Zibaldone

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Zibaldone Page 319

by Leopardi, Giacomo


  If it were possible for me to fall in love, it might be with a foreign woman rather than an Italian. The hint of something new or unknown which is to be found in the customs, the way of thinking, the inclinations, the tastes, the outward manners, the language of a foreigner, is most likely to kindle and preserve in a lover that imagining of mystery, that idea that what he sees and knows in the loved person is much less than what she conceals within, that idea of depth, of hidden, secret soul, which is the primary and necessary basis for love that is more than sensual. As well as the charm that naturally accompanies what is foreign, being out of the ordinary.2 (Florence, 21 Sept. 1827.)

  Doucereux [sweet, sickly].

  A voice or sound which is distant, or decreasing and moving away little by little, or echoing with an appearance of vastness, etc. etc., is pleasant for the vagueness of the idea, etc. Therefore it is pleasant to hear thunder, a cannon shot, and similar sounds, in open countryside, in a wide valley, etc., the singing of farm workers, birds, the lowing of oxen, etc., in the same circumstances.3 (21 Sept. 1827.)

  [4294] The difference between words of popular origin and those of purely literary origin in the languages descended from Latin can also be seen in this: that often one single Latin word, when pronounced and written in one way in our languages, means one thing, and when pronounced and written in another way means something entirely different, and is considered to be an entirely different word, except by the very few who understand the origins of the language. E.g., Latin causa, corrupted in form and meaning by popular use, means res (cosa [thing]: see p. 4089); when used without alteration in literature and writing, it means cagione [cause], as it does in good Latin. And it is certain that the Italian word causa is a word of literary origin, even though it is now popularly understood (but not used by ordinary people), for it is not to be found in the 14th century, or is so rare, that purist fanatics of previous centuries said that it was not a good Tuscan word, and it was necessary to say cagione, which itself is a word of distorted form and meaning, taken from the Latin occasio, which is also used in its true form and meaning as an entirely different word (occasione), even though its origin is the same. French chose–cause, Spanish cosa–causa, etc. (Florence, 21 Sept. 1827.) Leale, loyal, leal (Spanish)—legale, légal, legal.

  DiluVium–déluGe [flood].

  For p. 4238. The Greeks also, just like today, had Itineraries, Descriptions of cities and provinces, together with details relating to history, art, monuments, customs, products, statistics in short (such as Pausanias, and the Description of Greece by Dicaearchus, a contemporary of Theophrastus, fragments of which can be seen in Creuzer’s Meletemata); they had Reports of Travels by sea and land (such as the Periploi, the Voyage of Nearchus, in Arrian’s Indica, that of Megasthenes to India, and other similar works under the title ᾿Ινδικά [Indica], Αἰθιοπικά [Aethiopica], Περσικά [Persica], etc.): and finally there is hardly any literary resource in modern times in which the Greek Bibliography is not also provided.1 (Florence, Sunday, 14 Oct. 1827.)

  Those whose enduring company and conversation we enjoy, and whom we are willing to visit [4295] frequently and for long periods, are and can only be those in relation to whom we consider it worth striving and laboring in order to be respected, and to be respected more each day. Therefore the company and conversation of women cannot be of lasting pleasure unless they are or render themselves such as to make their respect lastingly valuable and desirable. (Florence, Sunday, 14 October 1827.)

  * * *

  Here ends the Index of this Zibaldone of

  Thoughts

  commenced 11 July and finished 14 October 1827 in Florence.1

  * * *

  “Peut-être que, si l’on examinait avec impartialité les moeurs de toutes les nations de la terre, on trouverait qu’il n’y a point de peuple si grossier qui n’ait quelques règles de politesse, et point de peuple si poli qui ne conserve quelque reste de barbarie” [“Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations from ours, which we think the perfection of civility, we should find no People so rude, as to be without any Rules of Politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of Rudeness”]. Franklin. Translated from English. (Mélanges de Morale, d’Économie et de Politique, from Benjamin Franklin’s works, 2nd edition, Paris, Jules Renouard, 1826, tome 2, pp. 1–2: “Remarks concerning the Savages of North America,” 1784.) (Florence, 1827, 25 October.)2

