Zibaldone

by Leopardi, Giacomo

  To what is said elsewhere [→Z 3543] about tosare, tonsito, etc., add detonso as from detondeo [to shear]. (12 Nov. 1823.)

  For p. 3710. Inchoative verbs are formed from regular and primitive, used or unattested, positive verbs, known or unknown, that is from supines in ātum of the first conjugation, of the 2nd in ētum, of the 3rd in ĭtum, and of the fourth in ītum; where the tum is changed to sco. So from the first conjugation, inchoatives are formed in asco, from the 2nd in esco, from the 3rd and 4th in isco. These are the characteristic desinences and demonstrative of the conjugation of the positive verb, from which these inchoatives are formed. And by paying attention to this, one cannot be mistaken about the conjugation of the respective positive verbs (except perhaps between the 3rd and 4th conjugations where there is only one desinence, that is in isco). See p. 3900. And if the positive verb is known, there can be no doubt about the desinence of the inchoative. From irregular or contracted supines in tum, etc., and from other irregular supines in sum, in xum, etc. etc. I cannot recall any inchoative being formed. Besides by paying attention to this observation, the inchoatives, no less than [3870] the continuatives, and the other species of verbs or forms of any sort which derive from supines, will certainly help to recognize the true regular supines of both in general and in particular cases, and in both ways they support my assertions about the true primitive forms of those supines, etc. Callisco [to become insensible] is said to be from calleo [to be hard], as Forcellini observes ἀρχαϊκῶς [archaic] for callesco. Such variations in pronunciation, etc., must not be taken as disproving the rule which I proposed about the formation of inchoatives. Perhaps one could also say that callisco came from the nonregular secondary supine callitum (unattested) for callētum (unattested). I am not certain that supines in ĭtum of the first and 2nd conjugations, even though nonregular or nonprimitive, do not produce any inchoative forms, although no example comes to my mind, except the one mentioned above.

  Anyway the rule mentioned carries this corollary, that not only do inchoatives demonstrate even unknown positive verbs, something which I have confirmed with many other proofs, but in fact also demonstrate their conjugation. And if there is a positive verb whose regular primitive supine is not capable of producing an inchoative with the desinence of the existing inchoative, this latter inchoative (except for the differences in pronunciation or some irregularity as above) demonstrates another positive verb different from the one which may perhaps normally be believed to be its original, or a different form of this verb. For example fluesco [to flow] may appear to come from fluo [to flow]. But its desinence in esco and not in isco (unless it were a variation [3871] of pronunciation the opposite to that of callisco which is for callesco, a variation that may also have taken place in vivesco for vivisco; or else a manuscript error, as is believed by some to be the case in the writing of vivesco) demonstrates a flueo–etum, that is a different verb from fluo and with a different meaning, etc., or another form of fluo itself, on which point see pp. 3868–69. And see the same page also for tonesco, assuming this is not an error or variety of pronunciation for tonisco from tonitum part of tono is or tono as ui. I say that verbs in sco must have had regularly, and in ancient times did have, their supine in ĭtum, and their perfect in sci. It is clear that as a rule they can have only these perfects and supines. And that in fact in ancient times they did have them, although this is not necessary, and my first proposition can stand without the second, and it is easily possible that verbs in sco, all or some of them, were defective even in ancient times; this too, at least for some of them, has already been demonstrated elsewhere [→Z 3701–704, 3853] insofar as it relates to the supine. As far as the perfect is concerned factual examples are rarer. It is true that supines demonstrate perfects, according to what is said elsewhere [→Z 3723–25] about the formation of the latter from the former. But even an effective perfect in sco can be seen under Callisco in Forcellini. (12 Nov. 1823.)

  For p. 3702. It is quite in keeping for a supine in ētum to come from a stem in eo with the characteristic e of the conjugation being retained, as has been said, p. 3699, about the perfect in ei and evi. And it is all the more in keeping for the proper supine of the 2nd conjugation to be in ētum, and for this to be long, insofar as its proper perfect is in ēi or ēvi; accepting [3872] that supines are formed from perfects, as shown elsewhere. So that also, vice versa, supines with a long etum show that the proper 2nd-conjugation perfect is in ēi or ēvi, etc. (12 Nov. 1823.) See p. 3873.

