Zibaldone

by Leopardi, Giacomo

  It is noteworthy that all the kinds of Italian frequentative or diminutive verbs listed by me elsewhere [→Z 1116–17, 1240–42], such as saltellare, salterellare, etc., are unfailingly only of the first conjugation, even though the original and positive verb is of another conjugation, like scrivere, whence scrivacchiare, etc.; exactly as in Latin all the continuatives and frequentatives or diminutives (save perhaps for a few anomalous ones) of the kind I have undertaken to examine, whatever conjugation they derive from; and also other derived verbs whether diminutives or frequentatives or both at once, etc., of original verbs, etc., with different formations, which have nothing to do with my theory, and argument, like ustulare, misculare on which see elsewhere [→Z 2280‒81, 2385‒86], etc., pandiculari, vellicare (see p. 2996, margin), sorbillo, cantillo, conscribillo, etc., cavillor, missiculo, claudico, etc. Also in French such diminutive verbs, etc., and likewise in Spanish I think are of the first conjugation. (17 July 1823.)

  Shift from v to g, on which I have said something elsewhere [→Z 1678–79]. Nuvolo (from the Latin nubilum)‒nugolo. Pagolo for Pavolo or Paulo (the Spanish Pablo). (18 July 1823.)

  I maintain that in the formation of continuatives from verbs of the first conjugation, the final a of the participle turns into i. From mussatus mussitare. And I would add that first-conjugation verbs only have this continuative or frequentative, and not another one which would be in ititare. Exceptions are [2987] the verbs whose participle is disyllabic, like do, flo, no‒datus, flatus, natus, which do not change the a into i, but keep it. Datare, flatare, natare. And from these participles one should also be able to form a distinct frequentative in itare, although right now no relevant example occurs to me. (18 July 1823.)

  For p. 2677. Spanish vernacular and informal language also use this idiom of says in the singular for the plural say. In the Historia del famoso predicador Fray Gerundio de Campazas we are introduced to a peasant by the name of Bastian Borrego who uses these plebeian phrases disque, dizque for dicen que.1 (18 July 1823.)

  For p. 2976. Τεθνηκὼς, τεθνεικὼς, τηθνηὼς, τεθνειὼς, τεθναὼς, τεθνεὼς, and τεθνὼς are all called by the Grammarians perfect participles of the active voice of θνήσκω [to die], or θνάω [to die], etc., and not of the middle voice, but contracted from the first two. (18 July 1823.)

  For the ancients youth was a useful good, and an advantage from which fruits could be obtained, and old age a discomfort and a [2988] disadvantage that no good, no comfort, no enjoyment, could take away, nor could it be deprived of it.1 Hence the number of young people killing themselves was far lower, and there were far more older people recorded as committing suicide in antiquity than in the present. As in the case of Pomponius Atticus2 and many Greek and Roman philosophers. Because at present the opposite causes give rise to a contrary effect. A young person desires much and has nothing, does not even have what he needs to distract, divert, and deceive his desire, and to occupy his vital force, to employ it, give it an outlet. Hence more young people are suicides today than among the ancients, and not just than their young people only, but than young and old put together. The old person loses nothing through his old age, and little or less ardently and impetuously and frenziedly does he desire. Hence it is so rare a thing today for an old person to commit suicide, that it seems almost miraculous. And yet the young person who commits suicide, deprives himself of youth and renounces a life that he could promise himself would last [2989] for many years. The old person deprives himself of old age (good God, what sort of deprivation is that?) and renounces a few years or months of life. Nonetheless for a thousand young people who commit suicide there are scarcely any or even one old person today who does the same, and he, if he exists, will perhaps be as he is because of some extreme misfortune, in some circumstance in which life was already desperate, and in order to escape a still sadder death, and a certain one. But not even in the most extreme misfortune is it the custom for our old people voluntarily to have recourse to death. Apply these considerations to what I have said elsewhere [→Z 294 ff., 2643] on love of life in the old, love and a concern for life growing proportionately as increasing age reduces its value. (18 July 1823.)

