Dormido for dormiente (perhaps durmido too) [sleeping]. Voz algo dormida [a rather sleepy voice]. Don Quixote. And in other forms. Unless dormir has a neuter passive meaning as well. (28 March, fourth Sunday in Lent, 1824.)
Positivized Greek diminutives. τειχίον [wall]. Lucian in Reviviscentes, tome 1, Opera, 1687, p. 418. Note in reference to this and other positivized diminutives in Lucian, which I have indicated elsewhere [→Z 4019, 4020, 4047], that Lucian uses mostly colloquial language. The passage referred to speaks of the wall of the acropolis or citadel of Athens. In two passages in Homer (Odyssey 16, ll. 165, 343) τειχίον is linked with μέγα [big]. It would seem ridiculous to translate it as parvus murus [small wall], as Scapula does, and you could not find a passage where the positivization of Greek diminutive words was not more evident. Nevertheless (as well as there being a variety of readings, or doubt among learned men about the word τειχίον, at least in the first of these passages, as I see from the Index of Homeric words),1 one could perhaps say that τειχίον is used by Homer to distinguish it from the walls of a city or similar, called [4055] τείχη, since he is speaking about the walls of a courtyard, and μέγα refers to the size of the walls as walls of a courtyard. However the passages in Lucian and others in Thucydides quoted in Scapula show that τειχίον was also said about the walls of a city, fortress, etc. (moenia), and they can serve to explain the ones in Homer, to confirm the reading is right (especially the passage of Lucian where the meaning is clear), and by proving that here τειχίον stands simply for τεῖχος, [wall] although it is linked with μέγα, they are an important proof of my opinion about the positivization of many Greek diminutives, particularly in poetic speech, or rather ancient or Ionic, etc. (28 March, fourth Sunday in Lent, 1824.)
Τῆς ῥινὸς ἕλκειν menar pel naso [to lead someone by the nose, up the garden path] a Greek proverb like the Italian one, mentioned elsewhere [→Z 4044], with a passage in Lucian, where φασὶ [they say, it is said] is added. Add Lucian in Reviviscentes, Opera, 1687, tome 1, p. 396. See Forcellini, the Lexicons and the writers on adages and proverbs, etc. (29 March 1824.) Lucian, ibid., 556, 560.
Plurals in a. Martella. Crusca under Asce. (29 March 1824.)
Positivized diminutives. Lens–lenticula (lente, lenticchia, etc.) [lens, lentil]. (31 March 1824.)
Dita plural of dito [finger]. Note that the corresponding Latin noun is not neuter, but masculine. (1 April 1824.) Nocca [knuckles], Uova [eggs].
As in Italian l’uomo for French on [one, you], for si, etc., mentioned elsewhere [→Z 2676–77, 4024, 4026], so in Spanish el hombre in the same sense. Don Quixote, part 2, ch. 40, Madrid 1765, tome 3, p. 446. (1 Apr. 1824.)
The Spanish language is of course as similar to Italian in nature (as well as appearance) as one language can be to another. But it would be more similar, if it had been as refined, developed, perfected, that is if it had had the same number and variety and competency of [4056] writers as Italian had. From the course it actually took you can see that when it had progressed, the form and character it would have had when perfected would not have been so different from Italian, and consequently the Spanish language would have been so much more similar to Italian than it is now through this greater similarity in degree of perfection. Because now, the greatest, indeed perhaps the only difference there is between the genius or rather the intrinsic form of these two languages, is that the one is much less developed and perfected than the other, and also less rich, which with an abundance of writers and subjects would not have been the case. (1 April 1824.)
Moveo [to move]—moto, motito. (1 April 1824.)
Cessatus participle of cesso [to cease] a neuter verb. See Forcellini under Cessatus and in particular the second example comparing it with the second paragraph of Cesso. (3 April 1824.)
To what I have said [→Z 2893–94] about acquistare [to acquire] in relation to quisto, quaesitus, etc., add the Spanish aquistar. Don Quixote. See the Dictionaries (4 April, Passion Sunday. Snowing. 1824.)
