New Home

Not in Toronto anymore

I arrived in Rome after an eight hour flight yesterday without any major problems. I didn't post because I didn't have internet access when I got back, but now I do, so I guess I'm back to the usual daily diary.

Today there was a welcoming something or other at the Salesianum for new students. Yes, of course I went. It was all pretty much pleasant and worthwhile, and I was particularly pleased when about 10 minutes if not more of our time was devoted to profiling the moral conduct of a student of the university!

What, do you actually have expectations other than academic; do you mean to imply that the true development of the intellect goes hand hand with moral development? That, dare I say it, a virtuous life is both a requisite for and consequence of authentic academic activity? I was especially pleased when the professor speaking affirmed the university's right to have expectations of its students, since coming here was a free choice. My my, I said to myself, how every different from the Bestia Torontonensis, that mostly sad period of my life I am glad to have left behind.

Spread the word: parents should send their kids to school in Rome. The education (by that I mean a complete education of the person, not just a brain) is far superior, and all things considered, it is probably slightly cheaper too if you have to pay for residence anyway.

First day of classes tomorrow. Good bye for now.

Last Day in Rome

Served at Mass today again; made more mistakes than last time; being less nervous I was probably also less careful.

Last day in Rome; forgot to throw a coin into the Trevi.

O well.

Busy Day

Today I spent the whole day looking about. On the itinerary were:

The Circus Maximus (best seen from the north west side)
Santa Anastasia (great relic chapel)
San Giorgio in Velabro (& and the funny looking arch of Janus)
Santa Maria in Cosmedin (really neat choir)
Santa Sabina (very beautiful choir and apse)
Sant' Alessio (awesome relic chapel of the stairs where he was martyred)
St. Peter's through a key hole
Sant' Anselmo (very beautiful church, who cares if it was "only" built in 1900; freakish new age music playing in store, couldn't get out fast enough)
Santa Prisca (rather faded)
Long walk along the Parco della resistenza (filthy, and full of non-euro bums; not that I like any sort of hobbos, but at least the Italian, Romanian, and Gypsy beggars fit in, and look like models for a 17th century landscape)
Porta San Paolo (the most beautiful gate, as far as I am concerned, is the Porta Pia, especially because of the inscription)
The pyramid (rather ho-hum)
A long walk along via Marmorata (completely devoid of character and charm)
Ponte Sublicio (this is not one of the better views of the Tiber)
The Great Port of Ripa (where is it??)
San Francesco (incredible church! Bernini altar! Incorrupt saint asleep beneath a side altar!)
Santa Cecilia (this was supposed to be the highlight of my trip, but an American banshee in a "modified" benedictine habit was exceedingly rude to me, and did not allow me to venerate St. Cecilia.)
Dinner (another more decently priced restaurant in Trastevere discovered)
Home.
I am back in Toronto this Monday afternoon for a whole week. See you there.

Mass trumps museum--almost.

So I am glad I went to the final day of class, because we had a nice farewell for the teachers, who are in their late twenties, so we all became friends. My class bought our teacher as a farewell/gag gift the three things that superstitious Italians will never give each other, and the magazine he dislikes most. We ended up playing pictionary in Italian the rest of the morning.

Then there was an overly ceremonious presentation of the diplomas in the chapel, followed by the "ordinary" form of Mass, celebrated "extraordinarily" badly. ***WARNING: skip the rest of this paragraph if you do not wish to be subjected to a prolonged rant on the liturgy***For some reason, we got three sermons. Though the Mass was concelebrated by about 50 priests (or perhaps fewer, since who knows how far is too far from the altar before one is no longer able to consecrate,) the main celebrant was the assistant "Magnificent Rector", who couldn't put down the microphone after the sign of the cross and gave us a 10 minute sermon complete with warm up joke before the kyrie (which was sung after it was recited, thereby surpassing even the 9 repetitions of the old Mass), which was followed by another 10 minute sermon in the usual place, but not in the usual manner, as he actually addressed people in the audience congregation, asking them questions, and after he got that minor detail out of the way (i.e. the consecration, which is always Eucharistic prayer II, and as if this doesn't atrophy the most important part Mass enough timewise, they also had no time to consume the precious blood after communion or purify the vessels, all of which were shipped off to the sacristy, where I can only presume the proper magic rituals were observed,) his Assistant Magnificence incorporated another 10 minute sermon at the end of Mass, in a most ingenious way never before seen by me, adlibbing to the postcommunion prayer, in order to turn it into a segue for his "closing thoughts." I do hope that the previous run-on sentence sufficiently conveyed my emotional state at the time, which was also exacerbated by the freakishly bad cantor, who both sang off key, and played the fake organ off tempo. [END OF LITURGICAL RANT]

Yay. After all that, I decided on not going to San Gregorio, since I had already been to Mass, and spent two rather hurried hours at the Palazzo Altemps until I was kicked out when it closed. I definitely need to go back at length, there were simply too many things I didn't get to look at properly, but at least I now know where they are. I also stopped to pray a bit at the palace chapel (thankfully it was empty) since it has a splendid collection of relics. I simply do not understand why the Vatican hasn't removed all the relics and deconsecrated the place. Relics should not be in museums! It is scandalous to have to pay to go see them!

Despite all my grumbling, perhaps God does love me, if only a little. Proof? Well apart from not dropping dead suddenly and going off to my deserved eternal reward (no doubt a hot one), He opened up for me something not normally seen! I was chatting with the girl at the reception, asking about volunteer opportunities at Roman museums as I was being kicked out, when I mentioned it was a pity that the Teatro Goldoni, a theatre in the palace built in 1575, and therefore one of the oldest private theatres in the city, had been closed for "restoration" for so long. I asked when it would reopen; she said it wouldn't for the time being, and then she asked if I wanted to see it! I said yes, of course, so she went off to get a key, and she then took me through bits of the palace I would otherwise not see, and I got to visit the theatre. To be honest, it isn't really such a great pity that the place is closed, but the thrill of going somewhere were most people are not allowed is not to be missed!

What do you think?

After Mass today, I went out to have a drink with Fadi and three of his friends. In other news, the Italian classes are done. I wish I could skip the “end of class Mass” tomorrow and the reception to follow, advertised as an “agape,” but I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to do so. My dilemma is that my combined ticket for the national collection of art runs out tomorrow, and I still haven’t visited Palazzo Altemps and the Crypta Balbi that are included in the ticket. O what to do, what to do? Have a fabulous time at the museums, or a dubious one at an “ordinary” Mass (sorry, couldn’t help myself) and ingest (probably mediocre) food? What to do, what to do? Suggestions in the comment box are welcome.

Livia's dinning room

Today I spent more than four hours at the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, where the national collection of antiquities is housed. It would be impossible for me to list everything that impressed me, because in effect it all did. There are a few pieces which particularly stand out in my memory still. The statue of a Niobid on the ground floor, and the two bronzes of a boxer at rest and a prince in the room beside it. There was a very good Roman copy of Myron’s discobolus on the first floor, and in the same room there were two other very beautiful statues, one of a girl holding a dish, possibly performing some religious rite, and the other was of a crouching Aphrodite. In the room of the deities, I was most impressed by a seated Thetis, and a satyr playing a flute.

The next room held some very amazing bronzes, that came from the two palace ships found in lake Nemi. According to literary sources Caligula had built two “floating palaces” which had sunk in lake Nemi close to an imperial villa. Since the time of the renaissance, the ships were searched for in vain, to the point that the “ships of lake Nemi” sort of became the Italian version of the Loch Ness monster. But guess what, Mussolini had the lake partially drained and the remains of two huge hulls were found in 1932. They were placed in a specially built museum by the lake, but sadly, the retreating Nazi forces decided to set fire to the place, and nothing remains except the bronzes kept in this room.

The same floor had two very impressive sarcophagi, one depicting a battle between Romans and barbarians, the other a procession of senators, with a very bewildered looking boy at the head of the procession.

