“There are two kinds of weasels: one is wild and the two differ in size. The Greeks call this one ictis. The gall of both is useful against asps, but poisonous to others. The other weasel, however, wanders in our homes and, as Cicero explains, moves its young on a daily basis and changes its nest, chasing snakes. Its meat, preserved in salt is given in a weight of one denarius and mixed in three cyathi of liquid to those who have been bitten. Otherwise, its stomach is stuffed with coriander and, once dried, drunk with wine. A weasel kitten is even better for this than the weasel itself.”
XVI. Mustelarum duo genera, alterum silvestre; distant magnitudine, Graeci vocant ictidas. harum fel contra aspidas dicitur efficax, cetero venenum. haec autem quae in domibus nostris oberrat et catulos suos, ut auctor est Cicero, cottidie transfert mutatque sedem, serpentes persequitur. ex ea inveterata sale denarii pondus in cyathis tribus datur percussis aut ventriculus coriandro fartus inveteratusque et in vino potus, et catulus mustelae etiam efficacius.
“We had already made it a certain distance when the sun rose and everything was in the light. I was examining my friend’s neck with a intense curiosity in the place where I had seen the sword end up. And I thought to myself, ‘You are mad, ‘You were covered in your cups and wine and dreamed the worst. Look, Socrates is whole, healthy, and untouched. Where is the wound, or the sponge? Where is a scar so new and recent?’
And then I said to him, ‘It is not without reason that trustworthy doctors say that people overstuffed with food and drink have evil, savage dreams. In my case, because I was excessive in my drinking last night, the evening brought me terrible and torturous visions, that I even believed I was covered and polluted with human blood!”
But he was smirking at me when he said, ‘You are not covered in blood, but piss! Indeed, I myself dreamed that my throat was cut. I imagined pain on this neck and I even believed that my heart was ripped out. Even now I remain out of breath: my knees are trembling and I am stumbling. I need some food for strengthening my breath.”
“Aliquantum processeramus et iam iubaris exortu cuncta collustrantur. Et ego curiose sedulo arbitrabar iugulum comitis, qua parte gladium delapsum videram; et mecum ‘Vesane,’ aio ‘qui poculis et vino sepultus extrema somniasti. Ecce Socrates integer, sanus, incolumis. Ubi vulnus, spongia? Ubi postremum cicatrix tam alta, tam recens?’ Et ad illum ‘Non’ inquam ‘immerito medici fidi cibo et crapula distentos saeva et gravia somniare autumant. Mihi denique, quod poculis vesperi minus temperavi, nox acerba diras et truces imagines obtulit, ut adhuc me credam cruore humano aspersum atque impiatum.’
“Ad haec ille surridens ‘At tu’ inquit ‘non sanguine sed lotio perfusus es. Verum tamen et ipse per somnium iugulari visus sum mihi. Nam et iugulum istum dolui et cor ipsum mihi avelli putavi; et nunc etiam spiritu deficior et genua quatior et gradu titubo et aliquid cibatus refovendo spiritu desidero.’
“I acquired a bitter detestation of war, less for its horrors than for its boredom and futility, and a contempt for its panache. To speak of glory seemed a horrid impiety. That was perhaps why I could not open Homer. I found that I could read very little, and that many things which used to charm me seemed meaningless, since they belonged to a dead world. My reading was chiefly in the Latin and Greek classics, which were beyond the caprice of time. I read and re-read Thucydides, for he also had lived among crumbling institutions; Virgil, for he had known both the cruelty and the mercy of life; Plato, above all, for he was seraphically free from the pettinesses which were at the root of our sorrows.”
“I hate you because you say awful things about me.”
μισῶ σ᾿ ὁτιὴ λέγεις με ταἰσχρά.
Naevius [=Nonius 73, 16]
“May he not inspire the deep hate of my powerful spirit.”