  For p. 3854. Nevertheless contracted 2nd-conjugation supines could also have come directly from the respective supines in ētum without passing via the form in ĭtum, that is, e.g., doctum could be contracted from docētum, not from docĭtum, with the ē suppressed, as happens in perfects in ui of the same conjugation, that is, e.g., docui or docvi, which is a contraction of docēvi. Hence adultum that is adoltum, could easily come from adolevi without adolui, that is be a direct contraction of adoletum formed from adolevi. In fact, since on the one hand the ē does not normally go to ĭ, and on the other I do not see any good reason why a supine in ĭtum has to be formed from perfects in ui of both second and third conjugations, I say that all 2nd- and 3rd-conjugation supines in ĭtum, in use or not, come indeed from perfects in ui, but not directly. From perfects in ui which are contracted, e.g., domvi from domavi, mervi from merevi, came contracted supines, that is, domtum, mertum (which we in fact still have, and the French have domter, etc.), in which the ē and the ā were suppressed as in the perfects. Then from these supines—after the letter ĭ had been interposed for reasons of euphony, which quite normally (since it is the weakest among the vowels) both in Latin and elsewhere is interposed between several consonants, when nothing more is needed than a momentary and passing support and pause in the pronunciation, a pause which is outside the norm and caused and authorized only by ease of pronunciation, which is where that vowel comes from which has nothing to do with the stem, and is completely accidental, and a mere effect1 and accident of pronunciation—came the supines in ĭtum, such as domĭtum, merĭtum. So in contradiction to what I have said in the past [→Z 3701–702, 3708, 3717], [3873] contracted supines preceded those in ĭtum, and the latter come from the former, and suppose and demonstrate them, but not vice versa. So doctum does not demonstrate nor require that there was a docitum, but meritum does a mertum; sectum does not demonstrate a secitum, but domitum does a domtum (the same as emtum, etc., hence domter, etc.). However contracted supines, and consequently also those in ĭtum, which derive from them, suppose and demonstrate perfects in ui. From which come directly and regularly the contracted supines, and indirectly and irregularly those in ĭtum (type of pronunciation of the contracted supines, and therefore also themselves contracted; since they have the very weak and short i, in place of the ā or ē): and not vice versa, as I said before. (12 Nov. 1823.) See p. 3875.

  For p. 3872. According to these observations of mine, second-conjugation stems could have preserved the e throughout the conjugation. And this is as it should be, since the e is part of the root. So too the penultimate i in the fourth, which is preserved throughout the whole conjugation, in regular verbs. See p. 3875, end. It’s not the same with the a in the first conjugation, where that letter is not characteristic, though it is proper to the infinitive. In fact it is missing from the stem, and the present optative, etc. etc. Similarly the penultimate e of legere [to collect, to read]. In verb stems all the letters are radical except the last, that is the o, which is the desinence not of the stem as stem, but insofar as it is the present indicative singular first person active part of the relevant verb. Now since both the first and the 3rd conjugations mostly end in impure o, those conjugations in themselves have no vowel which is radical generally in all the stems of the conjugation. [3874] But in 2nd- and 4th-conjugation stems the penultimate e and i, are proper elements of the stem as stem, not merely insofar as they are first person, etc. Therefore as proper and radical elements of the stem, they must be preserved throughout the conju
gation, taken as regular and not contracted. And the proper form, in brief, of the conjugation must always preserve them, just as the first and the 3rd preserve all the proper elements of their stems, that is, am in amo, leg in lego, etc. It always preserves them, I say, except when it is irregular or contracted, which has nothing to do with what is proper to it, and is an accident not norm or nature. And when in verbs of the first and the third conjugations, although in them it is not constant nor proper to the conjugation that the last radical of the stem is a vowel, as it is in the 2nd and 4th, when, I say, one comes across this, that vowel is preserved throughout the conjugation of the verb, provided that it is regular since by anomaly it frequently suppresses it, as in sapio [to have a taste], capio [to contain, to comprehend] (verbs of the 3rd) and their compounds desipio [to act foolishly], recipio [to get back, to receive], etc. etc., as in meo as [to go], fluo is (although the conjugation of the latter is not primitive), ruo [to rush down], tribuo [to allot], etc. So why should the last radical of the stem, which, regularly, is preserved throughout the conjugation of verbs both of the fourth conjugation, and of the 1st and 3rd when it occurs there (and if not the vowel then the consonant is preserved, when this is the last radical letter), why, I say, should it not be preserved in the second? Why in fact should it regularly and constantly be lost? And if it is not lost, why does it indicate some irregularity? Now all this would happen, if there is no acceptance of our observations and rules, according to which the present form of the 2nd conjugation is contracted and not primitive. And only our observations show, [3875] for the first time I believe, the primitive analogy between the second conjugation and all the others in preserving the last radical letter of the stem, and also show the causes and ways through which it has happened that in its present more common form it alone of all of them does not preserve it. (13 Nov. 1823.)

