For p. 2776. The word ἁρπυῖαι [snatchers, storm spirits] with the circumflex on the penultimate2 could very easily be an ancient participle of a verb ἅρπω (see p. 2826, margin) like ɛἰκυῖα of ɛἴκω, ɛἰδυῖα of ɛἴδω [to see] by syncope of ɛἰδηκυῖα, from ɛἷδα syncope of ɛἴδηκα.a Not so with ἁρπάω, to which it cannot in any way belong. For if grammarians make this form ἁρπυῖαι proparoxytone, writing ἅρπυιαι, (1) not all of them do this, and see Schrevel and Forcellini under Harpyiae; (2) this word could well be proparoxytone in the two passages in the Odyssey, and in the one in the Theogony (l. 267) in all of which it is used by antonomasia, as Visconti claims it is in the Odyssey, or as an appellative noun, as it is in the Theogony.3 Since it has lost its participial form and meaning, and been reduced to a substantive, [2787] and changed use, condition, and meaning, it is no wonder that it changes its accentuation as happens in a thousand other words. But still as such, it is recognized as a feminine participle, which can only come from a paroxytone ἅρπω, and not from ἁρπῶ, nor from ἁρπάω nor from ἁρπάζω, whose masculine participle would be ἁρπὼς. And in the passage in the Triopian inscriptions where it is an adjective, I am of the opinion that it should be written with the circumflex on the penultimate syllable. I do not know how Visconti writes it: the stone has no accents.1 (3) Everyone knows that in these matters of accents, as in many others, no great faith should be put in the grammarians which we have, even if they are Greek, and that they have been corrected a hundred times by modern scholars with their more precise observation of antiquity, of its origins, derivations, analogies, and of the grammatical logic of Greek.2 And if that happens in things which are to do with the language of Thucydides or Plato, how much less weight would an objection have [2788] which was based on the authority of quite recent semibarbarous grammarians with little learning in matters which are as ancient as this is; in which also in particular, grammarians, according to Visconti, all made a mistake in the very meaning of the word, taking as winged demons, or tempests, storms, winds, etc. (see Scapula and Tusanus), what, according to Visconti, were none other than the Fates.1
Besides, even if it were allowed that ἁρπυῖαι was a participle of ἁρπάω (which I do not believe) formed by syncope of ἁρπηκυῖαι (as too ἑστὼς from ἑστηκὼς or ἑστακὼς or ἑσταὼς or ἑστɛὼς, βɛβὼς from βɛβηκὼς or from βɛβαὼς, βɛβρὼς from βɛβρωκὼς or from βɛβροὼς) and that the Latin rapio [to carry off] was not an obsolete ἅρπω (as supposed by Visconti) but this ἁρπάω (of which I find in Tusanus: *“῾Αρπάω for ἁρπάζω, is used, Etymologicum.”*) it would still be well established both that ἁρπυῖαι or ἅρπυιαι was originally a participle,2 etc., and that Latin here preserves antiquity more than Greek does, in which this ἁρπάω, which must certainly be more ancient than ἁρπάζω, will indeed always be either unattested or very rare, and perhaps known by [2789] the Etymologicum alone. (14 June 1823.) Note that Visconti, if I remember correctly, only quotes two instances from the Odyssey, and these are, if I am not mistaken, 1, 241 and 14, 371. In two other instances Homer uses that word, one is Odyssey 20, 77, where it means the same as the Fates, the other Iliad 16, 150,1 where it is purely the adjective describing a mare, and means the same as swift, although commentators render it as the substantive or appellative Harpyia, as in other instances in Homer. Raptim Latin says for cito [quickly], etc.2 So ἅρπυια or ἁρπυῖα for swift. See in the Lexicons ἁρπακτικῶς [rapacious], ἁρπάγδην [hurriedly], ἁρπαλέως [greedily], καρπάλιμος [swift], καρπαλίμως [swiftly], ἀναρπάζω [to snatch up], ἀνάρπαστος [snatched up], and ἁρπάζω [to snatch up] instead of ὀξέως νοῶ [to understand quickly], “cito intelligo et mente percipio, quasi mente corripio” [I understand quickly and I seize with my mind, almost I snatch up with my mind], used by Sophocles. See also the Latin lexicons under rapio and its derivatives and compounds. We say ratto [rapid] (that is raptus) as an adjective and adverb for veloce, presto, etc. Thus rattezza, rattamente, etc. See Spanish for this root, or in other metaphors of speed, taken from rapire [to snatch] in whatever word or phrase. (14 June 1823.) See the Crusca under Rapina, § 1; Rapinosamente, Rapinoso; and these thoughts p. 4165, end.