A very great, and perhaps the greatest proof and mark of progress which knowledge and the human spirit have made in recent times in general and particularly in the physical sciences, is that in the space of almost a century and a half, which is to say from the publication of the Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy (1687)1 to the present day, there has been no system of physics to prevail over Newton’s, or almost no other system of physics which has been able to match Newton’s in its reception for a single moment, even though his system is less than certain [4057] and perfect, in fact it is recognized as being defective in many of its parts, besides the general insufficiency of its principles to explain natural phenomena in any depth. Nevertheless physicists and modern philosophers, even when the first excitement of Newton’s fame and school and supporters died down, have been contented and continue to be content with his system, using it as an opportune and convenient hypothesis at those points in their studies which need a hypothesis, or for which one is useful. That reveals and demonstrates that great minds in physics and in other sciences and in every search after the truth and in every intellectual endeavor, have had recourse to the examination of particulars (without which it is impossible to generalize with any truth and profit) and to practical experiment and to things about which they can be certain, and have renounced their imagination, anything uncertain, splendid, any arbitrary generalities, so much in fashion in earlier centuries, and in those days fathering so many systems, which shone briefly and died out, and which followed one on the other and destroyed one another.1 (4 April 1824, Passion Sunday. Snowing.)
Altro for alcuno [any] or redundant, mentioned elsewhere [→Z 2892, 3588, 4000, 4015]. Add that usage of the adverb altrimenti or altramente, etc., very frequent among our ancients, particularly in the classical period, and not infrequent even today, when the adverb seems entirely pleonastic, that is to say when it is linked to negation, for example: non v’andò altrimenti [he did not go there at all], that is non v’andò. (In other phrases it can be linked to negation with different meanings, as when we say non altrimenti for parimente [similarly], non altrimenti che for come [as, like].) It seems that this adverb in such cases is the equivalent of punto, guari, and other similar Italian and French words, etc., added so often to a negation without giving it any more force. In fact often, or most [4058] often, this adverb in such a case is not at all important, but originally and truly, and perhaps sometimes in practice, especially in ancient writers, means in alcun modo [in any way at all]. Others have used it and certainly use it still without ever having even imagined or suspected what it means in such cases. Where it has something to do with the use of the adverb ἄλλως [otherwise], mentioned elsewhere [→Z 4011]. (5 April 1824.)
It is a great error among those who have to calculate or speculate about the decisions and courses of action of other people, in private and in public matters, both political or military in the latter case, and both with or without the facts, that they should consider with their keen intellect and wisdom what would be the most useful decision or course of action for those people, what the most advantageous, in terms of their own condition and the circumstances, what the most just, most wise, and when they have found it, that they should resolve what they will do or will decide on, or actually do or decide on, this thing or those things, or one of them at any rate. If we take a good look at life, at the actions and decisions of men, we will see that for ten things done well, which are advantageous and useful to those who do them, there are thousands of things done badly, which are disadvantageous, completely useless, self-damaging, more or less, contrary to wisdom, to what a wise and perfectly prudent man would have decided or done, finding himself in that situation. We will see that most of the time men do not deliberate as mature adults when there is need of maturity, they do not recognize the importance of the things that they have to decide or do, do not have the least suspicion that it is useful or necessary that they consult other
people on the matter, and do not enter into any consultation at all. I speak of great men and ordinary ones alike, [4059] of public and private matters, of things of relatively little or great importance. It is certain that the affairs of any men, which go badly, do not go that way (except rarely) without some fault or insufficiency on their own part. Now how then can looking for what is useful or advantageous to them be the rule for guessing at their actions and decisions? The number of absolutely stupid people, or of those inept for tasks or for matters that they have to manage, although they might be determined in other ways, or of those who are well suited to the task in hand, but not perfect, or of decisions and actions badly taken and badly done, useless and damaging to those who have done them or taken them, inappropriate to the matter in hand, or that in the end prove in the given circumstances not to have been the best; the number, I repeat, of such actions, decisions, and such men surpasses and has always surpassed by a long way that of the actions, decisions, and men who are their opposites, as appears from all ancient and modern stories of civil and military and private life, and from the observation of life as well as private and public events daily. Hence that rule, instead of leading to the