  For p. 2870. Just as the French nation is, out of all those European nations that are called southern, the one that is most northern, whether in climate or in character, customs, etc. (see pp. 3252ff., 3400ff.), so too the French language is, out of all the daughters of Latin, that is to say, out of all the cultured southern languages, the one that is the most northern, both in the nature, harshness, etc., of its sounds, and in [2990] the propriety and character of its diction, form, structure, etc. And it may fairly be said that in both respects this language, like the nation that speaks it, occupies the middle ground, and is as it were a transitional step and link between the cultured southern and northern European languages. I refer to both aspects, that is to say, regarding its sounds and regarding its character.1 Which two things are always analogous and always correspond to each other, that is to say, the character of a perfect language is always consistent with the material sounds it employs. And the very variety to be found in the sounds of two languages of the same class, or of two languages of different classes (such as the northern and the southern), will always likewise be found in the character and nature of the same languages or classes, provided that they are perfect, and correspond well with the character of the nation, which always occurs when a language is perfectly developed, and without which a language, even if it is [2991] cultured, cannot have perfectly developed, or retain its true, fitting, natural, and proper character. (19 July 1823.)

  For p. 2974. On the subject of this verb urito [to burn], and on the verb quaerito [to search for] about which see extensively elsewhere [→Z 2200–204], and other similar verbs, the argument is as follows. See pp. 3060–61 and Mai’s grammatical notes on Cicero, De re publica, bk. 5, p. 18. The ancient Latins very frequently said s for r. See Forcellini under S and R, and under Quaeso. Therefore, since they said uso for uro, in the same way they said ussi for uri, the preterite perfect (doubling the s after the long vowel, on the use of which see Quintilian in Forcellini under S), and usitum for uritum which was probably the true supine of uro. Or even when they did not interchange s for r in the other parts of uro, they certainly did do so in the perfect, the supine, and the participle in us, so that since the regular perfect, the supine, and the participle were missing, all that remained in use were the above-mentioned ussi and usitus and usitum, though the latter is contracted to ustus and ustum, like positus‒postus, and like quaestus us and chiesto, quisto, etc., from quaesitus (for which see pp. 2894–95). [2992] Similarly from haereo [to adhere], haurio [to draw water, to drain] whether in ancient times they said haeseo hausio, or what you will, it is certain that in place of the regular haeri or haerui, haeritum haeritus, hauri or haurii or haurivi, hauritum, hauritus, they formed haesi, hausi hausitum hausitus, which remain today in place of the former, though hausitum and hausitus are contracted to haustum and haustus, precisely as usitus is to ustus. And they created haesitus in the same way, which no longer exists, but it is demonstrated by haesitare [to stick fast; to be uncertain], which regularly ought to be haeritare. Haesum, whence haesurus, etc., is either contracted differently or is anomalous, like haesi for haesui (or haerui), which was, however, found by Diomedes1 in some ancient writer or other (Forcellini, Haereo, end). You can say the same about hausum and hausus. But in confirmation of my argument, and of everything I say about continuatives of this sort, such as urito, quaerito, and also legito [to gather, to read], agito [to set in motion], and so many others which do not appear capable of being derived from participles, and in confirmation of what I argue elsewhere about ancient regular participles and supines, now lost, but demonstrated in part by continuatives and frequentatives, here in fact are [2993] haurivi or haurii, hauritu, hauriturus, hauritus (exactly like the lost uritus, whence uritare; the lost quaeritus, whence quaeritare, querido, chéri, etc.
) which also are used in place of hausi, haustu, hausturus (or, as in Virgil hausurus),1 haustus; although from authors who are in the main recent, because, as I said, the ancient pronunciation preferred the s. But the latter was indeed the regular pronunciation, and seeing it used by more modern and unrefined authors, and seeing how it is in line with ancient continuatives (such as urito, quaerito), which derive from it and from nowhere else, is a convincing argument that it was preserved constantly in the mouths of the populace, until it passed into the modern languages, since, e.g., querido chéri, etc., are none other than the regular original quaeritus for quaesitus, whence the ancient quaeritare proper to the Comic writers Plautus and Terence, which verb is testament to the existence of the participle mentioned, which while preserved in modern languages, is lost in Latin.