The second floor is completely devoted to mosaics and frescos. If your husband was the most powerful and richest man in the world, in fact, if he ruled the world, and you could have absolutely anything material you could ever desire, how would you decorate your dinning room? These questions were running through my head as I stepped into Livia’s triclinium. First impressions are such a precious thing. I can’t describe what a masterpiece this room is, or the feelings and sensations it evoked. I also felt like I was getting a very private insight of the first Roman Empress.

Barberini Palace, again

This evening I went to the Barberini palace, (to the museum, not to sleep over.) There was much to see, and it all pleased me exceedingly, especially the Caravaggios. Above all else, however, was Pietro da Cortona’s ceiling. I have never had the privilege to look up at something so remarkable. I don’t think there is a better ceiling fresco in all of Rome, the Sistine chapel excluded since it is something so unique it cannot be compared to anything else.

Speeling erorrs

In the late afternoon I went to St. Peters, because I had been told it was less of a zoo at that time. Indeed, it was less of a zoo. How easy and formulaic it would be for me to write about the glories of the baroque and the follies of the touring crowds at the tomb of the prince of the Apostles, so instead, I think I should devote some time to the original purpose for this blog.

Inscriptions—they are all over the place. I have noticed that very many of them have “HEIC” which might prove confusing to some. EI is a Republican convention for marking the long vowel I. Other means employed in ancient inscriptions are doubling the vowel, and writing it in slightly taller capitals. It wasn’t revived by the humanists as a mere fad, however, but as an aid to reading; whereas hic (with a short I) means “this man”, heic, or hic (with a long I) means “here.’ If you didn’t before, now you know.

Not everything you see on an inscription is always spelled correctly. Above St. Helena’s statue ‘neath St. Peter’s dome is an inscription relating that the holy cross was discovered “ab Helena imperatrixe”, by the Empress Helena. I have no idea why that x is there, as the common orthography is imperatrice. Pope Urban VIII, who erected the statue and chapel, was no mean Latin scholar either. What is going on? An aesthetic consideration? Did the secretary dictating the Pope’s text to the stonemason have a lisp?

Some inscriptions are less of a mystery. I saw the following graffito today: “F**K SCOOL.” (sic) I have, of course, edited the four letter expletive. I was arrested by the irony of the inscription for a few moments, contemplating that if this poor individual had stayed in school he might be able to spell (though that is no guarantee under the present dispensation), and, very likely, would find no need to vandalise ancient monuments.

Yes, I know that a graffito is not an inscription, but I do believe that it is the same instinct alive in present day Romans to scrawl their names and opinions all over the city, as that which led their ancestors to do the same in stone. Unfortunately, the Romans of today are not gifted with an education and aesthetic sensibility equal to their forefathers’.

Wax on my head

As some of you may have noticed, I stopped writing journal entries over a week ago. Someone wrote to me asking whether it was as boring for me to write the journal as it was for said person to read it….be that as it may, I received a telephone call (which trumps a mere e-mail) from another friend, whose advice was to ignore bad counsel.

Alright, so I am back to telling you what I did during the day.
This morning I made my happy way to Mass, delighted at the prospect of another high Mass. (As you can well imagine, the Mass on the 14th was extra solemn.) Indeed everything was set up in the church for such a celebration, and as I settled into my pew, leafing through my Liber and missal, the last thing I expected was for Fr. Gerard to ask me to serve because they were short one body. “Umm but Father, I’ve never--” but by then I was already in the sacristy, someone handing me a cassock and surplice, and Chris, the master of ceremonies, giving me first & last minute instructions. Thankfully, most of it consisted in “And just do what Maurizio on your right does.” I was only slightly panicked, but then the celebrant said “30 seconds!” and Chris: “Now the only difficult thing you must remember is---” and then the bell chimed, and for some reason, I found myself vested in cassock and surplice, holding a candle I forgot to light (somebody fixed this problem just as I was leaving the sacristy) in the procession towards the altar.

To me it seemed that Mass was over in no time, and I only managed to mess things up occasionally, like when I got tangled in my cassock when genuflecting and I spilled hot wax on my head (which I was still picking out of my hair over lunch,) or when I was asked to stand in front of the thurifer, I should have presumed it meant to stand facing him so I could hold the thurible open, not with my back to him facing the altar….
Well, that was Mass. After that I went to piazza del Popolo as I had planned, but my mood was immediately ruined because some silly basketball event was being held, and nonsense muzack was blaring, ruining what would have been a beautiful afternoon. I quickly made my way to Santa Maria del Popolo, but Mass was being celebrated, so I left rather quickly only after a cursory glance about, not wishing to play tourist during the sacred mysteries. The twin churches were open, but they are a particular rare case where the outside is far better looking than the inside. My destination was the palazzo Doria-Pamphili, so I walked down the Corso.

San Carlo is a particularly good example of a church that looks rather bland on the outside (in Rome, in comparison to everything else I mean) and is the apogee of bad taste on the inside. What can I describe it as? The Baroque gone bad? (And you know how difficult it is for me to say that, since I adore the baroque) A cheap opera stage set? I have never come across anything I found so dreadfully appalling that wasn’t made in the 20th century. Could we please let in the “spirit of Vatican II” into this one church and whitewash the whole thing?? Just this once??? The transept altars were beautiful and something totally different; the heart of St Charles Borromeo that is in a chapel behind the high altar is the only reason why I might return here.

I spent about two and a half hours in the Palazzo Doria-Pamphili. It has a very good audio guide of the collection, narrated by one of the Doria-Pamphili, who still live in the palace. There are wonderful state rooms, and very many amazing paintings, my two favourite being the Caravaggios. Several paintings of Eden and the four elements by Bruegel the elder were also fascinating in their details. The chapel was also quite stunning, not the least because the entire bodies of two early martyrs are propped up on couches, dressed in fine clothes with jewels and garlands of flowers. The collection of antique statues is not very exciting, but I was especially captivated by a sleeping baby Hercules, complete with mini club and lion skin.

Finally, some more pictures

Happy Feast of our Lady’s Nativity. In the morning I went to Trastevere, to our Lady’s Church there, which was one of the original parishes in Rome even before Christianity was legal, and to St. Chrisogonus, which has a very nice collection of relics (in a chapel!) and the incorrupt body of Blessed Ana Maria Taigi. Of course I prayed for my mom at her tomb, it seemed very appropriate. I wasn’t able to get to the Corsini palace in time, (it closes at 1), so I went to the botanic gardens after lunch like I had planned after going to the palace. It was very refreshing to walk about the garden, and I spent an hour under a shady tree reading Hibbert’s (sorry, not Herbert’s) Rome. It is an excellent book, which I really recommend, especially to any fans of H.V Morton out there.
After the garden I went up the Janiculum to discover some astonishing views of Rome below. The sight was even better than from the top of St. Peter’s. I also went to San Pietro in Montorio, but couldn’t look around much because of a wedding, but really contented myself with visiting the spot where St. Peter was martyred, and where Bramante built a little temple to adorn the place. There is a hole in the floor that lets you look down to the crypt below where the precise spot is covered with glass. I then discovered that it is possible to go around the back and down to the crypt, (but not go in) so I was able to get a better view. I also went to the Acqua Paola, where the view of Rome is magnificent. I came down after that, deciding to explore the very top of the hill, San Pancrazio and the villa Doria Pamphili some other time.
On my way to San Gregorio for Mass, I walked along the via Julia. I liked the facade of San Giovanni dei Fiorentini, and of course the dome, but there is something about the inside that left me cold. I don’t know, but I had a weird feeling in the place, despite the fact that they have a nice altar to St. Philip Neri. The altar cross is a reliquary of a wooden cross that used to belong to him. Met several new people at San Gregorio today, and it was confirmed that there would be a sung Mass on the 14, and maybe even a solemn High Mass. I am really looking forward to it.

