SO, after a hiatus I return. In this time I have been driving myself crazy with classes and Latin and paper writing and paper giving and whatnotall.
I had the good fortune of giving a paper at the International Congress of Medieval Studies, which I know I've mentioned, but I am still pleased to know that I have actually done it. It went quite well, actually, I think. Amazingly, nearly 20 people showed up to our session at 8.30 Sunday morning. It was a dreadful time to have to give a talk at, but it still went over quite well.
I am now trying to sort out how to get one more half-credit of linguistics so that I can graduate. I may end up needing to do so in September, but that will be fine.
In happier news, I have begun reading Planet Narnia, by Michael Ward. In the first few pages, I am on the whole quite impressed and look forward to reading further. We need more scholars discussing the medievalism of C. S. Lewis. I strongly suspect that his Narnian Chronicles are not anywhere near so inconsistent nor haphazard as they have been accused of being. I shall try to remember to write up a review of the book when I finish it.
19 May 2009
15 April 2009
On the Silent Words of the West Rose Window of Chartres Cathedral
[This is a paper I wrote for a class on the Medieval Tradition. The topic was to write on a window at Chartres Cathedral. The particular window I wrote on, the West rose window, can be seen here in detail. There are a few slight differences between this one and the one I handed in. I prefer this version, but I did not feel that referencing Narnia would be counted quite academic enough for class.]
On the Silent Words of the West Rose Window of Chartres Cathedral
As I began to contemplate the West rose window of Chartres Cathedral, more and more I began to realise that nothing I could ever speak in words would ever come closer than a loose paraphrase of all that is contained therein. What follows, then, is, at best, the briefest of primers on beginning to recognise all that the window has to share. There is no articulation that can ever compare to that of the window itself.
This discussion of the West rose window of Chartres Cathedral will begin by considering its location in the church, and progressively look with more detail a the window and its individual components. Contained in this window is not a story, but rather an icon of the Last Judgement. I say an icon, rather than a picture or a scene, because it stands static outside of time, not fixed in a specific place inside of time.
The first thing to notice is the fact that the window is in the West—the West, where the sun sets, signifying an end: closure and completion. Thus, it is fitting that the window proclaiming the Last Judgement be in the West. And it is past this window that one must progress when exiting the back of the church, just as all must go through the Last Judgement at the end of the world. Beneath the window, set into the floor, is a labyrinth, with its opening on the West side. This allows the person who has arrived at the centre to look up at the window before beginning the journey outward, and to also look up upon exiting the labyrinth and see the Final Judgement before them.
The next thing to notice is that it is a rose window. A rose window is a particularly large window in the form of a circle, just as the labyrinth below this particular one. A circle is a sign of wholeness and completion, as well as a symbol of the world. And further, Alain de Lille, from the school of Chartres in the twelfth century, the same century in which the Cathedral was built, wrote in his Regulae caelestis iuris, "[S]olam monadem esse alpha et omega sine alpha et omega. Ex eo enim quod principio caret et fine, deus spera dicitur."1 So the circle is not just a reflection of the world, but indeed a reflection of God in His infinite being. In this way, then, the West rose window may be said to be an image of the macrocosm: it points to the image of the culmination of the creative act, that is, the creating of the universe.
It also stands apart from the other two rose windows, which bear the Glorification of the Virgin and the Glorification of Christ, in that they each form complete, bounded circles: the perimeter of each is clearly demarcated. In the West window, however, the placement of the component panels gives the impression that the window is expanding outwards, compared to the North and South rose windows which appear to be complete circles with clearly defined edges. This is appropriate for the Last Judgement because its consequences are eternal and without limit. Further, while the labyrinth has only one entrance, one way to the centre, this window has no edges, thus beckoning all people to come unto Christ who is at the centre.
These open boundaries emphasise the enormity of the one at the centre who is larger than the outside. In the window, the outside appears to point to limitlessness, and yet Christ is at the centre, whose limitlessness is assured. As Alain de Lille wrote in same work mentioned above, "Deus est spera intelligibili cuius centrum ubique circumfrentia nusquam."2 Thus Christ, who is God, the beginning and end of all, containing all existence, is shown at the centre, despite having a circumference which is nowhere. And by that same token, all, save for those clearly damned, in that window are fixed on Christ at the centre of all in that limitless circle. As C. S. Lewis adeptly put it, there was once a stable whose inside was greater than the whole world.3
As already stated, Christ is at the centre of the window, and all of the window is focused on Him and pointing to Him. (As a note, the top of the window is presupposed to be East, and the other cardinal and ordinal directions follow from there.) At the cardinal points, in the layer of the window nearest to Christ, we find the four beasts surrounding the heavenly throne signifying the four Evangelists. In the West we have Matthew, in the North is Mark, in the South is Luke, and in the East is John. Both Mark, the lion, and Luke, the ox, have a single forefoot on a book, and all four figures are facing Christ. These two Evangelists with their gospels being portrayed draw us from the Western gospel, that of Matthew, which emphasises the human elements of Christ, up to the Eastern gospel, John, which emphasises the divine elements of Christ. Between each of the Evangelists are two angels, eight in total, completing a circle around Christ, all of whom are looking at Christ in the centre.
