Latin, as the primary historical language of erudition and learning in the West, is the sole gateway into the halls of Western thought and humanistic learning. Without the use of this language, we can hardly know ourselves, and certainly not the road that brought us to the modern day.
As the old year ends and the new year arrives, The Imaginative Conservative looks back at some of its finest essays of 2020. —Editors
“To read Latin and Greek in their original, is a sublime luxury. I thank on my knees him who directed my early education for having put into my possession this rich source of delight; and would not exchange it for anything which I could then have acquired, and have not since acquired.” —Thomas Jefferson
I
The value of Latin hardly needs be argued to anyone who reads here, but I will nevertheless restate what may be obvious: Latin, as the primary historical language of erudition and learning in the West, is the sole gateway into the halls of Western thought and humanistic learning. Without the use of this language, we can hardly know ourselves, and certainly not the road that brought us to the modern day. Since Latin opens the door to our intellectual tradition, its study is absolutely indispensable even to those with the most threadbare scholastic aspirations. Furthermore, it demands admiration per se, as an object and instrument of mellifluous beauty.
Despite the myriad arguments for the language, of which I have listed above only those which seem to me most salient, there has never been a period in history less literate in Latin than ours since the very dawn of the Roman Republic. Not a century ago, anyone with an education could be counted on to have at least a rudimentary understanding of the language, and a few to have even a great command of it. You would be hard-pressed today to find anyone in your social circle with a real proficiency in Latin. And, what is more, very few students take up the language in the 21st century, though I concede that the numbers are rising.
But even the 20th century could be said to be marked by a widespread lapse in Latin literacy. Latin had long enjoyed a status as the language of scholarship in Europe, and was widely spoken, written, and read well into the 19th century. The rise of vernacular usage during and following the renaissance did little to weaken its position. Even being supplanted as the Lingua Franca was not enough to knock it from its pedestal. What, then, accounts for the decline in literacy within the last two centuries?
I would argue that Latin is the first victim of modernism, its decline analogous to the worst fears surrounding such educational reform as Common Core. The early modern period saw a break in tradition; the pedagogy of antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance gave way to modern techniques and innovations, and for the past two centuries we have let our students wallow in the mire they created.
II
The early successes of the scientific method led to a brief period in which that methodology was applied to the humanities as well. In most fields, it fell flat and was abandoned, but applied to language, it became the science of linguistics. Philology had always been important to the upkeep of Latin, preserving it from the natural process of change that all languages undergo, but when it became scientific, it began to be able not only to preserve the language, but to unlock its deepest secrets. Classical studies in the 19th century were marked by furious philological work; dictionaries were refined to the excellent quality we find them today, our understanding of grammar brought to a surgical edge, the great works of Latin literature were translated, and many obscure and corrupt works were finally understood and purified. Much of this work was done by German scholars, such that, even today, anyone who wants to seriously contribute to classical studies will be lost without a sound knowledge of German as well as Latin.
In and of itself, this activity was good, but it should be noted that all this occurred in the highest ivory towers of academia. Below, Latin had ceased to be used as a Lingua Franca, and the vernacular was widely read and written. The practical use of Latin was fairly minimal. The language was expected to provide good reading for a lifetime, and perhaps a scholarly outlet for the brighter students.
The combination of minimized use and ivory-tower philology led to a shift in paradigm at the elementary stage of Latin learning. Students began to be prepared and trained not to understand, read, speak, and write Latin per se, but to analyze it grammatically and produce translations. This was meant to prepare them for the realities of academia, and, at the time, did not have far-reaching consequences. There was still enough usage of Latin to insure that they learned all they once learned, in addition to the new science of linguistics. At the very least, Catholic seminaries preserved the old style of teaching, since they retained the practical use of Latin.
At the end of the 19th century, however, classical philology came to a standstill. Having done nearly everything that could be done, solved nearly every problem that could be solved, scholars moved on to other projects. But Latin education did not. It retained, and does to this day, the grammar and translation model that was meant to prepare linguists, not Latinists. Latin literacy declined sharply as a result, teachers having in the first place stopped teaching Latin in favor of grammar and translation, and students furthermore no longer having the opportunity to acquire that most envious skill in their later learning. After a generation or two, even the teachers began to be illiterate, having never been taught to read, but only to analyze grammar and produce translations at a snail’s pace. This is where we are today.
