Do you want to see how natural the current state of man is? Even that of the farmer, who preserves, much more than others, the state of nature? Man in the present wants, and for a long time has wanted, milk, wants crops to feed on, wine to quench his thirst, wool in which to clothe himself, wants eggs, etc. etc. Here is seed time, vines, sheep, goats, chickens, oxen for plowing, etc., cows to give birth to them, and for milk, etc. But the goat damages, indeed destroys, the vine; so the oxen do to the vine and every fruit tree if they are allowed to go near them; the flocks and the herds and the [2338] poultry, etc., would ruin the planted fields if one did not take infinite care to prevent them; the poultry damages the stalls of the flocks and the herds; the damage done by the pig to fields and beasts would be infinite if you did not keep an eye on it, etc. etc. In short, the needs that man has created for himself, even the most simple, rural, and universal, needs even of the lowliest and least spoiled people, are contradictory and mutually harmful, and man’s responsibility is not only to procure what is necessary to satisfy these needs, with their infinite complications, but to be careful in providing for one, because providing for that need may be damaging to another, etc. And yet surely it will be easier to count the sand of the sea than to find a single contradiction in any of those things which nature has truly and manifestly made necessary, or intended for the use of man, or any animal, vegetable, etc.1 (8 Jan. 1822.) See p. 2389.
For p. 2019, margin. So from metus us [fear], metuere [to fear]. The Spanish say actuar (from actus us) meaning to put into effect or to carry out. See attuare in the Crusca, [2339] actuare in Du Cange.
The reason, then, that verbs in uare (or uere, etc.), and not simply in are, were made from words of the fourth conjugation, as from those of the second, I think was this, that those words anciently and characteristically ended in uus, since even today, at least in the genitive singular, or in the nominative and accusative plurals, we customarily write metûs, fluctûs, actûs, etc., with the circumflex. See the grammarians and the scholars. In fact, contrary to the usage of Latin prosody, the letter u is long in the genitive and ablative singular, nominative, and accusative plural endings of the fourth declension. Precisely where I think that in the past the u was double, and as a result long, like the a of the ablative singular of the first declension, for the same reason. See pp. 2360, 2365. (And note that this is another proof that double vowels were pronounced by the ancients as a single syllable, since metus, etc., in all the poets is disyllabic and metum followed by a vowel remains a monosyllable, etc.) Hence when the ending in us was removed from those words, exactly as in the case of those of the second declension, another u remained, and when the ending in are was added one had to say fluctu-are, and not fluct-are, etc. Just as from continuus—which, although it ends in uus, is of the second declension—continu-are is made (with the ending in us removed), from perpetuus perpetu-are, from cernuus cernu-are [to fall head foremost], etc., from vacu-us evacu-are, from Febru-us or from Febru-a, orum, februare [to purify], etc., from obliquus obliquare [to twist aside], etc., from viduus viduare [to empty], etc. (9 Jan. 1822.) From Fatua fatuari [to be inspired], from fatuus infatuare.
[2340] For p. 2257. Faxo [I will do], which is much used by writers, especially ancient ones, since it is a thoroughly ancient word, for faciam, the future indicative, is grammatically just an old form of the future subjunctive fecero, as levasso is of levavero [I will raise], in Cicero at the beginning of De senectute. See Forcellini under Faxim. (9 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 1107, end. Ausus, the participle of the neuter or active audere [to dare], a participle with a neuter or active meaning, in the manner of the deponents (a participle that is also conjugated, as in ausus sum, es [I, you dared], etc., in place of which the ancients said ausi, whence then commonly ausim for ausus sim or fuerim [that I might have dared]), serves very well to demonstrate this ancient practice of giving to active or neuter verbs a past participle whose meaning is not only passive but also active or neuter, as in the deponents. Ausus is passive as well. (9 Jan. 1822.) Also see Forcellini under osus [hating], exosus [detesting], perosus [hating greatly], active participles. Cautus incautus are qui cavit or non cavit, [one who pays attention, or does not pay attention] true participles of the neuter verb caveo, and meaning not passive but intransitive action. They are also used passively like amatus. See Forcellini and p. 2363.