[2790] I believe the name of Arpalice (on which see Forcellini under Harpalyce) only originates, nor need it be looked for elsewhere, from speed,1 etc. Again I am of the opinion that in the cited instance in the Theogony, 265‒69, the word ἁρπυίας is not in fact an appellative, as grammarians, commentators, and Lexicographers have believed, but a pure adjective meaning rapid, swift, of which I am persuaded both by comparison with the instance cited in the Iliad, and by the observations brought forward on the subject, as well as by the entire context of the instance in Hesiod.
Θαύμας (son of Nereus and of Earth) δ' ᾿Ωκɛανοῖο βαθυῤῥɛίταο θύγατρα.
᾿Ηγάγɛτ' ᾿Ηλέκτρην· ἡ δ' ὠκɛῖαν τέκɛν ῏Ιριν
᾿Ηϋκόμους θ' ῾Αρπυίας (they write it like this with a capital letter)
῾Αɛλλώ τ' ᾿Ωκυπέτην τɛ, (proper names, which symbolize the storms and the winds, as their etymology indicates, and as indeed grammarians and commentators say)
[2791] Αἵ ῥ' ἀνέμων πνοιῇσι καὶ οἰωνοῖς ἅμ' ἕπονται
᾿Ωκɛίῃς πτɛρύγɛσσι· μɛταχρόνιαι γὰρ ἴαλλον
[Thaumas married Electra the daughter of deep-flowing Ocean, and she bore him swift Iris and the lovely-haired Harpies, Aello and Ocypete who on their swift wings keep pace with the blasts of the winds and the birds; for high in the air they dart along].1
I am certain that ἁρπυίας is a second epithet, companion to ἠϋκόμους [lovely-haired]. Duplication or multiplication of epithets without joining them together with any conjunctive particle, very little used by Latin poets,2 is very familiar in Greek poets, and very characteristic of Homer, and after him, of others. As it is of Dante (according to Monti’s observation in the Proposta)3 and of other Italian poets. See among an infinite number of instances, Odyssey 1, 96–100, which instance is repeated more than once in the Iliad, and if I am not mistaken, in the Odyssey as well.4
In any case it should be noted that the instance of the Triopan inscription “῞Αρπυιαι κλωθῶɛς ἀνηρɛίψαντο μέλαιναι…” [“the rapacious black spinners snatched away”], where ἅρπυιαι is clearly an adjective and stands for rapaci [rapacious],5 is expressly imitated from the following lines of the Odyssey, which the author clearly had in view.
“Νῦν δέ μιν ἀκλɛιῶς ἅρπυιαι ἀνηρɛίψαντο” [“Now however the storm spirits have snatched him away without fame and leave no news”]. 1, 241; 14, 371.
“Τόφρα δὲ τὰς κούρας ἅρπυιαι ἀνηρɛίψαντο…” [“Meanwhile however the rapacious ones snatched away the maidens”] 20, 77.6 [2792] It should also be noted that the adjective μέλαιναι [dark, black] is companion to ἅρπυιαι but not joined to it by any conjunction.
The disuse of the stem from which the participle ἁρπυῖαι came, the disuse of this part in a participial or adjectival sense, and the common use of the same to indicate with an appellative noun those fabulous winged beasts, on which see Forcellini under Harpyiae, a use and fable which appears more recent than the times of Homer and Hesiod, must have led Greek (and hence modern) grammarians and commentators astray about the true sense of this word in the two passages cited from the two poets, and especially those of the Odyssey. See the interpretation which Eustathius gives of it, quoted in Scapula, etc.1 Always assuming however that one does not wish to accept that the same false understanding of the word ἅρπυιαι in Homer, etc. (which false understanding must be very ancient) has given rise or occ
asion to the fable of the Harpies, which occurrence would not be short of examples. On the Harpies see the note to Lucian, Opera, Amsterdam 1687, tome 1, p. 94, note 5. (15–16 June 1823.)
