Catalectic Converter: An Ode to Dactylic Hexameter

 If you want to read, recite, and interpret dactylic hexameter, the meter of Latin epic poetry, if not the native form, you must first understand how it works. The traditional account is as follows: the name dactylic hexameter tells us about important details for its construction. 'Dactylic' indicates that it is composed of dactyls, a metrical unit of one long followed by two shorts. 'Hexameter' indicates that this pattern repeats six times to create a single line of dactylic hexameter. Yet this sextuple repetition is not reflected in the canonical line of dactylic hexameter, which ends in a spondee, a pair of longs. Most of the feet of the hexameter can change from dactyl to spondee, except the fifth and penultimate. This foot must remain dactylic to reinforce the nature of the meter. Very rarely is this consistency breached and even more rarely at the beginning of a section. If the nature of the meter requires reinforcement, why does the last foot of the hexameter not fulfill this role? The final foot of one line and the initial of the next are often bound by grammatical enjambment. Even the use of an extrametrical syllable to tie them together is not sufficient, since the vowel always undergoes elision. The neophyte Latinist learns that the sixth and last foot is a spondee. The last vowel of the final syllable which is pronounced would be short or long in prose; but it is always treated as long in scansion. Most of the time this default intervention does no harm. Sometimes, however, the natural length of the vowel is significant. 

There is a better way to analyze dactylic hexameter, a way in which a journeyy through complexity creates a more thorough understanding. Dactylic hexameter is not merely dactylic hexameter; it is dactylic hexameter catalectic. What does 'catalectic' mean? Catalexis, and its adjective catalectic, is metrical circumcision, the omission of the last syllable. The identity of the meter as dactylic is confirmed by the spondee rather than a single long syllable, while the placement of the syllable at the end of the line is established by the final long syllable, irrespective of any condition which migh force an otherwise short syllable to be treated as long.

This possibility of long or short, sometimes called 'anceps', at the end of a line of dactylic hexameter is one of the mechanisms to vary a potentially soporific metrical pattern. It is also a reminder that the terms first presented to learners are simplified version of the whole rather than the only way in which one can view such a phenomenon.

King and Consuls

         The passage in Book 6 of the Aeneid where Anchises presents the souls of future Roman kings and consuls (6.809-19) is a reprise and expansion of the initial lines of the Aeneid (1.1-12), thereby connecting Aeneas' foundation with the latter one. The character of Aeneas is distributed among his descendants.

        The base level of comparison is repetition of words used in the opening of the poem, although differing in case and number. Romulus, the first king of Rome (pace Titus Tatius), is excluded from this list because he is mentioned at the end of the Alban line, rather than at the beginning of the Roman. This omission also releases a spot for Brutus, the first consul. The first king, therefore, who is mentioned, is Numa Pompilius. Anchises introduces Numa as the Roman king "primam qui legibus urbem / fundabit," "he who will provide the early city with laws" or "he who will first provide the city with laws." The first two words occur after the caesura, similar to the "qui primus" of the first line of the poem (1.1), but in inverse order. The clause in Book 1 refers to Numa, an immigrant like Aeneas, establishing the rites of the new city. Numa, similar to Aeneas, exists in the dawn of urban history and therefore is "missus in imperium magnum" "sent toward great empire" (6.813) rather than as a witness to that imperial glory. Numa's successor, Tullus Hostilius, provides the martial valor which the aged ("incana menta",grey beard hairs", 6.809) Numa lacks. This absence is reflected in the word "in arma viros" "men to arms" (6.814), which remind the audience of the first words of the poem "arma virumque" "arms and a man" (1.1).  The next king mentioned, Ancus Martius, is "jactantior" "boastful," a comparative - and active - form related to the passive "jactatus" "tossed" of the opening (1.3). This also serves as the moral descent of the kings, since Ancus takes too great a pleasure in "popularibus auris" (?.?), "the ears of the people>" 

