Friday, April 26, 2024

GRICE ITALICO A/Z C 3

 

Grice e Carando – l’implicatura conversazionale di Socrate – filosofia italiana – Luigi  Speranza (Pettinengo). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Carando; a typical Italian philosopher, got his ‘laurea,’ and attends literary salons! – There is a street named after him – whereas at Oxford the most we have is a “Logic lane!” --  Ennio Carando (Pettinengo), filosofo. Studia a Torino. Si avvicina all'anti-fascismo attraverso l'influenza di Juvalta (con cui discusse la tesi di laurea) e di Martinetti. Collaborò alla Rivista di filosofia di Martinetti, dove pubblicò un saggio su Spir. Insegna a Cuneo, Modena, Savona, La Spezia. Sebbene fosse quasi completamente cieco dopo l'armistizio si diede ad organizzare formazioni partigiane in Liguria e in Piemonte (fu anche presidente del secondo CLN spezzino). Era ispettore del Raggruppamento Divisioni Garibaldi nel Cuneese, quando fu catturato in seguito ad una delazione.  Sottoposto a torture atroci, non tradì i compagni di lotta e fu trucidato con il fratello Ettore, capitano di artiglieria a cavallo in servizio permanente effetivo e capo di stato maggiore della I Divisione Garibaldi. Un filosofo socratico. La metafisica civile di un filosofo socratico. Partigiano. Dopo l'armistizio Ennio Carando, che insegnava a La Spezia presso il Liceo Classico Costa, entrò attivamente nella lotta di liberazione organizzando formazioni partigiane in Liguria e in Piemonte. A chi gli chiedeva di non avventurarsi in quella decisione così pericolosa rispondeva fermamente: "Molti dei miei allievi sono caduti: un giorno i loro genitori potrebbero rimproverarmi di non aver avuto il loro stesso coraggio". For centuries the First Alkibiades was respected as a major  dialogue in the Platonic corpus. It was considered by the Academy to be  the proper introduction to the study of Plato's dialogues, and actually  formed the core of the serious beginner's study of philosophy. Various  ancient critics have written major commentaries upon the dialogue (most  of which have subsequently been lost). In short, it was looked upon as  a most important work by those arguably in the best position to know.   In comparatively recent times the First Alkibiades has lost its  status. Some leading Platonic scholars judge it to be spurious, and as  a result it is seldom read as seriously as several other Platonic  dialogues. This thesis attempts a critical examination of the dialogue  with an eye towards deciding which judgement of it, the ancient or the  modern, ought to be accepted. I wish to take advantage of this opportunity at last to thank my  mother and father and my sister. Lea, who have always given freely of  themselves to assist me. I am also grateful to my friends, in particular  Pat Malcolmson and Stuart Bodard, who, through frequent and serious  conversations proved themselves to be true dialogic partners. Thanks  are also due to Monika Porritt for her assistance with the manuscript.   My deepest gratitude and affection extend to Leon  Craig, to whom I owe more than I am either able, or willing, to express  here. Overpowering curiosity may be aroused in a reader upon his noticing  how two apparently opposite men, Socrates and Alkibiades, are drawn to  each other's conversation and company. Such seems to be the effect  achieved by the First Alkibiades , a dialogic representation of the beginning of their association. Of all the people named in the titles of  Platonic dialogues, Alkibiades was probably the most famous. It seems  reasonable to assume that one's appreciation of the dialogue would be en¬  hanced by knowing as much about the historical Alkibiades as would the  typical educated Athenian reader. Accordingly, this examination of the  dialogue will commence by recounting the major events of Alkibiades' scareer, on the premise that such a reminder may enrich a philosophic  understanding of the First Alkibiades.  The historical Alkibiades was born to Kleinias and Deinomakhe.   Although the precise date of his birth remains unknown (cf. 121d), it was   most surely before 450 B.C. His father, Kleinias, was one of the wealthy   men in Athens, financially capable of furnishing and outfitting a trireme in wartime. Of Deinomakhe we know nothing save that she was well born.   As young children Alkibiades and his brother, Kleinias, lost their father   4   in battle and were made wards of their uncle, the renowned Penkles.   He is recognized by posterity as one of the greatest statesmen of Greece.  Athens prospered during his lengthy rule in office and flourished to such  an extent that the "Golden Age of Greece" is also called the "Age of Perikles." When Alkibiades came under his care, Perikles held the  highest office in Athens and governed almost continuously until his  death which occurred shortly after the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. At an early age Alkibiades was distinguished for his striking  beauty and his multi-faceted excellence. He desired to be triumphant in  all he undertook and generally was so. In games and sport with other  boys he is said to have taken a lion's share of victories. There are no  portraits of Alkibiades in existence from which one might judge his looks,  but it is believed that he served his contemporaries as the standard  artistic model for representations of the gods. No doubt partly because  of his appearance and demeanor, he strongly influenced his boyhood  companions. For example, it was rumored that Alkibiades was averse to  the flute because it prevented the player from singing, as well as dis¬  figuring his face. Refusing to take lessons, he referred to Athenian  deities as exemplars, calling upon Athena and Apollon who had shown disdain for the flute and for flautists. Within a short time flute-playing   had ceased to be regarded as a standard part of the curriculum for a gentleman's education. Alkibiades was most surely the talk of the town   among the young men and it is scarcely a wonder that tales of his youthful escapades abound.   Pursued by many lovers, he for the most part scorned such attentions. On one occasion Anytos, who was infatuated with Alkibiades, invited him to a dinner party. Instead, Alkibiades went drinking with some  of his friends. During the evening he collected his servants and bade  them interrupt Anytos' supper and remove half of the golden cups and  silver ornaments from the table. Alkibiades did not even bother to  enter. The other guests grumbled about this hybristic treatment of Anytos, who responded that on the contrary Alkibiades had been moderate  and kind in leaving half when he might have absconded with all. Alkibiades  certainly seems to have enjoyed an extraordinary sway over some of his  admirers. Alkibiades sought to enter Athenian politics as soon as he became   eligible and at about that time he first met Socrates. The First  Alkibiades is a dramatic representation of what might have happened at that fateful meeting. Fateful it was indeed, for the incalculable richness of the material it has provided for later thought as well as for the lives of the two men. By his own admission, Alkibiades felt that his   feeling shame could be occasioned only by Socrates. Though it caused him   discomfort, Alkibiades nevertheless chronically returned to occasion to save Alkibiades'   life. The generals were about to confer on him a prize for his valor but he insisted it be awarded to AlkiThis occurred near the  beginning of their friendship, at the start of the Peloponnesian War.   Later, during the Athenian defeat at the battle of Delion, Alkibiades   repaid him in kind. In the role of cavalryman, he defended Socrates who was on foot. Shortly thereafter, Alkibiades charged forward into  politicsbiades., campaigns he mounted invariably meeting with success. Elected  strategos (general) in 420 B.C. on the basis of his exploits, he was one  of the youngest ever to wield such high authority. Generally opposing Nikias and the plan for peace, Alkibiades as the leader of the democrats  allied Athens with various enemies of Sparta. His grandiose plans for  the navy rekindled Athenian ambitions for empire which had been at best  smouldering since the death of Perikles. Alkibiades' policy proposals  favored the escalation of the war, and he vocally supported Athens' con¬  tinuation of her position as the imperial power in the Mediterranean.   His first famous plan, the Athenian alliance with Argos, is recounted in  detail by Thucydides. Thucydides provides an especially vivid portrait   of Alkibiades and indicates that he was unexcelled, both in terms of diplomatic maneuvering and rhetorical ability. By arranging for the   Spartan envoys to modify their story from day to day, he managed to make Nikias look foolish in his trust of them. Although Alkibiades suffered  a temporary loss of command, his continuing rivalry with Nikias secured  him powerful influence in Athens, which was heightened by an apparent  failure of major proportions by Nikias in Thrace. Alkibiades' sustained opposition to Nikias prompted some of the  radical democrats under Hyperbolos to petition for an ostrakismos . This  kind of legal ostracism was a device intended primarily for the over¬  turning of stalemates. With a majority of the vote an ostrakismos could  be held. Citizens would then write on a potsherd the name of the one man  in all of Attika they would like to see exiled. There has been famous  ostracisms before this time, some ofwhich were almost immediately  regretted (e.g., Aristeides the Just, in 482 B.C.). At any rate,  Hyperbolos campaigned to have Alkibiades ostracized. Meanwhile, in one  of their rare moments of agreement, Alkibiades persuaded Nikias to join  with him in a counter-campaign to ensure that the percentage of votes  required to effect Alkibiades' exile would not be attained. They were so successful that the result of the ostrakismos was the exile of Hyperbolos. That was Athen's last ostrakismos. Thucydides devotes two books (arguably the most beautiful of his  History of the Peloponnesian War) to the Sicilian Expedition. This  campaign Alkibiades instigated is considered by many to be his most note¬  worthy adventure, and was certainly one of the major events of the war. Alkibiades debated with Nikias and convinced the Ekklesia (assembly) to launch the expedition. Clearly no match for Alkibiades'   rhetoric, Nikias, according to the speeches of Thucydudes, worked an   effect opposite his intentions when he warned the Athenians of the ex-  19    Rather than being daunted by the magnitude of the cost of the pense   expedition, the Athenians were eager to supply all that was necessary. This enthusiasm was undoubtedly enhanced by the recent reports of the   vast wealth of Sicily. Nikias, Alkibiades and Lamakhos were appointed   co-commanders with full power (giving them more political authority than anyone in Athen's recent history).   Immediately prior to the start of the expedition, the Hermai   throughout Athens were disfigured. The deed was a sacrilege as well as   22   a bad omen for the expedition. Enemies of Alkibiades took this oppor¬  tunity to link him with the act since he was already suspected of pro¬faning the Eleusian Mysteries and of generally having a hybristic dis¬  regard for the conventional religion. He was formally charged with  impiety. Alkibiades wanted to have his trial immediately, arguing it   would not be good to command a battle with the charge remaining undecided. His enemies, who suspected the entire military force would  take Alkibiades' side, urged that the trial be postponed so as not to  delay the awaiting fleet's scheduled departure. As a result they sailed with Alkibiades' charge untried.   When the generals arrived at Rhegion, they discovered that the   24   stories of the wealth of the place had been greatly exaggerated.   Nonetheless, Alkibiades and Lamakhos voted together against Nikias to remain and accomplish what they had set out to do. Alkibiades thought   it prudent that they first establish which of their allies actually had   been secured, and to try to persuade the rest. Most imperative, he   26   believed, was the persuasion of the Messenians. The Messenians would   not admit Alkibiades at first, so he sailed to Naxos and then to Katana.   Naxos allied with Athens readily, but it is suspected that the Katanaians had some force used upon them. Before the Athenians could address the   Messenians or the Rhegians, both of whom held important geographic   positions and were influential, a ship arrived to take Alkibiades back   to Athens. During his absence from Athens, his enemies had worked hard   to increase suspicion that he had been responsible for the sacrilege,   and now, with the populace aroused against Alkibiades, they urged he be   28   immediately recalled.   Alkibiades set sail to return in his own ship, filled with his   friends. At Thouri they escaped and went to the Peloponnese. Meanwhile the Athenians sentenced him to death. He revealed to the Spartans his   idea that Messenian support in the west was crucial to Athens. The   Spartans weren't willing to trust Alkibiades given his generally anti-   Spartan policies, and they particularly did not appreciate his past   treatment of the Spartan envoys. In a spectacular speech, as recounted   by Thucydides, Alkibiades defended himself and his conduct in leaving  30   Athens. Along with a delegation of Korinthians and Syrakusans,  Alkibiades argued for Sparta's participation in the war in Sicily. He also suggested to them that their best move against Athens was to fortify   a post at Dekelia in Attika. In short, once again Alkibiades proved   himself to be a master of diplomacy, knowing the right thing to say at   any given time, even among sworn enemies. The Spartans welcomed Alkibiades. Because of his knowledge of Athenian affairs, they acted   32   upon his advice about Dekelia (413 B.C.). Alkibiades did further  service for Sparta by inciting some Athenian allies in Asia Minor, par¬  ticularly at Khios, to revolt. He also suggested to Tissaphernes, the   Persian satrap of Asia Minor, that he ought to consider an alliance with  33   Sparta.   However, in 412 B.C. Alkibiades lost favor with the Spartans. His    loyalty was in doubt and he was suspected of having seduced the Spartan queen; she became pregnant during a long absence of the king.   Alkibiades prudently moved on, this time fleeing to the Persian court of   Tissaphernes where he served as an advisor to the   satrap. He counselled   Tissaphernes to ally neither with Sparta nor with Athens; it would be in   his best interests to let them wear each other down. Tissaphernes was   pleased with this advice and soon listened to Alkibiades on most matters,   having, it seems, complete confidence in him. Alkibiades told him to   lower the rate of pay to the Spartan navy in order to moderate their   activities and ensure proper conduct. He should also economize and   reduce expenditures. Alkibiades cautioned him against being too hurried  in his wish for a victory. Tissaphernes was so delighted with   Alkibiades' counsel that he had the most beautiful park in his domain named after him and developed into a luxury resort.   The Athenian fleet, in the meantime, was at Samos, and with it  lay the real power of Athens. The city had been brought quite low by the war, especially the Sicilian expedition, which left in the hands of  the irresolute and superstitious Nikias turned out to be disastrous for  the Athenians. Alkibiades engaged in a conspiracy to promote an oligarchic  revolution in Athens, ostensibly to ensure his own acceptance there. How¬  ever, when the revolution occurred, in 411 B.C., and the Council of Four   37   Hundred was established, Alkibiades did not associate himself with it.   He attached himself to the fleet at Samos and relayed to them the promise  of support he had exacted from Tissaphernes. The support was not forth¬  coming, however, but despite the sentiment among some of the Athenians  at Samos that Alkibiades intended to trick them, the commanders and   38   soldiers were confident that Athens could never rise without Alkibiades.  They appointed him general and re-instated him as the chief-in-command  of the Athenian Navy. He sent a message to the oligarchic Council of  Four Hundred in Athens telling them he would support a democratic boule  of 5,000 but that the Four Hundred would have to disband. There was no  immediate response.   In the meantime, with comparatively few men and ships, Alkibiades   managed to deflect the Spartans from their plan to form an alliance with   the Persian fleet. Alkibiades became an increasingly popular general   among the men at Samos, and with his rhetorical abilities he dissuaded   them from adopting policies that would likely have proven disastrous.   He insisted they be more moderate, for example, in their treatment of   unfriendly ambassadors, such as those from Athens. The Council of Four   Hundred sent an emissary to Samos, but Alkibiades was firm in his refusal to support them. This pleased the democrats, and since most of the   oligarchs were by this time split into several factions, the rule of the   40   Four Hundred fragmented of its own accord. Alkibiades sent advice from Samos as to the form of government the 5,000 should adopt, but he still   42   did not consider it the proper time for his own return.   During this time Alkibiades and the Athenian fleet gained major   victories, defeating the Spartans at Kynossema, at Abydos (411 B.C.), and   43    at Kyzikos (410 B.C.)    Seeking to regain some control, Tissaphernes    had Alkibiades arrested on one occasion when he approached in a single   ship. It was a diplomatic visit, not a battle, yet Tissaphernes had him   imprisoned. Within a month, however, Alkibiades and his men escaped. In   order to ensure that Tissaphernes would live to regret the arrest,   Alkibiades caused a story to be widely circulated to the effect that   Tissaphernes had arranged the escape. Suffice it to say the Great King of Persia was not pleased. Alkibiades also recovered Kalkhedonia and Byzantion for the Athenians. After gathering money from various sources and assuring himself   of the security of Athenian control of the Hellespont, he at last   decided to return to Athens. It had been an absence of seven years.   46   He was met with an enthusiastic reception in the Peiraeus. All charges   against him were dropped and the prevailing sentiment among the Athenians   was that had they only trusted in his leadership, they would still be the great empire they had been. With the hope that he would be able to  restore to them some of their former glory, they appointed Alkibiades  general with full powers, a most extraordinary command. He gained  further support from the Athenians when he led the procession to Eleusis  (the very mysteries of which he had earlier been suspected of blaspheming)  on the overland route. Several years earlier, through fear of the  Spartans at Dekelia, the procession had broken tradition and gone by sea. This restoration of tradition ensured Alkibiades political support from the more pious sector of the public who had been hesitant about  48   him. He had so consolidated his political support by this time that   such ever persons as opposed him wouldn't have dared to publicly declare   49   their opinions.   Alkibiades led a number of successful expeditions over the next   year and the Athenians were elated with his command. He had never failed   in a military undertaking and the men in his fleet came to regard themselves a higher class of soldier. However, an occasion arose during  naval actions near Notion when Alkibiades had to leave the major part of  his fleet under the command of another captain while he sailed to a near¬  by island to levy funds. He left instructions not to engage the enemy  under any circumstances, but during his absence a battle was fought none¬  theless. Alkibiades hurriedly returned but arrived too late to salvage  victory. Many men and ships were lost to the Spartans. Such was his   habit of victory that the people of Athens suspected that he must have wanted to lose. They once again revoked his citizenship.   Alkibiades left Athens for the last time in 406 B.C. and retired   to a castle he had built long before. Despite his complete loss of   civic status with the Athenians, his concern for them did not cease. In   his last attempt to assist Athens against the Spartan fleet under Lysander,   Alkibiades made a special journey at his own expense to advise the new   strategoi . He cautioned them that what remained of the Athenian fleet   was moored at a very inconvenient place, and that the men should be held   in tighter rein given the proximity of Lysander's ships. They disregarded   his advice with utter contempt (only to regret it upon their almost   52   immediate defeat) and Alkibiades returned to his private retreat.  There he stayed in quiet luxury until assassinated one night in 404 B.C. The participants in the First Alkibiades , Socrates and Alkibiades,  seem at first blush to be thoroughly contrasting. To start with appear¬  ances, the physical difference between the two men who meet this day  could hardly be more extreme. Alkibiades, famous throughout Greece for  his beauty, is face to face with Socrates who is notoriously ugly. They  are each represented in a dramatic work of the period. Aristophanes   refers to Alkibiades as a young lion; he is said to have described   54   Socrates as a "stalking pelican." Alkibiades is so handsome that his   figure and face served as a model for sculptures of Olympian gods on high   temple friezes. Socrates is referred to as being very like the popular   representation of siloni and satyrs; the closest he attains to Olympian   heights is Aristophanes' depiction of him hanging in a basket from the   55   rafters of an old house.   Pre-eminent among citizens for his wealth and his family, Alkibiades is speaking with a man of non-descript lineage and widely  advertised poverty. Alkibiades, related to a family of great men, is  the son of Kleinias and Deinomakhe, both of royal lineage. Socrates, who  is the son of Sophroniskos the stone-mason and Phainarete the midwife,  does not seem to have such a spectacular ancestry. Even as a boy Alkibiades was famous for his desire to win and his  ambition for power. Despite being fearful of it, people are familiar with  political ambition and so believe they understand it. To them, Alkibiades  seemed the paragon of the political man. But Socrates was more of a  mystery to the typical Athenian. He seemed to have no concern with im¬  proving his political or economic status. Rather, he seemed preoccupied  to the point of perversity with something he called 'philosophy, 1  literally 'love of wisdom.' Alkibiades sought political office as soon as he became of age. He felt certain that in politics he could rise above  all Athenians past and present. His combined political and military  success made it possible for him to be the youngest general ever elected.  Socrates, by contrast, said that he was never moved to seek office; he  served only when he was required (by legal appointment). In his lifetime  Socrates was considered to have been insufficiently concerned with his  fellows' opinions about him, whereas from his childhood people found  Alkibiades' attention to the demos remarkable - in terms either of his  quickness at following their cue, or of his setting the trend.   Both men were famous for their speaking ability, but even in this  they contrast dramatically. The effects of their speech were different.  Alkibiades could persuade peop  le, and so nations, to adopt his political  proposals, even when he had been regarded as an enemy. Socrates' effect  was far less widespread. Indeed, for most people acquainted with it,  Socratic speech was suspect. People were moved by Alkibiades' rhetoric  despite their knowing that that was his precise intention. It was  Socrates, however, who was accused of making the weaker argument defeat  the stronger, though he explicitly renounced such intentions. Alkibiades'  long moving speeches persuaded many large assemblies. Socrates' style of  question and answer was not nearly so popular, and convinced fewer men.   Socrates is reputed to have never been drunk, regardless of how  much he had imbibed. This contrasts with the (for the most part)  notoriously indulgent life of Alkibiades. He remains famous to this day  for several of his drunken escapades, one of which is depicted by Plato  in a famous dialogue. Though both men were courageous and competent in war, Socrates    never went to battle unless called upon, and distinguished himself only during general retreats. Alkibiades was so eager for war and all its  attendant glories that he even argued in the ekklesia for an Athenian  escalation of the war. He was principally responsible for the initiation  of the Sicilian expedition and was famous for his bravery in wanting to  go ever further forward in battle. It was, instead, battles in speech  for which Socrates seemed eager; perhaps it is a less easily observed  brand of courage which is demanded for advance and retreat in such clashes.   Both men could accommodate their lifestyles to fit with the circum¬  stances in which they found themselves, but as these were decidedly dif¬  ferent, so too were their manners of adaptation. Socrates remained ex¬  clusively in Athens except when accompanying his fellow Athenians on one  or two foreign wars. Alkibiades travelled from city to city, and seems  to have adjusted well. He got on so remarkably well at the Persian court  that the Persians thought he was one of them; and at Sparta they could not  believe the stories of his love of luxury. But, despite his outward con¬  formity with all major Athenian conventions, Socrates was st  ill con¬  sidered odd even in his home city.   In a more speculative vein, one might observe that neither  Alkibiades nor Socrates are restricted because of their common Athenian  citizenship, but again in quite different senses. Socrates, willing (and  eager) to converse with, educate and improve citizen and non-citizen  alike, rose above the polis to dispense with his need for it. Alkibiades,  it seems, could not do without political or public support (as Socrates  seems to have), but he too did not need Athens in particular. He could  move to any polis and would be recognized as an asset to any community.  Socrates didn't receive such recognition, but he did not need it. Still,    Alkibiades, like Socrates, retained an allegiance to Athens until his death and continued to perform great deeds in her service.   Despite their outwardly conventional piety (e.g., regular  observance of religious festivals), Alkibiades and Socrates were both  formally charged with impiety, but the manner of their alleged violations  was different. Alkibiades was suspected of careless blasphemy and con¬  temptuous disrespect, of profaning the highest of the city's religious  Mysteries; Socrates was charged with worshipping other deities than those  allowed, but was suspected of atheism. Though both men were convicted  and sentenced to death, Alkibiades refused to present himself for trial  and so was sentenced in absentia . Socrates, as we know, conducted his  own defense, and, however justly or unjustly, was legally convicted and  condemned. Alkibiades escaped when he had the chance and sought refuge  in Sparta; Socrates refused to take advantage of a fully arranged escape  from his cell in Athens. Alkibiades, a comparatively young man, lived to  see his sentence subsequently withdrawn. Socrates seems to have done his best not to have his sentence reduced. His rela¬  tionship with Athens had been quite constant. Old charges were easily  brought to bear on new ones, for the Athenians had come to entertain a  relatively stable view of him. Alkibiades suffered many reverses of  status with the Athenians.   Surprised from his sleep, Alkibiades met his death fighting with  assassins, surrounded by his enemies. After preparing to drink the hem¬  lock, Socrates died peacefully, surrounded by his friends.   It seems likely that Plato expects these contrasts to be tacitly  in the mind of the reader of the First Alkibiades . They heighten in  various ways the excitement of this dialogue between two men whom every  Athenian of their day would have seen, and known at least by reputation. Within a generation of the supposed time of the dialogue, moreover, each  of the participants would be regarded with utmost partiality. It is un¬  likely that even the most politically apathetic citizen would be neutral  or utterly indifferent concerning either man. Not only would every  Athenian (and many foreigners) know each of them, most Athenians would  have strong feelings of either hatred or love for each man. The extra¬  ordinary fascination of these men makes Plato's First Alkibiades all the  more inviting as a natural point at which to begin a study of political  philosophy.   In the First Alkibiades , Socrates and Alkibiades, regarded by  posterity as respective paragons of the philosophic life and the political  life, are engaged in conversation together. As the dialogue commences,  Alkibiades in particular is uncertain as to their relationship with each  other. Especially interesting, however, is their implicit agreement that  these matters can be clarified through their speaking with one another.   The reader might first wonder why they even bother with each other; and  further wonder why, if they are properly to be depicted together at all,  it should be in conversation. They could be shown in a variety of  situations. People often settle their differences by fighting, a  challenge to a contest, or a public debate of some kind. Alkibiades and  Socrates converse in private. The man identified with power and the man  identified with knowledge have their showdown on the plain of speech.   The Platonic dialogue form, as will hopefully be shown in the  commentary, is well suited for expressing political philosophy in that  it allows precisely this confrontation. A Platonic dialogue is different  from a treatise in its inclusion of drama. It is not a straightforward  explication for it has particular characters who are interacting in specific ways. It is words plus action, or speech plus deed. In a  larger sense, then, dialogue implicitly depicts the relation between  speech and deed or theory and practice, philosophy and politics, and re¬  flecting on its form allows the reader to explore these matters.   In addition, wondering about the particulars of Socratic speech  may shed light upon how theory relates to practice. As one attempts to  discover why Socrates said what he did in the circumstances in which he  did, one becomes aware of the connections between speech and action, and  philosophy and politics. One is also awakened to the important position  of speech as intermediary between thought and action. Speech is unlike  action as has just been indicated. But speech is not like thought either.  It may, for instance, have immediate consequences in action and thus  demand more rigorous control. Philosophy might stand in relation to  thought as politics does to action; understanding 'political philosophy'  then would involve the complex connection between thought and speech, and  speech and action; in other words, the subject matter appropriate to  political philosophy embraces the human condition. The Platonic dialogue  seems to be in the middle ground by way of its form, and it is up to the  curious reader to determine what lies behind the speech, on both the side  of thought and action. Hopefully, in examining the First Alkibiades these  general observations will be made more concrete. A good reader will take  special care to observe the actions as well as the arguments of this  dialogue between the seeker of knowledge and the pursuer of power.   Traditionally, man's ability to reason has been considered the  essential ground for his elevated status in the animal kingdom. Through  reason, both knowledge and power are so combined as to virtually place  man on an altogether higher plane of existence. Man's reason allows him to control beasts physically much stronger than he; moreover, herds outnumber man, yet he rules them. Both knowledge and power have long attracted men recognizably   superior in natural gifts. Traditionally, the highest choice a man could   57   confront was that between the contemplative and the active life. In  order to understand this as the decision par excellence , one must compre¬  hend the interconnectivity between knowledge and power as ends men seek.  One must also try to ascertain the essential features of the choice. For  example, power (conventionally understood) without knowledge accomplishes  little even for the mighty. As Thrasymakhos was reminded, without  knowledge the efforts of the strong would chance to work harm upon them¬  selves as easily as not ( Republic). The very structure of the dialogue suggests that the reader  attentive to dramatic detail may learn more about the relation between  power and knowledge and their respective claims to rule. Alkibiades  and Socrates both present arguments, and the very dynamics of the  conversation (e.g., who rules in the dialogue, what means he uses whereby  to secure rule, the development of the relationship between the ruler  and the ruled) promise to provide material of interest to this issue.   B. Knowledge, Power and their Connection through Language   As this commentary hopes to show, the problem of the human use of  language pervades the Platonic dialogue known as the First Alkibiades.  Its ubiquity may indicate that one's ability to appreciate the signifi¬  cance of speech provides an important measure of one's understanding of  the dialogue. Perhaps the point can be most effectively conveyed by  simply indicating a few of the many kinds of references to speech with  which it is replete. Socrates speaks directly to Alkibiades in complete privacy, but he employs numerous conversational devices to construct  circumstances other than that in which they find themselves. For example,  Alkibiades is to pretend to answer to a god; Socrates feigns a dialogue  with a Persian queen; and at one point the two imagine themselves in a  discussion with each other in full view of the Athenian ekklesia .   Socrates stresses that he never spoke to Alkibiades before, but that he  will now speak at length. And Socrates emphasizes that he wants to be  certain Alkibiades will listen until he finishes saying what he must say.  In the course of speaking, Socrates employs both short dialogue and long  monologue. Various influences on one's speaking are mentioned, including  mysterious powers that prevent speech and certain matters that inherently  demand to be spoken about. The two men discuss the difference between  asking and answering, talking and listening. They refer to speech about  music (among other arts), speech about number, and speech about letters.  They are importantly concerned with public speaking, implicitly with  rhetoric in all its forms. They reflect upon what an advisor to a city  can speak persuasively about. They discuss the difference between per¬  suading one and many. The two men refer to many differences germane to  speaking, such as private and public speech, and conspiratorial and  dangerous speech. Fables, poems and various other pictures in language  are both directly employed by Socrates and the subject of more general  discussion. Much of the argument centers on Alkibiades' understanding  of what the words mean and on the implicit presence of values embedded  in the language. They also spend much time discussing, in terms of  rhetorical effect, the tailoring of comments to situations; at one point  Socrates indicates he would not even name Alkibiades' condition if it  weren't for the fact that they are completely alone. They refer to levels of knowledge among the audience and the importance of this factor  in effectively persuading one or many. And in a larger sense already  alluded to, reflection on Plato's use of the dialogue form itself may also  reveal features of language and aspects of its relation to action.   Socrates seems intent upon increasing Alkibiades' awareness of the many  dimensions to the problem of understanding the role of language in the  life of man. Thus the reader of the First Alkibiades is invited to share  as well in this education about the primary means of education: speech,  that essential human power. Perhaps it may be granted, on the basis of the above, that the  general issue of language is at least a persistent theme in the dialogue.  Once that is recognized it becomes much more obvious that speech is  connected both to power, or the realm of action, and knowledge, the realm  of thought. Speech and power, in the politically relevant sense, are  thoroughly interwoven. The topics of freedom of speech and censorship  are of paramount concern to all regimes, at times forming part of the  very foundation of the polity. This is the most obvious connection: who  is to have the right to speak about what, and who in turn is to have the  power to decide this matter. Another aspect of speech which is crucial  politically seems to be often overlooked and that is the expression of  power in commands, instruction and explanation. The more subtle side of  this political use of speech is that of education. Maybe not all political  men do understand education to be of primary importance, but that clearly  surfaces as one of the things which Alkibiades learns in this dialogue.   At the very least, the politically ambitious man seeks control  over the education of others in order to secure his rule and make his  political achievements lasting. With respect to education, the skilled user of language has more power than someone who must depend solely on  actions in this regard. Circumstances which are actually unique may be  endlessly reproduced and reconsidered. By using speech to teach, the  speaker gains a power over the listener that might not be available had  he need to rely upon actions. Not only can he tell of things that cannot  be seen (feelings, thoughts and the like), but he can invent stories  about what does not even exist.   Myths and fables are generally recognized to have pedagogic  value, and in most societies form an essential part of the core set of  beliefs that hold the people together. Homer, Shakespeare and the Bible  are probably the most universally recognized examples influencing western  society. To mold and shape the opinions of men through fables, lies and  carefully chosen truths is, in effect, to control them. Such use of  language can be considered a weapon also, propaganda providing a most  obvious example. Hobbes, for instance, recognizes these qualities of  speech and labels them 'abuses.' Most of the abuse appears to be consti¬  tuted by the deception or injury caused another; Hobbes all the while   58   demonstrates himself to be master of the insult. Summing up these  observations, one notices that speech plays a crucial part in the realm  of power, especially in terms of education, a paramount political activity.   The connection of speech to knowledge, the realm of thought is much  less in need of comment. The above discussion of education points to the  underlying concern about knowledge. Various subtleties in language (two  of which - metaphor and irony - will be presently introduced), however,  make it more than the instrument through which knowledge is gained, but  actually may serve to increase a person's interest in attaining knowledge;  that is, they make the end, knowledge, more attractive. A most interesting understanding of speech emerges when one  abstracts somewhat from actual power and actual knowledge to look at the  relationship between the realms of action and thought. Action and  thought, epitomized by politics and philosophy, both require speech if  they are to interact. Politics in a sense affects thought, and thought  should guide action. Both of these exchanges are normally effected  through speech and may be said to describe the bounds of the subject area  of political philosophy. Political philosophy deals with what men do and  think (thus concerning itself with metaphysics, say, to the extent to  which metaphysical considerations affect man). Political philosophy may  be understood as philosophy about politics, or philosophy that is politic.  In this latter sense, speech via the expression of philosophy in a politic  manner, suggests itself to be an essential aspect to the connection be¬  tween these two human realms - thought and action. The reader of the  First Alkibiades should be alert to the ways in which language pertains  to the relationship between Socrates and Alkibiades. For example, their  concern for each other and promise to continue conversing might shed some  light on the general requirements and considerations power and knowledge  share. As has already been indicated, considerable attention is paid to  various characteristics of speech in the discussion between the two men.   Rhetoricians, politicians, philosophers and poets, to mention but  a few of those whose activity proceeds primarily through speech, are  aware of the powers of language and make more or less subtle use of  various modes of speech. The First Alkibiades teaches about language and  effectively employs many linguistic devices. Called for at the outset  is some introductory mention of a few aspects of language, in order that  their use in the dialogue may be more readily reflected upon. Metaphor, a most important example, is a complex and exciting  feature of language. A fresh and vivid metaphor is a most effective  influence on the future perceptions of those listening. It will often  form a lasting impression. Surely a majority of readers are familiar  with the experience of being unable to disregard an interpretation of  something illuminated by an especially bright metaphor. Many people  have probably learned to appreciate the surging power of language by  having themselves become helplessly swamped in a sea of metaphor. There are two aspects to the power of attracting attention through  language that a master of metaphor, especially, can summon. Both indicate  a rational component to language, but both include many more features of  reason than mere logical deduction. The first is the power that arises  when someone can spark connections between apparently unrelated parts of  the world. This is an interesting and exciting feature of man's rational  capability, deriving its charm partly from the natural delight people  apparently take in having connections drawn between seemingly distinct  objects.   The other way in which he can enthrall an audience is through  harvesting some of the vast potential for metaphors that exist in the  natural fertility of any language. There are metaphors in everyday  speech that remain unrecognized (are forgotten) for so long that dis¬  belief is experienced when their metaphoric nature is revealed. Men's  opinions about much of the world is influenced by metaphor. A most important set of examples involve the manner in which the invisible is  spoken of almost exclusively through metaphoric language based on the  visible. This curious feature of man's rationality is frequently ex¬  plored by Plato. The most famous example is probably Socrates's description of education as an ascent out of a cave ( Republic),  but another perhaps no less important example occurs in the First  Alkibiades . Not only is the invisible metaphorically explained via some¬  thing visible, but the metaphor is that of the organ of sight itself  (cf. 132c-133c, where the soul and the eye are discussed as analogues)!   The general attractiveness of metaphor also demonstrates that man  is essentially a creature with speech. That both man and language must  be understood in order for a philosophic explanation to be given of  either, is indicated whenever one tries to account for the natural  delight almost all people take in being shown new secrets of meaning, in  discovering the richness of their own tongue, and in the reworking of  images - from puns and complex word games to simple metaphors and  idiomatic expressions. Man's rationality is bound up with language, and  rationality may not be exclusively or even primarily logic; it is importantly metaphor. Subtle use is often made of the captivating power of various forms  of expression. One of the most alluring yet bedevilling of these is  irony. Irony never unambiguously reveals itself but suggests mystery  and disguise. This enhances its own attractiveness and simultaneously  increases the charm of the subject on which irony is played; there seems  little doubt that Socrates and Plato were able to make effective use of  this feature for they are traditionally regarded as the past masters of  it. Eluding definition, irony seems not amenable to a simple classifi-  catory scheme. It can happen in actions as well as speeches, in drama as  well as actual life. It can occur in an infinite variety of situations. One cannot be told how exactly to look for irony; it cannot be reduced to rules. But to discover its presence on one's own is thoroughly-  exciting (though perhaps biting). The possibility of double ironies increases the anxiety attending ironic speech as well as its attractive¬  ness. The merest suggestion of irony can upset an otherwise tranquil  moment of understanding. Probably all listeners of ironic speech or  witnesses of dramatic irony have experienced the apprehensiveness that  follows such an overturned expectation of simplicity.   It appears to be in the nature of irony that knowledge of its  presence in no way diminishes its seductiveness but rather enhances its  effectiveness. Once it is discovered, it has taken hold. This charming  feature of Socrates' powerful speech, his irony, is acknowledged by Alkibiades even as he recognizes himself to be its principal target (Symposium 215a-216e). The abundance of irony in the First Alkibiades makes it difficult  for any passage to be interpreted with certitude. It is likely that the  following commentary would be significantly altered upon the recognition  of a yet subtler, more ironic, teaching in the dialogue. It is thus up  to each individual, in the long run, to make a judgement upon the dialogue,  or the interpretation of the dialogue; he must be wary of and come to  recognize the irony on his own.  The Superior Man is a Problem for Political Philosophy   One mark of a great man is the power of making  lasting impressions upon people he meets. Another  is so to have handled matters during his life that  the course of after events is continuously affected  by what he did.   Winston Churchill  Great Contemporaries   It may be provisionally suggested that both Socrates and Alkibiades  are superior men, attracted respectively to knowledge and power. Certainly a surface reading of the First Alkibiades would support such a  judgement. One could probably learn much about the character of the  political man and the philosophic man by simply observing Socrates and  Alkibiades. It stands to reason that a wisely crafted dialogue repre¬  senting a discussion between them would reveal to the careful, reflective  reader deeper insight into knowledge, power and the lives of those  dedicated to each.   Socrates confesses that he is drawn to Alkibiades because of the   youth's unquenchable ambition for power. Socrates tells Alkibiades that   59   the way to realizing his great aspirations is through the philosopher.  Accordingly Socrates proceeds to teach Alkibiades that the acquisition of  knowledge is necessary in order that his will to power be fulfilled. By  the end of the dialogue, Socrates' words have managed to secure the  desired response from the man to whom he is attracted: Alkibiades in a  sense redirects his eros toward Socrates. This sketch, though superficial, bespeaks the dialogue's promise to unravel some of the mysterious  connections between knowledge and power as these phenomena are made  incarnate in its two exceptional participants.   The significance of the superior man to political philosophy has,  for the most part, been overlooked in the last century or so, the exceptions being rather notorious given their supposed relation to the  largest political event of the Twentieth Century.^ in contemporary  analysis, the importance of great men, even in the military, has tended  to be explained away rather than understood. This trend may be partly  explained by the egalitarian views of the dominant academic observers of  political things.   As the problem was traditionally understood, the superior man tends to find himself in an uneasy relationship with the city. The drive,  the erotic ambition distinguishes the superior man from most others, and  in that ambition is constituted their real threat to the polity as well  as their real value. No man who observed a war could persist in the  belief that all citizens have a more or less equal effect on the outcome,  on history. A certain kind of superiority becomes readily apparent in  battle and the bestowal of public honors acknowledges its political  value. Men of such manly virtue are of utmost necessity to all polities,  at least in times of extremes. Moreover, political philosophers have  heretofore recognized that there are other kinds of battlefields upon  which superior men exercise their evident excellence.   It is, however, during times of peace that the community ex¬  periences fear about containing the lions,^ recognizing that they  constitute an internal threat to the regime. Thus, during times of peace  a crucial test of the polity is made. A polity's ability to find a  fitting place for its noble men speaks for the nobility of the polity.   In many communities, the best youths turn to narrow specialization in  particularized scientific disciplines, or to legal and academic sophistry,  to achieve distinction. It is not clear whether this is due to the  regime's practicing a form of politics that attracts but then debases or  corrupts the better sort of youth, or because the best men find its  politics repugnant and so redirect their ambitions toward these other  pursuits. In any event, the situation in such communities is a far cry  from that of the city which knows how to rear the lion cubs. Not surprisingly, democracy has always had difficulty with the  superior men. Ironically, today the recognition of the best men in  society arises most frequently among those far from power or the desire to enter politics. Those who hold office in modern democracies are not  able to uphold the radically egalitarian premises of the regime and still  consistently acknowledge the superiority of some men. This has reper¬  cussions at the base of the polity: the democratic election. Those bent  on holding public office are involved in a dilemma, a man's claim to  office is that he possesses some sort of expertise, yet he cannot main¬  tain a platform of simple superiority in an egalitarian regime. Many  aspirants are required to seek election on the basis of some feature of  their character (such as their expenditure of effort) instead of their  skills, and such criteria are often in an ambiguous relation to the  duties of office.   The problem is yet more far-reaching. Those regimes committed to  the enforced equalization of the unequal incongruously point with pride  to the exceptional individuals in the history of their polities. A  standard justification for communist regimes, for example, is to refer  to the distinguished figures in the arts and sports of their nation.  Implicitly the traditional view has been retained: great men are one of  the measures of a great polity.   A less immediate but more profound problem for political philosophy  is posed by the very concept of the best man. Three aspects of this  problem shall be raised, the last two being more fully discussed as they  arise in commenting upon the First Alkibiades .   All who have given the matter some thought will presumably agree  that education is, in part at least, a political concern, and that the  proper nurture of youth is a problem for political philosophy. According¬  ly, an appropriate beginning is the consideration of the ends of nurture.  The question of toward what goal the nurture of youth is to aim is a question bound up with the views of what the best men are like. This is  inevitably the perspective from which concerned parents adopt their own  education policies. Since the young are nurtured in one manner or  another regardless, all care given to the choice of nurtures is justified   It must be remembered that children will adopt models of behavior  regardless of whether their parents have guided their choice. As the  tradition reminds is, the hero is a prominent, universal feature in the  nurture of children. Precisely for that reason great care ought to be  taken in the formation and presentation (or representation) of heroic  men and deeds. The heroes of history, of literature and of theater  presumably have no slight impact on the character of youth. For instance  canons of honesty are suggested by the historical account of young  Lincoln, codes of valor have been established by Akhilleus, and young  men's opinions about both partnerships and self-reliance are being in¬  fluenced by the Western Cowboy.   The religious reverence with which many young observe the every  word and deed of their idols establishes "the hero" as a problem of  considerable significance. One could argue that the hero should be long  dead. His less than noble human characteristics can be excised from the  public memory and his deeds suitably embellished (cf. Republic 391d.6).  Being dead, the possibility of his becoming decadent or otherwise evil  is eliminated. Although attractive, this suggestion presents a rather  large problem, especially in a society in which there is any timocratic  element. The honors bestowed on living men may be precisely what trans¬  forms them into the "flesh and blood" heroes of the young. Should honors  not be delivered until after a man's death, however (when he cannot turn  to drink, women or gambling), it may dampen many timocrats' aspirations. If the superior man is not recognized during his lifetime, he must at  least obtain some assurance of a lasting honor after his death. This  might be difficult to do, if he is aware of how quickly and completely  the opinions of those bestowing honor, the demos , shift. Since this  turned out to assume great importance historically for Alkibiades, the  reader of the First Alkibiades might be advised to pay attention to what  Socrates teaches the young man about power and glory. The role of heroes extends beyond their pedagogic function of  supplying models to guide the ambitions of youth. Heroes contribute to  the pride of a family, help secure the glory of a nation and provide a  tie to the ancestral. Recognition of this should suffice to indicate  that the problem of superior men is a significant one for political  philosophy.   Presumably any political theory requires some account of the  nature of man. It may already be clear at this point that a compre¬  hensive philosophic account of man's nature must include a consideration  of the superior man. Traditionally, in fact, the concept of the best  man has been deemed central to an adequate understanding. Many people  who would readily grant the importance of the problem of understanding  human nature consider it to be a sort of statistical norm. That position  does not concede the necessity of looking toward the best man. For the  immediate purpose of analyzing this dialogue, it seems sufficient that  the question be reopened, which may be accomplished simply by indicating  that there are problems with seeing nature as "the normal."   Without any understanding of the best man (even one who is not  actualized), comparison between men would be largely meaningless and  virtually any observation of, or statement about persons would be ambiguous since they involve terms which imply comparing men on some  standard. There would be no consistent way to evaluate any deviation  whatsoever from the normal. For example, sometimes it is better to be  fierce, sometimes it is not. If one describes a man as being more  capable of fierceness than most men one would not know how to evaluate  him relative to those men, without more information. It is necessary  to have an understanding of the importance of those matters in which it  is better to be fierce, to the best man. If it is important for the  best man to be capable of being very fierce, then, and only then, it  seems, could one judge a man who is able to be fierce at times to be a  better man with respect to that characteristic. Any meaningful  description of him, then depends on the view of the best man. This is  implicit in the common sense understanding anyway. The statement "X is  more capable of fierceness than most men,' prompts an implicit qualitative  judgement in most men's minds on the basis of their views of the best man.  The statement "X has darker hair than most men," does not, precisely  because most understandings of the best man do not specify hair color. A concept of the best is necessary if a man is to be able to  evaluate his position vis a vis others and discern with what he must take  pains with himself. The superior man understands this. Aiming to  actualize his potential to the fullest in the direction of his ideal,  he obviously does not compete with the norm. He strives with the best  of men or even with the gods. Whenever he sees two alternatives, he  immediately wonders which is best. The superior youth comes to learn  that a central question of his life is the question of with whom is his  contest.   Having raised this second aspect of the philosophic concern about the best man, one is led quite naturally to a related problem he poses for  political philosophy with respect to what has been a perennial concern of  the tradition, indeed perhaps its guiding question, namely: "What is the  best regime?" The consideration of the best regime may be in light of a concern  for the "whole" in some sense, or for the citizen or for the "whole" in  some sense, or from some other standpoint. Apart from the problem of how  to understand "the whole," a large philosophic question remains regarding  whether the best for a city is compatible with the best for a man. The  notion of the superior man provides a guide of some sort (as the 'norm'  does not) to the answer regarding what is best for a man; the view of the  best regime suggests (as the 'norm' does not) what is good for a city.   But what must one do if the two conflict? As has become apparent, the  complex question of the priority of the individual or the social order is  raised by the very presence of the superior man in a city. The dialogue  at various points tacitly prompts the reader to consider some of the  intricacies of this issue.   Upon considering what is best for man generally, for a man in  particular, and for a city, one notices that most people have opinions  about these things, and not all of them act upon these opinions. One  eventually confronts a prior distinction, the difference between doing  what one thinks is good, knowing what is good, and doing what one knows  is good. While it is not entirely accurate to designate them respectively  as power, knowledge, and knowledge with power, these terms suggest how  the problems mentioned above are carried through the dialogue in terms of  the concern for the superior man.   Provisionally, one may suggest that Alkibiades provides a classic example of the superior man. In a sense not obvious to the average   Athenian, so too is Socrates. They both pose distinct political problems,   and they present interesting philosophic puzzles as well. But there is   another reason, no less compelling for being less apparent, that recommends   the study of the First Alkibiades . Since antiquity the First Alkibiades   has been subtitled, "On the Nature of Man." At first blush this subtitle   63   is not as fitting as the subtitles of some other aporetic dialogues.   The question "What is the nature of Man?" is neither explicitly asked nor   directly addressed by either Socrates or Alkibiades, yet the reader is   driven to consider it. One might immediately wonder why " Alkibiades " is   the title of a dialogue on the nature of man, and why Socrates chooses to   64   talk about man as such with Alkibiades. Perhaps Alkibiades is par¬  ticularly representative, or especially revealing about man. Perhaps he  is unique or perhaps he is inordinately in need of such a discourse. One  must also try to understand Socrates' purpose, comprehend the significance  of any of Alkibiades' limitations, and come to an understanding of what the  character of his eros is (e.g., is it directed toward power, glory, or  is it just a great eros that is yet to be directed). In the course of  grappling with such matters, one also confronts one's own advantages and  liabilities for the crucial and demanding role of dialogic partner.   Perhaps the very things a reader fastens his attentions upon are  indicative of something essential about his own particular nature. If  the reader is to come to a decision as to whether the subtitle affixed  in antiquity to the dialogue is indeed appropriate, these matters must  be judged in the course of considering the general question of whether  the dialogue is indeed about "the nature of man." The mystery and challenge of a dialogue may serve to enhance its attractiveness. One of the most intriguing philosophic problems of the  First Alkibiades may well be the question of whether it is in fact about  man's nature. With a slight twist, the reader is faced with another  example of Socrates' revision of Meno's paradox ( Meno 80e). Sometimes  when a reader finds what he is looking for, discovering something he was  hoping to discover, it is only because his narrowness of attention or  interest prevented him from seeing conflicting material, and because he  expended his efforts on making what he saw conform to his wishes. The  good reader of a dialogue will, as a rule, take great care to avoid such  myopia. In order to find out whether the dialogue is primarily about the  nature of man (and if so, what is teaches about the nature of man), the  prudent reader will caution himself against begging the question, so to  speak. If one sets out ignorant of what the nature of man is, one may  have trouble recognizing it when one finds it. Conversely, to complete  the paradox, to ask how and where to find it (in other words, inquiring  as to how one will recognize it), implies that one ought already know  what to expect from knowledge of it. This could be problematic, for  the inquiry may be severely affected by a preconceived opinion about  which question will be answered by it. "Philosophical prejudices"  should have no part in the search for the nature of man.   This is a difficulty not faced to the same extent by other aporetic   dialogues which contain a question of the form "What is _?" Once   this first question is articulated, the normal way of pursuing the answer  is open to the reader. He may proceed naturally from conventional opinion,  say, and constantly refine his views according to what he notices. It ap¬  pears, however, that the reader of the First Alkibiades cannot be certain    that it will address the nature of man, and the dialogue doesn't seem to directly commence with a consideration of conventional opinions. Most  readers of the dialogue know what a man is insofar as they could point to  one (111b,ff.), but very few know what man is. Perhaps as the dialogue  unfolds the careful reader will be educated to a point beyond being  ignorant of how to look for something that he mightn't recognize even  when he found it. By this puzzle the reader is drawn more deeply into  the adventure of touching on the mysteries of his own nature. To borrow  a metaphor from a man who likely knew more about Socrates and Alkibiades  than has anyone else before or since, the same spirit of adventure  permeates the quest for knowledge of man as characterizes sailing  through perilous unknown waters on a tiny, frail craft, attempting to  avoid perishing on the rocks. One can only begin with what one knows,  such as some rudimentary views about navigation technique and more or  less correct opinions about one's home port. Upon coming to appreciate  the difficulties of knowing, fully and honestly, one's own nature, one  realizes how treacherous is the journey. In all likelihood one will  either be swamped, or continue to sail forever, or cling to a rock  under the illusion of having reached the far shore.   This thesis is an introduction to the First Alkibiades . Through  their discussion, and more importantly through his own participation in  their discussion, Socrates and Alkibiades reveal to the reader something  about the nature of man. Both the question of man's nature and the  problem of the superior man have been neglected in recent political  theory; especially the connection between them has been overlooked. To  state the thesis of this essay with only slight exaggeration: an under¬  standing of politics - great and small - is impossible without knowledge  of man, and knowledge of man is impossible without knowledge of the best of men. This thesis, investigating the dialogue entitled the First  Alkibiades , focusses on certain things the dialogue seems to be about,  without pretending to be comprehensive. It is like the dialogue in one  respect at least: it is written in the interest of opening the door to  further inquiry, and not with subsequently closing that door. Through  a hopefully careful, critical reading of the First Alkibiades , I attempt  to show that the nature of man and the superior man are centrally tied  both to each other and to any true understanding of (great) political  things. The spirit of the critique is inspired by the definition of a  "good critic" ascribed to Anatole France: "A good critic is one who  tells the story of his mind's adventures among the masterpieces." The First Alkibiades begins abruptly with the words "Son of  Kleinias, I suppose you are wondering..." The reader does not know where  the dialogue is taking place; nor is he informed as to how Socrates and  Alkibiades happened to meet on this occasion. Interlocutors in other  direct dramatic dialogues may sooner or later reveal this information in  their speeches. In narrated dialogues, Socrates or another participant  may disclose the circumstances of the discussion. In the case of this  dialogue, however, no one does. The reader remains uncertain that it is  even taking place in Athens proper and not in the countryside about the  city. It may be reasonable to suggest that in this case the setting of  the dialogue does not matter, or more precisely, the fact that there is  no particular setting is rather what matters. The discussion is not  dependent on a specific set of circumstances and the dialogue becomes  universally applicable. The analysis will hopefully show the permanence  of the problems thematically dealt with in the dialogue. Philosophically  it is a discussion in no way bound by time or place. Further support is  lent to this suggestion by the fact that there is no third person telling  the story and Socrates is not reporting it to anyone. Nobody else is  present.   Plato presents to the reader a dramatic exchange which is  emphatically private. Neither Socrates nor Alkibiades have divulged the  events of this first dialogic encounter between the man and the youth.   The thorough privacy of the discussion as well as the silence concerning the setting help to impute to the reader an appreciation of the autonomous  nature of the discourse. There is a sense in which this dialogue could  happen whenever two such people meet. Consequently, the proposition  implicitly put forth to the reader is that he be alive to the larger  significance of the issues treated; the very circumstances of the dialogue,  as mentioned here, sufficiently support such a suggestion so as to place  the onus for the argument in the camp of those who want to restrict the  relevance of the dialogue to Socrates and Alkibiades in 5th century  Athens.   That the two are alone is a feature that might be important to  much of the reader's interpretation, for attention is drawn to the fact  by the speakers themselves. Such privacy may have considerable  philosophic significance, as it has a clear effect on the suitability of  some of the material being discussed (e.g., 118b.5). There is no need  for concern about the effect of the discussion upon the community as  there might be were it spoken at the ekklesia ; the well-being of other  individuals need not dissuade them from examining radical challenges to  conventional views, as might be the case were they conversing in front of  children or at the marketplace; and there is no threat to either partici¬  pant, as there might be were they to insult or publicly challenge some¬  one's authority. Conventional piety and civic-mindedness need place no  limitations on the depth of the inquiry; the only limits are those im¬  plicit in the willingness and capability of the participants. For  example, an expectation of pious respect for his guardian, Perikles,  could well interfere with Alkibiades' serious consideration of good  statesmanship. The fact that they are unaccompanied, that Perikles is  spoken of as still living, and that Socrates first mentions Perikles in a respectful manner (as per 118c, 104b-c), permits a serious (if finally  not very flattering) examination of his qualifications. Socrates and  Alkibiades are alone and are not bound by any of the restrictions  normally faced in discussions with an audience. The reader's participa¬  tion, then, should be influenced by this spirit of privacy, at least in  so far as he is able to grasp the political significance of the special  "silence" of private conversation.   Somewhere in or about their usual haunts, Socrates and Alkibiades  chanced to meet. If their own pronouncements can be taken literally,  they were in the process of seeking each other. Alkibiades had been  about to address Socrates but Socrates began first (104c-d). Since his  daimon or god had only just ceased preventing him from talking to  Alkibiades (105d), Socrates was probably waiting at Alkibiades' door  (106e.10).   Although the location is unknown, the reader may glean from  various of their comments a vague idea of the time of the dialogue. In  this case, it appears, the actual dramatic date of the dialogue is of  less importance than some awareness of the substance of the evidence  enabling one to deduce it. Alkibiades is not yet twenty (123d) but he  must be close to that age for he intends shortly to make his first  appearance before the Athenian ekklesia (106c). Until today Socrates  had been observing and following the youth in silence; they had not  spoken to each other. This corroborates the suggestion that the action  of the dialogue takes place before the engagement at Potidaia (thus  before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, i.e. before 432 B.C.) for  they knew each other by that time ( Symposium, 219e). Perikles and his  sons are referred to as though they were living, offering further confirmation that the dramatic date is sometime before or about the onset  of the war with Sparta. The action of the dialogue must take place be¬  fore that of the Protagoras ,^ since Socrates has by then a reputation  of sorts among the young men, whereas Alkibiades seems not to have heard  very much of Socrates at the beginning of the First Alkibiades .   Socrates addresses Alkibiades as the son of Kleinias. This per¬  haps serves as a reminder to the young man who believes himself so self-  sufficient as to be in need of no one (104a). In the first place, his  uniqueness is challenged by this address. His brother (mention of whom  occurs later in the dialogue - 118e.4) would also properly turn around in  response to Socrates' words. More importantly, however, it indicates  that he too descended from a family. His ancestry is traced to Zeus  (121a), his connections via his kin are alleged to be central to his  self-esteem (104b), and even his mother, Deinomakhe, assumes a role in  the discussion (123c) . He is attached to a long tradition.   Through observation of Alkibiades' case in particular, the fact  that a man's nature is tied to descent is made manifest. Alkibiades lost  his father, Kleinias, when he was but a child (112c) . He was made a ward  of Perikles and from him received his nurture. For most readers, drawing  attention to parentage would not distinguish nature from nurture. One  is a child of one's parents both in terms of that with which one is born,  one's biological/genetic inheritance, and of that which one learns. In  the case of Alkibiades, however, to draw attention to his father is to  draw attention to his heredity, whereas it was Perikles who raised him.  The philosophic distinction between nature and nurture is emphasized by  the apparent choice of addresses open to Socrates. Alkibiades is both  the son of Kleinias and the ward of Perikles. It seems fitting that a dialogue on human nature begin by drawing attention to two dominating  features of all men's characters, their nature and their nurture.   Socrates believes that Alkibiades is wondering. He is curious  about the heretofore hidden motives for Socrates' behavior. As a facet  of a rational nature, wonder or curiosity separates men from the beasts.  Wondering about the world is characteristic of children long before they  fully attain reason, though it seems to be an indication of reason; most  adults retain at least some spark of curiosity about something. The  reader is reminded that the potential for wonder/reason is what is  common to men but not possessed by beasts, and it serves to distinguish  those whom we call human.   Reason in general, and wonder in particular, pose a rather complex  problem for giving an account of the nature of man. Though enabling one  to distinguish men from beasts, it also allows for distinctions between  men. Some are more curious than others and some are far more rational  than others. The philosopher, for example, appears to be dominated by  his rational curiosity about the true nature of things. Some people  wonder only to the extent of having a vague curiosity about their future.  It appears that the criteria that allow one to hierarchically differ¬  entiate man from beast also provide for the rank-ordering of men. Some  people would be "more human" than others, following this line of  analysis. This eatablishes itself as an issue in understanding what,  essentially, man is, and it may somehow be related to the general  problem of the superior man, since his very existence invites comparison  by a qualitative hierarchy. He might be the man who portrays the human  characteristics in the ideal/proper quantities and proportions. He may  thus aid our understanding of the standard for humans. Another opportunity to examine this issue will arise upon reaching the part of  the dialogue wherein Socrates points out that Alkibiades can come to know  himself after he understands the standard for superior men, after he  understands with whom he is to compete (119c,ff.).   There are at least two other problems with respect to the analysis  of human curiosity. The first is that it seems to matter what people  are curious about. Naturally children have a general wonder about things,  but at a certain stage of development, reason reveals some questions are  more important than and prior to others. It seems clear that wondering  about the nature of the world (i.e., what it really is), its arche (basic  principles), and man's proper place in it, or the kind of wondering  traditionally associated with the philosophic enterprise, is of a higher  order than curiosity about beetles, ancient architecture, details of  history, or nuances of linguistic meaning. This further complicates the  problems of rank-ordering men.   The second problem met with in giving an account of wonder and  its appropriate place in life is that next to philosophers and children,  few lives are more dominated by a curiosity of sorts than that of the  "gossiping housewife." She is curious about the affairs of her neighbors  and her neighbor's children. The passion for satisfying that curiosity  is often so strong as to literally dominate her days. It seems im¬  possible to understand such strong curiosity as "merely idle," but one  would clearly like to account for it as essentially different from the  curiosity of the philosopher. That the reader may not simply disregard  consideration of gossiping women, or consider it at best tangential, is  borne out by the treatment of curiosity in the First Alkibiades.    It is indicated in the dialogue that daughters, wives and mothers must figure into an account of wonder. There are seven uses of 'wonder'   6 V   ( thaumadzein ). The first three involve Socrates and Alkibiades attest¬  ing to Alkibiades' wonder, including a rare pronouncement by Socrates  of his having certain knowledge: he knows well that Alkibiades is  wondering (104c.4; 103a.1, 104d.4). The last three are all about women  wondering. Keeping in mind the centrality of  wondering to the nature of the philosopher (it seems to be a chief thing  in his nature), one sees that careful attention must be given to  curiosity. We have other reasons to suspect that femininity is in some  way connected to philosophy, and perhaps a careful consideration of the  treatment of women in the dialogue would shed light on the problem.   There is a sense in which wonder is a most necessary prerequisite  to seeking wisdom (cf. also Theaitetos 155d). To borrow the conclusion  of Socrates' argument with Alkibiades concerning his coming to know  justice (106d-e; 109e), one has to be aware of a lack of something in  order to seek it. A strong sense of wonder, or an insatiable curiosity  drives one to seek knowledge. This type of intense wondering may con¬  ceivably be a major link in the connection between the reason and the  spirit of the psyche (cf. Republic 439e-440a). In the Republic these  two elements are said to be naturally allied, but the reader is never  explicitly told how they are linked, or what generally drives or draws  the spirit toward reason. An overpowering sense of wonder seems the  most immediate link. Perhaps another link is supplied when the import¬  ance of the connection of knowledge to power is recognized; a connection  between the two parts of the psyche might be supplied by a great will to  power, for power presumably requires knowledge to be useful. However,  final judgement as to how the sense of wonder and the desire for power differ in this regard, and which, if any, properly characterizes the  connections between the parts of Alkibiades' psyche must await the  reader's reflection on the dialogue as a whole. Likewise, his evaluation  as to which class of men contains Alkibiades will be properly made after  he has finished the dialogue.   Socrates believes that Alkibiades is wondering. Precisely that  feature of Alkibiades' nature is the one with which Socrates chooses to  begin the discussion and therewith their relationship. One may thus  explore the possibility that wondering is what distinguishes Alkibiades,  or essentially characterizes him. The discussion to this point would  admit of a number of possibilities. Curiosity could set Alkibiades apart  from other political figures, or it may place him above men generally,  indicating that he is one of the best or at least potentially one of the  best men - should reason/curiosity prove to be characteristic of the best.  Alkibiades' ostensible wondering could bespeak the high spirit which  characterized his entire life; perhaps one of the reasons he would choose  to die rather than remain at his present state (105a-b) is that he is  curious to see how far he can go, how much he can rule.   Socrates remarks that he is Alkibiades' lover; he is the first of  Alkibiades' lovers. Socrates suggests two features of his manner which,  taken together, would be likely to have roused the wonder of Alkibiades.  Socrates, the first lover, is the only one who remains; all the other  lovers have forsaken Alkibiades. Secondly, Socrates never said a word  to Alkibiades during his entire youth, even though other lovers pushed  through hoardes of people to speak with Alkibiades. A youth continuously  surrounded by a crowd of admirers would probably wish to know the motives  of a most constant, silent observer - if he noticed him. Socrates has at last, after many years, spoken up.   Assuring Alkibiades that no human cause kept him from speaking,  Socrates intimates that a daimonic power had somehow opposed his uttering  a single word. The precise nature of the power is not divulged.   Obviously not a physical restraint such as a gag, it can nevertheless  affect Socrates' actions. Socrates, one is led to believe, is a most  rational man. If it was not a human cause that kept him from speaking,  then Socrates' reason did not cause him to keep silent. It was not  reason that opposed his speech. Whatever the daimonic power was, it was  of such a force that it could match the philosopher's reason. An under¬  standing of how Socrates' psyche would be under the power of this  daimonic sign would be of great interest to a student of man. In at  least Socrates' case, this power is comparable in force to the power of  reason. Socrates tells Alkibiades that the power of the daimon in  opposing his speaking was the cause of his silence for so many years.   The reader does not forget, however, that the lengthy silence was not  only Socrates'. Something else, perhaps less divine, kept Alkibiades  silent.   It is noteworthy that the first power Socrates chooses to speak  of with Alkibiades is a non-human one, and one which takes its effect by  restraining speech. Alkibiades is interested in having control over the  human world; the kind of power he covets involves military action and  political management. Young men seem not altogether appreciative of  speech. Even when they acknowledge the power made available by a  positive kind of rhetorical skill, they do not appear especially con¬  cerned with any negative or restraining power that limits speech such as  the power of this daimon. Not only is talk cheap, but it is for women and old men, in other words, for those who aren't capable of actually  doing anything. The first mention of power ( dynamis) in the dialogue  cannot appear to Alkibiades to pertain to his interest in ruling the  human world, but it does offer the reader both an opportunity for re¬  flection on power in general, and a promise to deal with the connection  between power and speech in some fashion. What the dialogue teaches  about language and power will be more deeply plumbed when Alkibiades  learns the extent of the force of his words with Socrates (112e, ff.).   According to Socrates, Alkibiades will be informed of the power  of this daimonic sign at some later time. Since apparently the time is  not right now, either Socrates is confident that he and Alkibiades will  continue to associate, or he intends to tell Alkibiades later during the  course of this very dialogue. Socrates, having complied with his daimon,  comes to Alkibiades at the time when the opposition ceases. He appears  to be well enough acquainted with the daimon to entertain good hopes that  it will not oppose him again.   By simple observation over the years, Socrates has received a  general notion of Alkibiades' behavior toward his lovers. There were  many and they were high-minded, but they fled from Alkibiades' surpassing  self-confidence. Socrates remarks that he wishes to have the reasons for  this self-confidence come to the fore. By bringing Alkibiades' reasons  to speech, Socrates implies, among other things, that this sense of  superiority does not have a self-evident basis of support. He also sug¬  gests that there is a special need to have reasons presented. Perhaps  Alkibiades' understanding of his own feelings either is wrong or in¬  sufficient; at any rate, they have previously been left unstated. If  they are finally revealed, Alkibiades will be compelled to assess them. Socrates proceeds to list the things upon which Alkibiades prides himself.   Interestingly, given his prior claim that he learned Alkibiades'  manner through observation, most of the things Socrates presently mentions  are not things one could easily learn simply through observation of  actions. One cannot see the mobility of Alkibiades' family or the power  of his connections. More important to Socrates' point, one cannot see  his pride in his family. He might "look proud," but others must determine  the reason. It is difficult to act proud of one's looks, family and wealth  while completely abstaining from the use of language. It has thus become  significant to their relationship that Socrates was also able to observe  Alkibiades' speech, for it is through speech that pride in one's family  can be made manifest. By listing these features, Socrates simultaneously  shows Alkibiades that he has given considerable thought to the character  of the youth. He is able to explain the source of a condition of  Alkibiades' psyche without having ever spoken to Alkibiades. Only a  special sort of observer, it seems, could accomplish that.   Alkibiades presumes he needs no human assistance in any of his  68   affairs; beginning with the body and ending with the soul, he believes  his assets make him self-sufficient. As all can see, Alkibiades is not   69   in error believing his beauty and stature to be of the highest quality.  Secondly, his family is one of the mightiest in the city and his city  the greatest in Greece. He has numerous friends and relatives through  his father and equally through his mother, who are among the best of men.  Stronger than the advantages of all those kinsmen, however, is the power  he envisions coming to him from Perikles, the guardian of Alkibiades and  his brother. Perikles can do what he likes in Greece and even in  barbarian countries. That kind of power - the power to do as one likes - Alkibiades is seeking (cf. 134e-135b). The last item Socrates includes  in the list is the one Alkibiades least relies on for his self-esteem,  namely his wealth.   Socrates places the greatest emphasis on Alkibiades' descent and  the advantages that accrue therefrom. This is curious for he was pur¬  portedly supplying Alkibiades' reasons for feeling self-sufficient; if  this is a true list, he has done the contrary, indicating Alkibiades to  be quite dependent upon his family. Even so, the amount of stress on the  family appears to exceed that necessary for showing Alkibiades not to be  self-sufficient. As has already been observed, this is accomplished by  paying close attention to the words at the start of the dialogue. At  this point, Alkibiades' father's relations and friends, his mother's  relations and friends, his political connections through his kinsmen and  his uncle's great power are mentioned as well as the position of his  family in the city and of his city in the Hellenic world. Relative to  the other resources mentioned, Socrates goes into considerable depth with  regards to Alkibiades' descent. It is literally the central element in  the set of features that Socrates wanted to be permitted to name as the  cause of Alkibiades' self-esteem. Quite likely then, the notion of  descent and its connections to human nature (as Alkibiades' descent is  connected, by Socrates' implication, to qualities of his nature) are  more important to the understanding of the dialogue than appears at the  surface. This discussion will be renewed later at the opening of the  longest speech in the First Alkibiades . At that point both participants  claim divine ancestry immediately after agreeing that better natures come  from well-born families (120d-121a). That will afford the reader an  opportunity to examine why they might both think their descent significant. Socrates has offered this account of Alkibiades' high-mindedness  suggesting they are Alkibiades' resources "beginning with the body and  ending with the soul." In fact, after mentioning the excellence of his  physical person, Socrates talks of Alkibiades' parents, polis , kinsmen,  guardian, and wealth. Unless the reader is to understand a man's soul  to be made by his family (and that is not said explicitly), these things  do not even appear to lead toward a consideration of the qualities of his  soul, but lead in a different direction. One might expect a treatment of  such things as Alkibiades' great desires, passions, virtues and thoughts,  not of his kinsfolk and wealth. Perhaps the reader is not yet close  enough to an understanding of the human soul. At this point he may not  be prepared to discern the qualities of soul in Alkibiades which would  properly be styled "great." Socrates and Alkibiades may provide  instruction for the reader in the dialogue, so that by the end of his  study he will be better able to make such a judgement were he to venture  one now, it might be based on conventional opinions of greatness. By not  explicitly stating Alkibiades' qualities of soul at this point, the  reader is granted the opportunity to return again, later, and supply  them himself. The psyche is more difficult to perceive than the body,  and as is discussed in the First Alkibiades (129a-135e), this significant¬  ly compounds the problems of attaining knowledge of either. If this is  what Socrates is indicating by apparently neglecting the qualities of  Alkibiades' soul, he debunks Alkibiades' assets as he lists them. The  features more difficult to discern, if discerned, would be of a higher  rank. Fewer men would understand them. Socrates, however, lists  features of Alkibiades that are plain for all to see. The qualities that even the vulgar can appreciate, when said to be such are not what the superior youth would most pride himself upon. The many  are no very serious judges of a man's qualities.   In view of these advantages, Alkibiades has elevated himself and  overpowered his lovers, and according to Socrates, Alkibiades is well  aware of how it happened that they fled, feeling inferior to his might.  Precisely on account of this Socrates can claim to be certain that  Alkibiades is wondering about him. Socrates says that he "knows well"  that Alkibiades must be wondering why he has not gotten rid of his eros .  What he could possibly be hoping for, now that the rest have fled is a  mystery. Socrates, by remaining despite the experience of the rest, has  made himself intriguing. This is especially the case given his analysis  of Alkibiades. How could Socrates possible hope to compete with  Alkibiades in terms of the sort of criteria important to Alkibiades?   He is ugly, has no famous family, and is poor. Yet Socrates had not  been overpowered; he does not feel inferior. Here is indeed a strange  case, or so it must seem to the arrogant young man. Socrates has  managed to flatter Alkibiades by making him out to be obviously superior  to any of his (other) lovers - but he also places himself above  Alkibiades, despite the flattery.   In his first speech to Alkibiades, Socrates has praised him and  yet undercut some of his superiority. He has aroused Alkibiades'  interest both in Socrates and in Socrates' understanding of him. It is  conceivable that no other admirer of Alkibiades has been so frank, and  it is likely that none have been so strange - to the point of alluding  to daimons. Yet something about Socrates and Socrates' peculiar erotic  attraction to Alkibiades makes Alkibiades interested in hearing more    from the man. It is clear that he cannot want to listen merely because he enjoys being flattered and gratified, for Socrates' speech is ironic  in its praise. He takes even as he gives.   Philosophically, this op ening speech contains a reference to most  of the themes a careful reader will recognize as being treated in the  dialogue. Some of these should be listed to   give an indication of the  depths of the speech that remain to be plumbed. The reader is invited  to examine the nature of power - what it is essentially and through what  it affects human action. As conventionally understood, and as it is  attractive to Alkibiades, power is the ability to do what one wants.  According to such an account, it seems Perikies has power. This notion  of power is complicated by the non-human power referred to by Socrates  which stops one from doing what one wants. Power is also shown to be  connected to speech. Another closely related theme is knowledge. All  of these are connected explicitly in that the daimonic power knew when  to allow speech . In the opening speech by Socrates, he claims to know  something, and the reader is introduced to a consideration of observation  and speech as sources of knowledge. He is also promised a look at what  distinguishes one's perception of oneself from other's opinions of one,  through Socrates' innuendo that his perception of Alkibiades may not be  what Alkibiades perceives himself to be. There is also reference to a  difference in ability to perceive people's natures - namely the many's  ability is contrasted with Socrates', as is the ability of the high-  minded suitors. The dialogue will deal with this theme in great depth.  Should it turn out that this ability is of essential importance to a  man's fulfillment, the reader is hereby being invited to examine what are  the essentially different natures of men. Needless to say, the reader of  the dialogue should return again and again to this speech, to the initial treatment of these fundamental questions.   The relationship of body to soul, as well as the role of 'family'  and ' polis ' in the account of man's nature, are introduced here in the  opening words. They indicate the vastness of the problem of understanding  the nature of man. Socrates and Alkibiades seem superior to everyone else,  but they too are separate. Socrates is shown to be unique in some sense  and he cites especially strange causes of his actions. There is no  mention of philosophy or philosopher in this dialogue, but the reader is  introduced to a strange man whose eros is different from other men, in¬  cluding some regarded as quite excellent, and who is motivated by an as  yet unexplained daimonic power.   On another level, the form of the speech and the delivery itself  attest to some of the thought behind the appropriateness or inappropriate¬  ness of saying certain things in certain situations. Even the mechanics  or logistics of the discussion prove illuminating to the problem. In  addition, the very fact that they are conversing tog  ether and not  depicted as fighting together in battle, or even debating with each other  in the public assembly, renders it possible that speech - and perhaps  even a certain kind of speech (e.g., private, dialectical) - is essential  to the relation between the two superior men said to begin in the First  Alkibiades .   Finally (though not to suggest that the catalogue of themes is  complete), one must be awakened to the significance of the silence being  finally broken. With Socrates' first words, the dialogue has begun to  take place. Socrates and Alkibiades have commenced their verbal  relationship. There is plenty of concern in the dialogue about language:  what is to be said and not said, and when and how it is to be said. The first speech by Socrates in the First Alkibiades has alerted the reader  to this.   Alkibiades addresses Socrates for the first time. Though already  cognizant of his name, Alkibiades does not appear to know anything else  about him. To Socrates' rather strange introduction he responds that  he was ready to speak with reference to the same issue; Socrates has just  slightly beat him. Alkibiades seems to have been irritated by Socrates'  constant presence and was on the brink of asking him why he kept bother¬  ing him. Socrates' opening remarks have probably mitigated his annoyance  somewhat and allowed him to express himself in terms of curiosity instead.  He admits, indeed he emphatically affirms (104d), that he is wondering  about Socrates' motives and suggests he would be glad to be informed.  Alkibiades thus expresses the reader's own curiosity; one wonders in a  variety of respects about what Socrates' objective might be. Alkibiades  might perceive different possibilities than the reader since he seems  thoroughly unfamiliar with Socrates. A reader might wonder if Socrates  wanted to influence Alkibiades, and to what end. Did Socrates want to  make Alkibiades a philosopher; what kind of attraction did he feel for  Alkibiades; why did he continue to associate with him? These questions  and more inevitably confront the reader of the First Alkibiades even  though they might at first appear to be outside the immediate bonds of  the dialogue. For these sorts of questions are carried to a reading of  the dialogue, as it were; and given the notoriety of Alkibiades and of  Socrates, it is quite possible that they were intended to be in the  background of the reader's thoughts. Perhaps the dialogue will provide  at least partial answers.    If Alkibiades is as eager to hear as he claims, Socrates can assume that he will pay attention to the whole story. Socrates will not  then have to expend effort in keeping Alkibiades' attention, for  Alkibiades has assured him he is interested. Alkibiades answers that he  certainly shall listen.   Socrates, not quite ready to begin, insists that Alkibiades be   prepared for perhaps quite a lengthy talk. He says it would be no wonder   if the stopping would be as difficult as the starting was. One does not   expect twenty years of non-stop talk from Socrates, naturally, and so   one is left to wonder - despite (or perhaps because of) his claim that   70   there is no cause for wonder - why he is making such a point about this  beginning and the indeterminacy of the ending. The implication is that  there remains some acceptable and evident relation between beginnings  and endings for the reader to discern. In an effort to uncover what he  is, paradoxically, not to wonder about, the careful reader will keep  track of the various things that are begun and ended and how they are  begun and ended in the First Alkibiades .  Although innocuous here, Alkibiades' response "speak good man, I  will listen," gives the reader a foreshadowing of his turning around at  the end of the dialogue. There it is suggested that Alkibiades will  silently listen to Socrates. Until the time of the dialogue the good  man has been silent, listening and observing while any talking has been  done by Alkibiades or his suitors.   Assured of a listener, Socrates begins. He is convinced that he  must speak. However difficult it is for a lover to talk to a man who  disdains lovers, Socrates must be daring enough to speak his mind. This  is the first explicit indication the reader is given concerning certain  qualities of soul requisite for speaking, not only for acting. It also suggests some more or less urgent, but undisclosed, necessity for  Socrates to speak at this time. Should Alkibiades seem content with the  above mentioned possessions, Socrates is confident that he would be re¬  leased from his love for Alkibiades - or so he has persuaded himself.  Socrates is attracted to the unlimited ambition Alkibiades possesses. The caveat introduced by Socrates (about his having so persuaded  himself) draws attention to the difference between passions and reason  as guides to action, and perhaps also a difference between Socrates and  other men. For the most part one cannot simply put an end to passions  on the basis of reason. One may be able to substitute another passion  or appetite, but it is not as easy to rid oneself of it. However,  instead of having to put away his love, Socrates is going to lay  Alkibiades' thought open to him.   Socrates intends to reveal to Alkibiades the youth's ambition. This can only be useful in the event that he has never considered his  goals under precisely the same light that Socrates will shed on them.   By doing this Socrates will also accomplish his intention of proving to  Alkibiades that he has paid careful attention to the youth (105a).  Alkibiades should be in a position to recognize Socrates' concern by  the end of this speech; this suggests a capability on the part of both.  Many cannot admit the motives of their own actions, much less reveal to  someone else that person's own thoughts. Part of the significance of  the following discussion, therefore, is to indicate both Socrates'  attentiveness to Alkibiades and Alkibiades' perception of it.   Should some (unnamed) god ask Alkibiades if he would choose to  die rather than be satisfied with the possessions he has, he would  choose to die. That is Socrates' belief. If Socrates is right, it bespeaks a high ambition for Alkibiades, and it does so whether or not  Alkibiades thought of it before. His possessions, mentioned so far,  include beauty and stature, great kinsmen and noble family, and great  wealth (though the last is least important to him). In an obvious sense,  Alkibiades must remain content with some of what he has. He cannot, for  example, acquire a greater family. His ambition, then, as Socrates  indicates, is for something other than he possesses. The hopes of  Alkibiades' life are to stand before the Athenian ekklesia and prove to  them that he is more honorable than anyone, ever, including Perikles.   As one worthy of honor he should be given the greatest power, and having  the greatest power here, he would be the greatest among Greeks and even  among the barbarians of the continent. If the god should further propose that Alkibiades could be the  ruler of Europe on the condition that he not pass into Asia, Socrates  believes Alkibiades would not choose to live. He desires to fill the  world with his name and power. Indeed Socrates believes that Alkibiades  thinks no man who ever lived worthy of discussion besides Kyros and  Xerxes ( the Great Kings of Persia). Of this Socrates claims to be sure,  not merely supposing - those are Alkibiades' hopes.   There are a number of interesting features about the pretense of  Alkibiades responding to a god. Alkibiades might not admit the extent  of his ambition to the Athenian people who would fear him, or even to  his mother, who would fear for him; it therefore would matter who is  allegedly asking the question. It is a god, an unidentified god whose  likes and dislikes thus remain unknown. Alkibiades cannot take into  account the god's special province and adjust his answer accordingly.   The significance of the god is most importantly that he is more powerful than Alkibiades can be. But why could not Socrates have simply asked him,  or, failing that, pretend to ask him as he does in a moment? It is pos¬  sible that speaking with an omniscient god would allow Alkibiades to  reveal his full desire; he would not be obliged to hid his ambition from  such a god as he would from most men in democratic Athens. But it is  also plausible that Socrates includes the god in the discussion for the  purpose of limiting Alkibiades' ambition (or perhaps as a standard for  power/knowledge). Not to suggest that Socrates means to moderate what  Alkibiades can do, he nevertheless must have realistic bounds put upon  his political ambition. Assume, for the moment, that more questions  naturally follow the proposal of limiting his rule to Europe. If  Alkibiades were talking to Socrates (instead of to a deity with greater  power), he might not stop at Asia. If he thought of it, he might wish to  control the entire world and its destiny. He would dream that fate or  chance would even be within the scope of his ambition. The god in this example is presented as being in a position to  determine Alkibiades' fate; he can limit the alternatives open to  Alkibiades and can have him die. With Socrates' illustration, Alkibiades  is confronting a being which has a power over him that he cannot control.  The young man is at least forced to pretend to be in a situation in  which he cannot even decide which options are available. It is import¬  ant for a political ruler to realize the limits placed on him by fate.   The notion that the god is asking Alkibiades these questions makes it  unlikely that Alkibiades would answer that he should like to rule heaven  and earth, or even that he would like supreme control of earth (for that  is likely to be the god's own domain). Alkibiades probably won't  suggest to a god that he wants to rule Fate or the gods of the Iliad who hold the fate of humans so much in hand. Chance cannot be controlled   by humans, either through persuasion or coersion. It can only have its   effect reduced by knowledge. Alkibiades' political ambitions have to   be moderated to fit what is within the domain of fate and chance and to   be educated about the limits of the politically possible. Socrates, by   pretending that a god asks the questions, can allow Alkibiades to admit   the full extent of his ambitions over humans, but it also serves to keep   him within the arena of human politics. If he would have answered   Socrates or a trusted friend in discussion, he might not have easily   accepted that limit. It is necessary for any politically ambitious man,   and doubly so if he is young, to cultivate a respect for the limits of   what can politically be accomplished under one's full control. This may have helped Alkibiades establish a political limit m his own mind.   Another feature of the response to the god which should be noted  is that it marks the second of three of Socrates' exaggerated claims to  know aspects of Alkibiades' soul. In the event that the reader should  have missed the first one wherein he claims to "know well" that  Alkibiades wonders (104c), Socrates here emphasizes it. He is not  simply inferring or guessing, he asserts; he knows this is Alkibiades'  hope (105c). Shortly he will claim to have observed Alkibiades during  every moment the boy was out of doors, and thus to know all that  Alkibiades has learned (106e).   Just as it is impossible for Socrates to have watched Alkibiades  at every moment, so he cannot be certain of what thought is actually  going through Alkibiades' mind. Socrates' claim to knowledge has to be  based on something other than physical experience or being taught.  Alkibiades has not told anyone that these are his high hopes. Perhaps Socrates' knowledge is grounded in some kind of experience   He knows what state Alkibiades' soul is in because he knows what   Alkibiades must hope, wonder and know. It may be that Socrates has an   access to this knowledge of Alkibiades' soul through his own soul. His   soul may be or may have been very like Alkibiades'. Since Socrates will   later argue that one cannot know another without knowing oneself  perhaps one of the reasons he knows Alkibiades' soul so well is that it matches his in some way. It is not out of the question that their  souls share essential features and that those features perhaps are not  shared by all other men. Clearly not all other men have found knowledge  of Alkibiades' soul as accessible as has Socrates. And Socrates will be  taking Alkibiades' soul on a discussion beyond the bounds of Athenian  politics and politicians. He instructs Alkibiades that his soul cannot  be patterned upon a conventional model, just as Socrates is obviously not  modelling himself upon a standard model. These two men are somehow in  a special position for understanding each other, and their common sight  beyond the normally accepted standards may be what allows Socrates to  make such apparently outrageous claims. At this point, instead of waiting to see how Alkibiades will  respond, Socrates manufactures his own dialogue, saying that Alkibiades  would naturally ask what the point is. He is supposing that Alkibiades  recognizes the truth of what has gone before. Since it is likely that  Alkibiades would have enjoyed the speech to this point and thought it  good, Socrates must bring him back to the topic. By using this device  of a dialogue within a speech, Socrates is able to remind Alkibiades  (and the reader) - by pretending to have Alkibiades remind Socrates -  that they were supposed to learn not Alkibiades' ambitions, but those of Socrates (supposing that they are indeed different).   Socrates responds (to his own question) that he conceives himself  to have so great a power ove    r Alkibiades that the dear son of Kleinias  and Deinomakhe will not be able to achieve his hopes without the  philosopher's assistance (105d). Because of this power the god prevented  him from speaking with Alkibiades. Socrates hopes to win as complete a  power over Alkibiades as Alkibiades does over the polis . They both wish  to prove themselves invaluable, Socrates by showing himself more worthy  than Alkibiades' guardian or relatives in being able to transmit to him  the power for which he longs. The god prevented Socrates from talking  when Alkibiades was younger, that is, before he held such great hopes.  Now, since Alkibiades is prepared to listen, the god has set him on.  Alkibiades wants power but he does not know what it is, essentially.   Yet he must come to know in order not to err and harm himself. Part of  the relationship between philosophy and politics is suggested here, and  perhaps also some indication of why Socrates and Alkibiades need each  other. An understanding of the causes of their coming together would be  essential to an account of their relation, it seems, and such under¬  standing is rendered more problematic by the role of the god.   Socrates wants as complete power over Alkibiades as Alkibiades  does over the polis . If one supposes that the power is essentially  similar, this might imply that Socrates would actually have the power  over the polis . A complete power to make someone else do as one wants  (as power is conventionally understood) seems to be the same over an  individual as over a state. Socrates and Alkibiades hope to prove  themselves invaluable (105a). That is not the same as being worthy of  honor (105b); past performance is crucial to the question of one's  honor, whereas a possibility of special expertise in the future is  sufficient to indicate one is invaluable. If a teacher is able to  promise that his influence will make manifest to one the problems with  one's opinions, and will help to clarify them, the teacher has indicated  himself to be invaluable. Should one then, on the basis of the teacher's  influence change one's opinions, and thus one's advice and actions, the  teacher will, in effect, be the man with power over all that is affected  by one's advice and actions, over all over which one has power.   Socrates, in affecting politically-minded youths, has an effect  on the polity. To have power over the politically powerful is to have  power in politics. Socrates' daimon had not let Socrates approach while  Alkibiades' hopes for rule were too narrowly contained. His ambitions  had to become much greater. If for no other reason than to see that  over which Socrates expects or intends to have indirect power, one should  be eager to discover Alkibiades' ambition - to discover that end which he  has set for himself, or which Socrates will help to set for him. The  reader also has in mind the historical Alkibiades: to the extent to  which Alkibiades' designs in Europe and Asia did come to pass, was  Socrates responsible as Plato, here, has him claim to be? The reader  might also be curious about the reverse: what actions of the historical  Alkibiades make this dialogue (and Socrates' regard) credible?   Alkibiades is astounded, Socrates sounds even stranger than he  looks. But Alkibiades' interest is aroused, even if he is skeptical.   He doesn't admit to the ambitions that have been listed; however he  will concede them for the sake of finding out just how Socrates thinks  of himself as the sole means through whom Alkibiades can hope to realize  them. Perhaps he never had the opportunity to characterize his ambitions that way - he may never have talked to a god. Socrates may only have   clarified those hopes for Alkibiades; but on the other hand, the   philosopher (partly, at least) may be responsible for imparting them to   the young man. At any rate, even if Socrates merely made these goals   obvious to the youth, one must wonder as to his purpose. Alkibiades   feels confident in claiming that no denial on his part will persuade   Socrates. He asks Socrates to speak (106a).   Socrates replies with a question which he answers himself. He   asks if Alkibiades expects him to speak in the way Alkibiades normally   hears people speak - in long speeches. Alkibiades' background is thus   73   indicated to some extent. He has heard orators proclaim. Socrates   points out that he will proceed in a way that is unusual to Alkibiades -   at least in so far as proving claims. By suggesting there is more than   one way to speak, Socrates indicates that differences of style are   significant in speech, and he invites the reader to judge/consider   which is appropriate to which purposes.   Socrates protests that his ability is not of that sort (the   orator's), but that he could prove his case to Alkibiades if Alkibiades   consents to do one bit of service. By soliciting Alkibiades' efforts,   Socrates may be intending to gain a deeper commitment from the youth.   If he is responsible somewhat for the outcome he may be more sincere in  74   his answers. Alkibiades will consent to do a service that is not   difficult;    he is interested but not willing to go to a great deal of   trouble. At this stage of the discussion he has no reason to believe   75   that fine things are hard. Upon Socrates' query as to whether  answering questions is considered difficult, Alkibiades replies that it    is not. Socrates tells him to a nswer and Alkibiades tells Socrates to  ask. His response suggests that Alkibiades has never witnessed a true  dialectical discuss    ion. He has just played question and answer games.  Not many who have experienced a dialogue, and even fewer who have  spoken with Socrates, would say it   is not hard. Alkibiades, too, soon  experiences difficulty.   Socrates asks him if he'll admit he has these intentions but   Alkibiades won't affirm or deny except toget on with the conversation.   Should Socrates want to believe it he may; Alkibiades desires to know   what is coming before he acknowledges more.   Accepting this, Socrates proceeds. Alkibiades, he notes, intends   shortly to present himself as an advisor to the Athenians. If Socrates   76   were to take hold of him as he was about to ascend the rostrum in  front of the ekklesia and were to ask him upon what subject they wanted  advice such as he could give, and if it was a subject about which  Alkibiades knew better than they, what would he answer?   This is an example of a common Socratic device, one of imagining  that the circumstances are other than they are. Socrates hereby employs   I   it for the third time in the dialogue, and each provides a different  effe   ct. On the first occasion, Socrates pretended a god was present to  provide Alkibiades with an important choice. Socrates did not speak in  his own name. The second example was when Socrates ventured that  Alkibiades would ask a certain question, and so answered it without  waiting to see if he would indeed have asked that question. In both of  those, the physical setting of the First Alkibi   ades was appropriate to  his intentions. This time, however, Socrates supplies another setting -  a very different setting - for a part of the discussion.   Speech is plastic in that it enables Socrates to manufacture an almost limitless variety of situations. By the sole use of human reason  and imagination, people are able to consider their actions in different  lights. This is highly desirable as it is often difficult to judge a  decision from within the context in which it was made. The malleability  of circumstances that is possible in speech allows one to examine  thoughts and policies from other perspectives. One may thus, for  example, evaluate whether it is principle or prejudice that influences  one's decisions, or whether circumstance and situation play a large or a  small role in the rational outcome of the deliberation. This rather  natural feature of reason also permits some consideration of consequences   without having to effect those consequences, and this may result in the aversion of disastrous results.   The plastic character of speech is crucial to philosophic dis¬  course as well, providing the essential material upon which dialectics  is worked. In discussion, the truly important features of a problem may  be more clearly separated from the merely incidental, through the care¬  ful construction of examples, situations and counterexamples. If not  for the ability to consider circumstances different from the one in  which one finds oneself, thinking and conversing about many things would  be impossible. And this is only one aspect of the plasticity of speech  which proves important to philosophic discussion. Good dialogic  partners exhibit this ability, since they require speech for much more  than proficiency in logical deduction. Speech and human imagination must  work upon each other. Participants in philosophical argument must  recognize connections between various subjects and different circum¬  stances. To a large extent, the level of thought is determined by the  thinker's ability to 'notice' factors of importance to the inquiry at hand. The importance of 'noticing' to philosophic argument will be con¬  sidered with reference to two levels of participation in the First  Alkibiades , both of which clearly focus on the prominence of the above  mentioned unique properties of speech as opposed to action.   'Noticing' is important to dialectics in that it describes how,  typically, Socrates' arguments work. An  interlocutor will suggest, say,  a solution to a problem, and upon reflection, Socrates - or another inter¬  locutor (e.g., as per llOe) - will notice, for example, that the solution  apparently doesn't work in all situations (i.e., a counter-example occurs  to him), or that not all aspects of the solution are satisfactory, and  so on. The ability of the participants to recognize what is truly im¬  portant to the discussion, and to notice those features in a variety of  other situations and concerns, is wha      t lends depth to the analysis. As  this has no doubt been experienced by anyone who has engaged in serious  arguments, it presumably need not be further elaborated.   The other aspect in which 'noticing' is important to philosophy  and how it influences, and is in turn influenced by, rational discourse  is in terms of how one ought to read a philosophic work. As hopefully  will be shown in this commentary on the First Alkibiades , a reader's  ability to notice dramatic details of the dialogue, a  nd his persistence  in carefully examining what he notices, importantly affects the benefit  he derives from the study of the dialogue. Frequently, evidence to this  effect can be gathered through reflective consideration of Socrates'  apparently off-hand examples, which turn out upon examination to be  neither offhand in terms of their relation to significant aspects of the  immediate topic, nor isolated in terms of bringing the various topics in  the dialogue into focus. As shall become more apparent as the analysis proceeds, the examples of ships and doctors, say, are of exceedingly  more philosophic importance than their surface suggests. Not only do  they metaphorically provide a depth to the argument (perhaps unwitnessed  by any participant in the dialogue besides the reader) but through  their  repeated use, they also help the reader to discern essential philosophic  connections between various parts of the subject under discussion.   The importance of 'recognition' and 'noticing' to dialectics (and   the importance of the malleability of subject matter afforded by speech)  may be partly explained by the understanding of the role of metaphor in  human reason. Dialectics involves the meticulous division of what has  been properly collected (c.f., for example Phaidros 266b). Time and  time again, evidence is surveyed by capable partners and connections    are  drawn between relevantly similar matters before careful distinctions are  outlined. The ability to recognize similarities, to notice connections,  seems similar to the mind's ability to grasp metaphor. Metaphor relies  to an important extent on the language user's readiness to 'collect'  similar features from various subjects familiar to him, a procedure the  reader of the First Alkibiades has observed to be crucial to the  philosophic enterprise.   Socrates often refrains from directly asking a question, pre¬  facing it by "supposing someone were to ask" or even "supposing I were  to ask." The circumstances of the encounters need to be examined in  order to understand his strategy. What might be the relevance of  Socrates asking Alkibiades to imagine he was about to ascend the plat¬  form, instead of, for example, in the market place, in another city,  near a group of young men, or in the privacy of his own home? And why  could not the setting be left precisely the same as the setting of the  dialogue? The situation at the base of the platform in front of the ekklesia is, needless to say, quite a bit different from the situation  they are in now. Alkibiades is not likely to give the same answer if  his honor and his entire political career are at stake, as they might be  in such a profoundly public setting. Socrates' device, on this occasion  helps serve to indicate that what counts as politic, or polite, speech  varies in different circumstances.   As Socrates has constructed the example, the Athenians proposed  to take advice on a subject and Alkibiades presumed to give them advice.  This might severely limit the subjects on which Alkibiades or another  politician could address them. Were the ekklesia about to take counsel  on something, it would be a m  atter they felt was settled by special  knowledge, and a subject on which there were some people with recognizable  expertise. The kinds of questions they believe are settled by uncommon  knowledge or expertise may be rather limited. It is not likely that  they would ask for advice on matters of justice. Most people feel they  are competent to decide that (i.e., that the knowledge relevant to  deciding is generally available, or common). Expertise is acknowledged  in strategy and tactics, but knowledgeability about politics in general  is less likely to be conceded than ability in matters of efficacy. All  of these sentiments limit the kinds of advice which can be given to the  ekklesia , and the councillor's problems are compounded by such considera¬  tions as what things can be    persuasively addressed in public speeches to  a mixed audience, and what will be effective in pleasing and attracting  the sympathy of the audience to the speaker. To be rhetorically effect¬  ive one must work with the beliefs/opinions/prejudices people confidently  and selfishly hold. Alkibiades agrees with Socrates that he would answer that it was a subject about which he had better knowledge. He would have to. If  Alkibiades wishes to be taken seriously by them, he should so answer in  front of the people. Even if he would be fully aware of his ignorance,  he might have motives which demand an insistence on expertise. He  couldn't admit to several purposes for which he might want to influence  the votes of the citizenry. Not all of those reasons can be made known  to them; not all of those reasons can be voiced from the platform at the  ekklesia . Sometimes politicians have to make decisions without certain  knowledge, but must nevertheless pretend confidence. These considerations  indicate again the importance of the role of speech to the themes of  this dialogue. There is a difference between public and private speech.  Some things simply cannot be said in front of a crowd of people, and  other things which would not be claimed in private conversation with  trusted friends would have to be affirmed in front of the ekklesia .   Just as a speaker may take advantage of the fact that crowds can be  aroused and swept along by rhetoric that would not so successfully move  an individual (e.g., patriotic speeches inciting citizens to war, and on  the darker side, lynch mobs and riots), so he understands that he could  never admit to a crowd things he might disclose to a trusted friend  (e.g., criticizing re ligious or political authorities).   Socrates suggests that Alkibiades believes he is a good advisor  on that which he knows, and those would be things which he learned from  others or through his own discovery. Alkibiades agrees that there don't  seem to be any other alternatives. Socrates further asks if he would  have learned or discovered anything if he hadn't been willing to learn  or inquire into it and whether one would ask about or learn what one  thought one knew. Alkibiades readily agrees that there must have been a period in his life when he might have admitted to ignorance to which  he doesn't admit now. Socrates suggests that one learns only what one  is willing to learn and discovers only what one is willing to inquire  into . The asymmetry of this may indicate the general problems of the  argument as the difference in phrasing (underlined) alerts the reader to  examine it more closely.   Discoveries, of course, usually involve a large measure of  accident or chance. And if they are the result of an inquiry, the in¬  quiry often has a different or more general object. Columbus didn't  set out to discover the New World; he wanted to establish a shorter  trading route to the Far East. Darwin did not set out to discover  evolution; he sought to explain why species were different. Earlier he  did not set out to discover that species were different; he observed the  animal kingdom. Not only may one stumble upon something by accident,  but by looking for one thing one may come to know something else. For  example, someone might not be motivated by a recognition of ignorance  but may be trying to prove a claim to knowledge. In the search for  proof he may find the truth. Or, alternatively, in the pursuit of some¬  thing altogether different, such as entertainment through reading a  story, one may discover that another way of life is better. The argu¬  ment thus appears to be flawed in that it is not true that one discovers  only what one is willing to inquire into. Thus Alkibiades may have  discovered what he now claims to know without ever having sought it as  a result of recognizing his ignorance. Socrates has been able to pass  this argument by Alkibiades because of the asymmetry of the statement.  Had he said "one discovers only what one is willing to discover,"    Alkibiades might have objected. Another difficulty with the argument is that one is simply not  always willing to learn what others teach and one nevertheless may  learn. One might actually be unwilling, but more often one is simply  neutral, or oblivious to the fact that one is learning. In the case of  the former (learning despite being unwilling), one need only remember  that denying what one hears does not keep one from hearing it. Propa¬  ganda can be successful even when it is known to be propaganda.   However, by far the most common counter-example to Socrates'  argument is the learning that occurs in everyday life. Many things are  not learned as the result of setting out to learn. Such knowledge is  acquired in other ways. Men come to have a common sense understanding  of cause and effect by simply doing and watching. One learns one's  name and who one's mother is long before choosing to learn, being willing  to study, or coming to recognize one's ignorance. Language is learned  with almost no conscious effort, and one is nurtured into conventions  without setting out to learn them. Notions of virtues are gleaned from  stories and from shades of meaning in the language, or even as a result  of learning a language. And, in an obvious sense, whenever anything is  heard, something is learned - even if only that such a person said it.   One cannot help observing; one does not selectively see when one one's eyes  are open, and one cannot even close one's ears to avoid hearing.   The above are, briefly, two problems with the part of Socrates'  argument that suggests people learn or discover only what they are  willing to learn or inquire into. The other parts of the argument may  be flawed as well. Socrates has pointed to the reader's discovery of  some flaws by a subtle asymmetry in his question. It is up to the  reader to examine the rest (in this case - to be willing to inquire into it). For example, there may be difficulties with the first suggestion  that one knows only what one has learned or discovered. It is possible  that there are innate objects of knowledge and that they are important  to later development. Infants, for example, have an ability to sense  comfort and discomfort which is later transferred into feeling a wide  variety of pleasures and pains. They neither learn this, nor discover it  (in any ordinary sense of "discovery"). The sense of pleasure and pain  quite naturally is tied to and helps to shape a child's sense of justice  (110b), and may thus be significant to the argument about Alkibiades'  knowledge or opinions about justice. In any event, closer examination  of Socrates' argument has shown the reader that the problem of knowing  is sufficiently complex to warrant his further attention. The rest of  the dialogue furnishes the careful reader with many examples and  problems to consider in his attempt to understand how he comes to know  and what it means to know.   Socrates knows quite well what things Alkibiades has learned, and  if he should omit anything in the relating, Alkibiades must correct him.  Socrates recollects that he learned writing, harping and wrestling - and  refused to learn fluting. Those are the things Alkibiades knows then,  unless he was learning something when he was unobserved - but that,  Socrates declares, is unlikely since he was watching whenever Alkibiades  stepped out of doors, by day or by night.   The reader will grant that the last claim is an exaggeration.  Socrates could not have observed every outdoor activity of the boy for  so many years. Yet Socrates persists in declaring that he knows what  Alkibiades learned out of doors. As suggested earlier, Socrates may be  indicating that he knows Alkibiades through his own soul. In that event one must try to understand why Socrates couldn't likewise claim to know  what went on indoors, or why Socrates doesn't announce to Alkibiades an  assumption that what goes on indoors is pretty much the same everywhere.  The reader may find what Alkibiades may have learned "indoors" much more  mysterious, and he may consider it odd that Socrates does not have access  to that- What occurs indoors (and perhaps to fully understand one would  need to acknowledge a metaphoric dimension to "indoor") that would  account for Socrates drawing attention to his knowledge of the outdoor  activities of Alkibiades?   Even if one confines one's attention to the literal meaning, there  is much of importance in one's nurture that happens inside the home.  Suffice it to notice two things. The first is that the domestic scene  in general, and household management in particular, are of crucial im¬  portance to politics. The second is that the teachers inside the home  are typically the womenfolk.   These are of significance both to this dialogue and (not un¬  related) to an understanding of politics. Attention is directed, for   example, toward the maternal side of the two participants in this dialogue. In addition, as has already been mentioned, the womenfolk  in this dialogue are the only ones who wonder, besides Alkibiades. The  women are within (cf. Symposium 176e); they have quite an effect on the  early nurture of children (cf. Republic 377b-c and context). Perhaps  the women teach something indoors that Socrates could not see, or would  not know regardless of how closely akin he was to Alkibiades by nature.   If that is so, the political significance of early education, of that  education which is left largely to women, assumes a great importance. Women> it is implied, are able to do something to sons that men cannot and perhaps even something which men cannot fully appreciate. An  absolutely crucial question arises: How is it proper for women to in¬  fluence sons?   Socrates proceeds to find out which of the areas of Alkibiades'  expertise is the one he will use in the assembly when giving advice. In  response to Socrates' query whether it is when the Athenians take advice  on writing or on lyre playing that Alkibiades will rise to address them,  the young man swears by Zeus that he will not counsel them on these  matters. (The possibility is left open that someone else would advise  the Athenians on these matters at the assembly). And, Socrates adds,  they aren't accustomed to deliberating about wrestling in the ekklesia. For some reason, Socrates has distinguished wrestling from the other two  subjects. Alkibiades will not advise the Athenians on any of the three;  he will not talk about writing or lyre-playing even if the subject would  come up; he will not speak about wrestling because the subject won't come  up. Regardless of the reader's suspicion that the first two subjects are  also rarely deliberated in the assembly, he should note the distinction  Socrates draws between the musical and the gymnastic arts. The attentive  reader will also have observed that the e    ducation a boy receives in school  does not prepare him for advising men in important political matters; it  does not provide him with the kinds of knowledge requisite to a citizen's  participation in the ekklesia .   But then on what will Alkibiades advise the Athenians? It won't  be about buildings or divination, for a builder will serve better (107a-  b). Regardless of whether he is short, tall, handsome, ugly, well-born  or base-born, the advice comes from the one who knows, not the wealthy;  the reader might notice that this undercuts all previously mentioned bases of Alkibiades' self-esteem. According to Socrates, the Athenians  want a physician to advise them when they deliberate on the health of  the city; they aren't concerned if he's rich or poor, Socrates suggests,  as if being a successful physician was in no way indicated by financial  status.   There are a number of problems with this portion of the argument.  Firstly, the advisor's rhetorical power (and not necessarily his knowledge)  is of enhanced significance when that of which he speaks is something most  people do not see to be clearly a matter of technical expertise, or even  of truth or falsity instead of taste. This refers especially to those  things that are the subject of political debate. Unlike in the case of  medicine, people do not acknowledge any clear set of criteria for  political expertise, besides perhaps 'success' for one's polity, a thing  not universally agreed upon. Most people have confidence in their  knowledge of the good and just alternatives available (cf. llOc-d).   Policy decisions about what are commonly termed ’value judgements'  are rarely decided solely on the basis of reason. Especially in  democracies, where mere whims may become commands, an appeal to  irrational elements in men's souls is often more effective. Men's fears  too, especially their fear of enslavement, can be manipulated for various  ends. Emotional appeals to national pride, love of family and fraternity,  and the possibility of accumulating wealth are what move men, for it is  these to which men are attracted. Rational speech is only all-powerful  if men are all-rational.   Secondly, it is not clear that a man's nobility or ignobility  should be of no account in the ekklesia. At least two reasons might be    adduced for this consideration. There is no necessary connection between knowing and giving good advice. Malevolence as well as ignorance may-  cause it. A bad man who knows might give worse advice than an ignorant  man of good will who happens to have right opinions. Unless the knower  is a noble person there is no guarantee that he will tender his best  advice. An ignoble man may provide advice that serves a perverse  interest, and he might even do it on the basis of his expert knowledge.  Another reason for considering nobility important in advisors is that it  might be the best the citizens can do. Most Athenians would not believe  that there are experts in knowledge about justice as there are in the  crafts. If they won't grant that expertise (and there are several  reasons why it would be dangerous to give them the power to judge men on  that score), then it is probably best that they take their advice from  a gentleman, a nobleman, or even a man whose concern for his family's  honor will help to prevent his corruption.   Thirdly, since cities obviously do not succumb to fevers and  79   bodily diseases, one must in this case treat the "physician of the  diseased city" metaphorically. It is not certain that the Athenians  would recognize the diseased condition of a city. To the extent to  which they do, they tend to regard political health in economic terms  (as one speaks of a "healthy economy"). In that case, whether a man  was rich or poor would make a great deal of difference to them. They  wouldn't be likely to take advice on how to increase the wealth (the  health) of a city from someone who could not prove his competence in  that matter in his private life. In addition, since most people are im¬  portantly motivated by wealth, they will respect the opinions of one who  is recognizably better at what they are themselves doing - getting  wealthy. It seems to be generally the case that people will attend to the speech of a wealthy man more than to a poorer but perhaps more  virtuous man.   In other words, then, it is not clear that what Socrates has said  about the Athenian choice of advisors is true (107b-c). Moreover, it is  not clear that it should be true. Factors such as conventional nobility  probably should play a part in the choice of councillors, even if it is  basically understood in terms of being well-born. People's inability to  evaluate the physicians of the city, and people's emphasis on wealth also  are evidence against Socrates' claims.   Socrates wants to know what they'll be considering when Alkibiades   stands forth to the Athenians. It has been established that he won't   advise on writing, harping, wrestling, building or divination. Alkibiades   figures he will advise them when they are considering their own affairs.   Socrates, in seeming perversity, continues by asking if he means their affairs concerning ship-building and what sorts of ships they should  80   have. Since that is of course not what Alkibiades means, Socrates  proposes that the reason and the only reason is that the young man doesn't  understand the art of ship-building. Alkibiades agrees, but the reader  need not. Socrates, by emphasizing the exclusivity of expertise through  the use of so many examples, has alerted the reader, should he otherwise  have missed the point, that there are many reasons for not advising about  something besides ignorance.   In some matters, for example, it is hard to prove knowledge and  it may not always be best to go to the effort of establishing one's claim  to expertise. If the knowledgeable can perceive, say, that no harm will  come the way things are proceeding, there might not be any point to  claiming knowledge. Another reason for perhaps keeping silent is that the correct view has been presented. There are thus other things with  which to occupy one's time. Perhaps a major reason for keeping silent  about advising on some matters is simply indifference; petty politics  can be left to others. In fact there are, it would seem, quite a number  of reasons for keeping silent besides ignorance. And, on the other hand,  it is unlikely that someone with a keen interest would acknowledge  ignorance as a sufficient condition for their silence. Many who voice  their opinions on public matters do not thereby mean to implicitly claim  their expertise, but only to express their interestedness.   Socrates' ship-building example has a few other interesting  features. Firstly, in a strict sense what Socrates and Alkibiades agree  to is wrong: knowledge of shipbuilding is not the exclusive basis for  determining which ships to build. Depending on whether it is a private  or public ship-building program, the passenger, pilot or politician  decides. Triremes or pleasure-craft, or some other specific vessels are  demanded. The ship-builder then builds it as best he can. But his  building is dictated by his customers, if he is free, or his owners, if  he is a slave.   The prominence of Plato's famous "ship-of-state" analogy ( Republic  488a-489c) allows the reader to look metaphorically at the example of  'ship-building,' and the question of what sort of 'ships' ought to get  built. In terms of the analogy, then, Socrates is asking Alkibiades if  he will be giving advice on statebuilding and what kind of polis ought  to be constructed. This is, it seems, the very thing upon which  Alkibiades wants to advise the Athenians. He wants very much to build  Athens into a super Empire. The recognition of the ship-of-state  analogy brings to the surface a most fundamental political question which lurks behind much of the discussion of the dialogue: which sort  of regime ought to be constructed? The importance of the question of  the best regime to political philosophy is indicated and reinforced by  the very test of the importance of the question in the analogy. The con¬  sideration of what sort of ship ought to be built stands behind the whole  activity of ship-building, and yet is one that is not answered by the  technical expert. The user (passenger/citizen) and the ruler (pilot/  statesman) are the ones that make the decision. On the basis of an  example that has already been shown to be suspect, namely Socrates'  mention of ship-building, the reader of the First Alkibiades is provided  with the opportunity to consider the intricasies of the analogy and a  question of central importance to the political man. Alkibiades must  gain t he ability to advise the Athenians as to what ships they ought to  build.   For the moment, however, Socrates asks on what affairs Alkibiades   means to give advice, and the young man answers those of war or peace or   other affairs of the polis . Socrates asks for clarification on whether   Alkibiades means they'll be deliberating about the manner of peace and   war; will they be considering questions of on whom, how, when and how   long it is better to make war (107c). But if the Athenians were to ask   these sorts of questions about wrestling, Socrates remarks, they'd call   not on Alkibiades but on the wrestling master, and he would answer in light of what was better. Similarly, when singing and accompanying  lyre-playing and dancing, some ways and times are better. Alkibiades  agrees.The word 'better' was used both in the case of harping to accom-  82   pany singing and in the case of wrestling (108a-b). For wrestling the standard of the better is provided by gymnastics; what supplies it in   the case of harping? Alkibiades doesn't understand and Socrates suggests   that he imitate him, for Socrates' pattern could be generalized to yield a correct answer in all cases. Correctness comes into being by the  art, and the art in the case of wrestling is fairly ( kalos) said to be  gymnastics (108c). If Alkibiades is to copy Socrates, he should copy  him in fair conversation, as well, and answer in his turn what the art  of harping, singing and dancing is. But Alkibiades still cannot tell him  the name of the art (108c). Socrates attempts another tact and deviates  slightly from the pattern he had suggested Alkibiades imitate. Presumably  Alkibiades will be able to answer the questions once Socrates asks the  right one. He doesn't assume that Alkibiades is ignorant of the answer,  so he takes care in choosing the appropriate questions. Perhaps his  next attempt will solicit the desired response. The goddesses of the  art are the Muses. Alkibiades can now acknowledge that if the art is  named after them, it is called 'Music.' The musical mode, as with the  earlier pattern of gymnastics, will be correct when it follows the  musical art. Now Socrates wants Alkibiades to say what the 'better' is  in the case of making war and peace, but Alkibiades is unable.   There are a number of reasons why he would be unable on the basis  of the pattern Socrates has supplied. One of these has to do with the  pattern itself. It is not clear there is an art ( techne) , per se , of  making war and peace. The closest one could come to recognizing such an  art would be to suggest it is the art of politics, but even if that is  properly an art (i.e., strictly a matter of technical expertise) knowing  only its name would not provide a clear standard of 'better.' The term  'political' does not of its own designate a better way to wage war and peace. Despite the possibility that the art in this case is of a higher  order than music or gymnastics, it remains unclear that Alkibiades can  use the same solution as Socrates suggested in the case of music. Who  are the gods or goddesses who give their name to the art of war and peace?  Perhaps one way to understand this curious feature of the discussion is  to consider that Socrates might be suggesting that there is a divine  standard for politics as well as for music.   According to Socrates, Alkibiades' inability to answer about the  standard or politics is disgraceful (108e). Were Alkibiades an advisor  on food, even without expert knowledge (i.e., even if he wasn't a  physician), he could still say that the 'better' was the more wholesome.   In this case, where he claims to have knowledge and intends to advise as  though he had knowledge (notice the two are not the same), he should be  ashamed to be unable to answer questions on it.   At this point the reader must pause. If Socrates simply wanted  to make this point and proceed with the argument, he has chosen an un¬  fortunate example in discussing the advisor on food. There are a number  of features of his use of this example that, if transferred, have quite  important repercussions for the discussion of the political advisor.  Firstly, it may be remarked that Socrates has admitted that the ability  to say what the 'better' is, is not always necessarily contingent upon  technical knowledge. Secondly, someone who answers "more wholesome" as  the better in food has already implicitly or explicitly accepted a  hierarchy of values. He has architectonically structured the arts that  have anything to do with food in such a manner as to place health at the  apex. Someone who had not conceded such a rank-ordering might have said  "cheapest," "most flavorful," or even "sweetest." Thus this example clearly indicates the centrality of understanding the architectonic  nature of politics. Thirdly, and perhaps least importantly, Socrates  has more clearly indicated a distinction that was suggested in the  previous example. It is a different matter to know that 'wholesome'  food is better for one than it is to know which foods are wholesome.  Socrates had, prior to this, been attempting to get Alkibiades to name  the art which provides the standard of the good in peace and war. Even  if Alkibiades had been able to name that art, there would have been no  indication of his substantive knowledge of the art. Conversely it might  be possible that he would have substantive knowledge of something without  being able to refer to it as a named art.   One might account for Alkibiades' inability to n  ame the art of  political advice by reference to something other than his knowledge and  ignorance. Perhaps the very subject matter would render such a statement  difficult. For instance, if politics is the 'art' which structures all  others, it would be with a view to politics that the respective 'betters'  in the other arts would be named. The referent of politics would be of  an entirely different order however. Perhaps its 'better,' the compre¬  hensive 'better,' would be simply 'the good.' At any rate, it is a  question of a different order, a different kind of question, insofar as  the instrumentally good is different from the good simply. This  suggestion is at least partly sustained by the observation that Socrates  uses a different method to discover the answer in this case than in the  previous 'patterns' supplied by wrestling and harping.   Alkibiades agrees that it does indeed seem disgraceful, but even  after further consideration he cannot say what the 'better' (the aim or  good providing a standard of better) is with respect to peace and war. As Socrates' question about the goddesses of harping deviated from the  example of wrestling, so Socrates' attempt here is a deviation. He asks  Alkibiades what people say they suffer in war and what they call it.   The reader might note peace has been omitted from consideration.  Alkibiades says that what is suffered is deceit, force and robbery  (109b), and that such are suffered in either a just or an unjust way.   Now it is clearer why 'peace' was not mentioned. It might be more difficult to argue in parallel fashion that the most important distinction  in peace was between just peace and unjust peace.   Socrates asks if it is upon the just or the unjust that Alkibiades  will advise the Athenians to  make war. Alkibiades immediately recognizes  at least one difficulty. If for some reason it would be necessary to go  to war with those who are just, the advisor would not say so. That is  the case not only because it is considered unlawful, but, as Alkibiades   adds, it is not considered noble either. Socrates assumes Alkibiades will appeal to these things when addressing the ekklesia . Alkibiades   here proves he understands the need for speaking differently to the   public, or at least for remaining prudently silent about certain matters.   Within the bounds of the argument to this point, wealth and   prestige (not to mention dire necessity) may be 'betters' in wars as readily as justice. One may only confidently infer two things from  Alkibiades' admissions. The people listening to the advice cannot be  told that those warred upon are just; and to tell them so would be un¬  lawful and ignoble. One might be curious as to the proper relation  between lawfulness, nobility and justice, and the reader of the dialogue,  in sorting out these considerations, might examine the argument surrounding this statement of their relation. The next few discussions in the First Alkibiades seem to focus on  establishing Alkibiades' claim to knowledge about justice. Either  Alkibiades has not noticed his own ignorance in this matter or Socrates  has not observed his learning and taking lessons on justice. Socrates  would like to know, and he swears by the god of friendship that he is  not joking, who the man.was who taught Alkibiades about justice.   Alkibiades wants to know whether he couldn't have learned it  another way. Socrates answers that Alkibiades could have learned it  through his own discovery. Alkibiades, in a dazzling display of quick  answers, responds that he might have discovered it if he'd inquired, and  he might have inquired if there was a time when he thought he did not  know. Socrates says that Aliibiades has spoken well (110a), but he  wants to know when that time was. Socrates seems to acknowledge  Alkibiades' skill in speaking. These formally sharp answers would  probably be the kind praised in question and answer games. Socrates  says Alkibiades has spoken well, but immediately instructs Alkibiades  about how to speak in response to the next question. Alkibiades is to  speak the truth; the dialogue would be futile if he didn't answer truly.  So here it is acknowledged that truth (at least for the sake of useful  dialogue) is the standard for speaking well. He quickly follows the  insincere praise with an indication of the real criteria for determining  if something was well-spoken. Socrates is not destroying Alkibiades'  notion of his ability to achieve ideals, he is instead destroying the  ideals. He acknowledged Alkibiades' skill and then suggests it is not  a good skill to have. Socrates, in effect, tells Alkibiades to forget  the clever answers and to speak the truth. One of the themes of  Socrates' instruction of the youth seems to be the teaching of proper goals or standards.   Alkibiades admits that a year ago he thought he knew justice and  injustice, and two, three and four years ago as well. Socrates remarks  that before that Alkibiades was a child and Socrates knows well enough  that even then the precocious child thought he knew. The philosopher had  often heard Alkibiades as a boy claim that a playmate cheated during a  game, and so labelled him unjust with perfect confidence (110b).  Alkibiades concedes that Socrates speaks the truth but asks what else  should he have done when someone cheated him? Socrates points out that  this very question indicates Alkibiades' belief that he knows the answer.  If he recognized his ignorance, Socrates responds, he would not ask what  else he should have done as though there was no alternative.   Alkibiades swears that he must not have been ignorant because he  clearly perceived that he was wronged. If this implies that, as a child,  he thought he knew justice and injustice, then so he must. And he admits  he couldn't have discovered it while he thought he knew it (110c).  Socrates suggests to Alkibiades that he won't be able to cite a time  when he thought he didn't know, and Alkibiades swears again that he can¬  not. Apparently, then, he must conclude that he cannot know the just on  the basis of discovery (llOd).   This argument appears to depend on the premise that one begins  at a loss, completely ignorant, and then one subsequently discovers what  justice is. But such an assumption is surely unwarranted. The discovery  could be a slow, gradual process of continual refinement of a child's  understanding of justice. Often one's opinions are changed because one  discovers something that doesn't square with previous beliefs. If one  is sufficiently confident of the new factor, one's beliefs may change. During the course of the succeeding dialogue, the reader may see a  number of ways in which this procedure might take place in a person's  life.   Socrates draws to Alkibiades' attention that if he   doesn't know justice by his own discovery, and didn't learn it from   others, how could he know it. Alkibiades suggests that perhaps he said   the wrong thing before and that he did in fact learn it, in the same way   as everyone else. It is not clear that this is a sincere move on   Alkibiades' part (though it proves later in the dialogue to have   support as being the actual account of the origin of most people's views   of justice). Perhaps in order to win the argument he is willing to   simply change the premises. Unfortunately, his changing of this one   entirely removes the need for the argument. Socrates doesn't bother   to point out to Alkibiades that if everybody knows it, and in the same   way, then Alkibiades has no claim to special expertise, and so no basis   for presuming to advise the Athenians. Alkibiades' abilities in speaking   have been demonstrated, a care and willingness to learn from dialogue   86   have yet to be instilled.   As is presently indicated to Alkibiades, his answer brings about   a return to the same problem - from whom did he learn it? To his reply   that the many taught him (llOe), Socrates responds that they are not   87   worthy teachers in whom he is taking refuge. They are not competent   88   to teach how to play and how not to play draughts and since that is  insignificant compared to justice, how can they teach the more serious  matter? Alkibiades perceptively counters this by pointing out that they  can teach things more worthy than draughts; it was they and no single    master who taught Alkibiades to speak Greek. Alkibiades by this point proves that he is capable of quick and  independent thought. He doesn't merely follow Socrates' lead in answer¬  ing but in fact points out an important example to the contrary. The  Greek language is taught by the many quite capably even though they can¬  not teach the less important draughts nor many other peculiar skills.   A number of issues important to the discussion are brought to the  surface by this example. First, one should notice that language is  another thing Alkibiades has learned which Socrates didn't mention.  Language is necessary for learning most other subjects, and one can learn  quite a lot by just listening to people speaking. A common language is  the precondition of the conversation depicted in the First Alkibiades ,  as is some general agreement, however superficial, between Socrates and  Alkibiades as to what they mean when they say 'justice.' In order to  have an argument over whether or not one of them is indeed knowledgeable  about justice and injustice, they must have some notion of what 'justice'  conventionally means. They are not talking about the height of the sky,  the price of gold, or the climate on mountaintops. Justice ( dikaios) is  a word in the Greek language. Most people share sufficient agreement  about its meaning so as to be able to teach people how the word should  be used. This conventional notion of justice thus informs a child's  sense of justice, and as is shown by the strategy of the Republic as  well as of the First Alkibiades , the conventional opinions about justice  must be dealt with and accounted for in any more philosophic treatment.   One must assume that conventional opinions about justice have  some connection, however tenuous, with the truth about it. This exempli¬  fies the peculiar nature of 'agreement' as a criterion of knowledge.   That experts agree about their subject matter is not altogether beside the point, but too much emphasis should not be placed upon it. There are  innumerable examples of "sectarian" agreements, none of which by that  fact have any claim to truth. There is also considerable agreement in  conventional opinions and the "world-views" of various communities  which must be accounted for but not necessarily accepted.   Socrates admits to Alkibiades (whom he chooses to address, at  this moment, as "well-born," perhaps in order to remind him that he dis¬  tinguishes himself from the many) that the people can be justly praised  for teaching such things as language, for they are properly equipped  (and actually the many do not teach one how to use language well). To  teach, one ought to know, and an indication of their knowing is that they  agree among each other on the language. If they disagreed they couldn't  be said to know and wouldn't be able to teach. One might parenthetically  point to some other important things that the many teach. Children learn  the laws from the many, including the laws/rules of games. To call some¬  one a cheater (110b) does not mean someone knows justice; they simply  must know the rules of the game and be able to recognize when such rules  have been violated. Rules of games are strictly conventional. They gain  their force from an agreement, implicit or explicit, between the players.  One might wonder if justice is, correspondingly, the rules of a super-  game, or if it is something standing behind all rule-obeying.   The many agree on what stone and wood are. If one were to say  "stone" or "wood," they could all reach for the same thing. That is what  Alkibiades must mean by saying that all his fellow citizens have knowledge  of Greek. And they are good teachers in as much as they agree on these  terms in public and private. Poleis also agree among each other (111b,    118d, 126c-e; cf. Lakhes 186d). Anyone who wanted to learn what stone  and wood were would be rightly sent to the many.   The fact that Greeks agree with each other when they name objects  hardly accounts for their knowledge of the language, much less their   ability to teach it. Naming is far from being the bulk of speaking a   , 89   language, (Hobbes and Scripture to the contrary notwithstanding ). Not   only is it improper to consider many parts of speech as having the   function of designating things, but even descriptive reference to the   sensible world is only a partial aspect of the use of language. To   mention only a few everyday aspects of language that do not obviously   conform, consider the varied use of commands, metaphors, fables, poetry   and exclamation. To suggest that what constitutes one's knowledge of a   language is to point to objects and use nouns to name them, would be   completely inadequate. It would be so radically insufficient, in fact,   that it could not even account for its own articulation.   