Gil Talbot
O N C OU RSE
Elizabeth Meyer’s Latin 600
To the hypnotic beat of the Black Eyed Peas, nine seniors and uppers have gathered around the coffee table in Elizabeth Meyer’s living room, their sometimes classroom. They are listening for strains of Latin— classical Latin—not in the beat, but in the meaning. “What are they saying to each other?” Dr. Meyer asks. “He’s obsessed?” Adam laughs. Discussion ensues. Meyer poses another question: “What is the fundamental problem in a romantic relationship that is not mutual? What does each one want from the other?” Ben quotes from a poem read earlier in the term: “iucundum amorem vs. aeternum foedus amicitiae, a pleasant love affair vs. an eternal bond of devotion.” “He’s making her pledge something she can’t do,” Emma speaks up. “Oh yea! Just like Catullus and Lesbia!” says Mike, referencing an earlier lyric ode. With sweet rolls, laughter, and a liberal dose of enthusiasm, Latin 600 is energetically in session. The discussion turns to today’s ode: Cleopatra’s fall. In fluid Latin, Meyer reads aloud the first stanzas. A student volunteers: Another beautiful woman, desperately loved, threatened and pursued by powerful men who would both idolize and murder her. Eric picks up the translating: “but seeking to perish more nobly, she neither feared the sword in a womanly fashion, nor did she seek hidden shores…” Meyer observes: “As Cleopatra loses power, she seems to gain strength of character…yes?” Agreement all around. Eric continues: “And she has dared to gaze upon her fallen city with a serene face, brave enough to handle the rough serpents…” They discuss Cleopatra’s triumph over Caesar in her choice of suicide by asp rather than escape or public execution.
The Black Eyed Peas not far behind, Meyer brings the Bard to the discussion: “’Tis paltry to be Caesar; Not being Fortune, he’s but Fortune’s knave, a minister of her will and it is great.” “What’s that from?” she asks. “Shakespeare!” comes the ready chorus. “And what’s he saying?” Ben’s analysis: everyone dies, regardless of rank or power. “Like Ozymandias,” Eric chimes in, quoting Shelley: “‘Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’” Another quotes Hamlet: “Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him…” Someone suggests the same theme in Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan.” Meyer offers up Virginia Wolff with a quote from Mrs. Dalloway—“Big Ben was beginning to strike, first the warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable…”—pulling the ancient threads of mankind’s longing for immortality toward the present. Meyer delves into its corollary: “So, if we have to die, do we believe that we must enjoy what we can of life while we have it, as the poet Horace believed? Or do we take the more modern view that because life is so difficult, we should focus on the afterlife?” The Greek Epicureans and pagan Romans at the one extreme, the later Roman Christians at the other. The discussion is so lively that 90 minutes fly by. Classics 600 is a rich mix of history, philosophy, literature, psychology, and culture— from ancient to pop. Meyer, a smart, unpretentious Midwesterner with a PhD, is a master at integrating multiple resources, keeping her students on the edge of their seats. (More frequently those seats are the antique desks in the second-floor classics room in Pearson Hall, where busts of the ancients peer down from immutable pose.) And she is passionate about her subject. Why study Latin today? “For the same reasons you should learn to play the violin—because it’s beautiful and you love it. You can’t experience literature fully unless you can read it in its original language, and the Greeks and Roman
wrote some damn good stuff no matter what you think of them!” And lest the reader think that Latin is the purview of geeks and intellectual snobs, Meyer is quick to point out that her class sports three varsity hockey players, a varsity baseball and lacrosse player, a Phillipian staffer, and the school president.
Carpe Diem, Indeed!
“Every single day, I’m really missin’ missin’ missin’ you… And all those things we used to, used to, used to do…”
by Sally Holm
This is the first time Classics 600—a yearlong course—has been offered at Andover. The focus this fall is lyric poetry. Meyer is determined that they appreciate not only the beauty of the art, but the deeper themes so that they can make these philosophical connections themselves. For instance, “If human suffering and death are inevitable, what are our options? We learn from Vergil that empathy can lighten if not alleviate pain, and from Horace that instead of obsessing about the future, we should pluck and enjoy each day like a ripe fruit—carpe diem.” Meyer’s other passion is teaching. She takes an intense personal interest in her students, attending their athletic contests, their theatre and music performances. The rapport is real. Ben Burke ’11 calls his “second mother’s” love of Latin contagious. “Ms. Meyer’s passion for Latin shines through, and regardless of how you felt entering the class, she makes you want to learn Latin. She takes you away from Andover to ancient Rome, and listening to her I see the fall of the Republic and the birth of the Empire or Augustus himself.” Emma Zanazzi ’11 loves the classics so much she is thinking about teaching the subject herself. Katie Ellinger ’12 is inspired by the relevance: “We talk about Latin poetry, written 2,000 years ago, as we would about poetry from 20 years ago. We look at the language and artistry and talk about the contemporary cultural influences on it. She’s not just teaching us about some dry ancient history; it’s current and relevant and relatable.” In Latin 600, tempus fugit.
Andover | Winter 2011
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