  In any case, I do not know, as I have said, whether the ancients also said uso, haeseo, hausio, etc., for [2994] uro, etc., in the same way as they said ussi, hausi, haesi, etc., for uri perfect, hauri or haurii, etc. I do know, however, that just as they said quaesii, quaesivi, quaesitus, quaesitum for quaerii, quaerivi, quaeritus, quaeritum which are completely lost, so they said quaeso for quaero, and that they pronounced the whole of that verb with the s as with the r, although the latter in many parts of quaero is not lost, on the contrary with the passage of time in those parts all that is left is the pronunciation of the r, and not of the s. The consequence is that lexicographers, etc., have made two verbs from quaero and quaeso, whereas they are a single verb, and that quaero is made anomalous (quaero is, sii or sivi, situm) and quaeso defective (quaeso is, ii, or ivi), when in reality the first (for the purpose of distinguishing them from each other, which we must not otherwise do) we can surmise as defective, and the second complete and entirely regular. But returning to our topic, this quaeso convinces me that they said haeseo, hausio as well, and this holds good for every other part; and so also for many other verbs about which we must say [2995] the same as we have about uro, haereo, haurio, quaero. (19 July 1823.)

  For p. 2893. Chiedere comes from quaerere, and is properly (though with a different meaning) the same as our chierere [to ask for, to require], just as the Italian defective verb fedire [to wound], whence fiedo, fiede, etc., comes from the Latin ferire, and properly is the same as our fierere or ferere, whence fiéro, fiére, fére (with the open e),1 etc., used by our ancients in some parts in place of the Italian ferire. See the Crusca and Buommattei, etc. (20 July 1823.)

  For p. 2891. Fischer in his preface to Weller’s Greek Grammar, Leipzig 1756, says that Homer’s pleonasms derive from the Hebrew language.2 Whatever the truth of this observation, it is certain that the pleonasm νόστιμον ἦμαρ [the day of return]3 and others like it, remarked on by me elsewhere [→Z 2890], and not noted by Fischer, may serve to explain many passages in the Scriptures in which the word day is merely part of a periphrasis, whence, [2996] e.g., in die irae tuae [in the day of your anger], simply means in ira tua [in your anger]; something which until now, as far as I know, has not been seen by commentators, who, e.g., think that dies means the day of judgment, etc. (20 July 1823.)

  For p. 2815. To this category of verbs (which perhaps could be called irregular continuatives, all of them, like viso is [to look at]) the following belong without doubt. Occupo [to take possession of] from ob and capio [to grasp, to contain]. See pp. 3006–3007. Obstino [to persist in] from ob and teneo [to hold], with the s inserted, as in ostendo [to show] which in ancient times must have been said as obstendo and have been the same as the more modern verb obtendo [to spread]. Nor is it to be wondered at that the preposition ob should be followed by an s in composition for propriety of language, or that in ancient times there also existed a preposition obs for ob; since in the same way we see ab and abs, and in composition always the preposition abs and not ab prefixing parts beginning with t. So too outside of composition, whenever the preposition a is not being used: so it is better to say, e.g., either a te, or abs te, not ab te [from you]. See Forcellini under A, ab, abs, and under Abs. See pp. 3001, end, 3696. Vellico [to pluck, to twitch] Forcellini calls a frequentative of vello [to pluck]. And he is right. Thus fodico [to dig, to pierce] from fodio [to dig], etc., albico [to make or to be white], nigrico [to be blackish], (biancheggiare) from albeo [to appear white], nigreo [to be black], or from nigro [to be black]. Usurpare [to take into use] is a frequentative or continuative from utor‒usus [to use]. Medico and medicor [to heal]. —See p. 3264 —nutrico and nutricor from nutrio is [to suckle, to nourish]: viridico [to become green], candico [to be white]. See p. 3695 and p. 4004. Returning to our subject it is quite clear [2997] that obstino, obstinatus comes from teneo, as also do pertinax, pertinacia [perseverance, obstinacy], etc., which belong to the same meaning. The e is changed to i precisely as in pertinax and in the ordinary compounds contineo, obtineo, etc. And it is noteworthy that whereas the other verbs of this category are formed, as I have said, from verbs of the third conjugation, this one, which undoubtedly belongs to this category and could not be more continuative in meaning, is formed from a verb of the second. See p. 3020. Aucupo [to watch for] and aucupor [to catch birds, to look out for] from avis [bird] and capio, like occupo, and like Nuncupo [to call by name] come from nomen and capio, unless they come from auceps aucupis [bird catcher] in their immediate derivation. Anticipo [to anticipate] from ante and capio. Participo from pars and capio, like anticipo, unless it comes from particeps cipis. Vociferor aris [to cry out] (perhaps also vocifero as) from vox [voice] and fero fers [to bear]. Opitulo and opitulor [to bring help] from ops [strength] and tuli, from fero, or from tollo [to lift] of which this perfect is perhaps properly part (see Forcellini under Tollo, end), or rather from the ancient tulo, tulis, tetuli, latum, third-conjugation verb, on which see Forcellini under tulo.

