For p. 3688, end. For how the meaning of νοέω [to think, to perceive] is connected with that of nosco, see the Lexicons. And in any case whether nosco came from νοΐσκω, or comes from νοέω, would be the same thing, so far as the logic of its meaning is concerned, because νοέω and νοΐσκω are the same verb. And γιγνώσκω [to get knowledge of], which is the same as nosco, certainly comes from νοΐσκω, etc. (4 Nov. 1823.)
Reperito from reperio‒ertum, anciently reperitum [to find]. See Forcellini.
Manto as from maneo–mansum [to remain], anciently manitum regular, contracted to mantum. Or mantum stands for mansum where the s has been changed to t. See what has been said elsewhere in several places [→Z 2928–30] about such a mutation in supines and participles, on the subject of vectum and vexum from veho [to carry], whence [3827] vectare [to carry] and vexare [to shake, to vex], and on other subjects; and that should be referred to manto, and manto referred to what is said there. The anomalous mansum is from the anomalous mansi for manui, according to what is said elsewhere [→Z 3723–24] about the formation of supines from preterit perfects, to which add this other example. From mansum is mansitare [to stay over], brother of mantare, as vexare is of vectare, etc. (4 Nov. 1823.)
For p. 3704, end. And similarly what is more foreign to the third conjugation, and more proper and characteristic of the first, than the desinence in āvi in the perfect and in ātum in the supine? (sero is has the anomalous satum, anomalous like the perfect sevi; but in addition to this supine being anomalous, it is not in ātum but in ătum). Now here is nascor [to be born] of the third conjugation which forms natus [born; birth] as participle and nātus sum, and nātum, and nātu, etc. And all the verbs in asco and ascor, either have no perfect or supine, or if they have them or they are attributed to them, they are in āvi and in ātum. What clearer sign could there be that these are not proper to them, but are from a different verb, and this of the first conjugation? Veterasco is [to grow old] has, or has attributed to it, veteravi. It appears however that Forcellini himself, who makes the attribution, has seen that it cannot be proper to it, but must come from a verb vetero as [to make old], which he signals without any example, referring back to veterasco, where there is no mention of vetero; there are only examples of veteravi mixed together with examples of veterasco. (Veteratus also exists, see Forcellini under this word.) In fact we have inveterasco [to grow old] formed evidently from invetero as avi atum [to make old], which still exists (whole and complete), and so also inveteratus (which Forcellini rightly attributes to invetero, as also the perfect inveteravi and the supine inveteratum, signaling [3828] inveterascere without perfect or supine). Therefore if there exists invetero, and if inveteravi, atum, atus, belong to it, there must also have been vetero, to which veteravi, atus, etc., must have belonged. And the same discussion should apply to so many other verbs which are the originals of those in sco, where although the simple form is missing their compounds however do exist, to which are ordinarily attributed the perfects and supines which are suitable for it, while those which belong to the simple forms, where the simple forms no longer exist, are attributed to their simple derivatives in sco.
Irascor [to be angry] is in Forcellini without supine or perfect. Iratus exists. A true participle, though perhaps, at least in certain cases, adjectivized, like so many others. Now where does this participle come from? Does it not indicate a first-conjugation verb? a verb from which both it and irascor come? That is, an ancient iror, preserved in Italian (irare, adirare, airare, etc., with their derivatives, etc.), and see the Spanish. (4 Nov. 1823.)
For p. 3710. From verbs of the 2nd conjugation are formed those in esco, from the third are formed those in isco, the same as the fourth, like scisco; from the first, in asco; of which see the examples in the previous thought, and add labasco and labascor from labo as [to totter, to slip], and similar. Under Labasco in Forcellini I find the appellative and special term for verbs in sco. The grammarians call them verba inchoativa [inchoative verbs]. (4 Nov. 1823.) See p. 3830, end.
Adito as [to approach] from adeo is–itum [to approach]. (4 Nov. 1823.)
To what was said elsewhere about the verb bitere [→Z 3710–11], add what Forcellini has under adito as. And note how in this example too, [3829] which, according to Forcellini, is supported by “all the best editions,” the conjugation of bito was first conjugation. “Si adbites” [if you come closer].1 This is certainly present subjunctive and not future indicative. At least one can strongly suspect that to be the case. And in truth I am amazed how with this example and with others which I have examined elsewhere, Forcellini (or anyone else perhaps) has failed to notice that bito is first conjugation, or also first conjugation, and considered it instead to be third conjugation, or only third, in addition to bitio is of the 4th, etc., if it is a true word. (4 Nov. 1823.) Under adbito, too (see this), Forcellini has adbito is with this one example from Plautus.
