Why Study Latin?

Why Study Latin*

Parents often ask me why their children are studying Latin in this day and age.  It's a good question.

Latin is a dead language.  That means no one speaks it any more. So why on earth is it still taught?

Just because of a huge weight of tradition?  Because Daddy and Grandaddy both learned Latin? Because of its intellectual prestige? Because once it was the lingua franca of educated Europeans? 

These reasons aren't relevant anymore, but there are some real benefits to be had from learning Latin, for adults and children alike.

At the beginning of term I usually give the parents of my Latin pupils a piece of paper listing some of the reasons for learning this 'dead language':

1.  Learning Latin increases mental ability. In a recent study in America, children at a primary school were divided into two random groups. One group did a small amount of Latin per week, the other didn't. At the end of a term, the children who did Latin were doing consistently better at ALL subjects than the children who didn't do Latin. It has long been maintained that Latin helps develop logic and language skills. In fact, every few years a flurry of articles are published stating that a new study has shown the benefits of learning Latin. 

2.  Learning Latin teaches grammar and syntax. When I was at the University of London studying German with other post-graduates, it soon became evident that about half the class had no idea what grammatical terms like definite article, case and conjunction meant.  The teacher had to stop and ask how many of us wanted to review these basic grammatical terms before we started the course properly.  These were all adults with at least one University degree behind them, going on for an MA or  MSc, yet several of them raised their hands.  What did those particular students have in common?  They HADN'T studied Latin.  Those of us who had studied Latin didn't need to review grammatical terms.  

3.  Learning Latin helps us learn English itself.  One of my ten-year-old pupils, Ian, was in the hospital with an eye problem.  He noticed the word lachrymal on one of his forms.
'Does that have anything to do with tears?' he asked the staff nurse.
'Why, yes, it's the department that deals with tear duct problems. How did you know that?' she asked.
'I study Latin,' he replied.
Ian and three eleven-year-olds helped me make a diagram of the cases. (right)

Over 60% of all English words are derived from Latin (or Greek).  

4.  Learning Latin helps us learn the so called Romance Languages. A Romance language isn't one you speak with a guitar in your hand and a rose between your teeth; it's a language which developed from the language spread by Roman soldiers and colonists: Latin! Romance languages include Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, French and Romanian. Compare the Romance words for 'friend':

Latin: amicus

Italian: amico

Spanish: amigo

French: ami

and some non-Romance words for 'friend':

Hebrew: haver

Russian: dryg

Japanese: tomodachi

Swedish: vaen

It is particularly relevant, now that the UK is part of Europe, to familiarise ourselves with the cultural and linguistic heritage of the Roman colonists. :-( 

5.  Learning Latin helps you learn other 'dead languages'.  What are some other dead languages? Biblical Hebrew and Greek, if you want to be a Bible scholar. Ugaritic, Akkadian or Egyptian Hieroglyphics, if you want to become an archaeologist like Indiana Jones.  

6.  In fact, learning Latin helps you learn almost any other language, because to learn Latin you must learn HOW to learn a language.  You learn to analyse words and sentences; you learn how to memorise vocabulary; you learn to put aside preconceived ideas (based on English) of how a language should work.  

7.  For this reason, anyone who wants to be a novelist, travel writer, pilot, journalist, diplomat, missionary or international business person – in other words, someone who will need to learn other languages – would benefit from learning Latin.  

8.  Anyone who wants to become a doctor, nurse, physiotherapist or vet would benefit from knowing Latin because the parts of the body are still referred to by their Latin terms.  The word valve means 'a folding door' in Latin, the atrium in the heart is a 'hall' or 'chamber', and it's easy to picture the structure of certain bone cells when you know the word trabeculae means lattice-work.   

9.  Anyone who wants to become a gardener, botanist or zoologist would benefit from Latin.  Most flora and fauna are known by their Latin names.  In fact the words 'flora' and 'fauna' are both Latin.

10.  Finally, Latin is fun.  Learning the language is like solving a giant puzzle.  Anyone who likes crosswords, codes or cryptograms will derive great pleasure from making sense of it.  Latin literature tells of myths and battles, love stories and philosophies, comedies and tragedies, poetry and prose. Latin history is full of fascinating men and women: Caesar, Cleopatra, Hannibal, Cicero, Nero, Hadrian, Spartacus, Marcus Aurelius, St Augustine, St Jerome and many more.  

I think this last reason is the most important for the children, and just to make sure they are convinced of this point, I start off each new school year with a Latin banquet.  We spend one or two lessons discussing what food the ancient Romans or Pompeiians would have eaten. Once we have eliminated chocolate, bananas, potatoes and tomatoes, I get each student to volunteer to bring a 'Roman' food. 

