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697 pages
First published January 1, 1832
Friend: I have read your book. Melancholy in your usual manner.
Tristan: Yes, in my usual manner.
Friend: Melancholy, disconsolate, desperate: one can see you think this life is a hideous business.
Tristan: What can I say? I had this mad idea in my head, that human life was unhappy.
Friend: Unhappy it may be, but when all is said and done . . .
Tristan: No no, it is really very happy. I have changed my mind now. But when I wrote the book I had that madness in my head, as I told you. And I was so convinced of it, that I would have expected anything, rather than to hear doubt expressed upon the observations that I made on the subject, as it seemed to me that the understanding of every reader would surely bear prompt witness to every one of them. I imagined only that a dispute might arise as to the benefit or damage to be wrought by those observations, m but never as to the truth of them: indeed I believed that my mournful sayings, since they were common woes, would find an echo in the heart of everyone who listened to them. And then hearing myself contradicted, not on any particular propositions, but on the lot, and hearing it said that life is not unhappy, and that if it seemed so to me, it must be the result of infirmity, or of dose other misfortune peculiar to myself, at first I was astonished, stupefied, motionless as a stone and for some days I thought I must be in another world. —The Dialogue of Tristan and a Friend
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But our destiny, wheresoever it may lead, is to be followed with a spirit strong and great a thing above all demanded of your talents, and of those who resemble you. [After the long drawn-out and deliberately pedantic discourse, in which the ‘gentle irony’ is plain enough in view of Leopardi’s hectic rage to live and to do something of lasting value in this world, this ending embodies all that he really wanted to say. Fame is (apart from love) the last illusion left to us, but these illusions are, as the reader already knows, the only things we have that speak of life, rather than death. And so we must embrace them. It is a point at which his all too well-known negative and pessimistic way of thinking becomes, by opposition, positive, and an aid to living; and therefore, in Leopardi’s sense, ‘moral’.] —Parini or Concerning Fame, Ch. 12, and [Note]
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I think I had not yet lost the ability to be happy. —Dialogue of Torquato Tasso and his Guardian Spirit
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Having read the Zibaldone, I came across mention of Leopardi's dialogues as being his thoughts and ideas more refined and finished than they are in the former.
I must disagree. I have yet to read his final work, the Pensieri, but, being as short as it is, I have no doubt that the Zibaldone remains the summation of Leopardi's thought; In my opinion, the Operatte merely hints here and there at the profound, nuanced, and developed thoughts and ideas which are to be found in the Zibaldone.
There is one good reason to read this work then; if you are still unsure whether or not to work through the 4000+ pages of Leopardi's thoughts (and whether or not you can handle his notorious pessimism), two dialogues in this work would be worth your time to go through:
The Memorable Sayings of Fillips Ottonieri is essentially thought after thought as in the Zibaldone, but not as expansive, and more compressed. The final one, The Dialogue of Tristan and a Friend, will be an aid in determining if one can truly handle Leopardi's pessimism, and live to tell about it . . .At other times I have envied the fatuous and the stupid, and those who have a great opinion of themselves; and I would willingly have traded lives with one of them. Now I no longer envy the foolish or the wise, the great or the small, the weak or the mighty. I envy the dead, and only with them would I change places. Every pleasant fancy every thought of the future, which I have, as happens, in my solitude, and with which I pass the time, resides in death, and cannot evade it. Not in this longing do the memory or the dreams of youth, and the thought of having lived in vain, any longer trouble me, as once they did. If I obtain death, I shall die as peaceful and contented, as if I had never hoped for or longed for anything else in the world. This is the only blessing that can reconcile me to my destiny. And if I were to be offered on the one hand the fame and fortune of Caesar, or of Alexander free from all stain, and on the other to die today, and I had to choose, I would say die today, and take no time to decide.
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I have to tell you that even in my earliest youth, with little experience, I was convinced and clear about the vanity of life, and the folly of men; who fighting continually amongst themselves to acquire pleasures which give no delight, and possessions which do them no good; putting up with and justifying to one another infinite cares and infinite evils, which weary them and in fact are harmful; find themselves further and further from happiness the more they seek it. For these reasons, having put aside every other desire, I determined, without giving trouble to anyone else, without attempting in any way to advance my own fortunes, and not contending with others for any worldly possessions, to live a quiet and obscure life. (The Dialogue of Nature and an Icelander)
Tasso: What you say is true, alas. But don’t you think it’s a great fault in women: that when it comes to the test, they turn out so different from what we imagined them to be?
