Zibaldone

by Leopardi, Giacomo

  Purgito as from purgo as [to make clean or pure]. (7 Oct. 1823.)

  The v was no more than an aspiration introduced in order to avoid a hiatus between two or more vowels; and was very often omitted, etc. etc., as elsewhere on several occasions [→Z 1125–28, 2069–70, 2320–22, 2879–80]. [3625] See Forcellini under Fuam. (7 Oct. 1823.)

  For p. 2821, end. Note the continuative meaning of confuto in the example from Titinnius in Forcellini where this verb is used in its literal sense, which is that of confundo [to pour together], but continuous, like excepto for excipio [to take out, to catch] in the passage from Virgil I have examined elsewhere [→Z 1107]. Note also that in its nonliteral but more common meaning, confuto is the true continuative of confundo. We too say (as do the French, etc.) to confound someone with reasons, to confound someone’s reasons, to confound the adversary, etc., with the same meaning as to confute, but the latter verb denotes action while the former is almost an act, and almost the end and effect of confuting, etc. These observations confirm the derivation of confuto which I and the etymologists have established. It is in this way, it seems to me, that the shift in meaning from to mix together to to confute may be explained, and in this way that I feel it ought to be construed; rather than by seeking to explain it by compescere [to repress] and deriving the metaphor from this side as Vossius does (in Forcellini), who also [3626] appears to derive confuto from futum [water vessel], noun (and hence also futo [to argue] from this?), as a result of the customary ignorance on the subject of continuatives. And if he gives this derivation for Titinnius’s confuto (as it is even more natural that he should do) and explains this too by means of compesco, he is quite mistaken. See similar meanings to those of our metaphorical meaning in to confound the adversaries, etc., in Forcellini under confundo, confusio, confusus, etc., and in the Glossary, under Confundere, noting that archaic Latin had metaphors and other uses of words that were much more similar to those of the moderns than was the case with classical Latinity (or rather, the most illustrious written Latin) (see p. 3635), that it had them in vast quantities, and that these words and these uses, and generally the properties of vulgar and colloquial Latin, are seen more in the writers of the late period (see the examples from Sulpicius Severus in Forcellini under confundo and confusus) and the modern writers of Vulgar Latin than in those of the classical age, because the latter pursued the illustrious language more and the former colloquial Latin, the latter eschewed the popular while the former courted it, either out of ignorance or [3627] deliberately, the latter had an illustrious language and a spoken language, the former certainly no longer had an illustrious language which they could understand even if they had known how to write it, but the spoken and written language were one and the same thing as far as they were concerned, or at least differed much less than they did in the classical age and the centuries nearest to it. Since even among the classical writers, those who are more ancient and familiar, simple and modest in their style, preserve more of ancient Latin, more often represent common, spoken phrasing, have more words and expressions, and meanings, and word use in keeping with those of common speech. Thus Cornelius, Phaedrus, Celsus, etc., resemble more the language of later times and the modern writers of Vulgar Latin. The oldest (including those who by their own decision adhered to the ancient language, such as Varro, Fronto, etc.), did so because the illustrious and written language was not formed and determined by this time, nor very much or very clearly distinguished from spoken and familiar language. The simpler and more humble did so, because either by choice or due to their having slightly less ability in writing and having studied the language less, or being less diligent in composing, they were either unwilling or unable to depart too much from the language best known and sucked by them along with their mothers’ milk, that is, from the colloquial and spoken language. So to us they seem [3628] most likable and praiseworthy because of their simplicity, etc., but they must certainly have seemed unsophisticated to their contemporaries. Indeed, I note that those of the writers of the golden age who are most praised by us for the simplicity of both their style and their language (which is always notably similar to Italian and modern phrasing in them, and also to that of late Latin) are either not mentioned by the ancients, or barely mentioned, or in such a way that the esteem in which they are held is clearly seen to be that of at best second-rate authors. Such are Cornelius Nepos, Celsus, and Phaedrus, the latter of whom was judged by Le Fèvre to come closest to the simplicity of Terence (see Desbillons, second “Disputatio” on Phaedrus, at the end), and the like. Regarding which even the moderns, seeing that their phrasing was different from that of the other classical writers, and deeming it not to be Latin (for it was not illustrious), disputed whether they did actually belong to the classical age, even if they were old, and struggled to recognize them as authors of the classical age of Latin. Cornelius’s Lives were attributed to Aemilius Probus (a very late writer) for a long period of time and in many editions, etc.,1 Celsus was believed to be more modern than he is, etc., Phaedrus was attributed to Perotti, [3629] and many denied that his Latin was in fact Latin, etc. (see Desbillons’s “Disputatio” quoted above).1 This has not happened, nor did it happen in the past, to the simplest of the Greek writers. An effect and a sign that the illustrious language in Greece, as I have argued elsewhere [→Z 844ff.], was much less separate from the vulgar and spoken language, and that by their nature and formation and circumstances Greek language and style are simpler, etc. Hence the style and language of, e.g., Xenophon, was immediately acclaimed, no less than that of Plato which is highly elaborate, etc., and the simplest and most colloquial of the Greek writers did not have to wait until modern times to become famous and receive praise, etc. Xenophon and Plato represent the two extremes in their century, the former of simplicity and nonchalance, the latter of elegance, diligence, and artifice. And yet both were always, as far as style is concerned, esteemed almost equally by the Greeks, both contemporary and later, and likewise by the Romans and others at all times, etc. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  On what I said elsewhere [→Z 3023] regarding the verb necessitare [to require, to need, call for], note the verbs felicitare, debilitare, nobilitare, impossibilitare, facilitare, difficultare, ereditare, and similar, which are clearly made from [3630] felicità, eredità, and similar, or from felicitas, hereditas, etc. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  The degree to which even Italian spelling (which nowadays is the most correct of all) was still uncertain even in the seventeenth century, that is, in the century following the greatest century in the history of Italian literature, see the preface to Bartoli’s Ortografia (Bartoli being the man who in his time, and perhaps in any time, knew our language better and more profoundly and more fully than anyone else, both in theory and learning and in practice),1 and the advice he provides there to the aspiring writer, that is, to take or to form his own spelling for himself, and to stick to it, advice which I am sure no one would give in Italy today, nor indeed would there be any more than one form of spelling to be taken, that is to say, to choose from, etc. But in those days the opposite was true, after more than three hundred years of our language being written, and this by men of letters, not merely for use in ordinary living. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  The regular and perfect, etc., forms of the participles and supines (and also the perfect tenses and those made from them) of verbs from the second and third conjugations especially, which I [3631] have established and reconstructed for those verbs which no longer have them [→Z 1122–25, 1153–54, 1167], are confirmed, along with the other issues, by the verbs of the same conjugations which still have them, and which are regular and perfect in the participles or supines, whether they have irregular forms as well or their forms are all irregular; and whether they are regular and perfect in all forms, or without this, are regular and perfect in their participles and supines. E.g., habeo habes habui [to have], a thoroughly regular and perfect verb, forms habitum and habitus a um, not habtum. Why then doceo doces docui, doctum [to teach], and not docit
um? And from similar observations, it may be seen that this paradigm and that of lego are poor choices for use in grammars, because both are irregular, or rather, are altered right from their first form, and from the true form of their equivalents, in the supines and participles ending us. Which for lego [to gather, to read] is shown also and in particular by its derivative legito [to read], as I have shown elsewhere [→Z 2972–74] (8 Oct. 1823.) Exerceo [to drive on, to exercise], coerceo [to enclose on all sides], etc., es ui itum. Whereas arceo [to enclose], which is the stem of these verbs, forms arctum, as shown by the adjective arctus [close], as I have said on this subject elsewhere [→Z 1144]. Placeo–taceo–noceo es ui itum. Why nocitum and not docitum? If not as a result of a purely random custom in terms of pronunciation?