Language consists of much more than statements which correspond  to observables in the actual world. But even were one to restrict one's  examination of language to understanding what words mean, or refer to,  one would immediately run into difficulties. All sorts of words are  used in everyday language which demand some measure of evaluation on the  part of the user and the listener. A dog may be pointed to and called  "dog." A more involved judgement is required in calling it a "wild dog,"  or "wolf," not to say a "bad dog." Agreement or disagreement on the use  of such terms does not depend on knowledge of the language as much as on  the character of the thing in question.   There are problems even with Socrates' account of naming. One  cannot be certain that the essence of a thing has been focussed upon by  those giving the name to the thing. One might fasten upon the material, or the form, or yet some other feature of the object. For example, a  piece of petrified wood, or a stone carving of a tree would significantly  complicate Socrates' simple example. It is not at all clear that the  same thing would be pointed to if someone said "stone." The reader may  remember that the prisoners in the cave of the Republic spend quite a bit  of their time naming the shadows on the wall of the cave ( Republic 515b,  516c). The close connection between this discussion and that of the  Republic is indicated also by the fact that the objects which cast the  shadows in the cave are made of stone and wood ( Republic 515a.1). People  in the cave don't even look at the objects when they name things.  According to the analogy of the cave they would be the people teaching  Alkibiades to speak Greek; they are the people in actual cities. And  what they call "stone" and "wood" are only an aspect of stone and wood,  the shadowy representations of stone and wood. If the essences of stone  and wood, comparatively simple things, are not denoted by language, one  can imagine in what the agreement might consist in the popular use of  words like "City" and "Man." The question of the relation of a name to  the essential aspect of the thing adds a significant dimension to the  philosophic understanding of the human use of language.   Alkibiades and Socrates seem to be content with this analysis of  naming, however, and Socrates readily proceeds to the next point in the  argument. If one wanted to know not only what a man or a horse (note  the significance of the change from stone and wood) was, but which was a  good runner, the many would not be able to teach that - proof of which  is their disagreement among themselves. Apparently finding this example  insufficient, Socrates adds that should one want to know which men were  healthy and which were diseased, the many would also not be able to  teach that, for they disagree (llle).   Notice two features of these examples that may be of philosophic   interest. To begin with, the respective experts are, first the gymnastics trainer and second, the physician. In this dialogue, both the gymnastics  expert and the doctor have arguments advanced on their behalf, supporting  their claim to be the proper controllers of, or experts about, the whole  body (126a-b, 128c). As supreme rulers of the technae of the body they  have different aspects of the good condition in mind and consequently  might give different advice (for example on matters of diet). Thereupon  one is confronted with the standard problem of trying to maintain two or  more supreme authorities: which one is really the proper ruler in the  event of conflict.   There is yet another aspect of the same problem that is of some  concern to the reader of the First Alkibiades . One might say that the  relation of the body to the soul is a very persuasive issue in this  dialogue, and the suggestion that there are two leaders in matters of  the body causes one to wonder whether there is a corresponding dual  leadership in the soul.   Secondly, the reader notices that the composition of "the many"  shifts on the basis of what is being taught. On the one hand, the doctor  fits into "the many" as being unable to tell the good runner; on the  other hand, when the focus is on health, all but the doctor appear to  constitute "the many."   The question of how to understand the make-up of the many points  to a very large issue area in philosophy, namely that which is popularly  termed the 'holism vs. individualism debate,' or more generally, the    question of the composition and character of groups. What essentially characterizes groups - in particular that politically indispensible  group, "the many?" This issue is not superfluous to this dialogue, nor  to this portion of this dialogue. By placing the doctor alone against  the many (in the second example), one unwittingly contradicts oneself.  Alkibiades and Socrates fall among the ranks of the Many as well as the  Few.   Perhaps the most obvious problem connected with determining the  composition of the group, "the many," is brought into focus when one  tries to discover how one "goes to the many" to learn (llld). There are  quite a few possibilities. Does the opinion of "the many" become the  average (mean) opinion of all the different views prevalent in a city?   Or is it the opinion held by the majority? One might go to each indi¬  vidual, to each of a variety of representative individuals, or even to  51% of the individuals in a given place, and then statistically evaluate  their opinions, arriving at one or another form of majority consensus.   Or, one might determine conventional opinion by asking various indi-   91   viduals what they believe everyone else believes. There seem to be  countless ways of understanding "the many," each of which allows for  quite different outcomes. The problems for the student of political  affairs, as well as for the aspiring politician, are compounded because  the many do not appear to hold a single view unanimously or unambiguously  on many of the important questions.   Regardless of which is the appropriate understanding of "the many,  the reader must at all events remember that "the many" and "the few" are  a perennial political division. There are, likewise, several ways in  which "the few" are conceived. Some consider them to be the men of    wealth, the men of virtue, the men of intelligence, and so on. Reference to "the few," however, is rarely so vague as reference to the many,  since people who speak of "the few" are usually aware of which criteria  form the bases of the distinction. Despite the lack of clarity con¬  cerning the division between "the many" and "the few," it is appealed  to, in most regimes as being a fundamental schizm. Most regimes, it may  be ventured, are in fact based either upon the distinction, or upon  trying to remove the distinction, and they appeal to this division,  however vague, to legitimate themselves.   At this point in the discussion of the First Alkibiades (llle),  Alkibiades and Socrates are considering whether the many are capable  teachers of justice. They appear to be making their judgement solely on  the basis of the criterion of agreement. One might stop to consider not  only whether agreement is sufficient to indicate knowledge, but indeed  whether it is even necessary. One cannot simply deny the possi¬  bility that one might be able to gain knowledge because of disagreements.  Profound differences of opinion might indicate the best way of learning  the truth, as, for example the disagreements among philosophers about  justice teaches at the very least what the important considerations might  be. Socrates continues. Since disagreement among the many indicates  that they are not able to teach (though lack of ability rarely prevents  them from trying anyway, cf. Apology 24c-25a; Gorgias 461c), Socrates  asks Alkibiades whether the many agree about justice and injustice, or if  indeed they don't differ most on those very concerns. People do not   92   fight and kill in battle because they disagree on questions of health,  but when justice is in dispute, Alkibiades has seen the battles. And if    he hasn't seen them (Socrates should know this, after all, cf. 106e) he has heard of the fights from many, particularly from Homer, because he's  heard the Odyssey and Iliad. Alkibiades' familiarity with Homer is of great significance. It,  along with his knoweldge of Greek, are probably the two most crucial  "oversights" in Socrates' list of what Alkibiades learned. In fact, they  are of such importance that they overshadow the subjects in which he did  take lessons, in terms of their effect on his character development, his  common-sense understanding, and on his suitability for political office.  Homer is an important source of knowledge and of opinion, and is respons¬  ible for there being considerable consensus of belief among the Greeks in  many matters. He provides the authoritative interpretation of the gods  as well as of the qualities and actions of great men. If Alkibiades  knows Homer and if he knows that Homer is about justice, then he has  learned much more about justice than one would surmise on the basis of  his formal schooling.   Alkibiades agrees with Socrates' remark that the Iliad and Odyssey  are about disagreements about justice and injustice. He also accepts the  interpretation that a difference of opinion about the just and the unjust  caused the battles and deaths of the Akhaians and Trojans; the dispute  between Odysseus and Penelope's suitors; and the deaths and fights of  the Athenians, Spartans and Boiotians at Tanagra and Koroneia. (One  notes that Socrates has blended the fabulous with the actual, and has  chosen, as his non-mythic example, probably the one over which it is  most difficult for Alkibiades to be non-partisan - the battle in which  his father died. This also raises his heritage to the level of the  epic.) The reader need not agree with this interpretation on a number  of counts. Firstly, the central case is noteworthy in that Socrates interprets Odysseus' strife with the men of Ithaka to be over a woman,  and not primarily the kingdom and palace. It is not at all clear, more¬  over, that what caused the altercation between Odysseus and the suitors  was a difference of opinion about justice. They might have all wanted  the same thing, but the reaction of the suitors at Odysseus' return   indicates that they didn't feel they were in the right - they admitted  93   gurlt. Secondly, what is noticeable in Homer is that only one aspect  of the epic is about the dispute about justice (and also, both Homeric  examples involve a conflict between eros and justice, represented by  Helen and Penelope). In the epics the disagreement among the many refers  not to the many of one polis but of various poleis against each other.  Indeed the many of each polis in the Trojan war agree.   These observations foreshadow the discussion that will presently  come to the fore in the dialogue under somewhat different circumstances.  The problem of the difference between the just and the expedient is a  key one in political philosophy, and it is introduced by the reflection  that in a number of instances disagreement does not focus on what the  just solution is, but on who should be the victor, who will control the  thing over which the sides are disputing. Both sides agree that it  would be good to control one thing. More shall be said about this later  in the context of the discussion.   Socrates inquires of Alkibiades whether the people involved in  those wars could be said to understand these questions if they could  disagree so strongly as to take extreme measures. Though he must admit  that  teachers of that sort are ignorant, Alkibiades had nevertheless re¬  ferred Socrates to them. Alkibiades is quite unaware of the nature of  justice and injustice and he also cannot point to a teacher or say when    he discovered them. It thus seems hard to say he has knowledge of them. Alkibiades agrees that according to what Socrates has said it is  not likely that he knows (112d). Socrates takes this opportunity to  teach Alkibiades a most important lesson. Though apparently a digression,  it will mark a pivotal point in the turning around of Alkibiades that  occurs by the middle of the discussion.   Socrates says that Alkibiades' last remark was not fair ( kalos)  because he claimed Socrates said that Alkibiades was ignorant, whereas  actually Alkibiades did. Alkibiades is astounded. Did he_ say it?   Socrates is teaching Alkibiades that the words spoken in an argument  ought indeed to have an effect on one's life, that the outcomes of argu¬  ments are impersonal yet must be taken seriously, and that responsibility  for what is said rests with both partners in dialogue. The results of  rational speech are to be trusted; reason is a kind of power necessarily  determining things. Alkibiades cannot agree in speech and then decide,  if it is convenient, to dismiss conclusions on the grounds that it was  someone else who said it. Arguments attain much more significance when  they are recognized as one's own. One must learn they are not merely  playthings (cf. Republic 539b). Accepting responsibility for them and  their conclusions is essential. It is important politically with  reference to speech, as well as in the more generally recognized sense  of assuming responsibility for one's actions. To cite an instance of  special importance to this dialogue, who is responsible for Alkibiades -  Perikles? Athens? Socrates? Alkibiades himself? One can often place  responsibility for one's actions on one's society, one's immediate  environment, or one's teachers. Perhaps it is not so easy to shun  responsibility for conclusions of arguments. Most men desire consistency    and at least feel uneasy when they are shown to be involved in  contradictions. In this discussion of who must accept responsibility for  the conclusions of rational discourse, Alkibiades learns yet another  lesson about the power of speech. He has, by his own tongue, convicted  himself of ignorance.   Socrates demonstrates to Alkibiades that if he asks whether one or  two is the larger number, and Alkibiades answers that two is greater by  one, it was Alkibiades who said that two was greater than one. Socrates  had asked and Alkibiades had answered; the answer was the speaker.  Similarly, if Socrates should ask which letters are in "Socrates" and  Alkibiades answered, Alkibiades would be the speaker. On the basis of  this the young man agrees that, as a principle, whenever there is a  questioner and an answerer, the speaker is the answerer. Since so far  Socrates had been the questioner and Alkibiades the answerer, Alkibiades  is responsible for whatever has been uttered.   What has been disclosed by now is that Alkibiades, the noble son   of Kleinias, intends to go to the ekklesia to advise on that of which he   knows nothing. Socrates quotes Euripides - Alkibiades "hear it from   94   [himself] not me." Socrates doesn't pull any punches. Not only does  he refer to an almost incestuous woman to speak of Alkibiades' condition,  but he follows with what must seem a painfully sarcastic form of address  (since it is actually ironic) which the young man would probably wish to  hear from serious lips. Alkibiades, the "best of men,' is contemplating  a mad undertaking in teaching what he has not bothered to learn.   Alkibiades has been hit, but not hard enough for him to change his  mind instead of the topic. He thinks that Athenians and the other Greeks  don't, in fact, deliberate over the justice of a course of action - they    consider that to be more or less obvious - but about its advantageousness  (113d). The just and the advantageous are not the same, for great in¬  justices have proven advantageous, and sometimes little advantage has been  gained from just action. Socrates announces that he will challenge  Alkibiades' knowledge of what is expedient, even if he should grant that  the just and the advantageous are ever so distinct (113e).   Alkibiades perceives no hindrance to his claiming to know what is  advantageous unless Socrates is again about to ask from which teacher  he learned it or how he discovered it. Hereupon Socrates remarks that  the young man is treating arguments as though they were clothing which,  once worn, is dirtied. Socrates will ignore these notions of Alkibiades,  implying that they involve an incorrect understanding of philosophic  disputation. Alkibiades must be taught that what is ever correct  according to reason remains correct according to reason. Variety in  arguments is not a criterion affecting their rational consistency.   Socrates shall proceed by asking the same question, intending it to, in  effect, ask the whole argument. He claims to be certain that Alkibiades  will find himself in the same difficulty with this argument.   The reader will recognize that Alkibiades is not likely to en¬  counter precisely the same problems with this new argument. The nature  of the agreement and disagreement by individuals and states over the  matter of usefulness or advantageousness is different than that concern¬  ing justice. A man may know it would be useful to have something, or  expedient to do something, and also know it to be unjust. States, too,  may agree on something's advantageousness, say controlling the Hellespont  but they may disagree on who should control it. The conflict in these  cases is not the result of a disagreement as to what is true (e.g., it  is true that each country's interests are better served by control of key sea routes), but it is based precisely on their agreement about the  truth regarding expediency. When states and individuals are primarily  concerned with wealth, then knowing what is useful presents far fewer  problems than knowing what is just.   Since Alkibiades is so squeamish as to dislike the flavor of old  arguments, Socrates will disregard his inability to corroborate his  claim to knowledge of the expedient. Instead he will ask whether the  just and the useful are the same or different. Alkibiades can question  Socrates as he had been questioned, or he can choose whatever form of  discourse he likes. As he feels incapable of convincing Socrates,  Alkibiades is invited to imagine Socrates to be the people of the  ekklesia ; even there, where the young man is eager to speak, he will have  to persuade each man singly (114b). A knowledgeable man can persuade one  alone and many together (114b-c). A writing master is able to persuade  either one or many about letters and likewise an arithmetician in¬  fluences one man or many about numbers.   For quite a few reasons the reader might object to Socrates'  inference from these examples to the arena of politics. Firstly, they  are not the kinds of things discussed in politics, and one might suspect  that the "persuasion" involved is not of the same variety. Proof of  this might be offered in the form of the observation that the inability  to persuade in politics does not necessarily imply the dull-wittedness  of the audience. Strong passions bar the way for reason in politics  like they rarely do in numbers and letters. This leads to the second  objection. Not only is knowledge of grammar and arithmetic fundamentally  different than politics, but they represent extreme examples in them¬  selves. They correspond to two very diverse criteria of knowledge both of which have been previously introduced in the dialogue. The subject  matter of letters is decided upon almost exclusively by agreement; that  of numbers is learned most importantly through discovery, and this does  not depend on people's agreement (cf. 112e-113a, 126c; and 106e reminds  one that Alkibiades has taken lessons only in one of these).   Presumably, however, if the arithmetician and grammarian can, then  Alkibiades also will be able to persuade one man or many about that which  he knows. Apparently the only difference between the rhetorician in front  of a crowd and a man engaged in dialogue is that the rhetorician persuades  everyone at once, the latter one at a time. Given that the same man per¬  suades either a multitude or an individual, Socrates invites Alkibiades  to practice on him to show that the just is not the expedient. (Ironically,  there may be no one Alkibiades ever meets who is further from the multitude).   If it weren't for his earlier statement (109c) where he indicated  his recognition of the difference between private and public speech, it  would appear that Alkibiades had quite a lot to learn before he confronted  the ekklesia . One might readily propose that there is indeed very little  similarity between persuading one and persuading the multitude. In a  dialogue one man can ask questions that reveal the other's ignorance;   Socrates does this to Alkibiades in this dialogue, he might not in public. In a dialogue, there needn't always be public pressure with which  to contend (an important exception being courtroom dialogue); a public  speech, especially one addressing the ekklesia must yield to or otherwise  take into account the strength of the many. Often when addressing a crowd  one only has to address the influential. At other times one need only  appeal to the least common denominator. There are factors at work in    crowds which affect reactions to a speaker, factors which do not seem to be present in one-to-one dialogue. When addressing a multitude, a speaker  must be aware of the general feelings and sentiments of the group, and  address himself to them. When in dialogue he can tailor his comments to  one man's specific interests. To convince the individual, however, he  will have to be precisely right in his deduction of the individual's senti¬  ments - in a crowd a more general understanding is usually sufficient.   Mere hints at a subject will be successful; when addressing a multitude  with regard to a policy, a rhetorician will not be taken to task for  every claim he makes. If his general policy is pleasing to the many, it  is unlikely that they will critically examine all of his reasons for pro¬  posing the policy. Also, when speaking to a crowd, one is not expected  to prove one's technical expertise. An individual may be able to discover  the limits of one's knowledge; a crowd will rarely ask. This whola  analysis, however, is rendered questionable by the ambiguity of the  composition of "the many," discussed above. One could, for example, come  across a very knowledgeable crowd, or a stupid individual and many of the  above observations would not hold. However, the situations most directly  relevant to the dialogue involve rhetoric toward a crowd such as that of  the ekklesia , and thoughtful dialogue between individuals such as  Alkibiades and Socrates.   If Alkibiades ever intends to set forth a plan of action to the  Athenians, the adoption of his proposal will depend on his convincing  them in the ekklesia . The ability to persuade the multitude attains  great political significance; and especially in democracies, a man's  ability in speaking is often the foundation of his power.   Once recognized, this power is susceptible to cultivation. Rhetoric, the art of persuasive speech, is the art which provides the knowledge requisite to gain effective power over an audience. All   political men are aware of rhetoric; their rhetorical ability to a large   95   extent determines their success or failure. Of course, there are at  least two important qualifications or limits on the power of even the  most persuasive speech. The first limit is knowledge. A man who knows  grammar and arithmetic will not be swayed wrongly about numbers, when  they are used in any of the conventional ways. That an able rhetorician  escape detection in a lie is a necessity if he is to be successful among  those knowledgeable in the topic he addresses. Presumably those who  possess only beliefs about the matter would be more readily seduced to  embrace a false opinion.   The second limit is more troubling. It is the problem of those   who simply are not convinced by argument. They distrust the spoken word.   These seem to fall into three categories. The first is exemplified in the   character of Kallikles in the Gorgias . It primarily includes those who   are unwilling to connect the conclusions of arguments to their own lives.   They may agree to something in argument and, moments later, do something   quite contrary to their conclusions. This characteristic is well-   displayed in Kallikles who, when driven to a contradiction doesn't even  96   care. He holds two conflicting opinions and holds them so strongly  that he doesn't even care that they support conclusions that are contrary  to reason and yield contrary results. Kallikles is unwilling to continue  discussing with Socrates ( Gorgias); he does not  want to learn from rational speech. He remains unconvinced by Socrates'  argument and by his rhetoric ( Gorgias). If Socrates is to rule Kallikles, he will need more than reason  and wisdom and beautiful speech ( Gorgias 523a-527e); he will need some kind of coercive power.   Secondly, almost all people have some experience of those who in¬  consistently maintain in speech what they do not uphold in deed. This is  the most immediate level on which to recognize the problem of the rela¬  tion of theory to practice. Alkibiades seems to have this opinion of  speech at the beginning of the dialogue, for he can admit almost anything  in speech (106c.2). Two things, however, show that he is far above it.   He implicitly recognizes that the realm of speech is the realm within  which he must confront Socrates, and he has a desire for consistency.  Kallikles is too dogmatic to even recognize his inconsistency. But when  Socrates forces Alkibiades to take responsibility for all the conclusions  they have reached to that point (112e. 5ff.), he realizes he must have  made an error either in his premises or his argument. This marks the  first and major turning around of Alkibiades. He recognizes that he has  said he is ignorant.   A third type of person who is not convinced by rhetoricians is the  one who distrusts argument because he recognizes the skill involved in  speaking. Not because he is indifferent to the compulsion of reason but  precisely because he wants to act according to reason, he desires to be  certain of not being tricked. (Most people are also familiar with the  feeling that something vaguely suspicious is going on in a discussion.)   He is convinced that there are men - e.g., sophists - who are skilled at  the game of question and answer and can make anyone look like a fool.   And so what? He is not at all moved by their victory in speech. Some¬  thing other than rational speech is needed to convince him. Indeed, this  is one of the most difficult challenges Socrates meets in the Republic ,    and indicates a higher level of the theory/practice relationship. Adeimantos is not convinced by mere words. He has to be shown that  philosophy is useful to the city, among other things ( Republic 487b.1-d.5;  498c.5 ff; 367d.9-e.5; 367b.3; 389a.10). Although he is distrustful of  mere speech, he learns to respect it as a medium through which to under¬  stand the political. He has the example of Socrates whose life matches,  or is even guided by, his speech. Socrates' difficulty lies in making  the case in speech to this man who does not put full stock in the con¬  clusions of speech. One must wonder, moreover, what kinds of deeds will  suffice for those others who cannot even view Socrates. This is the  problem faced by all writers who want to reach this sort of person.   Perhaps one might consider very clever speakers like Plato to be per¬  forming the deed of making the words of a Socrates appear like the deeds  of Socrates, in the speech of the Dialogues. Almost paradoxically, they  must convince through speech that speech isn't "mere talk."   Alkibiades charges Socrates with hybris and Socrates acknowledges  it for the time being, for he intends to prove to Alkibiades the opposite  view, namely that the just is the expedient (114d). Socrates doesn't  deny the charge, or even, as one might expect, playfully redirect it as  might be appropriate; the accusation is made by a man who, not much  later, will be considered hybristic by almost the entire Athenian public.  It is not clear precisely what is hybristic about Socrates' last remarks.  Hybris is a pride or ambition or insolence inappropriate to men. Perhaps  both men are hybristic as charged; in this instance it is not imperative  that they defend themselves for they are alone. Possibly anyone who  seeks total power as does Alkibiades, or wisdom like Socrates, is too  ambitious and too haughty. They would be vying with the gods to the  extent that they challenge civic piety and the supremacy of the deities of the polis . One wants to rule the universe like a god, the other to  know it like a god.   The charge of hybris has been introduced in the context of  persuading through speech. Allegedly the person who knows will have the  power to persuade through speech. This is itself rather a problematic  claim as it implies all failure to persuade is an indication of ignorance.  However questionable the assertion, though, the connection it recalls  between these three important aspects of man's life - knowledge, power  and language - is too thoroughly elaborated to be mere coincidence. It  is very likely that the reader's understanding of these two exceptional  men and the appropriateness of the charge of hybris will have something  to do with language's relation to knowledge and power. Alkibiades asks Socrates to speak, if he intends to  demonstrate to Alkibiades that the just is not distinct from the ad¬  vantageous. Not inclined to answer any questions (cf. 106b), Alkibiades  wishes Socrates to speak alone. Socrates, pretending incredulity, asks  if indeed Alkibiades doesn't desire most of all to be persuaded and  Alkibiades, playing along, agrees that he certainly does. Socrates  suggests that the surest indication of persuasion is freely assenting,  and if Alkibiades responds to the questions asked of him, he will most  assuredly hear himself affirm that the just is indeed the advantageous.  Socrates goes so far as to promise Alkibiades that if he doesn't say it,  he never need trust anybody's speech again.   This astonishingly extravagant declaration by Socrates bespeaks  certain knowledge on his part. Socrates implies he is confident of one  of two things. Perhaps he knows that the just is advantageous, or the  true relationship between the two, and thus argues for the proof of the claim that anyone who knows can persuade. (The immense difficulties with  this have already been suggested.) What is more likely, however, is that  he does not think the just is identical to the advantageous, but he knows  he can win the argument with Alkibiades and drive him to assert whatever  conclusion he wants (that he could in effect make the weaker argument  appear the stronger). If the latter is true, the reader is reminded of  the power of speech and the possible dangers that can arise from its use.  He will also wonder if Socrates is quite right in his proposal that  Alkibiades need never trust anyone's speech if he cannot be made to  agree. It seems to be more indicative of the untrustworthiness of speech  if Alkibiades should agree, not that he refuse to agree. However, the  reader has been placed in the enviable position of being able to judge  for himself, through a careful review of the argument. His personal  participation, to the limit of his ability, is after all the only means  through which he can be certain that he isn't being duped into believing  something instead of knowing it.   Alkibiades doubts he will admit the point, but agrees to comply,  confident that no harm will attend his answers. Whereupon Socrates  claims that Alkibiades speaks like a diviner (cf. 127e, 107b, 117b), and  proceeds, presuming to be articulating Alkibiades' actual opinion.   Some just things are advantageous and some are not (115a). Some  just things are noble and some are not. Nothing can be both base and  just, so all just things are noble. Some noble things might be evil and  some base things may be good, for a rescue is invested with nobility on  account of courage, and with evil because of the deaths and wounds.  However, since courage and death are distinct, it is with respect to  separate aspects that the rescue can be said to be both noble and evil.  Insofar as it is noble it is good, and it is noble because of courage.  Cowardice is an evil on par with (or worse than, 115d) death. Courage  ranks among the best things and death among the worst. The rescue is  deemed noble because it is the working of good by courage, and evil  because it is the working of evil by death. Things are evil because of  the evil produced and good on account of the good that results. In as  much as a thing is good it is noble and base inasmuch as it is evil.   To designate the rescue as noble but evil is thus to term it good but  evil (116a). In so far as something is noble it is not evil, and neither  is anything good in so far as it is base. Whoever does nobly does well  and whoever does well is happy (116b). People are made happy through  the acquisition of good things. They obtain good things by doing well  and nobly. Accordingly, doing well is good and faring well is noble.   The noble and good are the same. By this argument all that is noble is  good. Good things are expedient (116c) and as has already been admitted,  those who do just things do noble things (115a); those who do noble things  do good things (116a). If good things are expedient then just things are  expedient.   As Socrates points out, it is apparently Alkibiades who has  asserted all of this. Since he argues that the just and the expedient  are the same, he could hardly do other than ridicule anyone who rose up  to advise the Athenians or the Peparathians believing he knew the just  and the unjust and claiming that just things are sometimes evil. Before proceeding, the reader must pause and attempt to determine  the significance of the problem of the just versus the expedient. No  intimate familiarity with the tradition of political philosophy is re¬  quired in order to observe that the issue is dominant throughout the tradition/ perhaps most notably among the moderns in the writings of  Machiavelli and Hobbes who linked the question of justice and expediency  to the distinction between serving another's interest and serving one's  own interest. They, and subsequent moderns, in the spirit of the  "Enlightenment," then proceed with the intention of eradicating the dis¬  tinction. Self-interest, properly understood, is right and is the proper  basis for all human actions. Not only is there a widespread connection  between the issue, the traditional treatment of the issue, and human  action - but the reader might recall that the ancient philosophers, too,  considered it fundamental. One need only realize that the philosophic  work par excellence , Plato's Republic , receives its impetus from this  consideration. The discussion of the best regime (perhaps the topic of  political philosophy) arises because of Glaukon's challenging reformula¬  tion of Thrasymakhos' opinion that justice is the advantage of the  stronger. Recognition of this fact sufficiently corroborates the view  that this issue warrants careful scrutiny by serious students of political  philosophy. Socrates has chosen this topic as the one on which to  demonstrate the internal conflicts in Alkibiades' soul. Perhaps that  is a subtle indication to the reader as to where he might focus when he  begins the search for self-knowledge, the inevitable prerequisite for  his improvement.   Alkibiades swears by all the gods. He is overwhelmed. Alkibiades  protests that he isn't sure he knows even what he is saying; he continual¬  ly changes his views under Socrates' questioning. Socrates points out to  him that he must be unaware of what such a condition of perplexity  signifies. If someone were to ask him whether he had two or three eyes,  or two or four hands, he would probably respond consistently because he knows the answer. If he voluntarily gives contradictory replies, they  must concern things about which he is ignorant. Alkibiades admits it is  likely; but there are probably other reasons why one might give contra¬  dictory answers, just as one might intentionally appear to err - in speech  speech.   Alkibiades' ignorance with regard to justice, injustice, noble,  base, evil and good is the cause of his confusion about them. Whenever  a man does not know a thing, his soul is confused about that thing.   By Zeus (fittingly), Alkibiades concedes he is ignorant of how to  rise into heaven. There is no confusion in his opinion about that simply  because he is aware that he doesn't know. Alkibiades must take his part  in discerning Socrates' meaning. He knows he is ignorant about fancy  cookery, so he doesn't get confused, but entrusts it to a cook.   Similarly when aboard ship he knows he is ignorant of how to steer, and  leaves it to the pilot. Mistakes are made when one thinks one knows  though one doesn't. Otherwise people would leave the job to those who  do know. The ignorant person who knows he is ignorant doesn't make  mistakes (117e). Those who make mistakes are those who think they know  when they don't; those who know act rightly; those who don't, leave it  to others.   All this is not precisely true for a number of reasons. Chance  or fortune always plays a part and something unexpected could interfere  in otherwise correctly laid plans. Also, as any honest politician or  general would have to say, sometimes courses of action must be decided  and acted upon, even when one is fully cognizant of one's partial  ignorance.   The worst sort of stupidity, Socrates testifies is the stupidity conjoined with confidence. It is a cause of evils and the most pernicious  evils occur through its involvement with great matters like the just, the  noble, the good and the advantageous. Alkibiades' bewilderment regarding  these momentous matters, coupled with his ignorance of his very ignorance,  imputes to him a rather sorry condition. Alkibiades admits he is afraid so.   Socrates at this point (118b) makes clear to Alkibiades the nature  of his predicament. He utters an exclamation at the plight of the young  man and deigns to give it a name only because they are alone. Alkibiades,  according to his own confession, is attached to the most shameful kind of  stupidity. Perhaps to contrast Alkibiades' actual condition with what he  could be, Socrates chooses precisely this moment to refer to Alkibiades  as "best of men" (cf. also 113c). With such apparent sarcasm still  reverberating in the background, Socrates intimates that because of this  kind of ignorance he is eager to enter politics before learning of it.  Alkibiades, far from being alone, shares this lot with most politicians  except, perhaps, his guardian Perikies, and a few others.   Already recognized to be obviously a salient feature of the action  of the dialogue, the fact that the two are alone, engaged in a private  conversation, is further stressed here as the reader approaches the  central teaching of the First Alkibiades . Alkibiades has been turned  around and now faces Socrates. They can confide in each other even to  the extent of criticizing all or nearly all of Athens' politicians.   They shall, in the next while, be saying things that most people should  not hear. And at this moment it seems to be for the purpose of naming  Alkibiades' condition that Socrates reminds the reader of their privacy.   A number of possible reasons for the emphasis on privacy in this regard  come to mind. Socrates likely would not choose to call Alkibiades  stupid in front of a crowd.   In the first place, his having just recognized his ignorance makes  him far less stupid than the crowd and it would be inappropriate to have  them feel they are better than he. Alkibiades is by nature a cut above  the many, and it would be a sign of contempt to expose him to ridicule  in front of the many. Though he may be in a sorry condition, he is being  compared to another standard than the populace.   Secondly, to expose and make Alkibiades sensitive to public censure  is probably not in his best interests. A cultivation in most noble youths  of the appropriate source of their honor and dishonor is important.  Socrates, by not making Alkibiades feel mortified in front of the many,  is heightening his respect for the censure of men like Socrates. Without  this alternative, the man who seeks glory is confronted with a paradox of  sorts. He wants the love/adoration of the many, and yet he despises the  things they love or adore. Alkibiades is being shown that the praise of  few (and if the principle is pushed to its limit, eventually the praise  of one - oneself, i.e. pride) is more to be prized.   Thirdly, as Socrates explains to Meletus in his trial ( Apology  26a), when someone does something unintentionally, it is correct to  instruct him privately and not to summon the attention of the public.  Alkibiades is not ignorant on purpose; Socrates should privately instruct  him. It is also probable that Alkibiades will only accept private  criticism which doesn't threaten his status.   And perhaps fourthly, if Socrates were to insult Alkibiades in  public the many would conclude that there was a schizm between them.  Because they are men whose natures are akin, and because of their  (symbolic) representation of politics and philosophy, or power and knowledge, any differences they have must remain private. It is in their  best interest as well as the interest of the public, that everyone per¬  ceive the two as being indivisible. And as was observed earlier, even  the wisest politicians must appear perfectly confident of their knowledge  and plans. This is best done if they conceal their private doubts and  display complete trust in their advisors, providing a united front when  facing the many.   When Socrates suggests Perikles is a possible exception, Alkibiades  names some of the wise men with whom Perikles conversed to obtain his  wisdom. Those whom he names are conventionally held to be wise; Alkibiades  might not refer to the same people by the end of this conversation with  Socrates. In any event, upon Alkibiades' mention of the wise men,   Socrates insinuates that Perikles' wisdom may be in doubt. Anybody who  is wise in some subject is able to make another wise in it, just as  Alkibiades' writing teacher taught Alkibiades, and whomever else he  wishes, about letters. The person who learns is also then able to en¬  lighten another man. The same holds true of the harper and the trainer  (but apparently not the flute player, cf. 106e). The ability to point  to one's student and to show his capability is a fine proof of knowing  anything. If Perikles didn't make either of his sons wise, or Alkibiades'  brother (Kleinias the madman) ,why is Alkibiades in his sorry condition?  Alkibiades confesses that he is at fault for not paying attention to  Perikles. Still, he swears by the king of gods that there isn't any  Athenian or stranger or slave or foreman who is said to have become wise  through conversation with Perikles, as various students of sophists have  been said to have become wise and erudite through lessons. Socrates  doesn't need to explicate the conclusion. Instead, he asks Alkibiades what he intends to do.   The conclusion of the argument is never uttered. It is obviously  meant to question Perikles' wisdom, but rather than spell it out, the  topic is abruptly changed. If Perikles were dead, not alive and in  power, piety would not admit of even this much criticism to be levied.  Alkibiades would be expected to defend his uncle against those outside  the family; and all Athenians to defend him against critics from other  poleis . In addition, if this was a public discussion, civic propriety  would demand silence in front of the many concerning one's doubts about  the country's leaders. But since they are indeed alone, and need not  worry about the effects on others of their discussion of Perikles'  wisdom, they might have concluded the argument. The curious reader will  likely examine various reasons for not finishing it. Three possibilities  appear to be somewhat supported by the discussion to this point.   One notices, to begin with, that it would be adequate for the  argument, if a person could be found who was reputed to have gained  wisdom from Perikles. Given that a reputation among the many has not  been highly regarded previously in the dialogue, there seems little need  to press this point in the argument. If a man was said to have been  made wise by Perikles, the criteria by which that judgment would be made  seem much less reliable than the criteria whereby the many evaluate a  man's skill in letters. There is no proof of Perikles' ability to make  another wise in finding someone who is reputed to be wise. Conversely,  Perikles may well have made someone wise who did not also achieve the  reputation for wisdom.   A second point in connection with the argument is that the three  subjects mentioned are those in which Alkibiades has had lessons. Alkibiades has ability in them, yet cannot point to people whom he has  made wise in letters, harping or wrestling. That does not seem sufficient  proof that he is ignorant (thus that his master was ignorant and so on) .   It is also not clear that Alkibiades' teachers could have made any student  whomsoever they wished, wise in these subjects; Perikles 1 sons must have  achieved their reputation as simpletons (118e) from failing at something.  Knowledge cannot require, for proof, that one has successfully taught  someone else. Not all people try to teach what they know. There must be  other proofs of competence, such as winning at wrestling, or pleasing an  audience through harping. Similarly, not having taught someone may not  prove one's ignorance; it may just indicate unwilling and incapable  students. Alkibiades, for example, didn't learn to play the flute. There  is no indication that his teacher was incapable - either of playing or of  teaching. Alkibiades is said to have refused to learn it becaus e of con¬  siderations of his own. It might also be suggested that pointing to  students doesn't solve the major problem of proving someone's knowledge.   Is it any easier to recognize knowledge in a student than in a teacher?   A third closely connected point is that some knowledge may be of   such significance that the wise man properly spends his time actively   98   using it (e.g., by ruling) and not teaching it. Perikles, through  ruling, may have made the Athenians as a whole better off, and perhaps  even increased their knowledge somewhat. Had his son and heirs to his  power observed his example while he was in office, they too might have  become wiser. Adding further endorsement to this notion is the quite  reasonable supposition that some of the things a wise politician knows  cannot be taught through speech but only through example, just as some  kinds of knowledge must be gained by experience. He may communicate his teaching through his example, or even less obviously, through whatever   institutions or customs he has established or revised. Some subjects   should  probably also be kept secret for the state, and some types of   prudential judgement are acquired only be guided experience. Perikles's very silence,  indeed, may be a testimony to his political wisdom.   In response to Socrates' question as to what Alkibiades will do,  the young man suggests that they put their heads together (119b). This  marks the completion of Alkibiades' turning around. Alkibiades, who  began the discussion annoyed and haughty has requested Socrates' assistance in escaping his predicament. He is ready to accept Socrates' advice.  This locution (of putting their heads together) will be echoed later by  Socrates (124c) and will mark another stage of their journey together.   The central portion of the dialogue, the portion between the two joinings  of their heads, is what shall be taken up next. Since most of the men who do the work of the polis are uneducated  (119b), Alkibiades presumes he is assured of gaining an easy victory  over them on the basis of his natural qualities. If they were educated,  he would have to take some care with his learning, just as much training  is required to compete with athletes. But they are ignorant amateurs  and should be no challenge.   Socrates launches into an exclamatory derision of this "best of  men." What he has just said is unworthy of the looks and other resources  of his. Alkibiades doesn't know what Socrates means by this and Socrates  responds that he is vexed for Alkibiades and for his love. Alkibiades  shouldn't expect this contest to be with these men here. When Alkibiades  inquires with whom his contest is to be, Socrates asks if that is a  question worthy of a man who considers himself superior. Alkibiades wants to ascertain if Socrates is suggesting that his contest is not with these  men, the politicians of the polis .   This passage is central to the First Alkibiades . The answer im¬  plicit in Socrates' response I deem to be far more profound than it might  seem to the casual observer. Hopefully the analysis here will support  this judgement and show as well, that this question of the contest (agon)  is a paramount question in Alkibiades' life, in the lives of all superior  men, and in the quest for the good as characterized by political philosophy.   If Alkibiades' ambition is really unworthy of him, if he thinks he  ought to strive only be be as competent as the Athenians, then Socrates  is vexed for his love. Earlier (104e) the reader was informed that  Socrates would have had to put aside his love for Alkibiades if Alkibiades  proved not to have such a high ambition. Thus Socrates was attracted to  Alkibiades' striving nature. He followed the youth about for so long  because Alkibiades' desires for power were growing. What thus differ¬  entiates Alkibiades from other youths (such as several of those with  whom Socrates is shown in the dialogues, to have spent time) is that he  has more exalted ambitions than they. Should Socrates come to the con¬  clusion that Alkibiades does not in fact have this surpassing will for  power, the philosopher would be forced to put away his love for  Alkibiades. Now, after some discussion, it seems there is a possibility  that Alkibiades wants only to be as great as other politicians. Many  boys wish this; Alkibiades' eros would not be outstanding. Were this  true, it would indeed be no wonder if Socrates were vexed for his love.   However, it appears that this is just something Alkibiades has  said (119c.3, 9). Socrates' love is not released, so Alkibiades passes  this, the test of Socrates' love. It is at this point in the dialogue that one can finally discern the character of the test. The question,  really, is what constitutes a high enough ambition. An athlete must try  to find out with whom to train and fight, for how long, how closely, and  at what time (119b; 107d-108b). He determines all of this himself; he  determines, in other words, the extent of his ambition to improve and  care for himself in terms of his contest. That with whom he fights  determines how he prepares himself. The contest is thus a standard  against which to judge his achievement.   The next step appears to be obvious: for the athlete of the soul  as well as the athlete of the body, the question is with whom ought he  contest. Socrates suggests shortly that should Alkibiades' ambition be  to rule Athens, then his contest would rightly be with other rulers,  namely the Spartan kings and the Great King of Persia. Since Socrates  apparently proceeds to compare in some detail the Spartan and Persian  princes' preparations for the contest, the surface impression is that  Alkibiades really must presume his contest to be with the Persians and  Spartans. The reader remembers, however, that Alkibiades would rather  die than be limited to ruling Athens (105b-c). What is the proper  contest for someone who desires to rule the known, civilized world and  to have his rule endure beyond his own lifetime; what is the preparation  requisite for truly great politics? At this point the question of the  contest assumes an added significance. The reference cannot be any  actual ruler; the inquiry has encountered another dimension of complexity.   The larger significance is, it is suspected, connected to the  earlier, discussion about the role of the very concept of the superior  man in political philosophy, particularly in understanding the nature of  man. The very idea that a contest for which one ought to prepare oneself is with something not actualized by men of the world (at least not in an  obvious sense since it cannot be any actual ruler) poses problems for  some views of human nature. For example, in the opinion of those who  believe that man's "nature" is simply what he actually is, or what is  "out there"; the actual men of the world and their demonstrated range  of possibilities are what indicate the nature of man. On this view,  man's nature, typically is understood to be some kind of statistical norm.  These people will agree that politics is limited by man and thought about  political things is thus limited by man's nature, but they will not con¬  cede the necessity of looking toward the best man.   The argument to counter this position is importantly epistemo¬  logical. It is almost a surety that any specific individual will deviate  from the norm to some degree, and the difference can only be described as  tending to be higher or lower than, or more or less than, the norm. This  deviation, which is to one side or other of the norm, makes the individual  either better or worse than the norm. Thus individuals, it may be said,  can be arranged hierarchically based on their position relative to the  norm and "the better”.  Whenever one tries to account for an individual's hierarchical  position vis a vis the norm, it is done in terms of circumstances which  limit or fail to limit his realization of his potential. Since no one  is satisfied with an explanation of a deviation such as "that is under¬  standable, 25% of the cases are higher than normal," some explanation of  why this individual stopped short, or proceeded further than average is  called for. 100 The implicit understanding of the potential, or of the  proper/ideal proportions, then, is what allows for comparison between  individuals. By extension, this understanding of the potential, whether or not it is actualized, is what provides the ability to judge between  regimes or societies. The amount a polity varies (or its best men, or  its average men) from the potential is the measure of its quality  relative to other polities. The explanation of this variation (geo¬  graphic location, form of regime, economic dependency, or other standard  reasons) will be in terms of factors which limit it from nearing, or  allow it to approach nearer the goal.   As it is not uniformly better to have more and not less the normal  of any characteristic, any consistent judgement of deviation from the norm  must be made in light of the best. Indeed, it usually is, either explicitly or implicitly. This teleological basis of comparison is the  common-sensical one, the prescientific basis of judgement. When someone  is heard to remark "what a man," one most certainly does not understand  him to be suggesting that the man in question has precisely normal  characteristics. Evaluating education provides a clear and fitting  example of how the potential, not the norm, serves as the standard for  judging. A teacher does not attempt to teach his students to conform  to the norm in literary, or mathematical ability. It would be ludicrous  for him to stop teaching mid-year, say, because the normal number of his  students reached the norm of literacy for their age. Indeed, education  itself can be seen as an attempt to exceed the norm (in the direction of  excellence) and thereby to raise it. That can only be done if there is  a standard other than the norm from which to judge the norm itself. The  superior man understands this. He competes with the best, not the norm.   As a youth he comes to know that a question central to his ambition, or  will for power is that of his proper contest.   The theoretical question of how one knows with whom to compete is very difficult although it may (for a long time) have a straightforward  practical solution. It is at the interface between the normally accepted  solution and the search for the real answer that Alkibiades and Socrates  find themselves, here in the middle of their conversation.   For most people during part of their lives, and for many people  all of their life, the next step in one's striving, the next contestant  one must face, is relatively easy to establish. Just as a wrestler pro¬  ceeds naturally from local victory through stages toward world champion¬  ship, so too does political ambition have ready referents - up to a  point. It is at that point that Alkibiades finds himself now, no doubt  partly with the help of Socrates prodding his ambitions (e.g., 105b. ff,  105e). What had made it relatively easy to know his contestant before  were the pictures of the best men as Alkibiades understood them, namely  politically successful men, Kyros and Xerxes (much as an ambitious  wrestler usually knows that a world championship title is held by some¬  one in particular). Alkibiades' path had been guided. Socrates has  chosen to address Alkibiades now, perhaps because Alkibiades' ambition  is high enough that the conventional models no longer suffice. Alkibiades  is at the stage wherein he must discover what the truly best man is,  actual examples have run out. He recognizes that he needs Socrates' help  (119b); no one else has indicated that Alkibiades' contest might take  place beyond the regular sphere of politics, with contestants other than  the actual rulers of the world. But how is he to discover the best man  in order that he may compete?   This is the theoretical question of most significance to man, and  could possibly be solved in a number of ways. Within the confines of the  dialogue, however, this analysis will not move further than to recognize both the question/ and its centrality to political philosophy. 101 To  note in passing, however, there may be many other questions behind that  of the best man. There may, for example, be more than one kind of best  man, and a decision between them may involve looking at a more prior  notion of "best." At any rate, it has been shown that it is apparently no accident  that the central question in a dialogue on the nature of man is a question  by a superior youth as to his proper contest. What is not yet understood  is why a philosophic man's eros is devoted to a youth whose erotic  ambition is for great politics, a will to power over the whole world.   By means of a thinly veiled reference to Athen's Imperial Navy,  over which Alkibiades would later have full powers as commander, Socrates  attempts to illustrate to the youth the importance of choosing and recog¬  nizing the proper contestants. Supposing, for example, Alkibiades were  intending to pilot a trireme into a sea battle, he would view being as  capable as his fellows merely a necessary qualification. If he means to  act nobly ( kalos ) for himself and his city, he would want to so far sur¬  pass his fellows as to make them feel only worthy enough to fight under  him, not against him. It doesn't seem fitting for a leader to be satis¬  fied with being better than his soldiers while neglecting the scheming  and drilling necessary if his focus is the enemy's leaders. Alkibiades  asks to whom Socrates is referring and Socrates responds with another  question. Is Alkibiades unaware that their city often wars with Sparta  and the Great King? If he intends to lead their polis , he'd correctly   suppose his contest was with the Spartan and Persian kings. His contest  is not with the likes of Meidias who retain a slavish nature and try to  run the polis by flattering, not ruling it. If he looks to that sort  for his goal, then indeed he needn't learn what's required for the  greatest contest, or perform what needs exercising, or prepare himself  adequately for a political career. Alkibiades, the best of men,  has to consider the implications of believing that the Spartan generals  and the Persian kings are like all others (i.e., no better than normal). 103  Firstly, one takes more care of oneself if one thinks the opponents worthy,  and no harm is done taking care of oneself. Assuredly that sufficiently   establishes that it is bad to hold the opinion that they are no better than anyone else.   Almost as a second thought, Socrates turns to another criterion   which might indicate why having a certain opinion is bad - truth (cf.   Republic 386c). There is another reason, he continues, namely that the   opinion is probably false. It is likely that better natures come from   well-born families where they will in the end become virtuous in the event they are well brought up. The Spartan and Persian kings, descended   from Perseus, the son of Zeus, are to be compared with Socrates' and  Alkibiades' ancestral lines to see if they are inferior. 100 Alkibiades  is quick to point out that his goes back to Zeus as well, and Socrates  adds that he comes from Zeus through Daidalos and Hephaistos, son of Zeus.  Since ancestral origin in Zeus won't qualitatively differentiate the  families, Socrates points out that in both cases - Sparta and Persia -  every step in the line was a king, whereas both Socrates and Alkibiades  (and their fathers) are private men. The royal families seem to win the  first round. The homelands of the various families could be next com¬  pared, but it is likely that Alkibiades' her   itage, which Socrates is able  to describe in detail, would arouse laughter. In ancestry and in birth  and breeding, those people are superior, for, as Alkibiades should have observed, Spartan kings have their wives guarded so that no one outside the line could corrupt the queen, and the Persians have such awe for  the king that no one would dare, including the queen.   With the conclusion of Socrates' and Alkibiades' examination of  the various ancestries of the men, and before proceeding to the dis¬  cussions of their births and nurtures, a brief pause is called for to  look at the general problem of descent and the philosophic significance  to have in this dialogue. References to familial descent are diffused throughout the First  Alkibiades . It begins by calling attention to Alkibiades' ancestry and  five times in the dialogue is he referred to as the son of Kleinias. On two occasions he is even addressed as the  son of Deinomakhe. If that weren't enough, this dialogue  marks one of only two occasions on which Socrates' mother, the midwife  Phainarete, is named (cf. Theaitetos 149a). The central of the things  on which Socrates said Alkibiades prides himself is his family, and  Socrates scrutinizes it at the greatest length. The sons of Perikles  are mentioned, as are other familial relations such as the brother of  Alkibiades. The lineages of the Persian kings, of the Spartan kings,  of Alkibiades and Socrates are probed, and Socrates reveals that he has  bothered to learn and to repeat the details. The mothers of the Persian  kings and Spartan kings are given an important role in the dialogue, and  in general the question of ancestry is noticeably dominant, warranting  the reader's exploration.   As already discussed in the beginning, the reference to Alkibiades'  descent might have philosophic significance in the dialogue. Here again,  the context of the concern about descent is explicitly the consideration of the natures of men. Better natures usually come from better ancestors  (as long as they also have good nurtures). At the time of birth, an  individual's ancestry is almost the only indication of his nature, the  most important exception being, of course, his sex. But, as suggested by  Socrates' inclusion of the proviso that they be well brought up (120e), a  final account of man's nature must look to ends not only origins, and to  his nurture, not only descent. Nurture ( paideia) is intended to mean a  comprehensive sense of education, including much more than formal school¬  ing; indeed, it suggests virtually everything that affects one's up¬  bringing. The importance of this facet in the development of a man's  nature becomes more obvious when one remembers the different character¬  istics of offspring of the same family (e.g., Kleinias and Alkibiades,  both sons of Kleinias and Deinomakhe, or the sons of Ariston participating  in the Republic ). These suggestions, added to the already remarked upon  importance of nurture in a man's life, mutually support the contention  that nature is to be understood in terms of a fulfilled end providing a  standard for nurture. The nature of man, if it is to be understood in  terms of a telos , his fulfilled potential, must be more than that which  he is born as. An individual's nature, then, is a function of his  descent and his nurture. Often they are supplementary, at least super¬  ficially; better families being better educated, they are that much more  aware and concerned with the nurture of their offspring. 'Human nature'  would be distinguished from any individual's nature in so far as it  obviously does not undergo nurture; but if properly understood, it pro¬  vides the standard for the nurture of individuals. To the point of birth,  then, ancestry is the decisive feature in a man's nature, and thus sets  limits on his nature. When his life begins, that turns around, and education and practice become the key foci for a man's development. After birth a man cannot alter his ancestry, and nurture assumes its   role in shaping his being, his nature.   The issue is addressed in a rather puzzling way by Socrates' claim   that his ancestry goes through Daidalos to Hephaistos, the son of Zeus.   This serves to establish (as authoritatively as in the case of the others)   that he is well-born. It does nothing to counter Alkibiades' claim that   he, like the Persian and Spartan kings, is descended from Zeus (all of   them claiming descent from the king of the Olympians); in other words, it   does not appear to serve a purpose in the explicit argument and the   reader is drawn to wonder why he says it.   Upon examination one discovers that this is not the regular story.   Normally in accounts of the myths, the paternal heritage of Hephaistos   is ambiguous at best . Hesiod relates that Hephaistos was born from Hera   109   with no consort. Hera did not mate with a man; Haphaistos had no   father. 1 '*’ 0 Socrates thus descends from a line begun by a woman - the  queen of the heavens, the goddess of marriage and childbirth (cf.  Theaitetos 148e-151e; also 157c, 160e-161e, 184b, 210b-c; Statesman  268b). By mentioning Hephaistos as an ancestor, Socrates is drawing  attention to the feminine aspect of his lineage. An understanding of  the feminine is crucial to an account of human nature. The male/female  division is the most fundamental one for mankind, rendering humans into  two groups (cf. Symposium 190d-192d). The sexes and their attraction  to each other provide the most basic illustration of eros , perhaps man's  most powerful (as well as his most problematic) drive or passion. Other  considerations include the female role in the early nurture of children  (Republic 450c) and thus the certain, if indirect effect of sex on the polls (it is not even necessary to add the suspicions about a more subtle  part for femininity reserved in the natures of some superior men, the  philosophers). Given this, it is quite possible that Socrates is sug¬  gesting the importance of the male/female division in his employment of  'descent' as an extended philosophic metaphor for human nature.   A brief digression concerning Hephaistos and Daidalos may be use¬  ful at this point. Daidalos was a legendary ingenious craftsman, in¬  ventor and sculptor (famous for his animate sculptures). He is said to  have slain an apprentice who showed enough promise to threaten Daidalos'  supremacy, and he fled to Krete. In Krete he devised a hollow wooden  cow which allowed the queen to mate with a bull. The offspring was the  Minotaur. Daidalos constructed the famous labyrinth into which select  Athenian youths were led annually, eventually to be devoured by the  Minotaur. ^ Daidalos, however, was suspected of supplying the youth  Theseus (soon to become a great political founder) with a means to exit  from the maze and was jailed with his son Ikaros. A well known legend  tells of their flight. Minos, the Kretan king was eventually killed in  his pursuit of Daidalos.   Hephaistos was the divine and remarkably gifted craftsman of the  Olympians, himself one of the twelve major gods. Cast from the heavens  as an infant, Hephaistos remained crippled. He was, as far as can be  told, the only Olympian deity who was not of surpassingly beautiful  physical form. It is interesting that Socrates would claim descent from  him. Hephaistos was noted as a master craftsman and manufactured many  wondrous things for the gods and heroes. His most remarkable work might  have been that of constructing the articles for the defence of the noted  warrior, Akhilleus, the most famous of which was the shield (Homer,  Iliad y XVIII/ 368-617).   The next topic discussed in this, the longest speech in the dialogue, is the nurture of the Persian youths. Subsequently Socrates   discourses about Spartan and Persian wealth and he considers various   possible reactions to Alkibiades' contest with the young leaders of both   countries. The account Socrates presents raises questions as to his   possible intentions. It is quite likely that Socrates and Xenaphon, who   also gives an account of the nurture of the Persian prince, have more in   mind than mere interesting description. Their interpretations and   presentations of the subject differ too markedly for their purposes to have been simply to report the way of life in another country. Thus,   rather than worry over matters of historical accuracy, the more curious  features of Socrates' account will be considered, such as the relative  emphasis on wealth over qualities of soul, and the rather lengthy  speculation about the queens', not the kings', regard for their sons.   In pointed contrast to the Athenians, of whose births the  neighbors do not even hear, when the heir to the Persian throne is  born the first festivities take place within the palace and from then on  all of Asia celebrates his birthday. The young child is cared for by  the best of the king's eunuchs, instead of an insignificant nurse, and  he is highly honored for shaping the limbs of the body. Until the boy  is perhaps seven years old, then, his attendant is not a woman who would  provide a motherly kind of care, nor a man who would provide an example  of masculinity and manliness, but a neutered person. The manly Alkibiades,  as well as the reader, might well wonder as to the effect this would have  on the boy, and whether it is the intended effect.   At the age of seven the boys learn to ride horses and commence to hunt. This physical activity, it seems, continues until the age of four¬  teen when four of the most esteemed Persians become the boys' tutors.   They represent four of the virtues, being severally wise, just, temperate,  and courageous. The teaching of piety is conducted by the wisest tutor  of the four (which certainly allows for a number of interesting possi¬  bilities) . He instructs the youth in the religion of Zoroaster, or in  the worship of the gods, and he teaches the boy that which pertains to a  king - certainly an impressive task. The just tutor teaches him to be  completely truthful (122a); the temperate tutor to be king and free man  overall of the pleasures and not to be a slave to anyone, and the brave  tutor trains him to be unafraid, for fear is slavery. Alkibiades had  instead an old (and therefore otherwise domestically useless) servant to  be his tutor.   Socrates suspends discussion of the nurture of Alkibiades'  competitors. It would promise to be a long description and too much of  a task (122b). He professes that what he has already reported should  suggest what follows. Thereby Socrates challenges the reader to examine  the manner in which this seemingly too brief description of nurture at  least indicates what a complete account might entail.   This appears to be the point in the dialogue which provides the  most fitting opportunity to explicitly and comprehensively consider  nurture. It has become clear to Socrates and Alkibiades that the correct  nurture is essential to the greatest contest, and Socrates leaves  Alkibiades (and the reader) with the impression that he regards the  Persian nurture to be appropriate. One might thus presume that an  examination of Persian practices would make apparent the more important  philosophical questions about nurture. Socrates had been specific in noticing the subjects of instruction  received by Alkibiades (106e), and the reader might follow likewise in  observing the lessons of the Persian princes. On the face of it, Socrates  provides more detail regarding this aspect of their nurture than others,  so it might be prudent to begin by reflecting upon the teaching of  religion and kingly things, of truth-telling, of mastering pleasures, and  of mastering fears. Perhaps the Persian system indicates how these virtues  are properly seen as one, or how they are arranged together, for one sus¬  pects that conflicts might normally arise in their transmission. These  subjects are being taught by separate masters. A consistent nurture  demands that they are all compatible, or that they can agree upon some  way of deciding differences. If the four tutors can all recognize that  one of them ought to command, this would seem to imply that wisdom some¬  how encompasses all other virtues. In that case, the attendance of the  one wise man would appear to be the most desirable in the education of a  young man. The wise man's possession of the gamut of virtues would  supply the prince with a model of how they properly fit together. With¬  out a recognized hierarchy, there might be conflicts between the virtues.  Indeed, as the reader has had occasion to observe in an earlier context  of the dialogue, two of the substantive things taught by two different  tutors may conflict strongly. There are times when a king ought not to  be honest. The teacher of justice then would be suggesting things at  odds with that which pertains to a king. How would the boys know which  advice to choose, independently of any other instruction? In addition,  Socrates suggests that the bravest Persian (literally the 'manliest')  tells or teaches the youth to fear nothing, for any fear is slavery.   But surely the expertise of the tutor of courage would seem to consist in his knowing what to fear and what not to fear. Otherwise the youth  would not become courageous but reckless. Not all fears indicate that  one is a slave: any good man should run out of the way of a herd of  stampeding cattle, an experienced mountain climber is properly wary of  crumbling rock, and even brave swimmers ought to remain well clear of  whirlpools. For this to be taught it appears that the courageous tutor  would have to be in agreement with the tutor of wisdom. These sorts of  difficulties seem to be perennial, and a system of nurture which can  overcome them would provide a fine model, it seems, for education into  virtues. If the Persian tutors could indeed show the virtues to be  harmonious, it would be of considerable benefit to Alkibiades to under¬  stand precisely how it is accomplished.   The question of what is to be taught leads readily to a considera¬  tion of how to determine who is to teach. The problem of ascertaining  the competence of teachers seems to be a continuing one (as the reader of  this dialogue has several occasions to observe - e.g., llOe, ff.). But  besides their public reputation there is no indication of the criteria  employed in the selection of the Persian tutors. To this point in the  dialogue, two criteria have been acknowledged as establishing qualifica¬  tion for teaching (or for the knowledge requisite for teaching). Agree¬  ment between teachers on their subject matter (lllb-c) is important for  determining who is a proper instructor, as is a man's ability to refer to  knowledgeable students (118d). As has already been indicated, both of  these present interesting difficulties. Neither, however, is clearly or  obviously applicable to the Persian situation. The present king might  prove to be the only student to whom they can point (in which case they  may be as old as Zopyros) and he might well be the only one in a position to agree with them. It is conceivable that some kinds of knowledge are  of such difficulty that one cannot expect too many people to agree. If  the Persians have indeed solved the problems of choosing tutors, and of  reconciling public reputation for virtue with actual possession of  virtue, they have overcome what appears to be a most persistent diffi¬  culty regarding human nurture.   Another issue which surfaces in Socrates' short account of the  Persian educational system is that of the correct age to begin such  nurture. Education to manhood begins at about the age of puberty for  the prince. If the virtues are not already quite entrenched in his  habits or thoughts (in which latter case he would have needed another  source of instruction besides the tutors - as perhaps one might say the  Iliad and Odyssey provide for Athenian youths such as Alkibiades), it is  doubtful that they could be inculcated at the age of fourteen. Socrates  is completely silent about the Persians' prior education to virtue, dis¬  closing only that they began riding horses and participating in "the  hunt." Since both of those activities demand some presence of mind, one  may presume that early Persian education was not neglected. This  earliest phase of education is of the utmost importance, however, for if  the boy had been a coward for fourteen years, one might suspect tutoring  by a man at that point would not likely make him manly. And to make  temperate a lad accustomed to indulgence would be exceedingly difficult.  Forcibly restricting his consumption would not have a lasting effect un¬  less there were some thing to draw upon within the understanding of the  boy, but Socrates supplies Alkibiades with no hint as to what that might  be. Presently the young man will be reminded of Aesop's fables and the  various stories that children hear. If, in order to qualify as proper nurturing, such activities as children participate in - e.g., music and  gymnastics - ought to be carried out in a certain mode or with certain  rules (cf. Republic 377a-e; 376c-414c), Socrates gives no indication of  their manner here. Unless stories and activities build a respect for  piety and justice, and the like, it is not obvious that the respect will  be developed when someone is in his mid-teens. It would seem difficult,  if not impossible, to erase years of improper musical and gymnastic  education. Socrates remains distressingly silent about so very much of  the Persian (or proper) method of preparing young men for the great  contest.   The only one who would care about Alkibiades 1 birth, nurture or  education, would be some chance lover he happened to have, Socrates says  in reference to his seemingly unique interest in Alkibiades' nature  (122b). He concludes what was presumably the account of the education  of the Persian princes, intimating that Alkibiades would be shamed by a  comparison of the wealth, luxury, robes and various refinements of the  Persians. It is odd that he would mention such items in the context  immediately following the list of subjects the tutors were to teach in  the education of the soul of the king - including the complete mastery  of all pleasure. It is even more curious that he would deign to mention  these in the context of making Alkibiades sensitive to what was required  for his preparation for his proper contest. The historical Alkibiades,  it seems, would not be so insensitive to these luxuries as to need reminding of them, and the dialogue to this point has not given any indica¬  tion that these things of the body are important to the training  Alkibiades needs by way of preparing for politics. The fact that Socrates  expressly asserts that Alkibiades would be ashamed at having less of those things corroborates the suggestion that more is going on in this long  speech than is obvious at the surface.   Briefly, and in a manner that doesn't appear to make qualities of  soul too appealing, Socrates lists eleven excellences of the Spartans:  temperance, orderliness, readiness, easily contented, great-mindedness,  well-orderedness, manliness, patient endurance, labor loving, contest  loving and honor loving. Socrates neither described these glowingly,  nor explains how the Spartans come to possess them. He merely lists  them. Then, interestingly, he remarks that Alkibiades in comparison is  a child . He does not say that Alkibiades would be ashamed, or that he  would lose, but that he had somehow not yet attained them. Like some  children presumably, he may have the potential to grow into them if they  are part of the best nature. There is no implication, then, that  Alkibiades' nature is fundamentally lacking in any of these virtues, and  this is of special interest to the reader given the more or less general  agreement, even during his lifetime, as to his wantonness. Socrates  here suggests that Alkibiades is like a child with respect to the best  nature. This part of Socrates' speech reveals two possible alternatives  to the Persian education, alternatives compatible with the acquisition of  virtue. A Spartan nurture was successful in giving Spartans the set of  virtues Socrates listed. Since Alkibiades obviously cannot regain the  innocence necessary to benefit from early disciplined habituation, and  since Socrates nevertheless understands him to be able to grow into  virtue in some sense, there must be another way open to him. This  twenty year old "child" has had some early exposure to virtue, at least  through poetry, and perhaps it is through this youthful persuasion that Socrates will aid him in his education. Indeed Socrates appeals often  to his sense of the honorable and noble - which is related to virtue even  if improperly understood by Alkibiades. As the dialogue proceeds from  this point/ Socrates appears to be importantly concerned with making  Alkibiades virtuous through philosophy. He is trying to persuade  Alkibiades to let his reason rule him in his life, most importantly in  his desire to know himself. Perhaps, on this account, one might acquire  virtue in two ways, a Spartan nurture, for example, and through philosophy.   Again, however, Socrates stops before he has said everything he  might have said, and turns to the subject of wealth. In fact, Scorates  claims that he must not keep silent with regard to riches if Alkibiades  thinks about them at all. Thus, according to Socrates, not only is it  not strange to turn from the soul to wealth, but it is even appropriate.  Socrates must attest to the riches of Spartans, who in land and slaves  and horses and herds far outdo any estate in Athens, and he most  especially needs to report on the wealth of gold and silver privately  held in Lakedaimon. As proof for this assertion, which certainly runs  counter to almost anyone's notion of Spartan life, Socrates uses a fable  within this fabulous story.   Socrates assumes Alkibiades has learned Aesop's fables - somehow -  for without supplying any other details he simply mentions that there are  many tracks of wealth going into Sparta and none coming out. In order to  explain Socrates' otherwise cryptic remarks, the children's fable will be  recounted. Aesop's story concerns an old lion who must eat by his wits  because he can no longer hunt or fight. He lies in a cave pretending to  be ill and when any animals visit him he devours them. A fox eventually  happens by, but seeing through the ruse he remains outside the cave. When ths lion asks why he doesn't come in, the fox responds that he sees too  many tracks entering the cave and none leaving it.   The lion and the fox represent the classic confrontation between  power and knowledge. 114 One notices that in the fable the animals  generally believe an opinion that proves to be a fatal mistake. The fox  doesn't. He avoids the error. The implication is that Socrates and  Alkibiades have avoided an important mistake that the rest of the Greeks  have made. One can only speculate on what it is precisely. They seem  to be the only ones aware of one of Sparta's qualities, a quality which,  oddly, is in some sense essential to Alkibiades' contest. Perhaps  Socrates' use of the fable merely suggests that erroneous opinions about  the nature of one's true contestant may prove fatal, but there may be  more to it than that.   This fable fittingly appears in the broad context of nurture;  myths and fables are generally recognized for their pedagogic value. Any  metaphoric connection this fable brings to mind with the more famous   Allegory of the Cave in Plato's Republic will necessarily be speculative. But they are not altogether out of place. The cave, in a sense,   represents the condition of most people's nurtures and thus represents a  fitting setting for a fable related in this dialogue. Given Socrates'  fears of what will happen to Alkibiades (132a, 135e) and Alkibiades' own  concern for the demos , the suggested image of people (otherwise fit  enough to be outside) being enticed into the cave and unable to leave it  might be appropriate.   At any rate, in terms of the argument for Sparta's wealth, this  evidence does nothing to show that the wealth is privately held. It is  apparent, after all, that the evidence indicates gold is pouring into  Spsi’ts. from all over Greece, but not coining' out of the country, whereas  Socrates seems to interpret this as private, not public wealth. Perhaps  the reader may infer from this that a difference between city and man is  being subtly implied. Socrates is suggesting that wealth is an important  part of the contest, and yet he includes himself in the contest at a  number of points. This rather inconclusive and ambiguous reference to  the wealth of Sparta and the Spartans might suggest that the difference  between the city and man regarding riches, may be that great wealth is  good for a city (for example, as Thucydides observes, wealth facilitates  warmaking), and is thus something a ruler should know how to acquire -  but not so good for an individual. Socrates' next statement supports  this interpretation. A king's being wealthy might not mean that he uses  it privately. Socrates informs Alkibiades that the king possesses the  most wealth of any Spartans for there is a special tribute to him (123a-  b) . In any case, however great the Spartan fortunes appear compared with  the fortunes of other Greeks, they are a mere pittance next to the Persian  king's treasures. Socrates was told this himself by a trustworthy person  who gathered his information by travelling and finding out what the local  inhabitants said. Socrates treats this as valuable information, yet which,  given his chosen way of life, he couldn't have acquired firsthand.   Large tracts of land are reserved for adorning the Persian queen  with clothes, individual items having land specially set aside for them.  There were fertile regions known as the "king's wife's girdle," veil,  etc.Certainly an indication of wealth, it also seems to suggest a  wanton luxury, especially on the part of women (and which men flatter  with gifts).   Returning to the supposed contest between Alkibiades and the Spartan and the Persian kings, Socrates adopts a very curious framework  for the bulk of the remainder of this discourse. He continues in terms  of the thoughts of the mother of the king and proceeds as though she were,  in part, in a dialogue with Alkibiades 1 mother, Deinomakhe. If she found  out that the son of Deinomakhe was challenging her son, the king's mother,  Amestris, would wonder on what Alkibiades could be trusting. The manner  in which Socrates has the challenge introduced to Amestris does not  reveal either of the men's names. Only their mothers are referred to -  and the cost of the mothers' apparel seems to be as important to the  challenge or contest as the size of the sons' estates. Only after he is  told that the barbarian queen is wondering does the reader find out that  her son's name is Artaxerxes and that  she is aware that it is Alkibiades  who is challenging her son. She might well have been completely ignorant  of the existence of Deinomakhe's family, or she may have thought it was  Kleinias, the madman (118e), who was the son involved. Since there is no  contest with regards to wealth - either in land or clothing - Alkibiades  must be relying on his industry and wisdom - the only thing the Greeks  have of any worth.   Perhaps because she is a barbarian, or because of some inability  on her part, or maybe some subtlety of the Greeks, she doesn't recognize  the Greeks' speaking ability as one of their greatest accomplishments.  Indeed, both in the dialogue and historically, it was his speaking ability  on which Alkibiades was to concentrate much of his effort, and through  which he achieved many of his triumphs. Greeks in general and Athenians  in particular spent much time cultivating the art of speaking. Sophists  and rhetoricians abounded. Rhapsodists and actors took part in the many  dramatic festivals at Athens. Orators and politicians addressed crowds of  people almost daily Cor so it seems).   Socrates continues. If she were to be informed (with reference to  Alkibiades' wisdom and industriousness) that he was not yet twenty, and was  utterly uneducated, and further, was quite satisfied with himself and re¬  fused his lover's suggestion to learn, take care of himself and exercise  his habits before he entered a contest with the king, she would again be  full of wonder. She would ask to what the youth could appeal and would  conclude Socrates and Alkibiades (and Deinomakhe) were mad if they thought  he could contend with her son in beauty ( kalos ), stature, birth, wealth,  and the nature of his soul (123e). The last quality, the nature of the  soul, has the most direct bearing on the theme of the dialogue, and as  the reader remembers, is the promised but not previously included part of  the list of reasons for Alkibiades' high opinion of himself (104a. ff.).  Since it is also the most difficult to evaluate, one might reasonably  wonder what authority Amestris' judgement commands. It is feasible for  the reader to suspect that this is simply Socrates' reminder that a  mother generally favors her own son. But perhaps her position and  experience as wife and mother to kings enables her in some sense to judge  souls.   Lampido, another woman, the daughter, wife and mother of three  different kings, would also wonder, Socrates proposes, at Alkibiades'  desire to contest with her son, despite his comparatively ignoble ( kakos )  upbringing. Socrates closes the discussion with the mothers of kings by  asking Alkibiades if it is not shameful that the mothers and wives  (literally, "the women belonging to the kings ) of their enemies have a  better notion than they of the qualities necessary for a person who wants    to contend with them. The problem of understanding human nature includes centrally the  problem of understanding sex and the differences between men and women.  Thus political philosophy necessarily addresses these matters. Half of  a polity is made up of women and the correct ordering of a polity re¬  quires that women, as well as men, do what is appropriate. However,  discovering the truth about the sexes is not simple in any event, partly  at least because of one's exclusion from personal knowledge about the  other sex; and it has become an arduous task to gather honest opinions  from which to begin reflecting.   The discussion of women in this central portion of the dialogue  is invested with political significance by what is explored later re¬  garding the respective tasks of men and women (e.g., 126e-127b). Before  proceeding to study the rest of this long speech, it may be useful to  briefly sketch two problem areas. Firstly the outline of some of the  range of philosophic alternatives presented by mankind's division into  two sexes will be roughly traced out. This will foreshadow the later  discussion of the work appropriate to the sexes. Secondly, a suggestion  shall be ventured as to one aspect of how 'wonder' and philosophy may be  properly understood to have a feminine element - an aspect that is con¬  nected to a very important theme of this dialogue.   Thus, in order to dispel some of the confusion before returning  to the dialogue, the division of the sexes may imply, in terms of an  understanding of human nature, that there is either one ideal that both  sexes strive towards, or there is more than one. If there is one goal  or end, it might be either the 'feminine,' the 'masculine, a combina¬  tion of the traits of both sexes, or a transcendent "humanness" that  rises above sexuality. The first may be dismissed unless one is willing to posit that everything is "out-of-whack" in nature and all the wrong   people have been doing great human deeds. Traditionally, the dominant opinion has implicitly been that the characteristics of 'human' are for  the most part those called 'masculine', or that males typically embody  these characteristics to a greater extent. Should this be correct, then  one may be warranted in considering nature simply "unfair" in making half  of the people significantly weaker and less able to attain those character¬  istics. Should the single ideal for both sexes be a combination of the  characteristics of both sexes, still other difficulties arise. A normal  understanding of masculine and feminine refers to traits that are quite  distinct; those who most combine the traits, or strike a mean, appear  to be those who are most sexually confused.   The other possibility mentioned was that there be two (or more)  sets of characteristics - one for man and one for woman. The difficulty  with this alternative is unlike the difficulties encountered in the one-  model proposal. One problem with having an ideal for each sex, or even  with identifying some human characteristics more with one sex than the  other, is that all of the philosophic questions regarding the fitting  place of each sex still remain to be considered.   Some version of this latter alternative seems to be endorsed later  in the First Alkibiades (126e-127b). There it is agreed £md agreement  frequently is the most easily met of the suggested possible criteria of  knowledge mentioned in the dialogue) that there are separate jobs for  men and women. Accordingly, men and women are said to be rightly unable  to understand each other's jobs and thus cannot agree on matters sur¬  rounding those jobs.   One of the implications of this, however, unmentioned by either Socrates or Alkibiades, is that women therefore ought not to nurture  young sons. A woman does not and cannot grasp what it is to be a man  and to have manly virtue. Thus they cannot raise manly boys. However,  this is contrary to common sense. One would think that if there was any  task for which a woman should be suited (even if it demands more care  than is often believed) it would be motherhood. Because of this a mother  would have to learn a man's business if she would bear great sons. At  this point the problems of the surface account of the First Alkibiades  become apparent to even the least reflective reader.   If it is the same task, or if the same body of knowledge (or  opinion) is necessary for being a great man as for raising a great man,  then at least in one case the subjects of study for men and women are not  exclusive. Women dominate the young lives of children. They must be able  to turn a boy's ambitions and desires in the proper direction until the  menfolk take over. Since it would pose practical problems for her to  attempt to do so in deed, she must proceed primarily through speech, in¬  cluding judicious praise and blame, and that is why the fables and myths  women relate ought to be of great concern to the men (cf. for example.  Republic 377b-c). If, on the other hand, it requires completely differ¬  ent knowledge to raise great sons than it does to be great men, then men,  by the argument of the dialogue should not expect to know women's work.   If this is the proper philosophic conclusion the reader is to reach, then  it is not so obviously disgraceful for the womenfolk to know better than  Socrates and Alkibiades what it takes to enter the contest (124a). The  disgrace, it seems, would consist in being unable to see the contra¬  dictions in the surface account of the First Alkibiades , and thus not  being in a position to accept its invitation to delve deeper into the problem of human nature.   At this point a speculation may be ventured as to why, in this   dialogue, wonder takes on a feminine expression, and why elsewhere.   Philosophy herself is described as feiminine Ce.g., Republic 495-b-c,   536c, 495e; Gorgias 482a; cf. also Letter VII 328e, Republic 499c-d,   548b-c, 607b). One might say that a woman's secretiveness enhances her seductiveness. Women are concerned with appearance (cf. 123c; the   very apparel of the mothers of great sons is catalogued) . Philosophy and  women may be more alluring when disclosure ("disclothesure") of their  innermost selves requires a certain persistence on the part of their  suitors. Philosophy in its most beguiling expression is woman-like.   When subtle and hidden, its mystery enhances its attractiveness. Perhaps  it will be suggested - perhaps for great men to be drawn to philosophy she  must adopt a feminine mode of expression, in addition to the promise of a  greater power; if viewed as a goddess she must be veiled, not wholly  naked.   To further explore the analogue in terms of expression, one notices  that women are cautious of themselves and protective of their own. They  are aware, and often pass this awareness on to men that in some circles  they must be addressed or adorned in a certain manner in order to avoid  ridicule and appear respectable. As well, a woman's protection of her  young is expected. Philosophy, properly expressed, should be careful to  avoid harming the innocent; and a truly political philosopher should be  protective of those who will not benefit from knowing the truth. If the  truth is disruptive to the community, for example, he should be most  reluctant to announce it publicly. The liberal notion that every truth  is to be shared by all might be seen to defeminize philosophy. Women, too in speech will lie and dissemble to protect their own; in deed, they are  more courageous in retreat, able to bear the loss of much in order to  ensure the integrity of that of which they are certain is of most im¬  portance .   Political philosophy is not only philosophy about politics; it is  doing (or at least expressing) all of one's philosophizing in a politic  way. Its expression would be "feminine." This suggestion at least  appears to square with the role of women in the dialogue. It accounts  for the mothers' lively concern over the welfare and status of the power¬  ful; it provides a possible understanding of how the 'masculine' and  'feminine' may have complementary tasks; it connects the female to  'wonder'; it lets the reader see the enormous significance of speech to  politics; it reminds one of the power of eros as a factor in philosophy,  in politics, in Socrates' attraction to Alkibiades, and in man's  attraction to philosophy; it helps to explain why both lines of descent,  the maternal as well as the paternal, are emphasized in the cases of the  man coveting power and the man seeking knowledge. Through the very ex¬  pression of either, politics and philosophy become interconnected.   Socrates addresses Alkibiades as a blessed man and tells him to  attend him and the Delphic inscription, "know thyself." These people  (presumably Socrates is referring to the enemy, with whose wives they  were speaking; however, the analysis has indicated why the referent is  left ambiguous: there is a deeper sense of 'contest' here than war with  Persians and Spartans) are Socrates' and Alkibiades' competitors, not  those whom Alkibiades thinks. Only industriousness and techne will give  them ascendancy over their real competitors. Alkibiades will fail in  achieving a reputation among Greeks and barbarians if he lacks those qualities. And Socrates can see that Alkibiades desires that reputation  more than anyone else ever loved anything.   The reader may have noticed that the two qualities Socrates men¬  tions are very similar to the qualities of the Greeks mentioned by the  barbarian queen above. Socrates is implicitly raising the Greeks above  the barbarians by making the Greek qualities the most important, and he  diminishes the significance of their victory in terms of wealth and land.   He thus simultaneously indicts them on two counts. They do not recognize  that Alkibiades is their big challenge, sothey are in the disgraceful  condition of which Alkibiades was accused, namely not having an eye to  their enemies but to their fellows. By raising the Greek virtues  above  the barbarian qualities, Socrates throws yet more doubt on the view that  they are indeed the proper contestants for Alkibiades. It is interesting  that the barbarian queen knew or believed these were the Greek's  qualities but she did not correctly estimate their importance.   Another wonderful feature of this longest speech in the First  Alkibiades is the last line: "I believe you are more desirous of  it than anyone else is of anything," (124b). Socrates ascribes to Alkibiades  an extreme eros . It may even be a stranger erotic attraction or will to  power than that marked by Socrates' eros for Alkibiades. But the  philosopher wants to help and is able to see Alkibiades' will. Socrates  even includes himself in the contest. Socrates is indeed a curious   man. So ends the longest speech in the dialogue.   Alkibiades agrees. He wants that. Socrates' speech seems very  true. Alkibiades has been impressed with Socrates' big thoughts about  politics, for Socrates had indicated that he is familiar enough with the  greatest foreign political powers to make plausible/credible his implicit is* orf or explicit criticism of them. Socrates has also tacitly approved of  Alkibiades 1 ambitions to rule not only Athens, but an empire over the  known world. Alkibiades must be impressed with this sentiment in  democratic Athens. In addition to all this, Socrates has hinted to the  youth that there is something yet bigger. Alkibiades requests Socrates'  assistance and will do whatever Socrates wants. He begs to know what is  the proper care he must take of himself.   Socrates echoes Alkibiades' sentiment that they must put their   heads together (124c; cf. 119b). This is an off-quoted line from Homer's  119   Iliad. In the Iliad the decision had been made- that information must   be attained from and about the Trojans by spying on their camp. The  brave warrior, Diomedes, volunteered to go, and asked the wily Odysseus  to accompany him. Two heads were better than one and the best wits of  all the Greek heroes were the wits of Odysseus. Diomedes recognized this  and suggested they put their heads together as they proceed to trail the  enemy to their camp, enter it and hunt for information necessary to an  Akhaian victory.   Needless to say, the parallels between the Homeric account, the  situation between Alkibiades and Socrates, and the Aesopian fable, are  intriguing. When Alkibiades uttered these lines previously, it was  appropriate in that he requested the philosopher (the cunning man) to go  with him. Alkibiades and Socrates, like Diomedes and Odysseus, must  enter the camp of the enemy to see what they were up against in this  contest of contests, so to speak. Alkibiades, assuming the role of  Diomedes, in a sense initiated the foray although an older, wiser man had  supplied the occasion for it. Alkibiades had to be made to request  Socrates' assistance. The part of the dialogue following Alkibiades's quoting of Homer was a discussion of the contest of the superior man and  ostensibly an examination of the elements of the contest. They thoroughly  examined the enemy in an attempt to understand the very nature of this  most important challenge.   This time, however, the wilier one (Socrates/Odysseus) is asking  Alkibiades/Diomedes to join heads with him. The first use of the quote  served to establish the importance of its link to power and knowledge.   The second mention of the quote is perhaps intended to point to a con¬  sideration of the interconnectedness of power and knowledge. In what way  do power and knowledge need each other? What draws Socrates and Alkibiades  together?   The modern reader, unlike the Athenian reader, might find an example   from Plato more helpful than one from Homer. Some of the elements of the   relationship are vividly displayed in the drama of the opening passages of   the Republic . The messenger boy runs between the many strong and the few  120 ...   wise. His role is similar to that of the auxiliary class of the   dialogue but is substantively reversed. Although he is the go-between  who carries the orders of one group to the other and has the ability to  use physical means to execute those orders (he causes Socrates literally  to "turn around," and he takes hold of Socrates' cloak), he is carrying  orders from those fit to be ruled to those fit to rule. What is es¬  pecially interesting is the significance of these opening lines for the  themes of the First Alkibiades . The first speaker in the Republic pro¬  vides the connection between the powerful and the wise . And he speaks  to effect their halt. There has to be a compromise between those who  know but are fewer in number, and those who are stronger and more numer¬    ous but are unwise. The slave introduces the problem of the competing claims to rule despite the fact that he has been conventionally stripped  of his.   Polemarkhos, on behalf of the many (which includes a son of  Ariston) uses number and strength as his claims over the actions of  Socrates and Glaukon. Socrates suggests that speech opens up one other  possibility. Perhaps the Few could persuade the Many. He does not sug¬  gest that the many use speech to persuade the few to remain (although  this is what in fact happens when Adeimantos appeals to the novelty of  a torch race). Polemarkhos asks "could you really persuade if we don't  listen?" and by that he indicates a limit to the power of speech.   Later in the dialogue it is interesting that the two potential rulers of  the evening's discussion, Thrasymakhos and Socrates, seem to fight it out  with words or at least have a contest. The general problem of the proper  relation between strength and wisdom might be helpfully illuminated by  close examination of examples such as those drawn from the Republic , the  Iliad and Aesop's fable.   In any event, Socrates and Alkibiades must again join heads. Pre¬  sumably, the reader may infer, the examination of the Spartans and Persians  was insufficient. (That was suspected from the outset because Alkibiades  would rather die than be limited to Athens. Sparta and Persia would be  the proper contestants for someone intending only to rule Europe.) Per¬  haps they will now set out to discover the real enemy, the true contestant.  The remainder of the dialogue, in a sense, is a discussion of how to com¬  bat ignorance of oneself. One might suggest that this is, in a crucial  sense, the enemy of which Alkibiades is as yet not fully aware.   Socrates, by switching his position with Alkibiades vis-a-vis the  guote, reminds the reader that Odysseus was no slouch at courage and that Diomedes was no fool. It also foreshadows the switch in their roles made  explicit at the end of the dialogue. But even more importantly, Socrates  tells Alkibiades that he is in the same position as Alkibiades. He needs  to take proper care of himself too, and requires education. His case is  identical to Alkibiades' except in one respect. Alkibiades' guardian  Perikles is not as good as Socrates' guardian god, who until now guarded  Socrates against talking with Alkibiades. Trusting his guardian, Socrates  is led to say that Alkibiades will not be able to achieve his ambitions  except through Socrates.   This rather enigmatic passage of the First Alkibiades (124c) seems  to reveal yet another aspect of the relation between knowledge and power.  If language is central to understanding knowledge and power, it is thus  instructive about the essential difference, if there is one, between men  who want power and men who want knowledge. Socrates says that his  guardian (presumably the daimon or god, 103a-b, 105e), who would not let  him waste words (105e) is essentially what makes his case different than  that of Alkibiades. In response to Alkibiades' question, Socrates only  emphasizes that his guardian is better than Perikles, Alkibiades'  guardian, possibly because it kept him silent until this day. Is  Socrates perhaps essentially different from Alkibiades because he knows  when to be silent? The reader is aware that according to most people,  Socrates and Alkibiades would seem to differ on all important grounds.  Their looks, family, wealth and various other features of their lives  are in marked contrast. Socrates, however, disregards them totally, and  fastens his attention on his guardian. And the only thing the reader  knows about his guardian is that it affects Socrates' speech.   Socrates claims that because he trusts in the god he is able to say (he does not sense opposition to his saying) that Alkibiades needs   Socrates. To this Alkibiades retorts that Socrates is jesting or playing   like a child. Not only may one wonder what is being referred to as a  121   jest, but one notices that Socrates surprisingly acknowledges that   maybe he is. He asserts, at any rate, he is speaking truly when he re¬  marks that they need to take care of themselves - all men do, but they  in particular must. Socrates thereby firmly situates himself and  Alkibiades above the common lot of men. He also implies that the higher,  not the lower, is deserving of extra care. Needless to say, the notion  that more effort is to be spent on making the best men even better is  quite at odds with modern liberal views.   Alkibiades agrees, recognizing the need on his part, and Socrates  joins in fearing he also requires care. The answer for the comrades  demands that there be no giving up or softening on their part. It would  not befit them to relinquish any determination. They desire to become  as accomplished as possible in the virtue that is the aim of men who are  good in managing affairs. Were one concerned with affairs of horseman¬  ship, one would apply to horsemen, just as if one should mean nautical  affairs one would address a seaman. With which men's business are they  concerned, queries Socrates. Alkibiades responds assured that it is the  affairs of the gentlemen ( kalos kai agathos) to whom they must attend,  and these are clearly the intelligent rather than the unintelligent.   Everyone is good only in that of which he has intelligence (125a).  While the shoemaker is good at the manufacture of shoes, he is bad at the  making of clothing. However, on that account the same man is both bad  and good and one cannot uphold that the good man is at the same time bad  (but cf. 116a). Alkibiades must clarify whom he means by the good man. By altering the emphasis of the discussion to specific intelligence or  skills, Socrates has effectively prevented Alkibiades from answering "gentlemen" again, even if he would think that the affairs of gentlemen  in democracies are the affairs with which a good ruler should be concerned.   Given his purported ambitions, it is understandable that  Alkibiades thinks good men are those with the power to rule in a polis  (125b). Since there are a variety of subjects over which to rule, or hold  power, Socrates wants to clarify that it is men and not, for example,  horses, to which Alkibiades refers. Socrates undoubtedly knew that  Alkibiades meant men instead of horses; the pestiness of the question  attracts the attention of the reader and he is reminded of the famous  analogy of the city made by Socrates in the Apology . Therein, the city  is likened to a great horse ( Apology 30e). It would thus not be wholly  inappropriate to interpret this bizarre question in a manner which,  though not apparent to Alkibiades, would provide a perhaps more meaning¬  ful analysis. Socrates might be asking Alkibiades if he intends to rule  a city or to rule men (in a city). It is not altogether out of place to  adopt the analogy here; corroborating support is given by the very subtle  philosophic distinctions involved later in distinguishing ruling cities  from ruling men (cf. 133e). For example, cities are not erotic, whereas  men are; cities can attain self-sufficiency, whereas men cannot. It  does not demand excessive reflection to see how erotic striving and the  interdependency of men affects the issues of ruling them. What is good  for a man, too, may differ from what is good for a city (as mentioned  above with reference to wealth), and in some cases may even be incompatible  with it. These are all issues which demand the consideration of rulers  and political thinkers. Additional endorsement for the suitability of the analogy between city and man for interpreting this passage, is provided  by Socrates in his very next statement. He asks if Alkibiades means  ruling over sick men (125b). Earlier (107b-c) the two had been dis¬  cussing what qualified someone to give advice about a sick city.   Alkibiades doesn't mean good rule to be ruling men at sea or  while they are harvesting (though generalship and farming, or defence and  agriculture, are essential to a city). He also doesn't conclude that good  rule is useful for men who are doing nothing (as Polemarkhos is driven to  conclude that justice is useful for things that are not in use - Republic  333c-e). In a sense Alkibiades is right. Rulers rule men when they are  doing things such as transacting business, and making use of each other  and whatever makes up a political life (125c). But rule in a precise,  but inclusive, sense is also rule over men when they are inactive. The  thoughts and very dreams are ruled by the true rulers, who have con¬  trolled or understood all the influences upon men.   Socrates fastens onto one of these and tries to find out what kind   of rule Alkibiades means by ruling over men who make use of men.   Alkibiades does not mean the pilot's virtue of ruling over mariners who   make use of rowers, nor does he mean the chorus teacher who rules flute   122   players who lead singers and employ dancers; Alkibiades means ruling  men who share life as fellow citizens and conduct business. Socrates in¬  quires as to which techne gives that ability as the pilot's techne gives  the ability to rule fellow sailors, and the chorus teacher's ability to  rule fellow singers. At this point the attentive reader notices that  Socrates has slightly altered the example. He has introduced an element  of equality. When the consideration of the polis was made explicit, the  pilot and chorus teacher became "fellows" -"fellow sailors" and "fellow singers." This serves at least to suggest that citizenship in the polis  is an equalizing element in political life. To consider oneself a  fellow citizen with another implies a kind of fraternity and equality  that draws people together. Despite, say, the existence of differences  within the city, people who are fellow citizens often are closer to each  other than they are to outsiders who may otherwise be more similar.   There is another sense in which Socrates' shift to calling each  expert a "fellow" illuminates something about the city. This is dis¬  covered when one wonders why Socrates employed two examples - the chorus  teacher and the pilot.   One reason for using more than a single example is that there is  more than one point to illustrate. It is then up to the reader to  scrutinize the examples to see how they importantly differ. The onus is  on the reader, and this is a tactic used often in the dialogues. Someone  is much more likely to reflect upon something he discovered than some¬  thing that is unearthed for him. One important distinction between  these two technae is that a pilot is a "fellow sailor" in a way that the  chorus teacher is not a "fellow singer." Even in the event a pilot  shares in none of the work of the crew rules (as the chorus teacher need  not actually sing), if the ship sinks, he sinks with it. So too does the  ruler of a city fall when his city falls. This is merely one aspect of  the analogy of the ship-of-state, but it suffices to remind one that the  ruler of a polity must identify with the polity, perhaps even to the ex¬  tent that he sees the fate of the polity as his fate (cf. Republic 412d).   Perhaps more importantly, there is a distinction between the  chorus master and the pilot which significantly illuminates the task of  political rule. A pilot directs sailors doing a variety of tasks that make sailing possible# whereas the chorus master directed singers per¬  forming in unison . Perhaps political rule is properly understood as in¬  volving both.   Alkibiades suggests that the techne of the ruler (the fellow-  citizen) is good counsel# but as the pilot gives good not evil counsel  for the preservation of his passengers, Socrates tries to find out what  end the good counsel of the ruler serves. Alkibiades proposed that the  good counsel is for the better management and preservation of the polis  (126a).   In the next stage of the discussion Socrates makes a number of  moves that affect the outcome of the argument but he doesn't make a point  of explicating them to Alkibiades. Socrates asks what it is that becomes  present or absent with better management and preservation . He suggests  that if Alkibiades were to ask him the same question with respect to the  body, Socrates would reply that health became present and disease absent.  That is not sufficient. He pretends Alkibiades would ask what happened  in a better condition of the eyes# and he would reply that sight came and  blindness went. So too deafness and hearing are absent and present when  ears are improved and getting better treatment . Socrates would like  Alkibiades# now# to answer as to what happens when a state is improved  and has better treatment and management . Alkibiades thinks that friend¬  ship will be present and hatred and faction will be absent.   From the simple preservation of the passangers of a ship# Socrates  has moved to preservation and better management# to improved and getting  better treatment# to improvement, better treatment and management. Simple  preservation# of course# is only good (and the goal of an appropriate  techne) when the condition of a thing is pronounced to be satisfactory, such that any change would be for the worse. In a ship the pilot only  has to preserve the lives of his passengers by his techne , he does not  have to either make lives or improve them. In so far as a city is in¬  volved with more than mere life, but is aiming at the good life, mere  preservation of the citizens is not sufficient. Socrates' subtle trans¬  formation indicates the treatment necessary in politics.   Another point that Socrates has implicitly raised is the hierarchy  of technae . This may be quite important to an understanding of politics  and what it can properly order within its domain. Socrates employs the  examples of the body and the eyes (126a-b). The eyes are, however, a  part of the body. The body cannot be said to be healthy unless its parts,  including the eyes, are healthy; the eyes will not see well in a generally  diseased body. The two do interrelate, but have essentially different  virtues. The virtue of the eyes and thus the techne attached to that  virtue, are under/within the domain of the body and its virtue, health.   The doctor, then, has an art of a different order than the optometrist.  (The doctor and his techne may have competition for the care of the body;  the gymnastics expert has already been met and he certainly has things  to say about the management of the body - cf. 128c but the principle there  would be a comprehensive techne .) Given the example of the relation of  the parts to the whole, perhaps Socrates is suggesting that there is an  analogue in the city: the health of the whole city and the sight of a  part of the city. The reader is curious if the same relation would hold  as to which techne had the natural priority over the other. Would the  interests of the whole rule the interests of a part of the city?   Socrates' examples of the body and the part of the body could, in  yet another manner, lead toward contemplation of the political. There is a possible connection between all three. The doctor might well have to  decide to sacrifice the sight of an eye in the interests of the whole  body. Perhaps the ruler (the man possessing the political techne) would  have to decide to sacrifice the health (or even life) of individuals (may¬  be even ones as important as the "eyes" of the city) for the well-being of  the polis . Thus, analogously# the political art properly rules the  various technae of the body.   Earlier the reader had occasion to be introduced to a system of  hierarchies (108c-e). Therein he found that harping was ruled by music and  wrestling by gymnastics. Gymnastics, as the techne of the body, is, it is  suggested, ruled by politics. Perhaps music should also be ruled by  politics. In the Republic , gymnastics is to the body roughly what music  is to the soul. Both, however, are directed by politics and are a major  concern of political men. It is fortunate for Alkibiades that he is  familiar with harping and gymnastics (106e), so that as a politician he  will be able to advise on their proper performance. One already has reason  to suspect that the other subject in which Alkibiades took lessons is  properly under the domain of politics.   Alkibiades believes that the better management of a state will  bring friendship into it and remove hatred and faction. Socrates in¬  quires if he means agreement or disagreement by friendship. Alkibiades  replies that agreement is meant, but one must notice that this sig¬  nificantly reduces the area of concern to which Alkibiades had given  voice. He had mentioned two kinds of strife, and one needn t think long  and hard to notice that friendship normally connotes much more than  agreement. Socrates next asks which techne causes states to agree about  numbers; does the same art, arithmetic, cause individuals to agree among  each other and with themselves. In addition to whatever suspicion one entertains that this is not the kind of agreement Alkibiades meant when  he thought friendship would be brought into a city with better management/  one must keep in mind the similarity between this and an earlier argument  (111c). In almost the same words, people agreed "with others or by them¬  selves" and states agreed, with regard to speaking Greek, or more pre¬  cisely, with naming. There are two features of this argument which should  be explored. Firstly, one might reflect upon whether agreement between  states is always essentially similar to agreement between people, or  agreement with oneself. People can fool themselves and they can possess  their own "language." Separate states may have separate weights and  measures, say, but individuals within a state must agree. Secondly,  there may be more than one kind of agreement with which the reader should  be concerned in this dialogue. This might be most apparent were there  different factors which compelled different people, in different circum¬  stances, to agree. Men sometimes arrive at the same conclusions through  different reasons.   The first two examples employed by Socrates illuminate both of  these points. Arithmetic and mensuration are about as far apart as it is  possible to be in terms of the nature of the agreement. Mensuration is  simply convention or agreement, and yet its entire existence depends on  people's knowing the standards agreed upon. Numbers, on the contrary,  need absolutely no agreement (except linguistically in the names given to  numbers) and no amount of agreement can change what they are and their  relation to each other.   The third example represents the type of agreement much closer to  that with which it is believed conventional politics is permeated. It is  the example of the scales — long symbolic of justice. Agreement with  people and states about weights on scales depends on a number of factors,  as does judgement about politics. There is something empirical to  observe, namely the action as well as the various weights; there is a  constant possibility of cheating (on one side or another) against which  they must take guard; there is a judgement to be made which is often  close, difficult and of crucial importance, and there is the general  problem of which side of the scale/polity is to receive the goods, and  what is the standard against which the goods are measured. To spell out  only one politically important aspect of this last factor, consider the  difference between deciding that a certain standard of life is to pro¬  vide the measure for the distribution of goods, and deciding that a  certain set of goods are to be distributed evenly without such a standard.  In one case the well off would receive no goods, they being the standard;  in the other case all would supposedly have an equal chance of receiving  goods. Other political factors are involved in determining what should  be weighed, what its value is, who should preside over the weighing, and  what kind of scale is to be used. The third example, the scales, surely  appears to be more pertinent to Socrates and Alkibiades than either of  the other two, although one notices that both arithmetic and mensuration  are involved in weighing.   Alkibiades is requested to make a spirited effort to tell Socrates  what the agreement is, the art which achieves it, and whether all parties  agree the same way. Alkibiades supposes it is the friendship of father  and mother to child, brother to brother and woman to man (126e). A good  ruler would be able to make the people feel like a family - their fellow  citizens like fellow kin. This seems to be a sound opinion of Alkibiades;  many actual cities are structured around families or clans or based on  legends of common ancestry (cf. Republic 414c-415d) . There is a complication, however, which is not addressed by either participant in  the dialogue. Socrates had suggested three parts to the analysis of  agreement - its nature, the art that achieves it, and whether all agree  in the same way. Alkibiades in his response suggests three types of  friendship which may differ dramatically in all of the respects Socrates  had mentioned. And the political significance of the three kinds of  friendship also has different and very far-reaching effects. Consider  the different ties, and feelings that characterize man-woman relation¬  ships. And imagine the different character of a regime that is  patterned not on the parent-child relation, but instead characterized by  male-female attraction!   In a dialogue on the nature of man in which there is already  support for the notion that "descent" and "family" figure prominently in  the analysis of man's nature, it seems likely that the three kinds of  familial (or potentially familial) relationships mentioned here would be  worthy of close and serious reflection. Socrates, however, does not take  Alkibiades to task on this, but turns to an examination of the notion  that friendship is agreement, and the question of whether or not they  can exist in a polis . Socrates had himself suggested that Alkibiades  meant agreement by friendship (126c), and in this argument that  restricted sense of friendship plays a significant role in their arriving  at the unpalatable conclusion. The argument leads to the assertion that  friendship and agreement cannot arise in a state where each person does   his own business.   asks Alkibiades if a man can agree with a woman about  wool—working when he doesn't have knowledge of it and she does. And  further, does he have any need to agree, since it is a woman's accomplishment? A woman, too, could not come to agreement with a man  about soldiering if she didn't learn it - and it is a business for men.  There are some parts of knowledge appropriate to women and some to men  on this account (127a) and in those skills there is no agreement between  men and women and hence no friendship - if friendship is agreement. Thus  men and women are not befriended by each other so far as they are per¬  forming their own jobs, and polities are not well-ordered if each person  does his own business (127b). This conclusion is unacceptable to  Alkibiades; he thinks a well-ordered polity is one abounding in friend¬  ship, but also that it is precisely each party doing his own business  that brings such friendship into being. Socrates points out that this  goes against the argument. He asks if Alkibiades means friendship can  occur without agreement, or that agreement in something may arise when  some have knowledge while others do not. These are presumably the steps  in the argument which are susceptible to attack. Socrates incidentally  provides another opening in the argument that could show the conclusion  to be wrong. He points out that justice is the doing of one's own work  and that justice and friendship are tied together. But Alkibiades, per¬  haps remembering his shame (109b-116d), does not pursue this angle,  having learned that the topic of justice is difficult. In order to  determine what, if anything, was wrongly said, various stages of the  argument will now be examined.   By beginning with the consideration of why anyone would suppose a  state was well-ordered when each person did his own business, one  observes that otherwise every individual would argue about everything  done by everybody. The reader may well share Alkibiades suspicion that  what makes a state well-ordered is that each does what he is capable of and trusts the others to do the same. This indicates, perhaps, the major  problems with the discussion between Socrates and Alkibiades. Firstly,  there are many ways that friendship depends less upon agreement than on  the lack of serious disagreement. Secondly, agreement can occur, or be  taken for granted, in a number of ways other than by both parties having  knowledge.   As revealed earlier in the dialogue, Alkibiades would readily  trust an expert in steering a ship as well as in fancy cooking (117c-d).  Regardless of whether it was a man's or a woman’s task, he would agree  with the expert because of his skill. In these instances he agreed  precisely because he had no knowledge and they did. Of course, faith in  expertise may be misplaced, or experts may lose perspective in under¬  standing the position of their techne relative to others. But though  concord and well-ordered polities do not necessarily arise when people  trust in expertise, friendship and agreement can come about through each  man's doing his own business.   Agreement between people, thus, may come about when one recognizes  his ignorance. It may also arise through their holding similar opinion  on the issue, or when one holds an opinion compatible with knowledge  possessed by another. For example, a woman may merely have opinions  about soldiering, but those opinions may allow for agreement with men,  who alone can have knowledge. Soldiering is a man's work, but while men  are at war the women may wonder about what they are doing, or read  stories about the war, or form opinions from talking to other soldiers'  wives, or have confidence in what their soldier—husbands tell them.   There is also a sense in which, if war is business for men, women don't  even need opinions about how it is conducted for they are not on the battlefield. They need only agree on its importance and they need not  even necessarily agree on why it is important (unless they are raising  sons). Women will often agree with men about waging war on grounds  other than the men's. For example, glory isn't a prime motivator for most  women's complying with their husbands' desires to wage war. It has been  suggested that agreement may arise on the basis of opinion and not  knowledge, and further that opinions need not be similar, merely com¬  patible. As long as the war is agreed to by both sexes, friendship will  be in evidence regardless of their respective views of the motives of war.   Apathy or some other type of disregard for certain kinds of work  may also eliminate disagreement and discord, provided that it isn't a  result of lack of respect for the person's profession. For example, a  man and a woman might never disagree about wool-working He may not care  how a spindle operates and would not think of interfering. And he  certainly wouldn't have to be skilled at the techne of wool-working to  agree with his wife whenever she voiced her views - his agreement with  her would rest on his approval of the resulting coat.   Socrates has not obtained from Alkibiades' speech the power to  learn what the nature of the friendship is that good men must have.  Alkibiades, invoking all the gods (he cannot be sure who has dominion  over the branch of knowledge he is trying to identify), fears that he  doesn't even know what he says, and has for some time been in a very  disgraceful condition. But Socrates reminds him that this is the cor¬  rect time for Alkibiades to perceive his condition, not at the age of  fifty, for then it would be difficult to take the proper care. In answer¬  ing Alkibiades' question as to what he should do now that he is aware of  his condition, Socrates replies he need only answer the questions Socrates puts to him. With the favor of the god (if they can trust in Socrates'  divination - cf. 107b, 115a) both of them shall be improved.   What Socrates may have just implied is that while Alkibiades'  speech is unable to supply the power to even name the qualities of a good  man, Socratic speech in itself has the power to actually make them better.  All Alkibiades must do is respond to the questions Socrates asks. The  proper use of language, it is suggested, has the power to make good men.  One may object that speech cannot have that effect upon a listener who is  not in a condition of recognizing his ignorance, but one must also recog¬  nize that speech has the power to bring men to that realization. Almost  half of the First Alkibiades is overtly devoted to this task. Indeed it  seems unlikely that people perceive their plight except through some form  of the human use of language except when they are visually able to com¬  pare themselves to others. It would be difficult to physically coerce  men into perceiving their condition. An emotional attempt to draw a  person's awarness - such as a mother's tears at her son's plight - needs  speech to direct it; the son must learn what has upset her. Speech is  also necessary to point to an example of a person who has come to a  realization of his ignorance. Socrates or someone like him, might  discern his condition by himself, but even he surely spent a great deal  of time conversing with others to see that their confidence in their  opinions was unfounded. In any event, what is important for the under¬  standing of the First Alkibiades is that Socrates has succeeded in con¬  vincing Alkibiades that thoughtful dialogue is more imperative for him  at this point than Athenian politics.   Together they set out to discover (cf. 109e) what is required to  take proper care of oneself; in the event that they have never previously done so, they will assume complete ignorance. For example, perhaps one  takes care of oneself while taking care of one's things (128a). They are  not sure but Socrates will agree with Alkibiades at the end of the argu¬  ment that taking proper care of one's belongings is an art different from  care of oneself (128d). But perhaps one should survey the entire argu¬  ment before commenting upon it.   Alkibiades doesn't understand the first question as to whether a  man takes care of feet when he takes care of what belongs to his feet, so  Socrates explains by pointing out that there are things which belong to  the hand. A ring, for example, belongs to nothing but a finger. So too  a shoe belongs to a foot and clothes to the body. Alkibiades still  doesn't understand what it means to say that taking care of shoes is  taking care of feet, so Socrates employs another fact. One may speak of  taking correct care of this or that thing, and taking proper care makes  something better. The art of shoemaking makes shoes better and it is by  that art that we take care of shoes. But it is by the art of making  feet better, not by shoemaking, that we improve feet. That art is the  same art whereby the whole body is improved, namely gymnastic.   Gymnastic takes care of the foot; shoemaking takes care of what  belongs to the foot. Gymnastic takes care of the hand; ring engraving  takes care of what belongs to the hand. Gymnastic takes care of the  body; weaving and other crafts take care of what belongs to the body.   Thus taking care of a thing and taking care of its belongings involve  separate arts. Socrates repeats this conclusion after suggesting that   care of one's belongings does not mean one takes care of oneself.   Further support is here recognized, in this dialogue, for a  hierarchical arrangement of the technae , but that simultaneously somewhat qualifies the conclusion of the argument. Gymnastic is the art of   taking care of the body and it thus must weave into a pattern all of the   arts of taking care of the belongings of the body and of its parts. Its   very control over those arts, however, indicates that they are of some   importance to the body. Because they have a common superior goal, the   taking care of the body, they are not as separate as the argument would   suggest. Just as shoes in bad repair can harm feet, shoes well made   may improve feet (cf. 121d, for shaping the body). They are often made   in view of the health or beauty of the body as are clothes and rings.   Because things which surround one affect one, as one's activities and one's   reliance on some sorts of possessions affect one, proper care for the be-   123   longings of the body may improve one's body.   Socrates continues. Even if one cannot yet ascertain which art  takes care of oneself, one can say that it is not an art concerned with  improving one's belongings, but one that makes one better. Further, just  as one couldn't have known the art that improves shoes or rings if one  didn't know a shoe or a ring, so it is impossible that one should know  the techna that makes one better if one doesn't know oneself (124a).  Socrates asks if it is easy to know oneself and that therefore the writer  at Delphi was not profound, or if it is a difficult thing and not for  everybody. Alkibiades replies that it seems sometimes easy and sometimes  hard. Thereupon Socrates suggests that regardless of its ease or  difficulty, knowledge of oneself is necessary in order to know what the  proper care of oneself is. It may be inferred from this that most  people do not know themselves and are not in a position to know what the  proper care of themselves is. They might be better off should they adopt  the opinions of those who know, or be cared for by those who know more.  In order to understand themselves, the two men must find out how,   generally, the 'self' of a thing can be seen (129b), Alkibiades figures   Socrates has spoken correctly about the way to proceed, but instead of   124   thus proceeding, Socrates interrupts in the name of Zeus and asks  whether Alkibiades is talking to Socrates and Socrates to Alkibiades.  Indeed they are. Thus Socrates says, he is the talker and Alkibiades  the hearer. This is a thoroughly baffling interruption, for not only is  its purpose unclear, but it is contradictory. They have just agreed that  both were talking.   Socrates pushes onward. Socrates uses speech in talking (one  suspects that most people do). Talking and using speech are the same  thing, but the user and the thing he uses are not the same thing. A  shoemaker who cuts uses tools, but is himself quite different from a  tool; so also is a harper not the same as what he uses when harping.   The shoemaker uses not only tools but his hands and his eyes, so,  if the user and the thing used are different, then the shoemaker and  harper are different from the hands and eyes they use. So too, since  man uses his whole body, he must be different from his body. Man must  be the user of the body, and it is the soul which uses and rules the body.  No one, he claims, can disagree with the remark that man is one of three  things. Alkibiades may or may not disagree, but he needs a bit of   clarification. Man must be soul, or body, or both as one whole. Al¬  ready admitted is the proposition that it is man that rules the body,  and the argument has shown that the body is ruled by something else, so  the body deesn't rule itself. What remains is the soul.   The unlikeliest thing in the world is the combination of both,  gQQj-^-(- 0 g suggests (130b) , for if one of the combined ones was said not to share in the rule, then the two obviously could not rule. It is not  necessary to point out to the reader that the possibility of a body's  share in the rule was never denied, nor to indicate that what Socrates    ostensibly regards as the unlikeliest thing of all, is what it seems most  reasonable to suspect to be very like the truth. Emotions and appetites,  so closely connected with the body, are a dominant and dominating part  of one's life. They account for a major part of people's lives, and even  to a large extent influence their reason (a faculty which most agree is  not tied to the body in the same way). The soul might be seen to be at  least partly ruled by the body if it is appetites and emotions which  affect whether or not reason is used and influence what kind of decisions  will be rationally determined.   Anyhow, according to Socrates, if it is not the body, or the com¬  bined body and soul, then man must either be nothing at all, or he must  be the soul (130c). But the reader is aware that only on the briefest  of glances does this square with "the statement that no one could dissent  to," (cf. 130a). Man cannot be 'nothing' according to that statement any  more than he can be anything else whatsoever, such as 'dog,' 'gold,'  'dream,' etc. 'Nothing' was not one of the alternatives.   Alkibiades swears that he needs no clearer proof that the soul is  man, and ruler of the body, but Socrates, overruling the authority of  Alkibiades' oath, responds that the proof is merely tolerable, sufficing  only until they discover that which they have just passed by because of  its complexity. Unaware that anything had been by-passed (Socrates had  interrupted that part of the discussion with his first conventional  oath - 129b), the puzzled Alkibiades asks Socrates. He receives the reply  that they haven't been considering what generally makes the self of a thing discoverable, but have been looking at particular cases (130d; cf.  129b). Perhaps that will suffice, for the soul surely must be said to  have a more absolute possession of us than anything else.   So, whenever Alkibiades and Socrates converse with each other,  it is soul conversing with soul; the souls using words (130d.l). Socrates,  when he uses speech, talks with Alkibiades' soul, not his face. Socratic  speech is thus essentially different from the speech of the crowds of  suitors who conversed with Alkibiades (103a, cf. also 106b). If Socrates'  soul talks with Alkibiades' soul and if Alkibiades is truly listening,  then it is Alkibiades' soul, not one of his belongings that hears Socrates  (cf. 129b-c). Someone who says "know thyself" (cf. 124a, 129a) means  "know thy soul"; knowing the things that belong to the body means knowing  what is his, but not what he is.   The reader will note how the last two steps of the argument subtly,  yet definitely, indicate the ambiguous nature of the body's position in  this analysis. Someone who knows only the belongings of the body will not  know the man. According to the argument proper, someone who knew the  body, too, would still only know a man's possessions, not his being.   Socrates continues, pressing the argument to show that no doctor  or trainer, insofar as he is a doctor or a trainer, knows himself.   Farmers and tradesmen are still more remote, for their arts teach only  what belongs to the body (which is itself only a possession of the man)  and not the man (131a). Indeed, most people recognize a man by his body,  not by his soul, which reveals his true nature.   126   gocrates pauses briefly to introduce consideration of a virtue.  Seemingly out of the blue, he remarks that "if knowing oneself is  temperance" then no craftsman is temperate by his te c h ne (131b). Because of this the good man disdains to learn the technae . This sudden intro¬  duction of the virtue/ defining temperance as self-knowledge/ will assume  importance later in the dialogue (e.g., at 133c).   Returning to the argument, Socrates proposes that one who cares  for the body cares for his possessions. One who cares for his money  cares not for himself, nor for his possessions, but for something yet  more remote. He has ceased to do his own business.   Those who love Alkibiades' body don't love Alkibiades but his   possessions. The real lover is the one who loves his soul. The one who  loves the body would depart when the body's bloom is over, whereas  the lover of the soul remains as long as it still tends to the better. Socrates is the one that remained; the others left when the bloom of the  body was over. Silently accepting this insult to his looks, one of his  possessions, Alkibiades recognizes the compliment paid to himself. The  account of the cause of Socrates' remaining and the others' departure,  however, has changed somewhat from the beginning CIO3b, 104c). Then the  lovers left because a quality of Alkibiades' soul was too much for them  (but not for Socrates) to handle. Now it is a decline in a quality of  the body that apparently caused them to depart, but it is still an  appreciation of the soul that retains Socrates' interest.   Perhaps the significance of this basic shift is to indicate to  Alkibiades the true justification for his self-esteem. His highminded¬  ness was based on his physical qualities and their possessions, not on  his soul. Socrates may be insulting the other lovers, but he is at the  same time making it difficult for Alkibiades to lose his pride in the  things of the body. Thus Socrates' reinterpretation of the reasons for  the lovers' departure reinforces the point of the argument, namely that one's soul is more worthy of attention and consideration than one's body.   Alkibiades is glad that Socrates has stayed and wants him to re¬  main. He shall, at Socrates' request, endeavour to remain as handsome   as he can. So Alkibiades, the son of Kleinias, "has only one lover and   128   that a cherished one," Socrates, son of Sophroniskos and Phainarite.   Now Alkibiades knows why Socrates alone did not depart. He loves  Alkibiades, not merely what belongs to Alkibiades (131e).   Socrates will never forsake Alkibiades as long as he (his soul)  is not deformed by the Athenian people. In fact that is what especially  concerns Socrates. His greatest fear is that Alkibiades will be damaged  through becoming a lover of the demos - it has happened to many good  Athenians. The face (not the soul?) of the "people of great-hearted  Erekhtheos" is fair, but to see the demos stripped is another thing. As  the dialogue approaches its end, Socrates becomes poetic in his utter¬  ances. On this occasion he prophetically quotes Homer ( Iliad II, 547).  When listing the participants on the Akhaian side of the Trojan War,   Homer describes the leader of the Athenians, the "people of the great¬  hearted Erekhtheos," as one like no other born on earth for the arrange¬  ment and ordering of horses and fighters. Alkibiades would become  famous for his attempts to order poleis and his arranging of naval  military forces.   In the Gorgias, Scorates relates a myth about the final judgement  of men, and one of the interesting features of the story is that the  judges and those to be judged are stripped of clothes and bodies ( Gorgias  523a-527e). 129 All that is judged is the soul. This allows the judges  to perceive the reality beneath the appearance that a body and its belong¬  ings provide. Flatterers (120b) would not be as able to get to the Blessed Isles/ although actually, in political regimes, living judges are  often fooled by appearances. Judges too are stripped so that they could  see soul to soul (133b; cf. Gorgias 523d), and would be less likely to be  moved by rhetoric, poetry, physical beauty or any other of the elements  that are tied to the body through, for example, the emotions and appetites.  It seems thus good advice for anyone who desires to enter politics that  he get a stripped view of the demos . In addition, those familiar with the  myth in the Gorgias might recognize the importance of Alkibiades stripping  himself, and coming to know his own soul, before he enters politics.   Socrates is advising Alkibiades to take the proper precautions. He  is to exercise seriously, learning all that must be known prior to an  entry into politics (132b). Presumably this knowledge will counteract  the charm of the people. Alkibiades wants to know what the proper exer¬  cises are, and Socrates says they have established one important thing and  that is knowing what to take care of. They will not inadvertently be  caring for something else, such as, for example, something that only be¬  longs to them. The next step, now that they know upon what to exercise,  is to care for the soul and leave the care of the body and its possessions  to others.   If they could discover how to obtain knowledge of the soul, they  would truly "know themselves." For the third time Socrates refers to the  Delphic inscription (132c; 124a, 129a) and he claims he has discovered  another interpretation of it which he can illustrate only by the example  of sight. Should someone say "see thyself" to one's eye, the eye would  have to look at something, like a mirror, or the thing in the eye that  is like a mirror (132d-e). The pupil of the eye reflects the face of the person looking into it like a mirror. Looking at anything else  (except mirrors, water, polished shields, etc.) won't reflect it. Just  as the eye must look into another eye to see itself, so must a soul  look into another soul. In addition it must look to that very part of  the soul which houses the virtue of a soul - wisdom - and any part like  wisdom (133b; cf. 131b). The part of the soul containing knowledge and  thought is the most divine, and since it thus resembles god, whoever sees  it will recognize all that is divine and will get the greatest knowledge  of himself.   In order to see one's own soul properly, then, Socrates suggests  that it is necessary to look into another's soul. Alkibiades must look  into someone's soul to obtain knowledge of himself, and he must possess  knowledge of himself in order to be able to rule himself. This last is  a prerequisite for ruling others. Since it lacks a 'pupil,' the soul  doesn't have a readily available window/mirror for observing another's  soul, as the eye does for observing oneself through another's eye. Such  vision of souls can only be had through speech. Through honest dialogue  with trusted friends and reflection upon what was said and done, one may  gain a glimpse of their soul. The souls must be "stripped" so that  words are spoken and heard truly. Socrates, by being the only lover who  remained, and, having shown his value to Alkibiades, will continue to  speak (104e, 105e). He is offering Alkibiades a look at his soul.   This is in keeping, it appears, with the advice that Alkibiades  look to the rational part of the soul. Socrates is the picture of the  rational man; through his speech the reader is also offered the oppor¬  tunity to try to see into Socrates' soul to better understand his own.  Again, as discussed above, a man's nature can be understood by looking to the example of the best, even if it is only an imitation of the best  in Dialogues.   Socrates now recalls the earlier mention of temperance as though  they had come to some conclusion regarding the nature of the virtue.   They had supposedly agreed that self-knowledge was temperance (133c; cf.  131b). Lacking self-knowledge or temperance, one could not know one's  belongings, whether they be good or evil. Without knowing Alkibiades  one could not know if his belongings are his. Ignorance of one's be¬  longings prohibits familiarity with the belongings of belongings (133d).  Socrates reminds Alkibiades that they have been incorrect in admitting  people could know their belongings if they didn't know themselves (133d-e).   This latter argument raises at least two difficulties. Firstly,  it renders problematic the suggestion that one should leave one's body  and belongings in another's care (132c). These others, it seems, would  be doctors and gymnastics trainers - the only experts of the body ex¬  plicitly recognized in the dialogue. Remembering that neither doctor or  trainer knows himself (131a), one might wonder how he can know Socrates'  and Alkibiades' belongings. He cannot, according to the argument here  (133c-d) know his own belongings without knowing himself and he cannot  be familiar with others' belongings while ignorant of his own.   The argument, secondly, creates a problem with the understanding  heretofore suggested about how men generally conduct their lives. Most  people do not know themselves and do not properly care for themselves.   The argument of the dialogue has intimated that they in fact care for  their belongings. Thus it would seem that, in some sense, they do know  their belongings, just as Alkibiades' lovers, ignorant of Alkibiades  and probably ignorant of themselves, still know that Alkibiades' body belonged to Alkibiades. And they knew, like he knew C104a-c) that his  looks and his wealth belong to his body. The reader might conclude from  this that the precise knowledge they do not have is knowledge either of  what the belongings should be like, or what their true importance and  proper role in a man's life should be. Knowledge of one's soul would  consist, partly, in knowing how to properly handle one's belongings.   That allows one to do what is right, and not merely do what one likes.   It is the task of one man and one techne (the chief techne in the  hierarchy) to grasp himself, his belongings, and their belongings. Some¬  one who doesn't know his belongings won't know other mens'. And if he  doesn't know theirs, he won't know those of the polity.   This last remark raises the consideration of what constitutes the  belongings of a polity. And that immediately involves one in reflection  upon whether the city has a body, and a soul. What is the essence of the  city? The reader is invited to explore the analogy to the man, but even  more, it is suggested that he is to reflect upon how to establish the  priority of one over the other. This invitation is indicated by the dis¬  cussion of the one techne that presides over all the bodies and belong¬  ings. The relation of the city to the individual man has been of  perennial concern to political thinkers, and a most difficult aspect of  the problem terrain involves the very understanding of the City and Man  (cf. 125b).   The question is multiplied threefold with the possibility that an  adequate understanding of the city requires an account of its soul, its  body and its body's belongings. An account of man, it has been suggested  in this dialogue, demands knowing his soul, body, possessions, and the   relation and ordering of each. It is quite possible that what is    proper best for a man will conflict with what is best for a city. The city  might be considered best off if it promotes an average well-being.   Having its norm, or median, slightly higher than the norm of the next  city would indicate it was better off. It is also possible that the cir¬  cumstances within which each and every man thrives would not necessarily  bring harmony to a city.   The problem of priority is further complicated by the introduction  of the notion that the welfare of each citizen is not equally important  to the city. Perhaps what is best for a city is to have one class of its  members excel, or to have it produce one great man. What is to be under¬  stood as the good of the city's very soul?   Furthermore, even if the welfare of the whole city is to be  identified with the maximum welfare of each citizen, it might still be  the case that the policies of the city need to increase the welfare of a  few people. For example, in time of war the welfare of the whole polity  depends on the welfare of a few men, the armed forces. As long as war  is a threat, the good of the city Cits body, soul, or possessions) could  depend on the exceptional treatment of one class of its men.   Knowledge of the true nature of the polity is essential for  political philosophy and so for proper political decision-making. Men  ignorant of the polity, the citizens, or themselves cannot be statesmen  or economists (133e; cf. Statesman 258e). Such a man, ignorant of his  and others' affairs will not know what he is doing, therefore making  mistakes and doing ill in private and for the demos . He and they will   be wretched.   Temperance and goodness are necessary for well-being, so it is  bad men who are wretched. Those who attain temperance not those who become wealthy, are released from this misery. ^ Similarly, cities need   virtue for their well-being, not walls, triremes, arsenals, numbers or   size (134b; The full impact of this will be felt if one remembers that   this dialogue is taking place immediately prior to the outbreak of the   war with Sparta. Athens is in full flurry of preparation, for she has   seen the war coming for a number of years) . Proper management of the   polis by Alkibiades would be to impart virtue to the citizens and he   131   could not impart it without having it (134c). A good governor has to   acquire the virtue first. Alkibiades shouldn't be looking for power as  it is conventionally understood - the ability to do whatever one pleases -  but he should be looking for justice and temperance. If he and the state  acted in accordance with those two virtues, they would please god; their  eyes focussed on the divine, they will see and know themselves and their  good. If Alkibiades would act this way, Socrates would be ready to  guarantee his well-being (134e). But if he acts with a focus on the god¬  less and dark, through ignorance of humself his acts will go godless and  dark.   Alkibiades has received the Socratic advice to forget about power  as he understands it, in the interest of having real power over at least  himself. Conventionally understood, and in most applications of it,  power is the ability to do what one thinks fit ( Gorgias 469d) . Various  technae give to the skilled the power to do what they think fit to the  material on which they are working. The technae , however, are hier¬  archically arranged, some ruling others. That is, some are archetectonic  with respect to others. What is actually fit for each techne is dictated  by a logically prior techne . The techne with the most power is the one  that dictates to the other techne what is fit and what is not. This    understanding seems to disclose two elements of power: the ability to do what one thinks is fit, and knowing what is fit.   If a man can do what he wants but is lacking in intelligence, the   result is likely to be disastrous (135a; Republic 339a-e, Gorgias 469b,   470a). If a man with tyrannical power were sick and he couldn't even be   talked to, his health would be destroyed. If he knew nothing about   navigation, a man exercising tyrannical power as a ship's pilot may well   132   cause all on board to perish. Similarly in a state a power without   excellence or virtue will fare badly.   