Nasty object-oriented Greek: Hesiod and Homer

Oscar Wilde could have gotten worse to translate. Consider this from Hesiod on how to make a plough:

“Also cut many bent timbers, and bring home a plough-tree when you have found it, and look out on the mountain or in the field for one of holm-oak; this is far the strongest for oxen to plough with when one of Athena’s handmen has fixed in the share-beam and fastened it to the pole with dowels. Prepare two ploughs, and remember to do it at home; make one all of a piece, construct the other with joints. This is the way to do it, for if you break one of them, the other will be ready to go for your oxen. Poles of laurel or elm are most worm-free, and a share-beam of oak and a plough-tree of holm-oak.”

πόλλ᾽ ἐπικαμπύλα κᾶλα: φέρειν δὲ γύην, ὅτ᾽ ἂν εὕρῃς,
ἐς οἶκον, κατ᾽ ὄρος διζήμενος ἢ κατ᾽ ἄρουραν,
πρίνινον: ὃς γὰρ βουσὶν ἀροῦν ὀχυρώτατός ἐστιν,
εὖτ᾽ ἂν Ἀθηναίης δμῷος ἐν ἐλύματι πήξας
γόμφοισιν πελάσας προσαρήρεται ἱστοβοῆι.
δοιὰ δὲ θέσθαι ἄροτρα, πονησάμενος κατὰ οἶκον,
αὐτόγυον καὶ πηκτόν, ἐπεὶ πολὺ λώιον οὕτω:
εἴ χ᾽ ἕτερον ἄξαις, ἕτερόν κ᾽ ἐπὶ βουσὶ βάλοιο.
δάφνης δ᾽ ἢ πτελέης ἀκιώτατοι ἱστοβοῆες,
δρυὸς ἔλυμα, γύης πρίνου
Hesiod, Works and Days, 427-36

The problems are not just with vocabulary, although that is difficult enough, but using the vocabulary. The Greek medical writers have an even more contorted lexicon, but the human body is not a total mystery, unlike the parts of a plough. Getting up close and personal…well, consider this one page from a wonderful modern commentary:

West on Hesiod plough Erga 427

From the recently untimely deceased Martin West’s commentary (Oxford, 1978) on the work. He was without a doubt the greatest Hellenist of several generations, and it was my great good fortune to have him as tutor for Greek Literature when doing Oxford “Greats”.

How about Odysseus and his raft (Odyssey 5.243-57)?:

“He cut twenty trees, and trimmed them with the axe; then he expertly planed them all and made them straight. Meanwhile Calypso, the beautiful goddess, brought him augers; and he bored all the pieces and fitted them together, and with mortises and tenons he fit them  together. Wide as a man well-skilled in carpentry marks out the curve of the hull of a freight-ship, wide in the beam, even so wide did Odysseus make his raft. And he set up the deck-beams, bolting them to the close-set ribs, and toiled on; he finished the raft with long gunwales. Then he set a mast and a yard-arm; next came a steering oar made him a steering-oar. Then he fenced in the whole from stem to stern with willow withes to keep out stray waves, strewing brush.”

αὐτὰρ ὁ τάμνετο δοῦρα: θοῶς δέ οἱ ἤνυτο ἔργον.
εἴκοσι δ᾽ ἔκβαλε πάντα, πελέκκησεν δ᾽ ἄρα χαλκῷ,
ξέσσε δ᾽ ἐπισταμένως καὶ ἐπὶ στάθμην ἴθυνεν.
τόφρα δ᾽ ἔνεικε τέρετρα Καλυψώ, δῖα θεάων:
τέτρηνεν δ᾽ ἄρα πάντα καὶ ἥρμοσεν ἀλλήλοισιν,
γόμφοισιν δ᾽ ἄρα τήν γε καὶ ἁρμονίῃσιν ἄρασσεν.
ὅσσον τίς τ᾽ ἔδαφος νηὸς τορνώσεται ἀνὴρ
0φορτίδος εὐρείης, ἐὺ εἰδὼς τεκτοσυνάων,
τόσσον ἔπ᾽ εὐρεῖαν σχεδίην ποιήσατ᾽ Ὀδυσσεύς.
ἴκρια δὲ στήσας, ἀραρὼν θαμέσι σταμίνεσσι,
ποίει: ἀτὰρ μακρῇσιν ἐπηγκενίδεσσι τελεύτα.
ἐν δ᾽ ἱστὸν ποίει καὶ ἐπίκριον ἄρμενον αὐτῷ:
πρὸς δ᾽ ἄρα πηδάλιον ποιήσατο, ὄφρ᾽ ἰθύνοι.
φράξε δέ μιν ῥίπεσσι διαμπερὲς οἰσυΐνῃσι
κύματος εἶλαρ ἔμεν: πολλὴν δ᾽ ἐπεχεύατο ὕλην

