Written and Researched by Matthew Winter ‡ Latin translations by Matthew Winter
One final example in correlating the use of gurges to translate as a Proper noun, or designate something particular by name, Juvenal again uses this word, but not in a Stygian or Cocytian sense. “veniet classis quocumque vocarit / spes lucri, nec Carpathium Gætulaque tantum / æquora transiliet, sed longe Calpe relicta / audiet Herculeo stridentem gurgite solem” (Juvenal, Satires 14.277-80). “The class will come wherever the prospect of profit will have summoned, and not a plant with narcotic juice of so great a size will jump across the Gaetulian Sea, but will distantly hear the gnashing sun in the forsaken Rock of Gibraltar from the Herculean sea.” Despite the fact that gurges is used in a subterranean sense at regular intervals, Juvenal decides in his fourteenth satire to relapse its general meaning as “sea”, but when carefully used here, it gains a different sense. Paired with Herculeo, gurgite and Herculeo are simultaneously translated together with the definition of “the Atlantic ocean”, referring to beyond Calpe relicta, “the forsaken Rock of Gibraltar”. It is clever the way Latin authors paired up this noun to receive a greater meaning than gurges is capable alone!
When searching for a Latin word to translate as “sea”,
one would most plausibly resort to using the frequently-employed pelagus or mare, alternative words designating “the sea” or “ocean”. But, if
you wanted a rather matchless and peculiar sounding word, gurges would fit the bill not only because of its idiosyncrasy, but
on account of its exclusive set of possible translations no other word possesses.
Not only does its meaning incorporates the “sea”, but also a wide range other
maritime constructions, such as a “whirlpool” and “great abyss”—gurges does truly charter an ensemble of
translations that are fitting to be used at any occasion.
As recorded in Catullus’ Carmina 65, Catullus, coping with the recent death of his brother,
writes to friend Hortalus (or styled Ortalus in the poem) on his brother’s
current death—as we are able to see how he died—gurges portrays that Catullus’ brother died from some naval
accident or perhaps drowning(?), as the Latin shows. “namque mei nuper Lethæo in gurgite fratris / pallidulum manans
alluit unda pedem / Troia Rhœteo quem subter litore tellus / ereptum nostris
obterit ex oculis” (Catullus 65.5-8). “For in fact, a pouring wave recently
flowed past the somewhat-pale leg of my brother in a whirlpool in Lethæus, which
beneath the Rhœtean seashore, Trojan dry-land crushed him, having been snatched
away from our eyes.” Catullus was very piquant in choosing such a word to
portray what he felt described the situation best.
We see this stimulating, maritime noun used as it most
commonly is used—gurges, however when
examined completely in Latin literature, will translate much beyond the limits
that Catullus used it. Cicero cleverly employed the use of gurges in this oration: “...cuius
ego imperium, non Aplium vallum contra ascensum transgressionemque Gallorum,
non Rheni fossam gurgitibus illis redundantem Germanorum immanissimis gentibus
obicio et oppono...” (Cicero, In L.
Calpurnium Pisonem, 33 (excerpt)). “...to which supreme power I object and
oppose: not against a risen, line of palisades of the Alps and a violation of
the Gauls, not [against] the overflowing canal of the Rhine with whirlpools;
[against] those monstrous nations of the Germans...”
Here, Cicero describes the
Rhine River, which divides France from Germany, as an “overflowing canal with
whirlpools”, creating a mental picture of a fierce and ravaging river. Perhaps
Cicero used gurges to depict the
river Rhine as savage as the Gauls and Germans themselves. As used by Ovid in Metamorphoses, gurges is seen to be chosen quite particular, as the poet captured
the essence of the noun. “...lentisciferumque
tenetur / Liternum multamque trahens sub gurgite harenam / Volturnus niveisque
frequens Sinuessa columbis...” (Ovid, Metamorphoses
15.713-5). “...Liternus, bearing mastic trees, are keeping much and the hauling
[River] Volturnus (keeping) sand beneath the pools of water and populous with
snowy doves...” In this instance, Ovid uses gurges
as a common noun with no complex meaning—you can translate it here as just “a
pool of water” or perhaps “the river”, referring back to Volturnus.
Deviating from its common translations, gurges, in a new sense, situates itself
under a rather chthonian viewpoint as it portrays a proper noun through use of it
pairing with an adjective to create an “idea”. But although a seemingly unique
way to translate this noun, when the entire scope of Latin literature is
examined, it is easy to speculate that gurges
is an annex of the sea and ocean—not like pelagus
or mare—but in a darker sense. It
speaks of bodies of water in line with “death”; it accompanies meaning for
bodies of water of the underworld, as shown here. “at ille / iam sedet in ripa tætrumque novicius horret / porthmea, nec
sperat cænosi gurgitis alnum / infelix nec habet quem porrigat ore
trientem” (Juvenal, Satires,
3.254-7). “On the contrary, this man already encamps on the bank and the
beginner shutters at the black ferryman (who
is Charon), neither an unproductive alder (plant) trusts of the muddy,
raging abyss (which is the Styx) nor
holds the third part which might extend to the mouth (of the river, i.e., Styx).”