  [2998] In the event that opitulo was formed from the perfect tuli, that would not be without precedence in this category of verbs. Accubo [to lie near], etc., is from the perfect accubui of accumbo [to lie near]. Perhaps also participo, anticipo, and thus significo [to show], aedifico [to build], and the others discussed on pp. 2903ff. come from the perfects cepi, and feci of capio and facio, with the e changed to i by virtue of composition (as, e.g., in colligo [to gather together], corrigo [to set right], conspicio [to look at], etc. etc., from lego [to collect], rego [to keep straight], specio [to look at]) and a change of desinence; as a consequence of which, the root i of their stems is missing in those verbs, as it is missing in many parts formed from the perfects mentioned, e.g., cepero, feceram, etc. But I do not think this is the case, because auspico [to take the auspices] and suspico [to mistrust] which have the same form as significo, participo, etc., cannot come from the perfect of specio, which is spexi, unless one is to suppose an ancient and unknown speci, analogous to feci, jeci, etc.

  In any case the verbs from which the above-mentioned derive, also have their continuatives formed from participles, that is capto [to strive after] and tento [to handle, to try].

  Aspernor aris and asperno as [to disdain] (since aspernor is also found in a passive sense) from ad and sperno is [to spurn]. (20 July 1823.) Consterno, as, avi, atum [to perplex, to alarm, to stretch upon the ground] (Forcellini has a printing error stravi atum, as appears from the examples) from sterno is [to spread], and cum, or from consterno is [to bestrew]. Crepo as [to rattle, to creak], perhaps from crepo is. See Forcellini under Crepo, end. See p. 3234.

  [2999] For p. 2906. In the Aminta and in the Pastor fido, especially in the latter, the choruses have a superb effect, although they are too convoluted and seventeenth century in style, and are not introduced until the end of each act, to close it. But here they carry out the function which choruses performed in ancient times, that is to reflect on the events being represented, true or false, to praise virtue, to blame vice, and to leave the mind of the spectator concentrated in meditation and to consider broadly those things and those happenings which the actors and the rest of the drama cannot and must not represent except as particular and individual,
without judgments expressed, and without that philosophy which many foolishly put in the mouths of the characters themselves. This is the function of the chorus; with this it contributes both to the advantage and the benefit of the spectators which should be the outcome of dramas, and to the delight which arises from the indeterminacy of reflection, and from the circumstances and causes explained above. (21 July 1823.)

  [3000] It is very rare to find anyone who laughs at the truly ridiculous things in society or in individuals. And if anyone does, it’s hard to find a friend to back him up, and admit that he is right, or who even understands the reason for his laughter. For the most part men laugh at things which in effect are anything but ridiculous, and often they laugh at them precisely because they are not ridiculous. And they laugh at them all the more the less ridiculous they are. (21 July 1823.)

  For p. 2922, end. Sometimes we say to want also of animate things, of men too, but relatively to what does not depend on their will, or cannot depend on their will, or is even indeed contrary to their will; and we say it not only in jest, but even seriously, by virtue of the idiom which I have tried to illustrate. E.g., “so-and-so does not want to get well,” that is, “he is still not getting well,” and the verb to want is redundant. Here we must go back to a passage in Plato in the Sophist, ed. Ast, tome 2, p. 246, [3001] l. 7a,1 where οὐδέποτ' ἂν ἐθέλειν μαθεῖν is the same as οὐδέποτ' ἂν μαθεῖν, and is well translated by Ast as “nec numquam fore ut discat” [“would never be willing to learn”], where ἐθέλειν [to wish] is elegantly redundant. Unless we want to claim that in this passage it is equivalent to μέλλειν [to be about to], just like our to want in the cases specified above, and in that the conformity of our idiom with the Attic would be notable. (21 July 1823.)