White Night

Went to school. Finished my novena at Santa Maria Maggiore. I had a vague plan to go to the palace of the Knights of Malta for a guided tour tonight; it along with many other churches, palaces, and museums are open until the wee hours of the morn for “la notte biancha” or “white night.” Unfortunately, I could not find anyone to suffer my company, and not wishing to roam the streets of Rome alone at night (not that I would be all alone, the event is supposedly quite popular,) I decided to stay at home instead. I had a modest dinner in celebration of our Lady’s Nativity. No plans for tomorrow. Not sure what to do (apart from learning Italian, of course.)

Night at the Barberini palace

This morning it was school and novena as usual. In the evening, after Mass at San Gregorio, I finally met a friend of Brother Michael of the Toronto Oratory, Fadi, with whom I had been corresponding over e-mail for a little while. He also brought along his friend Eric, and we had a very nice evening over at Fadi’s apartment, drinking Chianti, eating goat cheeses, and talking about silly things, like the Mohammedan threat and Islamification of Europe, and important things like Herbert’s Rome (a book I have to guy) and Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater. It was very refreshing to spend some time with civilised people. I have a curfew over at where I live, and it’s on a subway line that closes at 9 p.m., so I wasn’t able to get back to the residence on time. Erik has a pretty large apartment and an extra bed, so he kindly offered me to stay. He lives in the last bit of the Barberini palace which the last bit of this once powerful family hasn’t sold off to the Italian state. I am told that the Principessa Barberini, the head of the family, lives in frescoed splendour two or three floors up from where I stayed.

Today

School, novena, and Mass at the usual places.

Be good if you can

School today; I have been moved to the advanced class. We had to do an exercise with the subjunctive (called the conjunctive in Italian) and reported speech. We were using a handout that goes with our textbook titled “Che chosa pensano gli stranieri degli Italiani”? (What do foreigners think about Italians?) Here is proof that I am not the only one with less than generous opinions:

“Che schifo! Non c’e mai una strada pulita”
“Che maleducati! Non rispettano mai il turno nelle code”
“Ma perche urlano sempre e parlano tutti insieme?”

We also watched a rather nice film (in Italian) on the life of St. Philip Neri titled “State buoni se potete.” (Be good if you can.) I thought it was a good film, but I would be very interested in an Oratorian’s opinion about it. The Kelly library should definitely buy it.

Then I went to Mass at San Gregorio. I got there early, and a priest began to say a private Mass, so I in fact attended twice. Well, three times, since Mass was also being said this morning in the Borghese chapel when I went to say my rosary for the novena. What a weird city; I would never go three times to Mass in one day in Toronto, but here it just happens quite naturally.

Same as usual

Nothing new to report. Said my rosary at St. Mary Major. Went to Mass at San Gregorio offered by a visiting priest, a friend of Fr. Gerard. I didn't quite catch his name. New server today, a seminarian from the North American College. Must go to bed now.

Capitoline Museums

Today I went to Mass at San Gregorio at the usual morning hour. Afterwards I was invited by Fr. Gerard to have lunch with him and two other people who attended Mass that morning. We agreed to meet at noon by Maderno’s fountain in St. Peter’s square, in case the Pope were home (he wasn’t) and said the Angelus. Pop quiz: Which fountain in St. Peter’s square is by Maderno and which one is by Bernini? Submit your answer to the comment box—and no cheating!

Between the end of Mass and the scheduled meeting at St. Peter’s, I went to St. Mary Major for my novena. High Mass was being offered at the high altar, so not only were all the side chapels locked, but all access to the Borghese chapel was cordoned off. There was no way for me to get even remotely close to the gates, so I said my rosary in front of the Regina Pacis instead. I presume our Lady did not mind. It is a very impressive statue, and the artist was able to portray our Lady both as motherly and protective in the way she clutches with her right arm the Christ child to her bosom, who looks eager to jump off her lap to offer the olive twig in his hand, and very strong, in the way she lifts up her left hand, as if she could stop a bullet or a daemon, or anything evil.

We said the angelus at noon in St. Peter’s, and then we went to have lunch at a Chinese restaurant close to Santi Apostoli. I got to meet a very nice Hungarian girl, Agnes, who was visiting Rome one last time because she is entering a Carmel when she goes back to the U.S. For the first time it became clear to me what a great sacrifice these women make when they choose to be cloistered.

After lunch I went to the Capitoline museums. I spent nearly five hours in there, without really knowing it. There were so many great things to see, but what was really exciting and new for me, since I have never seen it even in a book, was to visit the Tabularium, (more or less the state archives of the Roman Republic and Empire) which has only recently been reopened. There is an incredible view of the forum from the Tabularium, and I did indeed regret not bringing my camera. There were a couple of disappointments: the Lupa has been moved from her traditional room to a brand new (and distinctively ugly) atrium built for the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius. The Capitoline Venus had bird doo doo or something else on her head, and many fruit flies buzzing around, which I thought was a great pity.

Shall I conclude this entry by recording some of the horrors perpetrated by the masses of fools that roam about this city? (There really should be some sort of entrance exam rather than passport check at the airport. Anybody who doesn’t demonstrate a minimum amount of knowledge of Classics and Catholicism should be sent back to wherever he came from.) In the Sala di Annibale, in the Palazzo dei Conservatori, where the oldest frescoes in the building are found, a Chinese man in his 20s actually reached out, and not only touched the wall, but proceeded to rub his (no doubt dirty) hand in circles over it. This continued for several seconds until a museum guard caught him. In that new atrium I was talking about, where the gilded statue of Hercules has also been moved, a Spanish woman decided to get her picture taken, while hugging the statue’s leg. In the courtyard of the Palazzo Nuovo, a statue of a fawn was splashed all over the face and torso (and the wall too) with some sort of black sticky stuff that looked an awful lot like dried Coca Cola. These people are a plague, and should be dealt with accordingly.

Laundry Day

Today there was no school, instead, a lot of sleeping on my part. I didn’t get up until 9, and then the whole day basically vanished. I had to go do laundry, and that sucked up all my time until 2.

Some good news is that I finally discovered a decently priced place to eat, and it is right across from my residence.

Then I went to St. Mary Major for day three of the novena. Halfway through my rosary everybody was kicked out of the Borghese chapel. I tried to get an explanation, but the rude man locking the gates was not very forthcoming, and muttered something about Mass starting. Well, I knelt at the locked gates and continued saying my rosary regardless. No Mass had begun by the time I left about 15 minutes later, and in any case, I don’t see what Mass at the High altar has anything to do with what people do in the side chapels.

I spent over an hour in the basilica museum. Lots of wonderful things to see, but I was very bothered by the fact that the reliquaries were all on display as well. It is exceedingly inappropriate. Besides, what if somebody wants to venerate the relics, does he have to cough up 4 euros for the privilege? The current arrangement is problematic at best. I was almost tempted to photograph them, because I have never come across pictures of these important relics before, but decided not to.

Finally I went to Mass at San Gregorio. We said the litany of our Lady and sang the Salve Regina after the votive Mass to the Immaculate Heart because today was first Saturday.

First visitor from Toronto

This morning I went to say a rosary at Santa Maria Maggiore for day two of the novena for our Lady’s birthday.

After school ( I am being moved to the advanced class on Monday) I went to Santa Maria in Via.

In case you are not familiar with the legend: in the 13th century, a well in the palace of a Cardinal (where the church is presently) began to overflow abundantly, and the waves of water brought to the surface a stone, on which was an image of our Lady. The whole thing being miraculous, (stones do not normally float on water,) droves of people flocked to see it, and soon enough cures were reported. The contemporary Pope approved the whole business, the Cardinal was out of a home, the palace was demolished, and the present church was built. It was later rebuilt during the early 16th century.