“Et ferruginea” (Charon) “subvectat corpora cymba” [“And Charon in his rust-dark boat carries the bodies”]. Aeneid 6, 303. Who cannot see that this subvectat is continuative, and indicates the act of subvehere [to carry] continuously? But to understand it better, substitute for it the word subvehit, and see if the Latin propriety of this passage doesn’t disappear into thin air. See other similar examples in [2793] Forcellini under vecto, convecto, advecto, etc. (16 June 1823.)
Traslatare, trasladar, translater barbarous continuatives of transferre [to carry over]. (16 June 1823.)
Greek writers of the middle and late periods, that is from the third century inclusive, are full of improprieties of language (as is that of Choricius, a sophist of the sixth century in his Oration ɛἰς Σοῦμμον στρατηλάτην “In Summum Ducem” [“In praise of Summus”], § 11, in Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, old ed., vol. 8, p. 869, bk. 5, ch. 31, when he uses the word δικαστὴς in place of κριτὴς [judge] or of μάρτυς [witness]),1 full of odd phrases as far as language is concerned, full of solecisms, and of a thousand contraventions of the ancient rules of Greek grammar and syntax, but there are no barbarisms. In everything which has to do with elegance their language is very different from that of the ancient writers, but in everything else it is the same. One can say that they are ignorant of the good use of the language which they write, that they are incapable of employing it; but the language which they write is that of the ancients. The language the ancients wrote [2794] well, they write badly. Many of their words which are not found in the ancient writers are nonetheless drawn from the basic store of Greek either through derivation or composition, etc. Only on rare occasions are they at odds with the character of that language, and all that is missing for them to be called good, Greek, pure, and genuine is the sanction of antiquity. In short the Grecism of these writers is for the most part bad or very poor, but their language is pure. Poetic words and phrases shoveled wholesale into their prose writings, antiquated words or phrases, wholly strange and barbarous, or poetic metaphors, do not offend against the purity of the language, and belong rather to the register of style. The period of these writers, their way of saying things, for the most part loose, disjointed, stumbling, uneven, or lame, tough, harsh, monotonous, and a very long way from the simplicity and majesty of ancient Greek speech, certainly to a great extent belongs to the language, and though the structure of the oration in those late writers is quite contrary to its spirit, it does not damage its purity. Number and harmony are very different [2795] in these writers from what they are in ancient writers, but this is so not merely because of the negligence of the former, but from the different pronunciation introduced gradually into Greek,1 especially as it spread to so many very different countries, a long way from each other, and replaced so many different tongues, or took its place alongside them and in company with them, or in their midst. For one must consider that the greater part of Greek writers from the 3rd century onward, were not Greeks by nation, or were certainly not Greeks by country, but were Asiatics, etc., and Greek only by language, and this in itself not always by birth, but by study, as, e.g., Porphyry, about whose mother tongue, see the Life of Plotinus, chapter 17, and Holstenius, De vita et scriptis Porphyrii, ch. 2.2 See p. 2827. (17 June 1823.)
One of the properties common to the three daughter languages of Latin, which properties should therefore consequently be thought of as originating from the mother language of all three, as I have said elsewhere [→Z 1475–76] is that of [2796] using causa (cosa, chose) instead of res [thing]. (18 June 1823.)
