Lingua Latina II: Participles and Dactylic Hexameter

The first part of this post may be attributed to the Latin language itself. The second is in large part due to the genius of Vergil and his genius with verse You may make of both of them what you will. :-)

The Latin participle is, in general, more compact than its English equivalent. There are four kinds of participles in Latin: the present active, future active, perfect passive, and future passive. Latin is somewhat unique in possessing no perfect active participle (except for deponent verbs--if you don't know what those are, don't panic). The perfect passive participle generally filled the breach on this point, and the student is usually expected to supply an active translation while implicitly understanding that, technically, the grammatical sense is passive.

Generally, except for the ability to place it far and away from the noun it modifies as discussed in my first post, the present active participle does not differ much from English (except that it is declined like an adjective). In English we use a verb ending in -ing, for example, running; in Latin one would stick an -ns suffix to the verb currere, to run, to obtain the present active participle currens.

Moving into the future active participle, the compactness begins to reveal itself. The closest English approximation we have to the future active participle is something like about to (verb). Latin takes care of it by simply attaching urus, -a, -um to the 4th principle part of a verb. So when we would say, "Aeneas, about to run to Italy, was very happy," the Romans would say "Aeneas, ad Italiam cursurus, erat laetior." Latin can shave three words off English and, I daresay, sound rather more polished than the former. But that is for the second part.

The perfect passive participle is probably the participial form one will encounter the most often, at least in the Aeneid. As far as I have encountered, the most literal English translation of this participle (I'll use a different verb for convenience, say, to kill) would be having been killed--rather clunky in some circumstances. In English we might say "the man, having been killed, fell to the ground." In Latin one would say "vir, necatus, ad solum occidit." Nine versus five!

As to the future passive participle, more commonly known as the gerundive, I confess that that is one grammatical area in which scraping off a little rust would do me good. I shall have to consult my faithful Alan and Greenough's on the subject. My main haziness, I think, is on the distinction between the gerundive and gerund (the former an adjective and the latter a verbal noun) and on the situations in which one or the other is used. The general sense of the gerundive is something like about to be killed (sorry, that's just a common word in Latin!). So, "the bull, about to be killed at the altar, bellowed" is roughly equivalent to, "taurus, necaturus ad altam, fremit."

Before we leave the subject of participles, which I hope was not boring (it may indeed be informative to any students trying to master participles, I suppose, and I hope it is), I ought to consider a few of the other applications of participles. One of the funnest is known as the ablative absolute, which can (but does not always) use a participle. This nifty little construction consists of two words, either a noun and a verb, or a noun and another noun or adjective, with an implied to-be verb in the mix. Both of the words are in the ablative case, which is a little hard to explain to those who have never learned Latin. It's kind of a grab-bag noun case that many prepositions take and which often expresses other concepts of direction, characteristics, means, and so on. A good example of the ablative absolute would be urbe capto. This versatile phrase can mean several things, depending on the context. It could mean "since the city was captured," "when the city was captured," "the city being captured," and other things as well.

Vergil's verse is considered by many scholars to be one of the most masterful examples of dactylic hexameter in Latin. Dactylic hexameter is a verse form consisting of six feet, or sections of syllables. These may comprise either dactyls or spondees. Dactyls are one long syllable followed by two short ones, and spondees are two long syllables. Since I do not have the know-how to create any fancy symbols, I will represent long syllables by putting them in all capital letters. Note first that these do not necessarily represent the stress on a particular syllable, i.e., how loud one pronounces it, but just how long the vowel-sound is held.

The rules of scanning dactylic hexameter appear complex on the surface, but, once mastered, are not very difficult to remember or employ. Essentially, as a starting-point, one would cram all the lines of a hexameter line together (as, one might add, the Aeneid was originally written, as were all works of ancient times). Let's take the first line:

arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris

Now let's scrunch it together:

armavirumquecanotroiaequiprimusaboris

Now. The first rule of scanning hexameter is to divide the line by syllables. One always breaks off after the vowel and before the consonant, unless there are two consonants together, in the which case one retains one consonant and starts with the next. Like so:

ar ma vi rum que ca no troi ae qui pri mu sa bo ris

Now what? Well, we know there have to be six feet in this line; that's what "hexameter" means. We know that each of these feet can be either a dactyl or a spondee. There's a nifty thing we can use, too, to get us started: the last two feet of every line, called the Adonic Section, always takes a specific form--one dactyl plus two feet that are either a spondee, or one long and one short syllable (kind of a truncated dactyl). As for the rest of the line, any vowel that has a consonant at the end is long "by position." Some other vowels are long "by nature," and one just has to feel those. Unless proven otherwise, vowels with no consonant after them are short.