For p. 1114, margin. From motus, the participle of movere [to move], we get not only motitare but also motare, about whose continuative, and usual, meaning, etc., you can see Forcellini under moto, under motatio, etc., and especially under motator. (9 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 1181, margin, end. We also have [2341] le carra [cartloads] from the neuter carrum [wagon, cart], which in good Latin is, rather, carrus, but which according to the testimony of Nonius people usually pronounced carrum. But he, says Forcellini, *“is speaking about his own time,”* and I think he meant that people said that colloquially, although good writers used the masculine. See Forcellini and the Glossary. (9 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 1120, end. See Forcellini under certo as [to contend], which he calls frequentative, and which I, on the other hand, think is a continuative from cerno [to separate], like cernito, deriving from certus [determined, resolved], which was originally a participle of cerno, and the same as cretus. See, I repeat, Forcellini under both certo and certus, under cerno, etc. (9 Jan. 1822.) See p. 2345.
For p. 2138, margin, end. We have said the same of certus [determined, resolved] in the preceding thought, which see, and of certare [to contend], which derives from it. This certus is originally not an adjective but a participle, and certare thus comes from a participle, and not, as it seems, from an adjective. (9 Jan. 1822.) As for tutus [guarded, safe], whence tutari or tutare, a true continuative of tueor [to look at], or tuor, or tueo [to care for], etc., see Forcellini on all of these. Although tutus became a simple adjective, it is only a participle.
[2342] The world derides those who faithfully and sincerely fulfill their duties, or truly feel and act on the sentiments dictated by nature and by morality; and is outraged by and censures those who publicly neglect those duties, who display contempt for them, who do not fulfill them at all in spite of the public, even when they have very good reasons for not doing so, and do not follow custom in this respect. A woman is mocked if she weeps sincerely for her recently dead husband, if to those who talk to her she shows signs of feeling keen and true grief at his loss. But if, even as a result of pressing circumstances, she neglects the least of the duties that custom imposes in these cases, if she is seen in public one day sooner than the time prescribed by custom, if, even with the sole purpose of bringing some relief to her genuine grief, she allows herself some slight outing or distraction before the prescribed time, the world judges her most severely, and condemns her inexorably, without regard to reasons or circumstances, however real they may be, and it won’t stop snapping at her [2343] and reproaching her for the smallest violation of outward duties, while it is very ready to mock those who observe them in good faith, etc. (10 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 1141, end. I mention another example of how much my theory helps us to know and understand many passages in the best Latin writers whose true, proper, and profound meaning has been unknown up to now, or badly, or imperfectly and vaguely understood, and interpreted.
Cogite oves, pueri: si lac praeceperit aestus,
Ut nuper, frustra pressabimus ubera palmis
[Boys, gather your sheep together; if the heat has dried up their milk,
As it lately did, in vain we’ll squeeze the udders with our hands]
Virgil, Eclogues 3, ll. 98–99. What is that pressabimus? The same as prememus? Don’t you see how much more it says? How much it increases the duration of the action of premere? Since it means: “if the heat prevents the milk from coming, we will spend a long time squeezing the udders of the sheep with our hands in vain.” In fact, when the milk doesn’t come, you’re not content just to squeeze, but you stay and squeeze for a while,
to see if you can make the milk come, and trying to make it come. On the other hand, might this be a frequent action? Is pressabimus a frequentative? Is it diminutive? How in the world can frequency [2344] or diminution occur here? The latter would be entirely contrary to the purpose, the former would express nothing. What is pressabimus, then? A true continuative, expressing the greater duration of the action signified by premere, and as such extremely expressive, and appropriate in this case, and very effective. This effectiveness and appropriateness could not, until now, have been well understood by anyone who considered pressare a synonym or a frequentative of premere, and did not regard it as capable of increasing the duration of the action, that is, as a continuative. See the interpreters. (10 Jan. 1822.) Pressare customarily a continuative, see Virgil, Aeneid 3, 642.