“Καὶ μοι δοκɛῖ, ɛἴ τις τῶν θɛῶν πάντας ἀνθρώπους ɛἰς ἕνα που χῶρον συναγαγῶν, ἕκαστον ἀπαιτήσɛι τὴν ἑαυτοῦ διηγήσασθαι τύχην, ɛἶτα πάντων ɛἰπόντων, ἑκάστου πύθοιτο πάλιν, ποίαν ἔχɛιν ἕλοιτο; πάντας ἂν ἀποροῦντας σιγῆσαι μηδένα ζηλωτὸν θɛωμένους. ᾿Εντɛῦθɛν ἄρα τινὲς, Τραύσους οἶμαι τὸ γένος” (nationem hanc) “προσαγορɛύουσι, τικτομένου μέν τινος ὠλοφύροντο σκοποῦντɛς, ɛἰς ὅσα ἦλθɛ κακὰ, ἀπιόντος δὲ πανήγυριν” (festum) “ἦγον, ὅσων ἠλɛυθέρωται δυσχɛρῶν ἐννοόυμɛνοι” [“I think that if a god, having gathered all men together in one place, asked each of them to describe his own condition and then after having heard them all, asked them again one by one which he preferred, they would all remain confused and silent, seeing that none of them was enviable. For this reason the Trausi, I think that is their name, would weep when a child was born, thinking of all the evils he would encounter, while they celebrated when he died, thinking of all the misfortunes from which he was now free”].1 Χορικίου Σοφιστοῦ ᾿Επιτάφιος ἐπὶ Προκοπίῳ Σοφιστῇ Γάζης Oratio funebris in Procopium Sophistam-Gazaeum [Epitaph of Choricius Sophist for Procopius Sophist of Gaza] (§ 35, p. 859) edited for the first time in Greek and Latin by Fabricius in the Bibliotheca Graeca, old ed., tome 8, pp. 841–63, bk. 5, ch. 31. (19 June 1823.)
For p. 2683, margin. From this very true observation by Castiglione, it follows that all the immense labors which a perfect writer must undertake to give his writings the completeness, [2797] grace, lightness, nobility, strength, in short the beauty of the language, cannot be appraised, nor appreciated, nor even responded to by foreigners, who are not accustomed to write in that language, or are not accustomed to write it well, which comes to the same thing. And therefore they are all wasted on foreigners, and all of no use to the glory of the writer with regard to foreigners. But what a great part of style is almost to be identified with the language itself! Indeed who can truly either appreciate or judge the style of a work if they cannot do so with the language? And it is true to say that every language has its style, or its styles, which not only cannot be judged but can barely be conceived, unless one is in a position to judge and appreciate that language perfectly, rather to write it well, because not even nationals appreciate those styles unless they are experienced in writing their own language. Therefore not even the qualities of the style of a perfect writer can be appraised by foreigners, and still [2798] less the more perfect it is, for the qualities of his style become like things most rarefied which entirely escape the gaze that is weak or obtuse, whereas had they been coarser they could have been seen. Now what a great part of a work is style! Remove the qualities of style even from a work which you think you value principally because of its thoughts, and see how you value it then. Therefore foreigners are in no possible way in a position either to appraise or appreciate any work by a perfect author, not even, except very imperfectly, from the point of view of its thoughts. Therefore the true full and well-reasoned estimation which can be made of a perfect writer is confined to the limits of his nation. And among his fellow nationals how many are there who can write well and therefore appraise and appreciate him? What then is that glory for which a perfect writer has sweated so much, for which he has perhaps spent his whole life on a single work? And how much pleasure for how many people is provided by such [2799] a work, for so long and so diligently toiled over and sweated over for the sole purpose of providing supreme, full, and perfect pleasure? And in truth as far as concerns works of literature, all the things mentioned above, and the conclusion I draw from them, exist as strongly as ever. See pp. 3673–75. (19 June 1823.)
