Tag: Ennius

A flame in his burning mouth can be suppressed more easily by a wise man than he can hold back witticisms

~ Walter Shandy ~ Leave a comment

Another line from an unidentified tragedy of Ennius, reported by Cicero in De Oratore (2.221):

what is extremely difficult for funny and sharp-tongued men is to take account of people and circumstances and to forego opportunities that arise when something could be said most wittily. And so some humorous men explain this very point not inelegantly. For they say that Ennius says that “a flame in his burning mouth can be suppressed more easily by a wise man than he can hold back witticisms”…

quod est hominibus facetis et dicacibus difficillimum, habere hominum rationem et temporum et ea quae occurrant, cum salsissime dici possunt, tenere. itaque nonnulli ridiculi homines hoc ipsum non insulse interpretantur. dicere enim aiunt Ennium, “flammam a sapiente facilius ore in ardente opprimi, quam bona dicta teneat”…

Philosophandum est, paucis; nam omnino haud placet

~ Walter Shandy ~ Leave a comment

Reported by Aulus Gellius (5.15.9) and from an unidentified tragedy of Ennius – though speculation seems to lean toward Andromache.

When we heard or read these and other similar stimuli to clever and delightful inactivity and did not see in these philosophical problems either some genuine advantage referring to the conduct of life or any purpose to the inquiry, we approved of the Ennian Neoptolemus, who indeed spoke thus:

one must do philosophy, but in moderation; for it does not please completely

hos aliosque talis argutae delectabilisque desidiae aculeos cum audiremus vel lectitaremus neque in his scrupulis aut emolumentum aliquod solidum ad rationem vitae pertinens aut finem ullum quaerendi videremus, Ennianum Neoptolemum probabamus, qui profecto ita ait:

philosophandum est, paucis; nam omnino haud placet

Reminded me of the Proustian Often but a little at a time.

Otio qui nescit uti, plus negoti habet quam cum est negotium in negotio

~ Walter Shandy ~ Leave a comment

A passage from one of Ennius’ plays, reported by Aulus Gellius (19.10.11). The translation here – from the Loeb Fragmentary Republican Latin v.2 – goes as far to capturing the wordplay of the original as possible. Curiously, the passage is cited for a rare word at the end, not the tongue-twister.

And here Iulius Celsinus1 called attention to the fact that also in Ennius’ tragedy that is entitled Iphigeneia this very word that was being investigated [praeterpropter, “more or less”] had been written and was normally spoiled rather than explained by grammarians. Therefore he ordered Ennius’ Iphigeneia to be brought forward immediately. We read the following verses written in a chorus of this tragedy:

He who does not know how to use otium [“leisure”]
has more negotium [“work”] than in negotium [“when occupied”] when there is negotium [“work”].
For he, for whom what he should do is arranged, does this, he devotes himself to this with no negotium [“difficulty”] at all,
therein he delights his intellect and mind;
in otiosum otium [“leisurely leisure”] the mind does not know what it wants.
This is the same: look, we are now neither at home nor on campaign:
we go here, then there; when one has gone there, it pleases to move from there.
The mind wanders doubtfully; one lives a life more or less.

As soon as this was read, Fronto then said to the grammarian, who was already wavering: “Did you hear, greatest master, that your Ennius used praeterpropter [“more or less”] and indeed with the kind of meaning for which the criticisms of philosophers tend to be most serious? We are therefore seeking—do tell us—since an Ennian word is now being investigated, what the deep sense of this line is: ‘the mind wanders doubtfully; one lives a life more or less.’”

atque ibi Iulius Celsinus admonuit in tragoedia quoque Enni, quae Iphigenia inscripta est, id ipsum, de quo quaerebatur [i.e., “praeterpropter”], scriptum esse et a grammaticis contaminari magis solitum quam enarrari. quocirca statim proferri Iphigeniam Q. Enni iubet. in eius tragoediae choro inscriptos esse hos versus legimus:

otio qui nescit uti,
plus negoti habet quam cum est negotium in negotio.
nam cui, quod agat, institutum est, non ullo negotio
id agit, id studet, ibi mentem atque animum delectat suum;
otioso in otio animus nescit quid velit.
hoc idem est; em neque domi nunc nos nec militiae sumus:
imus huc, hinc illuc; cum illuc ventum est, ire illinc lubet.
incerte errat animus, praeterpropter vitam vivitur.

hoc ubi lectum est, tum deinde Fronto ad grammaticum iam labentem “audistine,” inquit “magister optime Ennium tuum dixisse ‘praeterpropter’ et cum sententia quidem tali, quali severissimae philosophorum esse obiurgationes solent? petimus igitur, dicas, quoniam de Enniano iam verbo quaeritur, qui sit remotus huiusce versus sensus: ‘incerte errat animus, praeterpropter vitam vivitur.’”