Homer Odyssey 5.243-257

Not exactly easy, but less hard; most will find it easier to visualize the fine points of a raft than a plough. When a Yale undergrad I had to deal with both passages, and more, in one semester. This was the notorious Greek 70, History of Greek Literature, where a week’s assignment could be three books of Homer, or two plays. Hesiod took me two very unpleasant evenings, and this was before the aforementioned commentary appeared. And speaking of sight translation, which started this all….

In the spring version of Greek, which covered the Fifth Century, I made the mistake of cutting the first Thucydides class. Geoffrey Kirk, who taught at Yale in the spring, asked me to sight translate…gasp…the first paragraph of Pericles’ Funeral Oration in Thucydides. Let’s just say my conclusion was rather different from that of The Talented Mr. Wilde.

 

Oscar Wilde reads Greek…and more

And how could he? Simple, one classics degree from Trinity-Dublin and a second from Oxford (ex Magdalen College) in Literae Humaniores, aka “Greats”. [aside: a degree I also hold, but with no other connexion].

First the story, from the wonderful Oxford Book of Oxford:

OBO SentAnt

What a champ! Right up there with his famous line on the death of Little Nell in Dickens’ The Old Curiosity Shop.

As for the circumstances. A viva voce examination only occurs after one has done the written Greats examinations and only if it is unclear into which class the candidate should be placed: third, second or first. Since we know Wilde got a double first in Greats, this would have been a one-two viva as they’re called. Do well, and you glitter when you walk. Do badly and you’re stuck with The Hated Second. Who’s going know? Everybody. Oxbridge complete exam results were, even in my time, still published in the Times. With all the attendant snobbery. My girlfriend at the time got a third in her finals in a different subject area, and felt that having a third was worse than no degree at all. And remember that the great Cambridge classicist A.E. Housman failed his Greats exam (“ploughed” as they say in the trade).

The “examiner” was in all probability Warden Spooner of New College (yes, that Spooner; a forthcoming post will have more]. The passage would be Acts 27.9ff:

9 Now when much time was spent, and when sailing was now dangerous, because the fast was now already past, Paul admonished them, 10 And said unto them, Sirs, I perceive that this voyage will be with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also of our lives.11 Nevertheless the centurion believed the master and the owner of the ship, more than those things which were spoken by Paul. 12 And because the haven was not commodious to winter in, the more part advised to depart thence also, if by any means they might attain to Phenice, and there to winter; which is an haven of Crete, and lieth toward the south west and north west. 13 And when the south wind blew softly, supposing that they had obtained their purpose, loosing thence, they sailed close by Crete. 14 But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous wind, called Euroclydon. 15 And when the ship was caught, and could not bear up into the wind, we let her drive. 16 And running under a certain island which is called Clauda, we had much work to come by the boat: 17 Which when they had taken up, they used helps, undergirding the ship; and, fearing lest they should fall into the quicksands, strake sail, and so were driven. 18 And we being exceedingly tossed with a tempest, the next day they lightened the ship; 19 And the third day we cast out with our own hands the tackling of the ship. 20 And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved was then taken away. 21 But after long abstinence Paul stood forth in the midst of them, and said, Sirs, ye should have hearkened unto me, and not have loosed from Crete, and to have gained this harm and loss. 22 And now I exhort you to be of good cheer: for there shall be no loss of any man’s life among you, but of the ship. 23 For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve, 24 Saying, Fear not, Paul; thou must be brought before Caesar: and, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee. 25 Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God, that it shall be even as it was told me. 26 Howbeit we must be cast upon a certain island. 27 But when the fourteenth night was come, as we were driven up and down in Adria, about midnight the shipmen deemed that they drew near to some country; 28 And sounded, and found it twenty fathoms: and when they had gone a little further, they sounded again, and found it fifteen fathoms. 29 Then fearing lest we should have fallen upon rocks, they cast four anchors out of the stern, and wished for the day. 30 And as the shipmen were about to flee out of the ship, when they had let down the boat into the sea, under colour as though they would have cast anchors out of the foreship, 31 Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved. 32 Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and let her fall off. 33 And while the day was coming on, Paul besought them all to take meat, saying, This day is the fourteenth day that ye have tarried and continued fasting, having taken nothing. 34 Wherefore I pray you to take some meat: for this is for your health: for there shall not an hair fall from the head of any of you. 35 And when he had thus spoken, he took bread, and gave thanks to God in presence of them all: and when he had broken it, he began to eat. 36 Then were they all of good cheer, and they also took some meat. 37 And we were in all in the ship two hundred threescore and sixteen souls. 38 And when they had eaten enough, they lightened the ship, and cast out the wheat into the sea. 39 And when it was day, they knew not the land: but they discovered a certain creek with a shore, into the which they were minded, if it were possible, to thrust in the ship. 40 And when they had taken up the anchors, they committed themselves unto the sea, and loosed the rudder bands, and hoised up the mainsail to the wind, and made toward shore. 41 And falling into a place where two seas met, they ran the ship aground; and the forepart stuck fast, and remained unmoveable, but the hinder part was broken with the violence of the waves. 42 And the soldiers’ counsel was to kill the prisoners, lest any of them should swim out, and escape. 43 But the centurion, willing to save Paul, kept them from their purpose; and commanded that they which could swim should cast themselves first into the sea, and get to land: 44 And the rest, some on boards, and some on broken pieces of the ship. And so it came to pass, that they escaped all safe to land.