possibility of guessing at their actions, leads anyone who follows it to have a one chance in a hundred of being right in choosing one thing or another, in any judgment he forms or speculation he has. Furthermore, in absolute terms, it is quite wrong and badly thought through to be persuaded that men see their own affairs as others outside them see them, and think and feel in the same way and are disposed to act in the same way. Hence even if we suppose in two people exactly the same prudence, experience, in fact all the same behavior when it comes in any given situation to deciding and carrying out whatever is advantageous, it is absolutely certain that if of these two people one of them [4060] found himself in a situation and the other not, were they to consider it without communicating with the other, most times the decision and the course of action of the one will be very different, more or less, from what to the other would seem to have been advantageous. Add to this the variety of principles, habits, and thousands of other things, even the smallest ones, which by making two minds different (since there is no one mind perfectly equal to another, just as there are no two sets of features completely alike), also make the decisions and actions of the one differ from those of the other in thousands of different ways, even supposing in both equal ability and an identical situation, in fact they make the decisions and actions of one and the same person differ in identical or similar situations. Not to mention the passions and the particular occasions and circumstances of the moment, which often differ minimally, yet that minimal difference often modifies and often completely causes and determines the decisions and actions of a person, while the other person who wants to try and guess at them is unaffected by such circumstances, whether physical, or moral, or whatever. The true rule in trying to make the fewest possible mistakes, and the true policy to adopt in such cases is to know as much as one can about the nature, habits, qualities of any given person, to apply them to the case in hand, and abandoning any prudence of one’s own, putting oneself in the shoes of that person, more like a poet than someone using reason,1 to speculate about what he is about to do or decide, in fact to decide for him in a manner of speaking, as the dramatist speculates about what any given man of any given character in any given circumstances would be about to say, and having speculated about it, speaks in his place. (5 April 1824.) See Guicciardini, Freiburg ed., tome 4, p. 106.2
Man (because he loves life) naturally loves and desires and needs to feel, whether this be pleasurably, or in any way at all, provided that he feels keenly (and this keenness, of whatever kind, cannot subsist without positive delight, nor can it be a [4061] truly indifferent sensation). Both disagreeable sensation and not feeling at all are total suffering for him. And sometimes it is less painful, on the contrary more agreeable, when there is some degree of pain than to be without any sensations at all. If a man could feel infinitely, of whatever kind the sensation was, provided it was not unpleasurable, he would be happy in that moment, because the feeling is so keen, and such keenness (not unpleasurable in itself) is pleasurable for man in itself of whatever kind it is. So a man would feel in that moment an infinite pleasure and that sensation, even though otherwise detached, would be an infinite pleasure, therefore perfect, therefore a man would be completely satisfied by it, and therefore happy.
It follows from the above that generally there are no indifferent sensations. This thought can be developed. (5 April 1824.) A sensation (internal or external) is necessarily in itself and insofar as it is sensation, either pleasurable or painful, and insofar as it is sensation as such, is necessarily, inherently, and essentially pleasure. (5 April 1824.)
Positivized diminutives. Ghiotto–glouton [glutton] with its derivatives, and our ghiottoneria too, etc., perhaps from the French unless vice versa glouton comes from ghiottone, which we use for ghiotto, and ghiottone could come from the French. See the Spanish dictionaries, etc. Spanish gloton, glotoneria, glotonear, etc. Note that this positivized diminutive (if it is one) is an adjective. (6 April 1824.)
In tanto, Greek ἐν τοσούτῳ [meanwhile], mentioned elsewhere [→Z 4017, 4022]. Add intantochè, fra tanto, tra tanto (Guicciardini) infra tanto, in quel tanto, etc. And the Spanish en tanto que (Don Quixote), entre tanto, etc. See the Spanish Dictionaries. See too the Crusca and the French dictionaries. (7 April 1824.) See the following page. En este entretanto. Don Quixote, Madrid 1765, tome 4, p. 244.
Plural moggia [corn measure]. Latin modius [corn measure] masculine. (7 April 1824.)
To what I said about moisson [harvest], positivized diminutive of messis [→Z 4019], and to other similar positivized diminutives, add its derivatives, etc., like moissonner. (7 April 1824.)
[4062] Whoever enjoys great fame and deserves it, is held in higher regard by others than by himself. And so all those in the past who have worthily passed on their glory to humanity, are held in higher regard than they held themselves. (7 April 1824.)
For the preceding page. Finattanto [until], finattantochè, fin tanto, infinoattantochè, etc.—ἐς τοσοῦτον ἄχρις ἂν. Lucian, Opera, 1687, tome 1, p. 505. See Forcellini, Crusca, French, Spanish, Glossary, etc. (7 April 1824.)
῎Εξω for praeter [except], mentioned elsewhere [→Z 4035]. Lucian, Opera, 1687, tome 1, p. 566: “τὰ ἄλλα ἔξω τῶν λόγων” [“all except the knowledge”]. (7 April 1824.)