The state of Spanish literature today (and from the beginning of the 17th century onward) is exactly the same as that of Italian, except for some advantages of the latter, and some differences in circumstances, which do not change the substance of the case. Just as we are in no doubt (in common with all other foreigners) that Spain has no proper modern language and literature, nor has it had since the 17th century, so we should be in no doubt that the situation is the same in Italy, also since the 17th century, as foreigners, including maybe the Spanish as well (who will not agree about their own situation), certainly are. What we see clearly in others and at a distance should serve us as a mirror and an example to look into, be aware of, know, and think about our own case, and to see what, being proper to us and too close, we never usually see or know well, partly because we are taken in by our self-love, partly because the very closeness distorts our view, and the habit of seeing something all the time prevents or makes it difficult for us to observe, take note, pay attention, think, be aware. Let the opinion we have of those foreigners instruct us [3830] in the opinion we ought to have of ourselves, and let the reasons for that opinion be applied to our case, because they certainly can be applied, etc.
Besides, everything I have argued in various places about the present (etc.) condition of Italian language and literature, about our lack of modern language and literature, of philosophy, etc., about the situation in which a great and perfectly cultured Italian mind would find itself today, the need it would have to create a language for itself, to create a literature, etc., how and of what kind it should make them, and what it should look out for, etc. etc., all of it, with some slight and accidental differences, I mean equally to be said of the Spanish. And vice versa the consideration of the latter can and must be of use both to us and to foreigners, to enable us to judge and to form a correct idea of the state of Italy and of Italian minds (if there happened to be any) in relation to language, literature, philosophy, etc. The Italian and Spanish languages and literatures, the most similar in the world perhaps under a thousand other headings, as I have shown elsewhere [→Z 1845–46, 2783, 3728–31] (and the nations, etc., too), are also similar through their history, and through their present and past state, etc. And otherwise they would not in fact have had those intrinsic similarities between them which they do have, or certainly not to such a degree, nor so long-lasting, etc. etc. (4 Nov. 1823.)
For p. 3828, end. So one can certainly say about each verb in asco that it comes from a first-conjugation verb, and not from any other conjugation, as the a preceding the desinence in sco is characteristic of the first. And you can say the same respectively of verbs [3831] in esco and isco, etc. (unless there is some verb or other in sco which is not inchoative, even in origin—since in meaning and use many of them are not inchoative or not always, as I say elsewhere [→Z 3687–88, 3709–10, 3725–27]—which would be outside the scope of our discussion). Pasco [to feed] is certainly from an ancient form pare from πάω (and not from βόσκω [to feed], a doubt expressed by Forcellini under Pasco, beginning) like the ancient poo fro
m πόω, and other such on which I have spoken separately and together elsewhere [→Z 2972, 3688, 3756ff.]. It is shown both by its desinence in asco, as well as by its perfect pāvi, quite anomalous with respect to pasco and with respect to its conjugation, that is the third, because it is borrowed from that ancient verb of the first conjugation, to which it is proper. See how our observations discover and illustrate very ancient words and roots of the Latin language, and their very ancient correspondences with Greek, and the identical nature of Greek and Latin words which no longer appear to have any connection with each other (and that not through far-fetched etymologies, as many other writers have done, but through accurate reasoning based on evidence, and through a thousand comparisons, etc., and through grammatical rules, etc., discovered, or newly illustrated and newly applied, expanded, better established, explained, etc.), and the origins of Latin, and the true primitive properties of it and its words, and its true norms and rules, forms, etc., and the causes and origins of its anomalies and those of its words, etc. Pastum as a contraction of pascitum demonstrated by pascito. They are both supines (and participles) proper to pasco, not to pao. A further proof that the true proper supine of all verbs in sco is in scĭtum, although for the most part lost, and others substituted for it, etc., and therefore also that their proper perfect would be in sci, since the supine is formed from the perfect, as said [3832] elsewhere [→Z 3723–24, 3827]. The compound of pasco, compesco [to restrain], if it really is a compound of pasco, as Forcellini believes (see under pasco end and under compesco), does not give compavi, but compescui, which is also anomalous (see p. 3707) but, although anomalous, it is proper to compesco and a verb in sco, not to compao nor to pao, which indeed serves to demonstrate that pavi is not proper to pasco. As a supine Priscian1 gives it compescitum, and from dispesco, dispecitum; a new proof both for pascitum and for the quality of the proper supines of verbs in sco, etc. Priscian also recognizes dispecui. Whether dispesco is a compound of pasco, I say the same as about compesco.
