What is pizza? And what is in that picture from Pompeii?

https://www.twopeasandtheirpod.com/best-veggie-pizza/

What is pizza? I know that is a silly question, but there are so many varieties and toppings that settling on one definition, so dependent on personal preference, is next to impossible. The Romans got it right with the Latin phrases, quot homines tot sententiae and, of course, nil disputandum de gustibus.

The quintessential pizza, as if described by the philosopher Plato, to which all other pizzas aspire, is obviously a crust, sauce, cheese, and perhaps a variety of toppings. It bakes until the crust is done and the cheese is melted. This is the simplistic recipe for pizzaness or a pizza-like object. All pies are, indeed, a variation on a theme.

https://www.pizzanapoletana.org/en/ricetta_pizza_napoletana

In an attempt to protect their heritage and define more clearly this culinary gift to the world, Italy has an official and legal definition of pizza, which sets the requirements for crust, sauce, cheese, toppings, and baking. Pizzaioli who follow these directives even display a sign or a sticker (pictured above) on the front door of their shop, advertising the authenticity of their product so that patrons know they are getting the real thing. (On a side note: While searching for this information on the official rules, I came across a great article from Pizza Bien which tells us where to buy real pizza in Italy. It is well worth a read.)

Although this gastronomic delight is now a staple around the world, pizza may have its origins in the ancient Roman world. For those who argue that this delicacy did not originate in ancient Rome, a pizza of sorts is mentioned in two passages of Vergil's Aeneid as a part of the same story arc.

https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses/celaeno/

In their journey to found a new Troy somewhere in the west, the beleaguered Trojans attack the Harpies and kill some of their cattle. The harpy Celaeno (pictured above) then curses these wandering warriors to endure so much hunger that they cannot reach their promised land until they have eaten their very tables:

una in praecelsa consedit rupe Celaeno,                            245

infelix vates, rumpitque hanc pectore vocem:

'bellum etiam pro caede boum stratisque iuvencis,

Laomedontiadae, bellumne inferre paratis

et patrio Harpyias insontis pellere regno?

Accipite ergo animis atque haec mea figite dicta,              250

quae Phoebo pater omnipotens, mihi Phoebus Apollo

praedixit, vobis Furiarum ego maxima pando.

Italiam cursu petitis ventisque vocatis:

ibitis Italiam portusque intrare licebit.

Sed non nate datam cingetis moenibus urbem                   255

quam vos dira fames nostraeque iniuria caedis

ambesas subigat malis absumere mensas.'

Aeneid III.245-257

And my translation:

Celaeno alone settles on a very high rock,

an unhappy prophetess, and calls out this voice from her heart:

'Is it war actually for the slaughter of our herds and cattle laid low,

sons of Laomedon, war you intend to bring in

and drive the innocent Harpies from their native kingdom?

Therefore receive and fix in your mind these words of mine,

which the all-powerful father foretold to Phoebus, then Phoebus Apollo to me,

then to you I, the greatest of the Furies, reveal.

Italy in your course you seek and you call upon it with the winds:

You will go to Italy and you will be permitted to enter its ports,

but you will not surround your owed city with walls

before cruel hunger and the wrongdoing of our slaughter

forces you to eat your tables gnawed by your jaws.'

https://dcc.dickinson.edu/cultural-context/german?page=15

Further on, Aeneas' son Ascanius jests that the Trojans are eating their tables:

Aeneas primique duces et pulcher Iulus

corpora sub ramis deponunt arboris altae,

instituuntque dapes et adorea liba per herbam

subiciunt epulis (sic Iupitter ipse monebat)                            110

et Cereale solum pomis agrestibus augent.

Consumptis hic forte aliis, ut vertere morsus

exiguam in Cererem penuria adegit edendi,

et violare manu malisque audacibus orbem

fatalis crusti patulis nec parcere quadris:                              115

'heus, etiam mensas consumimus?' inquit Iulus,

nec plura, adludens, ea vox audita laborum

prima tulit finem, primamque loquentis ab ore

eripuit pater ac stupefactus numine pressit.

Continuo 'Salve fatis mihi debita tellus                                  120

vosque' ait 'o fidi Troiae salvete penates:

hic domus, haec patria est. Genitor mihi talia namque

(nunc repeto) Anchises fatorum arcana reliquit:

"Cum te, nate, fames ignota ad litora vectum

accisis coget dapibus consumere mensas,                              125

tum sperare domos defessus, ibique memento

prima locare manu molirique aggere tecta."'

Aeneid VII.107-127

And this is:

Aeneas and the first leaders and handsome Iulus

lay down their bodies beneath the branches of a tall tree,

and they set up their meals and they spread out their spelt cakes

through the grass for their dishes of food (thus Jupiter himself advised)

and they pile Ceres' plate with wild fruits.

With other things here eaten by chance, as their lack of eating

drove them to turn their bites onto their scanty Ceres/grain/cakes,

and to break the plate with their hand and bod jaws

and not to spare the spread out tables of fated baked item:

'Hey! Are we eating our tables too?' says Iulus, joking,

and there were no more. This statement having been heard

first brought an end of their labors, the first from the mouth of the speaker

the father snatched and stunned by the divine will he pressed.

