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THE CLASSICALWEEKLY

Entered as second-class matter November 18, 1907, at the Post Office, New York, N. Y., under the Act of Congress of March 1, 1879 NEW YORK, OCTOBER 8, 1917

VOL. XI

THE TEACHING OF VERGIL IN SECONDARY

SCHOOLS

(Concluded from page 5)

Again, reading aloud helps, as nothing else does, to an understanding and appreciation of the effect of alliteration and onomatopoea. It is a commonplace of criticism that in their use of alliteration the Roman poets of the Augustan Age are far more restrained than were the Roman poets of the earlier, Republican period. Yet, after all, Vergil makes very extensive use of alliteration, assonances, onomatopoea, and the like. Here one may study with profit an article entitled Rhymes and Assonances in the Aeneid, by H. T. Johnstone, in The Classical Review 10 (1896), 9-13. See also THE CLASSICAL WEEKLY 9.129-130.

One interesting fact may be noted in connection with Vergil's use of alliteration. It is not his habit to commence a long series of words with the same consonantal sound. A sequence such as we have in Horace, Sermones 1.6.57, infans namque pudor prohibebat plura profari, is extremely rare in Vergil (it is rare in Horace himself, even in his Sermones). Vergil inclines rather to the use of the same consonantal sounds initially three times in a verse, setting two examples of it before the caesura and one after (or vice versa). An illustration is Aeneid 1.56: circum claustra fremunt; celsa sedet Acolus arce. When one notices this phenomenon in Vergil, he is reminded of alliteration in Anglo-Saxon poets.

It may be noted here that one can learn much by comparing or contrasting Vergil's usage of alliteration, onomatopoea, assonance, etc., with the usage of other poets, particularly with defective instances of these devices in earlier poets. It has been said that the earlier poets of Rome were not able always to determine surdly when they were writing poetry and when they were not. Ennius certainly was subject to this criticism when he wrote the notorious line 0 Tite, tute, Tali, tibi tanta, tyranne, tulisti!, whose badness might be reproduced by 'O, Titus, tyrant, thou tookest upon thyself, Tatius, power too trying <to us>!' On the other hand, we must notice, in justice to Ennius, that at times he secured excellent effects, for example, in the line which combines alliteration and onomatopoea, at tuba terribili sonitu taratantara dixit. But over against this, again, we must set Ennius's verse, stultus est qui cupida cupiens cupienter cupit, which may be

No. 2

translated by 'He is a fool who, in desiring things desired, desires them desirously'.

How, except by reading aloud, shall we get the onomatopoetic effect of Vergil, Aeneid 8.596 quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum, or Aeneid 1.87 Insequitur clamorque virum stridorque rudentum, or Aeneid 2.313 Exoritur clamorque virum clangorque tubarum, or Horace Carmina 1.2.1-2 Iam satis terris nivis atque dirae grandinis misit pater. . . ., or Horace Carmina 1.4.1 Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni. . . ?

On one other very important matter we gain much light through reading aloud. I mean the much vexed question of the 'shackles of the meter'. Every one knows that to the Roman poet the dactylic hexameter was in certain respects a straight jacket. Certain words, certain inflectional forms of words cannot be fitted into the hexameter at all. Thus the form arbores (-) cannot be used in hexameter verse; in its stead the poets frequently use arbusta, which, however, properly means not trees, but trees upon which grapevines have been trained. Look at such a passage as Aeneid 6.179-182:

Itur in antiquam silvam, stabula alta ferarum;
procumbunt piceae, sonat icta securibus ilex,
fraxineaeque trabes cuneis et fissile robur
scinditur, advolvunt ingentis montibus ornos.

We are struck at once by the curious shifting from the passive voice (once used) to the active (used twice), then from the active to the passive, and back to the active again. But our surprise disappears when we notice that the form ilices (---), nominative plural of ilex (180), cannot be used in hexameter verse, so that the passive construction with this nominative plural as subject could not have been employed here. The nominative plural of fraxinus (181) likewise cannot be used in hexameter verse, but the poet was able to avoid this difficulty by the use of an adjective fraxineae, derived from the noun, fraxinus. It is interesting to note that Ennius, in verses which are the original of our Vergilian passage (Annales, 187-191, in Vahlen's edition), found similar difficulty, and avoided it in like fashion. The verses run as follows:

Incedunt arbusta per alta, securibus caedunt,
percellunt magnas quercus, exciditur ilex,
fraxinu(s) frangitur atque abies consternitur alta,
pinus proceras pervertunt: omne sonabat
arbustum fremitu silvai frondosai.

