“Disse Rinaldo: A te, sanza altre scorte,” (with no escort) / “Venuti siam per l’oscura foresta” [“Said Rinaldo: to you, with no escort, we have come from the dark forest”]. Ibid., canto 17, stanza 35.
“E disse fra suo cor: costui fia quello” [“And her heart told her: this is he”]. Ibid., canto 22, stanza 228.
“Sottosopra fu buon sempre l’ardire: / Ha la fortuna in odio un uom da poco, / Ed è nimica de gli sbigottiti” (faint-hearted, etc.) [“All in all, courage was always good: fortune hates a man of little worth, and is an enemy to the fainthearted”]. Berni, Orlando innamorato, canto 55, stanza 3.
Now it can be truthfully said, especially in Italy, that there are more writers than readers (since most writers do not read, or read less than they write). Therefore once again we see what glory it is possible to hope for in literature today. In Italy it can be said that those who read, read only in order to write, and therefore think only of themselves, etc. (Pisa, 5 Feb. 1828.)
[4302] One of the greatest fruits that I hope for and expect from my verses is that they will warm my old age with the heat of my youth. It is to savor them when I reach that age and to experience something that remains of my past feelings, placed there so it might be kept and last through time, as though in store.1 It is to move myself as I reread them, as often happens to me, and more so than when I read poems by other people. (Pisa, 15 April 1828.) Over and above the remembering, it is to reflect on who I was, and to compare myself with myself. And finally, it is the pleasure of enjoying and appreciating one’s own work, and of contemplating with contentment the beauties and the qualities of a child of one’s own, with no other satisfaction than that of having made something beautiful in this world, whether or not it is recognized as such by others. (Pisa, 15 Feb., last Friday of Carnival, 1828.)
Pelo matto, pasta matta,2 etc.—μάτην [without reason], μάταιος [foolish].
“Ciascuna stella negli occhi mi piove / Della sua luce e della sua vertute” [“Each star rains some of its light and some of its virtue into my eyes”]. Dante, Rime, bk. 2, Ballad 3, “Io mi son pargoletta bella e nova.” (Pisa, 19 March, Feast of St. Joseph, 1828.)
Βομβεῖν–bombire [to make a booming noise, to hum]. A. di Costanzo, Storia del Regno di Napoli, bk. 6, in the translation of Petrarch’s letter on the earthquake in Naples. (Pisa, 12 April, Saturday after Easter, 1828.) See Crusca.
Prolato as [to extend, to defer].
“M. Newton avoit donné la solution de ce problême…; et M. Fatio de Duillier venoit d’en publier une solution très embarrassée … M. Bernoulli, effrayé des calculs de M. Fatio, se mit à cercher par une autre voie le solide de la moindre résistance, et ne fut pas long-tems à le trouver. Les grands Géometres connoissent cette éspece de paresse qui préfere la peine de découvrir une vérité à la contrainte peu agréable de la suivre dans l’ouvrage d’autrui; en général ils se lisent peu les uns les autres,” (Note: “Nous ne disons [4303] point qu’ils ne se lisent pas, mais qu’ils se lisent peu: en ce genre un coup d’oeil jetté sur un ouvrage suffit aux maîtres pour le juger. Il n’en est pas de même en Littérature.”) “et peut-être perdroient-ils à lire beaucoup: une tête pleine d’idées empruntées n’a plus de place pour les siennes propres, et trop de lecture peut étouffer le génie au lieu de l’aider. Si elle est plus nécessaire dans l’étude des Belles-Lettres que dans celle de la Géométrie, la différence de leurs objets et des qualités qu’elles exigent, en est sans doute la cause. La Géométrie ne veut que découvrir des vérités, souvent difficiles à atteindre, mais faciles à reconnoître dès qu’on les a saisies; et elle ne demande pour cela qu’une justesse et une sagacité qui ne s’acquierent point. Si elle n’arrive pas précisément à son but, elle le manque entièrement; mais tout moyen lui est bon pour y arriver; et chaque esprit a le sien, qu’il est en droit de croire le meilleur: au contraire, le mérite principal de l’éloquence et de la Poësie, consiste à exprimer et à peindre; et les talens naturels absolument nécessaires pour y réussir, ont encore besoin d’être éclairés par l’étude réfléchie des excellens modeles, et, pour ainsi dire, guidés par l’expérience de tous les siècles. Quand on a lu une fois un problême de Newton, on a vu tout, ou l’on n’a rien vu, parce que la vérité s’y montre nue et sans réserve; mais quand on a lu et relu une page de Virgile ou de Bossuet, il y reste encore cent choses à voir. Un bel esprit qui ne lit point, n’a pas moins à craindre de passer pour un écrivain ridicule, qu’un Géometre qui lit trop, de n’être jamais que médiocre” [“Monsieur Newton had supplied the solution to this problem…; and Monsieur Fatio de Duillier had just published a very confused solution to the same problem … Monsieur Bernoulli, frightened by the calculations made by Monsieur Fatio, set out to find the