Similar causes must have played a part in ensuring that written English and German ended up conforming less to their pronunciations, and the latter corresponding less to the value of the letters in their respective alphabets, and less consistent in their actual rules (which have, in French at any rate, so many exceptions and exceptions to the exceptions) than is the case with written Italian and Spanish and their pronunciations. For the English alphabet is the Latin one, as was originally the German, whereas their languages are both originally and at present wholly different from Latin. Moreover, once Latin literature and writing had arrived, and entered into use, even where the language itself was not actually spoken, as in England and in Germany, the Germans and the English also initially devised rules for, or sketched out their spelling and writing with the sole, or virtually the sole example of Latin before their eyes. And once the first rules or the first sketches had gained a foothold, it was no longer an option to destroy them, and [2876] it is still not an option either to arrange things so that the rest of the language, even if it has not yet been made, or not gained a foothold, does not correspond to them. At any rate it is not always possible to obstruct them thoroughly, or to arrange things so that, having obstructed them, the machine runs regularly and well, and without awkward moments and conflicts and disturbances, etc., disorders, contradictory effects, etc. (1 July 1823.)
A man may be resigned to suffer passively, or to not have pleasure, but no one is resigned to toil in vain and without any hope, or to toil much for worthless things; no one is resigned to suffer actively to no avail. The habit of resignation therefore always gives rise to heedlessness, negligence, indolence, inactivity, and finally to laziness, sluggishness, and insensitivity, and almost to immobility. (2 July 1823.)
I state elsewhere [→Z 740ff.] that the practice of judiciously and sparingly fashioning new compounds was maintained by Latin authors, and especially by poets, not only prior to the complete formation of the language and the literature, but in the full classical age of Latin culture, and in the period immediately succeeding it. Macrobius speaks of this practice, [2877] Saturnalia 6, 5 and shows how some compound epithets believed to be coined by Virgil were fashioned at a much earlier date.1 Let me pick out some Latin compounds of which no example is to be found so far as I know in authors before the golden age. And they are all composed of two words, the one a noun and the other an adjective, or else both nouns, etc., or of a noun and a verb either a participle or a simple verb form, etc., which are the rarer compounds; setting aside the nouns or verbs, etc., compounded with prepositions or particles, of which an excessive abundance could be adduced in support of our case. Alipes, aliger, armifer, armipotens, armisonus, aeripes, aerisonus, aerifer, aerifodina, aequaevus, aequidistans in Frontinus and others, algificus in Gellius, aequilatatio in Vitruvius, aequilateralis in Censorinus, aequilaterus in Martianus Capella, aequilibris, etc., aequinoctium, on which word see Festus in Forcellini under aequidiale, aequipedus, and aequipollens in Apuleius; aequipondium in Vitruvius, aequicrurius in Martianus Capella, alticinctus, altitonans, altitonus, altivolus in Pliny the Elder, anguitenens, aegisonus, auricornus, aurifer, aurifex, aurifodina in Pliny the Elder, aurigena, auriger, auripigmentum in Pliny and Vitruvius, [2878] auriscalpium in Martial and Scribonius, bijugus and bijugis (but here an adverb is involved) and other such compounds with bis, equifĕrus and equisētum in Pliny the Elder, Martianus’s fontigenae, ignigena, ignipotens, ignipes, gemellipara, mellifer, mellificium, mellificus in Columella, mellifico and melligenus in Pliny the Elder, nidifico in the same and in Columella, nidificium in Apuleius, nidificus in Seneca the tragedian, noctifer and the like, nubifer, nubifugus in Columella, Ausonius’s floriparus, securifer, securiger, nubivagus in Silius, nubigena (with regard to which one should note that Macrobius in the passage cited, which is worth seeing, wishing to prove how many epithets believed to be of Virgil’s making are more ancient, recites the one in the Aeneid 8, 293, “Tu nubigenas, invicte, bimembres” [“You, unconquered one, you {with your hand are slayer of} the cloud-born creatures of double shape”], and shows that bimembris [double shape] is from Cornificius, but he says nothing about nubigena [cloud-born creatures], so he seems to concede that it is modern, and in truth there is no example to be found in Forcellini save in authors later than Virgil, who in this same Forcellini is not cited under this word), Ovid’s penatiger, solivagus in Forcellini, whose examples are drawn from Cicero, and in the same Cicero, De re publica 1, 25, p. 70, Rome 1822; and very many other similar ones.1 (2 July 1823.)
