After a closer examination of a surviving marvel of ancient Greek technology known as the Antikythera Mechanism, scientists have found that the device not only predicted solar eclipses but also organized the calendar in the four-year cycles of the Olympiad, forerunner of the modern Olympic Games.
The new findings, reported Wednesday in the journal Nature, also suggested that the mechanism’s concept originated in the colonies of Corinth, possibly Syracuse, on Sicily. The scientists said this implied a likely connection with Archimedes...
The mechanism’s connection with the Corinthians was unexpected, the researchers said, because other cargo in the shipwreck appeared to be from the eastern Mediterranean, places like Kos, Rhodes and Pergamon. The months inscribed on the instrument, they wrote, are “practically a complete match” with those on calendars from Illyria and Epirus in northwestern Greece and with the island of Corfu. Seven months suggest a possible link with Syracuse.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
de Antikythera
Via MarginalRevolution, the New York times reports the latest research on the Antikythera Mechanism [Ed. note: incredible how fast Wikipedia incorporates these new facts!]:
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
ὀρθογραφία Ἄρκτου
The spelling of "the Bear".
At Language Log, an interesting discussion of the history of the spelling and pronunciation of Arctic/Artic. The root, of course, is the Greek Ἄρκτος-Ursa Major, and thus "the North."
Also, at AWK Abe calls me out in a bizarrely entitled post to discuss some anomalous plurals.
Plus, via RogueClassicism, Hercules returns to the big screen: info here, here, and here. Based on a gruesome, gritty comic book series, this is neither Disney nor Kevin Sorbo. Is that a good thing? You decide---but we don't tolerate Kevin Sorbo bashing here at De Grypis.
More on the film later.
At Language Log, an interesting discussion of the history of the spelling and pronunciation of Arctic/Artic. The root, of course, is the Greek Ἄρκτος-Ursa Major, and thus "the North."
Also, at AWK Abe calls me out in a bizarrely entitled post to discuss some anomalous plurals.
Plus, via RogueClassicism, Hercules returns to the big screen: info here, here, and here. Based on a gruesome, gritty comic book series, this is neither Disney nor Kevin Sorbo. Is that a good thing? You decide---but we don't tolerate Kevin Sorbo bashing here at De Grypis.
More on the film later.
Monday, July 21, 2008
hic et ille
Odds and ends (lit. "this and that" [HT: Leslie and friends]).
My good friend Abe at AlmostWorthKnowing briefly mentions a bit of Latin etymology, and so I can use it as an excuse to plug his new blog.
Chris Jones at LatinLanguage's take on the oft-neglected Statius' Thebaid Book I.
One of the more Classics-y discussions at Roger Travis's LivingEpic blog---his perspective on the strange dual forms in Book 9 of the Iliad.
My good friend Abe at AlmostWorthKnowing briefly mentions a bit of Latin etymology, and so I can use it as an excuse to plug his new blog.
Chris Jones at LatinLanguage's take on the oft-neglected Statius' Thebaid Book I.
One of the more Classics-y discussions at Roger Travis's LivingEpic blog---his perspective on the strange dual forms in Book 9 of the Iliad.
Friday, July 11, 2008
illla non intellexit quantum iocosum...
That woman does not know how funny...
...her latest "insights" are. Philolog is at it again, I hesitate to recommend that you read the whole post, but among other silly observations (NB: consider "pediatrics"), an excerpt concerning her latest monthly "word of the day[?]":
Ho ho. For conjuring a lovely image of old folks are kicking on their death beds, thank you Philolog. I don't believe that's what she was going for...
...her latest "insights" are. Philolog is at it again, I hesitate to recommend that you read the whole post, but among other silly observations (NB: consider "pediatrics"), an excerpt concerning her latest monthly "word of the day[?]":
One of the traits that many centenarians share is that they may be considered recalcitrant. See you in August!I believe her research process stops at dictionary.com, but if she had consulted Lewis & Short:
II. In gen., to strike convulsively with the feet, of one dying, Ov M. 12, 240.
Ho ho. For conjuring a lovely image of old folks are kicking on their death beds, thank you Philolog. I don't believe that's what she was going for...
Monday, June 30, 2008
tractum ex annotationibus
Drawn from comments.