"Through the towering groves they go, they cut with their axes and fell mighty oaks, the holm-oak is cut down, the ash tree is rent and the lofty fir laid low, they overturn the high pines: everywhere the woods rang with the crash of the leafy forest'.

We know, again, that the poets altered the inflectional forms of words in order to fit them into the dactylic hexameter. Thus, we have in Vergil such forms as compostus, and repostus, instead of the proper forms compositus and repositus. Until the time of Ennius, the perfect tense of pono was posivi. This form in compounds such as composivi (—~——) would be impossible in the dactylic hexameter. Ennius changed the form to posui. See, in this connection, C. T. Cruttwell, A History of Roman Literature, 71-73 (Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1890).

This whole matter has seldom, if ever, been better put than it was by John Conington, in a paper entitled Early Roman Tragedy and Epic Poetry, printed originally in the North British Review, No. LXXXII, but reprinted later in his Miscellaneous Writings 1.294337. See especially 333:

Superficial observers are apt to treat the influence of metre with comparative indifference, as involving the mere outward form of poetry; but a more careful analysis will show that though the soul of verse is doubtless originally separable from its body, the latter is not a bare husk, to be assumed or thrown off at pleasure, but a part of an organized whole, modified and modifying in turn, and clinging to its partner with a tenacious vitality, which criticism, in attempting to disentangle, is apt to destroy. The language reacts on the thought, which, in taking shape, is obliged to part with something of its own, and accept something extraneous and accidental; and the metre exercises a similar constraint on the language, enforcing the substitution of one word for another, and thus producing a still further departure from the precise character of the conception originally formed by the mind. This second bondage makes itself felt much more in ancient than in modern metres, in proportion as the rule of quantity is more searchingly oppressive than the rule of accent.

We may remember, as we read these words, that Conington had been trained in the writing of Latin verse, and that he wrote much English verse also. See also Myers, Essays Classical 135-139.

On the other hand, through reading aloud, we soon see that it is quite easy, all too easy, for modern students to overemphasize the idea involved in the phrase 'shackles of the meter'. We see presently that odd things, at least in the way of syntax, occur repeatedly in the last syllable of a verse, where the poet was free to do as he chose. A simple example, at the beginning of a verse, is Aeneid 1.562. There Vergil writes solvite corde metum, Teucri; he might have written the simpler form, solvite corda metu, Teucri. In 1.56 we have celsa sedet Aeolus arce, a combination of words which involves a use of the ablative (the local ablative) quite different from the use of the ablative in prose. Now it would have been entirely possible, metrically, for

Vergil to write in after celsa; the resultant syntax would have been easier.

Again, by reading aloud, one sees, as he can see in no other way, certain matters in word-order. He will appreciate better, for example, such a familiar thing as the juxtaposition of words of related, or more often, of words of contrasted meaning. Again, when the ear reinforces the eye, we notice that in the dactylic hexameter, and in other kinds of verse also, the first and the last words of a verse belong together in grammar and in sense (often these words are adjective and noun). Again, we note that over and over, especially in Vergil, a word important in meaning and in rhetoric stands at the end of its phrase or clause or sentence, and at the beginning of the verse: in this way the poet doubly emphasizes the word, both to eye and to ear.