        The Tarquins pere et fils are connected to the initial verses by "vis ... superbam" (6.817), which echoes "vi superum" (1.4) in the fourth line. Both words are not directly connected but "vis" is from "volo," the verb of wishing and wanting, while "superbam" is from an adjective meaning "proud" or "arrogant" depending on context. "Vi" is from the word for "force," while "superum" is a word for the gods above. Tarquinius Superbus, were he real, no doubt used the positive meaning of his epithet; he certainly believed his word was law. What one wants and what is just are the same thing! Tarquinius Superbus' downfall came when he violated the laws of the gods by assaulting his cousin's wife as a form of force, and by "vi superum," "the force of the divine," he lost his kingdom. The "animam superbam," "proud spirit" (6.817) belongs to Brutus rather than Superbus, but the audience does not know this until the enjambment, and the negative interpretation suits Superbus. The "animam superbam" of Brutus is that of positive aspect, but Brutus adopts the authority and the emblems thereof of the deposed kings and therefore warrants inclusion on the list of leaders. Brutus, as the first consul, receives his own "primus" (6.819) to echos the first line; his passage also includes a description of the fasces as "saevas securis" "savage axes" (6.819), which serves to connect him with the "saevam iram" of Juno rather than Aeneas, perhaps an odd choice for one who overthrew the previous ruler for daring to trespass the boundary of divine law. The rebellion ("nova bella," 6.820) of Brutus' sons reminds the attentive of "bello passus," "suffering in war" (1.5), but Brutus displays loyalty to gods and country by executing his own blood. The summary of this list of kings and consuls states that "vincet amor patriae laudumque immensa cupido," "love of fatherland and the great desire for praise will conquer" (6.823). Although neither "amor" nor "cupido" are words in the opening lines, they are both names for Venus' godly son, in a context where Venus is not mentioned because only Romulus, here excluded, is of her line.

        It may be going too far to suggest the Aeneas' personality is a conglomeration of the equally mythical kings of Rome, but there are striking parallels. Aeneas, like Numa, brings the gods who bring prosperity to a city which lacks them. Aeneas, like Tullus, will lead his weary travelers into battle. Aeneas, like Ancus, must beware the sway of popular opinion despite his constant doubt and deliberation. Aeneas, like the Tarquins, must resist the temptation to think himself above the gods. Aeneas, like Brutus, must place state above family and familiar affection.

        The passage of Book 6 in which the Roman leaders are presented is a callback to the very first lines of the epic in exact words, related words, and in theme. The first lines of an epic are its thesis statement; the use of same or similar words in reference to other individuals universalizes the principles, The use of same or similar themes shows that these principles are displayed under diverse circumstances, no matter which mythical era, is inspirational to the real Romans and the real ruler of the Imperium.

Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: Everything Re: Racial Genocide)

Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda, by Jean-Philippe Stassen, is a graphic novel that deals with the genocide of my youth. Not one which I personally experienced, but one which I read about the newspapers and discussed in the library/sitting room of my private high school. I do not, however, believe that my security relieves of a duty to understand it. Sadly, there are so many wars and rumors of war that even the most conscientious cannot attend to them all; and if one could, there would be others who would find fault in attention here rather than there, where their passions were consumed.

Deogratias is set, as its subtitle indicates, in Rwanda in the nineties. The principal character, Deogratias, is a Hutu orphan in the care of French missionaries. His life experience, as well as his schooling, is warping him into a creature of hate, visually rendered as  a quasi-bestial form, a street dog. He is mistreated by the Tutsi for being a Hutu and by the Hutu for livng among the Tutsi. This establishes Deogratias as a tragic character, a view confirmed by the scenes after the genocide and return of his former protector. Already in his adolescence, he is a drunk. 

Deogratias loves, or believes he is in love with, Apollinaria, the daughter of a Tutsi sex worker Venetia and Brother Philip, one of the missionaries; Apollinaria's other sister, Benina, does not know her father due to her mother's line of work. Deogratias' impulse control has been weakened by alcoholism and abuse, so his understanding of consent is minimal. None of the three youths, whose options as an urchin, a mulatto, and a whore's daughter were already limited, have a chance; the poison of racial rhetoric has already sparked one war in Venetia's generation. The path to exile is blocked by the indifference and self-preservation of the alleged protector.

Before the genocide begins, Deogratias' unreciprocated lust for Apollinaria is sated, at least partly, by Benina's curiosity. Deogratias' interest in Apollinaria is attributed, admittedly by an unreliable character, to have a racial component, since this character calls mixed race women "the refined stuff" (p. 71), Apollinaria, as half-white and virginal, has a purity to which Deogratias cannot attain.

All the suffering and addiction of Deogratias make him an easy target for military recruitment. The war shatters what little is left of Deogratias' psyche, leaving him nothing but an agent of destruction and pain. Death is what he does, both in the war and after.