The well is still active, and the image of our Lady has been enthroned above an altar. It is the first side chapel on the epistle-side as you come in. Little cups of water from the holy well are offered to pilgrims. It was very cool and refreshing. I must declare that I really enjoy this earthy sort of Catholicism I’ve discovered in Rome. Where ever one goes in this city, magnificent churches, relics, legends, and cups of water (or similar things) are found to inspire devotion. I don’t think I could ever go back to the insipid Canadian version, with our sterile churches, and general incredulity even towards the de Fide articles of the Faith.

After Mass at San Gregorio I met up with a former professor from U of T, Dr. Toporoski. He invited me to have dinner with him, (which was frugal, well in keeping with his character,) but the conversation very abundant, very pleasant as always. I took a picture right before we said goodbye as proof of the chance encounter.

Feast of St. Rose

Today there are several things to talk about.


First, the Italian word of the day is: "Boh!" Almost identical to the Anglo-Saxon shrug of the shoulders or "I dunno", it runs the risk of becoming my favourite Italian word.


This morning I went to St. Mary Major for the start of the novena for the feast of our Lady's Nativity. I said a rosary before the Salus Populi Romani.


In school I had to write out a joke in Italian, because I am constantly finishing my assignments before everybody else, and the teacher doesn't want me to twiddle my thumbs. Not being a funny person, I had to rely, instead, on a joke that Noel told me once before. If you are curious ask him to tell you the Angelus joke. To my relief, almost everybody laughed, which means that Catholicism is not yet dead everywhere and some people out there still know this great prayer. The teacher also said I might be moved to the advanced class. We'll see what happens.

After school I went to and prayed at the altar of St. Rose of Lima in Santa Maria sopra Minerva, because August 30 is the Feast of St. Rose both in the old calendar and, more importantly, in Lima and Latin America. I was saying the office, trying to mind my business, but an old fool who thought that the south aisle was his office decided to make a very noise call over his cell. A bleary eyed Dominican sitting by the bookstall neither said nor did a thing.

Now, don't kid yourselves. The only reason why I restrained myself from verbally trussing, skewering and slowly roasting the man for so long is not that I have recently received some special grace, but that my command of the Italian language is not yet sufficient for me to say all that I would have said in English in Toronto.

But when the man's odious gurgles had reached a crescendo, my eyes fell upon the following verse in my breviary: "Tabescere me fecit zelus meus, quia obliti sunt verba tua inimici mei," and leaving aside all shame over my defective command of Italian I looked straight at the man and hissed "Basta!" and I know not what else, and then gave the placidly-bovine Dominican staring into outer space a piece of my mind also.

I finished my office as well as I could, and still in quite the mood, no doubt adding years to my purgatory by the second, I went to look for a MacDonald's so I could do there the only thing that the place is good for....(I have been warned by a friend that his mother might read this so I trust the reference was sufficiently oblique.)

Then Mass at San Gregorio, which was offered for my mother. Here is further proof that our Lord indeed is merciful and treats us not according to our deserts: after Mass I was asked if I wanted to learn how to serve in the old rite, and I hope my smile was sufficiently demonstrative of my joy and gratitude welling up inside.

Decollation of St. John the Baptist

After classes were over at 4:30, I took that newly discovered bus back to the centre of Rome. I paid St. John the Baptist (‘s head) a visit, and prayed for a bit. Then it was Mass at San Gregorio. Unfortunately, my camera was not cooperating when I got to the church, but I was indeed able to take some pictures of the “gardens” about the university, which I think of as my consolation.

Feast of St. Augustine

Classes today. Not much free time. I discovered an alternate route back to the city from the university; in half an hour a bus takes me to the Piazza San Silvestro, a 10 minute walk from the frat church. This is much better than the bus that takes me to Termini, the central station, because from there it takes me much longer to reach San Gregorio.

It is all quite providential. As you may know, tomorrow we celebrate the decollation of St. John the Baptist, and it so happens that the church at Piazza San Silvestro, San Silvestro in Capite, has the head of St. John the Baptist! I already payed him a visit, but it will be extra special to sing the "Ut queant laxis" (sotto voce of course) before him tomorrow.

Today I had so much free time before Mass at San Gregorio that I went to the Church of Saint Augustine (which is also nearby) and I prayed at St. Monica's altar (her relics are in a sarcophagus under the altar,) and I lit a (real) votive candle. There were many people doing the same. Many religious in their habits. Most conspicuous of all were the Bridgettine nuns, who have a very unique veil.

On my way out of the church I noticed that the altarpiece of first side altar on the Gospel side as you come in is by Caravaggio! A painting I have studied before but I had no idea it was here. 'Twas a very happy reunion, like meeting a long lost friend.

If I remember my camera tomorrow I might take some pictures of the university....I might even quickly snap a picture of St. John the Baptist, (for your religious edification of course.)

Short journal entry.

Today was a school day, so I did not have much free time. In the evening I went to the frat church. I must say that I am very greatful that I can attend the "extraordinary" rite of holy Mass every day. Tomorrow is St. Augustine's feast day, so I plan to pop on by his church after Mass. How is everybody else?

Summary

The following is a summary of the past week. I failed to keep a journal because I was very busy with finding a place to live. I fail to mention that I am, in fact, very thankful to be here, and that there are many beautiful things to see. I have visited many churches and other sites already, and will surely revisit them again. You can wait for my opinions and impressions at that later date. Since I now have a place to live, and regular access to the net, I should have no excuse to update my blog/journal.

***************************************

Hello, anybody out there? I finally found a place to live, after a very difficult and exhausting search. A friendly suggestion: don't come to this city unless you are very rich or are a priest/in a religious order.

Classes started at the university on Monday, after a test was administered, and I was placed in the pre-intermediate class. We do a lot of talking and not so much grammar, which is practical I suppose. At any rate, I can speak enough Italian now that I feel comfortable walking about the place.

My new "home" is nice enough, about 15 minutes away from downtown Rome, but one hour away from school. Believe it or not, I have been getting up at five in the morning every day since I got here, so I don't believe that getting to school on time (for now) will prove a problem. My room is bigger than the one I have at home, it has a private bathroom, and it is air conditioned. How very important are the last two! The heat is insufferable, but I manage to put up with it somehow--especially in my air conditioned room. As for the private bath, I don't ever want to share a bathroom ever again with random people I don't know. Especially in Rome. It was one of the most disgusting experiences in my life.

I am only paying 440 a month, which is very good. Everything is horribly expensive. I can only afford to eat once a day and breakfast, but I don't think I am loosing weight.

Ok, enough about my problems, "where are the pictures?" you ask. Well I don't feel like taking any. I want to disassociate myself as much as possible from the ubiquitous horde of barbarians politely referred to as tourists. My goodness they are a plague, and they do nothing for the city. Not even help the economy since the fact that they are willing to spend lots of cash on bad food and cheap trinkets is probably the reason why this city is so expensive and makes it almost uninhabitable for the people who actually have to live here for more than a week.

There are places where I will simply not return to unless I have a very important reason. The Trevi fountain and St. Peter's basilica are at the top of my list. What an odious circus of mostly ignorant tourists whose only need is to snap a picture, (as if that will somehow make up for the fact you didn't even look first) gesticulating, and babbling nonsense, not to mention the vendors with their crap for sale (why would anybody buy a 10 cm. plastic statue of the David?? WHY???), and the omnipresent con-artists begging (or stealing) money.

I helped out at the Frat church last Saturday. The light bulbs above the altar had to be changed, so that meant we had to climb up ONTO the altar, put a ladder on it, and climb, and climb, and climb…..I politely offered to hold the ladder. Once thing is certain, only the brave or the saintly dare to tread in those high places.

Well, what an unfortunate rant this has turned into. I'll try to be more cheerful next time, and maybe have a picture or two.