“Τοὶ δὲ Σκύθαι καλὸν νομίζοντι, ὃς ἄνδρα κτανών, ἐκδɛίρας τὰν κɛφαλὰν, τὸ μὲν κόμιον πρὸ τοῦ ἵππου φορɛῖ, τὸ δ' ὀστέον χρυσώσας καὶ ἀγρυρώσας, πίνɛι ἐξ αὐτοῦ καὶ σπέ
νδɛι τοῖς θɛοῖς· ἐν δὲ τοῖς ῞Ελλασιν οὐδέ κ' ἐς τὰν αὐτὰν οἰκίαν συνɛισɛλθɛῖν βούλοιτ' ἄν τις τοιαῦτα ποιήσαντι” [“Among the Scythians it is a cause for pride that one of them, when he has killed an enemy and skinned his head, carries the scalp in front of his own horse, and as for the skull, that he ornaments it with gold and silver to drink from it and offer libations to the gods. On the contrary, among the Greeks, no one would want to set foot in the same house as a man who had done such things”]. “Scythis quidem honestum, ut cum quis hominem occiderit, capitis, cute divulsa, partem crinitam ante equum gestet, osseam vero auro vel argento obducens, ex illa bibat Diisque ipsis libamina fundat. Graecorum autem nullus easdem aedes ingredi vellet una cum viro, qui tale quid fecerit” (From the translation by John North).1 [2800] An unidentified writer of some διαλέξɛις [discourses, conversations] in Doric dialect, which are often found in Codices at the end of books of Sextus Empiricus, and were published by Henri Estienne among the fragments of the Pythagoreans and by Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, old ed., vol. 12, pp. 617‒35, bk. 6, ch. 7, § 6. Fabricius calls them Disputationes Antiscepticae, but they are in fact more skeptical exercises in each of which the pro and contra are maintained, and this explains the title which is prefaced to these διαλέξɛις in the Zeitz Codex, and referenced by Fabricius p. 617, and in this title these διαλέξɛις are called ὑπομνήματα πρὸς ἀντίῤῥησιν [Commentaries in regard to Controversy]. The passage quoted above is in the second διάλɛξις, entitled πɛρὶ καλῶν καὶ αἰσχρῶν [“On the Beautiful and the Ugly”], in Fabricius, loc. cit., p. 622. (21 June 1823.)
It is a very common maxim among philosophers, and it was especially so among ancient philosophers, that the wise man should not care about, nor regard as good or evil, nor place his hopes for bliss in the presence or absence of things that depend upon fortune, whatever they may be, or upon any outside force, but solely in those that entirely depend and always will depend upon him alone. Whence [2801] they conclude that the wise man, whom they suppose must be in such a frame of mind, is in no regard subject to fortune.1 But this same frame of mind, even supposing it to be more deep-rooted, more habitual, more persistent, more entire, more perfect, more real than it has ever actually been in any philosopher, this same frame of mind, I repeat, being already acquired, and even, through long ingrained habit, mastered, is it not always subject to fortune? Have the minds of old men never been seen returning to childhood, through infirmity or for other reasons, the effect of which it was never in their power to prevent or to avoid? Are not memory, intellect, all the faculties of our minds, in the hands of fortune, just like everything else that belongs to us? Is it not in her hands to alter them, weaken them, distort them, extinguish them? Is not our reason itself entirely in the power of fortune? Can anyone rest assured or boast [2802] that they will never lose the use of their reason, either forever or temporarily, either through the disorganization of the brain, or through a rush of blood or fluids to the head, or through a violent fever, or through unusual exhaustion of the body that induces delirium either fleeting or perpetual? Are there not an infinite number of external, unforeseeable, or inevitable accidents which influence the faculties of our minds as they do those of our bodies? And of these some happen and operate instantly or in a short space of time, such as a blow to the head, a sudden terror, or an acute illness; others very gradually and slowly, such as old age, the weakening of the body, and all those lengthy illnesses long since prepared or begun by nature, etc. Once the memory is lost or weakened, is not understanding weakened or lost, and therefore its use or usefulness, and therefore the frame of mind that is its fruit, and with which we used to reason? Now what faculty in the human mind is more ephemeral, [2803] more easily worn out, indeed more certain as time passes to weaken or to be extinguished, indeed, more continuously, inevitably, and visibly wearing out in each individual, than memory? In short, if our body is entirely in the hands of fortune, and subject throughout to the action of external things, it’s a rash thing to say that the mind, which is wholly and always subject to the body, can be independent of external things and of fortune. I conclude that that selfsame perfectly wise man, such as the ancients would have him be, such as never did exist, such as can only be imaginary, again I say that even if such a wise man existed, he would be wholly subject to fortune, because the selfsame reason upon which he would found his independence from fortune would itself be entirely in the hands of fortune. (21 June 1823.)
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