Yes, you may be staring around bewildered now. I was too when I first learned this. I'll give you an example of the first line, scanned:

AR ma vi RUM que ca NO TROI AE QUI PRI mu sa BO RIS

See how that works? For starters, "ar," "rum," "troi," "ae," "qui," and "ris" are all long by position (diphthongs count too). Remember, they all have consonants at the end or are diphthongs. The reason I knew that "no" and "pri" were long by nature is because of how the line was going. One can have no more than two long or two short syllables in a row. Once "que ca" had been proven short, "no" couldn't be anything other than long.

There are a few other rules, but I think I have said quite enough now. I hope anyone who reads these posts can take something from them. It is good to be able to write out some of what I've learned here, and communicate the excellent qualities of the Latin language. My next post, and probably my last on this subject for now, will be on the beauty of Vergil's Latin, and how he positions words and uses multiple figures of speech to achieve some pretty amazing effects.

Virginia Tech and the New Isolationism

In the wake of the killing-spree at the Virginia Tech campus (which I must say, though a horrible tragedy just as any murder of innocent people is, is not particularly unusual), we must ask ourselves what kind of culture could produce the kind of reaction many people in this country have had.

We are living in what, if it is not the most violent century our world has known, is certainly no less bloody than the preceding eras. Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, suicide bombings, Israeli and Palestinian tensions, student riots in Paris, Mexican immigrants, Sudanese starvation, Kim-Jong Ill's regime in North Korea (notice how no one hears about that unless he does something to make interesting news?)...the list could go on. Although we are generally more comfortable and generally more protected from diseases and unsanitary conditions on most levels (though only in some parts of the world), the world is still a dangerous place, and fixes to remain so for a long while, barring a miracle.

Throughout history, that the world is a dangerous place has been recognized, whether explicitly or implicitly, by nearly every nation and culture that I can think of. The Romans carved out their empire by force of arms. Men in medieval times kept armed retainers in their castles, and peasants no doubt knew how to use their tools for more than just farming when the neighboring lord took a fancy to their land. Young boys began learning the arts of war and knighthood at about seven, if I recall aright. One of the central ideas of being a man meant being prepared to fight. Even women in medieval times could often take over the command of a castle if the menfolk were away.

In the nineteenth century, although pacifism was on the rise in some groups, it seems at least from my research that murderous criminals and other domestic dangers were endured as the unfortunate trappings of any society in this fallen world, not some surprise boulder out of the sky that shatters our carefully constructed, but very thin, ice. Perhaps I am wrong, and the roots of this problem were plainly evident further back than I imagine. Be that as it may, however, I think it is safe to guess that the reaction we have seen from many of the most vocal and influential people in this country, not to mention, I am sure, a great number of the equally important but less noticed people who are the 'ordinary citizens,' is a fairly unique phenomenon in the history of the world.

A man walks into a college campus and shoots 32 people dead. What is our reaction? Rome would have beheaded him. Ancient Israel would have stoned him (and in modern Israel he would have been shot dead almost before he aimed at his first victim). Communist Russia, depending on which side he was on, might arguably have condoned him. But America is probably the first nation to pretend that others like him can be stopped by simply ignoring the things that drive them to do what they do, and the means to stop them from doing it when they take that deadly step.

Others have belabored the issue of gun control, but I shall a little nonetheless. It is certainly obvious to me, and should be to everyone else, that even five or six students with semi-automatic pistols or revolvers with even a rudimentary knowledge of their use could have downed Cho Seung-Hui in seconds. He might have shot a few people first, but perhaps only eight or ten students would have died rather than 32. Arguably Seung-Hui could have gone on killing had he not committed suicide, at least until the police arrived. That is a sickening thought--the police are not omnipotent, and to think that so many of our citizens not only depend solely on them for armed protection (which usually means they die waiting for it), but they also frequently complain that the police are over reactive or, when they do shoot, shoot excessively, is fairly frightening. There is a book out called More Guns, Less Crime: the title speaks for itself. I have not personally read the book (I should soon), but my mother has and would definitely recommend it. The book provides, I believe, some hard statistics about how concealed carry reduces crime.