It is not tyrannical power that Alkibiades should seek but virtue,  if he would fare well, and until the time he has virtue, it is better,  more noble and appropriate for a man, as for a child, to be governed by a  better than to try to govern; part of being 'better' includes knowledge  that right rule is in the subject's interest. It is appropriate for a   bad man to be a slave; vice befits a slave, virtue a free man (135c; it   seems strange that vice should be appropriate for anyone, slave or free,  perhaps, rather, it defines a slave). One should most certainly avoid  all slavery and if one can perceive where one stands, it may not at  present be on the side of the free (135c). Socrates must indicate to  Alkibiades the importance of a clearer understanding of both what he  desires, power, and what this freedom is. In a conventional, and ambigu¬  ous sense, the man with the most freedom is the king or tyrant who is  not sub ject to anyone. Socrates must educate Alkibiades. The man who  wants power like the man who seeks freedom, doesn't know substantively  what he is looking for; the only power worth having comes with wisdom,  which alone can make one free.   Socrates confides to Alkibiades that his condition ought not to  be named since he is a noble ( kalos) man (cf. 118b - is this another condition which will remain unnamed despite their solitude?). Alkibiades  must endeavour to escape it. If Socrates will it, Alkibiades replies, he  will try. To this Socrates responds that it is only noble to say "if  god wills it." This appears to be Socrates' pious defence to a higher  power. However, since he has drawn attention to the phrase himself, a  reminder may be permitted to the effect that it is not necessarily quite  the conventional piety to which he refers: a strange parade of deities  has been presented for the reader's review in this dialogue.   Alkibiades is eager to agree and wants, fervently, to trade  places with Socrates (135d). From now on Alkibiades will be attending  Socrates. Alkibiades, this time, will follow and observe Socrates in  silence. For twenty years Socrates has been silent toward Alkibiades,  and now, thinking it appropriate to trade places, Alkibiades recognizes  that silence on his part will help fill his true, newly found needs.   In the noise-filled atmosphere of today, it is especially difficult  to appreciate (and thus to find an audience that appreciates) the im¬  portance of the final aspect of language that will be discussed in  connection with knowledge and power - silence. The use of silence for  emphasis is apparently known to few. But note how a moment of silence  on the television draws one's attention, whether or not the program was  being followed. And an indication of a residual respect for the power  of silence is that one important manner of honoring political actors and  heroes is to observe a moment of silence. Think, too, how judicious use  of silence can make someone ill at ease, or cause them to re-examine  their speech. The words "ominous" and "heavy" may often be appropriately  used to describe silence. Silence can convey knowledge as well as power,  and as the above examplss may serve to show, it may have a significant role in each. When one begins to examine the role of silence in the lives  of the wise and the powerful, one begins to see some of the problems of a  loud society.   To start with, the reader acquaints himself with the role of  silence in political power. As witnessed in the dialogue, and, as well,  in modern regimes, there are many facets of this. Politicians must be  silent about much. Until recently, national defence was an acceptable  excuse for silence on the part of the leaders of a country. The exist¬  ence of a professional "news" gathering establishment necessitates that  this silence be total, and not only merely with respect to external  powers, for some things that the enemy must not know must be kept from  the citizens as well (cf. 109c, 124a).   Politicians are typically silent about some things in order to  attain office, and about even more things in order to retain it. Dis¬  senters prudently keep quiet in order to remain undetained or even alive.  Common sense indeed dictates that one observe a politic silence on a  wide variety of occasions. Men in the public eye may conceal their dis¬  belief in religious authority in the interests of those in the community  who depend on religious conviction for their good conduct. Most con¬  sider lying in the face of the enemy to be in the interests of the polity,  and all admire man who keeps silent even in the face of severe enemy  torture. Parents often keep silent to protect their children, either  when concerned about outsiders or about the more general vulnerability  of those unable to reason.   One important political use of silence is in terms of the myths  and fables related to children. Inestimable damage may be done when the  "noble lie" that idealistically structures the citizen's understanding of his regime is repudiated in various respects by the liberal desire to  expose all to the public in the interests of enlightenment. At the point  where children are shown that the great men they look up to are "merely  human," one most clearly sees the harm that may be done by breaking  silence. Everybody becomes really equal, despite appearances to the con¬  trary, since everyone - even the heroes - acts from deep, irrational  motives, appetites, fears, etc. High ideals and motives for action are  debunked.   Since many of the political uses of silence mentioned above con¬  cern appropriate silence about things known, the next brief discussion  will focus on silence and knowledge. The primary aspect of the general  concern for silence in the life devoted to the pursuit of knowledge is a  function of the twin features of political awareness and political con¬  cern. Though closely tied to the aforementioned appropriate uses of  silence, this is concerned less with the disclosure of unsalutary facts  about the life and times of men than with questions and truths of a  higher order. For example, if it could be discerned that man's condition  was abysmal, that he would inevitably become decadent, it would not be  politically propitious to announce the fact on the eight-o'clock newscast  There seem to be at least two situations in which such facts are revealed  A politically unaware man might not realize it; a politically aware but  somehow unconcerned man might not care about the well-being of the  community as a whole.   There are at least two additional respects in which silence is im¬  portant to the life of knowledge. Both play a part in Alkibiades' educa¬  tion in the First Alkibiades and contribute to his desire to trade places    with Socrates. Firstly one must be silent to learn what others have to say. On the face of it, this seems a trivial and fairly obvious thing  to say. However when one appreciates the importance of trust and friend¬  ship in philosophic discourse, one perceives that the notion of silence  important to this aspect of learning is much broader than the mere  logistics of taking turns speaking. To mention only a single example,  one has to prove one's ability to "keep one's mouth shut" in order to  develop the kind of trust essential to frank discussion among dialogic  partners.   Secondly, silence enhances mystery if there is reason to suspect  that the silent know more than they have revealed. This attraction to  the mysterious accounts for many things, including to mention only one  example, the great appeal of detective stories. If both witnesses and  the author did not know more than they let on in the beginning, if the  reader/detective did not have to take great care in extracting the truth  from muddled accounts, it is not likely that the genre would have the  enduring readership it now enjoys.   Both of these might be tied directly to Socrates' initial silence  toward Alkibiades. Socrates had kept quiet until Alkibiades had reached  a certain stage in the development of his ambition. His prolonged  silence, and then his repeated reminders of it, as he begins to speak,  increases Alkibiades' curiosity. As it becomes more and more apparent  to Alkibiades that Socrates knows what he is talking about, Alkibiades  becomes increasingly desirous of learning. He wants Socrates to reveal  the truth to him, the truth he suspects Socrates is keeping to himself  (e.g., 124b, 132b, 127e, 119c, 130d, 131d, 135d). Throughout the dis¬  cussion the men discuss ever more important subjects and it is readily  apparent that their mutual trust grows at least partly because of their recognition of what is appropriately kept silent (e.g., 109c, 118b,   135c). In addition, at yet another level, it has been frequently ob¬  served that Socrates' silence ragarding a part of the truth, or the  necessity of an example, or a segment of the argument, indicates to the  careful reader a greater depth to the issues. Recognition of this  silence increases the philosophic curiosity of the readers as he attempts  to discover both the subject of, and the reason for, the silence.   Alkibiades has suggested that he shall switch "places" with  Socrates. Socrates has attended on him for all this time and now  Alkibiades wants to follow Socrates. This is only one of a number of  "switches" that occur in the turning around of Alkibiades, witnessed  only by Socrates and the careful reader.   In the beginning Socrates says that the lovers of Alkibiades  left because his qualities of soul were too overpowering. He is flatter¬  ing Alkibiades in order, perhaps, to entice Alkibiades to begin listening.  In the end he suggests they ceased pursuing the youth because the bloom  of his beauty (the appearance of his body) has departed from him. At  first glance this is not complimentary at all. Nevertheless it is now  that Alkibiades claims to want very much to remain and listen. He will  even bear insults silently.   At the start Alkibiades is haughty, superior and self-sufficient.   In the end he wishes to please Socrates, recognizing his need for the  power of speech in his coming to know himself. At first he believes he  already knows, and arguments seem extraneous. By the end he wants to  talk over the proper care of his soul at length with Socrates.   Probably the most notable turning around in the dialogue is the  lover—beloved switch between the beginning and the end (cf. also Symposium 217d). But a number of puzzling features come to the fore when  one attempts to draw out the implications of the change. In what way is  their attraction switched? Socrates is attracted to Alkibiades' un¬  quenchable eros . Perhaps a mark of its great will for power is that it  is now directed toward Socrates. However, what does that suggest about  Socrates' eros in turn, either in terms of its strength or its direction?  What kind of eros is attracted to a most powerful eros which in turn is  directed back to it? Do Socrates and Alkibiades both have the same in¬  tensity of desires and are their ambitions not directed toward the same  ends?   Perhaps Socrates' answer will suffice. He is pleased with the  well-born man. His eros is like a stork - he has hatched a winged eros  and it returned to care for him. (This is the first indication that  Socrates assumes responsibility for the form of Alkibiades' desires; it  also indicates another whole series of problems regarding how Alkibiades  will "care for" Socrates). They are kindred souls (or at least have  kindred eros) , and their relationship is now one of mutual aid. Socrates  will look into Alkibiades' soul to find his own and Alkibiades will peer  into Socrates' soul in attempting to discern his. The reader is im¬  plicitly invited to look too; he has the privilege starting again and  examining the souls more closely each time he returns to the beginning.   Alkibiades agrees that that is the situation in which they find  themselves and he will immediately begin to be concerned with justice.  Socrates wishes he'll continue, but expresses a great fear. In an ironic  premonition of both their fates, he says he doesn't distrust Alkibiades'  nature, but, being able to see the might of the state (cf. 132a), he  fears that both of them will be overpowered.There is always an irony involved in concluding an essay on a   Platonic dialogue. The most fitting ending, it seems, would be to whet   one's appetite for more. This I shall attempt to do by pointing out an   intriguing feature about the dialogue in general. If one were to look   at the Platonic corpus as a kind of testament to Socrates, a story by   Plato of a Socrates made young and beautiful regardless of their historical   accuracy. For example, the Theaitetos , Sophist and Statesman all take   place at approximately the same time, shortly before Socrates' trial.   Similarly, the Euthyphro and Apology occur about then. The Crito and   Phaido follow shortly thereafter, and so on. The First Alkibiades has its   own special place. The First Alkibiades may well be the dialogue in   133   which Socrates makes his earliest appearance. The Platonic tradition   has presented us with this as our introduction to Socrates, to philosophy.   Why? This dialogue marks the first Socratic experience with philosophy   that we may witness. Why? The fateful first meeting between Socrates   and Alkibiades is also our first meeting with Socrates. Why? The   reader's introduction to the philosopher and to philosophizing is in a   conversation about a contest for the best man. Why? One must assume   134    that, for some reason, Plato thought this fitting. Plato, Republic 377a.9-10. The dialogue is known as the  First Alkibiades , Alkibiades I and Alkibiades Major . Its title in Greek  is simply Alkibiades but the conventional titles enable us to distinguish  it from the other dialogue called Alkibiades . Stephanus pagination in  the text of this thesis refers to the First Alkibiades of Plato. The  Loeb text (translated by W. Lamb, 1927) formed the core of the reading.  However, whenever a significant difference was noted between the Lamb  translation and that of Thomas Sydenham ( circa 1800), my own translation  forms the basis of the commentary. Unless otherwise noted, all other  works referred to are by Plato.   2. The major sources for Alkibiades' life are Thucydides, Xenophon,  Plutarch and Plato. It seems to be the case that no history can be  "objective." Since one cannot record everything, a historian must choose  what to write about. Their choice is made on the basis of their opinion  of what is important and therein vanishes the "objectivity" so sought  after but always kept from modern historians. The superiority of the  accounts of the men referred to above lies partially in that they do not  pretend to that "value-neutral" goal, even though their perspective may  nonetheless be impartial.   I wish to take this opportunity to emphasize the limited importance  of the addition of this sketch of the historical Alkibiades. Were it  suggested that such a familiarity were essential to the understanding of  the dialogue, it would be implied that the dialogue as it stands is in¬  sufficient, and that I was in a position to remedy that inadequacy. As  a rule of thumb in interpretation one should not begin with such pre¬  suppositions. However, there are a number of ways in which the reading  of the dialogue is enriched by knowing the career of Alkibiades. For  example, the reader who doesn't know that Alkibiades' intrigues with  (and illegitimate son by) the Spartan queen was a cause of his fleeing  from Sparta and a possible motive for his assassination, would not have  a full appreciation of the comment by Socrates on the security placed  around the Spartan queens (121b-c). At all events, extreme caution is  necessary so that extra historical baggage will not be imported into the  dialogue. It might be quite easy to prematurely evaluate the historical  Alkibiades, and thereby misunderstand the dialogue.   3. We are also told she had dresses worth fifty minae (123c). Plutarch, Life of Alkibiades , 1.1 (henceforth referred to  simply as Plutarch); Plato, Alkibiades I , 112c, 124c, 118d—e.  Plutarch, II. 4-6.   6. Diodoros Siculus, Diodoros of Sicily , XII. 38. iii-iv (hence¬  forth Diodoros).   7. This is the Anytos who was Socrates' accuser. He was also  notorious in Athens for being the first man to bribe a jury (composed of  500 men)! He had been charged with impiety. Some suspect that Alkibiades'  preference for Socrates caused Anytos to be jealous and that this was a  motive for his accusation of Socrates.   8. Plutarch, IV. 5.   9. The historical accuracy of the representation is impossible to  determine and, so far as we need be concerned, philosophically irrelevant.   10. Actually Alkibiades admits this in a dialogue which Plato  wrote (cf. Symposium 212c-223b, esp. 215a, ff.).    11. Plutarch, VI. 1.   12. Plato, Symposium 219e-220e; Plutarch VII. 3.   13. Plato, Symposium 220e-221c; Plutarch VII. 4; Diadoros XIII.  69. i-70. vi; cf. Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War , IV 89-  101 (henceforth: Thucydides).   14. Thucydudes, V. 40-48.   15. Cf. also Plutarch, X. 2-3.   16. Plutarch, XIV. 6-9; Thucydides V. 45.   17. Plutarch, XIII. 3-5. Cf. Aristotle's discussion in his  Politics , 1284al5-b35; 1288a25-30; 1302b5-22; 1308bl5-20.   18. Thucydides, VI. 16-18.   19. Diodoros, XII. 84. i-iii; Thucydides, VI. 9-25, 8-15.   20. Thucydides, VI. 25.   21. Plutarch, XVIII. 1-2; Thucydides, VI. 26.   22. The Hermai were religious statues, commonly positioned by the  front entrance of a dwelling. Hermes was the god of travelling and of  property. Cf. Thucydides, VI. 27-28.    23.   Thucydides,   VI. 29; Plutarch, XVIII. 3-XX. 1   24.   Thucydides,   VI. 46.   25.   Thucydides,   VI. 48-50.  Thucydides, VI. 48.   27. Thucydides, VI. 50-51.   28. Plutarch, XX. 2-XXI. 6; Diodoros, XIII. 4 i-iv; Thucydides,   VI. 60-61.   29. Plutarch, XXII. 1-4.   30. Thucydides, VI. 88-93.   31. Plutarch, XXIII. 1-6.   32. Thucydides, VII. 27-29.   33. Thucydides, VIII. 6, 11-14.   34. Plutarch, XXIII. 7-8; cf. also Plato, Alkibiades I , 121b-c  where Plato's mention might provide some support for a claim that the  motive was other than lust.   35. Thucydides, VIII. 45-47; Plutarch, XXV 1-2.   36. Plutarch, XXIV. 3-5.   37. Thucydides, VIII. 48-54.   38. Diodoros, XIII. 41. iv-42iii; Plutarch, XXVI. 1-6.   39. Thucydides, VIII. 72-77.   40. Thucydides, VIII. 89-93.   41. Thucydides, VIII. 97. For an excellent and beautiful examina¬  tion of this in Thucydides, read Leo Strauss, "Preliminary Observations of  the Gods in Thucydides' Work." INTERPRETATION , IV:1, Winter, Martinus  Nijhoff, The Hague, Netherlands.    42.   Plutarch,   XXVII. 1-4.   43.   Xenophon,   Hellenika I, i, 11-18; Diodoros, XIII. 49. iii-52ii   44.   Xenophon,   Hellenika, I, i, 9-10; Plutarch, XXVII. 4-XXVIII. 2   45.   Xenophon,   Hellenika, I, iii, 1-22.   46.   Xenophon,   Hellenika, I, iv, 8-17; Plutarch, XXXI. 1-XXXII. 3.   47.   Xenophon,   Hellenika, I, iv, 20-21; Plutarch, XXXII. 4-XXXIII.   48.   Plutarch,   XXXIV. 2-6.   49.   Diodoros,   XIII. 68. i-69. iii. 50. Plutarch, XXIX. 1-2.   51. Xenophon, Hellenika I, v, 11-16; Plutarch, XXXV. 2-XXXVI. 2.   52. Plutarch, XXXVI-XXXVIII.   53. Diodoros, XIV. 11. i-iv; Plutarch XXXVIII. 4-XXXIX. 5. There  are various accounts, the similar feature being the Spartan instigation.  It is not likely that it was a personal assassination (because of the  queen), but it was probably not purely due to political motives, either.   54. Aristophanes, Frogs , 1420-1431; cf. Aristophanes, Clouds,   362; Plato, Symposium 221b.   55. Aristophanes, Clouds , 217 ff.   56. Politically speaking, however, this is not to be thoroughly  disregarded, for in their numbers they can trample even the best of men.   57. Cf. for example: Plato, Gorgias 500c, Aristotle, Politics  1324a24 ff., Rousseau, Social Contract , Book I, Preface and Bk. II, chap.  7, Marx, Theses on Feuerbach , #11.   58. Hobbes, Leviathan , edited by C. B. MacPherson, Pelican Books,  Middlesex, 1968, page 102 ff.    59. It is interesting that Socrates uses the promise of power to  entice Alkibiades to listen so that he can persuade him that he doesn't  know what power is. It is very important for the understanding of the  dialogue that the reader remember that Socrates has characterized  Alkibiades' desire for honor (105b) as a desire for power. This is of  crucial significance throughout the dialogue, and in particular in con¬  nection with Socrates' attempts to teach Alkibiades from whom to desire  honor, and in what real power consists. The reader is advised to keep  both in mind throughout the dialogue. Perhaps at the end he may be in a  position to judge in what the difference consists.   60. The most notorious example, perhaps, is Martin Heidegger,  although he was surely not the only important man implicated with fascism.   61. Cf. Aiskhylos, Agamemnon 715-735, and Aristophanes, Frogs  1420-1431, for the metaphor. The latter is a reference to Alkibiades  himself, the former a statement of the general problem. (f. also  Republic 589b; Laws 707a; Kharmides 155d; and Alkibiades I 123a).   62. The fully developed model resulting from this effort should  probably only be made explicit to the educators. The entire picture  (including the hero's thoughts about the cosmos, etc.) would be baffling  to children and most adults, and would thus detract from their ability  to identify with the model. Perhaps a less thoroughly-developed example  would suffice for youths. However, the entire conception of the best  man that the youths are to emulate should be made explicit. The task is  difficult but worth the effort, since the consistency of two or more features of the model can only be positively ascertained if he is fully  developed. An obvious example of where conflicts might arise should  this not be done is where, say, a very hybristic, superior and self-  confident young man is the leader of the radical democratic faction of  a city. Some kind of conflict is inevitable there, and those tensions  are much more obvious though not necessarily more penetrating than those  caused by incompatible metaphysical views.   63. For example, Lakhes , Kharmides , Republic , Euthyphro .   64. These questions are not the same, for in many dialogues the  person named does not have the longest, or even a seemingly major speak¬  ing part; e.g., Gorgias , Phaedo , Minos , Hipparkhos .Protagoras , 336d. Here Alkibiades is familiar with Socrates,  for he recognizes his "little joke" about his failing memory. However,  Socrates was not yet notorious throughout Athens, for the eunuch guarding  the door did not recognize him ( Protagoras 314d). Much of this specula¬  tion as to the date depends on there not being anachronisms between (as  opposed to within) Platonic dialogues. We have no priori reason to  believe there are no anachronisms. However, it might prove to be useful  to compare what is said about the participants in other dialogues. The  problem of anachronisms within dialogues is a different one than we are  referring to in our discussion of the dramatic date. Plato, for a variety  of philosophic purposes, employs anachronisms within dialogues, including  perhaps, that of indicating that the teaching is not time-bound.   66. This is obviously related to teleology, a way of accounting  for things that concentrates on the fulfilled product, the end or teleos  of the thing and not on its origin, as the most essential for under¬  standing the thing. The prescientific, or common-sensical, understanding  of things is a teleological one. The superior/ideal/proper character¬  istic of things somehow inform the ordinary man's understanding of the  normal. This prescientific view is important to return to, for it is  such an outlook, conjoined with curiosity, that gives rise to philosophic  wonder.    67. 103a.1, 104c.4, 104d.4, 104e.l, 123c.8, 123e.3, 124a.2. For  this kind of detailed information, I found the Word Index to Plato , by  Leonard Brandwood, an invaluable guide.   68. The challenge to self-sufficiency is important to every  dialogue, to all men. It is something we all, implicitly or explicitly,  strive towards, a key question about all men's goals. Even these days,  one thing that will still make a man feel ashamed is to have it suggested  that he depends on someone (especially his spouse).   The first step toward self-improvement has to be some degree of  self-contempt, and that might be sparked if Alkibiades realizes his  dependency.    69. Socrates might be saying this to make the youth open up. It  isn't purely complimentary; he doesn't say you are right. (Cf. also  Kharmides 158 a-b). I am indebted for this observation to Proclus  whose Commentary on the First Alkibiades , is quite useful and interesting. In order to claim that something is or is not a cause for  wonder, one apparently would have to employ some kind of criteria. Such  criteria would refer to some larger whole which would render the thing   in question either evident or worthy of wonder or trivial. None of these  has been explicitly suggested in the dialogue with reference either to  difficulty of stopping speech or beginning to talk.   71. It may be important to note that this discussion refers to  political limits, political ambitions. Perhaps a higher ambition (per¬  haps indeed the one Socrates is suggesting to Alkibiades) can be under¬  stood as an attempt to tyrannize nature herself, to rule (by knowing the  truth about) even the realm of possibility and not to be confined by it.   72. One notices that this, by implication, is a claim by Socrates  to know himself, not exactly a modest claim.   73. Interestingly, he does not consider what Alkibiades heard in  such speeches to be part of his education, "comprehensively" listed at  106e.    74. This appears similar to Socrates' strategy with Glaukon. Cf.  Craig, L.H., An Introduction to Plato's Republic , pp. 138-202; especially  pp. 163-4; Bloom, A., "Interpretive Essay," in The Republic of Plato ,   pp. 343-4.   75. Cf. Republic , 435c.   76. Cf. Republic , 327b, 449b; Kharmides , 153b; Parmenides , 126a.While imagined contexts may influence one's thinking and  speaking in certain ways, one is not naively assuming that then one will  speak and act the same as one would if the imagined were actualized.   Many things might prevent one from doing as well as one imagined. An  example familair to the readers of Plato might be the construction of the  good city in speech. Cf. 105d, 131e, 123c, and 121a. One might be curious as to  the difference between Phainarete's indoor teaching of Socrates and  Deinomakhe's indoor teaching of Alkibiades. Also perhaps noteworthy is  that Alkibiades was taught indoors by his actual mother: the masculine  side of his nurture was not provided by his natural father. Except see Hobbes, Leviathan, chapter 29; Plato, Republic ,  372e. And one must remember that when the plague strikes, the city is  dramatically affected.   80. Thucydides, VI. 21; I. 142-3; II. 13.   81. Note two things: (1) Athenians don't debate about this at  the ekklesia ; (2) Alkibiades, as well as the wrestling master, would be  qualified (118c-d).   Socrates drops dancing here; perhaps it is similar enough to wrestling to need no separate mention/ and to provide no additional  material for consideration. But if that were so one might wonder why it  was mentioned in the first place.    83. Perhaps "all cases" should be qualified to "all cases which  are ruled by an art." The general ambiguity surrounding this remark in¬  vites the reader's reflection on the extent to which Socrates' suggestion  could be seen to be a much more general kind of advice. Perhaps  Alkibiades would be better off imitating Socrates - period. Or perhaps  something else about Socrates' pattern (of life) could be said to provide  "the correct answer in all cases," - he is after all a very rational man.   84. The referent here is unclear in the dialogue. It could be  'lawfulness' and 'nobility' just as readily as the 'justice' which  Socrates chooses to consider; that choice significantly shapes the course  of the dialogue. Note: Socrates brought up 'lawful' (even though there  probably is no law in Athens commanding advisors to lie to the demos in  the event they war on just people); whereas Alkibiades' concern was  nobility.   85. This would be especially true if considerations of justice  legitimately stop at the city's walls. Cf. also Thucydides, I. 75, and  compare the relative importance of these motives in I. 76.  This conclusion may not be fair to Alkibiades, for he is  clearly not similar to Kallikles (see below) since he is convinced that  he must speak with Socrates to get to the truth. He wants to keep  talking. But he is still haughty. He has just completed a short dis¬  play of skill that wasn't sufficiently appreciated by Socrates, and, most  importantly, there will be an unmistakeable point in the dialogue at which  Alkibiades does become serious about learning. Alkibiades will confess  ignorance and that will mark a most important change in his attitude.   His attention here isn't focussed on the premises but on the conclusion  of the argument.   87. There are a number of possibilities here for speculation as  to the cause of his taking refuge - from shame? from the truth? from  the argument?   88. Draughts is a table game with counters, presumably comparable  to chess. Draughts is a Socratic metaphor for philosophy or dialectics.  The example arises in connection with language, and seem to indicate the  reader's participation in the dialogue. First, of course, Plato must  have us in mind, for Alkibiades cannot know that draughts are Socrates'  metaphor for philosophical dialectics. Second, the metaphor itself de¬  mands reflecting upon. How not to play is a strange thing to insert.  Though proceeding through negation is often the only way to progress in  philosophy, one doesn't set out to learn how not to play. The many indeed  cannot teach one to philosophize, but the question of how not to  philosophize often has to be answered in light of the many, as does the  question of how not to "argue." The philosopher must show caution both  because of the many's potential strength over himself, and through his  consideration of their irenic co-existence; he must not rock the boat, so  to speak. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan , p. 100; Genesis 2:19-20.   90. It is interesting that with reference to "running" (the  province of the gymnastics expert or horseman) Socrates mentions both  horses and men. In the example of "health" he mentions only men. Pre¬  sumably he is indicating that there is some distinction to be made  between men and horses that is relevant to the two technae . Quite likely  this distinction shall prove to be a significant aid in the analysis of  the metaphors of 'physician 1 and 'gymnast' that so pervade this dialogue.  Borrowing the analogy of 'horses' from the Apology (30e), wherein cities  are said to be like horses, one might begin by examining in what way a  gymnastics expert pertains more to the city than does a doctor, or why  "running" and not "disease" is a subject for consideration in the city,  while both are important for men. Perhaps a good way to begin would be  by understanding how, when man's body becomes the focus for his concerns,  the tensions arise between the public and private realm, between city and  man.    91. The practical political problem, of course, is not simply  solved either when the philosophic determination of 'the many' is made,  or when empirical observation yields the results confirming what 'the  many' believe. The opinions must still be both evaluated and accounted  for.    92. However, when it is an extreme question of health - e.g.,  starvation, a plague - a question of life or death, they do. The con¬  dition of the body does induce people to fight and the condition of the  body seems to be the major concern of most people and is thus probably  a real, though background, cause of most wars and battles.   93. Homer, Odyssey , XXII 41-54; XVIII 420-421; XX 264-272, 322-  337, 394.   94. In Euripides' play, Hippolytos , Phaedra, the wife of Theseus,  is in love with her stepson Hippolytos, and though unwilling to admit,  she is unable to conceal, her love from her old nurse. She describes him  so the nurse has to know, and then says she heard it from herself, not  Phaedra.   95. It is undoubtedly some such feature of power as this that  Alkibiades expects Socrates to mention as that power which only he can  give Alkibiades. It may be that Socrates' power is closely tied to  speech - we are not able to make that judgement yet - but Alkibiades  is certainly not prepared for what he gets.   The reader is cautioned to remember that Socrates is assuming  power to be the vehicle for Alkibiades' honor. At least one sense in  which this is necessary to Socrates' designs has come to light.   Alkibiades could be convinced that he should look for honor in a narrower  group of people once he thought they were the people with the secret to  power. It is not as likely that he would come to respect that group  (especially not for being the real keys to power) if he hadn't already  had his sense of honor reformed. Cf. Gorgias , beginning at 499b and continuing through the end.  He certainly doesn't seem to care, although it may be a bluff or a pose.   97. Such as, perhaps, a dagger only partially concealed under his  sleeve - Gorgias 469c-d.   98. This, of course, is from the perspective of the city. Very  powerful arguments have been made to the contrary. The city may not be  the primary concern of the wisest men.   99. Perhaps it should be pointed out, though, that men who devote  themselves to public affairs frequently neglect their family - again the  tension between public and private is brought to our attention (cf. Meno,  93a-94e).   100. The fact that oaks grow stunted in the desert does not mean  that the stunted oak of the desert is natural. The only thing we could  argue is natural is that 'natural' science could explain why the acorn  was unable to fulfill its potential, just as 'natural' science can explain  how there can be two-headed, gelded, or feverish horses. In any  explanation of this sort the reference is to a more ideal tree or horse.  And any examination of an existing tree or horse will involve a reference  to an even more perfect idea of a tree or a horse.   101. It may be of no small significance that Socrates uses the  word ' ideas ' in this central passage. It is the only time in this  dialogue that the word is used and it seems at first innocuous. 'Ideas'  is another form of ' eidos ' - 'the looks' so famous in the central   epistemological books of the Republic. What is so exceptional about the   " *   use here is that it occurs precisely where the question of the proper  contest, the question of the best man, is raised. Socrates says, "My,  my, best of men, what a thing to say! How unworthy of the looks and  other advantages of yours." We are perhaps being told it is unworthy  of 'the looks,' 'the ideas , 1 that Alkibiades does not pose a high enough  ambition. The translators (who never noted this) are not in complete  error. Their error is one of imprecision. The modifier "your" ( soi)  is an enclitic and would have been understood (by Alkibiades) to refer  to "looks" as well as to his other advantages. However, as an enclitic,  it is used as a subtle kind of emphasis, and it is clearly the "other  advantages" that are emphasized. The 'soi' would normally appear in  front of the first of a list of articles. It doesn't here, and the  careful reader of the Greek text would certainly be first impressed  with it as " the looks." The reference to Alkibiades' looks would be a  second thought. And only in someone not familiar with the Republic or  with the epistemological problem of the best man, would the "second-  thought" be weighty anough to drown the first impression.   Incidentally, it is indeed interesting that the word for the  highest metaphysical reality in Plato's works is a word so closely tied  to everyday appearance. Once again there is support for the dialectical  method of questioning and answering, to slowly and carefully refine the  world of common opinion and find truth or the reality behind appearance.   102. Whether the war justly or unjustly is not mentioned. I believe that the referent to "others" is left ambiguous.  Note also that here (120c) Socrates speaks of the Spartan generals  ( strategoi ), a subtle change from 'king' (120a) a moment earlier. Per¬  haps he is implying a difference between power and actual military  capability.   104. This is/ of course/ generally good advice. Cf. Thucydides  I 84: one shouldn't act as though the enemy were ill-advised. One must  build on one's foresight, not on the enemy's oversight.   105. The important provision of nurture is added to nature. Cf.  103a and the discussion of the opening words of the dialogue.   106. Socrates has included himself in the deliberation explicitly  at this point, serving as a reminder to the reader that both of these  superior men should be considered in the various discussions, not just  one. A comparison of them and what they represent will prove fruitful to  the student of the dialogue.   107. Plato, another son of Ariston, is perhaps smiling here; we  recall why it is suspected that Alkibiades left Sparta and perhaps why  he was killed.   Two more facets of this passage are, firstly, that this might be  seen as another challenge by Socrates (in which case we should wonder as  to its purpose). Secondly, it implies that Alkibiades' line may have  been corrupted, or is at least not as secure as a Spartan or Persian one.  Alkibiades cannot be positive that his acknowledged family and kin are  truly his.   108. There is a very important exception and one significant to  this dialogue as well as to political thinking in general. One may change  one's ancestry by mythologizing it (or lying) as Socrates and Alkibiades  have both done. This may serve an ulterior purpose; recall, for example,  the claims of many monarchies to divine right.   109. Hesiod Theogony 928; cf. also Homer, Iliad 571 ff.   110. The opposite of Athena, Aphrodite ( Symposium 180d), and  Orpheus ( Republic 620a).   111. A number of Athenians may have thought this was much the  same effect as Socrates had. He led promising youths into a maze from  which it was difficult to escape. This discussion should be compared in detail with the  education outlined in the Republic . Such a comparison provides even more  material for reflection about the connection between a man's nurture and  his nature. (One significant contrast: the Persians lack a musical  education).   113. Compare, for example, the difference concerning horseback   riding: Plato, Alkibiades I, 121e; and Xenophon, Kyropaideia , I, iii, 3. Cf., for example, Machiavelli, The Prince , chapters 18, 19.  The only other fox in the Platonic corpus (besides its being the name of  Socrates' deme - Gorgias 495d) is in the Republic (365c) where the fox is  the wily and subtle deceiver in the facade of justice which is what  Adeimantos, in his elaboration of Glaukon's challenge, suggests is all  one needs.   115. The reader of the dialogue has already been reminded of the  Allegory of the Cave, also in the context of nurture, at 111b.   116. Thomas Sydenham, Works of Plato Vol. I , p. 69, points out -  that Herodotos tells us that this is not exclusively a Persian custom.  Egyptians, too, used all the revenue from some sections of land for the  shoes and other apparel of the queen. Cf. Herodotos, Histories , II, 97.   117. Cf. Pamela Jensen, "Nietzsche and Liberation: The Prelude to  a Philosophy of the Future ," Interpretation 6:2, p. 104: "[Nietzsche] does  not suppose truth to be God, but a woman, who has good reasons to hide  herself from man: her seductiveness depends upon her secretiveness..."   118. This greatly compounds the problems of understanding the two  men and their eros . What has heretofore been interpreted by Socrates as  Alkibiades' ambition for power is now explicitly stated to be an ambition  for reputation. Are we to understand them as more than importantly  connected, but essentially similar? And what are we to make of Socrates'  inclusion of himself at precisely this point? Does he want power too?  Reputation? Perhaps we are to see both men (and maybe even all erotic  attraction whatsoever) as willing to have power. Socrates sees power   as coming through knowledge. Alkibiades sees it as arising from reputa¬  tion. Is Socrates in this dialogue engaged in teaching Alkibiades to  respect wisdom over glory in the interests of some notion of power? The  philosopher and the timocrat come out of (or begin as) the same class of  men in the Republic. The reader should examine what differences relevant  to the gold/philosophic class, if any, are displayed by Socrates and  Alkibiades. Perhaps Socrates' education of Alkibiades could be seen as  a project in alchemy - transforming silver into gold.   119. Homer, Iliad , X. 224-6. Cf. Protagoras , 348d; Symposium ,  174d; Alkibiades II , 140a; as well as Alkibiades I , 119b, 124c.   120. This is not intended to challenge Prof. Bloom's interpreta¬  tion ( The Republic of Plato , p. 311). As far as I am capable of under¬  standing it and the text, his is the correct reading. However, with  respect to this point I believe the dialogue substantiates reading the  group of men with Polemarkhos as the many with power, and Socrates and  Glaukon as the few wise.   121. This is left quite ambiguous. The jest could refer to:   a) Socrates' claim to believe in the gods   b) Socrates' reason as to why his guardian is better   c) Socrates' claim that he is uniquely capable of providing Alkibiades  with power. In the Republic, inodes and rules of music are considered of  paramount political importance. Cf. Republic 376c-403c.   123. Cf. however. Symposium , 174a, 213b. At this stage of the  argument Socrates does not distinguish between the body and the self.   124. This is the only time Socrates swears by an Olympian god.   He has referred to his own god, the god Alkibiades "talked" to, a general  monotheistic god, and he has sworn upon the "common god of friendship"   (cf. Gorgias 500b, 519e, Euthyphro 6b), as well as using milder oaths  such as 1 Babai 1 (118b, 119c). It would probably be very interesting to   find out how Socrates swears throughout the dialogues and reflect on their  connection to his talk of piety, and of course, his eventual charge and  trial.    125. Strictly speaking that is the remark on which there won't be  disagreement, not the one following it. "Man is one of three things,"   is something no one can disagree with. (He is what he is and any two  more things may be added to make a set of three.) Why does Socrates  choose to say it this way? And why three? Are there three essential  elements in man's nature? As we shall presently see, he does assume a  fourth which is not mentioned at this time.   126. Though first on the list of Spartan virtues, temperance  ( sophrosyne ), a virtue so relevant to the problem of Alkibiades, does  not receive much treatment in this dialogue. One might also ask: if  temperance is knowing oneself, is there a quasi-virtue, a quasi¬  temperance based on right opinion?   127. This is what Socrates' anonymous companion at the beginning  of Protagoras suggests to Socrates with respect to Alkibiades.   128. Homer, Odyssey , II. 364. Odysseus' son, Telemakhos, is  called the "only and cherished son" by his nurse when he reveals to her  his plan of setting out on a voyage to discover news about his father.   His voyage too (permitting the application of the metaphor of descent  and human nature) is guarded by a divine being. Alkibiades/Telemakhos  is setting out on a voyage to discover his nature.   129. For other references to "stripping" in the dialogues, see  Gorgias 523e, 524d; cf. also Republic 601b, 612a, 359d, 361c, 577b, 474a,  452a-d, 457b; Ion 535d; Kharmides 154d, 154e; Theaitetos 162b, 169b;   Laws 772a, 833c, 854d, 873b, 925a; Kratylos 403b; Phaidros 243b;   Menexenos 236d; Statesman 304a; Sophist 237d.   130. This word for release (apallattetai) has only been used  for the release of eros to this point in the dialogue (103a, 104c, 104e,  105d). Parenthetically, regarding this last passage, we note also that  the roles of wealth and goodness in well-being have not been thoroughly  0 xplored. Perhaps he is suggesting a connection between becoming rich  and not becoming temperate.   131. One might interject here that perhaps the virtues resulting  from, say, a Spartan nurture, do not depend on the virtues of the governors. Perhaps they depend on the virtue or right opinion of the  lawgiver, but maybe not even that. There might be other counterbalancing  factors, as, for example, Alexander Solzhenitsyn suggests about Russians  today - (Harvard Commencement Address, 1978, e.g., paragraph 22).   132. As was mentioned with respect to their other occurrences in  the dialogue, the metaphors of the diseased city, physician of the city,  doctor of the body, pilot of ship, ship-of-state and passenger are all  worth investigating more thoroughly, and in relation to each other.  There is a dialogue, the Parmenides , in which the "Young  Socrates" speaks. We do not know what to make of this, but the fact that  he is called the "Young" Socrates somehow distinguishes his role in this,  from the other dialogues. He is not called "Young Socrates" in the  Alkibiades I , nor is he referred to as "Middle-aged Socrates" in the  Republic , nor is he named "Old Socrates" in the Apology .   134. Having come this far, the reader might want to judge for  himself some recent Platonic scholarship pertaining to the First  Alkibiades. In comparatively recent times the major source of interest  in the dialogue has been the popular dispute about its authenticity.   Robert S. Brumbaugh, in Plato for the Modern Age , (p. 192-3)  concludes:   But the argument of the dialogue is clumsy, its dialectic  constantly refers us to God for philosophic answers, and  its central point of method - tediously made - is simply  the difficulty of getting the young respondent to make  a generalization. There is almost none of the inter¬  play of concrete situation and abstract argument that  marks the indisputably authentic early dialogues of  Plato. Further, the First Alkibiades includes an almost  textbook summary of the ideas that are central in the  authentic dialogues of Plato's "middle" period; so  markedly that it was in fact used as an introductory  textbook for freshman Platonists by the Neo-Platonic  heads of the Academy ... it would be surprising if  this thin illustration of the tediousness of induction  were ever Plato's own exclusive philosophic theme: he  had too many other ideas to explore and offer.   Benjamin Jowett, translator of the dialogue and thus familiar with  the writings, says in his introduction to the translation:   ... we have difficulty in supposing that the same  writer, who has given so profound and complex a notion  of the characters both of Alkibiades and Socrates in  the Symposium should have treated them in so thin and  superficial a manner as in the Alkibiades , or that he  would have ascribed to the ironical Socrates the  rather unmeaning boast that Alkibiades could not  attain the objects of his ambition without his help; or that he should have imagined that a mighty  nature like his could have been reformed by a few not  very conclusive words of Socrates... There is none  of the undoubted dialogues of Plato in which there is  so little dramatic verisimilitude.Schleiermacher, originator of the charge of spuriousness,  analyzed the dialogue, (pp. 328-336). It is to him that we owe the  current dispute. Saving the best for last:   ... there is nothing in it too difficult or too  profound and obscure for even the least prepared  tyro... This ... work ... appears to us but very  insignificant and poor...   and   ... [genuinely Platonic passages] may be found  sparingly dispersed and floating in a mass of  worthless matter...   and   ... we must not imagine for a moment that in these  speeches some philosophic secrets or other are  intended to be contained. On the contrary, though  many genuine Platonic doctrines are very closely  connected with what is here said, not even the  slightest trace of them is to be met with...   and   ... in short, however we may consider it, [the  Alkibiades ] is in this respect either a contradiction  of all other Platonic dialogues, or else Plato's own  dialogues are so with reference to the rest. And  whoever does not feel this, we cannot indeed afford  him any advice, but only congratulate him that his  notions of Plato can be so cheaply satisfied...   In any event, much could be said about whether anything important  to the philosophic enterprise would hinge upon the authorship.   My comments concerning the issue will be few. Firstly there is  no evidence that could positively establish the authorship. Even should  Plato rise from the dead to hold a press conference, we are familiar  enough with his irony to doubt the straightforwardness of such a state¬  ment.    Secondly, many of the arguments are based on rather presumptuous  beliefs that their proponents have a thorough understanding of the corpus  and how it fits together. I will not comment further on such self-  satisfaction.   Thirdly, there are a number of arguments based on stylistic  analyses. If only for the reason that these implicitly recognize that  the dialogue itself must provide the answer, they will be addressed.   Two things must be said. First, style changes can be willed, so to  suggest anything conclusive about them is to presume to understand the  author better than he understood himself. Second, style is only one of  the many facets of a dialogue, all of which must be taken into account  to make a final judgement. As is surely obvious by now, that takes  careful study. And perhaps all that is required of a dialogue is that  it prove a fertile ground for such study. Aristophanes. The Eleven Comedies . New York: Liveright Publishing  Corp., 1943.   The King James BIBLE. Nashville, U.S.A.: Kedeka Publishers, 1976.   Bloedow, E. F. Alcibiades Reexamined . Weisbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag,  1973.   Bloom, Allan D. The Republic of Plato . Translated, with Notes and an  Interpretive Essay, by Allan Bloom. New York: Basic Books, 1968.   Brandwood, Leonard. A Word Index to Plato . Leeds: W. S. Maney and  Son, Ltd., 1976.   Brumbaugh, R. S. Plato for the Modern Age . U.S.A.: Crowell Collier  Press, 1962.   Churchill, Winston. Great Contemporaries . London: Macmillan and Co.   Ltd., 1943.   Craig, Leon H. An Introduction to Plato's Republic . Edmonton: printed  and bound by the University of Alberta, 1977.   de Romilly, Jacqueline. Thucydides and Athenian Imperialism . Translated  by Philip Thody. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963.   Diodorus Siculus. Diodorus of Sicily . Translated by C. H. Oldfather;  Loeb Classical Library. Volumes IV, V and VI. London: Heinemann,  1946.   Friedlander, Paul. Plato , Volumes I, II and III. New York: Bollingen  Series, 1958.   Grene, David; and Richmond Lattimore, eds. The Complete Greek Tragedies .  Aeschylus I , translated by Lattimore; Euripides I , translated by  Lattimore. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953.   Grote. Plat o and the Other Companions of Sokrates . Vol. II. London:  John Murray, 1885.   Hamilton, E. and H. Cairns. Plato: The Collected Dialogues . Princeton:  Princeton University Press, Bollingen Series, 1961.   Hammond, N. G. L. and H. H. Scullard, eds. The Oxford Classical  Dictionary. Oxford University Press, Clarendon Press, Herodotus. The Histories . Translated by J. E. Powell; Oxford Library  of Tranalstions. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1949.   Hesiod. Hesiod . Translated by Richmond Lattimore. Ann Arbor: University  of Michigan Press, 1959.   Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan . Edited by C. B. Macpherson. Middlesex,  England: Pelican Books, 1968.   Homer. Iliad . Translated by Richmond Lattimore. New York: Harper and  Row, 1951.   Homer. Odyssey . Translated by Richard Lattimore. New York: Harper and  Row, 1965.   Jensen, Pamela. "Nietzsche and Liberation: The Prelude to a Philosophy  of the Future," Interpretation . 6:2. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff,  1977.   Jowett, B., ed. The Dialogues of Plato : Volume I. Translated by B.  Jowett. Oxford: Oxford University Press, Clarendon Press, 1953.   Machiavelli, N. The Prince . Translated and edited by Mark Musa. New  York: St. Martin's Press, 1964.   Marx, K. "Theses on Feuerbach," The Marx-Engels Reader . Edited by  R. C. Tucker. New Tork: W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1972.   McKeon, Richard, ed. The Basic Works of Aristotle . New York: Random  House, 1941.   Olympiodorus. Commentary on the First Alkibiades of Plato. Critical  texts and Indices by L. G. Wes ter ink'. Amsterdam:‘ North-Holland  Publishing Company, 1956.   O'Neill, William. Proclus: Alkibiades I A Translation and Commentary .   The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1965.   Paulys-Wissowa. Real-Encyclopoedie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft .  Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler Buchhandlung, 1893.   Plato. Plato in Twelve Volumes . Loeb Classical Library; translated by  R. G. Bury, H. N. Fowler, W. Lamb, P. Shorey; London: Heinemann,   1971.   Plutarch. Lives . Loeb Classical Library, Vol. IV; translated by B.  Perrin. London: Heinemann,  Rousseau, J.-J. The Social Contract . Translated and edited by R. Masters  and J. Masters. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1978.   Ryle, G. Plato's Progress. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,Schleiermacher. Introduction to the Dialogues of Plato . Translated by  W. Dobson. Cambridge: J. & j. j. Deighton, Shorey, Paul. What Plato Said . Chicago: University of Chicago Press,  1933.   Solzhenitsyn, A. "Harvard Commencement Address." Harvard University,  Cambridge, Mass. 1978.   Strauss, Leo. "Preliminary Observations of the Gods in Thucydides Work,"  Interpretation 4:1. The Hague z Martinus Nijhoff, 1974.   Sydenham, Floyer, transl. The Works of Plato . Vol. I. Edited by  Thomas Taylor. London: R. Wilks, Taylor, A. E. Plato: The Man and His Work . New York: Meridian Books,  1956.   Thucydides. History of the Peloponnesian War . Translated by Rex Warner;  Introduction and Notes by M. I. Finley. Middlesex, England:   Penguin, 1954.   Westlake, H. D. Individuals in Thucydides . Cambridge: Cambridge  University Press, 'Ennio Carando. Keywords: l’amore platonico, l’amore socratico, l’implicatura di Socrate, filosofo socratico, Socrate, Alcibiade. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carando” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Carapelle: l’implicatura conversazionale – linguaggio e metafilosofia – linguaggio oggetto – meta-linguaggio – Peano – Tarski 1944 – bootstrapping -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Napoli). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Carcano; I cannot say he is an ultra-original philosopher, but I may – My favourite is actually a tract on him, on ‘meta-philosophy,’ or rather ‘language and metaphilosophy,’ which is what I’m all about! How philosophers misuse ‘believe,’ say – but Carcano has also philosophised on issues that seem very strange to Italians, like ‘logica e analisi,’ ‘semantica’ and ‘filosofia del linguaggio’ – brilliantly!” Quarto Duca di Montaltino, Nobile dei Marchesi di C.. Noto per i suoi studi di fenomenologia, semantica, filosofia del linguaggio e più in generale di filosofia analitica. Studia a Napoli, durante i quali si formò alla scuola di Aliotta e si dedica allo studio delle scienze. Studia a Napoli e Roma. Sulla scia teoretica del suo tutore volle approfondire le problematiche poste dalla filosofia e riesaminare attentamente il linguaggio in uso. La sua tesi centrale è che correnti come il pragmatismo, il positivismo, la fenomenologia, l'esistenzialismo e la psicoanalisi, fossero il portato dell'esigenza teoretica di una maggiore chiarezza – la chiarezza non e sufficiente -- delle varie questioni che emergevano da una crisi culturale, vitale ed esistenziale. Al centro di tale crisi giganteggia la polemica fra senza senso metafisico e senso anti-metafisica, soprattutto a causa del vigore critico del positivismo logico, contro il quale a sua volta lui -- che ritiene necessaria una sostanziale alleanza o quantomeno un aperto dialogo fra la metafisica e la scienza -- pone diversi rilievi critici, principale dei quali è quello di minare alla base l'unità dell'esperienza, alla Oakeshott -- che senza una cornice o una struttura metafisica in cui inserirsi rimarrebbe indefinitamente frammentata in percezioni fra loro irrelate. A questo inconveniente si può rimediare temperando il positivismo con lo sperimentalismo, ovvero accompagnando alla piena accettazione del metodo una piena apertura all’esperienza così come “esperienza” è stata intesa, ad esempio, nella fenomenologia intenzionalista intersoggetiva di Husserl. In questo senso si può procedere a mantenere una costante tensione sui problemi posti dalla filosofia, in opposizione a ogni dogma di sistema, e al contempo non cadere nell'angoscia a cui conduce lo scetticismo radicale che tutto rifiuta, compresa l'esperienza. Non si tratterebbe dunque per la filosofia di definire verità immutabili ma di sincronizzarsi col ritmo del metodo basato sull’esperienza fenomenologico, sussumendo i risultati sperimentali e integrandoli nel continuum di una struttura metafisica mediante il ponte dell'esperienza. Altre opere: “Filosofia e civiltà” (Perrella, Roma); Filosofia (Soc. Ed. del Foro Italiano, Roma); Il problema filosofico. Fratelli Bocca, Roma); La semantica, Fratelli Bocca, Roma – cf. Grice, “Semantics and Metaphysics”) Metodologia filosofica, una rivoluzione filosofica minore. Libreria scientifica editrice, Napoli 1958. Esistenza ed alienazione” (MILANI, Padova); Scienza unificata, Unita della scienza (Sansoni, Firenze); Analisi e forma logica (MILANI, Padova); Il concetto di informativita, MILANI, Padova); La filosofia linguistica, Bulzoni Editore, Roma. Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Roma. Ben altrimenti articolato e puntuale ci sembra l'intervento operato sulla fenomenologia da Paolo Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino de Carapelle, quarto duca di Montaltino, ed allievo di Aliotta a Na­poli e pur fedele estensore delle sue teorie, sulle quali, per questo mo­ tivo, ci siamo nell'ultima parte dilungati sorvolando sullo scarso ruolo t-he gioca in esse l'opera di Husserl. L'iter formativo di Carcano interseca situazioni ed esperienze riscontrabili, come ve­ dremo, anche in altri giovani filosofi della stessa generazione. Di più, nel.suo caso, c'è una singolare — e probabilmente indotta — analogia con la vicenda teoretica del primo Husserl. In realtà, — scrive l'autore in un brano autobiografico del 1956 — io non posso dire di essere venuto alla filosofia in maniera diretta, per un'intima voca­ zione alla speculazione o per un normale maturarsi dei miei studi e della mia men­ talità giovanile, ma questa era soprattutto caratterizzata da un'intensa passione pèrle scienze e da una viva disposizione per la matematica54. Questo germinale orientamento, unito a una sensibilità religiosa che non tarderà a manifestarsi, ebbe come primo e scontato effetto di allontanare Filiasi Garcano dall'area neo-idealistica, il cui radicale immanentismo, la esclusione dei concetti di peccato e di grazia e l'avversione per ogni for- 53 Ibidem, p. 7. 54 P. Filiasi Carcano, 17 ruolo della metodologia nel rinnovamento della filo­ sofia contemporanea, in AA.W., La filosofia contemporanea in Italia. Invito al dialogo, Asti, Arethusa, 1958, p. 219.  ma di naturalismo, non potevano in alcun modo essere accettati 55. Di qui un sentimento di estraneità e di insoddisfazione subito denunciati fin dai primi scritti, l'intima perplessità e la difficoltà di orientarsi in una temperie culturale già decisa e fissata nelle sue grandi linee da altri. E, d'altro canto, un naturale rivolgersi al problema metodologico, come pre­ liminare assunzione di consapevolezza circa i percorsi teoretici che con­ veniva seguire per ottenere uno scopo valido, senza tuttavia ancora nul­ la presumere circa la necessità di quei percorsi o la natura di questo sco­ po. In tal senso, l'elaborazione di una qualsivoglia metodologia doveva prevedere come esito programmatico, da un lato, una sorta di epochizza- zione delle grandi tematiche metafisiche e della tradizionale formulazione dèi problemi, dall'altro lato, un lungo e paziente lavoro di analisi, con­ fronto, chiarificazióne e comprensione che consentisse di recuperare, di quelle tematiche e di quei problemi, il contenuto più autentico. Ma più lo sguardo critico del giovane filòsofo andrà maturando fino ad abbracciare nel suo complesso il controverso panorama culturale del tempo, più quel programma iniziale perderà la sua connotazione prope­ deutica per trasformarsi in compito destinale, in una ' fighi for clarity* che assumeva i termini di un radicale esame di coscienza nei confronti della filosofia. Scrive Filiasi Carcano: Confesserò che varie volte ho avuto ed ho l'impressione di non aver abba­ stanza compreso, e per questo alla mia spontanea insoddisfazione (al tempo stesso scientifica e religiosa) si mescola un senso di incomprensione. Questo stato d'animo spiega bene il mio atteggiamento che non è propriamente di critica (...), ma ha piut­ tosto il carattere di un prescindere, di una sospensione del giudizio, di una messa in parentesi, in attesa di una più matura riflessione 56. Al fondo dei dualismi e delle vuote polemiche che, nella comunità filoso- fica italiana degli anni Trenta, sembravano prevaricare sulle più urgenti esigenze scientifiche e di sviluppo, Filiasi Carcano coglie i sintomi dì un conflitto epocale, di una inquietudine psicologica e di un'incertezza morale che andranno a comporsi in una vera e propria fenomenologia della crisi. ' Crisi della civiltà ', anzitutto, come recita il titolo della sua opera prima 57, dove al desiderio di fuggire l'alternativa del dogmatismo fa da 55 Per questi punti mi sono riferito a M. L. Gavazzo, Paolo Filiasi Carcano,. «Filosofia oggi», X, 1, 1987, pp. 57-74.; * P; Filiasi Carcano, // ruolo della metodologia,;cit., p. 220. 57 Cfr. P. Carcano, Crisi della civiltà e orientamenti della filosofia contraltare l'eterno dissidio tra ragione e fede. Crisi esistenziale, di con­ seguenza, dovuta al prevalere delle tendenze scettiche e antimetafisiche su quelle spirituali e religiose. Crisi della filosofia, infine, fondata sulla raggiunta consapevolezza del suo carattere problematico, sull'incapacità di realizzare interamente la pienezza del suo concetto. Come moto di reazione immediata occorreva allora, oltreché circoscrivere le proprie pre­ tese conoscitive ponendosi su un piano risolutamente pragmatico, assur­ gere ad una più compiuta presa di coscienza storica e conciliare la filoso­ fia con una mentalità scientificamente educata. Solo, cioè, il confronto con una seria problematica scientifica (la quale Filiasi Carcano vedeva realizzata nell'ottica positivista dello sperimentalismo aliottiano) avreb­ be potuto segnare per la filosofia l'avvento di una più matura riflessione intorno alle proprie dinamiche interne e ai propri genuini compiti critici. E a questo scopo parve a Filiasi Carcano, fin dai suoi studi d'esor­ dio, singolarmente soccorrevole proprio l'opera di Edmund Husserl. Scri­ ve Angiolo Maros Dell'Oro: A un certo punto si intromise Husserl. Filiasi Carcano pensò, o sperò, che là fenomenologia sarebbe stata la ' scienza delle scienze', capace di indicargli la via zu den Sachen selbsf, per dirla con le parole del suo fondatore. Da allora è stata invece per lui l'enzima patologico di una problematica acuta 58. Sùbito rifiutata, in realtà, come idealismo metafisico, quale eira frettolo­ samente spacciata in certe grossolane versioni del tempo (non esclusa, lo ^bbiamo visto,.quella del suo, maestro), la fenomenologia viene aggredita alla radice dal giovane studioso, con una cura e un rigore filologico — i quali pure riscontreremo in altri suoi coetanei — giustificabili solo con l'urgenza di una richiesta culturale cui l'ambiente nostrano non poteva evidentemente soddisfare. Non è un caso che Filiasi Carcano insista, fin dal suo primo articolo dedicato ad Husserl, sul valore della fenomeno­ logia, ad un tempo, emblematico, nel quadro d'insieme della filosofia contemporanea, e liberatorio rispetto al giogo dei tradizionali dogmi idealistici che i giovani, soprattutto in Italia, si sentivano gravare sulle spalle ". contemporanea, pref. di A. Aliotta, Roma, Libreria Editrice Perrella,  Cf. Il pensiero scientifico ìtt Italia 'Creiriòria, Màngiarotti Editore, 1963, p. 108. 39 Cfr. P. Filiasi Cartario/ Da Carierò'ad H«w&f/,:« Ricerche filoSofìche », In piena coscienza, — scriverà l'autore — se abbiamo voluto scio­ gliere l'esperienza da una necessaria interpretazione idealistica, non è stato per forzarla nuovamente nei quadri di una metafisica esistenziale, ma per ridare ad essa, secondo lo schietto spirito della fenomenologia, tutta la sua libertà 60. Tale schiettezza, corroborata da un carattere decisamente antisistema­ tico e dal recupero di una vitale esigenza descrittiva, avrebbe consentito lo schiudersi di un nuovo, vastissimo territorio di indagine, sospeso tra constatazione positivistica e determinazione metafisica, ma capace, al tem­ po stesso, di metter capo ad un positivismo di grado superiore e ad un più autentico pensare metafisico. Si trattava, in sostanza, non tanto di dedurre i caratteri di una nuova positività oppure di rifondare una me- tafisica, quanto piuttosto di guadagnare un più saldo punto d'osserva­ zione dal quale far spaziare sul multiverso esperienziale il proprio sguar­ do fenomenologicamente addestrato. È in questo punto che la fenome­ nologia, riabilitando l'intuizione in quanto fonte originaria di autorità (Rechtsquelle), operando in base al principio dell'assenza di presupposti e offrendo i quadri noetico-noematici per la sistemazione effettiva del suo programma di ricerca, veniva ad innestarsi sul tronco dello sperimenta­ lismo di stampo aliottiano, che Filiasi Carcano aveva assimilato a Napoli negli anni del suo apprendistato filosofia). Il ritorno ' alle cose stesse * predetto dalla fenomenologia non solo manteneva intatta la coscienza cri­ tica rimanendo al di qua di ogni soglia metafisica, ma anche e più che mai serviva a ribadire il carattere scientifico e descrittivo della filosofia. In un passo del 1941 si possono scorrere, a modo di riscontro, i punti di un vero e proprio manifesto sperimentalista: Descrivere la nostra esperienza nel mondo con l'aiuto della critica più raffi­ nata; cercare di raccordarne i vari aspetti in sintesi sempre più vaste e più com­ prensive, esprimenti, per cosi dire, gradi diversi della nostra conoscenza del mon­ do; non perdere mai il senso profondo della problematicità continuamente svol- gentesi dal corso stesso della nostra riflessione; infine stare in guardia contro tutte le astrazioni che rischiano di alterare e disperdere il ritmo spontaneo della vita: sono questi i principali motivi dello sperimentalismo e (...) al tempo stesso, i modi mediante i quali esso va incontro alle più attuali esigenze logiche e metodologiche del pensiero contemporaneo61. D'altro canto, si diceva, non è neppure precluso a questo program- *° P. Filiasi Carcano, Crisi della civiltà, cit., p. 138. 61 P. Filiasi Carcano, Antimetafisica e sperimentalismo, Roma, Perrella ma un esito trascendente, e a fenderlo possibile sarà ancora una volta, in virtù della sua cruciale natura teoretica, proprio l'atteggiamento feno­ menologico. Scrive Filiasi Carcano: In realtà, il dilemma tra una scienza che escluda l'intuizione e una intui­ zione che escluda la scienza, non c'è che su di un piano realistico ma non su di un piano fenomenologicamente ridotto: su questo piano scienza e intuizione tornano ad accordarsi, accogliendo una pluralità di esperienze, tutte in un certo senso le­ gittime e primitive, ma tutte viste in un particolare atteggiamento di spirito che sospende ogni giudizio metafisico. È questo, com'io l'intendo, il modo particola­ rissimo con cui la filosofia può tornare oggi ad occuparsi di metafisica. Certo, nella prospettiva husserliana, il problema del trascendens puro e semplice, che farà da sfondo a tutto il percorso speculativo di Filiasi Carcano, sembrava rimanere ingiudicato o, almeno, intenzionalmente rin­ viato in una sorta di ' al di là ' conoscitivo, Ma in ordine alla missione spirituale che l'uomo deve poter esplicare nel mondo storico, il metodo fenomenologico conserva tutta la sua efficacia. Esso —nota Filiasi Carcano nelle ultime pagine del suo Antimetafisica e spe­ rimentalismo — certo difficilmente può condurre a risultati, ma compie per lo meno analisi e descrizioni interessanti, e tanto più notevoli in quanto tende a sollevare il velo dell'abitudine per farci ritrovare le primitive intuizioni della vita religiosa 63. Dato questo suo carattere peculiare e l'orizzonte significativo nel quale viene assunta fin dal principio, la fenomenologia continuerà a va­ lere per Filiasi Carcano come referente teoretico di prim'ordine, accom­ pagnandolo, con la tensione e la profondità tipiche delle esperienze fon­ damentali, in tutti i futuri sviluppi della sua speculazione. La terza grande area di interesse per il pensiero hussèrliano negli anni Trenta in Italia, fa capo all'Università.di Torino e si costituisce prin­ cipalmente intorno all'attività 4i tre studiosi: il primo, già incontrato e che, in qualche modo, fa da ponte fra questa e la neoscolastica mila­ nese è Carlo Mazzantini; il secondo è Annibale Pastore —ne parleremo ora — che teneva nell'ateneo torinese la cattedra di filosofia teoretica; 6- P, Filiasi Corcano,. Crisi.della civiltà,.eit,,. p.., 184.,:;  Carcano, Antimetafisica e sperimentalismo, cit., p. 153.  Apparently, David Hilbert was the first to use the prefix meta(from the Greek over) in the sense we use it in metalanguage, metatheory, and now metasystem. He introduced the term metamathematics to denote a mathematical theory of mathematical proof. In terms of our control scheme, Hilbert's MST has a non-trivial representation: a mapping of proofs in the form of usual mathematical texts (in a natural language with formulas) on the set of texts in a formal logical language which makes it possible to treat proofs as precisely defined mathematical objects. This done, the rest is as usual: the controlled system is a mathematician who proves theorems; the controlling person is a metamathematician who translates texts into the formal logical language and controls the work of the mathematician by checking the validity of his proofs and, possibly mechanically generating proofs in a computer. The emergence of the metamathematician is an MST. Since we have agreed not to employ semantically closed languages, we have to use two different languages in discussing the problem of the definition of truth and, more generally, any problems in the field of semantics. The first of these languages is the language which is "talked about" and which is the subject- matter of the whole discussion; the definition of truth which we are seeking applies to the sentences of this language. The second is the language in which we "talk about" the first language, and in terms of which we wish, in particular, to construct the definition of truth for the first language. We shall refer to the first language as "the object-language,"and to the second as "the meta-language." It should be noticed that these terms "object-language" and "meta- language" have only a relative sense. If, for instance, we become inter- ested in the notion of truth applying to sentences, not of our original object-language, but of its meta-language, the latter becomes automatically the object-language of our discussion; and in order to define truth for this language, we have to go to a new meta-language-so to speak, to a meta- language of a higher level. In this way we arrive at a whole hierarchy of languages. The vocabulary of the meta-language is to a large extent determined by previously stated conditions under which a definition of truth will be considered materially adequate. This definition, as we recall, has to imply all equivalences of the form (T): (T) X is true if, and only if, p. The definition itself and all the equivalences implied by it are to be formulated in the meta-language. On the other hand, the symbol 'p' in (T) stands for an arbitrary sentence of our object-language.  Let “A(p)** mean “I assert p between 5.29 and 5.31’*. Then q is “there is a  proposition p such that A(p) and p is fake”. The contradiction emerges from the  supposition that q is the proposition p in question. But if there is a hierarchy of  meanings of the word “false** corresponding to a hierarchy of propositions, we  shall have to substitute for q something more definite, i.e. “there is a proposition  p of order «, such that k{p) and p has falsehood of order n*\ Here n may be any  integer: but whatever integer it is, q will be of order « + i? and will not be capable  of truth or falsehood of order n. Since I make no assertion of order n, q is false,   The hierarchy must extend upwards indefinitely, but not  downwards, since, if it did, language could never get started.  There must, therefore, be a language of lowest type. I shall  define one such language, not the only possible one.* I shall call  this sometimes the “object-language”, sometimes the “primary  language”. My purpose, in the present chapter, is to define and  describe this basic lai^age. The languages which follow in the  hierarchy I shall call secondary, tertiary, and so on; it is to be  understood that each language contains all its predecessors.   The primary language, we shall find, can be defined both  logically and psychologically; but before attempting formal  definitions it will be well to make a preliminary informal explora-  tion.   It is clear, from Tarski’s argument, that the words “true”  and “false” cannot occur in the primary language; for these  words, as applied to sentences in the language, belong to the  (« -t- language. This does not mean that sentences in the  primary language are neither true nor false, but that, if “/>” is a  sentence in this language, the two sentences “p is true” and  “p is false” belong to the secondary language. This is, indeed,  obvious apart from Tarski’s argument. For, if there is a primary  language, its words must not be such as presuppose the existence  of a language. Now “true” and “false” are words applicable to  sentences, and thus presuppose the existence of language. (I  do not mean to deny that a memory consisting of images, not  words, may be “true” or “false”; but this is in a somewhat  different sense, which need not concern us at present.) In the  primary language, therefore, though we can make assertions, we  cannot say that our own assertions or those of others are either  true or false.   When I say that we make assertions in the primary language,  I must guard against a misunderstanding, for the word “assertion”   and, since q is not a possible value of p, the argument that q is also true collapses.  The man who says ‘T am telling a lie of order n” is telling a He, but of order  n 4 - I. Other ways of evading the paradox have been suggested, e.g. by Ramsey,  “Foundations of Mathematics”, p. 48.   * My liierarchy of languages is not identical with Carnap's or Tarski's. Proceeding psychologically, I construct a  language (not the language) fulfilling the logical conditions for  the langu^e of lowest type; I call this the “object-language” or  the “primary language”. In this language, every word “denotes”  or “means” a sensible object or set of such objects, and, when  used alone, asserts the sensible presence of the object, or of one of   *9 AN INQUIRY INTO MEANING AND TRUTH   the set of objects, which it denotes or means. In defining this  language, it is necessary to define “denoting” or “meaning” as  applied to object-words, i.e., to the words of this language. Paolo Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino di Carapelle. Paolo Filiasi Carcano. Paolo Carcano. Montaltino. Keywords: linguaggio e metafilosofia, semantica, quarto duca di montaltino, semantica ed esperienza, semantica e fenomenologia, filiasi carcano, montaltino, carapelle. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carapelle” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Carapelle.

 

Grice e Carbonara: l’implicatura conversazionale l’esperienza e la prassi – Cicerone e il pratico -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Potenza). Filosofo Italiano. Grice: “I like Carbonara; my favourite of his tracts are one on ‘del bello,’ – another one on ‘dissegno per una filosofia critica dell’esperienza pura: immediatezza e reflessione’ – but mostly his ‘esperienza e prassi,’ which fits nicely with my functionalist method in philosophical psychology: there is input (esperienza), but there is ‘prassi,’ the behavioural output --; I would prefer this to the tract on the ‘filossofia critica’ since I’m not sure we need ‘reflexion’ to explain, say, communication – not at least in the way Carbonara does use ‘reflessione,’ alla Husserl.  Conseguito il diploma liceale, si trasferì a Napoli, frequentando la facoltà di filosofia. Ottenuta la laurea sotto Aliotta, collabora per “Logos”. Insegna a Campobasso, Nocera Inferiore, Cagliari, Catania, e Napoli.  Con “Disegno d'una filosofia critica dell'esperienza pura”, rifacendosi alla filosofia kantiana e riprendendo il discorso idealistico ne mette in rilievo il tentativo fallito di Gentile di dare concretezza all’astratto. Nell'attualismo, il ritorno all’atto, al fatto, si risolve infatti nell'atto sempre uguale e sempre diverso del pensare, unica realtà e verità del pensiero e della storia: «vera storia non è quella che si dispiega nel tempo, ma quella che si raccoglie nell'eterno atto del pensare»..  Il problema secondo C. anda esaminato riportandolo alla sua origine, cioè al problema del rapporto tra esperienza e concetto, tra realtà e concetto così come era stato affrontato dalla filosofia kantiana e che Gentile crede di risolvere stabilendo un rapporto dialettico tra il concetto e il suo negativo all'interno del concetto stesso. La soluzione invece era in nuce secondo C. nella sintesi a priori kantiana dove convivono forma (segnante) e contenuto (segnato) per cui la coscienza è per un verso forma, contenitore (segnante) di un contenuto (segnato) storico e per un altro *coincide* col suo contenuto (segnato) in quanto il contenuto (segnato) non avrebbe realtà al di fuori della forma della coscienza segnante.  La successiva questione si pone considerando oltre il rapporto del pensiero – il segnante -- con la materia quella collegata all'origine del pensiero stesso. Ancora una volta Kant intravede la soluzione nella teoria dell' “io penso” che però va ora intesa non come la struttura logico-metafisica della realtà storica, ma come la sua struttura psicologica ma *trascendentale* o "esistenziale", secondo una concezione della "filosofia dell'esperienza pura" nel senso che l'esperienza coincide col divenire della vita dello spirito e deve restare indifferente al problema, ch'è propriamente di natura ontologica, circa la sua dipendenza o indipendenza da una realtà diversa dal mio spirito. Il rapporto tra pensiero e materia porta C. ad indagare quello tra filosofia e scienza con “Scienza e filosofia” in Galilei, in cui sostiene che mentre da un punto di vista filosofico non si può andare oltre l'ambito dell'autocoscienza (il mio spirito – Il “I am hearing a noise” di Grice) del cogito cartesiano, al contrario la scienza si basa sulla necessità di fondarsi sul mondo esterno (nel spirito dell’altro – intersoggetivita). Forse la soluzione di questa antinomia, sostiene Carbonara, va ricercata nell'insoddisfazione dello stesso idealismo verso se stesso  non potendo rinunciare a se stesso ma neppure al suo opposto -- nec tecum nec sine te  -- solus ipse. Si interessa anche della filosofia rinascimentale a Firenze. Nota come in quel periodo si fosse realizzata una fusione tra il cristianesimo e il neo-platonismo così come ad esempio in Ficino prete cattolico che visse la sua fede come teologia razionale dando una base filosofica, trascurando la stessa rivelazione, alla sua spiritualità religiosa:  In Ficino, il platonismo si congiunge al cristianesimo non soltanto sul fondamento di una religiosità profonda da cui il primo appare permeato, ma anche per una tradizione storica ininterrotta, per cui l'antichissima saggezza, ripensata da Platone e dai neoplatonici, si ritrova trasfigurata ma tuttavia persistente nei Padri della Chiesa e nei dottori della Scolastica. Come apprendiamo dall'Epistolario di Ficino, la sapienza e intesa come un dono divino e come mezzo per cui l'uomo può elevarsi fino a Dio. Tale principio fu poi appreso da Pitagora, Eraclito, Platone, Aristotele, i neoplatonici. Riemerse nella speculazione filosofica ispirata dalla Rivelazione cristiana e si ritrovò quindi in Agostino. Lo stesso Cicerone figura nella catena dei platonici romani.  Riallacciandosi a quella tradizione e meditando sui testi platonici, Ficino concepí il disegno, portato a termine di ricostruire su fondamento platonico la teologia il platonismo vi è considerato come il nucleo essenziale di una teologia razionale i cui princípi coincidono con quelli della rivelazione. Tale coincidenza è il principale argomento con cui si riesce a dimostrare l'eccellenza del cristianesimo rispetto alle altre religioni positive. Del resto Ficino è disposto ad ammettere che qualsiasi culto, purché esercitato con animo puro, reca onore e gradimento a Dio. Altre saggi: “L'individuo, i dividui, e la storia; Scienza e filosofia in Galilei; Esperienza; Umanesimo e Rinascimento (Catania) Del Bello; Introduzione alla Filosofia (Napoli;  Materialismo storico e idealismo critico; Sviluppo e problemi dell'estetica crociana; I presocratici; Esperienza ed umanesimo (Napoli) La filosofia di Plotino; “Persona e libertà”; Ricerche di un'estetica del contenuto”; Esperienza e prassi; Discorso empirico delle arti, Il platonismo nel Rinascimento. In un momento diverso dalla storica ora presente offrire in veste italiana alla coltura filosofica del nostro paese  il sistema di dottrina morale secondo i principi della dottrina della scienza di Fichte sarebbe stata opera già esaurientemente giustificata e dalla grandezza di quel genio speculativo, e dal vivo crescente interesse del nostro tempo per il suo originale sistema idealistico-romantico, e dalla capitale importanza che nella struttura del sistema stesso ha la dottrina morale, e dall’opportunità, quindi, di agevolare la diretta conoscenza di  questa a quanti tra noi non fossero in grado di leggerla  e gustarla nè nella classica (nonostante i suoi difetti) edizione tedesca dovuta alla pietà filiale di Fichte — divenuta oggi assai rara, ma di recente  lori. Fichte, Das System der Sittenlehre nach leu Prinzipletl (lev Wìsseuschaftslehre, Jena und Leipzig, Gabler V. il voi. IV delle Opere complete (Sitmmtliche 1 Werke) di Fichte, edite con assai utili prefazioni da Eli. Ehm.  Fichte (Berlin, Veit e C.), dopo altri tre volumi di Opere  postume (Nachgelasseiie Werlce) apparsi per cura dello stesso editore  a Bonn, ma aggiunti come ultimi agli precedenti. I difetti, che sono stati rim-  fedelmente riprodotta (con tatti i suoi difetti) da Fritz Me- proverati all’edizione di Fichte figlio, consistono, tra gl’altri — a  parte le critiche riguardanti l’ordinamento generale degli scritti paterni (sulle quali v. Ravà, Le opere di Fichte, Rivista di Filosofia) — in errori di stampa, lacune casuali o soppressioni arbitrarie di una o più parole, aggiunte o trasposizioni di vocaboli, deposizione dei capoversi e punteggiatura non sempre quali  si avrebbe ragione di aspettarsi, ecc. ; donde non poche nè lievi difficolta per intendere bene e rendere esattamente in altra lingua il pensiero dell’autore. La qual cosa ci preme far rilevare, anche perchè  non sembri esagerazione, se diciamo che fu lavoro di non poca lena,  sostenuta soltanto dall’interesse per l’opera fiehtiana, quello da noi  compiuto attorno a una traduzione che ci proponemmo eseguire con  la più 'scrupolosa fedeltà al testo originale, ma, in pari tempo, curando il più possibile la chiarezza del contenuto e l’italianità della  forma. Al quale duplice fine ci parve opportuno di riportare tra pa¬  rentesi curve ( ) le espressioni genuine e più caratteristiche dell’autore, quando il nostro idioma non si prestava a riprodurle se non  inadeguatamente ovvero assumendo un certo aspetto di stranezza, e  di chiudere tra parentesi quadre [ J le espressioni aggiunte dal tra¬  duttore con intento interpretativo o dilucidativo. Il lettore, in tal  modo, è sempre messo sull’avviso circa i punti in cui il linguaggio  dell’autore è meno trasparente e può giudicare se talvolta al traduttore — secondo il noto bisticcio - non sia accaduto di essere involon¬  tariamente il traditore del pensiero tichtiano. TI quale pensiero riesce  tanto più difficile a restituire nella sua forma genuina, in quanto che  esso non solo fu iu continua evoluzione e trasformazione, ma ebbe  dal Fichte, più oratore elio scrittore , le mutevoli formulazioni occasionali adatte alla predicazione, all’insegnamento e alla polemica, anziché la stabile struttura definitiva di un’opera d’arte destinata a tramandare ai posteri il documento autentico di un sistema compiuto;  e la Dottrina inorale, di cui ci occupiamo qui, risente anch’essa, nello  stile, del carattere proprio a quella gran parte delle opere del Fichte,  che sono o riproduzioni o preparazioni, ampiamente elaborate in  iscritto, di lezioni e corsi accademici. Si aggiunga a ciò che la Sit-  tenlehre, e nel contenuto e uella forma, è la continuazione c  l’applicazione di quella Wissetischaflslehre che il Medicus, in  una sua monografia dedicata al Fichte, uou esita a chiamare “ il libro,  torse, più difficile che esista in tutta la letteratura filosofica (sie ist  vielleicht das schiiieriijste Rudi in der yesmnten philósophischen Lucratile) „ (cfr. Grosse Denker, editi  a Lipsia, Verlag Quelle   dicus — , uè nella libera e, proprio nei punti ove H testo  è meno chiaro, monca versione inglese fattane dal Kroeger; (in francese o in altra lingua non ci risulta sia stata  mai tradotta, il che non ha certo contribuito ad accrescerle    et Meyer, senza «lata, <la E. vou Aster) — della Dottrina  della Scienza abbiamo iu italiano la traduzione fattane da A. Tilouer  (Bari, Laterza) — j si noti, inline, che il Fichte figlio sconsi¬  gliava il Bouillier dal tradurre in altra lingua quelle, tra le opere  del padre, che non avessero un contenuto popolare e fossero scritte  in una rigorosa forma scientifico-filosofica — ecco le sue parole. Te  conseille de ne pas traduire les oeuvres scientifiques proprement dites,  «:t d’ uno forme philosophique rigoureuse. 11 est à peu près impossi-  ble de les traduire «lana votre luugne; il faudrait les transformer et  eu changer l’exposition. Uue traduction littérale mirait le doublé iu-  convénient de taire violence à votre 1 angue, et de ne pas reproduire  le veritable esprit du système. „ (cfr. MéUiode pour arrivar à la tir  bica heureuse par Udite, traditit par M. Bouillier, aver, uno Introdaction  par Fichte le File, Paris, Ladrango): e si sarà, speriamo, meglio disposti a giudicare con qualche indulgenza le manchevolezze anche da noi sentite, ma che non riuscimmo ad evitare, so  pur erano evitabili, iu questa nostra traduzione, in cui la lettera doveva più che mai venir suggerita e giustificata dallo spirito della dot-  liiua tradotta, onde ci s imponeva di continuo la necessità di ripen-  norr e, per quanto ci fu possibile, di rivivere il pensiero del Fichte.  11 Jmc Gotti*. Fichte, IVerke, Auswahl in sechs Btinden (mit  nielli ci en Bildnisxen Fichtes ), edizione e introduzione di FimtzMediCUS,  Leipzig. Non intendiamo detrarre nulla alle lodi giustamente!  tributate d’ ogni parte a questa nuova edizione delle principali opere  del Fichte, condotta di recente a termine e salutata nel mondo fìloso-  tico come un importante e lieto avvenimento, soprattutto per il contributo che porterà alla diffusione e alla conoscenza della dottrina  lichtiana; dobbiamo soltanto osservare che, almeno per quanto concerne  .1 System der Sittenlehre, di cui diamo qui la traduzione, la collazione  del testo nelfediz. del Medicus non presenta assolutamenta nulla di  diverso e nulla di migliorato, rispetto a quella curata da  Lm. Era. Fichte ; se mai, anzi, qualche errore di stampa in più ; onde  essa non ci è stata di nessun aiuto. Tanto per la verità. The Science of Etìlica as based on thè Science of knowledge  by Ioh. Gotti. Fichte, tradnz. di A. E. Kroeoeh. edita da Harris (London, Kegau Paul, Treucli, Trubner et Co., Ltd.). il numero dei lettovi). Dorante, poi, l’attuale immane cataclisma bellico che sì inaspettatamente ha tutta Europa scon¬  volto e le nostre coscienze profondamente turbato, in questa  tragica ora chè tigne il mondo di sanguigno, perchè proprio  nella terra classica dell’idealismo filosofico, sfrenatasi l'ebbrezza mistica di una supposta superiorità di razza e di coltura, prevalso un malinteso spirito di egemonia mondiale,  straripata la prepotenza del militarismo, scatenatisi gli  istinti e le cupidigie più basse, la civiltà sembra inabis¬  sata nel buio e la scienza si è trasformata, con scempio  di ogni leggo umana e divina, in strumento di barbarie, rinnegando quel carattere umano che della scienza è e deve  essere la vera, sovrana, immortale bellezza, in questa im¬  mensa mina di tutta la scala dei valori, due forti ragioni  di più — contrariamente a quanto potrebbe parere a prima  vista — c’inducono all’opera stessa: da un lato mostrare  con quale serenità, imparzialità e altezza di vedute noi ita¬  liani, che più volte nella storia fummo maestri di civiltà,  sappiamo riconoscere, pur quando gli animi nostri siano  agitati da moti sentimentali avversi, il possente contributo  di pensiero e di moralità che gli spiriti geniali, a qualun¬  que nazione appartengano, hanno recato alla coltura ; dal-  1’ altro fornire, con la divulgazione delle dottrine morali  di un filosofo tedesco come il Fichte — da cui più spe¬  cialmente con grave errore si vorrebbe derivare il pangermanismo — una prova di più della radicale deviazione che  le fiualità della Germania odierna, rappresentata dai Nietzsche, dai Treitschke, dai Bernhardi, dai Chamberlain, dai  Woltmaun, segnano rispetto alle idealità profondamente  umane e universali rifulgenti in tutta la letteratura e in  tutta la filosofia della Germania classica, rappresentata da un Leibniz, da un Lessing, da un Herder, da un Gboethé,  da uno Schiller, da un Kant e dallo stesso Fichte.  Perchè anche il Fichte, al pari del suo grande predecessoro Kant — il filosofo della pace a cui Con esattozza soltanto relativa egli fu contrapposito come il filosofo  della guerra, aspirava, pur con tutte le esagerazioni es¬  senzialmente teutoniche del suo pensiero, al regno della ra¬  gione, al Vemunftstaat, basato sul riconoscimento del valore dello spirito quale unico, vero e assoluto valore, e costituito da personalità autonome e responsabili che devono  svolgersi soltanto entro le linee di un ordinamento razio¬  nale del tutto. Che se la magnificazione e la glorificazione  della lingua e del popolo tedesco a cui il Fichte assurge,  a cominciare dai Caratteri fondamentali dell’età presente -- Revue de Métaphysique et de Morale, l’importante articolo di. Basch, L’Allemagne classique et le pangermanisme. V. inoltre Sante Ferra ni,  Fra la guerra e V Università (Seatri Ponente); in questo di¬  scorso inaugurale dell'anno accademico all’università di Genova, l'A., dopo avere stigmatizzato con indignata parola “ la nuova  sofìstica, più audace e più operativa dell'antica, die in Germania per  decenni lavorò a eccitare gli spiriti e a iriebbriarsi nel sogno del  dominio mondiale a qualunque patto,,, “ le iniquità senza pari, corruttrici, vigliacche, brutali, e le violazioni dei patti più solenni che  quel popolo sostituisce al valore degli eroi pagani, alla cavalleria  del guerriero medievale „ e u la volontà sinistra che informò i metodi alla subdola preparazione dell'immane delitto, invita a  distinguere in'quella nazione lo opere dei grandi avi e quelle dei uepoti : “ Quali e quante pagine troveremmo nei primi, atto a rintuz-  i zare, a riprovare, a distruggere le smodate ambizioni dell’ oggi ! e   quanti successori vedremmo rinnegati!, e, per antitesi, si  ferma a illuminare nella loro sublime purezza le figure del Kant e a»  del Fichte. Grundziige dea gegenviirtigen Zeilullers (Sanimi!. Werke).  Queste conferenze si direbbero quasi altrettanti  aifreschi di filosofia della storia, di cui lo Herder aveva dato il mo. sino ai Discorsi alla, nazione tedesca (*), attraverso la serie  di opuscoli politici intermedi, hanno potuto giustamente  apparire come la radice del pangermanismo, non ne segue  perciò che il Pielite stesso fosse un pangermanista. u Come !  esclama il Basoh, pangermanista quel Fichte che parla a Berlino, ancora occupata dai francesi, dinanzi  a spie francesi, dopo Auerstftdt e Iena, dopo Eylau e Fried  iand, dopo quel trattato di Tilsit di cui sappiamo le stipulazioni draconiane ! Chi non vede che appunto perchè il  suo popolo era asservito, umiliato, esposto a essere cancellato dalla carta d Europa con un tratto di penna del-  l’onnipossente imperatore francese, e appunto perchè la  Germania era stata spezzettata, la Prussia smembrata, egli  ha, per legittima reazione e con sflflrzo ammirevole, esaltato,  idealizzato, divinizzato quel popolo, opponendo alla realtà  la visione magnifica di un avvenire che a lui stesso appare problematico ? Le Reden sono un’ utopia ; un’ utopia  cento volte quel Germano autoctono, quel Mutterland,  quella lingua madre; e il Fichte lo sapeva bene e 1’ ha  dello, e in cui il Ciclite, con una miscela di nazionalismo mistico o di  cosmopolitismo umanitario, tratteggia a grandi periodi l’evoluzione dei  genere umano dalle sue più lontane origini sino ai suoi più remoti  destini futuri, passaudo attraverso le cinque età: ni dell’ innocenze o  ragiono istintiva, b) dell’ autorità o ragione coercitiva, c) del peccato o  ribellione contro la ragione sia istintiva sia coercitiva, d) della giustizia o arte della ragione, e) della santità o scienza della ragione. Reden an die deutsche Nailon (Summit. Werke). Segnaliamo, tra gli altri, i Discorsi ai combattenti tedeschi all’inizio della campagna (Reden an die deutschen Kricgev zu  All funge des Feldzuges) (Stillanti. 11 erke t VII) e i dialoghi patriottici, Il patriottismo e il suo contrario (Dei Patriotismus  und sein Gegentheil), (Sananti. Werke, Nacliyel. Werke). det-.fo egli st.esso. Questa lingua, questo popolo egli li póne  non come già esistenti, ma come qualcosa che bisogna creare, se si voleva salvare la nazione tedesca dalla rovina  totale e impedire che fosse radiata dal numero dei popoli  \ilidipendenti. Questa lingua e questo popolo non erano una realtà, ma un ideale -- o meglio un imperativo. Del  lèsto non abbiamo avuto anche noi, nella nostra letteratura,  un (fenomeno analogo ai Discorsi alia nazione tedesca, in  <\\i<\PRIMATO MORALE E VIRILE [SIC] DEGL’ITALIANI, in cui, invertendo, il puuto di vista fichtiano, GIOBERTI costrue una  filosofa della storia non meno utopistica, ma che pur tanti  petti sdpsse, taute anime accese negli anni più belli del  nostro riscatto? Che se poi il saggio eloquente ed essenzialmente. opera di fede di Fichte sia inteso non alla lettera ma nel suo profondo significato filosofico, spogliato  dei suoi particolari riferimenti spaziali e temporali e considerato sub specie aeternitatis, allora non solo oltrepassa  il valore di ubo scritto d’occasione, ma si eleva all’altezza  di un’ opera sublime, perennemente suggestiva di nobili  pensieri e di eroiche azioni. L’ autore, sempre ispirandosi  a quel suo idealismo immanente, che egli contrappone a [Li il leit-motiv proprio di tutta la filosofia fichtiana porre il  dover essere ossia 1’idealo come condizione creatrice e ragione  sufficiente e spiegazione finale dell’ u essere ossia del reale. Se  il Kant potè dirsi il Copernico dolla filosofia, in quanto trasferì il  punto di vista del problema filosofico dall' oggetto al soggetto, dall'essere al conoscere, Fichte può dirsi anch’egli il Copernico della  filosofia, in quanto spostò di nuovo quel punto di vista dal conoscere  al fare, dall’essere al dover-esserc : la vera realtà, il vero assoluto  sta per lui nell’ideale, nel dovere. Rivista di Filosofa. A. Faggi, Il “ Primato „ del Gioberti e i “ Discorsi alla nazione tedesca „ del Fichte. qualsivoglia dogmatismo, specialmente se materialistico,  sostiene in sostanza che non c’è possibilità di filosofia  e di poesia, di religione e di educazione, di libertà e di  progresso, se non là dove lo spirito crei o trovi in sè, e in  nessun modo attinga dal di fuori, il principio propulsore e  direttivo di tutta l’esistenza. Questo idealismo immanent/  egli chiama filosofia tedesca, ossia viva, di fronte a qualsiasi  filosofia straniera, ossia morta. E che intende egli, per  tedesco ?  Non occorre ricordare che secondo il Fichte vi sono dué sistemi  filosofici rigorosamente conseguenti, ciascuno dal suo punto di vista:  il dogmatismo, l’ idealismo. Ul^cio della filosofia è spiegare l’esperienza, la quale è costituita dalle rappresentazioni delle cose. Ora si  può a) o far derivare la rappresentazione dalle cose, come fa il dogma¬  tismo, b) o far derivare la cosa dalla rappresentazione, cóme fa l’idealismo. Lo scegliere l’una piuttosto che l’altra delle dué vie possibili  dipende dal carattere individuale. Un sistema filosofico — basterebbero queste parole a mostrare quanta fede pratica, quanta iniziativa personale ed energia spirituale Fichte mettesse nella sua filosofia e  quanta ne esigesse da chi questa filosofia voglia comprendere — non è  uno strumento inanimato che si possa a piacimento possedere o alienare : esso scaturisce dal più profondo dell’anima umana: “ Iras far  eine Philosophie man wàihle, hangt... davon ab, was man far ein Mensch  ist: demi ein philosophisclies System ist nicht ein todter Hausrath , dea  man ablegen oder abnehmen honnte, irte es mis beliebte, sonderà es  ist beseelt durch die Seele des Menschen, der es ìiat. „ (Erste Ein leitung in die Wissensehaftsle'ire , Scimmtl. IVerke). La scelta  sarà diversa secondo che prevarrà in noi il sentimento dell’indipendenza e dell’attività o il sentimento della dipendenza e della passi¬  vità; un carattere flaccido per natura, ovvero rilassato e incurvato  dalla schiavitù dello spirito, dal lusso raffinato o dalla vanità, non  s’innalzerà mai all’idealismo: 11 ein von Notar schiaffar oder durch  Geistesknechtschaft gelehrten Luxus and Eitelkeit erschla/fler und  gekrùmmler Chardhter toird sich nie zum Idealismus erheben. E ciò, indipendentemente dalle ragioni teoretiche che anch’esse dànno  un’incontestabile superiorità di filosofia esaurientemente persuasiva  all’idealismo di fronte all’in9ufficiente e assurdo dogmatismo. Nel settimo discorso, in cui si approfondisce il .concotto àe]Y originarie là, e germanicità di un popolo l’autore stesso ha cura di far rilevar^ u con chiarezza peretta „ ciò che in tutto il suo libro ha intesò per tedesco  (was uoir in unsrer bishcrigen Schilderung unter Deutschen verstanden haben). “ Il vero e proprio punto di divisione — egli scrive — sta in questo: o si crede che nell’uomo ci sia qualcosa di assolutamente primo e originario,  si crede nella libertà, nell’infinito miglioramento e nell’eterno progresso della nostra specie, oppure si nega tutto  ciò e si crede di vedere e comprendere chiaramente che è  vero tutto il contrario. Coloro che vivono creando e pro¬  ducendo il nuovo, coloro che, se non hanno questa sorte,  almeno abbandonano decisamente quel che non ha valore  (das Nichtige) e vivono aspettando che da qualche parte  la corrente della vita originaria venga a rapirli con sè,  coloro che, non essendo neppure tanto avanti, almeno presentono la verità, e non l’odiano o non la paventano, ma  l’amano: tutti costoro sono uomini originari e, considerati  come popolo, sono un popolo vergine (Urvolk), sono il  popolo per eccellenza, sono tedeschi. Coloro, invece, che si  rassegnano a essere un che di secondo e derivato e chiaramente concepiscono e riconoscono sè stessi come tali,  tali sono in realtà, e sempre più tali divengono in forza  di questa loro credenza; essi sono un’appendice della vita  che una volta prima di loro o accanto a loro viveva per  impulso proprio, essi sono l’eco che la roccia rimanda di [S’intitola: Noch tiefere Erfassung der Ursprunglichkeit utid  Deutscheit eines Volkes (Sammtl. Werke, nella trad.  ita!. Burich, Palermo, Sandron).  una voce già spenta, e, considerati come popolo, non sono  un popolo vergine, anzi di fronte a questo sono stranieri  ed estranei (Fremete und Andando-) Ecco, dunque,  che cosa significa: tedesco! non già il tedesco considerato  Ine et nune, ma il simbolo di un tipo ideale, onde il Fichte,  continuando, aggiunge: u Chiunque crede nella spiritualità,  nella libertà e nel progresso di questa spiritualità mediante  la libertà, egli, dovunque sia nalo, qualunque lingua parli  (wo es auch geboren seg und in welcher Sprache cs reile)  e dei nostri, appartiene a noi, ci seguirà; chiunque, invece,  crede nella stasi generale, nella decadenza, nel ricorso circolare e pone a governo del mondo una natura morta, egli,  dovunque sia nato, qualunque^lingua parli, è non-tedesco  (undeutscll), è per noi uno straniero, ed è desiderabile che  quanto prima si stacchi completamente da noi. I Discorsi alla nazione tedesca, dunque, soltanto occasionalmente si rivolgono al popolo germanico, mentre nella loro  profonda verità si rivolgono a tutti i popoli moderni, a  tutti gli uomini che hanno fede nella libera spiritualità,  di qualunque paese essi siano, additando a ciascuno la via  sulla quale si può servire alla propria patria particolare  e insieme alla gran patria comune, si può essere a un  tempo nazionalista e cosmopolita, perchè gl’ interessi supremi ed essenziali dell’umanità sono sempre e dovunque  gli stessi.   Ma a dimostrare in modo* 1 definitivo quanto l’autore  dei Discorsi sia alieno dal cosidetto pangermanismo sta il [ Reden an die deutsche Nalioti (Stimmll. Werke), il nerette delle  parole " dovunque sia nato ecc. „ è nostro discorso decimoterzo, donde trae maggior luce il significato  di tutti gli altri. Si direbbe che i pangermanisti, ai quali  piace farsi forti dell’auLorità del uostro filosofo, si siano di  proposito arrestati dinanzi a questa sua arringa, che pure è  il punto culminante verso cui tendono le rimanenti e che  può dirsi un vero catechismo antimperialistico. Tutto ciò  che all’imperialismo della Germania odierna sembra l’ideale  che essa sarebbe chiamata ad attuare: il possesso di colonie,  l’esclusiva libertà dei mari, il commercio e l’industria mondiali, le guerre di aggressione e ili conquista, la barbarie  scientificamente organizzata, le vessazioni sui paesi invasi,  la visione di una monarchia universale, l’egemonia assoluta,  vi ò rappresentato come odioso e insensato. Ammettiamo pure che il Fichte abbia combattuto questa  criminosa megalomania perchè essa s’incarna  sotto i suoi occhi nella Francia napoleonica; non è men vero,  però, che l’ideale opposto, a lui caro, rispondeva in modo reciso a tutta una concezione politica che fa di lui il figlio e  il rappresentante più genuino della rivoluzione francese. La  sua vita, i suoi scritti di filosofia pratica e di filosofia della  storia nte sono prova ampia, piena, sicura, e se anche su¬  birono modificazioni, queste riguardano non il suo pen¬  siero e i suoi sentimenti, i quali in fondo rimasero sempre  gli stessi, ma le mutate circostanze esteriori, il mutato  aspetto della Francia, divenuta, da repubblicana e liberatrice, imperialistica e liberticida. Nato popolo — figlio di  un povero tessitore, infatti, comincia la vita avviandosi al  mestiere paterno e guardando le oche — , egli sempre po-   [Kedeii ecc. (Sàmmll. I Verke) polo è rimasto nel più profondo dell’anima, per quanto  ricca e forte sia divenuta poi la sua coltura, a qualunque  sommità della scienza, dell’eloquenza e della gloria siasi  inalzato il sùo genio. Già sin dagl’inizi della sua fama si  rivela un democratico ardente, giacobino quasi, irrecouciliabile avversario di ogni pregiudizio religioso, politico e  nazionalistico. Subito dopo la sua Rivendicazione della libertà di pensiero dai principi d'Europa die /ino allora  l'acecano oppressa, egli, nei suoi Contributi alla  rettifica dei giudizi del pubblico sulla rivoluzione francese, plaude ai principi dell’89 col fervido entu¬  siasmo d’un uomo la cui classe usciva redenta da quel grande  atto di liberazione sociale, e aterina la sua fede nella rivoluzione stessa, proclama i diritti del popolo, frusta a sangue  il militarismo, maledice alle guerre mosse da interessi o da  capricci dinastici, e lancia contro principi e monarchie assolute i primi strali di quell’eloquenza appassionata che fa  di lui forse il più grande oratore della Germania. Zuruckfarderung der Denkfreihe.it von den Filrsten Europas,  die eie bisher unterdriikten (Sdmmtl. If erkeI). Beitriige zar Berichtigung der Urtheile des PubVcuins iiber die franzòsische Revolution (Sananti. Werke). In queste sue prime opere politiche, elio per lungo tempo furono  messe all’indice in tutta la Germania, Fichte mostra che la ri¬  voluzione francese fu il prodotto necessario della libertà del pensiero,  che la persona morale ha il diritto di elevarsi contro lo Stato, e che  l’uomo uscito dalle mani della natura è autonomo, e che è inalienabile il diritto dei cittadini di moditicare la costituzione, di uscire da  un’associazione politica per crearne una nuova, di fare ciò che ap¬  punto si chiama una rivoluzione. Fine ultimo degli uomini ò   la coltura di tutti per la libertà, ma le monarchie, egli afferma, invece  di lavorare al perfezionamento dei sudditi, sono state centro di depravazione morale. Come hanno inteso, infatti, i sovrani la coltura  dei sudditi a loro affidati? Sotto forma di educazione alla guerra;  perchè, dicono essi, la guerra coltiva. Qra, è vero che la guerra   Il Fondamento del Diritto naturale secondo i principi    inalza le nostre anime a sentimenti e azioni eroiche, al disprezzo del  pericolo e della morte, alla noncuranza dei beni continuamente esposti  ni saccheggio, a una simpatia per tutto ciò che ha aspetto umano,  perchè i pericoli e i dolori sopportati in comune stringono di più gli  altri a noi. Ma non crediate di vedere in queste mie parole un panegirico della vostra follia bellicosa, o fors’anco l’umile preghiera che  l’umanità dolente v’indirizzerebbe perchè non cessiate dal decimarla  con guerre sanguinose. La guerra non inalza all’eroismo se non le  anime già per natura eroiche; incita, invece, le anime poco nobili alla  ruberia e all'oppressione della debolezza priva di difesa. La guerra  crea a un tempo eroi e vili rapinatori, ma aitimi ’ delle due specie  quale in numero maggiore ? „ (cfr. Sàmmtl. Werke). Nel  fondare e governare i loro Stati i monarchi mirano a rafforzare la  loro onnipotenza all’interno, ad allargare le loro frontiere all’esterno:  due fini, questi, tutt’altro che favorevoli alla coltura dei loro sudditi.  1 monarchi pretendono di essere i custodi del necessario equilibrio  delle forze europee; ma questo fine, se è il loro, è perciò anche quello  dei loro popoli? “ Credete proprio — egli domanda ai principi tedeschi — che l'artista o il contadino lorenese o alsaziano abbia molto  a cuore di veder menzionata la propria città o il proprio villaggio, nei  manuali di geografia, sotto la rubrica dell’impero germanico, e che  por ottenere ciò butti via lo scalpello o l’aratro? Il pericolo della  guerra, ossia di ciò che lede e ferisce a morte la coltura, ultimo fine  dell’evoluzione umana, deriva unicamente dalla monarchia assoluta,  la (piale tende per necessità alla monarchia universale. Sopprimete  questa causa, e tutti i mali che ne derivano scompariranno anch’essi,  e le guerre terribili e i preparativi della guerra, ancor più terribili,  non saranno più necessari. Più oltre, poi, troviamo il  Fichte antisemita e antimilitarista: antisemita contro quegli ebrei  “ che sono refrattari ad assimilarsi alle nazioni in mezzo a cui pluvi vono antimilitarista contro l’esercito del suo tempo “ che met¬  teva il proprio onore nella propria umiliazione e trovava nell’impunità per le sue angherie contro i borghesi e i contadini un compenso  ai pesi del proprio stato. E continua.  Il più brutale semibarbaro  crede acquistare con la divisa militare una superiorità sul contadino  timido e spaventato, che sopporta le sue prepotenze e i suoi insulti  per non essere, per soprammercato, anche bastonato.Il giovincello  che può vantare più antenati, ma non certo più coltura, considera  la propria spada come un titolo sufficiente per guardare dall’alto e  con disprezzo il commerciante, l’uomo di scienza e l’uomo di Stato. \Vilt —    della Dottrina della scienza e Lo Stato commerciale chiuso contengono auch’essi una filosofia poli¬  tica che, scaturita interamente, oltreché dal pensiero kan¬  tiano, dai principi della rivoluzione francese, supera quel  pensiero e questi principi per le conseguenze economiche che  egli fu il primo a trarne, e approda aH’atfermazione di un  diritto dei popoli e di un diritto dei cittadini del mondo  (Volker- und Weltbnrgerrechl) e alla necessità di un’a¬  nione di popoli ( Vdlkerbund) — ben diversa da uno Stato di  popoli (Volkerstaat) — che garantisca la giustizia e porti  gradatamele alla Pace perpetua (zUm ewigen Friede) Grundlage des Natnrrechte nach Prinzipien dee ìVissenscliafls  Pin e (Siimmil. Werhe, IH). Ber geschlossene Handelsstaat (StillimiI. Werhe, III). Vediue-  auclie la traduz. ita!, di tì. B. P., Dell'intimo ordinamento di uno Stato  ec<\, Lugano, e l’altra (anonima) Lo Stato secondo ragione e lo  Stato commerciale chiuso, Torino, Bocca. Ecco, sommariamente, la dottrina politico-economica del Fichte:  La radice più profonda dell’Io è l’Io pratico o la libera volontà; e  poiché alla libera volontà di eiasenu individuo si contrappone quella  degli altri, nasce una libera azione reciproca tra lo diverse volontà  individuali, per regolare la quale gli uomini'hanno concluso il con¬  tratto sociale da cui è uscito lo Stato. Nello Stato il potere legisla¬  tivo appartiene alla comunità dei cittadini; l’esecutivo può essere affidato sia all’elezione (democrazia), sia alla cooptazione (aristocrazia),  sia all’elezioue e alla cooptazione insieme (aristodemocrazia). Tutte  queste forme di governo sono egualmente legittime, purché vi sia  accanto a esse uu altro potere ìndipendente, VSforato, il quale decida  dei casi in cui il potere esecutivo, essendo caduto in errori o colpe, deve  risponderne dinanzi alla comunità. Oltre a questo contratto sociale-politico, il Fichte, oltrepassando la prudenza borghese di Kant, il  quale ammetteva come legittima l’ineguaglianza economica accanto  all’eguaglianza politica, istituisce un contratto sociale-economico  (Eitjenthumverlrag) egli proclama originari in ciascun uomo il diritto  alla vita e il diritto al lavoro, e di fronte alla proprietà privata (prodotti del suolo coltivato, bestiame, case, mobili, ecc.) dichiara proprietà dello Stato ciò che la natura produce da sola e ciòcia' la col- sino all’alt,imo anno della sua vita, nelle lezioni sulla Z>n/-  letti vitti produce meglio del singolo individuo (miniere, foreste, grandi  industrie, seryizì pubblici, ecc.). Per l’elaborazione dei prodotti na¬  turali richiede corporazioni di competenza tecnica, e sulla qualità o  quantità dei prodotti industriali il diritto di sorveglianza Ha parte  dello Stato. Donde segue la necessità che da uu lato i cittadini ri-  uuuzino alla libertà industriale, e dall’altro si stabilisca uno scambio  armonico tra i prodotti naturali e i prodotti industriali, essendo reciprocamente gli uni indispensabili alla produzione degli altri. Per questo  scambio si è formata la classe speciale dei commercianti. Per impe¬  dire ai produttori di elevare ad arbitrio i prezzi dei prodotti, lo Stato  accumula iu magazzini generali, mediaute prestazioni in natura degli  agricoltori e prestazioni d’opera degli artigiani, i frutti della terra e  gli strumenti del lavoro, si che i prezzi veugouo livellati. Per obbligare i produttori a vendere, lo stato mette iu circolazione la moneta,  la quale rappresenta la somma di ricchezza che può essere venduta,  e rende possibile a uu produttore di cedere i suoi prodotti anche in  un momento iu cui non gli occorra ancora di prendere in cambio altri  prodotti. E atiinehè sia garantita la proprietà e regolata la circolazione dei prodotti e mantenuto l’equilibrio tra agricoltori, industriali  e commercianti — equilibrio che sarebbe turbato dall’importazione  di prodotti stranieri, dei quali i cittadini debbono assolutamente poter  fare a meno - è necessario che lo Stato vieti tutti gli accessi ai  commercianti di fuori e ai contrabbandieri di dentro, che sia cioè  uno Stato commerciale rigorosamente chiuso. Il Fichte si ripromette  le conseguenze più vantaggiose per la moralità del “ popolo fortunato „ elio adotti la perfetta chiusura commerciale e viva soltanto  di ciò che ò prodotto e fabbricato dal paese, venduto e consumato  nel paese (cfr. Der geschlossene llandelsstaat, Sàmmll. ÌVerke), e conclude che di li innanzi sarà la scienza il miglior legame intemazionale tra tutte le nazioni divenute Stati chiusi : perché  “ nessuno Stato della terra, dopoché il sistema politico-economico  dianzi descritto sia diventato universale, e siasi fonduta pace perpe¬  tua tra i popoli, avrà il menomo interesse a celare ad altri le proprie  scoperte, giacché ogni Stato potrà servirsene soltanto all’interno per il  proprio sviluppo e non già per opprimere gli altri Stati o acqui¬  stare una qualsivoglia preponderauza su di essi. Nulla, quindi, impedirà  la libera comunicazione tra i dotti e gli artisti di tutte le nazioni:  di 11 innanzi i giornali, invece di guerre e battaglie, trattati di pace  e di alleanza, conterranno soltanto notizie dei progressi della scienza,  delle nuove invenzioni, del perfezionamento della legislazione e degli trina dello Sialo, tenute a Berlino, proprio  quando la Prussia si preparava a quella guerra d’indipendenza che egli tanto si era adoperato a suscitare, si  domanda ancora una volta quale sia la guerra legittima  (der Wahrhafte Krieg) e risponde: Una guerra è giusta  soltanto qualora la libertà e l’indipendenza nazionale di  un popolo siano attaccati; gli uomini, per compiere il loro  destino, devono formare società libere, e uno Stato non  ha valore se non in quanto può contribuire all’avvento  del regno universale della libertà e della ragione. A questa  guerra veramente popolare vuole il Fichte nelle sue le- ordinamenti di governo; e. ogni Stato si affretterà ad arricchirsi delle  scoperte degli altri popoli.  Nè si ha a temere, del  resto, dalla chiusura commerciate dei singoli Stati il loro isolamento,  perchè i rispettivi sudditi, iu quanto cittadini del mondo (Weltbiirger),  circolano liberamente da uno Stato all’altro, portando seco i diritti  inerenti alla persona e alla proprietà; occorre anzi, per questo, una  legislazione comune che garantisca tali diritti e punisca l’ingiu¬  stizia commessa dal cittadino di uno Stato a danno del cittadino di  un altro Stato. I diversi Stati, inoltre, fanno contratti, concludono  trattati e sono rappresentati gli uni presso gli altri da ambasciatori.  Nel caso che uno degli Stati contraenti violi il contratto, la guerra  è 1’ unico mezzo per punirlo di questa violazione. Ma ogni guerra è  aleatoria, e se proprio lo Stato che violò il contratto rimanesse vittorioso, in quanto più forte?! A evitare tale ingiustizia bisogna che  un’Unione distati, meglio ancora, un’Unione di popoli (VSlkerbund)  s'impegni a punire, viribus uniti», lo Stato che, appartenente o no  all’Unione, si rifiuti di riconoscere l’indipendenza degli Stati uniti  o violi un contratto concluso con uno di essi (Orundlage des Nata rrechts nach Prinsipien der Wissenscliaftslelire, Sa minti- Werke). Quanto più questa Unione si allargherà, estendendosi a  poco a poco su tutta la terra, tanto meglio sarà assicurata la Pace  perpetua (der ewige Friede), che è il solo rapporto legale tra gli Stati:  la guerra dev’essere soltanto mezzo al fine supremo, che è la conservazione della pace; mai fine a sé stessa. Die Slaalslehre oder uber das Verhaltniss des Urstaates zum  Vernunftreiche (Siimintl. Werke). zioni preparare gli uditori, perchè è questa “ la guerra  legittima, la guerra cioè in cui non si tratta di famiglie  regnanti, ma in cui il popolo si leva a difendere la propria vita, la propria individualità, le proprie prerogative,  la guerra a eui soltanto i vili vorrebbero sottrarsi, e  per cui invece i cittadini con esultanza daranno i loro  beni, il loro sangue, rifiutando ogni proposta di pace sino  a che non siano garantiti contro ogni minaccia ulteriore. L’oratore, è vero, contrappone ancora una volta  qui il carattere germanico al carattere neolatino e specialmente al francese, per concluderne che non bisognava  aspettarsi certo da un Napoleone, strangolatore della nascente libertà della Francia rivoluzionaria, l’attuazione del  regno di giustizia che l’architetto del mondo affidava invece  al popolo tedesco; ma ciò attesta anche come il filosofo patriota fosse sempre sotto la medesima ispirazione  che lo animava veut’anni prima nel suo entusiasmo per la  rivoluzione francese; e, malgrado tutte le apparenze in contrario, è sempre la medesima ispirazione quella che traspare nel Disegno ili uno scritto politico della prima cera, destinato a illustrare il proclama del re di PRUSSIA “ Al mio popolo, quivi il Fichte, se, dinanzi al pericolo  mortale che minacciava la nazione tedesca, riconosce la  necessità di porle a capo come despota sovrano (Zwingherr)  il re di PRUSSIA, uou perciò rimane meno fedele al suo ideale  democratico; per lui — ha dovuto riconoscerlo lo stesso [Veber den Begriff des wahrhaften Krieges (Summit. Werke) «a dem Entwurfe zu etnei- politischen Schrift ini FruhUnge  (Stimma. Werke). Treifcscbke — la "Repubblica, senza re, senza principe,  senza signori, è sempre il vero Stato di ragione. Passato  il pericolo, il sovrano stesso dovrà adoperarsi con tutte le  sue forze a disabituare i suoi sudditi dalla soggezione, a Fichte nini die nationale Idee, in Historische und politiseli  Aufsalse, 4. ediz. Leipzig, Hirzel. Nodi inumo-  sehwebt ihm als hòchtes Zini vor Augeu eine “ Republik dei- Deutschen  oline FUrsten und Erbadel dodi er begreift, dosa diesea Zini in  weiter Ferne liege. Fui- jetzt gilt ee da* “ die Deutscbeu sioh selbst  mit Bewus 9 tsein maoheu „ ». Si, è vero, il Fichte colloca in un  tempo ancora assai lontano la vagheggiala attuazione del suo ideale  repubblicano, al punto che uno ilei frammenti di una sua opera po¬  litica, scritta a Kònigsberg e rimasta incompiuta s’intitola: La repubblica tedesca sotto il suo V." protettore (Die Republik der Deutschen su Anfani des  sirei- und zwanzigsten Jahrhunderls, un ter ihrem fiinften Reichsvogtei,  ina intanto quale coraggioso e severo linguaggio rivoluzionario egli  tiene contro i principi alemanni, cosi in questo frammento come altrove! Cou la spietata crudeltà del chirurgo che, per guarire radicalmente una piaga purulenta, affonda il bisturi nel pili vivo delle carni,  egli mette a nudo tutti i difetti e le turpitudini del suo tempo e del  suo paese e propone come rimedio una nuova costituzione, la quale  dovrebbe stabilire l’eguaglianza di tutti' i popoli teutonici e non am¬  mettere altra disuguaglianza tra gl’individui elio non sia quella del-  p ingegno; una costituzione adatta a una nazione come la germanica,  la quale, die’egli, pressoché incurante del giudizio dello altre nazioni, ha la caratteristica di raccogliersi in se stessa e di min chiedere nulla più che di vivere pacificamente secondo il proprio genio. Una nazione, la quale, còme la tedesca, non mira che ad affermare  e conservare per sé la propria torma disesistenza (ibr eigentìiiimliches  St'jti) e in nessun modo a imporla ad altri (keinesweges anderen es  aufzudringen), non senza intenzione é stata collocata in mezzo a popoli , i quali, tosto che abbiano acquistato una mediocre quantità di  coltura, sentono il bisogno di diffonderla al di fuori; nell’eterno di¬  segno della storia umana essa è destinata a servire di diga a questa  intempestiva invadenza e a fornire non solo a sé stessa , ma a tutti  gli altri popoli d’Europa la garanzia di poter progredire, ciascuno a  suo modo, verso il fine comune (sie seg [die deutsche Natimi ], im  eteigen Entwurfe eines Menschengeschlechles jm Qanzen, bestimint, als  ein Damm dazustehen gegen jene unzeitige Zudringlichheit, und uni  renderli, in altri termini, capaci di fare a meno di lui.. u Se  cosi non dovesse avvenire nel futuro della Germania —  esclama egli con forza — importerebbe poco che una parte  di essa fosse governata da un maresciallo francese come  Bernadotte, nel cui spirito almeno sono passate le visioni  entusiasmanti della libeità, piuttosto che da un signorotto  tedesco, tronfio d’orgoglio, immorale e di una brutalità e  di un’arroganza sfrontate „ ('). Quando si leggano queste  parole contenute in quel medesimo Scritto politico della pri¬  mavera. ISIS, che non interamente a torto si è potuto con¬  siderare come il luogo letterario in cui l’autore si è più  inoltrato sulla via del nazionalismo, e quando si ricordi il  noto particolare della vita del Fichte, ili avere cioè dopo la disastrosa campagna di Russia, impedito come un orrendo delitto il macello a tradimento della  guarnigione lfaucese rimasta a Berlino, chi vorrà ancora  vedere nel nostro filosofo un pangermanista a cui si possa  far risalire la responsabilità non solo delle teorie insensate  degli odierni teutomani, ma persino del cinismo satanico  con cui e per terra e per aria e per mare pretendono apnichf tuie sich, sonderà nudi alien anderen europaischen Vblkern die  Garantie zu leisten, ilass sie auf dire eigene Weise laufen konnten  zìi detti gemeinsamen Siete) (Sdmmtl. Werke). Quale  stridente contrasto tra l'ufficio storico-politico che il Pielite asse¬  gnava alla nazione tedesca o quello che la Germania odierna pretende arrogarsi ! Aus dem Enluourfe eie. {Siimitili. ÌVerke). « Weun  wir dahor nieht im Auge behielten, vvas Deutschland zu werden hat,  so 18ge an sich nicht so viel durun, ob ein franzusischer Marscliall,  wie Bernadotte, an dem weuigstens friiher begeisternde Bilder der  Freiheit voriibergegangen sind, oder ein deutscher aufgehaseuer Edel-  maun, ohne Sitten uud mit Rohlieit und frechem Ueberrauthe, iiber  eineu Theil von Deutschland gebiete. ] plicarle i novelli barbari odierni, i rossi devastatori joiù veri  e maggiori dello stesso Attila flagellum Dei? Tanto più tempestivo, e tanto più salutare e conforte¬  vole ci sembra, dunque, dinanzi alla mostruosa degenerazione del senso morale di cui dà spettacolo l’odierna nazione  tedesca, ostentando di non riconoscere altro diritto all’infuori del despotismo e della forza bruta, rievocare dalla  letteratura classica di questa stessa nazione la dottrina morale di uno dei più grandi assertori e della forza del diritto  e del diritto che individui e pispoli hanno alla giustizia,  all’indipendenza, alla libertà.  Chi abbia seguito nella storia della filosofia le vicende  toccate alla dottrina di  Fichte ('), avrà notato come  al grande entusiasmo e ai vivaci dibattiti suscitati dal suo  primo apparire succedesse per vari decenni un immeritato  oblio, dovuto al predominio delle 1 dottrine uscite dal suo  seno e specialmente dello hegelismo, i cui rappresentanti,  imponendo alla storia della filosofia un loro preconcetto di  scuola, quello cioè di non tener conto nella speculazione  prehegeliana se non di quanto avesse contribuito a preparare il sistema del loro maestro, avevano abituato a vedere  nel Fichte nulla più che il pensatore da cui era derivato  un deciso indirizzo idealist ico alla speculazione post kantiana. Vani furono gli sforzi del figlio ilei Ficht.e, Ema-  Ofr. in proposito A. Ravà, Introduzione allo studi» tirila filosofia (li Fichte, Modena, Formiggiui, V., per es., Karl Ludw. Michelet, Geschichte der lefzten Sy-  steme der Philosophie in Deutschland voli Kant bis Hegel (Berlin), in cui alla prima filosofia del Fichte seno dedicate le  miele Ermanno, per mostrare il valore che la filosofia, paterna aveva per sè stessa. Soltanto col risvegliarsi dello spirito nazionale germanico,  risorse la fortuna del grande rigeneratore della coscienza   tedesca, del filosofo popolare, dell’oratore eloquente, del fervido nazionalista, ilei supposto pangermanista; ma, appunto  per questa circostanza, l’attenzione fu rivolta di preferenza  alla sua filosofia politica, arbitrariamente o artificiosamente  interpretata, e il centenario della nascita del Fichte fu solennemente celebrato da tutta la Germania ilei voi. I, e alla seconda filosofia;  A. Oli', avendo avuto il torto di prendere quest’opera come guida  principale per una conoscenza della filosofia tedesca postkantiana, fu  trattò a un’eccessiva reazione contro il Kant e contro lo hegelismo  nel suo libro: Hegel ri la philosophie allemande (Paris).  Di Em. Ehm. Fichte, oltre le Prefazioni (dianzi ricordate) a  vari degli undici voli, delle Opere complete di G. A. Pielite, vedi ancora:  i Beitràge sur Charuk'teristik dar ncueren Philosophie (Sulzbach)  di cui la 2.“ ediz. può considerarsi come un’opera nuova; il  voi. Fichte ' s Lehen and litterarlscher Briefwechsel (Sulzbach,  ISSO), con cui, prima ancora che con la pubblicazione delle opere, cercò  richiamare l’attenzione sulla personalità e sull’attività pratica del  padre, affinchè nascesse cosi gradatamente anche l’interesse per il  suo pensiero; e infine V Introduci ion (in frane.) alla Méthodc pour  arriver à la vie blenheureuse par Fichte (traduz. Bouillier) (Paris). V., per es.: t due voli, del Busse, Fidile und sei ne Bezìehung  zar Gegenwart des deutsehen Volkes (Halle), la conferenza  dello Zeli.eh, l'idi lo aìs Politiker (ristampata in Zelleh, Vor-  Irdgr und Abliandlinigen, Leipzig) e l’opuscolo del Lassalle, Melile's poìilisches Vermdchtnis and die neuesle Gegenwart  (Hamburg, ristampato in Lassallk, Reden und Schriflen, Berlin). Bisogna, invece, uscire dalla Germania per trovare un’espo¬  sizione prettamente storica e serenamente obiettiva di tutta la filo¬  sofia del Fichte quale si ha nella solida opera del Willm, Histoire de  la Philosophie allemande drpttis Kant jusqu’k Hegel (Paris), opera premiata, su relazione del de iléinusat, dall'istituto di con significato più politico che filosofico; — mia singolare  fatalità, poi, (che sembra un’ironia della storia a chi intenda il vero senso delle teorie politiche del Fichte) ha voluto che il cèntenario della sua morte coincidesse  con l’irrompere improvviso della premeditata aggressione  pangermanistica! Francia e ancora utile e pregevole, nonostante la sua vetustà; la si  può leggere con profitto anche dopo le ampie ed eccellenti monografie  posteriori del Fischer (Fichles Leben,\Verke und Lehre, Heidelberg) e del Leon (La philosophie de Fichte et ses rapportò  uvee la conscience coti tempo faine, Paris), il quale ultimo ha dedicato al suo soggetto per molti anni un lungo studio e un grande  amore. Questo carattere politico-nazionalistico degli scritti usciti in  occasione del centenario del Fichte fu ben rilevato da von Rkichi.IN-  Memusco nel suo articolo l)er hundertòte Geburistng ./. O. Fichtes  (in Zeitschrift fiir Philosophie uud philos. Kritih, Halle). Vedine la lunga lista nell’UKBERWKO-HEiNZE. Grundriss  der Geschiclite dcr Philosophie, IV, Berlin; qui basti ricordare per tutti il discorso già citato del Treitbchke, Fichte i ind die  nutionale Idee. L’uso e l’abuso del Fichte a scopi patriottici e impe¬  rialistici non cessò io Germania col conseguimento dell'unità tedesca ;  più di una volta le conferenze tenute nelle università tedesche in occa¬  sione del natalizio dell’Imperatore hanno avuto per argomento pre  ferito la personalità o qualche dottrina particolare del Fichte: per es.,  all’università di Strasburgo, terra di conquista, il Windel-  band faceva un’alta affermazione di germaniSmo parlando del Videa dello  Stato tedesco secondo il Fichte (Windelband, Fiehte's Idee des dent-  schen Stante, Freiburg i. Breisgau. All’università di  Kiel, Golz Martius inneggiava al cinquantesimo anno di Guglielmo II,  ricordando la vita e l’opera “ di un uomo, il quale ha grandemente  cooperato all’elevazione e all’emancipazione delle forze morali della  Germania, e della cui azione efficacissima, insieme e accanto alla con¬  cezione politica dello Stein, ricorre oggi il centenario; di un uomo, a  cui appunto ora la nazione tedosca si appresta a dimostrare la pro¬  pria gratitudine inalzandogli un monumento nella capitale [e il monumento è poi sorto a Berlino], insomma, di Giovanni Amedeo Fichte „.  (Redc zur Feier des Geburtstages seiner Majeshit des Deutschen Kai-  sers Kdttigs von Preiissen Wilhelm 11 von Golz Martius, Kiel). Se nella seconda metà del sec. XIX tra molti scritta'  rolli di occasione cominciò ad apparire qualche studio serio  di tutta l’opera fichtiaua, il suo aspetto, per lo spostamento dell’attenzione dal lato politico ai fondamenti teo¬  retici del sistema, fu non meno unilaterale di quello che  continuarono a presentare, in tempi più recenti, le disser¬  tazioni te le monografie sulla dottrina giuridico-sociale del [Ricordiamo, per es. : il Lòwio, Die Philosophie Fichte’s iiach  (lini Gesaimntergehnisse ihrer EntuHchelung und in ihrem Verhiilt-  nitise zìi Kant unii Spinosa (Stuttgart) [l’Autore, seguace del  dualismo de[ Giintlior e perciò d’indirizzo radicalmente opposto a  tinello del Fichte, mira specialmente a mostrare la logica coerenza in  cui le due diverse forme assunte dal sistema fichtiauo stanno al prin¬  cipio fondamentale del sistema stesso anche là dove, secondo lui, si contraddicono, pei concluderne l’insufficienza del principio stesso]; il L.\s-  soN, .Fichte Un Verhaltniss zu Kirche und Slaat (Berlin)  [l’Autore, dominato, com’è, dall’ idea religiosa quale può rientrare nella  concezione hegelismi, considera fondamentale la seconda forma della  lilosolia lichtiana, quella in cui prevale il pensiero religioso, pur giudicandola non riuscita e insoddisfaeeute] ; e sopra tutti il già ricor¬  dato Fibciusr, Fichtes Leben, Werke und Lehre (Heidelberg, Geschichtc der  neueren Fhilosophic) opera veramente classica per la larghissima e  accuratissima esposizione di quasi tutte le opere del grande idealista;  in essa si sostiene la tesi che le due forme della filosofia fichtiana non sarebbero che duo  opposte direzioni assuute rispetto allo stesso principio fondamentale  del sistema: uel primo periodo il Fichte, partendo dalla lilosolia teore¬  tica, si sarebbe elevato alla filosofia del diritto, alla lilosolia morale,  alla filosofia religiosa, all'Assoluto; quivi, infatti, il postulato di  quell'ordiuamento morale del mondo, che per lui la tutt uno con 1 In  assoluto e con Dio (die lebendige unii loirkende moralische Ordnung  itti selbst Goti), è il punto di arrivo; noi secondo periodo, invertito il  cammino e trasformato quel postulato da punto di arrivo in putito di  partenza, il Fidilo avrebbe preceduto dall’Assoluto alla religione, alla  morale, al diritto e alla scienza. — Più denigratore che profoudo è  stato giustamente giudicato, infine, il libro del NoàCK, J. G. Fichte  nach sei non Leben, Leliren und Wirken (Leipzig). filosofo tedesco, inopportunamente staccata da tutto il resto  deli’edifizio speculativo. Anche nella maggior parte degli odierni studi storici  sul Lichte divenuti più che mai frequenti dopoché al  moto neo-kantiano iniziatosi al grido: ritorniamo al Kant!  (zurìick zu Kant!) si associò, come orientamento filo¬  sofico, un moto neo-fichtiano: ritorniamo al Fichte!j(zuriick  zu Fichte!) che è andato sempre più accentuandosi dagli  ultimi decenni del secolo scorso ai giorni nostrf  è  \11 ritorno al Kant si suole farlo risalire alla celebre lezione  dello Zellar: Ueber die Bedeutung und Aufgabe der Er/ iJnntnistheorie  (Heidelberg); ma già il Weisse pronunziava a Lipsia  un discorso: In welchem Sitine sich die deutsche Philisopkie wieder  a " Kanl zu orientieren hai (Leipzig),. dal quale si rileva la sua  avversione alla dialettica hegeliana e il suo sforzo por contrapporre  al panteismo idealistico un teismo etico.   n? V ' m P ro P oa ìto I’Uebeuweg-Hbinzb, Grundtjss der Geschichle  (ter p/iilosop/tie seit Beginn des neunzehnten Jahrhundcrts (Berlin), Elnwìrkung Fichtes auf neuere Lahren. Se ne ricava il largo é  potente influsso che la filosofia fichtiana, intesa sia come idealismo  soggettivo, sia come idealismo etico, sia come panpsichismo, ha esercitato e sopra le varie nuove dottrine sorte in Germania e sopra menti  speculative di altri paesi (Inghilterra, Nord-America, ecc.). Per la recente e assai ricca letteratura intorno al nostro filosofo vedi lo stesso  voi. dell’Uebervveg-Heinze, Baldwin, Dictionary of philosophy and psychology (London), e per quella recentissima, ancor yù abbondante, cfr. i  voli, editi da Rude, Die P/iilosop/tie der Gegemoarl (Heidelberg) e contenenti pressoché tutta la bibliografia filosofica. Nel centenario della morte  del Fichte e scoppio della guerra europea) la Bibliotheh fUr Philosop/tie,  edita da Stein, pubblica l’opuscolo di Stàhler, ./. Fichte, ein deutscher Den/ter (conferenza tenuta nel circolo tedesco di Charcow in Russia), in cui FA., movendo dal bisogno  spirituale oggi sempre più intensamente sentito di una nuova orientazione circa la concezione del mondo, affermava essere appunto Fichte il più atto a fornire una chiara risposta alla questione, una forse da rilevare una certa esclusività d’interesse, corrispondente all’ interesse prevalentemente critico e gnoseologico che ha animato siuo a ieri il pensiero contemporaneo;  di guisa che in questa rifioritura di studi fichtiani, mentre   alla teoria della conoscenza ò assegnato per lo più il posto d’onore, le altre parti del sistema, in ispecie le più pratiche, vengono relativamente lasciate nell’ombra. Il che  nuoce alla dottrina e anche alla figura del nostro filosofo,  le quali così risultano monche e diminuite, e spesso oscurale e falsate; quando invece il Fichte reclamava sempre e  vivamente che i futuri critici non giudicassero la sua concezione se non nella sua totalità, se non ponendosi cioè in  quel punto di vista centrale, da cui si dominano e s'illuminano tutti gli aspetti; tanto più, poi, che nessuu’altra con¬  cezione come la sua aspirava a essere una rigorosa unità, organica, inscindibile, completa, a rispecchiare, quasi, queiraltra rigorosa unità, altrettanto massiccia quanto severa  e semplice, che era la personalità stessa del Fichte, il quale  appartiene all’eletta schiera di spiriti eminenti che nella  storia deH’uinauità seppero unire in intima connessione la  speculazione filosofica con la vita vissuta, fondendo armonicamente pensiero e azione, investendo del medesimo prorisposta che 11 non ha nè corna nè denti (die u tceder Horner nodi  Zàhne hai), ed essere sempre il Fichte “ la stella polare (der Leit-  sternj verso la quale possiamo di nuovo orientare la nostra vita e il  nostro sapere „ (cfr. la prefazione). Peccato che l’opuscolo dello  Srahler uscisse accompagnato nello stesso anno da altri due volu¬  metti della stessa Biblioteca, riguardanti, sebbene con intento pura¬  mente storico, figure filosofiche ben diverse dall’ideale figura del Fichte,  e di significato più sintomatico in quel nefasto anno, e cioè: il Protagoras-Niclzsche-Stirner di B. Iachsiann e il Nietzsches Metaphysik-  limi ihr Verhdltniss zu Erkenntnialheorie u. Ethih di S. Flemming.   fondo interesse le più fredde concezioni astratte della ricerca  teoretica e le più ardenti questioni concrete dell’attività  pratica, intensificando la luce diffusa dalla loro opera in-  stauratricè nel campo del sapere col calore irradiantesi dalla  loro missione riformatrice nel campo del dovere.  E invero non si può negare al sistema del nostro filosofo la sua principale caratteristica : quella di essere cioè  È veramente ammirevole nel Fichte — che Zeller giustamente  definiva anche per il carattere morale un idealista nato — il rapporto  stretto che uni sempre la sua vita alla sua dottrina. “ Jamais la manière  d’agir et di sentir — cosi scrive Cristiano Bauthoi.mf.ss nella sua Ili-  gioire critique des doefriu^s religieuses de la philosophie moderne (Paris) — jamais la conduite et l’àrae ne fu-  rent séparées chez lui de la manière de penser et de voir. Ce qu : il  croyait était eu méme temps le nerf de sa volonté, le soufflé et. l’in-  spiration de son existence entière. Prenant au sérieux tous les mou-  vements de son intelligence, il vonlait vivre de ce qu' il coucevait,  et taire vivre ce qu’ il savait, cornine il ne vonlait savoir que ce qu’ il  pouvait aimer, admirer et pratiquer. Ce n’ótait pas lii l’héroique  effet d’uu parti pris, c’était le propre de sa naturo méme, où lo seu-  timent de la valeur morale, de la diguité personnelle, se confondait  avec une telle hauteur de pensée, avec une hardiesso de speculatimi  si intrèpide, qu’ elle pouvait, semidei- la rósolution d’nn caractère l'u-  domptable. La ilestiuée, il est vrai, avait surtout coutribué à Pac-  croissemeut de nette énergie, de cette trempe primitive. Fiofite avait  eu longtemps à combattre, non seulement des adversaires et des enne-  mie, mais les soucis et la misère, le froid ot la faim. Avant, do lutter  pour la libertà de penser et pour P indépendance de sa patrie, il avaiti  pour s'assurer le pain dn jour, endnré tout.es les rigueurs matórielles  ot sociales; et de tant d’èpreuves diverses, il était sorti plus vigou-  reux, plus courageux, plus convaiucu de ce que peut et vaut la no-  b lesse d’àme. Ausai ne saurait-ou contempler, sans ètre à.la foia tou-  chó et fortifié, le tableau de ses souffrauces et de ses victoires, na'i-  vemeut et inodesteraeut trace dans cette Vie et correspondance, qu’ a  publiée lo lils qui porte si eonvenablemeut son illustre nom. con tutti i suoi difetti, i suoi errori e, diciamolo pure,  la sua oscurità — un vero sistema. In esso trovi subito  un’idea che l’ha generato tutto quanto, che ne è il centro,  l’anima e ne fa l’unità : idea ovunque presente e ovunque  feconda, da cui nascono il metodo, le divisioni, gli svolgimenti, le applicazioni, e da cui germogliano in ogni direzione soluzioni, buone o cattive, a tutti i problemi teore¬  tici e pratici. Esso è non solo uno nel suo insieme e omogeneo nelle sue parti, ma universale: tutte le grandi que¬  stioni intorno a Dio, all’uomo, alla natura, e ai loro rapporti, rientrano nel suo quadro e vi si coordinano; vi si  potranno notare lacune, rifacimenti, mutevolezza di atteggiamenti e di espressioni, indefinitezza di disegno e incompiutezza di linee, ma ciò va attribuito più alle contingenze  esteriori in mezzo a cui il sistema si svolse (‘), che non  alla sua idea ispiratrice, la quale, posta l’universalità della  dottrina a cui dà vita, non poteva non esercitare un in¬  flusso auch’esso universale sulla coltura del tempo e delle  età posteriori sino a noi, assicurando così al nome dell’autore una fama imperitura nella storia dello spirito umano. Intorno itilo svolgimento del pensiero fichtiano et'r. \V.Kaiutz, S ludi<’u z. EnUoicklungsgeschichU der Fichteschen Wissemchaftslehre (Berlin) e nnolie E. Focus, Vom Werden rlreier Denker : Fichte,  Schelling, Schleiermachcr (Tiibingen).  cfr. anello IC. Voit LÀNDlSK,  Oeschichte der Philosophie (Leipzig) — Schlegel considera la Wissenschaftslehre di Fichte  una delle “ tre maggiori tendenze del secolo (circi griissten Tetidenzen  iteti Jahrshunderts) „ accanto al Wilhelm Meister del Goethe e alla  Rivoluzione francese. E innegabile che il filosofo di Jena fu il filosofo per eccellenza della scuola romantica, le cui idee, a giudizio  concorde degli storici e in particolare dello I-Iaym, che su ciò insiste  ctm forza (cfr. Die romantische Schuie), sono derivate in Quale questa idea ispiratrice? È l’idea più alta e, pei  la coscienza comune, la più paradossale che sia sorta nella  storia della filosofìa : la sintesi, cioè, di due termini in apparenza così inconciliabili come l’io e il non-io, il cono¬  scere e l’essere, la libertà e la necessità, lo spirito e la natura, nel monismo superiore, nella “ superiore filosofia  (Jiohere Phihsophie) direbbe lo Schelling, della libertà. Il sistema del Fichte consiste, intatti, in una * filosofia  della libertà e poiché il suo principio metafisico s’identifica con l’ideale morale, giustamente fu chiamato un Idealismo elico. La vecchia metafisica s’intitolava scienza  dell’essere, ontologia, e nell’essere riponeva l’assoluto, il  reale, e dall’essere derivava ciò che dev’essere l’ideale. Secondo  Fichte, invece l’assoluto, il principio ultimo e supremo da cui veniamo e a cui tendiamo non ù 1 essei e, ma    grandissima parte dalla Dottrina tirila scienza. E si spiega la predi-  lezione dei romantici per un sistema come il ttchtiano, il «piale tra¬  sforma il kantismo ancora esitante in un idealismo assoluto, e a  tutto uscire, sotto il rispetto metafisico, da «piella stessa genialità  dell’ lo, da cui i romantici tutto derivavano sotto il rispetto estetico. Fu detto anche Idealismo soggettivo, ma tale definizione e ei-  ronea, perchè V Io che il Fichte pone al principio di tutto il suo sistema non è l’io individuale, sì bene 1 ’/o collettivo, universale, che  sta a fondamento di tutti gl’individui, l’/o,assoluto, l’originaria in¬  cognita X, dalla cui unità, ancora chiusa in sè stessa e incosciente,  dovrà uscire, in virtù di quel misterioso urto (Ansiosa), che è il t eus  er m china di tutta la metafisica Uchtiana, l’antitesi cosciente del  soggettivo e dell’oggettivo. Il mio lo assoluto - dice Fichte -  non è l’individuo; soltanto cortigiani offesi e filosofi irritati contro  di me hanno cosi male interpretato la mia filosofia, per attribuirmi  l’infame dottrina dell’egoismo pratico (mein absolutes Teh tst mcht  das Individuili» ; so haben beleidigte Hóflinge und drgerhchc Phiìo-  sophm mich erklàrt, uni mir die sehandliche Lehre des prahtischen  Egoismus anzudichten. Cfr. G. Ws ioi.lt. Zar GescMchte derneue-  reti Philosophie (Hamburg). il dovere, è un ideale che non è, ma dev'essere. L’essere  in quanto essere, in quanto quid stabile e compiuto, in  quanto cosa o materia inerte, a rigore non esiste ; la fissità, l’immobilità di ciò che chiamiamo sostanza, sostrato,   materia, non è che apparenza. Agire, tendere, volere, ecco in che consiste la realtà vera. L’universo è il fenomeno  della Volontà pura, il simbolo dell’ Idea morale, che è la  vera cosa in se, il vero Assoluto. Filosofare significa com  vincersi che l'essere non è nulla, che il dovere è tutto ;  significa riflettere sul proprio io empirico, individuale,  unica ultivilà libera che tende incessantemente ad attuare  ciò che dev' essere, ossia il Dovere, il Bene, /.’ Io assoluto, universale; significa acquistare la coscienza di por-  lare con sè la libertà che crea e soggioga il mondo, appunto per attuare il Dovere, il Bene, l'Ideale morale,  l Io o la Libertà assoluta.   Il Kant aveva bene ammesso che il soggetto, ossia la  ragione e la libertà, impone una forma e una legge agli  oggetti della conoscenza: dell’ Io egli aveva fatto, si, il  legislatore del mondo, ma non era giunto a farne addirittura il creatore; poiché aveva lasciato sussistere ancora,  ili fronte al soggetto, uu oggetto, una cosa in sè, capace  d’imporre un limite al soggetto. Per il Fichte, invece, il  quale dà all’ io empirico un significato universale, questa  pretesa cosa in sè, ultimo residuo del dogmatismo, è una  chimera che bisogna esorcizzare, perchè è semplicemente  la parte dell’ Io ancora incosciente che il progresso della  conoscenza trae a poco a poco alla luce della coscienza ;  sarebbe assurda, infatti, di fronte alla Libertà assoluta, alIo assoluto e universale, una materia non creata da lui  e a lui imposta dal di fuori. E poi, questa misteriosa cosa in sè. supposta al ili là di ogni conoscenza, questo essere  senza intelligenza, a che si riduce, se non a un contenuto  mentale ( Oeilankending ) e quasi a un fantasma, creato da  noi stessi a spiegarci le sensazioni e le rappresentazioni  che in noi sorgono, non per libera creazione nostra, ma  prodotte dal di fuori. Se un limite esiste all'attività del-  ]> jo , gli è perchè l ’lo stesso lo pone liberamente alla propria attività illimitata, con lo scopo di avere il modo di sop¬  primerlo e di esentare cosi quella stessa attività propria e  di rivelare a si stesso la propria essenza, che è la libertà.  La moralità e la virtù, del resto, non suppongono lo sforzo  e la lotta? bisogna, dunque, per attuarle, crearsi perenue-  mente ostacoli e superarli; onde V Io nel primo momento  della propria evoluzione “ pone sè stesso „ (tesi), nel secondo momento u contrappone a sè il non-Io (antitesi),  e nel terzo momento “ si riconosce nel non-Io (sintesi);  tre aiti, questi, a cui corrispondono i tre modi di esistenza,  i tre oggetti del sapere, che sono l’uomo, il mondo, Dio.  Guai se l’7o desistesse un solo istante dali’esercizio della  propria libera attività! cesserebbe immantinente di esistere;  di qui il carattere titanico che il Fischer ammira nel-  p Jo fichtiano, destinato per natura sua a continuamente  agire, produrre, volere. Per approssimarsi in qualche modo al concetto dell lo iich-  tiauo nel quale va ricercato il fondamento di ogni esperienza, giova  fare completamente astrazione da qualsiasi contenuto rappresentalo  della nostra coscienza empirica. Dopo questa immensa sottrazione, si  consideri la rappresentazione più vuota che possa pensarsi, 1 unica  affermazione che non abbisogni di nessuna dimostrazione, il principio  logico d’identità: A è A, col quale uon si afferma nemmeno che zi  esiste, ma soltanto che: se A esiste, A dev’essere A. Orbene, quantunque con tale affermazione si formuli soltanto una vuota venta e   Un cosi intenso idealismo non era mai sorto prima.del  Pielite. Esso insegna che il variopinto e multisono mondo  sensibile, che si estende nello spazio e si svolge nel tempo,  non ha esistenza propria e indipendente : 1’ unico ch'e veramente esista è l’ lo. E lo stesso Io esiste solo in quanto  agisce. Dal suo operare, dal suo rifrangersi in In e non-lo,  sorge per lui il mondo visibile, percepibile e connesso da    non  i ponga nessuna esistenza, si compie, tuttavia, un atto del pensiero, un giudizio, e un giudizio d’incrollabile certezza, il quale porta  direttamente a porre e a riconoscere 1'esistenza reale dell’/o. Infatti,  donde proviene il verbo “è” con cui il primo A è messo in relazione col secondo A, il soggetto col predicato? Il nesso tra i due termini del giudizio è beu soltanto nell’/o e per opera dell’/o. Dunque,  nellu precedente proposizioue: A è A, ebe è la più evidente, per  quanto la più vuota di contenuto, che si possa formulare, si nasconde  già l’ lo, si trova già l’attività certa di aè stessa; perché, meutre per  A non si ha il diritto di fare, oltre il giudizio ipotetico: se A esiste,  A è A, nnehe il giudizio categorico: A esiste, in quantiche anatale  affermazione richiederebbe un’ulteriore dimostrazione, per V Io, invece,  anello se non sappiamo assolutamente nulla più di questo: che è A,  possiamo dire non solo: se V Io esiste, l’ Io è l’/o, ma altresì: l’ Io  esiste (ciò elio ricorda l’agostiniano e il cartesiano: Cogito ergo sum).  Ma V Io è, per natura sua, essenzialmente attività, e, prima ancora  di acquistare coscienza dei propri prodotti, dei propri atti, e di sè  stesso, crea, con la sua immagiuazione produttrice, perenne e inesau¬  ribile, le innumerevoli rappresentazioni, che poi lu riHeasioue farà  apparire alla sua intelligenza come oggetti, come non-lo; perchè —  va sempre ricordato questo punto originale della dottrina del Fichte  - il non-lo, ossia il mondo esterno, è posto ilall’/o inconscio, non  già dall' Io cosciente; è un prodotto, quindi, anteriore a quella rela¬  zione di antitesi e sintesi tra soggettivo e oggettivo che è la co¬  scienza, e quando la coscienza nasce, s’impone a essa come già dato.  Così, grazie a questa produzione inconscia dell’ immaginazione dell' lo  — di quell’immaginazione che già per il Descartes era il trait d’union tra l’anima e il corpo, e per il Kant l’intermediaria tra le in¬  tuizioni pure della sensibilità e le categorie dell’intelletto —, il non-lo  apparisce all’ intelligenza come un limite dal di fuori senza essere  perciò estraneo all’/o, essendo sempre un prodotto dell’/o inconscio.  leggi, il quale perciò non è che il sistema delle nostre rap¬  presentazioni, il rispecchiarsi dell’ lo nell’/o. Ma anche que¬  sto rispecchiamento non ci rivela in modo puro e immediato  ]’ intima essenza del nostro spirito, perchè non uel rappresentarsi è il nostro più alto operare, non nel rappresentarsi  è tutto il nostro Io. Noi operiamo veramente soltanto nel  libero volere morale; noi attuiamo completamente il nostro  Io soltanto «piando, con attività rinnovata al lume della  coscienza, ci sforziamo di soggiogare il mondo delle rappre¬  sentazioni scaturite dall’inesauribile fonte dell’ lo inconscio   _ il quale mondo non è che “ il materiale sensibilizzato   del nostro dovere (unsre Welt ist das versinnlichte Muterial unsrer Pjlicht)— e ci sforziamo di trasformarlo nel  mondo della libertà, nel mondo soprasensibile ed eterna¬  mente in fieri del Bene; poiché, esclama il Fichte, essere liberi è nulla, divenir liberi è il cielo (frei se‘in ist  nichts, frei wenlen ist dei' Ilimmel)! La costruzione filosofica del Fichte può dirsi monolitica,  ed è tale da superare in semplicità persino quella eretta,  da un punto di vista e con centro «li gravita affatto opposti,  dallo Spinoza: — al Jacobi il sistema del filosofo tedesco  appariva il rovescio del sistema del filosofo olaudese. E  qui sta il vantaggio della concezione fichtiana anche sulla  kantiana; il Kant non aveva tanto fornito un sistema,  quanto, piuttosto, i germi e i materiali per più sistemi;  nella lotta contro il dogmatismo e contro lo scetticismo  egli aveva voluto inalzare alla scienza propriamente detta,  più che un tempio, una fortezza; e, per rendere questa  fortezza iuespuguabile da tutti i lati, ne aveva costruito  -i bastioni quasi in tempi diversi, quasi in stile diverso :  onde nella sua filosofia non solo rimane il dualismo inconciliabile tra l’essere e il conoscere, tra il conoscere'e il  lai e, ma nell ambito stesso del conoscere manca una rigorosa unità tra i diversi poteri conoscitivi, tra la sensibilità  con lo sue intuizioni pure, l’intelletto con le sue categorie,  la ragione con le sue idee metafisiche. Il filosofa di Ko-  nigsbei'g da una parte pareva chiudere lo spirito umano  tutto nel giro del proprio mondo interno, nel fenomeno,  dall altra gli lasciava intravedere, al di là di questo mondo  interno, un altro mondo, il noumeno, avvolto sempre da  densa nebbia e sempre refrattario alla conoscenza. Donde  la domanda : questo mondo esistente in sè è quello stesso  che ci si i ivela nella voce della coscienza, ed è possibile  tiadui lo in atto con la pura e buona volontà? La risposta  del Kant, almeno nell’espressione datale dall’autore, se non  nello spirito dell’autore stesso, era stata cosi cauta, che  ognuno poteva trarne le conseguenze a suo proprio rischio.  Iusomma, non si poteva non riportare l’impressione che  nella, dotti ina kantiana la verità fosse svelata soltanto a  mezzo, e che a essa mancasse, dal punto di vista scienti¬  fico, cosi il fondamento come il coronamento. Fichte,  invece, da quel pensatore ben più ardito e deciso ch’egli  eia e che si era formato sullo stampo dello Spinoza, s’impossessò dei materiali kantiani, e fece della Critico un sistema unitario: Tutto ciò che è, è per noi; tutto ciò che  è per noi, può essere soltanto per opera nostra; nell’attività dell’ lo è racchiuso il conoscere e l’essere, il sensibile  e il soprasensibile, il reale e 1’ ideale ; nell’autocoscienza  (Se/bstbeiousstsein) — lo stesso Kant aveva già insinuato  che la misteriosa incognita nascosta sotto i fenomeni sensibili  poteva benissimo essere quella stessa che portiamo con noi —  è l’unità di tutti i poteri dello spirito, l’unità delle forme cosi del fenomeno come della cosa in sè che sta a fonda¬  mento del fenomeno, l’unità del sistema delle nostre rappresentazioni e del sistema dei nostri doveri, l’unità della  nostra essenza teoretica e della nostra essenza pratica :  1’ unità, e con 1’ unità il fondamento e il coronamento di  tutta la dottrina. Se il Reinhold aveva cercato un principio  superiore, come principio unico indispensabile a dare forma  sistematica di scienza alla dottrina della conoscenza, se il  Beck aveva interpretato lo spirito della filosofia kantiana  nel senso idealistico, se il Jacobi aveva reclamato l’elimi¬  nazione della “ cosa in sè „, ecco nella filosofia del Fichte  soddisfatti tutti insieme questi desideri, e in pari tempo  fornita ai risultati della Critica della ragione 1’ evidenza  richiesta dallo Schulze. La filosofia di Kant, raccoglie, a dir cosi, in un'unità vivente  tutti i germi e principi motori del pensiero moderno, e il sistema del  Fichte non è che una delle direzioni che poteva prendere il kantismo. La direzione fichtiana, quindi, scaturisce naturalmente dalle  premesso kantiane, ma non deve considerarsi perciò., come vorrebbe  il Leon, quusi l’unico e necessario completamento del kantismo: altre  direzioni, assai divergenti dalla fichtiana, l'anno capo legittimamente  aneli’ esse al Kaut., dei cui discepoli può ripetersi ciò che Cicerone  dicova dei diversi discepoli di Socrate: alii aliuiì suinpsenuit  il  Fichte è un kantiano all’ incirca nel medesimo senso che Platone fu  un socratico, e sta allo Spinoza come Platone a Parmenide; col  Kaut afferma l’ideale morale, con lo Spinoza l’unità dei “ due moudi  onde la Bua filosofia, dicemmo già, è un’originale sintesi, forse Unica  nel suo genere ai tempi moderni, di ciò che sembra assolutamente  inconciliabile: il monismo e la libertà, il mondo delle cause o il  inondo dei fini. Anziché ritornare sui singoli problemi della Critica  della ragione, egli s’impadronisce del centro animatore di quella  Critica, e trae fuori dal pensiero fondamentale dell’ auto-attività  dello spirito, in quanto forza reale e fine a sé stesso, un uuovo quadro  del mondo di grandiosa arditezza, entro il quale l’idealismo, che  nella filosofia kautiana era latente sotto 1’ involucro di prudenti re-  La filosofia del Fichte, abbiamo detto, è una filosofia  della Libertà, poiché ha per principio una realtà assoluta,  intesa come Io pratico, come Attività pura, come Auto-determinazione, ed è uno sforzo poderoso per dedurre da questo  principio oltreché le condizioni della vita etica, anche le  funzioni della ragione teorica, celebrando in tal modo quel  primato della ragione pratica che il Kant aveva già pro¬  clamato , e facendo perciò della ragione pura un organo  della moralità. L’attività dell’ Io assoluto alterna i suoi  atti di produzione inconscia con i suoi atti di riflessione  cosciente, la sua direzione centrifuga ed espansiva che si  protende verso l’infinito, con la direzione centripeta e coustrizioni, viene chiamato a potente vita, e ciò che di sublime il  grande lilosofo dell’ imperativo categorica aveva insegnato intorno  alla libertà morale di fronte alla necessità naturale, viene tradotto  dal linguaggio di un moderato contegno in quello di un energico en¬  tusiasmo. li mondo può comprendersi soltanto in base allo spirito e  lo spirito soltanto in base alla volontà. La dottrina del Fichte è tutta  nel vivere e nel fare, tanto vero che comincia non con la definizione  di un concetto, ma con la richiesta di un atto (Thathandlung): poni  te stesso, fai con coscienza ciò che bui fatto inconsapevolmente ogni  qual volta ti sei chiamato io, analizza questo atto di autocoscienza  e riconosci nei suoi elementi le energie da cui scaturisce ogni realtà  Questa intima vitalità del principio lichtiaiio, che ricorda l'atto puro  aristotelico e il perpetuo divenire eracliteo, e in conseguenza della  quale Dio, anziché una sostanza assoluta già compiuta, sarebbo un  ordino cosmico sempre attenutesi, mai attuato, si ridette anche uel-  l’opera filosòfica dell’autore, il cui spirito, fiero e irrequieto, si svolse  iu continua lotta non solo nella pratica, ma anche nel pensiero. Nelle  sue lezioni, come nei suoi scritti, spesso egli riprende daccapo la  serie delle sue deduzioni e sempre iu modo diverso e quasi conver¬  sando coi suoi uditori e coi suoi lettori, mai trascurando le possibili  obiezioni da parte di questi; sicché il suo filosofare sembra compiersi  trattile che arresta la prima e respinge V Io in sè stesso;  pone a sè stessa l’urto (Anstoss) della sensazione, il limite  della rappresentazione, l’intoppo del non-Io ; è insomma  teoretica : soltanto al fine di diventare pratica. Tutto  1’ apparato della conoscenza non serve che a darci la possibilità di compiere il nostro dovere: quel dovere che è  1’ unica realtà vera, 1’ unico in-sè (An-sich) del mondo fenomenico, perchè le cose sono in sè ciò che noi dobbiamo  farne ; 1’ io teoretico pone oggetti, affinchè 1’ io pratico  trovi resistenze (il tedesco Gegenstand = oggetto è qui  preso come sinonimo di Widerstund = resistenza) ; l’oggettività esiste soltanto per essere la materia indispensa¬  bile all’azione, per ricevere da questa la forma che deve  elaborarla e inalzarla sì da rendere sempre più visibile    alla presenza d’interlocutori, è come un filosofare in comune e per  più rispetti richiama alla mente il dialogo platonico. Del resto al  Fichte sarebbe parsa vana una filosofia avulsa dal suo ambiente naturale, l’umanità, ond'egli si faceva un dovere di agire e influire  energicamente sui suoi contemporanei e su quanti fossero in relazione con lui , e visse in continuo coutatto col mondo e con la società; al contrario del Kant, tra la vita e la speculazione del quale  non appare certo Io stretto connubio che è nel nostro filosofo ; infatti, i rapporti sociali e tutto il contegno esteriore del grande solitario di Konigsberg furono, rispetto alla sua vita interiore e al suo  pensiero, cosi indifferenti come il guscio al gheriglio ma turo ; mentre  il Kant per molti e molti auui aveva portato entro di so,i suoi gravi  pensieri senza che alcuno sospettasse nemmeno che cosa accadesse  nell’ intimo di questo professore che senza differenza dagli altri teneva  i suoi corsi universitari, il Fichte, invece, impaziente di ogni ritardo  nella missione rigeneratrice, a cui con orgogliosa coscienza di sè si  sentiva chiamato, lasciava prorompere la manifestazione delle sue  idee, anche se non definitivamente elaborate, man mano che scaturivano dal profondo della sua anima agile e trasmutabile e disposta  agli atteggiamenti più diversi secondo i campi a cui si applicava, secondo i problemi ché affrontava, secondo i momenti in cui agiva.  1’ attività dell lo. In conclusione , noi siamo Intelligenza  Per poter essere Volontà. La Dottrina della Scienza,  quindi , nel sistema del Fichte, è tutta in servigio della  filosofia pratica, la quale , attraverso la Dottrina del Diritto, va a culminare nella Dottrina morale, e'mira ad  attuare quel regno dei fini che il Kant contrapponeva al  regno delle cause, e che jier il nostro filosofo consiste nell’adempimento completo del Dovere, nel dominio assoluto  dell’ lo, nel trionfo supremo della Libertà. E invero, mentre da un lato la Dottrina della Scienza  ci apprende che il fondo, l’essenza dello spirito umano  non è l’intelligenza ma 1’ attività, non il pensare ma il  volere — nella forma , almeno, in cui attività e volere  sono accessibili all’uomo , e che l’intelligenza — pur  essendo inseparabile dall’attività, da cui è condizionata e  di cui e condizione — resta subordinata all’ attività come  la forma al proprio contenuto, come la riflessione al proprio  oggetto, d’altra parte la Dottrina morale ci mostra il procedimento con cui lo spirito umano si sforza — il che è  preciso suo dovere — di prendere coscienza, mediante l’intelligenza, di quell’attività pura, di quella volontà, di  quella libertà infinita, che è appunto il fondo suo , la sua  essenza assoluta. Dal che risulta evidente lo stretto nesso  che avvince la Dottrina morale alla Dottrina della Scienza ;  quella si deduce direttamente dai principi di questa, in  quanto la moralità, secondo il Fichte, non è che uno dei  momenti pii importanti, anzi il più essenziale, dell’ attua¬  zione di quell’ Io puro , di quella Libertà assoluta che la  Dottrina della Scienza pone al di là dei limiti di ogni  coscienza, e da cui l’io empirico deriva e a cui l’io empirico aspira. Il passaggio dall’ Io puro, assoluto e infinito, per via di limiti e determinazioni, all’ io empirico, relativo  e finito, ossia dalla Libertà all’Intelligenza, è il problema  a cui pili specialmente si applica la Dottrina della Scienza ;  il passaggio dall’io empirico, relativo e finito, per via di  superamenti e liberazioni, all’Io puro, assoluto, infinito, è  il problema a cui più specialmente si applica la Dottrina  morale. L’ un problema è il reciproco dell’ altro, e la soluzione di entrambi dipende dalla soluzione dell’antinomia  tra la finitezza dell’Io-intelligenza, attività oggettivante (che pone oggetti, limitazioni, resistenze), e l’infinitezza  dell’ Io-libertà , attività pura (= che ha per essenza l’assolutezza, l’illimitatezza, l’autonomia). E come Fichte  risolve tale antinomia con quell’attività a un tempo finita  e infinita che è lo sforzo (Streben) — attività finita, perchè  lo sforzo implica una limitazione, una determinazione, che  impedisce l’immediato compimento dell’atto nella sua infinità; attività infinita, perchè questa determinazioue non  ha nulla di assoluto, di fisso, è un limite che l’attività fa  indietreggiare incessantemente per conseguire l’infinità,  ne segue che l’idea dello sforzo è , nella sua filosofia, il  cardine fondamentale dell’ attività teoretica non meno che  dell’ attività pratica, dell’ Intelligenza non meno che della  Volontà, della Dottrina della Scienza non meno che della  Dottrina morale. Nella Dottrina morale , a oui ora è rivolta la nostra attenzione, lo sforzo esprime la tendenza  dell’Io a identificare la sua attività oggettivante con la sua  attività pura, e lo svolgimento dell’ Io è tutto nel rapporto  tra queste due attività : l’infinita Libertà non può attuarsi  se non at traverso la limitazione e l’Intelligenza, ma non  c’è limitazione uè Intelligenza se non rispetto all’infinita  Attività pura elle di continuo le sorpassa. Lo sforzo, quindi, può definirsi un’attività in cui l’infinito è posto non come  stato attuale, ma come meta da raggiungere, un’attività  in cui 1’ adeguazione del finito e dell’ infinito non è , ma  dev'essere , un’attività, insomma, che ha per contenuto  il Dovere e che del Dovere è a sua volta il contenuto.   