First Sunday in Rome

I woke up really early today after I had a pleasant rest. The heat is indeed insufferable, but luckily, there is a fan in my room. Got showered, dressed, etc, and having said the Angelus at the usual hour (I was rather surprised and disappointed not to be greeted by a full choir of bells when the hour came, for there are at least 10 churches in the immediate vicinity after all, including our Lady's temple,) and off I went.

I had Rome all to myself! Not a soul was about, and the sunlight was that glorious early morning golden hue, that made everything look warm and better than it already does. My first task for the day, was to find the Frat parish in Rome. I had no intention of taking any sort of public transportation (certainly not the Metro) so I walked. I chose to take the road that runs from the apse of the Basilica of St Mary Major, that was laid out by Pope Julius II and formerly named after his daughter, Felice. It now has all sorts of names, including Julia near its terminus at Santa Trinita dei Monti at the top of the Spanish steps.

Let me explain why I have not taken any pictures. I am enjoying myself too much, and there is simply so much to see that, that it is simply impossible to photograph anything. How can I chose one thing over another? It is all good, so you will just have to come down here and see it all for yourself.

The first interesting building I came across belonged to that fiction commonly referred to as the Italian Sate. There was an inscription in Latin, to the effect that number is what binds all things together, and I have a suspicion this might be some sort of Pythagorean quotation. The building was a statistical office, from what I could tell, and so the inscription was very apt. I went by the Piazza del Viminiale, pretty because of some very tall trees (cypresses?) and came across the first two people I saw that day, carabinieri. I kept walking over to the next block, enjoying all the pretty things to see, when suddenly my heart skipped a beat. I had reached the next intersection and found myself, quite delighted and surprised, at the quatro fontane! I admired the grimy things with a joy impossible for me to describe, and spent some time staring at the facade of San Carlo.

Eventually I kept walking up the street, the Palazzo Barberini was to my right, with a very impressive gate composed of pillars with Telemons. Went by several churches I did not recognise, one had a very curious sculpture above the doorway of two men in manacles, (the chains were real) with an angel pulling on them. Some people were out and about now, but not more than two or three. One advantage in Rome, is that there is no dearth of architectural marvels one can stop and admire (or pretend to admire) whenever one feels the need to stop and let somebody pass by who, for some reason or other, seems to have been following one too closely for too many minutes; I did this twice. Better to be paranoid than sorry, don't you think?

When I made it to the top of the hill where the Church is, and an Egyptian obelisk undergoing restorations, I was confronted with a spectacular view of the city. A building nearby confirmed my first impression, proudly bearing an inscription to the effect that no purer air or better view was found anywhere else in the city. One should always believe inscriptions. There are so many of them in Rome! All over the place, and all in Latin. I get to practice reading in Latin wherever I go; note to my CMS friends: apply for a Latin "study" grant and come read the inscriptions in Rome (and visit me in the process of course.)

I went down the Spanish steps, which are very beautiful even if the azaleas are not in bloom, and walked straight down the via Condotti, past the via del Corso, and straight along the via Borghese. I was dissapointed to eventually reach something marked as the "piazza Borghese" on my map; it should instead be labelled "parking lot." It was an ugly place, made more so by the palazzo Borghese itself, which is in a deplorable state, and the building right across from it, which had been sponge painted coral. I quickened my step.

Soon enough I reached the via Nicosia. After all this walking, even if it was early in the morning, I was beginning to perspire a bit, so I washed my face in the fountain. I then went up the via Leccosa, and found the frat church, San Gregorio dei Muratori, at the end of an alley. Of course, it being too early, the gate was shut, but at least I now knew where it was, and I still had about one hour and forty five minutes to go exploring. I went back to the piazza Nicosia, and then went onto a small covered street with a vault and several floors above it. It led to the Lungotevere.

I have mixed feelings about the Lungotevere, these very picturesque winding roads along the Tiber, with incredible views, especially of the Vatican, and rows of tall trees along it. They were built at the end of the 19th century, and their purpose is to keep the river from flooding the city, but in the process, a great many medieval buildings were torn down, some famous gardens, and even part of outer wall of castel Sant'Angelo.

I stopped to pray across from the Sacro Cuore di Gesu on the opposite bank of the river, one of the few gothic (in this case neo-gothic) churches in Rome. I said some prayers for the holy souls, and asked for their help, especially in finding a place to live. In case you were wondering, opinion is divided as to whether the holy souls in purgatory can intercede on our behalf. St. Thomas Aquinas says no, St Alphonsus says yes. I just ask and let God worry about it and sort it all out.

I crossed the ponte Umberto I, across of which is the Palazzo di Giustitia. It has a unique facade. From there it was a short walk to castel Sant'Angelo, and then up the via della Conciliazione towards the Vatican. Just beside the Candadian embassy to the Holy See, I came across a cafe (closed) that sold some very delicious looking gelatti, and I made a mental note to stop by there later. St. Peter's looked to be very close, but only because it is very big. I decided to give up walking there, especially because it was still closed for the day, and stopped at Santa Maria in Transpontina.

What a lovely church! It had some very interesting yellow marble inside (real?) and a very impressive high altar. Preparations were being made for Mass, so I didn't plan to tarry long. To my right was very Spanish looking altar to our Lady of Mount Carmel, dressed up, and sitting on a golden throne. I thought that to be a great place to say a prayer for my grandmother, whose name was Carmela, and I was pleasantly surprised to note that the altar was dedicated for this very purpose: praying for the dead. There was a very nice prayer in Italian pasted to the kneeler, which I recited, that also asked for the intercession of the holy souls. So it's official: St. Thomas Aquinas is wrong.

Now I had every intention of walking back the same way I came to the frat church, but this being Rome, it proved quite impossible. I went down the ponte degli Angeli, and walked here and there. I went by a church labelled San Salvatore in Lauro on my map, but the facade had a dedicatory inscription to our Lady of Loreto, and a beautiful bas relief under it, depicted our Lady seated upon the Holy House, the Infant Christ on her lap, and angels carrying the whole affair through the clouds. I was ready to say our Lady's litany then and there were it not for the (probably drunk) beggar heading my way. Truth be told, not until I find a place to live am I in a better condition than that man, and no farther from the brink of poverty. I went by the Piazza Navona, the Palazzo Madama, here and there and before I knew it, I was going to be late.

So without managing to run, I hurried back to the frat Church. Mass was as Low as it gets, especially in attendance. I tried to strike up a conversation after Mass with the priest but not much of importance was said.

My next task that day was finding a place to live. Noel had recommended a place not far from the Metro Bologna, but having made my way there, I couldn't find the residence. So I aborted that plan, especially because I had no means of calling the residence for directions. Next on my list, was to go out to the University and get my bearings before classes started on Monday.

I got there after some misadventures on the train. Once at the station nearest the university, (which is in a new suburb to the north of the city) I couldn't figure out what bus to take, nor how to ask somebody about it. I eventually made myself understood (after I had missed two buses) and was dropped of somewhere nowhere near the gates. So I walked for a bit…

Now, the university itself is quite a modern place; you all know my predilection for things not-modern, so it should be no surprise to anyone that I found the buildings as ugly as ugly can get. However, there is some very beautiful landscaping around the place, with tall trees which really do make the place quite agreeable. I was unable to talk to the dean of the faculty but for a few impatient seconds over the reception desk phone. The gist of the conversation was "domani, domani"

I went back home, feeling quite homesick, and wondering what I was doing here in the first place. I had no appetite, and feeling exhausted, I went to bed at 7 p.m.

Departure

I left the house in a frenzy, having put off packing my bags until the very last minute. Estella came by at noon, as per an earlier agreement, but I did not manage to get out of the house until 1:30! In my rush I forgot some important things: deodorant for one (and when I later discovered this I rightly panicked, having as yet found no evidence that Romans, in general, use deodorant, or much of it, or the kind that works at any rate,) my Italian-English dictionary (whose absence has deeply affected my so far short stay) and all of your phone numbers and addresses! Do kindly forward those to the_usual_place@gmail.com.