Immediately he says 'Greetings, land owed to me by the fates

and greetings, i you faithful gods of Troy:

here is our home, this is our country. For my father Anchises

(I recall now) left behind such secret things of the fates:

"Son, when hunger will compel you, carried to unknown shores,

to eat your tables at a hewn feast,

then weary hope for homes, and there remember

to place with your first hand and to build houses with a wall."'

In these passages we clearly see that the Trojans are using their bread as plates to hold other food (VII.111: Cereale solum pomis agrestibus augent). The reference to gnawing or tough chewing (III.256-7: vos dira fames nostraeque iniuria caedis / ambesas subigat malis absumere mensas) indicates that these could very well be a form of hardtack (survival bread) typically used by sailors and other wandering groups for millennia.

https://secretsofsurvival.com/how-to-make-hardtack/

It makes perfect sense that pizza, as we know it, would have its roots in vegetables, fruits, meats, mushrooms, seafood, etc. placed upon various types of flatbread (leavened or unleavened). These foods add flavor, convenience, neatness, or even assist in the ability to eat the hard, dried-out wafer. Even though many will call this the ancestor of pizza, in reality there are many examples of this type of food from around the world: think about a tostada from Mexico, a gyro from Greece, a sandwich from Britain, and even that cheese on a cracker you constructed and ate yesterday.

The earliest mention in writing of the actual word "pizza" dates to AD 997 in the Codex Diplomaticus Cajenatus, a collection of documents pertaining to the governance of Gaeta in central Italy. The passage in medieval Latin records an annual requirement of payment to the house of the bishop:

Tantummoduo persolvere debeatis omni anno salutes in dies natali domini sive vos sive vestris heredes in suprascripto episcopio tam nobis quam a nostris posteris successores duodecim pizze et una spatula de porco; et unum lumbulum; simul et in die sanctum pascha resurrectionis domini annualiter duodecim pizze et unum parium de pulli.

And my translation:

You merely must pay in every year of salvation on the birthday of the Lord either you or your heirs in the aforementioned bishop's house either to us or to our following successors twelve pizzas and one leg of pork, and one loin; and likewise on the holy day Easter of the resurrection of the Lord annually twelve pizzas and one pair of chickens.

There is no description of what form this pizza takes, but the word is there. A search of the origin of this term reveals, in a variety of online dictionary sites, that pitta may be a variation in Italian (and, yes, pita should come to mind), maybe coming from the Vulgar Latin picea, and related to the Greek petea, or possibly even the Old High German bizzo or pizzo. What this tells me is that the origin of the name is unknown and most likely impossible to prove.

The impetus for this discussion of the definition and origin of pizza comes from the 2023 discovery of a fresco in Pompeii which seems to show a pizza with abundant toppings. Take a look at the entree on the left:

https://www.popsci.com/science/pompeii-ancient-pizza-fresco/

The item certainly looks like a pizza, and it surely looks appetizing! Both the daily British paper The Guardian and the American Smithsonian Magazine (along with numerous other news sources) ran articles announcing to the world that a snapshot of the ancestor of the pizza had been discovered.

The question remains, though, is it really a pizza? If we go by the official definition provided by the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana listed above, we have to say no. Why does the dish in the fresco not make the cut? The main reason is that tomatoes were not introduced to Europe by the Spanish exploring South America until the 16th century. There is also some discussion that true mozzarella cheese may not have been available until the 12th century, but variations of this necessary topping may have been around since the 1st century AD.

So what mouth-watering dish do we see in this fresco? Publications which did not jump on the pizza bandwagon (including the New York Times, National Public Radio, and even Popular Science) claim that this is merely an ancestor of our modern staple, a sort of proto-pizza, or maybe even a tasty focaccia.

So, what does it all mean? My thoughts are that the entree represented in the fresco is not a pizza, but a disk of bread providing a base for other items, most likely a mix of fruit and vegetables. This does reflect the historical use of hardtack I described above, and continues a tradition of providing a platform for foods even exiled Trojans would recognize and enjoy.

Evander Mourns the Death of His Son Pallas

Evander Mourning Over the Body of his Son, Pallas, Aeneid: Book XI,
from Les Oeuvres de Virgile, after Charles-Nicolas Cochin, the younger

This is follow-up is a companion piece to the post published on June 18: "Evander Begs Jupiter for his Son's Safe Return".

In Book XI, lines 148-163, of Vergil's Aeneid, Evander mourns his son Pallas killed in combat:

At non Evandrum potis est vis ulla tenere,
sed venit in medios. Feretro Pallante reposto
procubuit super atque haeret lacrimansque gemensque,    150
et via vix tandem voci laxata dolore est:
"Non haec, o Palla, dederas promissa parenti,
cautius ut saevo velles te credere Marti.
Haud ignarus eram quantum nova gloria in armis
et praedulce decus primo certamine posset.                       155
Primitiae iuvenis miserae bellique propinqui
dura rudimenta, et nulli exaudita deorum
vota precesque meae! Tuque, o sanctissima coniunx,
felix morte tua neque in hunc servata dolorem!
Contra ego vivendo vici mea fata, superstes                      160
restarem ut genitor. Troum socia arma secutum
obruerent Rutuli telis! Animam ipse dedissem
atque haec pompa domum me, non Pallanta, referret!"

