Today, I would like to share with you some linguistical research I have been undertaking and talk to you about (and, at several junctures, in) Latin. I hold up my hands and admit that I am not fully responsible for all of the actual translations.
Some say it’s a dead language, but only its usage is dead and I think it should be revived by dragging it into the 21st Century. It’s all very well for people like René Descartes to come up with stuff like cogito ergo sum (I think therefore I am) and in probably quite a smug way, as if to say when people looked mystified, bene, cum Latine nescias, nolo manus meas in te maculare (well, if you don't understand plain Latin, I'm not going to dirty my hands on you). Or even more ancient bores like Horace: aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem (remember when life's path is steep to keep your mind even). What we should be doing is looking at ways to modernise Latin which, you have to agree, has a wonderfully profound feel to it no matter what its meaning: sic transit gloria mundi (so passes the glory of the world) looks and sounds as impressively romantic as sona si latine loqueris (honk if you speak Latin) or braccae illae virides cum subucula rosea et tunica caledoniaquam eleganter concinnatur! (those green trousers go really well with that pink shirt and plaid jacket!)
There will inevitably be some drawbacks to achieving the renaissance I am advocating and I think we’ll have to forget some of the jokes that rely on the idiosyncracies of the English language as they simpy don’t translate effectively: for example, clamo, clamatis, omnes clamamus pro glace lactis (I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream) – it’s a great shame! However, this sad state of affairs is rescued to a degree by the nature of some of the more bizarre insults I’ve come across in my research, apparently in common use in the ancient Roman culture: such as mater tua criceta fuit, et pater tuo redoluit bacarum sambucus (your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries); or ripostes to recalcitrant Roman teenagers: antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem (in the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags).
It would be nice to be able to cover many of life’s modern eventualities with a choice Latin phrase; here is a selection of some common ones: Balaenae nobis conservandae sunt! (Save the whales!); Braccae tuae aperiuntur (Your flies are undone); Capillamentum? Haudquaquam conieci esse! (A wig? I never would have guessed!); Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam (I have a catapult. Give me all your money, or I will propel an enormous rock at your head); Da mihi sis bubulae frustrum assae, solana tuberosa in modo gallico fricta, ac quassum lactatum coagulatum crassum (Give me a hamburger, french fries, and a thick milk shake); Die dulci freure (Have a nice day); Ducator meus nihil agit sine lagunculae leynidae accedunt (My calculator does not work without batteries); Duco ergo sum (I calculate therefore I am); Cogito ergo doleo (I think therefore I am depressed); Veni vidi visa (I came, I saw, I shopped); Interdum feror cupidine partium magnarum europe vincendarum (Sometimes I get this urge to conquer large parts of Europe).
So why not join me in attempting to revive a flagging interest in the language and bring it into everyday conversation? When you need an excuse to leave, say Cum homine de cane debeo congredi (Excuse me, I've got to see a man about a dog); after you’ve tried to contact someone unsuccessfully: Sane ego te vocavi. Forsitan capedictum tuum desit (I did call. Maybe your answering machine is broken); when you want to make a wise pronouncement at a summer barbecue party with friends: Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri? (Have you ever noticed how, wherever you stand, the smoke goes right into your face?); or just an introductory platitude (definitely not a chat-up line, though) Vidistine nuper imagines moventes bonas? (Seen any good movies lately?). On the subject of movies, wouldn’t it be much better if the dialogue was in Latin? "Certe, toto, sentio nos in kansate non iam adesse" ("You know, Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore"); Credidi me felem vidisse! (I tought I taw a puddy tat!); Me transmitte sursum, caledoni (Beam me up, Scotty).
By the way, the heading means “read it and weep” - possibly a warning too late!
