A Couple of Latin Poems I Wish I Could Tattoo On The Inside of My Children's Eyelids

     My readings from Brevissima have recently included some poems that I wish I could impart to my children - really, that I wish I could have tattooed on their inner eyelids! From The Distichs of Cato (4th century C.E.), 4.29:

Non pudeat, quae nescieris, te velle doceri:

Scire aliquid laus est; culpa est nil discere velle.

Roughly rendered in English:

"There is no shame in wishing to be taught the things you did not know:

It is praiseworthy to know something; it is a fault to with to learn nothing."

     Earlier in the Brevissima, but at least 1100 years later chronologically, there is also this similar poem from Johann Glandorp (1501-1564), Disticha, 76:

Scire aliquid, pulchrum; nil discere velle, pudendum:

Fac igitur discas nocte dieque, puer.

Roughly rendered in English:

"It is beautiful to know something; to wish to learn nothing is a thing of shame:

Therefore make sure you learn night and day, boy."

"Fama Perennis"

     My reading today from Brevissima was #268, "Fama Perennis," from Giuseppe Gatti's Sales Poetici, Proverbiales, et Iocosi (1703). It rather puts me in mind of a bit from the Hávamál, though I rather doubt that Giuseppe Gatti read the Old Norse "Sayings of the High One." The Latin text is as follows:

Transit honos, transit fortuna, pecunia transit

Omnis, sed tantum fama perennis erit.

     Roughly translated into English:

"Honor passes, good luck passes, all wealth passes

Away, but reputation alone will endure through the years."

      It is probably worth noting that honos, "honor," doesn't have the same nebulous, abstract quality in Latin that it does in English. In English, "honor" is almost equivalent to "reputation," or even "virtue." In Latin, it tends to mean the tangible rewards one can earn, or political offices held. So there is less contradiction than there might at first appear in the contrast between "honor passes away" and "reputation endures."
   
     The passage from the Hávamál that seems quite similar to this is as follows in Old Norse:

Deyr fé, deyja frændr,
deyr sjálfur it sama.
Ek veit einn, at aldri deyr;
dómr um dauðan hvern.

"Cattle (wealth) die(s), kinsmen die,

You yourself will die the same.

I know one thing only that never dies:

The reputation earned by each of the dead.

          As I have noted previously on this blog, Gatti's Latin couplets often dwell on the ephemeral nature of gold and glory, and the lasting nature of virtue or the Good. This poem is somewhat unusual in promoting fama, "reputation," as a good thing, whereas the Stoic traditions from which Gatti usually draws tend to view reputation as a thing indifferent, at best. 

A Many Headed Beast: "Populo Servire Difficile"

     My reading from Brevissima today was #266, "Populo Servire Difficile" ("It is Difficult to Serve the People"), from Jean Girard (1518-1586), Stichostratia, 1.68. The Latin text reads:

Qui populo servit, placet ille haud omnibus aeque,

Multorum capitum bestia quod populus.

Roughly translated into English:

"Who serves the people does please everyone at all equally,

For the populace is a beast of many heads."

"Dis Superis Par"

     Today, my reading from Brevissima was #213 from that collection, titled "Dis Superis Par" ("Equal to the Gods Above") by the editor. The poem comes from Urbano Appendini (1777-1834), De Educatione Disticha ("Couplets About Education"). The Latin text reads:

Qui sollers facienda facit vitandaque vitat,

Hunc ego dis superis arbitror esse parem.

     I can relate! Roughly rendered in English, this is:

"An experienced man who does what needs to be done and avoids what must be avoided,

I judge that man to be the equal of the gods above."

     As I stumble through my day as the father of four boys (17, 15, 4, and 2), trying to get even one thing done every day that must be done and trying to avoid parenting perils (in vain, all in vain!), I concede that the thought of anyone who ever gets anything done seems to be the equivalent of being godlike to me . . . 

"Quanto Dignior"

     My daily reading from Brevissima today was #187, "Quanto Dignior," from the Florilegium Gottingense, 109. In the current age of ascendance of the crude, crass, and obnoxious to the highest positions in the land, it struck me as somewhat appropriate:

Quanto dignior es, aut per genus aut per honores,

In te tanto res vitiosae sunt graviores.

Roughly rendered in English:

However much more worthy you are, either by birth or by the positions you've held,

So much more gravely do your vices count against you.

Or, as it was put in Luke 12:48, "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more." Much is required of you when you seek the highest offices in the land. If the voters choose to award such offices to you, you much show yourself worthy . . . a test currently being failed dramatically by the 45th presidential administration and the current Congress. 