And my translation:

Yet no force can hold back Evander,
But he comes into their midst. He threw himself
onto Pallas laid out on a litter, crying and groaning he clings,
and after a hard while he finds a way to utter from grief:
“O Pallas, you had not given these promises to your father,
that you would want to entrust yourself more warily to savage Mars,
I was by certainly not ignorant how much new glory there is in arms
and how much very sweet pride there can be in your first fight.
The wretched firsts of youth and the hard first attempts at war nearby,
no gods heard my vows and my prayers!
And you, O most holy wife, were lucky to die
and to have saved yourself from this grief!
As for me I have overcome my fates by stay alive,
so that I might remain a father surviving my son.
The Rutulians with their weapons should have overwhelming me having followed 
the allied arms of the Trojans. I myself should have given my soul
and this procession should be carrying me home, not Pallas!

Evander Begs Jupiter for his Son's Safe Return

On this Father's Day 2023, a quick look around the internet reveals that the theme of the relationship between fathers and their sons are a ripe topic for exploration in Vergil's Aeneid. As I surveyed the options form this work, one scene stood out as particularly poignant: the passage in Book VIII where Evander bids a sad, foreboding farewell to his son Pallas as he sets out with Aeneas to battle. Evander is too old and infirm to lead and teach his son himself, so he has entrusted this task to the surrogate Aeneas.

In Book VIII, lines 558-584, Evander begs Jupiter for his son's safe return:

tum pater Evandrus dextram complexus euntis
haeret inexpletus lacrimans ac talia fatur:
'o mihi praeteritos referat si Iuppiter annos,                560
qualis eram cum primam aciem Praeneste sub ipsa
stravi scutorumque incendi victor acervos
et regem hac Erulum dextra sub Tartara misi,
nascenti cui tris animas Feronia mater
(horrendum dictu) dederat, terna arma movenda—    565
ter leto sternendus erat; cui tunc tamen omnis
abstulit haec animas dextra et totidem exuit armis:
non ego nunc dulci amplexu divellerer usquam,
nate, tuo, neque finitimo Mezentius umquam
huic capiti insultans tot ferro saeva dedisset               570
funera, tam multis viduasset civibus urbem.
at vos, o superi, et divum tu maxime rector
Iuppiter, Arcadii, quaeso, miserescite regis
et patrias audite preces. si numina vestra
incolumem Pallanta mihi, si fata reservant,                575
si visurus eum vivo et venturus in unum,
vitam oro, patior quemvis durare laborem.
sin aliquem infandum casum, Fortuna, minaris,
nunc, nunc o liceat crudelem abrumpere vitam,
dum curae ambiguae, dum spes incerta futuri,           580
dum te, care puer, mea sola et sera voluptas,
complexu teneo, gravior neu nuntius auris
vulneret.' haec genitor digressu dicta supremo
fundebat; famuli conlapsum in tecta ferebant.

And my translation here:

Then father Evander, having embraced his son, and weeping uncontrollably,
clings to the right hand of the one departing and says such things:
“O, if Jupiter should return to me my past years,
the sort I was when I laid low the front line beneath Praeneste herself
and as victor set fire to the heap of shields
and sent King Erulus beneath Tartarus with this right hand,
to whom at birth his mother Feronia had given three lives
(horrible to say), three arms had to be moved --
three times he had to be laid low by death; then nevertheless
this right hand took away all his lives and stripped just as many arms:
now I should not ever be torn away from from your sweet embrace,
son, and Mezentius, insulting his neighbor’s very existense, would not have given
so many cruel funerals by his sword,
he would not have deprived this city of so many citizens.
But you, gods above, and you especially, Jupiter, the ruler of the gods,
take pity, I beg, on this Arcadian king
and hear this father’s prayers. If your divinities
keep my Pallas safe, if the fates keep him safe,
if I live to see him and to meet him again,
I beg for life, I agree to endure whatever hardship you wish.
But if you, Fortune, threaten some unspeakable disaster,
now, O let it be permitted to destroy this cruel life now,
while cares are uncertain, while hope for the future is unsure,
while I hold you, dear boy, in my embrace, you, my last, lone delight,
and may some too painful message not wound my ears.”
The father poured out these words in his last parting;
and his attendants carried him, having collapsed, home.

Felicem, Roma, diem natalem!

Ancient and modern Rome has always considered April 21 to be the date of its founding. In honor of this auspicious day, I have read Ovid's version of the founding of this city and provided my own translation.