[9] Ἱκανοῦ δὲ χρόνου διαγενομένου καὶ ὄντος ἤδη ἐπισφαλοῦς τοῦ πλοὸς διὰ τὸ καὶ τὴν νηστείαν ἤδη παρεληλυθέναι, παρῄνει ὁ Παῦλος λέγων αὐτοῖς [10] Ἄνδρες, θεωρῶ ὅτι μετὰ ὕβρεως καὶ πολλῆς ζημίας οὐ μόνον τοῦ φορτίου καὶ τοῦ πλοίου ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ψυχῶν ἡμῶν μέλλειν ἔσεσθαι τὸν πλοῦν. [11] ὁ δὲ ἑκατοντάρχης τῷ κυβερνήτῃ καὶ τῷ ναυκλήρῳ μᾶλλον ἐπείθετο ἢ τοῖς ὑπὸ Παύλου λεγομένοις. [12] ἀνευθέτου δὲ τοῦ λιμένος ὑπάρχοντος πρὸς παραχειμασίαν οἱ πλείονες ἔθεντο βουλὴν ἀναχθῆναι ἐκεῖθεν, εἴ πως δύναιντο καταντήσαντες εἰς Φοίνικα παραχειμάσαι, λιμένα τῆς Κρήτης βλέποντα κατὰ λίβα καὶ κατὰ χῶρον. [13] Ὑποπνεύσαντος δὲ νότου δόξαντες τῆς προθέσεως κεκρατηκέναι ἄραντες ἆσσον παρελέγοντο τὴν Κρήτην. [14] μετ᾽ οὐ πολὺ δὲ ἔβαλεν κατ᾽ αὐτῆς ἄνεμος τυφωνικὸς ὁ καλούμενος Εὐρακύλων: [15] συναρπασθέντος δὲ τοῦ πλοίου καὶ μὴ δυναμένου ἀντοφθαλμεῖν τῷ ἀνέμῳ ἐπιδόντες ἐφερόμεθα. [16] νησίον δέ τι ὑποδραμόντες καλούμενον Καῦδα ἰσχύσαμεν μόλις περικρατεῖς γενέσθαι τῆς σκάφης, [17] ἣν ἄραντες βοηθείαις ἐχρῶντο ὑποζωννύντες τὸ πλοῖον: φοβούμενοί τε μὴ εἰς τὴν Σύρτιν ἐκπέσωσιν, χαλάσαντες τὸ σκεῦος, οὕτως ἐφέροντο. [18] σφοδρῶς δὲ χειμαζομένων ἡμῶν τῇ ἑξῆς ἐκβολὴν ἐποιοῦντο, [19] καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ αὐτόχειρες τὴν σκευὴν τοῦ πλοίου ἔριψαν. [20] μήτε δὲ ἡλίου μήτε ἄστρων ἐπιφαινόντων ἐπὶ πλείονας ἡμέρας, χειμῶνός τε οὐκ ὀλίγου ἐπικειμένου, λοιπὸν περιῃρεῖτο ἐλπὶς πᾶσα τοῦ σώζεσθαι ἡμᾶς. [21] Πολλῆς τε ἀσιτίας ὑπαρχούσης τότε σταθεὶς ὁ Παῦλος ἐν μέσῳ αὐτῶν εἶπεν Ἔδει μέν, ὦ ἄνδρες, πειθαρχήσαντάς μοι μὴ ἀνάγεσθαι ἀπὸ τῆς Κρήτης κερδῆσαί τε τὴν ὕβριν ταύτην καὶ τὴν ζημίαν. [22] καὶ τὰ νῦν παραινῶ ὑμᾶς εὐθυμεῖν, ἀποβολὴ γὰρ ψυχῆς οὐδεμία ἔσται ἐξ ὑμῶν πλὴν τοῦ πλοίου: [23] παρέστη γάρ μοι ταύτῃ τῇ νυκτὶ τοῦ θεοῦ οὗ εἰμί, ᾧ καὶ λατρεύω, ἄγγελος [24] λέγων Μὴ φοβοῦ, Παῦλε: Καίσαρί σε δεῖ παραστῆναι, καὶ ἰδοὺ κεχάρισταί σοι ὁ θεὸς πάντας τοὺς πλέοντας μετὰ σοῦ. [25] διὸ εὐθυμεῖτε, ἄνδρες: πιστεύω γὰρ τῷ θεῷ ὅτι οὕτως ἔσται καθ᾽ ὃν τρόπον λελάληταί μοι. [26] εἰς νῆσον δέ τινα δεῖ ἡμᾶς ἐκπεσεῖν. [27] Ὡς δὲ τεσσαρεσκαιδεκάτη νὺξ ἐγένετο διαφερομένων ἡμῶν ἐν τῷ Ἁδρίᾳ, κατὰ μέσον τῆς νυκτὸς ὑπενόουν οἱ ναῦται προσάγειν τινὰ αὐτοῖς χώραν. [28] καὶ βολίσαντες εὗρον ὀργυιὰς εἴκοσι, βραχὺ δὲ διαστήσαντες καὶ πάλιν