Deogratias is a grim read. If you are going to read it, I suggest you plan to journal or discuss or both. Sitting in silent contemplation may be useful, but eventually one must express the results thereof.

Andre Norton: The Gate of the Cat

Andre Norton's The Gate of the Cat is subtitled "Return to Witch World." It also serves as an entry point for new readers, such as yours truly, who picked it up off a hotel lobby shelf alongside a cruelly deceptive The Mote in God's Eye which lacked the first 162 pages (not even a chapter break!). The pace is fast, and the initial impression is that of an apocalyptic landscape akin to Return to Oz and many other iterations and adaptations of the Oz franchise. As a new reader, it is clear that the world is worse off than before, but also unknown how apocalyptic the world was prior to the witches reshaping the world. Our heroine, Kelsie MacBlair, a hunter with principles, arrives in Witch World via the standard standing stones method. Although some might find the brief inability to communicate fast tracked by telepathy cliched, the acknowledgement that the inhabitants of the world of adventure are not speaking English is welcome, It may be too much to ask for more than one language. The narrative has a quick pace and too many species to introduce, so sometimes it feels more like an "World of Witch World" encyclopedia in narrative form. Even there, a bit more exposition of the names of species and places would have helped. The conceit of Witch World is "lost knowledge of the Old Ones," so perhaps some of these lack their true names, but the books established to exist in this world must call them something! The prose is plain and economical, urging the reader on rather than encouraging lingering. The Gate of Cat is clearly the beginning of a new cycle of adventure, since it introduces a new outside protagonist while also providing a fully resolved plot in case it is the only book of the cycle, but it would be better, if this were one's first exposure to Witch World and if one liked it, to start at the beginning.

Is It Your First Time Dualing This? I'll Be Gentle

(Apologies for the lack of macrons) 

There are many reasons to dislike the Green Owl, God of All of Languages, into which I was tricked in a contract (although it is merely a year, not seven or a billion), but some of his methodology is legitimate. Many linguistics concepts are challenging for learners, especially American monoglots or nigh-monoglots, and the American education system is designed to eliminate love of learning despite the best efforts of teachers. Most people do not think grammar is fun.

One of the concepts that Hawaiian ('Olelo Hawai'i) possesses and English lacks is that of the dual. The dual, as its name suggests, indicates exactly two. Anglo-Saxon, also known as Old English, had a dual which was lost between the Norman Conquest and the reemergence of the English language as a form of written communication, so the difficulty of the concept arises from unfamiliarity alone. The etymology of the dual in Hawaiian is transparently the number two (ua < lua), thereby demonstrating the dual can develop as well as disappear.

Another concept that Hawaiian possesses and English lack is that of clusivity. Old English does not use this, nor do Greek or Latin. Clusivity is a concept limited to the first person pronoun, I or me or my, There are two forms: inclusive and exclusive. The inclusive form includes the person addressed, thee or thou or you; the exclusive excludes the person addressed, but includes somebody else. The nature of clusitivy mandates the exclusion of the singular. This leaves the plural, and the dual in languages which have it - which Hawaiian does.

Both duality and clusivity are challenging concepts, and the beginning of any course bears a strong possibilty that the learner may drop out faced with too much terminology. The Green Owl, however, has found a solution. The introduction of two dual and two plural forms for "we" would be too confusing for English speakers. The initial forms presented in the language games are both inclusive, although this term is never used and only the dual emphasizes the inclusion of you (but only one of you) and me. The contrast, therefore, is between kakou, meaning "all of us," and kaua, meaning "you and me," an elegant streamlining of two non-intuitive concepts in a foreign tongue.

Absolutes and Absolutions

            In the sixth book of Virgil's Aeneid, Aeneas the initiate finally reaches his father in the Underworld and is ready to learn the secrets of the cosmos. Aeneas needed no expiation, only the original Hell House exhibition, because he is, as the poet firmly insists, 'pius', The soul of Anchises, Aeneas' father, is contemplating the souls of the purified in a pleasant valley by the River of Forgetfulness. In this holy place, Here Anchises explains the cycle of expiation and rebirth, governed by the One Above All, the Unmoved Mover. This single governing force might seem at odds with the bickering pantheon of the Aeneid, but the trip through the Underworld has already demonstrated this rigidity is not part of the cosmology of the Aeneid. The world is vast and contains many perspectives, from the fading ghosts of the Stygian shores to the eternal torment of the Titans and irredeemable mortals, to the cleansing and reincarnation of reclaimable souls. Neither the Sibyl nor Anchises can claim absolute knowledge; the former received her knowledge from Hecate, of which only a part is revealed to Aeneas, and Anchises, as a virtuous soul, never suffered the torments of expiation.