  I have said elsewhere [→Z 3312] that patulus [open] seems to be the positivized diminutive of a patus. Wrong. Not all nouns in ulus nor verbs in ulare are diminutives even by origin and rule of formation: for instance iaculum [javelin] from iacio [to throw], speculum [mirror] and specula [lookout post] from specio [to look at], vehiculum, curriculum, adminiculum, amiculum [cloak] from amicio [to cover], periculum [attempt, danger] from πειράω [to attempt], iaculari, speculari, famulus [servant], famulor [to serve], etc., retinaculum, miraculum, obstaculum, stimulus [goad], stimulo [to goad on], stabulum [dwelling, stable], stabulo [to stable], pabulum, poculum, fabula [story], fabulor [to talk], etc. (see p. 3844), crepitaculum, sustentaculum, baculum, baculus, osculum, etc. Patulus is of this type, coming actually from pateo [to be open], etc. (13 Nov. 1823.) Perhaps oculus is also of this type, contrary to what I said elsewhere [→Z 980–81, 2281, 2358, 3557]. See Forcellini, etc.

  For p. 3873. There still remains what I have always previously said about 3rd- and 4th-conjugation supines. And the present correction only applies to the 1st and the 2nd. Lectum that is legtum is a true contraction of legĭtum, it is formed by the suppression of the i, it presumes and demonstrates legĭtum, it is posterior to it, the true regular supines of the 3rd and 4th are in ĭtum and ītum and not in anything else. Contracted forms of the third and fourth conjugations, like lectum, quaestum, are contractions of supines in itum and formed by the suppression of the very weak vowel ĭ or ī. Supines in ĭtum of the 1st and 2nd are formed from contracted supines in the opposite way to these by the addition of the very weak sound ĭ. (13 Nov. 1823.)

  For p. 3873, margin—and not contracted. Such as venio is veni [to come]. [3876] It often loses the i, as in venerunt, veneram, etc., for venierunt venieram, etc., which would be the regular; this is either through anomaly, or contraction, which is what I believe. And this contraction starts with the very first part of the perfect veni for venii. Or rather it all begins here, etc. So too in the compounds, such as invenio [to find], etc., and in many other verbs. (13 Nov. 1823.) See p. 3895.

  I say that man is always in pain, because he always desires in vain, etc. When man finds himself without what is positively called suffering or displeasure or something similar, the pain inseparable from the consciousness of life is for him sometimes more, sometimes less perceptible, depending on whether he is more or less occupied or distracted by something or other and especially by those things called pleasures, depending on whether by nature or habit or at that moment he is more alive and feels his life more, and has more life whether actual or habitual, etc. Often this pain is such that, for whatever reason, and especially because it is continuous, and man has been accustomed to it right from the first moment of his life, he does not observe it, does not explicitly notice it, but it is no less true for that reason. When man becomes aware of it, and when it is different from positive suffering, displeasure, etc., sometimes it is called boredom,1 sometimes we give it different names. Frequently that pain, which comes indeed from desiring in vain, and consists solely of this, and consequently is all the greater and more perceptible the more the desire habitually or at the present moment is keener, frequently, I say, it is greater in the realization and exact point of pleasure, than in the time [3877] of indifference and quiet and inactivity of the mind, and lack of sensations or conceptions, etc., passions decidedly agreeable or disagreeable, and sometimes even greater than at the time of positive displeasure, or feeling which is unwelcome up to a certain point. It is greater, because at that time the desire is greater and keener, as is desire stimulated and inflamed by the present and actual appearance of the pleasure which man continually yearns after, and by having hope nearby, no, present and extraordinary and immensely strong and firm and keen, and certain you would say, and by almost seeing happiness, his perpetual and paramount goal, so close and within his grasp, but unable to seize hold of it, for desire is all the keener in that moment, but no more fruitful or satisfied than it is ordinarily. The desire for pleasure in the time of what is called pleasure is much more keen than it is ordinarily, more keen than in the time of indifference. One cannot define the act of human pleasure better than by calling it an increase in the natural and continuous desire for pleasure, an increase which is all the greater the keener is that questionable and false pleasure, the more that semblance is the semblance of greater pleasure. At that moment man desires happiness more than in the time of indifference, etc., and with absolutely equal pointlessness. Therefore since on the one hand the desire is keener, and on the other equally vain, the pain which is the natural companion to the consciousness of life, that which arises precisely from and consists of this desire for happiness and therefore pleasure, must be greater and more sensitive in the act of pleasure (so called) than it is ordinarily. So indeed it is, except when—and to the extent that—the pleasurable sensation or imagining [3878] or whatever it is that so-called pleasure is made of and is born from, acts and is to be thought of as a distraction, as a powerful occupying of mind, self-love, life, and desire itself. And this is the best and most truly pleasurable effect of human and animal pleasure: to occupy the mind and—not to satisfy desire, which is impossible—but in part, and in a certain way, to distract it almost, stuffing its throat like insatiable Cerberus and his sop.1 And man, who often, and perhaps most of the time, in the ordinary run of things scarcely notices the pain, always or nearly always notices it in the act of pleasure. But he does not always observe it nor have the means to put his mind to it, and very rarely does he attribute it to its true cause or recognize its true nature. And very rarely indeed, either then or ever, whether he looks back on his state at that moment at some other time or never thinks about it, does he go back to the beginning and generalize, etc. For if he did he would discover those great universal truths which we are in the process of observing and stating, and which perhaps no one yet has observed well, or understood and thought through completely and clearly, etc. (13 Nov. 1823.)

