Trembler, temblar are diminutive verbs, that is, composed from tremulare, which itself comes from tremere [to tremble], as misculare (whence also mesler, i.e., mêler, mezclar, mescolare, meschiare, mischiare) does from miscere [to mix], as I have noted elsewhere [→Z 2280, 2385–86]. But these verbs trembler and temblar have the meaning of the positive tremere which does not exist in French and Spanish. In Italian we have both tremare and tremolare, the former positive, the latter diminutive both in form and in meaning. We also say tremulare, or rather our forefathers said it, which is more Latinate, despite the fact that this verb is not to be found in good Latin. It is found, however, in [3183] late Latin: see the Du Cange Glossary. Franciosini writes tremular; calling it a barbarian term, and glossing it as tremare. The Spanish also say tremolar (Solís, Historia de Mexico, bk. 1, chapter 7, beginning), but in the active sense of agitare, dimenare, sventolare [to agitate, to wave] (as in tremolar unas vanderas, in Solís quoted above), to which meaning the last example cited under Tremulare in the Du Cange Glossary, would appear to apply. (17 August 1823, Sunday.)
Men who are esteemed in the world and who are held to be equal or superior to others, are usually so esteemed, according to the customs of society, to the degree in which they have distanced themselves from their own nature and the natural habits of man generally, and have obscured and concealed nature in themselves, or who can do so if desired. And the more their own individual nature (that is to say, their natural character), the particular habits to which said nature is inclined to lead them, and the nature of man generally are obscured, concealed, and changed in them, the greater the esteem in which they are generally held. What I mean is that most of the qualities in men which win esteem in the world, are either entirely acquired and not at all natural, indeed are often contrary to their own or general nature, or are so distorted [3184] from what is natural, that they are not perceived as being natural, and the more distorted they are, the more they tend to be esteemed. Hence it is most rare that a completely natural quality, a quality such as it really is in nature, is esteemed even slightly in society, and when it is, such esteem is neither long-lasting nor stable, neither widespread nor substantial, and is always inferior to that afforded in respect of acquired or unnatural qualities, which as a rule are appreciated consistently and taken seriously, whereas the natural ones are appreciated almost for fun, because of their rarity, for a change, to pass the time, momentarily. Acquired qualities are esteemed on the grounds that they are grave, serious, and businesslike; natural qualities as frivolous, of little importance or usefulness, mere entertainment and trifle: and society soon tires of them.
This kind of person, which is the only one generally respected in society, occupies the middle ground between two different kinds, neither of which is esteemed, one of which indeed is in no way estimable, but the other of which is in fact very estimable, much more so, indeed, than the world thinks. The first kind includes those people in whom nature was not strong enough to be changed, that is, those who were not capable of learning that art, and who accordingly, in living in society, were unable to learn from it or model themselves on it, and who as a result of their [3185] scant natural ability, retained their original nature, their natural character, the habits to which either their own nature or nature in general inclined them—hence they live and converse in society, more or less as they did on the day they entered it. These are people who are dim-witted, dull and slow of thought, of short or limited capacity. Also included in this category are those people in whom nature is preserved through a lack of culture capable of eradicating or changing it. Also included are coarse and uncultured people, of little or no use in social contexts, ill or not at all accustomed to civilized conversation, who on the few occasions they approach society, bring to it their primitive character and natural habits unchanged from how they were at the outset, not mixed with or supplemented by any acquired social quality, and this not through obstinacy of intellect, not through natural deficiency, an inability to learn, but through lack of teaching, of practice, of cultivation of mind and manners. This kind of person, whether of the first or the second species, is not at all respected or sought after [3186] or attractive to society, for they retain their natural state, unlike the people whom I have said are appreciated in the world.
