Memoria Press online academy
MP on TwitterClassical Education Facebook
 Home About Us Our Guarantee Shopping Cart
 
An nescis, mi fili, quantilla prudentia mundus regitur?

"Dost thou not know, my son, with how little wisdom the world is governed."

-Oxenstierna, Count Axel (1583-1654) 
November, 2001 ~ In this issue:
Latin Saying of the Month
Goodby Mr. Chips (Christian vs. classical pronunciation)
Figures of Speech from Memoria Press' upcoming Classical Rhetoric
Sursum Corda: Learn about Christus Vincit from Lingua Angelica
Latin Saying
of
the Month

Our monks make another important discovery 

A couple of our monks were playing chess recently, when they got into a heated dispute over the rules governing a particular move.  After separating the brothers, the abbot suggested that they settle their dispute (and their tempers) by researching the rules of chess in the monastery library.  After a few minutes combing through the stacks, however, the only thing they could find was a dust-covered 13th century copy of Bobby Fischer's Guide to Chess.

So instead they conducted an Internet search and made an interesting discovery.  They found the site of perhaps the most influential international chess rule-making body: an organization called "Fédération Internationale des Échecs," which, you many notice, is French.  But this is not what excited the brothers.  What did excite the brothers was the acronym for the organization: 'F. I. D. E.'. The word fide is, of course a Latin word-the ablative singular of fides, a fifth declension Latin noun which means faith.  In the ablative, it would be translated, "in faith."  The brothers were rejoicing.  But their joy was just beginning.

They then noticed something else: not only was the acronym of the organization's name a Latin term, but the organization also had a Latin motto:

Gens una sumus

This means "we are one people."

At this point the brothers' were beyond rejoicing-they were jubilant.  In fact, they paused in the midst of their jubilance to engage in a brief meditation on the fact that the word jubilant is itself based on the Latin word jubilare-at which point they became even more jubilant.  At about this time-as the brothers were dancing arm-in-arm around the room-they realized that the abbot had returned.  He had wanted the brothers to settle their dispute, but was not sure that he was not equally concerned about the new behavior he was observing.  So they were sent to Vespers.

But the important point is that the brothers had forgotten all about their dispute, and had discovered, once again, the continuing relevance of Latin.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips
    
by James Hilton, 1934

Many people don't know that the more difficult "classical pronunciation" of Latin is, historically, a fairly recent phenomenon.  This passage, from Goodbye, Mr. Chips, an English literary classic, recounts that period around the turn of the century when schools were being transformed from centers of cultural literacy into what the author calls "factory" schools.  It was at this time that the Christian pronunciation of Latin
-which had been in use for a thousand years-was suddenly deemed inadequate, and teachers were forced to conform to this new product of scientific study from ivory tower scholars of the period.  Teachers such as Mr. Chips were concerned about the students, not the latest ideas of ivory tower elitists, many of whom had never set foot in a classroom.

"Yes, look at the gown you're wearing. I happen to know that that gown of yours is a subject of continual amusement throughout the School."

Chips knew it, too, but it had never seemed to him a very regrettable matter.

He went on: "And -you also said-umph-something about-insubordination-?"

"No, I didn't.  I said that in a younger man I should have regarded it as that. In your case it's probably a mixture of slackness and obstinacy. This question of Latin pronunciation, for instance-I think I told you years ago that I wanted the new style used throughout the School. The other masters obeyed me; you prefer to stick to your old methods, and the result is simply chaos and inefficiency."

At last Chips had something tangible that he could tackle. "Oh, that!" he answered scornfully. "Well, I-umph-I admit that I don't agree with the new pronunciation. I never did. Umph-a lot of nonsense, in my opinion. Making boys say 'Kickero'at school when-umph-for the rest of their lives they'll say 'Cicero'-if they ever-umph-say it at all. And instead of 'vicissim'-God bless my soul-you'd make them say, 'We kiss'im!  Umph-umph!" And he chuckled momentarily, forgetting that he was in Ralston's study and not in his own friendly form room.

"Well, there you are, Mr. Chipping-that's just an example of what I complain of. You hold one opinion and I hold another, and, since you decline to give way, there can't very well be an alternative. I am to make Brookfield a thoroughly up-to-date school. I'm a science man myself, but for all that I have no objection to the classics-provided that they are taught efficiently. Because they are dead languages is no reason why they should be dealt with in a dead educational technique. I understand, Mr. Chipping, that your Latin and Greek lessons are exactly the same as they were when I began here ten years ago?"

Chips answered, slowly and with pride: "For that matter-umph-they are the same as when your predecessor-Mr. Meldrum-came here, and that-umph-was thirty-eight years ago. We began here, Mr. Meldrum and I'in-umph-in 1870. And it was-um-Mr. Meldrum's predecessor, Mr. Wetherby-who first approved my syllabus. 'You'll take the Cicero for the fourth,' he said to me. Cicero, too-not Kickeroo!"

"Very interesting, Mr. Chipping, but once again it proves my point-you live too much in the past, and not enough in the present and future. Times are changing, whether you realize it or not. Modern parents are beginning to demand something more for their three years' school fees than a few scraps of languages that nobody speaks. Besides, you boys don't learn even what they're supposed to learn. None of them last year got through the Lower Certificate."