  We should be cautious about judging the intelligence, wit, and above all the knowledge of someone whom we do not know, from his conversation upon first contact. Any man, however ordinary and mediocre his wit and understanding might be, has something personal, and therefore original, in his thoughts, in his manner, in his way of speaking and behaving. This is especially true of a foreigner, by which I mean a person from another nation, [4296] in whose thoughts, words, ways, it is impossible not to find sufficient novelty to capture the attention of the person with whom he is speaking on first contact. Every man of a certain culture has enough knowledge to provide an abundance of material for one or two entretiens [conversations]. He has his stories, his favorite topics upon which, through years of habit and practice, if nothing else, he tends to cut a fine figure, and even to excel; he has a few favorite regular sayings, witticisms, spicy or remarkable anecdotes, etc. However little ability he may have to make conversation, however little expertise in society, or in the art of speech, it is very easy for him, on first contact, to draw the discussion and let it fall on those subjects where he is strong, where he has something fine or good or satisfactory to say; and it is very easy for him to find a way to pull out and to déployer [deploy] his entire wealth of erudition and learning, of whatever kind it might be. Especially someone who is a man of letters by profession is rarely lacking in the necessary art for this effect. Thus it is that those who hear him speak for the first time are surprised by his abundance of knowledge, his bons mots, his observations. He is taken to be a mine of science and erudition, a wondrous spirit, a lively wit, a consummate thinker, a man of intelligence, an original mind. That is quite natural, because it is presumed that what he lays out is only a demonstration, a sample of himself and his knowledge, and not that it is all he has. This has happened to me several times. Finding myself with new people, especially men of letters, I have been intimidated by the great number of anecdotes, stories, knowledge of every kind, observations, witticisms that they laid out. Comparing myself with them, I became demoralized, it seemed impossible for me to match them, I thought that I was nothing beside them. This happened, not because the total amount of my knowledge and wit seemed to me [4297] insufficient to equal what these people were bringing out and expending before me—if I had thought that their wealth of knowledge did not extend beyond that, it would have seemed of small consequence, compared with my own—but I believed it to be only a sample of their capital, some argent de poche [pocket money], which amounted to only a proportion of their wealth. I have often had such mortifications on my few travels, especially with foreign men of letters. But then chance would have it that I happened to hear some conversation by one of these people with others who were also new. And I noticed that these people repeated precisely, or more or less, the same thoughts, witticisms, anecdotes, stories, that they had said and used upon me, etc. The effect upon those hearers was the same as it had been upon me. Admiration, interest, enthusiasm. What vastness of knowledge, what an understanding of mankind and human affairs, what depth, what immense erudition, what fertility and liveliness of mind!

  Many useful considerations can be drawn from these observations but, among others, two which are quite different, and useful for two quite different kinds of people. The first: that travelers, however knowledgeable they are and in good faith, are easily deceived in judging the wit, intelligence, erudition, and learning of the people they meet. This will be useful to those who read the Accounts of Travels in Europe, which are now so fashionable. The other: that a traveler with even only a small amount o
f wit and knowledge must be truly poor in the art of conversation if, wherever he passes, he does not pass for being a great man. And this will be useful for those who travel. In the same way as my experience, as described above, will also be useful in another respect for those who travel, etc. (Pisa, 13 November 1827.)1

  [4298] “Cratero” (name of doctor and meaning: to the doctor) “magnos promittere montes” [“to promise great mountains to Craterus”] Persius, Satire 3, l. 65. —Prometter mari e monti [to promise the earth, literally seas and mountains].1

