Breviaria 01/25/09

An ironically-titled very long post as I try to get my email filing system back in order:

A Roman brooch find by a metal detectorist:

Latest from Macedonia/FYROM:

A nice intro to Herodotus and Thucydides:

Somewhat peripheral for us, but interesting:

With the Super Bowl on the way, we get the first of the annual Roman Numeral posts:

Laura Fulkerson has been honoured by the APA:

David Konstan’s latest work has won the Goodwin Award of Merit:

No relation (alas):

Some inspiration for our grade-school colleagues:

The headline says it all:

This one keeps popping up:

Elsewhere:
The APA’s December 2008 Newsletter is available …

The APA has also extended the license/distribution of Greekkeys …

A review of the (comic) Age of Bronze, vol. I

Arethusa Volume 42, Number 1, Winter 2009

ROME – CENTRAL ARCHAEOLOGICAL AREA: Prof. Rodolfo Lanciani, [Map] Romae – F.U.R (1893-1901) & Rome (GOOGLE EARTH 2007). Comparative side-by-side view. (Martin Conde)

… and last, and certainly least, Ms. Spears plans to major in Greek History (not):

Coffee and Classics

June Lemen reminisces in the Nashua Telegraph, inter alia:

It was time for a change, and to paraphrase our new president, it was a change we needed. Second semester, I took totally different courses, just to see what I liked. I fell in love with classics and philosophy, and I decided to double major in them. (Oh, the innocence of youth.)

This would have been a glorious plan, except that I overlooked one small detail: ancient languages.

Foreign language and I were not on speaking terms. I passed French in high school but never enjoyed it. (C’est la vie.) Two years were required for the college prep track, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief when it was over. At Wheaton, they explained to me that I would need to have a minimum of two years of Ancient Greek and three of Latin to be considered even a beginning classicist. So I bravely plunged in sophomore year and got on with Latin.

I had a stellar academic year, mostly because I was taking lots of stuff that I loved, courses in philosophy and classical civilization. Clearly, this was the route for me. And coffee was an absolute necessity, particularly in memorizing vocabulary.

Then came junior year. And Ancient Greek.

Ancient Greek class started at 8 a.m. every day. Technically, only Monday, Wednesday and Friday classes were required, but for those of us who were struggling, Tuesday and Thursdays sessions with the teaching assistant were more than suggested. I, who could barely get myself dressed and to class by 8 a.m. three days a week, laughed at the idea of spreading the pain over five days.

Our text was called Thrasymachus, and besides being used at Wheaton, it was a text commonly used to teach Greek to English schoolboys. It was filled with descriptions of sword fights and cutting off various body parts. The only way I could get through translation was with an IV drip of coffee. And, to make matters worse, I was also taking Latin II.

Latin had the advantage of using the same alphabet we do, which is probably why I passed it. I flunked Greek, which astonished my poor parents, who watched me go from dean’s list to academic probation in one semester. Plus, I was experiencing the shakes when I was away from java for more than an hour.

I gave up ancient languages and coffee at the same time, and I started drinking tea. Constant Comment was my favorite, and to this day, whenever I smell it, I think of that heavenly semester when I had given up trying to be a classicist and merely had to raise my grades enough to get off double secret probation.

Now I’m back to drinking more coffee than tea, but I’m not studying any foreign languages.

Clearly June wasn’t drinking the right kind of coffee; Classical languages requires something strong and exotic … preferably something from Africa.

Pizza Origins Again

We often see pizza being ascribed to the Romans, or to the Romans via the Greeks, but the Daily Pilot adds a twist I haven’t seen before:

Ever had a pizza? I have. Do you know what “pizza” means in Italian? I do. Nothing.

It’s from the Latin word “picea”… what the Romans called a round of dough that was blackened in a clay oven to make a pie shell. Isn’t that interesting? OK, maybe not. But this is more interesting.

Picea is, of course, a Latin word meaning “pitch black”; assorted websites with this origin, however, seem to date the word (and pizza itself) from the Middle Ages. Certainly the ‘c’ wouldn’t have been on its way to a ‘zz’ type pronunciation until that time (in the period of our purview, it would have been a hard ‘c’). Anyhow, we seem to have another example of ‘if it’s Latin, it must be Roman’.

Homerica

“Homeric” was once again a popular adjective this week:

A review of Susan Sontag’s diaries (New Statesman) included this:

“It’s time for Homer, I think,” she writes. “The best way to divert these morbid individualised religious fantasies is to overwhelm them by the impersonal Homeric …”

The Yorkshire Post on the challenges facing the new president:

The Homeric cupidity and stupidity of the world’s bankers has brought America, Europe, and the Asian economies to the edge of the abyss.

A review of the bluray disk version of Dr. Strangelove notes in regards to a cut scene:

“Since they were laughing, it was unusable, because instead of having that totally black, which would have been amazing, like, this blizzard, which in a sense is metaphorical for all of the missiles that are coming, as well, you just have these guys having a good old time. So, as Kubrick later said, ‘it was a disaster of Homeric proportions.'”