Connected to these windows are larger windows, making the combination of the smaller inner window and the larger outer window look like a series of twelve arrows pointing to the centre, or beaming outwards. At the West-most point, there is an image of St. Michael the Archangel weighing souls and devils attempting to tip the scale in their favour. In the window to the North of this one, the one on Christ's right, there is an image of an angel guiding souls away from the scale. On the South side, on Christ's left, demons herd damned souls away from the scale. At the East-most point, there is an image of St. Abraham with three souls in his bosom, a reference to the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.4 At the windows to the right and the left of this are Cherubim. Then, at the North-most point, at the right-hand side of Christ, resides St. Peter holding a key, as well as another apostle, both of whom are looking and gesturing towards Christ in the centre. At the South-most point are two more apostles, also looking and gesturing towards Christ, one of whom is likely to be St. Paul as they hold books (a symbol often associated with St. Paul) and the rose window has a tendency to mirror from North to South. To both the East and West of both the windows of St. Peter and St. Paul are windows each showing two more apostles looking and gesturing to the centre and to Christ, bringing the total number of apostles to twelve. Again, as we saw with the placement of the four Evangelists, with the human in the West and the divine in the East and the gospel books to draw us up to the divine, we see that judgement lies in the West, and that through the teachings of the Church and the apostles, we may be drawn upwards to be higher than the Cherubim, and reside in the bosom of Abraham.
In the outermost ring of windows, at the Western end are two windows depicting the damned. In the Southern of the two are two demons carrying off damned souls, and in the Northern of the two are three souls in the Hellmouth. At the centre is a figure with a sack about his neck, signifying Judas and the thirty pieces of silver. In the two windows to the East of these, in both the North and the South, are images of two souls in each window climbing out of sarcophagi. Above these two sets of two windows are two more windows, one in the North and one in the South, depicting souls, three in each, awaiting judgement. Then there are two more windows, each showing two angels blowing horns. At the top of the window, as a foil to the two windows in the West, are two windows showing angels bearing the instruments of the Passion. In the one to the South, to mirror the demons bearing off souls, is an angel holding the crown, the lance, and the three nails; in the one to the North, to mirror the Hellmouth, is an angel carrying the cross.
Surrounding all of the windows in the outer ring are small images of chrysalises at the ordinal points, surrounded by red which is encompassed by a blue ring, and images of butterflies at the cardinal points, surrounded by blue which is encompassed by a red ring. The chrysalises at the ordinal points signify our state of being betwixt and between. This is emphasised by the red colour surrounding it, red signifying the fire of the Holy Spirit and His divine love,5 and the blue encasing it all, blue signifying the purified life.6 The butterflies at the cardinal points signify our glorified state at the end of time, the cardinal points being pure directions, not in-between ones. In this life the holy are filled with the divine fire as they are changed, and purity shines forth; but, in the glorified state, the divine fire shines out because they have been made pure in all ways.
It is notable that while this window depicts the Last Judgement, there are only three windows that clearly depict the damned. Two of these are in the outer ring at the West-most point, and one is just above and to the left of Christ and the scale where St. Michael is weighing souls. Aside from these three, the fate of the souls in all the rest of the windows is either unclear, but suggested that they are to live in heaven, or is clear that they are to live in heaven. The Last Judgement, then, according to this window, is not about the damning of souls, but the resurrecting of souls for life in Christ. Instead of emphasising fear of Hell, the iconography seeks to draw the viewer further up and further in7 Christ who is at the centre and encompasses the whole of the vastness of eternity.
1 "[A] sole monad is the alpha and omega without alpha and omega. From this indeed, because He lacks beginning and end, God is said to be a sphere." Alain de Lille, Regulae caelestis iuris, ed. N.M. Häring, Archives D'Histoire Doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age 48 (1981) 97-226, at pp.131-132.
2 "God is an intelligible sphere whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." Ibid.
3 Lewis, C. S. The Last Battle. London: Fontana Lions. p.134.
4 The HarperCollins Study Bible : New revised standard version, with the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical books 1993. , eds. Wayne A. Meeks, Jouette M. Bassler and Society of Biblical Literature. 1st ed. ed. San Francisco, Calif.: HarperSanFrancisco, Lk. 16:19-31
5 Morrisroe, Patrick. "Liturgical Colours." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 4. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908. 30 Mar. 2009.