As I said, Latin was among the first victims of modernity. It is the model for disastrous educational reform, whereby students do not learn their subject better, but actually cease to learn it at all. What is worse, the reform was so long ago, and so slow to show its effects, that hardly anyone alive today even notices. I have met many a student or teacher of a classical school that continues to teach Latin by the modern method, thinking it traditional.
The result has been that students study the language with great love, fervor, and diligence, and, after ten or more years, are unable to read at sight even a simple passage. If you are not a victim yourself, take my word that the problem is widespread. Nobody studies Latin, and those who do cannot read it. Even Dr. Mary Beard, dean of the department of classics at Cambridge University, and for all intents and purposes the Carl Sagan of classical studies, admits in her article “What Does the Latin Actually Say” that she herself cannot read.*
III
We have fallen a long way from grace in this field. Nor has Latin become any less important; its necessity, I would argue, grows daily, as more and more we are cut off from sources and traditions by mere ignorance.
But things do not have to be this way. There is no prohibition on returning to traditional modes of instruction in Latin. We may still learn Latin by the methods of antiquity, the middle ages, and the renaissance. The fruits are obvious: while such methods are employed, Latin literacy flourishes, even in the absence of its daily use. I confess some small bias towards more traditional methods, since, by a stroke of impossibly good fortune, I was taught Latin in those ways.
What marks traditional Latin instruction? It has taken many forms, and has been adopted by several teachers with vastly different styles through the centuries, but there are some common threads. In the first place, students are rarely, if ever, allowed to translate sentences from Latin to the vernacular, or vice-versa. Latin is meant to be understood per se, not converted to an understandable dialect beforehand. If translation is taught, it is as an advanced skill, one suitable to students with many years under their belts.
Second, grammar is heavily deemphasized, at least compared to the modern standard. If any grammar is taught, it will be the barest fundamentals of morphology. This is tantamount to heresy today, when the minutia of declension, conjugation, and syntax are the lifeblood of instruction and learning, but history shows that only a rudimentary knowledge of grammar, and often not even that, is needed to attain literacy in Latin. The subtleties of grammar are to be reserved for linguists and academics, not unfolded to students who cannot yet understand the tongue.
Third, Latin is presented as a language, one that is used for communication between human beings, rather than as a peculiarly arcane crossword puzzle. Ideally, it is spoken and heard before it is written and read. Languages enter through our ears; only writing, the image of speech, enters the eyes. This presents a problem for many modern teachers, who have barely the ability to read the language, much less to produce on a dime grammatically sound Latin. Where it is impossible to find teachers proficient in spoken Latin, the alternative is to provide the student with such copious simple reading as to make it impossible for him not to learn. In time, he will reach the same level as the student to whom Latin is spoken daily .
IV
Those are the fundamentals. How, then, can a person who wants either to learn Latin or to teach his students do so today? In the absence of fluent speakers, his best option, in my opinion, is the Lectio Divina method employed in the Middle Ages.
At its core, this consists in merely reading the Latin Vulgate for spiritual nourishment, with the goal of learning Latin secondary. How does one read in a language he does not yet know? There are three aids to which he can avail himself: a teacher, who stands nearby to resolve whatever difficulties may arise, a translation, which he can consult when a teacher is not available, and his own knowledge of the text, which is a constant guide. How many of you can recite the first chapter of the Gospel of John from memory? Be happy to know it says the same thing in Latin, and your preexisting knowledge is the key to progress. Slowly and by degrees, you will unlock the whole language, merely by reading the Bible with the English in one hand, and the Latin in the other, and comparing the two as needed. Thomas Aquinas and most of the scholastics learned the same way, so we have no reason to doubt its efficacy. And if your old teacher’s voice should ring in your ear to reprimand you for using a translation, be confident that within a few years’ time so employed, you will know more Latin than he does.
Beyond this simple method, there are increasing opportunities to speak Latin in the modern world. In fact, a whole movement, originating in Catholic seminaries with such priests as Fr. Suitbert Siedl and Fr. Reginald Foster, has arisen to restore Latin pedagogy to its former effectiveness. The seminaries, as I mentioned, never abandoned traditional methods until after the reforms of the Second Vatican Council, having always had the need of practical knowledge of Latin.
If you should desire to hear and learn Latin by ear, like a medieval or renaissance monk, you might visit the Cenaculum of the Family of Saint Jerome, or the Familia Sancti Hieronymi. The Paideia Institute likewise provides opportunities to learn Latin traditionally. Beyond those two, there are SALVI, the Conventiculum Lexintoniense, and the lay section of Veterum Sapientia at Belmont Abbey College, among others.