Besides in verbs in sco formed from third-conjugation verbs, the desinence in isco is not essential. From noo is is formed nosco: posco [to demand], etc. etc. Either these desinences are primitive, or else, which I find more likely, the i which should be there, has been swallowed, in order to avoid the concurrence of vowels, since such desinences occur when the desinence in isco would be preceded by a vowel. E.g., from noo is, noisco would have been the regular formation (totally in conformity with the νοΐσκω, and that by pure accident, as on p. 3688). But since noo and similar verbs passed into disuse because of the unpleasantness of the sound, caused by the clash of vowels, as I have said elsewhere [→Z 3756–60], so in their derivatives which remained in their place, in order to avoid the same clash, the i was suppressed, which was the weaker vowel. Besides nosco is for noisco, as is notum for noĭtum, nobilis for noibilis, potum for poitum, sutum for suitum, etc. etc., as elsewhere in various places [→Z 3708, 3735, 3756ff., 3826]. And these are similarly reduced for the reason mentioned. (4 Nov. 1823.)
[3833] For p. 3640, margin. The Incas were the civilizers of that not insignificant part of South America over which they ruled in various ways.1 Civilizers with respect to the extreme barbarity of the peoples of that region who were not subject to their domination, and of the peoples bordering on them, and with respect to the barbarity of the peoples subjected by them, before their subjection. The civilization operated by the Incas, or spread by them, was principally in the provinces nearest their capital. In the others it was less strong the further away they were, the less subject they were, and according to how recently they had been added to their empire. Now the Incas adored solely or principally the sun; so too their capital and the more ancient provinces of their kingdom. They introduced worship of the sun throughout together with their dominion. In the other provinces subject to them, especially those furthest away, or less subject, or most recently added, and in all or almost all of them at the beginning of their subjection, they joined sun worship to their native cults, which were of terrifying-looking idols which they had dreadful and utterly odious ideas about, of figures of ferocious animals, or of simple ideas of some frightful being that they did not represent in any way. The provinces not subject to the Incas only had these or similar forms of worship and never knew that of the sun.2 When the Europeans discovered Peru and its surrounds, wherever they found any part or sign of civilization and refinement, there they found sun worship. Wherever there was sun worship, there the customs were less savage and less harsh than elsewhere. Where they did not find sun worship, in those places (and there were provinces, valleys, and even towns, frequently bordering on [3834] or very close to the ones mentioned above) there was a vast, entire, horrific, and absolutely pitiless barbarity and monstrousness and savagery of customs and life. And generally temples of the sun were like a sign of civilization, and the borders of sun worship, the borders of civilization, etc. (5 Nov. 1823.)
I say elsewhere [→Z 1279, 2152–53, 2824] that we normally change the i of Latin participles in us, whether in use or not, to the letter u. To demonstrate that this mutation of i to u (a mutation which is characteristic of the human voice, as I have said in more than one place elsewhere [→Z 1277, 2152–53, 2813, 2824]) is natural to us especially in this case, note that we say concepito [conceived] (regular ancient Latin concepitus), and conceputo (we also say concetto, a word taken from Latin by writers and literature). But the second of these is more Italian and more elegant. Thus empiuto, compiuto, riempiuto, etc., in relation to empíto, compíto (in some senses though one could not say compiuto for compíto but these are foreign rather than not), etc. Thus others too perhaps, etc. Note however that the grammarians make a distinction between empiere, etc., and empire (less elegant), etc.; concepere and concepire; and to empiere they attribute empiuto, etc., to concepere conceputo; to empiere empíto, etc. (5 Nov. 1823.)
Positivized diminutives. Rameau [branch],a Taureau [bull]. (5 Nov. 1823.)
Entirely adjectivized participles. Acutus a um [sharp]. And see Forcellini under Acuo, toward the end. (5 Nov. 1823.)
Verbs in uo. Tribuo from tribus us [tribe]; third-conjugation verb, just like [3835] acuo which perhaps comes from acus us [needle], statuo from status us [position], etc., on which see elsewhere [→Z 3263]. (5 Nov. 1823.)
Unless the enhancement of energy which comes from liquor or food or some other (not harmful) event produces, as it often does, torpor and a sort of lethargic drowsiness (as the King of Prussia used to say),1 because it is an increase of life, it increases the essential effect of life, which is the desire for pleasure, for alongside the intensity of life that of self-love also increases, and self-love is the desire for one’s own happiness, and happiness is pleasure. See pp. 3842–43. See p. 3905. Therefore in that state man is beyond measure and more than usually avid and greedy for pleasurable sensations, and restless because of that desire, and seeks after them, and aims with even more strength and more directly and immediately toward the true purpose of his life and of his being and of himself, and toward the true supreme and ultimate substance of happiness, which is pleasure, caring little, or less than usual, for other things, which are often the ends of human desires and operations, but secondary ends, although they are constantly taken to be primary and directed toward happiness, because they themselves are essentially aimed toward a different end, and all to the same end, that is toward pleasure. In short man at that moment with respect to himself and to his usual behavior is in the same position as the strong with respect to others, that is more thirsty for happiness, and made more restless by desires, that is by the desire for his own happiness, and also more immediately and particularly, and in a more explicit, perceptible, and clear way both toward others and themselves, greedy for pleasure [3836] (to which all are directed and at all times, but the stronger more so, and more immediately and clearly, or more often and more commonly than others), because they are habitually more alive than others.
