It seems therefore that the epic poem, indeed the heroic national drama, of whatever kind, whether classical or romantic, is almost impossible in modern literature. The defect noted by Niebuhr in relation to the Aeneid, is shared by modern epics, by the Goffredo3 in particular. Better, in this respect, is the Lusiads; this composition, though very recent, also had much popular poetry, due to its great distance, which is equivalent [4476] to antiquity, especially as it describes regions very different to our own, and obscure. Better still the Henriade, whose protagonist lived on in the memory of the people not really as a hero but as a popular prince.
Apart from this, I doubt whether those traditions described by Niebuhr can exist except in times of less than middling civilization (such as those of Homer, of the Romans under the kings, of the bards, or medieval times) when people believed the tales of wonder told about antiquity, and the modern soon becomes ancient. But in days of mature civilization, such as those of Virgil and our own, the ancient, on the contrary, becomes a kind of modern, and even among the people the only legends are the ones told to children, there are none for adults of any kind, not just heroic, and there is no place for other poems based on popular stories, except for those like the Malmantile.1 (29 March 1829.) The outcome of these observations would seem to be that, of the 3 main kinds of poetry, the only one that truly remains to the moderns is the lyric; (and perhaps what is done and experienced by modern poets would be evidence); the genre which, as it was the first in time, so it is proper to mankind in perpetuity, in every time and every place, like poetry itself; which from the beginning consisted in this genre alone, one that is almost indistinguishable from it, and is the most truly poetic of all kinds of poetry, which are not poetry, except insofar as they are lyrical. (29 March 1829.) —And also [4477] in this situation of having only lyric poetry, our age is moving closer to primitive times. —In any event, what is true of epic and dramatic poetry is also true of history. What interest, what impression, what effect would there be upon the people of Milan, of Florence, or of Rome if a new Herodotus were to come and read them the history of Italy? (30 March [1829].)
For p. 4418. Here also, as in so many other aspects of our life, the means are worth more than the ends.1 (29 March 1829.)
Happiness can be wholly defined and said to consist in contentment with one’s own state. For any degree of well-being, however great, by which the living being was not satisfied would not be happiness, nor would it be true well-being; and, vice versa, any degree of good, however small, by which the living being was satisfied would be a state that was perfectly fitting to that being’s nature, and a state that was happy. Now contentment with one’s own way of being is incompatible with self-love, as I have demonstrated [→Z 4191–92]; for the living being always of necessity desires a better state, a greater degree of good. That is why happiness is impossible in nature, and by its own nature. (30 March 1829.)
For p. 4366. Hence the dryness, the absence of interest, the tedium of allegorical novels, stories, poems, such as Gozzi’s Mondo morale, the Tablet of Cebes,2 etc. I am not referring to the personifications and allegorical entities introduced as devices into poems such as the Henriade,3 because the poet shows that he truly believes in them, in the same way as he would other fabulous or fictitious entities, human or superhuman, etc. (30 March 1829.)
Piombato, plombé (of the color of lead), for plumbeo [leaden].
Dépiter [to upset], se dépiter [to be upset].
Vouloir for potere [to be able] and for dovere [to be obliged]. See Alberti under vouloir, end.
“Popular errors of the ancients.”4 —I will refer to those errors which existed, or can be thought to have existed, among the ordinary people and that sort of people [4478] who are considered in all nations to belong to the populace, not those errors which the people shared with wise men, and much less those to be found among wise men themselves, a subject that would be boundless. The errors of the wise, ancient and modern, are innumerable. “On ne s’égare point parce qu’on ne sait pas, mais parce qu’on croit savoir” [“One is misled, not because one does not know, but because one thinks one knows”] Rousseau, Pensées, 2, 219. See p. 4502.1 The people have few errors, because they know few things, with little presumption to know. What is more, nature—by which I mean simple, virgin, and uncultivated reason—is very often a more reliable judge than wisdom, that is, cultivated and learned reason. And therefore it is not uncommon that the opinions of ordinary people and children upon many matters are better or more reasonable than those of the wise, and it is not too bold to say that generally, in speculative matters and in all things the knowledge of which does not depend on observation and concrete experience, the ancient philosophers strayed less than modern philosophers do from the truth, or the semblance of truth; except insofar as the moderns, whether deliberately or unwittingly, have returned in these matters to the ancient way.2 (31 March 1829.)