From Book IV, lines 807-862, of the Fasti:

Urbis origo
     venit; ades factis, magne Quirine, tuis.
iam luerat poenas frater Numitoris, et omne
     pastorum gemino sub duce volgus erat;
contrahere agrestes et moenia ponere utrique
     convenit: ambigitur moenia ponat uter.
'nil opus est' dixit 'certamine' Romulus 'ullo;
     magna fides avium est: experiamur aves.'
res placet: alter init nemorosi saxa Palati;
     alter Aventinum mane cacumen init.
sex Remus, hic volucres bis sex videt ordine; pacto
     statur, et arbitrium Romulus urbis habet.
apta dies legitur qua moenia signet aratro:
     sacra Palis suberant; inde movetur opus.               820
fossa fit ad solidum, fruges iaciuntur in ima
     et de vicino terra petita solo;
fossa repletur humo, plenaeque imponitur ara,
     et novus accenso fungitur igne focus.
inde premens stivam designat moenia sulco;
     alba iugum niveo cum bove vacca tulit.
vox fuit haec regis: 'condenti, Iuppiter, urbem,
     et genitor Mavors Vestaque mater, ades,
quosque pium est adhibere deos, advertite cuncti:
     auspicibus vobis hoc mihi surgat opus.
longa sit huic aetas dominaeque potentia terrae,
     sitque sub hac oriens occiduusque dies.'
ille precabatur, tonitru dedit omina laevo
     Iuppiter, et laevo fulmina missa polo.
augurio laeti iaciunt fundamina cives,
     et novus exiguo tempore murus erat.
hoc Celer urget opus, quem Romulus ipse vocarat,
     'sint' que, 'Celer, curae' dixerat 'ista tuae,
neve quis aut muros aut factam vomere fossam
     transeat; audentem talia dede neci.'
quod Remus ignorans humiles contemnere muros
     coepit, et 'his populus' dicere 'tutus erit?'
nec mora, transiluit: rutro Celer occupat ausum;
     ille premit duram sanguinulentus humum.
haec ubi rex didicit, lacrimas introrsus obortas
     devorat et clausum pectore volnus habet.
flere palam non volt exemplaque fortia servat,
     'sic' que 'meos muros transeat hostis' ait.
dat tamen exsequias; nec iam suspendere fletum
     sustinet, et pietas dissimulata patet;
osculaque adplicuit posito suprema feretro,
     atque ait 'invito frater adempte, vale',
arsurosque artus unxit: fecere, quod ille,
     Faustulus et maestas Acca soluta comas.
tum iuvenem nondum facti flevere Quirites;
     ultima plorato subdita flamma rogo est.
urbs oritur (quis tunc hoc ulli credere posset?)
     victorem terris impositura pedem.
cuncta regas et sis magno sub Caesare semper,
     saepe etiam plures nominis huius habe;
et, quotiens steteris domito sublimis in orbe,
     omnia sint umeris inferiora tuis.

And now my translation, which (I must admit) I have rendered a bit more freely than I have allowed my in the past: 

…The beginning of the City has come;
be present for your deeds, great Quirinus!
The brother of Numitor had paid for his crimes,
and every flock of shepherds was under twin leadership;
each one decided to gather the rustic folk and build walls:
“There is no need for any argument,” said Romulus;
“There is great faith in birds: let’s see what the birds have to say.”
The matter is agreed: one goes to the rocks of the woodsy Palatine;
the other heads to the top of the Aventine in the morning.
Remus sees six birds, this guy twelve in a row;
the agreement stands, and Romulus has control of the city.
A suitable day is chosen to mark the place for the walls with a plow:
the sacred rites of Pales were going on; then they get to work.
A ditch is made in the solid rock. They fill it with fruits
and earth gathered from neighboring territories;
The ditch is filled with dirt, and an altar is placed on the pile,
and a kindled fire burns on the new hearth.
Then, pressing down the handle of his plow, he traces out walls with his furrow;
a white cow with a snow-white bull brought the yoke.
These were the words of the king: “Jupiter and Father Mars
and Mother Vesta, be present for the founding of our city,
and whatever gods it is right to invite, pay attention, everyone:
let me do my work with you as my presiders.
May the age for this city and the power of this land as ruler be long,
and let the rising and setting day be under her power.”
That one was praying, and Jupiter thundered his omens
on the left and sent lightning bolts to the left in the sky.
From this good omen the happy citizens lay the foundations,
and in no time at all there was a new wall.
Celer, whom Romulus himself had summoned, urges on this work,
and he had said, “Celer, may those things be your concerns,
and do not let anyone cross these walls or ditch made from the plow;
kill anyone daring such things.”
Remus, not aware of this, began to despise these lowly walls,
and said, “The people will be safe with these?”
And quickly he leapt over: Celer attacks the offender with a shovel;
Remus bloody falls to the hard ground.
When the king learned of this, he fights back his rising tears
and keeps the pain shut away in his heart.
He does not show his grief openly and feigns strength,
and says, “Likewise to any enemy who crosses my walls.”
However he gives him funeral rites; he is no longer able
to hold back his tears, and his hidden devotion is made obvious;
and he gave kisses to the funeral bier having been set down,
and said, “my brother, unwillingly taken from me, farewell!”
He anointed his limbs about to burn: Faustulus and Acca
having let down her hair in grief, did the same as Romulus.
Then those not yet having been made Quirites wept for the youth;
the last flame was placed beneath the pyre wet with tears.
The city rises (who could have believe any of this then?),
about to place its foot as victor over all the lands.
May you rule the world and may you always be under the power of great Caesar,
and may you often have more of this name name also;
and, as long as you stand high over a conquered world,
may all else be lower than your shoulders.