            There is a possibility that a modern audience might see a monotheist element in Anchises' cosmology. Although this perspective is not entirely wrong, especially from a diachronic, or historical trend, view, the modern sensibility is far more based in dualism than that of the Imperial Roman period. The distance between polytheism and monotheism is not a bright line in the sand, but a continuum. Islam and Judaism are indisputably monotheistic; is Christianity? If it is, which sorts of Christianity does one include? The theological perspective in this portion of the Aeneid is somewhere between henotheism, in which there are many gods, of equal or near equal power ("thou shalt have no other gods beside me") and monotheism ("thou shalt have no other gods besides me"), in which there is one. But then, a cult into which one must be initiated in order to achieve rebirth is unlikely to focus on a plethora of gods; the most likely number is one, and it is unlikely to have more than three. The universalist perspective of Anchises' cosmology is a unifying one, designed to soothe Aeneas' constant anxiety from the continuous conflict in his life and an aspirational one for the future generations of Romans, including those who comprise Virgil's contemporary audience. Jupiter and Juno are currently at odds, but they will reconcile and share patronage of the Roman race; Venus will see her descendent Caesar conquer both lands, lads, and lasses; Neptune will allow his domain to become Nostrum Mare, "Our Sea," to the Romans. Yet  none of this is intended to deny the potency of the Roman pantheon in the preservation of republican and imperial power. The worship of the gods is essential for political stability, but spiritual comfort will be sought more and more in the belief in a unitary power, whether that be Augustus Divus or Sol Invictus.

Trojan, Trojan, Trojan-cats Ho!: Potential Classical References in Cheetara #1

 Cheetara #1 is the initial issue in a prequel series to the main and heretofore only series in the reimagined Thundercats universe, one of many childhood franchises adapted, updated, and streamlined for a modern audience. The writer is Soo Lee; the artist Domenico Carbone; the letterer is Jeff Eckleberry.

Thundercats was not a childhood franchise with which I was obsessed, although of course I was aware of it, so this reimagining does not break my almost non-existent sense of canon, nor do I cry how any change has ruined my childhood. Let us ignore the Johnny Quest promotional stinger interpolated herein!

This prequel takes place on the alien planet Thundera before its destruction. The most obvious comparison would be Superman's home planet of Krypton, especially if you choose not to believe that Lion-O's original name Lionel was in reference to a train rather than the Big Blue Boy Scout. The presentation of Thundera does remind me a Silver Age Krypton or a more aggressively furry Space Wakanda. This is a bright and wonderful world, full of promise, at least from the perspective of our protagonist Cheetara. 

Since Krypton has not been portrayed in this manner since the icy planet of the Christopher Reeve movie (the best Superman movie) usurped the utopian vision of the World of Krypton backups with their primary colors and many headbands, a more apt comparison is Troy before its fall. Thundera is prosperous and powerful due to its control of the endemic mineral power source Thundrainium. Troy is prosperous and powerful due to its control of access to the trade routes into the Black Sea; the beginning of the Iliad involves Agamemnon, king of men, who is besieging Troy, offending the priest of Apollo, "Goldman," father of "Goldie," from "Goldtown." The different Great Thunderans, Thundera's aristocrats (or Aristocats?) are based on different feline species. The original motivation for this was visual distinctiveness, a key quality in animation but also in epic, since all important Trojans and Greeks receive epithets which may not be applicable in the immediate circumstances, but nonetheless provide personal characteristics with which to imagine them. Cheetara, as one of these nobles, is an biased observer; in the Iliad, Odyssey, and Aeneid, the perspectives of the Greeks and the Trojans differ markedly. 

