Zibaldone

by Leopardi, Giacomo

  [4485] For p. 4429. Therefore if someone were to ask me, for example: “do you think that ἡμέρα [day] has anything to do with dies?” I would answer: “I do not know.” —“But why? when they do not have a single letter in common?” —“The same way dies and giorno,” I would reply, “do not have a single letter in common, and yet the latter is born of the former.”1 (6 April 1829.)

  Synizeses, diphthongs, etc. The Greek contractions and circumflexions, what else are they but synizeses, etc. etc.? (6 April 1829.)

  Penato for penante [suffering]. Crusca. Everyday speech in the Marche.

  ἴλλος [eye]–σίλλος [squint-eyed], with derivatives, etc. See Scapula, etc.

  Seccare [to bore], seccatore [a bore], etc. See Scapula under Σικχός [fastidious person], with derivatives.

  Merlo–merlotto [blackbird, simpleton]. Scricchiolare, scricchiolata [to creak, creaking].

  Rattenuto for cautious, etc. Affermi, mal affermi for fermo [firm], mal fermo [loose].

  “On the Essay on the single origin of the numbers and letters of all peoples, by Monsieur de Paravey, Paris 1826, three dissertations by Father Giacomo Bossi, Turin 1828, Stamperia Reale (sic), 8° of 103 pages.”2 (11 April [1829].)

  Someone who has traveled has this advantage: that the memories his sensations give rise to are very often of things that are distant, and therefore much more vague, capable of creating illusion, and poetic. Someone who has never moved will have memories of things that are distant in time, but never in place.3 As far as place is concerned (which is yet so important that it matters even more than the stage set in the theater),4 remembering will always be of things which are (so to speak) present, and therefore all the less vague, less capable of illusion, less subject to imagination and less pleasurable. (11 April 1829, Recanati.)

  Nature, obliged by the law of destruction and reproduction, and in order to preserve the present state of the universe, is essentially, regularly, and perpetually the persecutor and mortal enemy [4486] of all beings of every kind and species that it brings to life; and it begins to persecute them from the very moment in which it has produced them. This, being a necessary consequence of the present order of things, does not give a great idea of the intelligence of the being who is or was the author of such an order.1 (11 April [1829].)

  An idea and an example of the encyclopedic knowledge of the ancients (especially the Greeks), and their writing about every branch of knowledge, to which I have referred elsewhere [→Z 4238, 4294] can also be found in the writings of Cicero (between those that survive and those that are lost), who was an imitator of the Greeks in this as in so many other things. In many of his works (philosophical, rhetorical, etc.) he was not moved by any particular inspiration, ὁρμὴ, impulse, attraction toward those arguments, by any particular thought about them, but simply by the wish, the desire (which, however, death or business prevented him from satisfying) to complete the cycle (as Niebuhr described that of Aristotle’s works) of his writings on every encyclopedic doctrine, etc. See the preface to De officiis. (12 April 1829.)

  For p. 4473. Likewise our diminutive or pejorative or frequentative, etc., words with accio acciarea–uccio, ucciare (succiare–succhiare, for suggere [to suck]); azzo, azzare–uzzo, uzzare; aglio agliare–uglio ugliare (plebaglia, plebacula, [rabble] germoglio, germogliare [to germinate], etc.). All from the Latin acu–ucu–lus–a–um–lare; ulus, ulare. Spanish words in illo, illar, etc. (except perhaps a few), do not come from the Latin in illus (quantillus, tantillus, pusillus, tigillum, pulvillus, catilla, i.e., cagnuola [kennel]), illare (cantillare [to sing softly], etc.), nor do they have anything to do with it. The Greeks also have ιλλος, η, ον. Also French words in ache, acher (s’amouracher, amoraculari) [to fall head over heels in love], etc. See p. 4496. And in âche, etc.

  Italian frequentative or diminutive verbs and nouns. The verbs, all of the 1st conjugation. See the previous thought and its links before and after.

  Coccolone [cuddly person], penzolone [dangling], etc. etc. (13. Apr. [1829].)

