More Cheery Greek

Another epigram of Palladas (A.P. 10.85):

Πάντες τῷ θανάτῳ τηρούμεθα καὶ τρεφόμεσθα,
    ὡς ἀγέλη χοίρων σφαζομένων ἀλόγως.

We all are tended and fed for death, like a herd of pigs slaughtered at random.

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Cheerful Thoughts from a Very Late Greek

An epigram of Palladas (A.P. 15.20):

Σιγῶν παρέρχου τὸν ταλαίπωρον βίον,
αὐτὸν σιωπῇ τὸν χρόνον μιμούμενος·
λαθὼν δὲ καὶ βίωσον, εἰ δὲ μή, θανών.

Pass by this miserable life in silence, imitating by your silence Time himself. Live likewise unnoticed; or if not, you will be so in death.

(translated by W. R. Paton, with archaic forms updated)

Posted in - Epigrams, Ephemerides | 2 Comments

Amusing Comment in AP Vergil

In the funeral games in Aeneid V, which we read in English — none of it is in the AP selections — all five of the participants in the foot-race are given prizes (340-61). Vergilians will recall that Euryalus, Helymus, and Diores take first, second, and third place, but Salius is given a consolation-prize because he was in first place before Nisus tripped him, and Nisus is then given a consolation-prize because he was in first place until he slipped on some blood and cow-dung and fell down, after which he tripped Salius to help his lover Euryalus. As one of my students (call him ‘M.C.’) put it, Aeneas “is like some YMCA guy, giving prizes to everybody, even the losers”.

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Callimachus on Heraclitus

Callimachus XXXIV G-P (A.P. 7.80):

Εἰπέ τις, Ἡράκλειτε, τεὸν μόρον ἐς δέ με δάκρυ
    ἤγαγεν ἐμνήσθην δ᾿ ὁσσάκις ἀμφότεροι
ἠέλιον λέσχῃ κατεδύσαμεν. ἀλλὰ σὺ μέν που,
    ξεῖν᾿ Ἁλικαρνησεῦ, τετράπαλαι σποδιή,
αἱ δὲ τεαὶ ζώουσιν ἀηδόνες, ᾗσιν ὁ πάντων
    ἁρπακτὴς Ἀίδης οὐκ ἐπὶ χεῖρα βαλεῖ.

Someone told me of your death, Heraclitus, and it moved me to tears, when I remembered how often the sun set on our talking. And you, my Halicarnassian friend, lie somewhere, gone long long ago to dust; but they live, your Nightingales, on which Hades who siezes all shall not lay his hand.

(translated by W. R. Paton, with archaic forms updated)

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead;
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed;
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking, and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

(“Heraclitus”, by William Johnson Cory, 1823-92)

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The Other Heraclitus

Heraclitus of Halicarnassus I G-P:

Ἁ κόνις ἀρτίσκαπτος, ἐπὶ στάλας δὲ μετώπων
    σείονται φύλλων ἡμιθαλεῖς στέφανοι.
γράμμα διακρίναντες, ὁδοιπόρε, πέτρον ἴδωμεν,
    λευρὰ περιστέλλειν ὀστέα φατὶ τίνος.
῾ξεῖν᾿, Ἀρετημιάς εἰμι· πάτρα Κνίδος· Εὔφρονος ἦλθον
    εἰς λέχος· ὠδίνων οὐκ ἄμορος γενόμαν,
δισσὰ δ᾿ ὁμοῦ τίκτουσα τὸ μὲν λίπον ἀνδρὶ ποδηγόν
    γήρως, ἓν δ᾿ ἀπάγω μναμόσυνον πόσιος.᾿

The earth is newly dug and on the faces of the tomb-stone wave the half-withered garlands of leaves. Let us decipher the letters, wayfarer, and learn whose smooth bones the stone says it cover. “Stranger, I am Aretemias, my country Cnidus. I was the wife of Euphro and I did not escape travail, but bringing forth twins, I left one child to guide my husband’s steps in his old age, and I took the other with me to remind me of him.”