Both Thundera and Troy are treated not just as places, but as characters, and as characters, both are positioned as tragic heroes. According to Aristotle, a tragic hero must be at the height of their power, yet the conditions for the fall have already been set. This necessity is best illustrated in Oedipus Tyrannus, where the same qualities that made Oedipus a great king guaranteed his downfall. The causes of Thundera's future reckoning are not presented in Cheetara #1, but there is only one issue and Cheetara has a enormous privilege as a noble. Troy, on the other hand, despite being blessed by the gods, had broken its agreement with the divine builders of its current walls, as well as the laws of hospitality. Troy was the head of a Bronze Age empire, with subordinate princes such as Aeneas, Briseis' father Briseus, and Cassandra's suitor Coroebus. The Thunderan ruler is blind from the last war (details as yet unrevealed) and therefore unfit to rule, so he has selected an elite squadron of Great Thunderans to raise his only son as ruler of Thundera. Priam, king of Troy, has no such externally inflicted infirmity, but he is very old and he was the only surviving son of the last Trojan War. Perhaps one could connect king Claudius of Thundera's disability with Anchises, father of Aeneas, rather than Priam, due to the savior complex surrounding the child prince Lion-O. Priam has a squad of sons, royal cousins, and client kings on which he can rely. 

Cheetara is framed as a warrior, a priestess, and a mother figure. The gender equity of the franchise and perhaps felines in general allow Cheetara to fight alongside the male Thunderans, a true Andromache. She accompanies the Regent Jaga to the temple of the ancestors. While it is true that the temple has an aesthetic between that of the Jedi and that of Black Panther, the facelessness of the ancestors provides a point of comparison. Many of the oldest idols in the Classical and pre-Classical times were not statues as we conceive them, with carefully defined faces, but rather sacred stones to which divinity and sometimes facial features were attributed. One can still visit the Aphrodite of Paphos, a stone where the characteristics of the goddess would suggest greater detail. The Thunderan Sword of Omens, which guarantees the safety of Thundera as long as it remains in the temple, is not just a Chekhov's gun, but also an easy analogue to the Palladium, a lumpy sacred statue which Odysseus had to remove from the Temple of Athena in the citadel of Troy before Troy could fall.

Cheetara's preference is holy orders, but martial duty takes precedence. Cheetara's physical gift of suitably themed speed, "swift-footed Cheetara," overshadows her psychic gift of precognition. This precognition, which in the service of the story involves the ineluctable doom, aligns her more with Cassandra than Achilles. Cassandra was cursed to speak the truth which none would believe. This conflict is a way to build tension when the outcome is already known - as in a tragedy. Cheetara is also the replacement mother for the young prince Lion-O, whose own mother is no longer around, although once again there are no details. Since Priam's wife Hecuba and Hector's wife Andromache are prominent in the Iliad, a more apt comparison is Anchises, who begot his son Aeneas on Aphrodite, a conspicuously absent mother. Lion-O may be special, but it remains to be seen if his bloodline is what passes for divine in the Thunderan cosmos. If Cheetara's maternal role aligns her with Andromache, then Lion-O is Astyanax, the doomed son of Hector, presumptive heir of Troy. Andromache's name means "she who fights like a man," while Astyanax means "lord of the city," both of which are applicable to the Thunderans.

Cheetara's story also involves romance. Tygra, a male Thundercat not to be confused with Marvel's Avenger, the engineer and builder of the core characters, is smitten with her. His obsession with ships is not only a narrative necessity, but also provides a link with Troy and the infamous thousand ships. The reality of noble families, however, demands arranged marriages, and Tygra and Cheetara is not one such. In this aspect also, there is a comparison between Cheetara and Cassandra. Cheetara is reluctant to accept her arranged match, else there would be no story. Cassandra also had a suitor, Coroebus, a prince of the outlying territories. His tale appears in the second book of Aeneid, when Aeneas is reluctantly recounting the fall of Troy to an insistent Dido at the Carthaginian court. Coroebus visited the city and was enchanted by Cassandra. Her brothers discouraged Coroebus, but Priam, king of Troy, could not pass up an opportunity for extra military assistance and allowed it. On the final night of Troy, Coroebus joined Aeneas' suicide squad and perished as Cassandra was carried off to be Agamemnon's booty. Tygra and Cheetara survive the fall of Thundera, so the parallel is not exact, but the number of similarity between Cheetara and Cassandra, as well as other women of Troy, is suggestive, Cheetara, as the girl Thundercat, must encompass far more roles than the more abundant male characters.

Although it is not possible to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Troy has provided an inspiration for the first look at prelapsarian Thundera, the multiple parallels condensed into a smaller cast and narrative structure suggest that it is worthwhile to use such an approach. The land, the king, the heir, and the royal retinue show points of similarity, but they also reveal potential differences. The interest in both lies in the path to the inevitable.