  [4487] Oscillo as [to swing] frequentative. —Relevant to my thoughts [→Z 3003, 3558] on Latin verbs beginning in sus, because it comes from cillo and ob with s interposed. Thus oscillum [a swing], etc. See also Forcellini under obscenus; and under Obs … Os … Sus … Subs …

  For p. 4388. And yet we see that 3 centuries, more or less, after the introduction of Italian spelling, the pronunciation of those speaking it is still the same: here I am referring to those who speak it well, and whose pronunciation that form of spelling sought to represent. This means that a Tuscan today speaks and reads our language as it is printed in the better publications of the 16th century, and in the way that it was written at the time by correct writers, with the exception of the pointless h’s which were never pronounced, and other particulars which did not represent the pronunciation even of those days. Besides, if what Foscolo says were true [→Z 4383ff.], and if spelling on the other hand were always to remain fixed, without any concern about pronunciation, the spoken and the written language would quickly become 2 entirely distinct languages; and the difficulty in learning to read would be enormous, as it is already great for the French, English, etc., and immeasurably greater than for the Italians and Spanish. I do not know what kind of popularity this would be: the popularity of when the written language was Latin, and the spoken language was vernacular. The fact is that it was no reason, no principle of conserving stability, of etymology, that produced the dreadful and totally mistaken spelling of English, French, etc., but simply the ignorance and the incapacity of those who first put the vernacular language into writing, who wrote the language more (so to speak) in Latin than in English, etc.; and then not remedying this error in England, in France, etc. (as was [4488] done in Italy, Spain, etc.), but rather carrying on with it. The inconsistencies in our early spelling which Foscolo cites [→Z 4385–86] prove only the incapacity of those who first represented the word and the actual pronunciation at that time. (13 April [1829].)

  The true (and natural) perfection of spelling is that: (1) every sign should always be read in the same way as it is pronounced in the alphabet; (2) and in the alphabet it should express only one sound. (3) No character should be written which is not pronounced, nor any letter omitted that should be pronounced. (13 April [1829].)

  For p. 4439. Whenever I have found myself habitually scorned and vilified by people, any time I had occasion to feel some emotion or surge of enthusiasm, imagination, or compassion, as soon as some impulse stirred within me, it was extinguished. Analyzing what I experienced on such occasions, I found that what invariably extinguished any impulse within me was always an unavoidable glance that I cast upon myself, confusedly, without even being aware of it. And that, no less confusedly, I would say: “so what, what does this matter to me (the beauty of nature, a poem I was reading, the sufferings of others), I who am nothing, who does not exist in the eyes of the world?” See p. 4492. And this would be the end of it all, and make me the horribly apathetic being I have been for a long time. So it can be seen that the essential and necessary basis for compassion—even apparently the purest, the most remote from any relation to our personal state, past or present, and from every comparison with it—is always our self.1 And certainly without the feeling and awareness of one’s own being and a certain value in the world, it is impossible ever to experience compassion, even entirely excluding all thought or sense of any personal special misfortune, in which case the matter is clear, and quite different from what I am describing. And compassion always relates directly to the said [4489] feeling and awareness, as to its essential basis, even though the person feeling compassion is not aware of it, and deep and intimate observation is necessary in order to discover it. What is said about the weak, who are not compassionate, forms part of this observation of mine, which however is more general, and explains the matter differently. What I say about the feeling of oneself, and personal consideration and esteem, is also true with regard to hope.
He who has no hope, feels nothing, and has no compassion, he also says: “what does life matter to me?” Do something considerate for someone who is despised; give him some hope, some good news; then give him an opportunity to feel, to have compassion; and look, he will feel and show compassion. I have experienced (and continue to experience) these alternations of cause and effect, each always responding to the other: present or momentary alternations, and habitual alternations which last for several months, such as moving from a large city to live in this unhappy town, and vice versa. My character, and my power of imagination and sensitivity, both completely change in these transmigrations. (Recanati, 14 April, Tuesday in Holy Week, 1829.)

  Possibilis from possitum, in the way that I have shown elsewhere [→Z 3757ff.] from the formation with bilis from the supines: new proof of the supine situm of these. (14 April [1829].)