The teacher of Vergil should, beyond all question, have a competent knowledge of Latin words. "Words are the sole element of all literary expression: upon their weight and color depend all possible literary effects". Here it is all important to study the basic sense of Latin words. Such an utterance as this seems to me, I confess, a platitude, but bitter experience with class after class of College students, and with Summer Session students, has given me the impression that little attention is paid to this matter in the class-rooms of the Secondary Schools, and to infer that the teachers themselves, in their own studies, give all too little attention to the matter. What, for instance, is the basic sense of aecus? If I ask a College pupil that, he or she is apt to say 'just', 'fair'. The answer is of course incorrect. It means 'level', 'even' (in the physical sense). When we note this fact, we understand at once how the word comes to equal 'just', 'fair', 'square', etc., in business or in ethics, especially if we remember that the Romans were perfectly familiar with scales with double plates (librae). We understand again how the word aequora, which the pupil reading Vergil is prone to translate by 'seas', can be used, as it is used in poetry, of dry land. The word, of course, means merely 'levels'. We pass on instantly to the interesting observation that aequora is not a fair word to apply either to the sea (at least in some of its moods) or to much of the dry land with which Vergil himself was familiar. And, finally, we may note that in the prologues to the plays of Plautus and Terence, as in Aen. 6.129 and Juvenal 14.15 aecus means not 'impartial', but 'friendly', ‘indulgent'; it is all too easy for us to believe that what we want the strictest impartiality is in duty bound to give us.

What is the basic meaning of arduus? The pupil, especially if he connects the English word arduous with the Latin, is prone to say 'difficult'. But, unless he

"I leave it to the teacher of Vergil to find other examples of this matter in Vergil. There is a striking example in Horace, Carmina I.4.II-12. 'It is time', says Horace. 'to make offerings to Faunus, seu poscat agna sive malit haedo, 'should he ask <that we make sacrifice> with a lamb or prefer <that we worship > with a kid'. agnam and haedum would have been metrical, and far easier in syntax, 'should he ask (for) a lamb or prefer a kid?'

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'When life's pathway is steep (up grade), remember to keep your soul at least level.

If I ask the basic sense of emo, the pupil answers without hesitation 'to buy' (some teachers have given me the same answer). But if emo means 'to buy', how can we explain the meanings of adimo, eximo, eximius, expromo, depromo, promo, sumo (sub + emo)? How can we explain Plautus's term for a butler, condus promus? Emo means 'to take'. How then does it come to mean 'buy'? Well, some years ago, I discovered afresh how such a transition in meaning came about. Happening to notice in the book stalls of John Wanamaker's store in Philadelphia a certain important classical book on sale, at greatly reduced price, I bought it. It came to me, of course, properly wrapped up. As I moved about the store, waiting for some friends to finish their shopping, I took the wrapper off the book and began to read it. Presently a man, who proved to be the store's detective, stepped up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked me to explain my possession of this book. Fortunately I had put into my pocket when I removed the wrapper the slip which the department stores furnish to their customers with each purchase. I learned, then, if I had never known it before, that 'buying' is legal 'taking'10.

I must quote here one more example of the results to be won by an intensive study of Latin words. In Aen. 6.298, 326 Charon is called portitor. American editions of Vergil, my own, unhappily, included, are, I think, a unit in defining this word as 'ferryman', 'boatman', 'carrier'. Lewis and Short give two words portilor. One, which they connect directly with portus, they cite only from Plautus, Terence, and Cicero. The other they connect with the root of porto, without trying to explain why it took the form portitor rather than portator. This latter word they cite first from Propertius and Vergil.

10If one wishes to study Vergil's words, he cannot do better than to get a copy of Professor M. N. Wetmore's valuable book, Index Vergilianus Verborum (Yale University Press, 1911). On this book see THE CLASSICAL WEEKLY 6.101-103, 109-111.

Now, if we examine Norden's most suggestive note on Aen. 6.298, we shall learn much. In every passage, down through Cicero, which shows a word portitor, the meaning 'port-warden', 'customs-officer', is absolutely demanded. Lexicographical comments, in Donatus on Terence, in Tiberius Donatus on Vergil, and in Nonius (24.22) on Cicero De Republica 4.7.20, all point the same way. Nonius's note is especially good: Portitores dicuntur teleonarii, qui portum obsidentes omnia sciscitantur, ut ex eo vectigal accipiant. A word portitor occurs in Georgics 4.502, in the Orpheus-Eurydice story (this passage Vergil had before his eyes as he wrote the longer description of the underworld in Aen. 6). Orpheus has turned around to see if Eurydice is following; she vanishes, and he seeks her in vain: nec portitor Orci amplius obiectam <Eurydicen> passus transire paludem. Here, certainly, Charon is not a ferryman at all; he is the warder of the river of the underworld, an inspector, so to say, set to scrutinize all comers and to bar out those who have no right to cross, as the customs-officer is set to bar forbidden goods from passage through town or country. Aen. 6.298, 326 are precisely similar. What attracted Aeneas's attention was the difference made by Charon in accepting some umbrae for passage and in rejecting others; cf. 319, 320 with 315, 316. Charon's primary functions, then, are those of a warder, an inspector; his functions as ferryman are secondary. It was the misunderstanding of the Vergilian passages and the placing of the stress on the less important part of Charon's functions that led later Latin writers' and modern critics alike to define portitor here by 'ferryman' rather than by 'warder' or the like. Lewis and Short, and Georges, too, in his Lexikon, should be corrected; there was but one Latin word portitor.

