“My teachers wouldn’t let me quit. And I thank them for it. Wait. Be patient. You’ll see.”

Found in Translation: The Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric of Latin

by Steve Larson (class of 2008)

I was twelve. I entered Mr. Baker’s room in the last hour of my first day at Northfield, and took a seat. In the far left corner of the room was his desk. Above it were two posters, one of the movie Ben-Hur and the other of Gladiator. There were shelves full of Latin texts beside it. On the wall was a quote from Winston Churchill: “...and then I would let the clever ones learn Latin as an honor and Greek as a treat.” However, what caught my eye the most were a bull whip and a pair of boxing gloves, and next to them, a sign saying that Mr. Baker would use these instruments on unruly students. I didn’t yet know he was joking; as a result, I was terrified. Mr. Baker strode into the classroom, gave out the Latin books, and began class. Since that day, I have progressed further than I had imagined possible.

First was grammar, the foundation. Grammar was about as fun as watching grass grow. It was confusing, hard, and boring. I kept confusing the imperative (a command) and the infinitive (“to do” something: “to live,” for example). I had to learn so much, and be able to keep the learned things in my head. After a while, the rote memorization became infuriating. In The Aeneid, Virgil recounts the story of Sisyphus, who was punished by the gods by being forced to roll a heavy stone up a hill for all of eternity. Each time Sisyphus had nearly reached the top, the boulder rushed back down to the bottom. Then he would have to start all over again. I could relate.

Relief began to come, however, in the form of logic. The foundation of grammar had been laid; now the walls of logic could be constructed. Each sentence in Latin, or in English, is like a key, with all sorts of ridges and valleys. Each part of the key has to be perfectly formed, or it won’t work. Here is a sentence: “The girls, having seen a wolf, run toward the villa.” The Latin word for “having seen” is visae. Any other part of speech wouldn’t work. Visura means “about to see.” Visentes means “seeing.” These are only a few of the many ways to get the meaning for “having seen” wrong. It takes both the grammatical knowledge gained by rote and an understanding of the connections of logic to make the key work. And once this key works, the sentence’s meaning can be unlocked.

Finally, I was ready to lay the roof, that which covered all previous knowledge: rhetoric. I have encountered rhetoric through my translation of Virgil’s The Aeneid. Late nights memorizing boring homework assignments and slogging through daily quizzes have all paid off. I now know the rules of Latin, and so now I can comprehend when and why Virgil breaks them for dramatic effect. For example, Virgil uses a device called syncopation, the changing of a word to fit a poem’s meter or rhyme scheme. On line 937 of the ninth book, Virgil writes, “Rutuli somno vinoque soluti conticuere.” This means that “the Rutulans [an ancient Italian tribe] relaxed with sleep and wine.” In the strictest definition, Virgil should have used conticuerunt, not conticuere. If I wasn’t able to catch the use of syncopation, I would’ve thought that conticuere was some weird type of infinitive.

While reading Virgil is entertaining in English, that entertainment reaches a new depth in the original language. When I read Virgil in the Latin, I am immersed in a beauty “ever ancient, ever new.” My mind is engaged by a man who, though dead, lives on in his work. I see his world, where ideas like honor and destiny had a place, where living was harsh, and where all one man, Aeneas, wanted was to give his people a home. Virgil shows me his feelings and thoughts, and I am enriched by them. I am made better by them.

Northfield’s motto is “Nascantur in admiratione”: “Let them be born in wonder.” Latin lets us all be born in wonder through the study and appreciation of the trivium of grammar, logic, and rhetoric. This takes time. I had to study for four years before I could truly comprehend and appreciate Latin. Sometimes it was boring and hard. I wanted to quit Latin many times. It had seemed a dead language to me, but now it is alive in me. My teachers wouldn’t let me quit. And I thank them for it. Wait. Be patient. You’ll see.