solid of least resistance by another route, and did not take very long to do so. The great Geometers know this kind of laziness which prefers the trouble of discovering a truth to the not very agreeable constraint of following it in someone else’s work; in general, they do not read each other very much,” (Note: “We do not say that they do not read each other, but that they do not read each other very much: in this area a quick glance at a work is enough for masters to make a judgment on it. It is not the same in Literature.”) “and perhaps they would lose out by reading a lot: a head full of borrowed ideas has no room for ideas of its own, and too much reading can stifle genius rather than helping it. If it is more necessary in the study of Belles-Lettres than in that of Geometry, the difference of their objects and the qualities they require is undoubtedly the reason. Geometry seeks only to discover truths, that are difficult to arrive at, but are easily recognizable once they have been grasped; and all it needs for that purpose is accuracy and judgment which are not acquired. If it does not reach its goal precisely, it misses it altogether; but any means to get there is acceptable; and each mind has its own, which it has the right to judge the best. The principal merit of eloquence and Poetry, on the other hand, consists in expressing and in depicting; and the natural talents that are absolutely necessary for success still need to be enlightened by the reflective study of excellent models, and, so to say, to be guided by the experience of centuries. Once you have read one of Newton’s problems, you have either seen everything or seen nothing, because there truth presents itself naked and without reserve; but when one has read and reread a page by Virgil or Bossuet, a hundred things still remain to be seen. A man of letters who does not read has no less to fear of being judged a mediocre writer than a Geometer who reads too much of never being anything but mediocre”]. D’Alembert, “Éloge de M. Jean Bernoulli.”1 [4304] Could not the same be said more or less of metaphysics as of Geometry, thereby excusing those who prefer to think rather than to read about metaphysics; those who claim to be metaphysicians without having read or understood Kant; those who sometimes content themselves with knowing the results and conclusions of the speculations and reasoning of celebrated metaphysicians, in order then to demonstrate the same themselves, or be convinced of their nonsubsistence? Metaphysics has many other similarities with mathematics. In metaphysics a proposition is also often dependent upon a series of propositions so that it is impossible to understand its demonstration all at one time; and often those who have followed this series up to that last truth, become convinced by it, and at that moment they see perfectly the reasons, which shortly afterward they would no longer be able to explain even to themselves, even though their conviction remains. In metaphysics too, as in calculus, many propositions and truths are believed solely upon the word of those who have done the work necessary to discover and prove them, a work which is too lengthy and difficult to be repeated and redone, or followed step by step by others, even by members of the profession. (Pisa, 17 April 1828.) —(“Whose genius” (that of Laplace) “is for me like those Truths which few people see, but are believed by everyone, because a superior mind has seen and demonstrated them.” Daru, Reply to Royer-Collard’s reception speech to the French Academy in the Antologia of Florence, no
. 86, p. 138.)1
For p. 4264. “De toutes les langues cultivées par les gens de lettres, l’italienne est la plus variée, la plus flexible, la plus susceptible des [4305] formes différentes qu’on veut lui donner. Aussi n’est-elle pas moins riche en bonnes traductions, qu’en excellente musique vocale, qui n’est elle-même qu’une éspece de traduction” [“Of all the languages cultivated by men of letters, Italian is the most varied, the most flexible, the most open to the different forms that one might wish to give it. Likewise, it is no less rich in good translations than in excellent vocal music, which is itself only a kind of translation”]. D’Alembert, “Observations sur l’art de traduire,” introduction to his Essai de traduction de quelques morceaux de Tacite.1
“Les taches qu’on peut faire disparoître en les effaçant, ne méritent presque pas ce nom; ce ne sont pas les fautes, c’est le froid qui tue les ouvrages; ils sont presque toujours plus défectueux par les choses qui n’y sont pas, que par celles que l’auteur y a mises” [“The stains which can be gotten rid of by rubbing them out scarcely merit the name; it is not mistakes, but coldness which kills works of writing; they are nearly always more defective on account of what is not there than because of what the author has put in them”]. Id., ibid. (Pisa, 8 May 1828.)