  I seem to recall saying in my theory of continuatives that the perfect form of lego was legsi. Note [3632] that today this is not lexi like texi [past participle of tego, to cover], rexi [past participle of rego, to guide], etc., but legi, and is quite regular. This was my mistake. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  For p. 3624. Again this word vermiglio [vermilion], which certainly derived from Latin, as p. 3514, end, p. 3515, end, and other similar examples show, and derived from it from very early times, as p. 3623, end, and other similar examples show, may and must serve to inform (because previously it perhaps was not known, faute [for want of] not having noticed the things I have discussed on this subject, and the general principles on which they are based) and demonstrate that again in ancient times, a red color was produced using some unknown type of worm, in the same way as cochineal is used today. And a very long time ago, for it should also be noted that although the origin of vermiglio, vermeil, vermejo and their present meaning, and the way in which this has become metaphorical, and the reason for it, etc., is undoubtedly as I have explained, these words today have nonetheless come to mean not only any kind of bright red color, even if not produced with worms, but rather are used more frequently (see in [3633] particular the French dictionaries) to signify an entirely natural coloring rather than an artificial one, even though by their etymology, their own strength and primitive quality, they should refer only to an artificial color, a dye, etc. But now they have changed their meaning in the way I have described, and equally so in all three Romance languages, hence it may be inferred that this change itself is quite ancient. (8 Oct. 1823.) And it may also serve as absolute proof of the antiquity of the word, etc., which is what I sought to prove in the thought to which this one refers. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  Voltaire wrote to the Royal Prince of Prussia, later Frederick II, regarding a phrase from Horace and the way in which Frederick had rendered it in translating the ode in which it is found into French: “Ces expressions sont bien plus nobles en français: elles ne peignent pas comme le latin, et c’est là le grand malheur de notre langue qui n’est pas assez accoutumée aux détails” [“These expressions are much more noble in French: they do not paint in the same way that Latin does, and this is the great misfortune of our language which is not sufficiently accustomed to details”]. (Lettres du Prince Royal de Prusse et de M. [3634] de Voltaire, Letter 118, 6 April 1740. Oeuvres complettes de Frédéric II Roi de Prusse, 1790, tome 10, p. 500.) Voltaire had said that the Latin expression “serait très-basse en français” [“would be very base in French”].1