[2879] Note the monosyllabic root of caput [head] For-CEPS, according to what I have conjectured elsewhere [→Z 1131–32, 1691], and of all its derivations, and again in dein-CEPS, regarding which word see Forcellini. (2 July 1823.)
That v for the ancient Romans was simply a kind of aspiration, and not a consonant, and that this in truth is its nature, namely, to be linked with aspiration, and often to vanish from words depending on the character of the various pronunciations. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman antiquities, bk. 1, ch. 35, speaking of the origin of the name Italy: “῾Ελλάνικος δὲ ὁ Λέσβιός φησιν ῾Ηρακλέα τὰς Γηρυόνου βοῦς ἀπελαύνοντα εἰς ῎Αργος, ἐπειδή τις αὐτῷ δάμαλις ἀποσκιρτήσας τῆς ἀγέλης ἐν ᾿Ιταλίᾳ ὄντι ἤδη φεύγων διῇρε τὴν ἀκτήν, καὶ τὸν μεταξὺ διανηξάμενος πόρον τῆς θαλάσσης εἰς Σικελίαν ἀφίκετο, ἐρόμενον ἀεὶ τοὺς ἐπιχωρίους καθ' οὓς ἑκάστοτε γένοιτο διώκων τὸν δάμαλιν, εἴ ποι τὶς αὐτὸν ἑωρακώς, τῶν τῇδε ἀνθρώπων Ἑλλάδος μὲν γλώττης ὀλίγα συνιέντων, τῇ δὲ πατρίῳ φωνῇ κατὰ τὰς μηνύσεις τοῦ ζώου καλούντων τὸν δάμαλιν οὐΐτουλον, ὥσπερ καὶ νῦν λέγεται, ἀπὸ τοῦ ζώου τὴν [2880] χώραν ὀνομάσαι πᾶσαν, ὅσην ὁ δάμαλις διῆλθεν, Οὐϊταλίαν. Μεταπεσεῖν δὲ ἀνὰ χρόνον τὴν ὀνομασίαν εἰς τὸ νῦν σχῆμα, οὐδὲν θαυμαστόν. ᾿Επεὶ καὶ τῶν Ἑλληνικῶν πολλὰ τὸ παραπλήσιον πέπονθεν ὀνομάτων.”1 From bibo [to drink] we say bevo, and with the letter v removed beo, beve and bee, beendo, bere from bevere with the v removed, and beere contracted into bere, etc. See Corticelli, and Buommattei, Treatise 12, ch. 40, end. Likewise from debeo [to have to] devo and deo, devi and dei, etc.2 See the grammarians and vernacular usage. From the Latin pavo [peacock] we say pavone and paone, paonessa, paoncino, etc. We likewise say pavonazzo and paonazzo. And in a hundred other words we remove and insert the v as suits us, whether according to the etymology it actually belongs to them or not, and sometimes we always and quite consistently insert it into words where it does not belong, or we always and quite consistently pass over it in silence in words where it should be and was. And in this particular there is very frequently some discordance between the pronunciations and dialects of the provinces, cities, and individuals of Italy, between ancient authors and the moderns, between ancient speech and modern, between modern speech and writing, etc. (2 July 1823.)
[2881] Translation of the passage transcribed above from Dionysius of Halicarnassus done by Pietro Giordani in the Lettera al Chiarissimo Abate Giambattista Canova sopra il Dionigi trovato dall’Abate Mai, Milan, Giovanni Silvestri, 1817, pp. 30–31:1 “But Hellanicus of Lesbos says that Heracles when he led Geryon’s oxen to Argos, and since he was already in Italy, because an ox had detached itself from the herd, and in flight ran the full length of the beach, swam the straits and arrived in Sicily; as he followed where the ox had gone, Heracles asked the local inhabitants if anyone had seen it; but because they had little understanding of the Greek language, and from the indications given by Heracles, and because in their native tongue they called tha
t animal Vitulo (as it is called even now), it so happened that from the word for that beast the whole of the country across which it ran was named Vitulia.” (The Greek says that Heracles himself named it thus, and says Vitalia.) “If the name then changed into its present form, that is not to be wondered at, since many Greek words suffer similar changes.” (2 July 1823.)
