<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
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                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:8.6.31-8.6.45</requestUrn>
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            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:8.6.31-8.6.45</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="eng"><body><div n="urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2" type="translation" xml:lang="eng"><div n="8" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="6" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><div n="31" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> On the other hand, <hi rend="italic">onomatopoea,</hi> that is to say,
                            the creation of a word, although regarded with the highest approbation
                            by the Greeks, is scarcely permissible to a Roman. It is true that many
                            words were created in this way by the original founders of the language,
                            who adapted them to suit the sensation which they expressed. For
                            instance, <hi rend="italic">mugitus,</hi> lowing, <hi rend="italic">sibilus,</hi> a hiss, and <hi rend="italic">murmur</hi> owe their
                            origin to this practice. </p></div><div n="32" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But to-day we consider that all has been done that can be done in this
                            line, and do not venture on fresh creations, in spite of the fact that
                            many of the words thus formed in antiquity are daily becoming obsolete.
                            Indeed, we scarcely permit ourselves to use new derivatives, so they are
                            called, which are formed in various ways from words in common use, such
                            as <hi rend="italic">Sullaturit,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Cic. <hi rend="italic">ad Att.</hi> IX. x. 6.
                                </note>
                        <quote>he wishes to be a second Sulla,</quote> or <hi rend="italic">proscripturit,</hi>
                        <quote> he wishes to have <pb n="v7-9 p.321"/> a proscription, </quote> while <hi rend="italic">laureati posies,</hi>
                        <quote>laurelled
                                door-posts,</quote> for <hi rend="italic">lauru
                                coronati,</hi>
                        <quote>crowned with laurel,</quote> are similar
                            formations. </p></div><div n="33" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">
                                This passage is too corrupt to admit of emendation or translation.
                                There seem to be references to <hi rend="italic">vio</hi> for <hi rend="italic">eo</hi> and to <hi rend="italic">arqtitollens.</hi> for which cp. <hi rend="italic">arquitenens.</hi> Septemntriones can hardly be selected for
                                censure, as it is not uncommon. </note>
                     </p></div><div n="34" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> These facts make <hi rend="italic">catachresis</hi> (of which <hi rend="italic">abuse</hi> is a correct translation) all the more
                            necessary. By this term is meant the practice of adapting the nearest
                            available term to describe something for which no actual term exists, as
                            in the line <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">A horse they build by Pallas' art
                                        divine,</l></quote><bibl default="false"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> II. xv. It is
                                        an abuse to say <hi rend="italic">aedficant,</hi> which
                                        means literally "they make a house. </bibl></cit></quote> or as in the expression found in tragedy, <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">To Aigialeus</l><l part="N">His
                                        sire bears funeral offerings,</l></quote><note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Perhaps from the Medus of
                                    Pacuvius It is an abuse to use <hi rend="italic">parental</hi>
                                    of funeral offerings made by father to son. </note></quote> The
                            following examples are of a similar character. </p></div><div n="35" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Flasks are called <hi rend="italic">acetabula,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Lit. vinegar flasks.</note> whatever they
                            contain, and caskets <hi rend="italic">pyxides,</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">i.e.</hi> made
                                of boxwood. </note> of whatever material they are made, while <hi rend="italic">parricide</hi> includes the murder of a mother or a
                            brother. We must be careful to distinguish between <hi rend="italic">abuse</hi> and <hi rend="italic">metaphor,</hi> since the former is
                            employed where there is no proper term available, and the latter when
                            there is another term available. As for poets, they indulge in the abuse
                            of words even in cases where proper terms do exist, and substitute words
                            of somewhat similar meaning. But this is rare in prose. </p></div><div n="36" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some, indeed, would give the name of <hi rend="italic">catachresis</hi>
                            even to cases such as where we call temerity valour or prodigality
                            liberality. I, however, cannot agree with them; for in these <pb n="v7-9 p.323"/> instances word is not substituted for word, but
                            thing for thing, since no one regards prodigality and liberality as
                            meaning the same, but one man calls certain actions liberal and another
                            prodigal, although neither for a moment doubts the difference between
                            the two qualities. </p></div><div n="37" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> There is but one of the <hi rend="italic">tropes</hi> involving change
                            of meaning which remains to be discussed, namely, <hi rend="italic">metalepsis</hi> or <hi rend="italic">transumption,</hi> which
                            provides a transition from one <hi rend="italic">trope</hi> to another.
                            It is (if we except comedy) but rarely used in Latin, and is by no means
                            to be commended, though it is not infrequently employed by the Greeks,
                            who, for example, call <foreign xml:lang="grc">Χείρων</foreign> the
                            centaur <foreign xml:lang="grc">Ἥσσων</foreign>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><foreign xml:lang="grc">Χείρων</foreign> and
                                    <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἥσσων</foreign> both mean inferior.