O Tite, tute, Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne, tulisti

~ Walter Shandy ~ 1 Comment

Some alliterative bombs of Ennius’, from the Loeb Fragmentary Republican Latin v.1. In the unlikely event I ever teach Latin again I will keep this first in my pocket for memorably illustrating vocatives.

From Rhetorica ad Herennium (4.18):

Artistic composition is an arrangement of words that makes every part of the discourse equally polished. It will be maintained if we avoid the frequent clash of vowels . . . and if we shun excessive repetition of the same letter, for which fault this verse will be an example—for here nothing prevents using examples from the faults of others:

you, O Titus Tatius, tyrant, took on yourself such great troubles

compositio est verborum constructio quae facit omnes partes orationis aequabiliter perpolitas. ea conservabitur si fugiemus crebras vocalium concursiones . . . et si vitabimus eiusdem litterae nimiam adsiduitatem, cui vitio versus hic erit exemplo—nam hic nihil prohibet in vitiis alienis exemplis uti:

O Tite, tute, Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne, tulisti

And Priscian

In nominationes, i.e., in onomatopoeia, whether of nouns or verbs, with unusual forms not every inflectional ending should be looked for as . . . taratantara. Ennius:

and the trumpet with terrifying tone sounded taratantara

Compare Servius on Virgil, “and the trumpet a terrifying tone . . .”: a half-line of Ennius, for he [Virgil] changed what follows. He [Ennius], to bring out the trumpet’s tone, says “it sounded taratantara.”

in nominationibus, id est in ὀνοματοποιία, sive nominum seu verborum novis conformationibus non omnes declinationis motus sunt quaerendi ut . . . taratantara. Ennius:

at tuba terribili sonitu taratantara dixit

Cf. Serv. ad Verg. Aen. 9.503 “at tuba terribilem sonitum”: hemistichium Ennii. nam sequentia iste mutavit. ille enim ad exprimendum tubae sonum ait “taratantara dixit.”

Looking for gold (and pearls) in the dung

~ Walter Shandy ~ 1 Comment

From Donatus’ Life of Vergil (Vita Vergiliana 71 and taken from a lost Suetonian vita):

Once when he [Virgil] held Ennius in his hand and was asked what he was doing, he replied that he was gathering gold from Ennius’ dung, for this poet has outstanding ideas buried under not very polished words.

cum is aliquando Ennium in manu haberet rogareturque quidnam faceret, respondit se aurum colligere de stercore Ennii. habet enim poeta ille egregias sententias sub verbis non multum ornatis.

Similarly reported in Cassiodorus (Inst. 1.1.8):

To whom [Origen] that too could conveniently be applied, namely what Virgil, while reading Ennius, answered when asked by someone what he was doing: “I am looking for gold in the dung.”

cui et illud convenienter aptari potest quod Vergilius, dum Ennium legeret, a quodam quid ageret inquisitus, respondit: aurum in stercore quaero.

The phrase seems to have become at least semi-proverbial in antiquity, though apparently without a crystallized form. In late antiquity it morphed into an occasional reference image for christians reading christian-heretical (or non-christian) works. The best instance in this vein is Saint Jerome’s famous letter 107, A Girl’s Education (De Institutione Filiae). Note the softening from stercus to lutum.

Let her avoid all the apocryphal books, and if she ever wishes to read them, not for the truth of their doctrines but out of respect for their wondrous tales, let her realize that they are not really written by those to whom they are ascribed, that there are many faulty elements in them, and that it requires great skill to look for gold in mud.

Caveat omnia apocrypha et, si quando ea non ad dogmatum veritatem, sed ad signorum reverentiam legere voluerit, sciat non eorum esse, quorum titulis praenotantur, multaque his admixta vitiosa et grandis esse prudentiae aurum in luto quaerere.