The dogma regarding the envy of the Gods toward men, well known in Homer, and especially in Herodotus and his contemporaries, seems to be of eastern origin, or spread mainly in the east. For it holds to the doctine of the evil principle, and to those ideas which represented divinities as evildoing and terrifying. Such doctrine and ideas were alien to Greek religion in the times of Homer and Herodotus, as I have observed elsewhere [→Z 3638–43]. This is the origin of the sacrifices and penances, so common in the east, yet almost unknown in Greece. The act of Polycrates of Samos (in Herodotus) who throws his ring into the sea in order to bring misfortune upon himself, is none other than a penance.3 (31 March 1829.)
[4479] This was his way of joking about his own poetry: “he used to say that he was a follower of Christopher Columbus, his fellow citizen; he wanted to find a new world or drown.” Chiabrera’s Life.1 This claim, today, sounds like boasting and makes us laugh. What great courage, what great originality in Chiabrera’s poetry. A modicum of Pindar imitation, instead of the imitation of Petrarch followed at that time by all the so-called lyric poets. And yet so it is: at the time this originality seemed the very top, really daring, it had a great effect. Today it doesn’t seem much, and all the daring and originality there is in Faust or Manfred is barely enough to make an impression. —Could be useful for a “Discourse on Romanticism.”2 (1 April 1829.)
“The imagination has such a power upon man” (says Villemain, Cours de littérature française, Paris 1828 in the Antologia, no. 97, p. 125, in relation to the general enthusiasm aroused by the Ossian songs when they appeared, and also now), “its pleasures are so necessary to him, that even in the midst of the skepticism of a society grown old, he is prepared to abandon himself to them every time they are offered to him with some air of novelty.”3 —Very true. The success of Lord Byron’s poems, Werther, the Genius of Christianity, Paul and Virginia, Ossian,4 etc., are other examples. And so it can be seen that when they say that poetry is not made for this century, it is truer of authors than of readers.5 (1 April 1829.)
For p. 4470. Those διαλέξεις [discourses], false as they are, which, though not dating from the earliest times, are nevertheless ancient (Orelli, with whom however I disagree, in the notes, p. 633, believes them to be earlier than Pyrrho and the Skeptics; and in the preface to the volume, written after the notes, p. X, suggests they are little after the philosopher Chrysippus, [4480] indeed, at p. XI he suspects that they are earlier than Chrysippus and Plato himself; though he recognizes them without doubt to be false in the notes, and the work of a sophist in the preface: and Visconti, Museo Pio-Clementino, tome 3, p. 97 Milan ed.,1 in his notes on the image of Sextus of Chaeronea, a philosopher during the time of the Antonines, makes them “older by several centuries”—Orelli—than the said Sextus), may nevertheless be useful in giving us an idea of early ancient Greek prose, about which we inevitably know so little. This is because that falsifier, in order to simulate antiquity, judged it appropriate to use a language of that form. In the fragments, both moral and political, and both mathematical and physical, which carry the n
ame of Archytas the Pythagorean (about which I am uncertain whether they are by Archytas, Orelli, preface, p. XI, or by which Archytas, ibid., p. 672; but in many of them I think I see certain characteristics and signs of great antiquity), the art of expressing thought in prose is no longer babyish, nor is it yet adult, but still almost a child. There is a certain wandering about, often getting muddled, straining (sweating) to be understood, to lay out and put together the clauses and sentences. (2 April 1829.)
Stentato, stentatamente [with difficulty], etc.
