Arcadia Est Imperare Orbi Universo

(Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound)

Two people have now asked me about the use of Latin on my journal.

Since that's a sizable percentage of the readership (possibly half), I thought I'd better address it. Here several reasons. Take your pick.

• I'm a mediævalist. I like old things.
• I'm a Roman Catholic. It's our language, even if we don't use it much.
• I love the sound and elegance of the language.
• Did I mention I like old things?
• I am, in fact, a pretentious git.

Is there anything finer on a blustery day than a cup of tea and a good book?

It has been a trying week. On Thursday, I gave a presentation to the Pierce Deanery Principals for which I had been preparing nearly a month. It was just a bit stressful, as Principals are taught in Principal school the fine art of the stony, blank expression.

Only one of them actually engaged, and I later discovered that he wasn't a Principal at all. He was, in fact, assistant superintendent of Catholic schools for the archdiocese. I can't venture an opinion on the Principals, but this fellow was convinced.

To relieve a bit of pent-up stress, I took Friday off and worked on Cruenti Dei. This is not nearly so decadent as it sounds, as I'm only actually paid for 30 hours a week, and I'd passed that mark on Wednesday evening.

The (final) rules draft for Cruenti Dei is done. Now I'm waiting for some illustrations and working on the maps. Stat sheets are next. I'm most emphatically not looking forward to doing those. I'm also studying up on the Little Ice Age. Tremble!

After receiving several earnest inquiries from people (chiefly my relatives) about wedding registries and such, I've added a Paypal button on the right hand side of this journal. There's really nothing we need, of course, but this gives those who wish to give us a gift an opportunity to do so.

(Parenthetically, it also makes it slightly more unlikely that we'll end up with nine mis-matched candlesticks.)

Wedding planning and preparation continues apace. Many details were sorted out last Saturday, and I'm extremely grateful to those who attended. I actually feel like this is going to come off, now. Invites are at the printer, and the various committees have set down to their work. My list, finally, looks manageable.

Yesterday I attended an LMI class at the chancery in Seattle. More on this program and my ongoing formation soon. But not today. The classes are, by and large, utterly fascinating. Reminds me, I need to get some homework done.

In the evening, Francine and I had dinner with Fr. Bryan at Paddy Coyne's downtown. It's the closest thing Tacoma has to a proper pub, since E-9 lost its soul.

I can't go to Paddy Coynes without being reminded of Droyne, for reasons obvious perhaps to several old Traveller hands here.

Somehow, I missed reading Gaiman's "A Study in Emerald" until just yesterday. Ah, what a fool I've been.

Quote of the day: "The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common: instead of altering their views to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their views, which can be very uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that need altering." (Doctor Who - who can tell me the episode?)

In the Middle Ages between the Ancient Empire and the so-called Age of Reason, men of property and wealth typically took a motto to their arms.

In particular, the Holy Roman Emperors had some wonderful mottos. Charlemagne started it off with a particularly triumphalist bit, Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus triumphat (Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ triumphs).

Move along a few centuries to Otto the Great and you get Satius est ratione aequitatis mortem oppetere quam fugere et inhoneste vivere (It is better to die for a good cause than to flee and live without honour). A trifle wordy, perhaps, but a suitably noble sentiment.

From Konrad II we have the wise instruction Omnium mores, tuos imprimis observato (Watch the conduct of everyone, but watch your own the most), and Heinrich IV observes Multi multa sciunt, se autem nemo (Many know much, but no-one knows himself). Albrecht I has the pithy (if somewhat inaccurate) Fugam victoria nescit (Victory knows no retreat).

You can get quite a look into the personalities of these men through the mottos they chose, from Charlemagne's bombast to Konrad's caution.

But then you have Friedrich II.

Good old Friedrich, who has the dubious distinction of being the only person ever excommunicated by the Pope upon returning from a successful crusade. (I will note in passing that Friedrich negotiated the return of Jerusalem to Christian hands without a single battle being fought, which was generally not the way things were done in those days.) He is the only Mediaeval monarch to write a book (On Falconry). He spoke at least eight languages, and he was literate in Latin, Greek, and Arabic.

And what was the motto of this Mediaeval Stupor Mundi?

Comluriuum thiorium ego strepitum audivi (I have heard the wind in the fig trees).

I have heard the wind in the fig trees? Fig trees? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

The lame excuse given by modern historians is that this wistful saying recalls the Emperor's youth in Sicily.

I'm not buying it. Charlemagne's motto wasn't "The Seine scintillates in the springtime". Lothar II didn't opine "My, the cowbells in Bavaria sure are melodic" under his coat of arms.

So what's the deal?

For the record, I'm thinking of adopting "Jefferson never finished Monticello" as my motto. Can anybody put that in Latin?