βολίσαντες εὗρον ὀργυιὰς δεκαπέντε: [29] φοβούμενοί τε μή που κατὰ τραχεῖς τόπους ἐκπέσωμεν ἐκ πρύμνης ῥίψαντες ἀγκύρας τέσσαρας ηὔχοντο ἡμέραν γενέσθαι. [30] Τῶν δὲ ναυτῶν ζητούντων φυγεῖν ἐκ τοῦ πλοίου καὶ χαλασάντων τὴν σκάφην εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν προφάσει ὡς ἐκ πρῴρης ἀγκύρας μελλόντων ἐκτείνειν, [31] εἶπεν ὁ Παῦλος τῷ ἑκατοντάρχῃ καὶ τοῖς στρατιώταις Ἐὰν μὴ οὗτοι μείνωσιν ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ, ὑμεῖς σωθῆναι οὐ δύνασθε. [32] τότε ἀπέκοψαν οἱ στρατιῶται τὰ σχοινία τῆς σκάφης καὶ εἴασαν αὐτὴν ἐκπεσεῖν. [33] Ἄχρι δὲ οὗ ἡμέρα ἤμελλεν γίνεσθαι παρεκάλει ὁ Παῦλος ἅπαντας μεταλαβεῖν τροφῆς λέγων Τεσσαρεσκαιδεκάτην σήμερον ἡμέραν προσδοκῶντες ἄσιτοι διατελεῖτε, μηθὲν προσλαβόμενοι: [34] διὸ παρακαλῶ ὑμᾶς μεταλαβεῖν τροφῆς, τοῦτο γὰρ πρὸς τῆς ὑμετέρας σωτηρίας ὑπάρχει: οὐδενὸς γὰρ ὑμῶν θρὶξ ἀπὸ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἀπολεῖται. [35] εἴπας δὲ ταῦτα καὶ λαβὼν ἄρτον εὐχαρίστησεν τῷ θεῷ ἐνώπιον πάντων καὶ κλάσας ἤρξατο ἐσθίειν. [36] εὔθυμοι δὲ γενόμενοι πάντες καὶ αὐτοὶ προσελάβοντο τροφῆς. [37] ἤμεθα δὲ αἱ πᾶσαι ψυχαὶ ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ ὡς ἑβδομήκοντα ἕξ. [38] κορεσθέντες δὲ τροφῆς ἐκούφιζον τὸ πλοῖον ἐκβαλλόμενοι τὸν σῖτον εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν. [39] Ὅτε δὲ ἡμέρα ἐγένετο, τὴν γῆν οὐκ ἐπεγίνωσκον, κόλπον δέ τινα κατενόουν ἔχοντα αἰγιαλὸν εἰς ὃν ἐβουλεύοντο εἰ δύναιντο ἐκσῶσαι τὸ πλοῖον. [40] καὶ τὰς ἀγκύρας περιελόντες εἴων εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν, ἅμα ἀνέντες τὰς ζευκτηρίας τῶν πηδαλίων, καὶ ἐπάραντες τὸν ἀρτέμωνα τῇ πνεούσῃ κατεῖχον εἰς τὸν αἰγιαλόν. [41] περιπεσόντες δὲ εἰς τόπον διθάλασσον ἐπέκειλαν τὴν ναῦν, καὶ ἡ μὲν πρῷρα ἐρείσασα ἔμεινεν ἀσάλευτος, ἡ δὲ πρύμνα ἐλύετο ὑπὸ τῆς βίας. [42] Τῶν δὲ στρατιωτῶν βουλὴ ἐγένετο ἵνα τοὺς δεσμώτας ἀποκτείνωσιν, μή τις ἐκκολυμβήσας διαφύγῃ: [43] ὁ δὲ ἑκατοντάρχης βουλόμενος διασῶσαι τὸν Παῦλον ἐκώλυσεν αὐτοὺς τοῦ βουλήματος, ἐκέλευσέν τε τοὺς δυναμένους κολυμβᾷν ἀπορίψαντας πρώτους ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἐξιέναι, [44] καὶ τοὺς λοιποὺς οὓς μὲν ἐπὶ σανίσιν οὓς δὲ ἐπί τινων τῶν ἀπὸ τοῦ πλοίου: καὶ οὕτως ἐγένετο πάντας διασωθῆναι ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν.