  For p. 4115. Persius, Satire 1, ll. 112–14. “Hic, inquis, veto quisquam faxit oletum. / Pinge duos angues: pueri, sacer est locus, extra Mejite. Discedo” [“Here, you say, I forbid anyone to relieve himself. / Paint two snakes: Boys, this place is sacred, go and piss outside. I’m off”]. Translation by Monti: “Niun qui, dici, a sgravar l’alvo si butti: / E tu due serpi vi dipingi, e al piede: / Pisciate altrove, è sacro il loco, o putti. / Me la batto.” Note by the same on Angues: “Ancient superstition had consecrated serpents as an image of the tutelary genius, and symbol of eternity. They were therefore painted onto the walls of public places in order to keep away all indecency, so that adults through reverence, children through fear, did not go there to produce a stink.”2 —See other commentators. Compare this custom with ours of painting crosses, and even carving them in stone, in places to be protected from indecency, and which would otherwise be much exposed and convenient for such a purpose. This practice is to be seen nowhere more than in Florence, where not only in such places, but at the side of every building and busy public street you can see, not just crosses, but long lines of crosses painted low on the wall, like hedges. This is quite understandable in that filthy and fetid city, whose amiable citizens regard every place, whether hidden or exposed, as being convenient and appropriate for their needs, and especially the beginning or entrance of every alleyway or street (two things barely distinguishable in Florence): so that no place is safe from these profanations without such protections and defenses, which need to be continually multiplied. But I would not hazard to guarantee the validity of such protections toward the desired effect, either in Florence or elsewhere. (Pisa, 22 Nov. 1827.) See the page below and p. 4300, and p. 4305.

  Cader dalla padella nella brace [fall from the frying pan into the fire], etc. See Crusca. —Plato at the end of book 8 πολιτείας [of the Republic] (ed. Ast, tome 4, last page) writing about democracy transformed into tyranny, and excessive freedom transformed into servitude, he says: “καὶ, τὸ λεγόμενον, ὁ δῆμος φεύγων ἂν καπνὸν δουλείας ἐλευθέρων” (i.e., refusing obedience by free [4299] magistrates), “εἰς πῦρ δούλων δεσποτείας” (to the domination of servants, i.e., henchmen of the tyrant, etc.), “ἂν ἐμπεπτωκὼς εἴη” [“as the saying goes, the people trying to escape the smoke of submission to the free would have plunged into the fire of enslavement to slaves”].1 (Pisa, 2 Dec. 1827.)

  For the page above. What is more, this general public pissing in Florence is the result of that excessive individual liberty which reigns there, for which Florence could very well be compared to Athens during its most democratic period, and those words of Plato could be applied where, referring to Athens, he describes a city which is excessively democratic in the eighth book of the Republic, Opera, ed. Ast, tome 4, p. 478.2 (Pisa, 5 Dec. 1827.)

  For p. 4164, paragraph 3. Epicurus, Epistula ad Herodotum, in Laertius, 10, § 37. “ὅπως ἂν τὰ δοξαζόμενα ἢ ζητούμενα ἢ ἀπορούμενα ἔχωμεν εἰς ὃ ἀνάγοντες ἐπικρίνειν” [“so that when we refer to that we can judge of opinions, objects of inquiry, and problems unresolved”].3 This use of the infinitive is also to be found in French, Spanish, etc.

  D’Alembert in the Discours préliminaire de l’Encyclopédie, having referred to the care, the trouble taken, the enormous difficulties encountered by the encyclopedists, and particularly by Diderot, in obtaining the necessary knowledge and information about the arts, crafts, and manufactures in order to deal with them in the encyclopedia, adds: “C’est ainsi que nous nous sommes convaincus de l’ignorance dans laquelle on est sur la plûpart des objets de la vie, et de la difficulté de sortir de cette ignorance. C’est ainsi que nous nous sommes mis en êtat de démontrer que l’homme de Lettres qui sait le plus sa Langue, ne connoît pas la vingtieme partie des mots; que quoique chaque Art ait la sienne, cette langue est encore bien imparfaite; que c’est par l’extrême habitude de converser les uns avec les autres, que les ouvriers s’entendent, et beaucoup plus par le retour des conjonctures que par l’usage des termes. Dans un attelier, c’est le moment qui parle, et non l’Artiste” [“It is thus that we became convinced of the ignorance we are in concerning the greater part of the objects of daily life, and the difficulty of escaping this ignorance. It is thus that we took steps to show that the man of Letters who is best acquainted with his Language does not know the twentieth part of its words; that although each Art has its own, this language is yet very imperfect; that it is thanks to the extreme frequency of conversing with each other that workers understand one another, and much more because circumstances return than by their use of the terms. In a workshop, it is the moment which speaks, not the Artist”].4 (Pisa, 17 Dec. 1827.)