6 Besançon, Alain. 2000. The forbidden image : An intellectual history of iconoclasm. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, p. 97.
7 Lewis, C. S. The Last Battle. London: Fontana Lions, 162.
On the Silent Words of the West Rose Window of Chartres Cathedral
As I began to contemplate the West rose window of Chartres Cathedral, more and more I began to realise that nothing I could ever speak in words would ever come closer than a loose paraphrase of all that is contained therein. What follows, then, is, at best, the briefest of primers on beginning to recognise all that the window has to share. There is no articulation that can ever compare to that of the window itself.
This discussion of the West rose window of Chartres Cathedral will begin by considering its location in the church, and progressively look with more detail a the window and its individual components. Contained in this window is not a story, but rather an icon of the Last Judgement. I say an icon, rather than a picture or a scene, because it stands static outside of time, not fixed in a specific place inside of time.
The first thing to notice is the fact that the window is in the West—the West, where the sun sets, signifying an end: closure and completion. Thus, it is fitting that the window proclaiming the Last Judgement be in the West. And it is past this window that one must progress when exiting the back of the church, just as all must go through the Last Judgement at the end of the world. Beneath the window, set into the floor, is a labyrinth, with its opening on the West side. This allows the person who has arrived at the centre to look up at the window before beginning the journey outward, and to also look up upon exiting the labyrinth and see the Final Judgement before them.
The next thing to notice is that it is a rose window. A rose window is a particularly large window in the form of a circle, just as the labyrinth below this particular one. A circle is a sign of wholeness and completion, as well as a symbol of the world. And further, Alain de Lille, from the school of Chartres in the twelfth century, the same century in which the Cathedral was built, wrote in his Regulae caelestis iuris, "[S]olam monadem esse alpha et omega sine alpha et omega. Ex eo enim quod principio caret et fine, deus spera dicitur."1 So the circle is not just a reflection of the world, but indeed a reflection of God in His infinite being. In this way, then, the West rose window may be said to be an image of the macrocosm: it points to the image of the culmination of the creative act, that is, the creating of the universe.
It also stands apart from the other two rose windows, which bear the Glorification of the Virgin and the Glorification of Christ, in that they each form complete, bounded circles: the perimeter of each is clearly demarcated. In the West window, however, the placement of the component panels gives the impression that the window is expanding outwards, compared to the North and South rose windows which appear to be complete circles with clearly defined edges. This is appropriate for the Last Judgement because its consequences are eternal and without limit. Further, while the labyrinth has only one entrance, one way to the centre, this window has no edges, thus beckoning all people to come unto Christ who is at the centre.
These open boundaries emphasise the enormity of the one at the centre who is larger than the outside. In the window, the outside appears to point to limitlessness, and yet Christ is at the centre, whose limitlessness is assured. As Alain de Lille wrote in same work mentioned above, "Deus est spera intelligibili cuius centrum ubique circumfrentia nusquam."2 Thus Christ, who is God, the beginning and end of all, containing all existence, is shown at the centre, despite having a circumference which is nowhere. And by that same token, all, save for those clearly damned, in that window are fixed on Christ at the centre of all in that limitless circle. As C. S. Lewis adeptly put it, there was once a stable whose inside was greater than the whole world.3
As already stated, Christ is at the centre of the window, and all of the window is focused on Him and pointing to Him. (As a note, the top of the window is presupposed to be East, and the other cardinal and ordinal directions follow from there.) At the cardinal points, in the layer of the window nearest to Christ, we find the four beasts surrounding the heavenly throne signifying the four Evangelists. In the West we have Matthew, in the North is Mark, in the South is Luke, and in the East is John. Both Mark, the lion, and Luke, the ox, have a single forefoot on a book, and all four figures are facing Christ. These two Evangelists with their gospels being portrayed draw us from the Western gospel, that of Matthew, which emphasises the human elements of Christ, up to the Eastern gospel, John, which emphasises the divine elements of Christ. Between each of the Evangelists are two angels, eight in total, completing a circle around Christ, all of whom are looking at Christ in the centre.