  Lattato for latteo [milk-white]. And other similar adjectives of color.

  Lacteolus for lacteus [milk-white], adjective. See Forcellini under aureolus [golden], argenteolus [silvery], etc., and other adjectives of color.

  Is the ancient bito [to go] a continuative of vio as? [to walk] whence viator [traveler], viaticus [for a journey],1 etc.

  Vinciglio [willow tie] (vinculum), avvincigliare (avvinculare, or else avvinchiare, avvinghiare).

  [4490] Romoreggiare [to make a noise]. Pavoneggiare [to show off]. Atteggiare [to express an attitude]. Veleggiare [to sail].

  Our favorare [to favor] appears to be attested by the Latin favorabilis, favorabiliter, in line with what I said elsewhere [→Z 3757ff., 3825–26] about the formation in bilis from the supines of verbs. And likewise an infinite number of other words, on the basis of similar evidence of all kinds, whether or not generally known. And everyday observation certainly confirms that endless other vernacular words, and roots, etc., which have not survived in known Latin, and whose derivation we do not know, and we seek perhaps in the north, etc., are purely and simply Latin (Latin which is written or only spoken, I mean nonliterary Latin). Borghesi has found in stone inscriptions (and this must be in the new edition of Forcellini) the word drudus i,1 (17 April, Good Friday, 1829) whose origin, as well as the word itself, no one would have sought in ancient Latin. (18 April [1829].)

  Babil [chatter], babiller, babillard, etc. Gaspiller [to waste, to squander], gaspillage, etc. Gazouiller [to twitter], etc. PlumAsserie [feather trade], plumAssier.

  Observito as [to observe].

  Beccare–bezzicare [to peck]. Piccare–pizzicare [to prick]. Piovizzicare [to rain lightly] (Marche dialect), and pioviccicare (id.). Piluccare–spilluzzicare [to nibble]. Appiccare—appicciare, appiccicare [to attach].

  Scioperato [idle], désoeuvré. Homme répandu. (Rousseau, Pensées, 1, 202.) Dissipé.

  Erto (erectus) [erect], adjectival participle.

  Perdonare, pardonner, perdonar [to pardon], word with an entirely Latin and ancient form and appearance: per, omnino, penitus, ad extremum [totally], as in pereo [to perish], perdo [to destroy], perimo [to take away wholly], perdomo [to subjugate], perduro [to resist], etc. etc., and donare, that is, condonare [to condone].

  The participles of neuter verbs, etc., in us are confirmed by those of corresponding form and meaning, which have the same verbs in Italian, French, Spanish.

  We find very many phrases in Scripture to be extremely poetic, and we love to repeat them, even though we do not understand their meaning or indeed the relationship those words have between each other (such as the abomination of desolation, etc. etc.),2 and this is due to that vagueness, and because we are unable to explain them precisely to ourselves, and we have only a very confused and general understanding of what they mean. (19 April, Easter.)

  [4491] Amitié [friendship], amistà, amistad–amicitas, in unattested Latin. See Forcellini, Glossary, etc. Thus nimistà [enmity], etc.

  Another circumstance which changes the character alternately, is moving from a large city to a small one, from an unfamiliar city to one’s hometown, and vice versa. The character of the former is more frank, open, benevolent; in the latter it is the opposite, because of the clash of interests, envy among acquaintances, self-love continually being hurt, etc. My own experience, etc. Therefore, for these and many other reasons (see my “Discourse on the present-day customs of the Italians”),1 private individuals are generally more decent in large cities than in small places, etc. etc. Thought to be much expanded and explained. (19 April, Easter, 1829.) See p. 4520.

  For p. 4462. Not even in relation to social life would it be possible to believe that all of the qualities of mankind are destined by nature to be developed. I leave aside those qualities which are bad (as we say) and visibly harmful to society (which are infinite): but not even those which are good and useful. In relation to talents, see Rousseau, Pensées, part 1, p. 197, end, and p. 198, Amsterdam 1786.2 (19 April 1829.)

