To the mind of a Classical writer, imitative language – where the sound of the language encapsulates the content – was fundamental to good style.
To Cicero in De Oratore mimetic language was a component of concinnitas, the harmonious sum of literary parts, and it helped characterise work as aequabiliter fluens, ‘streaming smoothly’.
For Socrates in Plato’s Cratylus, effective writers would exploit how various consonants reliably produced various mimetic effects: ο suggesting ‘roundness’, for instance, λ liquid flow, and γλ for gluttony (!).
And for a GCSE Latin student, onomatopoeia and alliteration are the get-out-jail-free cards of close criticism: minimum knowledge of the Latin needed, maximum potential for creative pseudo-analysis.
Is this a problem?
And how should we talk to pupils about mimetic language?
In the Cratylus, Socrates also states that the Greek ρ suggests movement – and in Latin, too, you could make that claim. Look at this line from Horace’s Ars Poetica describing a jug (urceus) on a potter’s wheel:
currente rota cur urceus exit?
In English verse, imitative language is no less significant. Look at these lines of Tennyson from The Princess:
Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn,
The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Many of your students could have a go at suggesting how the consonants conspire in these two examples. And I’m sure you have your own English examples to illustrate the importance of alliteration and onomatopoeia. Imitative language is comment-worthy, no question.
So what’s the problem?
Have a look at this typically tenuous GCSE 8-mark style point on an Aeneid 1 question I set a couple of years ago.
iura magistratusque legunt sanctumque senatum;
hic portus alii effodiunt; hic alta theatris
Q. How does Virgil, by his style of writing, convey the energy of the Carthaginians?
Pupil point:
sanctumque senatum– ‘hallowed senate’. The alliteration of these two words- a noun and an adjective- creates a sense of awe and majesty which reflects well on the energetic building undertaken by Carthaginians.
A familiar and slightly dispiriting sight?
What pupils need to grasp – and examiners’ reports often flag this – is that rarely does alliteration create and contain meaning in itself: most of the time it is the junior partner in a more complex piece of expression.
If that’s what alliteration can’t do, what can it do?
Alliteration is, of course, the correspondence between initial-position consonants in a given passage. Some would include ‘onset’ alliteration too – the correspondence of stressed syllables, be they initial- or medial- or final-position. This is perhaps a trickier one for our pupils to spot, being non-native Latin speakers. (It’s worth saying, though, that Latin stress-accent was pretty fixed, unlike English stress which is more subject to the taste of the reader: just ask an actor grappling with Shakespeare!)
Alliteration is a kind of patterning – part of the ‘texture’ of a text. It can be simple or elaborate, but crucially it can’t be so highly wrought that you can’t hear it. This ear test is a helpful gauge of whether an alliterative effect identified by a pupil is actually likely and convincing. And it’s a good opportunity to get that Latin read aloud!
Now of course, the freer word order of Latin and Greek perhaps makes such patterning easier. Remember though, on the other hand, that English has vastly more synonyms to deploy.
The essence of alliteration – what it does – is the same in every language: it is a defamiliarisation device.
What does that mean?
Our familiar, everyday forms of expression spoken and written are not alliterative. And so the striking-ness of alliteration makes memorable and emphatic whatever is expressed. And on top of that, it can reflect the actual meaning of the words, be that the sounds of the events taking place, like the potter’s wheel above, or the prevailing mood of the passage.
It also creates correspondence between words, ideas and passages. Alliterative anaphora or polyptoton is a kind of souped-up version of this. Horace likes this in the opening lines of odes, for example Motum ex Metello consule civicum, which also opens the whole of Odes Book 2. In this example, the alliteration also creates and reinforces connection between the words with repeated sounds.
How can we help our pupils respond meaningfully to all this?
1. Establish the criteria for a good piece of literary criticism.
The currency of my classroom is interesting, likely, convincing. A point about imitative language has to jump these three hurdles to be accepted by the group. There’s no right or wrong of course, and pupils are invited to get creative in discussing meaning and meaning-signifiers, but is their contention interesting, likely, convincing?
2. Read aloud lots.
The English ear is perhaps more accustomed to rhyme than alliteration or assonance – so encourage your pupils to read aloud. Often additional details will surface once the passage has been given a good airing!
3. Confront alliteration explicitly.
Explain how it works, using English examples or made-up examples which demonstrate the operation of alliterative patterning – from the childishly obvious to the sort of subtle colouring which marks Virgil and Horace. Doing this will also help them evaluate for themselves whether they have sufficiently explained what their bit of alliteration is contributing. And of course, produce model points good and bad, sophisticated and silly.
Alliteration as a musical embellishment is rife in early Latin poetry. Jump into any Ennius and you’ll see for yourself – like this notorious example from Annales 1.104: o Tite, tute, Tati, tibi tanta, tyranne, tulisti. Perhaps owing to this early overkill, it was shelved somewhat by the early 1st-century BC poets like Catullus.
Then came Virgil and Horace, blowing on a fresh breeze, who restored it and gave full sail to its expressive power. I’ll leave you with this gem I recall from my own days doing GCSE Latin (Horace Odes 3.13- fons Bandusiae):
me dicente cavis impositam ilicem
saxis, unde loquaces
lymphae desiliunt tuae.
So there’s the clarion call: go out and recuperate alliteration for your own pupils, and for the sake of their examiners!
As ever, any thoughts very welcome!