The flight was excellent aboard Czech airlines, and the service was superior to what I received on American Airlines when I went to Peru last Christmas. Due to a linguistic constraint I have no time to explain right now (if you are very curious you can ask Rob) whenever the flight crew spoke "English" they always spoke of "chick" airlines. It was rather funny at first, but it proved a real annoyance once I got to Prague airport, and every 90 seconds the automated robot voice would ask all passengers of Chick Airline flight ### to proceed to the gate. I am, however, getting ahead of myself.

The flight lasted 7 and a half hours, and like I said, it was all very pleasant. A ridiculous movie about Marie Antoinette that featured rock music in the background was played; as you can well imagine, I could only watch the crude thing for the first 15 minutes. I read my Italian grammar book instead. (Thank you Anne!) There was little cloud cover during the flight, so I got a very nice view of the land below until halfway over the gulf of St. Lawrence, and then from the east coast of Britain all the way to Prague. I saw several little ships on the St Lawrence. We flew a great arc, from Toronto over Ottawa, over Montreal and the St. Lawrence, over the gulf to the southern tip of Labrador, across the north Atlantic to the north shores of Ireland, across England, the North Sea, and then over Amsterdam, very neat bits of German countryside that looked like a patchwork quilt, and finally Prague. The captain of Chick Airlines was very helpful in pointing all these things out to us. I got an isle seat, but there was nobody sitting to my left by the window, so I moved as soon as the doors were closed and thanked our Lord for this very kind favour.

My original plan had been to spend my five hours in Prague downtown; I especially wanted to pay the Infant Jesus of Prague a visit. I modified my plans though, when I got to the airport because it was all very confusing. For one, neither I nor any of the other passengers had to go through customs and immigration. Then en route to find my gate I had to go through three security checkpoints (isn't once enough?), so by the time I did find it (30 minutes later) my original plan to leave the airport was abandoned. It was a very dull experience exacerbated by the nearly continuous announcements over the P.A. for "Chick Airlines flight ### etc." by the monotone robot-lady.

The flight to Rome eventually got on its way, much later in the morning, and much later than the scheduled time. For anybody else who has been to the Chick Republic, is it standard practice to board the plane 10 minutes before the scheduled departure time, randomly letting through the passengers massed at the gate waving their boarding passes and elbowing each other? It was faaaaaaaaaar below my dignity to participate in such a display of non anglo/germanic barbarity that I comfortably sat for 30 minutes and was the very last person to board the plane.

On the flight to Rome, we received a small collation even though the flight was barely an hour and a half. Again I got the window seat, and saw some very neat things along the way. The north European countryside is really a treat to watch, and very different from the shades of brown of the Italian peninsula which also has its own charm. I did not see any significant mountains along the way, just a few craggy peaks here and there, but very astonishing valleys, of the most vibrant emerald green you can imagine, with little hamlets perched on all sorts of impossible places, and little roads connecting the lot. A nice Sardinian couple sat beside me, and I made my first attempt at Italian conversation. It was soon abandoned because they were more eager to practice their English than I was my Italian, and so I complied. You all know how obliging I can be :0)

Then I got to Rome. Note to Hilary: you were correct about (some of) the Romans. I am convinced they would stand by looking at their watches and tapping their feet in impatience whilst somebody was murdered, maimed or bludgeoned before them. They do not help little old ladies with their bags to get on the train. In fact, I was rather surprised they didn't push them aside, but maybe they save that for the back alleys when none of the tourists are looking. They also have NO CONCEPT of how to queue, or why it is highly desirable to do so. When I went to buy my train ticket into the city, the other foreigners and I attempted to make a line and wait our turn before the ticket booth, but masses of Italians, (and the omnipresent Arabs and Abyssinians who seem to fit right in) pushed, jostled, and elbowed us from all sides. A woman even rushed to the ticket booth while I was there paying for my ticket, waving euros in her fist and babbling nonsense. I believe I must have experienced what is generally referred to as "culture shock."

On the train I made my second attempt to speak Italian, but practiced my French instead. I did a very good job! It was sad to note how little this person knew about her great city, and that she merely shrugged in indifference when I became all giddy at first sight of the Aurelian walls, the Porta Maggiore and the tomb of Eurycaces. Termini was even dingier than I was expecting. Thanks to Noel I knew exactly where I had to go to catch a cab, otherwise I would have been quite lost. Now would be a good time to point out that something remarkable occurred on the train ride to the city. A strange feeling came over me as I watched at the (mostly dirty and dilapidated) buildings along the way, and all around Termini. It was recognition. I felt like I was in Lima again. By the time I got off the train and said goodbye to the hate-the-Catholic-Church-pseudoBuddhist-knowNothingAboutMyCity-Italian, I was on full third-world/uncivilised_place_with_loosers_out_to_cheat_you mode. I adroitly side stepped the veiled gypsy nonna eager to accost me, and chuckled heartily at the man who offered to give me a ride to my hotel for 20 euros, and made it to the official taxi stand. I didn't have long to wait. For 5 euros, not 20, I was safely delivered to the Ostello Marello where I am currently lodged.

I want to assure all of you, especially my family back in Lima, that I am in a very good and safe area of the city, even if those concepts are not really applicable in Rome. I am on the via Urbana, picturesque cobbled street, not much wider than Mary and Anne's office at the Kelly, with 5 to 6 storey buildings crouching on either side, pretty in their 17th century way, but covered in grime, cracked here and there, in need of fresh paint, and missing bits of masonry. An equivalent looking place in Lima is not somewhere any of my family would ever be caught in, except perhaps dead. Our Lady's temple is just on the next street, not even five minutes away, at the east end of the Via Urbana, is the very ancient and rightly famous Santa Pudenziana, San Pietro in Vincoli is just down the road on the west side.

The Ostello Marello is itself a former convent, beside a little Church proudly bearing a Latin dedicatory inscription to Sts. Lawrence and Hyppolitus, martyrs. The building is now partly owned by a congregation of sisters founded by an Italian Bishop, Giuseppe Marello, called the Work of St. Joseph. All the sisters I have met are Filippino or some other variety of Asian. Some are nice, some should definitely be cloistered and not allowed to deal with the public again. My room is small, but I don't have to share it. The washroom is public. Overall, the place is adequate if you are in a pinch, and not very expensive, which is a bonus, but I don't really recommend it. I could just be sour tough, since the sisters won't let me visit the roman house beneath the convent which belonged to St. Hyppolitus, and the prison where St. Lawrence was kept for a while.

That first night I fulfilled a promise made, and I paid the Salus Populi Romani a visit at Santa Maria Maggiore. What an amazing church. It is beyond my meagre powers of composition to describe it to you, so I will just tell you what I did instead. I said a rosary in the Borghese Chapel, and I begged our Lady to keep me out of trouble. I prayed for my mom, my family, all of you back home in Toronto, and then I went to confession. I walked around for a bit after that, and got back to my room around 7 p.m. I was too tired to keep walking, too tired to take any pictures, and too tired to eat. So I simply went to bed, and had a really good sleep.

You may need a drink

After yesterday's discussion about the lyric metre, you may feel like you need a stiff drink. Why not accompany it with an ancient drinking song or two? The scolia (scolion in the singular) were popular drinking and banquet songs, especially in 5th century Athens. Many of them written by the best and most famous poets. They would have been sung in chorus by all present, or by the best singers in succession, accompanied by the lyre. A myrtle branch would be passed around to designate the singers, skipping the bad ones along the way. It is on account of its zig-zag course around the room that the scolia received their name, which is literally "crooked songs."


The subjects varied greatly, and the following two examples honoured the Athenian heroes Harmodius and Aristogeiton, who killed the tyrant Hipparchus at the festival of the goddess Athena. They had a famous statue of them set up in the Agora which is now lost, but thankfully, a very nice Roman copy survives which is now kept in Naples.