To conclude, I would give you my own testimony. I have been teaching and studying Latin by traditional methods for seventeen years now. My own ability with the language far surpasses what I ever could have expected had I studied by grammar and translation, and my students show promise of similar achievement. Even the less gifted among them have been able to benefit tremendously more than anyone could have anticipated. I have likewise witnessed dozens of men and women, young and old, who learned by modern methods come to a real proficiency with Latin by even short exposure to traditional pedagogy. I therefore vehemently urge both teachers and students of the language to consider the state of Latin literacy, and do whatever they can to help us restore the too-long-lost understanding of our second mother tongue.
Wrote G.K. Chesterton: “There is one metaphor of which the moderns are very fond; they are always saying, “You can’t put the clock back.” The simple and obvious answer is “You can.” A clock, being a piece of human construction, can be restored by the human finger to any figure or hour. In the same way society, being a piece of human construction, can be reconstructed upon any plan that has ever existed.”
This essay first appeared here in March 2020.
The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion of culture and politics—we approach dialogue with magnanimity rather than with mere civility. Will you help us remain a refreshing oasis in the increasingly contentious arena of modern discourse? Please consider donating now.
Notes:
*Mary Beard, “What Does the Latin Actually Say?” Times Literary Supplement, n.d.
The featured image is “Saint Matthew Writing a Gospel” and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Excellent. Problem is Latin doesn’t make you money. Universities have moved from “knowledge “ broadly speaking to the acquisition of “practical” skills. But too complicated a subject to discuss here.
I believe the return to Latin would have many additional benefits to the ones suggested here (this is not a negative criticism.). For example, memory loss in the ages would be slowed, if not reversed) if everyone spent even a modicum of time each day reading Latin. The disentanglement of the structure of a sentence like: Quem ad finem effrenata tua audacia sese iactabit? provides calisthenics for the mind.
Well, but spending time learning Latin less inefficiently does not make more money than spending time learning it more efficiently…
A very discerning essay. I would add, Latin teachers should figure out how the heck the language is supposed to be pronounced (whether one is using Classical or Ecclesiastical pronunciation) so that it is consistent and sounds natural and euphonious. For Latin to become merely a “silent language” is fatal.
So, would you say that Wheelock’s Latin, the ubiquitous textbook, falls in this category?
I would appreciate, like the previous poster, additional sources of study, although I just ordered a copy of the Bible.
While I understand how the ancient method will produce a deeper understanding of this beautiful language, I do find working through translations in both directions to be highly satisfying, much as the way unknown angle problems were so popular late in the 19th century.
“He studied Latin like the violin, because he liked it.”
Robert Frost
You mentioned Fr. Foster who is still holding classes in Milwaukee and who remains the pre-eminent Latin scholar in the world. His book Ossa Sola Latinitatis is the seminal work on how to teach Latin. The second volume should be out this Fall.
I was so excited to come across your article. I am a Latin teacher myself. I’m one of those that you talk about that cannot read Latin. It has bothered me tremendously for many years now. Bit, the grammar/translation method is all I know. We use the book, Latin for Americans. I will look into the sites/programs you mentioned in your article. However, what do you use in your classroom with your students? Text books? Readers, etc. That information would be extremely helpful. Any words of wisdom? Thank you for any help you can give. Sincerely, Frankie Fortier
There is also Evan Milner’s YouTube channel which teaches Latin (restored Classical pronunciation) by traditional methods as well as his Latinum.org.uk site.
I too am a Latin teacher using a heavy-grammar program (Memoria Press) which has been excellent for helping me teach but deadly boring. I’d like very much to know how to improve myself. I do attend the Latin Mass and have found that reading the propers in Latin while only now and then glancing at the English has helped to get a sort of “feel” for the language. Please write another article!
Having received my Eucharist, my prayers consist almost entirely in Latin of the “Ave Verum, Adoro Te, Pange Lingua, Panis Angelicus, etc…. the latin is so expressive … the English translations are so … flowery and childish. So grateful to my unwitting good sense to keep up Latin throughout my schooling.
I say ‘amen’ (a fine loan-word in Latin – and so elsewhere) to sibyl, and would add in line with both her comment and your article that not only the propers but the ‘ordinary’ and the ‘lessons’ of the Mass are good and ready practice – if the lessons at a Solemn Mass are chanted in Latin and then read in translation before the sermon, there is even a double opportunity. And in this time of (if I may so put it) ‘corona-cloistering’ our awareness of such Masses filmed and uploaded online is heightened – and with it, the possibility of repeated listening to the same texts.