![]() |
The River Styx, an etching by G. Doré |
![]() |
Psyche and Charon, oil on canvas by J. R. Spencer-Stanhope, Roy Miles Gallery, London |
By context, it is very apparent to see
that the cænosi gurgitis is the Styx,
not because of that being the only capable reference, but because of the other
hints embedded in the text such as the porthmea,
who is undoubtedly Charon (the ferryman who took souls to the Underworld—across
the River Styx). Something similar to this construction (with gurges) occurs in Virgil’s Æneid. “hinc via Tartarei quæ fert Acherontis ad undas. / turbidus hic cæno
vastaque voragine gurges / æstuat atque omnem Cocyto eructat harenam”
(Virgil, Æneid 6.295-7). “From this source, [there is] a passage which does bring
near to the waves of the Tartarean Acheron.
In this place, a turbid whirlpool (which is the lake Avernus) seethes with
filth in the monstrous watery-chasm and even in Cocytus it discharges violently
all its grains of sand.” Although not speaking of the Styx, gurges is used to portray the River
Acheron, another river in the Underworld—and the passage is quite violent,
speaking of the “whirlpool” which vomits sand into the River Cocytus; geographically,
the Cocytus and Acheron rivers meet at Lake Avernus in the underworld. So, on
broader terms gurges can both refer
to the vomiting Acheron and/or Lake Avernus (a “whirlpool”, because of vomiting
Acheron).
One final example in correlating the use of gurges to translate as a Proper noun, or designate something particular by name, Juvenal again uses this word, but not in a Stygian or Cocytian sense. “veniet classis quocumque vocarit / spes lucri, nec Carpathium Gætulaque tantum / æquora transiliet, sed longe Calpe relicta / audiet Herculeo stridentem gurgite solem” (Juvenal, Satires 14.277-80). “The class will come wherever the prospect of profit will have summoned, and not a plant with narcotic juice of so great a size will jump across the Gaetulian Sea, but will distantly hear the gnashing sun in the forsaken Rock of Gibraltar from the Herculean sea.” Despite the fact that gurges is used in a subterranean sense at regular intervals, Juvenal decides in his fourteenth satire to relapse its general meaning as “sea”, but when carefully used here, it gains a different sense. Paired with Herculeo, gurgite and Herculeo are simultaneously translated together with the definition of “the Atlantic ocean”, referring to beyond Calpe relicta, “the forsaken Rock of Gibraltar”. It is clever the way Latin authors paired up this noun to receive a greater meaning than gurges is capable alone!
After being confronted with the many possible
translations recruited from context or being understood, we can see the
connection Catullus would have made (from the first example) when he wrote
about the death of his brother. Catullus, being the clever poet that he is,
used gurges not only to signify how
his brother died, but as well make a connection that he is now in the
Underworld as “a pouring wave recently flowed past the somewhat-pale leg of my
brother in a whirlpool in Lethæus”. Lethæus is another word for the Underworld,
so like Juvenal and Virgil, Catullus uses gurges
here as another connection to the underworld—to display the mastery of his
poetry. Although at times this word seems quite polysemous (variable in
meaning), gurges is a noun that will
always be specific—and will always be treasured as a “whirlpool” of meanings!
References Sited
Goold, G. P, editor. Juvenal, Satire 3. Fordham University Archives: The Loeb Classical Library,
January 1999. Accessed March 20, 2012
from
Hendry, Michael, editor. Juvenal, Satire 14. Curculio, 1998-2001.
Accessed March 21, 2012
IntraText. Cicero, In
L. Calpurnium Pisonem , 8.
Accessed March 20, 2012
Kant, Larry. “The Interpretation of Religious Symbols in
the Graeco-Roman World: A Case Study of Early Christian Fish
Symbolism” (3 vols), “Chapter Three:
Fish Symbolism in Early Christian Texts.” Yale University, 1993. Accessed March
20, 2012
Latin Library, the. Ovid, Metamorphoses. “P. Ovidi Nasonis Metamorphosen Liber Qvintus Decimus”.
Accessed March 21, 2012
Latin Library, the. Virgil, Æneid. “P. Vergili Maronis Æneidos Liber Sextus”. Accessed March 20, 2012
Lewis, Charles T., Ph.D.; Short, Charles, LL.D. A Latin Dictionary. Entry: “gurges”. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1879.
Accessed March 20, 2012
William Whitaker’s Words. Entry: “gurges.” University of Notre
Dame, 1993-2007. Accessed March 20, 2012
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