For p. 4298, end. In Pisa, on one side of Piazza dello Stellino,2 over the painted cross, are the words: Respect for the Cross. See p. 4307.
“Nous n’acquérons guere de connoissances nouvelles que pour nous désabuser de quelque illusion agréable, et nos lumieres sont presque toujours aux dépens de nos plaisirs” [“We scarcely gain any new knowledge which does not disabuse us of some agreeable illusion, and our insights are almost always at the expense of our pleasures”]. D’Alembert, “Réflexions sur l’usage et sur l’abus de la philosophie dans les matieres de goût,” read at the Académie Françoise on the 14th March 1757.3
“E molte forti a Pluto alme d’eroi / Spinse anzi tempo, abbandonando i corpi / Preda a sbranarsi a’ cani ed agli augelli” [“And it drove many strong souls of heroes to Pluto before their time, abandoning their bodies as prey to be dismembered by dogs and birds”] —Foscolo. “Molte anzi tempo all’Orco / Generose travolse alme d’eroi, / E di cani e d’augelli orrido pasto / Lor salme abbandonò” [“It swept away many generous souls of heroes before their time to Orcus, and left their corpses as a terrible feast for dogs and birds”]. —Monti.4 And the other translators likewise. But Homer says the souls (ψυχὰς) and them (αὐτοὺς), i.e., the heroes, not their bodies. No small difference, in my view, and not without great significance for anyone who wishes truly to understand Homer, and his times, and his way of thinking. This inaccuracy—not just of style and words, but of substance [4306] and meaning, resulting from the views of contemporary translators being applied to the words of Homer—this inaccuracy, I say, committed at the very beginning of the poem, even by the most faithful, scholarly, and accurate translators, and in a case where the words are clear and known, demonstrates how Homeric exegesis (and that of the ancients in general) is still imperfect, and how often those people who resort to translations alone in order to understand Homer and the ancients, and their times, customs, beliefs, etc., and who base their discourses, etc., upon them, find themselves misled and insufficiently informed—including many of the most erudite Frenchmen of today, etc. etc. (Pisa, 10 May 1828, Saturday.)
“Il est sans doute des lecteurs qui ne sont difficiles ni sur le fond ni sur le style de l’histoire; ce sont ceux dont l’ame froide et sans ressort, plus sujette au désoeuvrement qu’à l’ennui, n’a besoin ni d’être remuée, ni d’être instruite, mais seulement d’être assez occupée pour jouir en paix de son existence, ou plutôt, si on peut parler ainsi, pour la dépenser sans s’en appercevoir” [“There are no doubt readers who are not demanding either on the subject matter or on the style of the story; they are those whose cold, resourceless soul, more subject to idleness than boredom, does not require either to be moved or to be instructed, but simply to be sufficiently occupied to enjoy their existence in peace, or rather, if one may so put it, to spend it without noticing”]. D’Alembert, “Réflexions sur l’histoire.”1 Most idle people are unoccupied rather than bored. It is wrong to say that boredom is a common ill. Boredom is felt only by those in whom the mind is of some relevance. For everyone else, any dull task is enough to keep them happy, and when they have no work at all, they do not feel the pain of boredom. Men, for the most part, are like animals, who do not feel bored when there is nothing to do; the same with dogs, whom I have admired and envied many times, watching them pass hours stretched out, calmly and serenely, with an air that indicates the absence of boredom no less than of desires. Therefore, if you are talking about the inevitable boredom [4307] of life, etc. etc., you are mistaken, etc. etc. (Pisa, 15 May, Ascension, 1828.)