Now, moving on from gun control, I come to the main point of my post, which was mainly inspired by an April 22 post by Mark Steyn called Let's be Realistic About Reality (linked here). Steyn's basic point is that Americans have isolated themselves from reality. I will quote him: "To promote vulnerability as a moral virtue is not merely foolish. Like the new Yale props department policy, it signals to everyone that you're not in the real world." This, I think, is a very compelling case for what is wrong with the general liberal worldview. It is well-meaning and often, no doubt, arises from principles with which I would not disagree (for instance, that violence against the innocent is wrong, that we should strive for peace, that the earth is precious, etc.) The problem is that many of them believe we live in a world where these things are possible by just talking it out. That is why we have bumper stickers like "give peace a chance." I seriously doubt that those who use those bumper stickers realize what it means to give peace a chance. "Giving something a chance" means cultivating conditions in which something can take place or exist. To give dodos a chance we would have had to not hunt them or take steps to protect their habitat.

But giving peace a chance is a rather different matter, because dodos, as well as I can guess, probably did not actively fight against being saved from extinction. Peace, however, is a very different thing from the existence of dodos, because the maintenance of peace depends on both parties in whatever interaction may be taking place. It demands the mutual consent of both people or groups of people. Here's the problem: people like the Palestinian government and the Iraqi and Afghani suicide bombers--and Cho Seung-Hui--don't want to make peace. Their ideologies, or their mental problems, demand total war and destruction. It's like trying to add two negatives and always getting a positive number. One part peace plus one part aggression equals two parts war. The only difference is that one side doesn't fight back. Do you know what happens then? Of course you do. The aggressive guy wins because he has the guns, the guts, the reason for fighting, and the knowledge that the other chap won't shoot back.

There is only one way to make peace in this situation (unless God should intervene in a special way): defend yourself. It is a sad but basically irrefutable truth that the best way to peace with a determined, fanatical enemy is to make war with him.

Now, I will admit that that way of handling things isn't fun, and we Americans are pretty fond of fun things. What is the end result? Well, many people have noted how childhood seems to be encroaching more and more on our culture as the attitudes and learning-levels associated with adolescence never seem to disappear. In this case many of us have acted just like the child who hears the scary noises outside and buries his head under the covers. In the child's case, we know his fears are unfounded, and tell him so: they are just monsters in his head. His fear is genuine but needless. He does not need to bury his head under the covers, but neither does he need to sleep with a gun under his covers. In our case, the scary noises outside are not crickets or tree branches rubbing against the window. They are real monsters, and we still have our heads under the covers. Of course we know why: it's dark and comfortable in there, and it sure seems like nothing can get past that blanket. One can simply imagine the monster was part of his imagination, or will grow bored and leave. But if one knew the first thing about monsters, he'll know they aren't fooled by blankets.

Americans need to take the covers off their heads and starting thinking realistically. Our problems will not go away by ignoring them, and recognizing their existence is the first step. We need to stop pretending that violent crime or suicidal attacks are so "shocking," which is the media's favorite term for events like the shootings at Virginia Tech. Terrible, yes; sinful, yes; heartrending, yes. But shocking? Apparently we have forgotten 9/11, Columbine, and the murder of the Amish girls last year. Not only that, but people had plenty of advanced notice that Seung-Hui was mentally disturbed and had a dangerous attraction for brutal and grotesque violence. Why was Virginia Tech "shocked"? Because they preferred to hide under the blankets and pretend that such a thing could never happen. Imagine what a child would feel like if a green, clawed hand actually poked a hole in his blanket! No doubt he would be shocked. But if he were tagging along behind his father, hunting the monsters outside, the interposition of a clawed and green hand might be frightening and might not be pretty, but it would never be unexpected.

Every creature, whether animal or man, naturally seeks the weakest things as prey. Lions, hyenas, carjackers, and disturbed college students alike know that the old, the sickly, and the unprepared are prime targets. I doubt that lions hesitate for a second to hunt gazelle, because gazelle have absolutely no natural defenses except speed that can arm them against a creature as strong and well-built for attack as a lion. But it would be a singular occurrence, possibly a non-existence occurrence, when you would see a lion taking on an adult bull elephant, except perhaps in times of literal starvation. Why? Bull elephants are big, tough, and armed with long tusks, and they charge when threatened. Maybe if we took our cue from the elephants, the lions at home and abroad might change their tune. And even if one of those times or starvation come around and the criminals and terrorists get desperate, remember: the elephant usually wins.