Acts 27.9ff

The passage bristles with difficulties, including, but not limited to, vocabulary. Here is an example of the problems from Rendall’s commentary:

Acts 27.17-18 commentary

There will be more coming on nasty material object vocabulary in Greek and Latin authors; you have been warned.

[Translation is the King James, a literary masterpiece in its own right. It use does not imply any sub rosa doctrine; those who are offended are invited either to use their own preferred translations or go elsewhere.]

The Roman One Percent…continued

I focused on two short quotes from Ammianus Marcellinus on idle Roman senators in yesterday’s post. Today brings the entire passages.

As a result of these circumstances, the few senatorial houses once famed for serious studies now ooze with the idle indulgence of ignorant self-indulgence, as those once noble houses clamor and echo with the sounds of song and the drunken revelry of flutes and lyres. Put differently, Pop Stars replace philosophers, and adepts in teaching cheap stage tricks have crowded out the noble orator. in place of the orator the teacher of stagecraft. And worse,  while the libraries are shut up tight as tombs, there is a big business in water-organs, lyres as large as carriages, and musical instruments too heavy for the actors who would saw the air with them.

Quod cum ita sit, paucae domus studiorum seriis cultibus antea celebratae nunc ludibriis ignaviae torpentis exundant, vocali sonu, perflabili tinnitu fidium resultantes. Denique pro philosopho cantor et in locum oratoris doctor artium ludicrarum accitur et bybliothecis sepulcrorum ritu in perpetuum clausis organa fabricantur hydraulica, et lyrae ad speciem carpentorum ingentes tibiaeque et histrionici gestus instrumenta non levia.

Ammianus Marcellinus 14.6.18

Some of senators hate learning like poison. Indeed, the read carefully only the frivolous writings of Marius Maximus; worse these senatorial idlers touch no other books than those of this ilk, although their reasons for it totally escape me.

Quidam detestantes ut venena doctrinas, Iuvenalem et Marium Maximum curatiore studio legunt, nulla volumina praeter haec in profundo otio contrectantes, quam ob causam non iudicioli est nostri.

Varia

In the second passage, Juvenal is the famous Roman satirist of the second century AD; we have sixteen of his satires. They are rude, crude and lewd; the sixth, on women, makes the misogynist Hesiod seem like a defender of women’s rights. In fairness, Juvenal doesn’t like much of anything or anybody. Putting lines into his mouth “things are at their worst in this worst of all possible world.” What a champ!