Connected to these windows are larger windows, making the combination of the smaller inner window and the larger outer window look like a series of twelve arrows pointing to the centre, or beaming outwards. At the West-most point, there is an image of St. Michael the Archangel weighing souls and devils attempting to tip the scale in their favour. In the window to the North of this one, the one on Christ's right, there is an image of an angel guiding souls away from the scale. On the South side, on Christ's left, demons herd damned souls away from the scale. At the East-most point, there is an image of St. Abraham with three souls in his bosom, a reference to the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.4 At the windows to the right and the left of this are Cherubim. Then, at the North-most point, at the right-hand side of Christ, resides St. Peter holding a key, as well as another apostle, both of whom are looking and gesturing towards Christ in the centre. At the South-most point are two more apostles, also looking and gesturing towards Christ, one of whom is likely to be St. Paul as they hold books (a symbol often associated with St. Paul) and the rose window has a tendency to mirror from North to South. To both the East and West of both the windows of St. Peter and St. Paul are windows each showing two more apostles looking and gesturing to the centre and to Christ, bringing the total number of apostles to twelve. Again, as we saw with the placement of the four Evangelists, with the human in the West and the divine in the East and the gospel books to draw us up to the divine, we see that judgement lies in the West, and that through the teachings of the Church and the apostles, we may be drawn upwards to be higher than the Cherubim, and reside in the bosom of Abraham.
In the outermost ring of windows, at the Western end are two windows depicting the damned. In the Southern of the two are two demons carrying off damned souls, and in the Northern of the two are three souls in the Hellmouth. At the centre is a figure with a sack about his neck, signifying Judas and the thirty pieces of silver. In the two windows to the East of these, in both the North and the South, are images of two souls in each window climbing out of sarcophagi. Above these two sets of two windows are two more windows, one in the North and one in the South, depicting souls, three in each, awaiting judgement. Then there are two more windows, each showing two angels blowing horns. At the top of the window, as a foil to the two windows in the West, are two windows showing angels bearing the instruments of the Passion. In the one to the South, to mirror the demons bearing off souls, is an angel holding the crown, the lance, and the three nails; in the one to the North, to mirror the Hellmouth, is an angel carrying the cross.
Surrounding all of the windows in the outer ring are small images of chrysalises at the ordinal points, surrounded by red which is encompassed by a blue ring, and images of butterflies at the cardinal points, surrounded by blue which is encompassed by a red ring. The chrysalises at the ordinal points signify our state of being betwixt and between. This is emphasised by the red colour surrounding it, red signifying the fire of the Holy Spirit and His divine love,5 and the blue encasing it all, blue signifying the purified life.6 The butterflies at the cardinal points signify our glorified state at the end of time, the cardinal points being pure directions, not in-between ones. In this life the holy are filled with the divine fire as they are changed, and purity shines forth; but, in the glorified state, the divine fire shines out because they have been made pure in all ways.
It is notable that while this window depicts the Last Judgement, there are only three windows that clearly depict the damned. Two of these are in the outer ring at the West-most point, and one is just above and to the left of Christ and the scale where St. Michael is weighing souls. Aside from these three, the fate of the souls in all the rest of the windows is either unclear, but suggested that they are to live in heaven, or is clear that they are to live in heaven. The Last Judgement, then, according to this window, is not about the damning of souls, but the resurrecting of souls for life in Christ. Instead of emphasising fear of Hell, the iconography seeks to draw the viewer further up and further in7 Christ who is at the centre and encompasses the whole of the vastness of eternity.
1 "[A] sole monad is the alpha and omega without alpha and omega. From this indeed, because He lacks beginning and end, God is said to be a sphere." Alain de Lille, Regulae caelestis iuris, ed. N.M. Häring, Archives D'Histoire Doctrinale et Litteraire du Moyen Age 48 (1981) 97-226, at pp.131-132.
2 "God is an intelligible sphere whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." Ibid.
3 Lewis, C. S. The Last Battle. London: Fontana Lions. p.134.
4 The HarperCollins Study Bible : New revised standard version, with the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical books 1993. , eds. Wayne A. Meeks, Jouette M. Bassler and Society of Biblical Literature. 1st ed. ed. San Francisco, Calif.: HarperSanFrancisco, Lk. 16:19-31
5 Morrisroe, Patrick. "Liturgical Colours." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 4. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908. 30 Mar. 2009
6 Besançon, Alain. 2000. The forbidden image : An intellectual history of iconoclasm. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, p. 97.
7 Lewis, C. S. The Last Battle. London: Fontana Lions, 162.
17 February 2009
Latin Sudoku II
So, last time we discussed dactylic hexameter, that fine form of Vergil. Today I will fill in a few details that I left out last time, and also cover elegiac couplets.
One major detail which you may have noticed that I left out last time is that of elision. Elision is when a syllable is not counted, or elided. This is not something that happens standardly to any given syllable, but there are certain syllables that may be elided if necessary. One such example is enclitic -que. The other case is when a word ends in -um. This will not appear in an example later. As I already said, these are not necessarily elided, but the option does exist, so if a line is just not making sense, it's worth it to go back and re-evaluate it to see if removing them lets you balance the line.
