A tradition resurrected

Angelus ad virginem subintrans in conclave

Virginis formidinem demulcens inquit 'Ave' ...    

...as we sang last Saturday at All Saints Wokingham (at a concert that I did mention last time (so if you missed it you've only yourself to blame [and the 200+ people who came had a marvellous time]).

Resurrecting a practice observed several times in the early days of this blog....

<rip>

The earliest instance is here. I was reminded of it by the passing of a friend and erstwhile colleague {and long-valued commenter on this blog}, who would surely have ticked the No publicity box, so I shan't name her.

</rip>

... when I marked the festive season by taking a carol to bits, I am today looking at Angelus ad virginem; but just the first two lines as there's plenty to detain me there; and I'll begin in medias res, or more accurately in medias primae lineae: subintrans. Like the first word of that sentence ("resurrecting") it's a way of referring to an event without saying '<x> happened'. It's a present participle, or – to use the CELTA-approved abomination – "the -ing form". And it kicks off with two prepositions. the second one belonging to the verb intrare, which means, as you may have guessed, "to enter". But before that it says sub-, referring to the direction adopted by any angel worth his salt: downwards. He (it was a feller – you can tell that from the -us) came down into the conclave.

<anachronism-warning>
I am anything but an expert on domestic door furniture in nought-th-century Palestine, but I suspect Mary's room was not lockable. Readers of a musical bent will know from klavier and clef and clavichord that the -clave bit of conclave is a key. The clavicle is so-called because of its shape (not a Yale of course; more the sort of thing you might see on a medieval jailor's keyring.) And followers of papal doings will recognize the word 'conclave'; when the cardinals are electing a new Pope there's a lock-in to concentrate their minds.

<equivalent-anachronism>

The  one that everyone quotes is Shakespeare's clock  chiming the hour in Julius Caesar. And the one in this Annunciation  scene involves a similar timespan: from the year dot (when the angel comes down) to a medieval technology (when they have doors with locks).  Caesar's Rome did have an audible marking of time, just monthly rather than hourly, and not mechanical: the ritual calling out of the new month, which gives us the word calendar, as noted by Etymonline:

</equivalent-anachronism> 

</anachronism-warning>

 Whereupon the girl had ants in her pants....

<autobiographical-note>
(at least, I suppose that's where formidinis gets its meaning – from formis [=ant]). By using this colloquialism I would no doubt incur the wrath of Mrs Batty, a primary school teacher who thought that my daughter's "Mary was gobsmacked" (in a retelling of the Annunciation) was inappropriately irreverent. In my view it was a brilliant use of the vernacular, showing extraordinarily rich vocabulary in a 6-year-old (though maybe I'm biased).
</autobiographical-note>

... and the angel showed remarkable obtuseness in assuming that a simple "Ave" would demulcere anyone... 

<gloss>
The -mul- part of demulcens is presumably related to our "mollify".
</gloss>

...They'd win no prizes for self-awareness, these angels. 

That's enough for now. I'm half-expecting a review of the concert, but if it happens it'll have to go in an update.

b