For p. 1108, at the beginning. Likewise from tentus, the participle not of tenere [to hold] but rather of tendere [to stretch], comes distentare [to distend], and extentare [to stretch], on which see Forcellini. As far as I know, the first is found in a single place, and that is in Virgil, cited by Forcellini. Where Heyne following Vossius printed distentant, present optative, Heinsius distendant, Forcellini—rightly, in my opinion—distentent.1 I don’t know what verb a present optative distentant can denote. Maybe Heyne and Vossius and Heinsius were led into error by [2345] not knowing the theory of continuatives, of their formation and their meaning. Distentare here seems to be a continuative, signifying custom. Distentent, may they always fill up, etc. The verb extentare from extentus, the participle of extendere, on which see Forcellini, can serve as proof of the truth of this distentent lesson, that is, of the verb distentare. And likewise the verb ostentare [to show, exhibit] (on which see p. 1150) from ostentus, the participle of ostendere [to stretch out, display]. Distentare is undoubtedly continuative, indicating habit, like responsare [to return, answer] in the places cited p. 1151. And ostentare is perhaps likewise one in the passage in Cicero p. 1150. See also Praetento [to stretch out, to stretch forth] in Forcellini at the end. See also Intentus and intentare, true continuatives of intendere [to stretch, to spread out]. We also have, and so do the Spanish, intentare [to bring an action against] from tentare [to try]. See Forcellini, intentatus, and the Glossary. Retentus for retensus, Forcellini. See the interpreters and commentators of Virgil. On the other hand, our contentare (contenter, contentar) [to satisfy, to please] comes from contentus, the participle of continere [to hold together], like tentare from tenere [to hold]. Latin contentare is in the Glossary. (10 Jan. 1822.) See retentare [to hold back] in Forcellini and Aeneid 5, 278.
For p. 2341, paragraph 1. Certare [to fight, to contend at law] continues the action of cernere [to separate, to decide something that is contested], as captare [to strive to seize, to lay hold of] does of capere [to seize]. Neither prendere [to take] nor decidere [to decide] can be continuous actions, but those actions which lead or are necessary to taking or to deciding, and which produce the latter and the former, certainly are continuous. Or rather cernere and capere are acts, certare and captare actions. And note that disceptare, formed from captare, signifies a continuous action similar to that of certare. Besides, certare stands for cernitare (as [2346] Forcellini says) in that the old, regular participle of cernere must have been not cretus or certus but cernitus. Since if cernitare were found, certare, if it is a syncope of it, must come from the past participle of cernere. And since the aforementioned participle was reduced to certus (the true participle of cernere, and older than cretus, which is a pure metathesis of certus, the latter being originally a syncope of cernitus, as lectus [chosen] is of legitus, etc.), its derivative, which is perfectly regular, is certare, the true continuative of cernere both in form and in meaning. (11 Jan. 1822.)
The practice of contracting the past participles of many verbs was established among the Latins in early times, and so these participles are no longer found in good Latin except as contractions, like lectus, and never legitus, etc., and not only in good Latin but in any Latin, earlier or later, true regular participles are not found; rather, the scholar discovers only vestiges of them. See p. 1153, last paragraph, etc.
[2347] If, then, we often find in the Italian or Spanish or French language other such contracted participles, which in good Latin are found only in their extended form, we should consider them not recent corruptions but having come like that from Vulgar Latin, since that was the early practice of the language, and was widespread even among the best writers with respect to many other participles of the same type. And, in fact, many of the participles that Italian, etc., usage contracts, and that the Latin writers did not usually contract, are nonetheless found as contractions, as they are among the moderns, in other Latin writers, in the poets, especially the oldest—new proof of what I say. E.g., the Italians say posto, and the Spanish puesto, for which the Latin was accustomed to write positus [placed]. But you will find postus in fragments of Ennius, in Lucretius, in Silius. (Forcellini, positus, a, um, at the end.) You will find repostus (riposto) in Horace, etc. Compostus (composto, compuesto) in Virgil, Aeneid 1, 249 and others, on which see Forcellini. Indeed, this form seems [2348] older than the other, and characteristic of the ancient Latins, and has an ancient flavor, and nonetheless it is found, as you see, in Virgil, etc., and lives in the modern languages: a sign that it was a consistent characteristic of the preserver of antiquity, I mean Vulgar Latin. And I believe that you will also often find it in inscriptions of any period that were either composed or engraved by ordinary men, in medals, in barbarian Latin writers, etc., about whom see the Glossary. (12 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 1107, beginning. In that place, however, in Virgil, Eclogues 1, ll. 52–53: “Fortunate senex! hic inter flumina nota, / Et fontes sacros frigus captabis opacum” [“Fortunate old man! here among the known rivers and the sacred fountains you will get shady coolness”], the verb captare is a true continuative in the same sense as to take, and means: you will be getting coolness. For it has nothing to do with the frequentative. (13 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 2222, margin. This practice of saying, e.g., erat instead of esset or fuisset [that he/she were or had been] is a very frequent enallage among the Latin writers (including the best), frequent and elegant in Italian also (and principally among our oldest and most elegant writers), with the conditional particle (just as in Latin) preceding or accompanying or following it in this way: [2349] se non fosse stato aiutato egli moriva [if he had not been helped he would have died], or else egli moriva, se non era aiutato [he would have died if he had not been helped], etc., that is, moriebatur in place of sarebbe morto, mortuus esset, periisset, etc.; finally, very analogous, although not precisely conforming, to that Spanish usage which will now be discussed, etc. (13 Jan. 1822.) See p. 2350.