  With due respect to Voltaire, the French language is very familiar with and appropriate for detail, because it has words to signify even the slightest differences between things, as I have said elsewhere [→Z 2715–17]. In this respect it wins out over possibly all other languages, ancient and modern, including the most poetic, or better, those languages that possess a noble and poetic idiom. But because the language does not have synonyms, or words or phrases that are either ancient or little used and uncommon or remote from common use, or meanings of a similar kind, but only words and phrases and meanings that are continually worn down by the current use of discourse and conversation, and because all it has available is what is to be found in such usage, and given that everything which is remote from the use of common and present speech, far from being valued and good and recommended in French, is regarded as bad and intolerable and condemned and proscribed, when French does seek to be noble it cannot go into detail, and finds it better to stick with general expressions which are always noble, or rather, are never ignoble and never can be. Not even [3635] the Latin language or any other that is more poetic, more capable of elegance and majesty, etc., more familiar with details, etc., could ever go into substantial details in poetry or a noble style, if it did not have words and expressions to signify them, different, that is, from those by which the current use of speech and the colloquial style, etc., whether written or spoken, signifies those very details. And the Latin expression which would have sounded so base in French would have sounded equally base in Latin as well, if it had been the one by which the current usage in Latin speech signified the thing in question, or similar to it. (8 Oct. 1823.)

  For p. 3626. These observations may show that although the modern, metaphorical use of the verb confondere with virtually the same meaning as confuto is not found specifically in the ancient Latin known to us, it does come from there by way of Vulgar Latin, for this is the very Latin and ordinary meaning of a very ancient Latin verb, which is the continuative of confundo, and is its continuative precisely in this meaning. I made similar comments at the start of my theory of continuatives [→Z 1104–105] [3636] regarding the meaning of the Spanish verb traer which is similar to that of its continuative tractare, but is unknown in Latin, etc. (9 Oct. 1823.)

  The use of positivized diminutives (both verbs and nouns, etc.), whether the positives are not used or do not exist, etc., or are used with the same or an equivalent value, is common to all our languages, even in words that do not derive from Latin, wherever they originate from. See p. 3946, p. 3998. As in French fardeau (Italian fardello) [burden], marteau, martel (martello, martillo) [hammer], roseau [reed], berceau [cradle, crib], tonneau [barrel], etc. etc., which, while diminutive in form, are all positive in terms of meaning. A propos of berceau, we too use culla [cot, crib, cradle] in the positive form, which is also a diminutive, made from cuna [cradle] (which too exists in Italian), whether this is a modern corruption of cunula [little cradle] (found in Prudentius),1 or whether it is the ancient Latin form, also diminutive and a contraction of cunula, or independent of this. See Forcellini under trulla, diminutive of trua [stirring spoon]. (9 Oct. 1823.)2 Fromba and frombola [sling], with the derivatives of both. See pp. 3968‒69, 3992, paragraph 1, 3993, last paragraph, 3994, end, pp. 4000, end–4001, 4003. Paquet [parcel] empaqueter [to parcel up, package], etc. Colloquially we say pacco [pack] and pacchetto [packet]. See Alberti and the Spanish. Fourreau [sheath, scabbard], a diminutive of fourre, hence fourrer [to stuff, fill, line with fur], which would correspond to our fodero or fodera [sheath, scabbard; lining, cover, sheathing] in Italian. Indeed, Spanish has aFORRO [lining, sheathing] whence aFORRAR [to line clothes; to sheathe], etc., like our fodera, foderare [to line, sheath]. The addition of the a at the start of words is common in Spanish, as it is in Italian (Monti, Proposta, under ascendere).3 Which means that aforro is fourre. See p. 3852. See pp. 3897, 3993.

  For p. 3310. What we feel for the food which feeds and delights us, and for the instruments and all things which serve our pleasures, comforts, and utility, [3637] is not properly speaking Love (even though it is called such). For the feeling which moves us toward these objects does not have the objects themselves as its end even apparently (which is the case with that feeling we have which is properly called love),a but ourselves alone, openly and immediately, or rather our pleasures, comforts, and advantage inasmuch as they are ours. (9 Oct. 1823.) See p. 3682.