And suddenly, in a torrent of thoughts too pressing to be put into words, Chips made answer to himself. These examinations and certificates and so on-what did they matter? And all this efficiency and up-to-dateness-what did that matter either?  Ralston was trying to run Brookfield like a factory-a factory for turning out a snob culture based on money and machines. The old gentlemanly traditions of family and broad acres were changing, as doubtless they were bound to; but instead of widening them to form a genuine inclusive democracy of duke and dustman, Ralston was narrowing them upon a single issue of a fat banking account. There never had been so many rich men's sons at Brookfield. The Speech Day Garden Party was like Ascot. Ralston met these wealthy fellows in London clubs and persuaded them that Brookfield was the coming school, and, since they couldn't buy their way into Eton or Harrow, they greedily swallowed the bait. Awful fellows, some of them-though others were decent enough. Financiers, company promoters, pill manufacturers. One of them gave his son five pounds a week pocket money. Vulgar...ostentatious...all the hectic rotten-ripeness of the age...And once Chips had got into trouble because of some joke he had  made about a boy's name. The boy wrote home about it, and his father sent an angry letter to Ralston. Touchy, no sense of humor, no sense of proportion-that was the matter with them, these new fellows...No sense of proportion. And it was a sense of proportion, above all things, that Brookfield ought to teach-not so much Latin or Greek or Chemistry or Mechanics. And you couldn't expect to test that sense of proportion by setting papers and granting certificates...

All this flashed through his mind in an instant of protest and indignation, but he did not say a word of it. He merely gathered his tattered gown together and with an "umph-umph" and walked a few paces away. He had had enough of the argument. At the door he turned and said: "I don't-umph-intend to resign-and you can-umph-do what you like about it!"

 

Figures of Speech

From Memoria Press's
soon to be released  Classical Rhetoric
program

You have only really misspelled a word if you did it by accident.  That is the lesson you learn from the rhetorical figure called metaplasmusMetaplasmus is the intentional misspelling of a word for rhetorical effect.  This kind of figure is not often found in the Bible, but is quite common in Shakespeare.  And, like the figures of rhetoric generally, the metaplasmus can be divided into four different kinds: those of addition, those of omission, those of substitution, and those of arrangement.  Let's take a look at one of each of these:

I can call the spirits from the vasty deep.

This is called a prosthesis, which is one kind of metaplasmus of addition.  It is from Part I of Shakespeare's Henry IV.

I am Sir Oracle,
and when I ope my lips let no dog bark!

This is called a apocope, a type of metaplasmus of omission.  It is from The Merchant of Venice.

Come, go we then togither.

This is called an antisthecon, a metaplasmus of substitution.  It is from Troilus and Cressida.  Finally, we have a metatheses, a figure of arrangement:

With liver burning hot. Frevent.

This is from The Merry Wives of Windsor.

Yore spell checker won't like 'em; but that doesn't mean wee shouldn't!

 

Sursum Corda

November 25 is the feast of Christ the King on the church calendar-a perfect time to study "Christus Vincit." 

The last Sunday before Advent is the feast of Christ the King.  In Memoria Press's new Lingua Angelica program, students study "Christus Vincit," a perfect way to celebrate this feast day-and it's easy to learn!  There are only four words in "Christus Vincit," and all the verbs are in the present tense.  It goes as follows:

Christus vincit,
Christus regnat,
Christus, Christus imperat.

That's all!  If we translate that into English, we get the following:

Christ conquers,
Christ reigns,
Christ rules.

Your Latin student will learn that "Christus" is the nominative, singular form of "Christus" and is the subject of the sentence. He should recognize this if he knows his second declension nouns.  The words "regnat" and "imperat" are both 3rd person singular forms of "regno" and "impero", which are first conjugation Latin verbs, and both are in the present tense, the first tense studied.  The word "vincit" is also 3rd person singular, whose vocabulary form is "vinco," which is a third conjugation Latin verb.  It is also in the present tense.

Studying "Christus Vincit" is a great way to reinforce the knowledge of second declension nouns as well as simple verbs in the present tense.

 
Memoria Press Contest:

After receiving all of the entries, we created 2 categories, 10-13 year old and 14 and up. In these categories, we have two winners. Laura Tillotson (14 & up) and Ben Reimold (10-14) submitted the best Latin essays and English translations about why they love Latin. They have both won a free book of their choice from Memoria Press (as well as a monastic hooray).  The winning essays are listed below as submitted.

Laura Tillotson, age 15

Latin short essay:
Abhinc duos annos, mater mea coegit me studere Latine contra voluntatem meam. Nunc autem ei gratias ago nam cognovi Latinam esse gaudium studere atque utilis ad grammaticam et orthographiam. Etiam scire Latine me adjuvat nova verba Anglica discere. Gaudeo quia possum discere hanc linguam antiquam quae est utilis ad populum hodierni saeculi.

English Translation:
Two years ago, my mom made me study Latin against my will. However, now I thank her, for I have found out that Latin is a joy to study and useful for grammar and spelling. Also, knowing Latin helps me to learn new English words. I rejoice that I am able to learn this ancient language, which is useful to people of today's world.

 

Ben Reimold, Age 12

Latin short essay:
Lingua Latina amo. De cavia porcello canto. Maxus meus cavia porcullus est.
Maxum specto. Tum canto:
"Maxus amo! Maxus porcus est! Maxus obesus est! Maxus raucus est! Maxus callidisimus est! Ave Maxus! Ave Maxus!"
Maxus callidus est. Callidus sum. In Latina callidisimus sumus!

English Translation:
I love Latin. I sing about my guinea pig Max.
I sing: "I love Max! Max is a pig! Max is fat! Max is noisy! Max is very clever! Hail, Max! Hail, Max!
Max is clever. I am clever. In Latin we are very clever!


Thanks to all those that participated. The submissions were so great that we decided to give them all a $5 gift certificate for any of our books.

If you would like to suggest a contest idea for next month, please submit it to blowe@memoriapress.com.


 

Order Completely Risk Free!
60 Day Unconditional Return Policy

[home]  [classical education articles]  [newsletter]  [Classical Teacher ]  [checkout]
[about us]  [contact info] [privacy/terms]
© Memoria Press