(A.P. 7.465, translated by W. R. Paton)

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Paeonian Oxen

Laudator Temporis Acti posts a tidbit from Rabelais about the disgusting habits of the Bonasos, or Paeonian ox, with an ancient parallel from the Elder Pliny. Here is what Pseudo-Aristotle has to say on the subject in chapter 1 of his delightful work De Mirabilibus Auscultationibus, “On Marvellous Things Heard”:

Men say that in Paeonia, on the mountain called Hesaenus, which forms the boundary between the Paeonian and Maedian districts, there is found a wild beast, which is called Bolinthos, but by the Paeonians is named Monaepos. They state that this in its general nature is similar to the ox, but surpasses it in size and strength, and moreover is distinguished from it by its mane; for like the horse it has a mane hanging down very thick from the neck, and from the crown of the head as far as its eyes. It has horns, not such as oxen have, but bent downwards, the tip being low down near the ears; and these severally contain more than three pints, and very black, and shine as though they were peeled; and when the hide is stripped off it occupies a space capable of containing eight couches. When the animal is struck with a weapon it flees, and only stops when it is quite exhausted. Its flesh has an agreeable taste. It defends itself by kicking, and voiding excrement over a distance of about twenty-four feet. It easily and frequently employs this kind of defence, and the excretion burns so severely that the hair of the dogs is scraped off. They say, however, that the excrement produces this effect only when the animal is disturbed, but when it is undisturbed it does not burn. When they bring forth young, assembling in large numbers and being all gathered closely together, the full-grown ones bring forth, and void excrement as a defence round their young; for the animal discharges a large quantity of this excretion.

And here is Aristotle (?) himself, in the History of Animals, 9.45:

The bison is found in Paeonia on Mount Messapium, which separates Paeonia from Maedica; and the Paeonians call it the monapos. It is the size of a bull, but stouter in build, and not long in the body; its skin, stretched tight on a frame, would give sitting room for seven people. In general it resembles the ox in appearance, except that it has a mane that reaches down to the point of the shoulder, as that of the horse reaches down to its withers; but the hair in its mane is softer than the hair in the horse’s mane, and clings more closely. The colour of the hair is brown-yellow; the mane reaches down to the eyes, and is deep and thick. The colour of the body is half red, half ashen-grey, like that of the so-called chestnut horse, but rougher. It has an undercoat of woolly hair. The animal is not found either very black or very red. It has the bellow of a bull. Its horns are crooked, turned inwards towards each other and useless for purposes of self-defence; they are a span broad, or a little more, and in volume each horn would hold about three pints of liquid; the black colour of the horn is beautiful and bright. The tuft of hair on the forehead reaches down to the eyes, so that the animal sees objects on either flank better than objects right in front. It has no upper teeth, as is the case also with kine and all other horned animals. Its legs are hairy; it is cloven-footed, and the tail, which resembles that of the ox, seems not big enough for the size of its body. It tosses up dust and scoops out the ground with its hooves, like the bull. Its skin is impervious to blows. Owing to the savour of its flesh it is sought for in the chase. When it is wounded it runs away, and stops only when thoroughly exhausted. It defends itself against an assailant by kicking and projecting its excrement to a distance of eight yards; this device it can easily adopt over and over again, and the excrement is so pungent that the hair of hunting-dogs is burnt off by it. It is only when the animal is disturbed or alarmed that the dung has this property; when the animal is undisturbed it has no blistering effect. So much for the shape and habits of the animal. When the season comes for parturition the mothers give birth to their young in troops upon the mountains. Before dropping their young they scatter their dung in all directions, making a kind of circular rampart around them; for the animal has the faculty of ejecting excrement in most extraordinary quantities.

Is Pseudo-Aristotle a common plagiarist? I don’t have the books to say, but it certainly looks that way. The translations are by (1) L. D. Dowdall, from The Complete Works of Aristotle, the revised Oxford translation, edited by Jonathan Barnes, Princeton, 1984, volume 2, page 1272, 830a5ff, and (2) D’Arcy W. Thomson, on-line here. Search for ‘45’ to find the chapter. If I’ve coordinated my ancient and modern maps correctly, the habitat of the Paeonian ox is the eastern third of FYROM, the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia.

What LTA does not mention is that Pliny’s Bonasos — Pseudo-Aristotle’s Bolinthos — is surely the bovine known as the European Bison or Wisent, Bison bonasus. It is very similar to the American bison, Bison bison, with two exceptions:

  • The European bison is big — up to nine feet long and a ton in weight — but not quite so big as the American.
  • It is less oddly-proportioned than the American bison, its shoulders (relatively) not so huge, nor its buttocks so tiny.