Another fruitful field of study is the differentiation of words that apparently are more or less alike in meaning. Take the Latin words for 'some one', 'anyone': quivis, quilibet, quisquam, ullus, aliquis, nescioquis, quidam. How do they differ one from another? Why is it, for instance, that sine omni negotio is seldom employed, whereas sine ullo negotio is used in almost every Latin passage?

It happens, unfortunately, that we are none too well supplied with materials, especially in English, to aid in answering such questions. Our best (or least bad) Latin-English Dictionary, that by Lewis and Short (known as Harper's Latin Dictionary), was published originally about forty years ago and has not been revised at any time; its etymologies, therefore, are often hopelessly out-of-date. Recourse may be had, however, to Horae Latinae, by Robert Ogilvie (Longmans, Green and Co., London, 1901), an English work, which, under such captions as Defend, Deny, Doubt, Any One, differentiates 'synonyms': an alphabetical Index of Latin words discussed in the book helps to a full use of the work. Very helpful, indeed, are two works by Hermann Menge: Repetitorium der Lateinis

chen Syntax und Stilistik (Wolfenbüttel, 1900), and Lateinische Synonymik (Wolfenbüttel, 1900). These two books help greatly in connection with both syntax and word-meanings.

Another interesting field of study in this connection is the study of compounds. One who knows Lucretius will recall instantly how much more freely Lucretius uses compounds than Vergil does. To be sure, there are many compounds, after all, in Vergil, but they all fall within clearly recognized categories which had received the stamp of approval from all Roman writers. Vergil has no compound of the type seen in Lucretius's silvifragus. It is clear enough that at one time Latin had the same right to make compounds at will as Greek possessed and as German has in modern times. For some reason or other not known to us the Romans gave up this power. One might read with profit here Munro's edition of Lucretius, Volume 2, pages 16–17. One kind of compound used most effectively in Greek the compound formed with two (or more) prepositions as prefixes-is almost wholly wanting in Latin, at least in the more classical writings. Interesting exceptions are the familiar words depromo and expromo (de + pro +emo, ex + pro + emo). The fact that these words were in common use proves pretty clearly that the Romans had forgotten, more or less completely, that promo was in reality a compound verb11.

Let us take another example of an interesting result to which the study of Latin compounds may lead. I venture to say that most teachers, if asked to give the etymology of the familiar word ignosco, would say at once that it is derived from in, 'not', and (g)nosco, 'know'; 'to forgive', then, is to 'ignore'. Such an answer disregards a very important fact of Latin wordformation, namely, the fact that there are extremely few finite verb-forms which show the negative prefix in. One finds it hard to recall any example save indecet12, The difficulty set up by this fact of Latin-word formation is so great that various more or less complicated explanations of the etymology of ignosco have been suggested. However, there is a tendency at present to return to the explanation that the word was made up of the negative prefix in and (g)nosco. It is pointed out that as an intermediary to such a form as indecet lies the adjective indecens13 (Latin shows innumerable adjectives which are made up of the negative prefix in and a participle, especially a perfect passive participle: compare such forms as invictus, indomitus, etc.). Back of ignosco may lie ignotus, as the intermediary form. Now, the etymology of ignosco is rather more important, in another way, than perhaps appears at first sight. If ignosco, 'to pardon', 'to forgive', means fundamentally 'not to know', we have in this word a

On this subject I wrote in THE CLASSICAL WEEKLY 0.145. 12Lewis and Short cite this verb from but one passage: Pliny, Epp. 3.1.2.

