I Expect a Guardian!

Book Group Thing has started back up, and with
it, a stream of winding discourse on more diverse topics than our ostensible subject, Lewis’s Cosmic Trilogy.  A tangent on book-thievery and book-reclaiming prompted me to bring up Harrius Potter et Philosophi Lapis, which is Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in Latin.

“How did the translator render the spells?” wondered my fellow bibliophiles.  “Some of them are already in Latin, yeah?  How do they get set apart as spells?”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter too much to the characters, does it?” said I.  “Instead of thinking of the spell as Nox, they just say, Night!  Or [instead of Expecto Patronum,] I EXPECT A GUARDIAN!”

Which prompted a bit more laughter than I expected, and more thought on the Patronus Charm than is typical.  Not everyone reading is a Potterite, so here’s a brief description: a Patronus is a sort of offensive shield, a silvery animal-shaped guardian which is the corporeal form of a happy memory or thought.  It launches itself at both Dementors and Lethifolds, holding them at bay if not driving them off.

There are several occasions where Harry or other characters conjure a Patronus; the spell’s use becomes ever more frequent in the later books, as war descends and Dementors appear more and more often.  I wanted to focus on three particular occasions of Patronus charm use:

- In the maze Harry goes through to reach the Goblet of Fire, he meets a Dementor-shaped Boggart.  Driving it away isn’t quite the same as driving away a real Dementor, but the mechanism is the same: he concentrates on getting out of the maze and celebrating with Ron and Hermione, something that hasn’t happened, but which he hopes for.

- During battle in Deathly Hallows, Harry attempts to conjure a Patronus but cannot summon up any happy thought whatsoever.  Luna prompts him with “We’re all still here; we’re still fighting.”  It costs him more effort to conjure than it ever has before, as the situation is so grim, but Harry’s Patronus still bursts forth to stand guard.

- Harry uses one to drive away a lot of Dementors near the end of Prisoner of Azkaban.  In his words, “I knew I could do it this time, because I’d already done it – does that make sense?”  In this event, he focuses not on a happy memory, nor a positive thought, but on his certainty that the Patronus will save him because it already has in his other-time’s experience.

Dementors as Rowling wrote them aren’t a foe we ever meet with; that said, it is Monday again, and we have our own battles to fight, be they e’er so humble.  Where a happy memory may not get us through, our hopes may; perseverance may; or faith may, the assurance about what we do not see.

There are occasions, even in the Muggle world, when our happiness is drained away, when we feel as though we will never be happy again.  What happy memory or hope is your guardian against Dementor-like feelings?

Words, and Otherwords

I am doing some preliminary preparation for teaching a segment on poetry to my fifth graders.

The segment begins on Monday.

It will be a busy weekend.

But since my first goal is to teach them to enjoy poetry, I am scrambling to find a copy of Richard Wilbur’s Words Inside Words collection. Understandably – albeit sadly – no version is available online.

Instead, I did find a reading and animation of a few snippets, put forth by that eternally – entertaining TV station, PBS.

It is actually rather unnerving, but you can see what kind of fun things Wilbur did with words.  And poems.

 

 

 

 

Is your appetite whetted? For the sake of fostering Beauty and Truth, I give you . . . .

Richard Wilbur reading and commenting on “Love Calls Us to the Things of This World”!!!!!!

*swoons*

I pine.

I long.

My heart aches to find such expression of truth.

Trial by Handkerchief

This morning I took my Latin exam.

The big Latin exam.

The one that assures my school that I know the ins and outs of at least one language well enough to be let into the truculant world. The one that allows me to graduate with an official Master of Arts degree. (Now I just need to start finish my thesis!)

So in celebration, I thought I would share with you all on of Catullus’s (I was translating Catullus) more deep, dark, and delicate of poems.

The poem that he wrote to a former friend or guest who had stolen his linen handerchief. To threaten him with three hundred more poem unless the handerchief were returned.

As poets do, ya know.

 

Catullus 12:

Marrucine Asini, manu sinistra

non belle uteris in ioco atque vino:

tollis lintea neglegentiorum.

hoc salsum esse putas? fugit te, inepte!

quamvis sordida res et invenusta est

non credis mihi? crede Pollioni

fratri, qui tua furta vel talent

mutari velit; est enim leporum

disertus puer ac facetiarum.

quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos

exspecta, aut mihi linteum remitte,

quod me non movet aestimatione,

verum est mnemosynum mei sodalis.

nam sudaria Saetaba ex Hiberis

miserunt mihi muneri Fabullus

et Veranius: haec amem necesse est

et Veraniolum meum et Fabullum.