Spirit: I can’t see that it’s their fault, being made of flesh and blood, and not of ambrosia and nectar., What is there in all the world with even the shadow of a thousandth part of the perfection you think ought to be in women? And in fact it seems odd to me, that as you are not surprised that men are men, which is to say not very laudable or lovable creatures; you cannot bring yourself to understand how it happens, that women are not really angels. (The Dialogue of Torquato Tasso and his Guardian Spirit)
But let it be said by way of parenthesis. Returning to our subject, I say that those writings which come closest to perfection have this attribute, that they usually please more on a second reading than on the first. The opposite occurs in the case of many books composed with but middling art and diligence, though not lacking in some outward and evident merit; which, read again, fall below the opinion which a man formed of them at first reading. But when both are read only once, they sometimes deceive even scholars and experts, so that the best are placed below the mediocre ones. (Parini, or Concerning Fame)
And as for those who, although sufficiently instructed in that erudition which today we might call a necessary part of culture, do not profess to be scholars or writers, and read only as a pastime, you well know that they are not capable of enjoying more than a fraction of the excellence of books: and this, apart from what we said above, also for another reason, which I have yet to state. It is that these people look for nothing in what they read but present pleasure. (Parini, or Concerning Fame)
I think rather the opposite, and believe the saying, that the world gets worse as it grows older. The situation of outstanding men would seem to me better, if they could appeal to their precursors who, in Cicero’s opinion, were not inferior in number to the men of the future, and in virtue were far superior. (Parini, or Concerning Fame)
Replying to someone who asked him, what was the worst moment in human life, he said: except for times of grief, as also of fear, I for my part am inclined to believe the the worst moments re those of pleasure: because the hope for and remembrance of these moments, which fill the rest of life, are better and far sweeter than the delights themselves. (The Memorable Sayings of Filipo Ottonieri)
. . . take delight in the green countryside, in the broad and lovely vistas, in the splendour of sunshine, in the crystalline sweet air . . . (In Praise of Birds)
In conclusion, just as Anacreon lounged to be able to change himself into a. Mirror, to be gazed at continuously by the one he loved, or into a petticoat to cover her, or an ointment to anoint her, or water to wash her, or a fillet, that she might bind him to her bosom, or a pearl to be worn at her throat, or into a shoemaker’s, that she might at least press him with her foot similarly I would like, for a little while, to be transformed into a bird, to experience the joy and contentment of their life. (In Praise of Birds)
Philosophy ought to be rooted out from the earth. I and not unaware that the ultimate conclusion to be drawn from true and perfect philosophy, is that we need not philosophise. From which we infer that, in the first place, philosophy is useless, for in order to refrain from philosophising, there is no need to be a philosopher; in the second place it is exceedingly harmful, for that ultimate conclusion is not learnt except at one’s own cost, and once learnt, cannot be put into effect; as it is not in the power of men to forget the truths they know, and it is easier to rid oneself of any habit before that of philosophising. Philosophy in short, groping and promising at the beginning to cure our ills, is in the end reduced to longing in vain to heal itself. (The Dialogue of Timander and Eleander)
The human race, which has believed and will go on believing so many idiocies, will never believe either that its knows nothing, or that it is nothing, or that it has nothing to hope for. No philosopher who taught any one of these things, would have success or get a following, especially among ordinary people: for, beside the fact that all three are little suited to anyone who wishes to live, the first two hurt men’s pride, while the third, and indeed the other two as well, deemed courage and strength of mind, to be held as beliefs. And men are cowardly, weak, narrow and ignoble in spirit; always ready to hope for the best, because always given to changing their opinion of what is good according to how necessity governs their lives. (The Dialogue of Tristan and a Friend)
I observe that as the wish to learn increases, the wish to study declines. And it is an astonishing thing to count the number of learned men, and I mean truly learned, who were all living at the same time a hundred and fifty years ago, and even later and to see how it was immeasurably greater than at the present time. Nor let it be said that learned men are few because knowledge in general is no longer concentrated in certain individuals, but spread over many and that the ab undone of the latter makes up for the rarity of the former. Knowledge is not like wealth, which may be divided or amassed together, and always comes to the same sum,. When everyone knows a little, well then, little is known; for knowledge is built on knowledge, and cannot be scattered here and there. Superficial education can be, not intact divided amongst many, but is common to many unlearned persons. The rest of knowledge belongs only to those who are very learned indeed. And, save in fortuitous cases, only one who is extremely learned, and provided as an individual with an immense capital of formations, is equipped to increase human knowledge substantially and push it ahead. (The Dialogue of Tristan and a Friend)
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To do anything at all I have to have good reasons, and they must be substantial ones: and as I find no reason to rate an idle and leisurely life lower than an active one; which could yield no fruit worth the trouble, or even the mere thought (there being no fruit in the world worth tuppence); I have therefore resolved to leave toil and discomfort to others, and for my part to live quietly at home and do nothing. (Copernicus)
I tell you and assure you, that I realize and see with the utmost clarity that I do not know how to perform the least part of what is needed to make oneself agreeable to people; and that I am as inept as possible at associating with others, and indeed at life itself; through my own fault or that of my character. (The Dialogue of Timander and Eleander)
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Imp: You wait for them in vain, they are all dead, said the closing line of a tragedy in which all the characters died.
Gnome: What are you trying to say?
Imp: I’m trying to say that men are all dead, and the race is lost. (The Dialogue of an Imp and a Gnome)
«Gl'individui sono spariti dinanzi alle masse, dicono elegantemente i pensatori moderni. Il che vuol dire ch'è inutile che l'individuo si prenda nessun incomodo, poichè, per qualunque suo merito, nè anche quel misero premio della gloria gli resta più da sperare nè in vigilia nè in sogno. Lasci fare alle masse; le quali che cosa sieno per fare senza individui, essendo composte d'individui, desidero e spero che me lo spieghino gl'intendenti d'individui e di masse, che oggi illuminano il mondo. [...] Amico mio, questo secolo è un secolo di ragazzi, e i pochissimi uomini che rimangono, si debbono andare a nascondere per vergogna, come quello che camminava diritto in paese di zoppi. [...] In ciò mi pare che consista in parte la differenza ch'è da questo agli altri secoli. In tutti gli altri, come in questo, il grande è stato rarissimo; ma negli altri la mediocrità ha tenuto il campo, in questo la nullità. Onde è tale il romore e la confusione, volendo tutti esser tutto, che non si fa nessuna attenzione ai pochi grandi che pure credo che vi sieno; ai quali, nell'immensa moltitudine de' concorrenti, non è più possibile di aprirsi una via. E cosÏ, mentre tutti gl'infimi si credono illustri, l'oscurità e la nullità dell'esito diviene il fato comune e degl'infimi e de' sommi. Ma viva la statistica! vivano le scienze economiche, morali e politiche, le enciclopedie portatili, i manuali e le tante belle creazioni del nostro secolo! e viva sempre il secolo decimonono! forse povero di cose, ma ricchissimo e larghissimo di parole».