Marius Maximus, consul of the early third century AD, wrote biographies of the Caesars. His works are preserved in scattered fragments and comments from those who read him. One “person”, Vopiscus, who had read him observed “an extremely wordy author who in far too many volumes turned history into myth and myth into history.” [homo omnium verbosissimus, qui et mythistoricis se voluminibus implicavit (SHA Firmus 1.2)]

And now for an explanation, including why “person” has those quote marks. The acronym SHA stands for Scriptores Historiae Augustae, “Writers of the Augustan Historya series of biographies of the Caesars starting from where Suetonius left off in the first century and continuing well into the third century. Each “life” has an author’s name attached. But most of us now think the alleged authors never existed, at least as authors, hence my use of quotation marks. In fact, SHA was probably written by one author in the early fourth century, a mish-mash of facts, guesses and outright lies assembled higgledy-piggledy. Despite all that historians still use it for what it occasionally gets right. There is a regular published series of Studies of the work, along with countless books and articles.

For anyone wishing to read either Ammianus or SHA, each has excellent translations and notes in the Penguin series; I’ve used them often in teaching an advanced course on the later Roman empire. Ammianus is slightly abridged, omitting only some long geographical passages; the Penguin SHA volume is titled “Writers of the Augustan History”and includes an exhaustive, possibly exhausting introduction to problems of authorship and authenticity.

[Aside: I get props for probably being the first person this year, anywhere, for using “authenticity” in its correct sense.]

The Idleness of the Roman One Percent, aka the In Crowd

Millenials and digital naives (alleged) take note! They didn’t even like analog legacy-style reading, let alone digital:

“they keep their libraries locked up like tombs”

et bybliothecis sepulcrorum ritu in perpetuum clausis

Ammianus Marcellinus 14.6.18
But if you’re going to get a job so you can live in the style to which you’re accustomed, you’ve got to learn something. Right? Wrong, very wrong:

“they hate learning like poison”

Quidam detestantes ut venena doctrinas

Idem, 28.4.14

There’s multum in parvo here (“much said in few words”) so let’s get to it.

Ammianus Marcellinus (infra) describes the Roman socio-economic elite, that is, the senatorial order, of the fourth century AD. I’ve furnished two pungent excerpts from the two passages, which in full reek of  spleen and sarcasm.

Clearly these senators were idlers, but why? Didn’t we all learn in World History courses that senators ran Rome? Correct, but not in perpetuity. In the first two centuries AD, the emperors sometimes gradually, sometimes speedily made senatorial government irrelevant. Imagine one of those emperors saying “be reasonable, do it my way” if feeling kindly or, rather less suavely, “my way or the highway.”

One thing senators did retain until the third century AD was their military commands. In the old-timey Roman republic, senators had significant military experience at all stages of their careers, at least if they ever wanted to have one of the two crowning achievements, the consulship. The other achievement which came from military experience was the Roman triumph, and there was no more big-ass honor for a Roman. Kill five thousand worthy opponents in battle and you were…a true Big Man in Town. In fact, senators were known to have refused an enemy’s surrender so they could amass 5K now-cold bodies and get the triumph.

Nothing is forever. Senatorial political irrelevance in the second century led senators to leave the system, and that means military service. Only incompetents were left. Incompetents lose battles. During the second century Pax Romana it mattered less. But in the third century it mattered. Barbarian pressures were rising, the commanders were incompetent, and by mid-century every frontier had collapsed.

Mid-century along came a new emperor, Gallienus. Depending on how you read the source, he either forbade senators to hold military commands, or made it very hard for them to do so. He, and later emperors substituted an “aristocracy of service”, where you received status and promotions based on your performance. Put differently, it no longer mattered that your ultra-great grandfather had played poker with Romulus.

So what was a senator to do?

Ammianus didn’t like it one little bit, although he had no solutions to the problem. In fact, his history of the fourth century, which of which we have perhaps half, really doesn’t like much of anything about the time. Nevertheless, along with Livy and Tacitus he is one of the three great Roman historians

[pedantic note: in the second excerpt, venenum ”poison” means more than that in Latin. It can be poison in the modern sense, it can be love potions, or it can be outright ”magic.” This makes his line especially cruel and ominous.  Ammianus writes the most evocative, baroque Latin ever. Thus he’s not as much studied as the Third Great Historian is…his Latin is terribly difficult. Not every professional Latinist I’ve known is up to it. You have just learned a dirty little secret.]

Back to where we started with The In Crowd….

Bad star rising…Hesiod on the dog days of summer

“But when the artichoke flowers, and the chirpy cicada sits in a tree and pours down his shrill song endlessly from under his wings in the season of wearisome heat, then goats are plumpest and wine the best ever; women are sluttiest but that does men no good, greatly weakened as they are in heads and knees from the Dog Star’s searing heat; for good measure their skin is wickedly dry.”

