Lexitechnia

Livy reporting the speech of a soldier (Ab Urbe Condita 25.6):

Non solum a patria procul Italiaque sed ab hoste etiam relegati sumus, ubi senescamus in exsilio ne qua spes, ne qua occasio abolendæ ignominiæ, ne qua placandæ civium iræ, ne qua denique bene moriendi sit.

Not only were we sent far away from our homeland and from Italy, but even from the enemy, where we might grow old in exile, so that we have no hope nor any chance to do away with our dishonor, nor by which we may appease the wrath of our people, nor, in short, by which we may die well.

This is the second time, the first also in Livy, where I have ignominia ‘dishonor, disgrace, ignominy’ as an object of aboleo ‘destroy, abolish’. I’m sure there has to be a better translation of ignominiam abolere that carries the sense of both words, but my inner thesaurus is failing me at the moment.

I don’t seem to have any way to replicate the fourfold repetition of ne qua, either. Meh.

[For aboleo.]

Mark Antony to Cicero (Ad Atticum 14.13a):

Occupationibus est factum meis et subita tua profectione ne tecum coram de hac re agerem. Quam ob causam vereor ne absentia mea levior sit apud te.

It happened that because of my business and your sudden departure that I couldn’t pursue this matter with you in person, so I worry that, due to my being away, it might seem less important to you.

This first example of absentia ‘absence’ suggests the word has broader application than its English descendant: he writes that the absentia is his, even though it is Cicero who has left, while ‘absence’ seems to be more suggestive of being away from a place where one should be, than of merely being distant from a person.

It might be more natural to write ‘my not being with you’ or such, but the repetition of “with you… with you… to you” wouldn’t go well at all. Probably the best way to write it would be to trim out one mention of their not meeting face to face:

…I couldn’t pursue this with you in person; I worry that because of this it might seem less important to you.

But that wouldn’t be suitable to show how absentia is translated.

[For absentia.]

Cicero on haruspicy (De Divinatione 2.16):

Caput est in iecore, cor in extis: iam abscedet, simul ac molam et vinum insperseris; deus id eripiet, vis aliqua conficiet aut exedet.

There is a ‘head’ in the liver, a heart among the entrails. It may immediately disappear as soon as you have sprinkled on the groats and wine—a god may pull it out; some force may destroy or devour it.

He is here discussing the ‘how’ of extispicy. It’s a grave omen, for example, for the victim of a sacrifice to be found without a heart. The strange part is how a creature which should have presumably had a heart thus far in its existence to remain alive would be found without it when dead. The idea that some deity or other would step in and rearrange the organs at death, or that these mutations would pop into our out of existence from nothing, not from natural causes, is highlighted by Cicero here; he says:

Quis hoc physicus dixit umquam? Haruspices dicunt; his igitur quam physicis credendum potius existumas?

What scientist ever said such a thing? The haruspices say it; do you think, then, that it’s more believable from them than from the scientists?

The caput iecoris ‘head of the liver’ is one of the parts consulted in haruspicy. A couple of sources that equate it with modern terminology unify it with the caudate lobe (or some part of it), which is an interesting reversal.

Mola is supposed to be ‘emmer groats‘, salted and used in the process of sacrifice, among other things. The gloss is nearly as obscure as the original, and it might make just as much sense to leave the word untranslated.

[For abscedo.]

Cicero on untimely deaths (Philippica 2.46):

Etenim, si abhinc annos prope viginti hoc ipso in templo negavi posse mortem immaturam esse consulari, quanto verius non negabo seni!

Indeed, if nearly twenty years ago—in this very temple—I said there could be no such thing as death being premature for someone who has been consul, how much more truly will I say it for an old man!

The rank of consul was essentially the end of the cursus honorum; there were other high offices, but from Cicero here we can infer they were less highly valued. The old man being referred to is the ex-consul Cicero himself, asserting he is not afraid of what Mark Antony may do to him. (Senex ‘old’ here really refers to consularis ‘ex-consul’, i.e. if the death’s not early for an ex-consul, how much less for an old ex-consul; but I couldn’t really make it fit into the line well that way.)

The statement made twenty years before is actually more expansive (In Catilinam 4.2):

Nam neque turpis mors forti viro potest accidere neque immatura consulari nec misera sapienti.

For a disgraceful death cannot befall a brave man, nor an early one to an ex-consul, nor an unhappy one to a wise man.

The brave man’s death is an honor in itself; the ex-consul’s death happens to one who has already reached the peak of his career; the wise man’s death comes to one who has already achieved happiness, which many of the ancients associated with the pursuit of wisdom—Seneca, for example, writes (Epistulae 16.1):

Scio neminem posse beate vivere, ne tolerabiliter quidem, sine sapientiae studio, et beatam vitam perfecta sapientia effici.

I know that no one can live happily, or even tolerably, without the pursuit of wisdom, and that the happy life is brought about by the completion of wisdom.

We should call no one happy till he is dead, according to the ancient Greek dictum attributed to Solon. Fortunes and circumstances change for everyone through their whole lives; at any point, a happy life could become a happy past. But, if wisdom brings happiness, the man who dies wise dies happy.

[For abhinc.]

Cicero comparing governments (Ad Atticum 2.9):

Etenim si fuit invidiosa senatus potentia, cum ea non ad populum sed ad tris homines immoderatos redacta sit, quid iam censes fore?

After all, if the power of the Senate was unpopular, then what do you think it will be like when it has passed, not to the people, but to three unprincipled men?

I’m not sure I’ve properly brought out the contrast in this line; it took a while for me to grasp the idea. The main focus is not whether the power goes to the people or to the three men in question; earlier he has stated that expects them to be hankering for his old government soon, so the idea is closer to ‘if the senate made the people unhappy, imagine how they must feel with those guys in charge (when they thought they might be getting the power back for themselves).’

Invidiosus was a hard enough word to render with a meaning that made sense in context, but immoderatus is a word that does not easily suggest a word equal in tone and sense at all. It doesn’t seem to have the strong religious component as ‘immoral’, say, and ‘immoderate’ is both too uncommon and too vague (‘moderate’ having too many meanings). The ‘unprincipled’ I have now may work, but I’m sure there’s a better option.

[For senatus potentia, not yet posted.]