Now, on to elegiac couplets. An elegiac couplet consists of two main parts: one line of dactylic hexameter, and one line which consists of two two-and-a-half foot segments. As we know, that first line therefore looks like this: ¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¯
That's half of the couplet done already. The second half starts out even easier than hexameter. The end of the line must end in (¯¨¨)¯¨¨¯. The portion in brackets is occasionally liable to be an exception, but this is sufficiently rare that it need only be looked for if the line is not balancing. The first portion is exactly the same, with the exception that the dactyls can be replaced with spondees, just as in dactylic hexameter.
Thus, the full couplet looks like this:
¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¯
¯¨¨¯¨¨¯//¯¨¨¯¨¨¯
The double slash denotes the break between the two sets of two-and-a-half feet.
As a note on translation, it is helpful to realise that elegiac couplets form a complete idea, so that you rarely need to look outside of the couplet for utterly essential information. Take this, though, with the block of salt that you need to take all Latin poetry with.
Now to apply this meter to an actual couplet. This one comes from the first of the Fables of Avianus, DE NUTRICE ET INFANTE:
Rustica deflentum parvum iuraverat olim,
We begin with the hexameter:
Rūstica deflentum parvum iur/āvërät / ōlīm,
As before, you can see, we do the dactyl and spondee at the end, as well as the long first syllable. Now we go on to mark everything that must be long by position:
Rūstica dēflēntūm pārvūm iur/āvërät / ōlīm,
And now it is a simple matter of filling in the unknown vowel lengths in 'rustica' and 'iuraverat':
Rūstïcä / dēflēn/tūm pār/vūm iūr/āvërät / ōlīm,
And now we have the first line!
The second line, the part we've learned today, then goes as follows:
Ni taceat, rabido // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
So you can see how half of the line is already marked out with a basic long-short-short-long-short-short-long.
Then for the first part we mark out what we must know, just as before:
Nī taceat, rabidō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
You will note that I have marked not just the first syllable as long, but the final syllable as well. This is because the half-foot at the end is the first half of another foot, which in both cases is long.
This leaves us with five syllables of unknown length. Therefore we just try and see if we can't fit in dactyls:
Nī täcëāt, räbïdō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
And it works!
So the full couplet scans thus:
Rūstïcä / dēflēn/tūm pār/vūm iūr/āvërät / ōlīm,
Nī täcëāt, räbïdō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
(Also, if anyone knows how to indent in html without making the line italic, I would be much obliged.)
One major detail which you may have noticed that I left out last time is that of elision. Elision is when a syllable is not counted, or elided. This is not something that happens standardly to any given syllable, but there are certain syllables that may be elided if necessary. One such example is enclitic -que. The other case is when a word ends in -um. This will not appear in an example later. As I already said, these are not necessarily elided, but the option does exist, so if a line is just not making sense, it's worth it to go back and re-evaluate it to see if removing them lets you balance the line.
Now, on to elegiac couplets. An elegiac couplet consists of two main parts: one line of dactylic hexameter, and one line which consists of two two-and-a-half foot segments. As we know, that first line therefore looks like this: ¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¯
That's half of the couplet done already. The second half starts out even easier than hexameter. The end of the line must end in (¯¨¨)¯¨¨¯. The portion in brackets is occasionally liable to be an exception, but this is sufficiently rare that it need only be looked for if the line is not balancing. The first portion is exactly the same, with the exception that the dactyls can be replaced with spondees, just as in dactylic hexameter.
Thus, the full couplet looks like this:
¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¨¨/¯¯
¯¨¨¯¨¨¯//¯¨¨¯¨¨¯
The double slash denotes the break between the two sets of two-and-a-half feet.
As a note on translation, it is helpful to realise that elegiac couplets form a complete idea, so that you rarely need to look outside of the couplet for utterly essential information. Take this, though, with the block of salt that you need to take all Latin poetry with.
Now to apply this meter to an actual couplet. This one comes from the first of the Fables of Avianus, DE NUTRICE ET INFANTE:
Rustica deflentum parvum iuraverat olim,
Ni taceat, rabido quod foret esca lupo.
We begin with the hexameter:
Rūstica deflentum parvum iur/āvërät / ōlīm,
As before, you can see, we do the dactyl and spondee at the end, as well as the long first syllable. Now we go on to mark everything that must be long by position:
Rūstica dēflēntūm pārvūm iur/āvërät / ōlīm,
And now it is a simple matter of filling in the unknown vowel lengths in 'rustica' and 'iuraverat':
Rūstïcä / dēflēn/tūm pār/vūm iūr/āvërät / ōlīm,
And now we have the first line!
The second line, the part we've learned today, then goes as follows:
Ni taceat, rabido // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
So you can see how half of the line is already marked out with a basic long-short-short-long-short-short-long.