                            </note> and substitute the epithet <foreign xml:lang="grc">θοαί</foreign> (swift) for <foreign xml:lang="grc">ὄξειαι</foreign>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">cp. Od.</hi> xv. 298. <foreign xml:lang="grc">Θοός</foreign> is used elsewhere to express sharpness. </note>
                            in referring to sharp-pointed islands. But who would endure a Roman if
                            he called Verres <hi rend="italic">sus</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">Verres =boar; Catus=wise.</note> or changed the
                            name of Aelius Catus to Aelius <hi rend="italic">doctus?</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="38" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> It is the nature of <hi rend="italic">metalepsis</hi> to form a kind of
                            intermediate step between the term transferred and the thing to which it
                            is transferred, having no meaning in itself, but merely providing a
                            transition. It is a <hi rend="italic">trope</hi> with which to claim
                            acquaintance, rather than one which we are ever likely to require to
                            use. The commonest example is the following: <hi rend="italic">cano</hi>
                            is a synonym for <hi rend="italic">canto</hi> and <hi rend="italic">canto</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">In the sense of
                                to repeat.</note> for <hi rend="italic">dico,</hi> therefore <hi rend="italic">cano</hi> is a synonym for <hi rend="italic">dico,</hi> the intermediate step being provided by <hi rend="italic">canto.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="39" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> We need not waste any more time over it. I can see no use in it except,
                            as I have already said, in comedy. </p></div><div n="40" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The remaining <hi rend="italic">tropes</hi> are employed solely to adorn
                            and enhance our style without any reference to the meaning. For the <hi rend="italic">epithet,</hi> of which the correct translation is <hi rend="italic">appositum,</hi> though some call it <hi rend="italic">sequens,</hi>
                        <pb n="v7-9 p.325"/> is clearly an ornament. Poets
                            employ it with special frequency and freedom, since for them it is
                            sufficient that the epithet should suit the word to which it is applied:
                            consequently we shall not blame them when they speak of <quote>white
                                teeth</quote> or <quote>liquid wine.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Georg.</hi> III. 364. </note>
                            But in oratory an epithet is redundant unless it has some point. Now it
                            will only have point when it adds something to the meaning, as for
                            instance in the following: <quote>O abominable crime, O hideous
                                lust!</quote>
                     </p></div><div n="41" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But its decorative effect is greatest when it is metaphorical, as in the
                            phrases <quote>unbridled greed</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> Cic. in <hi rend="italic">Cat.</hi> I. x. 25.
                            </note> or <quote>those mad piles of masonry.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic"> Pro Mil.</hi>
                                xx. 53. </note> The epithet is generally made into a <hi rend="italic">trope</hi> by the addition of something to it, as when
                            Virgil speaks of <quote>disgraceful poverty</quote> or <quote>sad old
                                age.</quote>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> vi. 276 and 275. Here the addition is
                                    <hi rend="italic">metonymy, turpis</hi> and <hi rend="italic">tristis</hi> both substituting <hi rend="italic">effect</hi> in
                                place of <hi rend="italic">cause: cp.</hi> § 27. </note> But the
                            nature of this form of embellishment is such that, while style is bare
                            and inelegant without any epithets at all, it is overloaded when a large
                            number are employed. </p></div><div n="42" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For then it becomes long-winded and cumbrous, in fact you might compare
                            it to an army with as many camp-followers as soldiers, an army, that is
                            to say, which has doubled its numbers without doubling its strength.
                            None the less, not merely single epithets are employed, but we may find
                            a number of them together, as in the following passage from Virgil:
                                <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Aen.</hi> iii. 475. I have translated 476 ( <hi rend="italic">cura deum, bis Pergameis erepte ruinis</hi> ) as well to bring
                                out Quintilian's meaning. Quintilian assumes the rest of quotation
                                to be known. </note>
                        <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="F">Anchises, worthy deigned</l><l part="N">Of Venus' glorious
                                        bed, [beloved of heaven,</l><l part="N">Twice rescued from
                                        the wreck of Pergamum.]</l></quote></quote>
                     </p></div><div n="43" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Be this as it may, two epithets directly attached to one noun are
                            unbecoming even in verse. There are some writers who refuse to regard an
                                <hi rend="italic">epithet</hi> as a <hi rend="italic">trope,</hi> on
                            the ground that it involves no change. It <pb n="v7-9 p.327"/> is not
                            always a <hi rend="italic">trope,</hi> but if separated from the word to
                            which it belongs, it has a significance of its own and forms an <hi rend="italic">antonomasia.</hi> For if you say, <quote>The man who
                                destroyed Numantia and Carthage,</quote> it will be an <hi rend="italic">antonomasia,</hi> whereas, if you add the word
                                <quote>Scipio,</quote> the phrase will be an <hi rend="italic">epithet.</hi> An epithet therefore cannot stand by itself. </p></div><div n="44" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">Allegory,</hi> which is translated in Latin by <hi rend="italic">inversio,</hi> either presents one thing in words and
                            another in meaning, or else something absolutely opposed to the meaning
                            of the words. The first type is generally produced by a series of
                            metaphors. Take as an example: <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">O ship, new waves will bear thee back to
                                            sea.</l><l part="N">What dost thou? Make the haven, come
                                            what may,</l></quote><bibl default="false">Hor. Od. i. xiv. 1.</bibl></cit></quote> and the rest of the ode, in which Horace represents
                            the state under the semblance of a ship, the civil wars as tempests, and
                            peace and good-will as the haven. </p></div><div n="45" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Such, again, is the claim of Lucretius: <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Lucr.</hi> IV. 1.
                                </note>
                        <quote rend="blockquote"><quote><l part="N">Pierian fields I
                                        range untrod by man,</l></quote></quote> and such again the
                            passage where Virgil says, <quote rend="blockquote"><cit><quote><l part="N">But now</l><l part="N">A mighty length of
                                            plain we have travelled o'er;</l><l part="N">'Tis time
                                            to loose our horses' steaming necks.</l></quote><bibl default="false">Georg. II. 541.</bibl></cit></quote>
                     </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>