My Translation. Behold:

Asinius Marrucinus, your left hand

You do not use nicely in either jest or in wine;

You pilfer the linens of the more careless!

You consider this to be amusing? It escapes from you, idiot!

As how sordid and uncharming a thing it is.

You do not credit me? Believe Pollionus

Your brother, who for your thefts to be undone

would give a fortune. He is, in fact,  a boy

Of agreeableness, loquacious and witty.

So unless you would expect three hundred hendecasyllabic poems,

Return to me my linen!

It does not trouble me for its worth,

But in truth, it is a remembrance of my friends.

For Fabullus and Veranius sent to me

From Spanish Saetaba the handkerchiefs as a

Saturnalia gift: so it is necessary that I love the handkerchiefs

As I do my Veranius and Fabullus.

 

Woe to those who pilfer from poets; you might be pestered with poetry!

Someday I will go back and try to make it look more like a poem in the English, but I find the straight up translation fun and sweet enough.

Epic Meme Saturday: An Apocalyptic End to the Meme

If it was truly the end of the world I would not bring a book, that would be pointless as I shall have no need of it, either being in Heaven and experience the Beatific Vision which is better than anything word can give, or I shall be in Hell, and I don’t think I would really care about books in Hell…

However, the end of the world, the end of technology, the end of how this culture perceives life, an Apocalypse, would call for a very special book indeed. It would have to be foundational to what is good about our culture, it would have to exemplify what it means to be human, and contain the foundation of Christianity. Well, I think the only thing that really does that perfectly is the complete works of St. Thomas Aquinas.

St. Thomas wrote a massive amount, both of philosophical, theological and poetical. He wrote this hymn;

Pange, lingua, gloriosi

Corporis mysterium,

Sanguinisque pretiosi,

quem in mundi pretium

fructus ventris generosi

Rex effudit Gentium.

Sing, tongue, the mystery

of the glorious Body

and of the precious Blood,

which, for the price of the world,

the fruit of a noble womb,

the King of the nations, flowed forth.

Such beauty truly belongs to man as human and as children of God! St. Thomas is called the Angelic Doctor for a reason and his lucid prose is a joy to read. (Though due to modern understandings of words it can be a bit hard to get used to.) Plus, I am sure that throughout his entire library of work the great saint quote the entire bible, new and old testament, so that is an added happiness! Hmm… lovely.

Although it would not be the easiest thing to read as a the world as we know it is crumbling apart, I think it would be the thing that I most want to preserve.

Thursday Dances: Cataclysmic Codices

“What books would I bring if the world would be destroyed by aliens or cylons and we had to restart civilization as we know it?”

What a question!  And how tempting it is to lay aside the booklist question in order to pursue the nature of the catastrophe…but I’ll keep myself in check.  I talked over the booklist question with a friend I knew to be familiar with Miller’s A Canticle for Leibowitz.  We agreed that we would *not* bring a shopping list, nor blueprints, unless the blueprints were extensive enough to be of use.  Rather, we’d opt for something more fundamental, and would not limit ourselves to one book unless we had to.

Thankfully Thalia’s already got charge of the History of the Peloponnesian War, which did arise as a possibility in the course of our conversation.  We talked about bringing the Bible, Shakespeare, the works of St. Augustine, Pascal (I’d bring the first two and my friend could handle the latter two).  We pondered the best way to sum up or collect all the pieces of art or music in a volume (and couldn’t really get beyond the Norton Anthologies of both, so if you have other suggestions, please make them).  We figured that it might be wise to bring as much information on chemistry, physics, and calculus as possible, despite our personal failure to study them very deeply; why, we asked, leave all the legwork to the people trying to rebuild the world?

Then I consulted my eldest brother, who, after due mention of the Bible and Shakespeare, determined that he would bring a Latin missal, breviary, and patristic writings; a collection of Plato and Aristotle; Homer and Virgil; Dante’s Divine Comedy in Italian; all of Aquinas; and (somewhat peculiarly) a scientific manual that our dad consults regularly.  These, he figured, were among the documents on which the present civilization was founded.  If they did so the first time, then there was no reason they should not again.