The best source for information I’ve found on the web was compiled by Donald Patterson for a Geography class at San Francisco state: it also has the best picture, which I will copy here to avoid link-rot:

A Google search on “European bison” will lead to more information and pictures. The description fits tolerably well: the wisent is indeed bigger than an ox, with a mane and smallish smooth black horns. There doesn’t seem to be anything on the web about voiding excrement when frightened, but frightening a wisent would be difficult, and dangerous, even if it were not illegal to annoy endangered species, so I don’t suppose anyone has checked in the last century.

Here are the most interesting bits from Patterson’s timeline (with references omitted):

1915 – 785 lowland bison survive. World War I—German troops occupy the Bialowieza area and kill close to 600 bison for meat, hides and horns. A German scientist brings to the attention of army officers animals imminent extinction. Protection set up to try to maintain herds at about 200 animals. As war comes to an end, retreating German soldiers shoot all but 9 bison.

1919 – Last wild lowland bison shot by a poacher, Nikolaj Szpakowicz.

1923 – 54 bison survive in zoos and private holdings . . . .

Breeding in the Polish nature reserve at Bialowieza has increased the herd from 35 in 1960 to several hundred today. It’s interesting what can be known or not known in different times and places: the Caucasian subspecies wasn’t even discovered until the 1830s, but we know the name of the man who shot the last wild Lowland Bison in 1919. I hope Nikolaj Szpakowicz spent the rest of his life in jail.

An interesting question for casuits: If Szpakowicz knew he was shooting the last one, and did not know that others survived in zoos, does that make it worse, or might he have argued that the real criminal was whoever shot the last one of the other gender?

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Supreme Erudition

Terry Teachout quotes some words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., on his 90th birthday:

And so I end with a line from a Latin poet who uttered the message more than fifteen hundred years ago:

“Death plucks my ear and says, Live—I am coming.”

I thought it was odd that Holmes did not name the Latin poet, but it turns out that he is anonymous, or at least pseudonymous. The quoted words are a very close translation of the last line of Pseudo-Vergil’s Copa (“The Barmaid”), on-line here:

Mors aurem vellens «vivite» ait, «venio».

Holmes obviously knows that this is Pseudo-Vergil, since the original Vergil had been dead for 1950 years when he spoke. Of course, his 1500 years is just a very rough guess, and von Albrecht’s History of Roman Literature (to look no further) puts the Copa in the Augustan age.

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Aphorism of the Day

El tonto instruido tiene más ancho campo para practicar su tontería.

The educated fool has a wider field in which to practice his folly.

(Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Escolios a un Texto Implícito, 1.96)

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More (and Fewer) Forthcoming Texts

Please keep the corrections coming for my ‘Forthcoming Texts’ list. Using your comments and e-mails, I’ve deleted several works and added one or two, but there’s still plenty more I don’t know. For instance, why didn’t anyone tell me that Kannicht’s long-awaited edition of the fragments of Euripides, Volumes 5.1 and 5.2 of Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, is out? If I hadn’t seen it on the shelf at U.N.C. Wednesday night, I wouldn’t have known. The spines say ‘2004’, but I’ve looked for it more recently than that without finding it. Both volumes are on my desk now, since I’m getting ready to teach some Euripides (mostly but not entirely in translation), and the occasional fragment to sight-read will help keep the students on their toes. It’s easier to give actual fragments than bits ripped from the surviving plays — easier to decide where to begin and end, at least. (I hope no one from U.N.C. reads this, is equally surprised and gratified by the publication of TGF 5, and decides to recall the volumes.)

Posted in Forthcoming Texts, Greek Literature | Tagged | 2 Comments

Aphorism of the Day

La civilización es un campamento mal empalizado en medio de tribus insumisas.

Civilization is a poorly-fortified camp surrounded by unpacified tribes.