  [4300] “S’andrà schernendo il giovinetto altero, / Senz’altra” (alcuna) “pena l’amoroso foco, / Chi sarà poi che ’l tuo schernito impero, / Voto d’ogni timor non prenda in gioco?” [“The haughty youth goes on his way scorning the fire of love without other (any) pain. Who then, empty of all fear, will not make light of your derided rule?”] Alamanni, Favola di Narcisso, stanza 17.1 (30 Dec. 1827, Sunday.)

  Altronde for altrove [elsewhere]. Angelo di Costanzo, Sonnet 44, “Mancheran prima,” etc.2

  AVale [now]–aGUale.

  Tallo [bud]–θαλλός [shoot, branch].

  Frugare–Frugolare [to rummage]. Malmantile racquistato, 10th canto, stanza 44.3 Spruzzo–Spruzzolo [sprinkle]. Menzini, Satire 9, line 48.

  It is a curious fact, and of interest to those who wish to study history, and to understand human beliefs about rights and duties, that in past centuries Negroes were believed to be of the same origin and therefore of the same family as whites; and yet those who held such a view believed in the natural inequality of rights between them and whites, in the inferiority of Negroes, and in the justice of their servitude, indeed in their slavery and oppression. Today it is recognized that Negroes are of an origin, and therefore of a family, which is entirely different to whites, and those who hold such a view believe in their social equality with us, and in the parity of their rights, and the total injustice of making them slaves, or ill-treating them, or ruling over them, and the absurdity of the old view in this respect. (Pisa, 14 Jan. 1828.)

  For p. 4298. “Oh gente santa, / Che non piscia lì dove vede impresso / Segno di croce!” “Oh holy people, who do not piss where they see the sign of the cross!” Menzini, Satire 9, ll. 56–58.4

  Regarding what I have written elsewhere [→Z 3514–15] about non pareil for senza pari [unequaled], Grecism, and about pareil, parejo, apparecchiare, etc., positivized diminutives, etc., add: Chiabrera, Canzonette, 8th canzonetta “Al Signor Luciano Borzone pittore” (beginning: “Se di bella, che in Pindo alberga, musa”) 6th and last stanza, ll. 50–54 and last: “Ah sciocchezza infinita / Di qualunque sia core, / E follia non parecchia!” (senza pari) “Pianger perchè si more, / E non perchè s’invecchia” [“What infinite absurdity, for any heart, and unequaled folly, to grieve because we die, and not because we age”].5 (Pisa, 15 January 1828.)

  Altronde for altrove [elsewhere]. Giusto de’ Conti, “Bella Mano,” Canzone 2, stanza 5, Ch. 4, l. 8.6

  [4301] Infamato for infame [infamous]. Id., ibid., Ch. 3, l. 88. “Dannata” (for dannevole) “vista, e di mirarsi indegna” [“Damnable view, and to be considered unworthy”]. Chiabrera, Canzone “Cosmo, sì lungo stuol, lieto in sembianza,” l. 25
, stanza 4, l. 1.1 Patito [suffering, worn out]. A face can be patito. A man, a horse, a piece of cloth, etc., can be patito. It is also used in Tuscany.

  “Memories of my life.”2 The absence of any hope, after my first entry into the world, gradually extinguished almost every desire within me. Now, through changed circumstances, with hope revived, I find myself in the strange situation of having much more hope than desire, and more hopes than desires, etc. (Pisa, 19 [January] 1828.)

  “V’è di quelli ostinati, / Che per un blittri” (derived from Greek, which I refer to elsewhere [→Z 43], meaning for nothing at all) “categorematico / Lascerian stare la broda e ’l companatico” [“There are those obstinate kinds of people, for a categorematic nothing at all would leave bread and soup untouched”] Magalotti, caudate Sonnet, which begins: “Acciò conosca ognun quanto diverso,” ll. 27–29.3 He is talking about the scholastic and peripatetic fanatics of his time. (Pisa, 22 [January] 1828.)

  Raperonzo–raperonzolo [campanula]. Cotogno–cotognolo [quince]. See Crusca.

  τρίβειν–trebbiare [to thresh] perhaps from tribulare [to press], which is perhaps a frequentative of an unattested word tribere from τρίβειν. (Pisa, 28 [January] 1828.)

  “E disse fra suo core: i’ ho mal fatto” [“And he said in his heart, I have done wrong”]. Pulci, Morgante maggiore, 12, 28.

 

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