Lingua Latina, Part I: the Versatility of Inflection and Tense

Due primarily to the posts of David, I have decided to expand the scope of this blog a little to some other interests of mine, including writing and classical languages, specifically Latin. I will still post, of course, on theological, philosophical, and historical subjects (though David will probably be able to supply the history part much more ably) but I think that this is also the best public forum under my control for a more serious treatment of these subjects that greatly interest me.

I have been, as many of you know, in a class this school year called AP Latin IV: Vergil. This class is designed to prepare one to take the Advanced Placement exam on Vergil's Aeneid, and we are now almost through the approximately 1850 lines that the AP exam tests on. My understanding of the Latin language has grown enormously since studying this amazing poet, and I wanted to share some of the peculiarities and attributes of his language, which has many resources of power and description that English can only look at longingly (and, I confess, some areas in which English is probably superior).

The first and probably most obvious attribute of Latin, the one that most textbooks will hammer into students' brains from day one, is that it is an inflected language. The listener or reader can tell the purpose of a word in a sentence based on its ending letters, not necessarily by its position, as in English. A language based on this system, besides forcing students of it to learn multiple declensions and conjugations, has the ability to juggle words within a phrase or clause almost at will, depending on the purposes of the author. This provides the Latin author with the enviable ability to emphasize nearly any word he wants at any point in the sentence, a feat impossible, at least on such a scale, in English. I will take as a case a point a section early on in the epic where Juno, queen of the gods, is lamenting the fact that she, with all her power, has been unable to destroy the Trojan fleet, while Minerva, technically a lesser goddess, has been able to exact revenge on an enemy of hers, namely Ajax son of Oileus. Narrating what Minerva did to the unfortunate man, Juno says the following:

illum exspirantem transfixo pectore flammas/ turbine corripuit scopuloque infixit acuto...

A typical English translation of this passage might be "she seized with a whirlpool the man, breathing flames from his transfixed chest, and stuck him on a sharp rock." If one followed the actual word order of the Latin, however, it would read something like "the man breathing from his transfixed chest flames with a whirlpool she snatched and on a rock stuck sharp." The reaction of an English reader to such a hash of words would be to scratch his head. In Latin poetry, however, this is par for the course. With the position of his words, Vergil can, for instance, emphasize the man's "transfixed chest" by positioning it between exspirantem and flammas. Latin is capable of producing very physical effects with the positioning of words. Another example, perhaps even more startling, comes from book 4. Dido, queen of Carthage, has fallen in love with Aeneas, but after spending a whole winter with her he is abruptly commanded by the gods to leave. After wildly denouncing him as a traitor and calling down curses on his head, Dido runs inside. Vergil recounts her frenzied flight with these words:

His medium dictis sermonem abrumpit et auras/ aegra fugit...

"She breaks off (in) the middle of her conversation with these words and, wretched, flees the air."

But notice how Vergil has interposed the word "medium," middle, in the very middle of his dictis, these words. This kind of graphic interposition doesn't really work in English. We can't get away with "these in the middle of words her conversation she breaks off." Of course, good English poets can work around these limitations, but it is still a definite advantage of Latin.

Another advantage of Latin is a much more powerful use of tenses, in my experience particularly the perfect and pluperfect, although there may be many others I am not aware of. Two examples of that. The first, of the powerful use of the pluperfect, is not from the Aeneid, and comes (I think) from Cicero talking about the execution of the famous Roman traitor Catiline, or some of his followers. Cicero said to the Senate one word: vixerat. In English that would literally translate "they had lived," but the basic sense is they are dead, i.e., they did live up to a certain time in the past, but do no longer.

The other one, from the Aeneid itself, shows out the juxtaposition of the present and perfect tenses can make an interesting effect. I do not remember the precise section, but Vergil is describing Mercury flying to Carthage with a message for Aeneas. The present tense, I believe, is used to the describe Mercury's flight, and the perfect tense to describe his landing in Carthage--the implication being that the god is outside time, since he landed at the place, at least grammatically, before he even started flying!

Time constrains me from going on, so I shall leave this discussion for now, and hope that I have made this subject at least somewhat interesting to others, and would not be better off addressing the empty air. :-)