative quality.” Had the phenomenon carried the moniker “road anger” or “street ire,” he wrote, perhaps, it would not have caught on so universally. He then went on to wonder “why we do not have freeway fury, highway hate, detour disgust [and] turnpike tedium.”
His final contribution came in 2008, several years after his retirement.
“His mind was hard to contain,” his son John Wyatt, of Dover, Mass., said by telephone. “He really took an interest and a curiosity in virtually everything.”
The classics ran in his family. Born in Medford, Mass., he was the son of William F. Wyatt and Natalie (Gifford) Wyatt, both professors of the genre.
Wyatt graduated magna cum laude from Bowdoin College in 1953 and obtained a master’s degree and a doctorate from Harvard University. He served as a teaching assistant at Harvard and Tufts University and became an assistant professor at the University of Washington before joining the Brown faculty in 1967.
Wyatt took over the chairmanship of the department of classics in 1972, a post he held several times. He also served as associate dean of faculty and faculty parliamentarian. He was a visiting professor at the University of Crete in the spring of 1985, and at Clare Hall, a member college of Cambridge University, Cambridge, England, in 1984-85.
He was the author or translator of seven books, including “Anthropology and the Classics,” 1977, and “Teaching the Classics,” 1992. In 1989, he received the Takis Antoniou Prize for best translation of a modern Greek literary work, one of many such honors. In 1997, he won Brown University’s Harriet W. Sheridan Award for distinguished contribution to teaching and learning.
Wyatt led a number of Brown expeditions to Greece and Turkey; could instruct professionals in various forms of Greek, Demotic and Latin; and could work with Sanskrit, Russian and Romance languages.
In addition to his academic duties, Wyatt was founder and president of the Blackstone Park Improvement Association, vice chairman of the Rhode Island Committee for the Humanities, and president of the Narragansett Boat Club. He was president of the Westport Historical Society and head of volunteers at the New Bedford Whaling Museum. John Wyatt said his father transcribed and annotated seamen’s journals from 19th-century whaling voyages that are on display in the museum.
Other survivors include his wife, Sally, and children Nathaniel, of San Francisco, and Lydia, of Minneapolis. A private family burial will be followed by an outdoor reception at 11 a.m., July 30, at 241 River Rd,, Westport.