Similarly, as in general the strongest
in their normal behavior, so also individuals at that point (proportionately to their respective behavior and character, age, moral, physical, exterior circumstances, or circumstances of fortune, social condition and rank, or events, etc., whether constant, temporary, momentary, etc.) tend to be more than usually inclined to great and generous actions, to heroic acts, to sacrificing themselves, to beneficence, to compassion (I say more inclined, and I mean potential, not act, which requires opportunity and circumstances, and if they are wanting, as is usually the case, this means that a man is not even aware at that point of his inclination and potential, and throughout his life too he is not conscious that at those particular points he had and has this inclination, etc.). For his life at that point is greater, and therefore his self-love is stronger, and therefore it is less egoistical, according to the theories outlined elsewhere [→Z 3291–98]. Leaving aside the illusions which are proper and natural to that state, in proportion to the habitual moral condition of the individual, etc.
And so it will be seen that the other effects which accompany or follow the greater intensity of life, greater bodily strength, etc., taking into account the various characters and moral and physical conditions of individuals, etc., which I have examined in several places [→Z 2017–18, 2759], etc., all occur proportionately on the occasions mentioned, etc. (5 Nov. 1823.)
[3837] A young man who is entering upon life and, for whatever reason and circumstance and in whatever way, is spurned by the world, before he has laid aside the tenderness toward himself which is characteristic of that age, and before he has become accustomed and inured to the setbacks, the persecutions and malice of men, the outrages, wounds, humiliations, displeasures which are received in the normal course of social life, the misfortunes, the failures in society and civil life; a young man, I repeat, who is spurned, either by his family, as often happens, or by people outside, who is excluded from life, whose road to enjoyment (of whatever sort) is barred or barred more than it is to other people or more than usually happens to the normal run of young people, or to the extent that such obstacles become out of the ordinary and have greater force than is usual, because of his unusual sensitivity, imagination, susceptibility, delicacy of spirit and temperament, inner life, and therefore extraordinary tenderness toward himself, his greater self-love, greater craving and need for happiness and enjoyment, a greater capacity and facility for suffering, a greater susceptibility to every offense, every hurt, every injury, every slight, every wound, and every lesion to his self-love; a young man like this very frequently transfers and directs all his ardor and his moral and physical strength, whether it is normal at his age, or particular to his temperament, or both of them together, all, I repeat, of this strength and this ardor which drove him toward happiness, action, life, he directs it toward bringing about his unhappiness, inactivity, moral death. [3838] He becomes misanthropic toward himself and is his own worst enemy, he wants to suffer, he persists in wanting to suffer, and the most wretched decisions, the most harsh toward himself, the most painful and most terrifying, which before this slight experience which he has of life he would have rejected with horror, become to his taste, and he embraces them with enthusiasm, and if he has to find a state, then the most monotonous, the coldest, the most painful because of the boredom it brings, the most difficult to bear because it is the furthest away from life and participates least in it, is the one which he prefers, he rejoices in it more the more horrible it is for him, he employs all his strength of character and of his age in embracing it, and in sustaining it, and in maintaining and carrying through his resolution, and in continuing it,1 and among other things in particular he rejoices in making it impossible for himself ever to be able to do otherwise, and in embracing those decisions which block for ever his road to being able to live, or to suffer less, because in this way he ends by reducing himself to an extreme of calamity and by depicting himself as reduced to it, which pleases him, as I have said elsewhere [→Z 313, 2217–21] and if anything were missing and could be added to his suffering, he would not be content, etc., he employs all his moral life in embracing, bearing, and maintaining constantly his moral death, all his ardor in turning himself to ice, all his restlessness in sustaining the monotony and uniformity of life, all his constancy in choosing to suffer, in wanting to suffer, in continuing to suffer, all his youth in making his spirit old, and in living on the outside as an old man, and in embracing and following the customs, the habits, the behavior, the inclinations, the way of thinking, the life of old people. Since all this is a natural effect of his ardor and strength, he goes a great deal further than necessary. If the world because of his moral or physical defects, or his circumstances, denies him a certain amount of enjoyment, he makes it into a tenfold denial, if necessity obliges him to suffer a certain amount, he chooses to suffer ten times more, if he is denied a good he denies himself a much greater one, if he is thwarted in some enjoyment, he deprives himself of all enjoyments, and completely abandons enjoying anything.
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