For p. 1108. In what I have added about this theory of continuatives it seems to me I have already mentioned the verbs cursare from cursus, the participle of currere [to run] (see, in fact, p. 1114), and maybe also occursare, concursare, and other such compounds. On all of these one should, as needed, see Forcellini. Meanwhile, here’s an example from Virgil where the verb recursare [to return] is indisputably a continuative, meaning habit (not frequency). He’s speaking about Venus. Aeneid 1, 662: “Urit atrox Juno, et sub noctem cura recursat” [“Fierce Juno rages, and at night care returns”]. That is, recurrere solet [returns habitually]. And note that Virgil could just as well have said recurrit [returns]; and reasonably, and correctly in terms of the language, he preferred recursat. This example can also be referred to pp. 1148ff. (13 Jan. 1822.)
[2350] Alto, altezza [lofty, loftiness] and their like are poetic words and ideas for the reasons mentioned elsewhere (p. 2257) and so are the images that have to do with these qualities. (14 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 2349. Virgil, Aeneid 2, 599–600: “et, ni mea cura resistat, / Jam flammae tulerint, inimicus et hauserit ensis” [“and, if my love did not prevent it, the flames would have swept them off already, and the hostile sword would have drunk their blood”]. Instead of tulissent or ferr
ent. A common feature in elegant Latin, and also relevant to our point. Thus Aeneid 3, 187: crederet and moveret for credidisset and movisset, would have believed or moved. A very frequent feature. Traherent for traxissent [they had drawn]: Aeneid 6, 537. Admoneat and irruat for admoneret [he would have warned] and irrueret [he would have rushed]: ibid., 293–94, and likewise diverberet [he would have split]; an elegant and very common usage. Generally, we can observe a great variety and frequent use of these figures among the Latin writers with regard to the tenses of the subjunctive: sometimes exchanged with one another, as they are here, where the perfect stands in place of the pluperfect; sometimes exchanged with those of the indicative, etc. And the same variety is found in the same tenses in the three daughter languages, a variety relative either to the Latin language or to each other, or within each itself. A variety that is certainly derived from Vulgar Latin, as we can see in the examples cited. (14 Jan. 1822.)
For p. 2249, beginning. Qua, que, or quae, [2351] qui, quo, quu are always monosyllables in Latin (and sometimes, but by taking license, not by the rules, Latin writers don’t divide the quü), and yet have two vowels, and are not counted among the diphthongs. Gua gue, etc., are sometimes disyllables, as in ambiguus a um, irriguus, exiguus, etc., sometimes monosyllables, as in anguis, sanguis, etc. Why is it that they are sometimes disyllables, sometimes not? By nature they are neither one nor the other; pronunciation alone decides. It is said that u is often considered a consonant. See Forcellini under U. That it should be considered such is fine, but it is not one by nature, and gua, etc., and other such two-vowel syllables have, in fact, two vowel sounds, and yet are pronounced as monosyllables, and not counted among the diphthongs. Qua, etc., gua, etc., are always monosyllabic in Italian, and not even poetic license can divide them into two syllables. Likewise in Spanish. (14 Jan. 1822.) See p. 2359, end.
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