On the day, we spread out a large sheet or rug to catch all the crumbs and spread cushions to recline on. We put our food on plates in the middle. For greater authenticity you could wear tunics and garlands, and have a couple of children volunteer to be slaves. We serve well-watered red and white 'wine' - grape juice in jugs - as our beverage. Then we all recline on our left side, leaving the right hand free. No forks are allowed; they were unknown in Roman times. So we eat with spoons and our fingers.  

Our Roman Banquet menu could look like this: 

Gustatio (Starters)

hard boiled eggs with salt

black olives

pomegranates

almonds or pistachio nuts

Mensa Prima (Main Course)

smoked fish

cold roast chicken

warm pitta bread and hummus

Mensa Secunda (Dessert)

grapes

figs

pistachio halva

honeycomb

honeycakes

During the banquet we each take turns reciting a poem or telling a story. Play some of Synaulia's ancient Roman music to help set the mood.

For end-of-term parties, I screen a Roman movie. My personal all-time favourite and the film I believe most accurately portrays ancient Rome is A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. 

'Oh, Mother,' grumbled my teenage son the other day, 'You really shouldn't throw Latin banquets and show films; you'll give those poor kids the idea that Latin is fun.'

*This is a slightly updated version of an article I wrote way back in 1997, in the pre Minimus days when I was teaching my own ad hoc Latin course to primary school aged kids in London. Feel free to use it; I only ask that you give me credit. 1997 © Caroline Lawrence

[Caroline Lawrence's Roman Mysteries books are perfect for children aged 9 - 90. Carrying on from the Roman Mysteries, the Roman Quests series set in Roman Britain launched in May 2016 with Escape from Rome.]

Thracian O

(inspired by J.W. Waterhouse's Nymphs finding the Head of Orpheus)

Thracian O
by Caroline Lawrence

My tears are small and bitter and hard to squeeze out.
What do you expect? I’m a raccoon.
I half resent him for making me feel this way…
Half love him, too. I want to rub up against his calf,
To kiss his ankle with my small wet nose.
But something in his manner keeps us at all a distance
Even though his music ensnares and attracts us,
We are held in his Thracian thrall. Gripped by his woodland notes.
Those rainbow chords strummed out on his lyre.
That throbbing net of music that holds me – paralysed – next to
Brother Wolf. (The Grey One will probably gobble me whole
The moment O puts down his lyre. More of embarrassment
Than instinct, I suspect - a desire to eliminate
any creature who witnessed his tears.)
O’s fingers pluck the dried stretched entrails of my pal,
A mountain lynx who perked his tufted ears and came too close
‘Pluck me,’ squeals my dead amigo. ‘Pluck me, baby!’

He fell in love once, our Thracian bard,
But she was one of those ethereal types: too beautiful to last long.
You know the type. Marble skin, laughing eyes, pillowy lips.
The kind of girl the cosmos likes to snuff out
Between its forefinger and thumb?
Brother Snake snacked on her heel one afternoon,
Trading her sweet blood for his poisoned saliva.
Not such a good deal if you ask me.
But she was running barefoot and carefree at the time,
All annoying with her slo-mo flying hair and backward glances,
luring O on, making him put down his lyre, taking him from us.
Serves her right for being all carefree and happy and barefoot.
Besides, he didn’t play as much when he was with her.
They did other things instead. Like get grass stains on their tunics.
Selfish O. Selfish E. We craved his music, like a drug.
But she kept him from us. So she had to go.
Even Brother Wolf hoped that now E was dead and gone
O would get back to his Woodland Tour.

The maenads felt the same way. They really resented E,
That groupie par excellence. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised
To learn that one of them had planted that snake in the grass
Just so he’d come back to us, his fans. But he didn’t come back.
He went away. And the woods were dark and rank
And empty and dank without him. For a long time.
We missed him. Missed his music. How dare he?
We never asked for his lachrymose music. But it was like
A drug. We craved it. He got us hooked. And then to just leave us?
Like a dealer leaves his junkie hanging around?
When we could be getting some useful scavenging done?

We skulked and moped and did some half-hearted foraging
The carnivores forced themselves to swallow a few herbivores.
I tell you: the latter went willingly. The pleasure had gone out of life
For us all. Then one day the trees themselves whispered the rumour
With rejoicing leaves; ‘He’s back! Back from death.
Back from the underworld!’ The aspen shuddered with pleasure.
The oak stood frozen with joy. The trees clapped.
See? Even they love his music. Hell, even the rocks like his music.