[2882] It is worth noting how the Spanish atar has retained the proper and original meaning of aptare, that is, to bind, a meaning which, though proper and original, is not however very frequent in Latin authors, and it seems to me that the only genuinely pertinent example is the one from Ammianus in Forcellini under aptatus.1 Now, Ammianus writes in the Latin of the late empire. This shows that the common people had always retained the original use of this verb, and more so than the elegant writers, who tended rather to employ it metaphorically. On the other hand, if one were ever prone to doubt that the verb aptare came from aptus, the proper meaning of which is bound, etc., and which Festus says is a participle of apo,2 the Spanish atar which means to bind, to join, would dispel any lingering doubts. Our own attare, adattare, adapter, etc., has as its proper meaning the ordinary metaphorical meaning of apto, adapto, etc. See in Forcellini examples of coaptare, coaptatio, coaptatus (συνάπτειν) in the sense of bound together, etc., all from St. Augustine, who certainly did not take this correct and original use of such words from earlier fathers of Latin writing, nor from writers of the golden age, who do not use them, but from the speech of the common people, which still retained that meaning, and still retains it in Spain.3 The same goes for Ammianus. [2883] And who knows whether aptare in this sense might not be the origin of attaccare, attacher, etc.? See the Du Cange Glossary mainly under attachiare, that is to say, vincire [to bind, to solder], etc. But since this word is particularly used in the barbarian Latin texts of the English and the Scots, I would not dispute the notion that its origin is probably Teutonic, etc., as is asserted in the same Glossary, see 2, under Tasca. (3 July 1823.) See p. 2887.
“I am at present experiencing a pleasure, and I wish that my condition throughout my whole life, for all eternity, was the same as the one I find myself in at this moment.” This is what no man ever says, or ever can in good faith say, not even for a single moment, not even in the act that brings the greatest possible pleasure.1 Now if he at that moment experiences a present and perfect pleasure (and if it is not perfect, it is not pleasure), he should naturally desire to experience it always, because the goal of man is pleasure; and hence desire that all his life was such as that moment is for him, and moreover desire to live always, in order to enjoy always. But it is absolutely certain that [2884] no man has ever conceived or formulated this desire, not even at the happiest point in his life, and not even during that point alone. It is absolutely certain that not even the man, whatever he may be, who of all men has experienced or is about to experience the greatest possible pleasure has for a moment conceived or ever will conceive this desire. And this because not even at that point has anyone ever found himself to be wholly satisfied, nor did he set aside or altogether suspend the desire, or even the hope, for a greater and a far greater pleasure. So that he did not at that point experience a true and present pleasure. Though after such a point has passed a man very often desires his whole life to conform to that point, and expresses this desire to himself and to others, and in good faith. But he is in the wrong, because if he was to obtain his desire, he would cease to experience it, etc.
Had the barbarous elements also introduced into Italian spelling during the fifteenth century in unduly slavish imitation of the Latin persisted in [2885] the same form, we too would write differently from the way that we pronounce, as one may well believe happened then, given that the pedantry of those times, or rather the pedants (because we cannot believe this of everyone) did not pronounce as they wrote. See some examples in the Lezioni sulle doti di una colta favella by the Abbé Colombo, Parma 1820, Lecture 3, pp. 69–70 and Pico della Mirandola, “Commento” on the “Canzone d’amore” by Girolamo Benivieni, with the Canzone, etc., Venice 1522, where ad is always written instead of a before a consonant, even when following a d, as with ad dir (stanza 1 of the Canzone, l. 6 at folio 41), advenire, etc.1 This very bad usage lasted until the early sixteenth century. In the book cited tabola is written for tavola, egloge for egloghe, etc. etc., also philosopho, admirando, ad pena for appena, etc. (3 July 1823.)