Diamo, in breve, il disegno della Dottrina morale. La Dottrina morale si apre I) con un’ Introduzione ,  in cui sono sinteticamente presentati i presupposti filosofici  dell’etica; e si svolge in tre Libri, dei quali II) il primo  trae da quei presupposti il principio della moralità) il  secondo deduce da essi la realtà e l’applicabilità di questo  principio) il terzo fa l’applicazione sistematica del prin¬  cipio stesso, ed espone quindi la morale propriamente detta. I presupposti filosofici dell' etica, contenuti nell’Introduzione e perfettamente conformi alla Dottrina della  Scienza , muovono dal principio che la vera filosofia sol¬  tanto allora è possibile, quando si abbia un punto in cui  il soggettivo e l’oggettivo, l’essere in sè e la rappresenta¬  zione di esso non siano divisi, ma facciano tutt’uno, e che  un tal punto si trova nell’Egoità o Io puro, nell’Intelligenza o Ragione. Senza questa assoluta identità del soggetto e dell’oggetto nell’Io, la quale peraltro non si lascia  cogliere immediatamente come un dato della coscienza attuale, ma soltanto argomentare per via di ragionamento,  la filosofia non approda a nessun risultato. Bisogna, dunque,  ammettere un’Unità fondamentale e primitiva, la quale,  tosto che nasce una coscienza attuale — o anche soltanto  l’autocoscienza —, si scinde necessariamente in soggetto e oggetto, poiché “ solamente in quanto io, essere cosciente,  mi distinguo da me, oggetto della coscienza, divengo co¬  sciente di me stesso. Bisogna ammettere, inoltre, che  l’oggettivo abbia causalità sul soggettivo, e viceversa il  soggettivo sull’oggettivo, per rendere concordi tra loro, e  in generale possibili, il pensiero e il pensato, la ragione e  il suo dominio sulla natura. E appunto perchè il legame  causale tra soggetto e oggetto è duplice — ognuna delle  due parti è causa ed effetto dell’altra: il soggettivo è effetto dell’oggettivo nel conoscere , Soggettivo è effetto del  soggettivo nell 'operare — , la filosofia si divide in teoretica e pratica.   Senonchè, come avemmo già occasione di notare,  l’Io puro, ossia l’Unità soggettivo-oggettiva ancora indivisa, non è un fatto (Thatsache ), ma un atto ( Thathand -  tutiff), la sua natura originaria è attività: è, dunque, pratica. Perciò il principio : “ Io mi trovo come operante nel  mondo sensibile è di capitale importanza per il nostro  conoscere. Da esso comincia ogni coscienza ; senza la co¬  scienza della mia attività non è possibile nessuna autocoscienza, senza l’autocoscienza nessuna coscienza di un  quid diverso da me. Infatti, la percezione della mia attività suppone una resistenza al di fuori di noi; “ ovunque  e in quanto tu percepisci attività, tu percepisci necessariamente anche resistenza ; altrimenti tu non percepisci  attività (Ora la resistenza è affatto indipendente dalla  [Sittenlehre (Stimanti. Werke.) Cfr. pvec. Sittenlehre. mia attività, è anzi il suq opposto; è qualcosa che esiste  soltanto e in nessun modo agisce, qualcosa di quieto e  morto, die tende semplicemente a rimanere quel che è,  qualcosa che nel proprio campo contrasta all’azione*della  libertà, ma non può mai invadere il campo di questa. Un  qualcosa di simile, dunque, è “ pura oggettività „ , e si  chiama., col suo proprio nome, materia. Senza la rap¬  presentazione di una tale materia, niente resistenza alla  nostra attività, quindi niente attività, niente autocoscienza,  niente coscienza, niente essere. La rappresentazione del  puro oggettivo resta così dedotta necessariamente dalle  leggi stesse della coscienza. Con la medesima necessità con cui viene dedotto il puro  oggettivo, viene posto anche il suo contrario, il soggettivo, ossia 1’ attività propriamente detta, sotto la forma di  un’ agilità (Agililàt) o forza efficiente. Ma poiché nella  coscienza, quasi come in un prisma, ogni unità si rifrange  in soggetto e oggetto, così in essa, avvenuto lo sdoppiamento dell’Io puro in soggettivo e oggettivo, anche il soggettivo si sdoppia a sua volta, e si ha da una parte 1’ attività propriamente detta, veduta come una forza reale,  come un oggettivo esistente in me, dall’altra il soggettivo,  fonie inesauribile di questa forza reale, fonte originaria  non derivante da nessun oggettivo, e dalle cui profondità  oscure e inaccessibili sgorga, con libero, spontaneo e talora  impetuoso moto interno, l’infinita varietà delle nostre rappresentazioni, dei nostri concetti ; per conseguenza la mia  attività — ossia il soggettivo ancora indiviso nella sua  unità anteriore alla coscienza — , quando sia veduta attraverso il tramite della coscienza, appare come un oggettivo,  che da un lato scaturisce da un soggettivo perennemente  rinascente a ogni estrinsecarsi dell’oggettivo, dall'altro determina l’oggetti vita pura dianzi chiamata materia. Così  si rivela alla coscienza la nostra assoluta auto-attività, la  cui essenza sta nel produrre rappresentazioni, nel creare  concetti, e la cui manifestazione sensibile dicesi libertà.  Ciascun concetto, riguardato come determinante l’oggettivo  in virtù della propria causalità, diventa un concetto-line,  e allora esso stesso appare un qualcosa di oggettivo e si  chiama uua volizione; e lo spirituale che in noi si considera come principio immediato delle volizioni dicesi volontà.   Spetta, dunque , alla volontà agire sulla materia ed  esercitare causalità nel mondo sensibile ; ma ciò non le  sarebbe possibile se non avesse uno strumento che sia esso  stesso materia , ossia quel corpo articolato che è il nostro [Nel Leon trovasi ben descritta la natura  dell’attività spirituale nel senso fichtiano, attività clic è, a un tempo  e continuamente, produzione di sè e riflessione sopra di sè, oggettivazione e soggettività, io reale e io ideale, attualità e potenzialità;  chi voglia intendere una tale attività, che ha la caratteristica di esistere e di essere anteriore alla propria esistenza, devo ricordarsi che  essa non va pensata alla maniera delle cose, perché, contrariamoute  alla natura di queste ultime, la cui realtè si esaurisce tutta quanta  nell'essere oggettivo, l’attività spirituale può ripiegarsi su di sé,  può riflettersi. E a ciò si deve quel fenomeno meraviglioso e cosi  lontano dal meccanismo materiale, per cui 1’ esistenza ideale determina l’esistenza reale, l’idea ha causalità, lo spirito è libertà. Onde  si vede che la libertà è proprio (come il Kant aveva ailermato, senza  però dimostrarlo) il comiuciamento assoluto d’uno stato, la creazione  di un’ esistenza seuza rapporto di dipendenza reale con un’ altra esistenza. E si vede altresì che solamente l’essere ragionevole, dotato  d’intelligenza e riflessione, è capace di libertà, poiché in lui soltanto  è possibile una causalità in forza di un concetto. organismo. E invero u io , consideralo come un principio  di attività nel mondo dei corpi, sono un corpo articolato,  e la rappresentazione del mio corpo non è altro che  la rappresentazione di me stesso come causa nel inondo  materiale 5 e perciò, mediatamente, non altio che un ceito  aspetto della mia attività assoluta. Volontà e corpo  sono quindi una medesima cosa , riguardata però da due  lati diversi: una medesima cosa, perchè soltanto fin dove  si estende l'immediata causalità della volontà sul corpo,  si estende il corpo articolato , necessario strumento della  causalità sulla materia; riguardata però da due lati diversi , perchè, in virtù dell’ azione sdoppiatrice della coscienza, la volontà appare come il soggettivo che esercita  la sua causalità sul corpo, e il corpo come 1 ’oggettivo i  cui mutamenti coincidono con quelli di tutta l’oggettività  o realtà corporea. Similmente una medesima cosa, riguardata però anch’ essa da due lati diversi, sono la natura  che la mia causalità può cangiare, ossia la costituzione e  T ordinamento della materia , e la natura non cangiabile ,  ossia la materia pura : la natura mutevole è l’oggettivo  considerato soggettivamente e in connessione con 1 ’ io, intelligenza attiva ; la natura immutevolo è Soggettivo con¬  siderato oggettivamente e soltanto in sè.   Secondo il precedente ragionamento , i molteplici elementi che l’analisi ritrova nella percezione della nostra  causalità sensibile vengono dedotti dalle leggi della co¬  scienza e ridotti all' unità, all’ unico assoluto su cui si tonda  ogni coscienza e ogni essere, all 'attività pura. Questa at¬  tività, in virtù della legge fondamentale della coscienza,    Sittenlehre. per cui 1 essere attivo non si comprende senza una resistenza su cui agisce, non si comprende cioè se non come un  Io-soggetto operante sopra un Non-Io-oggetto, appare sotto  forma di efficienza su qualcosa fuori dell'Io. Ma tutti gli  elementi contenuti in questa apparenza, a partire dal concetto-fine propostomi assolutamente da me stesso, sino  alla materia greggia del mondo esterno su cui esercito la  mia causalità, non sono che anelli intermedi dell’apparenza  totale, e perciò semplici apparenze anch’essi. L’unico reale 1   vero è la mia auto-attività, la mia indipendenza, la mia  libertà.  Da tali presupposti bisogna ora dedurre il  principio della moralità. L’ uomo trova in sè un’ obbligazione assoluta e categorica a fare o non fare certe azioni  indipendentemente da ogni fine esteriore, la quale si accompagna immancabilmente con la natura umana e costituisce la nostra caratteristica morale. Donde ha origine  questa obbligazione o Dovere, che vai quanto dire la  leggo morale, ossia il' principio della moralità? Secondo  che esige la Dottrina della Scienza , tale origine non va  ricercata altrove che in noi stessi, nell’ Jo. Onde il primo  problema da risolvere a tal fine è:^ u Pensare sè stesso  come puramente sè stesso, ossia come distaccato da tutto  ciò che non è io. La soluzione di questo problema si ottiene così : Io  non trovo me stesso se non nella mia volontà, se non  come volente ; e trovarsi volente significa riconoscere in  se una sostanza che vuole. L’intelligenza è la coscienza puramente soggettiva; la coscienza del proprio io in quanto  io non può nascere che dalla volontà,. Ma la volontà non  si concepisce se non supponendo qualcosa di diverso dal1’ io, perchè ogni volontà reale è una determinata volizione  che ha un concetto-fine, che tende cioè ad attuare un oggetto concepito come possibile, un oggetto che stia fuori di  noi. Ne segue che, per trovare me stesso e nuli’altro che me  stesso , bisogna fare astrazione da questo oggetto esterno  della mia volontà: ciò che rimane allora sarà il mio essere puro, la volontà assoluta, il principio della nostra filosofia. Ne segue altresì che il carattere essenziale e distintivo dell’ io è una tendenza ad agire di propria iniziativa  e indipendentemente da ogni impulso estraneo, a determinare sè stesso in modo incondizionato e autonomo , è, in  una parola, la libertà. Ora, appunto questa tendenza e  questa libertà costituisce l’io preso in sè, l’io considerato  all’ infuori di ogni relazione con checchessia di diverso  da sè. Ma ogni essere non è se non in quanto viene riferito  a un’ intelligenza, la quale sa che esso è ; in altri termini  suppone una coscienza. L’io, quindi , non è se non in  quanto si pone, non è se non in forza della coscienza che  ha di sè; onde esso deve avere la coscienza di quella tendenza alla libera auto-determinazione che dicemmo costituire la sua essenza. E invero l’io che, mediante l’intelligenza, pone sè stesso come tendenza all’autonomia assoluta  o libertà, è un essere il cui principio si trova non in un  altro essere, ma in un quid di categoria diversa — l’unico  quid che possa concepirsi oltre l’essere — e cioè nel pensiero , inteso non come qualcosa di sostanziale, sì bene  come attività pura, come movimento dell’intelligenza senza restrizioni e senza fissità. Orbene, da questa intima fusione  dell’io in quanto tendenza all’attività assoluta o libertà e  dell’io in quanto intelligenza, dell’io in quanto essere e  dell’ io in quanto riflessione , è possibile dedurre il prin¬  cipio della moralità. Come?   L’Io assoluto, non ancora rifratto dal prisma della  coscienza, è determinato, come abbiamo detto, dalla sua  tendenza all’attività assoluta, e questa determinazione diventa oggetto o contenuto dell’ intelligenza. Ma , siccome  l’Io assoluto nella sua unità integrale, nella sua semplicità  e identità originaria non può essere mai oggetto della coscienza , bisogna che questa si sforzi di apprenderlo , almeno per approssimazione, attraverso la dualità dell’essere  oggettivo e della riflessione soggettiva, mediante quella  specie di espediente che consiste nel considerare il soggettivo e 1’oggettivo come determina»tisi reciprocamente l’uno l’altro, come complementari, quindi come inseparabili e impensabili l’uno senza l’altro. E allora, se si concepisce il soggettivo come determinato dall’ oggettiv'o (nel  qual caso nasce quella relazione psicologica che si chiama  sentimento), essendo l’oggetto, rispetto al soggetto, qualcosa di per sè stante, di fisso .e permanente, si troverà  che il contenuto del pensiero è immutabile e necessario  e che l’intelligenza impone a sè stessa la legge di una  attività propria e assoluta. Se poi si concepisce l’oggettivo  come determinato dal soggettivo (nel qual caso nasce quel-  l’altra relazione psicologica che si chiama volontà), essendo il soggetto, rispetto all’ oggetto, qualcosa di mobile,  di attivo e indipendente, si troverà che l’io si pone come  libero. Si arriverà cosi — combinando, i due risultati , la  legge necessaria da una parte e la libertà illimitata dal1’altra — all’ idea di una legge che l’io liberamente -impone a sè stesso : la legge ha per contenuto la libertà , e  la libertà è sottoposta alla legge. Legge e libertà, per tal  modo , si determinano reciprocamente : esse fanno insieme  una sola e medesima unità. Tra la libertà ( = attività incondizionata e illimitata) e l’autonomia ( = imposizione  spontanea di una legge a sè stesso) non c’ è incompatibilità; esse nascono entrambe da quello sdoppiamento che è  dovuto alla natura dell’ attività spirituale e che è a un  tempo posizione di sè e riliessione sopra di sè, oggetto e  soggetto. In altri termini, si ha qui l’intima fusione, nel-  1’ unità dell’ io, tra 1’ intelligenza, che concepisce la nostra  essenza come libertà, e la volontà, che è 1’ attuazione del-  1’autonomia, tra la libertà-concetto e la libertà-atto, e il  legame che unisce 1’ una all’ altra è di causalità non Inec-  canico-coercitiva ma psichico-imperativa, è di necessità  non teorica ma pratica, è il legame morale del dovere. La  libertà-idea non può non tradursi, dece tradursi in libertà-  realtà; il Dovere, obbligazione per eccellenza, sta nell’attuare l’essenza nostra, nel divenire, attraverso la coscienza,  quel ohe siamo in fondo al nostro essere assoluto anteriore  alla coscienza, nel renderci cioè liberi ; e in ciò precisamente consiste il principio supremo di tutta la moralità,  il quale per tal guisa risulta dedotto, come ci proponevamo,  dalla natura dell’ io.   Posto l’io, è in pari tempo posta anche la tendenza  all’assoluta auto-attività, alla libertà; ma la libertà non  acquista valore se non per un’ intelligenza che ne faccia  la legge determinante delle nostre azioni ; ne segue che  l’io deve sottoporsi con coscienza e quindi con libertà alla  legge della propria natura, che è la legge della libertà, senz’altro fine che la libertà, stessa. La moralità, appunto  perchè esprime direttamente l’essenza dell’io, la sua praticità assoluta e la sua autonomia, è una perpetua legislazione dell’io imposta a sè stesso, sotto un triplice rispetto : rispetto all’adozione stessa della legge morale, adozione la quale non può essere che una libera sottomissione,  una spontanea adesione alla logge; rispetto all’applicazione della legge a ciascun caso particolare, applicazione  nella quale il giudizio morale è sempre un atto di autonomia, un consenso di noi con noi stessi ;rispetto al  contenuto della legge, uel quale contenuto è evidente che  ogni determinazione della volontà da parte di una causa  estranea a sè stessa, che vai (pianto dire alla ragione, co¬  stituirebbe un’eteronomia affatto contraria alla legge morale. Per tal modo si può concludere che la vita morale  tutta quanta non è altro che una ininterrotta auto-legislazione dell’io, una perenne autonomia dell’essere razionale;  e dove questa autolegislazione cessa, ivi comincia l’ immoralità. IH- - Alla deduzione del . principio della moralità  segue la deduzione della realtà e dell’ applicabilità del  principio stesso, senza di che quest’ ultimo rimarrebbe  un’ astrazione e la morale si ridurrebbe a un formalismo  vuoto e sterile. Invece la morale ha una realtà, la legge  morale ha efficacia nel mondo sensibile in cui viviamo ;  onde il principio della moralità è non solo vero , logica). A chiarire ancor meglio la deduzione  della legge morale dall’Io, ricollegandola con i principi e le conseguenze della Dottrina della Scienza giova il seguente schema fornito   — un — mente possibile e giustificato dalla ragione, ma altresì  reale e applicabile : reale, perchè è un concetto che deve  attuarsi nel mondo sensibile ; applicabile, perchè il mondo  sensibile è tale, per origine e natura, da prestarsi come  strumento all’attuazione di quel principio. dal Fischer (Geschichte der neuem Philosophie, Fichte unti  seine Vorgànger) e nel quale viene simboleggiato  lo sdoppiarsi dell’ Io nella coscienza teorica e il suo reintegrarsi nella  legge morale: Io Soggetto =Oggetto Coscienza (Divisione) Soggetto Autoattività Causalità del Concetto Libertà Oggetto Materia Causalità della Materia Necessità Libertà = Necessità Legge della Libertà Libertà sotto la Legge della Libertà (Assoluta Autonomia)   Legge Morale. Come si vede, qui la realtà del principio morale non è la realtà  già attuata di ciò che esiste nel mondo meccanico dei fatti naturali  o nel mondo giuridico della convivenza sociale , ma la realtà di ciò  che deve esistere nel mondo morale della volontà; le prime due specie  di realtà sono sotto la categoria della necessità (leggi naturali) o della  coercizione (leggi sociali), l’ultima, invece, di cui ora si tratta, è  sotto la categoria della contingenza, della libertà (legge morale).   Infatti, il principio della moralità dianzi dedotto è a  un tempo un principio teorico, in quanto l’io si determina  da sè dinanzi a sè stesso come essere assolutamente indipendente e libero — il che costituisce la materia della  legge morale —, e un principio pratico, in quanto l’io impone da sè a sè stesso 1’ attuazione della propria natura  — il che costituisce la forma (imperativa) della legge morale —. Ogni singolo io è libero, ecco il principio teorico ; Ovatterai ogni singolo io come un essere libero,  ecco il principio pratico derivante, sotto forma di comando ,  da quel principio teorico. In sostanza la legge pratica della  libertà potrebbe formularsi così: Opera secondo la conoscenza che hai della natura e del fine originario degli esseri Giusta i principi della Dottrina della Scienza, le  cose che abbiamo posto fuori di noi non sono, in fondo,  che le nostre idee ; di qui l’armonia tra la determinazione teorica degli oggetti e gl’ imperativi morali che da  questa determinazione teorica scaturiscono rispetto agli oggetti stessi. La spiegazione dell’ accordo dei fenomeni con  la nostra volontà sta nell’accordo della volontà con la natura, a cominciare dalla natura nostra : noi non possiamo  volere se non ciò a cui ci spinge 1’ impulso naturale ; questo  impulso non è la legge morale, ma^ legge morale non  può nulla comandare il cui oggetto non sia nella sfera di  questo impulso. L’essere ragionevole, il quale deve porre  sè stesso come assolutamente libero e indipendente, non può  far ciò senza in pari tempo determinare teoricamente il suo  mondo mediante la rappresentazione ; e la sua libertà, che  è un principio pratico, esige che questa determinazione teorica da parte del pensiero si mantenga e si completi mediante l’azione da parte della volontà. L’azione della liberta dell’ io sul mondo determinato come rappresentazione consiste nella modificazione di uno stato del mondo  stesso mercè il dominio di un concetto anteriormente posto ;  è la produzione di una realtà conformemente a un’idea data  come suo principio ; significa, per conseguenza, proprio l’inverso della rappresentazione, la quale è la determinazione  di un concetto secondo una realtà anteriormente posta. E  come l’enigma della rappresentazione, ossia il rapporto tra  la cosa e l’idea, trovava la sua soluzione nell’identità originaria dei due termini, essendo la cosa un prodotto inconscio dell’ io, similmente qui il l’apporto tra il concetto  e la realtà ha il suo fondamento nel fatto che la produzione di questa realtà non è la produzione di una cosa in  sè, di una realtà assoluta, che sarebbe in qualche modo  esteriore alla coscienza, ma è sempre uno stato di coscienza,  una determinazione dell’ io. E allora non è più questione  di sapere come sia possibile nel mondo una modificazione  da parte della libertà, poiché, essendo il mondo esso stesso  un prodotto della libertà , un limite che l’io pone a sè  stesso, è questione di sapere come sia possibile, mediante  la libertà, un cangiamento nell’io, un’estensione dei suoi  limiti ; e se si osserva che 1’ io, oggetto di questa modificazione, è l’io limitato., ossia l’io empirico, e che la legge  della libertà, sotto la quale si operano nell’ io empirico  queste modificazioni, esprime l’io puro, l’io assoluto, è  evidente che il problema circa la realtà del principio morale, circa l’attuazione della libertà , si riduce , in fondo ,  alla questione già esposta anteriormente circa i rapporti  tra l’io empirico, naturale, e l’io eterno, assoluto Sittenlehre. Per dedurre ora la realtà e la conseguente applicabilità del principio dell’ etica, bisogna dedurne la materia  e la sfera d’ azioue, bisogna stabilire, cioè, anzitutto l'oggetto della nòstra attività in generale, poi la causalità  reale dell’essere ragionevole. Quanto al primo punto si  ha questo teorema. L’essere l'agionevole non può attribuirsi nessun potere, senza pensare in pari tempo qualcosa  fuori di sè a cui quel potere sia diretto „ ; egli, infatti, non  può attribuirsi la libertà, senza pensare più azioni reali e  determinate come possibili per opera della libertà, e non può  pensare nessun’ azione come reale e determinata, senza sup¬  porre all’ esterno qualcosa su cui quest’ azione sia esercitata.  Esiste, dunque, fuori di noi e posta dal pensiero,  una materia a cui la nostra attività si riferisce e che può  essere modificata all’ infinito. Quanto al secondo punto  si ha quest’altro teorema: u L’essere ragionevole non può  trovare in sè nessun’ applicazione della propria libertà, ossia  nessun volere reale, senza in pari tempo attribuire a sè stesso  una reale causalità o efficienza sul mondo esterno r , e non  può attribuirsi una siffatta causalità o.efficienza, senza determinarla in una certa maniera. Ora, l’attività pura non può  essere determinata in sè, altrimenti non sarebbe più pura;  essa non può essere 'determinata se non da ciò che le si  oppone, ossia dai suoi limiti. Questi limiti non possono es¬  sere percepiti se non nell’esperienza sensibile e, inquanto  oggetto d’intuizione sensibile, consistono in una diversità  o varietà di materia. Onde l’io, il quale non sarebbe attivo se non si sentisse limitato, viene posto come un’ attività che preme, per allargarli, sopra i limiti entro cui lo  rinserra la diversa materia che gli resiste, il nou-io che  gli si oppone. L’essere ragionevole, dunque, esercita una  causalità reale nel mondo sensibile, e tale causajit.à consiste non già nel creare o distruggere la materia su cui si  esercita — tale materia è condizione indispensabile per  l’attività dell’essere ragionevole —, ma nell’introdurvi ulteriori determinazioni nuove ; u io ho causalità „ significa  sempre: u io allargo i miei confini che vai quanto dire: io attuo progressivamente il concetto di libertà — secondo che mi è imposto dalla legge morale —, pur non giungendo mai a un’ attuazione completa. Di guisa che la nostra esistenza, mentre uel mondo intelligibile è legge morale, nel mondo sensibile è azione reale: il punto in cui  le due esistenze si riuniscono è la libertà intesa come facoltà  assoluta di determinare 1’ azione mediante la legge. Risulta da quanto precede che il principio della moralità, ossia la libertà, non può attuarsi se non opponendo  all’attività pura dell’ io una limitazione o un sistema di  limitazioni, e imponendo alla medesima attività un progres¬ [Abbiamo qui una delle idee  fondamentali del sistema ficbtiauo, cioè: l’impossibilità per noi di  separare il sensibile dall’intelligibile, la negazione del dualismo, l’assurdità di concepire nell’ àmbito della coscienza un carattere noume-  nico radicalmente distinto dal carattere fenomenico. Secondo Fichte  — scrive Léon — il sensibile è la condizione per  l’intelligibile....; Benza il sensibile, il quale determinandolo lo attua,  il puro intelligibile rimarrebbe allo stato di potenza indeterminata e  vuota. Questa concezione segua la rovina del misticismo, che pretende  isolare lo spirito dal corpo e relegarlo in una sfera chimerica ; l'Io  iichtiano non è fatto di singoli pezzi separabili ad arbitrio ; esso forma  in tutti i suoi elementi una gerarchia, un vero organismo.   sivo ampliameuto di questa limitazione o sistema di limitazioni. Il che si verifica anche quando si tratti non di un  fine ultimo, come la libertà assoluta, ma di fini intermedi.  Il più spesso’ci accade di non poter attuare immediata¬  mente un determinato fine scelto dalla nostra volontà, e  siamo costretti, per conseguirlo, a servirci di certi mezzi  già determinati in* antecedenza senza il nostro intervento :  non perveniamo al nostro fine se non attraverso una serie  di gradi interposti ; che equivale a dire : tra il sentimento  da cui sono partito con la volontà e il sentimento a cui  mi sforzo di giungere intercedono altri sentimenti, di cui  ognuno è l’esponente dei limiti che mi si oppongono, limiti che con la mia causalità, con la mia azione, io fo indietreggiare ogni volta di più, estendendo cosi pi-ogressiva-  mente la mia attività reale. La mia causalità, dunque, appare come un’azione continua e diversa, come una serie  ininterrotta di sforzi e di sentimenti svariati ; poiché essa è  assolutamente una e identica in quanto attività, ma presenta tuttavia infiniti aspetti multiformi a causa della  multiforme resistenza che incontra da parte degl’ infiniti  oggetti esterni; — esterni, s’intende, e posti indipendentemente da noi, per chi non adotti o ignori il punto di vista  della filosofia trascendentale e rimanga al punto di vista  della coscienza comune. Intesa nel modo descritto, la causalità dell’ essere ragionevole contiene in sé la sintesi assoluta della conoscenza e dell’ attività, determinantisi reciprocamente nella  concezione e nel perseguimento di un medesimo fine. L’es¬  sere ragionevole, infatti, non ha una conoscenza se non in seguito a una limitazione della propria attività (tesi); ma d’altro  canto non ha attività se non in seguito a una conoscenza (antitesi) ; conoscenza e attività sono poste come identiche  nella volontà (sintesi). Come si ottiene questa sintesi?  Basta pensare all’ essenza originaria dell’ io oggettivamente  considerato : sappiamo che tale essenza è assoluta attività e  nuli’altro che attività; e poiché l’attività, oggettivamente  presa, è impulso, e nell’io nulla esiste o accade di cui egli  non abbia coscienza, cosi, posto nell’ io oggettivo un impulso, vien posto altresì iu esso un sentimento di questo  impulso. Il sentimento o coscienza primitiva dell’impulso  è, dunque, l’anello sintetico in cui con l’attività è posta la  conoscenza e con la conoscenza l’attività.   Soltanto è da aggiungere che, se dal punto di vista  pratico la conoscenza e l’attività sono inseparabili, la coscienza che accompagna qui l’impulso non è affatto la coscienza riflessa e iu nessun grado una riflessione libera ; in  essa non c’ è neppure quella specie di libertà che caratterizza la rappresentazione e che ci permette di non rappresentarci l’oggetto, di fare cioè astrazione da esso ; è una  coscienza tutta spontanea, che s’impone a noi con necessità, è  un sentimento di cui non siamo in nessun modo padroni.  Il sistema d’impalisi e di sentimenti di che s’intesse  1’ io empirico oggettivo deve quindi concepirsi come natura, come la nostra natura, come cioè qualcosa di dato,  di non prodotto da noi, d’ indipendente dalla libertà ,  ma su cui la libertà può esercitarsi, e si esercita, allorché  l’io-soggetto ne fa oggetto di riflessione e consente o no  a soddisfarlo ; e invero, tosto che riflettiamo sui nostri  impulsi originari, non siamo più dominati da essi ; sono  essi, invece, dominati da noi, perchè dipende da noi assecondarli o no ; comincia allora il vero ufficio della nostra  libertà cosciente. Nasce così la differenza tra la facoltà  appetitiva inferiore del semplice impulso di natura e la  facoltà appetitiva superiore del medesimo impulso sottoposto  alla riflessione e alla libertà. Giova chiarire meglio la facoltà appetitiva inferiore,  prima di passare alla superiore. Abbiamo detto che essa  costituisce ciò che in noi si chiama natura; ma bisogna  distinguere la natura nostra dalla natura delle cose in cui  regna il puro meccanismo. Nel mondo meccanico non c’è  attività propriamente detta, c’ è soltanto una trasmissione  di urti attraverso tutta la serie di cause ed effetti, senza  che nessun anello produca o modifichi la forza trasmessa.  Nella natura nostra, al contrario, c’è una vera spontaneità,  la quale non è ancora la libera causalità del pensiero, del  concetto, perchè è una necessaria determinazione dell’esi¬  stenza reale per opera di questa esistenza stessa, ma sta  tuttavia al disopra del puro meccanismo, perchè consiste in  una determinazione proveniente da una serie di cause ed  effetti disposta non più secondo un ordine lineare di successione, sì bene secondo un ordine ricorrente di reciprocanza ; quivi, infatti, le singole parti sono a un tempo effetti e cause del tutto, onde si ha quel che si dice un or-    (Per essere più chiari :  l’impulso e il sentimento che l’accompagna mancano di libertà; la  volontà e la riflessione che ne è condizione hanno per essenza la libertà; a parte, però, questa differenza di capitale importanza ma soltanto formale, l’impulso e il sentimento, per quanto riguarda il loro  contenuto materiale, sono identici alla volontà e alla riflessione; l’oggetto a cui tendono necessariamente i primi diventa l’oggetto liberamente accettato o ripudiato dalle seconde.    gallismo, ossia una costituzione, la quale, lungi dal dipendere da un’azione esterna, Ira in sè stessa il principio della  propria determinazione, è dotata insomma di spontaneità,.  La reciprocanza di azione tra le parti di un tutto organico in natura si spiega così: a ciascuna di esse le altre  non lasciano che una certa quantità di realtà, onde ciascuna parte per la rimanente realtà che le manca non  ha che una tendenza (o impulso) risultante dallo stato determinato delle altre parti : ciascuna tende a formare il  tutto, a integrarsi con la realtà delle altre ; e cosi in  un’ unità organica la realtà è in proporzione inversa  della tendenza (o impulso) derivante dalla mancanza di  realtà; realtà e tendenzfP (o impulso) si completano a  vicenda ; ciascuna parte tende a soddisfare il bisogno di  tutte, e tutte a loro volta tendono a soddisfare il bisogno  di ciascuna ; ogni singola parte tende a combinare la pro¬  pria essenza e la propria azione con l’essenza e l’azione  delle rimanenti, e questa tendenza giustamente si dice impilino plastico (Bildungstrieb), cosi nel senso attivo come nel  senso passivo della parola, perchè è la facoltà a un tempo  così d’imprimere come di ricevere forme. Questa facoltà  organizzatrice è universale, essenziale, inerente a tutte  le parti e a tutti gli elementi, onde ciò che si chiama un  tutto naturale, ossia un tutto chiuso, può altresì chiamarsi  un prodotto organico della natura, a costituire il quale certi  elementi della natura, in virtù della causalità di cui questa  è dotata, hanno riunito il loro essere e il loro operare in  un solo e medesimo essere, in un solo e medesimo operare. Ciò posto, ecco quanto accade in quel tutto organico  della natura che è l’io individuale, empirico, a partire dai  più bassi impulsi sino alle più alte tendenze.   Iu ciascun io individuale, appunto perchè esso è un  tutto organico della natura, l’essenza delle parti consiste  in una tendenza a conservare unite a sè altre determinate  parti, e siffatta tendenza, se attribuita al tutto, dicesi impulso all' autoconservazione ; alla conservazione, s’intende,  non dell’esistenza in generale, che è un’astrazione, ma di  un’esistenza determinata. L’impulso all’autoconservazione,  che è poi la tendenza a perseverare nel proprio essere,  porta 1’ essere organico a inferire a sè certi oggetti della  natura; di qui l’appetito o la brama verso questi oggetti,  appetito o brama dapprima vaghi e indeterminati, quasi COME IL PRIMO GRIDO INARTICOLATO DELL’ORGANISMO ANCORA INFANTE, POI SEMPRE PIU DETERMINATI E DIFFERENZIATI, COME IL LINGUAGGIO ARTICOLATO DELL’ORGANISMO ADULTO. E — si noti  bene — non già la diversità degli oggetti determina lo  specificarsi dei vari appetiti e desideri; al contrario, i diversi modi del desiderio, mediante le proprie determinazioni, si creano i propri oggetti. La coscienza o l’intelligenza* che ci rappresenta gli oggetti non è che il riflesso  dei nostri istinti,, inclinazioni, tendenze, della nostra vita  pratica in generale; non, dunque, gli oggetti suscitano, quasi  loro fine, gli appetiti, ma gli appetiti hanno il proprio  fine in sè stessi, nella propria soddisfazione, e noi non perseguiamo, attraverso gli oggetti, altro che i nostri desideri  esteriorizzati nelle cose. Ma se è così, se ciò che ci sfor¬  ziamo d’ottenere è non l’oggetto — il quale si riduce a im simbolo, sì bene la soddisfazione della nostra tendenza, della nostra brama, in altri termini, il nostro godi¬  mento, il nostro piacere, si comprende come, tanto dal punto  di vista della pura natura irriflessa, quanto da quell» della  riflessione sulla natura, sia il piacere il fine supremo della  nostra condotta ; di guisa che, nel primo passaggio imme¬  diato dallo stato di pura natura allo stato di coscienza ri¬  flessa, la nostra azione cangia di forma — da necessaria e  istintiva diventa libera e riflessa, e tale cangiamento ne  modifica radicalmente il carattere, ma il suo contenuto  rimane ancora il medesimo, è ancora il piacere: al punto da far sembrare che l’uomo con la riflessione non si elevi al di  sopra della natura, se non per sottoporlesi meglio e perse¬  guire con pili luce e sicurezza il fine edonistico. Ora, finché è  spinto al piacere e dipende dagli oggetti dei suoi appetiti,   ]' uomo rimane confinato nell’ esercizio della facoltà appetiti va inferiore. Ma l’attività ragionevole in lui tende con coscienza e riflessione a determinarsi assolutamente da sé, a  rendersi indipendente da ogni oggetto che non sia essa stessa,  quindi anche e soprattutto dal piacere; e allora la nostra  azione si differenzia da quella compiuta allo stato di pura  natura, oltreché per la forma, anche per il contenuto, es¬  sendo questo costituito non pili dal piacere — comunque  ricercato, per istinto cieco e necessario, ovvero per volontà ,  cosciente e libera — , ma dalla libertà stessa, che è l’es  senza nostra e il nostro vero fine supremo. L’ uomo si eleva  cosi all’esercizio della facoltà appetitiva superiore, di quella  che appartiene non a lui prodotto di natura, ma a lui spirito puro. Ciò non ostante, le due facoltà appetitive, l’inferiore e la  superiore, costituiscono un solo e medesimo impulso originario dell’io, dell’io veduto da due lati diversi : nella facoltà  appetitiva inferiore, ossia nell’ impulso naturale, mi concepisco come oggetto, uella facoltà appetitiva superiore, ossia  nell’impulso spirituale, mi concepisco come soggetto, mentre  tutta la mia essenza si ritrova nell’ identità del soggetto  e dell’oggetto, ò soggetto-oggetto. Dall’azione reciproca  dei due impulsi nascono tutti i fenomeni dell’ io ; ma entrambi si fondono in un unico e medesimo io , onde debbono essere conciliati, unificati ; ed ecco in qual modo :  l’impulso superiore rinunzia alla purezza della propria attività — purezza che consiste nel non essere determinato  da un oggetto —, lasciandosi determinare da un oggetto,  e l’impulso inferiore rinunzia al piacere in quanto fine, al  piacere per il piacere ; si ha così per risultato della loro  unione un’ attività oggettiva, il cui oggetto e fine ultimo  è un’ assolute libertà, un’assoluta indipendenza da ogni natura;'un fine, questo, proiettato all’infinito e perciò irraggiungibile — raggiungerlo sarebbe porre termine in pari  tempo all’attività e alla natura che dell’attività è il limite  correlativo, la condizione indispensabile; un fine , tut¬  tavia , a cui è possibile avvicinarsi sempre più, facendo  uso della libertà e della facoltà appetitiva superiore. Non si obietti qui — dice il Fichte  ( Sittenlehre) — che un’approssima¬  zione all’infinito è contraddittoria, in quantoche un infinito a cui potessimo avvicinarci cesserebbe d’essere un infinito e diverrebbe in  certo qual modo suscettivo di misura. L’infinito non è una cosa, un  oggetto posto come dato e verso il quale si avanzerebbe come verso  un termine fissato in precedenza, ma è igu ideale, ossia appunto ciò  che si oppone alla realtà del dato, ciò che nessun dato può esaurire ; Infatti, grazie alla sintesi dianzi descritta, l’io svelle  sè stesso da tutto ciò che sembra trovarsi fuori di lui,  entra in possesso di sè e si pone dinanzi a sè come assolutamente indipendente, essendo l’io riflettente indipen¬  dente per sè stesso, l’io riflettuto tutfc’ uno con l’io riflettente, ed entrambi uniti in una sola inseparabile persona,  alla quale il riflettuto dà la forza reale e il riflettente la coscienza. La persona così costituita non può più agire ormai  se non secondo e mediante concetti, e poiché tutto ciò che  ha la propria ragion d’ essere in un concetto è un prodotto  della libertà , cosi d’ ora innanzi l’io non agirà più se non  liberamente, anche quando non faccia che assecondare l’impulso di natura , perchè anche in tal caso egli non opera  meccanicamente ma con coscienza, e in lui non più il  cieco impulso naturale , si bene la coscienza da lui acqui¬  stata di questo impulso naturale è il primo fondamento del  suo operare, il quale perciò è libero — come poco fa notammo — se non nel contenuto, almeno nella forma. Ma che significa essere libero e agire liberamente?  Prima di giungere alla riflessione l’io è di natura sua    e questo ideale clie portiamo in noi stessi indietreggia dinanzi a noi  man mano che ci eleviamo verso di esso. Noi possiamo bene allargare i nostri limiti, inalzarci sempre più verso la libertà, ma non possiamo mai sopprimere totalmente questi limiti, attuare cioè la libertà; a qualunque grado di liberazione noi si giunga, la libertà as¬  soluta rimane sempre un ideale. Insomma, .con l’idea di un progress o  infinito il Fichte risolve la contraddizione tra la libertà e la natura : la  natura deve tendere alla libertà come a un fine infinito, e se l’infinito potesse essere attuato, la natura s’identificherebbe con la libertà ; la realtà di questo progresso non è nel conseguimento — impossibile — di un fine fissato a un dato punto, ma nel valore sempre  più alto della nostra azione. (Cfr. Léon)] libero, ma per un’ intelligenza fuori di lui, non già per sè  stesso ; per essere libero anche agli occhi propri egli deve  porsi come tale , e come tale non si pone se non allorché  diventa cosciente del suo passaggio dallo stato indetermi¬  nato a uno stato determinato. L’ io determinante e l’io  determinato scftio un solo e medesimo io, prodotto dalla sin¬  tesi del inflettente e del riflettuto, dell’ io-soggetto e del1’io-oggetto. Per siffatta sintesi la concezione di un fine diventa immediatamente azione e l’azione diventa conoscenza  della libertà. Senonchè l’indeterminatezza non è soltanto  uon-determinatezza (ossia zei'o), sì bene un deciso librarsi  tra più possibili determinazioni (ossia una grandezza negativa) ; altrimenti essa non potrebbe essere posta e sa¬  rebbe un nulla. Ora, finché non intervenga la facoltà appetitiva superiore, non si vede in che modo la libertà possa  scegliere tra più determinazioni possibili; perchè: o si  trova in presenza del solo impulso naturale, e allora non  ha nessuna ragione per non seguirlo, anzi ha ogni ragione  per seguirlo; ovvero si trova in presenza di più impulsi  — la quale ipotesi non si comprende nel caso di cui ora  si tratta — e allora seguirà naturalmente il più forte ; nel-  l’una e nell’altra ipotesi, dunque, nessuna possibilità d’indeterminatezza. Siccome però l’essere ragionevole non può  esistere senza quella tra le condizioni della sua ragionevolezza che si chiama sentimento morale e consapevolezza  della libertà, bisogna bene ammettere, nell’ impulso origi¬  nario delirio, un impulso ad acquistare la coscienza e della  moralità e della libertà. Ma tale coscienza, si è visto, ha per  condizione uno stato indeterminato, e non si produce se l’io  obbedisce unicamente all'impulso naturale ; occorre, dunque,  che vi sia nell’io un impulso o tendenza a trarre dal proprio seno, e non già dall’impulso naturale, il contenuto o l’oggetto  dell’azione; occorre, in altri termini, che vi sia una ten¬  denza alla libertà per sè stessa-, e che alla libertà formale  — quella per cui lo stesso risultato, che la natura avrebbe  prodotto se avesse potuto ancora agire, nasce invece da un  nuovo principio, da una nuova forza, ossia dalla coscienza  libera — si aggiunga la libertà materiale — quella per  cui si ha non solo un nuovo principio operante, ma altresì  una serie di effetti tutta nuova anche nel contenuto, onde  non solo è l’intelligenza la forza che opera, ma essa intelligenza opera qualcosa di ben diverso da ciò che avrebbe  operato la natura. In virtù della libertà materiale io mi sento emancipato  dall’ impulso di natura, gli oppongo resistenza, e tale resi¬  stenza, considerata come essenziale all’ io, quindi come im¬  manente, è essa stessa un impulso, l ’impulso pwro*dell’ io.  L’impulso naturale si manifesta come iuclinazione e, per  il fatto che io posso dominare la sua forza e sottoporla alla  mia libertà, questa forza diventa qualcosa di cui non fo  stima. L’impulso puro, invece, in quanto mi eleva sopra  la natura e mi pone in grado di contrappormele con la  più semplice risoluzione, si manifesta come tale da ispirarmi stima e da investirmi di una dignità, la quale, essendo al disopra di ogni natura, m’ impone rispetto verso  me stesso; l’impulso puro, anziché al piacere, porta al disprezzo del piacere ed esige l’affermazione e la conservazione della mia assoluta indipendenza e libertà. L’adempimento di questa esigenza e il suo contrario  significano rispettivamente l’accordo e il disaccordo tra l’ideale tendenza essenziale dell’ io puro all’assoluta libertà e  il reale stato accidentale dell’io empirico ; suscitano, quindi,  il mio interesse — m’interessa, infatti, ossia tocca direttamente il mio sentimento, tutto ciò che lia immediata relazione col mio impulso fondamentale  —, si accompagnano,  dunque, a piacere o dolore; ma — e questo è di capitale  importanza — si tratta qui di stati affettivi che non hanno  nulla a fare con l’affettività comune, perchè consistono  in una contentezza e in un disgusto di sè la cui natura  non si confonde mai con quella del piacere o del dolore dei  sensi. Il piacere sensibile che nasce dall’ accordo tra l’impulso naturale e la realtà non dipende da me in quanto  sono un io, ossia in quanto sono libero ; esso è tale da  strappare me a me, da rendermi estraneo a me stesso e da  farmi dimenticare in esso ; è, in una parola, involontario ,  e questa qualità lo caratterizza nel modo più esatto. Altrettanto vale del suo opposto, ossia del dolore sensibile. Il piacere morale, al contrario, che nasce dall’accordo tra  l’impulso puro e la realtà, è qualcosa non di estraneo ma  di dipendente dalla mia libertà, qualcosa che potrei aspettarmi in conformità d’una regola, come non potrei aspettarmi, invece, il piacere involontario ; esso, quindi, non mi  trasporta fuori di me, anzi mi fa rientrare in me stesso e,  meno tumultuario, ma più intimo del piacere sensibile, m’in-  [Intorno al concetto dell’ interesse Fichte fa una specie di  digressione ( Sittenlehre) per meglio illuminare la sua trattazione sul sentimento morale e sulla  coscienza morale.  fonde, in quanto soddisfazione e auto-stima, nuovo coraggio'  e nuova forza. Similmente il suo opposto, ossia il dolore  morale, appunto perchè dipende dalla libertà, è un rimprovero interno, si associa a un sentimento di auto-disistima  e sarebbe insopportabile se il sentirci ancora capaci di provarlo non ci risollevasse dinanzi a noi stessi, e non ravvivasse la coscienza della nostra natura superiore e della nostra assoluta libertà, insomma la coscienza morale fdas  Oetoissen), vale a dire : la consapevolezza immediata dell’adempimento del dovere, dell’accordo cioè tra l’azione (nel  mondo della natura) e il fine ideale (la libertà). Ora, la coscienza morale si connette strettamente con  l’impulso morale, il quale è di natura mista, perchè partecipa a un tempo dell’impulso puro e dell’impulso naturale. Come ? Ogni volizione reale tende all’azione e ogni azione si  porta sopra un oggetto : ogni volizione reale, quindi, è empirica. E poiché non posso agire sugli oggetti se non me¬  diante una forza fisica, la quale non proviene che dall’impulso naturale, cosi ogni fine concepito dall’intelligenza  finisce per coincidere con 1^ soddisfazione di un impulso  naturale. Certo, chi vuole è l'io -intelligenza non già la na-  /M/'fl-iucoscieuza ; ma, quanto al contenuto, il mio volere  non può avere materia diversa da quella che la natura  vorrebbe anch’essa, se di volere fosse capace : non c’ è libertà circa la materia delle azioni. E allora quale causalità  rimane all’impulso puro, che pur non può esserne destituito?  Affinchè rimanga una causalità all’ impulso puro, bisogna  che la materia dell’azione sia conforme a esso non meno (Siltenlekre) che all’ impulso naturale. Tale duplice conformità si comprende soltanto così: l’impulso puro nell'operare tende alla  piena emancipazione dalla natura ; ma i limiti che l’attività  dell' io impone a sè stessa costringono l’operare entro i confini dell’ impulso naturale ; onde l’azione conforme a questo  secondo impulso diventa conforme anche al primo quando  al pari di esso tenda alla piena emancipazione dalla natura,  si trovi cioè in una serie di sforzi, continuando la quale  all’infinito, l’io si approssima sempre più all’indipendenza  assoluta. Deve esservi una serie di tal genere, che muova  dal punto in cui la persona si trova posta per la propria  natura e si prolunghi all’ infinito verso il .fine supremo e  ideale — si badi bene a questo appellativo che esclude  ogni possibilità, di attuazione completa — di ogni attività,  altrimenti uon sarebbe possibile una causalità dell’ impulso  puro : questa serie si può chiamare la destinazione morale  dell’ essere ragionevole finito, e seguendola possiamo sapere  in ogni momento quale è il nostro dovere. Il principio della  morale può, dunque, formularsi cosi. Adempì in ogni momento la tua destinazione. Quel che in ogni momento è conforme alla nostra destinazione morale, ossia al fine a cui si  dirige l’impulso puro, è in pari tempo conforme all’impulso  naturale, ma uon tutto quel che è conforme all’impulso naturale è conforme alla nostra destinazione morale. Appunto  perciò l’impulso morale è misto: esso riceve dall’impulso naturale la materia dell’operare, dall’impulso pui'O la forma;  per esso io debbo agire con la coscienza di adempiere un dovere ; gl’ impulsi ciechi della natura, come la simpatia, la  compassione, la benevolenza spontanea, in quanto tali non  hanno nulla di morale, perchè contraddice alla moralità il  lasciarsi spingere ciecamente. L’impulso morale differisce profondamente dal cieco impulso naturale, e molto ai avvicina all’ impulso puro, perchè la sua causalità è ambigua  (può avere effetto e può anche non averne), perchè esso comanda: sii libero (cioè: sii in grado di fare e di a'stenerti  dal fare). E in questo comando appare per la prima volta  un imperativo categorico, un imperativo che è un prodotto  nostro proprio (nostro in quanto siamo intelligenze capaci  di agire per concetti), e il cui oggetto è il fine non subordinato a nessun altro fine. L’impulso morale, infatti, non  ha per fine nessun godimento ; esso esige u la libertà per  la libertà. È poi evidente in questa formula imperativa il duplice  significato della parola “ libertà la quale sta a designare  nel primo posto un operare in quanto tale, ossia un puramente soggettivo, e nel secondo posto uno stato oggettivo  che dev’essere conseguito, ossia 1’ ultimo fine assoluto , la  piena nostra indipendenza da tutto ciò che è fuori di noi.  In altri termini : io debbo agire con libertà per divenire  libero; e soltanto determinandomi da me stesso e non seguendo altro che le ispirazioni del sentimento del dovere  agisco con libertà e divengo veramente indipendente dalla  natura, veramente libero. A questa distinzione tra la libertà come attività e la libertà come risultalo , che è di  così grande importanza nel nostro sistema, se ne aggiunge  un’ altra entro il concetto stesso di libertà intesa come attività: la distinzione, cioè, tra la forma e la materia dell’attività libera; distinzione da cui nasce la divisione della  dottrina morale e con cui si passa all’ applicazione sistematica del principio della moralità. Fichte discorre delle condizioni formali della moralità  delle nostre azioni, del contenuto materiate  della legge morale; e dei doveri. Il principio formale di ogni moralità può enunciarsi così. Opera sempre secondo la convinzione che  hai intorno al tuo dovere. Questo imperativo o legge  — che presuppone naturalmente e logicamente una libera  volontà— si scinde in due precetti, di cui 1’ uno concerne la forma o la condizione : u procurati la convinzione  di ciò che è tuo dovere; l’altro la MATERIA o il condizionato. Fai ciò che ritieni con convinzione tuo dovere  9 failo soltanto perchè lo ritieni tale Ora, la convinzione  nasce dall’accordo di un atto della facoltà giudicatrice coll’impulso morale, e il criterio della giustezza della nostra  convinzione è un sentimento intimo al di là del quale non  si può risalire, perchè con esso si raggiunge 1’ espressione  diretta della nostra essenza assoluta e della nostra finalità. Per conseguenza, la coscienza morale, che in quel sentimento ha radice, va immune per natura sua da dubbio e  da errore, non può ingannarsi, nè è suscettiva di rettifiche  da parte di un’ inconcepibile coscienti più interiore, è essa  stessa giudice di ogni convinzione e le sue sentenze non  ammettono appello. Voler oltrepassare la propria coscienza  morale per timore che possa essere erronea, sarebbe come  voler uscire fuori di sè, voler separarsi da sè stesso. È  condizione formale della moralità, quindi, non decidersi  [Della volontà iu particolare e della sua natura cosi opposta al  juro meccanismo, il Pielite tratta nella Sitlenlehre] all’azione se non per soddisfare alla propria coscienza morale, all’impulso originario dell’io puro, senza sottostare  ad altra autorità che non sia quella della propria convinzione, del proprio giudizio. Chi, dunque, agisce senza consultare la sua coscienza, senza essersi prima assicurato  j delle decisioni di questa, agisce, come suol dirsi, senza coscienza, e perciò immoralmente, è colpevole e non può imputare la sua colpa ad altri che a sè stesso. Similmente  opera senza coscienza, e perciò senza moralità, chi si lascia  guidare dall’autorità altrui, perchè la convinzione della coscienza morale e la certezza della sua giustezza non nascono mai da giudizi estranei, ma traggono origine esclusivamente dal soggetto: sarebbe una flagrante contraddizione fare di qualche cosa che non sono io stesso un sentimento di me stesso. In conclusione: in tutta la nostra  condotta (si tratti della ricerca scientifica, ovvero della  vita pratica) l’azione , per essere morale, deve uscire da  un’intima convinzione, perchè soltanto allora essa esprime  veramente la nostra autonomia spirituale. Ogni azione fatta  per autorità (si tratti dell’ accettazione di una verità che  non risponde in noi a una convinzione, ovvero del compimento di un’ azione che accettiamo come un ordine) va  direttamente contro il verdetto della coscienza, è male, è  I colpa. Giova ricordare che per Fichte non vi sono azioni indifferenti; tutte debbono essere riferite alla legge morale, uon foss’altro  per assicurarsi che sono lecite; onde anche le azioni più indifferenti  iu apparenza, vanno sottoposte a matura riflessione, sempre iu vista  della legge morale (Siltenlehre). Risulta  qui ancora una volta definitivamente stabilito il primato della ragione  pratica sulla ragione teorica; di quella ragione pratica che agli occhi E facile argomentare da ciò quale sia la causa del  male o della colpa nell’essere ragionevole finito. Quel che  in generale costituisce l’essere ragionevole trovasi necessariamente ih ciascun individuo ragionevole, altrimenti  questi non sarebbe più tale. Ora, secondo la legge morale, l’io individuale, finito, empirico, che vive nel tempo, deve  tendere a divenire un’esatta copia dell’Io primitivo, originario, infinito, extra-temporale; ma, sottoposto com’è alla condizione del t^mpo, non può acquistare la chiara coscienza di tutto ciò che primitivamente e originariamente  fa l’essenza dell’Io, se non mediante un lavoro successivo  e una progressione nel tempo. Finché questo lavoro più o  meno faticoso e questa progressione più o meno lenta non  abbiano compiuto nell’ io empirico individuale il passaggio  dallo stato d’ irriflessione al massimo sviluppo della coscienza morale, c’ è sempre luogo nella nostra condotta all’immoralità, alla colpa, al male. Conviene, dunque, seguire  questa storia dello sviluppo della coscienza emjnrica, per  vedere attraverso quali fasi germogli e maturi il seme della  moralità, notando a tal proposito ohe tutto sembrerà succedere come casualmente, perchè tutto dipende dalla libertà,  e in nessun modo da una meccanica legge di natura. Anzitutto, e al suo grado pivi dàsso, l’io empirico si  riduce a un’attività istintiva ; l’istinto, senza dubbio, si accompagna con la coscienza, dista però ancor molto dalla di Fichte è veramente la ragione, e nella quale si attua l’accordo  dell’essere e dell’agire, dell’oggetto e del soggetto, della produzione e  della riflessione, e che ci fornisce l’intuizione, la coscienza immediata  dell’ Io assoluto. E risulta anche come la morale di Fichte fluisca  per essere in sostanza una morale del sentimento.] riflessione; l’uomo allora segue meramente e semplicemente l’impulso naturale e, così facendo, è libero per un’ intelligenza fuori di lui, ma per sè stesso è puro animale. I Tuttavia l’uomo può riflettere su questo stato; e tale  riflessione è per natura sua un atto di libertà : essa non è  nè fisicamente nè logicamente necessaria, ma soltanto moralmente obbligatoria: chi vuole adempiere la propria destinazione e acquistare in sè la coscienza dell’ Io puro,  deve riflettere su questo suo stato, e mercè tale riflessione  si eleva, quasi, sopra sè stesso, si stacca dalla natura, se  ne distingue e le si oppone come intelligenza libera ; acquista cosi il potere di differire ‘la propria autodeterminazione e di scegliere quindi tra più modi — la pluralità  dei modi nasce appunto dalla riflessione e dal differimento  della risoluzione — di soddisfare l’impulso naturale. Tale  scelta si compie secondo una massima liberamente adottata  dall’ io individuale, e perciò profondamente diversa dal PRINCIPIO supremo che scaturisce dalla legge morale e CHE NON È, COME LA MASSIMA, UN LIBERO PRODOTTO DELLA COSCIENA EMPIRICA. Per conseguenza, nel caso di una MASSIMA cattiva,  la colpa spetta tutta all’ io individuale. Ora, in questa seconda fase di sviluppo, dovuta al primo grado della riflessione, l’io acquista coscienza del fine a cui tende 1’ impulso naturale, lo fa suo e adotta come regola di .condotta  la MASSIMA della felicità. L’uomo rimane dunque ancora  un animale, ma diventa un animale intelligente, prudente:  è già formalmente libero. Soltanto mette la sua libertà al  servigio dell’impulso naturale. La MASSIMA della felicità,  per quanto sia un prodotto della sua libertà, non può essere diversa da quella che è, e, una volta posta, egli le obbedisce necessariamente. Senonchè la MASSIMA stessa, e con essa il carattere ohe ne risulta, non ha nulla di necessario e non è detto che l’io individuale debba arrestarvi»]/  se vi si arresta è soltanto sua colpa. Nulla lo costringe L  progredire, è vero, ma egli deve e può progredire, facenti  uso della propria libertà ed elevandosi liberamente a qn  piu alto grado di riflessione. Il male morale non deriva ile  non dal fatto che l’uomo il più delle volte non esercita la  propria libertà, onde a ragione  Kant riteneva il male  radicale innato nell’uomo e nondimeno prodotto dalla sua  libertà.   Quando però — con nuovo miracolo della sua spontaneità — 1’ uomo, nella fase ora descritta, esercita la propria libertà, una seoonda riflessione si compie, che, al pari  della precedente, ha carattere non di necessità fisica o logica, ma di obbligatorietà morale, e in virtù di essa nasce  una terza fase, nella quale l’io individuale prende coscienza  della sua opposizione rispetto alla natura e della spontaneità del proprio operare, ed erige questa spontaneità  stessa, ossia la propria volontà, a nuova massima di condotta. Non piu la ricerca della felicità guida ora le sue  azioni, ma il godimento di un’ indipendenza dal nou-io  la quale non ammette freno al proprio capriccio e fa di sè  stessa il proprio idolo. Si ha, quindi, un progresso verso  la libertà assoluta, ma non ancora la vera libertà morale,  non ancora la volontà riflessa sottoposta alla legge del dovere. Anzi, mentre la MASSIMA della felicità è, si, mancanza di legge, ma non addirittura rovesciamento della  legge > n l’ostilità contro questa, lt MASSIMA della volontà  egoistica e arbitraria, invece, può portare sino alla trasgressione intenzionale della legge. Il carattere della condotta ispirata a tale MASSIMA è soltanto la soddisfazione dell’amor proprio, dell’ orgoglio, del bisogno di dominare, ottenuta a  qualsiasi costo, anche di dolori corporei ; e appunto questa  idolatria della volontà egoistica spiega pressoché tutta la  storia umana. Essa riempie grandissima parte del teatro  del inondo con le sue lotte e le sue guerre, con, le sue  vittorie e le sue sconfitte. u II soggiogamento dei corpi e  delle anime dei popoli, le guerre di conquista e di religione, e tutti i misfatti cou cui l’umanità si è disonorata non si spiegano altrimenti. Che cosa indusse l'invasore, l’oppressore a perseguire il proprio fine con pericolo  e fatica ? Sperava egli forse che per tal modo si accrescerebbero le fonti dei suoi godimenti sensitivi? No  davvero. 1 Ciò ohe io voglio deve accadere, a quel che  io dico si deve stare ’ : ecco 1’ unico principio che lo moveva. Un siffatto culto della volontà egoistica certamente non è senza una certa aureola di grandezza, poiché  giunge anche al disinteresse: non al disinteresse che deriva  dall' obbedienza al dovere e che solo ha significato morale,  ma a un disinteresse di carattere impulsivo, derivante dal  desiderio di suscitare ammirazione, di cattivarsi stima, e che  rimane tuttora una forma di amor proprio e di orgoglio.  E un culto che porta sino al sacrifizio della vita — e ci  vuole del coraggio a vincere in noi la natura. Ma questo  sacrifizio è senza valore etico, perché è fatto soltanto al  proprio io individuale, è puro egoismo. Certo, rispetto  alla fase precedente, la quale non mira che alla felicità  sensibile, la fase ora descritta segna un progresso e sta  come a rappresentare l’età eroica dello sviluppo morale. Ma dal punto di vista della moralità nulla di più pericoluso che arrestarvisi, perchè essa ci abitua a considerare  come nobili e meritori, come rari e ammirevoli, come  opera mpererogativa, atti che sono semplicemente doverosi, e a considerare d’ altra parto tutto ciò che a vantaggio  nostro si fa da Dio, dalla natura, dagli altri uomini, come  nulla più che doveri verso di noi. Con siffatte pretensioni  la massima della volontà egoistica e senza, freno, adottata  in questa fase, è peggiore di ogni altra, perchè finisce addirittura col corrompere le stesse radici della moralità :  “ >1 pubblicano peccatore non vale più del fariseo sedicente  giusto, in quanto che nessuno dei due ha il menomo va¬  lore ; ma il secondo è assai più difficile a convertire del  primo. Per elevarsi al disopra di questa terza fase basta che  l’uomo — con un terzo atto di riflessione, al pari dei  precedenti spontaneo ma inesplicabile, non necessario ma  obbligatorio — acquisti coscienza chiara di quell’ originario  impulso all’ indipendenza assoluta che, considerato (analogamente a un eminente grado di capacità intellettuale)  come un dono gratuito della natura, può chiamarsi genio  della virtù, ma che, allo ^tato d’impulso cieco, pi'oduce  un carattere assai immorale. Mercè la riflessione, quell’ impulso si trasforma in una legge assolutamente imperativa,  e poiché ogni riflessione limita e determina ciò che è riflettuto, anche quell’impulso sarà limitato dalla riflessione,  e da cieco impulso verso una causalità sconfinata diventerà  una legge di causalità condizionata ; riflettendo, l’uomo sa  di dovere assolutamente qualche cosa ; e affinchè questo  sapere si tramuti in azione, bisogna che egli adotti la MASSIMA: adempì il Ino dovere perchè è tuo dovere. Sorge così  la coscienza morale, la quale impone appunto alla volontà  arbitraria, alla volontà senza regola uè freno della fase precedente, l’obbedienza al principio assoluto della ragione. Una volta conseguita questa chiara coscienza del dovere, la nostra condotta vi si conforma necessariamente, essendo inconcepibile che noi ci decidiamo di proposito e  con piena chiarezza a ribellarci alla nostra legge, a mancare  al nostro dovere, appunto perchè è la nostra legge, appunto perchè è il nostro dovere. Vi sarebbe in ciò, oltre  che una contraddizione evidente, una condotta veramente  diabolica, se lo stesso concetto u diavolo non fosse contraddittorio. Soltanto può accadere che la chiara coscienza del dovere si annebbii, si oscuri, che la riflessione non si mantenga  sempre alle altezze della moralità, e la nostra condotta,  perciò, cessi di essere conforme alla legge morale. Il dovere primo, quindi, e anche il più alto, è mantenere la  coscienza del dovere in tutta l’intensità della sua luce e  «Iella sua forza. Bisogna vegliare continuamente su noi  stessi, alimentare senza tregua il fuoco sacro della rifles¬  sione; possiamo fare di questa riflessione un’abitudine, senza perciò renderla una necessità, senza pregiudizio cioè  della libertà, allo stesso modo diesi può fare un’abitudine  dell’irriflessione, con cui la coscienza empirica comincia, e  persistere in essa, senza renderla perciò una necessità e  senza escludere quindi 1’ esercizio della libertà. Nella sua Ascetih «fa Animili/ zur Murai ( Ascetica conir appendice alta Morale) — contenuta in Nuahgelarsene Werke, e tradotta in inglese dal Kroeger. Se la coscienza morale svanisce del tutto, si da non  lasciar sopravvivere più nessun sentimento del dovere, noi    The sciunce of Elltics bij Fichte dianzi ricordato — il Pielite  si adopera a fornire il mozzo pratico per mantener viva o luminosa,  una volta nata per opera della libertà, la coscienza del dovere, 'l'ale  mezzo consiste ned’associazione delle idee, intermediaria tra la necessità della natura e la libertà della ragione, e precisamente nel-  l’associare in precedenza la rappresentazione dell'atto futuro con  la rappresentazione dell’atto conforme al dovere. Occorre, in altri termini, che i due propositi : voglio fare quest’azione; non voglio  agire se non conforme al dovere, siano indissolubilmente uniti in  ima sintesi, e la funzione propria dell’ascetica consiste appunto in  questa associazione permanente e anticipata del concetto del dovere non solo col concetto della nostra condotta in generale il che  sarebbe ancora troppo vago e astratto — ma con i concetti di azioni  determinate, soprattutto di quelle ABITUALI, QUOTIDIANE, in cui più facilmente possiamo peccare per omissione o violazione del dovere. Mentre invece per le azioni eccezionali e straordinarie difficilmente  manca I intervento della riflessione e la conseguente chiarezza della  coscienza. Di qui due regole: un esame di coscienza generale dei  casi in cui siamo più esposti al pericolo di cadere in colpa; e la  risoluzione ferma e sempre attiva di ridettero, in questi casi, sopra  noi stessi e di sorvegliarci, opponendo alla forza cieoa e alla resistenza passiva di certi stati di coscienza, divenuti abitudini quasi  invincibili, la causalità iutelligAte della coscienza morale: è noto  ohe spesso basta ridettero sulla propria passione e rendersi consapevoli delle associazioni che la costituiscono per liberarsene, dissociando  mentalmente i fattori da cui nasce e controbilanciando il piacere  che ci aspettiamo dal suo soddisfacimento col disprezzo che accom¬  pagna la trasgressione del dovere. Ma, affinchè l’esame della propria  coscienza abbia valore etico, bisogna che non si riduca a una pura  aulocontemplazione, a un’ analisi fatta quasi per semplice giuoco  estetico. Bisogna, invece, che si proponga la nostra riforma morale,  il miglioramento della nostra attività. Tale esortazione, del resto, si  rivolge non già agli uomini privi di coltura, la cui vita é tutta rivolta all’azione, ond’essi non ridettono se non per agire, ma agli  artisti, ai letterati, e persino ai lilosotì e ai sacerdoti, per i quali è  frequente il grave pericolo di dimenticare il valore pratico delle coso, di arrestarsi alla contemplazione e di nou tradurre la speculazione  in azione. ricadiamo in uno degli stati che precedono la moralità e  OPERIAMO SECONDO LA MASSIMA o della felicità o del dominio  arbitrario della nostra volontà egoistica. Se, invece, ci ri mane ancora un sentimento vago e intermittente del dóvere.  possono verificarsi le seguenti tre specie d’indeterminatezza  corrispondenti alle tre condizioni che rendono determinato  il dovere. L’indeterminatezza può concernere la MATERIA  del dovere, cioè l’applicazione della legge morale a un dato  caso : in ciascun singolo caso tra più azioni possibili non  ce n è che una conforme al dovere. Ma, per insufficiente  attenzione e riflessione, noi cediamo segretamente, e quasi  a nostra insaputa, a qualche altra sollecitazione e perdiamo  il filo conduttore della coscienza --; il MOMENTO del dovere : in ciascun singolo caso si deve adempiere subito  ciò che è dovere. Ma, per l’affievolirsi della coscienza, ci  illudiamo che non occorra affrettarsi a ciò, procrastiniamo  il nostro perfezionamento e ci abituiamo a procrastinarlo  all’ infinito --; la FORMA del dovere : l’imperativo morale è categorico, esige obbedienza assoluta e incondizionata. Ma, se perdiamo di vista tale sua caratteristica,  consideriamo il dovere, anziché come un comando, COME UN SEMPLICE CONSIGLIO DI PRUDENZA che si può seguire quando piaccia e  non costi troppa abnegazione, e con cui si può anche  transigere; di qui quei compromessi, quegli accomodamenti  con la propria coscienza che sono altrettanti modi di eludere la legge morale, altrettante cause di torpore per la  riflessione, e che pongono nel massimo pericolo la nostra  salvezza spirituale, quando per caso non sopravvenga  dall’esterno una forte scossa, la quale ci sia occasione a  rientrare in noi, a ravvederci. Quest’ultima maniera d’intendere il dovere, infatti, accusa la morale di  RIGORISMO impraticabile, sotto lo specioso pretesto che l’ adempimento  del dovere impone troppi sacrifizi, quasi che non fosse appunto in ciò l’obbligo nostro. Nel sacrificar tutto al dovere,  la vita, l’onore e ogni cosa all’uomo più caramente diletta.  Quale che sia il modo di oscurarsi della coscienza, si  può dire in generale che la causa di questo suo oscurarsi  e del conseguente smarrirsi della moralità, la causa iu-  somma del male, va ricercata in una sconfitta della libertà.  Se la riflessione che ci eleva alla libertà consiste in una creazione da parte della libertà e quasi in un colpo di  grazia che ci strappa all’oppressione della natura, il mantenimento della chiara coscienza del dovere non può essere che un perpetuo riprodursi di questo atto creativo,  una creazione continuata, uno sforzo incessante della riflessione, dell’attenzione ; e appunto perciò al menomo affievolirsi della nostra vigilanza consegue la nosti-a caduta e  il trionfo delle forze antagonistiche della natura, le quali  sono sempre e necessariamente in azione: tosto che cessa  lo sforzo morale, l’impulso naturale inevitabilmente ha il  sopravvento e, con la luce della coscienza, si spegue anche  LA VIRTÙ. Ogni uomo, dallo stato di natura, con cui s’inizia  la sua vita in una specie d’innocenza — perchè sono ancora  ignorati gli stati superiori in cui l’innocenza primitiva  assume aspetto di colpa —, perviene necessariamente alla  coscienza di sé stesso: a ciò gli basta riflettere sulla libertà che ha di scegliere tra più azioni possibili per soddisfare l’impulso naturale. SIAMO ALLORA IN QUELLA FASE IN CUI EGLI OPERA SECONDO LA MASSIMA DELL’INTERESSE O DELLA FELICITÀ (Siuenlehre). In questo grado di sviluppo rimano volentieri, trattenutovi dalla forza d 'inerzia che l’uomo, in quanto essere  sensibile, ha in comune con tutta la natura fisica. È vero  che, in virtù della sua natura superiore, egli deve 'strapparsi a questo stato, e può farlo perchè dotato di libertà. Ma proprio la sua libertà è impedita in questo stato, essendo  essa alleata con quella forza d'inerzia, da cui dovrebbe invece svincolarsi. Come farà egli a elevarsi alla libertà,  quando per questa elevazione stessa deve far uso della  libertà ? Donde attingerà la forza che faccia da contrappeso nella bilancia per vincere la forza d’inerzia? Certamente non nella sua natura empirica, la quale in nessun  modo fornisce alcunché di simile. Gli occorre, dunque, un  aiuto superiore. L’uomo naturale qui non può nulla da sé – ma da un miracolo puo essere salvato.   Intanto sappiamo che l’inerzia, la pigrizia — la quale  a forza di riprodursi indefinitamente diviene impotenza  morale — è il vizio radicale, il male innato, il peccato  originale. L’'uomo è per natura pigro, dice assai giustamente Kant. Da pigrizia nasce immediatamente viltà,  il secondo vizio fondamentale dell’ uomo. LA VILTÀ E LA PIGRIZIA D’AFFERMARE LA PROPRIA LIBERTÀ E INDEPENDENZA NELLO *SCAMBIO ili AZIONE CON GLI ALTRI: donde tutte le specie  di schiavitù fisica e morale tra gli uomini. In genere si ha  abbastanza coraggio dinanzi a coloro di cui si conosce la  debolezza relativa, ma si è disposti a cedere, a umiliarsi,  dinanzi a una supposta e temuta superiorità qualsiasi. Si  preferisce la sottomissione piuttosto che lo sforzo necessario a resistere. Precisamente come quel marinaio che preferiva le eventuali pene dell’ inferno al lavoro faticoso di  correggersi in questa vita. Il vile si consola di questa sottomissione forzata con l’astuzia e con la frode. Da viltà  nasce inevitabilmente il terzo vizio fondamentale: falsità.  È questa il risultato di uno sforzo indiretto che si compie  per ricuperare l’indipendenza perduta, quell’indipendenza  che nessun nomo può sacrificare ad altri cosi interamente  come il pigro finge di fare per essere dispensato dalla fatica  di difenderla in aperta battaglia. Falsità, menzogna, malizia, insidia derivano dall’esistenza di un oppressore, e  ogni oppressore deve aspettarsi tali frutti. Soltanto il vile  è falso. Il coraggioso non mente e non è falso. Per orgoglio, se non per virtù.  Ma come pud aiutarsi l’uomo, quando in lui è radicata la pigrizia, la quale paralizza appunto l’unica forza  con cui' egli deve aiutarsi ? Che cosa gli manca propriamente? Non già t la forza, che egli ben possiede, ma la  coscienza della forza e l’Impulso a farne uso. E donde  gli verrà questo impulso? Non da altra foute che dalla  riflessione: è necessario che l’io empirico, avendo in sè l’immagine dell’Io assoluto, e vedendosi in tutta la propria  bruttezza, senta orrore di sè ; soltanto per questa via potrà  formarsi la coscienza di quel che deve essere, soltanto di  là verrà l’impulso. In genere gl’ individui che formano la  grande maggioranza degli uomini hanno bisogno di apprendere la propria libertà da altri individui liberi, che  essi contemplano come modelli. Ma vi souo nella moltitudine spiriti eletti a cui fu dato di essere gl’ iniziatori della  moralità e quasi i primi maestri dell' umanità, per es. i  fondatori di religione. Si comprende come costoro, non  avendo attinto dall’ esempio altrui la consapevolezza della  propria indipendenza, e non trovando nella propria natura  empirica il principio dell’ emancipazione da questa natura empirica, si credano ispirati dall' alto da una grazia soprannaturale, da uno spirito divino, mentre invece non han  fatto che obbedire alla propria natura superiore, all’Io assoluto, di cui l’io finito e individuale deve divenire la  copia fedele.  Una volta emancipato dalla schiavitù della natura e divenuto cosciente  della propria libertà formale, l’uomo deve far uso di questa  per compiere l’infinita serie di azioni diretta verso l’assoluta libertà materiale. Quale la materia di queste azioni?  In qual modo l’ io individuale si puo elevere gradatamente sino a quell’ indipendenza assoluta, a quello stato oggettivo di  libertà, che è il fine ultimo della sua libera attività soggettiva? L’accennammo già. L’attuazione dello stato di  libertà non si ottiene se non determinando il mondo in  funzione della libertà stessa, operando cioè come chi  considera e tratta le cose dal punto di vista non della  loro esistenza data, ma della loro FINALITÀ, non del loro essere, ma del loro dover-essere, e le modifica perciò e le  adatta progressivamente nella direzione di questa FINALITÀ,  di questo dovere. Tale determinazione del mondo secondo l’idea della libertà, determinazione posta come obbligatoria  e come praticamente necessaria, costituisce il sistema dei  nostri doveri, la materia della moralità. In altri termini, la  morale propriamente detta non è che l’insieme delle condizioni a cui il mondo va sottoposto e a cui deve prestarsi  per essere strumento all’ attuazione della libertà. Queste condizioni possono ridursi a tre, perchè triplice è il punto di vista da cui può considerarsi il mondo. Il  mondo si può considerare in sè, come pura e semplice  materia, come natura corporea; o nel suo rapporto col  pensiero, come materia di conoscenza; o, finalmente, nel suo rapporto  col volere, come oggetto indispensabile all’ esercizio dell’ attività, come il luogo d’incontro delle molteplici sfere di libertà individuale, come IL TEATRO DELLA SOCIETÀ. E per la  morale si tratta appunto di mostrare nella nostra natura corporea, nella nostra intelligenza, e nella NOSTRA VITA SOCIALE, gli strumenti per l’attuazione della libertà, la  quale non può DIVENIRE REALE se non OPERANDO sul mondo  oggettivo, PER MEZZO del corpo, dell’intelligenza e DELLA SOCIETÀ. Come, dunque, dobbiamo trattare, in vista del fine  ideale da raggiungere: il corpo, l’intelligenza, LA SOCIETÀ? Il nostro corpo, essendo da una parte prodotto  di natura, dall’ altra strumento della causalità del concetto,  funziona da intermediario tra la necessità e la libertà. La  volizione si esercita immediatamente su di esso, e per esso  modifica mediatamente il mondo esterno secondo i nostri  concetti. Di qui risulta chiaro un triplice dovere rispetto  al corpo : 1) un dovere negativo : non far mai del proprio  corpo il fine ultimo delle proprie azioni ; 2) un dovere positivo : conservare e coltivare il proprio corpo nell’interesse  della libertà ; 3) un dovere limitativo : evitare come illecito  ogni piacere corporeo che non si riferisca al fine ultimo  della nostra attività. u Mangiate e bevete in onore di Dio:  se questa morale vi sembra troppo austera, tanto peggio  per voi ; non ce n’ è un’ altra „ L’intelligenza è la forma indispensabile attraverso  cui può attuarsi la libertà, poiché soltanto la riflessione  dà alla libertà la sua legge; fuori dell’intelligenza ci sarà  1’ istinto cieco, non già la coscienza morale ; l’intelligenza  è il veicolo stesso della moralità. Diciamo di più-: per la  legge morale , mentre il corpo è condizione materiale puramente esterna e soltanto della sua causalità, l’intel¬  ligenza è condizione materiale veramente interna e di  tutta quanta la sua essenza. Di qui un triplice dovere  anche verso l’intelligenza : 1) un dovere negativo : non  subordinare mai materialiter — ossia nelle sue ricerche  e cognizioni — l’intelligenza a nessuna autorità, foss’anche  quella della legge morale ; la ricerca da parte della ragione  teorica dev’ essere assolutamente libera e disinteressata ,  non deve preoccuparsi di altro che non sia l’acquisto  della conoscenza ; 2) un dovere positivo : formare l’intel¬  ligenza il più possibile ; il più possibile imparare, pensare,  indagare ; 8) un dovere limitativo : subordinare formaliier  l’intelligenza alla moralità, la quale rimane sempre il fine  supremo ; riferire al dovere tutte le nostre investigazioni ;  coltivare la scienza non per curiosità ma per dovere, es¬  sendo essa strumento di moralità. LA SOCIETÀ, infine, può dirsi addirittura l’espressione vivente della libertà, in quanto questa non si concepisce come qualcosa d’individuale, ma soltanto come  una recijjrocanza di RAPPORTI TRA PIU INDIVIDUI corporei,  intelligenti e VOLENTI. L’ideale della libertà, quindi, si  attua non nel singolo uomo , ma NELLA COMUNITÀ di tutti  gli uomini, in seno alla quale l’individuo DIVIENE PERSONA e senza la quale per l’ individuo nessun perfezionamento,  anzi nemmeno l’esistenza stessa, sarebbe possibile, essendo  individuo e SOCIETÀ termini correlativi, coudizionantisi a  vicenda. Se così è, se l’io empirico non può porsi altrimenti che come individuo, e se come tale NON PUO PRESCINDERE DA SUOI RAPPORTI CON LA SOCIETÀ, che vai quanto  dire dalla esistenza di ALTRI INDIVIDUI e dalla loro libertà,  è evidente che egli non può voler sopprimere questa esistenza e questa libertà, da cui sono determinate l’esistenza  e la libertà sua propina. La mia tendenza all’indipendenza  assoluta, fine supremo della mia attività, è dunque SUBOARDINATA ALLA LIBERTÀ DEGLI ALTRI. Le libere azioni degli altri  sono gli originari punti di confine della mia individualità,  e a esse io reagisco f non meno liberamente, autodeterminandomi a quella serie di azioni che prescelgo e da cui  uscirà costituita la mia personalità, non essendo io se non  quel che mi fo • con le mie azioni, e non consistendo il  mio essere in altro che nel mio operare. Soltanto che  mentre il mio operare, rispetto a quegli originari punti di  confine della mia individualità, ossia rispetto ai liberi influssi degli altri, mi appare l’effetto della mia assoluta  autodeterminazioue, della mia libera causalità, quei punti  di confine , quei LIBERI INFLUSSI DEGLI ALTRI, invece , mi appaiono come predeterminati a priori. Alla stessa guisa  che dal punto di vista altrui s’invertono le parti , e agli  altri appare liberamente autodeterminato il loro agire su  di me e predeterminato a priori il mio reagire su di loro.  Il che dà luogo, è vero, a un’ antinomia tra predeterminazione e autodeterminazione, ma a un’ antinomia che si  risolve facilmente cosi. Tutte le azioni libere (le mie come  le altrui) sono predeterminate ab aeterno (ossia fuori del tempo) dalla ragione universale. Ma il momento in cui  ciascuna deve accadere e gli attori di essa non sono predeterminati. Ecco, quindi, predestinazione e libertà perfettamente conciliate. Ciò premesso - è evidente il-dovere  fondamentale verso la società. Non impedire , con l’esercizio della propria libertà, la libertà degli altri, hou trattare gli altri uomini come cose, come semplici strumenti  della propria libertà. Ma anche nell’ interno di questo dovere sembra annidarsi un’ antinomia. Da una parte devo  tendere all’ indipendenza assoluta, all’ emancipazione da  ogni limitazione, dall’altra DEVO RISPETTARE LA LIBERTA ALTRUI, LA QUALE E UNA VERA LIMITAZIONE ALLA MIA LIBERTA. Da una  parte devo agire sul moudo sensibile si da farne, come il  mio corpo, il mezzo per giungere al line supremo, all’ assoluta libertà, dall’ altra non mi è lecito modificare i prodotti della libertà altrui. Come comporre questa nuova contraddizione? Non difficile la soluzione. Basta supporre  tra le molteplici libertà individuali, anziché contrasto,  vera COMUNANZA DI AZIONE. Se dal punto di vista giuridico  occorre una forza coercitiva -- l’autorità dello stato -- la  quale, restringendo l’esercizio delle libertà individuali antagonistiche , renda possibile il loro mutuo sviluppo , dal  punto di vista morale, invece, tutti gli individui sottostanno  alla medesima legge, tutti perseguono il medesimo fine,  tutti sono in certo qual modo identici nella loro condotta  conforme al dovere. perchè tutti hanno il medesimo dovere, e l’emancipazione degli uni, lungi dall’opporlesi, è  necessaria all’emancipazione degli altri, perchè l’indipendenza di ciascuno va di pari passo con l’indipendenza di  tutti, perchè LA LIBERTA, INTESA NEL SENSO MORALE, NON SI ATTUA SE NON NELLA COLLETTIVITA DEGLI ESSERI LIBERI. Dunque,  non già limitazione o interferenza tra le libertà individuali, sì bene CONFLUENZA, COLLABORAZIONE, CO-OPERAZIONE A UN’OPERA COMUNE, AL TRIONFO DELLE RAGIONE: il rispetto della libertà altrui è  qui compatibile con l’esercizio assoluto della libertà propria, perchè questa e quella si accordano e si completano  reciprocamente, la liberazione dell’uno è in pari tempo la  liberazione di tutti.   E invero, 1’ originaria tendenza all’indipendenza assoluta non si riferisce a un determinato individuo; ha per  oggetto la libertà assoluta, l’autonomia della ragione in  generale. L’ultimo fine della moralità è il regno della  ragione in quanto ragione, il che NON SI OTTIENE SE NON NELLA COMUNANZA E CON LA COOPERAZIONE di tutti gli esseri  che partecipano della ragione, di tutta l’umanità ; la libertà,  — ripetiamo — non hì concepisce sotto la forma dell' individualità, essa è di natura essenzialmeute sociale e universale, e non si attua nel singolo uomo se uon in quanto  questi da u individuo „ si eleva a “ PERSONA„ per confondersi in ispirito con tutti, gli esseri ragionevoli. Di qui  trae luce e spiegazione la nota formula kantiana. Opera  in modo da poter pensare LA MASSIMA DELLA TUA VOLONTA come PRINCIPIO d’ una legislazione universale, formula  più euristica che costitutiva della moralità, perchè non è  un principio — come sembra al Kant, a cui il metodo  da lui adottato interdiceva di penetrare sino al fondo delle  cose — ma soltanto una conseguenza di quel vero principio che consiste nel comando dell’ assoluta indipendenza della ragione. Di qui deriva la necessità che tutti-siano  veramente liberi , che nessuno sia impedito nell’esercizio  dulia ragione e nell’adempimento del dovere, che ciascuno  si adoperi ad avvicinare sempre più quell’ ideale — per  quanto destinato a rimanere sempre un ideale — che è  la moralizzazione dell’umanità. Soltanto l’uso della libertà  contrario alla legge morale ho il dovere di annullare ; ma  siccome ciascuno deve operare secondo le proprie convinzioni , cosi mi è lecito cercar di determinare o modificare  soltanto la convinzione degli altri, mai la loro azione. E  poiché non si può agire sulle convinzioni degli altri uomini  se non vivendo in mezzo a essi, anche per questa via si  ribadisce la necessità morale della società e il dovere per  ognuno di vivere in essa. Segregarsi dalla società significa  rinunziare ad attuare il fine della ragione ed essere indifferente al propagarsi della moralità, al trionfo della libertà,  al bene dell’ umanità. Chi si propone di aver cura sola-    [Secondo Fichte la suddetta  formula kantiana va intesa non già nel senso : — perchè un quid  può essere principio di una legislazione universale, perciò dev’essere  MASSIMA DELLA MIA VOLONTA — ma nel senso opposto : — perchè un  quid DEV’ESSERE MASSIMA DELLA MIA VOLONTA, perciò può essere anche PRINCIPIO di uua legislazione universale. In altri termini, non la  forma determina il contenuto della moralità, ma il CONTENUTO determina la forma. Se la moralità ha per contenuto l’attuazione universale della ragione, ne segue che ciascun individuo il quale operi di siuteressatameute, secondo ragione, può pensare la propria condotta  come un dovere per chiunque altro operi nelle medesime circostanze. La proposizione kantiana, appunto con questa universalizzazione della  condotta individuale , non fornisce altro che un eccellente mezzo di  controprova per accertarci se, agli effetti della morale , la condotta  di un individuo sopporti o no universalità, possa o no erigersi a  legge per tutti: è perciò una proposizione euristica, non già costitutiva della moralità.] mente di sè, dal lato morale, in verità non ha cura neppure di si, perchè suo fine ultimo dev’essero il prendersi  cura di tutto il genere umano, la sua virtù non è virtù,  ma soltanto im servile, venale egoismo. Non già con una  vita eremitica, dedita a pensieri sublimi e speculazioni  pure, non già col fantasticare, ma soltanto con 1’operare  nella e per la società si soddisfa al dovere. La necessità etica della società e il dovere che ne  deriva all’ individuo di vivere in essa e di lavorarvi alla  moi'alizzazione degli uomini, operando sul loro spirito e  formando le loro convinzioni, implica l’istituzione di quella  repubblica morale che i?i chiama la Chiesa e che è condizione indispensabile per la reciproca azione sociale diretta  a produrre credenze pratiche concordi e con esse il progresso della moralità. La Chiesa, infatti, rappresenta nel  suo simbolo, accettato da tutti i suoi membri, quell’accordo  primitivo e, a dir così, minimo, che solo rende possibile  una comunità spirituale. Ma il simbolo non è, nè può essere, che un punto di partenza o un mezzo, nou già un  punto di arrivo o uu fine ; esso è indefinitamente perfettibile mercè la continua reciproca azione degli spiriti gli  uni sugli altri e il conseguente sviluppo della moralità,  e non può, quindi, rimanere fisso e invariabile. Così, appunto, l’intende il PROTESTANTISMO. Invece, come fa il papismo, lavorare pur contro la propria convinzione a mantenere il simbolo in una fissità assoluta, a rendere la ragione stazionaria, a costringere gli altri in una fede già  superata , significa, oltre che ignoranza, trasgressione del  dovere, perchè allora si fa del simbolo non più 1’ espressione puramente prdVvisoria di un accordo destinato a  permettere la discussione delle diverse opinioni in vista  dell’ ulteriore sviluppo morale della comunità, ma la formula definitiva di una verità assoluta e immutevole, il  che sta in recisa opposizione con lo spirito della moralità,  la cui essenza consiste nello sforzo e nel progresso all’ infinito. Come la Cliiesa è istituzione necessaria al perfezionamento morale per quanto riguarda le convinzioni interne,  COSI LO STATO E ISTITUZIONE NECESSARIA per quanto riguarda  le azioni esterne, l’operare sul mondo sensibile. Ciò che  sta fuori del mio corpo, ossia tutto il mondo sensibile, è  patrimonio comune e il coltivarlo secondo le leggi della  ragione non spetta a me soltanto, ma a tutti gli individui  ragionevoli; di guisa che il mio operare su di esso interferisce con l’ operare degli altri, e può accadermi , perciò,  di arrecar danno alla libertà altrui, quando il mio operare  non sia all’ unisono con 1’ altrui volontà: il che assolutamente non mi è lecito. Quel che interessa tutti io non  posso fare senza IL CONSENSO  di tutti, e senza seguire,  quindi, principi universalmente accettati, previo ACCORDO,  tacito o esplicito, circa una parziale restrizione volontaria  e generale delle diverse libertà individuali. Il consenso a  questa restrizione e 1’accordo che determina i comuni diritti e la reciproca azione sul mondo sensibile è oggetto  del cosidetto contratto sociale e costituisce lo Stato. Lo  Stato, grazie alle leggi conosciute e accettate da tutti i  cittadini , rende possibile a ciascuno di essi di conciliare  l’esercizio della propria libertà col rispetto dovuto alla libertà degli altri; rende passibile, iu altri termini, prevenendo eventuali conflitti nell’incontro delle libertà individuali, quella convivenza sociale die è condizione strie iy ua  non della moralità'; di qui il suo alto significato e il suo  valore etico. La necessità del simbolo nella Chiesa, il rispetto delle  leggi nello Stato, impongono, non tanto alle convinzioni  dell’individuo — le quali sono incoercibili — quanto alla  loro manifestazione e comunicazione, certi limiti che non  si possono oltrepassare senza mettersi fuori del simbolo o  fuori della legge, fuori, iusomma, della comunità morale e  civile ottenuta iu un dato momento del progresso umano.  E pur tuttavia si è tenuti non solo a formarsi una convinzione indipendente da ogni autorità, ma anche ad affermarla e parteciparla agli altri. Come conciliare questa contraddizione tra 1’ assoluta libertà delle singole coscienze e  il rispetto alla fede comune ? come risolvere questo conflitto di doveri ? Non altrimenti che mediante una LIMITAZIONE RECIPROCA dei due doveri , che vai quanto dire : ammettere la libertà assoluta delle convinzioni e della loro  comunicazione, ma circoscrivere questa libertà e questa  comunicazione a quel particolare gruppo sociale che è il pubblico dotto. E invero, l’assoluta libertà delle convinzioni e della  loro comunicazione, se è impraticabile nel vasto ambito  della Chiesa e dello Stato , perchè per essere morale do¬  vrebbe raccogliere — cosa impossibile — 1’ adesione unanime di tutti i membri della comunità chiesastica e politica, è, invece, praticabile nel ristretto pubblico dei dotti,  il quale sta come anello di congiunzione tra la convinzione  comune e la privata.   Il carattere distintivo del pubblico dotto è uifa assoluti libertà e indipendenza di pensiero ; il principio della  sua costituzione è LA MASSIMA di non sottoporsi a nes¬  suna autorità , di basarsi in tutto sulla propria riflessione  e di rigettare assolutamente da sè tutto ciò che non sia  da questa confermato. Nella repubblica dei dotti non è  possibile nessun simbolo, nessuna direttiva prestabilita,  nessun riserbo ; tra dotti si deve poter dichiaral e tutto  ciò di cui si è persuasi, appunto come si oserebbe dichiararlo alla propria coscienza ; giudice della verità sarà il  tempo, ossia il progresso della coltura. E come assolutamente libera è l’investigazione scientifica, così pure libero  a tutti deve essere 1’ adito a essa. Per chi nel suo intimo  non può più credere all’ autorità , è contro coscienza con¬  tinuare a credervi, è dovere di coscienza associarsi al pubblico dotto. Lo Stato e la Chiesa debbono tollerare i dotti,  altrimenti violerebbero» te coscienze, perchè nessuna po¬  tenza terrena ha il diritto d’imporsi in materia di co¬  scienza. Lo Stato e la Chiesa debbono anzi riconoscere la  repubblica dei dotti, perchè questa è condizione del loro  progresso morale , in quanto che soltanto in essa possono  elaborarsi i concetti che modificheranno , perfezionandoli,  e il simbolo e la costituzione dello Stato: sin anche come  pubblici ufficiali — per es. nelle università — i dotti possono lavorare all’educazione degli uomini e alla formazione  scientifica degli insegnanti e dei funzionari tutti della  Chiesa e dello Stato. È da aggiungere, però, che il dotto,  insieme con l’incontestabile diritto che ha all’ esistenza, all' indipendenza e alla massima libertà di ricerca e cri¬  tica nel campo del pensiero, lia anche il preciso dovere  di sottomettersi all’autorità della Chiesa e dello Stato nel  campo deU’azioue ; onde non è lecito a chi ne faccia parte  nè diffondere le propine convinzioni, ancora discutibili e  non universalmente accettate, tra i fedeli e i cittadini  che vivono fuori della repubblica dotta, nè , tanto meno ,  attuarle senz’ altro nel mondo sensibile , minando cosi, o  addirittura sovvertendo, senza il consenso di tutti, gli ordi¬  namenti e i poteri costituiti ; Stato e Chiesa hanno il di¬  ritto di impedire ciò. Sarebbe un’oppressione della coscienza  proibire al predicatore di esporre in scritti scientifici le  sue convinzioni dissenzienti, ma rientra perfettamente nel-  1’ordine vietargli di portarle sul pulpito, ed egli stesso,  se'è illuminato, sentirebbe la propria immoralità quando  facesse così.   In conclusione: l’ultimo fine di ogni attività sociale  è l’accordo universale tra gli uomini, accordo non possibile  se non sul puro ragionevole, perchè qui soltanto ritrovasi  ciò che agli uomini è comune. Col presupposto d’ un tale  accordo cade la differenza tra un pubblico dotto e un pub¬  blico non dotto ; scompaiono anche Chiesa e Stato. Condividendo tutti le medesime convinzioni, a che servirebbe  più il potere legislativo e coercitivo dello Stato? Riunite  tutte le coscienze individuali nella visione diretta della  verità assoluta, a ohe servirebbero più i simboli provvisori  e mutevoli della Chiesa ? Il pensiero e l’azione di ciascuno  confluirebbe col pensiero e 1’ azione di tutti, la legge mo¬  rale troverebbe la sua espressione nella sublime armonia  di tutti gli esseri ragionevoli e buoni, nella suprema comu¬  nione dei santi, l’io empirico e individuale, completamente liberato da ogni limitazione, svanirebbe completamente in  seno all’Io puro e assoluto, si attuerebbe, insomma, nella  realtà l’Ideale, l’Infinito, Dio. Il contenuto materiale della  moralità è tutto in Questo perenne e progressivo attuarsi  del regno della ragione nel regno della natura, è tutto in  questa ascensione, in quest’approssimarsi del mondo verso  lo Spirito, vei’so la Libertà. Da  quanto precede risulta evidente che l’io empirico q la  persona è soltanto mezzo all’ attuazione del fine supremo  morale. La proposizione del Kant : L’uomo è /ine in se,  è giusta purché completata così : l'uomo è fine in .sr. ma  per gli altri. Siccome la legge si dirige a ciascuno e il  suo fine è la ragione in generale , ossia 1’ umanità tutta  quanta , ne segue che tutti sono fine a ciascuno , ma nes¬  suno è fine a se stesso ; 1’ attività di ciascuno è semplice  strumento per attuare la ragione. Con che la dignità del-  1’ uomo non è abbassata, è anzi inalzata, poiché a ciascun  individuo vien affidato il raggiungimento del fine univer¬  sale della ragione e dalla cura e dall’ attività di lui di¬  pende l’intera comunità degli esseri ragionevoli, mentre  egli , invece, non dipende da nulla. Ciascuno diventa Dio  nella misura che gli è possibile , ossia con riguardo alla  libertà degli altri, e appunto perchè tutta la sua iudivi-  dualità scompare, egli diventa pura rappresentazione della  legge morale nel mondo sensibile, vero Io puro. Errano  di molto coloro che pongono la perfezione in pie medita¬  zioni, in un devoto covare sopra sé stessi, e di qui aspettano l’annientarsi della propria individualità e il loro confluire culi la divinità; la loro virtù è, o rimane, e geliamo ;  essi vogliono fare perfetti soltanto se stessi. La vera virtù,  invece, consiste nell’operare, e nell’operare per la comu¬  nità : è quindi oblio, abnegazione intera di sè nell’interesse  della totalità degli esseri ragionevoli.   Se cosi è, se l’io empirico o individuale serve sola¬  mente di mezzo all’attuazione del fine supremo, ossia all’avvento del regno della ragione, ne segue che i doveri verso  l’io empirico sono mediati e condizionati di fronte a quelli  che, riferendosi direttamente al fine supremo , diconsi im¬  mediati e incondizionati, ossia assoluti. Senonchè la pro¬  mozione del fine supremo è possibile soltanto in virtù di  una ben disegnata divisione di lavoro, altrimenti potrebbe  molto accadere in più modi, e molto non accadere affatto.  È necessario, dunque, attuare una tale divisione di lavoro,  mediante 1’ istituzione di divei'se professioni , da cui na¬  scono doveri diversi, che diremo particolari o trasferibili  (perchè s’impongono soltanto a chi abbia scelto quella  data professione) di fronte ai doveri che sono generali o  intrasferibili (perchè s’impongono indistintamente a tutti  gli esseri umani). Combinando questa seconda classificazione dei doveri, fatta dal punto di vista del soggetto  della moralità, con la precedente, fatta dal punto di vista  dell’oggetto della moralità, si hanuo quattro specie di  doveri:  generali condizionati; particolari condizionati; generali incondizionati; e particolari incondizionati. I doveri generali condizionati — abbiamo dette — '   si riferiscono all’io empirico in quanto mezzo e strumento   indispensabile per 1 adempimento della legge morale: primo   tra essi, dunque , V autoconservazione , la conservazione ,   cioè , di questo mezzo o strumento. *L’ autoconservazione  già richiesta dal diritto naturale come condizione ne¬  cessaria al I attuarsi di quel futuro da cui attendiamo la  soddisfazione implicita nell’oggetto del nostro volere pre¬  sente , e perciò come qualcosa di relativo — diventa per  la moralità materia di un comando assoluto ; per 1’ uomo  morale si tratta non più di attendere un risultato più o  meno egoistico e interamente conseguibile nel tempo, ma  di lavorare disinteressatamente all’attuazione di quel fine  supremo di cui egli non potrà mai godere , perchè posto  all’ infinito.   Dal dovere dell’ autoconservazione nasce : — a) un  divieto : evita tutto ciò che, secondo la tua coscienza, può  mettere in pericolo la tua conservazione in quanto stru¬  mento della moralità (il digiuno e 1’ intemperanza in riguai do al corpo, l’inerzia intellettuale, il soverchio sforzo,  l’occupazione irregolare, il disordine della fantasia, la coltura unilaterale, ecc. in riguardo all’ intelligenza) ; non  espone al pericolo la tua salute, il tuo corpo, la tua vita,  quando non vi sia necessità morale. Segue da ciò la più  recisa condanna del suicidio : la moralità può comandare  di esporre la vita, non già di distruggerla ; la vita è la  condizione stessa dell’ adempimento del dovere, e il sui¬  cidio, distruggendo la vita, la sottrae appunto al dominio  della legge ; suicidarsi significa dichiarare di non voler  più adempiere il dovere. — b) un comando : opera tutto  quello che ritieni necessario alla tua conservazione (il buon     mauteuimeuto del corpo, il nuo adattamento perfetto ai  fini che deve conseguire, la coltura dell’intelligenza, la  ricreazione estetica, eco.).   Non va mai dimenticato, però, che il dovere dell’auto-  conservazioue è condizionato , essendo l’io empirico sem¬  plice strumento della moralità : quindi , dove il fine della  moralità non fosse compatibile col dovere «Iella conserva¬  zione , sarebbe moralmente necessario che la vita dell’ in¬  dividuo venisse sacrificata a quel fine, che il dovere coudi-  zionato fosse subordinato al dovere incondizionato : quando  la moralità lo esige, ho il dovere di arrischiare la mia  vita, e tutti i pretesti con cui cercassi di nascondere la  mia viltà — per es., quello di risparmiarmi la vita per  operare ancora dell’ altro bene che altrimenti rimarrebbe  incompiuto — andrebbero contro il dovere, il quale co¬  manda in modo assoluto e non ammette indugi al suo  adempimento. Tra i doveri particolari condizionati — attinenti ,  cioè, ai diversi uffici e alle diverse professioni individuali — sta anzitutto quello d’avere un ufficio, d’esercitare una  professione nell’interesse della società, di contribuire in  qualche misura all’ esistenza e all’ organizzazione sociale ;  poi 1’ altro di scegliersi a ogni modo un ufficio , una pro¬  fessione, e non già secondo l’inclinazione, ma con la coscienza d’ avere la migliore attitudine all’ uno o all’ altra ,  considerate le proprie forze , la propria coltura , le condi¬  zioni esterne dipendenti da noi , poiché non il sodisfaci-  mento dei nostri gusti dev’ essere lo scopo della nostra  vita, ma 1’ avanzamento del fine della ragione : onde gli uomini uou dovrebbero scegliersi uno stato prima d’essere  giunti alla necessaria maturità della ragione, e sino a  questa maturità si dovrebbe educarli tutti allo stesso modo;  infine il dovere di attendere con tutta coscienza all’ufficio  o alla professione prescelta, formando sempre meglio all’uno  o all’ altra il corpo e lo spirito , secondo che più occorre  (all’agricoltore, per es., occorre più la forza e la resistenza  fisica , all’ artista la destrezza e 1’ agilità dei movimenti,  allo scienziato la coltura spirituale in tutte le direzioni, ecc.).  Di una gerarchia delle professioni e degli uffici secondo il  loro grado di dignità , si può parlare dal punto di vista  sociale soltanto nel senso che le molteplici occupazioni  umane sono subordinate le une alle altre come il condi¬  zionato e la condizione, come il mezzo e il fine ; ma dal  punto di vista morale esse hanno tutte lo stesso valore ,  tutte la stessa dignità : quel che importa è adempieide  bene. I doveri generali incondizionati si riferiscono non  più allo strumento, ma al fine stesso della moralità , che  è il dominio della ragione nel mondo sensibile e nella tota¬  lità degli individui per opera di ciascun individuo.   Primo tra essi il dovere verso quella libertà formale  di tutti gli esseri ragionevoli, nella quale sta 1’ origine ,  la radice stessa della moralità. La libertà formale di eia-  scun individuo poggia sopra due condizioni : la permanenza del rapporto tra la volontà individuale e il corpo  che ue è 1’ organo esecutivo; la permanenza del rapporto tra il corpo individuale e il mondo sensibile che ne  è la sfera d’ azione. Di qui due specie di doveri concerneuti l’inviolabilità: A) del corpo altrui; B) della altrui  libertà d’azione: L'inviolabilità del corpo altrui implica; il divieto di esercitare qualsiasi violenza o coer¬  cizione fisica su altri (la condanna, quindi, della schiavitù,  della tortura, dell’ omicidio eoe.); il comando d’aver  cura della vita e della salute degli altri come della propria,  essendo gli altri, al pari di noi, strumenti della moralità  (ama il tuo prossimo come te stesso); L’ altrui libertà  d’azione esige : — in primo luogo l’esatta conoscenza dei  rapporti tra le cose, senza la quale manca ogni garanzia  che il risultato dell’ azione sarà conforme al disegno della  volontà ; di qui il dovere della veracità, il quale implica: il divieto d’ingannare il prossimo (con l’inganno si danneggia la libertà degli altri, trattandoli non come persone  ma come cose) e la conseguente condauna DEL VENIR MENO ALLE PROMESSE E DEL MENTIRE. Nessuna menzogna è lecita,  neppure la menzogna pietosa, o la pretesa menzogna necessaria, neppure col pretesto dell’interesse altrui, o, peggio  ancora, con quello dell’ interesse della moralità, perchè la  menzogna stessa, per essenza sua, nasce da viltà ed è  sempre radicalmente immorale; comando d’illuminare  e istruire il prossimo e di COMUNICARGLI LA VERITA. In  secondo luogo la proprietà, ossia quella sfera d’azione nel  mondo sensibile senza la quale manca, oltreché la materia  prima per attuare i disegni della propria volontà, altresì  la sicura coscienza di non disturbare, con l’esercizio della  propria libertà, la libertà degli altri, come esige la legge  morale ; di qui il dovere dell’ istituzione e della conserva¬  zione della proprietà, il quale implica : a) il divieto di  distruggerla, usurparla o menomarla in qualsiasi maniera; il comando d’acquistarsi una proprietà e di procurarne    una a ciascun individuo (come ogni oggetto dev’ èssere  proprietà di ciascuno affinchè tutto il mondo sensibile  rientri nel dominio della ragione, così ognuno deve avere  una proprietà ; in uno Stato in cui un sol cittadino non  abbia una proprietà, ossia una sfera esclusiva se non di  oggetti, almeno di diritti a certe azioni, non esiste in ge¬  nerale nessuna legittima proprietà ; la beneficenza consiste  non nel fare l’elemosina, ma nel fornire a ciascuno il modo  di vivere del proprio lavoro). In fatto di libertà non  può mai nascere conflitto tra esseri che operino secondo  ragione ; ma quando della libertà si faccia un uso contrario al diritto, nasce collisione tra determinati atti di  più individui e viene posta in pericolo , quindi, la vita o  la proprietà , insomma la libertà del singolo. E poiché è  proprio dello Stato attuare l’idea della legalità, così spetta  allo Stato appianare gli eventuali conflitti tra individui ,  contenendo , mediante la forza della legge giuridica, ciascuno entro i propri confini. Non sempre , però , lo Stato  può immediatamente intervenire a comporre contese : sottentra allora il dovere della persona privata. È dovere  universale, in tal caso, salvare dal pericolo la libertà del1’ essere ragionevole, senza far distinzione se si tratti di  noi o di altri, perchè tutti, indistintamente , siamo strumenti della logge morale. Se sono io l’aggredito, il dovere  dell’ autoconservazione m’impone di difendermi con tutte  le forze ; se è in pericolo il mio simile a me vicino,  l’amore del prossimo m’impone di salvarlo anche a rischio  della mia vita ; se più di uno è assalito nello stesso tempo, si devo portare aiuto anzitutto a quello ohe si può salvare  più presto e del quale oi accorgiamo prima. In questo  adempimento del dovere non può essere mai mio fine uccidere 1’ aggressore , il nemico , ma soltanto disarmarlo ;  posso cercare d’indebolirlo , di ridurlo all’ impotenza . di  ferirlo , ma sempre in modo che la sua morte non sia il  mio fine. u Se, peraltro, rimanesse ucciso, ciò dipende dal  caso, contro la mia intenzione, e io non sono perciò responsabile „. Si deve, insomma, trattare il nemico con  1’ amore dovuto a ogni altro prossimo, perchè è aneli’ egli  strumento della moralità e se dalle sue azioni per il momento non si può concludere che 1’ opposto, non si deve,  tuttavia , mai disperare che egli sia capace di miglioramento. L’ uomo animato da sentimento morale non ha. nè  riconosce, nessun nemico personale; chi sente piu vivamente un’ ingiustizia soltanto perchè fatta a lui, è ancora  un egoista, è ancora lontano dalla vera moralità. La libertà formale altrui, verso la quale s’impongono  i doveri ora descritti, è condizione necessaria ma non sufficiente per la moralità negli altri ; questa è resa possibile  da quella , ma, alfiuchè sia anche reale, bisogna che gli  altri prendano di fatto coscienza del loro dovere. Di qui  il comando, per chi si sia già elevato alla coscienza del  dovere, di allargare e promuovere la vita morale intorno  a sè, di elevare gli altri alla moralità. In qual modo? Poiché sarebbe assurdo voler produrre la virtù con mezzi  coercitivi, con premi o gastighi : la moralità non si lascia  imporre dal di fuori, nè per forza , ma nasce soltanto da  una determinazione interiore ; come può, dunque, tale determinazione nascere per opera di un altro in colui che.  ne è il soggetto e che deve possedere già dentro di sé le  condizioni atte a produrla? 14li è che, per chi guardi  bene, realmente esiste la possibilità, di un influsso ^morale  da coscienza a coscienza, ed esiste grazie a un sentimento  che serve di leva alla virtù, ma il cui sviluppo esige ap¬  punto un’ azione dal di fuori, l’azione dell’esempio altrui :  è questo il sentimento del rispetto o della stima, il quale,  sempre latente nel cuore dell’uomo, da cui è inestirpa¬  bile, si desta, dinanzi alla condotta virtuosa degli altri,  suscita, a sua volta, il bisogno di provare il medesimo  sentimento dinanzi alla condotta propria, il bisogno, cioè,  dell’autostima, e sprona, per tal via, alla moralità. Sorge,  così, per ognuno il dovere del buon esempio, essendo  l’esempio il vero strumento dell’educazione morale. E poiché l’esempio, per avere efficacia, per agire sulla coscienza  altrui, dev’ essere pubblico, ne segue che anche la pubblicità della condotta morale è per noi un dovere : essa nasce  dalla franchezza dell’ operare virtuoso e non ha nulla di  comune con 1’ ostentazione, la quale deriva dal desiderio  d’ essere ammirato. I doveri particolari condizionati si dicono così  perchè hanno sempre per oggetto il fine supremo della  moralità, il dominio della ragione, ina, anziché all’umanità  o alla società in genere, si riferiscono a ben determinate  relazioni umane, a ben definiti organismi sociali, quale  che sia la loro origine , vuoi da una stabile legge di na¬  tura — nel qual caso diconsi naturali — vuoi dalla mo¬  bile scelta delle singole volontà — nel qual caso diconsi artificiali. Dalle relazioni naturali nascono i doveri  di stato, dalle artificiali i doveri di vocazione. Due relazioni naturali sono possibili per l’uomo,  e insieme costituiscono l’organismo sociale della famiglia :  la relazione tra coniugi, la relazione tra genitori e  figli. Di qui due specie di doveri di stato : doveri tra  coniugi, doveri tra genitori e figli, La relazione coniugale è già 1’ inizio della moralità nella natura, segna  già il passaggio da questa a quella , perchè è uno stato  che da una parte si fonda sopra un impulso naturale —  l’istinto sessuale — dall’ altra implica, in entrambi x sessi,  sentimenti — reciproca dedizione completa e perpetuo reciproco amore, reciproca fedeltà — che trasformano la sensualità brutale in una spiritualità umana. Il coniugio , as¬  sociazione naturale e morale a un tempo, è condizione  precipua per l’esistenza di quella società che vedemmo  essere a sua volta condizione cosi indispensabile per 1’ attuarsi della moralità, e, in quanto t,ale, costituisce un dovere che implica : a) il comando di contrarre matrimonio,  quando si verifichi la sua base naturale, 1’ amore, (l’individuo umano fisico non è un uomo o una donna, è, a un  tempo, 1’ uno e 1’ altra ; lo stesso dicasi dell’ individuo  umano morale : vi sono in lui aspetti dell’ umanità — e  proprio i più nobili e disinteressati — i quali solamente  nel matrimonio possono formarsi ; perciò u rimaner celibi  senza propria colpa è una grande infelicità, ma rimaner  celibi per propria colpa è una gran colpa „) ; fi) il divieto  di relazioni sessuali fuori del matrimonio (queste relazioni,  infatti, sono fondate o sull’ amore della donna , e allora  s’ impone moralmente il matrimonio , ovvero soltanto sul'  piacere o sull’interesse, ohe vai quanto dire sull’indegnità  della donna, e allora sono immorali non solo per la donna  ohe si avvilisce, ma anche per l’uomo che l’avvilisce, che  vede in lei non più un essere umano e ragionevole , ma  un semplice strumento di voluttà ('). b) La relazione tra  genitori e figli dà luogo a due serie inverse di doveri :  u) da parte dei genitori il dovere di vigilare la vita e la  salute dei loro nati e in pari tempo di suscitare e favo¬  rire in essi lo sviluppo della libertà secondo la direzione  del fine umano : insomma il dovere dell’allevamento e del-  P educazione alla moralità. L’adempimento di questo do¬  vere — che del resto è una specificazione del dovere uni¬  versale che a tutti incombe di plasmare sè e gli altri in  conformità della legge morale — risponde nella famiglia  a un bisogno del cuore, perchè la prole, per i coniugi, non  è semplicemente prossimo , ma il prodotto del loro reci¬  proco amore ; (1) da parte dei figli, se minorenni il dovere  di obbedienza, se maggiorenni il dovere di rispetto, venerazione, assistenza ai genitori ( ! ).  Due relazioni artificiali ,ma non meno indispen¬  sabili delle naturali alla vita comune, possono essere sta¬  bilite dalla libera scelta dei singoli individui e insieme  costituiscono l’organismo sociale dello Stato: a) agire di¬  rettamente sugli uomini , in quanto esseri ragionevoli ; agire sulla natura, in quanto mezzo o strumento per le  nostre azioni verso gli uomini. Su questa base e in forza  della suaccennata necessità di una armonica divisione del lavoro movale e di una organizzazione gerarchica dell’ at-  1’ attività degl’ individui per la promozione del fine su¬  premo, si distinguono due specie di classi sociali, con due  corrispondenti specie di doveri di vocazione : a) classi su¬  periori (scienziati, educatori, artisti, impiegati), che lavo-   t   vano al progresso spirituale della società, e sono, perciò,  quasi 1’ anima dello Stato ; b) classi inferiori (minatori,  agricoltori , artigiani, commercianti) che assicurano 1’ esi¬  stenza economica della società e sono, perciò, quasi il  corpo dello &tato.   a) Quali i doveri di vocazione delle classi superiori ? L’ uomo allora soltanto adempirà la sua vera destina¬  zione quando abbia una visione chiara del dovere ; è ne¬  cessario, dunque, formare anzitutto la sua conoscenza teo¬  rica. Tale ufficio è la missione del dotto (*). Chi consideri  tutti gli uomini come una sola famiglia , è tratto a fare  delle loro cognizioni un unico sistema, il quale si accresce  e si elabora attraverso i secoli, come si accresce e si ela¬  bora attraverso gli anni l’esperienza del singolo individuo.  Ciascuna generazione, quindi, eredita dal passato un tesoro  di formazione scientifica, che la classe dotta è chiamata a  conservare e aumentare. I dotti sono i depositari e quasi  1’ archivio della coltura della loro età ; non però alla ma¬  niera dei non dotti, che si arrestano ai risultati, si bene  come chi possiede anche i principi ohe condussero lo spi-    (*) L’essenza e la missione del dotto furono più volte per il  Fichte argomento di conferenze e di lezioni. Vedi in proposito nel  voi. VI dei Sàmmtl. Werke Ueber die Bestimmung des Gelchrten (le¬  zioni tenute a Erlangen) ; e nel voi. Ili dei Nachgel. Werhe,  Ueber die Bestimmung des Gelchrten (cinque lezioni tenute a Berlino ).  A    rito umano a questi risultati. E primo dovere del dotto,  quindi, acquistare una veduta stori co-filosofica del cam¬  mino della scienza sino al suo tempo: altrimenti egli non  potrebbe nè intendere il significato della verità , uè epu¬  rarla dagli errori che 1* offuscano. È inoltre dovere del  dotto amare rigorosamente la verità e lavorare al suo pro¬  gresso mediante una ricerca sincera e disinteressata. la  quale non si proponga altro che servire al fine ultimo  dell’umanità, all’avvento del regno della ragione nel mondo.  Il dotto, come ogni virtuoso, deve obliare se stesso in  questo fine : fare sfoggio di abilità nel difendere errori  sfuggiti o brillanti paradossi è soltanto egoismo e vanità  che la morale disapprova e un’ elementare prudenza sconsiglia ; perchè soltanto il vero e il buono permane : il  falso, per quanto sfolgori a tutta prima , è destinato a  perire. La formazione della conoscenza teorica è solfante  mezzo al fine supremo di promuovere la moralità, ed è un  mezzo inefficace quando non vi si aggiunga l’operare pra¬  tico, quando, cioè, alla visione da parte dell’intelligenza  non si aggiunga 1’ azione da parte della volontà. Ora, è  ufficio d’ur.a speciale classe di dotti, dedicarsi in modo  particolare all’ educazione della volontà del pubblico non  dotto, alla moralizzazione del popolo : sono essi i ministri  della Chiesa, i quali, appunto perchè si sono messi al ser¬  vizio della comunità etico-religiosa, hanno il dovere di  adempiere il loro ufficio in nome della comunità stessa,  attenendosi scrupolosamente a ciò ohe è oggetto di fede  generale, al simbolo. Debbono, si, essere uomini di scienza e, ilei loro campo speciale, vedere al di là e meglio di  quanto vedano le anime affidate alla loro cura, ma nel-  1 educare queste anime, nell’ inalzarle a vedute superiori ,  devono procedere in modo che tutte a un tempo possano  seguirli, altrimenti si romperebbe quell’accordo spirituale  che fa 1 essenza della Chiesa. Gli educatori del popolo ,  in quanto tali , non devono svolgere o dimostrare cono¬  scenze teoretiche e principi, e tanto meno polemizzarvi  sopra, come si fa nella repubblica dotta; non è loro mis¬  sione porre articoli di fede o creare la fede — perchè articoli e fède esistono già come legame vivente della co¬  munità etico-religiosa — ma ravvivare e rafforzare la fede  che il credente ha già nel progresso morale , ed elevare  con essa lo spirito di lui all’eterno, al divino. Soprattutto  l’esempio che danno è importante a tal fine ; la fede della  comunità riposa in grandissima parte sulla fede loro, e il  più spesso non è che una fede nella loro fede. Ora, se in  essi la vita non risponde alla fede , la fiducia in questa  rimane profondamente scossa. Spetta al dotto formare 1’intelligenza, spetta all’edu¬  catore morale formare la volontà dell’ uomo : sta tra i due  l’artista, il quale ha il privilegio di educare il senso este¬  tico , interposto come tratto d’unione tra la conoscenza  teoretica e 1 attività pratica. L’ artista non agisce soltanto  sull’ intelletto, come fa 1’ uomo di scienza, nè soltanto sul  cuore, come fa il moralista popolare, ma sullo spirito umano  tutto quanto : 1’ arte bella investo e pervade tutta l’anima  in quanto siuLesi di tutte le facoltà. La formula pili espres¬  siva di ciò che 1’ arte fa è la seguente : l' arie rende coninne il punto di vista trascendentale. Il filosofo si eleva  ed eleva con sé gli altri a questo punto di vista col la¬  voro del pensiero e seguendo una regola ; l’artista vi si  trova già senza rendersene conto : nou ne conosce altri.   Bai punto di vista trascendentale il mondo è fatto : dal   » punto di vista comune il mondo è dato ; dal punto di  vista estetico il mondo è dato, sì, ma non altrimenti che  come tatto. Il mondo reale, voglio dire la natura, presenta  due aspetti : da un lato è il prodotto delle determinazioni  o limitazioni a noi poste, dall’altro è il prodotto della  nostra attività libera, ideale, trascendentale. Sotto il primo  rispetto la natura è essa stessa limitata da ogni parte,  sotto il secondo è da per tutto libera. La prima maniera  di vedere è volgare , la seconda è estetica. Per es., ogni  forma nello spazio può considerarsi come circoscritta dai  corpi vicini, ma anche come la manifestazione della forza  espansiva, della pienezza interna del corpo che ha questa  forma. Chi vede i corpi nelle prima maniera uon vede  che forme contorte, compresse , mostruose : vede la bruttezza ; chi li vede nella seconda maniera, vede in essi la  vigoria, la vita, lo sforzo della uatura: vede la bellezza.  Vale altrettanto della legge morale: in quanto comanda  assolutamente essa comprime ogni tendenza della natura, e  veder la nostra uatura a questo modo è come vederla  schiava ; ma la legge morale fa tutt’ uno con l’Io , ne è  anzi l’espressione più intima, onde, obbedendo ad essa,  obbediamo a noi stessi : veder la nostra natura a que¬  st’altra mauiei’a è vederla esteticamente ^ ossia come bel¬  lezza. 1. artista vede tutto dal lato bello, vede in tutto  energia , vita , libertà ; il suo mondo è interiore, è nel1 umanità , e perciò 1’ arte riconduce 1’ uomo al fondo di ne stesso, strappandolo al dominio della natura, liberandolo  dai vincoli della sensibilità e rendendogli l’indipendenza,  che e il supremo fine morale. Idi guisa che il senso este¬  tico non e.la virtù, ma prepara alla virtù, e la coltura  estetica ha, un rapporto positivo con l’avanzamento del  fine morale. La moralità dell’ artista può raccogliersi in  questi due precetti : u ) un itimelo per tutti gli uomini :  non ti fare artista a dispetto della natura, non pretendere  di essere artista quando la natura uon t’ispira ; b) un co¬  mando per il vero artista: guardati dal favorire, o per  egoismo, o per desiderio di fama, il gusto corrotto del tuo  tempo; sforzati soltanto a riprodurre l’ideale che è in te;  ispiiati alla santità della tua missione, e sarai, a un tempo,  uomo migliore e migliore artista (*).   L opera del dotto dell’educatore e dell’artista, in servigio del fine supremo morale, presuppone sempre quella  libera reciprocità d’azione tra gli uomini, che è condizione  prima di ogni comunità e a garantir la quale — finché il  regno della ragione non sia una realtà — è necessario lo  Stato. Quali sono ora i doveri degli impiegati, ossia degli  ufficiali dello Stato ? L’ impiegato subalterno è rigorosa¬  mente legato alla lettera della legge, la quale, perciò ,  dev’ essere chiara e uon dar luogo a dubbi d’interpretazione. Quanto all impiegato superiore, al legislatore, al  giudice inappellabile, i quali non sono che i gerenti della  volontà comune affermatasi, espressamente o tacitamente,  nel contratto sociale, debbono aneli’ essi conformarsi alla  costituzione politica attuale , nata dalla volontà comune ,  con la riserva, però, di perfezionarla secondo le idee della ragione, tenendo gli occhi tìnsi alla costituzione ideale.  Chi regge lo Stato deve avere una chiara veduta circa il  fine della costituzione — il quale non può essere che il  progresso umano — deve , perciò , elevarsi mediante concetti sopra 1’ esperienza comune, dev’essere un do'tto nella  sua materia, deve, come dice Platone, partecipare alle Idee,  e lavorare all’attuazione dell’ideale, favorendo la coltura  delle classi superiori. Da queste classi il progresso si dif¬  fonderà poi nella comunità tutta quanta e trarrà seco, col  suffragio universale, la riforma della costituzione. Il reg¬  gitore di uno Stato, quindi, è sempre responsabile dinanzi  al suo popolo del modo ond’egli lo governa, e se può con¬  siderarsi come legittima ogni costituzione che non renda  impossibile il progresso in generale e quello dei singoli  individui, sarebbe assolutamente illegittimo e immorale un  governo che si proponesse di conservare tutto com’ è at¬  tualmente. Quali i doveri di vocazione delle classi inferiori ?  — La nostra vita e il nostro operare sono condizionati  dalla materia, la quale va trattata conformemente al fine  supremo che è il dominio della ragione sulla natura. Quanto  piu questo dominio si estende, tanto più l’umanità progre¬  disce ; è necessario, dunque, elaborare la rozza natura e  renderla adatta ai fini spirituali ; è qui, appunto, 1’ ufficio  delle classi sociali inferiori, il cui lavoro, riferendosi come  ogni altro alla moralità di tutti, ha il medesimo valore  etico del lavoro delle classi superiori, alla pve/sibilità del  quale è condizione indispensabile. E poiché dal perfeziona¬  mento meccanico e tecnico del lavoro materiale è facilitata] la conquista della natura, ed è quindi promosso il progresso  dell’ umanità, è nu dovere per le classi inferiori migliorare  e inalzare il loro mestiere. TI che riohiede 1’ adempimento  d un altro dovere concernente i rapporti tra la classe in¬  feriore e la superiore. J1 perfezionamento industriale di¬  pende da conoscenze , scoperte , invenzioni, che rientrano  nell ufficio professionale dei dotti ; è dovere, dunque, della  classe inferiore, onorare la classe piò colta appunto perchè,  tale e attenersi ai consigli e alle proposte che da essa le  provengono per quanto riguarda il miglioramento di questo  o quel ramo d’industria, di questo o quel genere di vite,  domestica, di questo o quel sistema di educazione, ecc. Dal  canto suo, poi, la classe superiore, ben lungi dal disprez¬  zai e, deve tenere nella piu alta stima la classe inferiore,  rispettarne la libertà, riconoscere il valore dell’ opera sua  in riguardo agli interessi superiori dell’ umanità. Soltanto  in una giusta reciprocanza di rapporti tra le varie classi  sociali sta la base del perfezionamento umano, inteso come  fine supremo di ogni dottrina morale.  Riassumendo, la Dottrina Morule, nelle tre parti in  cui si divide, si propone un triplice oggetto e ottiene un  triplice risultato. Anzitutto nella deduzione del principio della mo¬  ralità il Fichte mostra come la Ragione e la Libertà, le  quali a tutta prima per la coscienza empirica non sono che  ideali, divengano poi in essa principi di azione, esercitino  una causalità. L’io empirico individuale non può porsi nè pensarsi se non in base all’ Io puro universale , se non in  quanto ha per principio e per fine l’Ideale ; e l’Io puro  universale non può attuarsi se non ha per strumento l’io  empirico individuale. L’ unità dell’ ideale non acquista cau¬  salità, non diviene efficace nel mondo se non pluralizzandosi, quasi in centri luminosi, in spiriti individuali, i quali  soltauto possono dirsi realmente esistenti e attivi. Ora, appunto questo reciproco rapporto tra i molteplici io empi¬  rici e 1’unico Io puro fornisce il contenuto del dovere e  rende il dovere intelligibile. Il dovere, infatti, è la neces¬  sita imposta all’ Io puro, ossia alla Libertà, di attraversare  1’ intelligenza , ossia l’io empirico , di divenire quindi intelligibile, per passare dallo stato ideale di potenza a quello  leale di atto, necessità che non significa eteronomia perchè  non impone alla Libertà se non la propria attuazione. L’intelligibilità del dovere : ecco il primo risultato che Fichte ottiene, colmando l’abisso che Kant aveva lasciato aperto  tra la conoscenza e la volontà, e facendo dell’ intelligenza  la condizione interna, il veicolo della libertà; poiché l’intelligenza esprime quasi lo sforzo della libertà infinita per  assumere, con la coscienza di sè, la forma del reale. In secondo luogo, a proposito dell’applicabilità del  principio morale, Fichte mostra come il mondo si presti  all attuazione della ragione e della libertà ; il che significa  che la natura non è radicalmeute cattiva, non è assoluta-  mente refrattaria allo spirito ; c’ è anzi una stretta parentela tra lo spirito e la natura, non essendo questa che un  prodotto inconscio di quello. Soltanto che l’attuazione del1’ideale morale non si compie a un tratto nel mondo con  un semplice decreto della volontà, ma è la meta di un  progresso. L’idea di sviluppo, di progresso è una categoria della moralità ; ecco il secondo risultato che Fichte ot¬  tiene eliminando l’assoluta irriducibilità riaffermata dal  Kant tra libertà e natura . spirito e materia, idealità e  realtà, e facendo la natura, la materia, la realtà suscettive  di un progressivo liberarsi, spiritualizzarsi, idealizzarsi al-  l’infinito. Infine, nel fare 1’ applicazione del principio morale, Fichte mostra come il progresso richieda, per com¬  piersi, una duplice condizione ; l’uua formale : occorre che  1’ individuo acquisti in sè la coscienza della libertà e della  legge morale; 1’ altra materiale : occorre che 1’ individuo  apprenda come il contenuto del dovere sia nell’ attuare la  moralità non solo in lui, ma anche fuori di lui, negli altri  individui, nel genere umauo tutto quanto , la cui totalità  appunto rappresenta la ragione universale ; occorre, insomma , che 1’ individuo sappia di essere strumento indispen¬  sabile per 1’ attuarsi dell’ ideale nel mondo , per 1’ emancipazione cioè dell’ umanità intera dai vincoli della natura  e per la sua elevazione al regno dello spirito. La sostituzione d’ un ideale sociale a un ideale individuale : ecco  il terzo risultato che il Fichte ottiene trasformando la formula kantiana : “ Ogni uomo è esso stesso fine „ in que¬  st’ altra : “ ogni uomo è esso stesso fine in quanto mezzo  ad attuale la ragione universale „ e subordinando così il  singolo al tutto, 1’ individuo all’ umanità.   È facile argomentare, in base a questo triplice risul¬  tato, le radicali innovazioni di cui, rispetto alla morale tradizionale, è feconda la dottrina fichtiana.   L’intelligibilità del dovere porta seco la razionalità  dell’azione e sostituisce alla fede, opera della grazia divina  o di uu impulso incosciente, la convinzione della propria coscienza, l’unione indissolubile dell’energia della volontà  con la luce del pensiero. Per ben operare, all’ intellettua¬  lismo socratico basta il retto giudizio, al volontarismo cristiano basta il cuore puro: Fichte fonde i due 'punti di  vista ed esige per la moralità degli atti così la dirittura  del giudizio come la purezza del cuore, così l’intima per¬  suasione come la buona volontà. Un dovere irrazionale, impenetrabile a ogni sforzo della riflessione è, secondo lui,  altrettanto immorale quanto un dovere adempiuto per secondi fini. Inintelligibilità e insincerità sono per Fichte  ugualmente incompatibili col concetto del dovere.   L’ idea di sviluppo e di progresso, intesa come cate¬  goria della moralità, porta seco la riabilitazione della na¬  tura rispetto allo spirito, alla cui attuazione, anziché osta¬  colo, è condizione e mezzo. Senza la natura — vedemmo —  mancherebbe allo spirito l’oggetto su cui esercitare la pi-o-  pria attività, la quale ha bisogno d’agire sulla natura per  liberarsi dalla natura; senza i corpi individuali, che della  natura fanno parte, mancherebbe alla libertà dello spirito  il modo di pluralizzarsi in tante sfere d’ azione, le quali,  sebbene distinte, sono in recipi'oco rapporto fra loro, sì da  applicarsi tutte al medesimo universo e da rappresentare,  unite insieme, e attuare la vivente unità del cosmo e della  ragione universale. Ogni organismo corporeo, infatti, è stru¬  mento indispensabile affinchè la libera attività spirituale  abbia causalità nel mondo ; e da ciò deriva a esso e , per  estensione, a tutta quanta la natura, una consacrazione morale, che non si accorda con la condanna della natura e  del corpo pronunziata dall’ ascetismo cristiano , ma nem¬  meno con l’apoteosi della natura e del corpo celebrata dal¬  l’edonismo pagauo ; una consacrazione morale che vieta a un tempo così la macerazione, come il blandimento della  carne, e che mentre, restituisce alla vita dei sensi il suo  ufficio subordinato e la sua vera finalità nella vita morale   — si ricordi la prescrizione fichtiana già citata : u Mangiate e bevete a gloria di Dio ; se questa morale vi sembra  troppo austera, tanto peggio per voi ; non ce n’ è un’ altra „ — non ritiene necessario nè una risurrezione dei  corpi, nè un’ immortalità personale. Perché Fichte non  si contenta più di una moralità che miri a una vita futura,  o che si appaghi di un sogno di perfezione interiore, ma  vuole attuare sulla terra stessa il regno dei cieli, ripo¬  nendo la beatitudine, come già il Lessing aveva detto della  verità, non nel possesso, ma nella conquista della libertà :  “ essere liberi è nulla, divenire liberi è il cielo ! La sostituzione dell’ ideale sociale all’ ideale indivi¬  duale porta seco l’inversione del rapporto di dipendenza  tra morale e diritto , 1’ accentuazione massima del valore  del regime di giustizia e la radicale trasformazione del  concetto tradizionale di carità. È, infatti, un’ originale ca¬  ratteristica della dottrina fichtiana l’aver posto non più   — come si soleva in passato — la morale a condizione del  diritto, ma il diritto a condizione della morale. Per Fichte  la libertà, materia del dovere, non si concepisce senza la  società, ma la società non si concepisce senza rapporti di  giustizia, dunque la giustizia, ossia il diritto (juslitiu da  jus = diritto) è il fondamento della morale ; affinchè la  moralità possa attuarsi, occorre prima assicurare a tutti  1’ eguaglianza nel possesso della libertà esteriore, e procu¬  rare a tutti indistintamente, con una legislazione regolatrice dell’attività economica, quella parte di agiatezza materiale che è necessaria all’opera di emancipazione morale  o di elevazione verso la vita dello spirito. Questa emancipazione ed elevazione spirituale, poi, non deve uè può fi¬  nire nel singolo individuo, che nella dottrina fiohtiana nou  ha per sè nessun valore assoluto, ma dev’ essere promossa  da ciascun uomo in tutti gli altri uomini, perchè l’ideale  etico, ben lungi dal ridurci a una salvezza individuale, a  una perfezione interiore, a una santità eremitica incurante  della sorte delle altre anime, o una santità operosa sol¬  tanto per conquistarsi un posto nel cielo , consiste invece  nella moralizzazione e nella salvezza di tutto il genere  umano, nell’avvento del regno della ragione su questa terra  e in tutta 1’ umanità. Di qui deriva , secondo Fichte, il  vero concetto della carità : sforzarsi d’inalzare i nostri si¬  mili alla moralità. Ciascuno deve proporsi non la propria  felicità, e nemmeno soltanto la propria libertà e indipen¬  denza particolare, ma la libertà universale, la salute spirituale di tutti; il culmine della virtù per l’individuo è  darsi in olocausto per la salvezza del mondo, accettando  coraggiosamente l’imperativo ingrato, se si vuole, ma categorico, di lavorare senza riposo e senza ricompensa, a  un fine di cui non vedrà mai l’adempimento completo, al  trionfo infinitamente lontano della ragione , e di lavorarvi  in un ambiente spesso indifferente ed ostile, con penosi sa¬  crifizi , senz’ altro stimolo che il puro amore del dovere ,  senz’ altra gioia che quella di avere colla propria abnega¬  zione contribuito all’ordine universale ! Concezione sublime  questa, che ricorda l’altra affine dello Zend Avesta, la  quale fa dipendere aneli’ essa la salvezza di ciascuno dalla  salvezza di tutti e comanda a ognuno di combattere, se¬  condo i propri mezzi e secondo il posto assegnatogli, il  regno delle tenebre e del male e di lavorare al trionfo  della luce e del bene. E nonostante questa abnegazione di  sè nell’ interesse della ragione universale, l’io individuale  conserva tutta la propria realtà e personalità, nè potrebbe  avere una dignità ma'ggiore , poiché quale dignità può ritenersi più grande di quella di un essere dalla cui azione  dipende la salvezza di tutti e alla salvezza del quale concorre 1’ universalità degli esseri ragionevoli [Tale concezione trovasi eloquentemente illustrata da Ficlite  anche nella terza delle conferenze da lui tenute a Jena  sulla Missione ilei dotto ; ne riportiamo qui, liberamente tradotta, la  bella chiusa che è quasi una lirica: “ Se l’idea liuora svolta si con¬  sidera auche prescindendo da ogni rapporto con noi stessi, siamo por¬  tati a vedere fuori di uoi una collettività in cui nessuno può lavo¬  rare per sè senza lavorare per gli altri, nè lavorare per gli altri  senza lavorare in pari tempo per sè , essendo il progresso dell’ uno  progresso di tutti, la perdita dell’ uno perdita di tutti : spettacolo  questo che ci sodisfa intimamente e solleva alto il nostro spirito con  la visione dell’armonia nella varietà. L’interesse aumenta se, riportando lo sguardo sopra noi stessi, ci riconosciamo membri di questa  grande e stretta comunione. Sentiamo rafforzarsi la coscienza della  nostra dignità e della nostra forza, quando diciamo a noi stessi ciò  che ognuno può dire : la mia esistenza non è inutile e senza scopo ;  io sono un anello necessario dell’ infinita catena che, dal momento  in cui 1’ uomo assurse per la prima volta alla piena consapevolezza  del proprio essere, si svolge verso l’eternità; quanti, tra gli uomini,  furono grandi, buoni e saggi, i benefattori dell' umanità i cui nomi  leggo registrati nella storia del inondo, e i tanti i cui meriti riman¬  gono, mentre i nomi sono dimenticati, tutti hanno lavorato per me;  io raccolgo i frutti delle loro fatiche; ricalco sulla via che essi percorsero le loro orme benefiche. Io posso, tosto che lo voglia, riprendere 1’ ufficio altissimo che essi si erano proposto ; rendere , cioè,  sempre più saggi e più felici i nostri fratelli ; posso continuare a  costruire là dove essi dovettero smettere; posso portare più vicino  al compimento il tempio magnifico che essi dovettero lasciare incom¬  piuto. — u Ma anch’ io dovrò smettere il [mio lavoro come essi „ ,  dirà qualcuno — Oh ! questo è il pensiero più elevato di tutti. Se  assumo quell’ ufficio altissimo, non lo potrò mai portare a termine ;  quanto è certo che è mio dovere l’accettarlo, altrettanto è certo che  Amiamo sperare che la precedente esposizione della  Dol/t'ina morale del Fichte non riesca inutile per chi si  accinga a leggere il volume, se non nella lingua, nello  stile del suo autore. Certo non tutti accetteranno integral¬  mente l’ardita metafisica ivi presupposta — che volentieri  chiameremmo Etilica come quella dello Spinoza e che è  forse, per adoperare una felice espressione del Barzelletti, la più eroica presa di possesso che mai mente  umana abbia potuto fare, a un tempo, e del mondo delle  idee e del mondo della realtà — ma tutti*, senza dubbio,  saranno colpiti dalla originalità, profondità e finezza delle  vedute psicologiche ivi proiettate e analizzate con arte  insuperabile, e in particolar modo dalla nobiltà dei senti-    non potrò mai cessare d’operare; quindi non potrò mai cessare d’es¬  sere. Ciò che si suoi chiamare morte non può interrompere 1’ opera  mia; perchè l’opera mia dev’essere compiuta, e non può essere com¬  piuta nel tempo ; perciò la mia esistenza non è limitata nel tempo  ed io sono eterno. Assumendo parte di quell’ufficio sommo, ho fatto  mia l’eternità. Sollevo fieramente il capo verso le rocce minaccioso,  verso le cascate spumeggianti, verso le nuvole velegginoti in un  oceano di fuoco , e dico : io sono eterno e sfido il vostro potere. Ir¬  rompete tutti su di me, e tu, cielo, e tu, terra, precipitate in un sel¬  vaggio tumulto, e voi tutti, o elementi, spumeggiate e rumoreggiato  e stritolate nella lotta selvaggia pur 1’ ultimo atomo del corpo che  io dico mio ; la mia volontà sola, col suo fermo proposito, aleggerà  ardita e fredda sopra le rovine dell’ universo , perchè io ho assunto  la mia missione, e questa è più duratura di voi : è eterna, e, al pari  di essa, sono eterno io „.   (Einige Vorlesungen ilber din Bcstimmung dea Gelehrten,  Summit. Werke) — V. la traduz. frane, di M. Nicolas , De la destinatimi da savant et de l'liomine de lettres par J. G.  Fichte, Paris, De Ladrauge; e la trad. ital. di E. Roncali, con  prefaz. di Vitali, G. A. Fichte, La missione del dotto, Lanciano,  Carabba; La Storia della Eiloso/ia (estratto dalla Nuova Antologia) p. 2.  menti ivi espressi con forza sempre, e spesso con vivezza  di colorito. Del resto non c’è una sola opera del nostro  filosofo che non elevi e non fortifichi l’anima del lettore  perchè i suoi seritti, .emanazione diretta delle più intime  e salde convinzioni, e la sua vii* di pensiero, rientrano  nel ciclo di quella vita d’azione che fa del Fichte una  personalità tipica, un represen latice man, direbbe l’Emerson. E invero egli appartiene — come già affermammo — all’eletta schiera di quegli eroi, la cui apparizione  nella storia diventa un possesso eterno per l’umanità, e  la memoria dei quali durerà quanto il mondo lontana. Il  carattere adamantino della sua figura morale, la quale è  un’ unità altrettanto solida quanto ben fusa, grazie alla  più perfetta armonia tra idee pai-ole e opere, risulta scultoreamente espresso in questa solenne dichiarazione, da  lui fatta all’ inizio della sua carriera universitaria : u Io  sono un sacerdote della verità ; la mia esistenza è votela  al suo servizio; sono impegnato a tutto fare, tutto osare,  tutto soffrire per essa. Se per causa sua fossi perseguitato  e odiato, se dovessi anche morire, che farei di straordinario? nulla più che il mio assoluto dovere. Parole,  queste, che spiegano bene il poderoso influsso, spiritual-  mente rigeneratore, esercitato dal Fichte sui suoi conna-  ziouali e contemporanei, influsso che, propagandosi nello  spazio e nel tempo, ha suscitato e susciterà sempre sublimi emozioni e risoluzioni virili in mille e mille anime, Cfr. prec. Einiye Vorlesungen iiber die Bestini muny (Ics Gelehrten 1794  (Sdmmtl. Werke).  che pur non udirono mai la voce di lui. Costante missione di questo eminente spirito fu : destare negli uomini  il senso della divinità della propria natura, fissare i loro  pensieri sopra una vita spirituale come l’unica e vera,  insegnar loro a guardare a qualcos’ altro che la pura apparenza e irrealtà e guidarli così allo sforzo tenace verso  i più alti ideali di purezza, abnegazione, giustizia, SOLIDARIETÀ e libertà.  Questa infinita risonanza di idee, sentimenti e propositi, attraverso le generazioni, nel tempo e nello spazio, questa immensa  simpatia e solidarietà umana — che eccelle tra i principi fondamen¬  tali della dottrina liclitiana — era profondamente sentita dal Fichte  stesso, come può rilevarsi anche dalla seguente bella pagina con cui  si chiude la seconda conferenza sulla Missione del Dotto. Ognuno può dire : chiunque tu sia, tu che hai sembianze umane,  sei un membro di questa grande comunità; sia pure infinito il numero di quelli che stauuo tra me e te, io so, nondimeno, che il mio  influsso giungerà sino a te , e il tuo sino a me ; chiunque porti sul  viso, per quanto rozzamente espressa, l’impronta della ragione, non  esiste invano per me. Ma io non ti conosco, nè tu conosci me. Oh!  quanto è corto che ambedue siamo chiamati a esser buoni e a divenire sempre migliori, tanto è certo che verrà il giorno, e sia pure  tra milioni e bilioni d’ anni (che è mai il tempo ?), verrà il giorno,  dico, in cui trascinerò anche te nella mia sfera d’azione, in cui potrò  beneficarti e ricevere benefizi da te, in cui anche il tuo cuore sarà  avvinto al mio coi viucoli, i più belli, di un libero scambio di reciproche azioni (Siimmtl. Werke. Cleto Carbonara. Keywords: l’esperienza e la prattica, esperienza, dull title: “l’empirismo come filosofia dell’esperienza”! – i periti conversazionale – esperienza dell’altro, persona e persone – solipsism, anti-solipsismo – esperienza, sperimento, esperire, perito, perizia, per, fare, fahren, --. altri, altro, l’altro, l’altri, la filosofia pratica, etica e diritto, la filosofia pratica di Giovanni Amedeo Fichte, il pratico e l’aletico. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carbonara” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Carbone: l’implicatrua conversazionale -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Mantova). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Carbone; my favourite of his tracts are on the ‘unexpressible’ – a contradictio in terminis – and on ‘the flesh and the voice’ –  but the favourite-favourite are  his tract on ‘il bello’ (‘eidos ed eidolon’) and even more, his “La dialettica”.  Si laurea a Bologna con “Marxismo: i soggetti nella storia". Studia a Padova. Insegna a Milano. Opere: Condannàti alla libertà, adattamento teatrale del romanzo di Sartre L'età della ragione, che è stato messo in scena in quello stesso anno. Fonda a  Pisa  con il sostegno del Leverhulme Trust un Programma  di ricerca sulla filosofia, concentrandolo su alcune delle sue figure più importanti e sulle parole-chiave: l'essere, la vita, il concetto». Dirige la collana f«L'occhio e lo spirito. Estetica, fenomenologia, per Mimesis Edizioni.  Si concentra sulla fenomenologia di Merleau-Ponty, indagandone il duplice ma unitario significato estetico di riflessione filosofica sull'esperienza percettiva e sull'esperienza artistica attraverso l'esame del parallelo interesse manifestato da Merleau-Ponty per Cézanne e Proust. Tale indirizzo di studi si è allargato dapprima a una più vasta considerazione della fenomenologia e poi a quella del pensiero post-strutturalistico sviluppatosi in Francia, pur mantenendosi imperniato sul parallelo interesse per la riflessione filosofica sulla pittura e sulla letteratura moderne. Questo ampliamento ha inoltre condotto gli studi ad affrontare tematiche di carattere gnoseologico e ontologico, spingendolo anche a problematizzare il tradizionale rapporto tra la filosofia e la "non filosofia". Tli orientamenti hanno trovato sbocco in una riflessione sul peculiare statuto delle immagini nella nostra epoca, sulle possibili implicazioni etico-politiche del rapporto con esse e sulla dimensione ontologica dell'"essere in comune" (morire insieme, dividualita, dividuo). che in tali implicazioni troverebbe espressione. Cura Merleau-Ponty (Il visibile e l'invisibile; Linguaggio Storia Natura, La Natura, È possibile oggi la filosofia? Saggi eretici sulla filosofia della storia) e Cassirer -- Eidos ed eidolon, il bello.  Influenzato prevalentemente da Merleau-Ponty, di cui ha sviluppato in maniera teoreticamente personale alcune nozioni. Tra queste, spicca il concetto di "idea sensibile", intesa quale essenza che s'inaugura nel nostro incontro col sensibile e da questo rimane inseparabile, sedimentandosi in una temporalità retroflessa --"tempo mitico". Alla prima di queste nozioni è dedicato il dittico “Ai confini dell'esprimibile” e “Una deformazione senza precedente: la idea sensibile Porta a sintesi le implicazioni filosofiche delle nozioni sopra citate nel concetto di "de-formazione senza precedenti", con cui egli intende caratterizzare il peculiare statuto che a suo avviso la de-formazione assume nell'arte, al fine di staccarsi dal principio imitativo della rappresentazione e dunque dalla concezione del modello inteso quale “forma” preliminarmente data. Alle nozioni sopra menzionate si è andata successivamente collegando quella di "precessione reciproca" tra l’immaginario e il reale che Carbone ha proposto di dar conto del prodursi della peculiare temporalità retroflessa detta "tempo mitico". Cerca di sviluppare le implicazioni etico-politiche della concezione della memoria legata all'idea di "deformazione senza precedenti" nella sua riflessione sue venti di cui ha sottolineato l'irriducibile carattere visivo indagandolo pertanto mediante un approccio anzitutto estetico. Cerca le radici ontologiche di tali implicazioni etico-politiche della filosofia, proponendo le nozioni di "a-individuale" e di "dividuo" per sottolineare l'intrinseco carattere re-lazionale (e dunque il divenire e la divisibilità) di ogni identità.  Altre saggi: “Ai confini dell'esprimibile. Merleau-Ponty a partire da Cézanne e da Proust, Milano, Guerini); Il sensibile e l'eccedente. Mondo estetico, arte, pensiero, Milano, Guerini e Associati); Di alcuni motivi in Marcel Proust, Milano, Libreria Cortina); La carne e la voce. In dialogo tra estetica ed etica, Milano, Mimesis); Essere morti insieme (Torino, Bollati Boringhieri). Sullo schermo dell'estetica. La pittura, il cinema e la filosofia da fare, Milano, Mimesis). Una deformazione senza precedenti. la idea sensibile, Macerata, Quodlibet). Mereologia Lingua Segui Modifica Ulteriori informazioni Questa voce sull'argomento concetti e principi filosofici è solo un abbozzo. Contribuisci a migliorarla secondo le convenzioni di Wikipedia. In filosofia la mereologia (composizione del grecoμέρος, méros, "parte" e -λογία, -logìa, "discorso", "studio", "teoria"[1]) è uno dei "cosiddetti" «sistemi di Leśniewski», ossia è la teoria, o scienza, delle relazioni parti-tutto[3]; presentata da Achille Varzicome teoria «delle relazioni della parte al tutto e da parte a parte con un tutto»[4] (o «teoria delle parti e dell'intero»), da Hilary Putnam come «"il calcolo delle parti e degli interi"» e da Claudio Calosi come la «teoria formale delle parti e delle relazioni di parte». Per Ferraris tale relazione parte-interopuò essere tra oggetti concreti, regioni spazio-temporali, processi (parti temporali), eventi e oggetti astratti.[8]  Storia Modifica Lo studio delle parti affonda le sue radici nelle speculazioni filosofiche dei presocratici, per poi essere portato avanti da Platone, Aristotele e Boezio. Di grande importanza nello sviluppo della mereologia furono anche i contributi di numerosi filosofi medievali, tra i quali AQUINO, Pietro Abelardo ed Occam. Nel periodo illuminista, anche Kant e Leibniz si interessarono a quest'ambito. Tuttavia, la diffusione della mereologia in età contemporanea si dovette a Franz Brentano e ai suoi studenti, in particolare Husserl, assieme al primo vero tentativo di avviarne un'analisi attraverso strumenti formali.  Leśniewski creò il termine mereologia per denominare la teoria (che gli si presentò tramite un ragionamento di Husserl) delle relazioni tra le parti e il tutto a partire dalla differenziazione — il cui principale fine era "evitare" l'antinomia di Russell— tra interpretazione distributiva (un oggetto come elemento di una classe) e interpretazione collettiva (un oggetto come parte di un intero) dei simboli di classe. Leśniewski, parzialmente influenzato da Whitehead, elaborò poi la teoria in un sistema assiomatico deduttivo entro cui poter esprimere il calcolo proposizionale e il calcolo delle classi.  I sistemi di Leśniewski. Anche se cronologicamente è il primo dei sistemi di Leśniewski la mereologia contiene gli altri due:   la prototetica (scienza delle tesi più originarie, fondamentali ..le «prototesi») che è una logica proposizionale con l'equivalenza come unico termine primitivo, la proposizione come categoriafondamentale (ammettente la quantificazione per le proposizioni e i funtori di qualunque categoria), un solo assioma, e delle regole di separazione, sostituzione, definizione, separazione dei quantificatori e di estensionalità. l'ontologia così denominata per la presenza del funtore indicato con ε «preso nel suo senso esistenziale» (non indica l'appartenenza insiemistica), essa è derivante dalla prototetica ed è anche denominata «calcolo dei nomi» poiché gli è aggiunta la categoria dei nomi. Con la mereologia si presenta una differente definizione d'insieme. Esso non è definito distributivamente ma collettivamente(mereologicamente): l'insieme è una concreta totalità di elementi, un aggregato e dunque un oggetto fisico composto di parti, che è solo se, e finché, esse sono (v. dipendenza ontologica]). Da ciò risultano varie differenze dalla "normale" teoria degli insiemi tra le quali che in mereologia è "insensato" ammettere l'esistenza di un insieme vuoto; indi insiemi di un solo elemento sono tale elemento e la proprietà, unico termine primitivo della mereologia, di «essere un elemento» è transitiva e antisimmetrica e riflessiva. Assiomi e definizioni Modifica Il fondamento concettuale alla base della mereologia è la nozione di parte. In generale, nelle lingue naturali con «parte» si intende una porzione costitutiva di un oggetto, gruppo o situazione. Si può dire, ad esempio, che «la maniglia è parte della porta», che «il Gin è parte del Martini», che «il cucchiaio è parte dell'argenteria» o che «il calciatore è parte della squadra». Tuttavia, nell'ambito della mereologia si cerca di seguire un impianto nominalista definendo questa nozione in termini puramente logici, prendendo in esame le relazioni tra gli oggetti senza entrare nel merito di eventuali considerazioni ontologicheriguardo questi ultimi. Di conseguenza, la relazione di parte si può applicare anche a concetti più astratti, come ad esempio nelle frasi «la razionalità è parte dell'essere umano» o «la lettera 'c' è parte della parola 'cane'».  Assiomi fondamentali Modifica La nozione mereologica di parte può essere formalizzata mediante il linguaggio della logica del primo ordine come un predicato, solitamente indicato con P. Un'espressione del tipo {\displaystyle Pxy} dunque si legge «x è parte di y». Per convenzione, questo predicato è concepito come una relazione binaria che gode di tre proprietà fondamentali: il principio della riflessivitàdella nozione di parte (Rp), il principio dell'antisimmetria della nozione di parte (aSp) e il principio di transitività della nozione di parte (Tp). (Rp) ogni cosa è parte di se stessa {\displaystyle (\forall x)(Pxx)}, (aSp) per ogni x e y distinti, se x è parte di y, allora ynon è parte di x {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\forall y)(Pxy\land x\neq y\rightarrow \neg Pyx)}, (Tp) per ogni x, y e z, se x è parte di y e y è parte di z, allora x è parte di z {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\forall y)(\forall z)(Pxy\land Pyz\rightarrow Pxz)}.[9][4] In altri termini, la relazione di parte è un ordine parzialelargo. Nonostante bastino solo questi assiomi per porre le fondamenta della mereologia standard (o sistema M), si possono definire ulteriori concetti a partire dal predicato P. Di seguito sono riportati quelli più frequenti:  Uguaglianza {\displaystyle EQxy:=Pxy\land Pyx} (x e y sono uguali se sono uno parte dell'altro), Parte propria {\displaystyle PPxy:=Pxy\land \neg (x=y)} (x è una parte propria di y se è parte di y ma è distinto da esso), Sovrapposizione {\displaystyle Oxy:=(\exists z)(Pzx\land Pzy)} (x è sovrapposto a yse c'è una parte di x che è anche parte di y), Disgiunzione {\displaystyle Dxy:=\neg Oxy} (x è disgiunto da y se non ha sovrapposizioni con esso). In particolare, la nozione di parte propria descrive un ordine parziale stretto (irriflessivo, asimmetrico e transitivo) a differenza del suo corrispondente primitivo, mentre la sovrapposizione è riflessiva, simmetrica ma non necessariamente transitiva. È anche possibile ridefinire il concetto di parte in termini di parte propria: {\displaystyle Pxy:=PPxy\lor x=y}, ovvero x è parte di y quando è parte propria di y oppure quando è identico a y.  Decomposizione e composizione Modifica Per disporre di una teoria mereologica che sia realmente in grado di rendere conto dell'uso del termine «parte» in maniera adeguata, occorre imporre ulteriori restrizioni sull'ordine parziale P. Nello specifico, vi sono due tipologie di principi aggiuntivi: quelli di decomposizione (che ragionano dall'intero alle parti) e quelli di composizione (che ragionano dalle parti all'intero).  Tra gli assiomi di decomposizione, il principio di supplementazione debole (o WSpp) afferma che nessun intero può avere una singola parte propria. Ciò risponde all'intuizione comune secondo la quale se un intero possiede una parte propria, allora deve averne almeno anche un'altra, che costituisce il rimanente. In simboli si ha che:  (WSpp) {\displaystyle PPxy\rightarrow (\exists z)(Pzy\land \neg Ozx)}, ovvero se x è una parte propria di y, allora esiste (almeno) un zche è parte di y ma non è sovrapposto ad x. Similmente, il principio di supplementazione forte (o SSp) prevede che un se y non è parte di x, allora y ha una parte che non è sovrapposta a x. In simboli:  (SSpp) {\displaystyle \neg Pyx\rightarrow (\exists z)(Pzy\land \neg Ozx)}. Una conseguenza logica del principio di supplementazione forte è l'estensionalità (Exp). Questa importante proprietà afferma che due oggetti non possono essere differenti se hanno le stesse parti proprie, o, in maniera equivalente, se due oggetti hanno le stesse parti proprie, allora sono lo stesso oggetto. In simboli:  (Exp) {\displaystyle x=y\rightarrow (\forall z)(PPzx\leftrightarrow PPzy)}. Un sistema mereologico che accetta, oltre agli assiomi fondametali di M, anche i principi di supplementazione debole, supplementazione forte ed estensionalità è detto mereologia estensionale (o EM).  Considerazioni ulteriori, che però non fanno riferimento al significato della nozione di parte, possono includere l'idea che esista un oggetto privo di parti proprie, ovvero l'atomismo, oppure l'idea che, al contrario, ogni cosa ha parti proprie, o simili, come la proprietà della densità, che nega l'esistenza di parti proprie immediate.  Atomismo {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\exists y)(Pyx\land \neg (\exists z)(PPzy))} Infinitismo{\displaystyle (\forall x)(\exists y)(PPyx)} Densità {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\forall y)(PPxy\rightarrow (\exists z)(PPxz\land PPzy))} Tra gli assiomi di composizione, il principio di somma mereologica o fusione formalizza l'idea esistano degli interi composti esclusivamente ed esattamente da un certo numero di parti. Ad esempio, la Spagna e il Portogallo compongono la Penisola Iberica (o, in maniera equivalente, la Penisola Iberica è la somma mereologica di Spagna e Portogallo). Di contro, la mano destra e la mano sinistra non compongono il corpo umano, poiché quest'ultimo possiede anche altre parti (gli occhi, il naso, i piedi, ecc.). Nei casi che, come in quest'esempio, prevedono solo due parti la somma mereologica può essere definita come segue:  {\displaystyle Szxy:=Pxz\land Pyz\land (\forall w)(Pwz\rightarrow (Owx\lor Owy))}(ovvero z è la somma mereologica di x e y se x e ysono parte di z e ogni parte di z è sovrapposta a x o y) Si tratta di un principio controverso, soprattutto se le parti che compongono la somma sono potenzialmente infinite e non soltanto due. È infatti possibile generalizzare tale definizione per indicare una somma di infinite parti:  {\displaystyle Sz\varphi x:=(\forall x)(\varphi x\rightarrow Pxz)\land (\forall w)(Pwz\rightarrow (\exists x)(\varphi x\land Owx))}, dove φ indica una generica proprietà. Vi sono almeno tre possibili posizioni che si possono assumere nei confronti dell'esistenza somma mereologica:  Nichilismo mereologico Non esistono somme mereologiche, e anche gli oggetti che a prima vista sembrano composti sono in realtà semplici. In altri termini, utilizzando un'immagine già evocata da Peter van Inwagen, non esiste il tavolo, ma esistono solo atomi disposti a forma di tavolo. Per un nichilista mereologico la Spagna e il Portogallo non compongono la Penisola Iberica allo stesso modo di come la mano destra e la mano sinistra non compongono il corpo umano, perché né la Penisola Iberica né il corpo umano esistono (in senso mereologico, perlomeno). Moderatismo Le somme mereologiche esistono soltanto in determinati casi e solo qualora vengano soddisfatte determinate circostanze. Un moderatista potrebbe ammettere che la Spagna e il Portogallo compongano la Penisola Iberica in virtù di qualche proprietà di queste parti, ma negare che la mano destra e quella sinistra compongano qualcosa. Universalismo Le somme mereologiche esistono in tutti i casi, anche qualora non sembri possibile a prima vista. Per un universalista qualsiai insieme di oggetti, ancorché totalmente differenti, compone qualcosa. Non soltanto, dunque, la Spagna e il Portogallo compongono la Penisola Iberica, ma anche la mano destra e quella sinistra compongono una somma, benché non esista un termine per riferirsi ad essa. La nozione di somma mereologica, assieme a quella di prodotto mereologico, costituisce la base della mereologia estensionale classica (o CEM).  Note Modifica ^ -Logia, in Treccani.it – Vocabolario Treccani Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Coniglione Leśniewski, Stanisław, in Treccani.it – Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, Varzi ^ Achille Varzi, Ontologia e metafisica, in Agostini e Nicla Vassallo (a cura di), Storia della Filosofia Analitica, Torino, Einaudi, Putnam Calosi; Ferraris Torrengo Inwagen, Material Beings, New York, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, Varzi (2014) per una definizione di prodotto mereologico. Cotnoir e Varzi, Mereology, Oxford, Lando, Mereology: A Philosophical Introduction, Londra, Bloomsbury. Varzi, Mereology, in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Stanford, Edward N. Zalta, Calosi, Mereologia, in APhEx (Analytical and Philosophical Explanation), , Lezione 2 - In difesa della relatività concettuale., in Etica senza ontologia, tr. it. di Eddy Carli, prefazione di Luigi Perissinotto, Milano, Paravia Bruno Mondadori Editori, Coniglione, 2.2.8. I contributi in campo logico, in Nel segno della scienza: la filosofia polacca del Novecento, Milano, FrancoAngeli, Torrengo, 2.6.5. Parte-intero, in Maurizio Ferraris (a cura di), Storia dell'ontologia, Milano, Bompiani, Ferraris, Glossario, in Ontologia, Napoli, Guida, Voci correlate Modifica Logica Ontologia Collegamenti esterni Modifica ( EN ) Achille Varzi, Spatial reasoning and ontology: parts, wholes, and locations ( PDF ), in M. Aiello, I. Pratt-Hartmann, e J. van Benthem (a cura di), Handbook of Spatial Logics, Berlino, Springer-Verlag, Varzi, Ontologia, in SWIF Edizioni Digitali di Filosofia, Volume Supplementare 2, Roma, Università degli Studi di Bari , Bosco, La Fundierung nella Terza ricerca logica di Husserl, in Dialegesthai, Roma. Portale Filosofia: accedi alle voci di Wikipedia che trattano di filosofia Ultima modifica 18 giorni fa di FrescoBot Quantificatore Rappresentabilità Geometria senza punti Mauro Carbone. Keywords: mereologia, organicismo in Hegel, il tutto e le parti, dialettica, “individuo e dividuo”, divisio, visio, compositio, de-compositio, divisum, indivisum -- eidos, forma, shape, il bello, essere en comune, mit-sein, l’impersonale, l’intrapersonale, l’interpersonale – tutto, parte, tutto-parte, totum-pars, unita, a-tomon, a-tomism, atomismo logico. tomismo logico, il tutto e le parti -- #DialetticaDegl’EntrambiDividui -- -- --. Merleau-Ponty ‘linguaggio’, individuus, dividuus, dividuo -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carbone” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Carbone.