Suetonius Describes the Death of Caesar

The Ides of March are nearly upon us, so I thought I would mark the occasion with a reading of Suetonius' description of the assassination of Julius Caesar. So many people today know of this episode from history through Shakespeare's telling of the tale, but it is obvious, after reading the passage below, that the bard was familiar with this passage (Suetonius, Divus Iulius, 82):

Assidentem conspirati specie officii circumsteterunt, ilicoque Cimber Tillius, qui primas partes susceperat, quasi aliquid rogaturus propius accessit renuentique et gestu in aliud tempus differenti ab utroque umero togam adprehendit: deinde clamantem: 'ista quidem vis est!' alter e Cascis aversum vulnerat paulum infra iugulum. Caesar Cascae brachium arreptum graphio traiecit conatusque prosilire alio vulnere tardatus est; utque animadvertit undique se strictis pugionibus peti, toga caput obvoluit, simul sinistra manu sinum ad ima crura deduxit, quo honestius caderet etiam inferiore corporis parte velata. Atque ita tribus et viginti plagis confossus est uno modo ad primum ictum gemitu sine voce edito, etsi tradiderunt quidam Marco Bruto irruenti dixisse: καὶ σὺ τέκνον; Exanimis diffugientibus cunctis aliquamdiu iacuit, donec lecticae impositum, dependente brachio, tres servoli domum rettulerunt. Nec in tot vulneribus, ut Antistius medicus existimabat, letale ullum repertum est, nisi quod secundo loco in pectore acceperat.

Fuerat animus coniuratis corpus occisi in Tiberim trahere, bona publicare, acta rescindere, sed metu Marci Antoni consulis et magistri equitum Lepidi destiterunt. 

I translate this into English as,

The conspirators, with the appearance of duty, gathered around him (Caesar) as he was sitting down, and immediately Tillius Cimber, who had chosen the first role, approached nearer, as if about to ask something, and, as Caesar was dismissing him and, with a gesture, waving him off to another time, he grabbed his toga by each shoulder: then, with Cesar shouting, "This indeed is violence!" one of the Casci, standing behind, wounded him a little below the throat. Caesar grabbed Casca's arm and stabbed it with a stilus. and then having tried to jump up he was prevented by another wound; and as he noticed on all sides that he was being attacked by drawn daggers, he covered his head with his toga, at the same time with his left hand he drew down the lap to the bottom of his legs, in order that he might fall more decently, with also the lower part of his body covered. And in this way he was stabbed with twenty-three blows, with only one groan, without a word, given at the first blow, although certain ones have related that he had said to Marcus Brutus rushing toward (him): "You too, son?" He lay lifeless for quite a while with all the others scattering, until three young slaves placed him on a litter, with an arm hanging down,  and carried him back home. And, as his doctor Antistius estimated, not any of his so many wounds was found lethal, except the one he had received in the second place on his chest.

It had been the intention of the conspirators to drag the body of the deceased into the Tiber River, to confiscate his property, and to cancel his business in the senate, but because of the fear of Marc Antony, the consul, and of Lepidus, the magister equitum, they stopped.

St. Patrick Writes About Himself

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I thought I would take a look at some of the fifth-century Latin written by this remarkable individual and patron saint of Ireland. Take a look at the very useful website St. Patrick's Confessio, which allows one to "[r]ead what St. Patrick actually wrote in his own words."

Epistola ad milites Corotici, X

Numquid sine Deo vel secundum carnem Hiberione veni? Quis me compulit? Alligatus sum Spiritu ut non videam aliquem de cognatione mea. Numquid a me piam misericordiam quod ago erga gentem illam qui me aliquando ceperunt et devastaverunt servos et ancillas domus patris mei? Ingenuus fui secundum carnem; decorione patre nascor. Vendidi enim nobilitatem meam -- non erubesco neque me paenitet -- pro utilitate aliorum; denique servus sum in Christo genti exterae ob gloriam ineffabilem perennis vitae quae est in Christo Iesu Domino nostro.

Here is the source of the text; the translation below is my own.