For p. 2821. The same goes for the verb nicto is used (if, though, it ever was, and see Forcellini) for nicto as [to blink] (or nictor aris), which is a continuative verb formed from the unattested niveo, and demonstrates both the ancient existence of niveo, which is also demonstrated by its compound conniveo [to blink], and also the participle or supine of the former and the latter (which is lacking today), which would also [2886] be demonstrated by the noun nictus us, according to arguments advanced by me elsewhere [→Z 1166], if, indeed, this is a genuine word, and if, and when it means nictatio [winking] and not nisus [leaning upon]. Because it seems that it may also mean nisus, according to Forcellini, and in this sense it would serve to prove the ancient participle nictus from nitor eris, used instead of nixus and nisus; from which nictus from nitor the continuative nictari likewise arises, which I believe to be entirely different from nicto from niveo, and not wholly identical, as Forcellini maintains, etc., since there is not the slightest analogy between the two meanings, and on the other hand the origin of either verb is all too plain, because if there is conniveo there must have been niveo, and through forming connixi from conniveo the supine connictum must be formed, just as one has dictum from dixi, and hence nictum from niveo, and hence nictare; and as for nictor from nitor Forcellini himself does not doubt it. Indeed, I believe that nicto as is solely from niveo, and nictor aris solely and properly from nitor, although in two passages from Pliny we find nictari for connivere, etc.,1 which could be the fault of the scribes (and in actual fact in one of these passages some read nictare), and also the fault of Pliny himself confusing one verb with the other, both of them being ancient and little used in his day; in which regard see what is said by Perticari in the Treatise Degli scrittori del Trecento, and Giordani in the Letter to Monti, vol. 1, part 2 of the Proposta,2 on the word fastus, etc. On the other hand, from [2887] nixus from nitor (which perhaps is not different from nictus for any grammatical reason, but simply on account of a difference in pronunciation) its continuative, namely, nixor aris is likewise formed. See p. 2929. (3 July 1823.)
For p. 2883. Should anyone deem the testimonies we have regarding the existence of the ancient verb apo to be insufficient, let him consider that both the extrinsic form, and the true and proper meaning, and the original use of aptus are all those of a participle. And if aptus is a participle, it must be the participle of apo or of some other such verb, whatever that might be thought to be, from which verb ἅπτειν and aptare [to adapt] must derive. If they want to deny that aptus is a participle, there is still no disputing the fact that apto has been formed from aptus. And if this is so, ἅπτειν, which is the same as apto, must also have derived from aptus, or at any rate from a root similar to it, which would have been in the mother language of Greek and Latin, and having been preserved in Latin, that is, in the adjective aptus, will have been lost in Greek. For aptus to derive from ἅπτειν, or from ἅπτεσθαι as Servius proposes,1 that is an adjective to derive from a verb, beggars belief, because it is contrary [2888] to all the usual rules of derivation, both on account of the comparison one might make of the material form of the two verbs with the adjective, and on account of grammatical logic, analogy, etc., that no one would find in such a derivation. For aptus to derive from aptare (just as Perticari believed that arso [burned] came from arsare; see p. 2688) will seem still less probable to those who have carefully considered our theory of the formation of verbs in tare from participles in tus, declared and expounded and proved with so many examples. To all of whom it would seem far more probable that aptare is a continuative made from a particip
le in tus, etc., which can only be aptus (which, as I have said, has all the attributes of a participle) and this latter from apo, etc. For aptus to be the syncope of aptatus, which participle exists, is as credible as it would be for jactus from jacio [to throw] to be the syncope of jactatus a participle of jactare, and other such errors, many of which have been proposed and believed through failing to consider the formation of verbs, etc., that we are illustrating. (4 July 1823.)
[2889] From ἕζω [to set, to place], Doric, etc., ἕδω or from ἕζομαι [to seat oneself, to sit], future ἑδοῦμαι, sedeo [to sit], and likewise from ἕδος εος [seat] or from ἕδρα ας sedes [seat, throne] and the like. From ἄλσος [grove] saltus [forest pasture]. (4 July 1823.)
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