Then for the first part we mark out what we must know, just as before:
Nī taceat, rabidō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
You will note that I have marked not just the first syllable as long, but the final syllable as well. This is because the half-foot at the end is the first half of another foot, which in both cases is long.
This leaves us with five syllables of unknown length. Therefore we just try and see if we can't fit in dactyls:
Nī täcëāt, räbïdō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
And it works!
So the full couplet scans thus:
Rūstïcä / dēflēn/tūm pār/vūm iūr/āvërät / ōlīm,
Nī täcëāt, räbïdō // quōd förët ēscä lüpō.
(Also, if anyone knows how to indent in html without making the line italic, I would be much obliged.)
11 February 2009
Latin Sudoku I
So I've decided to address a problem which has been plaguing our schools, the heart of our very society. It seems we are no longer able to reason or work through a problem rationally. We no longer know how to scan Latin verse. I am here to rectify this issue.
On Dactylic Hexameter or, All I Ever Need to Know I Learned from Latin Hexameter Verse
So we'll be working with a particular favourite line of mine: Explicit hic totum, pro scripto da mihi potum (there is another particular variant I just discovered which reads thus, Explicit hic totum, pro Christo da mihi potum).
The first thing to know is what is dactylic hexameter? It is a form of verse consisting of six feet, each of which is either a dactyl or a spondee. A dactyl is a long vowel followed by two short ones, and a spondee is two long vowels.
In English, when we speak of long and short vowels, we are usually referring to stress. That is because English is a qualitative language which is not sensitive to vowel length. (This does not mean that all of our vowels are the same length, it just means that we neither notice nor care in English). Latin, however, is a quantitative language, which is, in fact, sensitive to the length of vowels, and that is what matters in poetry.
So what determines if a vowel is long or short? First is whether its natural length is long or short, which you can find easily in any half-decent dictionary. Second is by the weight of its spoken syllable. And third, one of the easiest, is if it falls at the end of the line. We'll cover that last one first, as it is the easiest, and also the very first thing you do with dactylic hexameter. I will be showing long vowels thūs, and short vowels sö.
At the end of the line, without any exception I have ever heard of, you will have a dactyl and a spondee. So, the first thing you want to do is look at the right-hand side of the line and mark the first two vowels you see as being long. This is the spondee. Then mark the next two as short and the next as long. This is the dactyl. You already have two of the six figured out. While we are doing things we know must be true, regardless of the line, we will make the first vowel of the line long, because both dactyls and spondees begin with a long vowel, and consequently the very first vowel of the line, being the start of either one or the other, must be long. Ēxplicit hic totum, pro scripto / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
The next thing we need to consider is syllable weight. There are two elements that cause a syllable to be counted as heavy, and therefore the vowel long. The simplest is that all diphthongised vowels are long. This means that au, ae, oe, and ei are all, automatically, counted as a single, long vowel. Also, more rarely is eu, as in seu, or such cases of ui as huic, cui, and hui, but nowhere else.1
The other element is the consonants which follow the vowel. We will now enter into a bit of phonology and consider what forms a syllable. A syllable consists of two main parts: the onset and the rime. Because Latin phonology moves from right to left, the onset is irrelevant. The rime consists of two sub-parts: the nucleus and the coda. In Latin, the nucleus is always a vowel. The coda is the consonants which follow it. A heavy syllable is any case where the coda has two or more consonants in it. Orthographic word boundaries are unimportant and non-existent in a spoken language, and they are thus unimportant and non-existent in Latin poetry. This means that in the case of 'erat verbum', the 'a' in 'erat' is long, because it is followed by 't v'.
So let's apply this to what we already know about the line: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō scrīpto / dā mïhï / pōtūm. As a note, with what we see here, 'h' is a funny one which sometimes switches between being treated as a consonant and as not really existing. The main thing is to try it one way, and if it doesn't work, try it the other way. I usually err to treat it as absent initially and see where that leaves me.
We've now reached a point where we can choose between looking up words in the dictionary to see how they scan, or we can do things far faster and more reliably (in case the author is doing anything tricksy) by employing that wonder of the Greeks which we call logic. We know that every foot must be either a dactyl (¯¨¨) or a spondee (¯¯). This means that every vowel in the line must fit into one of those two patterns. So we look at the line as it stands: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō scrīpto / dā mïhï / pōtūm, and we see that the 'o' in 'scrīpto' is at the end of a foot, and the 'i' is long. Because a long vowel must either be at the start of three syllables (a dactyl) or in a spondee, we know that the 'o' must be part of a spondee. This gives us our third foot: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
And now we see that it is preceded by another spondee, which we will mark out immediately: Ēxplicit hīc to/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
Again, with 'hīc to-' we are in the same scenario as before with 'scrīptō', so we know that the 'to-' must be long, giving us this, Ēxplicit / hīc tō/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
This leaves us with five feet and just the two 'i's in 'Ēxplicit' to sort out. Because this is our final foot, and there is only one foot that can take three syllables, that is, a dactyl, we know it must be that.