Some say it’s a dead language, but only its usage is dead and I think it should be revived by dragging it into the 21st Century. It’s all very well for people like René Descartes to come up with stuff like cogito ergo sum (I think therefore I am) and in probably quite a smug way, as if to say when people looked mystified, bene, cum Latine nescias, nolo manus meas in te maculare (well, if you don't understand plain Latin, I'm not going to dirty my hands on you). Or even more ancient bores like Horace: aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem (remember when life's path is steep to keep your mind even). What we should be doing is looking at ways to modernise Latin which, you have to agree, has a wonderfully profound feel to it no matter what its meaning: sic transit gloria mundi (so passes the glory of the world) looks and sounds as impressively romantic as sona si latine loqueris (honk if you speak Latin) or braccae illae virides cum subucula rosea et tunica caledoniaquam eleganter concinnatur! (those green trousers go really well with that pink shirt and plaid jacket!)
There will inevitably be some drawbacks to achieving the renaissance I am advocating and I think we’ll have to forget some of the jokes that rely on the idiosyncracies of the English language as they simpy don’t translate effectively: for example, clamo, clamatis, omnes clamamus pro glace lactis (I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream) – it’s a great shame! However, this sad state of affairs is rescued to a degree by the nature of some of the more bizarre insults I’ve come across in my research, apparently in common use in the ancient Roman culture: such as mater tua criceta fuit, et pater tuo redoluit bacarum sambucus (your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries); or ripostes to recalcitrant Roman teenagers: antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem (in the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags).
It would be nice to be able to cover many of life’s modern eventualities with a choice Latin phrase; here is a selection of some common ones: Balaenae nobis conservandae sunt! (Save the whales!); Braccae tuae aperiuntur (Your flies are undone); Capillamentum? Haudquaquam conieci esse! (A wig? I never would have guessed!); Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam (I have a catapult. Give me all your money, or I will propel an enormous rock at your head); Da mihi sis bubulae frustrum assae, solana tuberosa in modo gallico fricta, ac quassum lactatum coagulatum crassum (Give me a hamburger, french fries, and a thick milk shake); Die dulci freure (Have a nice day); Ducator meus nihil agit sine lagunculae leynidae accedunt (My calculator does not work without batteries); Duco ergo sum (I calculate therefore I am); Cogito ergo doleo (I think therefore I am depressed); Veni vidi visa (I came, I saw, I shopped); Interdum feror cupidine partium magnarum europe vincendarum (Sometimes I get this urge to conquer large parts of Europe).
So why not join me in attempting to revive a flagging interest in the language and bring it into everyday conversation? When you need an excuse to leave, say Cum homine de cane debeo congredi (Excuse me, I've got to see a man about a dog); after you’ve tried to contact someone unsuccessfully: Sane ego te vocavi. Forsitan capedictum tuum desit (I did call. Maybe your answering machine is broken); when you want to make a wise pronouncement at a summer barbecue party with friends: Animadvertistine, ubicumque stes, fumum recta in faciem ferri? (Have you ever noticed how, wherever you stand, the smoke goes right into your face?); or just an introductory platitude (definitely not a chat-up line, though) Vidistine nuper imagines moventes bonas? (Seen any good movies lately?). On the subject of movies, wouldn’t it be much better if the dialogue was in Latin? "Certe, toto, sentio nos in kansate non iam adesse" ("You know, Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore"); Credidi me felem vidisse! (I tought I taw a puddy tat!); Me transmitte sursum, caledoni (Beam me up, Scotty).
By the way, the heading means “read it and weep” - possibly a warning too late!
4 comments:
TROUTY SAYS:
It's all greek to me, Lois, but it really IS lovely to hear from you.
Hang in there and very best wishes to you. Henry would say the same .... but much more colourfully!
Vidi, Vici, Veni? Puella in lupum est?
Lois eejut est?
Caput tuum in anno est, which I believe translates to 'You hit the nail right on the head'.
No, don't bother to lok it up.
:)
That has given me an idea, thanks Nigel! We used to play this game in French on day trips to France with school concocting ever more bizarre Sentences to the bemusement of he locals.
Time for a revival now that I spend so much time there...
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