Ne ille mei feri ingeni atque animi acrem acrimoniam
Naevius, Incerta 34
“I hate people who mumble: so tell me what you fear clearly.”
Odi summussos; proinde aperte dice quid sit quod times.
Seneca the Elder, Controversiae 7
“Is there anyone then who hates me more than I hate myself?”
ergo quisquam me magis odit quam ego?
Aristophanes, Birds 1548
“I hate all the gods, as you well know…”
μισῶ δ᾿ ἅπαντας τοὺς θεούς, ὡς οἶσθα σύ—
Diogenes Laertius, 1.5.88
“Bias used to tell people to measure life as if they were going to live for both a long time and a short one and also to love people as if they will hate them, since most people are bad.”
“[the followers of Aristippos] used to say that mistakes should be pardoned: for people do not err willingly, but under the force of some kind of passion. And we should not hate: it is better to teach someone to change.”
William Gladstone, Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age:
“It appears, however, as if this great and splendid Poet, being thrown out of his true bearings in regard to all the deeper sources of interest on which an epic writer must depend, such as religion, patriotism, and liberty, became consequently reckless, alike in major and in minor matters, as to all the inner harmonies of his work, and contented himself with the most unwearied and fastidious labours in its outward elaboration, where he could give scope to his extraordinary powers of versification and of diction without fear of stumbling upon anything unfit for the artificial atmosphere of the Roman court. The consequence is, that a vein of untruthfulness runs throughout the whole Æneid, as strong and as remarkable as is the genuineness of thought and feeling in the Homeric poems. Homer walks in the open day, Virgil by lamplight. Homer gives us figures that breathe and move, Virgil usually treats us to waxwork. Homer has the full force and play of the drama, Virgil is essentially operatic. From Virgil back to Homer is a greater distance, than from Homer back to life.”
The following text of unknown authorship was recovered along with new fragments of Caesar’s lost Bellum Incivileand several pamphlets on ancient Roman fashion and etiquette.
As dawn rose, a young man of remarkable piety came down from heaven onto the gloomy earth for the sake of saving the republic. Since his name could not be pronounced by any mortal, he was called Mayor Pete. It was such a great miracle that some believed that he was not just similar to a god, but that he was an actual god; others believed that the 44th president had adopted him as his white son.
Many wonders and signs declared his divinity. His spouse, whose name was Mayor Pete’s Husband, was a teacher of the highest character whom students loved and respected as an example to emulate;* he was a faithful friend to two dogs, Buddy and Truman; he knew 17 languages which, they said, he was able to speak perfectly inside of a year whenever he wanted to help refugees, read a book in another language, or make a friend from another country; he also knew by heart the names of all the people who lived in the republic; and, he glows with a golden light as he helps the less fortunate. For these reasons everyone began to worship and venerate him as they begged the gods, “Do not prevent this man from rescuing our world in chaos.”
Aurora surgente egregius pietate iuvenis de caelo ad tenebrosam terram rei publicae servandae causa venit. Cum eius nomen a nullis mortalibus enuntiari possit, Praefectus Petrus appellabatur. Tantum miraculum erat ut alii Praefectum Petrum non modo similem deo sed deum ipsum, alii quadragesimum quartum consulem filium candidum adoptavisse crederent.
Multa prodigia et signa divinitatem declaraverunt. Eius coniunx, Maritus Praefecti Petri nomine, erat magister* summae virtutis quem exemplo ad imitandum suppeditato discipuli amabant verebanturque; fidus sodalis duorum canum Amici et Veritatis erat; dicebant septendecim linguas scire quas intra annum optime loqui posset cum aut auxilio profugis esse aut externi scriptoris libellum legere aut ad amicitiam peregrinorum se conferre vellet; nomina etiam omnium rei publicae civium memoria tenebat; miseris subveniens aurea in luce refulsit. Quibus de causis eum colere et venerari coeperunt omnes orantes deos, “hunc saltem everso iuvenem succurrere saeclo ne prohibete.”