In the midst of myrtle branches I shall bear the sword
As Harmodius and Aristogeiton did
When they both killed the tyrant
And made Athens a city where all have equal rights.

In the midst of myrtle branches I shall bear the sword
As Harmodius and Aristogeiton did
When at the festival of Athena
They both killed the man Hipparchus, a tyrant.

1. κλαδι: dative sg. of το κλαδος, young shoots broken off and tied into a bundle, which were presented by suppliants to a god.
3. κτανετην: 3 pers. dual aorist act. ind. of –εκτανον with no augment, an alternative stem to απεκτεινα found in poetry.
8. εκαινετην: 3 pers. dual aorist act. ind. of καινω, a poetic variant of –κτεινω.

And here is the metre for both songs.

ˉ × ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˉ
ˉ × ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˉ
˘ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ
ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ ˘ ˉ

The Tenth Muse

This post is about the Sapphic meter, but I cannot get to that before saying a few things about its creator by way of introduction.

I don’t know what you may have heard about Sappho, but it’s probably all wrong so just delete it from your memory. Perhaps you have read or been told she was a Lesbian, which is perfectly true. She lived on the island of Lesbos, born sometime around 630 B.C. Both the towns of Eresos and Mytilene claim the honour being her birthplace, and an honour indeed it is, for this poetess’ fame was so great in the ancient world, that she was popularly styled the “Tenth Muse.” She also belonged to the great canon of the “Nine Lyric Poets” in antiquity. In short, she was very well esteemed.

“But hold on,” I can almost hear you say, “Wasn’t she also the other sort of Lesbian?” No. Rather than listening to what modern “scholars” have to say on the subject, why don’t we look at what people had to say in the ancient world?

“What else was the love of the Lesbian woman except Socrates' art of love? [That is to say, “Platonic.” For further details consult that dusty thing nobody likes to use anymore called a dictionary, or better yet, read Plato’s Symposium] For they seem to me to have practiced love each in their own way, she that of women, he that of men. For they say that both loved many and were captivated by all things beautiful. What Alcibiades and Charmides and Phaedrus were to him, Gyrinna and Atthis and Anactoria were to the Lesbian.” (Cassius Maximus Tyrius)

Furthermore, even if she was a Lesbian of the “other type”, (and that would seem very unlikely since we know she was married to a very wealthy and politically important man, Cercolas of Andros, and had at least one daughter, Cleis,) it would not matter. See, over here we like to read and appreciate good literature based on its ability to represent human experience and contribute to the moral and social formation of the reader, and unlike feminist-marxist-liberal-queers, we have no need to find our narcissistic selves reflected in everything we read in order to find it of interest.

Other things we know about Sappho are that her family was important enough that they were all exiled to Sicily sometime around 600 B.C., (in case you did not know, Sicily was considered a land far far away at the edge of the world,) and she was famous enough even during her own life time on account of her poetry, that the Sicilians were thrilled to have her as their guest and erected a statue to her honour.

For the most part though, (and apparently she lived to a ripe old age,) her life was rather ordinary. She did not have fascinating adventures in Egypt like her brothers, but spent her time at home, where she ran some sort of finishing school for upper class girls. Her poetry concerns itself with the ordinary experiences around her: marriage, love, friendship, family. One can say that her poetry is akin to what Mary Cassatt did in her painting. By the way, I like Cassatt’s art a lot.

Sappho wrote many poems, and in antiquity, the standard collection of all her works filled nine volumes. Almost all of it is lost. We have only one complete poem, and several fragments, some of which are only one verse long. The majority of authors from the ancient world suffered the same fate, including the “divine Sappho, tenth Muse.” This should give you an idea of just how much has perished. I think it a great pity.

Alright, now we get down to business and talk about the Sapphic metre. It is the second most popular in the Latin Church hymnal, and the same metre used by the hymn we looked at yesterday, in honour of Saint Benedict.

Classical metres, and usually Church metres, are developed by grouping repeating patterns of short and long syllables, not accent, as is the case in a lot of mediaeval poetry and in the vernacular languages. Learning to distinguish long syllables from short requires a little bit of practice in the beginning, but ultimately is not hard to do at all. I will save that for another post however, since this one is already too long. Anybody still reading this?

Sappho wrote lyric poetry, which is distinguished from the other “type” of poetry in the classical world (mostly epic) both in its subject matter and its metre. Lyric metre consists of groups of verses known as cola, (colon in the singular) arranged into stanzas. If we take the following symbol ˘ to mean a short syllable, and this ˉ a long syllable, cola are built up around the following pattern ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ , known as a nucleus. The nucleus of a lyric colon is always the same. To the nucleus can be added a pattern of short and long syllables in front known as a base, and one at the end known as a tail.

Sappho developed a colon, known as the Sapphic hendecasyllable (because it has 11 syllables) that looks like this:

ˉ ˘ ˉ x    ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˘ ˉ ˉ

I’m sure you can see the nucleus in the middle. The “x” at the end of the base means that the syllable can be either short or long. No other variety is permitted in the colon.

Another colon which Sappho used but did not invent is called the Adonic. It looks like this:

ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˉ

Notice how we have a nucleus (it is the one thing which can never change) but no base, and the tail is only one syllable long.

Now like I said before, lyric metres are composed of cola arranged into stanzas. The stanza which Sappho developed and used very often also bears her name. The Sapphic Stanza, or Sapphics for short, consists of three Sapphic hendecasyllables followed by one Adonic. So it looks like this:

ˉ ˘ ˉ x    ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˘ ˉ ˉ
ˉ ˘ ˉ x    ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˘ ˉ ˉ
ˉ ˘ ˉ x    ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˘ ˉ ˉ
               ˉ ˘ ˘ ˉ    ˉ

Now if you compare this with yesterday’s hymn to Saint Benedict, you will be able to check that it follows this pattern. You might even be able to figure out how to tell long syllables from short syllables. Try it.

Feast of Saint Benedict

So, several months ago, I boldly proclaimed myself a Dux etc., and cautioned you to ask whither I would lead you etc. etc. Clearly, the answer to "whither?" has been "nowhere." Truly contrite to all the people out there who were half expecting me to continue (I think there are two of you, right?) I offer the following for the feast of Saint Benedict.



This is the hymn used in the Liturgia Horarum for Lauds on the Feast of Saint Benedict, July 11. It is a new composition by one of spiritual sons, Don Anselmo Lentini. It was first published in Latinitas, 1954. The meter is sapphic stanzas (more on that later). It is a very fine composition, and the language isn't too difficult. Feel free to ask any grammatical questions I have not addressed in the comment box.



Lēgifer prūdens, venerande doctor
Quī nitēs celsīs meritīs per orbem,
Dēnuō complē, Benedīcte, mundum
      Lūmine Christī.


Flōruit per tē novus atque mīrō
Gentium nexū sociātus ordō;
Jūribus sacrīs tua vox subēgit
      Dulciter omnēs.


Līberōs Jēsū pariterque servōs
Rēgulā magnā statuisti alumnōs,
Quōs amor fōtus precibus revinxit
      Et labor ūnus.


Jamque frāternē, duce tē, labōrent,
Mūtuō certent populī favōre,
Gaudeant pācis refovēre semper
      Dōna beātæ.


Clāritas Pātrī genitæque Prōlī,
Flāminī Sanctō decus atque cultus,
Grātiā quōrum tibi tanta laudis
      Glōria lūcet.


Expert lawgiver, learned man worthy of honour, by thy noble merits resplendent throughout the earth, O Benedict, fill and perfect the world anew with the light of Christ.

1. prudens: it means "learned", especially in the law, hence our English word "jurisprudence"
3. comple: imperative of complere, which means primarily to "fill", but also "to finish" or "make perfect", from this latter meaning the English word "complete" is derived.

The first stanza begins with a direct address to Saint Benedict, and the first word, legifer, emphatically places first his most important attribute: the Rule.


