
Dog Latin, or Cod Latin, macaronic Latin, mock Latin, or Canis Latinicus, is a phrase or jargon that imitates Latin. It is created by conjugating or declining non-Latin words, and is usually used to mock scholarly seriousness. The term can also refer to an ill-informed attempt at writing genuine Latin.
Dog Latin has existed since at least the 1590s, with Shakespeare's 1598 play, Love's Labour's Lost, including a reference to it:
Costard: Go to; thou hast it ad dungill, at the fingers' ends, as they say.
Holofernes: O, I smell false Latine; dunghill for unguem.
The term was also used by Thomas Jefferson in 1815, indicating its use in scholarly and literary contexts: "Fifty-two volumes in folio, of the acta sanctorum, in dog-latin, would be a formidable enterprise to the most laborious German."
Historic, intentional examples of dog Latin are often seen from students, scholars, and writers who used mock-Latin phrasing to comedic effect. Scholars categorize this as a form of phonological humor, a "widespread phenomenon" found across cultures, used to represent "foreignness through linguistic strategies".
Today, dog Latin is a common trope in modern music, television, and literature, used sometimes to lampoon the society of Ancient Rome, the Catholic Church, or academia, or to add mock seriousness to a subject. Some comedies which use dog Latin to parody Ancient Rome, like Monty Python's Life of Brian or the episode "I, Carumbus" from season 32 of The Simpsons, are also ridiculing "the conservative ideals established by older depictions" of Ancient Rome in classic films like Ben-Hur or Quo Vadis.
Modern dog Latin is also often seen in the horror genre, where Latin's modern association with the Occult signals something Satanic or gothic to the audience, regardless of whether the Latin is real.
Patres conscripti took a boat, and went to Philippi;
Boatum est upsettum, magno cum grandine venti.
Omnes drownderunt qui swim away non potuerunt.
Trumpeter unus erat, qui coatum scarlet habebat;
Et magnum periwig, tied about with the tail of a dead pig.
Caesar adsum jam forte
Brutus aderat
Caesar sic in omnibus
Brutus sic in at
camera necessaria pro usus cookare, cum saucepannis, stewpannis, scullero, dressero, coalholo, stovis, smoak-jacko; pro roastandum, boilandum, fryandum, et plumpudding mixandum, pro turtle soupos, calve's-head-hashibus, cum calipee et calepashibus.
A necessary room for the purpose of cooking, with saucepans, stewpans, scullery, dresser, coalhole, stoves, smoke-jack; for roasting, boiling, frying, and mixing plum pudding, for turtle soups, calves'-head hashes, with calipee and calipashes.
Amo, amas, I love a lass,
As a cedar tall and slender;
Sweet cowslip's grace is her nominative case,
And she's of the feminine gender.
Chorus:
Rorum corum sunt divorum,
Harum scarum divo;
Tag rag merry derry, periwig and hatband,
Hic hoc horum genetivo.
Can I decline a nymph divine?
Her voice as a flute is dulcis;
Her oculus bright, her manus white,
And soft when I tacto her pulse is.
(Chorus)
O how bella my puella
I'll kiss sæcula sæculorum;
If I've luck, sir, she's my uxor,
O dies benedictorum.
CENTURION: What's this then? 'Romanes Eunt Domus?' …
BRIAN (defiantly): It says 'Romans go home.'
CENTURION: No it does not. What's Latin for Romans? …
BRIAN: Romanus!
CENTURION: Goes like?
BRIAN: Er… annus.
CENTURION: Vocative plural of annus is… …
BRIAN: Anni.
CENTURION: Romani...
[...]
CENTURION: Go home, This is motion towards, isn't it, boy?
BRIAN: Dative, sir. … No, not dative… accusative, sir! "Domum"!
CENTURION: … Except that "domus" takes the...
BRIAN: … The locative … sir!
CENTURION: Which is …
BRIAN: Domum?
CENTURION: Domum. Understand?
BRIAN: Yes, sir
CENTURION: Now write it out a hundred times.
BRIAN: Yes, sir, thank you, sir, hail Caesar, sir.
CENTURION: Hail Caesar. … If it's not done by sunrise, I'll cut your balls off.
BRIAN: Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir. Hail Caesar and everything, sir.
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