The second kinda are those in whom nature is extraordinarily strong and more powerful than in the majority of men, and in whom it has overcome and repelled art, and has left no room for it, not because this nature is restricted or limited in size, but rather because, being so broad and extensive, it irremovably occupies the entire space itself. Such are the people with original characters, which are extraordinarily vigorous, constant and unwavering, who reject habits that are contrary to their forceful nature and character as described, whatever kind it might be, and do not allow themselves to be bent or to adapt to the customs of others, to follow the inclinations of others, to change or amend or hide or mask or ultimately be untrue to themselves. They admit neither manners, nor customs, nor tastes, nor occupations, nor principles of life, nor words, nor deeds, if these do not conform precisely to their own primitive nature and character, and are not required, caused, moved, or prompted by it. These are [3187] the men who are described as singular and original; never respected (certainly not today, and in the most civilized and sociable nations, never), for the most part despised, or hated and avoided, always derided. In persons such as this all is strength, and through this strength nature is preserved unchanging in them. There are also others in the same category, in whom, although nature is likewise extremely strong and powerful, a sort of weakness, and no insignificant one at that, is mixed with it in them and in their nature. Such persons have most vast, sophisticated, and lofty intellects, in which small things escape and are lost amid such vastness, while as a result of their excessive sophistication large things prove very difficult or impossible for them to grasp, pursue and possess; as a result of their excessive loftiness lowly things prove to be invisible. Not that they are always scornful of such things. On the contrary, often they seek them out and study them with the utmost attention and care, but to the great amazement of themselves and the few people who know them well, they are unable to achieve in those things even a hundredth part of that ability and success, which mediocre and sometimes [3188] even small minds, with much less care and study, achieve, possess, and employ easily and perfectly. The same excess in terms of care and effort of spirit which those rare intellects deploy in order to achieve and exercise social qualities, care and effort which are habitual and familiar to them, and which they are never able to suspend or desist from; the same excess, I repeat, which by removing from them all possibility of effortlessness, rest of mind, ease, abandon, assurance and self-confidence (which, to whoever is accustomed to reflecting on such things, to knowing, investigating, feeling, and pondering their difficulty, to whoever strives constantly for perfection, who also knows well through many experiences and who also feels how difficult it is, to such persons, I repeat, self-confidence is impossible); by removing from them, then, the possibility of having these qualities, which are of the most indispensable and primary necessity in order to find enjoyment in society and be pleasing to it, and generally in order to obtain any form of success in the world through words and deeds; such excess, I repeat once again, prevents these rare intellects from ever achieving, or at least most imperfectly and not without great difficulty and hardship, from deploying and exercising, the [3189] qualities which are appreciated and loved and rewarded in the world. Such people, despite having great minds, despite being most productive in terms of having many beautiful, useful, lofty, and original thoughts, despite being consummate writers in this or that genre, or indeed men of letters, philosophers or private politicians of the highest caliber, despite being most noble, sensitive, and rare in mind and spirit, and despite often being capable of delighting supremely or being of supreme use to any society and any category of person with their writings or any other productions of
their minds, conceived at length and maturely, or at least calmly; indeed, despite the same wretched qualities unfortunately being the property of singular minds, all the more so if any of them dares to raise itself above the ordinary, and in proportion thereto become invincible and constant; and despite the fact that virtually all truly singular and superior minds, especially those which shone or which shine in the study of sciences, letters, or arts, shared or share more or less in qualities characteristic, we may say, of extraordinary and sublime talents (see, among other things, Pseudo-Donatus in the Life of Virgil, [3190] chapter 6, end, where the authority is Melissus, grammarian and freeman of Maecenas, and a contemporary of Virgil: Forcellini, under Melissus; Fabricius, Bibliotheca Latina 1, 494);1 despite all this, such persons in society, apart from by those who have come to know of their merit in other ways, and in knowing it are capable of appreciating those who possess it, are generally despised and avoided (and not unreasonably, for their conversation produces no delight, and much boredom and difficulty), even more so than those of the other species, and are confused by most people with the first species of the first kind of person, whom indeed, in their external aspect and what appears of them to the outside world, they resemble to a tee. Among this category of person we might think of Alfieri as an example of the first species, and of J. J. Rousseau as an example of the second. The habit of always thinking, and talking little, of taking everything in, and giving little out, of keeping oneself to oneself, of remaining in an attitude as though in prayer, of acting little, conversing little on the things of this world, dealing little with others so as to be able to devote oneself to one’s studies, expending one’s own faculties on inward matters, etc. etc.—all these things make the individual unable to conduct himself as well as another in society, despite the latter being much less talented, for he lacks experience in terms of practicing, conversing, and speaking (at least on frivolous issues, as is required, etc.), and his qualities and positive habits mentioned above also positively exclude the ability to develop habits and acquire social qualities. Hence the gravity to which such an individual is necessarily accustomed, the seriousness, taking things to be important, and if they are not important, leaving them, excluding the possibility of acquiring levity, the habit of naturally giving weight to trivial things, of joking, of genuinely being interested in trifles, of finding matter for discourse where there absolutely is none, etc. etc., all things which are most necessary in society; taking even things, issues which are important, serious, as though they were unimportant and not serious, or treating them not seriously, superficially, jokingly, etc. etc., as though they were mere trifles, etc. etc., and deep things superficially, etc. etc.2 This kind of person, too, is not esteemed, despite being most estimable, for they preserve their nature, or rather are not sufficiently changed from the natural state.
Accordingly, between what is not estimable and what is worthy of the utmost esteem, only those who occupy the middle ground are in fact esteemed, that is, mediocre men who are [3191] worthy in a mediocre way. So in this way or in this respect, as in all other ways and respects, mediocrity is found to triumph in human intercourse.
Nor may the threefold distinction and subsequent subdivision of them made by me up to this point apply merely to esteem in the eyes of the world, but also to all other forms of triumph in society, such as achieving success, advancing in the favor of princes or private individuals, and the effects will be found to correspond to those mentioned above, according to the kinds and species cited. (18 August 1823.)