Lewis and Short cite this adjective seven times, from Petronius, Quintilian, Martial, Suetonius. The adverb indecenter occurs in all three degrees, in Seneca the philosopher, Quintilian, and Martial.

very lofty conception, ethically, of forgiveness, a much loftier conception, for instance, even than one sees in condonare culpam, 'to forgive a fault'11.

I mention another point in connection with this matter of word study. To understand the meanings of certain Latin phrases we must understand Roman customs. Hence study of Roman life is necessary. Vergil uses several times the expression incumbere remis. What does he mean by it? We cannot understand the meaning unless we grasp the ideas laid down in the following formula-cumbo : cubo :: sisto : sto : : lay: lie. This means, of course, that cumbo and sisto are in reality transitive verbs (see my Vergil, Introduction, $139). Incumbere remis, then, means 'to fling one's self into the oars', to 'lay one's self upon the oars'. One who has seen Mediterranean boatmen of to-day standing up with faces toward the prow of their boats and literally flinging themselves upon their oars (as they propel their boats for long distances by the process we call 'backing water') will understand the meaning of Vergil's phrase15, or of his phrase in Aencid 3.207 remis insurgimus; we may suppose that men rowed in ancient days in the Mediterranean as they row there now.

Further, some amusing things appear in the study of compound words. It is interesting to the teacher, and probably will be to the pupil as well, to learn that insult is derived from insultare, which literally means 'to dance upon'. One may not, in good society, talk of 'sitting on' <= squelching> another: on the other hand, it is perfectly proper, so far as language goes, to ‘'insult' a person. It appears, then, that in etymology, as in ethics, at times the sin lies in getting found out. To some people the word damn or damned is anathema: but some of these persons use 'condemn' (or 'condemned', in such a phrase as 'condemned idiot') without hesitation, although in reality 'condemned' means 'damned raised to the n th power'16.

One last point before I leave this matter of the teacher's own study of Vergil. It is well for the teacher

14This phrase really means to make a present to the person who has done one a wrong > of the vengeance one had, by Greco-Roman standards of ethics, the right to exact, poena, familiar in the sense of 'punishment', meant originally a 'fine.

I had planned to speak of various matters of syntax which the teacher might study independently, to his decided advantage. There is not space, however, to go into these matters in detail. might suggest, however, certain things for study: the origin of the subjunctive with dum, modo, and dummodo, and of the subjunctive with quamvis (on such points one can get light in the latter part of Professor C. E. Bennett's book, The Latin Language: Allyn and Bacon, 1907). The Accusative of Effect, as Professor Bennett calls it, plays a large part in poetry, Another point the mastery of which lights up many a dark spot in Latin poetry is the practice of the Greek and Latin poets of emphasizing the result as against the English tendency to emphasize the process. I have in mind such an expression as telo iacet, Aeneid 1.99, 'lies low by means of the missile, etc. An English writer would say 'was laid low by the missile', etc. An American, turning this idea into Latin, would certainly say, prostratus est telo, etc. The Romans and the Greeks outdo us Americans in this respect because they look beyond the intermediate process and visualize to the nselves and to their readers the nished result. See my note on Acreid 1.99.

For

a collection of examples see the list given in my Vergil, Index, page 575, under the caption Result, Emphasis laid on, rather than on Process.

In connection with the question of Latin word-formation it is worth while to consult works by P. R. Jenks, A. C. Richardson, G. Lodge, and the Latin Grammars.

to examine (or compare) various editions of the Aeneid one with the other. But it is better for the teacher at all times to preserve independent right of judgment (it is assumed, of course, that the judgment is to rest on study and knowledge of Latin and of Vergil both). As every one knows, certain views tend to become traditional, and are passed down from edition to edition, but it does not follow at all that the traditional view is correct. For example, in Aeneid 1.58-59, said of Aeolus controlling the winds,

ni faciat, maria ac terras caelumque profundum quippe ferant secum rapidi verrantque per auras, most editions interpret ni faciat, etc., as a condition contrary to fact. To be sure the tempting translation in English is, 'did he not do that', etc., which is a contrary to fact conditional form. Yet, here as elsewhere, we may well pray not to be led into temptation. Surely, no teacher needs to be told that it is an entirely erroneous process to work back from the translation to an interpretation of the original. As Professor Morris H. Morgan" noted long ago, and I myself noted independently of Professor Morgan in my note on this line, it is entirely possible to interpret the present subjunctive here exactly as we regularly interpret the present subjunctive in a conditional sentence, i. e. as 'future more vivid' rather than as contrary to fact: the line means 'should he fail to do this, the winds would', etc.