And so we can see that it scans thus, Ēxplïcït / hīc tō/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
I hope that thinking it through like a puzzle makes it easier to do. There are some exceptions, such as elisions, which I have not considered in depth lest I terrify you too much. These will likely come up in part II where we look at elegiac couplets.
1. Wheelock's Latin, 6th Ed. p.xli. As a note, this also includes huius and cuius, however, as I tend to treat the 'i' there as a consonant, this is not a serious issue for scansion.
On Dactylic Hexameter or, All I Ever Need to Know I Learned from Latin Hexameter Verse
So we'll be working with a particular favourite line of mine: Explicit hic totum, pro scripto da mihi potum (there is another particular variant I just discovered which reads thus, Explicit hic totum, pro Christo da mihi potum).
The first thing to know is what is dactylic hexameter? It is a form of verse consisting of six feet, each of which is either a dactyl or a spondee. A dactyl is a long vowel followed by two short ones, and a spondee is two long vowels.
In English, when we speak of long and short vowels, we are usually referring to stress. That is because English is a qualitative language which is not sensitive to vowel length. (This does not mean that all of our vowels are the same length, it just means that we neither notice nor care in English). Latin, however, is a quantitative language, which is, in fact, sensitive to the length of vowels, and that is what matters in poetry.
So what determines if a vowel is long or short? First is whether its natural length is long or short, which you can find easily in any half-decent dictionary. Second is by the weight of its spoken syllable. And third, one of the easiest, is if it falls at the end of the line. We'll cover that last one first, as it is the easiest, and also the very first thing you do with dactylic hexameter. I will be showing long vowels thūs, and short vowels sö.
At the end of the line, without any exception I have ever heard of, you will have a dactyl and a spondee. So, the first thing you want to do is look at the right-hand side of the line and mark the first two vowels you see as being long. This is the spondee. Then mark the next two as short and the next as long. This is the dactyl. You already have two of the six figured out. While we are doing things we know must be true, regardless of the line, we will make the first vowel of the line long, because both dactyls and spondees begin with a long vowel, and consequently the very first vowel of the line, being the start of either one or the other, must be long. Ēxplicit hic totum, pro scripto / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
The next thing we need to consider is syllable weight. There are two elements that cause a syllable to be counted as heavy, and therefore the vowel long. The simplest is that all diphthongised vowels are long. This means that au, ae, oe, and ei are all, automatically, counted as a single, long vowel. Also, more rarely is eu, as in seu, or such cases of ui as huic, cui, and hui, but nowhere else.1
The other element is the consonants which follow the vowel. We will now enter into a bit of phonology and consider what forms a syllable. A syllable consists of two main parts: the onset and the rime. Because Latin phonology moves from right to left, the onset is irrelevant. The rime consists of two sub-parts: the nucleus and the coda. In Latin, the nucleus is always a vowel. The coda is the consonants which follow it. A heavy syllable is any case where the coda has two or more consonants in it. Orthographic word boundaries are unimportant and non-existent in a spoken language, and they are thus unimportant and non-existent in Latin poetry. This means that in the case of 'erat verbum', the 'a' in 'erat' is long, because it is followed by 't v'.
So let's apply this to what we already know about the line: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō scrīpto / dā mïhï / pōtūm. As a note, with what we see here, 'h' is a funny one which sometimes switches between being treated as a consonant and as not really existing. The main thing is to try it one way, and if it doesn't work, try it the other way. I usually err to treat it as absent initially and see where that leaves me.
We've now reached a point where we can choose between looking up words in the dictionary to see how they scan, or we can do things far faster and more reliably (in case the author is doing anything tricksy) by employing that wonder of the Greeks which we call logic. We know that every foot must be either a dactyl (¯¨¨) or a spondee (¯¯). This means that every vowel in the line must fit into one of those two patterns. So we look at the line as it stands: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō scrīpto / dā mïhï / pōtūm, and we see that the 'o' in 'scrīpto' is at the end of a foot, and the 'i' is long. Because a long vowel must either be at the start of three syllables (a dactyl) or in a spondee, we know that the 'o' must be part of a spondee. This gives us our third foot: Ēxplicit hīc totūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
And now we see that it is preceded by another spondee, which we will mark out immediately: Ēxplicit hīc to/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
Again, with 'hīc to-' we are in the same scenario as before with 'scrīptō', so we know that the 'to-' must be long, giving us this, Ēxplicit / hīc tō/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
This leaves us with five feet and just the two 'i's in 'Ēxplicit' to sort out. Because this is our final foot, and there is only one foot that can take three syllables, that is, a dactyl, we know it must be that.