Through thee a new company of men united by an admirable bond flourished; thy voice didst by sweetness bring them all under the sacred law.

5&6. The subject is ordo gentium, which is both novus and miro nexu sociatus.
7. subegit: perfect of subigo, which + dative means "to bring under" in this context, not the harsher English derivative "to subject". juribus sacris: plural for the sake of the meter.
8. omnes: refers to the "ordo gentium".

The second stanza highlights St. Benedict’s second most important gift to the Church, his Order, which has not merely flourished in all lands itself, but caused Europe to flourish by preserving and fostering culture and learning after the fall of the classical world, but more importantly, by their great service of regular prayer throughout the day on behalf of the Church. Vox: Saint Benedict speaks to us through his rule. Juribus sacris: either refers to the Christian life in general, or to the Rule specifically.

Equally freemen and slaves to Christ, in the great Rule thou didst decree thy pupils to be, whom a love fostered in prayer and one and the same work have restored to life.

9. Jesu: dative. Liberos & servos: both are predicates of alumnos, not attributive.
10. statuisti: perfect of statuere, which literally means "to set upright". In this context it means "to decree" or "prescribe", from where the English word "statute" comes. This is usually followed with a jussive clause with ut + the subjunctive, but here the construction is an accusative (alumnos) plus an implied infinitive esse. This is the common construction when statuere means "to regard", or "consider", but the context does not really allow the verb to be construed as such. The final "i" of statuisti is elided.
11. fotus: past participle of foveo, to be construed with precibus, an ablative of means.

In this stanza, we have Dom Lentini’s summation of Saint Benedict’s Rule. On being both servant and free cf. “qui enim in Domino vocatus est servus libertus est Domini similiter qui liber vocatus est servus est Christi” (I Corinthians 7.22) (For he that is called in the Lord, being a bondman, is the freeman of the Lord. Likewise he that is called, being free, is the bondman of Christ.) The amor fotus precibus and the labor of lines 11 & 12 echo the famous Benedictine motto “Ora et Labora” which sums the monk’s way of life as prayer and work.


With thee as their leader, let all people labour and toil now as brothers with mutual good-will; may they always delight in restoring the gift of blessed peace.

13. Jamque: very emphatic, because of its place at the beginning of the line, the –que, and because it accompanies the jussive subjunctive (laborent & certent), so that it means "straightway", "at once". duce te: ablative absolute.
14. certent: an odd choice of verb because of its connotations which do not fit the context particularly well, but probably chosen because its basic meaning implies great exertion.
15. gaudeant: to be construed with the infinitive refovere, replacing the more common construction with an object clause to give the reason for rejoicing. The direct object of refovere is dona pacis beatæ

This stanza highlights the reasons why Pope Paul VI declared Saint Benedict the principal patron of Europe.

Fame, glory and worship, be to the Father, the only-begotten Son, and Holy Ghost, on whose account the glory of thy great renown shines forth.

17. Claritas: literally means "brightness", but here "fame" or "renown".
18. Flamen: "wind", almost indentical to the more common spiritus, "breath", and often used interchangeably in hymns for the sake of the meter.
19. Gratia: ablative; adverbial use meaning “for the sake of” or “on account of” + the genitive. tibi: dative energicus or of “interest”, shows towards whom the action is directed. The most convenient translation into English is by using a possessive. tanta: nominative, grammatically modifies the subject gloria, but is probably a transferred epithet, agreeing with laudis according to the sense.
20. lucet: "shines", but in poetry it commonly means "is manifest" or "visible".

The doxology continues to address the main subject of the hymn, Saint Benedict, which is a typical stylistic choice of Dom Anselmo Lentini. As the principal editor of the new hymnal for the Liturgia Horarum, he took special care to revise all the common doxologies in this way. For his reasons, see Introduction, sections 63, 64, 67, 68 in Lentini, Anselmo. Hymni Instaurandi Breviarii Romani. Vatican City: 1968.

Logos vs. Lexis

I’ve decided not to do what most everybody else is doing, that is, exposing and opposing error. Not because it isn’t the most important undertaking in the fight to restore Christendom, but because it is already being done more abundantly and thoroughly by folks more competent than I.

I shall dedicate the resources of this duchy, then, to helping people read important and beautiful things in Latin and Greek—especially hymns. It is what I already do for some friends who find it a very useful and enriching activity. I suppose I should also disclose why I think Catholics (of the Roman variety at any rate) should know Latin well and pray and worship in that venerable language, but it won’t be right now.

Right now I will state what my future principles of translation will be, and for that we will need to have a much abbreviated lesson in classical rhetoric.

There is a fundamental division between what and how something is said. It is very possible to read or hear a text, and understand how it was said but not what it means. For example, in the Vesperal psalm Laudate Pueri (112) you find the following phrase: “A solis ortu usque ad occasum laudabile nomen Domini” which the Douay-Rheims accurately translates as “From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same, the name of the Lord is worthy of praise.” Now, it is quite possible that you have been praying this verse every Sunday for many years, and understand what all the Latin or English vocabulary and syntax mean, but not really know what the Psalmist is saying.

What we are faced with here is an example of metonymy, a figure of speech whereby one states something indirectly by naming one of its attributes instead. Taking into account the use that the Church makes of this psalm, it would not be a bad conjecture that the Psalmist means “from morning to evening” or “all the day long the name of the Lord is worthy of praise.” He means something quite different, however, as this is a common expression in the Old Testament for “from east to west” or “everywhere.” Its meaning becomes clear in this also famous example, usually understood by Catholic authors to be a prophecy of the Mass: “For from the rising of the sun even to the going down, my name is great among the Gentiles, and in every place there is sacrifice, and there is offered to my name a clean oblation: for my name is great among the Gentiles, saith the Lord of hosts.” (Malachi 1.11)

My translations will always head straight to the content, and disregard any of the rhetoric in order to make sure we really understand what the original is about. Then I will analyze the Latin closely, paying attention to how things are said. My aim is to facilitate your enjoyment and reading of these texts in their original language.

In Christo Mariaque,
Iohannes Carolus

Call to Arms

A call to arms came from Parkdale sometime yesterday, Spy Wednesday. I heard it loud and clear even while lunching at far away Clover Hill. I’ve thought about it, and what it could mean, and whether it involves me or not, and what, if anything, I should do in response. I do believe it involves me, so I have therefore decided to publicly reveal my insanity.

That’s right; I am no longer an active member of that world in which most men live. I don’t believe my ancestors were apes, nor that man has a right to vote, nor that he should spend his youth dulling his intellect with “facts” and training it to be irrational and call that activity an “education”, nor that he should sacrifice the rest of his years to some unknown god that requires us to produce “stuff” more and more abundantly every day with no purpose other than to distract ourselves from ever thinking about anything that is permanent or important. I don’t think I should live my life as if nothing mattered, as if nothing were known to be true. Mothers should not kill their babies. I haven’t made these confessions in any particular order, and there are many more which could and should be written down, but it’s better to summarize by saying that I probably don’t believe most of the things you take for granted.

As further proof of my insanity, I hereby proclaim myself the Duke of Clover Hill, and lay claim to said land and all the attendant rights, privileges, and duties thereof. We graciously grant you permission to ignore us and our convictions; be assured that we might arbitrarily do likewise or ask one of our friends to persecute or mercilessly ridicule your erroneous assumptions. It will all depend on our mood that day. For those friendly visitors who would prefer to address me by my Christian name, it is both John and Charles.

If I am a Dux, whither am I leading you? You should not step into my newly formed imaginary world unless you ask yourself that question. The only answer I can give is that if you perceive that my destination is our Lord Jesus Christ, then you are welcome to tag along and follow. Fellow pilgrims and soldiers who know the way better than I are encouraged in charity to always correct me and never let me stray.

In Christo Mariaque,
Iohannes Carolus