Hesiod, Works and Days, 582-88

ἦμος δὲ σκόλυμός τ᾽ ἀνθεῖ καὶ ἠχέτα τέττιξ
δενδρέῳ ἐφεζόμενος λιγυρὴν καταχεύετ᾽ ἀοιδὴν
πυκνὸν ὑπὸ πτερύγων, θέρεος καματώδεος ὥρῃ,
585τῆμος πιόταταί τ᾽ αἶγες καὶ οἶνος ἄριστος,
μαχλόταται δὲ γυναῖκες, ἀφαυρότατοι δέ τοι ἄνδρες
εἰσίν, ἐπεὶ κεφαλὴν καὶ γούνατα Σείριος ἄζει,
αὐαλέος δέ τε χρὼς ὑπὸ καύματος….

We’re in the middle of that period folks; Sirius aka The Dog Star rose in Hesiod’s era on July 17 and had high nuisance value for about a month thereafter. The Romans had a very ancient festival of the augurium canarium in that time frame; it was one of the movable feasts (feriae conceptivae) whose fluctuating dater would be fixed yearly depending on the calendar. Canarium in the festival’s name refers to both Sirius, but also the sacrifice of a dog.

[very pedantic aside: my namesake Sextus Pompeius Festus, as usual, has information on this at p. 358 Lindsay. Never translated into English, although once into French. Don’t go there. Nothing good happens when you go there. Unless you make a living from this sort of thing]

Notice that Hesiod a serious attitude problem about women here and passim. And see my colleague’s post on misogyny.

The ancients, as usual, knew the story. The hottest I have ever been was August in the Roman Forum. But I wasn’t old enough to know about, or care about, the effect on women and men.

And about this post’s title…

Update

Our Fearless Leader has requested the Festus passage. And so:

Red Dogs [Rutilae canes] that is, dogs not far from the actual color red. According to Ateius Capito they are sacrificed in the “sacrifice of the dog” in order to ward off the Dog Star’s ferocity from the crops.

Although USA people talk of red dogs or red cats, the actual color is more like ginger; in the UK they tend to be called “ginger” rather than “red”.

Big men in archaic Greece

In my previous post on the braggart Numanus Remulus  I observed “Nobody says ‘look at me, look at how big I am.’ “. Herewith a few, a very few, bits of evidence.

In Homer, humans and gods alike pay attention to height, each differently:

When Odysseus and his companions meet the queen of the Laestrygonians:

“When they entered the palace, they found his wife there, tall as a mountain…they hated her.”

οἱ δ᾽ ἐπεὶ εἰσῆλθον κλυτὰ δώματα, τὴν δὲ γυναῖκα
εὗρον, ὅσην τ᾽ ὄρεος κορυφήν, κατὰ δ᾽ ἔστυγον αὐτήν, Odyssey 10.112-13

So the visitors were sawed-off runts; get used to it guys. Live with the pain…there’s lots more coming. [pedantic bonus: first place in Western literature of “man must be taller than the woman he dates.”]

But the gods do it differently:

On the battlefield, Eris (Strife) appears…

“First she appears small, but then her head touches the sky while her feet walk the earth.”

ἥ τ᾽ ὀλίγη μὲν πρῶτα κορύσσεται, αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
οὐρανῷ ἐστήριξε κάρη καὶ ἐπὶ χθονὶ βαίνει, Iliad 4.442-3

Did the Geeks hate her? Fat chance; start hating a divinity and it will go badly for you…in perpetuity. [pedantic bonus: extreme is often associated with divine epiphanies in Greco-Roman authors; the next quote is just one example.]

Hades can’t get a date, so he takes matters into his divine hands and steals one…that would be Persephone. Her mother Demeter in no good mood wanders the earth, clutching a copy of The Omniverse in Ten Dollars A Day. Finally she finds lodging, but can’t resist doing the epiphany trick when she enters:

But the goddess strode to the threshold: her head reached the roof and she filled the doorway with a heavenly aroma.

…ἣ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἐπ᾽ οὐδὸν ἔβη ποσὶ καὶ ῥα μελάθρου
κῦρε κάρη, πλῆσεν δὲ θύρας σέλαος θείοιο.  Homeric Hymn to Demeter, 188-9

Definitely not a crowd-pleaser, for the hymn next describes how her hosts were in total terror. This is a surprise? In Homer, the gods are usually not so great with human relations; since they’re gods, no need to acquire people skills. [pedantic aside: the dating of the hymn relies on datable allusions throughout; consensus would be seventh century B.C., but plausible as late as 700 or so itself. Interested, or desperate? Leave me a request and I’ll supply references]

Finally, the archaic sixth-century B.C. poet Archilochus had rather different ideas on the ideal general, not limited to matters of height:

“I like him not,  a tall general nor a straddling, nor one preening his hair and none partly-shaven for me; my ideal general should definitely be short and bandy-legged to behold,standing foursquare, full of spirit.”