*It is thought that Quintilian wrote his treatise on education after reading notes taken during a classroom observation of Mayor Pete’s Husband.
Spring is here, and with it comes the dreaded (but necessary) spring cleaning. It’s often difficult to rid the house of an item we no longer need or want, but remember, if it doesn’t “inspire joy,” consider recycling or donating it for someone else’s use. Need ideas for types of items to purge? Here’s some Roman stuff to get you started.
Personal accessories and fashion items. These have a tendency to accumulate and create clutter in drawers, chests, and cabinets. Sometimes they can wreak havoc on a foot when walking through the house at night.
Gold Bracelet. AE 1994, 1098.
(Image Wikimedia)
UTERE FELIX DOMINA IULIANE
“Use (this) happily, Lady Juliana.”
(‘Utere Felix’ was a very popular phrase on jewelry, to the extent that abbreviations such as ‘UT FE’ were common)
Lapis Stone. AE 2009, 991.
FELICITAS PUBLICA
“Public Happiness”
(A common phrase on coinage, but less so on jewelry)
Gold Ring. CIL 3.12677
FIDEM D(OMINO) N(OSTRO) CONSTANTI AUGUSTO N(OVO) A(NNO)
“Trust in our Lord Constans Augustus, this new year.”
Gold Button. AE 2003, 1456.
(Image Pegasus Online, 2004)
AMORE AMANTI S[I A]MAS PIGNVS
“With love, to (my) love. If you love (me), (this is) a pledge.”
Silvered Fibula. CIL 13.10027
(Image Pegasus Online, 2004)
QVOD / VIS EG/O VOLO
“What you want, I want.”
Dining and drinking wares. We’ve all heard “you have too many mugs” or “how do you have so much Tupperware?” Or, in my case, “what do the two of you need with that much silverware?”
Glass. CIL 15.7010.
(POL)YCARPE BIBE (VIVE) FELIX
“Polycarpus, live happily”
Glass Dish. CIL 15.7029.
HILARE
SEMPER
GAVDEAS
“May you always be joyfully happy.”
Spoon. AE 1982, 670.
VIR BONE VIVAS
“Live (well), my good man.”
Cup. AE 1981, 572b.
BIBE / ET PRO/PINA
“Take a drink and pass (me) on.”
(Image EDH)
Election Plate. AE 1979, 0064.
M(ARCUS) CATO QUEI PETIT TRIBUN(AT)U(M) PLEBEI
“Marcus Cato, who is running for Tribune of the Plebs.”
(Go ahead, throw out those Gore vs. Bush 2000 bumper stickers.)
Furniture. That table that blocks half of the hallway and is only used for car keys? Time to donate it.
Inscription on a Table. AE 1941, 0053.
M(ARCUS) CATO QUEI PETIT TRIBUN(AT)U(M) PLEBEI
“Marcus Cato, who is running for Tribune of the Plebs.”
(Go ahead, throw out those Gore vs. Bush 2000 bumper stickers.)
Furniture. That table that blocks half of the hallway and is only used for car keys? Time to donate it.
Inscription on a Table. AE 1941, 0053.
Quisquis amat d[ictis absentum rodere vitam,
hanc mensam in[dignam noverit esse sibi.
“Whoever loves to slander the lives of people absent with gossip, let them know this table isn’t worthy of them.”
Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols (trans. Anthony Ludovici)
“What I Owe to the Ancients”:
“In conclusion I will just say a word concerning that world to which I have sought new means of access, to which I may perhaps have found a new passage—the ancient world. My taste, which is perhaps the reverse of tolerant, is very far from saying yea through and through even to this world: on the whole it is not over eager to say Yea, it would prefer to say Nay, and better still nothing whatever…. This is true of whole cultures; it is true of books,—it is also true of places and of landscapes. Truth to tell, the number of ancient books that count for something in my life is but small; and the most famous are not of that number. My sense of style, for the epigram as style, was awakened almost spontaneously upon my acquaintance with Sallust I have not forgotten the astonishment of my respected teacher Corssen, when he was forced to give his worst Latin pupil the highest marks,—at one stroke I had learned all there was to learn. Condensed, severe, with as much substance as possible in the background, and with cold but roguish hostility towards all ‘beautiful words’ and ‘beautiful feelings’—in these things I found my own particular bent. In my writings up to my ‘Zarathustra,’ there will be found a very earnest ambition to attain to the Roman style, to the “ære perennius” in style.—The same thing happened on my first acquaintance with Horace. Up to the present no poet has given me the same artistic raptures as those which from the first I received from an Horatian ode. In certain languages it would be absurd even to aspire to what is accomplished by this poet. This mosaic of words, in which every unit spreads its power to the left and to the right over the whole, by its sound, by its place in the sentence, and by its meaning, this minimum in the compass and number of the signs, and the maximum of energy in the signs which is thereby achieved—all this is Roman, and, if you will believe me, noble par excellence. By the side of this all the rest of poetry becomes something popular,—nothing more than senseless sentimental twaddle.”
“At last, love is here—and the story I might have told to hide it
Would have caused me more shame than laying it bare.
Cytherea brought him right to me once I overwhelmed her
with my songs. Then she put him right in my lap.
She promised it and she did it. Let anyone tell the tale of my laughter
if they happen to have none of their own
I would never want to trust notes to anyone to sealed tablets,
Just in case someone else reads them before my love.
Ah, it is a pleasure to ‘sin’ and exhausting to hide my face
For rumor’s sake. Let me be known as a worthy woman with her worthy man.”
Tandem venit amor, qualem texisse pudori
quam nudasse alicui sit mihi fama magis.
exorata meis illum Cytherea Camenis
attulit in nostrum deposuitque sinum.
exsolvit promissa Venus: mea gaudia narret,
dicetur si quis non habuisse sua.
non ego signatis quicquam mandare tabellis,
ne legat id nemo quam meus ante, velim,
sed peccasse iuvat, vultus componere famae
taedet: cum digno digna fuisse ferar.
Martial, 10.35
“All girls who desire to please one man
Should read Sulpicia.
All husbands who desire to please one wife
Should read Sulpicia.
She doesn’t write the rage of the Colchian woman
Or repeat the dinners of dire Thyestes.
She doesn’t believe there ever was a Scylla, or Byblis
But she teaches chaste and honest love,
And games, both sweet and a little naughty.
Anyone who judges her poems well
Will say that there never was a cleverer girl,
There never was a girl more reverent!
I think that the jokes of Egeria
In Numa’s dark cave were something like this.
You would have been more humble and learned
With Sulpicia as a teacher or a peer, Sappho:
But if he had seen her by your side,
Harsh Phaon would have loved Sulpicia.
Uselessly: for she would not be wife of the Thunderer
Nor girlfriend to Bacchus or Apollo
Should she live after her Calenus was taken away.”
Omnes Sulpiciam legant puellae,
Uni quae cupiunt viro placere;
Omnes Sulpiciam legant mariti,
Uni qui cupiunt placere nuptae.
Non haec Colchidos adserit furorem 5
Diri prandia nec refert Thyestae;
Scyllam, Byblida nec fuisse credit:
Sed castos docet et probos amores,
Lusus, delicias facetiasque.
Cuius carmina qui bene aestimarit, 10
Nullam dixerit esse nequiorem,
Nullam dixerit esse sanctiorem.
Tales Egeriae iocos fuisse
Udo crediderim Numae sub antro.
Hac condiscipula vel hac magistra 15
Esses doctior et pudica, Sappho:
Sed tecum pariter simulque visam
Durus Sulpiciam Phaon amaret.
Frustra: namque ea nec Tonantis uxor
Nec Bacchi nec Apollinis puella 20
Erepto sibi viveret Caleno.