And then… Then he does nothing but mope. Come on, O!
Snap out of it! We’re waiting, man. We bought our tickets last year.
We’ve all been waiting. I camped out in line for three days
So I could get this seat near the front.
And now you say you’re retiring? I’m sorry, but no. That won’t do.
The maenads start the rave without him and then he appears
All sulky and in an artistic funk, saying his manager betrayed him.
And he refuses to play! Those crazy nymphs are furious.
Incandescent. One of them starts to beat him
With her thyrsus. The others join in. They just want to be noticed.
They all want a piece of him. Odi et amo, baby. They love him
And they hate him. One of them is kissing him while
Another bites off his toe. One nibbles his ear. Literally.
Then they get carried away and tear him limb from limb.
The fingers that plucked the strings? Scattered and bloody in the grass.
The arms that cradled the lyre? Pulled out of their shoulder sockets
And tossed away. One arm up a tree, the other down a ravine.
It was too hard to pull the legs from the torso.
So they left that. And trust me, there are some bits
You don’t even want to know about. And what about his head?
His beautiful rock-star head that we loved to gaze upon?
Floating down the stream, dude. Floating down the stream.

And then the next day they see his head and they’re like: ‘Ohmygod!
What happened?’ Stupid nymphs. Still, now I can get back to business.



J.W.Waterhouse: The Modern Pre-Raphaelite was on at the Royal Academy in 2009 but it has NOW FINISHED. You can read some of my thoughts about this painting at my blog called Orpheus & Orphée. And you can read my takes on these other paintings by Waterhouse: Ariadne, Hylas, Adonis, Narcissus and Circe.

[Despite the slightly risqué flavour of this poem, Caroline Lawrence's Roman Mysteries are perfect for children aged 9+, especially those studying Romans as a topic in Key Stage 2. There are DVDs of some of the books as well as an interactive game.]

Odysseus by Waterhouse

The story is so familiar to us that we forget how bizarre it is.

The Greek hero Odysseus is on his way home from the Trojan War. He has been warned that the Island of the Sirens is deadly to sailors. No man can hear their beautiful music - their 'siren song' - without wanting to go to them. But their island is ringed with deadly rocks and all who try to reach them are shipwrecked and drowned.

Clever Odysseus thinks of a way to hear their song and not die. He tells his sailors to tie him to the mast. 'No matter how much I struggle and beg,' he says, 'don't untie me until the Island of the Sirens is beyond the horizon.' He then tells the sailors to plug their ears with wax and row for all they are worth.


They do. Odysseus, tied to the mast, hears the song of the Sirens. It is so beautiful that he forgets everything he did and everything he wants. He doesn't care if he dies, if only he can be with them a few moments more, surrounded by that beautiful music. He struggles and shouts and rages at his sailors: 'Untie me! Let me go!' But they stare resolutely ahead, pulling on their oars, their heads filled with the sound of their own deep breaths and their hearts pumping. The Sirens are enraged. Why is this ship full of men not falling into their trap? They rise up off their deadly rocks and flap closer to see, for they are monsters: birds with the heads of women.

They fly as close as they dare to the boat, making their song as beautiful as possible. Odysseus writhes in the ecstasy of their song and the agony of his bondage. The sailors see these terrible creatures and pull harder on their oars. Waterhouse has shown them with bandages around their ears to double the effectiveness of the wax.

Finally they will escape and Odysseus will claim that he was the only man who heard the Sirens' song and lived.

Waterhouse has chosen to show the Sirens as bird-headed monsters. He almost certainly got this idea from the famous red-figure vase (above) showing Odysseus and the bird-woman Sirens. We know he knew this vase because he puts it on a tapestry - reversed - in one of his paintings of the enchantress Circe (left). You can see it behind her head: quite murky, but recognizable if you know the vase.

Some say the Island of the Sirens is Capri, the beautiful island off the Amalfi Coast on the Bay of Naples. The Bay of Naples is one of the most beautiful places in the world and I have chosen to set two books near there: The Pirates of Pompeii and The Sirens of Surrentum. In the second book the seductive patron Pollius Felix describes the struggles of bound Odysseus as ecstatic.

Don't listen to his 'siren song', Flavia!

J.W.Waterhouse: The Modern Pre-Raphaelite was on at the Royal Academy in 2009 but has now FINISHED. For more Waterhouse check out my blogs on Adonis, Ariadne, Circe, Hylas, Narcissus, Odysseus and Orpheus.