For p. 4438. And what else but diaskeuasis [revision] was that whereby entire books, or passages and fragments by Greek authors, were translated from the dialect in which they were originally written into ordinary spoken Greek, and sometimes also into some other dialect? (Orelli, ibid., tome 2, p. 720, end), something that happened very frequently. Thus the modern editor of the book περὶ τῆς τοῦ παντὸς φύσεως [on the nature of everything] whose author is named as Ocellus Lucanus, Rudolph (Rudolphus), believes that book *“was translated from Doric into the common dialect”* (Orelli, ibid. p. 670, end; p. 671, line 9):2 and in fact, whatever the authenticity of that book, which is certainly suspect (Orelli, ibid.; Niebuhr, Roman History, etc.) and which Rudolph tries hard to uphold against Meiners (who challenges it in Geschichte der Wissenschaften in Griechenland und Rom),3 it is certain that while the book is now read in ordinary language, there are certain passages in Stobaeus (including the citation of the title of this book) in Doric dialect. (*“There is still in existence a complete book περὶ τοῦ παντὸς φύσιος [on the nature of everything], however not in Doric dialect, as it had originally been written by Ocellus as can be clearly seen from the fragments preserved by Stobaeus, but translated into the common language by some Grammarian, in order to make it more easily understood by readers … The passages from this book by Ocellus can be found in Stobaeus, Physical eclogues, pp. 44–45” (bk. 1, ch. 24, ed. Canter). “See also p. 59.”* —Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, tome 1, pp. 510ff.4 (2 April 1829.) Thus in the anthologies of Stobaeus, of Antonius and of Maximus, and especially in these last two, many fragments of various authors are changed from the Ionic, or from another of the Greek dialects, into common language. (Orelli, ibid., p. 729, [4481] no. 6, and tome 1, p. 114, line 26, p. 515, lines 14–16, etc.) (2 April 1829, Recanati.)
“Hatred toward our fellows.” “Moral etiquette.” “Humanity of the ancients.”1 —What is the origin of that phenomenon which is so incontrovertible, so universal without exception: that it is impossible to watch keen pleasure experienced by others (not only men, also animals), especially when not taking part in it, without feeling an irresistible sense of pain, anger, disgust, nausea? —pleasures both moral and physical. —sexual pleasures, unbearable to see in others, whether humans or animals: unbearable also for animals, whether in those of their own species, or others. —Why is it so unpleasant in nature to watch the pleasure of others? —Della Casa, in his Galateo, advises against eating or drinking in the company or presence of others and showing too much pleasure.2 Cleobulus in Laertius, noted by me elsewhere [→Z 206], advises that one should not caress one’s wife in the presence of others. See next page. —When it comes to women in general, when it comes to seduction, the phenomenon is very well known: not only the sight of other people’s successes, but also the talk, the boasting, is insufferable. “Il y a toujours dans les succès d’un homme auprès d’une femme quelque chose qui déplaît, même aux meilleurs [4482] amis de cet homme” [“Even to his best friends, there is always something displeasing in a man’s success with a woman”]. Corinne, bk. 10, ch. 6, tome 2, p. 161, 5th ed., Paris 1812. —This may also be of use for the “Moral etiquette” —and the “Treatise on human feelings.”1 (3 April 1829.) —and for the thought on eating alone, especially in relation to servants [→Z 4275–76], etc.
For the previous page (see Orelli, Opuscola Graecorum moralia, tome 1, p. 138, and notes)2 and today too this is a part of universal, and almost natural, good manners. (3 April 1829.)
From the previous thought it is apparent (and experience proves it) that true friendship rarely exists or lasts between young people, despite the openness, enthusiasm, etc., of that age. And there are other reasons too. Friendship is much easier between a young person and an old or experienced person. —Hatred toward fellow creatures, which every living creature feels toward every other living creature, is greater toward those of the same species, and is all the greater within the same species the more another individual is similar to you. —According to the Jews in one of their books of various precepts and sayings (said to be translated from the Arabic, but probably of Jewish composition in fact) (Orelli, Opuscola graecorum moralia, tome 2, Leipzig 1821, preface, p. XV), one wise man, to another who says: “I am your friend,” replies “what reason can there be for your not being my friend, since you are not of my religion, nor my neighbor, nor a relative, nor someone who looks after me?” (sentence 269, Apophthegmata Ebraeorum et Arabum, published by Johannes Drusius, Franeker 1651). “Quodam dicente, Amo te, Cur, inquit, me non amares? Non enim es ejusdem mecum religionis, nec propinquus meus, nec vicinus, nec ex iis, qui me alunt.”3 Orelli, ibid., pp. 506–507. (4 April 1829.)
The most certain way of concealing the limits of your knowledge is never to exceed them. (4 April 1829.)
Moestus [mourning, sad] from moereo [to grieve] (moeritus, moesitus, moestus, like torreo–tostus, questus, quaestus, etc.) (1) participle in us with a neuter and present meaning. (2) adjectivized participle. (3) no longer recognized as a participle. See Forcellini, etc. (4 April [1829]). Unless it is from maereor [to grieve].