Οὐ φιλέω μέγαν στρατηγὸν οὐδὲ διαπεπλιγμένον
οὐδὲ βοστρύχοισι γαῦρον οὐδ᾽ ὑπεξυρημένον·
ἀλλά μοι σμικρός τις εἴη καὶ περὶ κνήμας ἰδεῖν
ῥοικός, ἀσφαλεώς βεβηκὼς ποσσί, καρδίης πλέως.

Archilochus 60 D.  114 W.

It’s a new era. Gone is the blustering Homeric hero. Gone is war as the pursuit of the socio-economic elite. In with the hoplite line and a  radical redefinition of warfare, which had continue pretty much unchanged at least since the early Bronze Age. As a result, there would be remarkable socio-economic changes, although their precise nature remains disputed. Undisputed, though is the Chigi Vase, 650-630 B.C. which is the earliest depiction of the hoplite line. Archilochus would have loved it!

Chigi Vase

Nobody talked about how tall they were. They were (humans) or did it (divinities). Put differently videre est credere (seeing is believing)

Numanus Remulus, big man in town…maybe not (Vergil, Aeneid 9.595-7)

[Editor’s Note: We are so absolutely psyched to introduce a new contributor, The fabulous Festus.  It is always great to find like-minded people ( as Herodotus puts it: “An intelligent and well-disposed friend is the finest of all possessions.” κτημάτων πάντων ἐστὶ τιμιώτατον ἀνὴρ φίλος συνετός τε καὶ εὔνοος, 5.24.3); but it is especially nice to find friends who can bring gravitas and new expertise to our endeavors (because, as Plato knows,“If you are wise, then everyone will be your family and friend.” ἐὰν μὲν ἄρα σοφὸς γένῃ, ὦ παῖ, πάντες σοι φίλοι καὶ πάντες σοι οἰκεῖοι ἔσονται, Lysis 210d). Let’s hope he shares many posts like the following with us]

With the ninth book, Vergil seriously gets into the battles of the so-called “Iliadic” Aeneid. The battle wavers; the Italian Numanus Remulus strides out to pillory the Trojans with words most distinctly not suave (598-620). Vergil introduces him thus (595-7):

Vaunting before his troops, and lengthen’d with a stride,
In these insulting terms the Trojans he defied:

is primam ante aciem digna atque indigna relatu               595
vociferans tumidusque novo praecordia regno
ibat et ingentem sese clamore ferebat:

The late fourth-century century AD commentator Servius remarks on the last four words of 598:

Vergil was not saying Remulus was a big man, but he was boasting that he was a big man.

ingentem sese clamore ferebat non erat ingens, sed se esse clamitabat ingentem.

Stop for a minute! Isn’t there something comical about a warrior in the middle of battle striding out and yelling “I am Mr. Big”? Yes, battles then as now had a surfeit of testosterone, but testosterone here could get you killed. The first time I read the Servius many years ago it took several minutes to regain a straight face.

The Latin supports either reading. Ferebat in the sense of walking, or ferebat in the sense of yelling, put differently, the indirect discourse beloved of generations of Latin students.

More modern commentators have been agnostic. There are no manuscript problems; no issue of the lectio difficilior (the more difficult reading is best). Clearly it’s an interpretational issue here. We have to think about warriors of the heroic age, especially in Homer.

Homeric warriors certainly could do self-promotion; the Iliad is peppered with it. Even in battle, especially in battle. But that self-promotion is about lineage and deeds. Nobody says “look at me, look at how big I am.” Further on this in my next post.

On this basis, Servius has it wrong. But his comment remains truly priceless.

[the translation is John Dryden’s. There are several fine modern ones available, but no one gives as close a sense of the Latin original as Dryden. Takes a major poet to know a major poet.]

Update

I am minded that not everyone will grasp the “big man in town” part of this post’s title. It is from (obviously to me and my generation), the Four Seasons’ song Big Man in Town, which rose to number twenty on the charts in 1964. I remember it well, since I was in high school then. Some are making claims the the Jersey Boys do it better. Let them. There is no arguing with them.