A letter to the soldiers of Coroticus (10)

Is it possible that I came to Ireland without God, even following my own flesh? Who compelled me? I have been so bound by the Spirit that I do not see anyone of my own family. Is it possible that I grant holy mercy from myself towards that people who once captured me and killed the enslaved men and women of my father's house? I was a free-born according to the flesh; I was born from my father, a decurion. Indeed I sold my noble status for the service of others -- I am not ashamed of this and I do not regret it; accordingly I am a servant in Christ for people of a foreign land on account of the indescribable glory of everlasting life which is in Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Venus Pays a Visit to Jupiter

I posted this pic of the conjunction of the planets Venus and Jupiter on the evening of March 1, 2023 on my other social media and added the caption, "Jupiter and Venus canoodling in the heavens this evening." Even better, a few fellow Latin teachers suggested this passage from Vergil's Aeneid in which Venus visits Jupiter and pleads for rest and safety for her long-suffering Trojans:

Atque illum talis iactantem pectore curas
tristior et lacrimis oculos suffusa nitentis
adloquitur Venus: 'O qui res hominumque deumque
aeternis regis imperiis, et fulmine terres,
quid meus Aeneas in te committere tantum,
quid Troes potuere, quibus, tot funera passis,
cunctus ob Italiam terrarum clauditur orbis?
Certe hinc Romanos olim, volventibus annis,
hinc fore ductores, revocato a sanguine Teucri,
qui mare, qui terras omni dicione tenerent,
pollicitus, quae te, genitor, sententia vertit?
Hoc equidem occasum Troiae tristisque ruinas
solabar, fatis contraria fata rependens;
nunc eadem fortuna viros tot casibus actos
insequitur. Quem das finem, rex magne, laborum?...
Hic pietatis honos? Sic nos in sceptra reponis?'

Olli subridens hominum sator atque deorum,
voltu, quo caelum tempestatesque serenat,
oscula libavit natae, dehinc talia fatur:
'Parce metu, Cytherea: manent immota tuorum
fata tibi; cernes urbem et promissa Lavini
moenia, sublimemque feres ad sidera caeli
magnanimum Aenean; neque me sententia vertit.
Hic tibi (fabor enim, quando haec te cura remordet,
longius et volvens fatorum arcana movebo)
bellum ingens geret Italia, populosque feroces
contundet, moresque viris et moenia ponet,
tertia dum Latio regnantem viderit aestas,
ternaque transierint Rutulis hiberna subactis.
At puer Ascanius, cui nunc cognomen Iulo
additur,—Ilus erat, dum res stetit Ilia regno,—
triginta magnos volvendis mensibus orbis
imperio explebit, regnumque ab sede Lavini
transferet, et longam multa vi muniet Albam.
Hic iam ter centum totos regnabitur annos
gente sub Hectorea, donec regina sacerdos,
Marte gravis, geminam partu dabit Ilia prolem.
Inde lupae fulvo nutricis tegmine laetus
Romulus excipiet gentem, et Mavortia condet
moenia, Romanosque suo de nomine dicet.
His ego nec metas rerum nec tempora pono;
imperium sine fine dedi. Quin aspera Iuno,
quae mare nunc terrasque metu caelumque fatigat,
consilia in melius referet, mecumque fovebit
Romanos rerum dominos gentemque togatam:
sic placitum. Veniet lustris labentibus aetas,
cum domus Assaraci Phthiam clarasque Mycenas
servitio premet, ac victis dominabitur Argis.
Nascetur pulchra Troianus origine Caesar,
imperium oceano, famam qui terminet astris,—
Iulius, a magno demissum nomen Iulo.
Hunc tu olim caelo, spoliis Orientis onustum,
accipies secura; vocabitur hic quoque votis.
Aspera tum positis mitescent saecula bellis;
cana Fides, et Vesta, Remo cum fratre Quirinus,
iura dabunt; dirae ferro et compagibus artis
claudentur Belli portae; Furor impius intus,
saeva sedens super arma, et centum vinctus aenis
post tergum nodis, fremet horridus ore cruento.'

Vergil's Aeneid I.227-241, 253-296

And here is my translation:

And so Venus, rather sad and swollen around her eyes glistening with tears,
pleads with that one pondering such concerns in his heart:
"Oh you who rule the affairs of men and gods with everlasting power,
and you who strike fear with the lightning bolt,
what so great offense has my Aeneas, what have the Trojans,
been able to commit against you, for whom, having suffered so many deaths,
the whole, wide world is closed because of Italy?
You actually promised that after this there would be Romans one day,
in the coming years, that after this they would be the leaders,
rising from the renewed blood of the Trojans,
who would hold the sea, the lands under all their domain.
What notion has changed your mind, father?
On my end I was soothing this fall and the sad ruins of Troy,
weighing out their past fates against future ones;
now the luck fortune pursues these men driven by so many misfortunes.
When will you, great king, bring an end to their sufferings?
This is their reward for our dutifulness? This is how you put us in power?"