[4483] For p. 4437 (where the continual grammatical error and stammering comes from the authors being foreign, non-Greek Hellenizers, or from affecting non-Greek language, imitation of the scriptural language of the LXX,1 etc.).
Imperfect indicative for the subjunctive. Se io sapeva (avessi saputo) questo, non andava (non sarei andato) [If I had known, I would not have gone], etc. “Ch’ogni altra sua voglia / Era” (sarebbe stata) “a me morte, ed a lei infamia rea” [“For any other will of hers would have been death to me, and ill fame to her”]. Petrarch, Canzone “Vergine bella.”2 Also the pluperfect. S’io era ito, etc., non mi succedeva, etc. [If I had gone, etc., it would not have happened, etc.]. And in French si j’étais (if I were), etc. etc. —Pure Grecism. (4 April 1829.)
The Greeks also had books of Mémoires secrets. These included the Anecdota or Secret history by Procopius, and others mentioned by Fabricius in this respect. See Bibliotheca Graeca, tome 6, p. 253 ff., and especially p. 255, note n. (4 April 1829.)
Synizeses. Diphthongs, etc. Deesse disyllabic. Caesar in Donatus, Vita Terentii.
For p. 4415. “εἵνεκ' ἀοιδῆς / ῝Ην νέον ἐν δέλτοισιν ἐμοῖς ἐπὶ γούνασι θῆκα” “gratia carminis / Quod nuper in libellis meis” (better mea, i.e., genua) “super genua posui” [“on account of the song which recently I have put in my writing tablets on my knees”]. Batrachomyomachia, ll. 2–3.3 Yet the Batrachomyomachia is a parody of Homer. Aeschylus was from the 5th century BCE, born around 525. (4 April 1829.) *“the Δέλτοι were writing materials which were folded in the form of the letter Δ; afterward the term came to mean any sort of book.”* Scapula.
Interest in the epic, in drama, is not created from its national character, but from what is known, familiar. If there are ancient or foreign events and people who are better known, more familiar, more memorable (as in fact they are) than national and modern events and people, indeed if national events and people are unfamiliar and unknown, the consequence is clear in terms of choice of subjects, if the aim is to give pleasure. Our national figures are the Greeks, the Romans, the Jews, etc., with whom we have lived since we were children.4 (5 April, Passion Sunday, 1829.) But if the aim is to be useful, it is another matter. In that event, however, we should not forget the words of Madame de Staël (Corinne, bk. 7, ch. 2): “Il” (Alfieri) “a v
oulu marcher par la littérature à un but politique: ce [4484] but était le plus noble de tous sans doute; mais n’importe, rien ne dénature les ouvrages d’imagination comme d’en avoir un” [“He” (Alfieri) “sought to achieve a political objective by means of literature: this objective was no doubt the noblest of all; but there is no way out of it, nothing so perverts a work of imagination as having an objective”]. (5th edition, Paris 1812, tome 1, p. 317.)
“Popular errors of the ancients.”1 I will describe these errors with a light touch, as a historian, without philosophizing about each of them and about the subject matter to which they belong, which would be an endless task and would require not a mere Essay, but a major Treatise. In this century, because of philosophy, and because of the liaison [linkage] which all areas of knowledge have developed between themselves, every tiny subject becomes vast with the greatest of ease. When a writer intends to produce a book, it is all the more necessary that he must know how to limit himself, that he take diligent care to circumscribe the argument, both in the minds of readers and especially in his own intention, and that he impose on himself an obligation not to exceed the terms established. (A person who cannot circumscribe, cannot work: setting limits is part of the skill of intelligent minds, and is more difficult than it seems. See p. 4450, paragraph 6.) Otherwise it follows either that every book on every tenuous argument becomes an encyclopedia, or more easily and more frequently, that an author, frightened and confused by the vastness of every subject that arises, by the multitude of ideas which emerge from each of them, loses heart, and no longer has the courage to undertake any project. This is all the more likely to happen the more knowledgeable and more intelligent the person is, that is, the more capable he is of writing books. (6 April 1829.) —I do not presume to give instruction with this book, I would like only to give delight.
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