Let us not fall in love with ourselves, lest we drown. Latin is alive. Look South. The preeminence of a language ebbs and flows with the fortunes of human endeavor. As pharaoh looked out from Thebes, he did not imagine the most powerful kingdom would one day only be remembered in its death. And to read Latin and Greek is to hear the great library at Alexandria burning again. Juvenal and Seneca, Plato would recognize our society and bemoan the fact that we have learned so little of how to be human, and live with other beings. Latin should be learned to acquire humility in the face of the destructive potential our inquisitive minds have achieved. Even the grasping Romans would tremble.
Supplanting Latin with vernaculars in Latin rite led to decline of Latin.
I was fortunate to be exposed to Latin as an altar boy, in high school and even for a few college years (complementing a computer science major). I agree the heavy grammar focus did little for Latin literacy (still less the phonetic cheat-cards issued to altar boys), but I do credit that for any ability to write structured English in a field that struggles with that today. I was inspired to re-expose myself to Latin after noticing so often that modern translations (Novus Ordo texts, print articles, etc.) didn’t reflect the words I still recalled. Attending a Latin Mass with a Latin/English missal and acquiring a few volumes of the Loeb classics (Latin one side, English on the other) has helped considerably. I’m far from Latin fluency but can generally get through a paragraph or two with few or no glances at the English — and the English in those sources typically does not bow to today’s linguistic obeisance. It is increasingly rewarding to know what the text really says.
It is worth mentioning that many older volumes of the Loeb Library have been scanned in the Internet Archive and so can be read online. (Various scans of the old Roman Breviary (from before the 1913 reform of St. Pius X) can also be found there, as can ones of its translation in The Roman Breviary translated into English by John Patrick Crichton-Stuart, Third Marquess of Bute, which lets the reader go back and forth between the two to check Latin reading accuracy.)
The reason that many Latin teachers can’t read Latin is not because they learned the grammar, but because they don’t read nearly enough throughout their lives to become really proficient. As a speaker of multiple modern languages and an advanced reader of both Greek and Latin, I would contest many of the claims made here. My own students, who often bristle at the way they are taught Spanish, enjoy the logical, orderly, and intuitive way that Latin is presented to them. They also enjoy the visual dimensions of learning a language that, like it or no, is primarily meant, nowadays, for reading. Not all students are auditory learners. Which is not to say that one has to rest at the level of the grammar. Spoken Latin can certainly be incorporated to the curriculum. But much of what students love about learning Latin is precisely that it is not like learning a modern language. And I can testify personally that this is no hindrance to reading it well or even producing grammatical sentences in real time. The thing that makes us *really* learn Latin is reading primary sources, both ancient and medieval, for years … after we have understood how the language works.
This. I think what the author of the article is missing is that grammar vs. reading is a false dichotomy. The Jesuits’ Ratio Studiorum from the 1590s and Charles Hoole from the 1640s both advocate learning grammar first and seamlessly transitioning into reading. The reason the “grammar-first” method gets a bad reputation is because people decide to stay in it. They want to go from grammar-first program to another grammar-first program instead of mastering one then jumping into reading.
Peace,
Paul
I wish there were a “like” button. I was recently reading Johann Michael Dilherr’s oratio de recta liberorum educatione, which landed him a job at the renowned Aegidianum in Nuremberg. In his speech, Dilherr complained that that youths were burdened with the tedium of studying grammar and advocated for using spoken use of the language. As was the case in the late Middle Ages,, Latin grammar was taught explicitly in the vernacular and Latin was used as a medium of instruction in the higher forms. Even in late Humanism and the early Baroque, something of a high-water mark for the use of Latin (certainly the literacy rate was higher than at any period during Middle Ages), schoolmasters complained about the difficulty of mastering Latin. Champagne’s historiography of Latin pedagogy is in need of correction.