The Latin custom of using the participles ending in us of neuter verbs and active ones too with a neuter or active meaning, as adjectives, and limited as well to denote habit and habitual quality in the subject, like tacitus [silent] for qui tacet, cautus [careful], qui solet cavere, etc. etc., is if nothing else a proof that the corresponding custom so proper to Spanish and frequent too in Italian, and perhaps not improper to French, has examples in written Latin, and therefore probably comes from spoken and Vulgar Latin, where it was common and familiar. (8 April 1824.)
The life of Orientals and of those who live in hot countries is shorter than that of those who live in cold or temperate countries. But that does not prevent the amount of life of the former from being, not only equal, but also superior to the amount of life of the latter. In fact the life of Orientals is shorter for no other reason than that it is much more intense, so much so that in the same space of time the amount of life Orientals experience is greater than that of [4063] other peoples. Now generally speaking, this order is found in nature, that the duration of life (both in animals and plants) is in inverse proportion to its intensity and activity. The tortoise, the elephant, and other animals that live at a very slow pace have an extremely long life. Those who live life at the quickest pace and are the most active, even if they are stronger than others (as for example the horse is in comparison to man), have a shorter life. And that is quite natural, because their activity and intensity of life involves a more rapid development, and then decline. In fact, the developm
ent of men, animals, and plants in very hot countries is much more rapid than in others. Now considering the physical conditions of life in relation to the moral, one can reasonably affirm that the fate of those who live in very hot countries is preferable as far as happiness is concerned to those of other peoples. In the first place, the amount of vitality they have, though shorter in length, is however in itself greater than that of others, if we compare them both in total. Second, even given that it were the same, it seems to me much more preferable to get through, for example, in forty years a given amount of life than to get through it in eighty. It fills up those forty years, while in eighty it gives space to a thousand intervals, great emptiness, great coldness, great languor. Life has absolutely nothing so desirable that it makes the longest life preferable. The preferable life is the least unhappy one, and the least unhappy one is the one most full of life.1 Now the life of Orientals, supposing it lasts 40 years, is much more full of life than that of others, supposing it to last 80, even when the amount of vivacity in the one and in the other is the same. Now I apply this comparison between [4064] climates to periods of time, and by putting the ancients in the place of people living in hot climates and the moderns in the place of people in cold climates, I maintain that although the life of the ancients was perhaps generally shorter than that of the moderns, because of social upheavals and the continual dangers of the ancient state, nevertheless because it was more intense, it is to be preferred, having in its shorter length a greater amount of vitality, or even when in a shorter space of time it contained an equal amount as modern life in more time. I have spoken on this subject, without this example, in detail in another thought [→Z 352, 1330–32]. (8 April 1824.) See p. 4092, and see p. 4069.
Each one of us—and especially more delicate spirits, who are more sensitive and susceptible—once we have reached a certain age have experienced in ourselves more than one character. Physical, moral, and intellectual circumstances, continually changing in the space of the lifetime of man, and in his different ages, changing that is, in relation to him, continually change his character, so that from time to time he really is a new man in spirit, just as the physicists say that every seven years (if I am not mistaken) he has a new body.1 Sensitive men in particular not only change character, and more rapidly than other people, but easily and generally acquire characters very different from one another, especially from the first character that developed in them, from the one that most conforms with their nature, from the one that was the first able to be called a character in them. The cultivation of the intellect among other things causes in one and the same person, in proportion to his own progress and with the passing of time, a [4065] singularly rapid and a singularly great variation. Who is not aware of the extent to which principles, opinions, and convictions influence and determine the characters of men? Now at birth, each individual is precisely, as far as his intellect is concerned, in the same state as the first man. Those individuals that with the passing of time reach the level of knowledge of our age, have necessarily passed through all the states through which the human spirit has passed from the beginning of the world until the present day (at least those stages through which it has passed by progressive advancement), and has1 experienced in himself all the events of the intellect that the human race has experienced in all centuries from its beginning until now. The history of his intellect is that then of all these centuries reduced and compressed into twenty or thirty years. Hence from all the changes that his intellect has experienced, changes that many times have brought him to convictions and states very different from previous ones, and finally to a system of conviction and to a state very different from his original one; from all these changes, I repeat, there must have necessarily emerged in him as many different and successive changes in his character, as have been produced in nations and in humankind in general by the different principles and opinions and by the different advancement and state of knowledge in every age needed to bring humankind from its original state to where it is now. (8 April 1824.) Hence this individual has within himself and epitomizes, not only the history of the human spirit, which is perhaps the greatest and the major part, but also that of the successive characters of nations, insofar as they had their origin in and dependency on opinions and knowledge. (8 April 1824.)
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