(Nicolás Gómez Dávila, Escolios a un Texto Implícito, 1.268)

Posted in - Aphorisms, Ephemerides | 1 Comment

A Surprising Parallel

Austin BaySmall Dead Animals) has a long post on the Human Relations side of al Qaeda, that is, the generous fringe benefits and not-so-generous salaries listed in a captured document. I was as surprised as everyone else to hear that terrorists have paid vacations, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been, since I’ve read Joseph Conrad’s The Secret Agent. In one of my favorite passages, around four-fifths of the way through Chapter II, small-time terrorist and shop-owner Adolph Verloc is meeting with his contact Mr. Vladimir at what is obviously intended to be the Russian embassy in London. Mr. Vladimir is the first speaker:

“You’ll get your screw every month, and no more until something happens. And if nothing happens very soon you won’t get even that. What’s your ostensible occupation? What are you supposed to live by?”

“I keep a shop,” answered Mr. Verloc.

“A shop! What sort of shop?”

“Stationery, newspapers. My wife—”

“Your what?” interrupted Mr. Vladimir in his guttural Central Asian tones.

“My wife.” Mr. Verloc raised his husky voice slightly. “I am married.”

“That be damned for a yarn,” exclaimed the other in unfeigned astonishment. “Married! And you a professed anarchist, too! What is this confounded nonsense? But I suppose it’s merely a manner of speaking. Anarchists don’t marry. It’s well known. They can’t. It would be apostasy.”

“My wife isn’t one,” Mr. Verloc mumbled, sulkily. “Moreover, it’s no concern of yours.”

“Oh yes, it is,” snapped Mr. Vladimir. “I am beginning to be convinced that you are not at all the man for the work you’ve been employed on. Why you must have discredited yourself completely in your own world by your marriage. Couldn’t you have managed without? This is your virtuous attachment-eh? What with one sort of attachment and another you are doing away with your usefulness.”

Mr. Vladimir seems almost as surprised by the shop as by the wife, no doubt because keeping a shop is such a stereotypically bourgeois (not to mention English) occupation. Perhaps it would have helped if Verloc had told him that he sells pornography as well as stationery and newspapers.

Posted in Culture: Fiction | 2 Comments

Forthcoming Editions

I have updated the list of forthcoming editions of classical works (link in the left column), deleting those I know to have been published and adding about two dozen more from publisher’s websites, departmental websites, and private correspondence. I am grateful to all those who have sent necessary additions, corrections, and deletions, and will be glad to hear of any that I have missed. In particular, I have a strong impression that a few more of the works listed have appeared, though I have not seen them.

Posted in Forthcoming Texts | 3 Comments

Catching Up

I just uploaded three jokes to the Ioci Antiqui page, which still leaves me five days behind. Next week is ‘Winter Break’, so I should be able to catch up soon. Now I have some Interim reports to compile before I go to bed.

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An Obscure Anniversary

. . . and I almost missed it. Today is the 200th anniversary of the death of Vicent Martín i Soler. He seems to be a mere footnote* today, but what I’ve heard of his operas (Una Cosa Rara and La Capricciosa Corretta on CD) was enough to convince me that it isn’t so much Mozart’s operas as classical opera in general that I like. Seeing Salieri’s Falstaff at Wolftrap and Cimarosa’s Il Matrimonio Segreto on DVD helped. So why are these operas so rarely produced? It’s not as if Mozart’s mature operas are all that numerous. Anyway, to commemorate the occasion, I just played the overtures and a few arias from each of my CD sets. Now if only someone would record one or the other (or both!) on DVD, so I can follow the plot: I’ve never really been able to follow an opera well without seeing it, which makes listening to the CDs a frustratingly incomplete experience.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

*A literal footnote about a metaphorical footnote: Una Cosa Rara was a big hit just before Don Giovanni, so much so that Mozart quotes a bit in the banquet scene and has the Don say “Bravo! Una Cosa Rara”.

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Mini-Centennial

I just uploaded the 100th joke to the Ioci Antiqui page — actually two versions of the same joke, by Lucilius (or Lucillius) in Greek and Martial in Latin. Like today’s Greek joke, tomorrow’s joke, from a prose author not yet quoted here, will feature a pun on the adjective oiktrós. Can anyone guess which joke I mean? I once posted it on another site, if that helps.

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Permanent Relief or Temporary Respite?