So, figuring he would have those covered, I imagine myself bearing the dictionary; a volume of Anglo-Saxon poetry; The Wealth of Nations; a pretty solid anthology of not-Anglo Saxon poetry; some book or other on animal husbandry and agriculture; the small bag of honeymoon-worthy books; and The Complete Calvin and Hobbes.

…then hopefully I’d find the person who brought Tolkien along.

It’s the end of the world as we know it
and I feel fine

Hideously Involved

The Internet has brought to my attention yet another mad project, one which prompted my friend Emily to ask “WHO THINKS OF THIS?”  Which question we’ve not been able to answer, but we suppose anyone assembling Egg-Cup Cakes must have a lot of eggs, a lot of time, and perhaps some magazine article-writing deadlines looming.  I inquired of Em whether it struck her as a good idea (unlikely, as she is not big on cupcakes), or just hideously involved.

Emily:  I’ll take “Hideously involved” for $400, Alex.

Annnnd in so doing, she has begotten Egotist’s Cluuuuub JEOPARDY!

With Alex Trebek, insofar as you all can imagine him reading off the answers

Questions to be found when you highlight them (or tilt your screen, should you be a person with a tiltable sort of machine at hand).

This festive concoction of a hen-stuffed-chicken-stuffed-turkey has a dessert analogue called a “cherpumple.”
What is a “turducken”?

It’s an intricate home-and-garden activity for the woman with more tools, time, and money than any other American.
What is “any given project by Martha Stewart”?

It’s a branch of learning at the atomic and subatomic scale, named by the Latin word for physical changes occurring only in discrete amounts.
What is “quantum physics”?

A liqueur containing over 130 herbal extracts whose recipe is known by only 3 Carthusian monks at a time.
What is “Chartreuse”?

Annnd it’s the Daily Double!  Make your wager:
One of the two certainties facing humanity, these are imposed on individuals or entities by legislative or other government authority.
What are “taxes”?

Third of four films so far, it depicts the fight between the Pirate Lords, the East India Trading Company, and other parties for control of the sea.
What is “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End”?

A confection of ground almond and egg white, these are often confused with the coconut cookie which has an extra “o”.
What are “macarons”?

The three parts of this unfinished work contain dozens of treatises presented via hundreds of questions; it examines the history of the cosmos, man’s purpose, ethical life, and the Sacraments.
What is the “Summa Theologica”?

If you don’t have a macron or dipthong handy, there’s a handful of rules (and exceptions!) to govern your reading of these in Virgil.
What are “Latinate vowels”?

Of Spurious Sparrows and Catullus

Catullus, the Roman poet, is a fascinating man. He has charm and grace and poetry! Oh, the poetry!

Sadly, for those of us whose Latin is limited, he is difficult to translate.

I know. I have tried. I feel like I just mutilated a poor, defenceless innocent. Well, not that innocent. Catullus – as he is in his poetry – was something of a flirt.

Take this, known as “Catullus 2″.

Passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quicum ludere, quem in sinu tenere,
cui primum digitum dare appetenti
et acris solet incitare morsus,
cum desiderio meo nitenti
carum nescio quid lubet iocari
et solaciolum sui doloris,
credo ut tum gravis acquiescat ardor:
tecum ludere sicut ipsa possem
et tristis animi levare curas!

IIb.

Tam gratum est mihi quam ferunt puellae
pernici aureolum fuisse malum,
quod zonam soluit diu ligatam.

Like all Catullus, has been translated many different ways. Some more literal, some more poetic.

And being the ever so humble snob that I am, I did not like any of them.

So, when assigned to do a poetic translation for my class, I picked Catullus. Catullus 2, in point of fact. Naturally, this turns out to be one of the more grammatically difficult poems.

The sparrow, sweet pet of my girl,

With whom she plays – and on her breast curls -

To whose demand she yields a fingertip,

And is accustomed to being sharply bit.

When in my glowing longing

I do not know what dear one she is teasing,

And the sting itself is small comfort.

I do believe it would soothe the heavy heat,

And elevate the worries of a sorrowful mind

Were I, myself, permitted to play with you in kind. 

 . . . . .

As pleasing to me as they say the little gold

Apples were to the persistent Atalanta,

Is the daily bound girdle which she unbinds.

 

It is quite formless, and probably strays from the proper assignment of subjects and objects, but I plan to work with it some more. I am afraid this is more my “imitation” rather than “translation”.

But you should learn Latin. And read Catullus.

Grammar Dragon

In lieu having anything important to say at the moment, let me just announce,

I have found the love of my life!