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Latin Saying
of
the Month
Our monks make
another important discovery
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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.
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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. |
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"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!"
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Figures of Speech
From Memoria Press's
soon to be released Classical Rhetoric program
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You have only really misspelled a word if you did it
by accident. That is the lesson you learn from the rhetorical figure
called metaplasmus. Metaplasmus 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!
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Sursum Corda
November 25 is the feast of Christ the King on the church
calendar-a perfect time to study "Christus Vincit."
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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.
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| Memoria
Press Contest: |
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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.

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