Smiling down at her, the father of men and gods,
with that expression, by which he calms the sky and storms,
gave a kiss to his daughter, and then  says these words:
"Don't be afraid, Cytherea: the fates of your people remain unchanged for you;
you will see the city and the promised walls of Lavinium,
and you will carry great-souled Aeneas on high to the stars of heaven;
and no notion changes my mind. This one will wage a huge war
for you in Italy (for I will prophesy, since this concern worries you,
and I will reveal further things unknown), and he will defeat fierce peoples,
and put in place customs and walls for these men,
until a third summer has seen him ruling in Latium,
and a third winter has passed with the Rutulians subdued.
But the boy Ascanius, who now is called Iulus,
-- he used to be Ilus, while the kingdom of Troy stood --,
will fill out thirty great years in power with the months rolling along,
and he will move the kingdom from the seat of Lavinium,
and he will build Alba Longa with much strength.
Here now it will be ruled for three hundred whole years
beneath the race of Hector, until Ilia, a queen, a priestess,
pregnant by Mars, will give birth to twin offspring.
From that point Romulus, happy in the tawny hide of a nursemaid wolf
will continue the race, and will found the walls of Mars,
and he will name his people Romans after his own name.
I do not put limits or a timeframe on this things;
I have granted rule without end. Indeed harsh Juno,
who now wears out the sea and lands and heaven with fear
will change her plans for the better, and along with me
she will cherish the Romans as the masters of all things
and the toga-clad race: in this way it will be pleasing.
The time will come in the passing years,
when the House of Assaracus will hold sway over Phthia
and famous Mycenae, and it will be lord over the conquered Greeks.
A Trojan Caesar will be born from a glorious family,
who extends the empire to the ocean, and his fame to the stars,
-- he will be called Iulius, a name sent down from great Iulus.
One day you, untroubled, will welcome him, laden with the spoils
of the East, to the heavens; he, too, will be called upon by prayers.
Then these harsh ages will become calm with wars put aside;
grey-haired Faith, and Vesta, Quirinus with his brother Remus,
will give laws; the dire gates of War will be shut by iron
and close-fitting locks; wicked Madness, sitting inside
on top of savage arms, and bound by a hundred bronze knots
behind his back, will roars horribly from his bloody mouth."

That March Boy Martial

Today is March 1st, the birthday of the Roman poet Marcus Valerius Martialis, commonly called Martial. I would often teach about Martial and his poetry to my Latin students as they were making the transition between textbook Latin and authentic Latin literature.

In honor of the poet's birthday, here is the less-than-humble epigram he wrote to introduce his work:

Hic est quem legis ille, quem requiris,

toto notus in orbe Martialis

argutis epigrammaton libellis:

cui, lector studiose, quod dedisti

uiuenti decus atque sentienti,

rari post cineres habent poetae.

                                                                    Martial, Epigrams I.1 

And my translation:

Here's that guy you read, who you're looking for,

Martial, known in the whole, wide world

for his witty little books of epigrams.

The props you have given him, eager reader,

while still alive and awake,

few poets get after they're dead. 

 

Here is the information about his life and works I would distribute to my students:

Marcus Valerius Martialis, known commonly as Martial, perfected the Latin epigram as a literary artform. He penned well over 1,500 poems, each one on a single, specific topic. His work became popular among the Romans and was imitated by the poets of the empire and Renaissance and it still serves as the model for writers of epigrams today.

HISTORY AND CAREER

Martial was born around AD 40 in Bilbilis in the Roman province of Hispania.  He was given the cognomen Martialis because he was born on the Kalends of March. After spending most of his life in and around Rome, he returned to his hometown late in life and died there around 104.

After receiving a good education, Martial made his way to Rome in about 64.  There he made the acquaintance of several of the notable authors of the day, including Juvenal and fellow Spaniards Quintilian, Seneca the Younger, and Lucan. He quickly learned of life in the center of the empire after both Seneca and Lucan were ordered to commit suicide upon being linked with the conspiracy of Lucius Calpurnius Piso in 65.

Martial, of humble, provincial origins, had to rely upon his writing talent to make ends meet in the big city. In his own poetry he writes of being poor and having to climb up three flights of stairs to his humble apartment. He also writes that his patrons were not very generous. As his fame grew, his conditions improved and he makes mention of a small house on the Quirinal Hill and a cottage in nearby Nomentum, a small town in Latium. He was also awarded the honorary rank of military tribune and, although not married, was granted the ius trium liberorum, giving him tax exemption and other privileges usually reserved for fathers of three children.

HIS WORKS

The term epigram comes from the Greek epi meaning “upon” and graphein meaning “to write.” Its origins lie in the precision and economy of inscriptions on monuments and tombstones, but it was later developed into its own genre by the Greeks. Before Martial, Catullus from the 1^st century BC, reigned as the king of epigrams, often writing about love and hate and the struggles with his relationships. Following Catullus’ inspiration, many writers of the late republic and early empire penned epigrams, but very few of their works have survived. Martial perfected the form, writing to the point and without the weighty mythological similes and allusions so common in Latin lyric and epic poetry. Many of his poems consist of a single couplet with only a few exceeding twenty lines. Most of his epigrams are written in elegiac couplets; a sixth in hendecasyllabics, some 80 are choliambics, a few in iambics and hexameters.

Martial’s first known work was the Liber Spectaculorum, a collection of poems commemorating the opening of the Colosseum in Rome in AD 80. Thirty-six of the poems have survived, most of them praising the emperor Titus and providing valuable information about his inaugural games.

Around 84, Martial published a series of elegiac couplets used as labels on gifts given to friends and guests attending banquets during the Saturnalia. These gifts included food, drinks, clothing, stationary, furniture, toys, artwork, pets, and even slaves. Later, these epigrams would become Books XIII and XIV of his complete collection of Epigrams.