Hello, Alexander. Here in Brazil (which is, I believe, the country that suffers the most with modern pedagogy), of all places, there is a growing movement of teachers in one way or another linked to the Catholic Church that focuses on returning to the classical ways, and your comment synthesizes a good portion of their main points. Rafael Falcón, one of its most prominent figures and a great scholar on the matter, says that one of the first things students would do in the Classical Method after learning to decode words on the page into sounds (not yet knowing what they meant), was tirelessly memorizing the declensions and grammar rules, not yet knowing what they were or what they were for; knowing them by heart after a couple months. Later on, during reading, when in doubt whether, say, an adjective was referring to this or that noun, they would intuitively recall the tables they spent months memorizing, and find the answer withoug much mental strain. That and, without a doubt, thank their earlier teachers for the arduous grammar lectures they only then came to know the reason for. I would recommend a quick text said professor wrote on how what was once a “sweetener” to the arduous process of latin literacy — that of reading simpler texts along with the Classics — has become the main material in the teaching of latin. Now, with Hans Ørberg, a child or adult is asked the same simple question a thousand times, completely disrespecting their intelligence on what he calls, following his allegory, an “intellectual diabetes”. Here is the link to said text. Unfortunately it is written in Portuguese; fortunately, though, its impeccable grammar will allow you to use Google Translator without much being lost in translation. Cheers.
I guess links are not allowed here. Just type into Google “Rafael Falcón, A Arte de Ler em Latim” and you should find it among the top results.
With forty years of language teaching behind me, I agree with all my heart. How I wish that voices like yours could be heard by the policy makers.
School teachers break their own hearts and the hearts of their pupils trying and failing to drum some grammatical abstractions into resistant brains, rather than using language to say something of interest.
I’ve been in to our local Catholic primary school to teach the Hail Mary in Latin. We say it, we pray it, we learn it by heart. And we briefly make links to English words, and ponder why sometimes it’s benedictus and sometimes benedicta. It’s easy to teach, and everybody succeeds – so unlike secondary language classes.
There are differences in the methodology for teaching ancient and modern languages, but one supreme rule governs both: let the content rule the form.
What a wonderful article. My Latin courses at Seton Hall in the 70s dished up lots of vocabulary, grammar, and translation. Scales fell from my eyes when we were told to put the books aside and read a psalm. From 78 – 81 Fr Foster’s classes in Rome were a strenuous delight and the Liturgy of the Hours has been my refugium latinitatis ever since. Keep up the good work!
re: “Slowly and by degrees, you will unlock the whole language, merely by reading the Bible with the English in one hand, and the Latin in the other, and comparing the two as needed. Thomas Aquinas and most of the scholastics learned the same way, so we have no reason to doubt its efficacy.” What vernacular translation of the Bible were Thomas Aquinas and the scholastics using as students? In which vernacular language was it written, and who produced it? Thanks.
Ionathas: No translation is necessary, when you have fluent Latin speakers on hand, every hour of the day, to explain what it is you are reading.
Pronunciation, vocabulary, and grammar are, of course equally important, and while we learn our mother tongue in said order, any good schoolbook on any foreign language must present the rudiments of all three. However, to sing Latin in Church, and to read from the Latin Vulgata together with vernacular translation, is probably what comes closest to learning Latin by ear to mouth. Still, the Latin schoolbook, as well as dictionary and grammar, are helpful to immerse oneself in public Latin, as it must be. After all, Rome was not built in one day, but there is no need to hesitate in its complexity. As regards pronunciation, consider the Greek name Odysseus, which in Latin is, from Western Greek, Ulixes. We can infer that the stresses are on the first and last syllables, allowing the lesser important middle syllable to mutate dyss / lix.
Wonderful essay. The return of Latin (and thereafter, Greek) to our nation’s education would greatly increase the historical connectedness which we share with our ancestors. Too often do we view things from a practical, right-here-right-now lens that we forget that things that are useful and utilitarian are not the only things good for life. Latin itself is a beautiful language with a wonderful application should you be a lover of hymns and religious tomes both religious and not.
I have benefited greatly from Fr. Henle’s Latin primers and grammar. It’s certainly a more old-fashioned approach than I found in my own Latin instruction in high school. Combining those workbooks with a few good Youtube instructors for listening and speaking exercises is a great way to start off your journey to learning this vital language of the West.
Thank you so much. I am trying to learn Latin for a while, and I have been so frustrated with the grammar first method. I was ready to give up, thinking that I’m just not good at languages. It seems to me that someone who is right-brained like me would benefit more from the traditional pedagogy. I’ve been reading as you suggested, and I’m already enjoying the process much more!
I couldn’t agree more! Latin helps one in understand the English language, other Romance languages and proper sentence structure and grammar. Thank you, Michael
I think a melding of the two methods would be most effective, at least on a general level. The original text/translation comparison can be helpful with the Vulgate, but when it comes to Cicero, Seneca, etc., the translations take liberties — they paraphrase, reorganize clauses, sometimes leave out sentences to make things “flow” better! Some of this could be avoided, no doubt, but what amateur Latinist can sort between which translations? I don’t see a problem in starting with basic grammar and vocabulary — so long as one goes beyond them in the end.