In another lesser known letter (98) that is rather a translation of correspondence sent to Jerome by Theophilus of Alexandria we find an interesting expanded variant:

Therefore those who delight in Origen’s errors should not despise the preaching of the Lord’s feast. Nor should they seek ointments, gold and pearls in the mire.

unde, qui Origenis erroribus delectantur, festivitatis dominicae non spernant praeconia nec unguenta, aurum et margaritas quaerant in luto.

Whether originating with Theophilus or reflecting a variant phrasing, I’ve found this version with pearls making a couple of later appearances. First is a letter of Marsilio Ficino’s from 1457 (in Kristeller’s Supplementum ad Ficinum II.82 but recalled from a footnote in Arthur Fields’ The Origins of the Platonic Academy of Florence):

You are happy in the midst of calamities. Fear does not make you lose heart; sadness excruciates not; pleasure does not corrupt nor desire inflame. In the thickest thorns you gather delicate and fair flowers, from dung you extract pearls, in the deepest darkness you see, impeded and held by chains you run like one who is free.

Felicem te puto . . . qui in mediis quoque calamitatibus sis beatus, quem nec metus exanimat nec dolor excruciat nec voluptas corrumpit nec libido inflammat, qui inter densissimas spinas molles ac candidos flores legas, qui ex putrido stercore margaritas eruas atque effodias, qui in profundis tenebris videas, qui compedibus gravatus et vinculis circumstrictus velut liber solutusque percurras.

Fields’ translation doesn’t follow Ficino’s exaggerated style in qualifying stercus as putridus (rotten, decayed) and doubling the verbal action with eruo (dig or pluck out) and effodio (dig out, unearth). There’s of course no way of knowing whether Ficino is here intentionally splicing the variants (with a possible added recollection of a phrase from Plautus’ Casina – ex sterculino effosse / dug from a dung-heap) or is recalling an earlier intermediary source that had already done the same.

A similar curious blend comes from a minor work of Blaise Pascal (Entretien avec M. de Saci sur Epictete et Montaigne – A Conversation with M. de Saci on Epictetus and Montaigne) where we see the aurum ex stercore version referenced as Jerome’s (presumably) and glossed with pearls (perles):

M. de Saci could not refrain from testifying to M. Pascal that he was surprised to see how well he knew how to interpret things; but he acknowledged at the same time that every one had not the secret of making on these readings such wise and elevated reflections. He told him that he was like those skilful physicians, who by an adroit method of preparing the most deadly poisons knew how to extract from them the most efficacious remedies. He added, that though he saw clearly, from what he had just said, that these readings were useful to him, he could not believe however that they would be advantageous to many people of slow intellect, who would not have elevation of mind enough to read these authors and judge of them, and to know how to draw pearls from the midst of the dunghill, aurum ex stercore, as said one of the Fathers. This could be much better said of these philosophers, the dunghill of whom, by its black fumes, might obscure the wavering faith of those who read them. For this reason he would always counsel such persons not to expose themselves lightly to these readings, for fear of being destroyed with these philosophers, and of becoming the prey of demons and the food of worms, according to the language of the Scripture, as these philosophers have been.

M. de Saci ne put s’empêcher de témoigner à M. Pascal qu’il était surpris comment il savait tourner les choses, mais il avoua en même temps que tout le monde n’avait pas le secret comme lui de faire des lectures des réflexions si sages et si élevées. Il lui dit qu’il ressemblait à ces médecins habiles qui, par la manière adroite de préparer les plus grands poisons, en savent tirer les plus grands remèdes. Il ajouta que, quoiqu’il vît bien, parce qu’il venait de lui dire, que ces lectures lui étaient utiles, il ne pouvait pas croire néanmoins qu’elles fussent avantageuses à beaucoup de gens dont l’esprit se traînerait un peu, et n’aurait pas assez d’élévation pour lire ces auteurs et en juger, et savoir tirer les perles du milieu du fumier aurum ex stercore, disait un Père. Ce qu’on pouvait bien plus dire de ces philosophes, dont le fumier, par sa noire fumée, pouvait obscurcir la foi chancelante de ceux qui les lisent. C’est pourquoi il conseillerait toujours à ces personnes de ne pas s’exposer légèrement à ces lectures, de peur de se perdre avec ces philosophes et de devenir l’objet des démons et la pâture des vers, selon le langage de l’Écriture, comme ces philosophes l’ont été.