In the ensuing years 86-98, Martial produced eleven volumes of his most famous work of Epigrams. Like all good authors, Martial wrote about the world around him, including the memorable characters and follies he saw every day in the bustling, cosmopolitan streets of Rome. His subject matter includes poignant anecdotes and affections for true friends, acquaintances, admirable heroes from Roman history, faithful wives and slaves, the joys of country life and his Spanish homeland.  He is better known for his commentary on the seedier inhabitants of Rome: fortune-tellers, drunks, lovers, critics, and hypocrites. He also wrote in praise and complaint about his patrons and fellow poets. Finally, as a dutiful client, some of his poems are addressed to the emperor Domitian. They are marked by obvious flattery or overt praise, most likely as a means of insuring preservation and support from the principate.

A large number of Martial’s epigrams are obscene, causing him to preface several of his books with defensive comments and he cites Catullus as a precedent. Perhaps in response to criticism, he dedicated Book V to matronae puerique virginesque and Book VIII has no poems on objectionable subjects. While most of his poems are addressed to an individual, many of the names are probably pseudonyms. He wrote that it was his custom parcere personis, dicere de vitiis = “to spare the people but reveal their vices.”

Around 100, Martial had exhausted his material and tired of Rome. He returned to Bilbilis and settled down comfortably on a farm given to him by a patroness. It was there that he wrote his twelfth book in the winter of 101. While the specific date is not known, Pliny the Younger, in one of his epistles, praises Martial and mentions his death in 104.

SOURCES

Lilian Feder, The Meridian Handbook of Classical Literature. New York: New American Library, 1986.

M. C. Howatson, ed., The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature, 2^nd edition. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.

 

Erotion's Parents

The other day in Latin III, my students asked a question that made me realize something about Martial's poem V.34 about the death of Erotion. The parents of this very young slave are dead.

Hanc tibi, Fronto pater, genetrix Flaccilla, puellam

     oscula commendo deliciasque meas,

parvola ne nigras horrescat Erotion umbras

     oraque Tartarei prodigiosa canis.

Impletura fuit sextae modo frigora brumae,             5

     vixisset totidem ni minus illa dies.

Inter tam veteres ludat lasciva patronos

     et nomen blaeso garriat ore meum.

Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa nec illi,

     terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.                    10

In line 1, there has been mention of the chiasmus that exists in Fronto pater, genetrix Flacilla and how this reflection of word order suggests that the mother and father are facing each other, perhaps consoling each other in their grief. I generally like this suggestion and agree with it, even using this phrase as an excellent example of the poetic device and how it works. What is more interesting to me, though, is the placement of Hanc and puellam at the beginning and ending of the line, completely surrounding her huddled parents. To me this arrangement illustrates that Erotion exists in a world outside her parents. If her parents were alive, wouldn't "this girl" be more comfortable and loved by the placement between her father and mother?

When reading the poem, we do not learn by the persona, presumably Martial, that Erotion has died until the third line. He sets up the image of a sweet girl by mentioning her oscula and delicias until line 3, a jarring revelation when we realize that she, quite young (parvola) will be shuddering at the "dark shadows" which will be surrounding her, quite literally. Notice the arrangement of nigras...umbras physically around the shuddering girl (horrescat Erotion). The whole image is reinforced in line 4 with the realization that she will have to make her way past Cerberus (Tartarei...canis).

Therefore, if Martial is entrusting the care of Erotion to her parents (tibi...commendo, lines 1-2) before she her soul makes the journey to the Underworld, it only logically follows that Fronto and Flacilla are already there, waiting to receive her on the other side.

I think I overlooked this interesting point in the past because I was so eager to get to Martial's "gotcha" at the end of the poem and show my students the poet's poignant conclusion:

Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa nec illi,

     terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.                    10

"Do not let rough sod cover her gentle bones, earth, nor lie heavy upon her; she was not heavy upon you."

Living the Happy Life

I offered this poem to my Latin III students recently. They dutifully translated it, but, as it should be, they did not appreciate the message:

Martial X.47: "Living the Happy Life" Vitam quae faciant beatiorem, Iucundissime Martialis, haec sunt: Res non parta labore, sed relicta; Non ingratus ager, focus perennis; Lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta; Vires ingenuae, salubre corpus; Prudens simplicitas, pares amici; Convictus facilis, sine arte mensa; Nox non ebria, sed soluta curis; Non tristis torus, et tamen pudicus; Somnus, qui faciat breves tenebras: Quod sis, esse velis nihilque malis; Summum nec metuas diem nec optes.

And here is my (somewhat free) translation:

Martial, my good man, these things make for a happier life: stuff not gotten from work, but left to you; a happy garden, always a fire in the stove; never being called to court, a little-used suit, a mind at peace; free-born strength, a healthy body; straight-talking wisdom and friends who feel the same way; modest entertainment, simple food; not partying all night, but free from cares; not sleeping alone, but not around either; dreams which make the night pass quickly: may you want to be who you are and long for nothing; may you neither dread your final day nor look forward to it.

Certainly words of wisdom which could have been typed by anyone seeking to shut out the frenzy of the modern world and not penned by someone over 1,900 years ago.