The love that we have of life and hence of lively sensations must be the source of the pleasure that we experience in speech or in writing from expressive words, that is, those which conjure up in themselves an idea that is vivid, either through the vividness of the action or subject they denote, whatever this may be (such as spaccare [to break]), or because they represent vividly this same action or subject to the imaginative faculty, [3192] whatever the reason for them doing so (like spaccare representing the action indicated much more vividly, and conjuring up a much more vivid idea, than fendere does, for various reasons that it is not necessary to go into at this stage, and would indeed take a long time to do), or because it manages to produce a vivid, present idea from an action or subject that is not lively. (18 August 1823.)
As far as our pedants are concerned, our taking words or phrases that are useful or necessary from French or Spanish, is not justified by the example of the Latin classics who did the same thing from Greek, like Cicero especially and Lucretius, nor by the authority of these two or that of Horace in the Ars poetica,1 all of whom expressly defend and praise doing so. This is because our pedants, along with all of the learned and the unlearned, hold the Greek language to be mother of Latin. But they ought to realize that it was not mother to Latin, but its sister, no more and no less than French and Spanish are sisters to Italian. It is true, though, that Greek literature and [3193] philosophy were not sister but in fact mother to Latin literature and philosophy. The same must therefore be true of Italian philosophy, and to those parts of Italian literature which depend on philosophy or draw on it, with respect to French literature and philosophy. Which has to be mother to ours, for we do not have a literature and philosophy of our own, given the singular inertia of Italy in this century when the other European nations have been and are more active than in any other. And to decide to create philosophy, and that part of literature in which we are completely lacking (i.e., properly modern literature) all over again and from scratch—apart from the question of where are the minds that are capable of such creation?—but even if such minds were to be found, to decide to create it after it has already been created, and rediscover it once it has already been discovered more than a hundred years previously, and once it has grown and matured and spread and been embraced and continually treated on equal terms by the rest of Europe, would not merely be futile, but also a very stupid and damaging thing to do: to put oneself deliberately so far behind the [3194] others engaged in the same race, to decide to position oneself on the starting line when others have already run so far in the direction of the finishing tape, to begin again that which others are now completing. It would also be impossible, for neither fellow nationals nor foreigners would understand us wishing to treat in an entirely new manner things that were already well known and familiar to all, and we would not care for it ourselves, and would abandon the work, seeing in our hands a blotchy baby, while in others’ hands it is already mature and rosy cheeked. This superfluous renewal would delay and hinder, rather than accelerate and promote, the advance of philosophy, and of modern and philosophical literature. There were quite different minds among the Latins when studies were introduced and developed in Latium, quite different, I say again, and no such minds are to be found in Italy today. Nor did they seek to renew philosophy or literature (since the latter was at that time quite unphilosophical, it was therefore capable of adaptation in passing from one nation to another), but rather, finding both one and the other in such an exalted state, and so far advanced and mature among the [3195] Greeks, they took both from them, and embraced and cultivated others’ discoveries. And having thus embraced and cultivated them, at this point they altered and expanded the things they had discovered from the Greeks, according to the minds of each of them and the character of the Roman nation, customs, government, climate, language, opinions, and gave these things new and domesticated garb, habits, and appearances. Therefore, if Italy wants to have a philosophy and a modern and philosophical literature, which hitherto it has not had, it makes sense for it to take them from outside, rather than creating them for itself. And in taking them from the outside, they will come chiefly from France (from where they have spread to other nations as well, much further removed in terms of geography, climate, character, and language, etc., than Italy is), and be dressed up in French modes, forms, phrases, and words (universally accepted by all Europe and in use now for some time). I say again, philosophy and modern literature will come to Italy
from France, as I have argued elsewhere [→Z 1029–30], and in seeking to embrace them, it will only be possible to do so by also embracing a number of words and phrases from them, that are intimately and indivisibly linked to them, which they have made their own, [3196] in precisely the same way as it was fitting for the Latins to do with Greek words and phrases in embracing Greek literature and philosophy, which they did without hesitation. Thus we too will do so, with the same justification, and with the benefit of the same facility, for the French language is sister to the Italian language as Latin was to Greek, and French philosophy and philosophical literature will produce a modern Italian literature and philosophy as those of Greece did in Latium. And we shall have more of an advantage in this than the other foreigners who borrowed words and expressions for philosophy and literature from the French, for in French we have a sister tongue rather than a language that is alien and of quite different origin, as it is for them. (18 Aug. 1823.)
For p. 1011 margin–end. Add to this the fact that the Latin language is the acknowledged and undisputed mother of Italian, beyond all doubt. The same may not be said of other languages of different origins. It is known for certain that the German language is of Teutonic origin, and that Swedish is of Slav origin,1 but it cannot be established precisely which of the ancient Teutonic or Slav tongues is the mother of German and Swedish without stirring up considerable controversy or without raising significant [3197] doubts and uncertainties, nor may it be determined more than broadly or indistinctly, etc. etc. (19 Aug. 1823.) We know very well what this Latin language is, which is mother of Italian, and are able to point it out specifically and reveal it in its entirety. But to say that the Teutonic or Slav or other tongues are the mother of the German or Russian language, etc., is almost like saying nothing, although it is true, nor can it be indicated specifically which of them is its individual mother tongue, nor may it be shown to us save confusedly and through torn fragments.
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