I could sing Latin chants and pray the Rosary in Latin since I was a little kid, but I never knew more than that “Ave Maria” meant “Hail Mary.” As soon as I started learning grammar and vocabulary, however, words would jump out at me at Mass. “In illo tempore”… “respondit Jesus, et dixit eis”… Now I could recognize familiar phrases in the Gospels, which were never more than jumbled sounds before! Sometimes the pleasure of recognizing bits and pieces of the overall message is enough inspiration to then tackle the rest.
Hello. My wife sent to me and my son, also a Latin speaker, this article, which I really enjoyed. I agree wholeheartedly with the author’s viewpoint, since I know very few who can read Latin or Greek as they would any modern language. Perhaps it would be helpful to share some research that I did with David Morgan, a dear friend and famously expert Latinist, some thirty years ago, long before his tragically early death. We were both at Columbia, and David, who was teaching French there, was learning to speak Latin at that time. Puzzled by the manner in which Greek and Latin were taught in our day, and knowing how it had been taught as a foreign language from the time when it began to be taught as such to the Germans and the Anglo Saxons, we resolved to find out when the change in pedagogy had occurred and where. We spent a good bit of time in the Columbia and Princeton libraries reading through language courses in Latin and Greek in various languages (English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish). We discovered that the pedagogy that had been used for over a millennium, the active practice and mastery so well described by Mr. Champagne, was abandoned everywhere as universities ceased requiring active mastery for understanding lectures, giving reports and writing papers. Since the entire preparatory educational system at that time, in every country, required active mastery of Latin and high proficiency in Greek, we hypothesized that the teachers in the prep schools, to keep their jobs, suggested translating and teaching their own languages via translation. This was at least what the changes in the language courses suggested. The changeover occurred at different times in each country — in France dissertations were still being written in expert Latin in the 1920s and in Germany later still — but change for good it did. Since that time, all active learning has receded, save for rudimentary composition courses, and in contrast to every modern language worldwide, taught by immersion, Greek and Latin are taught in such a way that few can read them with ease and speed, much less speak or write them. In fact, as David pointed out on many occasions, modern language researchers had established by the late 19th century that attempting to learn another language by means of translation retards or impedes altogether the brain’s ability to think in the language studied. I should add that the Scholastic Latin of Thomas Aquinas and many others, cited by Mr. Champagne, is an anomaly insofar as it replicates English word order. My guess, and it’s only a guess, is that this happened to accommodate the multitude of English students who flocked to the schools and then the University of Paris for lectures from the time of the Conquest. I myself learned Latin as I did other modern languages at the suggestion of the late, great Fr. Edward Mahoney who, having discovered that my Latin consisted of a year of Wheelock with straight As but no progress, pointed me in the right direction by quoting the dictum of Erasmus: “Learn the main rules and read a lot.” My historical disagreement aside, Mr. Champagne is quite right that Latin (and Greek for that matter) is no different and no more difficult to learn that any other language. He is also quite right that it’s a tragedy that the Church, quite apart from any liturgical preferences, is estranged almost completely from its mother tongue. Not to be able to read Augustine in the original, in my opinion a Latinist and rhetor second only to Cicero, is too sad for words.
Wonderful article. As a Jesuit high school educated (4 years Latin, 3 years homeric Greek) and former Catholic Cantor I greatly appreciate the sentiments expressed. The Latin Mass was never mystifying, it just affirmed the declension and conjugation I had committed to memory. Laudo, laudas, laudat could be externally chanted with the timing of the Mexican Hat Dance. Even as an octogenarian, that stuff is still there. And need I say that English is a piece of cake.
You make an interesting case that, until the last few centuries, Latin was acquired by extensive reading that was somehow supported (or, as they say, scaffolded) by a live teacher OR a translation OR prior knowledge of the text’s meaning. I can certainly testify that my long-ago study of Greek and Latin grammar did not leave me able to read either–and that my current return to work on some modern languages has been almost entirely a matter of comprehensible input (mostly in the form of translations of old favorites).
I would VERY MUCH like to see some sources, from as broad a range of history as possible, supporting your view that this is the OLD way of learning languages. (I suspect you are correct, but the historian in me would like to know MUCH more.)