“On peut dire en un sens de la Métaphysique que tout le monde la sait ou personne, ou pour parler plus exactement, que tout le monde ignore celle que tout le monde ne peut savoir. Il en est des ouvrages de ce genre comme des pieces de théatre; l’impression est manquée quand elle n’est pas générale. Le vrai en Métaphysique ressemble au vrai en matiere de goût; c’est un vrai dont tous les esprits ont le germe en eux-mêmes, auquel la plûpart ne font point d’attention, mais qu’ils réconnoissent dès qu’on le leur montre. Il semble que tout ce qu’on apprend dans un bon livre de Métaphysique, ne soit qu’une éspece de réminiscence de ce que notre ame a déjà su; l’obscurité, quand il y en a, vient toujours de la faute de l’auteur, parce que la science qu’il se propose d’enseigner n’a point d’autre langue que la langue commune. Aussi peut-on appliquer aux bons auteurs de Métaphysique ce qu’on a dit des bons écrivains, qu’il n’y a personne qui en les lisant, ne croie pouvoir en dire autant qu’eux” [“In a sense it can be said of Metaphysics that either everyone knows it or no one does, or to speak more exactly, that everyone is ignorant of the Metaphysics which everyone cannot know. The same befalls this kind of work as it does theater plays; the impression does not exist when it is not general. Truth in Metaphysics resembles truth in questions of taste; it is a truth which all minds have an inkling of, which most pay no attention to, but which they recognize when it is pointed out to them. It seems as though everything one learns in a good book of Metaphysics is nothing other than a kind of reminiscence of what our soul already knew; obscurity, if there is any, always stems from the fault of the author, because the science he sets out to teach has no other language than that which is shared by all. Thus can be said of good authors of Metaphysics what has been said of good writers, that there is no one who reads them and does not think that he could say as much as they”]. D’Alembert, “Essai sur les élémens de philosophie,” article 6.1 It is easy to see that each of these sentences are translations one of the other; but the proposition that they contain is very true and worthy of note. (Pisa, 19 May 1828.)
For p. 4305. Pietro Aretino writes in one of his comedies: “un cavalier senz’entrata è un muro senza croci, scompisciato da ognuno” [“a knight without an income is a wall without crosses, pissed on by everyone”]. [4308] Ginguené, tome 6, p. 229, note.1 (Pisa, 19 May 1828.)
Corpusculum for corpus [body]. Marcus Aurelius in Fronto (Ad Marcum Caesarem et invicem, bk. 5, letter 47, 55, Rome 1823, pp. 135–37).2 Note that Marcus Aurelius was a Stoic.
Expergitus for experrectus [awakened, aroused]. Fronto, Principia historiae, Roman ed., p. 319, l. 9.3
Arcus intenditus for intentus [a drawn bow]. Ibid., De feriis alsiensibus, letter 3, p. 208, l. 15.4
Fronto’s codex has dilibutus, and 3 times dilectus for delibutus and delectus.5 Likewise, we have dilicato, and di preposition for de. Added to which are those Latin verbs digredior, diverto, diminuo, distillo, distringo, divello (and similar): all of which are found written in the codex for de.
Marcus Aurelius in his letters to Fronto continually calls his wife Faustina, domina mea [my lady] (la mia donna).6 See the passage by Epictetus mentioned elsewhere
[→Z 4246–47].
Reading the curious letter by Verus to Fronto (Ad Verum Imperatorem, letter 3, Roman ed.) in which he asks him to write the history of Verus’s own exploits in the Parthian war,7 it seems to me just like reading a letter by some modern writer to a journalist about one of his books. The same vanity, exaggeration, disregard for the truth, etc. And in fact that letter (see also Cicero’s letter to Lucceius)8 shows us how little we should rely on histories, even ones written at the time. But what a difference between ancients and moderns even here! Nowadays they recommend (1) their miserable little books, (2) to a journalist, (3) for an article. The ancients recommended (1) their military or civic achievements, (2) to famous men, (3) for a history, etc. etc. Verus’s letter has no variation in the Milan edition and would be worth quoting, in translation. (Florence, 21 June, anniversary of my first arrival in Florence, 1828.)
[4309] So true is it that in ancient times the highest praise was that of happiness, that we see in funeral Orations, and in similar cases, when the Orators had to praise, for example, soldiers who died for their country, they began by showing that they were not unhappy, that their death was not a misfortune. Today, on the contrary, they would seek to touch the hearts of listeners over their fate. For the ancients, to stir compassion in such circumstances was something entirely unknown: it would make no sense. Their funeral Orations are entirely consolatory.1
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, in his views about ancient writers, criticizes Thucydides for having taken an argument of history describing the misfortunes of his homeland (Athens), and praises Herodotus in comparison for having taken the subject of the Greek victory over the barbarians.2 These different points of view in the histories too, and at the time of Dionysius. (Florence, 29 June, Feast of St. Peter, and my birthday, 1828.)
Solon in Herodotus, 1, 32, talking to Croesus about his wealth, says that the divinity is jealous “τὸ θεῖον πᾶν ἐὸν” (i.e., ὂν) “φθονερόν” [the divinity is extremely envious].3 (29 June 1828.)
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