Remarking on my previous post, Stephen inquires:
Remarking on my previous post, Stephen inquires:
Do you have a source for this? I feel like it would be unlikely that the original [u:] sound of υ would be preserved in English. It would almost certainly have come into English via Latin, which merged it with 'i' at a fairly early date and other words that derive from Greek roots show the change already to have happened (The only example I can think of right now is "priest" which is from "presbyter", that doesn't show a remnant of [u], but that's gone through several stages before it got to "priest" so i'm not 100% sure about that).He is right to wonder about a source; my etymological suggestion was rather speculative. The logic behind his concern is flawless, but I do not think not it applies here. There is a real lack of evidence that this came to English via Latin. The OED entry has "ptooey" attested only as early as 1930, with etymology and citations as follows:
ptooey, 19- ptui. [Imitative. ComparePFUI int., PHOOEY int., and also PTISH int., PSHAW int., etc.]1930 O. LATTIMORE High Tartary xxvii. 273 ‘Ptui! Wrong again! Will you ever be fit for Official life? Ptui!’ Thus the Great Man, pursuing his orderly with a flying gob of spittle. 1977 Rolling Stone 5 May 5/2 Ptooey! Who'd stand for it? 1993 Albuquerque (New Mexico) Jrnl. 26 Aug. F6/1 What do you think this is, Lollapalooza? Ptui.
This first form [pfui] only has roots in German. The rest are of even more uncertain origin, and often falsely attributed to Yiddish. The Latin verb "spuo-to spit," which is connected to Gothic speiwan (LSJ), seems to have no correlation to any of these forms. Nor does Latin have any alternative onomatopoeic rendering for this expression. In fact, the OED seems to have little evidence definitively showing the roots of "ptooey" in any language besides English.
And so I return to my initial point which, having been forced now to think it through more thoroughly, is in need of clarification. I should not have said this expression is derived from the Greek verb; there is no concrete evidence testifying to this hypothesis. But I do not see any evidence to the contrary either. Therefore:
I would briefly draw your attention to the earliest attested form in English. What is is about that name that looks strangely familiar? The famous Owen Lattimore, post-WWII public intellectual, Far-East scholar, and notable author is the brother of Richmond Lattimore, the renowned Classics translator of Iliad and Odyssey among others.
Perhaps, and only perhaps, Owen Lattimore was well-versed enough in the classics to be familiar with the Greek onamatopoeic verb, and attempted to render the sound in English.
Before climbing out onto a yet thinner and more treacherous limb, I will rest my case here.
And so I return to my initial point which, having been forced now to think it through more thoroughly, is in need of clarification. I should not have said this expression is derived from the Greek verb; there is no concrete evidence testifying to this hypothesis. But I do not see any evidence to the contrary either. Therefore:
- "Ptooey" was formulated in English independent of the Greek verb, and perhaps free of the influence of any other language. It is a direct onomatopoeic rendering of the sound of spitting.
- My original hypothesis was correct, and "ptooey" is a borrowing of a Greek onomatopoeic rendering, a best-possible English imitation.
I would briefly draw your attention to the earliest attested form in English. What is is about that name that looks strangely familiar? The famous Owen Lattimore, post-WWII public intellectual, Far-East scholar, and notable author is the brother of Richmond Lattimore, the renowned Classics translator of Iliad and Odyssey among others.
Perhaps, and only perhaps, Owen Lattimore was well-versed enough in the classics to be familiar with the Greek onamatopoeic verb, and attempted to render the sound in English.
Before climbing out onto a yet thinner and more treacherous limb, I will rest my case here.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
ὀνοματοποιία εὐθύς;
Onomatopoeia directly?
Is our English colloquial "ptooey" or alternately, "ptooie" a direct onomatopoeic rendering of the sound made when a person spits?
It seems more likely it is derived from the Greek onomatopoeic verb "πτύω-to spit."
A fun and relevant passage:
Xenophon Cyropaedia 1.2.16
Is our English colloquial "ptooey" or alternately, "ptooie" a direct onomatopoeic rendering of the sound made when a person spits?
It seems more likely it is derived from the Greek onomatopoeic verb "πτύω-to spit."
A fun and relevant passage:
Xenophon Cyropaedia 1.2.16
αἰσχρὸν μὲν γὰρ ἔτι καὶ νῦν ἐστι Πέρσαις καὶ τὸ πτύειν καὶ τὸ ἀπομύττεσθαι καὶ τὸ φύσης μεστοὺς φαίνεσθαι...
For it is even now shameful among the Persians to spit or to blow one's nose or to appear flatulent...
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