And so we can see that it scans thus, Ēxplïcït / hīc tō/tūm, prō / scrīptō / dā mïhï / pōtūm.
I hope that thinking it through like a puzzle makes it easier to do. There are some exceptions, such as elisions, which I have not considered in depth lest I terrify you too much. These will likely come up in part II where we look at elegiac couplets.
1. Wheelock's Latin, 6th Ed. p.xli. As a note, this also includes huius and cuius, however, as I tend to treat the 'i' there as a consonant, this is not a serious issue for scansion.
09 February 2009
Avianus
So it's been a while since I've posted. And I feel like posting something, so you're all going to get what I've been translating. This is the first story of the Fabulae Aviani, the Fables of Avianus. It's written in elegiac couplets with internal rhyme in a number of places.
I.
DE NUTRICE ET INFANTE
Rustica deflentum parvum iuraverat olim,
And here translated:
I.
ON THE NURSE AND THE INFANT
Once upon a time a countrywoman swore an oath at a small child crying,
Huh... so, to be honest, I hadn't quite finished translating this before I began typing it up here. Honestly. For finishing it up I got a little help from a finished translation to make sense of some portions that were just not making sense to me. If you have any suggestions, do let me know!
I think I may post something on scansion soon, as many people have trouble with it, and it's one thing that I know I am decent at in Latin.
[Edit: Thanks to my DLF for some corrections on the translation!]
I.
DE NUTRICE ET INFANTE
Rustica deflentum parvum iuraverat olim,
Ni taceat, rabido quod foret esca lupo.Credulus hanc vocem lupus audiit et manet ipsas
Pervigil ante fores irrita vota gerens.Nam lassata puer nimiae dat membra quieti.
Spem quoque raptori sustulit inde fames.Hunc ubi sivarum repentem lustra suarum
Ieiunum coniunx sensit adesse lupa,'Cur,' inquit, 'nullam referens de more rapinam,
Languida consumptis sic trahis ora genis?''Ne mireris,' ait, 'deceptum fraude maligna
Vix miserum vacua delituisse fuga.Nam quae praeda, rogas, quae spes contingere posset,
Iurgia nutricis cum mihi verba darent?'Haec sibi dicta putet, seque hac sciat arte notari,
Femineam quisquis credidit esse fidem.
And here translated:
I.
ON THE NURSE AND THE INFANT
Once upon a time a countrywoman swore an oath at a small child crying,
That unless it be silent, it would be a meal for a rabid wolf.A credulous wolf heard this voice and, watchful, remained,
Bearing the vain vows before those doors.For the boy gave his weary limbs to excessive quiet.
Also, thence, hunger bore away hope for the plunderer.When a she-wolf, his wife, sensed this creeping, starving one
To be near by the den in their woods,She said, 'Why do you drag no plunder according to custom
O weak food-bringer, thus drag jaws with wasted cheeks?''Lest you wonder,' he said, 'that deceived by malignant fraud,
This wretch was hardly hidden in empty flight.For what spoil do you ask, what hope was able to seize,
When the words of the nurse gave me lies?'Let him suppose this said to him, and know this to be written
In this work, whosoever has believed a woman to be true.
Huh... so, to be honest, I hadn't quite finished translating this before I began typing it up here. Honestly. For finishing it up I got a little help from a finished translation to make sense of some portions that were just not making sense to me. If you have any suggestions, do let me know!
I think I may post something on scansion soon, as many people have trouble with it, and it's one thing that I know I am decent at in Latin.
[Edit: Thanks to my DLF for some corrections on the translation!]
12 January 2009
School Again, School Again
So I'm back to the grind of school. This semester is shaping up to be interesting, and hopefully more fun than last semester. Certainly busier than last semester.
I spent the other day in Waterloo doing research for Kazoo, and it was most productive. I'm looking forward to spending more time working on it. Also, I think my Medieval Child class will be a very good one for me to have taken in the future. I just get a very good feeling about it right now and I'm looking forward to it. Really, all of my medieval studies right now I'm looking forward to and enjoying.
To sleep for now, but I will try to update more often, especially as I'm doing more school stuff again.
I spent the other day in Waterloo doing research for Kazoo, and it was most productive. I'm looking forward to spending more time working on it. Also, I think my Medieval Child class will be a very good one for me to have taken in the future. I just get a very good feeling about it right now and I'm looking forward to it. Really, all of my medieval studies right now I'm looking forward to and enjoying.
To sleep for now, but I will try to update more often, especially as I'm doing more school stuff again.
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