Take another example. In Aeneid 1.76-80 Acolus speaks thus:

Aeolus haec contra: "Tuus, o regina, quid optes, explorare labor; mihi iussa capessere fas est. Tu mihi quodcumque hoc regni, tu sceptra Iovemque concilias, tu das epulis accumbere divum nimborumque facis tempestatumque potentem”. Most editors, and the authors of at least one good Latin Grammar interpret quodcumque hoc regni as meaning 'the little sovereignty I possess', but even a moment's reflection should have shown them that this interpretation does not fit the passage at all. It would certainly be undiplomatic in the highest degree for Aeolus or any one else to say to his benefactor, 'It is your task to determine what you wish, mine to carry out your wish, for I owe to you the little measure of sovereignty I possess'. The words mean, rather, 'every atom of sovereignty I possess', and carry rather the implication that the debt is far from small; the passage is intensive, not diminutive in effect.

Thus far I have been emphasizing the importance, in the main, of studying Vergil himself. After one has studied Vergil in some such way as this-but not till then-, he should pass on to study Vergil's influence on later ages, and, finally, what has been written about Vergil by authors and critics of ancient and modern times both.

"Addresses and Essays, 38-40 (American Book Company, 1910). On pages 40-41 Professor Morgan discussed equally well Aeneid 6.292-294, ni , irruat, el

beret umbras.

admoneat

diver

The Aeneid won instantaneous recognition. All Latin literature subsequent to Vergil, both in prose and in verse, shows the influence of deep study and profound knowledge of Vergil. In the writings of Seneca, the philosopher (3 B. C. to 65 A. D.), there are dozens of references to Vergil. Livy, Ovid, Juvenal, Tacitus, all alike show the influence of the study of Vergil. Lines of Vergil have been found scratched on walls in Fompeii and in Rome. Three inscriptions on the walls in Pompeii give parts of the (traditional) first verse of the Aeneid; on yet another wall we find part of the first verse of Aeneid 2. In 1891 there were discovered at Pompeii two medallion portraits, one of Vergil, one of Horace. Before Vergil lies a copy of Homer, before Horace a volume bearing the name of Sappho; clearly, from the very outset, Horace and Vergil were associated in the minds of the Romans as the great lyric and the great epic poet of Rome. In far off Tunis a mosaic has been found which represents Vergil as composing the Aeneid. Finally, leaving Latin literature, the student may trace the influence of Vergil in later times and the judgments passed on him in those later days, by studying the works of Comparetti, Tunison, Clover (already referred to: page 3), and the chapters on Vergil in such excellent books as J. W. Duff, A Literary History of Rome (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1909); J. W. Mackail, Latin Literature (Scribner's, 1895); M. S. Dimsdale, A History of Latin Literature (D. Appleton and Co., 1915). Now, I hope no one will raise the cry, How am I to find time to do all this? I have been writing to those who have been teaching Vergil and mean to teach Vergil for a long time-not to persons to whom teaching is a stopgap between High School or College and matrimony in the one case, or money-making business in the other. The whole programme I have suggested no one can work out in a single year. But any one with brains and energy can work out a part of it each year. And one who does that will never complain that 'it is a bore to teach the same thing year by year'. A teacher who is really growing will find something new in Vergil (or Caesar, or Cicero) every year, some new point of view from which to study and to teach his works. Thus, the handling of Vergil will have about it an element of unfailing novelty. Let every teacher of Vergil ask himself, How much of this programme dare I leave out and yet call myself a teacher of Vergil?

REVIEW

C. K.

The Fragments of Empedocles, Translated into English Verse. By William Ellery Leonard, Chicago: The Open Court Publishing Company (1908). Pp. viii+92. $1.00.

The volume opens with a metrical translation of Lucretius, De Rerum Natura 1.716 ff. Twelve pages are then taken up with Empedocles: the man, the

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