 

Grice e Carboni: l’implicatura conversazionale disegno dal vivo, disgeno del nudo dal vero, disegno dal vero, disegno del nudo dal vero -- disegno dall’antico, desegno dalla natura -- drawn from life -- tratto dalla vita – royal academy –drawn from the antique -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Livorno). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Carboni – my favourite of his tracts is ‘between the image and the ‘parable’” – a semiotics of communication with sections on ‘the tacit response,’ through the looking-glass’, ‘towards the hypertext,’ and quoting extensively from some ‘conversational-implicature’ passages in Aristotle’s metaphysics, ‘To ask ‘why is man man?’ is to ask nothing!” “For some expressions, analogy suffices!” Insegna a Roma, Bari, Viterbo.  Altre opere: L’angelo del fare. Melotti e la ceramica (Skira) e Il colore nell’arte (Jaca).  Cura Dorfles, Brandi, Deleuze, Guattari, Adorno. Tra le recensioni dei suoi saggi si segnalano: Giacomo Marramao, Gianni Vattimo (“L’Espresso”), Gillo Dorfles (“Il Corriere della Sera”), Victor Stoichita (“il manifesto”). Al Festival delle Letterature di Mantova hanno presentato i suoi saggi Sini  e Didi-Huberman. Scrive su  “Nòema” e “Images Re-vues” e sulla “Rivista di Estetica”.   “L’Impossibile Critico. Paradosso della critica d’arte, Kappa); “Cesare Brandi. Teoria e esperienza dell’arte, Editori Riuniti); “Il Sublime è Ora. Saggio sulle estetiche contemporanee, Castelvecchi); “Non vedi niente lì? Sentieri tra arti e filosofie del Novecento, Castelvecchi); “L’ornamentale. Tra arte e decorazione, Jaca); “L’occhio e la pagina. Tra immagine e parola, Jaca); “Lo stato dell’arte. L’esperienza estetica nell’era della tecnica, Laterza); “La mosca di Dreyer. L’opera della contingenza nelle arti, Jaca); “Di più di tutto. Figure dell’eccesso, Castelvecchi); “Analfabeatles. Filosofia di una passione elementare, Castelvecchi); “Il genio è senza opera. Filosofie antiche e arti contemporanee” Jaca); “Malevič. L'ultima icona. Arte, filosofia, teologia, Jaca).  Drawing after the Antique at the British Museum, 1809–1817: “Free” Art Education and the Advent of the Liberal State, Martin Myrone Drawing after the Antique at the British Museum, 1809–1817: “Free” Art Education and the Advent of the Liberal State Martin Myrone Abstract From 1808 the British Museum in London began regularly to open its newly established Townley Gallery so that art students could draw from the ancient sculptures housed there. This article documents and comments on this development in art education, based on an analysis of the 165 individuals recorded in the surviving register of attendance at the Museum, covering the period 1809–17. The register is presented as a photographic record, with a transcription and biographical directory. The accompanying essay situates the opening of the Museum’s sculpture rooms to students within a farreaching set of historical shifts. It argues that this new museum access contributed to the early nineteenth-century emergence of a liberal state. But if the rhetoric surrounding this development emphasized freedom and general public benefit in the spirit of liberalization, the evidence suggests that this new level of access actually served to further entrench the “middleclassification” of art education at this historical juncture. Authors Martin Myrone is an art historian and curator based in London, and is currently convenor of the British Art Network based at the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies in British Art. Acknowledgements The register of students admitted to the Townley Gallery was originally consulted during my term as Paul Mellon Mid-Career Fellow in 2014–15. Thank you to Mark Hallett and Sarah Victoria Turner of the Mellon Centre for their continuing support and guidance, to Baillie Card and Rose Bell for their careful editorial work, Tom Scutt for crafting the digital presentation of my research, the two anonymous readers for their valuable critical input, and to Antony Griffiths, formerly of the British Museum, and Hugo Chapman, Angela Roche, and Sheila O’Connell of the British Museum, for providing access to the register and for their advice. I am especially indebted to Mark Pomeroy, archivist, and his colleagues at the Royal Academy of Arts for the access provided to materials there and for advice and suggestions. I would also like to thank Viccy Coltman, Brad Feltham, Martin Hopkinson, Sarah Monks, Sarah Moulden, Michael Phillips, Jacob Simon, Greg Sullivan, and Alison Wright. Cite as Martin Myrone, "Drawing after the Antique at the British Museum, 1809–1817: “Free” Art Education and the Advent of the Liberal State", British Art Studies, Issue 5, https://dx.doi.org/10.17658/issn.2058-5462/issue-05/mmyrone From the summer of 1808 the British Museum in London began regularly to open its newly established galleries of Graeco-Roman sculpture for art students. The collection, made up almost entirely of pieces previously owned by Charles Townley, had been purchased for the nation in 1805 and installed in a new extension to the Museum’s first home, Montagu House, which was built earlier in 1808. After some protracted discussion with the Royal Academy, detailed below, the collection was made available for its students in time for the royal opening of the Townley Gallery on 3 June 1808. From January 1809, a written record was kept of students admitted to draw from the antique. This volume survives in the library of the Department of Prints and Drawings at the British Museum and identifies one hundred and sixtyfive separate individuals admitted through to 1817. 1 The register forms the focus of this essay and is presented here as a facsimile and transcription, with an accompanying directory of student biographies (see supplementary materials below). This may be taken as a straightforward contribution to the literature on early nineteenth-century art education, and the author hopes it may be useful as such. However, it also situates the opening of the Museum’s sculpture rooms to students within a rather more far-reaching set of historical shifts. Namely, it argues that this new form of museum access was part of the early nineteenth-century emergence of a liberal state that “actively governs through freedom (free ‘individuals’, markets, societies, and so on, which are only ‘free’ because the state makes them so)”. 2 Access to the British Museum was “free” in that there were no charges or fees. Meanwhile, the arrangement offered a degree of freedom to the students themselves; they were expected to be largely self-selecting and self-regulating. When the arrangement was exposed to public scrutiny, as a result of questions asked in parliament in 1821, the freedom of access and the service this did to the public good were emphasized. But, once closely scrutinized, the evidence suggests that this manifestation of the freedoms encouraged by the liberal state had a social disciplinary role (even if disciplinary function can hardly be recognized as such), in serving to further entrench the “middle-classification” of art at this historical juncture. 3 The conjunction of art education and a grandiose notion such as the liberal state may be unexpected, and rests on three key assertions. The first is that art worlds are structured and in their structure have a homological relationship with the larger social environment. 4 The initial part of this statement (that art worlds are structured) may not be especially hard to swallow, given the relatively formalized and hierarchical nature of the London art world during the early nineteenth century, when cultural authority was vested in a small number of institutions, and the practices associated with academic tradition in principle still held sway. However, that the structure of the art world, in its hierarchical dimension, may also be homologically related to the larger field of power, so that social relationships are reproduced within this relatively autonomous sphere, is more clearly contentious, and runs contrary to commonplace beliefs and expectations about talent and luck in determining personal fate in the modern age—artists’ fortunes most especially. In fact, in the period under review here, the artist became an exemplary figure in the new narratives of social mobility: the art world came to serve as a model of how talent or sheer good fortune could override social origins and destinies. 5 The second assertion is that the Royal Academy and British Museum were developing new forms of state institution, underpinned by the conjoined principles of freedom of access and public benefit. Such has been argued importantly by Holger Hoock, and while I depart from his arguments in some key regards, his insights into the status of these institutions and the role of forms of public–private partnership in their formation are crucial. 6 The third assertion (and this marks a departure from Hoock), is that the state is not a stable, centralized entity, or site of power either “up above” or “below” historical actors. Instead, it is taken to be the sum of actions and dispositions ostensibly volunteered by these historical agents in all their multitude and variety. The crucial point of reference here is the sustained body of work on the liberal state by the historian Patrick Joyce, deploying the work of Bruno Latour and Michel Foucault, among others, to yield a more materialistic and decentralized understanding of the emergence and role of state bodies. 7 The state, in this view, is composed of technologies, disciplinary structures, habits of mind, and ways of doing things. The mechanics of art education, insofar as this involves the movement through or exclusion of individuals from identified places, the arrangement of their bodies in relation to one another and to their model, the management of their behaviour within those places, the very motion of their bodies, hands, and eyes under the surveillance of their peers, teachers or other authorities, may be considered as a form of biopolitics; the student who entered his or her name into the British Museum’s register of admission was producing his or her governmentality. 8 The argument here is emphatically historical and states that this arrangement, while it may have precedents and may have been seminal, belongs to an historical moment—the emergence of the liberal state. My case, which can be sketched out only in outline in this context, is that the emergence of the familiar institutional arrangements of the modern art world between the 1770s and the 1830s (in the form of actual institutions and regulatory structures or permissions, including annual exhibitions, centralized art schools supported by the state directly and indirectly, emphasis on quantifiable measures of access and engagement as the test of public value, and so forth) represents in an exemplary way the illusory freedoms promoted by liberalism, and renewed by present-day “neo- liberalism”, as addressed by commentators from the prophetic Karl Polanyi through to the later work of Foucault and Bourdieu on the state, and Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello, among others. 9 The early nineteenth-century art world can be proposed as a privileged focus of attention because it was still of a scale which can allow for the kinds of data-based analysis which must underpin any sort of sociological exploration, and because its individual membership can be documented in fine detail in a manner which is simply not possible at an earlier historical date. Paradoxically, despite its announced commitment to non-intervention and personal freedom, the emerging liberal state generated huge amounts of documentation about society and its individual members—tax records, parochial and civil records, the national census from 1801—which digitilization has made more readily available than ever before, allowing this generation of artists to be documented as never previously. 10 The production of artistic identities through these records is not unrelated to changes in artistic identity itself over the same timeframe. One way of realizing this might be to consider the period outlined above—c. 1770–1830s—not as a period from the foundation of the Royal Academy to its removal to Trafalgar Square, or even as the era of Romanticism, as much literary and cultural history-writing would dictate, but as the era from Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations (1776) to the Reform Act (1832) and the Speenhamland system, a last experiment in patrician social care before the Poor Law Amendment Act (1834), taking in Thomas Malthus and David Ricardo. The challenge is thinking of these two frameworks not in sequential or spatially differentiated ways, but as simultaneous and identical. Within this emerging liberal state the figure of the artist is attributed with a special degree and form of freedom, what has conventionally been alluded to, in generally sociologically imprecise ways, as a feature of “Romanticism”, slumping into “bohemianism” and a generic idea of art student lifestyle. If this was a moment of unprecedented state investment in the arts (from the Royal Academy through to the Schools of Design) and government scrutiny (notably with the Select Committees), it simultaneously saw the emergence of artistic identities expressing the values of personal freedom, freedom from regulation, and even active opposition to the state. I propose that art education, as it took shape in the emerging liberal state, might be explored as a “liberogenic” phenomenon: among those “devices intended to produce freedom which potentially risk producing exactly the opposite.” 11 As such, it may have renewed pertinence for our own time, although this does not entail seeing a “causal” relationship between the past and present, or a linear genetic relationship between then and now. In fact, the purpose of this commentary, and the larger project it arises from, 12 is rather to trouble our relationship with that past. The intention is not, however, to point unequivocally to the era under consideration as here entailing “the making of a modern art world”, with the rise of art education and museums access representing a stage towards democratization, as illuminated in stellar fashion by the great Romantic artists (J. M. W. Turner—famously the son of a lowly London barber—pre-eminently). I would want instead to take seriously Jacques Rancière’s call for “a past that puts a radical requirement at the centre of the present”, eschewing causality and “nostalgia” in favour of “challenging the relationship of the present to that past”. 13 If giving attention to the “freedom” of art education at the advent of the liberal state provides any insight at all, it should do so by troubling rather than affirming our narratives of the genesis of a modern art world. Access to the Townley Gallery The arrival at the Museum of the Townley marbles, together with the development of the prints and drawings collection and its installation in new, secure rooms in the same wing, fundamentally changed the character of the institution. As Neil Chambers has noted, having been primarily a repository of (often celebrated) curiosities of many different forms, quite suddenly “The Museum was now a centre for art and the study of sculpture.” 14 The shift was acknowledged internally at the Museum by the creation in 1807 of a distinct Department of Antiquities, which also had responsibility for the collection of prints and drawings. But while the significance of the opening of the Townley Gallery in the history of the British Museum is clear, the opening of the collection to students has barely been noticed in the art-historical literature. The register has been overlooked almost entirely, and the relevance of this development in student access may not even be immediately obvious. 15 Figure 1. William Chambers, The Sculpture Collection of Charles Townley in the dining room of his house in Park Street, Westminster, 1794, watercolour, 39 x 54 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum Figure 2. Attributed to Joseph Nollekens, The Discobolus, 1791–1805, drawing, 48 x 35 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum Townley’s collection had already famously been on display for many years at his private house in Park Street, London. William Chambers’ (or Chalmers’) drawing of the Park Street display from 1794 includes a well-dressed young woman drawing under the supervision or advice of a man, promoting the idea that the collection was available for sufficiently genteel students of the art more generally (fig. 1). In his recollections of the London art world, J. T. Smith described “those rooms of Mr Townley’s house, in which that gentleman’s liberality employed me when a boy, with many other students in the Royal Academy, to make drawings for his portfolios”. 16 Smith’s former employer, the sculptor Joseph Nollekens, has been identified among the more established artists who were also engaged by Townley to draw from marbles in the collection (fig. 2). As Viccy Coltman has noted, “The townhouse at 7 Park Street, Westminster became an unofficial counterpoint to the English arts establishment that was the Royal Academy: as an academy of ancient sculpture, much as Sir John Soane’s London housemuseum in Lincoln’s Inn Fields would become an academy of architecture in the early 19th century.” 17 Evidently, a number of the students and artists admitted to draw from the Townley marbles once they were at the British Museum knew them formerly at first hand from visiting 7 Park Street; for instance, William Skelton, admitted to draw at the Museum in 1809, had apparently already studied and engraved three busts from the collection for inclusion in the design of Townley’s visiting card (fig. 3). Townley had hoped for a separate gallery to be erected to house the collection, but his executors, his brother Edward Townley Standish and uncle John Townley were unable to agree a plan. 18 The sale of the collection to the Museum was a compromise. With the erection of a new gallery space for the collection underway, the Museum considered how special access might be given to artists. That the question was posed at all should be an indication of how far the realm of cultural consumption and production was being folded in to the emerging liberal state at this juncture. At a meeting of the Trustees on 28 February 1807, a committee was set up to consider how the prints and drawings collections might be used by artists, and to draw up “Regulations... for the Admission of Strangers to view the Gallery of Antiquities either separately from, or together with the rest of the Museum: And also for the Admission of Artists”. 19 Figure 3. William Skelton, Charles Townley's visiting card, 1778–1848, etching, 65 x 96 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum With the Gallery still under construction, the Sub-Committee was not obliged to move quickly, and it proved to be a protracted and unexpectedly fractious affair. 20 It was not until the Museum’s general meeting of 13 February 1808, that the principal librarian, Joseph Planta, reported “his opinion of the best time & mode of admission of Strangers as well as artists, to the Gallery of Antiquities”, with the request that Benjamin West, President of the Royal Academy, be asked to attend a further meeting. 21 After delays, he did so on 10 March, after which the Council drew up a set of regulations. 22 These went back to the Academy with additions and changes, which were accepted by the Council who wrote to the British Museum on the 10 May to that effect, noting that a General Meeting of the Academy was to take place, “to prepare the final arrangement for his Majesty’s approbation”. 23 Accordingly, at the British Museum, the Sub-Committee’s reports and proposals were approved by the Standing Committee, with “Resolutions founded on the above mentioned Reports” read at the General Meeting of 14 May. 24 The resolutions, numbered so as to be inserted in the existing regulations regarding admissions, were confirmed in the meeting of 21 May, over three months after what should have been a straightforward matter was raised (see Appendix, below). 25 Clause number eight, concerning the payment of Academicians charged with the supervision of students, evidently caused some consternation within the Academy, as recorded in the diary of Joseph Farington. 26 The relative authority of the Council and General Assembly had been a contentious matter in previous years, and the lengthy dispute over arrangements with the Museum reflected lingering tensions. On 12 July 1808 the proposals were read, and “After a long conversation it was Resolved to adjourn.” 27 The subject was taken up on re-convening on 21 July, but without resolution. 28 At yet another meeting, on 26 July 1808, the point about the Academy’s provision of superintendents to monitor the students while at the British Museum was referred back to Council. 29 We have to turn to Farington’s diary for a fuller account. He noted that the Academy’s General Assembly had met on 12 July “for the purpose of receiving a Law made by the Council ‘That permission having been granted by the Trustees of the British Museum for Students to study from the Antiques &c at the Museum, certain days are fixed upon for that purpose, & that an Academician shall attend each day at the Museum & to be paid 2 guineas for each day’s attendance’... Much discussion took place.” 30 At a further meeting: “The Correspondence of the Council with the Sub Committee of the British Museum was read from the beginning” and “much discussion” was had about the supervision of the students, Farington making the point that: as the studies of the British Museum shd. be considered those of completion and not to learn the Elements of art the Academy shd. not recommend any student whose abilities & conduct wd. not warrant it, that it should be considered the last stage of study, when those admitted wd. not require constant inspection; therefore daily attendance of a Member of the Academy wd. not be necessary. 31 The point of contest may have concerned the right of the Council to organize things independent of the General Assembly of the Academicians, and a more general question about economy (“Northcote proposed that the Academician who in rotation shall attend at the British Museum, shd. have 3 guineas a day. West thought one guinea sufficient”). 32 But Farington’s point is more revealing in indicating the expectation that the selected students of the Academy were to be largely self-regulating, and self-disciplining; they were to be granted freedom because they had already internalized the discipline required by these institutions. Figure 4. Front cover, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiquities, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum The matter finally settled, students were admitted to the Townley Gallery from at least the beginning of 1809: the first entries in the register book are dated 14 January 1809 (figs. 4 and 5 to 11). On that date four students were enrolled, although only one of them was at the Royal Academy. That was Henry Monro, the son of Dr Thomas Monro, Physician at Bedlam and an amateur and collector who ran the influential “academy” at his home in Adelphi Terrace. The other students included two of the daughters of Thomas Paytherus, a successful London apothecary, and a Ralph Irvine of Great Howland Street, who seems quite certainly to have been Hugh Irvine, the Scottish landscape painter and a member of the landowning Irvine family of Drum, who gave that address in the exhibition catalogue of the British Institution’s show in 1809. Another five students registered in February and July. This included another recently registered Royal Academy student, Henry Sass, whose name was entered into the Academy’s books in 1805, recommended for study at the British Museum by the architect and RA John Soane, and the artists William Skelton, Adam Buck, Samuel Drummond, and Maria Singleton. The mix of amateur and professional artists, young and old, and indeed the mix of male and female students (discussed below), continued throughout the register. View this illustration online Figure 5. Page 1, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiques, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of British Museum View this illustration online Figure 6. Page 2, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiquities, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum View this illustration online Figure 7. Page 3, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiquities, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum View this illustration online Figure 8. Page 4, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiquities, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum View this illustration online Figure 9. Page 5, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiquities, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum View this illustration online Figure 10. Page 6, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiques, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum View this illustration online Figure 11. Page 7, Register of Students Admitted to the Gallery of Antiques, 1809–17. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum Eight of the twelve students registered on 11 November were current Academy students; this proportion of Academy students to others continues throughout the record. But on the same day Planta noted to the standing committee that the Royal Academicians not having availed themselves of the Regulations in favour of their Pupils, & many applications having been made to him for leave to draw in the Gallery of Antiquities, he therefore submitted to the consideration of the Trustees, whether persons duly recommended might not be admitted in the same manner as in the Reading Room. 33 The matter was referred on to the general meeting. 34 On 9 December 1809 the new regulations were confirmed: Students who apply for Admission to the Gallery are to specify their descriptions & places of abode; and every one who applies, if not known to any Trustee or Officer, will produce a recommendation from some person of known & approved Character, particularly, if possible, from one of the Professors in the Royal Academy. 35 On 10 February 1810 it was instructed “That the Regulation respecting the mode of Admission of Students to the Gallery of Sculpture, as made at the last General Meeting be printed & hung up in the Hall, & at the entrance into the Gallery”. 36 The students admitted through 1810 were predominantly students at the Royal Academy, but also included the emigré natural history painter the Chevalier de Barde and Charles Muss, already established as an enamel and glass painter. The same pattern was apparent in subsequent years. Twenty-five students were registered in 1811 and again in 1812, before numbers dropped to twelve in 1813, eight in 1814, picking up with nineteen in 1815, and dropping to nine in 1816. The Museum’s original stipulation that no more than twenty Academy students be admitted each year did not, it appears, create any undue constraints on the flow of admissions. Far from having a monopoly over student admissions, as the Museum’s original regulations had anticipated, the Royal Academy had apparently been distinctly laissez-faire, doing little to try to push students forward to make up the numbers. The galleries the students gained access to comprised a sequence of rooms within the new wing added to accommodate the growing collection of sculptural antiquities, notably the Egyptian material taken from the French at Alexandria in 1801. The Egyptian antiquities dominated the galleries in terms of sheer size, although the visual centrepiece, whether viewed from the Egyptian hall or through the extended enfilade of rooms II–V where the Townley marbles were displayed, was the Discobolus (fig. 12). 37 The intimate scale of the galleries brought benefits, as German architect Karl Friedrich Schinkel noted on his visit of 1826: “Gallery of antiquities in very small rooms, lit from above, very restful and satisfying”. 38 But is also imposed a practical limit on the numbers of students who could attend. This changed when, in 1817, the Elgin marbles were put on display at Montagu House in spacious, if warehouse-like, temporary rooms newly annexed to the Townley Gallery (fig. 13). The spike of interest recorded in the register, with thirty-seven students listed under the heading “1817”, must reflect this new opportunity. The register terminates at this point, although the volume continued to be used to record students and artists admitted to the prints and drawings room (upstairs from the Townley Gallery) from 1815 through to the 1840s. 39 Figure 12. Anonymous, View through the Egyptian Room, in the Townley Gallery at the British Museum, 1820, watercolour, 36.1 x 44.3 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum Figure 13. William Henry Prior, View in the old Elgin room at the British Museum, 1817, watercolour, 38.8 x 48.1 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum Some form of register must have been maintained, but appears not to have survived, and evidence of student attendance after 1817 is largely a matter of anecdotal record. 40 These later records also, incidentally, point to the variety of student practice in the galleries. While the Museum’s original stipulations made the presumption that admitted artists would be drawing (“each student shall provide himself with a Portfolio in which his Name is written, and with Paper as well as Chalk”), students evidently worked in different media as well. James Ward referred explicitly to “modelling” in the Museum in his diary entries of 1817; and George Scharf’s watercolour of the interior of the Townley Gallery from 1827 (fig. 14) shows a student sitting on boxes at work at an easel, with what appears to be a paintbrush in his right hand and a palette in his left. 41 Nonetheless, the Townley marbles had lost much of their allure. Jack Tupper, a rather unsuccessful artist associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, recalled his growing disillusion when studying at the British Museum in the late 1830s: “So the glory of the Townley Gallery faded: the grandeur of ‘Rome’ passed.” 42 Figure 14. George Scharf, View of the Townley Gallery, 1827, watercolour, 30.6 x 22 cm. Collection of the British Museum. Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum The material record of student activity in the Townley Gallery, in the form of images which seem definitely to derive from this special access to the Museum, is extremely scarce. 43 Whatever was produced in the Gallery was, after all, generally only for the purposes of study, and was unlikely to be retained or valued after the artist’s death. John Wood, a dedicated student at the Royal Academy from 1819, noted: “I am surprised at the comparatively few drawings I made in the Antique School at the Royal Academy, including my probationary one, not exceeding five, with an outline from the group of the Laocoon.—In the British Museum I made a chalk drawing from the statue of Libēra for Mr Sass”, that is, the Townley Venus, apparently drawn by Wood as an exercise for the well-known drawing teacher Henry Sass. 44 Student drawings after the antique must have been numerous, but that does not mean they were preserved. J. M. W. Turner had apparently attended the Plaster Academy over one hundred and thirty times up to the point he became an ARA, in 1799. 45 Yet even with a figure of his stature, whose studio contents were so completely preserved, and whose dedication to academic study was so notable, we have only a handful of drawings which appear certainly to derive from his time at the schools. 46 There are, doubtless, traces of study in the Museum to be uncovered in finished works of the period. Charles Lock Eastlake’s youthful figure of Brutus in his ambitious early work is evidently a direct lift from the marble of Actaeon attacked by his own hounds in the Townley collection; he had been admitted to draw from the antique in 1810 (figs. 15 and 16). But given the dissemination of classical prototypes (in graphic form as well as in plaster) it would be hard to insist that it was only access to the British Museum’s antiquities which made such allusion strictly possible. Figure 15. Charles Lock Eastlake, Brutus Exhorting the Romans to Revenge the Death of Lucretia, 1814, oil on canvas, 116.8 x 152.4 cm. Collection of the Wiliamson Art Gallery & Museum. Digital image courtesy of Wiliamson Art Gallery & Museum Figure 16. Anonymous, Marble figure of Actaeon attacked by his hounds, Roman 2nd Century, marble, 0.99 metres high. Collection of the British Museum (1805,0703.3). Digital image courtesy of Trustees of the British Museum The Register of Students as Social Record Of arguably greater interest than the question of the “influence” of access to the marbles on artistic practice is the evidence the register provides about the social profile of the students. This takes us to the heart of the question about the relationship between art education and the state. This was, in fact, a question raised at the time. The British Museum was in 1821 obliged to draw up a report on student and public attendance of the Museum, prompted by Thomas Barrett Lennard MP, who had entered a motion in the House of Commons seeking reassurance that this publicly funded institution was not “merely an establishment for the gratification of private favour or individual patronage”. 47 Lennard’s questions arose from a growing body of criticism directed against the Museum, which turned on the question of whether, as a publicly funded body, everyone could expect free access, or only a more specialist minority. As one critic jibed in 1822, “If the British Museum is open only to the friends of the librarians, & their friends’ friends, it ceases to be a public institution.” 48 The report elicited by Lennard’s question provided a detailed breakdown of admissions. With regard to providing access to draw from the antique, the Museum indulged the impression that it not only fulfilled but exceeded its commitment to admitting Royal Academy students: providing the figures for the period 1809–17 (based, surely, on the register under consideration here), the Museum’s report elaborated: The Statute for the admission of Students in the Gallery of Sculptures being among those required by the Order of the House of Commons, it may not be irrelevant to add, that the number of students who were admitted to make drawings in the Townley Gallery, from the year 1809 to the year 1817, amounted to an average of something more than twenty. 49 Notably, this summary gives the clear impression that the antiques were being opened to the students of the Royal Academy; such is, quite reasonably, presumed by Derek Cash in his recent, careful commentary on admission procedures at the Museum. 50 The report also pointed to recent changes: In 1818, immediately subsequent to the opening of the Elgin Room, two hundred and twenty-three students were admitted: in 1819, sixty-nine more were admitted, and in 1820, sixty-three. It asserted that, now: Every student sent by the keeper of the Royal Academy, upon the production of his academy ticket, is admitted without further reference to make his drawings: and other persons are occasionally admitted, on simply exhibiting the proofs of their qualification. According to the present practice, each student has leave to exhibit his finished drawing, from any article in the Gallery, for one week after its completion. 51 Thus stated, the Museum appeared to be fulfilling its public duty in providing free access to appropriately qualified students. The bare figures might seem to indicate a steady rise in student interest, which could be taken as a marker of quantitative success. In one of the earliest historical accounts of the Museum, Edward Edwards implied that the statistical record was evidence of how Planta had progressively extended access to the Museum: “From the outset he administered the Reading Room itself with much liberality... As respects the Department of Antiquities, the students admitted to draw were in 1809 less than twenty; in 1818 two hundred and twenty-three were admitted.” 52 At that level of abstraction the information appears beyond dispute. What I test in the remainder of this essay is how these statements stand up to the more individualized account of student activity represented in the biographical record. That record does include the most assiduous students of the Royal Academy of the time, who certainly did not need the kind of “constant inspection” Farington worried about, the kind of student anticipated by the Museum’s regulations. Among these we could count Henry Monro, Samuel F. B. Morse and Charles Robert Leslie, William Brockedon, Henry Perronet Briggs, William Etty and Henry Sass, the last two famously dedicated as students of the Academy. 53 However, the full biographical survey of the register points to a more complicated situation. Of the one hundred and sixty-five individuals named in the register, it has proved possible to establish biographical profiles for the majority: details are most lacking for about twenty-four of the attending students, although in most of those cases we can conjecture at least some biographical context. 54 Slightly less than half the total number of individuals listed were recorded as students at the Academy at a date which makes it reasonably likely that they were actively attending the schools when they were admitted to the British Museum (eighty in all). 55 Around twenty more established male artists attended, and several of these were formerly students at the Royal Academy, including John Samuel Agar, John Flaxman, and James Ward. Whether they were pursuing their private studies or undertaking more specific professional tasks is not always clear. There are, certainly, a few cases where the latter appears to be the case. When William Henry Hunt was admitted it was explicitly for the purpose of preparing drawings for a publication; both William Skelton and John Samuel Agar were probably admitted in connection with his ongoing work engraving from sculptures at the Museum. It seems likely that the “Students to Mr Meyer”, that is, the engraver and print publisher Henry Meyer, were engaged on professional business, as was Thomas Welsh, recommended by the publisher Thomas Woodfall. More striking, though, is the determined presence in the register of artists who did not pursue the art professionally or full-time, including the relatively well-documented Chevalier de Barde, Arthur Champernowne, John Disney, Hugh Irvine (assuming he is the “Ralph Irvine” who appears in the register), Robert Batty, Edward John Burrow, Edward Vernon Utterson, and a number of others designated as “Esq”, so clearly from the polite classes, even if their exact identities remain unclear. There are at least fifteen male individuals who appear to come from backgrounds sufficiently socially elevated or affluent enough to suggest they were taking an amateur interest rather than pursuing serious studies. 56 Enough of these men are known to have practised art to make it quite certain that they were not, at least generally, being admitted to consult the collection without intending to draw, and John Disney was admitted explicitly “to make a sketch of a Mausoleum”. Notable, in this regard, are the large number of women admitted to study, most of whom are or appear to be from polite backgrounds, including the Paytherus sisters, Elizabeth Appleton, Louisa Champernowne, Miss Carmichael, Elizabeth Batty, Miss Home, Lucy Adams, Jane Gurney, Maria Singleton, and Anne Seymour Damer. 57 Some were established artists, or became so; others were pursuing art as a polite accomplishment, or at least we can assume so given their family circumstances; in other cases the situation is by no means clear-cut. All were admitted without special comment or notice despite the issues of propriety around the drawing of even the sculptured nude figure by female artists which crops up in contemporary commentaries. 58 This may be all the more striking given the relative paucity of women admitted as readers at the British Museum library over the same period: only three out of the three hundred and thirty-three admitted between 1770 and 1810, as surveyed by Derek Cash. 59 On this evidence, the field of artistic study was, in the most literal terms, relatively female compared even to the study of literature or history. This points to an under-explored context for the inculcation of the students into life as an artist: the “feminine” sphere of the home, and of siblings (whether brothers or sisters) alongside parents. We have, surely, barely begun to consider the family as the context in which artists are made as much as, if not more than, the studio and academy. Nor is it straightforward to assume that those individuals who had enrolled as Academy students also had expectations about the professional pursuit of the art. Among the Academy students who attended, a large proportion, including a majority of the most assiduous, were from polite social backgrounds, with fathers in the professions, or who were office-holders or from the landowning classes, including Henry Monro, John Penwarne, Richard Cook, William Drury Shaw, Charles Lock Eastlake, Henry Perronet Briggs, Alexander Huey, Thomas Cooley, Samuel F. B. Morse, Andrew Geddes, John Zephaniah Bell, Thomas Christmas, John Owen Tudor, and Samuel Hancock. Others were the sons of elite tradesmen, highly specialized craftsmen or merchants, including William Brockedon, Seymour Kirkup, Charles Robert Leslie, Gideon Manton, and John Zephaniah Bell. These were not, either, predestined to be artists, by simply following in their father’s footsteps, but were opting in to an artistic career, having had, usually, a decent education, and access to material and social support. In many cases their brothers, who shared the same upbringing, became doctors or lawyers, property-owners or merchants. A number of individual students gave up the practice of the art—Thomas Christmas became a landowner in Willisden; Richard Cook was able to retire, wealthy; Seymour Kirkup languished in Rome dabbling in the arts; William Brockedon became more engaged as an inventor and traveller; while others were never really obliged to draw an income from their practice but pursued art as a pastime. It remains the case that there was a high level of occupational inheritance; perhaps thirty-eight of the students (23 percent) had fathers who were architects, engravers or artists in painting or sculpture. Many were the sons of established artists (including Rossi, Bone, Stothard, Ward, Dawe, Wyatt, Bonomi, and the brothers Stephanoff); a few were part of “dynasties” encompassing generations engaged in the arts (Wyatt, Wyon, Hakewill, Landseer). Even then, there is the case of John Morton (noted confusingly as “John Martin” in the register, although the address given provides for a firm identification), who, although the son of an artist and a student at the Royal Academy, exhibited personally as an “Honorary”, suggesting he was not professionally engaged. That his brother became quite prominent as a physician suggests that this was a quite emphatically middle-class family setting. There are several points to derive from this information, even as lightly sketched as it necessarily is here. Firstly, it is noteworthy that while female students were a minority they were a definite presence; in this regard, the British Museum was like other spaces of artistic study, notably the painting school at the British Institution. 60 The observation is upheld by the contemporary records of student attendance at the British Institution or of copyists at Dulwich Picture Gallery, and should serve as a reminder that the Royal Academy was exceptional among the spaces of art education in being so entirely male. 61 Secondly, it is striking how few came from humble backgrounds unconnected with the art world; really, only a handful, which would include John Tannock (son of a shoemaker in Scotland), William Etty (son of a baker in York), John Jackson (son of a village tailor in Yorkshire), and William Henry Hunt (whose father was a London tin-plate worker). The circumstances which led to their gaining access to the London art world are, therefore, noteworthy, as a third and most important point would be to emphasize how emphatically metropolitan, polite, and middle-class was the British Museum as a site of artistic education. The Townley Gallery on student days was a place where working artists, students, amateurs, and patrons mingled. 62 While the Royal Academy is conventionally seen as an engine of professionalization, it is striking that the social affiliations of artists point to strong, arguably increasingly strong, affiliations between amateurs and professionals—to the extent that our terminology around this point needs to be reconsidered. Looking over the biographical survey, the kind of social suffering or precariousness typically associated with artists’ lives, perhaps especially during the era of industrialization, is markedly absent. When it does appear—most strikingly with the grim life-stories of the siblings Jabez and Sarah Newell—they are among the minority of students from backgrounds neither closely connected with the art world, nor comfortably middle-class or genteel. The examples of stellar social ascent and achievement on the basis of talent alone are real; but they are the exceptions rather than representative. The relative weight of personal and Academic connection is exposed in the record of the provision of references for students. Of the forty-three referees recorded between 1809 and 1816, less than half (nineteen) were Academicians. One of those was Henry Fuseli, who as Keeper of the Academy Schools through this period must have provided references as part of his duties, and accordingly provided the second largest number of recommendations (nineteen; all but one students at the RA). The lead in providing references was taken by William Alexander, artist and keeper of prints and drawings (twenty-two; mainly but not exclusively students). Overall, officers and Trustees were most active in admitting students. Most only ever provided a reference for one, or at most a handful, and the jibe about “friends of the librarians, & their friends’ friends” contains some truth. But the same point applies to the artists, most of whom only ever recommended one student, often known personally to them already: David Wilkie recommended his assistant, John Zephaniah Bell; George Dawe provided a reference for his own son; Thomas Lawrence for his pupil William Etty; Thomas Phillips and John Flaxman, the relatives of fellow Academicians; Thomas Stothard, the son of a neighbour (Kempe). Geography, too, seems to have played a role, with referees often coming from the same area as their favoured student: Francis Horner recommended John Henning, whom he had known in their native Scotland; the Scottish George Chalmers recommended James Tannock; Arthur Champernowne put forward William Brockedon, his protégé, whom he had supported in moving from Devon to the metropolis to pursue art; James Northcote recommended two fellow West Countrymen; Benjamin West, notorious for giving special assistance to visiting American students, two such (Leslie and Morse). If the admission procedure could be interpreted as an opportunity for the Academy to assert a corporate, professionalized identity, based purely on merit, we can nonetheless detect underlying patterns of kinship, personal, social, and geographical affiliation. Simply stated, even if study at the Museum was free and freely available, any given student would still need to access a letter of reference and the time to go to the Museum (as well as the material means to acquire the portfolio, paper, and chalks anticipated by the Trustees). The opening hours for students militated against anyone attending who had to use these daylight hours for work, a point which was made quite often with reference to the Reading Room through this period. 63 The most assiduous students needed the time free to study at the British Museum, something that well-off students like Eastlake, Brockedon, Briggs, and Monro had readily available to them. Their peers at the Academy who were obliged to work during the day to make a living, or who were serving apprenticeships, would simply not be able to make the hours available at the Museum. 64 The ambitious painter Thomas Christmas was free to attend the Museum, having dedicated himself to study after working as a clerk, but his brother, Charles George Christmas, who held down a job in the Audit Office, would have struggled; accounting for his studies at the Academy, he had told Farington, “He shd. continue to do the business at the Auditors' Office, Whitehall, which occupies Him from 10 oClock till 3 each day, as it will keep His mind free from anxiety abt. His means of living and leave Him with a feeling of independence.” 65 Given that the students were admitted to the Townley Gallery from noon to 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and that the Trustees continued to prohibit the use of artificial lights in the Museum, there was scarcely any real possibility of Charles George Christmas attending, although he also enjoyed the comforts of a middle-class home background (their father was a Bank of England official). With the ascent of utilitarian criticism, visitor levels were turned to anew as a measure of the institution’s fulfilment or failure to fulfil its “national” purpose. On strictly statistical terms, the Museum seemed to be successful at providing opportunities for art students. Only under the closest scrutiny, with attention to the “micro-history” of individual lives, does that illusion start to be tested. It is, though, at this “micro” level that we can apprehend the characteristic paradox of an emerging cultural modernity, one that is still with us. Yet the point, to follow Rancière, is not to see the past ascent of a present situation, but to force ourselves to feel uneasy with that sense of recognition and its tacit model of history. The evidence is that free access to culture and the (circumscribed) promotion of equality were combined with socially restrictive patterns of preferment. 66 Study at the British Museum may have been free, and freely available to properly qualified students of the Academy, but you needed to be in the right place at the right time, to have the time available, and, indeed, to know or at least be able to access the right people, to get in. This point may seem unduly sociological or even tendentious, but overlooking it involves a denial of the socially invested nature of time, specifically, of the scholastic time (given over to study or contemplation or to creation) mythically removed from the influence of social forces. 67 The acts of nomination which saw certain men and women given special access to the Townley Gallery, acts so seemingly trivial in themselves involving perhaps only an exchange of words and a scribbled note, were microcosmic manifestations of social authority of the most far-reaching kind. 68 When Robert Butt, the principal manager of the bronze and porcelain department at Messrs Howell & James, Regent-street, was examined by the Select Committee on Arts and Manufactures in 1835, he noted: The process by which a knowledge of the arts of painting and sculpture is now acquired is this: a young man receives tuition from a private master; he draws from the antique at the British Museum for a certain time, and when he shows that he has sufficient talent to qualify him for a student of the Royal Academy he is admitted; but the expense of acquiring that preliminary knowledge is considerable, and the young artist must also be maintained by his relatives during the time that he is acquiring it. 69 The following year, in a further parliamentary committee, this time dedicated to testing out the British Museum’s claims to public status, James Crabb, “House Decorator” of Shoe Lane, Fleet Street, was asked, “Did you ever obtain any assistance, by means of casts, from the better specimens of sculpture in the Museum or elsewhere?”, to which he replied, “I should derive assistance from them if I had the opportunity, but I have not time.” 70 Considered sociologically, as the personal experience of these men seems to have obliged them to do, time was certainly of the essence. The prevalence of students with secure middle-class backgrounds at the British Museum might, then, be taken as evidence of an early phase in the “middle-classification” of art practice, the awkward but evocative phrase used recently by Angela McRobbie in her eye-opening observations of careers in the present-day creative industries. 71 Whatever emphasis may be put on equality of access to educational opportunity, however rigorously fairminded and anonymized the tests and measures involved in admission procedures, without forms of positive support to counterbalance or actively adjust social inequalities, those same inequalities will tend to be reproduced, homologically, in the educational field. This is patently not a simple matter of social and material advantage underpinning artistic enterprise in a wholly predictable way; such would be a nonsense, in light of the many students who did not enjoy such advantages. Instead, it is the very flexibility built into the exclusionary processes of the emerging cultural field which is significant—the possibility that talented students could get access, gain reputation, achieve success, without being limited by their social origins. “Freeing” art education allowed for the expression of personal preferences or dispositions at an individual level, which at an aggregate level reproduced larger power relations. Exposing that ultimately exclusionary process, which may be marked only in small differences, in personal dispositions and behaviours, in the personal choices and decisions which are neither truly personal nor really pure as choices, is no small task. This essay, and the biographical survey accompanying it, with its details of a multitude of student lives otherwise scarcely recorded or recognized, is intended as a small contribution to that larger project, with the excess of data presented here perhaps imposing, in itself, new requirements on our understanding of the history of art education. Appendix Regulations for the admission of students of the Royal Academy to the Townley Gallery at the British Museum (May 1808): [7] That the students of the Royal Academy be admitted into the Gallery of Antiquities upon every Friday in the months of April, May, June, & July, & every day in the months of August and September, from the hours of twelve to four, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays the Students, not exceeding twenty at a time, to be admitted by a Ticket from the President and Council of the Royal Academy, signed by their Secretary. [8] The better to maintain decorum among the Students, a person properly qualified shall be nominated by the Royal Academy from their own body, who shall attend during the hours of study; the name of such person to be signified in writing, from time to time, by the Secretary of the Royal Academy to the Principal Librarian of the British Museum. [9] That the members of the Royal Academy have access to the Gallery of Antiquities at all admissible times, upon application to the Principal Librarian or the Senior under Librarian in Residence [10] That on the Fridays in April, May June & July one of the officers of the Department of Antiquities do attend in the Gallery of Antiquities according to Rotation in discharge of his ordinary Duty. [11] That in the months of August & September some one of the several Officers of the Museum, then in Residence, do (according to a Rotation to be agreed upon by themselves & confirmed by the Principal Librarian) attend on the Gallery upon the Days for the admission of Students. [12] That the attendants in the Department of Antiquities be always present in the Gallery during the times when the Students are admitted. 72 Footnotes The original register is held in the Keeper’s Office, Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum. Patrick Joyce, “Speaking up for the State” (2014), https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/ patrick-joyce/ speaking-up-for-state. These points are made in light of a larger research project, which has given rise to the present study: a biographical survey of all the students of paintings, sculpture, and engraving who were active at the Royal Academy schools between its foundation in 1769 and 1830 together with a monograph, provisionally titled The Talent of Success: The Royal Academy Schools in the Age of Turner, Blake and Constable, c. 1770–1840 (forthcoming). This fuller survey indicates several important shifts over these decades, including a fundamantal shift in the proportion of students coming from family backgrounds in the arts and design-oriented trades, in comparison with those coming from professional and genteel backgrounds. It exposes, specifically, a new group whose fathers were engaged as “officers”, in the civil service or bureaucratic roles, who in turn had a disproportionate representation within the developing art establishment (as Academicians, or as officials in other cultural bodies). The term “art world”, as designating a space of co-production, stems from Howard S. Becker, Art Worlds (1984), rev. edn (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2008). As deployed here, it is closer in conception to the sociological “field” as detailed by Pierre Bourdieu across a succession of influential works. Notable among these, for present purposes because of its methodological statement about the homological analysis of the world (field) of art in relation to the field of power, is The Rules of Art, trans. Susan Emanuel (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996), esp. 214–15. See, notably, the chapter on “Workers in Art” in Samuel Smiles’s Self-Help, first published 1859 with numerous further editions. On the self-motivated artist as the model for all forms of work, see Angela McRobbie, Be Creative: Making a Living in the New Culture Industries (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016), esp. 70–76. Holger Hoock, The King’s Artists: The Royal Academy of Arts and the Politics of British Culture, 1760–1840 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003) and Hoock, “The British State and the Anglo-French Wars Over Antiquities, 1798–1858”, Historical Journal 50, no. 1 (2007): 49–72. Patrick Joyce, The Rule of Freedom: Liberalism and the Modern City (London: Verso, 2003) and Joyce, The State of Freedom: A Social History of the British State Since 1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013); also his “What is the Social in Social History?”, Past and Present 206, no. 1 (2010): 213–48. On this Foucauldian framing of art education and creative production within liberalism, see McRobbie, Be Creative, 71–76 and passim. Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time (1944; Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2002); Michel Foucault, The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1978–1979, ed. Michel Sennelert, trans. Graham Burchell (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008); Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello, The New Spirit of Capitalism, trans. Gregory Elliott (London and New York: Verso, 2007); Pierre Bourdieu, On the State: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1989–1992, ed. Patrick Champagne and others, trans. David Fernbach (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2014). See Edward Higgs, Identifying the English: A History of Personal Identification 1500 to the Present (London: Bloomsbury, 2011), 97–119. Higgs’s account is, essentially, positive about the liberties and rights secured by this rising documentation. The position taken here is more determinedly Foucauldian. For the foundational role of statistics in “liberalisation”, and the hidden affinities between the liberal and the totalitarian, see Michael Foucault, “Society Must Be Defended”: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–76, ed. Mauro Bertani and Alessandro Fontana, trans. David Macey (London: Penguin, 2004). Foucault, Birth of Biopolitics, 69. A biographical dictionary of Royal Academy students from 1769–1830. See note 3, above. Jacques Rancière, The Method of Equality: Interviews with Laurent Jeanpierre and Dork Zabunyan, trans. Julie Rose (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016), 108. Neil Chambers, Joseph Banks and the British Museum: The World of Collecting, 1770–1830 (London: Routledge, 2007), 107. The register is mentioned in the notice of Seymour Kirkup in G. E. Bentley, Blake Records, 2nd edn (New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 2004), 289n. Kirkup was an unusually assiduous student at the Museum, admitted in 1809 and renewing his ticket through to 1812. The reference in Bentley appears to be the only published reference to the register. The admission of the Paytherus sisters to draw at the Museum is noted by James Hamilton in his London Lights: The Minds that Moved the City that Shook the World, 1805–51 (London: John Murray, 2007), 72, although with reference to the early Reading Room register (marked “1795”) in the British Museum Central Archive, rather than the volume in Prints and Drawings. See J. T. Smith, Nollekens and his Times, 2 vols., 2nd edn (London: Henry Colburn, 1829), 1: 242. Viccy Coltman, Classical Sculpture and the Culture of Collecting in Britain since 1760 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 242–44. See B. F. Cook, The Townley Marbles (London: British Museum Press, 1985) and Ian Jenkins, Archaeologists and Aesthetes in the Sculpture Galleries of the British Museum, 1800–1939 (London: British Museum Press, 1992). Chambers, Joseph Banks, Derek Cash, “Access to Museum Culture: The British Museum from 1753 to 1836”, British Museum Occasional Papers 133 (2002), 68. http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/publications/research_publications_series/2002/ access_to_museum_culture.aspx. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/1/5/1029–30. Library of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, CM/4/50–52. Library of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, CM/4/59. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/1/5/1034. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/1/5/1043–144. Cf. “Chapter III: Concerning the Admission into the British Museum”, in Acts and Votes of Parliament, Statutes and Rules, and Synopsis of the Contents of the British Museum (London, 1808), 15–16. Joseph Farington, The Diary of Joseph Farington, ed. Kenneth Garlick, Angus Macintyre, and others, 17 vols. (New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 1978–98), 9: 3284. Library of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, GM/2/366, 370. Library of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, GM/2/371. Library of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, GM/2/372–73. Diary of Joseph Farington, 9: 3313. Diary of Joseph Farington, 9: 3317. Diary of Joseph Farington, 9: 3284. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/3/9/2426. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/3/9/2428. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/1/5/1069. The British Museum, Central Archive, C/1/5/1070. The arrangement of the galleries was first detailed in a written description provided by Westmacott for Prince Hoare’s Academic Annals (London, 1809) and in Taylor Combe’s A Description of the Ancient Marbles in the British Museum, 3 vols. (London, 1812–17). See Cook, Townley Marbles, 59–61. Karl Friedrich Schinkel, “The English Journey”: Journal of a Visit to France and Britain in 1826, ed. David Bindman and Gottfried Riemann (New Haven, CT, and London, 1993), 74. The record of admissions to view prints and drawings must have arisen from the new regulations issued by the Trustees in November 1814; see, Antony Griffiths, “The Department of Prints and Drawings during the First Century of the British Museum”, The Burlington Magazine 136, 1097 (1994): 536. In March 1817 the student artist William Bewick wrote to his brother: “I last Monday set my name down as a student in the British Museum.” See Thomas Landseer, ed., Life and Letters of William Bewick (Artist), 2 vols. (London: Hurst and Blackett, 1871), 1: 37. Edward Nygren, “James Ward, RA (1769–1859): Papers and Patrons”, Walpole Society 75 (2013): 16. Jack Tupper, “Extracts from the Diary of an Artist. No.V”, The Crayon, 12 December 1855, 368. An album of drawings of the Townley Marbles in the British Museum (2010,5006.1877.1–40) appears to have been collected by Townley himself, so dates to before the installation of the marbles at the Museum. The drawings serve as records of the objects rather than student exercises. The drawings by John Samuel Agar in the Getty Research Institute are evidently preparatory for the prints published in Specimens of Antient Sculpture. BL Add MS 37,163 f.106. This and other figures in the Townley collection could also be found as casts in the Royal Academy’s plaster schools, so even if Wood’s drawing, for example, could be traced, it could not definitively be said to be made in the Townley Gallery. See Ann Chumbley and Ian Warrell, Turner and the Human Figure: Studies of Contemporary Life, exh. cat. (London: Tate Gallery, 1989), 12–13. Eric Shanes, Young Mr Turner: The First Forty Years, 1775–1815 (New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 2016), 33–34. Hansard (House of Commons), 16 February 1821, c.724 (online at http://hansard.millbanksystems.com/commons/ 1821/feb/16/british-museum). See Cash, “Access to Museum Culture”, 197–225 for a full account of public discussions around this date. Quoted in Cash, “Access to Museum Culture”, 208. British Museum: Returns to two Orders of the Honourable House of Commons, dated 16 th February 1821, House of Commons, 23 February 1821, 2. Cash “Access to Museum Culture”, 71. Quoted in The Literary Chronicle, 17 March 1821, 168. Edward Edwards, Lives of the Founders of the British Museum (London: Trübner and Co., 1870), Acts and Votes of Parliament, Statutes and Rules, and Synopsis of the Contents of the British Museum. London, 1808. Becker, Howard S. Art Worlds (1984). Rev. edn. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2008. Bentley, G. E. Blake Records. 2nd edn. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2004. Boltanski, Luc, and Eve Chiapello. The New Spirit of Capitalism. Trans. Gregory Elliott. London and New York: Verso, 2007. See Martin Myrone, “Something too Academical: The Problem with Etty”, in William Etty: Art and Controversy, ed. Sarah Burnage, Mark Hallett, and Laura Turner (London: Philip Wilson, 2011), 47–59. The barest and most conjectural biographies include those for William Carr of New Broad Street; W. W. Torrington; Edward Thomson; Richard Moses; and Mr Lewer. Information is most notably lacking for the trio of Miss Cowper, Miss Moula, and Mr Turner of Gower Street; William Hamilton of Stafford Place; William Irving of Montague Street; Thomas Williams of Hatton Garden; Daniel Jones; M. Hatley of Albermarle Street; Miss Edgar; Miss Carmichael of Granville Street; Mr Atwood; Mr Higgins of Norfolk Street; George Pisey of Castle Street; Charles White of George Street; Robert Walter Page of Wigmore Street; Henry A. Matthew; Thomas Welsh; and John Hall. Students were entered as “probationers” for a period of three months (which might be extended), and once registered could attend the Schools for a period of ten years. Ralph Irvine; Arthur Champernowne; the Chevalier de Barde; John Disney; John Campbell; Edward Utterson; John Lambert; Robert Batty; Alexander Huey; Richard Thomson; Charles Toplis; John Frederick Williams; Edward Burrows; William Carr; W. W. Torrington. Jane Landseer; Janet Ross; Georgiana Ross; the two Misses Paytherus; H. Edgar; Maria Singleton; Elizabeth Appleton; Louisa Champernowne; Miss Carmichael; Elizabeth Batty; Frances Edwards; Eliza Kempe; Ann Damer; Miss Cowper; Miss Moula; Miss Trotter; Miss Adams; Sarah Newell; Emma Kendrick; Jane Gurney. Gentleman’s Magazine (1820) and A Trip to Paris in August and September (1815), quoted by William T. Whitley in his Art in England, 1800–1820 (London: Medici Society, 1928), 263, as evidence that “It was still thought improper for women to study from such figures” as the Apollo Belvedere. Cash, “Access to Museum Culture”, 113. As the American Samuel F. B. Morse (a student at the Royal Academy and the British Museum) noted in 1811: “I was surprised on entering the gallery of paintings at the British Institution, at seeing eight or ten ladies as well as gentlemen, with their easels and palettes and oil colours, employed in copying some of the pictures. You can see from this circumstance in what estimation the art is held here, since ladies of distinction, without hesitation or reserve, are willing to draw in public.” See Edward Lind Morse, ed., Samuel F. B. Morse: His Letters and Journals, 2 vols. (Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin, 1914), 1: 45. Lists of students admitted to copy at the British Institution appear in the Directors’ minutes, NAL RC V 12–14, and in contemporary press reports. Individuals admitted to copy at Dulwich Picture Gallery were routinely listed in the “Bourgeois Book of Regulations” from 1820; photocopies and notes at Dulwich Picture Gallery, C1 and H3. This is expecially clearly expressed in James Ward’s diary notes on his visits in 1817, meeting there the artists William Skelton, Joseph Clover, Henry Fuseli, and William Long, but also the gentlemen collectors and scholars William Lock, Edward Utterson, and Francis Douce (Nygren, “James Ward”). See Cash, “Access to Museum Culture”, 217 and passim. Although the timing of the Academy’s evening classes might seem to be more accommodating, even this may have been challenging. The master of Richard Westall, later a watercolour painter, “permitted him to draw at the Royal Academy, in the evenings; but for that indulgence he worked a corresponding number of hours in the morning”. Gentleman's Magazine, February 1837, 213. Diary of Joseph Farington, 4: 4783. On educational tests as linking “macro” and “micro”, “both sectoral mechanisms or unique situations and societal arrangements”, see Boltanski and Chiapello, New Spirit of Capitalism, 32. See Pierre Bourdieu, Pascalian Meditations, trans. Richard Nice (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000). “Acts of nomination, from the most trivial acts of bureaucracy, like the issuing of an identity card, or a sickness or disablement certification, to the most solemn, which consecrate nobilities, lead, in a kind of infinite regress, to the realization of God on earth, the State, which guarantees, in the last resort, the infinite series of acts of authority certifying by delegation the validity of the certificates of legitimate existence”, Bourdieu, Pascalian Meditations, 245. The potentially trivial nature of the acts of nomination involved in gaining access to the British Museum is highlighted in Joseph Planta’s own account of providing recommendations (for the Reading Room) often only on the basis of casual conversations. See Cash, “Access to Museum Culture”, 207. Report of the Select Committee on Arts and Manufactures, House of Commons, 4 September 1835, 40. Report of the Select Committee on the British Museum, quoted in Edward Edwards, Remarks on the “Minutes of Evidence” Taken before the Select Committee on the British Museum, 2nd edn (London [1839]), 14. McRobbie, Be Creative. The British Museum, Central Archive, Bourdieu, Pierre. On the State: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1989–1992. Ed. Patrick Champagne and others. Trans. David Fernbach. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2014. – – –. Pascalian Meditations. Trans. Richard Nice. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000. – – –. The Rules of Art. Trans. Susan Emanuel. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996. Cash, Derek. “Access to Museum Culture: The British Museum from 1753 to 1836.” British Museum Occasional Papers 133 (2002) http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/publications/research_publications_series/2002/ access_to_museum_culture.aspx Chambers, Neil. Joseph Banks and the British Museum: The World of Collecting, 1770–1830. London: Routledge, 2007. Chumbley, Ann, and Ian Warrell. Turner and the Human Figure: Studies of Contemporary Life. London: Tate Gallery, 1989. Coltman, Viccy. Classical Sculpture and the Culture of Collecting in Britain since 1760. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Combe, Taylor. A Description of the Ancient Marbles in the British Museum, 3 vols. London, 1812–17. Cook, B. F. The Townley Marbles. London: British Museum Press, 1985. Edwards, Edward. Lives of the Founders of the British Museum. London: Trübner and Co., 1870. – – –. Remarks on the “Minutes of Evidence” Taken before the Select Committee on the British Museum. 2nd edn. London [1839]. Farington, Joseph. The Diary of Joseph Farington. Ed. Kenneth Garlick, Angus Macintyre and others. 17 vols. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1978–98. Foucault, Michel. The Birth of Biopolitics: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1978–1979. Ed. Michel Sennelert. Trans. Graham Burchell. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. – – –. “Society Must Be Defended”: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–76. Ed. Mauro Bertani and Alessandro Fontana. Trans. David Macey. London: Penguin, 2004. Griffiths, Antony. “The Department of Prints and Drawings during the First Century of the British Museum.” The Burlington Magazine 136 (1994): 531–44. Hamilton, James. London Lights: The Minds that Moved the City that Shook the World, 1805–51. London: John Murray, 2007. Higgs, Edward. Identifying the English: A History of Personal Identification 1500 to the Present. London: Bloomsbury, 2011. Hoock, Holger. “The British State and the Anglo-French Wars Over Antiquities, 1798–1858.” Historical Journal 50, no. 1 (2007): 49–72. – – –. The King’s Artists: The Royal Academy of Arts and the Politics of British Culture, 1760–1840. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. Jenkins, Ian. Archaeologists and Aesthetes in the Sculpture Galleries of the British Museum, 1800–1939. London: British Museum Press, 1992. Joyce, Patrick. The Rule of Freedom: Liberalism and the Modern City. London: Verso, 2003. – – –. “Speaking up for the State” (2014). https://www.opendemocracy.net/ourkingdom/patrick-joyce/speaking-up-for-state – – –. The State of Freedom: A Social History of the British State Since 1800. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. – – –. “What is the Social in Social History?” Past and Present 206, no. 1 (2010): 213–48. Landseer, Thomas, ed. Life and Letters of William Bewick (Artist). 2 vols. London: Hurst and Blackett, 1871. McRobbie, Angela. Be Creative: Making a Living in the New Culture Industries. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016. Morse, Edward Lind, ed. Samuel F. B. Morse: His Letters and Journals. 2 vols. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1914 Myrone, Martin. “Something too Academical: The Problem with Etty.” In William Etty: Art and Controversy, ed. Sarah Burnage, Mark Hallett, and Laura Turner. London: Philip Wilson, 2011, 47–59. Nygren, Edward. “James Ward, RA (1769–1859): Papers and Patrons.” Walpole Society 75 (2013). Polanyi, Karl. The Great Transformation: The Political and Economic Origins of Our Time (1944). Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2002. Rancière, Jacques. The Method of Equality: Interviews with Laurent Jeanpierre and Dork Zabunyan. Trans. Julie Rose. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2016. Schinkel, Karl Friedrich. “English Journey”: Journal of a Visit to France and Britain in 1826. Ed. David Bindman and Gottfried Riemann. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 1993. Shanes, Eric. Young Mr Turner: The First Forty Years, 1775–1815. New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 2016. Smiles, Samuel. Self-Help: With Illustrations of Character and Conduct. London: John Murray, 1859. Smith, J. T. Nollekens and his Times, 2 vols. 2nd edn, London: Henry Colburn, 1829. Tupper, Jack. “Extracts from the Diary of an Artist. No.V.” The Crayon, 12 December 1855. Whitley, William T. Art in England, 1800–1820. London: Medici Society, 1928.  drawn from the antique Artists & the Classical Ideal Adriano Aymonino and Anne Varick Lauder with contributions from Eloisa Dodero, Rachel Hapoienu, Ian Jenkins, Jerzy Kierkuc ́-Bielin ́ski, Michiel C. Plomp and Jonathan Yarker sir john soane’s museum 2015  Drawn from the Antique: Artists & the Classical Ideal An exhibition at Teylers Museum, Haarlem 11 March – 31 May 2015 Sir John Soane’s Museum, London 25 June –26 September 2015 This catalogue has been generously supported by the Tavolozza Foundation and the Wolfgang Ratjen Stiftung, Vaduz This exhibition has been made possible through the support of the Government Indemnity Scheme Sir John Soane’s Museum is a non-departmental body and is funded by the Department for Culture, Media and Sport Published in Great Britain 2015 Sir John Soane’s Museum, 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London, wc2a 3bp Tel: 020 7405 2107 www.soane.org Reg. Charity No. 313609 Text © the listed authors All photographs © as listed on pages 254–56 ISBN (paperback): 978-0-9573398-9-7 ISBN (hardback): 978-0-9932041-0-4 Designed and typeset in Albertina and Requiem by Libanus Press Ltd, Marlborough Printed by Hampton Printing (Bristol) Ltd Frontispiece: Michael Sweerts, A Painter’s Studio (detail), c. 1648–50, cat. 12 (p. 134) Page 10: Hendrick Goltzius, The Apollo Belvedere (detail), 1591, cat. 6 (p. 107) Page 78: William Pether, An Academy (detail), 1772, cat. 24 (p. 189) Contents Preface 6 Abraham Thomas Introduction 7 Adriano Aymonino and Anne Varick Lauder Acknowledgements 9 Ideal Beauty and the Canon in Classical Antiquity 11 Ian Jenkins and Adriano Aymonino ‘Nature Perfected’: The Theory & Practice of 15 Drawing after the Antique Adriano Aymonino  Catalogue Bibliography Photo credits 79 232 254  - authors of catalogue entries AA: Adriano Aymonino: AVL: Anne Varick Lauder: Eloisa Dodero: cats 9, 22 JK-B: Jerzy Kierkuc ́-Bielin ́ski: cat. 29 JY: Jonathan Yarker: cats 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 MP: Michiel C. Plomp: cats 6, 7, 8, 11, 31, 32 RH: Rachel Hapoienu: cats 1, 2, 4, 33. The exhibition ‘Drawn from the antique: artists and the classical ideal” examines the crucial role played by antique sculpture in artistic education and practice, a theme which lies at the heart of the conception of Sir John Soane’s Museum. As a student at the Royal Academy, Soane wins a travelling scholarship to embark on the grand tour. This forms the basis of a classical education which would prove to be an enduring influence on his subsequent career as one of the most important architects of the Regency period. The drawings, paintings and prints selected for the exhibition ‘Drawn from the antique – artists and the classical ideal’ offer a glimpse into an intriguing world of academies, artists’ workshops and private studios, each populated with carefully chosen examples of statuary which provide compelling snapshots of classical antiquity. Similarly, within his house and museum at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, Soane creates his own bespoke arrangements of ancient statuary and architectural fragments, providing educational tools which defined an informal curriculum for both his Royal-Academy students and the apprenticed pupils working within his on-site architectural office. In fact, one could consider much of Soane’s museum as an extended series of studio spaces, intended for academic improvement and personal inspiration. The concept of the exhibition ‘Drawn from the antique – artists and the classical ideal’ evolves from a series of conversations between Timothy Knox, and the collector K. Bellinger, to see if there may be some way to showcase the Bellinger extraordinary and unique collection of art-works *depicting* artists’ studios. We extend a special thanks to K. Bellinger, not only for her generosity in allowing us to exhibit these wonderful pieces but also for all the hard work in securing some stunning loans from other collections. We are grateful for the loans from the Getty Collection, the Rijksmuseum, the Kunsthaus Zürich, the Kunstbibliothek in Berlin. For the UK loans we would like to thank The British Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Royal Academy of Arts and the Courtauld Gallery. “Drawn From The Antique: Artists and The Classical Ideal” is a collaboration between The Soane Collection and the Teylers Collection, and I am grateful to M. Scharloo for agreeing to host the first leg of this exhibition, and also to Michiel Plomp, for facilitating the exhibition in Haarlem. It feels rather appropriate that the founders of our two institutions, Teyler and Soane, were both collectors with singular visions of how their collections should provide a resource for academic study and creative practice. This exhibition would not have been possible without the fantastic curatorial team that K. Bellinger assembled: A. Aymonino, A. Varick Lauder, and R. Hapoienu. I would like to express my gratitude to them for bringing the project to fruition. I would also like to thank Paul Joannides for his editing work on the catalogue and all of my colleagues at the Soane who worked to make this exhibition a reality, especially S. Palmer, D. Jenkins and J. Kierkuc-Bielinski, as well as S. Wightman at Libanus for designing such a beautiful catalogue. Finally, I would like to extend a special thanks to the Tavolozza Foundation and the Wolfgang Ratjen Stiftung, Vaduz, for their generous support of the exhibition and the catalogue. The exhibition explores one of the central practices of artists for years: drawing after the antique – l’antico. Ancient Graeco-Roman statuary provides artists with a “model” from which he learns how to represent the volume, the pose and the expression of the male nude and which simultaneously offers a perfected example of anatomy and proportion. For an established artist, a piece of antique statuary or a elief offers a repertory of form that serves as inspiration. Because the imitation (mimesis) and representation of nature is the principal aim of the classical artist, education in a workshop or an academy revolves around the study of geometry and perspective – to represent space – and anatomy, the antique but also THE LIVE MODEL – to learn how to deploy and mould the male body convincingly in a piece of statuary. This practical approach to the antique – as a convenient model for depicting or moulding  the naked male form – is accompanied by a more theoretical, aesthetic, and philosophical one. A piece of ancient Graeco-Roman statuary statue is perceived as a bench-mark of perfection and of the Platonic concept of ideal beauty, the physical result of a careful selection of the best parts of nature. Classical Graeco-Roman authors, such as the Italians Vitruvio, Cicerone or Plinio, reveal to the artist and the philosopher that antique statuary is based on a system. There is a Pythagoreian harmonic proportions. This rests on the mathematical relationships between a part of the body and the whole body. A piece of ancient statuary therefore embodies the same rational principle on which the harmony of the cosmos and nature are based. It is the powerful combination of this rational and universal principle that the antique expresses, together with its extreme versatility as a model of forms, that guarantees its ubiquitous success. Students in the early stages of their training are encouraged to ‘assimilate’ fully the idealised beauty of a classical statue through the copying of plaster casts. Only then can he be exposed to an ‘imperfections of nature’ as embodied by the live naked male model (“Drawn From Life”). This is intended to provide the craftsman with a standard of perfection that is then infused into his own statuary. For an artist, it was considered essential to travel to Rome. At Rome, the artists confront the venerated antique ‘original’ – not the copy -- and assembles his own ‘drawn’ collections of models – ‘drawn from the antique’ only, not ‘drawn from life’, for which you don’t need to go to Rome. Drawing (desegno) is considered the only intellectual part of an art – the first sensorial (specifically visual) manifestation of an idea. Drawing from and ‘after’ the Antique (desegno dall’antico) is the union of intellectual medium and intellectual subject. It becomes an integral part of the learning process and the activity of the artist who aims at pleasing the Society gentleman. It proves crucial for legitimising the ambitions of the artist who fashions himself as a practitioner of a liberal and intellectual activity. So widespread is it, that representing the practice itself developed into an artistic genre. Through a selection of pieces exemplifying this fascinating category of images, by artists as diverse as the Italian Zuccaro, Dutch Goltzius and Rubens, French Natoire, Swiss Fuseli and English Turner, we may attempt to analyse this phenomenon. We begin with an image relating to an early Italian academy and with a portrait, in which a piece of ancient statuary is included.We may proceed to an image of an artist as he ‘draws’ after a celebrated statue – the Apollo del Belvedere and the Laoconte, il torso del Belvedere, l’Antino del Belvedere – in the cortile ottogono del casino della villa Belvedere in Monte Vaticano, the Belvedere collection that serves as a model. We next may explore the varied approaches of artists to a piece of ccanonical statuary in Rome and the ways in which the Italian academic curriculum – with the antique (l’antico) as one of the two cornerstones (the other being: ‘natura’) – spreads all over Rome, where each palazzo claims its collection – Farnese, Ludovisi, Albani – and even up to La Tribuna di Firenze.An Italian drawing manual is a powerful vehicle for the uncostested establishment and entrenchment of the classical ideal. Significantly, a manual illustrates the practice of copying after the antique in their frontispieces. Next follow two of the most relevant images embodying the classicist credo of the accademia dell’arte at Rome and academie des beaux arts a Paris. The accademia a Roma codifies a structured syllabus. First-hand experience of the Antique ‘original’ in Rome becomes a must. Fuseli magnificently draws the fragments of the head, right hand, and left foot of the colossal statue of Constantine at the  Campidoglio. Fuseli’s image expresses a ‘romantic’ attitude towards classical statuary, based on the direct emotion and empathy – the eros of Plato, and the catharsis of Aristotle -- rather than a ‘study’ (studio) of an idealised beauty and proportion. Classicism is embraced and an academic syllabus is developed to graduate from the academy – as opposed to the nobility who can still practice amateur and present their statues at the annual exhibitions. The elite, educated in the classics, has a crucial role in disseminating the classical ideal. For less privileged students at Oxford (‘only the poor learn at Oxford’) the Ashmolean starts collecting a plaster cast of this or that original in Rome. Statues serve a decorative purpose in the villa garden fountain --- and the palazzo interior -- a clear sign of the commercialisation and further diffusion of the Antique. But while classical statuary becomes a n attract when doing the calls. Its role within academic curricula remains well-established. The Antique as a canonical model begins to be challenged by the more dynamic and innovative forces of art, a challenge that led to its rapid decline. The last exhibit shows a plaster copy of the celebrated ancient bust of Homer at the Farnese collection in Napoli is placed on equal footing with a bust of a non-classical author, neo-classical statuary, and even with a multicoloured porcelain parrot, reveals how the Antique becomes just one of the many historical references favoured by society, if not by Society. Although focused on images representing the relationship of an artist WITH the Antique, that is, the act or performance of copying or drawing from or after it, this catalogue includes also examples of the product of the practice: sketches actually ‘drawn from the antique’ not by students wanting to pass, but by professionals such as Goltzius, destined to be disseminated through the engraving. We have also included drawings by Rubens and Turner showing the compromising practice of setting a live model in the pose of the antique model – lo spinario, i lottatori in the case of a syntagma or statuary group -- and an early academic study by Turner the student of the torso del Belvedere (Aiace contempla suicidio). An image may portray how the artist HIMSELF in the presence of the Antique. The point of view should always be that of the intended addressee: the noble Epicurean connoisseur. The form and ideas that he enjoys and seeks in the classical model, the diversity of his taste according to his mood, and the kinds of image that are created to show their own relationship with the Antique. The attitudes towards classical statuary of a manic collector or an antiquarian, although touched upon in the essays and in some of the entries, are not discussed at length. We also decided to focus primarily on free-standing in the round male nude statue or syntagma (i lottatori), as opposed to a relief. The free-standing in the round reproduction of the male naked body is what the gentleman enjoys in terms of the proportion, the anatomy and his beauty. A relief rather serves as a compositional model and inspiration for a narrative mythological or historical scene. Drawings after reliefs would be the subject of a different exhibition. The choice of the two venues is entirely appropriate. Haarlem is one of the earliest Northern cities where the Antique is a subject of debate – within the private academy established by Mander, Cornelisz, and Goltzius – whose magnificent series of drawings after canonical classical statues is preserved in the Teylers Collection. The Soane Collection at Lincoln Fields, on the other hand, represents an incarnations of the classicist curriculum. It is an eccentric, kaleidoscopic academy where, in the name of the union of the arts, the study of Vitruvian and Palladian architecture gets integrated with the copying of paintings, classical statuary and plaster casts, to attain that mastery of drawing of the  human forms (uomo vitruviano) advocated by Vitruvius as a crucial element of architecture (to be replaced by Le Corbusier’s functionalist metron!). The idea for this exhibition has evolved. The Bellinger Collection is based on a just one theme: the sculptor at work. Fascinated by the creative process and the mystique surrounding it. The Bellinger Collection includes items in a range of media – drawings, paintings, prints, photographs and sculpture. Rather than stage an obvious ‘greatest hits’ exhibition focusing on celebrity, my idea is to show little-known, rarely exhibited, works and to present aspects of the collection, which had been rather neglected by scholarship in an attempt to open new ground. A preliminary step is made by Knox, who approached K. Bellingerto enquire whether she might showcase works from the collection in the piano nobile of the Palazz Soane. It soon became apparent that the theme of the relationship between the sculptor and antique statuary, which seemed so suitable to the venue of an architect’s palazzo-cum-academy-cum-museum with its rooms filled with antiquities and plaster reproductions, would have resonance with the Few. Accompanying a selection of works from the Bellinger Collection we have attempted to borrow on loan some of the most ‘iconic’ images, and others less well-known, that demonstrate the evolution of this practice of this class of ‘Drawn from the Antique’ over an extended period. Almost half of the works on display have never previously been exhibited and most have not been shown. The resulting display provides the first overview of a phenomenon crucial for the understanding and appreciation of ancient Roman art of the classical Augustean period, which lays stress on the creative processes of the Italophile artist and on the norms and conventions that guides and inspires his art. Presenting a relatively small yet coherent display on a topic that encompasses one of the major themes in the history of Art has been a serious challenge but a most pleasurable one. Our exhibition could not have been accomplished without the unwavering support of K. Bellinger, who generously agreed to part with fourteen choice examples from her little-seen private collection of images of artists at work and who has remained committed to the project since its inception: to Ballinger we owe our deepest gratitude. For the other works on display, we have benefited from the great generosity of colleagues at lending institutions for agreeing to send works in their care – some of them among their most popular and requested – to one or both venues of the exhibition. We owe sincere thanks to H. Chapman at the British Museum, S. Buck at the Courtauld, R. Hibbard and H. Dawson at the Victoria and Albert, C. Saumarez-Smith, H. Valentine and R. Comber at the Royal Academy. Abroad we wish to acknowledge the generosity of L. Hendrix and J. Brooks at Villa Getty, Bernhard von Waldkirch at the Kunsthaus Zürich, T. Dibbits at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam and K. Käding at the Kunstbibliothek, Berlin. We are enormously grateful both to the Soane Collection and the Teylers Collection for hosting this two-venue exhibition. Thanks are due to T. Knox and A/ Thomas, for their support for the project, and to S. Palmer, and D. Jenkins, for assisting with the loans. M. Scharloo, of the Teylers and Michiel Plomp, kindly agreed to house the first showing of the exhibition and to lend works from their collection. The catalogue was thoughtfully designed and produced by S. Wightman at Libanus, to whom we owe our warmest thanks, and printed by Hampton Printing in Bristol. R. Hapoienu, oversaw the photography and contributed immeasurably to the catalogue. Other curatorial colleagues have given their time and effort in preparing scholarly entries or essays: E. Dodero, I. Jenkins, J. Kierkuc -Bielinski, M. Plomp and J. Yarker. Special thanks are due to Dodero for sharing an infinite knowledge of antique sources. Finally, we are greatly indebted to P. Joannides for his input. Any and all errors are entirely our own. We wish to acknowledge warmly P. Taylor and Rembrandt Duits for granting us unfettered access to the Photographic Collection of the Warburg and other colleagues and friends who assisted in various ways in bringing this project to fruition: Mattia Biffis, R Blok, Yvonne Tan Bunzl, Wolf Burchard, Elisa Camboni, Martin Clayton, Zeno Colantoni, Paul Crane, Daniela Dölling, Alexander Faber, Cameron Ford, Ketty Gottardo, Martin Grässle, Axel Griesinger, Florian Härb, Eileen Harris, John Harris, Niall Hobhouse, Matthew Hollow, Peter Iaquinandi, Catherine Jenkins, Theda Jürjens, Jill Kraye, David Lachenmann, Alastair Laing, Barbara Lasic, Huigen Leeflang, Cornelia Linde, Anne-Marie Logan, Olivia MacKay, Austeja MacKelaite, Bernard Malhamé, Patrick Matthiesen, Mirco Modolo, Jane Munro, Lorenzo Pericolo, Benjamin Peronnet, Camilla Pietrabissa, Eugene Pooley, Pier Paolo Racioppi, Cristiana Romalli, Gregory Rubinstein, Susan Russell, Nick Savage, Nicolas Schwed, Ilaria Sgarbozza, Kim Sloane, Perrin Stein, MaryAnne Stevens, Marja Stijkel, Michael Sullivan, C. Treves, Michiel Ilja M. Veldman, Anna Villari, Rebecca Wade and Alison Wright. Support for the exhibition and catalogue was provided by the Tavolozza Foundation and the Wolfgang Ratjen Stiftung, Vaduz, to whom we owe our sincere gratitude. Ideal Beauty is the Canon in Classical Antiquity. The practice of drawing from the antique is a time-honoured one – if not antique! But even the Augustean copy makers knew who to imitate --. Since Antino became such an icon, we can say that Adrian finished the practice of ‘drawing from the antique’: He started to ask his slaves to ‘draw from nature’ – the nature of his lover! The philosopher should be reminded of the substantial role that the Antique has played in the education and inspiration of artists for years. Soane famously mixed marble sculpture with plaster reproductions in the learned and decorative interiors of his Lincolnfields villa. A constant theme in ancient philosophy (with which any Oxonian with a Lit. Hum. is more than acquainted with) is that behind the surface chaos of the tangible sensible world, there is a hidden order (kósmos). Harmony occurs when the opposite forces in nature (natura, physis), such as wet and dry, hot and cold, strong and weak, are properly balanced. Well-being depends upon a set of complementary humours. Reason (logos) – but cf. Dodds on the irrational -- is the weapon wielded in a constant struggle against the dark forces of the natural and non-natural artificial conventional realms alike. The concept of ‘number’ plays an especially important role in the Graeco-Roman, or Italic world view. Mathematics was most probably acquired from Babylon and first took root in the cities of Ionia. Pythagora, who had settled in Crotona and Melosponto in southern Italy, discovers the measurable intervals of the musical scale This demonstrates that number holds the key to the mysteries of the harmony of the Universe. Pythagoras was born on the Aegean island of Samos, which was just one of the many city states that participated in the Ionian Enlightenment with its concentration of natural philosophers. Applied mathematics finds a new purpose in the creation of colossal temples in an architectural culture that takes its inspiration from that of East. The technical aspects of this new tectonic art are explained in philosophical treatises. None of them survive but they were known to the Roman philosopher Vitruvio, who uses them extensively for “De Architectura”. His is the only complete treatise on ancient Roman architecture to survive. It is the main channel through which knowledge of ancient Roman architectural principles are handed down. The impact it has on architecture is paramount. Colossal temples are erected and foremost among them is the archaic temple of Diana at Efeso. Its forest of columns, some of them carved pictorially and its painted and gilded mouldings are breath-taking. The Ionian Enlightenment terminates by the catastrophic destruction of Mileto y the Persians. The Persians next set out to punish Athens for her instigation of the revolt. The failure of the Persian invasion in a series of battles on land and sea serve as a catalyst for a great surge of art and thought in the city that was the world’s first democracy. It was in Athens – the ‘Athenian dialectic’ -- that humanity’s sense of self is forged. It is there that mankind acquires a unique and individual soul with personal responsibility for its welfare. In classical antiquity mankind places itself at the centre of the universe and is as Protagoras famously says, ‘the measure of all things’. Protagoras’s contemporary, the philosopher Socrates, leads the way in a moral philosophy aimed at penetrating the dark hinterland of human existence. Humanism prompts a “realism” (de rerum matura) in  product of an ‘ars’ that re-presents the naked male body in a ‘naturalistic’ way. There were those, however, who ha less positive view of human capacity for self-determination. A recurring theme in the philosophy of Socrates’ famous pupil, Plato, is the theory of ‘mimesis’ (‘imitatio’), whereby the product of an ‘ars’  is twice removed from reality by virtue of its being a ‘copy’ of Nature, which is itself a copy of the hidden, intangible reality of the abstract world of the Idea. In Plato’s kósmos, reality is not to be found in Nature. Reality (and ideal beauty) cannot be detected by *sensing*. Rather, reality and beauty is ‘noetic’ and exists beyond nature (trans-naturalia) and can be grasped only through an effort of the ‘intellectual’ (logistikon) part of the tri-partite soul (the other two parts being the thymoeides and the epithymtikon). A man never gets to ‘know’ or grasp this ideal beauty. Man must be governed by the philosopher king, who has the intellectual capacity to achieve true knowledge and understanding of the universal law. The nature that man knows is itself a ‘copy’ (mimesis, imitation – imitative) of this suprasensible realm, so Plato argued and. As an imitation of nature, a product of an ‘ars’ is twice removed from the meta-physical intelligible world. There is no place for the pretensions of artists in the world of true reality. Only the pure and virtuous abstract beauty and goodness (kalloskagathia, bonus et pulchrus) of a ‘form’ (‘forma’) is to be found in the realm of the idea. The clearest and most developed account of Plato’s condemnation of the idols or products of ‘ars’ and his reasons for banning it from his ideal state (polizia, politeia) are to be found in the Socratic dialogue known to modern readers as The Polizia (Politeia). The ‘Polizia’ (Politeia) is beautifully crafted in a series of carefully honed set-piece speeches in which, and the irony is obvious, Plato demonstrates his skills as a philosophical artist – the dialogue aimed at beauty, rather than truth. It is difficult to say to what extent Plato puts words into or takes them out of the mouth of Socrates. The historical Socrates never wrote anything himself. We can at least be sure of Socrates’ insistence upon the imperative to pursue justified true belief (knowledge) as distinct from mere belief or opinion (doxa) and to seek understanding, as distinct from mere creed. These are after all the goals by which Socrates measures the moral integrity of man’s intelligence. When it comes to the standing of the product of an ‘ars’ in Socrates’s moral landscape, we may wonder whether this marble worker who had followed in his father’s ‘ars’ himself shares aristocratic Plato’s anti-thetical view of the ‘artista’. In a dialogue recorded by Xenophon between Socrates and Parrhasio, it is concluded that the product of an ‘ars’ cannot achieve beauty by simply ‘reproducing’ (or imitating, or copying) an individual, particular, single, naked male live model. He who pursues to give a product of an ‘ars’ must instead select the best part of more than one particular, singular male naked live model – this is not Adriano’s portraiture of Antino --  melding (or moulding) those parts (individua) together in such a way as to transcend, by way of a universalium, nature itself (the natural naked male live model) and turn the ‘re-presentation’ of a ‘beautiful’ (kalos) naked male live model into an ‘ideally’ beautiful naked male body. Aristotle. ever practical, ever helpful, opposes Plato in arguing that, instead of being a slave to Nature, man may create (poien) as nature itself created. In his Poetics and Politics he recognises the civic role of the product of an ‘ars’, as he praises the value of the products of the ‘ars’ of Polygnotos. “For Polygnotos re-presents but tweaks a natural male body better than the natural male body is. It’s an improving (perfection) on, rather than an imitation, of ‘imperfect’ nature of this or that particular naked male body – again this is not Antino’s portraiture – To this product of the ‘ars’ Aristotle grants the label of an ideal model – not the live model of imperfect nature. It is futile to try to guess who said what when. Suffice it to say that the statuary-maker is under pressure from various sides to justify the product of his ‘ars’ as a proper exemplar that perfects the imperfection of the natural male live model, reflecting the universal law of the kósmos. The artist has to look at philosophical mathematics. There is a historic change in the re-presentation (improved re-presentation, improvement) in the product of ‘ars’ of the body of a naked live model. Ironically, the abstract concept behind a ‘youth’ or ‘kouros’ [e. g. marble 194.6 cm (h) Met Museum 32.11] with its ‘formulaic’ tendency to convey the naked male form of a live model through a descriptive line and a block-like (rather than waving) form  gives way to contrapositum (contrapposto), and a greater fluidity – if not ‘naturalism’ -- conjuring a three-dimensional volume of live flesh. This ‘naturalistic’ figure type becomes the standard or canon. The ‘canon’ itself (first canon, as we shall see – cf. Lisippo) referred to the Doriforo of Policleto. Policleto obviously moulded and cast in bronze as he was in front of the real ‘doriforo’ (name unknown), the canon (qua model what exemplum) with copyists, notably in the copy of 212 com (h) at Naples – Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Napoli, 1st century bc copy of original of c. 440 bc, -- inv. 6011  The canon was famous in antiquity for its elaborate system of measurements about which Policleto wites a philosophical treatise known as ‘The Canon.’ To judge from what philosophers say about the spear-bearer, it is an explanation of the principle of proportion that Policleto declares to be the key to perfection in the product of the ‘ars’ qua re-presentation of the body of the male live model. The concept of ‘symmetria’ (commensuratio) is used to describe this system of a measured proportion. To the ancient authors, however, it signified a commensurability of parts measured in relation to one another and to the whole. Thus, the length of a finger was calculated in relation to the hand and the hand in relation to the whole arm and so on. Ideal beauty, based on mathematical perfection was, therefore, quantifiable. The preoccupation with numbers in idealised sculpture has strong links to the number-based aesthetics of the Pythagorean school of mathematics, first anticipated in architecture. Another link to the natural philosophy of the Ionian Enlightenment is the deliberate balancing of opposite motifs. There was found a bio-mechanical system of parts that were at once weight-bearing and weight-free, engaged and disengaged, stretched and contracted, tense and relaxed, raised and lowered – an overall balancing principle of contrapposto found in the statue Doryphoros and in many classical statues extremely influential. Polykleitos trains at a workshop (not an academy like Plato’s!) of Ageladas of Argos, along with Mirone. Mirone’s statue [v. Museo Nazionale Romano, Roma, inv. 126371 – 155 cm (h) copy of original of c. 460-450, marble]  is said to have more by way of ‘commensuratio’ about them than any other statues of his generation. As with the Doryphoros so with Myron’s Discobolo, known only through Roman copies, it is pretty difficult to hypothesise the exact system of proportion that he uses. We detect the deployment of balanced opposites in the composition. The creators of the doriforo and the discobolo share a common regard for the live model that transcends the nature of the live model. Although Polykleitos’ Canon and its physical embodiment, the original doriforo, are lost – the most famous Roman copy was excavated ONLY AT THE END OF THE OTTOCENTO – various literary sources handed over to the Renaissance the knowledge of them and the classical principle that the beautiful model is based on proportion, commensurability and mathematical perfection. This is the quest for the beautiful model that is measured and defined within the premises of natural philosophical mathematics. In the minds of commentators, the attribution of the power of creation (poiesis) to the statue-maker likens him to a seer and affords him a unique insight into his subject. It was said of Policleto that while his skill is suitable for representing what Vico (and Carlyle) calls a ‘hero’ (Italian ‘eroe’ – cf. il culto dell’eroe), the imaginative power of Fidia – author of the Parthenon’s sculptures, notably the Elgin marble of MARTE qua simbolo della mascolinita – conjures a ‘deus’ (dio). His positive view of the intuitive process of artistic creation (poiesis) becomes especially important in Rome where copies of the great works of Greek classical sculpture are reproduced in large numbers. ‘Re-produced’, that is, but not ‘re-plicated’ (cf. replicatura). For no two copies are, by definition, ever exactly *the same* (for one, the piece of marble is ‘another’). A Roman copyist, so-called, is, mostly an ethnic [it. ennico] Greek. He probably saw his product as a variation on a theme, or an improvisation (if not improvement) on the ‘original’, not a slavish copy – plus, his Roman Mecenas couldn’t care less – connoisseurship was looked own. A Roman vir has other things in mind, such as battle! It is through this army of Roman copies that Italian artists acquire a fragmentary knowledge of the proto-type (cf. Weber’s ideal type], the vast majority of which, in bronze, as they should – for sculpting marble is different than moulding wax -- are deliberately melted by Christians as blasphemous pagan, heathen, gods and heroes. The spectre of the greatest mind of all antiquity, Plato, and his condemnation of art always hover over the heads of artists and art lovers alike. In the high empire of ancient Rome a neo-Platonist movement challenges Plato’s extreme opinion and argues for the product of an ‘ars’ of being possessed of the intellectually beautiful (even if first perceived through the senses – nihil est in intellectu quod prior non fuerit in sensu. Plotino notes: ‘now it must be noted that the wax [...] brought under a hand to a ‘beautiful’ ‘form’ or ‘shape’ (eidos, idea, morphe) is ‘beautiful’ not ‘he’ or qua wax – for so the crude block would be as ‘pleasant’ or pleasurable or pleasing – but *qua* form, eidos, shape, morphe, or idea. This practical and workable Aristotelian and neo-Platonic rather than the Platonic philosophy of art was that adopted by most Italians (even if they let Ficino dreamed about!). The paradoxical (feigned, ironic, taunting) superiority of the product of an ‘ars’ art to nature – as a selected, ideal, improved, correctio version of it (no ‘warts and all’) – has been a central premise of the “beau ideal” where ‘beau’ can be in the Romance languages both masculine and neuter (‘il bello’ – il bello ideale) in the humanistic theory of art and especially in its neo-classical incarnation. A statue is admired and enjoyed as the embodiment of a moral aesthetic that can be applied also to a plaster cast. It serves both as the paradigm of art training and as source of inspiration for artists for centuries. For an introduction to ancient aesthetics and views on art, see Tatarkiewicz 1970; Pollitt 1974. Selections of primary sources are included in Pollitt 1983; Pollitt 1990. The main source for this famous sentence is Platone, Theaetetus 151e. See also Diogenes Laertius, De Vitis ... philosophorum, 9.51. 3 Platone, Republic, 10, esp. 10.596E–597E. 4 Xenophon, Memorabilia, 3.10.1–5. 5 Aristotele, Poetica, 1448a1; Politica, 1340a33. See also Metafisica, 1.1, 981a. 6 Plinio, Naturalis Historia, 34.57–58. 7 Cicerone, Bruto, esp. 69–70, 296; Plinio, Naturalis Historia, 34.55; Galeno’s treatises, esp. De Placitis Hippocratis et Platonis, 5, and De Temperamentis, 1.9; Quintiliano, Institutio Oratoria, esp. 5.12.21 and 12.10.3–9; Vitruvio’s De Architectura, 3.1. 8 Quintiliano, Institutio Oratoria, 12.10.3–9. 9 Plotino, Enneads, 5.8.1. 14  ‘Nature Plus-Quam-Perfected’: -- the ‘Drawn from the Antique’ at the Royal Academy. ‘Desegno dall’antico’, ‘desegno dalla natura’. In his inaugural lecture as Professor of Painting at The Royal Academy of Arts in London, Opie arranged a few headings, which included a general definition of painting, the imitation of Nature, the idea of general beauty, the idea of general perfect beauty, the idea of perfect beauty the true object of the highest style, as the aim of the highest style, design, drawing, the most important part of painting, the uses of knowledge of anatomy, symmetry and proportion the next in importance. great excellence of the *ancients*, the ancient sculptor in those points; studying antique statuary to advantage, perfection of the Art of painting under Vinci, Buonarroti, and Sanzio. Opie’s outline, with its standardised categories, is a clear example of ‘inglese italianato e un diavolo incarnato’ and a summary of a time-honoured aesthetic tradition which indeed he is drawing from the antique! Opie’s proposal of what constitutes ‘the high style’ is a direct continuation of the humanistic theory of art, formulated in early Renaissance Florence and expanded and modified in the succeeding centuries, mainly in Italy. At the core of this tradition is the thesis that art imitates nature and, in art’s highest manifestation, perfects nature by selecting her best parts, to create (poien, design) a model of ideal beauty – drawn from the antique -- a universal standard to which man aspires. Classical statuary plays a crucial role in this theoretical framework. An antique statues is perceived, and often revered, as works in which the process of this selection of the best parts of nature is accomplished. An antique – and thus a sketch ‘drawn from the antique’ -- offers the ‘antique’ (not natural live) model from which the form, the pose, the gesture and the expression of a naked male is appreciated, in its idealised anatomy and proportion. As the theory evolves from the 16th century onwards, the three leading protagonists of the High Renaissance, Vinci, Buonarroti and Sanzio – not mannerist Bernini, such as Tasso is not in the canon as Ariosto is -- are placed on the same level as the antique, as the first trio of non-antique or non-ancient (i. e. modern) artists – cf. Hymns Ancient & Modern) whose statues equal, if not surpass, the antique (but there was not ‘Drawn from Buonarroti!’). The humanistic theory of art remains for centuries the philosophical aesthetics. It undergoes many developments and was at times challenged. It is primarily through the medium of ‘desegno’, drawing, that one is educated in geometry and perspective – to learn how to re-present space – and in anatomy and the male naked live model – to learn how to deploy the naked male. ‘Drawn from the antique’ represents the essential component of this educational method, initially as a convenient model for the copying the male form, and then progressively as a bench-mark of perfection whose appreciation one is supposed to assimilate before being exposed to ‘fallible Nature’, embodied by the naked male LIVE model with all its imperfections – the profession being underpayed and carried out by Italians! – and this or that unnecessary feature – however necessary this unnecessary feature is for the photographer of Antino, before he photoshops! In its codified and pedantic rigidity, this Vitruvian categorization reveals that, at the same time as they held theoretical sway, by the beginning of the 19th century the tradition that he espoused had become increasingly stifling. At the dawn of the Modern era, a system based on the principle that art is a rational practice that can be taught by precepts resting on a fixed aesthetic is progressively being dismantled by those who advocate subjectivity, individual expression and the conceptual freedom required by inventive genius. Although the normative principle of the humanistic theory of art remains solidly established within the academic programme, the creative forces of art are increasingly to be found ‘outside Plato’s Academy’. With this epochal shift of aesthetic values, classical statuary, unsurprisingly, suffered most. Precisely because of its status as a model and standard of perfection in academic curricula, it inevitably encountered the indifference, if not open hostility, of Marinetti (if not Mussolini) and those avant-garde Italian artists who did not believe in the idealising role of art and, increasingly, not even in its imitative one. The Antique, which sustains and inspires creativity and diversity in art, offering an immense repertory of forms, expressions and aesthetic principles, loses its propulsive drive. To understand the pervasive role  the classical statue or statuary group plays in the education and inspiration of artists in the Early Modern period, that is from the 15th to the early 19th century, we return to the theoretical foundations and the practical concerns that create and sustain the conditions for its immense success and eventual decline. After the Middle Ages, in which the visual arts had been essentially symbolic, aiming to represent the metaphysical and the divine, in the early Renaissance focus shifts to an art that, as in antiquity, aims at a convincing ‘imitation’ of the external world, the world of Nature, with man at its centre. The primary concern of early Renaissance artists and art theorists is to set a rational rule for the faithful (or improved) representation of space and the human figure on a two-dimensional surface, free-standing, in the round. In his “De Pictura”, Alberti establishes the principle of art as an intellectual discipline, focusing on geometry, mathematical perspective and the representation of the naked male. The philosophical conviction that ‘man is the scale and measure of all things’ is applied to space: Alberti’s choice of viewpoint and scale in the perspective diagrams is based on the *height* of a well-formed male and the units into which he is divided. This philosophical position also accepts that the main aim of the art of statue-making is the depiction of a man’s action, emotion and deed, what Alberti called “la storia”. Naturally, the study and drawing of the LIVE model in a work-shop, and later of anatomy and classical statuary in a studio and an academy or club, are essential for this purpose. Although Alberti’s approach, and even the literary structure of De Pictura, is based on classical models and examples, his conception of art is ‘naturalistic’. For Alberti, to become skilled in the visual arts ‘the fundamental principle will be that all steps of learning should be sought from nature’ (“dalla natura”, not “dall’antico”). Earlier, more practical treatises, like Cennino Cennini’s Libro dell’Arte advocates the study of a painting produced by a master, a practice that encourages repetition and which could eventually lead to artistic sterility. Alberti accepts the copying of two-dimensional works by other artists only because ‘they have GREATER STABILITY OF APPEARANCE than the living, live, lively, model’, but he privileges the drawing of a statue because, being life-*like* (cf. ‘natura morta’), it does not impose just ONE viewpoint on its copyist, but infinite – which makes ‘drawn from the antique’ a fascinating reflection on the draughtsman, who seeks, say, for rear views!  Hence, while the practice of the early workshop often involved the copying of three-dimensional models or drawings of such models, it is as a preparation for life-study (“DRAWN FROM LIFE”) rather than an end in itself. This is is not to ignore the impact of antique proto-types on artists, which was enormous. One need only think of Donatello’s Ganimede who was responding to antique models from very early in the Quattrocento. But from a theoretical point of view, for Alberti, the emphasis is on the full mastery of the natural forms (‘DRAWN FROM LIFE’) rather than on the imitation of other works of art, even those from antiquity. The artist’s goal is to achieve an illusionistic translation of the external world onto the flat surface of a drawing (‘DRAWN FROM LIFE’) or into the volumes and masses of sculpture – as in Italian statuary not based on the Antique: Michelangelo’s Bacco, Bernini’s Enea, etc. -- Nevertheless, in Alberti we find the roots of two intertwined concepts, both originating in classical sources, which progressively support and justify the practice of copying as in ‘drawn from the antique’. The ultimate point is to create a ‘beautiful’ naked male by selecting the most ‘excellent parts . . . from the most beautiful naked males. Every effort should be made to perceive, understand and express beauty. To substantiate this principle, Alberti recalls the episode of the celebrated painter of antiquity -- depicted by Vasari in his fresco at his own palazzo in Arezzo, ‘Zeusi compone Elena dalle fanciulle di Crotona’-- the Italian Zeuxis, who, in order to create Elena, the image of female perfection, selects the most beautiful maidens from the city of Crotona and unfairly goes to choose the best part from each. This silly anecdote – sexist, since the male equivalent would be unthinkable --, derives from ancient literary sources, and becomes one of the most recurrent adaggi of the art treatise in the following centuries. Zeuxis embodies and clearly explains the idea of art as a form of ‘perfected nature’. The beautiful (‘il bello’, for Italians hardly use ‘bellezza’, unless you are Sorrentino) is based on a system of a harmonic proportion. For Alberti, in the perfect male the single part – the two hands, the head, the two legs, he torso, the back, etc. – is related numerically to the other parts and to the whole (il totto)  in the principle of commensurability or syn-metron, literally the measurability by a common standard. The overall result is harmonic perfection (‘ Just look in my direction! Ain’t that perfection!’) which Alberti defines as ‘concinnitas’, a theory that Alberti bases on Vitruvio’s De Architectura. Pro-portion, which Alberti covers in depth in his “De Statua” becomes a major subject of philosophical aesthetic speculation. Vinci and Dürer produce in-depth studies, and Vinci’s ‘uomo vitruviano’ is the perfect expression of the theory of the mathematical conception of the naked male [Vinci, Gallerie dell’Academia, Venezia, inv. 228 – Le proporzione dei corpo umano secondo Vitruvio, metal point, pen and brown ink with touches of wash, 344 x 245 mm c 1490] For Alberti, one selects the best from nature and reassembles the selection according to a system of harmonic proportion ultimately resting on the mathematical relation THAT IS rationally inferred from Nature itself. This principle is the cornerstone of aesthetics. Although the central textual foundation for the concept that ‘il bello’ is based on proportion, Policleto’s Canon, had been lost, Renaissance artists and scholars are well aware through Vitruvio and other classical writers that ancient artist base his work on this principle. Therefore, from the 16th century onwards, and especially in the following two centuries, the crucial appeal that an antique statue had for artists rested not only in its aesthetic quality and form, but also on the very fact that it embodied the intellectual principle of proportional perfection. The rationalistic (indeed illuministic) approach of the Canova’s French academy (when moulding the wax of Napoleon in nudita eroica) even provides students with manuals in which the numerical proportion of a statue is carefully laid out. This idea-guided naturalistic attitude of art theory, which had in any case been greatly modified in High Renaissance practice, shifts towards an even more idealistic (hyper-idealistic, not romantic) approach and, simultaneously, a more systematic one, laying the ground plan for the classicist theory. Because most art theoreticians consider their era to be a period of artistic decadence and excess after the great achievements of the High Renaissance, and also because many of them focus on the codifying of a rule that may be imposed in the academy, the model of perfection is increasingly deemed mandatory (Dolce, Lomazzo, Armenini), the antique that they feel inspired and guided the ‘buona maniera’ of Buonarroti and Sanzio (whom the pre-raphaelites hated), became the standard by which a fault (errore) of Nature or this or that affectation (say, the length of necks in Modigliani) is corrected. The ‘drawn from the antique’ takes a decisive lead over the ‘drawn from life’ (DESEGNO DALLA VITA), and the construction of taste – the lure of the antique that had lured the antiques themselves, such as Adriano! Correspondingly, in the classicist tradition that develops in Rome – the headquarters of the French Academy at Villa Medici -- the Antique (l’antico) becomes the essential model for the composition. This, definable as the depiction of episodes based on Roman mythology or Roman history, with a moral value attached, is considered from Alberti the highest form and final aim and receives the place of honour in the academic hierarchy of the genres. Although a naturalistic and anti-classicist tendency remains alive even within the academic system, classicism establishes itself as the predominant aesthetic principle, as Opie’s inaugural lecture as Chair of Painting (but not Chair of Sculpture – since that’s a whole different animal!) at the Royal Academy attests. Its success rests primarily on the fact that it represents an aesthetic approach that is considered to express a universal and a ‘true’ principle. And this, because of its rational nature, can be taught by rule, which suits the systematic attitude of Enlightenment culture. The proliferation of the academy encourages the penetration of this set of values even within contexts and cultures that until then had been only superficially exposed to it. The humanistic theory of art, clothed in a new and codified form, eventually reaches the most remote corners of the world, with the antique army as the herald. At the centre of the education of any artist in the Renaissance was the practice of ‘disegno,’ drawing or design, considered to be one of the essential foundations of art from Cennini onwards. ‘Disegno,’ (dall’antico, dalla vita), endowed with an intellectual role by Vasari  and other theorists, as the manifestation of the idea and invention of the artist, becomes the essential quality of the Roman and Florentine academies. Successively, it assumed a central role in the theory of European academies as the expression of the rational common denominator of the three sister arts: painting, sculpture and architecture. Opie, himself a poor draughtsman – hence his teaching of ‘disegno’ --, still considered ‘Design, or Drawing, the most important part of Painting’. Drawing after the Antique, or Drawing from the Antique, as a union of intellectual medium and intellectual end, becomes integral to the learning process and the activity of artists, along with ‘Drawn from Life’. The academy is depicted, the studio, an artists copying from some original or drawing from a cast, in situ in, usually, Rome or back at home. Whether he is drawing from the antique on paper to learn how to represent outlines and chiaroscuro – the effects of light on three-dimensional forms – or to assemble a repertory of the body’s form, pose and expression, or to assimilate a system of ‘correct’ proportions and anatomy, no would-be member of the academy can avoid confronting the lessons of the Antique, and of adjusting his creative process in relation to it. Apart from the didactic and inspirational functions of drawing from the antique (as opposed as from life), many other reasons justified the practice. As a result of their pervasiveness, a studio ‘drawin from the antique’ (disegnato dall’antico’) – which are innumerable – are difficult to categorise because they are produced for different reasons, serve different purposes and display different conceptions and relations to the antique. Nevertheless, one might attempt a division. There is the didactic ‘drawn from the antique’: a copy produced his education as an a course assignment at the Academy: a drawing produced by a master in a workshop to provide the apprentice with an accessible repertory of classical forms to copy. There is RECORD drawing: a sketch created to serve as inspiration for a form, a pose, am expressios, a composition, a movement, a proportion, etc., for its own artistic purpose. There is translation, a precisely finished drawings intended to be engraved, usually conveying as much information as possible about the statue’s form and pose. There is documentary drawings, produced with the purpose of recording accurately the physical appearance of an antiquities obviously including any damage the statue may have undergone. To this category belong many drawings produced specifically for the antiquarian collector, from the “Codex Coburgensis” to those of the famous ‘Paper Museum’ assembled  by Pozzo. There is the marketable drawing: a finished copy specifically produced to be sold on the market or commissioned by a collector to fill his ‘paper museum’ of classical antiquities. Examples are those by Batoni for Richard Topham, Esq. – The Topham Collection --. There is the promotional drawing, a drawing made with the specific purpose of promoting the acquisition of an item (statue or statuary group), such as those by Jenkins to Townley – The Townley Collection. Naturally, as with any categorisation, these divisions are a simplification and a drawing may overlap two or more classes, such as this or that drawing by Goltzius, intended to be engraved, but which also function as a repertory of an antique forms to be used in the artist’s practice. Whatever their categories, all these drawings followed the technical evolution of the medium, from the predominant metalpoint and pen-and-ink to the black and red chalk. Athough pen-and-ink remains a favoured medium, chalk becomes the choice for FULL-SIZE statuary, as a softer, more pliable medium it allows a more sophisticated rendering of a tonal passage and, therefore, of relief and anatomu. Red chalk especially offers the impossibility of bringing the ANTIQUE (antico) to LIFE (vita), transforming or transubstantiating inorganic matter into ‘warm flesh’. In artists’ workshops one of the most important aspects of an apprentice’s training, aside from mastering the manual procedures of painting, is copying works by the master and other artists. This is intended as a means to shorten the process of learning how to represent the THREE-DIMENSIONS onto two thanks to examples already produced by others. This practice is described by Cennini, although still intended only to train the apprentice to reproduce the master’s style and not yet Nature or Life. An aapprentices could resort to copying model books and sketchbooks already assembled by the master or by others. These were repertories of a drawing of an animal, a plant, decorative details, a male nude at rest, a male nude in action, usually produced as teaching tools, and it is in these collections on paper that we find the earliest surviving drawings derived from classical antiquities. The Antique is included mainly as a source of information on the anatomy, its form, modelling, pose, expression, movementsand the interaction of all t hese elements. Most of the early drawings that represent antique forms are produced by artists active in Rome where the largest number of accessible physical remains from antiquity is concentrated. AN ANCIENT FULL-SIZE STATUE IN THE ROUND may have survived above ground. Among the most famous publicly displayed examples are the ANTONINO, or pseudo-Constantine the Great. outside the Lateran Palace, the Spinario, and the Camillo, both of which are moved from the Lateran to the Campidoglio by Sesto IV; the Quirinal Horse Tamers, I DIOSCURI, and the two Quirinal Recubantes or Rivers. Virtually no ancient painting is known, and its appearance was conjectured from a description (ecphrasis) in a literary sources, notably Pliny’s Naturalis Historia (esp. book XXXV). It was only with the exploration at the end of the 15th century of the buried interiors of the Domus Aurea of Nerone in Rome, known as grotte, that artists access ancient examples, and from this time a wave of grotesque motifs and decorations spread widely. More readily available is a sarcophagus relief or a large imperial relief. A drawing may depict mainly this category of ancient artefacts. They are popular because, with their complex, frieze-like narratives, it inspires the compostion of a “storia” as Alberti notes. Among the most frequently represented are the reliefs of sarcophagi and the imperial reliefs of Trajan’s Column and the Arches of Titus and Constantine. The subjects preferred by late Gothic or early Renaissance artists – Bacchic themes, Amazons, the story of Adone, marine deities or ancient battles – demonstrate an interest in the nude and in the depiction of movement, dynamism and strong expressions. Although it is recorded that Donatello and Brunelleschi copy antiquities during their stay at Rome, no drawings survive by either of them to reveal their approach to the Antique. The earliest surviving drawings of an antique is by artists in the workshops of Fabriano and Pisanello, when they were in Rome working for Martino V in St John in Lateran. The drawings correspond in many ways to the paintings. They show little awareness of the formal principle of classical art, transforming a figure from a Roman sarcophagus relief into a Gothic type. They often re-interpret the pose and, sin! -- proportion of the original, even, as in the case of a sheet of a fantasia in the Louvre, assembling figures from different s arcophagi. This process of extra-polation, isolation and modification is common to many drawings from the Antique. The draughtsman creates a visual repertories of single figures, or isolated groups of figures which are easy to re-use in their own compositions. From a teaching point of view, an isolated figure is probably considered, at least in the model books and sketchbooks, to be more readily assimilable by the apprentice in the workshop than a whole composition. A good example of such an approach is seen in a drawing attributed to the so-called ‘Anonymous of the Ambrosiana’, from a sketchbook made in Rome in The original model is a celebrated sarcophagus relief of the Muses, Minerva and Apollo then in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. It was copied in drawings by several later growing archaeological awareness, in parallel with the spread of antiquarian studies and rising interest in the classical world and its physical remains. On the other hand, artists display a free handling and more personal approach to the original, as they move away from the restraints of the model book. With the exception of Donatello, from whom he learned much, MANTEGNA is the quattrocento artist who had the most complex and sophisticated relationship to the antique. Mantegna’s approach is evident in the introduction of direct quotations from ancient architecture, reliefs and sculptures in his paintings and frescoes and in his adoption of a precise, highly sculptural painting style. A drawing by MANTEGNA – or a copy after a drawing – executed during his stay in Rome accurately renders a classical proto-type but with a vivacious freedom in style. It represents one of the Trajanic reliefs inserted in the central passage of the Arch of Constantine. MANTEGNA sketches it at an angle from the right side and from below. He precisely records the relief’s damaged condition by showing both the emperor and the helmeted soldier on the right without their right hands. He interprets the composition freely, concentrating on the most prominent actors and on the relief’s formal principle, specifically its treatment of movement and emotion, qualities praised by Alberti as essential for the construction of a “storia”. The flow from left to right is accentuated, Trajan has windswept hair.The horse is shown galloping, less upright and frontal. The mouths are wide open, as are those of the soldiers on the right, expressing the intensity of emotion in the victory over the Dacians. A drawing like this serves a two- fold purpose, as a study of a formal principle and a record of antique costumes, armours, shields and helmets. Its organisational lessons and visual references could then be re-used to demonstrate the artist’s power of inventio and his erudite knowledge of the classical past, as Mantegna indeed does at Mantova in his sequence of canvases of the Triumph of Caesars [Sarcophagus of the Muses, with Apollo and Minerva, front, 2nd c. ad, marble, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Antikensammlung, Vienna, inv. I 171. Andrea Mantegna, or circle of, Drawing after the Relief on the Arch of Constantine, end of the 15th century – beginning of the 16th, black chalk with brown ink, 273 × 189 mm, Albertina, Vienna, inv. 2583r. Workshop of Pisanello, Three Nude Figures from Ancient Roman Sarcophagi, c. 1431–32, silver point, pen and brown ink on vellum, 194 × 273 mm, Louvre, Paris, inv. 2397]. artists, including Lippi and Franco and it was engraved by Raimondi. The Ambrosiana draughtsman reproduces only a few figures, changing their position and disregarding their interrelations and the background, no doubt with the intention of assembling a range of drapery studies that could be re-used in the future. The artist selects primarily figures that offered the greatest variety and movement of cascading robes, leaving the nude Apollo in the bottom right corner unfinished. Two tendencies, apparently opposed but both symptomatic of a more profound understanding of the antique, gains ground in sketchbooks and loose drawings. On one hand there was a [Anonymous of the Ambrosiana, Figures from an ancient Roman Muses Sarcophagus, c. 1460, metal point, pen and brown ink, heightened in white, on pink prepared paper, 310 × 200 mm, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, inv. F. 214 inf.] A similar evolution is seen in drawings that reproduce FREE-STANDING classical statuary. Not surprisingly, all are after the most famous statues then visible in Rome which, given their size and anatomical detailing, were an invaluable source for the study of the male body. The earliest examples are again a group of drawings by Pisanello. They represent, among other figures, the ANTONINO and one of the two Horse Tamers or Dioscuri on the Quirinal Hill. The latter is especially relevant for our purpose, as the Dioscuri constitute the two most complete free-standing nude in Rome. Both Dioscuri are copied repeatedly, praised by contemporary written sources, and [Trajan overpowering Barbarians, Roman, c. 117 ad, marble, Arch of Constantine, central arch, north façade, Rome remained constant sources of inspiration for artists into the 19th century. In a drawing of one of the Dioscuri, the draughtsman isolates the sculpture from its context, and focuses exclusively on rendering the anatomy. The cloak on the forearm is just outlined. Although it is an impressive achievement and while the male nude is realised much more plausibly than those figures taken from sarcophagus reliefs,  the ELONGATION and SLIMMING of the figure and the inaccurate rendering of the idealised anatomy betrays a Gothic mindset. The same DIOSCURO is copied in a drawing by Gozzoli [ Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, Roman, 161–180 ad, bronze, 424 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC3247. Workshop of Pisanello, Marcus Aurelius, c. 1431–32, pen, brown ink and wash heightened in white on brown-orange prepared paper, 196 × 156 mm, CASTELLO SFORZESCO, Civico Gabinetto dei Disegni, Milan, inv. B 878 SC. One of the Two Dioscuri or Horse Tamers, Roman copy of the 2nd century ad, after a Greek original of the 5th century bc, marble, 528 cm, Quirinal Square, Rome] Pollaiuolo. Many are modelled on an ancient proto-type, like those being handled and studied by the artists at  Bandinelli’s academy. But ‘DISEGNO DALLA VITA’ from a posed apprentice is also widely practised and becomes increasingly common in the final decades, especially in Florence. Another drawing by Gozzoli’s circle shows the practice of setting a male naked LIVE MODEL in the pose of (apres, after) “l’antico” – a contradiction: DISEGNO DALLA VITA E DALL’ANTICO. In this case the obvious reference is the Spinario, the celebrated bronze antique figure whose complex pose remains one of the most popular for a live model. The use of the model book as a teaching tool disappeared but sketchbooks and the travel book reproducing antiquities became more widespread. Their progressive diffusion is one of the clearest indications of the spread of interest in the antique and goes hand-in-hand with the formation of collections of antiquities and the pursuit of antiquarian studies, such as Biondo’s influential “Roma Instaurata”, a methodical guide to the monuments of Rome. Enthusiasm for classical art and a more attentive study of its forms and principles is reflected in the increased dynamism, pathos and complexity of the compositions that we can see in Italian painting and sculpture in the work of Florentine artists like Pollaiolo, Ghirlandaio and Lippi [Workshop of Benozzo Gozzoli, A Nude Young Man Seated on a Block, His Right Foot Crossed over His Left Leg, c. 1460, metalpoint, over stylus indications, grey-brown wash, heightened with white, on pink-purple prepared paper, 226 × 150 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, inv. Pp, 1.7] probably executed when he was in Rome to assist Fra Angelico in the St Nicholas Chapel in the Vatican Palace]. In this case the drawing is again far from accurate, and the draughtsman combines the Dioscuro with the horse held by his twin. Again the forms are isolated. As in the earlier drawing the supporting cuirass and the strut between the right arm and thigh are omitted as is the cloak on the forearm. The group is set against a neutral backdrop and on the ground rather than on its pedestal. Although the Dioscuro stands firmly, and although his anatomical structure, his surface musculature and their modelling are rendered much more convincingly than in the Pisanello drawing, the idealisation of the male is still not emphasised and we seem to be looking at a real MALE taming his horse rather than at a heroic marble statue. Although it is difficult to draw general conclusions based on such exiguous surviving material, it seems safe to say that formost 15th-century artists, classical free-standing statuary was seen as a model for the nude male, its poses and movements. With notable exceptions, such as Donatello, artists did not try to grasp the anatomical and formal principle of the original nor does he aspire to recreate the process of idealisation innate in so many classical nudes. For this reason, the drawings are often not immediately recognisable as copies after the Antique (‘drawn from the antique’). The Antique could also be copied inside the workshop using SMALL-SCALE three-dimensional models. We have plenty of evidence about collections of antique statues, often fragments, and the ownership of plaster casts by artists. Their presence in the work-shop is also acknowledged in “De Sculptura” by Gaurico, who speaks of artists having cabinets ‘filled with any sort of sculptures’ and ‘chests filled with casts’. Although a cast may OBVIOUSLY BE TAKEN from a male naked live model, as described by Cennini, others are ‘cast from the antique’, such as those mentioned by Ghiberti and Squarcione, the teacher of Mantegna, whose workshop at Padova contained a collection of antiquities. Casts and antiquities are part of the working material of the bottega. They also serve to elevate the status of the workshop to that of a STUDIO or STUDIUM, a place of cultivation of liberal arts, the beginning of that process of the intellectual emancipation of the artist that would be fully developed with the foundation of the academies. A beautiful drawing of feet, part of a sketchbook by Gozzoli eloquently shows the use of casts, in this case most likely taken from antique fragments, as teaching tools in the bottega. We see here one of the earliest visual records of a [Spinario, Roman, 1st century bc, bronze, 73 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC1186. Pisanello, or circle of, One of the Two Dioscuri or Horse Tamers, c. 1431–32, silverpoint, pen and brown ink on vellum, 230 × 360 mm, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, inv. F. 214 inf.10v. Benozzo Gozzoli (attr.), One of the Two Dioscuri or Horse Tamers, c. 1447–49, metalpoint, grey-black wash, heightened with lead white, on blue prepared paper, 359 × 246 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, inv. Pp, 1.18. Workshop of Benozzo Gozzoli, Studies of Plaster Casts of Feet, c. 1460, silverpoint heightened with white, on green prepared paper, 225 × 155 mm, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, Benozzo Gozzoli Sketchbook, fol. 53] practice, copying from a cast, that would expand exponentially. For the study of the naked male and the three-dimensional form, a pupil could rely also on small models in wax, CLAY, or bronze, provided by such sculptors as Ghiberti or  Sanzio, Buonarroti, and Rome as the Centre of the Study of the Antique. The following generation, that of Buonarroti and Sanzio, sees a seismic shift in the approach to the antique. They now attempted to equal or even surpass the antique by penetrating its principles.The two titans of the High Renaissance had a radically different approach towards the classical naked male form, but they both aime at assimilating the ancient ‘mimetic’ or imitative standard of an idealised naturalism, full mastery of the naked male, its anatomy and proportions, and the convincing rendering of the EMOTION or EX-pression (or affect) of the soul. Vinci expresses a deep interest in the Antique and is directly exposed to it in Florence and in Rome. The classical naked male form is referenced in many of his works, particularly in the unrealised project for an equestrian statue of Francesco Sforza in Milan. But Vinci’s naturalism, based on empirical observation, means that he always checks his ancient sources against the scientific observation of the natural world. He remains a naturalist at heart, famously stating that ‘he who copies a copy is Nature’s grandchild when he may been her son’. On the other hand, from a practical point of view, Vinci also acknowledges the usefulness of copying from a ‘good master’ and sculpture. While for Vinci the Antique remains an interest secondary to Nature, Sanzio’s and Buonarroti’s engagement with the antique is on an unprecedented level. The immense impact that Sanzio and Buonarroti have on their own generation and on Western art in the centuries that followed lies in the very fact that they are perceived and celebrated as the first modern masters who had equalled, if not surpassed, the ancients. Opie, lecturing on painting at the Royal Academy, proclaims the ‘perfection of the Arts under Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, and Raffaelle’, but their status as modern classics was already acknowledged during their lifetime. Bembo elevates Buonarroti and Sanzio to the same pedestal of the ‘ancient good masters’ and Vasari sustains his uncompromising panegyric of Buonarroti by affirming that his Davide (Galleria dell’Accademia, Florence) surpasses in beauty and measure even the best ancient monumental sculptures of Rome, in particular the various Rivers and the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal. The Mondern, now capable of providing an idealised nude more convincing than the most famous surviving classical ones, outshines the Ancient. Artists of Sanzio’s and Buonarroti’s generation have the advantage of benefiting from more, and more readily available, ancient statuary, including those discovered in excavations and those displayed in relatively accessible settings. However, both Vinci and Buonarroti must already have been exposed to drawings, casts and models after the Antique respectively in the workshops of Verrocchio and Ghirlandaio. Both studied (although Vinci briefly) in the Giardino di San Marco, an informal academy set up by Lorenzo il Magnifico to train artists specifically in drawing and copying after the antique under the supervision of the sculptor Giovanni. Vasari informs us that Buonarroti devoted himself obsessively to the task, and Condivi, Buonarroti’ss biographer, emphatically states that the genius ‘having savoured their beauty [...] never again goes to Ghirlandaio’s workshop or anywhere else, but there he would stay all day, always doing something, as in the best school for such studies’ As a pupil Sanzio probably did not receive a similar training in the workshop of Perugino, who had less interest in the Antique. But some drawings with reference to classical models survive and he certainly participates in the sophisticated antiquarian environment in Florence, where he moves. It is the impact of what Buonarroti and Sanzio see in Rome, where they both moved that has the most far-reaching and radical impact on the evolution of their art and their relationship with the anqique. Under the pontificates of Rovere (Giulio II and Leone X, Rome establishes herself as the centre for the study of the Antique. Many of the most celebrated collections of antiquities – Medici, Farnese, Borghese, Ludovisi, Albani -- are formed or consolidated, such as those of Riario, Maffei, and Della Valle  and later on the Cesi and the Sassi. The collection of antiquities at the Campidoglio is enlarged with the transfer of the statues of the Rivers, the Nile and the Tiber from the Quirinal and the Antonino from the Lateran, the latter a statue so important for the symbolic imagery of Rome that Buonarroti designs a square around it. However, the real centre of attention in the early years of Buonarroti and Sanzio in Rome are the new discoveries emerging from the soil of the city. Within a few years some of the statues that would attract the attention of artists and connoisseurs for centuries to come are discovered, [Anonymous