  ContinUo–continOvo [continual], with derivatives and other similar words.

  ManUale–manOvale, MantUa–MantOva.

  Another obstacle to the lasting fame of great writers is their imitators, who might seem to enhance it. By hearing imitations, the idea, or certainly the sense, of the originality of the model disappears. Petrarch, who was so imitated that every single phrase has been heard a thousand times, when you read him, seems himself to be an imitator. His many little thoughts, so full of grace or sensibility, those many beautiful expressions, etc., enclosing a thought or a feeling, which were new and his own, now seem so trivial, because they are in fact completely common.3 It happens to inventors in literature and things of the imagination as it does to inventors in the sciences and [4492] philosophy: their discoveries become ordinary all the more easily and quickly, the more merit they have. (20 April 1829.)

  “L’on n’est heureux qu’avant d’être heureux” [“We are only happy before being happy”]. Rousseau, Pensées, 1, 204.1 In other words, through hope.

  “La seule raison n’est point active; elle retient quelquefois, rarement elle excite, et jamais elle n’a rien fait de grand” [“Reason by itself is not active at all; sometimes it holds back, occasionally it spurs on, and never has it done anything great”]. Ibid., 207.2

  FamUlus [servant], etc.—famIlia [family], etc.

  Follīco as [to pant].

  Foetus a um [pregnant], clearly a participle without a known verb. See Forcellini. From foetus foeto as [to lay an egg], clear continuative of the original verb. Effoetus, etc. [having given birth].

  Fabula [story], fabulor [to tell a story], etc.—favella, favellare: diminutives, etc. Prezzolare [to hire].

  Is not our ancient fante for a talking being—and from here to mean man, with its diminutives, such as fanciullo (i.e., little man) which is still in use, without the force and etymology being understood, fantoccio [puppet], etc. etc.—obviously the ancient fans [talking], from for [to talk], which has been lost or become disused in writing; as testified also by in-fans [speechless, infant], and with almost the same meaning? See Forcellini, Glossary, etc., and Foscolo on Pindemonte’s Odissey3 (21 April). Even today, the people of the Marche region (great preservers of Latin) say un lesto fante [someone smart], etc., in jest.

  Tympanus–timballo [kettledrum], diminutive. See the French, Spanish.

  Remembering the past, a state, a way of life, any place you have lived, even a very tedious, lonely one, is painful when it is thought of as passed, finished, which is no longer, will no longer be, fuit [was].4 I have said this elsewhere [→Z 644–45, 4278–79] about saying goodbye even to people we feel indifferently about, etc. (21 April 1829.)

  Specio [to watch]—speculor [to scout, to spy].

  For p. 4488. And again: “who am I to form noble thoughts, when everyone sees me as a good-for-nothing?” The first foundation of any noble, great, sublime imagining or feeling (and such are poetic and sentimental [4493] feelings of any kind, including those that are sweet, tender, pathetic, etc.: all uplift the soul) is the conception of one’s own nobility and dignity. Indeed the power and the eff
ectiveness of these imaginings and feelings, both habitual and momentary, are always proportionate to this conception, both habitual and momentary. Every poetic feeling or thought whatsoever is, in some way, sublime. There is no such thing as a poetic that is not sublime. Beauty, and its moral feeling, is always sublime. At that moment when we find ourselves habitually or momentarily scorned by those around us, the conception of our own nobility seems ridiculous, is painfully rejected as a lost illusion.1 Consequently, in such cases, the experience of that half-temptation to feel, etc., is painful, because it brings back to you the thought of your abjection. Certainly, it is proper to and the essential effect of every imagining and feeling of a poetic nature to uplift the soul: to which that state of disdain, etc., that conception, that feeling about itself which depresses it, is directly opposed. (22 April 1829, Recanati.) See pp. 4499, 4515.

  Indulgence in large cities toward those who are mediocre in whatever way, and toward the defects and absurdities (of any kind) of these and of eminent people (defects which are pardoned by reason of their qualities, and also by the company these people provide) is much greater than in small towns; exactly the contrary to what is generally thought, etc. etc.2 (23 April [1829].)