On Schola Latina’s Summer Courses 2024
During our trip to Pompeii. I got to carry the flag!
The Scholae Romanae and Scholae Latinae in Italia
I arrived in Avellino by bus. Robertus Carfagni’s sister picked me up at the station and drove me to Montella. The journey was an awkward one. My Italian is sketchy on a good day. Weary from the trip and shy with strangers by nature, I only managed to mutter inaudibly in response to her polite and well-meaning questions. When I finally caught sight of Robertus standing outside a grand Victorian building known as the Villa I felt quite relieved. At long last I’d returned home, to my weird world of Latin Speakers.
The students hailed from countries all around the world, with two of the ladies having flown all the way from India. At the beginning of the Scholae Latinae in Italia a collection of Catholic priests in long black robes materialized. They were mostly Americans and Frenchmen, with the two groups having never met previously despite - if I am not wholly mistaken - belonging to the same order. I was pleased to see that, along with the teachers, I’d met a number of the students before. Like any niche-interest community, one tends to run into the same people repeatedly. We all have teachers and friends in common. This is very comforting for me, a deeply socially awkward person.
My roommate throughout the Scholae Romanae and the Scholae Latinae was a Polish monk who’d studied at Cambridge - a very decent and agreeable fellow. Really, all of the students were sweet and got along marvelously despite our varied backgrounds. Latin belongs to no modern nation or people; thus, anyone might claim it. This neutrality is part of the appeal. We’re brought together by our mutual love of literature and knowledge, and able to communicate on equal terms because none of us speak Latin as a native language nor claim it as exclusively our own.
In Paestum with Renatus (left) and Lucianus (right)
The classes themselves were naturally a delight. I am accustomed to taking online classes with Robertus, Natalia Laminaria, and Georgius Laminarius, three of the teachers, and had once taken a few classes from Thomas Borri. I had not previously met Lucianus Romano nor Renatus. I enjoyed all of their classes, especially Robertus’ on the various kinds of letters written in Antiquity. Thomas’ lecture on pronunciation was also fascinating and very useful, as well as genuinely funny - he read Caesar aloud in a number of silly, incorrect accents. However, Lucianus’ soft, melodic voice did make me sleepy, which proved awkward for me at times, even though I thoroughly enjoyed the content of his lectures. Singing “Bacche, Bene Venies” with Georgius in class and learning how to tell time in Latin delighted me. All the teachers were perfectly sweet and extraordinarily erudite. Yet, unlike so many highly intelligent people, the teachers of Schola Latin display a modesty that makes them approachable not only as teachers, but also as potential friends. They are some of the greatest educators I have ever encountered and truly excel at their work - no small feat, as anyone who has tutored or taught knows. Robertus in particular impressed me with his deep knowledge of pedagogy. For a man still so young he has accomplished so much. He has taught since his youth and has such a wonderful, fascinating mind.
As always, I came away from the classes with a great long list of authors and works worth exploring in greater depth - most especially those from the Renaissance and Medieval periods.
The meals were just as merry as the classes. We ate together in the hotel where we all stayed, the Zia Carmela (known in Latin as Matertera Carmela - don’t ask me how anyone knows that the mysterious Carmela was a “matertera” rather than an “amita”!). The food was delicious and served in ample quantities. I suspect I gained a few pounds from all those pasta-heavy meals. Wine was served at every lunch and dinner, although many of us never or rarely consumed any. As is the custom in Southern Europe, nobody got truly drunk. In the evenings after we’d eaten and drunk our fill, Robertus - a gleam in his eye - encouraged various students to sing in their native languages. Czech, German, Polish, French, Spanish, English, and more resounded through the restaurant. Renatus wowed us all by singing beautifully - hypnotically, even - in Ancient Greek. Once we all sang songs from the Carmina Burana and quite literally laughed until we cried. Music by AVN’s choir Tyrtarion was also a popular choice, most especially “Horrida Tempestas” accompanied by drumming on the table as well as “Carpe Diem”, which I know by heart. Thomas Borri surprised us all with extremely enthusiastic renditions of various national anthems, sung so loudly the very walls seemed to tremble. We - meaning Thomas and I - also performed an hilariously inept rendition of Sondheim together (truly a “comedy tonight”, as Robertus repeatedly pointed out with a grin). There was a creaky old piano in the hotel restaurant that a couple students dared to play. The priests graced us with beautiful, moving Gregorian chanting. One night, after playing a lively set of songs on the flute and violin, two students announced their upcoming nuptials. Tears, congratulations, and hugs followed.
Sometimes after dinner and our nightly songs, groups of students drank and chatted late into the night at a bar by the Zia Carmela, known as the Old Fountain (Fons Vetus). I always regretted this, even though I never drank anything alcoholic, because when I stay up too late I struggle to pay attention in class the next day.
Overall, the course was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. I still chat with many of the marvelous people I met there and even joined one woman’s online Latin-speaker’s circle.