  For p. 3586. The more such words and phrases are always, and have always been, entirely colloquial in the modern languages, and the less they are and have been proper to writers and the modern illustrious languages, or less suspected of having been introduced by writers and by the illustriou
s language, the stronger and more conclusive the argument for their direct connection with Latin will be, and Latin’s with them, all other circumstances being taken into consideration, etc. Hence our vernacular and unwritten dialects (or ones which have been written only for fun) which do not have an illustrious language, are very pertinent to these matters, and what I have said regarding their usefulness for investigating the origins of the Latin language, etc., in my theory of continuatives, near [3638] the end [→Z 1137], is confirmed. The same and more may be said regarding the Wallachian language,1 which to my knowledge has never been influenced by any literature in any way, even indirectly. (9 October 1823.)

  For p. 3575. Thus the argument I make from Spanish to ancient Latin (from the Spanish participles, etc.) is all the stronger, very strong, in fact. See p. 3586 and the previous thought. (9 Oct. 1823.)

  Léser [to injure, wrong, infringe] or lézer from laesus from laedo [to hurt]. (9 Oct. 1823.)

  “Primos in orbe deos fecit timor” [“It was fear which first brought gods in the world”]. On which see elsewhere [→Z 2208, 2387–89]. Now it should be added that since the greater ignorance is, the greater fear is too, and the more barbarity there is the more ignorance there is also, it is therefore clear that the ideas of the most barbarous and savage peoples regarding divinity are, apart from in certain entirely pleasant climes possibly, for the most part fearsome and hateful, as though of beings which are as envious of us and desirous of our ill as they are stronger than us. Hence the images and idols of their Gods which they fabricate are monstrous and frightening in form, not only because of a lack of skill on the part of the person who fashioned them, but also because this was the intention and idea of their author. And the same thing is also seen in many nations, which although far from civilization, are not without knowledge and [3639] sufficient artistic practice in this and other similar manufactures, etc., like the Mexicans,1 whose most venerated idols were also thoroughly ugly and fearful in both appearance and the idea people had of them. Many savage nations, or nations at their beginnings, recognized some animal or other as a god which was stronger than man, or perhaps all the stronger the greater the harm they received from them, the more they were afraid of them, and the fewer means they had to rid themselves of them, combat them, defeat them, etc. The first attribute which men recognize in divinity is a superior force compared to that of mankind. See p. 3878. And to find both idea and images or symbols or significances of divinity in a nation which are pleasing or not terrifying is certainly a sign of a very advanced and well-developed civilization. As was the case in Greece, although the pleasant, mild climate there which never provides anything or hardly anything that is terrifying, must have contributed significantly in this connection. Because the forces of nature as seen in the elements, etc., recognized as being far superior to those of men, and out of ignorance believed to be proper to some animate being, which, like man, has a will because it is capable of movement, of moving, etc., are what gave rise to the idea of divinity (because men love and are accustomed to explain one mystery with another, and to imagine causes they cannot define for effects they do not understand, and to compare the unknown to what they do know; like comparing the unknown causes of natural movements, etc., to the will and the other known forces which produce animal movements, etc.), hence it is quite natural that this [3640] idea should correspond to the nature of such effects, and should be fearsome if they are fearsome, moderate if they are moderate, pleasing if they are pleasing, etc., to a greater or lesser extent according to degree, etc. Except that in the primitive idea, the fearsome must have always prevailed or had the upper hand, because, as man is naturally more inclined to fear than to hope, as I have said elsewhere [→Z 458–59, 1303–304, 2206–208, 3433–35], a force that is entirely superior to that of mankind must always have appeared to be formidable to the eyes of the ignorant.1 Moreover, every country has storms, albeit more or less terrifying, etc. And among the various divinities of a nation which recognizes more than one, of a mythology, etc., the most ancient are certainly the most formidable and evil, and the most likable and benevolent, etc., are certainly the most modern.a2 As must undoubtedly be said of Greek and Latin mythology, etc. Indeed, even irrespective of this observation, there are actually arguments for asserting, e.g., that Saturn, a cruel and malevolent God represented by an ugly old man who was odious in appearance as well as in character and deeds, was one of the oldest Gods of Greece or the nation from which Greek and Latin mythology descended, and older than Jupiter, etc. And in fact this mythology did narrate that Saturn reigned before Jupiter, [3641] and that Jupiter usurped his rule. This fable either deliberately served to signify a change in the ideas of the Greeks, etc., regarding divinity, and their shift from the fearsome to the likable, etc., caused by the progress in their civilization and a reduction in their ignorance, or (more likely) was caused and occasioned by this shift, and was invented naturally.