Matters Inaugurational

A compendium of items relating — more or less — to the big events last week … now that they’ve had time to ‘sink in’. We being with a bit from the Register-Herald, which actually was about the inauguration of the governor of West Virginia, but had some nice ClassCon:

Noting the term “inauguration” is derived from the Latin word “augur,” meaning “omen,” Manchin said ancient Romans installed leaders and awaited for the right omens before plunging ahead.

Of course, I suspect I wasn’t the only Classicist who thought it interesting that Obama and the Chief Justice repeated the taking of the oath of office when it was ‘stumbled’ over at the actual ceremony — in ancient times, such stumbling would have required the repeating of the entire ritual. Then there was this piece in the Times of London, by Natalie Haynes (dubbed a Classicist and standup comedian) who decided that Barack Obama was Titus:

Then I dusted the bookshelves and realised – Barack Obama is the modern incarnation of the Emperor Titus, who ruled the Roman Empire from AD79-81, before death cut his reign tragically short. This is Suetonius: “Titus had such winning ways – perhaps inborn, perhaps cultivated subsequently, or conferred on him by fortune – that he became an object of universal love and adoration.”

That could have been written about Obama pretty much any time in the past year. Perhaps it was because Titus didn’t have time to go mad, like Caligula, or weird, like Tiberius, but he was probably the most adored emperor in Roman history. Then I realised that almost all leading politicians are reworked emperors. You just have to match them up.

Unfortunately, when she matches them all up (she goes through the Julio-Claudians), the explanation doesn’t quite match up (she matches the other emperors to other folks, not necessarily U.S. politicians). If we extend her analogy, we can expect the new president to, er, not complete his term and be succeed by JB who, no doubt, even now is sitting in his closet poking flies with a needle. One of the comments in the Times suggests Hadrian as a better parallel. The German IndyMedia, meanwhile, seemed to try to be making a link to Septimius Severus, concluding a piece on the new president thusly:

Mumia Abu-Jamal sagte in einer Grußbotschaft an die Rosa-Luxemburg Konferenz 2009: “Im Jahr 193 vor unserer Zeitrechnung bestieg ein Afrikaner den römischen Thron: Imperator Septimius Severus weitete Roms Macht aus und stärkte das Imperium. Sein Sohn folgte ihm auf den Thron und übertraf ihn noch an Grausamkeit und Unmenschlichkeit. Diese Herrscher brachten keinen Wechsel, sie sorgten für Kontinuität. Wird das heutige Imperium einen anderen Weg einschlagen?”

There was an interesting anticipatory piece in the Washington Post about the ‘ancient’ qualities of Obama’s oratory which looked more at cadence and rhythm rather than figures (he does have a fondness for tricola, anaphora, and repetition, no?). An excerpt:

This is poetry.

WE are the ONES we’ve been WAITing for.

It’s ancient English metrics: WE are the CHANGE that we SEEK, a chant of dactyls, DA-da-da, DA-da-da, as in Longfellow’s “THIS is the FORest primEVal.”

Rock it, Obama.

This stuff works. Franklin Roosevelt used iambs (da-DA, da-DA) that could have been lifted from Shakespeare (“To BE or NOT to BE”) at the opening of his 1933 inaugural address: “The ONly THING we HAVE to FEAR is FEAR itSELF.” (Though the crowd that day ignored the line — later, newspapers made it the motto of the New Deal.)

Martin Luther King: “I HAVE a DREAM that ONE day DOWN in ALaBAMa . . . ”

Analysts of Obama’s oratory cite the influence of African American preaching tradition, but the influence is older, rooted like a mangrove in the swamp of the nervous system.

“It’s about the tune, not the lyrics, with Obama,” says Philip Collins, who wrote speeches for Tony Blair, the former British prime minister. In a BBC report, Collins cites “the way he slides down some words and hits others — the intonation, the emphasis, the pauses and the silences.”

Winston Churchill rocked it in a chant of anapests (da-da-DA): “We shall FIGHT on the BEACHes . . . we shall FIGHT in the FIELDS . . . we shall FIGHT in the HILLS . . . we shall NEVer surRENDer.”

He knew about the ancient Greeks controlling and defending against the power of oratory by codifying it with labels you heard once in college and forgot: asyndeton, litotes, epistrophe. For instance, here Churchill is using the technique of anaphora, repeating phrases at the beginning of clauses. Note, too, that in defense of England he uses nothing but Old English words except for “surrender,” which comes from the French.

Finally, we mention an interesting reviewish/Obama’s influences sort of piece in the IHT had an interesting bit of ClassCon:

For Obama, whose improbable life story many voters regard as the embodiment of the American Dream, identity and the relationship between the personal and the public remain crucial issues. Indeed, “Dreams From My Father,” written before he entered politics, was both a searching bildungsroman and an autobiographical quest to understand his roots – a quest in which he cast himself as both a Telemachus in search of his father and an Odysseus in search of a home.