"Virtutis Amor, Non Opum Studium"

     My daily reading from Brevissima today is one of those wonderful moralizing pieces that works well as Latin poetry and still seems like sound advice. It is from the French humanist Marcus Antonius Muretus (1526-1585), Juvenilia:

Semper opum studio praefer virtutis amorem;

Non opibus virtus, sed opes virtute parantur.

Roughly rendered into English:

Always put love of virtue before your eagerness for riches;

Virtue is not produced by riches, but riches are prepared by virtue. 

"Gloria Nihil Est"

     My daily reading from Brevissima today was very nice. It was from Giuseppe Gatti, Sales Poetici, Proverbiales, et Iocosi (1703); Gatti wrote a few on similar themes, but this one is quite good:

Est etenim virtus aliquid, nil gloria; sicut

Est aliquid corpus, corporis umbra nihil.

Roughly rendered in English:

As a matter of fact, virtue is something, glory is nothing, just as

A body is something, the shadow of a body is nothing. 

     This seems to be a theme Gatti explored quite a bit - the idea that glory and praise are but the shadow of virtue, and as such, they are nothing in and of themselves.  

"Virtus" (John Owen)

     I rather liked my daily reading from Brevissima this morning - it's #180 in the collection, from John Owen (c. 1564-c.1628), Epigrammata 3.96. The text in Latin is:

Non est in verbis virtus, at rebus inhaeret;

Res sunt, non voces, spes amor atque fides.

Roughly rendered in English:

Virtue is not in words, but it is inherent in things [acts, deeds]

Hope, love, and faith are things [acts, deeds], not words.

The real problem with this one is that while the Latin is clear, the fact that no real English equivalent exists for the Latin noun res - it is most often rendered "thing," but can be anything from "matter," "topic of discussion," "affairs," to stuff like, "the universe," "government," and such. Here, much of the play of meaning hinges on the idea that to the Romans, the act of hoping, loving, or being faithful is every bit as much a concrete thing as a stone, to be contrasted with mere words. That contrast is not as plain in English, in my opinion.  

"Vitam Regit Fortuna, Non Sapientia"

I really enjoyed today's reading from Brevissima. It is #143, given the title "Vitam Regit Fortuna, Non Sapientia" (or "Fortune, Not Wisdom, Rules Life"), from John Owen (c.1564 - c.1628), Epigrammata 12.20:

Caeca dea est rerum rectrix; Fortuna vocatur:

Non minus at caeci, quos dea caeca regit. 

Roughly translated into English:

A blind goddess is the ruler of things; she is called Fortuna;

But they are no less blind, whom the blind goddess rules.

"Quae Scis, Non Dicas"

     I try to read a little Latin every day. I try to include a little prose and a little poetry. At the moment, my prose comes from Quintilian, while my Latin consists of couplets from the collection Brevissima collected and edited by Laura Gibbs. Today's Latin couplet is a piece from Anton Moker's (1540-1605) Decalogus Metricus to which Laura Gibbs attached the title "Quae Scis, Non Dicas" -

Quae scis, non semper dicas; dixisse nocebit:

Scire licet, sed non dicere scita licet.

Roughly:

You should not always say what you know; it will harm you to have spoken:

It is permitted to know some things, but it is not permitted to say what you know. 

I really liked this one. The scansion is simple, the Latin is very clear and direct, and it is the type of gnomic wisdom that sounds good both in Latin and in translation. 

From "The Chancellor" by Reinhold Heidenstein (1553-1620), official Chistorian of the Polish King Stephen Bathory

     A quote from Reinhold Heidenstein (1553-1620), the official historian of the Polish King Stephen Bathory, in his essay Cancellarius sive de dignitate et officio cancellarii regni Poloniae ("The Chancellor; or concerning the dignity and duty of the chancellor of the king of Poland"):

     "Latina lingua tamquam communis omnium gentium Christianarum publico quasi consensu recepta fere ab omnibus est. Repertos tamen aliquando quosdam memini, qui sua etiam lingua ad reges nostros scriberent vicissimque agitatum ut nostra quoque sclavonica eis responderetur, ut cum illi dignitatis gravitatisque suae nimis retinentes viderentur, nos nostrae non omnino etiam neglegentes videremur. Sed maioris partis principum populorumque Christianorum, ut aliis in rebus, ita in hac quoque fortassis consensus spectandus Latinaque orationem utendum."

     "The Latin languages has been accepted by almost everyone as though by public consent as the common tongue of all the Christian peoples. I recall that at times there have been some who wrote to our kings even in their own language and that it was in turn proposed that they seemed too conscious of their own position and importance, we should not seem altogether negligent of our own. But in this, as in other matters, one should look to the agreement of the majority of the Christian rulers and peoples and use Latin."

How quickly things changed, and for the worse!