engraver after Maarten van Heemskerck, The Antique Courtyard of the Palazzo Della Valle, 1553, engraving, 289 × 416 mm, Rijksmuseum, inv. RP-P-1996-38] provoking enormous enthusiasm among contemporaries: the Apollo del Belvedere, the Laoconte, the Cleopatra, the Ercole Commodo, and the large rivers Tevere and Nilo. By 1512 all could be admired, with the addition of the Venere Felice in the Cortile Ottogono del casino della Villa del Belvedere nel Monte Vaticano, a purpose-built space commissioned by Giulio II from Bramante, the great interpreter of ancient Roman architecture. The Cortile, displaying some of the most complete and prestigious sculptures from antiquity, soon became the canonical Roman site for making a copy ‘drawn from the antique’. It retains its unparalleled prestige, as the many drawings after its statues eloquently attest. It is invaluable, as the Cortile del Belvedere offers them the opportunity to study different male forms and positions and different sub-types of ideal beauty at the same time: moving from the Apollo, to the strong and pronounced muscular anatomy of Ercole Commodo. Two more statues are added to the Courtyard: the Antino del Belvedere and the Torso del Belvedere. The Antino del Belvedere is to become the canonical model for artists for the perfect proportions of the naked male body. The Torso del Belvedere becomes one of the most copied of all antiquities, a compulsory reference for the body of the muscular male at rest, especially because of Buonarroti’s admiration for it and the popular belief that he gives instructions to leave it unrestored. The master’s praise of the evocative fragment became a leitmotif in artistic treatises and literary sources to the point that it [Fig. 17. Hieronymous Cock after Anonymous Draughtsman, The Capitoline Hill, 1562, etching and engraving, 155 × 212 mm, Metropolitan Museum, New York, inv. 2012.136.358] became known in 18th-century Britain as the ‘School of Michelangelo’. The Cortile del Belvedere, the Campidoglio, and the collections in the various palazzi: Palazzo della Valle and others, remain the privileged centres for copying the Antique in Rome. The increasing number of accessible classical statues makes Rome a pole of attraction, to congregate and to complete one’s education and gather on paper a repertory of classical forms and motifs. This was a phenomenon central to the development of art. It is  evocatively described by Bembo. Under Giulio II and Leone X both Buonarroti and Sanzio are at the centre of the antiquarian debate and, as Bembo puts it, play an essential role in their efforts to emulate and surpass the antique (they fail). Indeed Vasari attributes the rise of the ‘bella maniera’, and the great achievements of Sanzio and Buonarroti, to their familiarity and exposure to the Belvedere statues. Even if Vasari’s words are a retrospective celebration aimed at establishing the primacy of the Florentine and Roman schools, the spirit of classical art permeates much of Buonarroti’s and Sanzio’s Roman production and specific antique proto-types are evoked in many of their works. One need only think of the inspiration Buonarroti derives from the Torso del Belvedere for his Ignudi in the Sistine Chapel. Given their familiarity with classical antiquity, it may seem strange therefore that very few drawings after classical statuary by either Buonarroti or Sanzio survive. Many might have been intentionally destroyed. Vasari recounts Buonarroti’s burning large numbers of drawings, sketches   [Fig. 18. Apollo del Belvedere, Roman copy of the Hadrianic period (117–138 ad) after a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 224 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome inv. 1015 Laocoön, possibly a Roman copy of the 1st century ad after a Greek original of the 2nd century bc, marble, 242 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 1064. Cleopatra, Roman copy of the Hadrianic period (117–138 ad) after a Greek original of the 2nd century bc, marble, 162 (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 548] and cartoons so that none could see the efforts of his creative process. Nonetheless, in the few surviving drawings which bear direct references to classical models, one sees their tendency towards ‘assimilating’ the spirit of antique forms rather than *slavishly* copying them (as an amanuensis would). This attitude can be shown by comparing a drawing by Aspertini after the Belvedere Cleopatra with one by Sanzio derived from the same statue. Aspertini’s copy, paired on the facing page with one from a relief from the Arch of Constantine, embodies the attitude typically seen in a sketch- book: a more or less faithful rendering of the antique form, in this case rather finished and accurate, that serves as a record. Sanzio’s drawing represents a more evolved phase, when the ancient form takes a new shape: the elegant and difficult pose of the body of the Cleopatra and the play of the drapery over her intertwined [Aspertini, The Sleeping Cleopatra and a Relief from Trajan’s Column, (verso) post 1496, pen and brown ink, over black chalk, on two sheets conjoined, 254 × 423 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, Sanzio, Figure in the Pose of the Sleeping Cleopatra, c. 1509, pen and brown ink, 244 × 217 mm, Albertina, Vienna, inv. 219. Sanzio, The Muse Calliope, detail from the Parnassus, c. 1509–10, fresco, Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican Palace, Rome] legs are used as an inspiration for the muse Calliope in his Vatican Parnassus. Sanzio nevertheless also produces some ‘record’ drawings. Nominated by Leo X as inspector of all the antiquities in and around Rome and embarked on a project to reconstruct the aspect of ancient Roman buildings based on precise architectural surveys of their remains. His method, based on a precise analysis paired with ancient literary sources, remains unmatched. His scholarly attitude towards classical art and his thorough understanding of it are clearly expressed in a famous letter that he wrote to Leo X with the help of the courtier Castiglione in which he appeals against the destruction of classical monuments. At the same time, he provides an outstandingly accurate description of the different styles of ancient sculpture found on the Arch of Constantine. One of the very few surviving exact copies of classical statues in Sanzio’s hand is indicative of his precise, almost  [Hendrik III Van Cleve, Detail from View of Rome from the Belvedere of Innocent VIII, 1550, oil on panel, 55.5 × 101.5 cm, Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels, inv. 6904. Pseudo-Antino del Belvedere, Roman copy of the Hadrianic period (117–138 ad) after a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 195 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 907. Belvedere Torso, Greek or Roman, 1st century bc, marble, 159 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 1192] archaeological approach to the Antique, and we can assume that he produced similar ones during his period as inspector of Roman antiquities. It is a clear rendering of one of the two horses from the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal, that we encountered in Gozzoli’s study. There could not be a better comparison to demonstrate the progress made in the understanding of classical statuary. Sanzio’s drawing is ‘scientific’. We clearly recognise that the horse is a piece of marble sculpture, with a faithful record of its missing left leg and the joint between the neck and the body. The horse is COPIED, i. e. DRAWN AT EYE LEVEL (Sanzio presumably stood on a platform) and not seen from below, as in most other contemporary views. This allows the proper study of the proportion of the sculpture, in a way similar to an architectural elevation. Outstandingly, even the measurements of the statue are recorded on the drawing, probably by one of his pupils, making this the first surviving measured drawing of a classical statue. Incidentally Sanzio’s drawing also shows the introduction of a new medium – red chalk – which would become one of the preferred tools for drawing after the Antique. It is likely, nevertheless, that Sanzio generally left making such specific records of classical sculptures to the pupils of his large workshop, as several surviving drawings in the hand of Romano and Polidoro da Caravaggio, among others, attest. Some of these were probably intended to be engraved, as it is in Sanzio's circle that we find the first printed images of celebrated statues and reliefs, such as those of Raimondi, Marco [Sanzio The Right Horse of the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal Hill, c. 1513, red chalk and pen and brown ink over indentations with the stylus, 219 × 275 mm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., inv. 1993.51.3.a, Woodner Collection. Buonarroti, Study of an Antique Torso of Venus, c. 1524, black chalk, 256 × 180 mm, The British Museum, Departments of Prints and Drawings, London, inv. 1859,0625.570. Buonarroti, A Youth beckoning; A Right Leg, c. 1504–05, pen and brown ink, black chalk, 375 × 230 mm, The British Museum, Departments of Prints and Drawings, London, inv. 1887,0502.117. Romano (attr.), Apollo del Belvedere, c. 1513–15, pen and brown ink, pencil, 316 × 155 mm, Albertina, Vienna, inv. 22449. Veneziano, Apollo Belvedere, engraving, c. 1518–20, 269 × 169 mm, private collection. Dente and Agostino Veneziano (c. 1490–after 1536; fig. 29). The print medium, which plays a crucial role in disseminating the knowledge of the Antique is to be increasingly used in work-shops and academies for training. One first copies the Antique from a flat image, before turning to the third dimension of a cast or an original. Sanzio’s approach towards the Antique, based on study, measurement, reconstruction and dissemination, cannot be more distant from that of Buonarroti, who constantly confronts the classical models with a challenging spirit. Several anecdotes reported by contemporaries reveal his approach towards antiquity. Boissard informs us that shortly after having seen the Laooconte emerging from the ground of the Esquiline, Buonarroti enthusiastically comments that it is ‘a singular miracle of art in which we should grasp the divine genius of the sculptor rather than trying to make an imitation of it’.This quotation is poignant for understanding the Platonic concept of divine inspiration for Buonarroti. At the same time it shows clearly that his relationship with the antique model was not based on a process of imitation but rather on that of ‘aemulatio,’ a creative rivalry possible only after the assimilation and internalisation of its principle. This approach is reinforced in a celebrated passage from Vasari which became a recurrent leitmotif in subsequent art literature – in which he reports that Buonarroti creates figures of nine, ten or even twelve heads high, searching only for the overall grace in the artistic creation, because in matter of the proportion, ‘it is necessary to have the compass in the eyes and not in the hand, because the hands *work* and the eyes *judge*’. Advocating the principle of grace, consistency of artistic creation, and the artist’s own judgement, Buonarroti therefore disregards the canon of *eight* heads comprising the male figure established by Vitruvio, implicitly expressing a relation with the classical proto-type based on empathy and intimate understanding of its form, rather than on a rational adherence to a rule based on a number– an approach he replicates in his architecture. Buonarroti’s surviving copies after classical statues can be counted on one hand, such as a series of reproducing the torso of an antique Venus, probably made in preparation for one of the female figures in the Medici Chapel. His free relationship with the Antique emerges from many of his drawings, for instance the Beckoning Youth, loosely inspired by the Apollo del Belvedere. Buonarroti evokes the pose and aspect of the celebrated statue, but turns it into something new, where the hint of movement of the original is dramatically accentuated and balance is replaced by unstable dynamism. Sanzio and Buonarroti have been discussed at length because their different attitudes towards classical forms resurface constantly in Art. This polarity may be defined as assimilating the principles of the Antique by sticking to its rules and system of proportions OR assimilating the creative spirit of the Antique by breaking its rules. At the risk of oversimplification we could argue that Reni and Poussin fall within the first sphere and Rubens and Bernini in the second. It is not by chance that the classicist credo that permeates the Italian and French academies for most of their history elects *Sanzio* as their champion, while the eccentric and unruly Buonarroti remains a figure more difficult to celebrate from a didactic point of view. The Antique in Theory plays a Role in the Academic ‘Alphabet of Drawing’. More statues emerge from the soil of Rome and those already discovered are given new life and integrity by partial or full ‘restoration’. A statue is usually unearthed in fragmentary states, as can be seen from the evocative drawings of Roman collections by Heemskerck. Whether philologically correct or not, the practice of restoration allows one to copy the naked male in its entirety rather than in mutilated fragments. Celebrated restorations included those of the Apollo del Belvedere and the Laooconte by MONTORSI on the recommendation of Buonarroti. Among the excavated statues three must be mentioned as they immediately became constant references for artists. The place of honour goes to the Ercole Farnese. It provides an ideal model for the muscular male at rest and copies after it become ubiquitous in artists’ work-shops and academies. The other two statues are discovered together in and immediately entered the collection of the Villa Medici in Rome: I LOTTATORI, representing two males in a  complexly interlocked ‘syntagma’ or group. I LOTTATORI are used often in later academies as a source for posing TWO LIVE MODELS – SYNTAGMA DISEGNATO DALLA VITA  (see cats 16 and 27b); and the Niobe Group whose suffering expressions would be widely referenced as a source for drama and pathos, for instance by Reni, among others. In time, a standard set of ideal types (to use Weber’s term) begins to take shape, thanks to the diffusion of bronze and plaster casts and, especially, of prints. After the loose sheets of Raimondi, Dente and Veneziano, more systematic enterprises are launched. Collections such as SPECVLVM ROMANÆ MAGNIFICENTIÆ by Lafréry  or ANTIQVARVM STATVARVM URBIS ROMAE by Cavalieri, play a crucial role in the wide dissemination of a canonical selection of classical statues, thus attracting more and more artists to Rome to study the originals. This tendency towards codification also affects the relationship of artists and art writers with the Antique, as the imitation of classical statuary is given theoretical underpinning. At the same time the Antique acquires a clear role within the curricula of the emerging academies as a teaching tool, systemising a practice that, as we have seen, is already widely diffused within Renaissance workshops. Art theory in general goes through a process of radical systematization. Many artists and writers feel that rules are required to give ‘ars’ an intellectual frame-work that would lift its status from ‘mechanical’ to ‘liberal’ arts – (as in M. A. Magister in Arts, MA before DPhil Lit Hum) an ambition dating back to the writings of Alberti. Most theoreticians and artists believe that a codified precept is also vital to inculcating the ‘correct’ principle in an age that they considered to be one of artistic corruption. Armenini speaks explicitly of the ‘pain’ that masters like Sanzio and Buonarroti would have felt in seeing the art of his own time. And Armenini, Lomazzo, Zuccaro and others, notwithstanding differences among them, consider that the rule can be inferred from study of the best examples of the great Renaissance masters and those of antiquity. The latter especially, it was thought, would provide with correct proportions and anatomy and inculcate the ideal standard. A foundation of this theoretical effort is provided by the assimilation of Artistotle’s Poetica, the first reliable Latin translation of which circulated widely. Since no comprehensive treatise on painting had [Cavalieri, The Laocoön, engraving plate 4, from Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae, Rome, 1585] readily found in his work. For him the best ancient sculptures embodied the supreme quality of ‘grazia’, which cannot be attained by study but only by judgement – a concept that remains one of the central tenets of Italian art theory. Vasari’s Lives also proclaims the superiority of the Central Italian School of painting, based on ‘disegno’ to the Venetian one, based on ‘colore’, initiating a debate over the respective merits of the two traditions. Although traditionally the Venetians aim at imitating nature directly on the canvas through colour and therefore are less attached to the laborious practice of drawing after the antique, classical statuary plays a role in the formation of many Venetian painters, and casts are used in their workshops. Tintoretto, for instance, owns a large collection of casts and reductions of ancient and modern sculptures. The importance attached to the study of the Antique by all the Italian schools of painting is shown by the fact that one of the very first consistent formulations of the principle of the ‘imitation’ of classical statuary is to be found in Dolce’s “Dialogo della pittura.” Dolce’s “Dialogo della pittura” contains the strongest defence of the Venetian tradition against the Vasarian point of view. It also contains, if not fully developed, most of the fundamental elements of the artistic theory. Dolce clearly specifies that in the search for the perfect proportion of the naked male, the artist should ‘*partly* imitate nature’ and partly ‘the best marbles and bronzes of the antient [sic] masters’, because through them he can ‘correct’ this or that defects of this or that living form – the live model -- as they are ‘examples of perfect beauty’, an ideal version of Nature. But in Dolce we find also a warning against regarding the copying of ancient sculpture as an end in itself rather than the means by which an artist creates his own ideal artistic forms – something already stressed by Vasari in his Lives. An ancient statue is to be ‘imitated’ with ‘judgement’, to avoid turning a pleasing trait into a formula or, worse, an eccentricity. This warning would be repeated frequently, notably, y Rubens and Bernini and it could lead to open opposition to copying the Antique. Similar advice appears in Armenini’s Veri Precetti della Pittura. Armenini’s “VERI PRECETTI DELLA PITTURA” is quite systematic and offers one of the most articulated approaches towards the role of the Antique in the artist’s education. Many of Armenini’s ideas and much of his advice would becomes standard practice. In the chapter on ‘disegno’, Armenini states that to acquire the ‘bella’ or ‘buona     [The Farnese Hercules, Roman copy of the 3rd century ad of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 317 cm (h), MUSEO ARCHEOLOGICO NAZIONALE, Napoli,  inv. 6001. I LOTTATORI. Roman copy of a Greek original of the 3rd century bc, marble, 89 cm (h), Uffizi, Firenze, inv. 216. The Niobe, possibly Roman copy of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 228 cm (h), Uffizi, Firenze, inv. 294] survived from antiquity, the Poetics, together with Orazio’s Ars Poetica, offer a theoretical structure that could be transferred from the literary disciplines to visual art – justified by Orazio’s celebrated motto ‘ut pictura poesis’, ‘as is painting so is poetry’. More relevant from our perspective, Aristotle’s Poetica provides, in several passages, an authoritative ancient source for the principle that art may ‘perfect’ nature to create an ideal model – a concept implied but never clearly defined by Alberti – and which constituted one of the most solid bases for the classicist doctrine of art. This Aristotelian trend had a counter-balance in a neo-Platonic tendency in which ideal beauty does not derive from Nature but is infused in the mind of the artist by God, two approaches that at times were combined by the same author, such as Lomazzo or Zuccaro. But whether of Aristotelian or Platonic origins, or indeed a combination of both, the principle of imitation of those works of art that had already accomplished idealisation – particularly the antique statue – becomes one of the leitmotifs of Italian art theory (v. Dorfles, “Natura e Artificio”). The most important writer on art of the Renaissance, Vasari, firmly establishes the primacy of disegno, design or drawing, as the intellectual part of art, the ‘parent’ of the three sister arts of architecture, sculpture and painting. In his Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects drawing is described as the physical, sensible manifestation EX-pression of an idea, encompassing ‘all the objects in nature’. Although he does not provide a theoretical case for drawing after the Antique, nonetheless passages referring to the impact that classical statues have on artists are  maniera’ of the great Renaissance masters, the student needs fully to assimilate through drawing those principles of the ancient statues that those Renaissance masters themselves copy, as they embody the best of Nature. Armenini’s importance lies also in the fact that he is the first to list the specific statues and reliefs to copy and to praise the didactic use of plaster casts, of which he saw many collections throughout Italy – testifying to a practice that must already have been quite widespread. The imitation of the Antique also becomes a central tenet of the earliest art academies. Deriving their name from the ancient philosophical Academy (Hekademos) of Plato, an ‘accademia’ is intended as a venue for the cultivation of the practical, but even more, the intellectual aspects of art. Its role is conceived in parallel and not in opposition to the artist’s workshop, where the apprentices is still supposed to learn art’s technical rudiments. One of the first mentions of the word ‘accademia’ in conjunction with art is found in the first object shown in this catalogue, the Accademia del Belvedere run by BANDINELLI eengraved by Veneziano. This depicts an ‘accademia’ centred on disegno set up in the Belvedere, where Leo X gives him quarters. It shows artists learning how to draw the naked male and it is significant that the focus of their attention is a series of statuettes modelled after a classical proto-type. This, and the later view of Bandinelli’s Florentine Academy, are the very first examples of an iconographical genre: the image of an accademia, workshop, studio, often created with a programmatic or didactic purpose, showing pupils learning the different branches of art or going through different stages in their education. Just glancing at the works illustrated in the catalogue shows how the presence of the Antique becomes progressively relevant. The centrality of disegno and the naked male is firmly stressed by the institutional, more organised, ‘accademia’.. The first, and a model for all future academies, was the aptly named ‘Accademia del Disegno,’ – or ‘dei disegnanti’ -- founded in Florence by Cosimo de’ Medici on the initiative of Vasari. Its aim is to emancipate the artist from guild control, and to affirm the intellectual status of the art.The two most significant academies that followed before the are ‘Gl’Incamminati’, or ‘Accademia degl’incamminati, founded in Bologna by the three Carraccis, and the Accademia di San Luca in Rome, relaunched and given a didactic curriculum under Zuccaro. These academies – although there were significant differences among them, and often huge discrepancies between the theory they supported and the everyday teaching they practised – proposes a system that could give a broad education to aspiring artists. This usually included the study of mathematics, geometry and perspective, to teach the student how to represent space rationally; and of anatomy, the antique and the live model, -- DISEGNO DALL’ANTICO, DISEGNO DALLA VITA -- to teach him to master the correct depiction of the naked male. We can see an idealised version of early academic practices in a complex and fascinating drawing by  Stradano, engraved by Cort, where the stress is on anatomy, the Antique and on the three arts of disegno. Similar practices are illustrated in an etching by Alberti showing a structured curriculum of studies involving anatomical dissection, geometry, the Antique and architectural drawing. These studies codify artistic exercises (and give a bad name to ‘academic’) that had been current from the early Renaissance onwards but important new teaching structures were introduced. These include a rotating academic staff, a competition and a prize, and an organised debate on artistic questions and they are supported especially by the regulations of the Accademia di San Luca. Although we do not know to what extent and how effectively these new structures functioned in the first decades of the Roman institution, they soon spread to other academies, becoming the model for the Académie Royale in Paris. All these institutions strongly advocate the copy of the Antique, both in plaster reproduction or in the original. The Accademia del Disegno supervises drawing from the Antique both in the Academy and in the workshops where apprentices were trained. It also owns a ‘libreria’, which includes drawings, models of statues, architectural plans, and ancient sculpture, all used as teaching tools. The Accademia di San Luca lists the copying after the Antique in its first statutes and  receives a donation of casts, while numerous plasters – such as reliefs from Trajan’s Column, the bust and the head of the Laocoonte, one of the Horse Tamers of the Quirinal, the Torso del Belvedere and many other entire or in fragments – appear in its early inventories. The importance accorded by Zuccaro, the founder of the Roman Academy’s curriculum, to the thorough study of Rome’s most famous statues, emerges from his wonderful drawing of his brother, Taddeo sketching the Laocoonte at the Belvedere. The series to which this drawing belongs, produced around the same time as the foundation of the Accademia di San Luca, illustrates the ideal training that am artist should follow: imitation of the Antique and the works of Renaissance masters, such as Sanzio’s Stanze and Loggie, Buonarroti’s Last Judgment and Polidoro’s painted façades. Another sketch, by a Zuccaro follower, depicts Zuccaro himself in the Accademia, surrounded by students sketching after the cast of an ancient torso. The Carracci academy too, although primarily focused on life-drawin (DISEGNO DALLA VITA), advocates study of the Antique and we know that Carracci makes his collection of drawings, medals and casts available for students. Early academies also codified a teaching model, defined as the ‘alphabet of drawing’ or the ‘ABC’ method, which, in a less regulated form, was already established within work-shops and which would have a long-lasting impact. This contributes significantly to giving the Antique a fixed place within teaching curricula. Modelled on the learning of grammar, the ‘alphabet’ is a sequence that encourage students to advance from elementary unity to complex whole and from the simple and similar to the varied and different. The scheme once again originated in Alberti, who advises a painter to follow the method practiced by teachers of writing, from the alphabet to whole words. So the beginner is supposed to learn first ‘the outlines of surfaces, then the way in which surfaces are joined together, and after that the forms of all the members individually; and they should commit to memory all the differences that can exist in those members’. He recommends the same process for the study of the male anatomy: starting from the bones, proceeding to the sinews and muscles, and finally to the flesh and skin. An iincreased stress on the naked male means that pupils often start from the eye, then assembles different parts of the body in ever more intricate combinations, and finally reaches the whole naked male, via the study of ancient sculpture AND the live model. Benvenuto [Workshop of Federico Zuccaro, A Group of Artists Copying a Sculpture, c. 1600, 190 × 264 mm, pen, black and red chalk on prepared paper, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, inv. F 261 inf. n. 128, p. 125] Cellini reports that starting with the eye is the common practice and advised, like Alberti, a similar process for the study of anatomy. This process is reflected in the various images of early academies or studios, such as Stradanus’ The Practice of the Visual Arts, where one pupil is shown drawing an eye on his sheet, or Alberti’s Painters’ Academy where an artist is presenting a similar drawing to his master. A parallel progression led the student from simplicity to complexity in the depiction of outlines, surfaces, chiaroscuro, poses and expressions: from copying objects in the same medium and in two dimensions, to the imitation of three-dimensional figure. The process usually starts with copying a drawing or print, then paintings, first in grisaille and then in colour, moving onto ancient sculpture [PRELIMINARY to the LIVE MODEL – drawn from life], either originals or casts, and, FINALLY, to the live model. This progression, already outlined by Vinci in his treatise on painting, and advocated also by Vasari, is codified by Armenini, the first to list all its stages while simultaneously assigning a central role to classical statuary in providing a model for ideal forms. Armenini delineates both the progression from the eye to the whole body and from a drawing or print to the live model (via the preliminary of the ‘drawn from the antique’,  and warned the reader not to subvert this order. The earliest academies applied this method and Zuccaro’s statutes of the Accademia di San Luca, which are the most explicit, specifically mentioned the ‘alphabet’ or ‘ABC’ of drawing. It becomes standard practice in academies. The  aim is, as most writers reiterated, to assimilate this repertory of forms through constant study and the exercise of memory, as to finally be able to create a form from imagination – for a mythological heroic figure -- *independent* of any object of imitation (IMITATUM). The ‘alphabet of drawing’ has its physical manifestation in the publication of the drawing-book, conceived in the environment of the Carracci academy, such as Fialetti’s “Il vero modo”. The diffusion of such manuals contributed enormously to spreading the knowledge of the didactic role of the Antique to artists who makes a grand tour to Rome a compulsory part of his education. Odoardo Fialetti, Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano, Venice, c. 1608, etching, 100 × 140 mm, The Bellinheger Collection]. Rome establishes herself as the preeminent centre for anyone eager to assimilate the principle of Italian art. The first significant artist, and one of the greatest of all to do the tour to the Belvedere with the specific educational intent, is Dürer. Durer spends the years in Rome. The impact of classical statuary is evident in many of his prints and paintings, for example, in his “Adam and Eve”. But the largest number of artists to travel to Rome originates from the Low Countries. Coming from a powerful and influential pictorial tradition that privileged an analytical representation of nature, and having received little or no exposure to classical antiquity in their training, Netherlandish artists seek especially to learn how to master the naked male through the lessons of the Antique and the works of Sanzio and Buonarroti. Rome offers also the opportunity of training in one of its many workshops and the appealing possibility of benefiting from the system of commissions. Indeed the ‘fiamminghi’, as they are called in Rome, gain an increasing number of commissions, eventually, in their turn, influencing the Roman art world. Some of them stayed for long periods or moved permanently, such as Stradanus, Giambologna – il ratto delle sabine, il mcurio di Medici -- or Tetrode. We know about the Roman years of many of these artists mainly thanks to Mander’s “Schilderboeck”, the earliest systematic account of Netherlandish and Northern European painters, based on Vasari’s “Vite”. The approach of these artists towards the Antique could be varied and multi-faceted. Most fill their sketchbooks with drawings that served as a collection of forms to be re-used. Others, like Spranger, according to Van Mander, aim to assimilate the principles of classical art to establish a repertoires of forms and an attitude towards the naked male that could be infused in their own creations, rather than spending too much time in the physical act of drawing. Although ‘Mabuse’ is the first Fleming to pass time in the peninsula, it was only with Scorel that the lesson of antiquity was transmitted, through his work-shop at Utrecht. Of his various pupils, Heemskerck is certainly the most prolific and versatile in copying antique statuary. Two albums from the  years he spent in Rome are preserved in Berlin. They constitute one of the largest surviving collections of copies after the Antique and are filled with exceptional drawings in different media and size, offering an invaluable opportunity to categorise the many different approaches to classical statuary that can be described as record drawings. Many are topographical views of Rome in which Heemskerck indulges in the depiction of architectural ruins and sculptural fragments, and which he later reuses in imaginary landscapes. Some of his views are poetic meditations on the colossal ruins of the city, physical reminders of the passage of time, of human grandeur and fragility, a mood he shared with other artists, such as Herman [Heemskerck, View of the Santacroce Statue Court, 1532–37, pen and brown ink, 136 × 213 mm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 29r] Posthumus. Other drawings are more or less accurate depictions of classical statues in their physical locations, from the Belvedere to the Campidoglio, to Roman private courtyards and gardens (figs 16 and 38), where the antiquities are shown in their still fragmentary state. In numerous detailed drawings focusing on single statues, we see Heemskerck’s different approaches to copying the Antique and, correspondingly, the different media he employs to do so. His drawings range from the precise pen-and-ink study, in which he faithfully records the condition of celebrated statues, isolating the head as a physiognomic type to a drawing where the whole statue is presented FROM DIFFERENT ANGLES, to record the different poses and volumes of the naked male in space. He also makes copies in which he exploits the softness of red chalk to study anatomical details, assembling parts from different statues on the same sheet and focusing on torsos and legs, sometimes even disregarding the face, the drapery or other details. Finally, in yet other red chalk drawings he carefully records decorative details from a statue or a relief. The variety of techniques and handling deployed in these [Fig. 39. (top left) Maarten van Heemskerck, Head of the Laocoön, 1532–36, pen and brown ink, 136 × 211 mm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 39r. Heemskerck, Two Studies of the Head of the Apollo Belvedere, 1532–36, pen and brown ink, 136 × 211 mm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 36v. Heemskerck, Three Studies of a Fragmentary Statue of a Crouching Venus in the Palazzo Madama, 1532–36, pen and brown ink, 135 × 210 mm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 06v. Heemskerck, Studies of Three Torsos and a Leg from Classical Statues in the Casa Sassi, 1532–33, red chalk, 135 × 211 mm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 51v. Heemskerck, The Right Foot of the So-Called ‘Colossal Genius’, 1532–33, red chalk, 135 × 208 mm, Berlin, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett, Heemskerck Album I, fol. 65v ] copies allowed him to find appropriate solutions to the variety of problems posed by the style and condition of the works that he copied. The result is a stunning visual repertory that is easy to access and use, and which would inspire him when he returned home. Several Frenchmen also established their residence in Rome. Many of them, such as Beatrizet, Lafréry, or Dupérac, specialise in engraved views of the city and its ancient remains, catering to a market increasingly fascinated by Rome’s ruins and statues. In one engraving attributed to Beatrizet, we find a rare image of an artist in the act of copying from ancient statuary in situ – in this case the famous colossal “Grande Bellezza” Marforio, at that time located in the Forum now in the courtyard of the Palazzo Nuovo of the Campidoglio. The image clearly expresses the sense of awe that one feels in front of the grandeur of the remains of Roman classical statuary. The fragmentary condition of so much monumental sculpture inspired thoughts about the fragility of the human condition and the ultimate insignificance of worldly troubles, which, as the inscription on the print remarks, the old Marforio ‘does not consider worth a single penny’. It is against this backdrop that we must consider Goltzius’ draughtsmanly activity in Rome, where he arrived almost certainly on the recommendation of his friend Mander, who had already been in Italy. Goltzius was then is celebrated as an [Fig. 44. Beatrizet (attr.), An Artist Drawing the ‘Marforio’, 1550, engraving, 370 × 432 mm, published in Antoine Lafréry’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae] engraver throughout Europe. With Mander and Haarlem he establishes an academy in Haarlem. Although we know almost nothing about this artistic association, it must have involved discussions about the Antique and its representation among the three friends, who had the advantage of direct access to Heemskerck’s Roman drawings, then owned by Cornelisz. It is therefore significant that while in Rome, Goltzius takes an approach to classical statuary that is very different from Heemskerck’s. Goltzius concentrates from the beginning on *thirty* of the most famous classical statues, of which 43 drawings in total survive. Goltzius’s drawings are highly finished and unprecedentedly detailed, carefully recording the tonal passages on the muscles of the statues. The viewpoint is almost always close and frontal to the statue, or exploits the most dramatic or informative angle. Most importantly, unlike almost all of his predecessors, who fill single pages of their sketchbooks with details from unrelated sculptures, he devotes a full page to *each*, a practice followed by Rubens. Goltzius’s intent from the beginning is clearly to produce a drawing that may be transformed into an engravings capable of surpassing in precision all previously published series, and which, in faithfully reproducing the volume of the naked male, would also demonstrate his renowned virtuosity in handling the burin. His set is intended for a market of connoisseurs and collectors, but it is also likely that Goltzius wishes to provide anyone with correct and detailed images of classical statues that they could copy during their apprenticeships. Goltzius engraves only three plates, one of which, significantly, shows an artist at work copying the celebrated Apollo del Belvedere. A few years after Goltzius’s tour to Rome, Rubens arrives. He spends two prolonged periods in Rome. Rubens constitutes a special case, being the perfect embodiment of the humanistic ideal of the artist-scholar: the son of a wealthy Antwerp family, highly educated in the classics and socially accomplished, Rubens arrives in Rome already equipped with a thorough understanding of the Antique and its literary sources, a passion he cultivates throughout his life with his circle of scholarly friends and patrons. Rubens’s approach towards classical statuary is therefore fascinating, complex and varied. Rubens’ appetite for the most famous ancient statues must have been stimulated already in Antwerp through the engravings by Raimondi and his pupils and through those in the collections published by Lafréry and De Cavalieri. When in Rome Rubens devotes himself completely to copying this or that original with unique thoroughness, both to exercise his draughtsmanship and to create an immense repertory of forms, to which he refers for inspiration throughout his life. His approach towards classical statuary istwofold. One is purely intellectual, focused on understanding the mathematical proportions and volumes of this or that emblematic antique which he divides into different categories according to muscular strength, to capture the very essence of their perfection. The other is more direct: to study the statue exhaustively in order to assimilate its formal principle For Rubens it is not only necessary to ‘understand the antique’, but ‘to be so thoroughly possessed of this knowledge, that it may diffuse itself everywhere’. Unlike Goltzius, Rubens studies a statue over and over again, copying it from many, and often unusual, points of view, devoting a single page to each. No one before Rubens shows such a painstaking interest in understanding the formal logic of a single statue intended as a whole. Rubens’s focus on the naked male – to learn the principles of a perfect naked male  – on specificslly ‘muscular’ masculine male statues, such the Laocoonte, the Torso del Belvedere, and the Ercole Farnese and his choice of the most favourable points of view, may reflect the specific advice and examples given in Lomazzo’s Trattato and in Armenini’s Veri Precetti. But, as Dolce and Armenini had already done before him, Rubens also cautions to focus on the form and not on the matter of the statue, to avoid the ‘smell’ in a drawing or a creation. Rubens is aware of the danger of transferring the characteristics and limits of a three-dimensional medium (is flesh the medium of the live model?) into another – drawing or painting. In a section titled “De Imitatione Statuarum” of a larger theoretical notebook that he compiles over several years, Rubens refers to painters who ‘make no distinction between the form and the matter -- the ‘figura’ and the flesh, with the result that ‘instead of ‘imitating’ living flesh from the life of nature, they only represent marble tinged with various colours’. We can see Rubens’s genius at re-vitalising the ‘inert’ substance of the antique model as if it were a live model to be drawn from life, by applying his principle of inventive and transformative imitation in most of his drawings after the Antique, for which he uses soft chalk on rough paper better to ‘re-translate’ the substance back into the natural living flesh, as if drawn from life. This is particularly evident in muscular figures such as the Torso del Belvedere and the Laocoonte, which he brings back to life, to the life Virgil instilled Laocoonte with, or Aiace had. -- adopting a dramatic angle and a diagonal that completely abandons the static   [Rubens, The Back of the Belvedere Torso, c. 1601–02, red chalk, 395 × 260 mm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 2002.12b] and the academic frontal point of view of most academic drawings. This attention to the qualities of the naked male skin and flesh, and the dynamism, pathos, and drama that he learns mainly from classically Roman – but POST-classically Greek] statuary is to become the main traits of his own art. In this he is following in the footsteps of Buonarroti, who, not by chance, Rubens copied extensively, focusing especially on the nudes of the Sistine Chapel and on his statues. Rubens adopts a similar approach to the live model, which he often poses in attitudes reminiscent of an antique – such as the Spinario, or the Wrestlers. Unsurprisingly, he frequently cited the Laocoonte and the Torso, but the most recurrent is the Spinario in the Campidoglio – even though the head is not the original one -- for which several drawings of the complex pose made from different angles survive.  The Spinario pose is already chosen by one of the pupils of Gozzoli for this particular purpose of the antique-imitating live model, and it remains one of the most popular, even, easiest, for posing the live model – everyone has a thorn! -- Rubens’s drawings of the Spinario convey the essence of Rubens’s attitude towards the ideal human form, and the Spinario’s attitude towards his own thorn. By posing flesh as imitatiang another substance imitating flresh, Rubens – or the artist who does this -- is able to bypass the dangers of the ‘matter’ to focus only on the complex form and pose of the original statue or statuary group or syntagma (think Lottatori!). Back in Antwerp, Rubens retains until his death his drawings after the Antique, bound together in separate books, as a distinctive part of the collection of his house-museum, which hosted also numerous antiquities. They remain a constant source of inspiration and they may also have been used as teaching tools – as in the best tradition of Renaissance workshop practices – judging by the copies deposited by his pupils in the cantoor, Rubens’s cabinet or studio. The flux of artists coming to Rome did not cease, although most become fascinated by the radical naturalism of Caravaggio and his followers, rather than aiming at recreating the principles of classical art. A group of artists even develops a successful speciality in the depiction of contemporary Roman street life and everyday reality: a rustic tavern, a drinking scenes, brigands, street vendors, charlatans and carnivals. The art of the ‘Bamboccianti’, so named after their leader, Laer, dubbed ‘Bamboccio’, or ‘ugly puppet’, is fiercely criticised as a debased form of art that deliberately chose the ‘worst’ of nature (cf. verismo, and the customs of realistic naturalism) by the supporters of classicism and history painting, such as Albani, Sacchi, and Rosa, as well as by the philosophers of ‘ideal beauty’ such as Bellori. In contrast to the Dutch, among the foreign communities in Rome, it was the French who are to take the lead in the cause of classicism, the defence of Ideal Beauty and the copy and study of the Antique. The contrasting attitudes of artists towards the study of art in Rome is perfectly visualised in a canvas by Goubau, a Flemish painter influenced by the Bamboccianti, who had been in Rome. On the right, judicious [Rubens, Study of the Laocoön Seen from the Back, c. 1606–08, black chalk, 440 × 283 mm, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, inv. 624, F 249 inf. n. 5, p. 11. Rubens, Study of the Younger Son FIGLIO PIU GIOVANE of the Laocoön Seen from the Back, black chalk, 444 × 265 mm, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, inv. 623, F 249 inf. n. 5, p. 11] artists under the supervision of a master are busy at work among imaginary Roman ruins, copying and measuring an ancient statue or a relief, among them the ERCOLE FARNESE; on the left the Bamboccianti indulge in the pleasures of wine and music under the pergola of a rustic tavern. Nevertheless, this wittily expressed opposition should not be taken too literally, as the educational and inspirational role of classical statuary had been deeply assimilated by artists of every inclination or aesthetic Many move between genres and artistic currents such as the Flemish genre painter Lint, who produced many drawings after the Antique while in Rome. Even those close to the Bamboccianti clearly treasured the didactic role of classical statuary, as can be seen in the depictions of workshops and artists at work by the Flemish Sweerts. The Antique, and its didactic role in the Italian model of artistic education, also made rapid progress in all of civilised Europe, supported by the publication of Karel van Mander’s Schilderboeck. Knowledge was transmitted mainly through drawings, drawing-books and plaster casts. These are used in the drawing schools or private academies that proliferate, some of which were founded by the same artists who had been exponents of the Bamboccianti in Rome. These drawing schools often had to struggle against regulations by the guilds, which remained the dominant associations for artists, dictating what goes on in a workshop – the notable exception being the academy founded in Antwerp by royal [Goubau, The Study of Art in Rome, 1662, oil on canvas, 132 × 165 cm, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp, inv. 185] decree. But despite the heavy hands of the guilds, many thriving workshops, while accepting individual apprentices, adopt *Italian* academic practices, such as conducting classes for groups of students, or implementing a training programme focused on drawing and the mastery of the human form. This often included the ‘alphabet of drawing’, as was the practice of Rembrandt’s studio in Amsterdam, in which many students were taught annually, and of Rubens, who, as court painter, did not have to register his apprentices with the Antwerp guild.142 According to Van Mander, another studio famous for its educational efficacy was that of Abraham Bloemaert in Utrecht (see cat. 11).143 During the second half of the century, other private drawing schools or ‘colleges’ were founded, which cater for a clientele of artists or the dilettanti giving them the chance to draw from casts and the nude live model alongside their studio practice. Among the most famous are those of Sweerts, opened in Brussels and of Bisschop in The Hague. Closely connected with workshops’ and schools’ drawing practices was the proliferation of drawing-books and artists’ manuals. Most of them were based on the example of Odoardo Fialetti’s Il Vero Modo and Giacomo Franco’s De excellentia et nobilitate delineationis (1611) sometimes re- printing parts of them.147 Like their Italian predecessors, Netherlandish drawing-books focused on the human form, on classical statuary, and on the different stages of the academic learning process.148 The increasing importance of  38 39  the Antique in the Netherlands is well expressed by the various Dutch translations of François Perrier’s Segmenta (1638) – the most successful collection of prints after classical statues of the 17th century (fig. 57 and cat. 16, figs 3–6) – and by the equal success of its Dutch counterpart, Jan de Bisschop’s Icones (1668, see cat. 13), explicitly compiled as a teaching tool.149 Antique models were also copied by young Northern artists in three dimensions, thanks to the proliferation of casts, as shown in the frontispiece of Abraham Bloemaert’s Konstryk Tekenboek (c. 1650) – one of the most influential draw- ing-books of the second half of the century (see cat. 11). Many studios and drawing schools owned collections of casts, often of famous prototypes such as the Laocoön or the Apollo Belvedere. Inventories of the studios of Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem, Hendrik van Balen (1575–1632), and Rembrandt, for instance, testify to their presence.150 The diffusion of casts appears explicitly in the numerous paintings depicting young artists at work, which became popular from the middle of the century onwards (figs 49–53, see also cats 12 and 14). These works constitute an individual iconographical genre that probably derives from Fialetti’s striking etching (see cat. 10), which, as we have seen, was well known and reprinted several times in the Netherlands.151 This genre was practised mainly by Jacob Van Oost the Elder (1601–71, fig. 50), Wallerant Vaillant (1623–77, fig. 51), Balthasar Van den Bossche (1681–1715) and Michael Sweerts (fig. 52 and cat. 12), whose canvases tend to represent the ideal training curricu- lum, where the copying of plaster casts after the Antique has the place of honour.152 As ‘low’ genre paintings that celebrate the didactic role of the Antique – traditionally considered to be essential for the lofty genre of history painting rather than for scenes of daily life – they indirectly attest to the ubiquitous penetration of classical models in all 17th-century artistic practices. Incidentally they are also a direct visual source for the most widely diffused typologies of classical statues in the North of Europe in the 17th century: from busts of the Apollo Belvedere (figs 18 and 50), of the Laocoön group, both father and sons (figs 19 and 51), and of the so-called Grimani Vitellius (fig. 52), to reduced copies of the Spinario (figs 15 and 49), the Belvedere Antinous (figs 22 and 51), the Venus de’ Medici (figs 53 and 56), and the Farnese Hercules (see fig. 32 and cat. 14). Also frequently depicted are busts of Niobe (see fig. 34 and cat. 12), reduced copies of the Wrestlers (fig. 33) and the Borghese Gladiator (fig. 54). The Italian and the French Academies in the Seventeenth Century and the Establishment of Classicism The 17th century witnessed dramatic changes of attitude towards the study of the Antique in terms of codification, diffusion and theoretical debate; at the same time it saw the formulation of a style heavily dependent on classical sculp- ture, setting the stage for the final affirmation of classicism as a pan-European phenomenon in the following century. The selection of the most significant antique statues, begun in the 16th century, was further refined, especially in the cos- mopolitan antiquarian environment of Rome. Excavations continued and some of the new discoveries immediately joined the canon of ideal models. Three of them, in particu- lar, were ubiquitously reproduced and copied in studios and academies: the Borghese Gladiator (fig. 54), discovered in 1611, which soon became the preferred model for the anatomy of the muscular man in action; the Dying Gladiator (fig. 55), first mentioned in 1623, whose complex pose could be drawn from different angles and which offered an ideal of heroic pathos expressed in the moment of death; and finally, the Venus de’ Medici (fig. 56), first recorded in 1638 but possibly known in the late 16th century, which rapidly became the most admired embodiment of the graceful female body.153 New collections gradually replaced earlier ones and a few families succeeded in acquiring some of the newly discovered statues that had gained canonical status. The magnificent urban palaces and suburban villas of the Medici, Farnese, Borghese, Ludovisi and Giustiniani attracted an increasing number of visitors and artists, becoming privileged centres for the study of the Antique, and family names became attached to certain statues, as the Farnese Hercules or the Venus de’ Medici testify.154 Some of these, such as the Palazzo Farnese (see cat. 21), and the Casino Borghese retained their status as ‘private museums’ until the end of the 18th century. Prints continued to play a vital role in the dissemination of images of classical statues throughout Europe. They were produced predominantly in Rome, where, as in the 16th century, French printmakers played a prominent role along- side Italian antiquarians and engravers.155 Among others, the publications of François Perrier (1594–1649) and the duo comprising the antiquarian and theoretician Giovanni Pietro Bellori (1613–96) and the engraver Pietro Santi Bartoli (1615– 1700), offered artists and the educated public a choice of Fig. 54. Agasias of Ephesus, Borghese Gladiator, c. 100 bc, marble, 199 cm (h), Louvre, Paris, inv. Ma 527 Fig. 55. Dying Gladiator, Roman copy of a Pergamene original of the 3rd century bc, marble, 93 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC0747 Fig. 49. (top left) Jan ter Borch, The Drawing Lesson, 1634, oil on canvas, 120 × 159 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. SK-A-1331 Fig. 50. (top right) Jacob van Oost the Elder, The Painter’s Studio, 1666, oil on canvas, 111.5 × 150.5 cm, Groeningenmuseum, Bruges, inv. 0000.GRO0188.II Fig. 51. (bottom left) Wallerant Vaillant, The Artist’s Pupil, c. 1668, oil on canvas, 119 × 90 cm, Bonnefantenmuseum, Maastricht, inv. 673 Fig. 52. (bottom centre) Michael Sweerts (attr.), Boy Copying a Cast of the Head of Emperor Vitellius, c. 1658–59, oil on canvas, 49.5 × 40.6 cm, The Minneapolis Institute of Arts, inv. 72-65 Fig. 53. (bottom right) Pieter van der Werf, A Girl Drawing and a Boy near a Statue of Venus, 1715, oil on panel, 38.5 × 29 cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, inv. SK-A-472 40 41  the ‘best’ ancient statues and reliefs; the authority of their selections lasted throughout the 18th century. For full-length statues, crucial was the appearance in 1638 of Perrier’s Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum (fig. 57 and cat. 16 figs 3–6), a collection of prints which in many ways fulfils what Goltzius had intended to publish four decades earlier (see cats 6–7).156 Offering good quality reproductions and different points of view– three for the Farnese Hercules and four for the Borghese Gladiator, for instance – Perrier’s images were essential in focusing the attention of artists on a selected number of models considered exemplary in anatomy, proportions, poses and expressions. Reprinted and trans- lated several times, the success of the Segmenta was immense and it was used in studios and academies as a teaching tool for almost two centuries, as we have seen earlier in the Netherlands. As late as 1820 John Flaxman was still recom- mending the use of Perrier to his students at the Royal Academy.157 Such publications were the results of the antiquarian and theoretical interests of a French-Italian classicist milieu that flourished in the first half of the century in Rome.158 Innumerable French artists now spent time in the city, filling sketchbooks with copies after the Antique and Renaissance Fig. 56. Venus de’ Medici, Greek or Roman copy of the 1st century bc of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 153 cm (h), Uizi, Florence, inv. 224 Fig. 57. François Perrier, Venus de’Medici, plate 81, from Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum, Rome, 1638 masters, and devoting increasing space to the study of Raphael.159 Two of the most relevant figures in this context were the great French painter Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665), who resided in Rome between 1624 and 1665 (with a brief sojourn in France in 1640–42), and his friend and biographer Giovanni Pietro Bellori, possibly the most influential art writer of the century, who deserves to be called the pro- tagonist in the theoretical formulation of classicism. Of similar significance was the scholar, antiquarian, collector and patron Cassiano dal Pozzo (1588–1657), a friend of both Poussin and Bellori – and patron of the former – who assem- bled a vast encyclopaedic collection of drawings divided by themes, a ‘Paper Museum’, with sections devoted to classi- cal antiquity commissioned from several contemporary artists.160 Classicism found probably its clearest and most influen- tial formulations in a landmark discourse composed by Bellori and delivered in 1664, the year before Poussin’s death, in the Roman Accademia di San Luca: the ‘Idea of the painter, the sculptor and the architect, selected from the beauties of Nature, superior to Nature’ (see Appendix, no. 11). Bellori’s theoretical statement, published as a prologue to his Vite in 1672, was to become enormously influential in defining and disseminating the central tenets of the classicist ideal (see cat. 15).161 Joining Aristotelian and neo-Platonic premises, Bellori’s Idea advocates in the selection of the best parts of Nature according to the right judgement of the artist in order to create ideal beauty – a concept that we have already encountered many times. According to Bellori, the Idea had been embodied in art at several periods of history and he traced its development according to a scheme of peaks and descents. It took shape first and foremost in the ancient world and was revived in modern times by Raphael, who is accorded nearly divine status. After the decadence and excesses of Mannerism, it was revitalised by the Bolognese Annibale Carracci (1560–1609) and by his pupils and follow- ers, notably Domenichino (1581–1641). Their flame was kept alive in Bellori’s time by Poussin and Carlo Maratti (1625– 1713), a protégé of Bellori, who fashioned himself as the new Raphael and whose Academy of Drawing is the most program- matic representation of the principles of Roman classicism (see cat. 15). Bellori’s classicism, heir of the rich debates of the first half of the century, can be defined as a codification and defence of an idealistic style and of moralising history painting against the radical naturalism introduced by Caravaggio and his followers, whose slavish dependence on Nature and choice of low subjects were seen to undermine the intellectual premises of art. On the other hand, Bellori also confronted the excesses and liberties of the Baroque, whose representatives, according to him, leaned towards artificiality and despised the ‘ancient purity’.162 Classicism in many ways was based on the princi- ples laid down by the art theory of the second half of the 16th century, as it shared with it a fundamental premise: the neces- sity of the defence of what was perceived as the ideal path of art – the ‘bella maniera’ – against contemporary artistic trends which were considered erroneous or even noxious.163 The classicist theoretical approach further reinforced the practice of copying: it reinstated the intellectual value of drawing while providing a selected group of correct models to follow, with the Antique and Raphael on the loftiest pedestal. These premises were embraced by the Italian and French academies, and became the basis of most of the European academies of the following century – Opie’s words to the young pupils of the Royal Academy in 1807 still reiterate their fundamental tenets. Although the debate was at times fierce – as for instance within the Accademia di San Luca in the 1630s – a strict division of 17th-century artists into classicist, naturalist and Baroque categories would be arbitrary and inaccurate, as many of them moved between currents and at times incor- porated elements of each in their own creations. Indeed, artists of all allegiances copied, studied and took inspiration from the Antique. We know from surviving drawings and contemporary written sources that ‘classicist’ artists such as Annibale Carracci, Poussin and Maratti copied antique statues (figs 58–61), yet an equal number of ‘Baroque’ Fig. 58. Annibale Carracci, Head of Pan from the marble group of Pan and Olympos in the Farnese Collection, 1597–98, black chalk heightened with white chalk on grey-blue paper, 381 × 245 mm, Louvre, Paris, inv. 7193  artists, such as Rubens (figs 45–47 and cat. 9), Pietro da Cortona (1596–1669, fig. 62) and Bernini (figs 63–64) spent as much time in absorbing the principles of the Antique.164 Nevertheless their approaches towards the Antique could be very different. Poussin, the intellectual and antiquarian painter par excellence, copied hundreds of details from classical sculpture, especially reliefs and sarcophagi, to give archaeo- logical consistency to his art, so that his paintings would represent classical histories with the maximum of accuracy,  42 43 Fig. 59. Nicolas Poussin, Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius, c. 1630–32, pen and brown ink and brown wash, 244 × 190 mm, Musée Condé, Chantilly, inv. AI 219; NI 264 Fig. 60. Carlo Maratti, The Farnese Flora, c. 1645–70, black chalk, 294 × 159 mm, The Royal Collection, Windsor Castle, inv. 904377 Fig. 61. Carlo Maratti, or Studio of, The Farnese Hercules, c. 1645–70, red chalk, 292 × 165 mm, The Royal Collection, Windsor Castle, inv. 904382 Fig. 62. Pietro da Cortona, The Trophies of Marius, c. 1628–1632, pen, brown ink, brown wash, heightened in white, on blue sky prepared paper, 518 × 346 mm, The Royal Collection, Windsor Castle, inv. RL 8249 integrity and power, an approach in several ways similar to that of Mantegna and Raphael. Bernini, arguably the greatest 17th-century sculptor, spent his youth obsessively copying the ancient statues in the Belvedere (see Appendix, nos 9–10) and in his old age recommended that students of the Académie Royale in Paris begin their studies by copying casts of the most famous classical statues before approaching Nature (see Appendix, nos 9–10). But Bernini’s attitude towards ancient statuary was poles apart from that of Poussin (whom he nevertheless highly admired): he assimilated its principles in order to create his own independent forms, at times deviating radically from the classical model – an atti- tude that we have already seen in Michelangelo and Rubens. To develop their own style and avoid a slavish dependency on the Antique – something already stressed by Dolce, Armenini and Rubens (Appendix, nos 4, 6, 8) – he advised his students to combine and alternate ‘action and contemplation’, that is to alternate their own production with the practice of copy- ing (Appendix, no. 10). A wonderful example that allows us to follow Bernini’s creative process of transforming of the antique model is provided by a study of the torso of the Laocoön, the unbalanced and twisted pose of which he then ingeniously adapted in reverse for the complex attitude of his Daniel (figs 63–66). A recollection of the Laocoön is further- more recognisable in Daniel’s powerful expression (fig. 66).165 A practical outcome of the French and Italian theoretical formulation of a classicist doctrine was the foundation in 1648 of the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture in Paris, followed in 1666 by that of the Académie de France in Rome – the latter intended to give prize-winning students the opportunity to study the Antique in situ and to provide 44 Louis XIV (r. 1643–1715) with copies of classical and Ren- aissance statues.166 The foundation of the French Académie in Paris is a turning point in the history of the teaching of art, as its codified programme – based on Italian examples, and especially the Roman Accademia di San Luca – would constitute the basis for the academies that spread over the Western world in the 18th and 19th centuries. Founded by several artists, most of whom had spent periods in Rome such as Charles Le Brun (1619–90), the Paris Académie was supported by the monarch and candidates could apply for admission only after they had trained in a workshop. Its regulations aimed at full intellectual develop- ment for its students to prepare them for the creation of the highest genre, history painting, or the grande manière. Although its curriculum was rather loosely organised and, in the first tw  o decades of its history, fairly tolerant in its aesthetic positions, during the 1660s the Académie was drastically reformed by the powerful Minister and Super- intendent of Buildings Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619–83) and by Le Brun to become an institution in the service of the absolutist policy of Louis XIV, with a codified version of classicism as its official aesthetic. The rationalistic nature of French 17th-century culture meant that the Académie conceived of art as a science that could be taught by rules. This was explicitly stated by Le Brun in 1670,167 and efforts were concentrated in clarifying and applying most of the precepts already devised by the early Italian academies and theoreticians. If a student followed these precepts correctly he – and only he, as the institution was limited to male pupils until the late 19th century – would be able to assimilate the principles of ideal beauty and create grand art.168 The future European success of this regimented version of the humanistic theory of art rested exactly in its rational nature, as a clear system of rules easy to export and replicate, offering at the same time a safe path towards ‘true’ and universal art. Pupils were supposed to follow the ‘alphabet of drawing’, from copying drawings, to casts and statues, to the live model, which remained the most difficult task and one reserved for the most advanced students. Regular lectures on geometry, perspective and anatomy were provided. As in Federico Zuccaro’s statutes for the Accademia di San Luca, professors rotated monthly to supervise the life class, prizes were awarded to students and regular debates were initiated on the principles of art – the celebrated so-called Conférences, regularly held from 1667 onwards on the advice of Colbert, although they faltered by the end of the century to be revived only a few decades later.169 Other aspects of the reforms of the 1660s included the division of the drawing course into lower classes, devoted to copying, and higher classes, for Fig. 63. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Study of the Torso of the Father in the Laocoön group, c. 1650–55, red chalk heightened with white on grey paper, 369 × 250 mm, Museum der Bildenden Künste, Leipzig, inv. 7903 Fig. 64. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Two Studies for the Statue of ‘Daniel’, c. 1655, red chalk on grey paper, 375 × 234 mm, Museum der Bildenden Künste, Leipzig, inv. 7890 Fig. 65. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, c. 1655, terracotta, 41.6 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 2424 drawing from the live model. Competitions were further structured to lead towards the highest reward, the famous Grand Prix or Prix de Rome, which allowed the winners to spend between three and five years at the Académie de France in Rome, to complete their education and to assimilate the principles of the greatest ancient and modern art. The official doctrine of the Paris Académie was distilled and diffused by André Félibien (1619–95), the most promi- nent French art theorist of the period, in his preface to the first series of Conférences held in 1667 and published in 1668. Félibien offered a clear structure for the hierarchy of genres that would be associated with academic painting for the next two centuries: at the bottom was still life, followed on an ascending line by landscape, genre painting, portraiture and finally by history painting, for which the study of the Antique, of modern masters and of the live model were considered necessary.170 The first Conférences reveal in their subjects and approach the central tenets of the Parisian Académie: paintings by Raphael, Poussin, Le Brun and the Laocoön were meticulously analysed in their parts according to strict rules: invention, expression, composition, drawing, colour, proportions etc. Some Conférences were devoted to specific parts of painting: one given by Le Brun in 1668, on the ‘passions of the soul’, which was printed posthumously and translated into several languages, constituted the basis for the study of facial expres- sions until well into the 19th century.171 The Antique remained one of the favourite subjects to be dissected by the academicians. After the 1667 Conférence on the Laocoön (see Appendix, no. 12),172 praised as the ideal model for drawing and for the ‘strong expressions of pain’,173 many more followed specifically devoted to the Farnese Hercules, Belvedere Torso, Borghese Gladiator, and Venus de’ Medici, the ultimate selected canon of sculptures.174 Conférences were also given on the study of the Antique in general.175 Sébastien Bourdon’s (1616–71) Conférence sur les proportions de la figure humaine expliquées sur l’Antique, in 1670 advised students to fully absorb the Antique from a very early age, measure precisely its proportions and control ‘compass in hand’ the Fig. 66. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, 1655–57, marble, over life-size, Chigi Chapel, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome  45  live model against classical sculptures, as they are never arbitrary – a method, according to Bourdon, approved by Poussin.176 This extreme rationalistic approach, based on the actual measurement of the Antique, which, as we will see, would generate opposition, was put into practice by Gérard Audran (1640–1703), engraver and ‘conseiller’ of the Académie (Appendix, no. 13). His illustrated treatise of 1682 (figs 72–73) provided students with the carefully measured proportions of the antique statues that they were supposed to follow and became a standard reference work in many languages, continuously republished until 1855. While the Académie de France in Rome must have started accumulating casts after the Antique from early on – the inventory of 1684 lists a vast collection of statues, reliefs, busts, etc.177 – it is not entirely clear how readily the students of the Académie in Paris had access to casts or copies in the first decades of the institution’s history. Bernini, in his 1665 visit, explicitly advised the formation of a cast collection for the Parisian Académie, and some, among them a Farnese Hercules, were ordered or donated in the following years.178 But although students certainly copied casts already in Paris, full immersion in the practice was reserved for the period they spent in Rome.179 ‘Make the painters copy everything beautiful in Rome; and when they have finished, if possible, make them do it again’ Colbert tellingly wrote in 1672 to Charles Errard (c. 1606–9 – 1689), the first Director of the Académie de France in Rome.180 In Rome a similar practice was encouraged in the Accademia di San Luca, which, like its Parisian counterpart, was significantly reformed in the 1660s, perhaps a sign of the increasingly important reversal of influence, from France to Italy. From the beginning of the presidency of Carlo Maratti in 1664, a staged drawing curriculum, competitions and lectures were implemented and new casts were ordered (see cat. 15).181 Some twenty years later the Accademia received the donation of hundreds of casts of antique sculp- tures from the studio of the sculptor and restorer Ercole Ferrata (1610–86).182 Sharing the same values and similar curricula, in 1676 the Accademia di San Luca and the Parisian Académie Royale were formally amalgamated and on occa- sion French painters even became principals of San Luca – Charles Errard in 1672 and 1678, and Charles Le Brun in 1676–77.183 But the Italians could never feel wholly comforta- ble with the extreme rationalisation of art characteristic of so much French theory.184 After the publication of the French Conférences, debates were held in defence of the Vasarian tradi- tion and of the value of grace, judgement and natural talent against the rules and the overly rational analysis of art and the Antique by the French.185 The engraving by Nicolas Dorigny (1658–1746) after Carlo Maratti is the most eloquent 46 visual expression of this intellectual confrontation that con- tinued into the 1680s (cat. 15). Some of the most doctrinal aspects of the Parisian academy also generated an internal counteraction and the supporters of disegno, classicism and Poussin, headed by Le Brun, were challenged by the promot- ers of Venetian colore and Rubens, led by the artist and critic Roger de Piles (1635–1709) and by the painter Charles de la Fosse (1636–1716). The battle between ‘Poussinisme’ and ‘Rubénisme’ – a new incarnation of the debate started more than a century earlier by Giorgio Vasari and Lodovico Dolce – captured the imagination of the French academic world between the end of the 17th and the first decade of the 18th centuries. The victory of the Rubénistes led the way to a freer, anti-classicist and more painterly aesthetic and to the eventual affirmation of the Rococo in French art.186 But the next century would also witness the triumph of the classicist ideal, as its principles spread all over Europe. The Antique Posed, Measured and Dissected Given the rationalistic approach of French artists and theo- rists to the Antique – ‘compass in hand’ – it does not come as a surprise that, during the 17th century, they actually started to measure ancient statues in order to tabulate their pro- portions. And as well as measuring statues they began to merge the study of anatomy with study of the Antique to provide young students with ideal sets of muscles to copy. Such efforts produced a series of extremely influential drawing-books filled with fascinating and disturbing images, in which ancient bodies are covered by nets of numbers or flayed and presented as living écorchés. In a way it was inevitable that the study of human propor- tions applied by Alberti, Leonardo and Dürer to living bodies Fig. 67. Peter Paul Rubens, Study of the Farnese Hercules, c. 1602, pen and brown ink, 196 × 153 mm, The Courtauld Gallery, Samuel Courtauld Trust, London, inv. D.1978.PG.427.v, Fig. 68. Charles Errard, Antinous Belvedere, plate on p. 457 in Giovanni Pietro Bellori, Le vite de’ pittori scultori e architetti moderni, Rome, 1672 would eventually be merged with the study of the ideal bod- ies of ancient statues, to test Vitruvius’ assertion that ancient artists worked according to a fixed canon (Appendix, no. 1). The main problem was that the canonical proportions of 5th-century bc sculpture had been disregarded from the 3rd century bc onwards. Furthermore, as we now know, most of the ‘perfect’ Greek statues were actually modified Roman copies of lost originals. The measuring efforts of 17th- century art theorists were therefore for the most part in vain, as most of the revered marbles did not embody the principles of commensurability and overall harmonic proportion that they believed they did. Although we have seen that Raphael had already initiated the practice of measuring statues (fig. 27), the first to refer explicitly to this exercise is Armenini in his 1587 De veri precetti della pittura, in which a chapter is devoted specifically to the ‘measure of man based on the ancient statues’.187 Rubens also devoted much attention to trying to discover the perfect num- bers and forms of ancient statues, dividing for instance the Farnese Hercules, the strongest type of male body, according to series of cubes, the most solid of the perfect forms (fig. 67).188 Not surprisingly, Poussin’s approach to the Antique in Rome was similar, and we know from Bellori that he and the sculptor François Duquesnoy (1597–1643) ‘embarked on the study of the beauty and proportion of statues, measuring them together, as can be seen in the case of the one of Anti- nous’ – two illustrations of which he published in Poussin’s life in his Vite (fig. 68).189 But the first artist to provide accurate drawings of the most famous statues was the future founding director of the Académie de France in Rome, Charles Errard, who, later, also provided the measured Antinous illustrations for Bellori’s Vite (fig. 68). In collaboration with the theorist Roland Fréart de Chambray (1606–76), and most likely inspired by Poussin, he executed in 1640 a series of intriguing measured red chalk drawings today preserved at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris (figs 69–71).190 Produced only two years after the publication      Fig. 69. Charles Errard, or collaborator, Measured Drawing of the Belvedere Antinous, 1640, red chalk, pencil, pen and brown ink, 430 × 280 mm, École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris, inv. PC6415, no. 27 Fig. 70. Charles Errard, Measured Drawing of the Laocoön, 1640, red chalk, pen and brown ink, 430 × 280 mm, École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris, inv. PC6415, no. 11 Fig. 71. Charles Errard, Measured Drawing of the Venus de’Medici, 1640, red chalk, pencil, pen and brown ink, 430 × 280 mm, École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris, inv. PC6415, no. 28 47  of Perrier’s successful Segmenta, Errard’s drawings were clearly intended to be published and to present young artists with a set of certain and ideal proportions on which they could base their own figures. A similar search for discipline was undertaken by Fréart de Chambray, and later by other theorists, among the remains of ancient architecture, which involved an even more intense effort to discover their ‘perfect’ proportions. Although a few of Errard’s drawings were published in 1656 by Abraham Bosse – the first professor of perspective of the Parisian Académie Royale – the first successful manuals appeared in the 1680s, as a result of the theoretical debates on the proportions of ancient statues held in the Académie during the previous decade.191 By far the most influential was a manual we have already encountered, Gérard Audran’s Proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité, published in 1683 (Appendix, no. 13). This provided a fully ‘classicised’ drawing-book, following the ‘alphabet of drawing’ from the measured eye, nose and mouth of the Apollo Belvedere (fig. 72), to whole canonical statues, such as the Laocoön (fig. 73). Audran’s book, republished several times in various languages, became the model for many similar publications that appeared during the 18th and early 19th centuries and espoused a practice embraced by many artists. Examples from different nations include a Dutch manual, where, fascinatingly, the Apollo Belvedere is presented according to Vitruvian principles (fig. 74; see also fig. 2 and Appendix, no. 1); drawings by the sculptor Joseph Nollekens (1737–1823; fig. 75); and measured notes drawn by Antonio Canova over an engraving of the Apollo Belvedere from a didactic series of prints after the Antique (fig. 76).192 In addition to being carefully measured, antique bodies were also dissected. If classical statues displayed perfect anat- omies, then, it was thought, they would offer an ideal starting point for young students to study bones and muscles. Combining the study of the Antique with that of anatomy was intended to reinforce the familiarity of young artists with ancient canonical models, now also analysed from the inside. Students until then had trained mainly on the immensely influential De humani corporis fabrica, published by Andrea Vesalius in 1543, and on the anatomical treatises that were based on it, but from the late 17th century new ‘classicised’ manuals appeared.193 The first, Anatomia per uso et intelligenza del disegno... , based on drawings by Errard, was published in 1691 by Bernardino Genga (1655–1720), professor of anatomy at the Académie de France in Rome.194 Probably conceived much earlier, the set of engravings included fascinating and somewhat morbid images of the skeletons of classical statues (figs 77–78; although these were not eventually included in the book) and several different views of the muscles of the strongest types of ancient prototypes, the Laocoön, the Borghese Gladiator, the Farnese Hercules and the Borghese Faun (figs 79–80).195 Genga and Errard’s Anatomia was a model for several similar books which appeared in the 18th and early 19th centuries to satisfy the needs of the increasingly classicistic curricula of European academies. Not surprisingly, only male antiquities, and usually the most muscular ones, were illustrated, both for reasons of decorum and also because the Fig. 74. Jacob de Wit, Measured ‘Apollo Belvedere’, plate 8 in Teekenboek der proportien van ‘t menschelyk lighaam, Amsterdam, 1747 Fig. 75. Joseph Nollekens, Measured Drawing of the ‘Capitoline Antinous’, 1770, pen and brown ink over traces of black chalk, 431 × 292 mm, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, inv. DBB 1460 Fig. 76. Giovanni Volpato and Rafaello Morghen, Measured ‘Apollo Belvedere’, engraving (with inscribed measures in pencil, red chalk, pen and brown ink by Antonio Canova), post 1786, plate 35 in Principi del disegno. Tratti dall più eccellenti statue antiche per il giovanni che vogliono incamminarsi nello studio delle belle arti, Rome, 1786, Museo Civico, Bassano del Grappa, inv. B 42.69 Audran, Measured Details of the ‘Apollo Belvedere’, plate 27 in Les Proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité, Paris, 1683 Fig. 73. Gérard Audran, Measured ‘Laocoön’, plate 1 in Les Proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité, Paris, 1683 48 49 Fig. 77. (above left) After Charles Errard, The Skeleton of the ‘Laocoön’, c. 1691, engraving, 328 × 198 mm, Bibliothèque des Arts décoratifs, Paris, Album Maciet 2-4 (4) Fig. 78. (above centre) After Charles Errard, The Skeleton of the ‘Borghese Gladiator’, c. 1691, engraving, 334 × 280 mm, Bibliothèque des Arts décoratifs, Paris, Album Maciet 2-4 (1) Fig. 79. (above right) After Charles Errard, Anatomical Figure of the ‘Borghese Gladiator’, c. 1691, plate 51 in Bernardino Genga and Charles Errard, Anatomia per uso et intelligenza del disegno . . . , Rome, 1691 Fig. 80. (left) After Charles Errard, Anatomical Figure of the ‘Laocoön’, c. 1691, plate 43 in Bernardino Genga and Charles Errard, Anatomia per uso et intelligenza del disegno . . . , Rome, 1691  male body was believed to provide more anatomical infor- mation compared to the female one. One of the most dis- turbingly accurate, printed in two colours to distinguish the muscles from the bones, is the Anatomie du Gladiateur combatant ... published in 1812 by the military surgeon Jean- Galbert Salvage (1772–1813). Although this provided a precise anatomical analysis of the head of the Apollo Belvedere (fig. 81), its main focus was on the anatomy of the Borghese Gladiator analysed in all its parts (fig. 82). The accuracy of the manual’s plates made it extremely influential throughout Europe.196 Fig. 81. Nicolaï Ivanovitch Outkine after Jean-Galbert Salvage, Muscles and Bones of the Head of the ‘Apollo Belvedere’, engraving in two colours, plate 1 in Jean Galbert Salvage, Anatomie du Gladiateur combatant ..., Paris, 1812 Fig. 82. Jean Bosq after Jean-Galbert Salvage, Anatomical Figure of the ‘Borghese Gladiator’, engraving in two colours, plate 6 in Jean Galbert Salvage, Anatomie du Gladiateur combatant ..., Paris, 1812 50 The stress on anatomical precision also produced a spectacu- lar three-dimensional écorché of the Borghese Gladiator created by Salvage in 1804 and acquired as a teaching tool in 1811 by the École des Beaux-Arts, where it remains (fig. 83).197 An earlier model, which had served as inspiration for Salvage, was the gruesomely naturalistic écorché posed as the Dying Gladiator (see fig. 55) made by William Hunter (1718– 83), the professor of anatomy at the Royal Academy of Arts in London, in collaboration with the sculptor Agostino Carlini. Casted on the body of an executed smuggler, it was aptly Latinised as Smugglerius.198 The Antique found its way into academic anatomical manuals for students throughout the 19th century, and its pervasiveness was enormous, extending even beyond Western culture. A plate with a flayed Laocoön from the popu- lar Anatomie des formes extérieures du corps humain, published in 1845 by Antoine-Louis-Julien Fau (fig. 85), served as inspira- tion for a popular artists’ manual produced in Japan at the end of the century, resulting in an extraordinary image which fuses the Western canon and the Japanese woodblock print tradition of the Ukiyo-e (fig. 86).199 The osmosis between the Antique and other disciplines of the academic curriculum gained ground also in the study of the live model. We have seen that already in the 15th century it was common practice to pose apprentices in imitation of ancient sculpture (see fig. 14), and great artists like Rubens often returned to this expedient (see cat. 9). But the practice became increasingly diffused within the codified curricula of French and Italian academies during the 17th and 18th centuries (figs 87–89). Recommended by several Fig. 83. Jean-Galbert Salvage, Écorché of the ‘Borghese Gladiator’, 1804, plaster, 157 cm (h), École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts, Paris, inv. MU11927 Fig. 84. (top left) William Pink after Agostino Carlini, Smugglerius, c. 1775 (this copy c. 1834), painted plaster, 75.5 × 148.6 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 03/1436     Fig. 85. (middle left) M. Léveillé, Anatomical Figure of the ‘Laocoön’, lithography, plate 24 in Antoine-Louis-Julien Fau, Anatomie des formes extérieures du corps humain, Paris, 1845 Fig. 86. (middle right) Anatomical Figures of the ‘Laocoön’ and of a Small Child, woodblock print, plate in Kawanabe Kyo-sai, Kyosai Gadan, 1887      Fig. 87. (bottom left) Antoine Paillet, Drawing of a Model Posing as the ‘Laocoön’, 1670, black and white chalk on brown paper, 580 × 521 mm, École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts, Paris, inv. EBA 3098 Fig. 88. (bottom centre) Giuseppe Bottani, Drawing of a Model in the Pose of the ‘Lycean Apollo’ Type, c. 1760–70, red and white chalks on red-orange prepared paper, 423 × 270 mm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, inv. 1978-70-197 Fig. 89. (bottom right) Jacques-Luois David, An Academic Model in the Pose of the ‘Dying Gaul’, 1780, oil on canvas, 125 × 170 cm, Musée Thomas Henry, Cherbourg, inv. MTH 835.102 51  academicians, posing the live model with the same tension and flexing of muscles as the ancient statues encouraged students to correct their drawings after fallible Nature against the perfection of the antique examples and to derive universal principles from particular living models (see cats 16 and 27b).200 The Eighteenth Century and the Diffusion of the Classical Ideal The seeds planted by 17th-century classicist theory fully blossomed during the 18th with the affirmation of Neo- classicism in the second half of the century. Supported by and supporting the exponential diffusion of academies – from some nineteen in 1720 to more than 100 in 1800 – the cult of the Antique spread to the four corners of Europe, from St Petersburg to Lisbon and beyond.201 The ‘true style’, as classicism was often called in the 18th century, was inextri- cably linked with many of the values of Enlightenment culture: in an age in search of order and universal principles, the appeal of the rational and ‘eternal’ ideals embodied by classical statuary proved irresistible. At the same time they provided a useful tool for existing political powers and a for- midable one for new authorities in search of legitimisation. The new academies based their curricula mainly on that of Paris and Rome, and the didactic role assigned to the Antique was physically imported through an army of plaster casts – the ‘Apostles of good taste’ – as Denis Diderot called them, which became the most recognisable trademark of the newly founded institutions (fig. 90).202 The progressive method of the ‘alphabet of drawing’ definitively established itself as the basis of the training of European artists well into the 20th century. Not necessarily followed in practice, as students often wanted to rush to the copy of the live model, its didactic value was, in Fig. 90. After Augustin Terwesten, The Life Academy at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Berlin, engraved vignette on p. 217 from Lorenz Beger, Thesaurus Brandenburgicus Selectus..., vol. 3, Berlin, 1701 theory, supported by the vast majority of academies.203 The plate illustrating the entry on ‘Drawing’ in Diderot and D’Alembert’s epochal Encyclopédie significantly focuses on the three steps, being followed in different media (fig. 91).204 While the French model was spreading throughout Europe during the first half of the century, ironically the Parisian Académie itself underwent a period of crisis. After the death of Colbert in 1683 and of Le Brun in 1690, the royal institution became decreasingly relevant in determining the direction of the national school of painting. Financial constraints and the waning of royal patronage coincided with the fact that the vital forces of French art were becoming less interested in adhering to the precepts of the Académie. A change in taste under the regency of Philippe d’Orléans (r. 1715–23) favoured the so-called petite manière, a form of painting dealing with light-hearted subjects – ‘bergeries’, ‘fêtes galantes’ – against the grande manière. Partly as a conse- quence, the traditional curriculum of the Académie, centred on the study of the human figure to prepare for history painting, was increasingly neglected.205 But things changed radically in 1745 with the appointment of Charles-François- Paul Le Normant de Tournehem – the uncle of Madame de Pompadour – as Surintendant des Bâtiments du Roi, the official protector of the Académie Royale on behalf of the king. He initiated a reform involving the reinvigoration of royal patronage, the re-establishment of Conférences and, more generally, a series of initiatives aimed at re-establishing the leading role of the Académie and of history painting in the French art world.206 The principles of Le Normant’s reform, supported by the influential antiquarian and theorist Comte de Caylus (1692–1765) and visualised by Charles-Joseph Natoire’s beautiful drawing (cat. 16), paved the way for the final affirmation of the grande manière in the second half of the century, despite the continuing clamour of dissenting voices. If Paris progressively became the centre of the modern art world, Rome retained its status as the ‘academy’ of Europe Fig. 91. Benoît-Louis Prévost after Charles-Nicolas Cochin the younger, A Drawing School, plate 1, illustrating the entry ‘Dessein’ from Denis Diderot and Jean Le Ronde D’Alambert, Encyclopédie ..., Recueil de planches, sur les sciences, les art libéraux, et les arts méchaniques ..., Paris, 1763, vol. 20 where a thriving international community of artists congre- gated to round off their education in the physical and spirit- ual presence of the Antique and the great Renaissance masters.207 The crucial role that Rome occupied in 18th- century culture is evoked in the words of the most famous art critic of the age and the champion of classicism Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717–68): ‘Rome’ he wrote in his letters ‘is the high school for all the world, and I also have 208 been purified and tried in it’. Of course, artists and travel- lers had visited the city to study its art for at least two centu- ries, but the 18th century represented Rome’s golden age as the traveller’s ultimate destination. The Grand Tour – as the trip to Italy and to Rome was known – became a social and cultural phenomenon that included artists, antiquarians, collectors and, in general, members of European elites.209 It generated an industry of collectibles that travellers could bring back to their homeland, and an army of original ancient statues and modern copies in all media was exported, alongside portraits and paintings of various kinds that would powerfully recall the time spent by their owners in the eternal city. Among the most fascinating and systematic evocations of Rome are a series of celebrated canvases by Giovanni Paolo Panini (1691–1765), where ‘the best of the best’ of Roman sites and antiquities are gathered together in imaginary galleries. In the foreground of fig. 92, (see also cat. 20, fig. 5) artists are busy drawing and measuring with their compasses a selected choice of canonical classical statues – a reminder of one of the most widespread artistic activities in the city.210 The demands of the Grand Tour ‘industry’ also generated a specific category of ‘marketable drawings’ after the Antique destined to fill the ‘paper museums’ of collectors and anti- quarians all over Europe. They were mainly produced for collectors and travellers from Britain, a nation that became increasingly important in the study of the Antique through- out the century. Among the most famous drawings were those produced in the workshop of the entrepreneurial painter Francesco Ferdinandi Imperiali (1679–1740) in the 1720s by various painters and draughtsmen – among them Giovanni Domenico Campiglia (1692–1775; see cats 19–20) and the young Pompeo Batoni (1708–87; fig. 93).211 Created for the extensive collection of the antiquarian Richard Topham    52 53 Fig. 92. Giovanni Paolo Panini, Roma Antica, 1754–57, oil on canvas, 186 × 227 cm, Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, inv. Nr 3315  (1671–1730), Batoni’s red chalk drawings are among the most extraordinary produced in the 18th century. With their preci- sion, attention to detail, fidelity to the originals and frontal viewpoint, they encapsulate many of the typical qualities of this category of drawings. Their manner continues and devel- ops some of the characteristics already seen in the classicist drawings of Carlo Maratti, of whom Batoni was the natural artistic heir (figs 60–61). Growing interest in the classical past was also supported by massive expansion in antiquarian publications, such as the monumental Antiquité expliquée (Paris, 1719–24) by the Abbé Bernard de Montfaucon, an illustrated encyclopaedia of the Antique for the use of the European educated public. Artists could also benefit from an increase in printed collec- tions of classical statues.212 Paolo Alessandro Maffei and Domenico de Rossi’s Raccolta di Statue Antiche e Moderne (1704) set new standards of accuracy, and it was followed by the various sumptuous volumes devoted to the antiquities of the Grand Ducal collection in Florence and of the Capitoline Museum in Rome (see cats 19–20). With its wealth of patrons, artistic competitions, acade- mies and artists’ studios, many displaying collections of casts, Rome also offered an unrivalled opportunity to learn and practice the arts of disegno.213 The classicist direction given to the Accademia di San Luca by Giovanni Pietro Bellori and Carlo Maratti, was sanctioned by the Pope Clement XI (r. 1700–21) who in 1702 established papal- supported competitions, the celebrated Concorsi Clementini, which thrived especially during the second half of the century (see cat. 20).214 Open to all nationalities, the Concorsi Fig. 93. Pompeo Batoni, Drawing of the Ceres of Villa Casali, c. 1730, red chalk, 469 × 350 mm, Eton College Library, Windsor, inv. Bn. 3, no. 45 were divided into three classes of increasing difficulty, the third and lowest class being reserved for copying, usually after the Antique (see cat. 20, fig. 4). This reinforced, as nowhere else in Europe, the study of classical statuary as the cornerstone of the artist’s education, giving to Italian and foreign artists alike the chance to be rewarded publicly in sumptuous ceremonies held in the Capitoline palaces, even in early stages of their careers. The cosmopolitan atmos- phere of the Accademia di San Luca is reflected in the fact that among its Principals were several foreigners, such as the Frenchman Charles-François Poerson (elected 1714) or the Saxon Anton Raphael Mengs (1771–2) and the Austrian Anton von Maron (1784–6). The Accademia was also open to leading women painters such as Rosalba Carriera (1675–1757) or Elisabeth-Louise Vigée Le Brun (1755–1842), although they were not allowed to attend meetings. Crucial for artistic education was the opening of the Capitoline as a public museum in 1734, thanks to the enlight- ened policy of Pope Clement XII (r. 1730–40).215 One of the main reasons behind the papal decision was specifically to support ‘the practice and advancement of young students of the Liberal Arts’ through the copy of the Antique.216 An evocative vignette inserted in the Musei Capitolini – the first sumptuously illustrated catalogue of the collection – reflects the popularity of its cluttered rooms among artists of all nations (see cat. 20). With the opening in the Capitoline of the Accademia del Nudo in 1754 – specifically devoted to the study of the live model and controlled by the Acca- demia di San Luca – the museum became a sort of ideal academy where art students could copy concurrently from the Antique, Old Masters paintings and the live model.217 Apart from the Capitoline and other traditional places, such as the Belvedere Court or the aristocratic palaces where original antiquities could be studied in situ (cat. 21), the other favoured locus for the study of the Antique in the city was the Académie de France in Rome, which owned the largest collection of plaster casts in Europe. Although the Académie, like its Parisian counterpart, had gone through a troubled period in the early decades of the century – the Prix de Rome was cancelled for lack of funds in 1706–8, 1714 and 1718–20 – its role was revamped and its practices drastically reformed under the directorship of Nicholas Vleughels (1668–1737) between 1725 and 1737.218 The casts were redisplayed in Palazzo Mancini, the Académie’s prestigious new location on the Corso, and integrated for didactic purposes with the study of the live model (see cat. 16). The collection of the Académie served as an example for similar institutions throughout Europe, as its arrangement of many copies side- by-side was considered ideal for the assimilation of classical forms. With the advancing neo-classical aesthetic, their flawless white appearance was even preferred for didactic purposes above the originals: young students could concen- trate on their purified forms, without the signs of time shown by real antiquities. No other nation had as many members in Rome as France, both as pensionnaires of the Académie and permanent residents (see cats 17–18, 21).219 The long directorship of Charles-Joseph Natoire, between 1751 and 1775, greatly devel- oped and expanded the copying of antiquities that had been reinstated by Vleughels. But Natoire also encouraged the creation of ‘classical’ landscapes of the Roman campagna, following the principles established by the great 17th-century French landscapists: Poussin, Dughet and Claude.220 Natoire and his most gifted and prolific pupil, Hubert Robert (1733– 1808), who spent more than a decade in Rome between 1754 and 1765, produced a series of drawings in which copy- ing in the city’s museums and palaces is splendidly evoked (figs 94–97 and cat. 17).221 Focused in particular on the Capitoline collection, Robert’s images are among the most fascinating products of a genre – that of the artist drawing in situ surrounded by classical statues – that, as we know, goes back to the 16th century (see cat. 5 and fig. 44). Robert specialised in evocative views of the remains of ancient Rome, with artists and wanderers lost among their crumbling grandeur. In many ways he recaptured the spirit of wonder and meditation on the ruins of the city expressed by 16th-century Northern artists, such as Maarten van Heemskerck, Herman Posthumus, and Nicolas Beatrizet (fig. 44).222 Boosted by the enthusiasm generated by the unearthing of the remains of Herculaneum and Pompeii in 1738 and 1748, in the second half of the century the ‘true style’ of Neo-classicism firmly established itself, spreading from the international community in Rome to the whole of Europe. Significant figures in the formulation of the new taste were the architect and engraver Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720– 78), whose lyrical etchings and engravings of ancient and modern Rome established – and sometimes created – the image of Rome among a European public, and the art historian Johann Joachim Winckelmann, whose powerful descriptions of classical statues inspired generations of artists and travellers, firmly establishing a new classicist doctrine in European taste.223 More than ever before, artists now aimed not only at assimilating the principles of classical sculpture, but at recreating its formal aspect, as a universal standard of perfection to which any great artist should aspire.   54 55 Fig. 94. Charles-Joseph Natoire, Artists Drawing in the Inner Courtyard of the Capitoline Museum in Rome, 1759, pen and brown ink, brown and grey wash, white highlights over black chalk lines on tinted grey-blue paper, 300 × 450 mm, Louvre, Paris, inv. 3931381 Robert, The Draughtsman at the Capitoline Museum, c. 1763, red chalk, 335 × 450 mm, Musée des Beaux-Arts et d’Archéologie de Valence, inv. D. 80 Fig. 96. Hubert Robert, Antiquities at the Capitoline Museum, c. 1763, red chalk, 345 × 450 mm, Musée des Beaux-Arts et d’Archéologie de Valence, inv. D. 81 Fig. 97. Hubert Robert, The Draughtsman of the Borghese Vase, c. 1765, red chalk, 365 × 290 mm, Musée des Beaux-Arts et d’Archéologie de Valence, inv. D28 As Winckelmann famously stated in his Reflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the Greeks (1755): ‘There is but one way for the moderns to become great, and perhaps unequalled; I mean, by imitating the ancients’ (see Appendix, no. 15). Although in 1775 new regulations for the Académie de France in Rome stressed again the centrality in the curriculum of study of the live model, most pupils now favoured the study of the Antique, an evident sign of the evolution of taste towards a new radical classicism.224 Of all the artists converging on Rome, Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825), was one of the most prolific in making copies after the Antique.225 Leaving Paris in 1775 with the firm resolution of maintaining his independence and avoiding the seductions of the Antique, his arrival in Rome, according to his own words, opened his eyes.226 He started his artistic education again by spending the next five years as a pension- naire obsessively copying from modern masters and classical statues, reliefs and sarcophagi with an attention to detail that recalls Poussin’s approach to antiquity (fig. 98).227 Generally speaking, between the end of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th, artists copying from the Antique concentrated progressively on the outlines of statues rather than on the modelling or the chiaroscuro, as the neo-classical aesthetic valued the purity of the line over any other pictorial element, accentuating the stress on disegno inaugurated by Vasari more than two centuries before. Fig. 98. Jacques-Louis David, Drawing of a Relief with a Distraught Woman with Her Head Thrown Back, 1775/80, pen and black ink with gray wash over black chalk, 196 × 150 mm, National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., Patrons’ Permanent Fund1998.105.1.bbb But coinciding with David’s residence in Rome, other interpretations of the Antique started to emerge within a circle of artists that included Tobias Sergel (1740–1814) and Thomas Banks (1735–1805) and which revolved around the Swiss painter Henry Fuseli (1741–1825).228 The approach of this ‘Poetical circle’ was utterly anti-academic and prefigures some of the principles that would be embraced by Romantic artists a few years later. For them ancient sculptures were embodiments of the emotions of the artists who created them, rather than models of ideal beauty and proportional perfection. Fuseli’s extraordinary drawing, The Artist Moved by the Grandeur of Antique Fragments (cat. 22), which he produced immediately after leaving Rome in 1778, perfectly expresses this more empathic and meditative relation with classical antiquity and its lost grandeur. The attitude of Fuseli and his friends represents a turning point in the relation of the artist with ancient statuary, stressing the creative genius of the artist, his or her individuality and, in general, the subjective values of art: all principles that would contribute to the decline of the classical model in the following century. The Antique in Britain: The eighteenth century Of the various nationalities of artists resident in Rome during the 18th century, the British were among the most numerous. Britain had arrived late on the international artistic stage. Until the late 17th century, several factors, including the theological disapproval of pagan and Catholic imagery of large sections of Protestant society, had made Britain, outside the confined patronage of the Court, a virtual backwater in the visual arts. There was no established national school of painting or sculpture and no academy; painters were tied to the craft guild of the Painter Stainers’ Company; it was illegal to import pictures for sale, and there was no proper art market.229 However, by a century later, things had changed radically: following the nation’s dramatic political liberalisa- tion and economic expansion, Britain had one of the most dynamic national art schools in Europe and a Royal Acad- emy, founded in 1768. Several hundred thousand artworks – including a multitude of original antiquities and copies – had been imported to adorn the urban townhouses and country mansions of the upper classes; and London had become the centre of the international art market, displacing Antwerp, Amsterdam and Paris.230 The new ruling class that had emerged from the Glorious Revolution of 1688 embraced classicism, defined as the ‘Rule of Taste’; at the same time artists started gathering to form private academies where they could study together and where beginners could receive at least some training, based, 56 57  of course, on the continental model, with the copy after the Antique as one of its cornerstones.231 Many British artists also travelled to Rome, where they participated in the Concorsi of the Accademia di San Luca or attended the Accademia del Nudo in the Capitoline and several built national and interna- tional reputations thanks to their success in the city.232 In Rome, furthermore, artists encountered British travellers and potential future patrons. Plaster casts must already have been relatively widely available during the first half of the 18th century.233 Drawings after classical sculptures survive by British artists who did not travel to Italy: among them some fascinating, rough, early studies by Joseph Highmore (1692–1780), possibly from casts in the Great Queen Street Academy – which operated under Sir Godfrey Kneller and Sir James Thornhill between 1711 and 1720 – where he enrolled in 1713 (fig. 99).234 But the insular situation of the British art world, where many painters struggled in vain to create a modern and national school and genre of painting, plus an innate distrust of cultural models imported from the Continent, especially France, meant that copying the Antique encountered strong criticism. The most vociferous opponent was William Hogarth, who, as director of the second St Martin’s Lane Academy from 1735, became increasingly hostile to a curriculum based on the French Académie model and to history painting in general, although, paradoxically, he demonstrated great admiration for a few classical statues in his writings (see Appendix, no. 14).235 His war against fashionable imported taste and didactic principles is well Fig. 99. Joseph Highmore, Study of a Cast of the Borghese Gladiator, Seen from Behind, c. 1713, graphite, ink and watercolour on paper, 354 × 230 mm, Tate, London, inv. T04232 expressed by the celebrated first plate in his Analysis of Beauty (1753), where the Antique, anatomy and the study of proportions evocated in the centre of the composition are surrounded by vignettes illustrating Hogarth’s own aesthetic ideas (fig. 100).236 But despite such discontented voices, fascination with the Antique would only intensify, and educational curricula based on French or Italian models would gradually impose themselves. In 1758, a ‘continental’ enterprise was launched by the 3rd Duke of Richmond with the opening of a gallery attached to his house in Whitehall ‘containing a large collec- tion of original plaister casts from the best antique statues and busts which are now at Rome and Florence’.237 With a curriculum based on the ‘alphabet of drawing’ and under the directorship of the Italian painter Giovanni Battista Cipriani (1727–85) and the sculptor Joseph Wilton (1722–1803) – the first Englishman to receive, in 1750, the prestigious first prize of the Accademia di San Luca – the gallery was set up specifically with the didactic purpose of training youths on the basis of the Antique (fig. 101).238 To compensate for the absence of a national Academy, a semi-formal system developed probably inspired by the joint model of the Accademia di San Luca and the Capitoline, where many British artists had worked.239 Students would have started by copying drawings, prints and parts of the body in the private drawing school set up in 1753 by the entrepreneur and drawing master William Shipley (1714– 1803); they would then progress to the Duke of Richmond’s Academy when they were ready to study three-dimensional forms; finally they would proceed to the study of the live model in the second St Martin Lane’s Academy.240 Competi- tions were set up and the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce, which was founded Fig. 100. William Hogarth, The Analysis of Beauty (Plate 1), 1753, etching and engraving, 387 × 483 mm, private collection, London Fig. 101. John Hamilton Mortimer, Self-portrait with Joseph Wilton, and an Unknown Student Drawing at the Duke of Richmond’s Academy, c. 1760–65, oil on canvas, 76 × 63.5 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 03/970 in 1754, awarded prizes for the best drawings after casts and copies, several of which survive in the institution’s archive (figs 102–03).241 The continental system also reached cities outside London. For example, academies and artists’ societies were set up in Glasgow – in an image of the Foulis Academy of Art and Design founded there in 1752 we see the familiar presence of the Borghese Gladiator (fig. 104) – and in Liverpool (see cat. 24).242 But it was with the foundation of the Royal Academy in London in 1768 that Britain finally had a national institution with a formal curriculum based on continental models (see cats 25–27). Directed by Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–92) – its first president between 1768 and 1792 – the Academy had a teaching structure that centred on the Antique or ‘Plaister’ Academy and the Life Academy, to which students would progress after having practised for years on plaster casts.243 To advance from one stage to another, they had to supply a presentation drawing showing their skills in depicting antique forms: one by the young Turner (1775–1851), who enrolled in the Academy in 1789 as a boy of fourteen, proba- bly belongs to this category (cat. 27a). Several evocative images testify to the study of the growing collection of plaster casts, both in daylight and at night (fig. 105 and cats 25–27),244 while the Life Academy is evoked in the famous painting by Johan Zoffany (1733–1810) which shows the first academicians in discussion around two male models – one glancing at us in the pose of the Spinario – surrounded by familiar plaster casts of classical and Renaissance sculpture (fig. 106). In the background, on the right, an écorché appears among the other casts, to remind us that anatomy lessons were delivered in the Academy by the physician William Hunter (1718–83). By bringing together plaster casts, anatomy and the study of the live model, Zoffany’s image declared unmistakably the Royal Academy’s affinity with continental academic models of teaching. The two female members, Mary Moser (1744–1819) and Angelica Kauffmann (1741–1807) are evoked through their portraits, as their presence in the Life Academy was considered improper.245 A system of discourses, competitions and exhibitions, complemented and completed the teaching curriculum. The official theoretical line of the Academy, fixed in Reynolds’ celebrated Discourses – which were delivered between 1769 and 1790 – was a distillation of the idealistic theory of the previous centuries and included frequent references to the Antique (see Appendix, no. 17). Reynolds’ highest praise was reserved for the Belvedere Torso, which embodied the Fig. 102. William Peters, Study of a Cast of the ‘Borghese Gladiator’, c. 1760, pencil, black and white chalk on coloured paper, 410 × 450 mm, Royal Society of Arts, London, inv. PR/AR/103/14/621 Fig. 103. William Peters, Study of a Cast of the ‘Callipygian Venus’, c. 1760, pencil, black and white chalk on coloured paper, 525 × 355 mm, Royal Society of Arts, London, inv. PR/AR/103/14/669      58 59    Fig. 104. David Allan, The Foulis Academy of Art and Design in Glasgow, c. 1760, engraving, 134 × 168 mm, Mitchell Library, Glasgow, inv. GC ILL 156 Fig. 105. Anonymous British School, The Antique School of the Royal Academy at New Somerset House, c. 1780–83, oil on canvas, 110.8 x 164.1 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 03/846 Fig. 106. Johan Zofany, The Portraits of the Academicians of the Royal Academy, 1771–72, oil on canvas, 100.1 × 147.5 cm, The Royal Collection, Windsor Castle ‘superlative genius’ of ancient art, and this judgement is reflected in the official iconography of the Royal Academy, as the Torso appeared, significantly below the word ‘Study’, on the silver medals awarded in the Academy’s competitions (see cat. 27a).246 The muscular fragment reappears as well in one of the female allegories of Invention, Composition, Design and Colour, commissioned by the Royal Academy from Angelica Kauffman in 1778 to decorate the ceiling of the Academy’s new Council Chamber and to provide a visual manifesto for Reynolds’ theory of art (fig. 107).247 Showing her wit and erudition, Kauffman’s Design is a significant image, as she took the traditional personification of Disegno, depicted as male (the word is masculine in Italian), and transformed it into a woman copying the ideal male body – thereby asserting the right of women to study the Antique and pursue a traditional artistic career. Although increasingly questioned by anatomists and by a growing number of artists, plaster casts were used in the Academy’s curriculum well into the 19th century and beyond. In London the didactic role of original sculptures and casts was also exploited outside official institutions. This was the case of the antiquities assembled by the influential antiquar- ian and collector Charles Townley (1737–1805) at his house on 7 Park Street, which became a sort of alternative academy where artists, amateurs – and also women – could study the statues he had imported from Italy (cat. 28).248 Another private space set up with the specific intention of training young architects in the study of the Antique was the house- academy established by Sir John Soane (1754–1837) at No. 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields (cat. 29). In the labyrinthine spaces of Soane’s interiors, which were constantly enlarged to house Fig. 107. Angelica Kaufman, Design, 1778–80, oil on canvas, 130 × 150.3 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 03/1129 his growing collections, he obsessively juxtaposed paintings, architectural fragments, copies of celebrated classical statues, drawings and objects of all sorts.249 Architecture, sculpture and painting were seamlessly integrated to create a whole and to express the qualities of ‘variety and intricacy’, advocated by Reynolds in his 13th Discourse (1786). This variety was intended to stimulate the imagination of Soane’s students – in 1806 he was appointed the Royal Academy’s Professor of Architecture – and to invite would-be architects not to limit themselves but to train in the three sister arts, as recommended by Vitruvius.250 Academic training continued as students gathered to copy the Antique in the newly built galleries of the British Museum,251 but, as the 19th century progressed, its authority faded dramatically as young artists looked increasingly to the modern world for their inspiration. Dissenting Voices and Seeds of Decline The linear evolution of the classical ideal from the early Renaissance to the beginning of the 19th century was in reality punctuated by several opposing voices. But none of them, with rare exceptions, ever questioned the greatness and authority of classical art. What was at times disputed was the didactic value of copying from the Antique or the slavish dependence on its forms demonstrated by some of the most dogmatic devotees of classicism. We have seen that even in the 16th century, art critics like Vasari, Dolce and Armenini had warned against excessive dependence on classical forms and had advocated an independent and creative approach based on the artist’s own judgement. Rubens and Bernini too had warned against the ‘smell of stone’ in painting or psycho- logical dependence on the model. This balanced approach to the Antique would become a leitmotif among later genera- tions of art theorists. Furthermore, artistic traditions outside Central Italy had always demonstrated a good dose of scepticism towards the dependence of the Florentine and Roman schools on the forms and ideals embodied by classical statuary. One of the most intelligent expressions of this attitude is the famous woodcut by Nicolò Boldrini, almost certainly after an original drawing by Titian, in which Laocoön and his sons are transformed into three monkeys and set in a bucolic landscape (fig. 108).252 In this complex image Titian, one of the greatest creative geniuses of the Renaissance, who him- self had a profound and fruitful relationship with the Antique, was presumably issuing an ironic statement against the faithful artistic imitation of the classical models – a behav- iour similar to that of mimicking monkeys. Fig. 108. Nicolò Boldrini after Titian, Caricature of the Laocoön, c. 1540–50, woodcut, 267 × 403 mm, private collection In the 17th century the pernicious effect on painting from too-slavish imitation of sculptural forms would be summa- rised by the Bolognese art theorist Carlo Cesare Malvasia (1616–93) with the specific neologism ‘statuino’ or ‘statue- like’ (see cats 9 and 15).253 But during the 17th and 18th centuries even the most outspoken critics of the perfection of the Antique, such as the champion of colore versus disegno Roger de Piles, or the defender of a modern and independent artistic language like Hogarth, always demonstrated great admiration for classical statues, especially in terms of their proportions (see Appendix, no. 14).254 According to Bellori, the only great master who showed no interest at all in them was the ultra-naturalist Caravaggio. In a famous passage of his Vite, the champion of classicism reported that Caravaggio expressed ‘disdain for the superb marbles of the ancients and the paintings of Raphael’ because he had decided to take ‘nature alone for the object of his brush’. ‘Thus’, Bellori continues, ‘when he was shown the most famous statues of Phidias and Glycon so that he might base his studies on them, his only response was to gesture toward a crowd of people, indicating that nature had provided him with masters enough’.255 But this anecdote must not be taken too literally, as it certainly contains Bellori’s defence of idealism against the dangers of the unselective imitation of Nature, as repre- sented by Caravaggio and his followers. In fact, although it is not immediately obvious, Caravaggio had a profound under- standing of antique forms, and was deeply conscious of High Renaissance prototypes by Michelangelo (his namesake) and by Raphael. Even if Bellori’s account of Caravaggio had been accurate, such a radical attitude would have to be considered an exception in the long period covered here. In the 18th century criticism of the academic curriculum, in particular that of the Parisian Académie, and the art that it produced, increased. But, once again, two of its sternest    60 61  critics, Diderot and David, had an immense admiration for classical statuary and Diderot’s attack was directed at the codified and repetitive nature of academic practices, in particular the drawing lessons, and at the slavish dependence on the Antique at the expense of Nature of most of his contemporaries, not at classical models as such (see Appen- dix, no. 16).256 Significantly David, who played a crucial role in the closure of the Parisian Académie in 1793 during the French Revolution, would become the hero of the refounded École des Beaux-Arts in the 19th century. More significant criticism came from the students forced to copy casts for sessions on end. The great French painter Jean-Siméon Chardin recalled the frustration that many artists must have felt by being forced to follow the oppressive ‘alphabet of drawing’, as powerfully evoked in his recollections (see also cat. 26): We begin to draw eyes, mouths, noses and ears after patterns, then feet and hands. After having crouched over our portfolios for a long time, we’re placed in front of the Hercules or the Torso, and you’ve never seen such tears as those shed over the Satyr, the Gladiator, the Medici Venus, and the Antinous [...]. Then, after having spent entire days and even nights by lamplight, in front of an immobile, inanimate nature, we’re presented with living nature, and suddenly the work of all preceding years seems reduced to nothing.257 But even the painter of still-lifes and domestic genre scenes Chardin recognised the greatness of the original statues. The appeal of the forms and principles of the Antique was still supreme within an aesthetic system – the humanistic theory of art – that placed the representation of mankind and its most noble behaviours at the centre of the artistic mission, and this was true even for painters, like Chardin, who did not abide by the academic hierarchy of genres. The real beginning of the decline of the authority of the Antique started when these premises began to be challenged by artists who felt at odds with a conception of art that they perceived as increasingly inadequate. Romanticism landed a first, but eventually fatal, blow by challenging the rationalistic, idealistic and supposedly ‘universal’ principles of classicism, in the name of subjective emotion and individ- ual genius. The drastic changes imposed by industrialisation and urbanisation accelerated the process. Opie’s outline of what constitutes art, with which this essay began – a pedantic and codified version of Reynolds’ aesthetic – came to be perceived as increasingly irrelevant by students exposed to urban life in London, Paris or any other modern city, as the words of the painter James Northcote (1746–1831) in 1826 clearly express (see Appendix, no. 19). But if various ‘progres- sive’ avant-gardes rejected more decisively the principles of classicism and academic art, one need only remember that artistic education remained almost everywhere based on the traditional curriculum and that casts were used in academies and art schools until a few decades ago. Some of the greatest modern painters, such as Cézanne, Degas, Van Gogh and Picasso, spent portions of their youth copying plaster casts. And, as the last part of this exhibition shows (cats 32, 34–35), with mass-production casts became ever more available to wider audiences, including women and the bourgeoisie, entering the realm of the private home, often in a reduced format. But an assault on the canonical status of many of the most famous sculptures also came from another ‘academic’ direction, as a new archaeological precision recognised them as more or less accurate Roman copies of Greek originals. If art education remained solidly structured around the traditional curriculum, becoming more and more conserva- tive, the creative forces of European art placed themselves firmly outside the academic system, and principles of ideal imitation would become progressively irrelevant. An image that perfectly visualises the dawn of the new aesthetic era, and an ideal conclusion to our journey, is a painting produced by Thomas Couture as a satire against the Realist fashion of the mid-19th century (fig. 109) – a preparatory study for which is in the Katrin Bellinger collection.258 Couture, who ran a successful studio in Paris, described his own painting in his Methodes et Entretiens d’Atelier published in 1867: I am depicting the interior of a studio of our time; it has nothing in common with the studios of earlier periods, in which you could see fragments of the finest antiquities. At one time, you could see the head of the Laocoön, the feet of the Gladiator, the Venus de Milo, and among the prints covering the walls there were Raphael’s Stanze and Poussin’s Sacraments and landscapes. But thanks to artistic progress, I have very little to show [...] because the gods have changed. The Laocoön has been replaced by a cabbage, the feet of the Gladiator by a candle holder covered with tallow or by a shoe [...]. As for the painter [...], he is a studious artist, fervent, a visionary of the new religion. He copies what? It’s quite simple – a pig’s head – and as a base what does he choose? That’s less simple, the head of Olympian Jupiter.259 Couture’s image, wherein a once revered antique frag- ment of the Olympian god, Jupiter, has been relegated to a mere stool and the object of study is now the severed head of a pig, encapsulates the decline of the Antique in the 19th century and the shift of interest from the ‘ideal’ to the ‘real’. Little did Couture kn0w that in a few decades not only the traditional role of imitation would be subverted, but that the principle of imitation itself – formulated by Alberti four hundred years before – would be questioned in favour of expressive or abstract values, leaving even less space for the previously revered Laocoön, Borghese Gladiator and the Venus de Milo. The Antique continued its life in the 20th century in many, often unexpected ways: quoted, subverted and deconstructed by many avant-garde artists; in the official art of totalitarian regimes; in the ironic and playful, but often shallow game of post-modernism; and even, one may say, in much of the aesthetic of fashion advertisement. The relation of the classical model and ideal with modernity is a story that still needs to be written fully and would be a fascinating subject for another exhibition. Fig. 109. Thomas Couture, La Peinture Réaliste, 1865, oil on panel, 56 × 45 cm, National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin, inv. 4220.NOTES 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Hoare 1809, p. 11. See also Opie 1809, pp. 3–52. The italics are the author’s. On the Renaissance or humanistic theory of art good overviews are: Lee 1967; Schlosser Magnino 1967; Blunt 1978; Williams 1997; Barasch 2000, vol. 1. Anthologies of primary sources in English translation are: Gilbert 1980; Gilmore Holt 1981–82; Harrison, Wood and Gaiger 2000. Alberti 1972. See also M. Kemp’s introduction, in Alberti 1991, pp. 1–29. Although initially circulating only in manuscript form, Alberti’s treatise had an immense impact on artists and successive art theoreticians. The first Latin (Basel, 1540) and Italian (Venice, 1547) editions, and subsequent ones, influenced the earliest academies such as Vasari’s Accademia del Disegno, founded in 1563. The first French translation (Paris 1651) took shape in the environment of the French Académie Royale, founded just three years before (1648). The first English translation (London, 1726) was motivated by the aspirations of English artists towards the foundation of a national academy based on continental standards. Innumerable transla- tions and editions contributed to the diffusion of Albertian principles well into the 19th century. See Alberti 1991, pp. 23–24. Alberti 1972, p. 53 (book 1, chap. 18). Alberti quotes Protagoras, probably through Diogenes Laertius, De Vitis ... philosophorum, 9.51: Alberti 1991, p. 53, note 11. On the sources and structure of De Pictura see especially Spencer 1957 and Wright 1984. Alberti 1972, p. 97 (book 3, chap. 55). Ibid., p. 101 (book 3, chap. 58). Ibid., p. 99 (book 3, chap. 55). Ibid., p. 99 (book 3, chap. 56). Albertis’s sources are Cicero, De inventione, 2.1.1–3 and Pliny, Naturalis Historia, 35.36 (with differences in detail). Alberti 1972, p. 75 (book 2, chap. 36). See also Alberti 1988, p. 156 (book 6, chap. 2) and pp. 301–09 (book 9, chaps 5–6), esp. p. 303. On the theory of proportions see Panofsky 1955; R. Klein’s introduction to ‘De Symmetria’ in Gaurico 1969, pp. 76–91; Gerlach 1990. On Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man see Kemp 2006, pp. 71–136; Salvi 2012, with previous bibliography. Other ancient surviving sources on the Canonical ideal are Cicero, Brutus, esp. 69–70, 296; Pliny, Naturalis Historia, 34.55; Galen’s treatises, esp. De 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 Placitis Hippocratis et Platonis, 5, and De Temperamentis, 1.9; Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, esp. 5.12.21 and 12.10.3-9; Vitruvius’ De Architectura, 3.1. For Alberti’s concept of historia, see Alberti 1972, pp. 77–83 (chaps 39–42). The clearest definition of history painting according to the academies of the 17th and 18th centuries is provided by Félibien 1668, Preface (not paginated). The Codex Coburgensis is preserved in the Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg: see Wrede and Harprath 1986; Davis 1989. Cassiano dal Pozzo’s Paper Museum is divided between several collections but mainly concen- trated in the Royal Collection, Windsor Castle and the British Museum, London: see Herklotz 1999; Claridge and Dodero forthcoming. Macandrew 1978; Connor Bulman 2006; Windsor 2013. London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 257–69; Bignamini and Hornsby 2010. General introductions to drawing techniques in the Renaissance and beyond are Joannides 1983, pp. 11–31; Bambach 1999, esp. pp. 33–80; Ames Lewis 2000a; Petherbridge 2010; London and Florence 2010–11. See Ames-Lewis 2000b, pp. 36–37. Recent general introductions to drawing after the Antique and the training of young artists in the 15th century include Rome 1988a; Ames-Lewis 2000b, pp. 35–60, 109–40; Jestaz 2000–01; Chapman 2010–11, pp. 46–60. More focused on the 16th century is Barkan 1999. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 252–55, no. 55 (Marcus Aurelius), 308–10, no. 78 (Spinario), 167–69, no. 16 (Camillus), 136–41, no. 3 (Horse Tamers); Buddensieg 1983; Nesselrath 1988; Rome 1988a, pp. 232–38 (Marcus Aurelius); Paris 2000–01, pp. 200–25 and pp. 417–20, nos 221–24 (Spinario); Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 223–25, no. 176 (Marcus Aurelius), 254–56, no. 203 (Spinario), 192–93, no. 192 (Camillus), 172–75, no. 125 (Horse Tamers). Dacos 1969; Morel 1997; Miller 1999. Alberti calls the relief of a sarcophagus in Rome representing the death of Meleager a historia, specifically praising it as a source for the compositio: see Alberti 1972, pp. 74–75 (chap. 37). Cavallaro 1988b; Cavallaro 1988c; Scalabroni 1988. Cavallaro 1988b; Scalabroni 1988; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, passim. On Brunelleschi and Donatello’s Roman trip see the famous account by Antonio di Giannozzo Manetti: Manetti 1970, pp. 53–57. See also Vasari’s  anecdote of Donatello producing a pen drawing after a sarcophagus that he saw in Cortona on his way back from Rome to Florence: Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 3, pp. 151–52. See also Micheli 1983, p. 93. On the drawings after the Antique produced in the workshops of Gentile of Pisanello see: Degenhart and Schmitt 1960; Cavallaro 1988a; Degenhart and Schmitt 1996, pp. 81–117; Paris, 1996, Appendix IX, ‘Le “Carnet de voyage dessins sur parchemin”’, pp. 465–67; Cavallaro 2005. 26 Rome 1988a, pp. 95–96, no. 24 (A. Cavallaro); Paris 1996, pp. 180–81, no. 100. 27 See Rome 1988a, pp. 158–59, no. 51, see also pp. 155–56, no. 49; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 87, no. 38. 28 Wegner 1966, pp. 88–89, no. 228; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 86–87, no. 38. 29 Weiss 1969. 30 London and New York 1992, pp. 445–48, no. 145 (D. Ekserdjian); Paris 2008–09b, pp. 378–79, no. 159 (C. Elam); Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 207, no. 158iii (158c). 31 Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 207–08, no. 158iii. 32 Alberti 1972, pp. 80–81 (chap. 41). 33 See Lightbown 1986, pp. 140–53, 424–33; Elam 2008–09. 34 For the drawing after the Marcus Aurelius see Rome 1988a, pp. 232–33, no. 80 (A. Nesselrath); Rome 2005, p. 263, fig. II.10.7, pp. 267–68, no. II.10.7 (A. Nesselrath). For the drawing after the Horse Tamers see Rome 1988a, pp. 211–12, no. 61 (A. Nesselrath); Paris 1996, pp. 153–54, no. 84; Rome 2005, p. 334, fig. III.8.1, pp. 338–39, no. III.8.1 (A. Cavallaro). 35 On the fame of their nudity see the contemporary comments by Angelo Decembrio in his De Politia litteraria, written in the central decades of the 15th century: Baxandall 1963, p. 312. For other mentions in contemporary written sources see Nesselrath 1988, pp. 196–97. 36 Nesselrath 1988, p. 197, fig. 61; Cole Ahl 1996, p. 6, pl. 1; Ames-Lewis 2000b, p. 120, fig. 57; Cavallaro 2005, p. 330; London and Florence 2010–11, pp. 118–19, no. 14 (M.M. Rook). On Gozzoli and the Antique see Pasti 1988. 37 For a notable exception see Gozzoli’s faithful drawing of a fragmentary classical Venus: Pasti 1988, p. 137, fig. 38; Ames-Lewis 2000b, p. 121, fig. 59. 38 For a general overview see Weiss 1969, pp. 180–202; Ames-Lewis 2000b, pp. 52–60, 79–85. 39 Gaurico 1969, pp. 62–63; Gaurico 1999, pp. 142–43, providing a less accurate translation. 40 Cennini 1933, vol. 2, pp. 123–31. 41 Fiocco 1958–59; Lightbown 1986, p. 18; Favaretto 1999. On Ghiberti’s col- lection of casts see Ames-Lewis 2000b, p. 81, with previous bibliography. 42 Ames-Lewis 1995. 43 Fusco 1982; Ames-Lewis 2000b, pp. 52–55. 44 Ragghianti and Dalli Regoli 1975; Ames-Lewis 2000a, pp. 91–123; Forlani- Tempesti 1994. 45 Ames-Lewis 1995, pp. 394, 397, fig. 10. For the practice see Schwartz 2000–01. 46 For an overview see Nesselrath 1984–86. Lists of sketchbooks are provided in Nesselrath 1993, pp. 225–48 and Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 473–96. 47 The first printed edition of Biondo’s Roma Instaurata was published in Rome in 1471: Weiss 1969, esp. pp. 59–104. 48 On Michelangelo’s and Raphael’s attitude towards the Antique the bibliogra- phy is vast. For Michelangelo good surveys are Agosti and Farinella 1987 (pp. 12–13, note 3, with the most exhaustive bibliography to date); Florence 1987; Haarlem and London 2005–06, pp. 58–68; Parisi Presicce 2014. On Raphael: Becatti 1968; Jones and Penny 1983, pp. 175–210; Burns 1984 (p. 399, footnote 2, with exhaustive bibliography to date); Nesselrath 1984; Dacos 1986. 49 Clark 1969b; Marani 2003–04; Marani 2007. 50 Leonardo 1956, vol. 1, p. 51, no. 77. 51 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 45, no. 59, p. 64, no. 112. 52 Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 6, p. 21. On other sources on the para- gone between Michelangelo and the ancients see Florence 1987, pp. 107–08. 53 Elam 1992; Florence 1992; Joannides 1993; Baldini 1999–2000; Paolucci 2014. 54 Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 6, pp. 9–12; Condivi 1998, pp. 10–11; Condivi 1999, p. 10. 55 Knab, Mitsch and Oberhuber 1984, pp. 51–54; Ferrino Padgen 2000. 56 See Franzoni 1984–86; Cavallaro 2007; Christians 2010. A list of collec- tions with essential bibliography is providedalso in Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 497–507. 57 For the Nile and the Tiber see Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 112–13, no. 65. 58 The Apollo Belvedere was discovered in 1489, the Laocoön in 1506, the Cleopatra in the first decade of the 16th century, the Hercules Commodus in 1507, the Tiber in 1512 and Nile probably in 1513: see Haskell and Penny 1981, respec- tively pp. 148–51, no. 8, pp. 243–47, no. 52, pp. 184–87, no. 24, pp. 188–89, no. 25, pp. 310–11, no. 79, pp. 272–73, no. 65; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, respectively pp. 76–77, no. 28, pp. 164–68, no. 122, pp. 125–26, no. 79, pp. 180–81, no. 131, pp. 113–14, no. 66, pp. 114–15, no. 67. The discovery date of the Venus Felix is not known, but it was placed in the Belvedere Courtyard in 1509: Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 323–25, no. 87; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 66–67, no. 16. For the Belvedere Courtyard see Brummer 1970; Winner, Andreae and Pietrangeli 1998. The first mention of the Belvedere Antinous-Hermes is in 1527 and it was placed in the Belvedere Courtyard by 1545; the Belvedere Torso is recorded from 1432 and by the middle of the 16th century it was displayed in the Courtyard: see Haskell and Penny 1981, respectively pp. 141–43, no. 4 and pp. 311–14, no. 80; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, respectively p. 62, no. 10 and pp. 181–84, no. 132. The first mention of Michelangelo’s praise of the Torso is in Aldrovandi 1556, p. 121. For a selection of other primary sources see Barocchi 1962, vol. 4, pp. 2100–03; Agosti and Farinella 1987, pp. 43–44. For the Torso as ‘School of Michelangelo’ see Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 313. Schwinn 1973, pp. 24–37. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 6, p. 108. Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 126, no. 79. Joannides 1983, p. 192, no. 240r; Knab, Mitsch and Oberhuber 1984, p. 615, no. 375. In this drawing Raphael also references Michelangelo’s Sistine Adam. Golzio 1971, pp. 38–40, 72–73; Nesselrath 1984. The original Italian is in Camesasca 1994, pp. 257–322 (esp. pp. 290–98); Shearman 2003, pp. 500–45. For an English translation, see Holt 1981–86, vol. 1, pp. 289–96. See also Frommel, Ray and Tafuri 1984, p. 437, no. 3.5.1. (H. Burns and H. Nesselrath). Nesselrath 1982, p. 357, fig. 37; Frommel, Ray and Tafuri 1984, p. 422, no. 3.2.10 (A. Nesselrath); Jaffé 1994, p. 187, no. 315 617*. For the few other surviving Raphael drawings after Roman antiquities see Frommel, Ray and Tafuri 1984, p. 438, no. 3.5.3 (A. Nesselrath). Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 172–75, no. 125. This consideration is already in Jones and Penny 1983, p. 205. The practice of measuring classical statues would become widespread from the 17th century onwards: see pp. 46–49 in the present volume. A good selection is in Mantua and Vienna 1999. Check also Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 473–96. Oberhuber 1978; Mantua and Vienna 1999; Viljoen 2001; Pon 2004. Boissard 1597–1602, vol. 1, pp. 12–13, translated by Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 165. According to a letter by Francesco da Sangallo of 1567, Michel- angelo and Giuliano da Sangallo were sent by the Pope to witness and comment upon the unearthing of the Laocoön on the Esquiline in 1506: Fea 1790–1836, vol. 1, pp. cccxxix–cccxxxi, letter XVI. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 6, p. 109. An opinion then appropri- ated by Vasari himself in the introduction to his chapter on Sculpture: Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, pp. 84–86. This was repeated later by many authors see for instance Lomazzo 1584, p. 332, reprinted in Lomazzo 1973–74, vol. 2, p. 288. Wilde 1953, pp. 79–80, nos 43–44, pls lxx–lxxi; Agosti and Farinella 1987, pp. 33–36, figs 11–14; Tolnay 1975–80, vol. 2, pp. 51–53, nos 230–34; Florence 2002, pp. 150–51, nos 2–5 (P. Joannides); Haarlem and London 2005–06, pp. 64–66. Wilde 1953, pp. 9–10, no. 4, pl. vi; Tolnay 1975–80, vol. 1, pp. 58–59, no. 48; Haarlem and London 2005–06, pp. 88–89, 285, no. 13. On the restoration of classical statues, see Rossi Pinelli 1984–86; Howard 1990; Pasquier 2000–01a. Specifically on Montorsoli’s restorations: Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 148, 246; Vetter 1995; Nesselrath 1998b; Winner 1998; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 77, 165. See Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 229–32, no. 46; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1. On the Wrestlers see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 337–39, no. 94; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 62–63, no. 50 (71). For the Niobe Group see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 274–79, no. 66; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 316–26, nos 596 (1251) (1–14). On Guido Reni using the Niobe Group as a source for the expression of many of his figures see Bellori 1976, p. 529. See Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 16–22. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 16–22. On Lafréry see Chicago 2007–08. On Cavalieri see Pizzimano 2001. See Lee 1967, esp. pp. 3–16; Blunt 1978, esp. pp. 137–59; Barasch 2000, vol. 1, pp. 203–309. Armenini 1587, pp. 136–37 (book 2, chap. 11). Lee 1967, p. 7, note 23. See also Weinberg 1961, pp. 361–423. The first commentary appeared only in 1548 and the first Italian translation in 1549. Horace, Ars Poetica, 361. See Lee 1967, esp. pp. 3–9. Aristotle, Poetics, see esp. 9; 15.11; 25.1–2; 25.26–28. Lomazzo 1590, see esp. chap. XXVI; Zuccaro 1607. On this see Lee 1967, pp. 13–14; Panofsky 1968, esp. pp. 85–99; Blunt 1978, pp. 137–59. Also in Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, p. 110. The definition of Disegno was added only to the second edition of the Lives in 1568. On Vasari and the Antique see Barocchi 1958; Cristofani 1985. Puttfarken 1991; Rosand 1997, pp. 10–24. Walters 2014, p. 57. Whitaker 1997. See for instance Vasari’s comments in the lives of Andrea Mantegna and Battista Franco: Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, respectively vol. 3, pp. 549–50 and vol 5, pp. 459–61. Armenini 1587, see esp. pp. 59–60 (book I, chap. 8), pp. 86–89 (book II, chap. 3). See also Lomazzo’s treatment of the Antique: Lomazzo 1584, p. 481 (book VI, chap. 64). General surveys about the development of European academies include Pevsner 1940; Goldstein 1996. See also Levy 1984; Olmstead Tonelli 1984; Boschloo 1989. On images of academies see Kutschera-Woborsky 1919; Pevsner 1940, passim; Roman 1984. On the Florentine Accademia del Disegno see Pevsner 1940, pp. 42–55; Goldstein 1975; Dempsey 1980; Wa ́zbin ́ski 1987; Barzman 1989; Barzman 2000. On the Carracci Academy see Dempsey 1980; Goldstein 1988, esp. pp. 49– 88; Dempsey 1989; Feigenbaum 1993; Robertson 2009–10. On the Accademia di San Luca the bibliography is vast. On its early history see Pevsner 1940, pp. 55–66; Pietrangeli 1974; Lukehart 2009. On the teaching in the first decades of the Accademia see Roccasecca 2009. On Alberti’s print see Roccasecca 2009, p. 133. Olmstead Tonelli 1984. Alberti 1604, esp. pp. 2–15. Jack Ward 1972, pp. 17–18; Olmstead Tonelli 1984, pp. 96–97. On the donation of the Salvioni collection of casts in 1598 see Missirini 1823, p. 73. On the inventories see Lukehart 2009, Appendix 7, esp. pp. 368–69, 371–73, 379–80. On the drawing see Bora 1976, p. 125, no. 126. Malvasia 1678, vol. 1, p. 378; Goldstein 1988, esp. pp. 49–50. On this see Meder 1978, vol. 1, pp. 217–95; Amornpichetkul 1984; Bleeke- Byrne 1984; Roman 1984, p. 91; Bolten 1985, p. 243. Alberti 1972, p. 97 (book 3, chap. 55). Alberti 1972, p. 75 (book 2, chap. 36). Cellini 1731, pp. 156–59. Leonardo 1956, vol. 1, p. 45, chaps 59–61, and esp. p. 64, chap. 112; Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, p. 112; Armenini 1587, pp. 51–59, esp. p. 57 (book 1, chap. 7); See Bleeke-Byrne 1984. Armenini 1587, see esp. p. 86 (book 2, chap. 3). The necessity of exercising one’s memory recurs in Alberti (Alberti 1972, p. 99, book 3, chap. 55); Leonardo (Leonardo 1956, vol. 1, p. 47, chaps 65–66); Vasari (Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, pp. 114–15); Cellini (Cellini 1731, p. 157); and Armenini (Armenini 1587, p. 53, book 1, chap. 7). Gombrich 1960; Rosand 1970; Maugeri 1982; Amornpichetkul 1984; Bolten 1985. On Dürer in Italy see Rome 2007. Dacos 1995; Meijer 1995; Dacos 1997; Dacos 2001. Van Mander 1994-99, vol. 1, pp. 342–45 (fols 271r–v). See Meijer 1995, p. 50, note 18. Dacos 1995, pp. 19–20; Dacos 2001, pp. 23–34. Hülsen and Egger 1913–16; Veldman 1977; Dacos 2001, pp. 35–44; Bartsch 2012; Christian 2012; Veldman 2012. On Beatrizet see Bury 1996; on Lafréry see Chicago 2007–08; on Dupérac see Lurin 2009. For the print attributed to Beatrizet see Paris 2000–01, pp. 378–79, no. 184 (C. Scailliérez). On the Marforio see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 258–59, no. 57; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 110–11, no. 64. ‘I disagi e li affanni tutti del mondo non stima un quattrino’. On the so-called Haarlem Academy see Van Thiel 1999, pp. 59–90. Veldman 2012, p. 21, with previous bibliography. Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, pp. 89–94, pp. 319–46, nos. 200–38, 245–48. 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 On Rubens in Rome and his approach to the Antique see esp. Stechow 1968; Jaffé 1977, pp. 79–84; Muller 1982; Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 41–81; Muller 2004, pp. 18–28; London 2005–06, pp. 88–111. Jaffé 1977, p. 79; Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 42, note 6. Copies of Lafréry’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae and De Cavalieri’s Antiquarum statuarum urbis Romae, are listed in Rubens’ son Albert’s library: Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 42, note 6. It is most likely that they were originally in Peter Paul’s possession, although we do not know whether he acquired them before, during or after his Italian years. See Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 69–74. Armenini 1587, see esp. pp. 59–60 (book I, chap. 8), pp. 86–89 (book II, chap. 3). On the ultimate Aristotelian character of this principle see Muller 1982. See also Cody 2013. On Rubens’ handwritten Notebook, lost in a fire in Paris in 1720, but known through several transcriptions and partial publications see Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, esp. p. 71, note 11 and pp. 77–78, note 44, with previous bibliography; Jaffé and Bradley 2005–06; Jaffé 2010. On the drawing after the Torso see Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 70–71, vol. 2, pp. 56–59, nos 37–39; New York 2005a, pp. 140–44, no. 34. On the Laocoön drawings see: Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 2, p. 98, no. 81, vol. 3, fig. 153 (father), vol. 2, pp. 103–04, no. 93, vol. 3, fig. 164 (son); London 2005– 06, pp. 90–91, nos 24 (son), 25 (father); Bora 2013. The question of whether he copied the original Laocoön in Rome, or a cast derived from it, possibly Federico Borromeo’s in Milan, remains open: see Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 48; London 2005–06, pp. 90–91, no. 25. Muller 2004, p. 22; Edinburgh 2002, pp. 43–46, nos 8–14; Wood 2011, vol. 1, pp. 129–241; Cody 2013. Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 80–81. Muller 2004, p. 22. On Rubens’ collection see Antwerp 2004, with previous bibliography. Jaffé 1977, p. 80; Healy 2004. On the Bamboccianti see Briganti, Trezzani and Laureati 1983; Cologne and Utrecht 1991–92; Rome and Paris 2014–15. On the fierce criticism by artists see Malvasia 1678, vol. 2, pp. 267 (Sacchi), 268–69 (Albani); Cesareo 1892, vol. 1, pp. 223–55 (Rosa); Castiglione 2014–15. On Bellori’s condemna- tion see Bellori 1976, p. 16. On Goubau see Briganti, Trezzani and Laureati 1983, pp. 295–99. On the painting see Paris 2000–01, pp. 382–83, no. 188 (J. Foucart); Cappel- letti 2014–15, pp. 48–50. Vlieghe 1979. On other Dutch artists copying the Antique in Rome in the 17th century see Van Gelder and Jost 1985, pp. 35–36. Already at the beginning of the 17th century Karel Van Mander explicitly laments the poor state of the visual arts in the Netherlands, blaming the ‘shameful laws and narrow rules’ by which in nearly all cities save Rome ‘the noble art of painting has been turned into a guild’: Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 264–65 (fol. 251v). See also Bleeke-Byrne 1984. On the Antwerp Academy see Pevsner 1940, pp. 126–29; Van Looij 1989. See Emmens 1968, pp. 154–59; Bleeke-Byrne 1984, pp. 30, 38, notes 76–77. Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 448–49 (fol. 297v); Bolten 1985, p. 248. De Klerk 1989. Bolten 1985, pp. 248–50. For Bisschop’s school see Van Gelder 1972, p. 11. Bolten 1985. Bolten 1985, pp. 119, 131, 133–34, 141, 143, 153, 157, 188–207, 243–56; Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 79. Bolten 1985, pp. 159–60. Also many Dutch theoretical treatises on the art of painting and drawing insisted on the human form and on the stages of the learning process. For instance William Goeree’s influential Inleydinge tot de al-gemeene Teycken-Konst, Middelburgh, 1668, revised and reprinted many times, lays out the five stages of artistic training: copy of prints, drawings, paintings, plaster casts and the life model (pp. 31–37). See Bleeke- Byrne 1984, p. 34 and note 45; De Klerk 1989, p. 284. On Perrier’s diffusion in the Netherlands see Bolten 1985, pp. 257–58; Van Gelder and Jost 1985, pp. 51–52; Van der Meulen 1994–95, p. 76. For Van Haarlem’s 1639 inventory see Van Thiel 1965, pp. 123, 128; Van Thiel 1999, p. 84, and Appendix II, pp. 254–255, 257, 270–71, 273. For van Balen’s 1635 and 1656 inventories, see Duverger 1984–2009, vol. 4, pp. 200–11. For Rembrandt’s 1656 bankruptcy inventory see Strauss and Van der Meulen 1979, pp. 349–88. For Rembrandt’s use of statues, casts and models, see Gyllenhaal 2008. See also cat. 23 in this catalogue, note 18. For the use of plaster casts in 17th- and 18th-century artists’ studios in Antwerp and Brussels, see Lock 2010. Also collections of original antiquities were formed in the 17th century, especially in the Southern Netherlands and in Antwerp: Van Gelder and Jost 1985, pp. 35–50, esp. p. 35, note 65. 64 65  151 For a copy in reverse, dated 1639, see Bolten 1985, pp. 133–34, and p. 138, fig.a. 152 On Jan ter Boch’s painting (fig. 49) see Paris 2000–01, pp. 401–02, no. 207 (J. Foucart). On Van Oost the Elder’s painting (fig. 50), see Antwerp 2008, p. 77, no. 20 (S. Janssens). On Vaillant’s painting (fig. 51), see MacLaren 1991, vol. 1, p. 440, note 8; Amsterdam 1997, p. 349, fig. 2. On the painting attrib- uted to Sweert (fig. 52) see Waddingham 1976–77; Amsterdam 1997, pp. 348–52, under no. 74; Paris 2000–01, pp. 400–01, no. 206 (J. Foucart); Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, pp. 134–36, no. 40 (J. Clifton), where the painting is attributed to Wallerant Vaillant. On Balthasar Van den Bossche’s paintings of artists’ workshops see Mai 1987–88; Paris 2000–01, pp. 402–03, no. 208 (J.-R. Gaborit and J.-P. Cuzin); Lock 2010. 153 For the Borghese Gladiator see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 221–24, no. 43; Paris 2000–01, no. 1, pp. 150–51 (L. Laugier); Pasquier 2000–01c. For the Dying Gladiator see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 224–27, no. 44; Mattei 1987; La Rocca and Parisi Presicce 2010, pp. 428–35. For the Venus de’ Medici, see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 325–28, no. 88; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 74–75, no. 64 (137). 154 See Haskell and Penny 1981 esp. pp. 23–30. On the Medici collection of classical sculptures see Cecchi and Gaspari 2009. On the Farnese’s see Gasparri 2007. On the Borghese’s: Rome 2011–12; on the Ludovisi’s: Rome 1992–93; on the Giustiniani’s Rome 2001–02. 155 Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 16–22; Coquery 2000; Picozzi 2000. 156 Picozzi 2000; Laveissière 2011; Di Cosmo 2013; Fatticcioni 2013. 157 Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 21; Goldstein 1996, p. 144; Coquery 2000, pp. 43–44. On Perrier’s success in the Netherlands see Bolten 1985, pp. 257–58; Van Gelder and Jost 1985, pp. 51–52; Van der Meulen 1994–95, p. 76. 158 Boyer 2000; Montanari 2000; Rome 2000a; Bonfait 2002; Bayard 2010; Bayard and Fumagalli 2011. 159 Bertolotti 1886; Bousquet 1980; Coquery 2000. 160 Herklotz 1999; see also the ongoing catalogue raisonné of Cassiano dal Pozzo’s Paper Museum: http://warburg.sas.ac.uk/research/projects/ cassiano 161 For the text of Bellori’s Idea see Bellori 1976, pp. 13–25, and for an English translation see Bellori 2005, pp. 55–65. On it see Mahon 1947, esp. pp. 109– 54, pp. 242–43; Panofsky 1968, pp. 103–11; Bellori 1976, esp. XXIX–XL; Barasch 2000, vol. 1, pp. 315–22; Cropper 2000. 162 Bellori 1976, p. 299. 163 See Barasch 2000, vol. 1, pp. 310-72. 164 Bellori mentions many of these artists devoting time and efforts in the copying of celebrated classical statuary, such as the Farnese Hercules, the Belvedere Torso, the Niobe Group, the Borghese Gladiator: Bellori 1976, pp. 75, 90–91 (Annibale Carracci), pp. 529–30 (Guido Reni), p. 625 (Carlo Maratti). For Rubens, Bernini and Cortona see Bellori 1976, p. XXXI. For Annibale Carracci and the Antique see also Weston-Lewis 1992. For his drawing (fig. 58) see Washington D.C. 1999–2000, p. 177, no. 50 (G. Feigenbaum). For Poussin and the Antique the literature is vast: see Bull 1997; Bayard and Fumagalli 2011; Henry 2011, with previous literature. For his drawing (fig. 59) see Rosenberg and Prat 1994, vol. 1, pp. 312–13, no. 161. For Maratti’s drawings (figs 60–61) see Blunt and Cooke 1960, p. 63, nos 378, 380. On Pietro da Cortona and the Antique see Fusconi 1997–98. Some of his drawings after the Antique were commissioned for the Paper Museum of Cassiano dal Pozzo. On the drawing (fig. 62) see Rome 1997–98, p. 71, no. 2.4 (G. Fusconi). 165 Wittkower 1963; Princeton, Cleveland and elsewhere 1981–82, pp. 159–73; New York 2012–13, pp. 234–38, no. 25. 166 Pevsner 1940, pp. 82–114; Goldstein 1996, pp. 40–45. On the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture in Paris see Vitet 1861; Montaiglon 1875–92; Hargove 1990; Tours and Toulouse 2000; Michel 2012. On the Académie de France in Rome see Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912; Lapauze 1924; Henry 2010–11; Coquery 2013, pp. 173–219, with previous bibliography. 167 Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 1, p. 346. 168 Women were admitted to the Académie, then named École des Beaux- Arts, only in 1896 and allowed to enrol for the Prix de Rome in 1903: Goldstein 1996, p. 61. 169 Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 1, pp. 315–17. 170 Félibien 1668, Preface (not paginated). 171 Le Brun 1698. On it see Montagu 1994. 172 Félibien 1668, pp. 28–40; Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, vol. 1.1, pp. 127–35. 173 Félibien 1668, Preface (not paginated). 174 Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, see esp. vols 1-2, passim. 175 Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, vol. 1.1, pp. 316–22, 374–77; vol. 1.2, pp. 667–71; vol. 2.2, p. 583. 176 Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, vol. 1.1, pp. 374–77. See also Goldstein 1996, p. 150. 177 Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 1, pp. 129–32. 178 Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 1, p. 293 (for a Venus donated by Chantelou in 1665), pp. 300, 330–31 (for the cast of the Farnese Hercules ordered in 1666 and delivered in 1668), p. 366 (for several casts after ancient reliefs and statues copied for the Académie from the Royal collection on the order of Colbert). 179 See Foster 1998; Schnapper 2000 and Macsotay 2010. 180 Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 1, p. 36. 181 Goldstein 1978, esp. pp. 2–5. 182 Golzio 1935. 183 Boyer 1950, p. 117; Goldstein 1970; Bousquet 1980, pp. 110–11; Goldstein 1996, pp. 45–46. 184 Mahon 1947, pp. 188–89. 185 Missirini 1823, pp. 145–46 (chap. XCI); Mahon 1947, p. 189; Goldstein 1996, p. 46. 186 Teyssèdre 1965; Puttfarken 1985; Montagu 1996; Arras and Épinal 2004. 187 Armenini 1587, pp. 93–99, esp. p. 96 (book 2, chap. 5). 188 See esp. Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 69–75; Muller 2004, esp. pp. 18–21; Jaffé and Bradley 2005–06; Jaffé 2010. For the drawing (fig. 67) see Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 71–72, notes 11, 14, 16 with previous literature. Rubens applied this method to several other statues. 189 Bellori 1976, pp. 451, 473–77, ; Bellori 2005, p. 311, and for the plates pp. 334–37. See Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 403–04, no. 9 (V. Krahn); Henry 2011; Coquery 2013, p. 361, nos G. 179–80. 190 The surviving 39 drawings are today preserved in an ‘Album de dessins et mesures de statues romaines...’ at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts in Paris: Coquery 2000, pp. 48–50; Paris 2000–01, pp. 389–90, no. 195; Coquery 2013, pp. 37–40; Stanic 2013. For the three drawings repro- duced here see Coquery 2013, p. 281, no. D114 (Laocoön), p. 283, no. D130 (Belvedere Antinous), p. 283, no. D131 (Venus de’Medici). 191 Bosse 1656. See the Conférences by Sébastien Bourdon, Charles Le Brun, Henri Testelin, Michel Anguier, etc.: Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, vol. 1.1, esp. pp. 161–66 (Charles Le Brun), 316–33 (Charles Le Brun), 332–35 (Michel Anguier), 374–77 (Sébastien Bourdon); vol. 1.2, pp. 636–38 (Michel Anguier), 667–71 (Henry Testelin). 192 On De Wit’s Teekenboek (fig. 74) see Bolten 1985, pp. 82–86. On Nollekens’ drawing (fig. 75) see Blayney Brown 1982, p. 484, no. 1460; Nottingham and London 1991, pp. 58–59, no. 31 (Venus de’ Medici); Lyon 1998–99, pp. 123–24, no. 101. On Volpato’s and Morghen’s print annotated by Canova (fig. 76) see Rome 2008, p. 144, no. 25, with previous bibliography. 193 On the study of anatomy in the Renaissance and the 17th century see Schultz 1985; Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97; London, Warwick and elsewhere 1997–98; and the excellent essays in Paris 2008– 09a, esp. Carlino 2008–09. On the combination of the study of anatomy and of the Antique between the 17th and 19th centuries see esp. Schwartz 2008–09. 194 Paris 2000–01, pp. 391–92, no. 197; Coquery 2013, pp. 195–200; Paris 2008–09a, pp. 222–23, no. 79. 195 For the skeletons (figs 77–78) and anatomical figures (figs 79–80) of the Laocoön and Borghese Gladiator see Coquery 2013, respectively p. 384, no. G.416, p. 383, no. G.413, p. 381, no. G.400, p. 382, no. G.408. A series of Conférences at the Académie Royale in Paris had been devoted to the Antique and anatomy: see esp. Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, vol. 1.2, pp. 581–93 (Pierre Monnier, ‘Sur les muscles du Laocoon’, 2 May 1676). 196 See Paris 2000–01, pp. 393–94, no. 199, with previous bibliography; Paris 2008–09a, pp. 226–27, no. 85. 197 See Paris 2000–01, pp. 392–93, no. 198, with previous bibliography; Paris 2008–09a, pp. 226–27, no. 82. Sauvage also made écorchés of other classical prototypes. 198 The original cast appears to have been destroyed. The écorché preserved at the Royal Academy of Arts is a 19th-century copy by William Pink: see Postle 2004, esp. pp. 58–59, with previous bibliography. 199 See Jordan and Weston 2002, p. 97, fig. 4.7. 200 For the practice see Paris 2000–01, pp. 415–29; Schwartz 2008–09; London 2013–14, pp. 62–69. On Paillett’s drawing (fig. 87) see London 2013–14, p. 21, pl. 1, p. 96, no. 1. For Bottani’s (fig. 88) see Philadelphia 1980– 81, pp. 59–60, no. 47. For David’s painting (fig. 89) see Rome 1981–82, pp. 101–02, no. 25. 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 Pevsner 1940, pp. 140–41. On the diffusion of academies in the 18th century see Boschloo 1989, passim. A good recent overview is Brook 2010–11. Diderot’s remark appeared in an article in the Correspondance littéraire, philos- ophique et critique, no. 13, 1763: ‘Sur Bouchardon et la sculpture’, p. 45. See an English translation in Diderot 2011, p. 19. On the diffusion of casts in the 18th century see Haskell and Penny 1981, esp. pp. 79–91, chap. 11; Rossi Pinelli 1984; Rossi Pinelli 1988; Pucci 2000a; Frederiksen and Marchand 2010. London 2013–14, pp. 36, 46–47. See the explanatory text for the plate: Diderot and D’Alembert 1762–72, vol. 20, entry ‘Dessein’, pp. 1–20, esp. pp. 2–5. See also Michel 1987, pp. 284, 288. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Toledo, Chicago and elsewhere 1975–76; Plax 2000. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Schoneveld-Van Stoltz 1989, pp. 216–28, with previ- ous bibliography. Excellent introductions to the art world of Rome in the 18th century are the essay contained in Philadelphia and Houston 2000 (see esp. Barroero and Susinno 2000) and in Rome 2010–11b. Goethe 2013, vol. 2, p. 373. Overviews on the Grand Tour are Black 1992; London and Rome 1996–97; Chaney 1998; Black 2003. On Panini’s painting see London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 277–78, no. 233; Philadelphia and Houston 2000, p. 425, no. 275, with previous literature. Macandrew 1978; Connor Bulman 2006; Windsor 2013, with previous bibliography. Haskell and Penny 1981, esp. pp. 23–30, 43–52; Paris 2010–11, with previous bibliography. On drawing in Rome in the 18th century see Bowron 1993–94; Percy 2000, with previous bibliography. On collections of casts in private academies see Bordini 1998, p. 387. On the Concorsi see Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91; Rome, University Park (PA) and elsewhere 1989–90; Cipriani 2010–11. On the early years of the Capitoline as a public museum see Arata 1994; Franceschini and Vernesi 2005; Arata 2008. See Arata 1994, p. 75. On the Accademia del Nudo see Pietrangeli 1959; Pietrangeli 1962; MacDonald 1989; Barroero 1998; Bordini 1998. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 62–63; Raspi Serra 1998–99; Macsotay 2010; Henry 2010–11. The main source for Vleughels’ reform, rich in information on the study of the Antique in the Académie under his directorship, is Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vols 7–9, passim (for description of the collection of casts see vol. 7, pp. 333–37). Boyer 1955; Loire 2005–06, pp. 75–81. Caviglia-Brunel 2012, pp. 115–63. For Natoire’s drawing (fig. 94) see Paris 2000–01, p. 372, no. 177; Caviglia- Brunel 2012, pp. 415–16, no. D.558. On Robert’s drawings (figs 95–96) see Paris 2000–01, pp. 373–74, nos 178–79; Rome 2008, pp. 132–33, nos 12–13; Ottawa and Caen 2011–12, pp. 22–23, nos 1a–1b. For fig. 97 see Paris 2000– 01, p. 384, no. 190. On Robert in Rome see Rome 1990–91. On Piranesi and his influence on artists see Fleming 1962; Wilton Ely 1978; Rome, Dijon and elsewhere 1976; Brunel 1978. On Winckelmann see Potts 1994, with previous bibliography. Henry 2010–11. For David in Rome see Rome 1981–82. For his drawings after the Antique see Sérullaz 1981–82; Rosenberg and Prat 2002, passim, esp. vol. 1, pp. 391– 746, vol. 2, pp. 754–866. Sérullaz 1981–82, p. 42. For David’s drawing (fig. 98) see Rosenberg and Prat 2002, p. 499, no. 642. See Pressly 1979; Valverde 2008; Busch 2013. On all these aspects see Pears 1988, esp. pp. 1–26. As general introductions see Denvir 1983; Solkin 1992; Brewer 1997; Bindman 2008. On the ‘Rule of Taste’ see Lipking 1970; Barrell 1986, esp. 1–68; Pears 1988, pp. 27–50; Ayres 1997. For a recent overview see Aymonino 2014. On academies in Britain before the foundation of the Royal Academy see Bignamini 1988; Bignamini 1990. See MacDonald 1989. An excellent introduction to the use of the Antique in artists’ education in 18th-century Britain is Postle 1997. For casts in Britain in the first half of the 18th century see: Bignamini 1988, p. 59, note 63, p. 65, p. 77, note 9, p. 81, note 65, p. 88, p. 103. Einberg and Egerton 1988, pp. 64–71. Kitson 1966–68, esp. pp. 85–86; Postle 1997, esp. pp. 83–84. See Paulson 1971, vol. 2, pp. 168–71; Nottingham and London 1991, p. 62, no. 37. Coutu 2000, p. 47; Kenworthy-Browne 2009. On Mortimer’s painting see Nottingham and London 1991, p. 45, no. 11, with previous bibliography. MacDonald 1989. Allan 1968, pp. 76–88; Bignamini 1988, p. 108; Postle 1997, pp. 85–87; Coutu 2000, p. 52; Kenworthy-Browne 2009, pp. 43–44. Ibid. On the Glasgow Foulis Academy see Pevsner 1940, p. 156; MacDonald 1989, pp. 84–85; Fairfull-Smith 2001. On the Royal Academy see Hutchison 1986. On its regulations see also Abstract 1797. On the Antique School at the Royal Academy (fig. 105) see Nottingham and London 1991, p. 43, no. 7; Rome 2010–11b, p. 432, no.V.6. On Zoffany’s painting see New Haven and London 2011–12, pp. 218–21, no. 44, with previous bibliography. For the medal see Hutchison 1986, p. 34. On Kauffman’s painting see Rome 2010–11b, pp. 325, 432–33, no. V.7. For Townley see particularly Coltman 2009. On Soane’s collection of plaster casts see Dorey 2010. De Architectura, 1.1, esp. 1.1.13; Watkin 1996. Jenkins 1992, pp. 30–40. Venice 1976, pp. 114–15, no. 49. Malvasia 1678, vol. 1, pp. 359, 365, 484. On the 17th-century neologism ‘statuino’ see Pericolo’s forthcoming article. See De Piles 1677, pp. 253–54; De Piles 1708, esp. pp. 128–38. Bellori 1976, p. 214; Bellori 2005, p. 180. See Pucci 2000a; Bukdahal 2007 Diderot 1995, p. 4. See also Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 91. Boime 1980, pp. 330–35, pl. ix.47. Couture 1867, pp. 155–56. 6609a, pp. 226–27, no. 85. 197 See Paris 2000–01, pp. 392–93, no. 198, with previous bibliography; Paris 2008–09a, pp. 226–27, no. 82. Sauvage also made écorchés of other classical prototypes. 198 The original cast appears to have been destroyed. The écorché preserved at the Royal Academy of Arts is a 19th-century copy by William Pink: see Postle 2004, esp. pp. 58–59, with previous bibliography. 199 See Jordan and Weston 2002, p. 97, fig. 4.7. 200 For the practice see Paris 2000–01, pp. 415–29; Schwartz 2008–09; London 2013–14, pp. 62–69. On Paillett’s drawing (fig. 87) see London 2013–14, p. 21, pl. 1, p. 96, no. 1. For Bottani’s (fig. 88) see Philadelphia 1980– 81, pp. 59–60, no. 47. For David’s painting (fig. 89) see Rome 1981–82, pp. 101–02, no. 25. Pevsner 1940, pp. 140–41. On the diffusion of academies in the 18th century see Boschloo 1989, passim. A good recent overview is Brook 2010–11. Diderot’s remark appeared in an article in the Correspondance littéraire, philos- ophique et critique, no. 13, 1763: ‘Sur Bouchardon et la sculpture’, p. 45. See an English translation in Diderot 2011, p. 19. On the diffusion of casts in the 18th century see Haskell and Penny 1981, esp. pp. 79–91, chap. 11; Rossi Pinelli 1984; Rossi Pinelli 1988; Pucci 2000a; Frederiksen and Marchand 2010. London 2013–14, pp. 36, 46–47. See the explanatory text for the plate: Diderot and D’Alembert 1762–72, vol. 20, entry ‘Dessein’, pp. 1–20, esp. pp. 2–5. See also Michel 1987, pp. 284, 288. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Toledo, Chicago and elsewhere 1975–76; Plax 2000. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Schoneveld-Van Stoltz 1989, pp. 216–28, with previ- ous bibliography. Excellent introductions to the art world of Rome in the 18th century are the essay contained in Philadelphia and Houston 2000 (see esp. Barroero and Susinno 2000) and in Rome 2010–11b. Goethe 2013, vol. 2, p. 373. Overviews on the Grand Tour are Black 1992; London and Rome 1996–97; Chaney 1998; Black 2003. On Panini’s painting see London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 277–78, no. 233; Philadelphia and Houston 2000, p. 425, no. 275, with previous literature. Macandrew 1978; Connor Bulman 2006; Windsor 2013, with previous bibliography. Haskell and Penny 1981, esp. pp. 23–30, 43–52; Paris 2010–11, with previous bibliography. On drawing in Rome in the 18th century see Bowron 1993–94; Percy 2000, with previous bibliography. On collections of casts in private academies see Bordini 1998, p. 387. On the Concorsi see Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91; Rome, University Park (PA) and elsewhere 1989–90; Cipriani 2010–11. On the early years of the Capitoline as a public museum see Arata 1994; Franceschini and Vernesi 2005; Arata 2008. See Arata 1994, p. 75. On the Accademia del Nudo see Pietrangeli 1959; Pietrangeli 1962; MacDonald 1989; Barroero 1998; Bordini 1998. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 62–63; Raspi Serra 1998–99; Macsotay 2010; Henry 2010–11. The main source for Vleughels’ reform, rich in information on the study of the Antique in the Académie under his directorship, is Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vols 7–9, passim (for description of the collection of casts see vol. 7, pp. 333–37). Boyer 1955; Loire 2005–06, pp. 75–81. Caviglia-Brunel 2012, pp. 115–63. For Natoire’s drawing (fig. 94) see Paris 2000–01, p. 372, no. 177; Caviglia- Brunel 2012, pp. 415–16, no. D.558. On Robert’s drawings (figs 95–96) see Paris 2000–01, pp. 373–74, nos 178–79; Rome 2008, pp. 132–33, nos 12–13; Ottawa and Caen 2011–12, pp. 22–23, nos 1a–1b. For fig. 97 see Paris 2000– 01, p. 384, no. 190. On Robert in Rome see Rome 1990–91. On Piranesi and his influence on artists see Fleming 1962; Wilton Ely 1978; Rome, Dijon and elsewhere 1976; Brunel 1978. On Winckelmann see Potts 1994, with previous bibliography. 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 Henry 2010–11. For David in Rome see Rome 1981–82. For his drawings after the Antique see Sérullaz 1981–82; Rosenberg and Prat 2002, passim, esp. vol. 1, pp. 391– 746, vol. 2, pp. 754–866. Sérullaz 1981–82, p. 42. For David’s drawing (fig. 98) see Rosenberg and Prat 2002, p. 499, no. 642. See Pressly 1979; Valverde 2008; Busch 2013. On all these aspects see Pears 1988, esp. pp. 1–26. As general introductions see Denvir 1983; Solkin 1992; Brewer 1997; Bindman 2008. On the ‘Rule of Taste’ see Lipking 1970; Barrell 1986, esp. 1–68; Pears 1988, pp. 27–50; Ayres 1997. For a recent overview see Aymonino 2014. On academies in Britain before the foundation of the Royal Academy see Bignamini 1988; Bignamini 1990. See MacDonald 1989. An excellent introduction to the use of the Antique in artists’ education in 18th-century Britain is Postle 1997. For casts in Britain in the first half of the 18th century see: Bignamini 1988, p. 59, note 63, p. 65, p. 77, note 9, p. 81, note 65, p. 88, p. 103. Einberg and Egerton 1988, pp. 64–71. Kitson 1966–68, esp. pp. 85–86; Postle 1997, esp. pp. 83–84. See Paulson 1971, vol. 2, pp. 168–71; Nottingham and London 1991, p. 62, no. 37. Coutu 2000, p. 47; Kenworthy-Browne 2009. On Mortimer’s painting see Nottingham and London 1991, p. 45, no. 11, with previous bibliography. MacDonald 1989. Allan 1968, pp. 76–88; Bignamini 1988, p. 108; Postle 1997, pp. 85–87; Coutu 2000, p. 52; Kenworthy-Browne 2009, pp. 43–44. Ibid. On the Glasgow Foulis Academy see Pevsner 1940, p. 156; MacDonald 1989, pp. 84–85; Fairfull-Smith 2001. On the Royal Academy see Hutchison 1986. On its regulations see also Abstract 1797. On the Antique School at the Royal Academy (fig. 105) see Nottingham and London 1991, p. 43, no. 7; Rome 2010–11b, p. 432, no.V.6. On Zoffany’s painting see New Haven and London 2011–12, pp. 218–21, no. 44, with previous bibliography. For the medal see Hutchison 1986, p. 34. On Kauffman’s painting see Rome 2010–11b, pp. 325, 432–33, no. V.7. For Townley see particularly Coltman 2009. On Soane’s collection of plaster casts see Dorey 2010. De Architectura, 1.1, esp. 1.1.13; Watkin 1996. Jenkins 1992, pp. 30–40. Venice 1976, pp. 114–15, no. 49. Malvasia 1678, vol. 1, pp. 359, 365, 484. On the 17th-century neologism ‘statuino’ see Pericolo’s forthcoming article. See De Piles 1677, pp. 253–54; De Piles 1708, esp. pp. 128–38. Bellori 1976, p. 214; Bellori 2005, p. 180. See Pucci 2000a; Bukdahal 2007 Diderot 1995, p. 4. See also Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 91. Boime 1980, pp. 330–35, pl. ix.47. Couture 1867, pp. 155–56. 66 67. Primary Sources On The Antique. Rome to copy its antiquities as a source of inspiration, a phenomenon that increased over the subsequent four hundred years. Bembo is, in addition, one of the earliest writers to rank Raphael and Michelangelo on the level of artists from antiquity. Excerpt from P. Bembo, Prose . . . della volgar lingua, Venice, 1525, p. XLII r (translation Michael Sullivan). At all times of day [Rome] witnesses the arrival of artists from near and far, intent on reproducing in the small space of their paper or wax the form of those splendid ancient figures of marble, sometimes bronze, that lie scattered all over Rome, or are publicly and privately kept and treasured, as they do with the arches and baths and theatres and the other various sorts of buildings that are in part still standing: and hence, when they mean to produce some new work, they aim at those examples, striving with their art to resemble them, all the more so since they believe their efforts merit praise by the closeness of resemblance of their new works to ancient ones, being well aware that the ancient ones come closer to the perfection of art than any done afterwards. These have succeeded more than others, Messer Giulio [de’ Medici], your Michelangelo of Florence and Raphael of Urbino [...] so outstanding and illustrious that it is easier to say how close they come to the good old masters than decide which of them is the greater and better artist. 4. Ludovico Dolce (1508–68) on the necessity for artists copying from antique statues to learn how to correct the defects of Nature and to aim for perfect beauty. In his treatise Dialogo della pittura . . . (1557), the humanist, writer and art theorist Lodovico Dolce upheld a strong defence of the Venetian school of painting, based on colour, against the Florentine and Roman ones, based on drawing, supported by Giorgio Vasari. At the same time he included one of the earliest theoretical statements on the necessity to study the Antique as a model of idealised nature and perfect beauty – especially in the study of the proportions of the human figure. However, in Dolce, one finds also a warning against the indiscriminate copying of classical sculptures – which should always be imitated with the correct artistic judgement to avoid eccen- tricities – a principle that would become a leitmotif in subsequent art literature, as shown here in excerpts from Rubens (no. 8) or Bernini (no. 10). For Dolce a slavish dependence on the Antique can lead to the excesses of Mannerism. Exerpts from Ludovico Dolce, Dialogo della pittura intitolato l’Aretino . . . , Venice, 1557, pp. 32r–33r. The following translation is from the first English edition: Aretin: A Dialogue on Painting. From the Italian of Ludovico Dolce, London, 1770, pp. 127–32. Whoever would do this [to form a justly proportioned figure] should chuse the most perfect form he can find, and partly imitate nature, as Apelles did, who, when he painted his celebrated Venus emerging from the sea [...] [p. 128] drew her from Phryne, the most famous courtesan of the age; and Praxiteles also formed his statue of the Venus of Gnidus, from the same model. Partly he should imitate the best marbles and bronzes of the [p. 129] antient masters, the admirable perfection [p. 130] of which, whoever can fully taste and posses, may safely correct many defects of Nature herself, and make his pictures universally pleasing and grateful. These contain all the perfection of the art, and may be properly proposed as examples of perfect beauty. [...] [p. 131] Proportion being the principal foundation of design, he who best observes it, must always be the best master in this respect: and it being necessary to the forming of a perfect body, to copy not only nature but the antique, we must be careful that we do this with judgement, lest we should imitate the worst parts, whilst we think we are imitating the best. We have an instance of this, at present, in a painter, who having observed that the [p. 132] antients, for the most part, designed their figures light and slender, by too strict an obedience to this custom, and exceeding the just bounds, has turned this, which is a beauty, into a very striking defect. Others have accustomed themselves in painting heads (especially of women) to make long necks; having observed that the greatest part of the antique pictures of Roman ladies have long necks, and that short ones are generally ungrace- ful; but by giving into too great a liberty, have made that which was in their original pleasing, totally otherwise in the copy. 5. Giorgio Vasari (1511–74) on drawing as the intellectual foundation of all arts; on grace, and on the classical sculptures in the Belvedere Courtyard in the Vatican as the source for the ‘beautiful style’ of High Renaissance masters. Giorgio Vasari’s Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects – published first in 1550 and in an expanded edition in 1568 – is arguably the most influential example of art literature of the Renaissance. Vasari’s biographies of the most famous modern artists set the standard for a progressive conception of the history of art, with the Florentine and Roman schools representing its culmination. At the start of his essay on painting, in a section added to the 1568 edition of the Lives, he provides a definition of disegno, drawing, to give a theoretical underpinning to his defence of the Central Italian schools of painting. Vasari’s conception of drawing as the first physical manifestation of the artist’s idea – the intellectual part of art common to painting, sculpture and architecture – would provide the founda- tion for the centrality of drawing in the curriculum of future acade- mies. In another passage to be found in both editions, Vasari praises the best ancient sculptures, as they embodied the supreme quality of grazia, or grace, which cannot be attained by study but only by the judgement of the artist – a concept that remained one of the central tenets of Italian art theory for the next two centuries. He attributes the rise of the modern manner or ‘bella maniera’, and the great achievements of Raphael and Michelangelo, to their familiarity and exposure to the best examples of classical sculpture in the Belvedere Courtyard in the Vatican. Excerpts from Giorgio Vasari, Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori et architettori, Florence, 1568, part 1, p. 43. The following translation is from Vasari on Technique, ed. G. Baldwin Brown, trans. L. S. Maclehose, London, 1907, pp. 205–06. 69 SOURCE #1 VITRUVIO (80–70 bc – post c. 15 bc) On harmonic proportions as the principle of ideal beauty. Marcus Vitruvius Pollio’s De Architectura, c. 30–20 bc, is the only complete treatise on classical architecture to have survived from antiquity and its impact on Western architecture from the Renaissance onwards is paramount. Manuscript copies of the treatise circulated widely in the 15th century and were well known to Filippo Brunelleschi, Leon Battista Alberti, Donatello and to subsequent generations of early Renaissance artists and architects. The first printed Latin edition appeared in 1486, followed by a more popular version in 1511 (edited by Fra Giovanni Giocondo). Italian translations appeared in 1521 (by Cesare Cesariano) and in 1556 (edited and translated by Daniele Barbaro with illustrations by Andrea Palladio). The first chapter of book 3, provided architects and artists with an authoritative account of the principle of harmonic proportions based on commensurability which had inspired ancient sculptors and paint- ers in search of ideal beauty. The celebrated passage on the perfect proportions of the human body was visualised by Leonardo in his ‘Vitruvian Man’ (see p. 17, fig. 2). The following translation is from the first integral English edition: The Architecture of M. Vitruvius Pollio. Translated from the Original Latin, by W. Newton Architect, London, 1771, book 3, chapter 1, pp. 45–46: ‘On the Composition and Symmetry of Temples’.1 The composition of temples, is governed by the laws of symmetry; which an architect ought well to understand; this arises from pro- portion, which is called by the Greek, Analogia. Proportion is the correspondence of the measures of all the parts of a work, and of the whole configuration, from which correspondence, symmetry is produced; for a building cannot be well composed without the rules of symmetry and proportions; nor unless the members, as in a well formed human body, have a perfect agreement. For nature as so composed the human body, that the face from the chin to the roots of the hair at the top of the forehead, is the tenth part of the whole height; and the hand, from the joint to the extremity of the middle finger, is the same; the head, from the chin to the crown, is an eight part; [...] the rest of the members have their measures also proportional; this the ancient painters and statuaries strictly observed, and thereby gained universal applause. [...] The central point of the body is the navel: for if a man was laid supine with his arms and legs extended, and a circle was drawn round him, the central foot of the compasses being placed over his navel, the extremities of his fingers and toes would touch the circumferent line; and in the same manner as the body is adapted to [p. 46] the circle, it will also be found to agree with the square; for, if the measure from the bottom of the feet to the top of the head is taken, and applied to the arms extended, it will be found that the breadth is equal to the height, the same as in the area of a square. Since, therefore, nature has so composed the human body, * All sentences in Italics are by the present author throughout. 68 that the members are proportionate and consentaneous to the whole figure, with reason the ancients have determined, that in all perfect works, the several members must be exactly proportional to the whole object. 1 The Latin word ‘symmetria’ of Vitruvius’ text has often been translated in English with ‘symmetry’, while commensurability – the mathematical relation between the part and the whole within a given body or building resulting in overall harmonic proportions – would be a better translation. 2. Cennino d’Andrea Cennini (c. 1370–c. 1440) on drawing as the foundation of art and on the advantage for young artists of copying from other masters. Written around 1390 possibly in Padua, Cennini’s Il Libro dell’Arte is the first art treatise composed in Italian. Although mainly concerned with practical advice to painters, Cennini also devoted some of the chapters to the education of the young artist, ofering the first written evidence of the importance of drawing in the apprenticeship of the aspiring painter, and especially the copying of works by other artists. Later, in early Renaissance workshop practices, this increasingly included antique sculpture. Although not published until 1821, manuscript copies of the Libro circulated widely in the 16th and 17th centuries, evidenced by the fact that references to it and passages from it reappear in subsequent art treatises. Excerpts from Cennino Cennini, Il Libro dell’Arte, ed. F. Brunello, Vicenza, 1971 (translation, present author). [P. 6, chapter 4] The foundations and the principles of art, and of all these manual works, are drawing and colouring. [P. 27, chapter 27] If you want to progress further on the path of this science [...] you must follow this method: [...] take pain and pleasure in constantly copying the best things that you can find done by the hands of the great masters. And if you are in a place where many masters have been, so much better for you. But I will give you some advice: be careful to imitate always the best and the most famous; and progressing every day, it would be against nature that you will not eventually be infused by the master’s style and spirit. 3. Pietro Bembo (1470–1547) on artists going to Rome to copy the Antique, and on Michelangelo and Raphael having equalled the ancient masters. Italian scholar, poet, literary theorist, collector and cardinal, Pietro Bembo was a central figure in the cultivated antiquarian milieu at the court of Pope Leo X (r. 1513–21) and a personal friend of Raphael and Michelangelo. His Prose . . . della volgar lingua, a treatise published in 1525, but composed over the previous two decades, contains one of the earliest and most eloquent reports of artists converging on  Seeing that Design, the parent of our three arts, Architecture, Sculpture and Painting, having its origin in the intellect, draws out from many single things a general judgement, it is like a form or idea of all the objects in nature, most marvellous in what it compasses, for not only in the bodies of men and of animals but also in plants, in buildings, in sculpture and in painting, design is cognizant of the proportions of the whole to the parts and of the parts to each other and to the whole. Seeing too that from this knowledge there arises a certain conception and judgement, so that there is formed in the mind that something which afterwards, when expressed by the hands, is called design, we may conclude that design is not other than a visible expression and declaration of our inner conception and of that which others have imagined and given form to their idea. And from this, perhaps, arose the proverb among the ancients ‘ex ungue leonem’ when a certain clever person, seeing carved in a stone block the claw only of a lion, apprehended in his mind [p. 206] from its size and form all the parts of the animal and then the whole together, just as if he had had it present before his eyes. Excerpts from Giorgio Vasari, Le Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori et architettori, Florence, 1568, part 3, vol. 1, pp. 2–3 of the Preface (unpaginated). The following translation is from Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects by Giorgio Vasari, ed. and trans. by G. du C. de Vere, London 1912–14, vol. 4, pp. 81–82. [Fifteenth-century artists] were advancing towards the good, and their figures were thus approved according to the standards of the works of the ancients, as was seen when Andrea Verrocchio restored in marble the legs and arms of the Marsyas in the house of the Medici in Florence. But they lacked a certain finish and finality of perfection in the feet, hands, hair, and beards, although the limbs as a whole are in accordance with the antique and have a certain correct harmony in the proportions. Now if they had had that minuteness of finish which is the perfection and bloom of art, they would also have had a resolute boldness in their works; and from this there would have followed delicacy, refine- ment, and supreme grace, which are the qualities produced by the perfection of art in beautiful figures, whether in relief or painting; but these qualities they did not have, although they give proof of diligent striving. That finish, and that certain something that they lacked, they could not achieve so readily, seeing that study, when it is used in that way to obtain finish, gives dryness to the manner. After them indeed, their successors were enabled to attain to it through seeing excavated out of the earth certain antiquities cited by Pliny as amongst the most famous, such as the Laocoön, the Hercules, the Great Torso of the Belvedere, and likewise the Venus, the Cleopatra, the Apollo, and an endless number of others, which, both with their sweetness and their severity, with their fleshy roundness copied from the great beauties of nature, and with certain attitudes which involve no distortions of the whole figure but only a movement of certain parts, [p. 82] and are revealed with a most perfect grace, brought about the disappearance of a certain dryness, hardness, and sharpness of manner, which had been left to our art by the excessive study [...]. 6. Giovan Battista Armenini (c. 1525–1609) on assimilating the principles of the Antique through constant drawing as a safe guide for artistic creation. Giovan Battista Armenini’s De veri precetti della pittura (1587), consti- tutes one of the most systematic art treatises of the second half of the 16th century. In it we find the clearest formulations of a progressive method of learning, later defined as the ‘alphabet of drawing’ (see no. 7), and of the necessity of assimilating the principles of the Antique through drawing. Armenini is also the first to provide a proper canon of sculptures and reliefs in Rome that students should copy and to praise the didactic use of plaster casts. Excerpts from Giovan Battista Armenini, De veri precetti della pittura, Ravenna, 1587, book 1, ch. 8, pp. 61–63. The following translation is from G. B. Armenini, On the True Precepts of the Art of Painting, ed. and trans. by J. Olszewski, New York, 1977, pp. 130–34. [To obtain a good style] it is the general and universal rule only to draw those things which are the most beautiful, learned and most like the good works of ancient sculptors. Having familiarised him- self with them through continual study, the student must know these things so thoroughly that when the occasion demands he can reproduce one or more of these compositions. He must be so familiar with them that whatever is good in the old works will be marvellously reflected in his rough sketches, as well as in finished drawings, and consequently in large paintings [...]. For the con- tinual drawing and copying of things which are well made ensures that one has a proper guide to follow and executes his own work very well. [...] In order that you may fully know the basis of art, make it the foundation of your own works, and learn how to recognise excellence with certainty, particularly in figures, we shall place before you as principal models some of the most famous ancient sculp- tures which most closely approach the true perfection of art and are still intact in our own days. [p. 131] For it is well known that the ancients who fashioned these statues first chose the best that nature offered in diverse models and then, guided by their excellent judgement, combined the best perfectly into one work. [...] These ancient statues are as follows: the Laocoön, Hercules, Apollo, the great Torso, Cleopatra, Venus, the Nile, and some others also of marble, all of them to be found in the Belvedere in the papal palace in the Vatican. Some others are scattered throughout Rome and among the [p. 132] foremost is the Marcus Aurelius in bronze, now in the square of the Campidoglio. Then there are the Giants of Monte Cavallo, and the Pasquino, and others not as good as these. Also well known because of the histo- ries depicted thereon are those in the arches with very beautiful manner of half and low relief as in the two columns, the Trajan and the Antonine, which still stand, even though time is hostile to human work. [...] And even though this study we have been discussing is not in the power of all students, since as is well known not all can stay in Rome labouring long and at great expense, yet even they have many of these works in their own homes. I am speaking of those copies of the originals fashioned by the masters in plaster or other material. I have seen a wax copy of the Roman Laocoön, not larger than two spans, but one could say that it was the original in small size. Still, if those parts that are modelled in gesso from these works can be obtained, they are better without doubt since every detail is there precisely as in the marble, so that they can be scrutinised and serve the student’s needs excellently. Also, they are very convenient because they are light and easily handled and transported. And, as for price, one can say it is very cheap, that is, in comparison with the originals. Therefore, with such excellent aids available, there is no excuse for anyone who really wishes to learn the good and ancient path. I have seen studios and chambers in Milan, Genoa, Venice, Parma, Mantua, Florence, Bologna, Pesaro, Urbino, Ravenna and other minor cities full of such well formed copies. Looking at these, it seemed to me that they were the very works found in Rome. Nor is any beautiful living model excluded from these, and the closer it is to the aforementioned [p. 133] sculptures, the better it may be considered to be, but this is rarely the case. Now, with so many examples and reasons, such as these, I believe [p. 134] you should have a good idea of all that you must consider and observe carefully. 7. The ‘alphabet of drawing’ and the role of the Antique in the first orders and statutes of the Roman Accademia di San Luca (1593). The first ‘orders and statutes’ of the Roman Accademia di San Luca, laid out by Federico Zuccaro (c. 1541–1609) in 1593 and published by Romano Alberti (active 1585–1604) in 1604, codified a progressive method in learning how to draw the human figure, considered as the central subject of art: from details, like the eye, to the whole body. This ‘alphabet of drawing’, based on Renaissance workshop practices, would become enormously influential in the teaching of art in Europe well into the 20th century. The Antique had a crucial role in it, as it gave students the possibility to learn how to approach the third dimension of the human body through models of idealised beauty, anatomy and proportions, and the role of ancient statuary is clearly specified in another passage of the Accademia’s rules and regulations. Excerpts from Romano Alberti, Origine, et progresso dell’Academia del Dissegno, de’ Pittori, Scultori, et Architetti di Roma, Pavia, 1604, pp. 5–8 (translation, present author). [P. 5] Another hour will be devoted to practice and to teaching drawing to young students, showing them the way and the good path of study, and for this purpose we have appointed twelve Academicians, one for each month of the year, in charge of taking particular care and responsibility in assisting the students in this task. [...]. The Principal will order the young students to produce something by their hand, while he will draw himself, and he will award his resulting drawings to the best students. The first figures – to start from the Alphabet of Drawing (so to speak) – will be the A, B, C: eyes, noses, mouths, ears, heads, hands, feet, arms, legs, torsos, backs and other similar parts of the human body, as well as any other sort of animals and figures, architectural elements, and reliefs in wax, clay and similar exercises. [P. 8] [The Academician in charge] will start instructing the students in what to study, assigning to each of them a different task according to his individual disposition and talent: some will draw from drawings, others from cartoons or from reliefs; others will copy heads, feet, hands; others will go out during the week drawing after the antique or the facades by Polidoro, or land- scapes, buildings, animals and other similar things; other students in convenient times will draw after live models, and they must copy them with grace and judgement. Others will do exercises in architecture and in perspective, following its correct and good rules, and the best students shall always be rewarded [...]. 8. Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640) on the usefulness and dangers of copying from the Antique. The great Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens spent two extended periods in Rome, between 1601 and 1602 and from late 1605 to late 1608, with short interruptions. His erudite approach towards the Antique and his desire to assimilate its principles resulted in many extraordinary drawings after classical statues, mostly in black and red chalk. In his theoretical treatise, De Imitatione Statuarum (‘On the Imitation of Statues’), c. 1608–10, he warned against the dangers of slavishly copying the Antique and transferring the characteristics and limits of one medium – marble – into another – drawing or painting. Although Rubens’ manuscript remained unpublished in his lifetime, it was owned by the influential French art theorist Roger de Piles (1635–1709), who first published it in his Cours de peinture par principles, Paris, 1708, pp. 139–47. The following translation is from the first English edition: Roger de Piles, The Principles of Painting, London, 1743, pp. 86–92. To some painters the imitation of the antique statues has been extremely useful, and to others pernicious, even to the ruin of their art. I conclude, however, that in order to attain the highest perfection in painting, it is necessary to understand the antiques, nay, to be so thoroughly possessed of this knowledge, [p. 87] that it may diffuse itself everywhere. Yet it must be judiciously applied, and so that it may not in the least smell of stone. For several ignorant painters, and even some who are skilful, make no distinction between the matter and the form, the stone and the figure, the necessity of using the block, and the art of forming it. It is certain, however, that the finest statues are extremely beneficial, so the bad are not only useless, but even pernicious. For beginners learn from them I know not what, that is crude, liny, stiff, and of harsh anatomy; and while they take themselves to be good proficient, do but disgrace nature; since instead of imitating flesh, they only represent marble tinged with various colours. For there are many things [p. 88] to be taken notice of, and avoided, which happen even in the best statues, without the workman’s fault: especially with regard to the difference of shades [...]. [p. 89] He who has, with discernment, made the proper distinctions in these cases, cannot consider the antique statues too attentively, nor study them too carefully; for we of this erroneous age, are so far degenerate, that we can produce nothing like them. 70 71  9. Gianlorenzo Bernini (1598–1680) described as a young boy devoting his days to copying the statues in the Belvedere Courtyard in the Vatican. In 1713 Gianlorenzo Bernini’s son Domenico (1657–1723) published a biography of his father that constitutes, with Filippo Baldinucci’s Vita del cavaliere . . . Bernino (MS. 1682), one of the most important sources on the life and art of the great Baroque sculptor and architect. A passage describing the impact of the art of Rome on Gianlorenzo, after his arrival from his native Naples, vividly evokes the dedication and devotion of the young sculptor in assimilating day and night the principles of the great classical examples in the Belvedere Courtyard – especially the Antinous Belvedere, the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoön. Excerpts from Domenico Bernini, Vita del cavalier Gio. Lorenzo Bernino, Rome, 1713, pp. 12-13. The following translation is from Domenico Bernini, The Life of Gian Lorenzo Bernini, ed. and trans. by F. Mormando, University Park (PA), 2011, p. 101. There now opened before him in Rome a marvellous field in which to cultivate his studies through the diligent observation of the precious remains of ancient sculpture. It is not to be believed with what dedication he frequented that school and with what profit he absorbed its teachings. Almost every morning, for the space of three years, he left Santa Maria Maggiore, where Pietro, his father, had built a small comfortable house, and travelled on foot to the Vatican Palace at Saint Peter’s. There he remained until sunset, drawing, one by one, those marvellous statues that antiquity has conveyed to us and that time has preserved for us, as both a benefit and dowry for the art of sculpture. He took no refreshment during all those days, except for a little wine and food, saying that the pleasure alone of the lively instruction supplied by those inanimate statues caused a certain sweetness to pervade his body, and this was sufficient in itself for the maintenance of his strength for days on end. In fact, some days it was frequently the case that Gian Lorenzo would not return home at all. Not seeing the youth for entire days, his father, however, did not even interrogate his son about this behaviour. Pietro was always certain of Gian Lorenzo’s whereabouts, that is, in his studio at Saint Peter’s, where, as the son used to say, his girlfriends (that is, the ancient statues) had their home. The specific object of his studies we must deduce from what he used to say later in life once he began to experience their effect on him. Accordingly, his greatest attention was focussed above all on those two most singular statues, the Antinous and the Apollo, the former miraculous in its design, the latter in its workmanship. Bernini claimed, however, that both of these qualities were even more perfectly embodied in the famous Laocoön of Athen0dorus, Hagesander, and Polydorus of Rhodes, a work of so well-balanced and exquisite a style that tradition has attributed it to three artists, judging it perhaps beyond the ability of just one man alone. Two of these three marvellous statues, the Antinous and the Laocoön, had been discovered during the time of Pope Leo X amid the ruins of Nero’s palace in the gardens near the church of San Pietro in Vincoli and placed by the same pontiff in the Vatican Palace for the public benefit of artists and other students of antiquity. 10. Gianlorenzo Bernini (1598–1680) on the formative role of ancient sculpture in the education of young artists. In 1665 Bernini visited France at the invitation of Louis XIV to discuss designs for the completion of the Palais du Louvre. His five-month stay was recorded by his guide Paul Fréart, Sieur de Chantelou in his lively Journal du voyage du Cavalier Bernin en France. The advice given by Bernini on his visit to the Académie Royale de peinture et de sculpture is among the clearest statements on the formative role assigned to antique statuary in the education of young artists in 17th- century Rome. At the same time it reveals the opinion of the great Baroque sculptor on the dangers of copying from classical models without also involving independent inspiration and artistic creations. The manuscript of the Journal du voyage du cavalier Bernin en France par M. de Chantelou was published for the first time by Ludovic Lalanne in a series of articles in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts in 1877–84 (a new edition by M. Stanic ́ was published in Paris in 2001). The following translation is from Paul Fréart de Chantelou, Diary of the Cavaliere Bernini’s Visit to France, ed. by A. Blunt, trans. by M. Cornbett, Princeton, 1985, pp. 165–67. 5 September: The Cavaliere worked as usual, and in the evening went to the Academy [...] [p. 166]. The Cavaliere glanced at the pictures round the room: they are not by the most talented mem- bers. He also looked at a few bas-reliefs by various sculptors of the Academy. Then, as he was standing in the middle of the hall sur- rounded by members, he gave it as his opinion that the Academy ought to possess casts of all the notable statues, bas-reliefs, and busts of antiquity. They would serve to educate young students; they should be taught to draw after these classical models and in that way form a conception of the beautiful that would serve them all their lives. It was fatal to put them to draw from nature at the beginning of their training, since nature is nearly always feeble and niggardly, for if their imagination has nothing but nature to feed on, they will be unable to put forth anything of strength or beauty; for nature itself is devoid of both strength or beauty, and artists who study it should first be skilled in recognis- ing its faults and correcting them; something that students who lack grounding cannot do [...] [p. 167]. He said that when he was very young he used to draw from the antique a great deal, and, in the first figure he undertook, resorted continually to the Antinous as his oracle. Every day he noticed some further excellence in this statue; certainly he would never have had that experience had he not himself taken up a chisel and started to work. For this reason he always advised his pupils, and others, never to draw and model without at the same time working either at a piece of sculpture or a picture, combining creation with imitation and thought with action, so to speak, and remarkable progress should result. For support of his contention that original work was absolutely essential I cited the case of the late Antoine Carlier, an artist known to most of the members of the Academy. He spent the greater part of his life in Rome modelling after the statues of antiquity, and his copies are incomparable: and they had to agree that, because he had begun to do original work too late, his imagination had dried up, and the slavery of copying had in the end made it impossible for him to produce anything of his own. 11. Giovanni Pietro Bellori (1613–96): his ‘Idea of the painter, the sculptor and the architect, selected from the beauties of Nature, superior to Nature’ as the manifesto of the classicist doctrine. Giovanni Pietro Bellori, a central figure in 17th-century art theory and the champion of classicism, delivered his epochal speech, the ‘Idea’, in front of the Roman Accademia di San Luca in 1664 and later published it as a preface to his influential Vite of 1772. In this he provided one of the clearest and most influential systematisations for the concept of the idealistic mission of art, already formulated by various Renaissance art theorists such as Dolce, Vasari, Armenini and Zuccaro. Joining Aristotelian and neo-Platonic premises, for Bellori God’s perfect Ideas become corrupted in our world because of accidents and the innate imperfection of the ‘matter’. The role of ‘noble’ artists is therefore to aim at recreating the perfection of the original divine ideas in their works by selecting the best parts of nature. Classical statues ofer the best guide and example for the modern artists as they are the result of this process of selection already achieved by ancient artists. In the final paragraph quoted here, Bellori stresses the value of the imitation of the Antique against some contemporary artists and theorists, like the Venetian painter and writer Marco Boschini (1605–81), who criticised the practice. Excerpts from Giovan Pietro Bellori, Le vite de’ pittori scultori e architetti moderni, Rome, 1672, pp. 3–13. The following translation is from G. P. Bellori, The Lives of the Modern Painters, Sculptors and Architects: a New Translation and Critical Edition, ed. by H. Wohl, trans. by A. Sedgwick Wohl, introduction by T. Montanari, Cambridge, 2005, pp. 57–61. [P. 57] The supreme and eternal intellect, the author of nature, looking deeply within himself as he fashioned his marvellous works, established the first forms, called Ideas, in such a way that each species was an expression of that first Idea, thereby forming the wondrous context of created things. But the celestial bodies above the moon, not being subject to change, remained forever beautiful and ordered, so that by their measured spheres and by the splendour of their aspects we come to know them as eternally perfect and most beautiful. The opposite happens with the sublunar bodies, which are subject to change and to ugliness; and even though nature intends always to make its effects excellent, nevertheless, owing to the inequality of matter, forms are altered, and the human beauty in particular is confounded, as we see in the innumerable deformities and disproportions that there are in us. For this reason noble painters and sculptors, imitating that first maker, also form in their minds an example of higher beauty, and by contemplating that, they emend nature without fault of colour or of line. This Idea, or rather the goddess of painting and sculpture [...], reveals itself to us and descends upon marbles and canvases; originating in nature, it transcends its origins and becomes the original of art; measured by the compass of the intellect, it becomes the measure of the hand; and animated by the imagination it gives life to the image. [P. 58] Now Zeuxis, who chose from five virgins to fashion the famous image of Helen that Cicero held up as an example to the orator, teaches both the painter and the sculptor to contemplate the Idea of the best natural forms by choosing them from various bodies, selecting the most elegant.1 For he did not believe that he would be able to find in a single body all those perfections that he sought for the beauty of Helen, since nature does not make any particular thing perfect in all its parts. [...] Now if we wish also to compare the precepts of the sages of antiquity with the best of [p. 59] those laid down by our modern sages, Leon Battista Alberti teaches that one should love in all things not only the likeness, but mainly the beauty, and that one must proceed by choosing from very beautiful bodies their most praised parts.2 [...] Raphael of Urbino, the great master of those who know, writes thus to Castiglione about his Galatea: In order to paint one beauty I would need to see more beauties, but as there is a dearth of beautiful women, I make use of a certain Idea that comes to into my mind.3 [P. 61] It remains for us to say that since the sculptors of antiquity employed the marvellous Idea, as we have indicated, it is therefore necessary to study the most perfect ancient sculptures, in order that they may guide us to the emended beauties of nature; and for the same purpose it is necessary to direct our eye to the contemplation of other most excellent masters; but this matter we shall leave to a treatise of its own on imitation, to meet the objections of those who criticise the study of ancient statues. 1 Cicero, De inventione, II, 1, 1–3. 2 Alberti 1972, p. 99 (book 3, chap. 55). 3 Quoted the first time in Pino 1582, vol. 2, p. 249. 12. A Conférence of the Parisian Académie Royale de peinture et de sculpture on the artistic excellence of the Laocoön, 1667. Among the celebrated seven Conférences given at the Académie in 1667, devoted to the analysis of famous paintings of the Italian and French schools, the third, held by the sculptor Gerard van Opstal (1594–1668), was specifically dedicated to the Laocoön. Opstal’s approach, in which each aspect of the famous statue, from its anatomy, to its proportions, character and expressions, is discussed in detail, clearly expresses the analytical and didactic approach of the Académie to the Antique. Excerpts from André Félibien, Conférences de l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, pendant l’année 1667, Paris, 1668, pp. 28–40. The following translation is from the first English edition: Seven Conferences held in the King of France’s Cabinet of Paintings . . . , London, 1740, pp. 33–42 (pagination is discontinuous). [Gerard van Opstal] examined all the Parts of this Figure in order to shew the Excellence of it: and observed with what Art the Sculptor had given in a large Breast and Shoulders, all the Parts of which are expressed with a great deal of Exactness and Tenderness. He also took Notice of the Height of the Hips, and the Nervousness of the Arms: the Legs neither too thick nor too lean but firm 72 73  and well muscled; and in general he observed that in all the other Members, the Flesh and Nerves were expressed with as much strength and sweetness as in Nature herself, but in Nature well formed. [...] [p. 34]. He did not forget to shew likewise the strong Expressions which appear in this admirable Figure, where Grief is not only diffused over the Face, but also over all the other Parts of the Body, and to the Extremities of the Feet, the Toes of which violently contract themselves. [p. 35] As every thing about this Statue is contrived with surprising Art, every one will own that it ought to be the chief study of Painters and Sculptors: But which they should not consider chiefly as a Model that only serves to design by; they ought to observe exactly all the Beauties, and imprint on their Minds an Image of all that is excellent in it: because it is not the Hand that is to be employed if one desires to make himself perfect in this Art, but Judgement to form these great Ideas and Memory carefully to retain them. But as those strong Expressions cannot teach one to design after a Model, because we cannot put such a Person in a State where all the Passions are in him at once, and it is likewise difficult to copy them in Persons who are really active because of the quick Motion of the Soul: It is therefore of great Importance for Artists to study Causes, and then to try with how great Dignity [p. 30] they can represent their Effects, and we may aver that it is only to these fine Antiques they must have recourse since there they will meet with Expressions which it will be difficult to draw after nature. [P. 31] Every one will agree that it is from this Model [that] we may learn to correct the Faults which are commonly found in Nature; for here all appears in a State of Perfection [...]. 13. Gérard Audran (1640–1703) on the perfect proportions of antique sculptures. Gérard Audran, engraver and conseiller of the Parisian Académie Royale, published the most popular illustrated manual on the measured proportions of selected canonical ancient statues in 1682 (see p. 48, figs 72–73). We find in the Preface one of the clearest expressions of the rationalistic attitude of the Académie: the Antique here represents an infallible standard of perfect proportions, which Audran has made available, ‘compass in hand’, for young artists, providing them with precise references on which to base their own figures. Excerpts from Gérard Audran, Les proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité, Paris, 1683, pp. 1-4 of the Preface (unpaginated). The following translation is from The Proportions of the Human Body, measured from the most Beautiful Statues by Mons. Audran . . . , London,There will be, I think, but little occasion to enlarge upon the Necessity of a perfect Knowledge of the PROPORTIONS, to every Person conversant in Designing; it being very well known, that without observing them they can make nothing but mon- strous and extravagant Figures. Everyone agrees to this Maxim generally consider’d, but everyone puts it differently in practice; and here lies the Difficulty, to find certain Rules for the Justness and Nobleness of the Proportions; which, since Opinions are divided, may stand as an infallible Guide, upon whose Judgement we may rely with Certainty. This appears at first very easy; for since the Perfection of Art consist in imitating Nature well, it seems as if we need consult no other Master, but only work after the Life; nevertheless, if we examin the Matter farther, we shall find, that very few Men, or perhaps none, have all their Parts in exact Proportion without any Defect. We must therefore chuse what is beautiful in each, taking only what is called the Beautiful Nature. [...] I see nothing but the Antique in which we can place an entire confidence. These Sculptors who have left us those beautiful Figures [...] have in some sort excell’d Nature; for [...] there never was any Man so perfect in all his Parts as some of their Figures. They have imitated the Arms of one, the Legs of another, collecting thus in one Figure all the Beauties which agreed to the Subject they represented; as we see in the Hercules all the Strokes that are Marks of Strength; and in the Venus all the Delicacy and Graces that can form an accomplished Beauty. [...] [p. 2]. I give you nothing of myself; everything is taken from the Antique: but I have drawn nothing upon the Paper till I had first mark’d all the Measures with the Compasses, in order to make the Out-Lines fall just according to the Numbers. 14. William Hogarth (1697–1764) against fashionable taste and the uncritical cult of the Antique. The celebrated painter and engraver William Hogarth played a crucial role in establishing an English school of painting in the 18th century. As director of the second St Martin’s Lane Academy from 1735, he became increasingly hostile to a curriculum based on the French Académie model. In his theoretical treatise The Analysis of Beauty, published in 1753, he attacked the idealistic concept of art – as a selection of the best parts of nature – in favour of a more naturalistic approach. At the same time he disputed the validity of studies on proportion such as those produced by Dürer and Lomazzo in the 16th century. Hogarth retained a bold independent-minded position towards the Antique, criticising the slavish reverential attitude of connoisseurs and men of taste, while recognising the greatness of certain antiquities. Their peculiar elegance, according to Hogarth, is the expression of the ‘serpentine line’, the central principle of his own aesthetic. Excerpts from William Hogarth, The Analysis of Beauty, London, 1753. [P. 66] We have all along had recourse chiefly to the works of the ancients, not because the moderns have not produced some as excellent; but because the works of the former are more generally known: nor would we have it thought, that either of them have ever yet come up to the utmost beauty of nature. Who but a bigot, even to the antiques, will say that he has not seen faces and necks, hands and arms in living women, that even the Grecian Venus doth but coarsely imitate? [p. 67] And what sufficient reason can be given why the same may not be said of the rest of the body? [P. 77, ‘On Proportions’] Notwithstanding the absurdity of the above schemes [of Dürer and Lomazzo], such measures as are to be taken from antique statues, may be of some service to painters and sculptors, especially to young beginners [...] [p. 80]. I firmly believe, that one of our common proficients in the athletic art, would be able to instruct and direct the best sculptor living, (who hath not seen, or is wholly ignorant of this exercise) in what would give the statue of an English-boxer, a much better proportion, as to character, than is to be seen, even in the famous group of antique boxers, (or some call them, Roman wrestlers) so much admired to this day. [P. 91] As some of the ancient statues have been of such singular use to me, I shall beg leave to conclude this chapter with an observation or two on them in general. It is allowed by the most skilful in the imitative arts, that tho’ there are many of the remains of antiquity, that have great excellencies about them; yet there are not, moderately speaking, above twenty that may be justly called capital. There is one reason, nevertheless, besides the blind veneration that generally is paid to antiquity, for holding even many very imperfect pieces in some degree of estimation: I mean that peculiar taste of elegance which so visibly runs through them all, down to the most incorrect of their basso-relievos: [p. 92] which taste, I am persuaded, my reader will now conceive to have been entirely owing to the perfect knowledge the ancients must have had of the use of the precise serpentine-line. But this cause of elegance not having been since sufficiently understood, no wonder such effects should have appeared mysterious, and have drawn mankind into a sort of religious esteem, and even bigotry, to the works of antiquity. 15. Johan Joachim Winckelmann (1717–68) on the Antique. Winckelmann, the greatest art historian of the 18th century, moved to Rome from Dresden in 1755 and soon established himself as one of the leading antiquarians and scholars of Europe. His powerful and intimate descriptions of ancient sculptures, especially those in the Belvedere Courtyard, had a tremendous impact on the European public and contributed decisively to the difusion of the classical ideal and the airmation of the neo-classical aesthetics. His analysis of Greek art provided a stylistic classification of antiquities by period, stressing the importance of contextual conditions such as the climate and political freedom of the ancient Greek city states. This revolutionised the approach to the Antique and contributed to the establishment of a modern art historical method. He recommended to artists the imitation of ancient statuary as the only way to achieve perfection, in both aesthetic and moral terms. Excerpts from Johan Joachim Winckelmann, Gedanken über die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst, ed. by C. L. von Ulrichs, Stuttgart, 1885, pp. 6–12, 24. The following translation is from the first English edition: J. J. Winckelmann, Reflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the Greeks . . . , trans. by Henry Fuseli, London, 1765. [P. 1] To the Greek climate we owe the production of Taste, and from thence it spread at length over all the politer world. [P. 2] There is but one way for the moderns to become great, and perhaps unequalled; I mean, by imitating the antients. And what we are told of Homer, that whoever understands him well, admires him, we find no less true in matters concerning the antient, especially the Greek arts. But then we must [p. 3] be as familiar with them as with a friend, to find Laocoon as inimitable as Homer. By such intimacy our judgment will be that of Nicomachus: Take these eyes, replied he to some paltry critick, censuring the Helen of Zeuxis, Take my eyes, and she will appear a goddess. With such eyes Michael Angelo, Raphael, and Poussin considered the performances of the antients. They imbibed taste at its source; and Raphael particularly in its native country. We know, that he sent young artists to Greece, to copy there, for his use, the remains of antiquity. [...] Laocoon was the standard of the Roman artists, as well as ours; and the rules of Polycletus became the rules of art. [P. 4] The most beautiful body of ours would perhaps be as much inferior to the most beautiful Greek one, as Iphicles was to his brother Hercules. The forms of the Greeks, prepared to beauty, by the influence of the mildest and purest sky, became perfectly elegant by their early exercises. Take a [p. 5] Spartan youth, sprung from heroes, undistorted by swaddling-cloths; whose bed, from his seventh year, was the earth, familiar with wrestling and swimming from his infancy; and compare him with one of our young Sybarits, and then decide which of the two would be deemed worthy, by an artist, to serve for the model of a Theseus, an Achilles, or even a Bacchus [...] [p. 6]. By these exercises the bodies of the Greeks got the great and manly Contour observed in their statues, without any bloated corpulency. [P. 9] Art claims liberty: in vain would nature produce her noblest offsprings, in a country where rigid laws would choak her progressive growth, as in Egypt, that pretended parent of sciences and arts: but in Greece, where, from their earliest youth, the happy inhabitants were devoted to mirth and pleasure, where narrow- spirited formality never restrained the liberty of manners, the artist enjoyed nature without a veil. [P. 30] The last and most eminent characteristic of the Greek works is a noble simplicity and sedate grandeur in Gesture and Expression. As the bottom of the sea lies peaceful beneath a foaming surface, a great soul lies sedate beneath the strife of passions in Greek figures. ’ Tis in the face of Laocoon this soul shines with full lustre, not confined however to the face, amidst the most violent sufferings. 16. Denis Diderot (1713–84) on the excessive dependence on the Antique at the expense of the study of Nature. Philosopher, polymath and editor of the Encyclopédie, Diderot is one of the central figures of the French Enlightenment. His celebrated art criticism was directed towards the biennial Salons organised by the Académie Royale de peinture et de sculpture in Paris, and covered the period from 1759 to 1781. His review of the 74 75  1765 Salon included a section on sculpture in which he criticised Winckelmann’s semi-religious dependence on the Antique and instead urged artists to return to the study of Nature, as the source of all excellence in art, classical statues included. Diderot’s ‘naturalistic’ and anti-academic approach – already difused into European art theory at least from the 17th century onwards – became predominant in the 19th century. Nevertheless, Diderot had an immense admiration for classical sculpture in itself; for him it represented the best result of that fruitful study of Nature and freedom of artistic creativity that he advocated for contemporary French art. Diderot’s review of the Salon of 1765 was written for Melchior Grimm’s Correspondence littéraire, which circulated in manuscript form. It was printed for the first time in Jacques-André Naigeon, Oeuvres de Denis Diderot publiés sur les manuscrits de l’auteur, 15 vols, Paris, 1798, vol. 13, pp. 314–16. This translation is from Diderot on Art – 1: The Salon of 1765 and Notes on Painting, ed. and trans. by J. Goodman, New Haven and London, 1995, pp. 156–57. I am fond of fanatics [...] [p. 157]. Such one is Winckelmann when he compares the productions of ancient artists with those of modern artists. What doesn’t he see in the stump of a man we call the Torso? The swelling muscles of his chest, they’re nothing less than the undulation of the sea; his broad bent shoulders, they’re a great concave vault that, far from being broken, is strengthened by the burdens it’s made to carry; and as for his nerves, the ropes of ancient catapults that hurled large rocks over immense distances are mere spiderwebs in compari- son. Inquire of this charming enthusiast by what means Glycon, Phidias, and the others managed to produce such beautiful, perfect works and he’ll answer you: by the sentiment of liberty which elevates the soul and inspire great things; by rewards offered by the nation, and public respect; by the constant observation, study and imitation of the beautiful in nature, respect for poster- ity, intoxication at the prospect of immortality, assiduous work, propitious social mores and climate, and genius [...]. There is not a single point of this response one would dare to contradict. But put a second question to him, ask him if it’s better to study the antique or nature, without the knowledge and study of which, without a taste for which ancient artists, even with all the specific advantages they enjoyed, would have left us only medio- cre works: The antique! He’ll reply without skipping a beat; The antique! [...] and in one fell swoop a man whose intelligence, enthusiasm, and taste are without equal betrays all these gifts in the middle of the Toboso. Anyone who scorns nature in favour of the antique risks never producing anything that’s not trivial, weak, and paltry in its drawing, character, drapery, and expression. Anyone who’s neglected nature in favour of the antique will risk being cold, lifeless, devoid of the hidden, secret truths which can only be perceived in nature itself. It seems to me that one must study the antique to learn how to look at nature. 17. Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–92) on the role of the Royal Academy and on the study of the Antique. Sir Joshua Reynolds, the foremost portrait painter in England in the 18th century, served as first president of the Royal Academy between 1768 and 1792. His fifteen Discourses on Art, delivered to the students and members of the Academy between 1769 and 1790, became widely popular in Britain and abroad. They represent a distillation of the idealistic and academic art theory of the previous centuries in support of the ‘Grand manner’, mixed with his personal views, such as Reynolds’ huge admiration for Michelangelo. The Discourses range from didactic guidelines for the Academy to more theoretical discussions, and references to the Antique can be found throughout, especially in Discourse 10, devoted to sculpture. Excerpts from Discourses of Art. Sir Joshua Reynolds, ed. by R. R. Wark, New Haven and London, 1997. [P. 15] Discourse 1 (1769): The principal advantage of an Academy is, that, besides furnishing able men to direct the student, it will be a repository for the great examples of the Art. These are the materials on which genius is to work, and without which the strongest intellect may be fruitlessly or deviously employed. By studying these authentic models, that idea of excellence which is the result of the accumulated experience of past ages may be at once acquired; and the tardy and obstructed progress of our predecessors may teach us a shorter and easier way. The student receives, at one glance, the principles which many artists have spent their whole lives in ascertaining; and, satisfied with their effect, is spared the painful investigation by which they come to be known and fixed. [P. 106] Discourse 6 (1774): All the inventions and thoughts of the Antients, whether conveyed to us in statues, bas-reliefs, intaglios, cameos, or coins, are to be sought after and carefully studied: The genius that hovers over these venerable reliques may be called the father of modern art. From the remains of the works of the antients the modern arts were revived, and it is by their means that they must be restored a second time. However it may mortify our vanity, we must be forced to allow them our masters; and we may venture to prophecy, that when they shall cease to be studied, arts will no longer flourish, and we shall again relapse into barbarism. [P. 177] Discourse 10 (1780): As a proof of the high value we set on the mere excellence of form, we may produce the greatest part of the works of Michael Angelo, both in painting and sculpture; as well as most of the antique statues, which are justly esteemed in a very high degree [...]. But, as a stronger instance that this excellence alone inspires sentiment, what artist ever looked at the Torso without feeling a warmth of enthusiasm, as from the highest efforts of poetry? From whence does this proceed? What is there in this fragment that produces this effect, but the perfec- tion of this science of abstract form? A MIND elevated to the contemplation of excellence perceives in this [p. 178] defaced and shattered fragment, disjecti membra poetae, the traces of superlative genius, the reliques of a work on which succeeding ages can only gaze with inadequate admiration. 18. The Encyclopédie by Denis Diderot (1713–84) and Jean-Baptiste le Rond d’Alembert (1717–83) on the advantages for artists to go to Rome to experience the Antique and modern works of art. The second edition of Diderot’s and D’Alembert’s epochal Encyclopédie included an entry on the Académie de France in Rome, in which the role and mission of the institution is celebrated in superlative terms. A period in Rome was still considered, even by the anti-academic Diderot, to be essential for young artists to round of their education in the physical and spiritual presence of the Antique and the great Renaissance masters. This apology and defence of the Roman Académie was also perhaps intended to counter the opinion of those, such as the sculptor Etienne-Maurice Falconet (1716–91), who judged the trip to Rome no longer necessary, given the quantity of plaster casts available in France. Excerpt from D. Diderot and J.-B. le Rond D’Alembert, Encyclopédie ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des metiers . . . , new ed., Geneva, vol. 1, 1777, pp. 238–39 (translation Barbara Lasic). The French Academy in Rome is a school of painting that King Louis XIV established in 1666, & one of the most beautiful institu- tions of this great monarch for the glory of the kingdom and the progress of the fine arts [...]. It was one of the greatest causes for the perfection of art in France [...]; thus Le Brun thought that young Frenchmen who intended to study the fine arts should go to Rome and spend some time there. This is where the works of Michelangelo, Vignola, Domenichino, Raphael and those of the ancient Greeks give silent lessons far superior to those that our great living masters could give [...]. Italy has the uncontested advantage and glory of having the richest mine of antique models that can serve as guides to the modern artists, and enlighten them in the quest for ideal beauty; of having revived in the world the arts that had been lost; of having produced excellent artists of all types; and finally of having given lessons to other people to whom it had previously given laws [...] [p. 139]. Italy is for artists a true classical land as an Englishman calls it. Everything there entices the eye of the painter, everything instructs him, everything awakens his attention. Aside from modern statues, how many of those antiques, which by their exact proportions and the elegant variety of their forms, served as models to past artists and must serve to those of all centuries, does not the superb Rome contain amid its walls? Although there are in France some very fine statues like the Cincinnatus and a few others, we can state, without fear of being mistaken, that there are none of the first rate, or of those that the Italians call preceptive and that can be put in parallel with the Apollo, the Antinoüs, the Laocoon, the Hercules, the Gladiator, the Faun, the Venus and many more that decorate the Belvedere, the Palazzo Farnese, the Borghese grounds and the gallery of Florence. The gallery Giustiniani alone is perhaps richer in antique statues than the entire French kingdom. 19. James Northcote (1746–1831) on the decline of the Antique as a model and on the thirst for novelty in art. The pungent and lively conversations between the writer and art critic William Hazlitt (1778–1830), and the painter James Northcote, were published in various articles in The New Monthly Magazine in 1826 and then collated in 1830, causing scandal for their frankness among contemporaries. The passage selected is one of the most revealing testimonies on the growing dissatisfaction with the Antique and the widespread demand for new forms of art. Excerpts from William Hazlitt, Conversations of James Northcote, Esq., R.A., London, 1830, pp. 51–53. ‘Did you see Thorwaldsen’s things while you were there? A young artist brought me all his designs the other day, as miracles that I was to wonder at and be delighted with. But I could find nothing in [p. 52] them but repetitions of the Antique, over and over, till I was surfeited.’ ‘He would be pleased at this.’ ‘Why, no! that is not enough: it is easy to imitate the Antique: – if you want to last, you must invent something. The other is only pouring liquors from one vessel into another, that become staler and staler every time. We are tired of the Antique; yet at any rate, it is better than the vapid imitation of it. The world wants something new, and will have it. No matter whether it is better or worse, if there is but an infusion of new life and spirit, it will go down to posterity; otherwise, you are soon forgotten. Canova too, is nothing for the same reason – he is only a feeble copy of the Antique; or a mixture of two things the most incompatible, that and opera-dancing. But there is Bernini; he is full of faults, he has too much of that florid, redundant, fluttering style, that was objected to Rubens; but then he has given an appearance of flesh that was never given before. The Antique always looks like marble, you never for a moment can divest yourself of the idea; but go up to a statue of Bernini’s, and it seems as if it must yield to your touch. This excellence [p. 53] he was the first to give, and therefore it must always remain with him. It is true, it is also in the Elgin marbles; but they were not known in his time; so that he indisputably was a genius. Then there is Michael Angelo; how utterly different from the Antique, and in some things how superior!’ 76 77. CATALOGUE. Notes to the reader support. All drawings and prints are on paper. measurements: Mesurements of all works, both exhibited and reproduced as comparative illustrations, are given height before width, in millimeters for drawings and prints and in centimeters for paintings and sculpture. inscriptions: Recto and verso indications for inscriptions are given only for drawings. For prints it is assumed they are on the recto. Abbreviations: u.l.: upper left; u.c.: upper centre; u.r.: upper right; c.l.: centre left; c.r.: centre right; l.l.: lower left; l.c.: lower centre; l.r.: lower right. The original spelling is always respected. provenance: Provenance is given in chronological sequence, as completely as possible. Collectors’ names are given as listed in Lugt (abbreviated L., L. suppl.) literature/exhibitions: Prints are included in the Exhibition references when the actual impression catalogued here was shown; when another impression was exhibited, it is mentioned under Literature. For exhibition catalogue entries included in the Literature and Exhibition references, the author or authors are given only when their initials are specified at the end of the entry. Otherwise it is assumed that the entry was written by the compilers of the catalogue. If an object has been illustrated in a publication, a figure or plate number is included. If the object has been illustrated without a figure or plate number, ‘repr.’ is used. If nothing is specified, the object was not illustrated. For exhibition catalogues, only the catalogue number is provided, as it is assumed that it was reproduced. Otherwise, ‘not repr.’ is used. #1 Agostino dei Musi, called Agostino Veneziano (Venice c. 1490–after 1536 Rome) After Baccio Bandinelli (Gaiole, near Chianti 1493–1560 Florence) The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli in Rome 1531 Engraving, state II of III 274 × 299 mm (plate), 278 × 302 mm (sheet) Inscribed recto, l.c., on front of table support: ‘ACADEMIA . DI BAC: / CHIO . . MDXXXI. /. A. V.’ selected literature: Heinecken 1778–90, vol. 2, p. 98; Bartsch 1803–21, vol. 14, pp. 314–15, no. 418; Pevsner 1940, pp. 38–42, fig. 5; Ciardi Duprè 1966, p. 161; Wittkower 1969, p. 232, fig. 70; Oberhuber 1978, 314.418, repr.; Florence 1980, p. 264, no. 687; Roman 1984, pp. 81–84, fig. 62; Weil-Garris Brandt 1989, pp. 497–98, fig. 1; Landau and Parshall 1994, p. 286, fig. 304; Barkan 1999, pp. 290–98, fig. 5.12; Fiorentini 1999, pp. 145–46, no. 29; Munich and Cologne 2002, p. 319, no. 110; Thomas 2005, pp. 3–14, figs 1–3; Hegener 2008, pp. 396–403 and 624–25, pl. 228; Antwerp 2013, p. 26, repr.; Florence 2014, pp. 528–29, no. 77.  BRANDIN . provenance: Elizabeth Harvey-Lee, North Aston (Oxfordshire), from whom acquired in 1995. IN . / ROMA . / IN LUOGO . DETTO / . BELVEDERE . /  exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. The Bellinger Collection, inv. no. 1995-047 This renowned print by Agostino Veneziano after a design by Baccio Bandinelli, the Florentine sculptor and draughts- man, depicts Bandinelli’s academy for artists in the Belvedere in Rome, where he was granted the use of rooms by Pope Leo X (r. 1513–21) and Pope Clement VII (r. 1523–34).1 We are informed of this by the prominent inscription below the table, which renders this engraving a particularly appropri- ate work to begin this catalogue, because as well as being the first known representation of artists copying from statuettes modelled after antique prototypes, it is the first recorded use of the word ‘accademia’ in conjunction with art and the training of artists.2 This term had previously been used to describe informal gatherings of men to discuss liberal or intellectual subjects, such as philosophy or literature.3 Though the scene does not depict an art academy in the modern sense – the origins of which are found some thirty years later in Vasari’s Accademia del Disegno4 – Bandinelli made the association between art and intellectual endeavour very clear. His design focuses on the fundamental elements of a young artist’s training, namely, intensive study and copying of the antique sculptures in miniature scattered around the room, replicated on the artists’ tablets. It is there- fore evident that artistic academies were from the beginning conceived of as humanistic educational institutions, reliant, among other things, on ancient statues as sources of inspira- tion. There is a conspicuous absence here of drawing from life, which would later become one of the central elements of Italian and French academic practices.5 The scene also places emphasis on disegno, a word that encompasses much more than its mere translation as ‘drawing’. It comprises the intellectual capacity to create any kind of art, including painting and sculpture, as well as drawing itself.6 In Bandinelli’s own words, his was an ‘Accademia par- ticolare del Disegno’.7 In the print exhibited here, the almost claustrophobic room and closely bunched apprentices imply that study was a collaborative endeavour in Bandinelli’s academy, with discussion among the students encouraged in order that they might better comprehend the objects of their study, and capture them more effectively on paper. Bandinelli himself is seated on the right, wearing a fur-lined collar, holding a statuette of a female nude for his students’ contem- plation. The results of their efforts are drawn on paper placed on drawing boards, using quills and ink pots; what appears to be a blotter rests on the near edge of the table. The noctur- nal setting evokes an atmosphere of mystery and a sense that the central candle, with its forcefully radiating light, has, as well as a physical function, a symbolic one, to illuminate the secrets of art and disegno. The theme of drawing at night recurs throughout this exhibition (cats 2, 23, 24, 34) and reflects a persistent belief that such a setting is essential for stimulating the introspection necessary for artistic success. It also implies diligence and commitment, the ability and will to continue working through day and night, that is required from a master artist.8 For these reasons, a candle or lamp often symbolises ‘Study’, as seen in Federico Zuccaro’s allegorical drawing (see cat. 5, fig. 5). It also reveals a didactic reliance on artificial light as preferable to natural light to emphasise the contours of the sculptures and the contrasts of their planes, thereby facilitating the copying process, an idea earlier espoused by Leonardo da Vinci (with whom the young Bandinelli had personal contact) and later by Benvenuto Cellini (1500–71).9 There is a striking interplay of the shadows cast by the candlelight on the back walls, with the heads of both statues 80 81  and artists overlapping one another. This may refer to a well- known passage from Pliny’s Natural History: ‘The question as to the origin of the art of painting is uncertain [. . .] but all agree that it began with tracing an outline around a man’s shadow’.10 The central figure on the rear shelf casts an improbable shadow, as the hand held perpendicular to the body is reflected on the wall as upright and perpendicular to the ground. This was corrected in a copy after the second state (British Museum, London), which is slightly smaller.11 The design of this copy is more crudely executed than the original, and there are a number of significant changes to the scene that are unique to this plate, which suggests that it was created by someone other than Bandinelli.12 This demonstrates the relative freedom of printmakers to make adjustments to designs, and may help us to infer that this print was especially popular; such changes would have necessitated a new plate, which would imply that demand outstripped the supply, or that the original plate was under especially tight control by a single owner.13 The male and female statues on the table are the focus of the artists’ devotion, and are reminiscent of Apollo and Venus, specifically of the Venus Pudica type.14 They are probably inspired by the famous statues of the Apollo Belvedere (see p. 26, fig. 18 and cat. 5, fig. 1) and Venus Felix (fig. 1), which stood in the Belvedere Court and were constantly used by artists as ideal models.15 They would have been easily acces- sible to Bandinelli while lodging at the Belvedere. The male figures may alternatively be types after Hercules, a figure Fig. 1. Venus Felix and Cupid, c. 200 ad, marble, 214 cm (h), Museo Pio-Clementino, Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 936 that is prevalent throughout Bandinelli’s work (see cat. 3). In fact, Maria Grazia Ciardi Duprè identified the upper left male figure on the shelf as a bronze statuette of Hercules Pomarius, now at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, and on that basis suggested the statuette be newly attributed to Bandinelli.16 Many subsequent scholars have accepted this,17 but the differences in the two figures’ poses leaves the present author unconvinced, and it seems more likely that the figures in the print are generic, idealised types. In an almost meta-narrative, the intense focus on antique statuary is echoed even by the central male statuette, as he gazes at a miniature statuette poised on his own outstretched palm, which twists back to face him, returning his gaze (fig. 2). The three statues arrayed on the shelf along the back wall – two male and one female – are all of the same type as those on the table, and may be either copies or casts of them in wax or clay. The statuettes probably represent objects sculpted by Bandinelli himself referencing the Antique; Vasari tells us that while using the rooms at the Belvedere, Bandinelli made ‘many little figures [. . .] as of Hercules, Venus, Apollo, Leda, and other fantasies of his own’.18 One of these survives in bronze, a Hercules Pomarius at the Bargello, in Florence (fig. 3), and it resembles the figures in the engraving.19 The produc- tion of small models in wax, clay or bronze – many modelled on ancient prototypes – for young artists to practice drawing in the workshop, was already common in the 15th century. Several were created, for instance, by Lorenzo Ghiberti (c. 1381–1455) and Antonio Pollaiuolo (c. 1431–98).20 They Fig. 2. Detail of Veneziano’s engraving, statue gazing at an even smaller statuette Fig. 3. Baccio Bandinelli, Hercules Pomarius, c. 1545, bronze, 33.5 cm (h), Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, inv. 281 Bronzi served the purpose of familiarising young artists with the forms and poses of antique models, allowing them to learn how to draw the three-dimensional human figure from different angles on a flat surface. The juxtaposition of the statuettes with several antique-style pots and vessels in the engraving reinforces the connection between Bandinelli’s ‘academy’ and the classical past, as does the fragment of a foot on the book that serves as a plinth for the male figure on the right. The statuettes are positioned so that each faces a slightly different direction, enabling the viewer to observe them from all angles, just as the artists are instructed to do. Our participation is further encouraged by the figure on the far left and by Bandinelli: both gaze outward and seem to acknowledge our presence. The viewer is thus accorded a role as a fellow student among the apprentices learning from Bandinelli in his academy. This link with the academy was less explicit in the original version of Bandinelli’s design. Ben Thomas drew attention to the first state of the print (Ashmolean Museum, Oxford),21 in which the inscription – so prominent below the table in the print exhibited here – was presented only in an abbreviated form on the tablet hanging on the wall at the far right, without the word ‘academia’, and with only Veneziano’s monogram and the date 1530, a year earlier than the present engraving. This tablet, deprived of the inscription in the later states, became an awkwardly superfluous element of the composition. Also missing in the first state are the drawings on the sheets of the artists gathered around the table. In changing these elements in the second state, as represented here,22 Bandinelli deliberately ensured there was no possibil- ity of misinterpreting this as a literary, rather than artistic, endeavour; it also serves as propaganda for the artist himself, as a dissemination of not only his powers of design, but his role as a teacher and an innovator. This makes it all the more surprising that on the current print, his name is inscribed as ‘Bacchio Brandin.’ rather than Bandinelli. He adopted the Bandinelli surname in 1529 to align himself with a noble family from Siena, thereby making himself eligible for the Order of Santiago, which he was awarded by Emperor Charles V in 1530.23 The inscription dates the print to 1531, after his adoption of this new genealogy, and so must reflect an error on the part of the engraver, Veneziano.24 In his self-portrait, seated at the table, Bandinelli also does not wear the insignia of the Order of Santiago, as he does in his other self-portraits (cats 2 and 3), and so the design for this print most likely dates prior to the granting of this award in 1530. Tommaso Mozzati suggested a date earlier than 1527, when the sack of Rome forced both artists to flee the city, Veneziano to Mantua, Bandinelli first to Lucca and then Genoa.25 The inscription itself tells us the design was made in Rome, depicting a room in the Belvedere. If Veneziano engraved the design after the two artists went their separate ways, it could explain how the mistake in nomenclature was allowed to occur.26 Bandinelli’s relentless self-promotion and willingness to rewrite his family tree to achieve noble status can be explained by his upbringing. His father, Michelangelo di Viviano (1459–1528), was a prominent goldsmith in Florence, but the family had lost much of its wealth and prestige by the time his son was born in October 1493.27 As Bandinelli’s three siblings left home or died young, he was essentially the only child, charged with restoring the family’s social standing. His father encouraged his training as an artist from an early age, as an apprentice within his own workshop. Bandinelli also worked with the sculptor Gian Francesco Rustici (1474–1554), learning from him the process of model- ling sculptures in wax and clay for casting into bronze. This association no doubt provided the opportunity to meet Rustici’s collaborator at the time on St John the Baptist Preaching (Florence Cathedral, Baptistry), Leonardo da Vinci (1452– 1519). Bandinelli was a staunch Medici supporter, even throughout the family’s exile, and this cemented his financial success as soon as two Medici popes came to power (Giovanni de’ Medici as Leo X in 1513 and Giulio de’ Medici as Clement VII in 1523). However, it also inspired rabid criticism from many Florentines, who were Republican by nature.    82 83  Our view of him is also coloured by Vasari’s biography, in which Bandinelli is treated as the villain to his heroic rival, Michelangelo.28 Such a bias is perhaps not completely unwar- ranted, as all three prints on display here by Bandinelli reflect his insistence not only on publicising his own image, but in vaunting his abilities as both a teacher of the next generation of artists, as well as having a special and privi- leged relationship to the Antique. This betrays the arrogance 29 that is also evident in his writings, and may well have contributed to the negative opinions of his character that persist to this day. rh 1 Vasari tells us that Bandinelli was given use of the Belvedere (Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 5, pp. 246, 250) but he never mentions an academy (Barkan 1999, p. 290). This engraving and cat. 2, as well as Bandinelli’s own account in his autobiographical Memoriale (which exists in a single manuscript in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Florence, Cod. Pal. Bandinelli 12, and is transcribed in Colasanti 1905 and Barocchi 1971–77, vol. 2, pp. 1359– 1411) are the only evidence we have for the existence of Bandinelli’s academy. 2 A less explicit link between art and the term ‘accademia’ is found on engravings after Leonardo da Vinci’s designs of knot work, which are inscribed ‘Academia Leonardi Vinci’ (see Pevsner 1940, p. 25; Roman 1984, p. 81; and Goldstein 1996, p. 10 and frontispiece). For Bandinelli as the first to use this word in conjunction with art training, see Pevsner 1940, p. 39; Barkan 1999, p. 290; Munich and Cologne 2002, p. 319 under no. 110; Thomas 2005, p. 8; Hegener 2008, pp. 401 and 403. 3 Visual arts were regarded as applied disciplines rather than liberal arts and thus unsuitable for intellectual discussion (Pevsner 1940, pp. 30–31; Goldstein 1996, p. 147; Cologne and Munich 2002, p. 319 under no. 110; Thomas 2005, pp. 8–9). 4 Although Vasari was the instigator and organiser of the Accademia, officially it was opened in 1563 by Cosimo de Medici (Pevsner 1940, p. 42). For more about the Accademia see Goldstein 1975; Waz ́bin ́ski 1987; Barzman 1989; Barzman 2000. 5 Goldstein 1996, chap. 8; Barkan 1999, p. 292; Costamagna 2005. 6 Goldstein 1996, p. 14. 7 Barocchi 1971–77, vol. 2, pp. 1384–85. 8 Roman 1984, p. 83; Munich and Cologne 2002, p. 319; Thomas 2005, pp.6–7. 9 Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 246–47, note 39; Barkan 1999, p. 292; Hegener 2008, p. 401. 10 ‘De picturae initiis incerta [...] quaestio est [...] omnes umbra hominis lineis circumducta, itaque primam talem’: Pliny the Elder, Nat. Hist., 35.5. See Pliny 1999, pp. 270–71. 11 The British Museum print’s inventory number is V,2.136. 12 Some changes are: the removal of Veneziano’s monogram, the underlining of ‘Belvedere’ in the inscription and the figure sketches on the artists’ sheets (Thomas 2005, p. 12). 13 Thomas 2005, p. 12. 14 For other statues of the Venus Pudica type known in the early Renaissance, see Tolomeo Speranza 1988. 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 Hegener 2008, p. 401. For Venus Felix, see Spinola 1996–2004, vol. 1, p. 97, PN 23 and fig. 14 on p. 98. Ciardi Duprè 1966, p. 161. The inventory number of the statuette is A.76-1910. Or they have at least restated Ciardi Duprè’s thesis without contestation. This includes Fiorentini 1999, p. 145; Thomas 2005, p. 11, note 21; and Hegener 2008, p. 403. Paul Joannides disagrees and attributes the statuette in the Victoria and Albert Museum to Michelangelo, saying that it in turn inspired Bandinelli to create his own version of Hercules Pomarius, now in the Bargello, in Florence (fig. 3), which is widely accepted as by Bandinelli (Joannides 1997, pp. 16–20). Volker Krahn also expressed doubt that it is by Bandinelli (Florence 2014, p. 374). ‘Fece molte figurine [...] come Ercoli, Venere, Apollini, Lede, ed altre sue fantasie’ (Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 5, p. 251). See Florence 2014, pp. 372–75, no. 32. Fusco 1982; Ames-Lewis 2000b, pp. 52–55. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 22–23. Thomas 2005, p. 11. The print’s inventory number is WA1863.1759. There is also a third state owned by the Davison Arts Center of Wesleyan University, CT, in which the publisher Antonio Salamanca’s name is added at the bottom right (Thomas 2005, p. 12). Bartsch noted only one state (the second), but was also aware of the copy of the second state discussed here (Bartsch 1803–21, pp. 314–15, no. 418). The sheet exhibited here may repre- sent a later impression of the second state, as the underlining of ‘Belvedere’ has become so worn that it is only visible below the first ‘el’ and the ‘r’. There is some debate as to when Bandinelli received this honour. Scholars usually agree on 1529, but in his autobiography, Bandinelli said it occurred in the same year as the emperor’s coronation, which was in February 1530. According to Weil-Garris Brandt, the confusion arose because the Florentine year ended in March (Weil-Garris Brandt 1989, p. 501, note 26). Ben Thomas agrees with her and says the emperor sent news of the honour to Bandinelli from Innsbruck, after departing from Bologna on 22 March 1530 (Thomas 2005, p. 9 and note 12). This is perhaps not the only print to exhibit such a mistake, as Bandinelli, in his Memoriale, bemoaned a similar error that had to be corrected on a print of his Martyrdom of St Lawrence (Barocchi 1971–77, vol. 2, p. 1396). However, this complaint itself is inaccurate, as the inscription of ‘Baccius Brandin. Inven.’ on the St Lawrence print would have been a correct appella- tion at the time of its execution in 1524, well before Bandinelli’s adoption of his new name. Such an anachronism has prompted speculation that the Memoriale is not actually by Bandinelli, but rather a forgery by one of his descendants (Thomas 2005, p. 10); nevertheless, it represents a familial dissatisfaction with the dissemination of Bandinelli’s designs once removed from his control. Minonzio 1990, p. 686 and Florence 2014, p. 528 under no. 77. However, by 1530, the date on the first state of this print, both Veneziano and Bandinelli had returned to Rome (Thomas 2005, p. 11). This does not preclude Veneziano from having engraved the design during their separa- tion. It is unlikely that the design was executed at this later date because of the absence of the insignia of the Order of Santiago; even if the image were retrospective, it seems unlikely that Bandinelli would miss an opportunity for self-aggrandisement. For Bandinelli’s biography, see Bandinelli’s own Memoriale (see note 1), Vasari’s account in Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 5, pp. 239–76, and more concise surveys in Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 224–42 and Waldman 2004, pp. xv–xxviii. Weil-Garris 1981, p. 224. Pevsner 1940, p. 42. 2. Enea Vico ( Parma 1523–1567 Ferrara) After Baccio Bandinelli (Gaiole, near Chianti 1493–1560 Florence) The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli c. 1545/50 Engraving, state II of III 314 × 486 mm (sheet) Inscribed recto, u.r., on left page of open book: ‘Baccius / Bandi: / nellus / invent’; on right page: ‘Enea vi: / go Par: / megiano / sculpsit.’ Inscribed verso, l. c., on additional paper fragment, now attached, in pencil: ‘Eneas Vico ca 1520 – ca 1570 / Nagler XXII/515 bl 49 / Ein Hauptblatt’; and below, in pencil, ‘B. Vol 15 B 305 No. 49’; l.l. in pencil: ‘£ 3013 60’ [the rest illegible] provenance: Venator & Hanstein, Cologne, 3 November 1998, lot 2722, from whom acquired. selected literature: Heinecken 1778–90, vol. 2, pp. 98–99; Bartsch 1803–21, vol. 15, pp. 305–06, no. 49; Passavant 1860–64, vol. 6, p. 122, no. 49; Pevsner 1940, pp. 40–42, fig. 6; Ciardi Duprè 1966, pp. 163–64, fig. 26; Goldstein 1975, p. 147, fig. 1; Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 235–36, fig. 14; Roman 1984, pp. 84–87, fig. 66; Spike 1985, 305.49-I and 305.49-II, repr.; Landau and Parshall 1994, p. 286, fig. 303; Barkan 1999, pp. 290–98, fig. 5.13; Fiorentini 1999, pp. 146–47, no. 30; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, pp. 86–88, no. 21; Thomas 2005, pp. 12–14, fig. 5; Hegener 2008, pp. 404–12 and 625–26, pl. 232; Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10, p. 18, fig. 15; Florence 2014, pp. 530–31, no. 78. 84 85 exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 1998-039 This print by Enea Vico after a design by Baccio Bandinelli depicts a scene similar to that in his earlier self-styled acad- emy (cat. 1), but it has been expanded and amplified: the table which occupies all of the space in Agostino Veneziano’s engraving has been moved to the right side of Vico’s print, and the perspective is widened to allow a larger room to come into view. The number of apprentices has grown from six to twelve, the books from one to six and the antique sculptures from five to ten. The style of the print, as well as Vico’s chronology, suggest that it is not the Belvedere acad- emy that is depicted here, but a second academy, established by Bandinelli some twenty years later after his return to Florence in 1540.1 As in the earlier print, the classical figu- rines appear to be generalised interpretations of antique statuary rather than exact copies of specific models, although they have been diversified here by the addition of a horse’s head and a bust of a Roman emperor on the shelf. Added to the fragments strewn about the room are skeletons and skulls, which are now given a status equal to classical sources as inspiration for artists. These refer to the growing tendency to study the anatomy of the human body in Italian work- shops around the mid-16th century, mainly through skele- tons, a practice that was codified by Benvenuto Cellini (1500–71) some twenty years later in his Sopra i Principi e l’ Modo d’Imparare l’Arte del Disegno, in which he advised artists to copy anatomical parts in order to attain skill as draughts- men.2 While Bandinelli’s representation is one of the first to document the spread of anatomical study among young artists, the practice was formalised in the second half of the 16th century in the curricula of the first academies, where sophisticated anatomy lectures were given and dissections were performed.3 Both antique sculptures and skeletons became common elements in subsequent representations of artists’ workshops, studios and academies, as seen in Stradanus’ studio image and Cort’s engraving after it (cat. 4). This is also reflected in an etching by Pierfrancesco Alberti of a painter’s studio or academy (fig. 1), which shows a more structured curriculum of studies involving anatomical dissection, geometry, the Antique and architectural drawing, closely reflecting the disciplines taught in the earliest Italian academies, particularly the Roman Accademia di San Luca.4 The light source is another difference between the two prints after Bandinelli. The single candle in Veneziano’s engraving has become three forcefully radiating fires, with the candle on the table now partially dissolving the face of the student standing to its right. The importance of studying at night, and the diligence and introspection this implies, is again a primary theme. Another engraving after a Bandinelli design, The Combat of Cupid and Apollo,5 also places impor- tance on fire as a source of not only visual illumination, but as a symbol of philosophical and spiritual revelation. The recurrence of this motif has been regarded as indicative of Bandinelli’s neo-Platonic leanings; the flame symbolises divine Reason and its power to defeat the darker, profane vices of the human condition, allowing man to perceive true, celestial beauty, even while bound to the terrestrial realm.6 Indeed, the very concept of an academy is closely inter- twined with Neo-Platonism, as it was widely considered that the first academy founded since the end of classical times was that of Marsilio Ficino (1433–99) in Florence, which was specifically based on the philosophy and teachings espoused by Plato.7  Bandinelli himself is again represented, but he now stands at the far right, instructing the two students who face him. He also now wears the cross of St James, as befits a knight of the Order of Santiago, which he was awarded in 1530, and which is seen in his other self-portrait (cat. 3). The same insignia is placed prominently above the fireplace between the two cupids. Bandinelli’s design therefore takes on a more propagandistic role, and has been described by some scholars as a ‘manifesto’ for his academy.8 The staging here stresses Bandinelli’s nobility, humanism and sophistication, while the importance of copying from antique sculpture is rather downplayed, with the casts relegated to the margins of the scene. None of the artists is now looking at the casts; their focus is instead inward, as best exemplified by the figure who sits at the centre of the composition, with his head in his hand. Only one of the students’ drawings is visible, on the tablet of the standing apprentice at the centre of the scene, and the female nude emerging from his stylus is unrelated to any of the sculptures surrounding him, although clearly referring to a model all’antica. She must therefore be a product of his mind, and so the emphasis here is on the artist’s memory and imagination; the skeletons and antique sculptures were essential for building his graphic vocabulary of the human form, but they have been discarded now that he has successfully internalised them and no longer needs to copy them directly.9 The exercise of memory was one of the central principles of the pedagogical practices of the Italian Renaissance, going back as far as Leon Battista Alberti (1404– 72) and Leonardo (1452–1519).10 Giorgio Vasari (1511–74), in his Vite explicitly recommended that ‘the best thing is to draw men and women from the nude and thus fix in the memory by constant exercise the muscles of the torso, back, legs, arms and knees, with the bones underneath. Then one may be sure that, through much study, attitudes in any position can be drawn by help of the imagination without one having the living forms in the view’.11 The importance of memory was also stressed by Cellini in his treatise.12 There are three states of this print, differentiated by the inscriptions.13 In the first state, the inscription identifying Bandinelli as the designer on the left page of the book on the upper right is included, as is the address of the Roman pub- lisher, Pietro Palumbo, below the sleeping dog in the lower centre (not seen here). In the second state, Enea Vico’s name is added on the right-hand page of the same book, in a differ- ent script. In the final state, the name of Palumbo’s successor as the publisher of this print, Gaspar Alberto, is added below the skulls in the lower centre. Nicole Hegener believed there was an additional state between the first and second, repre- sented by a version at Yale in which Agostino’s Veneziano’s name was inscribed on the right-hand page of the book before it was replaced by Vico’s.14 However, it was noted in 2005 that this was added by hand in pen-and-ink, and was therefore just a modification of the first state of the print.15 The print exhibited here was also believed to be a unique   86 87 Fig. 1. Pierfrancesco Alberti, Painters’ Academy, c. 1603–48, etching, 412 × 522 mm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-1952-373  example of a state between the first and second, as both Bandinelli’s and Vico’s names are present on the book, but Palumbo’s is missing.16 However, close examination of the verso reveals extensive abrasion over the area where Palumbo’s address would have been. The inscription was therefore erased from this sheet, and does not reflect any changes to the original plate. It must, therefore, be an example of the second state, which was subsequently altered for an unknown reason. Palumbo’s name on the first state also makes the dating of this print difficult. On stylistic grounds, most scholars date it to c. 1545/50,17 but Palumbo was not active 1731: Cellini 1731, pp. 155–62 (on the study of the bones and muscles, pp. 157–62). See Olmstead Tonelli 1984, esp. p. 101. See also Schultz 1985; Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97; London, Warwick and elsewhere 1997–98; Carlino 2008–09. Roman 1984, p. 91. See Appendix, no. 7 for the statutes of the Accademia di San Luca. Repr. in Panofsky 1962, fig. 107. Panofsky 1962, pp. 148–51. Goldstein 1996, p. 14. For the neo-Platonic movement during the Renais- sance, see Panofsky 1962, chap. 5. Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10, p. 18; Florence 2014, p. 520. Thomas 2005, pp. 13–14; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 87. Alberti 1972, pp. 96–99 (book 3.55); Leonardo 1956, vol. 1, p. 47, chap. 65–66. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 33. Brown 1907, p. 210; Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, pp. 114–15. Cellini 1731, p. 157. Bartsch mistakenly conflated the second and third states and therefore only listed two states (Bartsch 1803–21, vol. 15, pp. 305–06). He was corrected by Passavant (1860–64, vol. 6, p. 122, no. 49) and this is accepted by subsequent scholarship (i.e. Thomas 2005, p. 13). Hegener 2008, p. 405. Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 88, note 1. See also Florence 2014, p. 530. Venator & Hanstein sale, Cologne, 3 November 1998, lot 2722. Pevsner remarks on the characteristic ‘Mid-Cinquecento Mannerism’ of Vico’s print in contrast to Veneziano’s style, which is reminiscent of Raimondi (Pevsner 1940, p. 40). The following agree on the approximate dates c. 1545/50: Weil-Garris 1981, p. 235; Thomas 2005, p. 13; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 86; Florence 2014, p. 530. Fiorentini suggested c. 1550 because after that date Vico used ‘sculptere’ on his works, rather than ‘sculpsit’ as here (Fiorentini 1999, p. 147). However, the form of Vico’s inscription as ‘Enea Vigo’ on this print is completely unique, as his other extant works are signed either ‘E.V.’, ‘Enea Vico’ or variations on ‘AENEAS VICUS’ (Thomas 2005, p. 13). Therefore we must be very cautious in making any assumptions based on this particular inscription. London 2001–02, p. 230. He continued working until c. 1586. Florence 2014, p. 531. 3. Anonymous, 16th-century Italian Artist After Niccolò della Casa (Lorraine fl. 1543–48) After Baccio Bandinelli (Gaiole, near Chianti 1493–1560 Florence) Self-Portrait of Baccio Bandinelli, Seated 1548 Engraving, 416 × 306 mm Datedl.c.:‘1548’;inscribedl.r:‘A.S.Excudebat.’;inscribedl.c.inpencil:‘No 7.’andbelowtor.inpencil:‘No 7’. With the initials of the publisher, probably Antonio Salamanca (1478–1562). provenance: Léon Millet, Paris (his stamp, not in Lugt, in blue ink on the verso: ‘Léon Millet / 13 rue des Abbesses’ and below, printed in black ink: ‘12 Mars 1897’);1 Bassenge, Berlin, 3 December 2003, lot 5155, from whom acquired. selected literature: Heinecken 1778–90, vol. 2, p. 90; Bartsch 1854–76, vol. 15, pp. 279–80; Nagler 1966, vol. 1, p. 542, under no. 1266; Le Blanc 1854-88, vol. 3, p. 414, nos. 1–2; Steinmann 1913, pp. 96-97, note 8; Florence 1980, pp. 264, 266, no. 690; Los Angeles, Toledo and elsewhere 1988–89, p. 76–77, no. 20; Fiorentini 1999, pp. 153–54, no. 34, fig. 34 (see also pp. 150–53, under no. 33); Fiorentini and Rosenberg 2002, p. 37, fig. 20, pp. 38, 42, 44; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, pp. 32–34, no. 1 (J. Clifton); Hegener 2008, pp. 391–96, version II, fig. 57, p. 617–18, no. 16 (see also pp. 380–91, under version I); Florence 2014, pp. 526–27, no. 76 (T. Mozzati). before c. 1562 at Sant’ Agostino in Rome, Bandinelli’s death. Tommaso Mozzati speculated that Bandinelli transferred his design to Vico before 1546, when the engraver left Florence for Rome, and that the publication may have been delayed by a deteriorating relationship between the two artists.19 If Vico intentionally withheld the design until after Bandinelli’s death, it might explain how Palumbo became its first publisher more than a decade later. 1 2 Pevsner 1940, pp. 40–41; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 86. This engrav- ing, cat. 1 and Bandinelli’s own writings in his Memoriale are the only evidence we have for the existence of his academies (see cat. 1, note 1). Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 246–47, note 39. Cellini’s fragmentary treatise was probably written during the last two decades of his life but published only 88 89 which post-dates rh exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2003-020 This engraving reproduces, in reverse and with variations in detail, an unfinished engraving by Niccolò della Casa, based on a lost drawing by Bandinelli.2 It is unclear why the Della Casa engraving, which is known in only a few impressions, was never finished. The present engraving is smaller than its model, resulting in a few compositional differences. It was attributed to Nicolas Beatrizet (c. 1507/15–1573) by Erna Fiorentini and Raphael Rosenberg and while this was accepted by James Clifton, it was rejected by Nicole Hegener and Tommaso Mozzati.3 Until further information comes to light, it is perhaps safer to attribute it to an unidentified Italian engraver working in Rome in the mid-16th century. Hegener identified a further state with the added inscription at centre right, ‘effigies / Bacci Bandinelli sculp / florentini’ and Karl Heinrich von Heinecken mentioned yet another without inscriptions (untraced).4 If Bandinelli’s self-portrait inserted among his students in his academies (cats 1–2) emphasises his role as teacher and mentor, this image speaks of a solitary and relentless self-promoter.5 By 1548, the engraving’s date, Bandinelli had achieved great success. He had served two Popes, Leo X (Giovanni de’ Medici) and Clement VII (Giulio de’ Medici), for whom he had carried out several important commissions including the classicising Orpheus and Cerberus (Palazzo Medici Riccardi, Florence, c. 1519) modelled after the Apollo Belvedere, the monumental Hercules and Cacus (Piazza della Signoria, Florence, 1523–34) and the papal tombs in Santa Maria sopra Minerva (1536–41).6 He was currently serving the Grand Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici. And yet, it was Baccio’s close alliance with the Medici, coupled with his on- going rivalry with Michelangelo, a staunch anti-Medicean Republican, and others, like Benvenuto Cellini (1500–71) that denied him the full respect and admiration of his Florentine contemporaries. His intense competitiveness and difficult character only exacerbated his contemporaries’ widespread dislike of him.7 Projecting strength, power and authority, this arresting image, clearly intended for circulation, was no doubt Baccio’s attempt to right those perceived wrongs.8 By fusing motifs from his own work with motifs from antique sculpture – absorbed and recast – Bandinelli sought to elevate his status and rank and to assert his position while defending his work by associating it with the art of Greece and Rome.9 The multi-layered and intertexual combination of themes and references that resulted contributes to the engraving’s enigmatic allure and demands careful interpretation. Significantly, it is the first image in the exhibition to demon- strate how Antique imagery could be used by an artist to promote his own art and his own achievements. The engraving shows us a man of great physical presence, seated as though enthroned. His elevation is enhanced by a rich costume – the luxurious fur-lined cloak nonchalantly slides off one shoulder – more typical of an aristocrat than an artist. Emblazoned on his chest is the cross of St James, the emblem of the prestigious 12th-century Spanish military Order of Santiago, conferred on Bandinelli in 1530 by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V who over- ruled protests that it was unmerited. Bandinelli took great pride in the honour, justifiably, since he was the only artist to be awarded the cross of St James, which he included in other self-portraits (see cat. 2).10 Immediately below the sharp lower point of the cross his prominent codpiece protrudes  through the folds of his tunic, an unsubtle reference to his virility. His ‘progeny’ – a selection of his small models and statu- ettes – are seen throughout. Proprietorially and prominently cradled, and elevated on its own column base, is the figure of Hercules, the son of Zeus, who heroically carried out the Twelve Labours. Hercules played a central role in Bandinelli’s work.11 His near obsession with the demi-god, the embodi- ment of strength in the face of adversity, is demonstrated in Hercules’ constant appearance – in bronze, marble, stucco and drawing – throughout Bandinelli’s career.12 And since Hercules was the mythical founder of Florence and an exemplum much favoured by the Medici, in linking his own image so closely to the hero, Bandinelli was also referencing his association with his native city and its ruling house.13 Hercules was the perfect foil to David, another protector of Florence, and to represent the hero gave Baccio the opportu- nity to display his mastery of the muscular male nude in heroic and often violent action. Bandinelli also holds a rather different figure of Hercules in the della Casa engraving, c. 1544 and in his grand painted self-portrait of c. 1550 (Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston) he proudly displays a preparatory drawing for the Hercules and Cacus his most spectacular and ambitious sculpture.14 This colossal group, – a pendant to Michelangelo’s David – and a commission that he had taken away from Michelangelo, brought him considerable fame despite the unfavourable reception that it received on its unveiling in 1534.15 In effect, Hercules was Bandinelli’s calling card and his prominence in his self-portraits is unsurprising.16 Small-scale, classicising models made in wax and terra- cotta such as those seen here and in his other prints (cats 1–2), were central to Bandinelli’s work as tools for teaching, and as preparation for large-scale sculpture; many were translated into bronze, as independent statuettes.17 Here, for example, the pose of the male nude seen from behind standing in contrapposto at the right anticipates that of Adam in Baccio’s Adam and Eve group of 1551 (Bargello, Florence).18 Perhaps because Bandinelli was still working out the pose or perhaps to give the figure the aura of a damaged antique, the left arm is missing below the elbow; several of the other figurines in the engraving derive from the Antique but have been, as it were, naturalised into Bandinelli’s own idiom. On equal footing with the statuette of Hercules that he holds are the two standing female nudes on the left, also elevated on a column shaft. They derive from the Cnidian Venus of the 4th century bc, among the most famous works of the Greek sculptor, Praxiteles, which was probably known  Fig. 1. Baccio Bandinelli, A Standing Female Figure, c. 1515, red chalk, 410 × 242 mm, private collection, Switzerland Fig. 2. Giulio Bonasone, Saturn Seated on a Cloud Devouring a Statue, c. 1555–70, etching and engraving, 254 × 154 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, H,5.137 Fig. 3. Anonymous, Ferrarese School, Fortitude, playing card, c. 1465, engraving, 179 × 100 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1895,0915.36    90 91   Fig. 4. Amico Aspertini, Lion Attacking a Horse, pen and light brown ink, 107 × 146 mm, Staatliche Museen, Kupferstichtkabinett, Berlin, KdZ 25020 to Bandinelli through a Roman copy.19 Intent on demonstrat- ing his full knowledge of the statue Baccio presents one woman frontally, while the other, headless, is seen from behind.20 Slim and regularly proportioned, the Cnidian Venus was Bandinelli’s preferred female type and examples abound in his sculpted and graphic work.21 A highly finished red chalk drawing (private collection Switzerland, fig. 1) compares well with the engraved nude on the left.22 The foreground is occupied with further statuettes: another Hercules stands on a pedestal on the left and five male torsos are scattered on the ground at his feet. While they loosely evoke the Antique – the two on the lower left, for example, recall the Belvedere Torso (p. 26, fig. 23), they have become generalised.23 Headless and limbless, like antique fragments, they suggest once more that Bandinelli was equating his work with that of the ancients. The lion has been interpreted diversely and Bandinelli may well have intended multi-layered interpretation. It has widely been seen as a heraldic Medici lion (marzocco) and, as such, a reference to Bandinelli’s favoured position with the Medici as well as his loyalty to their regime.24 Interpreted as devour- 25 ing a lower thigh and knee, the lion has also been seen as a symbol of the artist’s prowess in sculpture. A more complex explanation suggests a link with Saturn devouring a boulder, a subject illustrated in a print by Giulio Bonasone (fig. 2), which is accompanied by the motto, ‘in pulverem reverteris’ (‘unto dust shalt thou return’).26 As such, Bandinelli is not merely subjugating a wild animal but also triumphing over Time.27 More simply, the lion may also refer to Bandinelli’s favourite hero, Hercules, who conquered the Nemean lion, or evoke Fortitude whose traditional attributes were a lion and a broken column, here transformed into a plinth (fig. 3).28 Finally, it may be that Bandinelli was again referencing the Antique: the Lion Attacking a Horse – part of a colossal Hellenistic group (Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome) – in Bandinelli’s day, a limbless fragment on the The fragment was considered ‘of such excellence that Michelangelo judged it to be most marvellous’.31 There has been much speculation about Bandinelli’s pose in the engraving. It might, in fact, refer to the Belvedere Torso,32 as ‘restored’ in an engraving by Giovanni Antonio da Brescia (1485–1525) of c. 1515 (fig. 5).33 The arrangement of his legs is also close, in reverse to that of Laocoön, (p. 26, fig. 19), a direct copy of which, in marble (c. 1520–25, Florence, Uffizi) com- missioned by Leo X, was one of Baccio’s greatest successes.34 His preparatory drawing for the sculpture also in the Uffizi (fig. 6) shows him seated in a comparable pose as seen here.35 Once again, therefore, we see the sculptor referencing and promoting his own work, employing the associative authority of Antique imagery. In sum, Bandinelli presents himself here not only with the strength and fortitude of a modern Hercules who successfully vanquished his adversaries but also as the greatest, most recognisable hero- martyr and father from antiquity, Laocoön, with his sculpted ‘offspring’ triumphant. Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 236–37. For the painting, see O. Tostmann, in Florence 2014, pp. 510–13, no. 69, repr.; Mozzati 2014, pp. 458–63. For a full discussion of the statue, see Vossilla 2014, pp. 156–67, repr.; Florence 2014, p. 573, no. VII. For Herculean imagery in the engraving, see Hegener 2008, pp. 382–86, 389–91, 395–96. Barkan 1999, p. 304; Krahn 2014, pp. 324–31. As first observed by Bruce Davis in Los Angeles, Toledo and elsewhere 1988–89, p. 77. For the sculpture, see D. Heikamp, in Florence 2014, pp. 314–15, no. 22, repr. He also appears, in adapted form, in other works by the sculptor (Fiorentini 1999, p. 152). First noted by B. Davis, in Los Angeles, Toledo and elsewhere 1988–89, p. 77; Barkan 1999, pp. 308–09, fig. 5.19. One half expects to see to a third figure to complete the ‘Three Graces’. On the use of this double-view and his drawings that may relate to these figures, see Fiorentini 1999, pp. 151–52. Barkan 1999, pp. 309–12; V. Krahn, in Florence 2014, pp. 356–59, no. 28. B. Davis in Los Angeles, Toledo and elsewhere 1988–89, p. 77. The drawing was formerly with Yvonne Tan Bunzl (Bunzl 1987, no. 5, repr.; see also V. Krahn, in Florence 2014, p. 356, fig. 1). Other copies by Bandinelli after the same statue, one in red chalk, the other, in pen and ink, are on a double- sided sheet in in the Biblioteca Reale, Turin (Bertini 1958, p. 17, no. 37; Barkan 1999, p. 311, figs. 5.21, 5.22). The same Cnidian Venus type occurs at left in his drawing, Four Female Nudes, in the Art Gallery of Toronto, 2006/432 (repr. in Aldega and Gordon 2003, p. 8, no. 1). A woman very similar to that engraved at left both in pose, body type and hairstyle, appears on a sheet in the Louvre, formerly classed as Bandinelli and now given to Giovanni Bandini (1540–1599), Viatte 2011, pp. 246–47, R2, repr. Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 34. Of course, they could also be a further Herculean reference, as the Torso was in the Renaissance believed to be that of Hercules (Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 313). Fiorentini 1999, p. 150, followed by Hegener 2008, p. 388, considered one of the torsos, the second from the left, to be based on the torso of a satyr now in the Villa Barbarini, Castel Gandolfo, Rome, which was in the Ciampolini collection in the Renaissance (Liverani 1989, pp. 92, no. 34, 94–95, figs. 34.1–4). Given the differences in pose, the present author cannot accept this view. Bandinelli adapted the pose of the Torso Belvedere for his red chalk drawing, A Nude Man, Seated on a Grassy Bank in the Courtauld Gallery, as noted by Ruth Rubinstein (Cambridge 1988, pp. 26–27, no. 8, repr.); see also Barkan 1999, pp. 308–09, fig 5.17. Hegener 2008, p. 383. Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 34. T. Mozzati, in Florence 2014, p. 527, who reports that this view is shared by Mino Gabriele. That author notes (repeating Massari 1983, p. 125) that the concept is paralleled in a passage from Ovid’s Metamorphosis (15.236–38). However, it is also part of a famous passage from Genesis 3:19: ‘In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.’ For the print, see Massari 1983, vol. 1, p. 125, no. 223, repr. T. Mozzati, in Florence 2014, p. 527, who also considers that Bandinelli holds a complete statuette, not a fragment like the others in the print, as a modern manifestation of classicism. Zucker 1980, p. 185, no. 53-A (136), repr.; Zucker 2000, p. 47, .036a. See also Ripa’s illustrated edition of 1603 (Buscaroli 1992, pp. 142–44, repr.). Fiorentini 1999, p. 151; Hegener 2008, p. 383. For the statue: Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 250–51, no. 54, fig. 128; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 236–37, no. 185. Faietti and Kelescian 1995, pp. 220–21, no. 4; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 237, fig. 185a. Aldrovandi 1556, p. 270, cited and translated by Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 236. As proposed by Hegener (2008, pp. 380, 382, 389–90) who considered his arms to be based on those of Christ in Michelangelo’s Last Judgment. Zucker 1980, p. 78, no. 5 (100), repr.; Zucker 1984, pp. 350–51, .028, repr. The pose also anticipates Bandinelli’s God the Father sculpture of the 1550s in S. Croce, Florence (Florence 2014, pp. 595–98, no. XVIII, repr.). Although intended as a gift for François I, it never reached its intended recipient and remained with the next Pope Clement VII, in Florence. Bober and Rubinstein 2010,pp. 165–66, no. 122b. Capecchi (2014, pp. 129–55) provides a thorough account of the project. D. Cordellier, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 237–40, no. 74, repr. 29 Aspertini (1472–1552) (fig.4; Kupferstichtkabinett, Berlin).30 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 avl Rhea Blok has noted (e-mail, 12 August 2014) that the same collector’s mark is found on Henri Mauperché’s etching, L’Ange conseillant Tobie, with A. & D. Martinez (Paris 2003, p. 5, no. 20) and a print by Vincenzo Mazzi (Stage Set from the Caprici Teatrali, Bologna, 1776) in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 66.500.27. It also appears on the reverse of the drawing by Hubert Clerget, La Maison de Boucher, rue Carnot à la Ferte-Bernard, with C. J. Goodfriend, New York, in 2014. Fiorentini 1999, pp. 150–53, no. 33; Fiorentini and Rosenberg 2002, p. 36, fig. 19; Hegener 2008, pp. 380–91, version I, fig. 221, p. 617, no. 15. J. Clifton in Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, pp. 32–34, no. 1; Hegener 2008, p. 391; Mozzati in Florence 2014, pp. 526–27, no. 76. Erna Fiorentini previously attributed it to Casa with a query (1999, p. 153). Hegener 2008 p. 618, no. 17, fig. 226; Heinecken (1778–90, vol. 2, p. 90). For his portraiture and use of it for self-promotion, see Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 237–38; Weil-Garris Brandt 1989; Mozzati 2014, pp. 452–63. Florence 2014, p. 568, no. III; p. 573, no. VII; pp. 576–81, nos IX.-X. (R. Schallert). The Orpheus and his copy of the Laocoön (ibid., p. 571, no. V) earned his reputation as ‘a great young talent who can export the Belvedere’. (Barkan, 1999, p. 279). His personality is revealed in his letters and the lengthy account in Vasari’s Lives (Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 5, pp. 238–76). See also Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 223–24; Weil-Garris Brandt 1989, p. 497. Along with the date, 1548, the engraving bears the initials and inscription, ‘A.S.Excudebat.’, presumably Antonio Salamanca, the leading publisher of prints in Rome in the mid-16th century (Fiorentini and Rosenberg 2002, p. 38). Many of the prints he published were of Roman antiquities. See London 2001–02, p. 233; Pagani 2000; Witcombe 2008, pp. 67–105. Weil-Garris 1981, p. 231; Weil-Garris Brandt 1989, p. 497. For a fundamental discussion of Bandinelli and the Antique, see Barkan 1999, pp. 271–408. Weil-Garris Brandt 1989, pp. 497, 499–500. Weil-Garris 1981, p. 237. See V. Krahn, in Florence 2014, pp. 372–75, cat no. 32 who further notes the similarity between the Hercules appearing in outline leaning on his club at right in the unfinished print by Niccolò della Casa (Fiorentini and Rosenberg 2002, p. 36, fig. 19), and Bandinelli’s Hercules with the Apple of the Hesperides, c. 1545, in the Bargello in Florence (ibid., pp. 372–75, cat. no. 32, repr.). There are many other engraved representations of Hercules subjects by or based on Bandinelli, who evidently planned a series, as noted by Roger Ward (in Cambridge 1988, p. 74, under cat. no. 42). See also M. Zurla, in Florence 2014, pp. 388–93, cat. nos 37–39. Weil-Garris 1981, p. 237; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 34. Campidoglio – freely interpreted by artists like Amico   92 93 Fig. 5. Giovanni Antonio da Brescia (fl. 1490–1519), The Belvedere Torso with Legs and Feet, as Hercules, c. 1500–20, engraving, 166 × 103 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1845,0825.258 Fig. 6. Baccio Bandinelli, Laocoön, pen and brown ink, 1520s, 417 × 265 mm, Uizi, Florence, inv. 14785 F (recto)  4a. Jan van der Straet, called Johannes Stradanus (Bruges 1523–1605 Florence) The Practice of the Visual Arts 1573 Pen and brown ink with brown wash and white heightening with touches of grey, incised for transfer 436 × 293 mm Inscribed recto, l.c., in pen and brown ink, in reverse sense: ‘io stradensis flandrvs in 1573 cornelie cort excv’ provenance: Sir H. Sloane bequest, 1753. literature: Hind and Popham 1915–32, vol. 5, p. 182, no. 1; Ameisenowa 1963, p. 58; Wolf-Heiddeger and Cetto 1967, p. 171, no. 73, repr. on p. 431; Heikamp 1972, p. 300 and fig. 1 on p. 302; Heidelberg 1982, p. 29, no. 52, pl. 1 on p. 17; Sellink 1992, p. 46; Rotterdam 1994, pp. 195–99 (in Dutch), pp. 200–05 (in English), fig. a on p. 204; Baroni Vannucci 1997, pp. 63–64, 247, no. 313, repr. on p. 246. exhibitions: Florence 1980, p. 213, no. 523, not repr. (G. G. Bertelà); London 1986, no. 144, repr. on p. 193 (N. Turner); Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97, pp. 148–49, no. 39 (M. Kornell); London, Warwick, and elsewhere 1997–98, pp. 19, 25, 119, no. 142 (D. Petherbridge and L. Jordanova); London 2001–02, p. 21, no. 4 (M. Bury); Bruges 2008–09, pp. 227–28, no. 20 (A. Baroni). The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, SL,5214.2 exhibited in london only 4b. Cornelis Cort (Hoorn 1533–before 1578 Rome) After Jan van der Straet, called Johannes Stradanus (Bruges 1523–1605 Florence) The Practice of the Visual Arts 1578 Engraving State I of II1 432 × 295 mm Inscribed recto, l.c., on wooden box: ‘Cornelius Cort fecit. / 1578’; along bottom: ‘Illmo et Exmo Dn ́o Iacobo Boncompagno Arcis Praefecto, ingenior, ac industriae fautori, Artiú nobiliú praxim, á Io, Stradési Belga artifiosè expressá, Laureti’ Vaccarius D.D. Romae Anno 1578.’; u.r.: ‘PICTVRA’; c.l. on table in background: ‘FVSORIA’; u.c. below statue: ‘STATV ARIA’; l.l. on table: ‘ANATOMIA’; below statue of horse: ‘SCVLPTVRA’; c.r. on book on table: ‘ARCHITECTVRA’; r. on paper on table: ‘Typorum eneorum / INCISORIA’; l.c. on stool: ‘Tyrones pi / cture’. provenance: possibly entered Rijksmuseum collection late 19th century (L.2228)2 literature: Hind and Popham 1915–32, vol. 5, p. 182; Bierens de Haan 1948, p. 199, no. 218, fig. 53; Hollstein 1949–2001, vol. 5, p. 58, no. 218, repr.; Ameisenowa 1963, p. 58; Wolf-Heiddeger and Cetto 1967, pp. 171–72, no. 74, repr. on p. 431; Heikamp 1972, p. 300, fig. 2 on p. 302; Strauss 1977, vol. 1, pp. 278–79, repr.; Florence 1980, p. 213; Parker 1983, pp. 76–77, repr. (as state II); Roman 1984, pp. 88–91, fig. 69; Strauss and Shimura 1986, p. 249, 218.199; Liedtke 1989, p. 190, no. 53, repr. on p. 191; Sellink 1992, p. 46, fig. 18 on p. 47; Rotterdam 1994, pp. 195–99 (in Dutch), pp. 200–205 (in English), no. 69; Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97, pp. 148–51, no. 40; Baroni Vannucci 1997, pp. 63–64, 436, no. 772; Sellink and Leeflang 2000, part 3, pp. 118–19, no. 210; London 2001–02, pp. 18–21, no. 3; Munich and Cologne 2002, pp. 321–22, no. 112; Wiebel and Wiedau 2002, p. 154, repr. on p. 155; Perry Chapman 2005, p. 116, fig. 4.7 on p. 117. exhibitions: Vienna 1987, p. 320, no. VII.25 (M. Boeckl); Amsterdam 2007, no. 5 (C. Smid and A. White); Bruges 2008–09, no. 21 (A. Baroni); Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10, pp. 18–19, no. 16. their careers in Italy. Jan van der Straet was born in Bruges in 1523, but we know very little of his life before he arrived in Italy around 1545.4 He settled in Florence but worked in both Rome and Naples, and became a close collaborator of Giorgio Vasari (1511–74), assisting him in the decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio and at Poggio a Caiano. Like Vasari, Van der Straet was immensely versatile, working on paintings and portraits, making cartoons for tapestries and creating hundreds of designs for prints. He died in Florence in 1605, and is better known to posterity by the Italianised version of his name, Johannes Stradanus. He nevertheless maintained his Flemish identity by signing his works with variations of ‘FLANDRUS’, as seen in the exhibited drawing; however, it is difficult to decipher, because Stradanus wrote the inscrip- tion in reverse. This is clear evidence that the drawing was intended as a design for a print. All the figures use their left hands, which is further proof, as are the clear indentation lines made to transfer the design to the plate. Stradanus’ inscription is dated 1573, and includes the name of the Dutch- man Cornelis Cort, who would engrave the drawing five years later, in 1578.5 Cort is first documented working in the printing house of Hieronymous Cock (c. 1510–70) in Antwerp, around 1553, before he travelled to Italy in 1565.6 At first he worked in Venice, where he formed a famous partnership with Titian (c. 1488–1576), but he later moved to central Italy. Cort probably met Stradanus in 1569 in Florence, where the Medicis had requested his presence to engrave their family tree.7 In the engraving, Cort moved his own name to the block at the centre foreground, where he also inscribed the date 1578. Stradanus’ inscription was replaced by one from the publisher, Lorenzo Vaccari (active 1575–87), dedicating the work to Giacomo Boncampagni, Prefect of the Castel Sant’Angelo and son of the newly appointed Pope Gregory XIII (r. 1572–85).8 Cort made several further changes to Stradanus’ design, the most obvious of which are the inscriptions added to clarify the various activities being conducted around the room. Thus we can identify the three arts of disegno taking place in one institution, with painting (‘PICTVRA’) on the wall, sculpture (‘STATVARIA’ and ‘SCVLPTVRA’) on the plinths in the centre, and architecture (‘ARCHITECTVRA’), which is given short shrift, repre- sented only by the man seated at the table before the Venus, holding a pair of dividers. The architect is in fact overshad- owed by the unusual addition beside him of a seated engraver, whose burin rests on the corner of the table next to the more prominent inscription ‘Typorum eneorum INCISORIA’. Michael Bury thought this focus on engraving was added at Cort’s urging,9 but Stradanus, as the inventor of more than 560 designs for prints, may himself have decided to place unprecedented emphasis on the graphic arts.10 Of the three genres of painting – landscape, portraiture and history paint- ing – the latter was considered the most admirable, and so it is appropriate that the painting on the wall depicts an ancient battle scene. Sculpture is depicted hierarchically, with prom- inence given to the grand marble sculptures atop the plinth, distinguished from the lesser arts of wax modelling and bronze casting, embodied by the rearing horse below. While the older bearded masters are at work within their individual disciplines, their true purpose is to guide the next generation of artists – the young, clean-shaven students scattered around the room. The foreground is therefore occupied with training exercises, as the pupils learn to draw after the Antique and the human body before attempting the loftier projects of sculpture and painting, exemplified in the upper back registers of the scene. The role of the Antique is actually more prominent in the print than in the drawing, as the statuette of Venus – which, like the statuettes in Bandinelli’s academies (cats 1 and 2), is probably all’antica rather than an antique original – meets the gaze of a young pupil, whose quill is poised to draw her. This same youth in Stradanus’ design has already filled his sheet with repeated sketches of eyes. This reflects a different practice, referred to as the ‘alphabet of drawing’, in which students were encouraged to start with the smallest part of the human body, usually the eyes, gradually building up a repertoire of the individual parts before assembling them into more complex configurations. In the same way, a writer must first learn the alphabet and how to form indi- vidual letters into words before being able to construct sentences. Benvenuto Cellini (1500–71) described this as a common practice: ‘The teachers would put a human eye in front of those poor and most tender youths as their first step in imitating and portraying; this is what happened to me in my childhood, and probably happened to others as well’ . 