Thursday, September 9, 2021

The Ancient Latin teacher

Mr. Agricola always made me a little nervous looking over my

    shoulder as I took his daily Latin quiz. " I see this young man

    has it right ", he would inform the rest of the class.

         He had been teaching Latin at Hope High since the beginning

    of the first world war. My uncle who also had him way back then once

    told me how he would interrupt the lesson to criticise some bumbling

    general, usually a French one: " He would have lost the Gallic war! ",

    he would say in a fit of irritation.

         He kept precious old  Roman coins in his pocket. He would smile

    ecstatically at the image of "  Great Caesar ". " This coin was touched

    by Julius himself", he would say . " I'm a little psychic about such

    things."  He would look out the window and mumble  " didn't listen , no

    didn't listen."

         He had a collection of ancient manuscripts that would have been

    the envy of the British Museum. Sometimes he would assert their authenticity;

    other times he would " confess" that they were mere facsimiles. He never

    brought them to class.

        When I earned an A in his class, he invited me over to his " castle"

    house on the  East Side - to view the precious manuscripts. While I was

    studying one, " The Gallic War " with a magnifying glass, he put his

    hand on my shoulder. " You look so much like young Mark Anthony you

    know. He was gorgeous! "

         Nervously I asked him technical questions about the manuscript.

     " Experts  date it from the 11th century, but my own " psychic " guess

    is that it is definitely late ninth century.

      " How did YOU acquire these manuscripts? "  I asked.

    " Quid pro quo ", he said . " And well connected relatives ! "

        I had a glass of " very old wine " with Mr. Agricola and then fell

    asleep on his bed.  When I awoke , he was making coffee in the kitchen.

    " Don't worry I called your mother", he said.

        That morning was the last time I saw Mr. Agricola alive. He died

    while on vacation in ancient Pompei that summer. He had collapsed in

    front of an old  Roman  grave stone. The image of the man named Celsius

    carved into it looked remarkably like Mr. Agricola himself- or his twin

    brother. This odd bit of information was reported  in the tabloid " Roma

    Oggi ".

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Ron