  For p. 3639, margin. Beings stronger than man. Here are the first Gods worshipped by men, or recognized and imagined and considered as such by them; here is the first idea of divinity. And as th
e strongest for the most part, in fact, naturally and primitively, always avail themselves of this, as of every other, advantage, for their own good, and therefore often to the detriment of the weaker, and therefore inasmuch as they are stronger, they are malignant and terrifying to the weaker; and as human individuals themselves, especially in a primitive and savage society (as was the one in which [3879] the idea of Divinity was born), made and make use of this toward the weakest in every way, whether they are their fellows or from other species; so in the primitive idea of Divinity which consisted in greater, superhuman force, necessarily must be included the idea of malignity and terror, the natural effects and consequences and companions of greater force. Also men who were or had been extraordinarily superior to and stronger than the others, either in physical strength or strength which comes from any other advantage, even if they were malignant, feared, and hated, were not uncommonly in primitive societies, and perhaps still are in savage ones, deified both as a concept and sometimes in worship, alive or dead; and this can be recognized in the critics who inquire into the origins of Greek mythology itself, which is less ferocious and dreadful and odious, on the contrary is milder and more human and charming and fair and kind and appealing than all others, etc. (13 Nov. 1823.)

  For p. 3715. There are many occasions when boredom has some indefinable extra keenness, when it therefore has more semblance of emotion, and so it happens that in such cases it is not always called boredom, although philosophically speaking it still is, since it consists of exactly what we call boredom, that is pure desire for happiness, without positive happiness or positive unhappiness, and differing only in degree from what is commonly called boredom. And it differs in degree, insofar as it is in some way a more intense, more perceptible, and keener kind of boredom, qualities which bring it closer to the unhappiness which is positively so called, and which do not seem very consistent [3880] with boredom. In fact, although it belongs to the same genre, it is more felt, more painful, than what we normally call boredom. And it is such because it arises from and consists of a desire which is keener, and at the same time equally vain. This sort of emotion is what young people generally experience when they are in a state of nonpleasure and nondispleasure. They have little capacity for what is commonly called boredom. They are hardly ever able not to have an actual, even if indeterminate emotion,a keener than boredom itself, because their self-love, and therefore their desire for happiness and pleasure, although it is just as vain as at other ages, is much keener, generally speaking. Similarly incapable of boredom as it is commonly described, though deprived of pleasure and displeasure, are those states also of the individual of which I have spoken pp. 3835–36, 3876–78 and similar. Likewise the state of present and keen desire fixed on anything, though this state too is deprived of positive pleasure and positive displeasure, etc. And so on. This sort of emotion, different from boredom as it is commonly described, but of the same genre, etc., this too I wish to include under the name of boredom, and it should also be understood that I am referring to this when I assert that boredom flows inevitably and immediately to fill any void left by pleasure or displeasure so called, etc., and that the absence of one and the other is by its nature boredom, and that when they are lacking, boredom necessarily exists, and when that lack is in place boredom is also in place as on pp. 3713–15. (13 Nov. 1823.)