Over the last two or three months, spam comments on my two sites gradually increased from less than 200 per day, which was bad enough, to 300, then 400, then 500, and so on, peaking at around 900 per day, at which point they outnumbered genuine comments by 500:1 or more and forced me to spend half an hour or more per day deleting the filthy things. Though I have been unable to install any software solution, some time last week the flood suddenly turned into a trickle. I’m now getting a very manageable 30-40 per day, and the last two comments on this site were both genuine. It’s been months since I’ve had the pleasure of approving two in a row.

I wonder what happened. Were all the spam comments coming from a single spammer ? If so, has he been kicked off his ISP? Arrested? (I hope so.) Assassinated by rival spammers? (Even better, and there have been some hints that many of the comments were coming from Russia.) Or have his ill-gotten profits allowed him to retire to the Riviera and give up spamming entirely? Most disquieting: is my relief purely temporary? Perhaps spammers all take their vacations this time of year, or go to a spammer convention in Acapulco. Time will tell, but so far I’m enjoying the extra free time.

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Caught Up Again

Earlier today I uploaded six jokes to the Ioci Antiqui page, covering February 1st through 6th. These are in a new PDF file for February, here.

Posted in Ancient Jokes, General | 1 Comment

Etymological Stereotyping

Wanting to make a big pot of Mulligatawny a few nights ago, I finally got around to unpacking my Christmas blender. Consulting the manual, I was amused to discover that the Spanish name is the macho and sinister ‘licuadora’, while the French name is the wimpy and over-educated ‘mélangeur’. I suppose the effect is partially offset by the Spanish liquidator being grammatically feminine (would that make it a ‘liquidatrix’ in English?), while the French melange-maker is grammatically masculine.

Posted in General, Orbilius | 1 Comment

Mulligatawny Soup

Since one or two readers have asked, here is my mother’s recipe for Mulligatawny Soup. It is inexpensive, nourishing, and very tasty, basically a chicken stew with three differences: a. lots of garlic and curry for flavor, b. an apple substituted for the usual potatoes, and c. the whole thing run through the blender at the end. The only drawback is that it takes two or three hours to make. However, it is also very suitable for making with friends or relatives, since there’s a lot of slicing and dicing and stirring involved, and much of the time it can be left to simmer unwatched. I believe it comes from Singapore.

Mulligatawny Soup

In large pot, place:

1 1/2 quarts water
1 frying chicken, cut up
2 tsp salt
2 onions, quartered
1 stalk celery, sliced
3 carrots, sliced

Bring to a boil and simmer at least 30 mins. Remove chicken pieces from pot and allow to cool. Remove meat from bones and put meat back in pot. In frying pan, place:

1/4 cup oil
1 onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tart apple (e.g. Granny Smith), peeled and chopped

Simmer 5 minutes or so, until onion is transparent. Blend in, to form a thick paste:

1/3 cup flour
2 tbsp curry powder

Take a ladle or two of broth from the pot and stir into the mixture in the frying pan (to help liquefy it), then pour entire contents of frying pan into pot. Bring to a boil once more, and simmer again for at least 30 minutes. Stir frequently, since the flour and meat tend to stick to the bottom. Add salt and pepper to taste. Allow to cool, then mince mixture in blender, a pint or so at a time. Check the blender after each batch, since the giblets tend to get tangled with the blade.

Notes:

  • The blender is necessary, and not only to mix the flavors properly. The soup looks mildly revolting before it is blended, with limp vegetables and oil floating on top.
  • Freezes well.
  • Microwaves well.
  • If boiled long enough and blended fine enough, it ends up the consistency of oatmeal, and is very tasty spread (hot) on toast.
  • It is a nourishing food (half meat, half vegetables) for those with jaw or teeth problems. I once had a student whose jaws were wired shut for a week after surgery. She was very grateful for this recipe, since it only takes a day or two to get thoroughly tired of oatmeal and milkshakes.
  • Other than the flour and maybe the apple, there is nothing that would offend the shade of the late Dr. Atkins.
  • I’m no expert, but I’m told the soup is also kosher, assuming the chicken was executed with the proper formalities and the flour and oil were properly prepared.
Posted in General | Tagged | 2 Comments

So Much for January

The last of the January jokes is now up, and I suppose I will go ahead and start a February PDF file tomorrow night. I won’t have time to test HTML Greek display before the weekend.

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