1 1 His statement is corroborated not only by Stradanus’ drawing, but by a similar youth in Pierfrancesco Alberti’s (1584–1638) etching of a studio (cat. 2, fig. 1) and by a sheet of eyes from Odoardo Fialetti’s (1573–1638) drawing-book (p. 34, fig. 37). Stradanus repeated the youth and his drawing of eyes in another design for a print, which appeared in a series called Nova Reperta, published by Philips Galle (1537– 1612) in the 1590s (fig. 1). This ‘A B C ’ technique of drawing, as well as the important role of the Antique, were codified in Federico Zuccaro’s (c. 1540–1609) first statutes for the Accademia di San Luca, ‘re-founded’ in Rome in 1593.12 The idea of progressing from simple elements to a complex whole originated with Leon Battista Alberti (1404–72), and he recommended a similar method for the study of human anatomy, starting with the bones before adding muscles and Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-BI-6381 exhibited in haarlem only This crowded, idealised vision of a workshop for training artists is the natural successor to the earlier academies depicted by Baccio Bandinelli (cats 1 and 2). The Antique still plays a prominent role, seen in the large marble statues in the centre depicting Rome personified next to the river god Tiber, both based on the well-known sculptures in the Capitoline,3 and by the statuette of a Venus Pudica type with her back to us standing on the table in the foreground. Equal importance, however, is accorded to the study of anatomy, 94 and the young pupils in the foreground focus their attention on the skeleton and cadaver suspended from ropes and pulleys. This reflects the later 16th-century emphasis on the study of anatomy as an integral part of the artist’s education , a tendency that was already evident in the skeletons added to Bandinelli’s second academy print (cat. 2), and which is fully realised in this scene. The drawing and print catalogued here were produced in close collaboration by two Northern artists who both made 95    96 97  finally flesh.13 The students in Stradanus’ drawing are dili- gently following these instructions by examining the bones of a skeleton, while a bespectacled tutor flays the arm of a corpse to grant them a view of the musculature. Regardless of which object they are studying, all the pupils are engaged in drawing, considered to be the essential element in their education. Stradanus’ design is therefore an allegory of the ideal academy, in which all of the arts are improbably combined under one roof to offer the most well-rounded and comprehensive instruction to the next generation of artists. Detlef Heikamp, however, believed it to represent a specific academy, the Accademia di San Luca in Rome, and to be the pendant to another drawing by Stradanus, now in Heidelberg, depicting the Accademia del Disegno in Florence (fig. 2).14 Most other scholars disagree, however, as the Accademia di San Luca was not officially founded until 1593, exactly 20 years after the drawing was made.15 The drawing also predates a Breve issued by Pope Gregory XIII in 1577, urging the foundation of such an academy.16 Heikamp was correct, however, in pointing out the Roman symbolism of this drawing, evident in the grand statue of Rome personified, based iconographically on Minerva, flanked by the river god Tiber and the she-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus. The Heidelberg drawing, by contrast, is decidedly Florentine, showing Brunelleschi’s dome, the river god of the Arno and the Florentine lion, the Marzocco. However, the two drawings are very different Fig. 2. Johannes Stradanus, Allegory of the Florentine Academy of Art, c. 1569–70, pen and brown ink, brown wash and white heightening, 465 × 363 mm, Kurpfälzisches Museum der Stadt Heidelberg, Inv. Nr. Z 5425 in size,17 and the consensus of opinion is that they are not a pair, representing separate allegorical, idealised Roman and Florentine teaching traditions.18 Stradanus himself was a founding member of the Accademia del Disegno, which opened in 1563 in Florence. The study of anatomy was a central precept of the Acca- demia, and, while acting as a consul in the winter of 1563, Stradanus was responsible for organising a dissection for the students.19 His experience guiding and shaping young Florentine artists must have informed his designs. Perhaps Stradanus was compelled to portray such an academy in which the three arts of disegno are exalted and glorified in order to allay growing concerns about the status of art and artists.20 Alessandra Baroni made the radical proposal that Cort was the driving force behind the project, and that it was conceived around 1569 when he and Stradanus were both working in Florence.21 The Medicis commissioned Cort to engrave their family tree, and while he was in Florence he created a series of prints with Florentine and Medici themes, including engravings of tombs in the Medici Chapel. Cort may have undertaken these projects on his own initiative, and the Heidelberg drawing would have made a fitting addition to the series. An engraving of it, however, was never executed, perhaps because a receptive audience could not be found, but in Rome four years later, Cort may have found a more conducive atmosphere and convinced Stradanus to resume the endeavour. Whatever the motiva- tion, the design proved very popular, as evidenced by the existence of two early copies of the engraving, the first of 22 which was published in Venice around 1580. Clearly, Italian audiences were fascinated by the subject of art and the requisite training necessary for its creation, in which the Antique played a pivotal role. The second state was printed 200 years later, when the plate came into the possession of Carlo Losi, who changed the date on it to 1773 (Bruges 2008–09, p. 229). I am grateful to Erik Hinterding, Curator of Prints at the Rijksmuseum, for his correspondence regarding this provenance. Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 89–90, no. 42 and pp. 113–14, no. 66. Janssens 2012, pp. 9–10. Karel van Mander’s biography of Van der Straet is very brief (Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 326–29). A better source is Borghini 1584, pp. 579–89. There is an excellent chronology of his life, including lists of the related archival documents, in Baroni Vannucci 1997, pp. 446–51. The inscription ‘CORNELIS CORT EXCV’ suggests that Cort had intended to publish the print himself. He may have struggled to do so, explaining the five-year gap between the date of the drawing and the pub- lication of the print, and it was published by another man, Lorenzo Vaccari (Bruges 2008–09, pp. 228–29). It may even have been published post- humously, as Cort died in 1578 (Sellink and Leeflang 2000, part 3, p. 119). For Cort’s biography, see Thieme-Becker 1907–50, vol. 12, pp. 475–77. Cock was also the first publisher with whom Stradanus worked, in 1567, and they had a long partnership (Baroni 2012, p. 91). Bruges 2008–09, p. 228. Boncompagni was appointed to this post in 1572, and in April 1573 was promoted to Governor General of the Church. It is strange that the inscrip- tion added to the print in 1578 refers to Boncompagni by the lesser title of Prefect, which Michael Bury took as proof that the print was more likely to have been executed in 1573, the same year as the drawing. He thought it possible that the ‘3’ had simply been changed to an ‘8’ in the date 1578 on the stool; however there are no extant 1573 versions of the print (London 2001–02, pp. 18, 21). London 2001–02, p. 18. Leesberg 2012a, p. 161. Amornpichetkul 1984, p. 117 and Cellini 1731, p. 141. Cellini went on to say he considered this a ‘poor method’ but he agreed on the means of building up the bones of a skeleton in order to draw a successful nude. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 33–34. Appendix, no. 7. Alberti 1972, p. 75 (book 2, chap. 36) and p. 97 (book 3, chap. 55). Heikamp 1972, p. 300. It is true that for decades the idea for such an institution had been simmer- ing, especially at the behest of Federico Zuccaro, a founding member of the Accademia del Disegno in Florence. He was unhappy with its tenets and sought reforms, eventually simply founding the Accademia di San Luca instead (Pevsner 1940, pp. 59–60). Heikamp’s theory has been rejected in London 2001–02, p. 21 and Bruges 2008–09, p. 226. The Pope decried the level of decadence in contemporary art and blamed it on defective training of young artists, arguing that if they had been properly instructed in both art and religion, they would not sink to such lows (Pevsner 1940, p. 57). The Heidelberg drawing is much larger and measures 465 × 363 mm. The figures in the Heidelberg drawing also all use their left hands, so it must have been intended for a print; however, no such print has come to light (London 2001–02, p. 21). Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97, p. 148. Rotterdam 1994, p. 200. Bruges 2008–09, pp. 226–27. Bruges 2008–09, p. 229. For a list of the copies, see Sellink and Leeflang 2000, part 3, p. 119. For the practice of copying after Stradanus’ prints, see Leesberg 2012a.   98 99 Fig. 1. Published by Philips Galle after a design by Johannes Stradanus, Color Olivi, plate 14 in Nova Reperta series, c. 1580–1600, engraving, 201 × 271 mm, private collection  5. Federico Zuccaro (Urbino c. 1541–1609 Rome) Taddeo in the Belvedere Court in the Vatican Drawing the Laocoön c. 1595 Pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, over black chalk and touches of red chalk, 175 × 425 mm Inscribed recto in brown pen and ink by the artist on the building in the background: ‘le camore di Rafaello’; on the figure’s tunic in capital lettering, ‘THADDEO ZUCCHARO’; numbered u.r. in brown ink: ‘17’. provenance: Gilbert Paignon Dijonval (1708–92); Charles-Gilbert, Vicomte Morel de Vindé (1759–1842), see L. 2520; Samuel Woodburn (1786–1853), 1816; Thomas Dimsdale (1758–1823), see L. 2426; Samuel Woodburn, 1823; Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769–1830), L. 2445; Samuel Woodburn, 1830; Sold Christie’s, London, 4 June 1860, part of lot 1074; bought by Sir Thomas Phillipps (1792–1872); Thomas Fitzroy Fenwick (1856–1938); Dr A. S. W. Rosenbach (1876–1952), 1930; Philip H. and A. S. W. Rosenbach Foundation until 1978; The British Rail Pension Fund, 1978; Their sale, Sotheby’s, New York, 11 January 1990, lot 17; Finacor, Paris; Their sale, Christie’s, London, 28 January 1999, part of lot 35 (no. 17), from whom acquired. selected literature:1 Rossi 1997, p. 64; Acidini Luchinat 1998, vol. 1, pp. 14, 16, 22, fig. 20; vol. 2, p. 225; Paul 2000, pp. 5–6, fig. 1; Paris 2000–01, pp. 379–80, under no. 185 (C. Scailliérez); Silver 2007–08, p. 86; Lukehart 2007–08, p. 105; Cavazzini 2008, p. 50, fig. 26; Tronzo 2009, pp. 49, fig. 6, 52–54; Deswarte-Rosa 2011, pp. 27–28, 31, fig. 4; Pierguidi 2011, pp. 29–30, fig. 3; Luchterhandt 2013–14, pp. 38–39, fig. 11. exhibitions: London 1836, p. 11, no. 17, not repr.; Los Angeles 1999 (no catalogue); Rome 2006–07, pp. 159–60, no. 51 (M. Serlupi Crescenzi); Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 24, 33–34, no. 17 (see also, pp. 7, 40, 70, 86, 127). Fig. 1. Apollo Belvedere, Roman copy of the Hadrianic period (117–138 ad) from a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 224 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome inv. 1015 Fig. 2. Laocoön, possibly a Roman copy of the 1st century ad after a Greek original of the 2nd century bc, marble, 242 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 1064   The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 99.GA.6.17 exhibited in london only Look here, O Judgment, how he observes the antique and Polidoro’s style as well as Raphael’s work he studies. (Ecco qui, o Giuditio, osservando Va de l’antico, e Polidoro il fare E l’opre insiem di Rafael studiando)2 The series of twenty drawings by Federico Zuccaro of his older brother, Taddeo (1529–66), is a unique treasure of Renaissance drawing.3 With cinematic realism and narrative flair, the drawings tell the story of Taddeo’s travails and even- tual success as a young artist in Rome in the 1540s. It begins with his heart-rending departure at fourteen from the family home in S. Angelo in Vado, a provincial town in the Marches, and his arrival in the Eternal City. There Taddeo sets about following the prescribed course of study typical for any aspir- ing painter of the period. First, he apprentices with a local painter, performing menial tasks – preparing pigments and household chores – and finding time to draw, mostly only at night. After being mistreated by the painter’s wife, he escapes to discover Rome for himself. He assiduously copies statues and reliefs from classical antiquity and the work of contem- porary masters including the frescoes in the Logge and the Stanze of the Vatican by Raphael, the Last Judgment by Michelangelo and façade paintings by Polidoro da Caravaggio. After much focused and disciplined study, he triumphs victoriously with his first major success: the painted façade of Palazzo Mattei (1548). And this is where the story ends (Taddeo would die prematurely of illness at the age of thirty-seven). In this drawing, number seventeen, we enter the story in medias res. Here Taddeo, affectionately identified by name on his tunic, is at Vatican Belvedere Statue Court studying the most iconic antique sculptures of the day: the Apollo Belvedere on the left (fig. 1; see also pp. 25–26), the Nile and Tiber in the centre and the object of his attention, possibly the most famous work in the collection, the Laocoön on the right (fig. 2; see also pp. 25–26).4 With his back turned, we peer voyeuristi- cally over his shoulder as he draws intently. He has settled in for a day of intense study; his meagre sustenance, a small loaf of bread and flask of wine on the ground next to him, has remained untouched. The notion of the artist drawing inces- santly with little to eat or drink anticipates the vivid descrip- tion of the young Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598–1680) who as a boy spent dawn to dusk at the statue court making copies.5 Significantly, this is the earliest known image of an artist at work at the Belvedere, the most important and certainly the most influential collection of classical antiquities assem- bled in the Renaissance.6 Given its unique accessibility – unlike the collections housed in private aristocratic palaces – it provided a sanctuary for the unencumbered study of antique statuary, which also included recently excavated works. Thus, it served a key role in providing an artistic instruction not just direct but exhilaratingly au courant. It also meant that the sculptures displayed there would become famous as their images were disseminated through prints and drawings. When Taddeo visited the sculpture court in the 1540s, it had undergone a major renovation.7 In 1485, under Pope Innocent VIII (r. 1484–92), a private villa was built on the hill behind the old Vatican place, named the Belvedere (‘fair view’), for its position. In 1503, Pope Julius II (r. 1503–13) commis- sioned the architect, Donato Bramante (1444–1514), to incor- porate the house with the Vatican complex thereby creating an enclosed rectangular garden courtyard, the Cortile del Belvedere, to display his expanding antiquities collection. Wishing it to be accessible to the public, the Pope had Bramante construct a spiral staircase that enabled visitors to arrive at the courtyard directly, without having to enter the palace proper.8 The courtyard was an enchanted world filled with orange trees, fountains, an elegant loggia, and displayed in the centre of the court, the colossal marble statues of the Nile and Tiber mounted as fountains.9 Statues including the celebrated Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoön were displayed in especially created niches.10 Maarten van Heemskerck’s drawing in the British Museum, c. 1532–33 (fig. 3), the earliest known view of the Cortile, gives a sense of the space and the disposition of the sculpture displayed there.11 Immediately evident is that Federico’s al fresco evocation bears little resemblance to Heemskerck’s and to other con- temporary descriptions of the courtyard. The setting is now a sun-drenched rise with a vista, no t an enclosed garden, and the statues are freed from the confines of their niches. And yet in other ways Federico has gone to lengths to convince us of the time period – 1540s – as we will see. In fact, so well-known was this space that Federico needed only to refer to it in short-hand. The statues depicted would have been instantly recognisable to any viewer and Taddeo’s location in the Belvedere understood. Since its discovery in January of 1506 in the ground of a private vineyard on the Esquiline near the remains of the so-called Baths of Titus, the Laocoön group, comprising the ill-fated Trojan priest and his two sons violently struggling to free themselves from two serpents who devour them, was immediately venerated.12 While still in the ground, the architect and antiquarian, Giuliano di Sangallo, sent to inspect it by Pope Julius II, identified it as the famous statue singled out by Pliny the Elder as ‘of all paintings and sculptures the most worthy of admiration’ (Natural History 36.37–38).13 It was installed in the Belvedere in a chapel-like recess.14 The sculpture’s fame was instant and far-reaching. Entranced by it, Michelangelo proclaimed it an inimitable miracle.15 Collectors eagerly sought copies, commissioning Jacopo Sansovino (1486–1570), Baccio Bandinelli (see cat. 3) and others to make replicas of various sizes in bronze, marble, wax, terracotta, even gold.16 For artists, its effect was manifold. It provided an anatomical model for the male nude that was strong, forceful and capable of dynamic movement. The range of ages and emotions conveyed and symbolised – fear, agony, heroism in death – also inspired emulation. Fig. 3. Maarten van Heemskerck (1498–1574), View of the Belvedere Sculpture Court, c. 1532–36/37, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, 231 × 360 mm, Department of Print and Drawings, British Museum, London, 1946,0713.639  100 101   102 103  Epitomising human suffering, the statue became a model for portraying martyrs from Christendom, especially in the Counter-Reformation.17 For centuries that followed artists would imitate and infuse this muscular body type and expres- sions in their work (cat. 16). The group’s influence endured well into the 19th century.18 When the Laocoön was first discovered, his right arm and that of his youngest son on the left were missing, as were among other losses the fingers of the eldest son’s right hand. By the 1530s, the missing appendages were restored including a terracotta arm by the sculptor, Giovanni Antonio Montorsoli (1507–63).19 Federico’s drawn version is something of an enigma. In some respects it appears pre-restoration: the fingers of the eldest son on the right are still missing. But he has included part of the previously absent right arm of the son on the left but made him hand-less. Laocoön is shown with his right arm restored but it is out of view so the angle cannot be determined. In any case, it seems that Federico has attempted to represent the sculpture as he thought Taddeo and others of his generation might have first seen it, undoubt- edly to create an air of authenticity. It is possible that he consulted print sources such as Marco Dente da Ravenna’s ( f l . 1515–27) Laocoön of c. 1520–23, which makes a compelling comparison.20 The perfect foil for the Laocoön is the commanding figure of the Apollo Belvedere anchoring the composition on the left.21 So instantly recognisable was he that Federico needed only to indicate his lower half. Discovered at S. Lorenzo in Panisperna in 1489, the statue was acquired by Giuliano della Rovere, Cardinal of S. Pietro in Vincoli, the future Pope Julius II, who displayed it in the garden of his palace next to SS. Apostoli.22 After he became Pope, it was brought to the Vatican in 1508 and installed in a niche in the Belvedere cortile in 1511. Based on a lost Greek bronze original, it became one of the most famous statues to survive from antiquity and was copied by innumerable artists (see cats 6, 25, 26).23 If the Laocoön exemplified the powerful male nude body in action, the Apollo encapsulated the qualities of its counterpart, the perfect male youth: elegant, graceful, confident and restrained; in repose yet poised for action. As the god Apollo he was thought to have just discharged his arrow at the python of Delphi (see cat. 6) or else, to be on the verge of killing the sons of Niobe with his arrows, as punishment for her boasting.24 Praised by Vasari for its instructive importance, every aspiring artist visited the Apollo in the Belvedere.25 The statue retained immense popularity in the centuries that followed.26 Federico’s abbreviated description of the Belvedere Courtyard is a clever device as it allows him to combine several episodes of Taddeo’s self-education in the same 104 drawing and a highly sophisticated continuous narration.27 All show Taddeo studying the Antique in various forms – free- standing statues, narrative reliefs and contemporary works in an all’antica style. So while the most prominent Taddeo is at work copying the Belvedere statues, a second Taddeo is visible in the distance, perched on a window ledge copying Raphael’s celebrated Stanze frescoes in the papal apartments in the Vatican.28 At the far left is Trajan’s Column of 113 ad under which are figures, including an artist sketching the famous reliefs carved on the column shaft, presumably Taddeo again. These monuments were very distant from one other and yet, countering this artificial structure, Federico has striven for local historical accuracy. For example, he shows the column as it would have appeared in Taddeo’s day, omitting the bronze statue of St Peter at the top that was added by Sixtus V in 1588.29 Lightly sketched in the left distance is the dome of the Pantheon and on the far right, what appears to be the Mausoleum of Augustus of 28 bc identifiable by the trees on the summit.30 Another drawing from the series (fig. 4) further demon- strates the importance Federico attributed to copying after the Antique, one of the pillars of artistic education.31 It shows Taddeo studying a relief – perhaps the right-hand front section of a Muse sarcophagus of a type similar to an example now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (p. 20, fig. 5).32 Having already sketched the figures – possibly a Muse holding a mask and Apollo – in black chalk, he is about to go over the contours with pen and ink. Resting on the relief is the armless body of a male youth similar in type to the Torso of Apollon Sauroktonos, the so-called Casa Sassi Torso now in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples.33 In the back- ground, in another example of continuous narration, Taddeo copies façade paintings by Polidoro da Caravaggio, who, specialising in monochrome frescoes imitating marble or bronze reliefs, represented another type of contemporary all’antica style, one which would exert an enormous influence on Taddeo’s own approach to painting.34 It is significant that Federico executed the Taddeo series in the mid-1590s, around the time that he established a reformed Accademia di San Luca of which he was elected president in 1593. Learning to draw by copying the work of others – the Antique, Michelangelo, Raphael and Polidoro da Caravaggio – was already a key phenomenon of Renaissance workshop practice. Federico codified this practice further by making such a disciplined approach to drawing central to the curricu- lum.35 Successful learning also required virtue and hard work – fatica – both physical and intellectual, and such quali- ties are extolled in Federico’s drawings of Taddeo.36 According to the guidelines Federico wrote for the academy, students were required to ‘go out during the week drawing after the antique’ (see Appendix, no. 7).37 It is significant that in the final image of the series (fig. 5), an allegorical personification of Study – represented by a young man diligently copying an antique male torso with other sculptures – flanks the left side of the Zuccaro family emblem.38 He is joined by Intelligence on the right. Along with training, Federico was also concerned with the welfare of young artists and proposed reforms to the artists’ academy in Florence, the Accademia del Disegno.39 At his death in 1609, he intended the family palace, the Palazzo Zuccari (now the Bibliotheca Hertziana, Max Planck Institute for Art History) to house young, struggling artists in Rome, so that they would not suffer as Taddeo had.40 Appropriate in subject matter, the drawings may well have prepared a complex arrangement of paintings for the walls of the palace’s Sala del Disegno.41 This might account for the present drawing’s unusual dumbbell format.42 Regardless of its intended purpose, the Early Life of Taddeo series, a touching tribute to one brother from another, sends a clear message. Drawing, especially after the Antique in all its various forms, was the cornerstone of artistic education in 16th-century Italy and was to become a canonical activity throughout Europe in the centuries that followed. As one of the first great illustrations of this phenomenon in practice, the present drawing is an ideal visual representation of this exhibition’s theme. avl  Fig. 4. Federico Zuccaro, Taddeo Drawing after the Antique; in the Background Copying a Façade by Polidoro, c. 1595, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, over black chalk and touches of red chalk, 423 × 175 mm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 99.GA.6.12 Fig. 5. Federico Zuccaro, Allegories of Study and Intelligence Flanking the Zuccaro Emblem, c. 1595, pen and brown ink, brush with brown wash, over black chalk and touches of red chalk, 176 × 425 mm, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 99.GA.6.20  105  1 Additional bibliography for the drawings in the series up to 1999 is given in the catalogue of the Christie’s sale, London, 28 January 1999, p. 70, lot 35. 2 This poem written by Federico Zuccaro to accompany this drawing appears on the back of another sheet in the series (Los Angeles 2007–08, p. 34, no. 18, 40). Translation by J. Brooks (ibid., pp. 33–34). 3 The Early Life of Taddeo series, acquired by the J. Paul Getty Museum in 1999, was the subject of an exhibition and in-depth catalogue by J. Brooks (Los Angeles 2007–08). 4 For the Tiber and the Nile see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 272–73, no. 65 and pp. 310–11, no. 79; Klementa 1993, pp. 9–51, nos A1–A39, pls 1–18; pp. 52–71, nos B1–B15, pls 19–23. 5 See Appendix, no. 9. 6 For essential reading on the Cortile and its history, see Ackerman 1954; Brummer 1970; Coffin 1979, pp. 69–87; Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 7–11; Nesselrath 1994, pp. 52–55; Nesselrath 1998a, pp. 1–16. 7 See Coffin 1979, pp. 69–87; Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 7. 8 Coffin 1979, p. 82. 9 For the two Rivers, see above, note 4. 10 For statues in their niches, see Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 11, fig. 4, and Bober and Rubinstein 2010, fig. 122c. 11 First published as Heemskerck in Winner and Nesselrath 1987, p. 867; see also M. Serlupi Crescenzi, in Rome 2006–07, pp. 148–49, no. 37. For a sense of the atmosphere, see the painting by Hendrik III van Cleve (1524–89), 1550, in the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Brussels (M. Serlupi Crescenzi, in Rome 2006–07, pp. 146–47, no. 34), see Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 26, fig. 21. 12 For the group, see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 243–47, no. 52; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 164–68, no. 122, Pasquier 2000–01b and the exhibition catalogue devoted to it, Rome 2006–07. 13 Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 243; M. Buranelli, in Rome 2006–07, pp. 127–28, no. 13. 14 Coffin 1979, p. 82; Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 243. 15 Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 165, see also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 28. 16 Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 244 and Settis 1998, pp. 129–60. 17 Ettlinger 1961, pp. 121–26; Brummer 1970, pp. 117–18; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 166. 18 For the statue’s critical reception, see Bieber 1967; Brilliant 2000; Décultot 2003 and Rome 2006–07. 19 Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 246–47; Nesselrath 1998b, pp. 165–74; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 165. Montorsoli’s additions were removed in 1540 when Primaticcio made a mould of the group unrestored to prepare a cast in bronze for Francis I (Rome 2006-07, pp. 150–51, no. 40). The additions were then put back. 20 Oberhuber 1978, p. 50, no. 353 (268); T. Schtrauch, in Rome 2006–07, pp. 152–53, no. 42. 21 For their juxtaposition, see Tronzo 2009, pp. 49–55. 22 According to a document published by Fusco and Corti 2006 (Appendix I, 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 p. 309, doc. 112; see also pp. 52–56). For the statue, see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 148–51, no. 8; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 76–77, no. 28. In 1532–33 Montorsoli replaced the existing right arm and restored the hands (Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 77). Federico presents it in its restored state with bow. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 150. Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 76; Vasari’s preface to Part III of the Lives, 1568 ed. (Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 4, p. 7). See Roettgen 1998, pp. 253–74. He employs the same device in other drawings in the series (Los Angeles 2007–08, p. 7). Federico indicates the location on the drawing itself with the inscription, le camore di Rafaello (the rooms of Raphael). Another drawing in the series shows him copying the frescoes in the loggia of the Villa Farnesina, see Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 20, 32, no. 13. For the column, its reliefs and history, see Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 208–10, no. 159. Francesco Soderini purchased the Mausoleum in 1546 in order to transform the tomb into a garden museum with antique statuary. See Riccomini 1995, especially p. 267, fig. 91 (Etienne Du Pérac’s engraving, 1575) and p. 271, fig. 95 (Alò Giovannoli’s engaving, 1619) and Riccomini 1996. Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 19, 31–32, no. 12. For essential reading on Taddeo, Federico and the antique and the absorption of it in their work, see Silver 2007–08, pp. 86–91. Wegner 1966, pp. 88–89, no. 228, plates 11–12. Los Angeles 2007–08, p. 31. In Taddeo’s time the torso (CensusID 159347 and Ruesch 1911, p. 158, no. 491) was in the courtyard of the Sassi family palace displayed in a niche as seen in Heemskerck’s famous view reproduced in etching (Paris 2000–01, pp. 360–62, no. 169, entry by C. Scailliérez). For Polidoro and the Zuccari, see Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 71–77. Armenini had already advised artists to copy Polidoro’s frescoes (1587, p. 58, book 1, chap. 7). Alberti 1604, p. 7. See also Armenini, 1587, pp. 52–59 (book 1, chap. 7). See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 32–33 Rossi 1997, pp. 66–68. Alberti 1604, p. 8 (‘e chi andarà frà la settimana dissegnando all’antico’), cited and translated in Silver 2007-08, p. 86). Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 27, 35, no. 20. Ibid., p. 2. Ibid. For previous arguments on the topic and a fascinating hypothetical recon- struction of the Sala del Disegno, see Strunck 2007–08, pp. 113–25. The shape is adapted slightly in a version of the present drawing in the Uffizi, Florence, of similar dimensions (Paris 2000–01, pp. 379–80, no. 185 (entry by C. Scailliérez), believed by Gere to be autograph (1990, under no. 17) but by Brooks as unlikely to be and the present author agrees. See Los Angeles 2007– 08, p. 45, note 48, where two other copies are also noted: Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid 7656 and the other sold Phillips, London, 9 July 2001, lot 148. 6. Hendrick Goltzius (Bracht-am-Niederrhein 1558–1617 Haarlem) a. The Apollo Belvedere 1591 Black and white chalk on blue paper indented for transfer; 388 × 244 mm provenance: Queen Christina of Sweden (1626–89)1; Cardinal Decio Azzolini (1623–89); Marchese Pompeo Azzolini (1654–1706); Don Livio Odescalchi (1658–1713); purchased from the Odescalchi family by the Teylers Foundation, 1790. selected literature: Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, p. 326, no. 208, vol. 2, fig. 170; Van Regteren Altena 1964, fig. 19, pp. 101–02, no. 32; Miedema 1969, pp. 76–77; Brummer 1970, pp. 70–71, repr.; Stolzenburg 2000, pp. 426–27, repr., p. 439, no. 173; Brandt 2001, p. 148; Hamburg 2002, p. 114, repr. under no. 33; Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, p. 269, repr.; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 77, under no. 28; Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, p. 370 under no. 380; Göttingen 2013–14, pp. 22–23, fig. 6; Nichols 2013a, pp. 56, 84, fig. 54; Veldman 2013–14, p. 105. exhibitions: Münster 1976, p. 138, no. 111, p. 140, repr. Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. no. K III 23 exhibited in haarlem only b. Apollo Belvedere 1592 Engraving, 412 × 300 mm State II of II Inscribed on the base of the statue: ‘HG sculp. APOLLO PYTHIUS Cum privil. Sa. Cæ. M.’. With the address of the printer at right ‘Herman Adolfz excud. Haerlemens.’. Inscribed with two lines in the lower margin, at centre: ‘Statua antiqua Romae in palatio Pontificis belle vider / opus posthumum HGoltzij iam primum divulgat. Ano. M.D.C.X.VII.’.2 Two Latin distichs by Theodorus Schrevelius in margin l.l. and l.r.: ‘Vix natus armis Delius Vulcaniis / Donatus infans, sacra Parnassi iuga’ / ‘Petii. draconem matris hostem spiculis / Pythona fixi: nomen inde Pythii. Schrevel’.3 Numbered in l.l. corner: ‘3’. Published by Herman Adolfsz. (fl. 1607) in 1617 provenance: P. & D. Colnaghi Co., London, from whom acquired in 1854. literature: Bartsch 1854–76, vol. 3, p. 45, no. 145; Hirschmann 1921, pp. 60–61, no. 147; Hollstein 1949–2001, vol. 8, p. 33, no. 147.II, repr.; Strauss 1977, vol. 2, pp. 566–67, no. 314, repr.; Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, p. 370, no. 380, pp. 373–74, repr. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1854,0513.106 106 107 It was undoubtedly at the urging of Karel van Mander (1548– 1606), his friend and fellow Haarlem artist, that Hendrick Goltzius left for Rome in 1590 in order to study the remnants of classical antiquity and the works of modern Italian masters.4 He was already thirty-two years old. Northern artists usually went south when they were much younger, sometimes even half that age. The tradition of artists travel- ling from Northern Europe to Italy, eager to learn, had begun almost a century earlier with Jan Gossaert, called Mabuse (c. 1472–1532). Other well-known Dutch artists who had derived inspiration from antique remains in Rome and who had produced drawings after them, were Jan van Scorel (1495–1562) and above all, Maarten van Heemskerck (1498– 1574), also a native of Haarlem.5 Like these artists Goltzius travelled to Rome as a mature draughtsman, eager to deepen his knowledge and see with his own eyes the works of art of which he had heard so much. It was probably family obligations and his flourishing print workshop that had delayed his Italian trip for so long. Finally in 1590–91, hoping for relief from the consumptive state of his health, Goltzius made the long anticipated journey.6 We know from Van Mander that on arriving in Rome, Goltzius concentrated almost exclusively on drawing the most important classical sculptures carefully and industri- ously.7 Goltzius was now a celebrity, for his prints had spread his fame throughout Europe, but he travelled largely incognito. In Rome, for example, he donned rustic garb in order to blend in with pupils and amateurs drawing from the Antique. According to Van Mander, they looked at him pityingly until they saw what he was capable of, whereupon they started asking him for advice.8 Although this story may be a topos – art-loving Italy values a gifted outsider – it is not hard to imagine such an encounter when one considers Goltzius’ Roman drawings.9 Forty-three of Goltzius’ drawings after thirty different classical statues survive, plus one after Michelangelo’s Moses; all are preserved in the Teylers Museum in Haarlem.10 In the short time at Goltzius’ disposal – he was only in Rome for seven months – he managed to copy all the most impor- tant sculptures, in both public and semi-public locations    108 109  such as churches and papal palaces, and in some private collections.11 He must have prepared thoroughly for his drawing expedition and have studied travel books and prints before his departure. Certainly at his disposal would have been Maarten van Heemskerck’s Roman sketchbook, now in the Berlin Kupferstichkabinett, but then owned by his fellow Haarlem artist, Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem (1562–1638) (see p. 35, figs 39–43 and cat. no. 8).12 Strikingly Goltzius’ selection more or less corresponded with the antique statues described in travel literature.13 Evidently, a canon of the most outstanding classical statues in Rome had already been established and disseminated to the North and although this canon would later be expanded, most of the statues drawn by Goltzius in 1591 continued to remain popular models for artists in subsequent centuries (see cat. nos 14–16, 21, 25–27 and 31). Goltzius did not make his drawings merely as an exercise. The artist and printshop owner was well aware of the importance of those statues for their reproductive potential. He must have envisaged a series of engravings from the very outset and that is why he went to such lengths to select the most celebrated and, by then, canonical sculptures. The series he had in mind would have rivalled existing print series of antique sculptures in Rome, such as Antoine Lafréry’s Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae, published between 1545 and 1577 (fig. 1), or Giovanni Battista de’ Cavalieri’s Antiquarum Statuarum Urbis Romae, published between the 1560s and the 1590s.14 Cavalieri’s reproductions were printed on small plates, without backgrounds, and incorporated little information about the sculptures in their locations; the lighting is not consistent and there is a lack of naturalism in the statues’ rendering. While the differences between Lafréry’s reproductions and what Goltzius planned to create are less striking, the burin technique is more refined in Goltzius’ works, his rendering of the statues more realistic and his prints fractionally larger; moreover, he generally represented the statues from closer vantage points, thereby creating more engaging compositions.15 What audience did Goltzius have in mind when he produced his drawings and his prints? While Cavalieri and Lafréry’s publications were mainly intended for antiquaries and art lovers, Goltzius seems to have aimed at a broader audience encompassing artists as well as amateurs. This is supported by his emphasis on anatomical precision and the sculptures’ three-dimensional character, rather than accu- racy of reproduction – he sometimes omitted inscriptions, for example (see cat. 8); the presence of the draughtsman in the print displayed is also significant in this connection. Goltzius’ project was timely for around this period a market seems to have been developing for prints after 110 publication, but found himself overwhelmed with other projects. In most of his drawings after antique sculpture, Goltzius began with a sketch in black and white chalk on bluish-grey paper, like this drawing of Apollo Belvedere. The trial-and- error lines by the figure’s legs and waist suggest that he had difficulty deciding on a vantage point. He would then have used a stylus to indent the contours of that sketch onto a second sheet of paper, on which he subsequently produced an extremely precise drawing of the statue. That second version in red chalk, unfortunately now lost, would have served as the model for the engraver. Teylers Museum has both drawings for the Farnese Hercules Seen from Behind (see cat. 7a and fig. 2) but at some point Goltzius’ second version of the Apollo Belvedere was separated from the group that ended in the Teylers Museum,20 for in the early 18th century it belonged to the famous collector Valerius Röver (1686– 1739) of Delft,21 and was listed in his inventory: ‘The Apollo, with red chalk, transferred to the copper by Goltzius, which print is herewith attached, fl. 3:10’.22 The engraving is in the same direction as the black chalk drawing, and the size of the statue is identical in both.23 The most striking difference between them is the rendering of volume. The statue appears a little flat in the drawing, while in the print it is highly sculptural, with a keenly observed interplay between light and shade across the form lending relief and depth to the engraving. As noted above, Goltzius would have developed these features in the lost red chalk version of the subject. It may be that this lost drawing also incorporated the draughtsman seen in the lower right corner of the print, and the large cast shadow on the left, accessories and details that Goltzius tended to vary from work to work. In any event, these added elements reinforce the sense of depth; the draughtsman also conveys an idea of the scale of the statue (see cat. 7). But perhaps Goltzius added the young draughtsman for yet another reason. His rendering of this figure is so direct, so true to life, that it appears to be a portrait. The two small figures in his reproduction of the Farnese Hercules are also represented in a fashion which suggests that these too are portraits (cat. 7, fig. 4). It seems that in Rome Goltzius asked a local artist, Gaspare Celio (1571–1640), to draw copies of both classical and modern artworks for him and they may have drawn some works together.24 Could this figure be Celio? Pure speculation, of course, for remarkably little is known about this mysterious individual.25 At any rate the figure of the draughtsman is seated exactly as Goltzius must have positioned himself, although at a different angle, employing the same technique (n.b. the porte-crayon), the same format paper and probably the same travel board. And this may point to another reason for Goltzius’ introduction of the young draughtsman: to emphasise the didactic inten- tion of the series and to convey the message that these prints allowed artists to draw the finest Roman sculptures, just like the draughtsman in the image, without having to go to Rome. Whatever the reason for this figure’s inclusion, his presence demonstrates – as does Van Mander’s story of Goltzius amidst younger artists – that during this period the copying of antique sculptures in Rome was very widespread. The Apollo Belvedere is a Roman copy of a Greek original by Leochares from c. 330–320 bc. The copy probably dates from the reign of Hadrian (117–138 bc). In the late 15th cen- tury the Apollo was in the collection of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, who, as Pope Julius II, placed it in the Belvedere, where it was displayed in the small Cortile delle Statue (see p. 26, fig. 21 and cat. 5). The Apollo Belvedere soon became one of the most famous sculptures in the collection and was drawn by many artists. Prints of the sculpture by Agostino Veneziano (c. 1518–20, see p. 28, fig. 29), Marcantonio Raimondi (c. 1530) and Goltzius himself (c. 1617), among others, ensured that its fame spread throughout Europe. However, the Apollo’s prestige began to fade in the 19th century and nowadays the sculpture, while well-known to art historians is less appreciated by the general public.26  Fig. 1. Anonymous engraver after Marcantonio Raimondi, published by Antoine Lafréry, Apollo Belvedere, 1552, engraving, 323 × 228 mm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-H-232 antique statues for artists to employ as models. Between 1599 and 1616 Goltzius’ stepson Jacob Matham published the first known printed sketchbook after the Antique, Verscheijden Cierage,16 intended, according to its title page, for an interna- tional public of artists and amateurs.17 And it seems likely that Goltzius envisaged the same international audience for his projected series, perhaps particularly young students in Northern Europe – and no doubt his own pupils – who were not able to undertake the trip to Rome but could use his engravings as models.18 It was probably in 1592, soon after his return from Italy, that Goltzius embarked on the print series, engraving after his own drawings three of the statues: the Farnese Hercules Seen from Behind (cat. 7), Hercules and Telephus and this Apollo Belvedere. It is unlikely that Goltzius was disappointed with the results but he progressed no further with the project and never officially printed the plates which were published posthumously in 1617, bearing the address of the Haarlem publisher Herman Adolfsz.19 We do not know why Goltzius did not publish these prints in his lifetime but it may have been the result of excessive ambition. He probably hoped to market a much longer series of prints in a single 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 mp I. M. Veldman revealed the Rudolf II provenance for Goltzius’ Roman portfolio to be a myth. A more logical provenance might be, as Veldman suggests, through Jacob Matham (1571–1631), Theodor Matham (1605/06– 76), Joachim von Sandrart (1606–88) and/or Pieter Spiering (1594/97–1652): Veldman 2013–14, pp. 109–13. ‘An antique statue in Rome, in the Pope’s Belvedere Palace; a work by H. Goltzius that is now being published posthumously for the first time, in the year 1617’. ‘Barely born, I, Apollo of the island of Delos, received arms from Vulcan; I sought the sacred heights of Parnassus; with my arrows I pierced the dragon Python, my mother Leto’s enemy; thus it is that I bear the name “Pythian”’. I wish to thank Professor Ilja Veldman, who generously put at my disposal her Goltzius entries for the forthcoming catalogue of the 16th-century Netherlandish drawings in the Teylers Museum, which she is preparing with Yvonne Bleyerveld. For the early tradition of Northern European artists going to Rome (includ- ing Gossaert, Van Scorel and Van Heemskerck), see Brussels and Rome 1995. Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 388–89 (fol. 282 verso). Ibid., pp. 390–91 (fol. 283 recto). Ibid. Luijten 2003–04, p. 123. Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, pp. 89–94, pp. 319–46, nos 200–38; 245–48. From the 1689–90 inventory of Goltzius drawings owned by Queen Christina of Sweden it is known that Goltzius also produced (now lost) drawings of two famous antique figures, the Spinario (now in the Capitoline Museums, Rome, see p. 23, fig. 15) and the Farnese Bull (now in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples); see Stolzenburg 2000, p. 437, nos. 140–41, p. 440, no. 180 and Veldman 2013–14, p. 101. Veldman 2012, pp. 11–23. Reznicek 1961, p. 90; Brandt 2001, p. 136. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 18; Brandt 2001, p. 136. Brandt 2001, pp. 143–46. Fuhring 1992, pp. 57–84. 111  17 Ibid., pp. 64–65, p. 76, pl. 1. 18 It is tempting at this point to think of the ‘Haarlem Academy’, of which Goltzius was a member before his departure for Italy as a true academy, where artists could draw from life and presumably also after sculptures. However, in all probability this ‘academy’ comprised no more than three artists: Karel van Mander, Cornelis Cornelisz. and Goltzius. See also cat. 8. 19 Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, pp. 368–75, nos 378–80; Luijten 2003–04, pp. 119–20. 20 For the provenance of the drawings see Stolzenburg 2000 and Veldman 2013–14. 21 Van Regteren Altena 1964, pp. 101–02, under no. 32. 22 ‘De Apollo, met rootaarde, door Goltzius int koper gebragt, welke print hierbij gevoegt is, f 3:10.’ See the manuscript catalogue by Valerius Röver in the Amsterdam University Library, inv.no. II A 18: Catalogus van boeken, schilderijen, teekeningen, printen, beelden, rariteiten [1730], portefeuille 2, no. 3. 23 In view of the incomplete right hand and the missing left hand it seems likely that the sheet has been trimmed on the right and left, and possibly at the top as well. 24 Baglione 1642, p. 377. 25 26 All we really know is that Celio must have drawn a copy of Raphael’s fresco, The prophet Isaiah in the San Agostino in Rome for Goltzius (see Luijten 2003, p. 118). Goltzius used this copy for his engraving; see Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, pp. 292–93, no. 333, repr. For a recently published drawing by Celio in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, with a parade carriage of his own design incorporating pyrotechnic features, see Stemerding 2012, pp. 13–17. For the history and the fortuna critica of the Apollo Belvedere: Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 148–51, no. 8; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 76–77, no. 28. Regarding the sculpture’s reputation today, which some describe as bordering on total neglect, Kenneth Clark observed in 1969: ‘. . . for four hundred years after it was discovered the Apollo was the most admired piece of sculpture in the world. It was Napoleon’s greatest boast to have looted it from the Vatican. Now it is completely forgotten except by the guides of coach parties, who have become the only surviving transmitters of traditional culture.’ Clark 1969a, p. 2. 7. Hendrick Goltzius (Bracht-am-Niederrhein 1558–1617 Haarlem) a. The Farnese Hercules Seen from Behind 1591 Red chalk, indented for transfer, 390 × 215 mm. Verso: Design lightly traced in black chalk from recto. The upper corners cut. literature: Scholten 1904, p. 40, cat. N 19; Hirschmann 1921, p. 59; Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, p. 337, cat. K 227, vol. 2, fig. 179; Miedema 1969, pp. 76–77, repr. (recto and verso); Schapelhouman 1979, p. 67, note 3; Amsterdam 1993–94, pp. 361–62, under no. 24 (B. Cornelis); Stolzenburg 2000, p. 439, no. 164; Brandt 2001, pp. 139, 144, fig. 132, p. 148; Hamburg 2002, p. 116, under no. 34 (A. Stolzenburg) ; Leeflang 2012, pp. 24–25, fig. 5; Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, pp. 368–69, under no. 378; Göttingen 2013–14, p. 210; Veldman 2013–14, pp. 102–05. exhibitions: New York 1988, pp. 58–60, no. 12; Brussels and Rome 1995, p. 204, no. 101; Luijten 2003–04, pp. 132–36, no. 42.2. Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. N 19 exhibited in haarlem only b. The Farnese Hercules, 1592 (published 1617) Engraving Only state 416 × 300 mm Lettered on the base of the statue: ‘HERCULES VICTOR’. Lettered in l.l. corner: ‘HGoltzius sculpt. Cum privilig. / Sa. Cæ. M.’ and ‘Herman Adolfz / excud. Haerlemen’. Inscribed with two lines in the lower margin, at centre: ‘Statua antiqua Romae in palatio Cardinalis Fernesij / opus posthumum H Goltzij iam primum divulgata Ano M.D.CXVII.2 Two Latin distichs by Theodorus Schrevelius in margin l.l. and l.r.: ‘Domito triformi rege Lusitaniae / Raptisque malis, quae Hesperi sub cardine / Servarat hortis aureis vigil draco, / Fessus quievi terror orbis Hercules.’3 Numbered in l.l. corner: ‘1’. provenance: Bequest of Carel Godfried Voorhelm Schneevoogt (1802–77), Haarlem. literature: Bartsch 1803–21, vol. 3, pp. 44–45, no. 143; Hirschmann 1921, pp. 58–59, no. 145; Hollstein 1949–2001, vol. 8, p. 33, no. 145, repr.; Strauss 1977, vol. 2, pp. 562–63, no. 312, repr., p. 569; Leesberg 2012b, vol. 2, pp. 368–69, no. 378, repr. 112 113 1 Odescalchi (1658–1713); purchased from the Odescalchi family by the Teylers Foundation, 1790. provenance: Queen Christina of Sweden (1626–89); Cardinal Decio Azzolini (1623–89); Marchese Pompeo Azzolini (1654–1706); Don Livio exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. KG 02263 The Farnese Hercules, which bears a Greek inscription naming ‘Glykon of Athens’, a sculptor unknown in classical litera- ture, was one of the most famous statues in Rome from the time of its discovery until the end of the 19th century (fig. 1).4 The first certain mention of it dates from 1556, when it stood in Palazzo Farnese.5 The fragments, unearthed at different times, must have been reassembled shortly before. The head was found in a well in Trastevere, probably around 1540. The torso was discovered six years later in the Baths of Caracalla, followed by the legs.6 However, the legs emerged too late to be incorporated in the statue because it had already been ‘restored’ and given new ones by Guglielmo della Porta (1500/10–1577). Oddly enough, Michelangelo allegedly appealed to the Farnese family to leave the new legs in place and not replace them with the originals, ‘in order to show that works of modern sculpture can stand in compari- son with those of the ancients’.7 The statue recovered its original legs only in the 18th century. In addition to the Palazzo Farnese, Goltzius drew studies on the Capitol, the Quirinal and in the Belvedere statue court (see cats 6, 8). He had an ambitious plan for his drawings: they were to prepare a series of high-quality and accurate engravings of the most important classical statues, on a scale not previ- ously attempted.8 The importance he attached to the project is evident from the care he lavished on many of his drawings. In preparation for this one, which is in red chalk, he first made an equally large, slightly freer and more loosely drawn black chalk version on blue paper (fig. 2; see cat. 6a). He then indented the contours through onto the white sheet on which he made the present drawing. The contours are conse- quently razor-sharp. He then exercised phenomenal skill in depicting the statue’s volume and the smooth texture of the marble with a subtle interplay of light and shade. He achieved this by leaving reserves of white paper, by alternating pressure on the chalk and by stumping it here and there so that individual strokes are no longer visible.9    114 115      Fig. 1. The Farnese Hercules, back view, Roman copy of the 3rd century ad of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, 317 cm (h), Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, inv. 6001 Fig. 2. Hendrick Goltzius, The Farnese Hercules seen from Behind, 1591, black and white chalk on blue paper indented for transfer, 360 × 210 mm, Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. K III 30 Fig. 3. Hendrick Goltzius, The Farnese Hercules, black and white chalk on blue paper, indented for transfer, 382 × 189 mm, Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. N 20 Fig. 4. Hendrick Goltzius, Two Male Heads: Jan Matthijsz Ban and Philips van Winghen (?), metalpoint on an ivory-coloured prepared tablet, 92 × 117 mm, Amsterdam Museum, inv. A 10180 demonstrate that he had seen the sculpture in the round, making this clear by depicting the figure’s ‘alien’ back as well as its usual front. His choice was probably inspired by a combination of these factors. The Amsterdam Museum houses Goltzius’ preparatory drawing (fig. 4) of the two men whose admiring, upturned gazes provide such a fine connection between the front and back of the Farnese Hercules.16 In the engraving they are repre- sented in mirror image and have been exchanged for each other. They have portrait-like features and their identities have been a subject for speculation. The most serious suggestion made so far, dating from the end of the 19th century, is that they were Goltzius’ temporary travelling companions: Jan Matthijsz Ban on the left and Philips van Winghen (d. 1592) on the right; they may even have witnessed him drawing this statue.17 It is difficult to verify this sugges- tion, but it is certainly interesting and plausible. Goltzius had produced, albeit on a larger scale, several portraits of his circle of acquaintances in Rome and elsewhere such as Giambologna (1529–1608), Dirck de Vries ( fl. 1590–92) and Jan van der Straet, also called Stradanus (1523–1605; see cat. 4).18 Most of his sitters, like Ban and Van Winghen, were northern artists active in Italy. Ban was a silversmith, and Van Winghen is described by Karel van Mander as ‘a learned young nobleman from Brussels [ . . . ] who was a great archaeologist’.19 According to Van Mander the three of them made an excursion from Rome to Naples in the spring of 1591.20 Van Winghen died unexpectedly in 1592,21 and it was maybe as a tribute to his friend that Goltzius included him in the plate that he cut that same year. mp 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 See footnote 1 in cat. 6. ‘An antique statue in Rome, in the palace of Cardinal Farnese; a work by H. Goltzius that is now being published posthumously for the first time, in the year 1617’. ‘Now that I have vanquished the King of Spain with his three bodies [Geryon] and have stolen the apples that were guarded by a vigilant dragon under the western heaven in the golden garden, I, Hercules, the terror of the world, rest from my labours’. I wish to thank Professor Ilja Veldman, who generously put at my disposal her Goltzius entries for the forthcoming catalogue of the sixteenth- century Netherlandish drawings in the Teylers Museum, which she is preparing with Yvonne Bleyerveld. U. Aldrovandi, ‘Delle statue antiche, che per tutta Roma ... si veggono’, in Mauro 1556, pp. 157–58. The Hercules, today in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale in Naples, is regarded as an enlarged copy of the 3rd century ad after an original by Lysippos or someone from his school of the 4th century bc. For its history and fortuna critica see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 229–32, no. 46; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 229. Baglione 1642 (facsimile edition, Rome 1935), p. 151: ‘. . . per mostrare con quel rifarcimento si degno al mondo, che le opere della scultura moderna potevano stare al paragone de’lavori antichi’. Reznicek 1961, vol. 2, pp. 89–94; Brandt 2001, passim; Luijten 2003–04, pp. 117–25. For both drawings see Luijten 2003–04, pp. 132–36. Göttingen 2013–14, pp. 210–11. For the prints by Bos and Ghisi see Göttingen 2013–14, pp. 205–07, no. II. 18 (Ghisi) and pp. 285–86, no. IV.09 (Bos). Brandt 2001, pp. 143–46. It has been suggested that Goltzius was prompted to make his unorthodox choice by a description in Pliny of a painting by Apelles of Hercules with Face Averted, whose features could nevertheless be guessed. Goltzius may have known the related engraving by G. J. Caraglio after Rosso Fiorentino: see Luijten 2003–04, p. 134 (with previous literature). For the dating of the three prints see Reznicek 1961, p. 419; Boston and St. Louis 1981–82, p. 12, under no. 6. See the painting Rest by Nicolaes Berchem the Elder (1620–83) dated 1644 in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the painting The Return from the Hunt, also by Berchem, from c. 1670 in The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, both of which include a male figure whose attitude is clearly based on that of the Farnese Hercules (Amsterdam and Washington D.C. 1981–82, p. 67, fig. 2; Haarlem, Zurich and elsewhere 2006–07, p. 85, cat. 45, repr.). A drawing by Berchem, Standing Herdsman from the Back in the Rijksmuseum, prepares the figure of the standing herdsman in the New York painting (see Amsterdam and Washington D.C., 1981–82, p. 67, fig. 1). Schapelhouman 1979, p. 67 (with earlier literature); Luijten 2003–04, pp. 135–36. Hymans 1884–85, p. 187, note 1. Schapelhouman (1979, p. 67) does not believe this, while Luijten (2003–04, pp. 135–36) considers it plausible. It is curious that Goltzius altered the preparatory drawing of the two men’s heads in the engraving (fig. 3): in addition to representing them in mirror image and swopping them over, he depicted them in the same scale as well. Ban (if it is indeed Ban) is now somewhat taller than Van Winghen, which would reflect reality for Van Mander reports that Ban was a sizeable man (Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 392–93, fol. 283v). Schapelhouman 2003–04, pp. 147–58. Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 392–93 (fol. 283v). Ibid. Between 1592 and 1597 Jacob Matham engraved a portrait of Philips van Winghen after another (unknown) drawing by Goltzius; see Widerkehr and Leeflang 2007, vol. 2, p. 256, no. 263. However beautiful the two drawings in black and red chalk may be, it is only in Goltzius’ engraving that we really see what he intended. The backlit effect of the Farnese Hercules is seen to best advantage in the print, in which the added clouds have a functional role by creating a sense of depth and atmosphere. It is enhanced by the two observers, also only introduced in the print stage, who help to convey the statue’s scale. As we view Hercules from behind, the two admirers are gazing upon the sunlit front. The resulting interaction between front and back, between seeing and imagining, gives the print an agreeable tension that is missing in the drawings.10 Goltzius was probably familiar with the Farnese Hercules even before he went to Italy from descriptions in travel guides to Rome, through prints of 1562 and around 1575 by Jacobus Bos (c. 1520–c. 1580) and Giorgio Ghisi (1520–82)11 and possibly also from the larger print series by Giovanni Battista de’ Cavalieri (1570–84) and Antoine Lafréry (c. 1575).12 All showed the Hercules from the front, but Goltzius drew it from both sides (fig. 3). He seems to have been the first artist to appreciate its beauty from the back, or, at least, the first to record it on paper. He must have been very pleased with the 116 unorthodox view13 because he chose this viewpoint in 1592 when he issued the engraving, one of the only three that he engraved from his series of drawings (see also cat. 6b).14 It was thanks to Goltzius’ engraving that the back view of the statue became as popular as the front (see cats 16 and 21). Something of this popularity is revealed by the fact that by the mid-17th century the Hercules Farnese seen from the rear, bending slightly forwards with his arm on his back, had permeated Dutch genre painting.15 The question arises: why did Goltzius choose to adopt this angle? Could it be that he had a didactic purpose in mind when he produced the first rendering in a print series of the back of a muscular male body at rest? With Goltzius’ magnificent print in hand, young artists could now study the anatomy of a ‘hero’s’ back and use this in their own work. Goltzius’ print of the Apollo Belvedere (cat. 6b) offered a similar aid with the anatomy of an elegant youth. Goltzius also drew other figures, such as the Belvedere Torso (cat. 8), from several angles, but in these he was probably experi- menting with different points of view rather than having a didactic aim in mind. Goltzius might also have chosen to represent both sides of the Farnese Hercules expressly to 117  8. Hendrick Goltzius (Bracht-am-Niederrhein 1558–1617 Haarlem) The Belvedere Torso 1591 Red chalk, 255 × 166 mm provenance: Queen Christina of Sweden (1626–89)1; Cardinal Decio Azzolini (1623–89); Marchese Pompeo Azzolini (1654–1706); Don Livio Odescalchi (1658–1713); purchased from the Odescalchi family by the Teylers Foundation, 1790. literature: Scholten 1904, p. 42, no. N 31; Reznicek, 1961, vol. 2, pp. 321–22, no. 201, vol. 2, fig. 156; Miedema 1969, pp. 76–77; Brummer 1970, pp. 146, note 27, 148, repr.; Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, p. 109; Stolzenburg 2000, p. 437, no. 143; Brandt 2001, p. 148; Goddard 2001–02, p. 39 (erroneously as a drawing in black chalk); Florence 2008, p. 62, under no. 33 (M. Schapelhouman); Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 183, under no. 132; Nichols 2013a, pp. 56, 146, under no. A-37, fig. 31. exhibitions: Recklinghausen 1964, no. 87 [unpaginated]; Munich and Rome 1998–99, pp. 44, fig. 43, 160, no. 49; Luijten 2003–04, pp. 130–31, no. 41.1. Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. no. N 31  From the High Renaissance onwards the Belvedere Torso was one of the most celebrated of ancient statues, despite its fragmentary state.2 In the past it was identified as the torso of Hercules because of the anatomy and the lion’s skin on which it is seated. However, in the late 19th century doubts were raised as to whether the skin really was that of a lion, making the Hercules identification uncertain.3 Although the Torso is comprehensively signed ‘Apollonius, son of Nestor, of Athens’, his name is not found in classical literature. It is assumed that he lived in the 1st century bc and that the Torso is a repetition or paraphrase of an earlier model. Although the statue was known from the 1430s, it was only when it was in the collection of the sculptor Andrea Bregno in the later 15th century that it began to arouse interest; in the early 16th century the sculpture entered the papal collections and was placed in the Belvedere (see p. 26, fig. 23). Direct correspondences with many of Michelangelo’s painted and drawn nude figures demonstrate the importance of the Belvedere Torso for the great Italian artist and shortly after Michelangelo’s death a number of stories emerged connecting him with the Torso.4 According to such one tale, he had been surprised by a cardinal kneeling before the statue (though only in order to examine it as closely as possible).5 In 1590 Giovanni Paggi wrote from Florence to his brother Girolamo: ‘Michelangelo called himself a pupil of the Belvedere Torso, which he said he had studied greatly, and indeed that he speaks the truth of this is to be seen in his works.’6 Describing the statue as ‘the school of Michelangelo’ took this association a step further.7 And yet the Renaissance artist appears to have spoken only once about the Torso, albeit in highly positive language: Ulisse Aldrovandi (1522– 1605) noted, in 1556 when the artist was still alive, that the Torso was ‘singularmente lodato da Michel’Angelo’.8 Not surprisingly the statue acquired great status both north and south of the Alps. This status probably preserved it from the restoration suffered by many antique sculptures in later centuries. Goltzius also seems to have felt the mysterious beauty of the Torso, for he drew it no less than four times. All four drawings were together in the collection of Queen Christina of Sweden (1626–89).9 But while two are now in the Teylers Museum (fig. 1) the other two have been lost. Goltzius undoubtedly knew the Torso even before he arrived in Italy, for reduced copies after the sculpture circulated throughout Europe in the 16th century; thus Goltzius’ friend and fellow Haarlem artist, Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem (1562–1638), had used the Torso as the model for a nude figure in a painting Fig. 1. Hendrick Goltzius, The Belvedere Torso, c. 1591, black chalk, 253 × 175 mm, Teylers Museum, Haarlem, inv. no. K I 30  118 119  of the late 1580s.10 It is reasonable to suppose that the Torso would have been discussed at meetings of the ‘Haarlem Academy’,11 which Karel van Mander, Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem and Goltzius had set up in the mid-1580s. One of the purposes of their ‘academy’ was to allow them to ‘study from life’ (om nae ‘t leven te studeeren), which meant they drew from nude models and probably from sculpture, plaster casts or other three-dimensional specimens as well.12 We may assume that during these drawing sessions they discussed human anatomy and the exemplary way classical artists had depicted it. All three were able to quote directly from the antique with the aid of Maarten van Heemskerck’s Roman sketchbook (now Kupferstichkabinett, Berlin), which was then owned by Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem13 and which contained two views of the Torso.14 It is noteworthy that Goltzius, who was generally meticulously faithful in his depiction of classical sculptures, was not always so precise in his treatment of the inscrip- tions on their pedestals.15 In his red chalk drawing of the Belvedere Torso from the front he has omitted the signature, which would have been clearly visible on the base. Even more curious is the fact that he completely ignored the wear suffered by the statue, the result of decades spent outdoors. Instead his drawings give the sculpture a freshness that makes it seem alive. This emphasis on the statue’s lifelikeness and beauty can probably be explained by Goltzius’ intention that these drawings should serve as preparations for prints with an educational purpose: the study of anatomy based on ideal models. The muscles of Goltzius’ Torso appear to be tensed, the skin lifelike and infused with warmth. The muscles’ extreme exaggeration and restless tension clearly display a Mannerist emphasis.16 Once in Rome, surrounded by the clear, classic, ideal vocabulary of ancient statuary, Goltzius would reject Mannerist exaggeration so the fact that he did not decide to do so here may indicate that these two studies after the Torso were among the first drawings he produced after his arrival in Rome. It is interesting to note that Goltzius clearly used the Belvedere Torso in his fine Back of an Athletic Man, now in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence (fig. 2).17 This drawing is one of his Federkunststücke, or virtuoso drawings in pen, whose linear execution often imitates engravings, with lines that swell and taper. Curiously, the backbone in this drawing curves slightly to the left, while that of the sculpture curves to the right. Is this a conscious change by Goltzius or did he recall the statue in mirror image? The suggestion has sometimes been made that Goltzius produced this great drawing in Italy to display his virtuosity with the pen;18 however, we know that Goltzius travelled incognito to avoid admirers (see cat. 6), 120 9. Peter Paul Rubens (Siegen 1577–1640 Antwerp) Two Studies of a Boy Model Posed as the ‘Spinario’ c. 1600–02 Red chalk with touches of white chalk, 201 × 362 mm Inscribed recto, l.r., in pen and brown ink by a late 17th- or early 18th-century hand: ‘Rubens’ provenance: Gabriel Huquier (1695–1772); William Fawkener; his bequest to Museum, 1769. literature: Hind and Popham 1915–32, vol. 2, p. 22, no. 52; Burchard and D’Hulst 1963, vol. 1, pp. 34–35, no. 16 and vol. 2, pl. 16; Stechow 1968, pp. 53–55, fig. 43; Held 1986, p. 82, no. 39, pl. 23 on p. 172; New York 1988, p. 77, under no. 18, fig. 18-I; Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 80; Paris 2000–01, p. 419, under no. 222, fig. 222a. exhibitions: London 1977, pp. 28–29, no. 14 (J. Rowlands); London 2009–10 (no catalogue). Department of Prints and Drawings, The British Museum, London, inv. T,14.1  Fig. 2. Hendrick Goltzius, Back of an Athletic Man, pen and brown ink, 150 × 165 mm, Uizi, Florence, inv. no. 2365 F so he is unlikely to have felt a need to demonstrate his virtuoso skills. Perhaps Goltzius created this virtuoso draw- ing after his Italian trip, or even before he went to Italy as he was already producing pen work of this quality in the 1580s.19 The son of a wealthy Antwerp family, Rubens was born in the German city of Siegen in 1577 but in 1589 returned with his family to Antwerp where he received a humanistic education at the Latin School run by Rumoldus Verdonck (1541–1620) and an artistic one with the painters Tobias Verhaeght (1561–1631), Adam van Noort (1561–1641) and Otto van Veen (c. 1556–1629). After entering the Guild of St Luke as an established painter in 1598, Rubens set out for Italy in May 1600. This fundamental step in Rubens’ training had been carefully prepared not only by the study of engravings of classical statues and Renaissance masters by Marcantonio Raimondi (c. 1480–1527/34) and his pupils assembled by van Veen in his workshop, but also by eager reading of Roman texts such as Suetonius, Tacitus and Pliny the Elder.1 The impact of classical antiquity on Rubens’ art and theory of art was immense. Before arriving in Rome in 1601, Rubens spent time in Venice, then Mantua, in the service of the Duke Vincenzo I Gonzaga (r. 1587–1612) as a painter and a curator of his collections, and also in Florence. Although based in Mantua, Rubens spent two extended periods in Rome, first from July 1601 until April 1602 and again from late 1605 (or early 1606) until October 1608.2 During this second period he shared a house with his scholarly elder brother Philip (1574–1611), a pupil of the Flemish philologist and humanist Justus Lipsius (1547–1606). In Rome Philip Rubens worked on the Electorum Libri duo published in Antwerp in 1608, an influential study of the customs, morals and dress of the ancients. Peter Paul assisted Philip in making drawings from ancient monuments in prepara- tion for the plates, and he also contributed to their explanatory notes. Rubens’ commitment to the systematic study of classical antiquities, and in particular of sculpture in the round, is testified to by the large number of sketches and drawings he made during his Italian period, but also by those he executed after his return to Antwerp in 1608.3 In Rome Rubens visited the Belvedere Courtyard and some of the most important private aristocratic collections, such as the Borghese, the Medici, the Farnese, the Mattei and the Giustiniani. His drawings after the Antique are among the most extraordi- nary ever produced, most of them in red or black chalk; they show Rubens’ great virtuosity in handling the medium and, at the same time, his deep understanding of the formal principles of the antique statues. He obsessively sketched some of the most ‘muscular’ masterpieces of classical statuary, such as the Laocoön (see p. 26, fig. 19) and the Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32), from all sides, many angles and in great detail, in order to assimilate thoroughly the anatomical structure and the mathematical proportions of the human body as part of his search for the rules of perfection achieved by ancient artists.4 Returning to Antwerp in 1608, Rubens established his own studio in an Italianate villa in the centre of the city – today the Rubenshuis. His drawings after the Antique, bound in several books, remained in his studio and continued to serve not only as an important reference and source of inspiration for Rubens himself, but probably also as teaching tools for his pupils. The purchase in 1618 by Rubens of the collection of ancient sculptures owned by the English diplomat and collector Sir Dudley Carleton (1573–1632) represented the first step towards the formation of one of the most important – but short-lived – collections of antiqui- ties in Northern Europe, which Rubens sold on to the 1st Duke of Buckingham in 1626.5 The pre-eminent figure of the Flemish Baroque, a universal genius, Rubens also had an active diplomatic career which in the 1620s led him to travel between the courts of Spain and England. His last decade, the 1630s, was mostly spent in Antwerp, where he devoted himself entirely to painting. Rubens’ theory on both the usefulness and dangers of copying after the Antique are effectively expressed in his essay De Imitatione Statuarum, a short treatise on the imitation of sculpture that remained in manuscript in Rubens’ lifetime 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 mp See footnote 1 in cat. 6. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 311–14, no. 80, fig. 165; Munich and Rome 1998–99; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 181–84, no. 132. Wünsche 1998–99, p. 67. Michelangelo did indeed use the Torso directly as a model; see Wünsche 1998–99, pp. 31–37; Haarlem and London 2005–06, pp. 116–17. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 312. Guhl 1880, vol. 2, p. 42; Schwinn 1973, pp. 36–37. Wright 1730, vol. 1, p. 268; Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 312–13; Schwinn 1973, p. 172; Montreal 1992, pp. 76–77. ‘... un torso grande di Hercole ignudo, assiso sopra un tronco del medisimo marmo: non ha testa, ne braccia, ne gambe. È stato questo busto singularmente lodato da Michel’Angelo’. U. Aldrovandi, ‘Delle statue antiche, che per tutta Roma ... si veggono’, in Mauro 1556, p. 115. For Aldrovandi’s complete text ‘nel giardino di Belvedere, sopra il Palagio del Papa’, see Brummer 1970, pp. 268–69. Stolzenburg 2000, pp. 437, nos 142–44, 439, no. 161. Van Thiel 1999, pp. 79, 294, no. 7, pl. 34. According to an anonymous biographer, shortly after arriving in Haarlem, around 1583, Karel van Mander entered into a collaboration with Goltzius and Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem, described as follows: ‘the three of them maintained and made an Academy, for studying from life’, see Van Mander 1994–1999, vol. 1, pp. 26–27 (fol. S2 recto), vol. 2, pp. 70–72; Van Thiel 1999, pp. 59–90. It should be stressed that this academy was in no way an institution for advanced professional training: such institutions came into being only in the 18th century (see Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 2, p. 70). It is unclear how and for what length of time this ‘Haarlem Academy’ exactly functioned (see also Leeflang 2003–04a, p. 16; Leeflang 2003–04b, p. 252. Veldman 2012, pp. 11–23. Hülsen and Egger 1913–16, vol. 1, p. 34 (fol. 63), p. 40 (fol. 73). See also Brummer 1970, pp. 144–45, figs 125–26. Brandt 2001, p. 143. Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, pp. 321–22, no. K 201; Luijten 2003–04, p. 131. Reznicek 1961, vol 1, p. 452, no. 431, vol. 2, fig. 132; Florence 2008, pp. 61–62, no. 33 (M. Schapelhouman). Reznicek 1961, vol. 1, p. 452. Schapelhouman (in Florence 2008, p. 62) has previously questioned the Italian dating for Back of an Athletic Man; for pen works by Goltzius from the 1580s see: Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 238–39, figs 93–94, 242–46, nos 84–85. 121  but was published by the art theorist Roger de Piles in his Cours de peinture par principles of 1708 (see Appendix, no. 8).6 While emphasising the importance for an artist of becoming deeply familiar with the perfection embodied in ancient models, Rubens warned that ‘[the imitation of antique statues] must be judiciously applied, and so that it may not in the least smell of stone’.7 The warning against the risk of hardening one’s style by copying ancient sculptures, thus creating paintings that looked ‘dry’ and eccentric, had already been pointed out by several 16th-century artists and theore- ticians, such as Giorgio Vasari (1511–74), Ludovico Dolce (1508–68) and Giovanni Battista Armenini (1530–1609).8 Later in the 17th century the pernicious effect on painting of too-slavish imitation of antique statuary would be summa- rised by the Bolognese art theorist Carlo Cesare Malvasia (1616–93) with the specific neologism ‘statuino’ or ‘statue- like’.9 As stressed by Rubens in the De Imitatione, young artists needed to learn how to transform marble into flesh instead of depicting figures as ‘coloured marble’. The two studies on one sheet presented here perfectly express Rubens’ views: they are in fact an example of a practice – setting live models in the poses of famous ancient statues – already diffused from the Early Renaissance (see p. 23, fig. 14) and common practice within the curricula of the French and Italian academies.10 Through this exercise Rubens could concentrate on the classical pose and disre- gard the ‘matter’, something that he repeated in modified form several times, in studies of live models in poses remi- niscent of the Belvedere Torso, the Laocoön and other canonical statues.11 In the present drawing, the young model is seen from his left side in the pose of one of the most celebrated bronzes in Rome, the Spinario (‘Thorn-puller’), recorded in the city as early as the 12th century among the antiquities at the Lateran Palace and donated by Pope Sixtus IV (r. 1471– 84) to the Palazzo dei Conservatori in 1471 (fig. 1, see also p. 23, fig. 15).12 Interpreted in the Renaissance as the personifi- cation of the month of March or a shepherd, the Spinario has been recently recognised as the young Ascanius, the son of Aeneas and founder of the gens Iulia.13 The right-hand drawing faithfully imitates the pose of the statue, with the head looking down towards the gesture of extracting a thorn from the foot; the left-hand drawing, in contrast, modifies the original by turning the head towards the spectator and altering the action so that the youth no longer withdraws a thorn from his foot, but dries it with a towel. Two similar studies, presumably after the same young model, are preserved in the Musée des Beaux-Arts, Dijon (fig. 2) and in London (private collection): the former, in red chalk, shows the model from his back and his right;14 the latter, in black chalk, from his left.15 The three drawings were probably done in the same session and they have been dated to one of Rubens’ two Roman periods, probably the first one (1600–02).16 As long ago noted by Wolfgang Stechow,17 the pose of    122 123 Fig. 1. (left) Spinario (Thorn-Puller), 1st century bc, bronze, 73 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Sala dei Trionfi, Rome, inv. 1186 Fig. 2. (above) Peter Paul Rubens, Two Studies of a Young Model Posing as the Spinario, red chalk with touches of black chalk, 246 × 382 mm, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Dijon, inv. sup. 49D  the Spinario was employed by Rubens for a young man drying his feet in the Baptism of Christ, painted for the Jesuit church of Santa Trinità in Mantua in 1605 and now in the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp, a preparatory drawing for which is in the Louvre,18 as well as for Susanna in Susanna and the Elders, a painting executed in Rome about 1606–08, 19 ed 1 For Rubens’ early years see Muller 2004, pp. 13–15. 2 On Rubens in Rome and his approach to the Antique see esp. Stechow 1968; Jaffé 1977, pp. 79–84; Muller 1982; Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 41–81; Muller 2004, pp. 18–28. 3 On Rubens’ drawings after the Antique see the fundamental catalogue in Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 2. 4 See Ayomonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 46–52. 5 See Muller 1989, passim; Muller 2004, pp. 35–56. On the collection of antiquities see in particular Muller 1989, pp. 82–87; Antwerp 2004, pp. 260–63 (F. Healy). On the sale to the 1st Duke of Buckingham see Muller 2004, pp. 62–63. 6 On the De Imitatione see Muller 1982; Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, esp. note 11, pp. 77–78, note 44; Antwerp 2004, pp. 298–99; Jaffé and Bradley 2005–06; Jaffé 2010. Transcribed in Appendix, no. 8, from De Piles 1743, pp. 87–88. For Vasari see Bettarini Barocchi 1966–87, for instance vol. 3, pp. 549–50 and vol. 5, pp. 495–61. For Dolce see Appendix, no. 4. See Armenini 1587, esp. pp. 59–60 (book I, chap. 8), pp. 86–89 (book II, chap. 3). The concept was repeated later also by Bernini during his visit to Paris in 1665: see Appendix, no. 9. See also Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 77–78. Malvasia 1678, vol. 1, pp. 359, 365, 484. On the 17th-century neologism ‘statuino’ see Pericolo, forthcoming. See Aymonino’s essay in this volume, pp. 50–52. Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 80–81. The statue is traditionally considered to be an eclectic work of the 1st century bc: see Stuart Jones 1926, pp. 43–47, no. 2; Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 308–10, no. 78; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 254, no. 203. Recent analysis has proved that the classicistic head, dating to the 5th century bc, was added to the Hellenistic body and given a Roman subject presumably in the 1st century bc, see Rome forthcoming. Rome forthcoming. Held 1986, p. 82; Paris 2000–01, pp. 417–18, no. 222. Held 1986, p. 82; Paris 2000–01, p. 418, fig. 222b. Held 1986, p. 82. Stechow 1968, pp. 54–55. See also Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 80–81. Lugt 1949, pp. 12–13, no. 1009, pl. XIV; Antwerp 1977, p. 129, no. 121. Coliva 1994, p. 170, no. 88. 10. Odoardo Fialetti (Bologna 1573–c. 1638 Venice) Artist’s Studio c. 1608 Etching in Odoardo Fialetti, Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano, Venice, Justus Sadeler, 1608 110 × 152 mm (plate); 194 × 238 mm (sheet) Inscribed l.l. with Fialetti’s monogram and ‘A 2’ and ‘No 208’. provenance: Elmar Seibel, Boston, from whom acquired. literature: Rosand 1970, pp. 12–22, fig. 10; Buffa 1983, pp. 315–37, nos 198 (295) – 243 (301), repr. (for the Artist’s Studio, p. 321, no. 210 (298), repr.); Amornpichetkul 1984, pp. 108–09, fig. 83; Bolten 1985, pp. 240–43, 245 and 248; Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989, pp. 248–49, no. 130 (D. P. Becker); London 2001–02, pp. 198–200, no. 143; Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, pp. 94–96, no. 24 ( J. Clifford); Walters 2009, vol. 1, pp. 68–79, vol. 2, pp. 254–76, figs. 3.9–3.53; Walters 2014, pp. 62–63, fig. 59; Whistler 2015 (forthcoming). and now in the Borghese Gallery. 124 125 exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, London, 2002–013 A prolific artist whose large and diverse body of work comprises some fifty-five paintings and about 450 prints, Fialetti was born in Bologna in 1573 but moved to Venice where he was apprenticed to Jacopo Tintoretto (1519–94) and where he later collaborated with Palma Giovane (c. 1548– 1628).1 By 1596 he was listed as a printmaker and, from 1604 to 1612, a member of the Venetian painters’ guild, the Arte dei Pittori; he joined the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro between 1620 and 1622.2 His wide-ranging graphic oeuvre comprises religious, mythological, and literary subjects as well as landscapes, portraits, depictions of sport (fencing and hunt- ing), ornamental motifs and anatomical studies, and appears in different formats and genres, from single or series of prints to complete illustrations for books.3 His etchings remained influential for decades after his death not only in Venice and northern Italy, but even in France and England.4 Without doubt Fialetti’s most admired and influential works were his two volumes of etchings: Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parte et membra del corpo humano (‘The true means and method to draw all the parts of the human body’) and Tutte le parti del corpo humano diviso in piu pezzi . . . (‘all the parts of the human body divided into multiple pieces’). The first was published in Venice in 1608 by Justus Sadeler (Flanders 1583–1620), and the second, which is undated, presumably appeared in Venice shortly thereafter. The two books are varied in their plates and paginations and exist in different compilations, sometimes confusingly, combining elements of both as in the example shown here.5 The first of their kind to be published in Italy, these books served as portable instruction manuals in drawing for beginners and amateurs. They provided techniques for the correct construction of the human face and body and they also illustrate the crucial role of copying plaster casts in work- shop practice at the end of the 16th and beginning of the 17th centuries. The Bellinger volume includes a frontispiece dedication to Cesare d’Este, the Duke of Modena and Reggio (1561–1628), a leaf with a further dedication to Giovanni Grimani (the Venetian patrician and collector of antiquities, 1506–93), six pages with step-by-step instructions on draw- ing eyes, ears and faces, another title page, Tutte le parti . . . and thirty leaves of further faces, various parts of the body – arms, legs, torsos – grotesque heads and portraits.6 The volume concludes with two religious etchings by Palma Giovane.7 Unusual for manuals of the period is the scene depicted on the first plate following the dedications: a lively and infor- mal artists’ workshop, sometimes thought to be Tintoretto’s.8 In the foreground, young students seated on low wooden benches draw diligently before models and assorted plaster casts of body parts arranged on and below a table, while two older artists are painting at large easels in the background.9 At the far left, an apprentice grinds pigments. Scattered on the ground are various artists’ tools including compasses, an inkwell and feather quill pen. Boy draughtsmen representing three different ages – roughly from six to sixteen – diligently record a cast of the young Marcus Aurelius, similar in type to the marble of 161– 180 ad now in the Capitoline Museum in Rome (fig. 1).10 Behind them, two slightly older boys enthusiastically discuss a completed copy. The torso next to the bust, although reminiscent of the Belvedere Torso, (p. 26, fig. 23), appears to be based on a different antique sculpture, which seems to be the subject of a drawing of seven male torsos in various positions in a sketchbook by an unidentified Northern artist working in Rome in the mid- to late 16th century (Trinity College Library, Cambridge, fig. 2).11 The torso seen in Fialetti’s etching is comparable to the one with the upraised right arm placed at the lower centre of the Trinity page;12 it was evidently a favourite of Fialetti’s as it reappears later in his book (fig. 3).  The cast of the armless female torso on the floor on the right in the etching also derives from an antique prototype. She is probably based on a now-lost version of Venus Tying her Sandal, a Hellenistic type well known in the Renaissance and one that inspired many adaptations,13 such as that in an anonymous Italian drawing in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (fig. 4). The male torso depicted in that drawing is also very similar to that in the etching. Fialetti would have had ample opportunity to study Antique statuary first-hand during a trip to Rome, made before he settled in Venice, though plaster casts were an integral part of Venetian workshop practice from the 16th century onwards.14 They were in wide use in Tintoretto’s studio where Fialetti trained. According to his biographer, Carlo Ridolfi, Tintoretto collected plaster casts of ancient and Renaissance marbles avidly and at great expense: ‘Nor did he cease his continuous study of whatever hand or torso he had collected’.15 From the chalk drawings he produced, ‘thus did he learn the forms requisite for his art’.16 The casts remained in the Tintoretto family workshop when Domenico (1560–1635), his son, took it over and are Fig. 1. Portrait of Marcus Aurelius as a Boy, 161–180 ad, marble, 74 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Palazzo Nuovo, Albani Collection, Rome, MC 279 Fig. 2. Anonymous artist working in Rome, Studies of Male Torsos, mid to late 16th c., pen and brown ink, 280 × 450 mm, folio 47v from the Cambridge Sketchbook, Trinity College Library, Cambridge, R. 17.3 recorded in his will of 1630.17 The younger Tintoretto for a period considered bequeathing to painters his house and studio with its contents – reliefs, drawings and models – so that an academy could be established to train future generations of Venetian artists, although nothing came of this scheme.18 Whether the Artist’s Studio seen here is actually Tintoretto’s or simply a generalised venue, Fialetti asserted the centrality of drawing, especially for young artists.19 This also recorded his own experience: when as a boy, he asked what he should do in order to make progress, he was advised by Tintoretto that he ‘must draw and again draw’.20 By the early 17th century, repeated and systematic study from studio drawings, plaster casts, sculpture, as well as anatomy and the live model was deemed essential preparation for the accurate portrayal of the human figure.21 But in order to depict the body as a whole, students first had to master its individual parts, a tenet of Central Italian working practice that was perpetuated throughout the 16th century by artists and writers like Giovan Battista Armenini (1525–1609) and Federico Zuccaro (c. 1541–1609), who instructed pupils to draw parts of the body, an ‘alphabet of drawing’.22 Similar principles were espoused by the Carracci Academy in Bologna, of which Fialetti was no doubt aware.23 While precedents for instructional drawing books are found in 15th-century model and pattern books containing motifs that artists could copy into their compositions (p. 20, figs 3–4),24 Fialetti’s were the first aimed at students and amateurs as well as art lovers and collectors.25 They also seem to be the first of their kind to be printed in Venice.26 Other publications modelled after them soon followed in the Veneto and elsewhere in Italy, notably De excellentia et nobilitate delineationis libri duo, published    126 127  by Giacomo Franco (1573–1652) in 1611 based on designs by Palma Giovane and prints by Battista Franco (c. 1510–1561) as well as Gasparo Colombina’s Paduan publication of 1623.27 Like Fialetti’s compendia, Giacomo Franco’s treatise featured several plates incorporating antique motifs: busts of the Laocoön (p. 26, fig. 19), the Emperors Vitellius (p. 40, fig. 52) and Galba were inserted among the etched portraits on plates 18 and 20 while plates 14 and 25 showed torsos of a female Venus Tying her Sandal type much like that seen in Fialetti’s etching.28 In the decades that followed, the Antique would assume a greater role in drawing manuals.29 Several published at the end of the 17th century, like Gérard Audran’s Les Proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité,1683 (p. 48, figs 72–73) and Jan de Bisschop’s Icones, 1668/69 (see cat. 13) and into the 18th century, such as Giovanni Volpato and Raffaello Morghen’s Principi del disegno, 1786 (p. 49, fig. 76), would focus on antiquities exclusively. The influence of Fialetti’s books was far-reaching and persisted long after his death. Plates from them were copied and adapted for publications appearing both in Italy and elsewhere:30 for example Johannes Gellee copied the Artist’s Studio and other etchings in his Tyrocinia artis pictoriae caelatoriae published in Amsterdam in 1639.31 Fialetti’s vol- umes also influenced a great many other books published in the Netherlands, paving the way for Abraham Bloemaert’s Tekenboek of 1740 (cat. no. 11).32 Furthermore, Fialetti’s manuals catered to a new demo- graphic – the connoisseur, gentleman scholar and mature artist – and would inspire similar books printed in England.33 With the growing market for Venetian art in England during the first decades of the 17th century and accelerated interest in drawing, Fialetti’s work was esteemed not just by Venetians but by aristocratic collectors visiting Venice like Sir Henry Fig. 3. Odoardo Fialetti, Two Male Torsos Seen from Behind, c. 1608, etching, 103 × 142 mm, plate 30 from Il vero modo...1608, Katrin Bellinger collection Fig. 4. Anonymous, Roman School, Studies after Antique Statuary (Fragments), c. 1550, pen and brown ink and brown wash, black chalk, heightened with white on blue-green paper, 294 × 212 mm, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, inv. 2978. © The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge Wotton (1568–1639) and Thomas Howard, the 2nd Earl of Arundel (1585–1646), among others, who undoubtedly admired his facile draughtsmanship.34 Interestingly, Fialetti’s biographer, Malvasia, who praised his versatility, mentioned that as well as giving drawing lessons to Venetians, he also instructed Alethea Talbot, the Earl of Arundel’s wife, whose grandson owned one of Fialetti’s books.35 Through connections like these, Fialetti attracted the attention of English-based artists and architects including Edward Norgate (c. 1580–1650), Inigo Jones (1573–1652) and Anthony Van Dyck (1599–1641).36 Copied and emulated, Fialetti’s plates would play a key role in the development of the drawing book in England.37 Treatises by Norgate (1627–28, 1st ed.; 1648–49, 2nd ed.), Isaac Fuller (1654), Alexander Brown (1660), and others helped to further the principles set forth in Fialetti’s books, which were copied well into the 19th century.38 avl 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 For a full appraisal of his life and work on which this biographical account is based, see Walters 2009 and Walters 2014, pp. 57–67. Walters 2009, vol. 1, pp. 6–7; Walters 2014, p. 58. Walters 2014, p. 57. Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. vi. Beginning with Bartsch, there has been considerable confusion over the size and content of the two editions. See Walters 2009, vol. 1, pp. 68–70, particularly note 40 and Walters 2014, pp. 66–67, note 23; Greist 2014, pp. 14–15. Alexandra Greist (ibid., pp. 12–18) published a little-known instruc- tional text by Fialetti dictating how he wished the manual to be used, printed on the versi of nine prints bound together with early editions of both books (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, C/RM0024.ASC/552*1, Shelfmark 325G6). Among the plates not included in the present volume is the painter’s studio showing artists measuring human proportions: Buffa 1983, p. 321, no. 211 (298). The Holy Family and Christ Preaching. Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989, p. 248; Nichols 2013b, pp. 195, 236, note 134. The standing painter in profile is believed by some scholars to be Tintoretto (Ilchman and Saywell 2007, p. 392; Nichols 2013b, p. 236, note 134). Nichols points to the similarity with the painter as seen in Francesco Pianta the Younger’s wood-carving, Tintoretto as ‘Painting’, in the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice (Nichols 1999, p. 238, fig. 212). His elongated body, unlike the others in the etching, and his energetic pose and outstretched right arm, recall Tintoretto’s studies of single figures. Alternatively, Catherine Whistler (2015, forthcoming) has suggested that the studio may evoke Palma Giovane ‘given that there is something of his panache in the figure of the painter at work and in the costume of the seated artist’. She further noted their similarities to his self-portrait in the Brera (Mason Rinaldi 1984, pp. 92–93, 213, fig. 117). Fittschen and Zanker 1985, vol. 1, pp. 67–68, no. 61, vol. 2, pls 69, 70, 72. CensusID: 46328. Michaelis 1892, p. 99, no. 60v; Dhanens 1963, p. 185, no. 52v, fig. 30; Fileri 1985, pp. 39–40, no. 48, repr. Given in the 19th c. to a Flemish artist working in Rome around 1583 (Michaelis 1892), more recently the sketchbook has been associated with the sculptor, Giambologna (1529– 1608), and his Roman trip of 1550 (Dhanens 1963 and Fileri 1985). As pointed out by Eloisa Dodero (personal communication). Künzl 1970; Bober and Rubinstein. 2010, p. 69, no. 20; CensusID: 58121. Walters 2014, p. 57. Ridolfi 1984, p. 16. Ridolfi 1914, vol. 2, p. 14; Whitaker 1997. Ridolfi 1914, vol. 2, p. 14; Ridolfi 1984, p. 16. 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 Tozzi 1933, p. 316. Ridolfi 1914, vol. 2, pp. 262–63. Rosand 1970; Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 73. Because ‘drawing was what gave to painting its grace and perfection’, Ridolfi added (Ridolfi 1914, vol. 2, p. 65; Ridolfi 1984, p. 16). Muller 1984; Bolten 1985; Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 73. Armenini 1587, pp. 52–59 (book 1, chap. 7); Alberti 1604, p. 5 (quoting Federico Zuccaro); Amornpichetkul 1984; Bleeke-Byrne 1984; Roman 1984, p. 91; Greist 2014, p. 15. Gombrich 1960, p. 161–62; Rosand 1970, pp. 7, 14–15; Bolten 1985, p. 245; Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989, p. 248 (D. P. Becker); Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 95 (J. Clifford); Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 74; Walters 2014, pp. 62, 66, note 6. On the Carracci’s influence on model books, see Amornpichetkul 1984, pp. 113–16. For model books, see Gombrich 1960, pp. 156–72; Rosand 1970, p. 5; Ames- Lewis 2000a, pp. 63–69; Nottingham and London 1983, pp. 94–101; Amornpichetkul 1984, p. 109. D. P. Becker, in Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989, p. 248; J. Clifford, in Houston and Ithaca 2005–06, p. 95. Catherine Whistler has argued persua- sively that the book was aimed at a growing market of virtuosi, art lovers and collectors, who placed a social value on the knowledge of drawings (Whistler 2015, forthcoming). Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 69; Walters 2014, p. 62. For the growing interest in publishing prints at this time in Venice, see Van der Sman 2000, pp. 235–47. Rosand 1970, p. 17–19; Amornpichetkul 1984, p. 110–12; Walters 2009, vol. 1,p.74. Rosand 1970, pp. 15, 27. Amornpichetkul 1984, p. 115. Ibid., p. 112; D. P. Becker in Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989, p. 248 (D. P. Becker); Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 75–79. Bolten 1985, pp. 132–39. Ibid., pp. 119, 131, 133–34, 141, 143, 153, 157, 188–207, 243–56; Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 79. Whistler 2015 (forthcoming). For a fundamental discussion of Fialetti and his impact in England, see Walters 2009, vol. 1, Chapter 5, pp. 152–197. See also Walters 2014, pp. 64–65. Malvasia 1678, vol. 2, p. 312; Greist 2014, p. 12. Walters 2009, vol. 1, p. 152; Walters 2014, pp. 64–65 Amornpichetkul 1984, p. 112; Walters 2009, vol. 1, pp. 78, 152. Walters 2009, vol. 1, pp. 78, 180–97; Greist 2014, p. 14.   128 129  11. Frederick Bloemaert (Utrecht c. 1616–90 Utrecht) after Abraham Bloemaert (Gorinchem 1566–1651 Utrecht) A Student Draughtsman, Drawing Plaster Casts 1740 Engraving and chiaroscuro woodcut with two-tone blocks (brown and sepia), titlepage from Het Tekenboek (‘The Drawing Book’), Amsterdam, Reinier and Josua Ottens, 1740 303 × 222 mm (image); 378 × 286 mm (sheet) provenance: Elmar Seibel, Boston, from whom acquired. literature: Strauss 1973, p. 348, no. 1 64, repr.; Lehmann-Haupt 1977, pp. 155–57, fig. 125; Amsterdam and Washington D.C. 1981–82, pp. 16–17; Bolten 1985, p. 49, repr., pp. 57–67; Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 395, vol. 2, fig. T1a; Bolten 2007, vol. 1, pp. 362, 366, under no. 1150.  exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 1995-071 Abraham Bloemaert, a prolific artist by whose hand over two hundred paintings and sixteen hundred drawings are known, was born in Gorinchem in 1566.1 From the age of 15 or 16, he spent three years in Paris from 1581–83, studying for six weeks with the otherwise unknown Jehan Bassot and then for two and a half years with the similarly obscure ‘Maistre Herry’. His third teacher in Paris was his fellow countryman Hieronymus Francken I (1540–1610).2 In 1611, along with Paulus Moreelse (1571–1638) and several colleagues, Bloemaert founded the new painters’ guild in Utrecht, the Guild of St Luke, and became its deacon in 1618.3 Shortly after the guild’s foundation, around 1612, some form of drawing academy must have been established in Utrecht, again with Bloemaert’s involvement. We learn about this from a letter to the Utrecht antiquarian Arnout van Buchell (1565–1641) and in Van ’t Light der Teken en Schilder konst (‘About the Light of the Art of Drawing and Painting’) of 1643–44, by Crispijn de Passe the Younger (c. 1597– c. 1670).4 In the introduction to his book De Passe recalls how he learned his art together with the son of Paulus Moreelse ‘in a famous drawing school which was, at that time organized by the most eminent masters’.5 The well-known print Modeltekenen (‘Model Drawing’) from De Passe’s book is thought to repre- sent this school (fig. 1) and it has even been suggested that one of the two tutors looking over the students’ work is Abraham Bloemaert himself.6 We do not know how long this ‘Academy’ existed. Bloemaert had a large studio of his own with many pupils, including his four sons and many well-known Dutch artists, such as the Italianate painters Cornelis van Poelenburgh (1594/95–1667), Jan Both (c. 1618–52) and Jan Baptist Weenix (1621–60/61), as well as the Caravaggists Gerrit van Honthorst (1590–1656) and Hendrick ter Brugghen (1588–1629).7 A development can be traced in Bloemaert’s work from a robust Mannerism, influenced by artists such as Joachim van Wtewael (c. 1566–1638), towards a more classicist style which he presumably derived from Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617) and his Haarlem colleagues. Caravaggism made a brief appearance in Bloemaert’s work during the early 1620s, when his first pupils returned from Italy – which, inciden- tally, he never visited himself. At the end of Bloemaert’s life his style grew smoother and more even. In teaching, Bloemaert undoubtedly used his own drawings as examples for his many pupils to copy.8 He found this approach so productive – and perhaps commercially attractive – that towards the end of his life he joined forces with his son Frederick (c. 1616–90) in the publication of the Tekenboek or ‘Drawing Book’, a compilation of specimen drawings.9 The prints in the Tekenboek, which were cut by Frederick after drawings by his father, were published in instalments from c. 1650.10 Abraham’s reversed preparatory drawings, which he probably began around 1645 and some of which reproduce earlier work, are preserved en groupe in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge,11 including that for Fig. 1. Crispijn de Passe, Model Drawing, from: Van ’t Light der Teken en Schilder konst (‘About the Light of the Art of Drawing and Painting’), 1643, engraving, 330 × 390 mm, Rijksmuseum Research Library, Amsterdam, inv. no. 330B13  130 131  Fig. 2. Abraham Bloemaert, A Student Draughtsman, Drawing Plaster Casts, pen and brown ink, 397 × 301, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, Inv. PD 166–1963.5. © The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge the title page displayed here (fig. 2).12 The title page of Bloemaert’s Tekenboek, catalogued here in the most popular 18th-century edition (1740), shows an artist seated on the floor of an imaginary studio, drawing 13 artist has again created the suggestion of antique pieces. Images of artists drawing in a studio combined with assem- blages of plaster casts are highly appropriate subjects for drawing books. In earlier Italian and Netherlandish examples we encounter similar images, such as Modeltekenen (‘Model Drawing’) by De Passe from 1643 (fig. 1), by Petrus Feddes (1586–c. 1634) from around 1615, and especially by Odoardo Fialetti (1573–c. 1638), in his highly influential Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parte et membra del corpo humano (‘The true means and method to draw all the parts of the human body’) and Tutte le parti del corpo humano diviso in piu pezzi . . . (‘all the parts of the human body divided into multiple pieces’) of c. 1608 (also featured here as cat. 10).18  For apprentices the copying of two-dimensional works, such as prints and drawings – and also paintings – was followed by drawing from plaster casts, a crucial activity in the work- shop practice. Ideal examples were employed to prepare the student for drawing from life, from the real world and especially from clothed and nude models.14 Such plaster casts invariably included copies of well-known classical statues, plus copies of more modern works and casts of limbs and body parts taken from live models, such as those seen here hanging on the wall behind the draughtsman. In this image the casts do not include any firmly identifiable antique statues, although a number are clearly intended to suggest them, such as the female head at lower right with the short, rounded hairstyle and the male torso beside it, which resembles the Belvedere Torso (p. 26, fig. 23); the pose of the reclining man is reminiscent of an antique River God. In this image Bloemaert made clear his allegiance to classical tradition, and the importance of antique works as the Bloemaert’s Tekenboek, which only contains specimens Fig. 3. Frederick Bloemaert after Abraham Bloemaert, A Draughtsman Sitting at a Table, Drawing after Plaster Casts, engraving, 280 × 165 mm, Katrin Bellinger collection, London from the plaster figure of an elderly, reclining man. foundation for the learning of art.15 Midway through the Tekenboek, Bloemaert reiterates this 132 133 sentiment regarding the importance of antique works by incorporating a similar title page, A Draughtsman Sitting at a Table, Drawing after Plaster Casts (fig. 3), in the section on ‘Mannelijke en Vrouwelijke Academie Figuren’ (‘Male and Female Academy Figures’).16 This features the same or a similar draughtsman, now seated at a table in a more realistic setting and drawing from a plaster model of a nude male torso. Around him lie other casts: a male head, a foot and a further torso seen from the back. As in the first title page, no recognisable antique sculptures can be seen, although the 17 of heads, faces, body parts and figures, is a product of direct studio practice. It is thus different in approach from the other important mid-17th century Netherlandish drawing book, mentioned above, Van ’t Light der Teken en Schilder konst (‘About the Light of the Art of Drawing and Painting’; 1643), by De Passe the Younger. De Passe primarily focuses on the structure, proportion and anatomy of the human body;19 examples of models and ways to learn to draw them are of secondary importance. Bloemaert’s Tekenboek is actually closer in character in its approach and images to the two volumes of etchings produced by Fialetti, which were probably known to the Bloemaerts in one of the Dutch editions.20 The Bloemaerts’ publication might well be described as the Northern counterpart to Fialetti’s books.21 And as in those the emphasis in the Tekenboek is on providing many practical examples of heads, faces and limbs to draw. Like Fialetti’s works it may be regarded as a portable instruction manual for drawing. Bloemaert’s Tekenboek was exceptionally popular from the time of its publication around 1650 to the end of the 18th century.22 Many editions followed the first (very rare) editio princeps, which probably contained 100 plates arranged in five parts.23 After his father’s death in 1651, Frederick must have published one or more sub-editions with 120 plates in six parts and around 1685 Nicolaes II Visscher (1649–1702) another with 160 plates. Several decades later, in 1723, an edition by Louis Renard (dates unknown) appeared (of which only one copy is known), with 166 plates in eight parts arranged by Bernard Picart (1673–1733).24 The same arrangement was retained in the best-known edition of Bloemaert’s work, published by Reinier and Josua Ottens, the magnificent 1740 volume displayed here. At that time the title was changed to Oorspronkelyk en vermaard konstryk tekenboek van Abraham Bloemaert (‘Original and famous artful drawing book of Abraham Bloemaert’). Bloemaert’s popula- rity was certainly not restricted to the Dutch Republic: artists such as François Boucher (1703–70) and Balthasar Denner (1685–1749) also took the Utrecht master as a model for their own work.Teekenschool/die op dien tijt van de voornaamste meesters wiert gehouden heb gedaan’. Schatborn suggests that this drawing school might have been in France where Van de Passe spent a long period, 1617–30 (see Amsterdam and Washington D.C. 1981–82, p. 21). Veldman emphasises that De Passe’s book is a tribute to the city of Utrecht, thanking the city for spiritual nourishment including the Utrecht Drawing School (Veldman 2001, pp. 337–38). Suggestion by Bok in Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 571. Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, pp. 645–51. Such a group of drawings (mixed with prints) occurs for example in the estate of the painter Gaspar Netscher (1639–84): ‘In the brown portfolio [ ] are 327 both prints and drawings [ ] serving for disciples to copy’; see Amsterdam and Washington D. C. 1981–82, p. 17; Plomp 2001, p. 37. For artists’ practical education in the Netherlands and Italy in the 16th and 17th centuries see Bleeke-Byrne 1984, pp. 28–39. Bloemaert’s Tekenboek was published with the Latin title: Artis Apellae, liber hic, studiosa juventus, / Aptata ingenio fert rudimenta tuo ... (This book, studious youths, brings to your minds the appropriate rudiments of the art of Apelles ...); see Bolten 1985, p. 51; Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 395 [translation]). It is possible that Abraham Bloemaert conceived the idea of producing such a Tekenboek much earlier in his career: the Giroux album, containing many figure studies, may well constitute Bloemaert’s initial selection for such a didactic project; see Bolten 1993, p. 9, note 6; Bolten 2007, vol. 1, pp. 350–61. For the publication in instalments see: Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 362. Bolten 1985, p. 66; Bolten 2007, vol. 1, pp. 362–97, nos. 1150–1311. For doubts regarding Bloemaert’s authorship of the drawings in Cambridge see Bolten 1985, p. 48 (‘A. or F. Bloemaert’); Roethlisberger 1992, p. 30, note 41; Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 391; Bolten 1993, pp. 6–8. Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 363, no. 1150, vol. 2, fig. 1150. The scene was engraved, then supplemented with a chiaroscuro woodcut with two-tone blocks (brown and sepia). This technique and the dimen- sions (303 × 222 mm [image]) are the same in the editio princeps from c. 1650 and the 1740 edition displayed here (see Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 395). See Aymonino’s essay in the present volume, pp. 15–77. According to Roethlisberger and Bok (1993, vol. 1, p. 395), there is little or no discernible influence of ancient sculpture in his own work. The engraving, A Draughtsman Sitting at a Table, Drawing after Plaster Casts (fig. 3), does not appear in the editio princeps from circa 1650, but does feature in the 1685 edition and later ones (Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 392, under no. 1290). The original drawing for this engraving is also in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge: Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 392, no. 1290, vol. 2, fig. 1290. For Feddes, see Bolten 1985, p. 18, repr.; Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 395. For De Passe’s Tekenboek see: Amsterdam and Washington D.C. 1981–82, pp. 15–17, 21, repr. For Dutch editions of Fialetti and for Dutch publications based or partially reprinting Fialetti see Bolten 1985, pp. 119, 131, 133–34, 141, 143, 153, 157, 188–207, 243–56. According to Strauss (1973, p. 348) Bloemaert’s title page was ‘patterned partly on the frontispiece of Odoardo Fialetti’s Vero modo et ordine per dessignar Tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano, Venice (Sadeler), 1608’. See also Lehmann-Haupt 1977, p. 157. For Bloemaert’s fortuna critica see: Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, pp. 47–50. Regarding the Tekenboek Roethlisberger surmises that the 1740 edition was intended for print and book collectors, rather than artists: ibid., vol. 1, p. 394. For the various reprints of Bloemaert’s Tekenboek cited in this paragraph see Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 362. There were also various editions of sets of prints copied after Frederick’s engravings [consequently printed in reverse] during the second half of the 17th century and in the 18th century (see ibid., p. 362, note 22). The only known copy of the 1723 edition is in the Centraal Museum in Utrecht (see Bolten 2007, vol. 1, p. 362). Slatkin, 1976; Gerson 1983, pp. 109–10 (Boucher and Fragonard), p. 189 (Piazzetta).  1 2 3 4 5 mp For Bloemaert’s life on which this biographical account is based, see Roethlisberger and Bok, 1993, vol. 1, pp. 551–87; Bolten 2007, vol. 1, pp. 3–5. For ‘new’ Bloemaert paintings, see Roethlisberger, 2014, pp. 79–92. Van Mander 1994–99, vol. 1, pp. 448–49 (fol. 297v). Roethlisberger and Bok 1993, vol. 1, p. 570. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 571. Verbeek and Veldman 1974, p. 146, no. 191; De Passe 1643–44, unpaginated introduction, Aen de Teekunst-lievende en-gunstige lezers, to the first part, met de zoon van Paulus Moreelse en anderen) in een vermaarde  12. Michael Sweerts (Brussels 1618–1664 Goa, India) A Painter’s Studio c. 1648–50 Oil on canvas, 71 × 74 cm provenance: Private collection, Moscow; acquired by Dr Abraham Bredius (1855–1946); purchased by the Rijksmuseum in 1901 for f. 400. selected literature: Martin 1905, pp. 127, 131, pl. II [a]; Martin 1907, pp. 139, 149, no. 10; Horster 1974, pp. 145, 147, fig. 2; Van Thiel 1976, p. 532, A 1957, repr.; Döring 1994, pp. 55–58, fig. 2, 60–62; Kultzen 1996, pp. 88–89, no. 6, repr., with previous bibliography. exhibitions: Milan 1951, no. 166, pl. 117; London 1955, pp. 90–92, no. 77 (D. Sutton), not repr.; Rome 1958–59, pp. 32–34, no. 4 (R. Kultzen); Rotterdam 1958, pp. 36–37, no. 4; Toyko 1968–69, no. 63; Cologne and Utrecht 1991–92, pp. 270–72, no. 33.1 (R. Kultzen); Hannover 1999, pp. 18–20, fig. 9; Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 97–99, no. VII (G. Jansen); Antwerp 2004–07 (no catalogue); Brussels 2007–08 (no catalogue); Doha 2011 (no catalogue).  Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, SK-A-1957 We have entered the shadowy inner sanctum of a painter’s studio in mid-17th-century Rome. A young draughtsman perched on a wooden stool to the left studies a life-size model of a flayed nude écorché, assuming a balletic pose at centre right. Behind it, another boy draughtsman, younger still, sketches a classical female bust resting on a table, which is shared on the right by the studio assistant who grinds red-hued pigments. Working at an easel in the left back- ground is a painter, perhaps the master of the studio, capturing the likeness of a male nude posed in the corner. Partly obscured in the shadows on the far left are two gentle- men visitors in Dutch dress. One glances in our direction while the other gestures to our right, perhaps towards the painter or the écorché. The main attraction, however, is the abundant array of plaster casts, mostly antique, piled up in the foreground – heads, torsos, limbs and a relief – all bathed in warm, golden light. Though widely admired in his lifetime, Sweerts remains a somewhat enigmatic figure about whom relatively little is known.1 He was born in Brussels in 1618, but is first docu- mented from 1646 to 1651 as residing on the Via Margutta in the parish of S. Maria del Popolo in Rome, an area favoured by Dutch and Flemish expatriates.2 Already twenty-eight when he arrived in the city, he would have had at least some artistic training before then, probably in the North, though his early teachers have not been identified. Neither signed nor dated, this canvas was probably executed by Sweerts c. 1648–50 in Rome, where he remained until 1652 or later.3 In travelling south, Sweerts was following a long-standing educational tradition, one succinctly articulated by Dutch painter and art theorist Karel van Mander (1548–1606) who stated: ‘Rome is the city where before all other places the Painter’s journey is apt to lead him, since it is the capital of Pictura’s Schools’.4 It is evident from the Painter’s Studio and other depictions of the same or similar theme of the artist at work, a subject that clearly fascinated him, that Sweerts was well aware of artistic theory of the day, particularly the importance placed on learning through drawing.5 Karel van Mander recom- mends beginning artists to ‘seek a good master’, one who has decent works of art in his workshop, that is, an ample supply of study materials such as books, prints, drawings and plaster casts. The pupil must learn to draw ‘first with charcoal, then with the chalk or pen’.6 After making copies of prints and drawings by various masters, the student should progress to plaster casts, an important step. On equal footing with the copying of casts was the study of anatomy. However, given the difficulty of procuring corpses, artists at this time copied anatomical figures in plaster or ‘flayed plaster casts’.7 This was followed by study of the living figure before the student finally proceeded to painting. Written at the beginning of the 17th century, Van Mander’s book thus made available for Northern artists those principles of artistic education, the ‘alphabet of drawing’ that had been codified in Italy during the 15th and 16th centuries.8 By clearly setting out the stages of study established by Van Mander and others, first drawing from casts and anatomical figures in plaster, then the live model, Sweerts’ composition is a visual lesson in the main principles of studio practice required to become a successful painter.9 The goal is manifested in Sweerts’ completed Wrestling Match canvas of c. 1648–50 displayed on the wall in the back- ground, which features figures based on classical models.10 His didactic intent to illustrate the step-by-step approach to learning recalls Odoardo Fialetti’s Artist’s Studio, c. 1608, from Il vero modo, the instructional manual on drawing published in Venice about forty years earlier (cat. 10), no doubt known to Sweerts through one of the Dutch publica- tions that reproduced plates from it.11 Plaster casts and models were in constant use in Northern workshops from the late 16th century onwards.12 Though he never travelled to Italy, Van Mander’s friend, Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem (1562–1638), had a collec- tion of ninety-nine casts after antique and anatomical 134 135  models.13 Van Mander praised his colleague (with whom he started, along with Hendrick Goltzius, an informal academy in Haarlem in 1583) for selecting for his work ‘from the best and most beautiful living and breathing antique sculptures’.1 4 Sumptuously displayed in a large pile in the foreground, a veritable feast for the eyes, casts play a starring role in Sweerts’ painting (detail, fig. 1). While light enters both from the window and the open door, which reveals an urban view, that light that illuminates the sculptures so brilliantly and mysteriously emanates from an unseen source, over the viewer’s shoulder. The casts are presented with clarity and in sharp focus, in marked contrast to the more generalised treatment of most of the other elements in the composi- tion.15 While the human expressions seem almost blank, those of the casts are animated and alive: the comment often made about Sweerts, that ‘his people often look like sculptures and his plaster casts seem almost human’, rings very true here.16 Several sources for the antique casts can be identified, beginning with the head of a woman on the table, the subject of study for the young boy sketching in the middle distance. As noted previously,17 she is a much reduced copy of the colossal so-called Juno Ludovisi (considered now to be a portrait of Antonia Augusta, daughter of Octavia Minor and Mark Antony), which, from 1622, was in the Ludovisi collection in Rome and is now in the Palazzo Altemps in Rome.18 The most prominent among the jumble of casts in the foreground on the right is the head of a woman, usually identified as Niobe from the famous group in the Uffizi (fig. 2, see also p. 30, fig. 34), but equally, the head could be that of one of her daughters from the same group.19 They were discovered together with the Wrestlers (p. 30, fig. 33) on a vineyard outside Rome.20 Immediately to the left of the Niobe, is a cast of a limbless Apollo based on a model by François Duquesnoy (1597–1643).21 The head of an old woman in profile at the back of the pile to the left is inspired by the Roman copy of a Hellenistic original donated in 1566 by Pius V to the Con-servatori Palace and today in the Capitoline Museum (fig. 3).22 She contrasts with the youthful beauty to her right, the head of the celebrated Venus de’ Medici (Florence, Uffizi, see p. 42, fig. 56). Behind the old woman is a head of the Laocoön, ‘bronzed’ in effect, while the rest of his body, seen from behind, rests on the top of the pile of casts (p. 26, fig. 19).23 The relief propped up against the table at the back is a cast of a Roman terracotta plaque, Winter and Hercules, from the Campana collection and acquired by the Louvre in 1861 Fig. 2. Niobe, from the Niobe Group, possibly a Roman copy of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 228 cm (h), Uizi, Florence, inv. 294 Fig. 3. Statue of an Old Woman, Roman copy of a Hellenistic original, marble, 145 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. Scu 640     Fig. 1. Michael Sweerts, A Painter’s Studio (detail) 136 (fig. 4).24 It was admired by artists like Giovanni da Udine (1487–1564) in the 16th century when it was recorded in the collection of Gabriele de’ Rossi (1517),25 and into the 17th by others such as Pietro da Cortona (1596–1669) and Pietro Testa (1612–50), whose copies after it are preserved respec- tively in the Uffizi, Florence, and in the Royal Collection at Windsor Castle.26 That this collection of casts was an important part of Sweerts’ working practice is suggested by their regular appearance in other compositions. Some familiar faces – the head of the old woman, the Juno Ludovisi, the Niobe and others – return in Sweerts’ later Artist’s Studio, signed and dated 1652, in the Detroit Institute of Arts (fig. 5). They are seen among examples, including a cupid and torso by François Duquesnoy; this is being scrutinised by an elegant young man, probably in Rome on the Grand Tour, while the painter appears to be explaining how Duquesnoy’s Fig. 4. Winter and Hercules, Roman, 1st century ad, terracotta, 60 × 52 cm, Louvre, Paris, inv. Cp 4169 figures once formed part of a group.27 Closer to the present composition in conception, is the Artist’s Studio with a Woman Sewing in the Collection Rau Foundation UNICEF, Cologne (fig. 6).28 Though almost certainly a workshop picture, it evidently documents Sweerts’ original design and intention. There is a similar haphazard arrangement of casts, with many of the same specimens reappearing, including the bronzed head of Laocoön and his torso, placed beside modern works, including the copy after a marble relief of François Duquesnoy, Children Playing with a Goat.29 Many other celebrated compositions by Sweerts feature antique casts (see p. 40, fig. 52). It is not known why he chose to display them with such prominence and so frequently, but he may well have been catering to a new class of patron, the Dutch Grand Tourist.30 Among Sweerts’ most important benefactors in Rome in the 1640s were Dutch tourists, especially merchants.31 Thus three of five brothers from the Deutz textile merchant family were in Italy between 1646 and 1650, and that is when they probably acquired the many paintings by Sweerts listed in their inventories, including an Artist’s Studio owned by Joseph Deutz.32 Significantly, the documents also suggest that Sweerts acted as the Deutz’s agent for purchasing antique sculpture as well as modern pictures, as so many other painters were to do in the next century.33 Another important patron in Rome, Prince Camillo Pamphilj, the nephew of Pope Innocent X (r. 1644–55), may have involved Sweerts in teaching. He painted a range of works for the Prince, who, interestingly, possessed a version in porphyry of the ever-present Head of the Old Woman; he 137    also owned the Duquesnoy relief that occurs in Sweerts’ Artist’s Studio now in Cologne (fig. 6).34 An intriguing pay- ment recorded in the Pamphilj account book to Sweerts on 21 March of 1652 for ‘various amounts of oil used since 17th February in His Excellency’s academy’, suggests Sweerts’ direct involvement with an academy in Rome.35 By the summer of 1655, Sweerts had returned to Brussels where he founded ‘an academy of life drawing’, primarily to educate tapestry and carpet designers.36 Something of its original appearance might be gleaned from Sweerts’ Drawing School in the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem (c. 1655–60), where students of various ages draw from a live male nude.37 In this painting, conspicuously absent are plaster casts; the animation is now provided by the more than twenty young students assuming various attitudes, some concentrating on the task at hand, others less focused. However, there was probably another version by Sweerts of this painting, now known only in a copy, where the live nude has been substi- tuted by a cast of a classical female sculpture.38 Evidently plaster models were never far from his mind. aa & avl 1 For his life and work, see Kultzen 1996 and Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, with previous literature. 2 Sutton 2002, p. 12; Bikker 2002, pp. 25–26. 3 Sutton 2002, p. 21. 4 In his ‘Foundation of the Painter’s Art’ (Grondt der Schilder-Const), published together with his ‘Lives’ and his two other theoretical treatises in the Schilder-Boeck (1604). See Van Mander 1604, fol. 6v, chap. 1, no. 66; Van Mander 1973, vol. 1, pp. 92–93, chap. 1, no. 66; Stechow 1966, pp. 57–58. Van Mander further noted, ‘From Rome bring home skill in drawing, the ability to paint from Venice, which I had to bypass for the lack of time.’: Stechow 1966, p. 58; Sutton 2002, pp. 12–13. 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Sutton 2002, pp. 11, 17. In the preface to his book on painters: Van Mander 1604, fol. 9r, chap. 2, no. 9; Van Mander 1973, pp. 102–03, chap. 2, no. 9; Martin 1905, p. 126. Martin 1905, p. 127. See Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 33–34. Martin 1905, p. 127. Staatliche Kunsthalle Karlsruhe; Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 94–96, no. VI (G. Jansen). For example, Johannes Gellee’s Tyrocinia artis pictoriae caelatoriae published in Amsterdam in 1639 where copied versions of the Artist’s Studio and other etchings appear: see Bolten 1985, pp. 132–39 and for other publications based or reprinting parts of Fialetti’s treatise see Bolten 1985, pp. 119, 131, 133–34, 141, 143, 153, 157, 188–207, 243–56. For the use of plaster casts in 17th- and 18th-century artists’ studios in Antwerp and Brussels, see Lock 2010. Rembrandt’s bankruptcy inventory of 1656 lists numerous plaster casts, from life as well as from the Antique, which were doubtless an essential part of his workshop practice (Strauss and Van der Meulen 1979, pp. 349–88; Gyllenhaal 2008). See also cat. 23, note 18. Van Thiel 1965, pp. 123, 128; Van Thiel 1999, p. 84, and Appendix II, pp. 254–55, 257, 270–71, 273; Sutton 2002, p. 18. Van Mander 1604, fol. 292v; Van Mander 1973, pp. 428–29. Sutton 2002, p. 18. This also may be due, in part, to the compromised condition of the canvas. Sutton 2002, p. 20. Martin 1905, p. 127; Horster 1974, p. 145. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 100; Palma and de Lachenal 1983, pp. 133–37, no. 58 (de Lachenal). Horster 1974, pp. 145; Döring 1994, p. 60; Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, p. 97. For the group, see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 274–79, no. 66, figs 143–47, and for the daughter that it resembles the most, fig. 145; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 318–19, no. 596.1. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 274; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 62–63, no. 50. Noted by Döring 1994, pp. 60–61. For the Duquesnoy sculpture, see Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, p. 122, no. XV-2. On Duquesnoy’s fame as a ‘classical’ sculptor during the 17th century and later see Boudon-Mauchel 2005, pp. 175–210. As first observed by Döring 1994, p. 62. For the statue see Stuart Jones 1912, pp. 288–89, no. 22. Döring 1994, p. 63. The subject was noted by Denys Sutton (London 1955, p. 91) and Marita 138 139 Fig. 5, Michael Sweerts, An Artist’s Studio, 1652, oil on canvas, 73.5 × 58.8 cm, The Detroit Institute of Arts, inv. 30.297 Fig. 6, After Michael Sweerts, Artist’s Studio with a Woman Sewing, c. 1650, oil on canvas, 82.5 × 106.7 cm, Collection RAU-Fondation UNICEF, Cologne, inv. GR 1.874 25 26 27 28 29 Horster (1974, p. 145) who both identified the motif from a sketchbook by Francisco de Hollanda. Sutton and Guido Jansen (Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, p. 97) believed the plaster relief to combine scenes from two separate ones: the Winter and Hercules and the Cretan Bull. However, as Eloisa Dodero has noted (personal communication), it is based on the single terracotta relief in the Louvre, see Christian 2002, pp. 181–84 no. II.15, fig. 25; De Romanis 2007, pp. 235–238, fig. 1. For the acquisition by the Louvre, see Sarti 2001, p. 121. Dacos 1986, p. 222; Christian 2002, pp. 181–86. For the Cortona drawing: Briganti 1982, fig. 286.27; for the Testa sheet at Windsor: Christian 2002, pp. 181–82, fig. 26. See Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 120–23, no. XV, where the painting is discussed at length. Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, p. 110, fig. xii–i (as by or after Sweerts). Many copies are known suggesting it was a much-admired composition. Bikker 2002, p. 29, fig. 27. 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 Ibid., p. 27. Ibid., p. 27. Sutton 2002, pp. 15–16; Bikker 2002, pp. 27–28. Described in documents in general terms as ‘Ein Schildersacademetje’, it is not known which of the surviving studio pictures it was. According to the collections database, Detroit Institute of Arts website, it was theirs (fig. 5). Bikker 2002, pp. 27–28. Ibid., pp. 28–31, figs 25, 27. Ibid., p. 29. This was probably a private academy and not the Accademia di San Luca, of which Sweerts was possibly a member. He was responsible for collecting membership dues from his compatriots: see Bikker 2002, pp. 25–26. Lock 2010, p. 251; Bikker 2002, p. 31. Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 133–35, no. xix (G. Jansen). Present whereabouts unknown; see Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, p. 133, fig. xix–i.  13. Jan de Bisschop (Amsterdam 1628–1671 The Hague) Two Artists Drawing an Antique Bust (recto); A Reclining Man seen from Behind (verso) c. 1660s Pen and brown ink, brushed with brown wash, 91 × 135 mm Inscribed recto l.r. in pencil: J. Bisschop. watermark: part of the crowned coat of arms of Amsterdam.1 provenance: Private collection, Germany; Sotheby’s, London, 13 April 1992, lot 260, from whom acquired. literature: London 1992 (unpaginated), repr.; Broos and Schapelhouman 1993, p. 51, under no. 34, fig. b. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited.  Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 1992-012 Born in Amsterdam in 1628, Jan de Bisschop was among a group of talented amateur artists, including his immediate contemporaries and friends Constantijn Huygens the Younger (1628–1697) and Jacob van der Ulft (1627–1689) who all worked in Netherlands around the mid-17th century.2 De Bisschop was classically educated and trained as a lawyer; he became an advocate at the judicial court of The Hague. But he also distinguished himself as a writer, theoretician, literary scholar, and as a connoisseur of the Antique. And although without formal artistic training, he was an accomplished draughtsman and etcher who, through his publications reproducing ancient sculpture and Old Master drawings, disseminated in the Netherlands an anti- quarian culture and an aesthetic based on the works of classical antiquity. He also helped introduce the practice of drawing after both antique sculpture and live models in the Hague.3 His large corpus of drawings, numbering in the upper hundreds, consists of sun-infused, Italianate land- scapes, lively figure and genre studies, portraits, and many copies after antique sculpture and paintings by Old Masters, Fig. 1. Bust of the so-called Lysimachus, Roman copy of the Augustan period from a Greek original of the 2nd c. bc, marble, 49 cm (h), Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, inv. 6141 usually executed in pen and brush and wash with a distinc- tive warm, golden-brown ink, referred to from the late 17th century as bisschops-inkt (Bisschop’s ink).4 As in the examples illustrated here, he often effectively combined dense washes with reserves of untouched paper to create a light-drenched, fresh out-of-doors effect. In this lively and rapid sketch, probably made on the spot, two seated draughtsmen, seen from the back, draw after an antique bust of a man. On the reverse one of them is sketched again, casually reclining. The object of their gaze is a bust nowadays identified as of Lysimachus, the Greek successor to Alexander the Great, who from c. 306 to 281 bc reigned as King of Thrace, Asia Minor and Macedonia.5 Discovered c. 1576, it was acquired by Cardinal Odoardo Farnese from the Giorgio Cesarini collection, and is preserved today in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli (fig. 1). Doubt- less known to de Bisschop through one of the plaster casts which circulated in Northern Europe at the time, the bust was in the 17th century thought to represent a philosopher; from the 18th century he was identified more specifically – but wrongly – as the Athenian legislator, Solon. It was copied profusely from the 17th century onwards, and was included, for example, in a portrait painted by Isaac Fuller (1606–72) in c. 1670 (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven) of the architect and sculptor, Edward Pierce (c. 1635–95), who rests one hand on the bust while gesturing to it with the other.6 Admiration for the sculpture continued in the 18th century, in France, where a red chalk copy of it was made by the sculptor, Edmé Bouchardon (1698–1762) or a member of his circle,7 and particularly in England, where, catering to a n emerging neo-classical aesthetic, a blemish-free replica of the Lysimachus was carved in 1758 by Joseph Wilton (1722– 1803); this was acquired by Charles Watson-Wentworth, the second Marquess of Rockingham, for his country house in Wentworth and is now in the The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.8 Another copy of the bust, made by the sculptor and restorer of ancient statues, Bartolomeo Cavaceppi (see   140 141  cat. 18), was mentioned in a letter, dated 6 June 1775, from the dealer and agent, Thomas Jenkins, to his client, Charles Townley, as a possible acquisition. His scheme involved fusing Cavaceppi’s bust with the body of a statue of Achilles; mercifully, this was abandoned when the original head of Achilles was recovered.9 Its diminutive size and spontaneous style of execution would suggest the present sheet came from a sketchbook, probably one like that held by the artist on the right. The draughtsmen have not been securely identified but they are no doubt to be found among de Bisschop’s friends and associ- ates; one may be Huygens the Younger, with whom he made sketching excursions in and around The Hague and Leiden. In fact, drawings by de Bisschop are often mistaken for works by Huygens, to whom this sheet was previously assigned.10 A treatment of a similar theme, of two draughtsmen from the front seated in a landscape but without an antique model to study, is found in de Bisschop’s drawing in the Amsterdam Museum (fig. 2).11 Executed with the same loose pen work and spontaneous handling of the brush, characteristic of de Bisschop after 1660, it shows one artist on the left gazing downwards to – or reading from – a loose sheet held in both hands, while the other appears to be sketching in a small book. A third rendering of two artists sketching out of doors, one, with hat removed, holding a drawing board, is among the sheets by Huygens the Younger in the Municipal Archives of The Hague (fig. 3).12 As with the present study, the figures are seen from behind in a sunlit setting but on a bench, near the entrance to the country house, Zorgvliet, near The Hague, and the subject of their attention is out of view. De Bisschop’s drawings were admired by collectors and connoisseurs from John Barnard (1709–84) to Horace Walpole (1717–97), but his main contribution to scholarship was the publication of two influential books. The first was the Signorum veterum icones issued in two volumes in 1668–69; Fig. 2. Jan de Bisschop, Two Draughtsmen Seated Outdoors, pen and brown ink with the brush and brown wash, grey ink, 97 × 149 mm, Amsterdam Museum, inv. nr. A 18179 142 Fig. 4. Jan de Bisschop, Allegory of Sculpture, title page to the Signorum veterum icones, part 1, Amsterdam (?), 1668, etching, 245 × 114 mm, Warburg Institute Library, London also consulted prints by François Perrier (1590–1650), who had published a selection of antique statuary in Paris and Rome in 1638 (Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum . . .).18 An album of 140 drawings by de Bisschop suggests that he intended to publish a third volume of Icones on antique Roman reliefs, based largely on another publication by Perrier of 1645 (Icones et segmenta . . .).19 However, de Bisschop’s death from tuberculosis at forty-three meant that the third volume was never realised. In addition to his writings on art, de Bisschop contrib- uted in other ways to furthering artistic education in the Netherlands. He participated in local confraternities of artists and co-founded a private drawing academy with his friends, including Huygens the Younger; they met several times a week in the evenings, often drawing after a live model.20 In 1682, eleven years after de Bisschop’s death, the first drawing academy in the Northern Netherlands – includ- ing in its curriculum the study of plaster casts after the Antique – was established in The Hague.21 De Bisschop’s influence may have extended further, perhaps as a direct consequence of the Icones. Of significance is a letter dated 1688 from the artist Romeyn de Hooghe (1645–1708) to the burgermasters of Haarlem, asking their assistance in setting up an academy for students to study ‘the best ancient statues, such as Venus, Apollo, Laocoön, in order to familiarise themselves with the idea of classical beauty’.22 Although that request was turned down, a Haarlem Drawing Academy was founded in 1772 and although it was closed in 1795, in the following year, the Haarlem Drawing College was established, with the study of the Antique remaining a vital part of the curriculum (see cat. 31).23   Fig. 3. Constantijn Huygens, the Younger, Two Draughtsmen near Zorgvliet, detail, pen and brown ink and wash with the brush over traces of graphite, 243 × 373 mm, Municipal Archives of The Hague, Gr. A 110 the first volume was dedicated to his friend, Huygens the Younger and the second, to Johannes Wtenbogaard, the Receiver-General of Holland and a neighbour of his parents. In 1671, de Bisschop published the Paradigmata graphices variorum artificum, which he dedicated to the collector Jan Six; this comprised forty-seven etchings based on Italian Old Master drawings and ten antique busts.13 The two volumes of the Icones were republished together with the Paradigmata, in later editions.14 Of particular relevance to us is de Bisschop’s Icones, featuring one-hundred etched plates after antique sculpture (fig. 4). Its purpose was didactic: to provide a compilation of the best-known works and to establish norms of classical beauty for artists, amateurs and collectors. In de Bisschop’s words, they were ‘sculptures and reliefs of the greatest perfection in art and the best sources for students’.15 The book proved to be an enormously useful resource especially as it featured, in some cases, the same sculpture seen from different angles; in essence, in the round. For instance, de Bisschop’s presented five views of the celebrated Wrestlers sculpture in the Uffizi (see p. 30, fig. 33, and cats 16 and 27), two of which are shown here (figs 5–6).16 In the Icones, the unusual left profile view of the Farnese Hercules, in reverse was probably known to Jan Claudius de Cock (1667–1735) and Wallerant Vaillant (1623–77), who reproduced it from the same viewpoint (see cat. 14, fig. 4). In fact, Cock took inspiration from several of the Icones plates for his Allegory of the Arts series (cat. 14). As de Bisschop probably never travelled to Italy, many of his prints relied on antique sculptures in Dutch collections, or on casts, and especially on drawings by artists who had travelled south to visit collections in Florence and Rome, such as Willelm Doudijns (1630–97), Pieter Donker (1635– 68), Adriaen Backer (1635/35–84) and others.17 De Bisschop avl 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 See Churchill 1967, pl. 8, no. 9, date: 1665 or pl. 9, no. 11, date: 1670. For this life and work, see Van Gelder 1972. Van Gelder 1972, p. 27. Goeree 1697, p. 91. Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 2, pp. 55–57, no. 32 (F. Coraggio), and pp. 188–89, pl. XXXII, figs 1–4. Charlton-Jones 1991, pp. 100–01, pl. 89. The subject of the Louvre drawing (Guiffrey and Marcel 1907–75, vol. 1, no. 1353) was identified by Rausa 2007a, p. 172, no. 165.1. Fusco 1997, p. 56. Coltman 2009, p. 87. Sold as Huygens at Sotheby’s, London, 13 April 1992, lot 260. Broos and Schapelhouman 1993, p. 51, no. 34 (B. Broos). Amsterdam 1992, p. 37, no. 22 (R. E. Jellema and M. Plomp). Van Gelder 1972, pp. 1–2. Both books are published in their entirety with commentary by Van Gelder and Jost 1985, 2 vols. See also Bolten 1985, pp. 257–58 and Plomp 2010, pp. 39–47. Bolten 1985, p. 71. Van Gelder 1972, p. 19. Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 106–08, nos 18–22, vol. 2, pls 18–22. Further plates are after other artists as well as drawings by Jacob de Gheyn III (1596–1641), who is not known to have travelled to Italy but visited collections in England (Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 15–16, 155). Van Gelder 1972, pp. 19–20. The album of classical statues, reliefs, Roman architecture and contempo- rary Dutch figures and scenes is at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, inv. D.1212:1 to 141-1989. On it see Van Gelder 1972, pp. 8–9 and especially Turner and White 2014, vol. 1, pp. 25–67, no. 23. Van Gelder 1972, p. 11. Van Gelder 1972, p. 27. Van der Willigen 1866, p. 137; Washington D.C. 1977, under no. 69 (F. W. Robinson). Haarlem 1990, pp. 16–17, 34–38. Fig. 5. Jan de Bisschop, The Wrestlers, from the Signorum veterum icones, part 1, Amsterdam (?), 1668, pl. 18, etching, 164 × 215 mm, Warburg Institute Library, London Fig. 6. Jan de Bisschop, The Wrestlers, from the Signorum veterum icones, part 1, Amsterdam (?), 1668, pl. 21, etching, 199 × 133 mm, Warburg Institute Library, London    143  14. Attributed to Jan Claudius de Cock (Brussels 1667–1735 Antwerp) An Allegory of Painting c. 1706 Etching, 141 × 100 mm watermark: possibly part of a coat of arms. provenance: Bassenge, Berlin, 6 December 2001, lot 5452 (as Anonymous, Southern German, c. 1700), from whom acquired. literature:None. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2001-037  In the corner of a painter’s workshop, students draw after plaster casts, selected according to their age and level of study. The youngest, wearing a Roman-style toga and stand- ing at a pedestal, which supports his open sketchbook, records the likeness of the head of a boy similar to him in age. He may be copying the bust itself, or more likely, the drawing after the bust, propped up next to it. At the left, another pupil, a pre-teen representing a higher level of study, thoughtfully examines a reduced model, in reverse, of a rather unfit Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32 and cats 7, 16, 21) elevated on a plinth, and shown in a similar pose as illustrated by Jan de Bisschop’s Icones (fig. 1). The student and Fig. 1. Jan de Bisschop, The Farnese Harcules, from the Signorum veterum icones, part 1, Amsterdam (?), 1668, pl. 8, etch- ing, 221 × 105 mm, Warburg Institute Library, London the statuette are so posed that they appear to exchange glances. In the background, partially obscured by the sculp- ture’s base, is a third boy, probably midway in age between the others, who bows his head in concentration. Displayed on the shelf and walls above are workshop props – a globe, hourglass, books, compass and additional fragments of plaster casts, included a female torso and a male one which may be based on the Belvedere Torso (p. 26, fig. 28). Presiding over the scene is a voluptuously dressed female figure with an elaborate hairstyle and bared breasts, who holds a palette with brushes in one hand, and gestures to the statue of Hercules with the other. She is leaning on a richly carved wooden table bearing bottles of spirit, compasses and completed figural drawings. She is an Allegory of Painting, as described by Cesare Ripa in his Iconologia, the widely consulted emblematic handbook first published in 1593 – and probably known to de Cock through the Dutch editions of 1698 or 1699: a beautiful woman with twisted, unruly hair, holding the tools of the painter.1 She represents the goal; once pupils had completed their prescribed course of study, mastering the succession of stages dictated by the established norms of 16th-century studio practice – first, drawing the individual parts of the body through drawings of others, prints, fragments and casts, and finally, the entire figure, a statue or live model – only then, may they progress to painting (see also cat. 10).2 The attainment of the goal is encapsulated in the prominently displayed picture on the wall above Hercules, probably a Mars and Venus. Though acquired as by an anonymous southern German artist, c. 1700, the etching shares similarities with the work of the Flemish painter, sculptor, etcher and writer, Jan Claudius de Cock.3 It is particularly close in style and execution to his drawing of the Allegory of Sculpture drawing, signed and dated 1706 (Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, fig. 2), which is carried out with the same meticulous handling and degree of finish.4 Direct references to antique sculpture abound in the New York sheet with plaster casts freely modelled after the Pan and Apollo from the Cesi collection (Museo Nazionale  144 145  Fig. 2. Jan Claudius de Cock, Allegory of Sculpture, 1706, pen and brown ink, 317 × 195 mm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 2010.533 Romano, Rome) at right and, at the left, the Wrestlers, acquired by the Medici in 1583 (Uffizi, Florence; see p. 30, fig. 33).5 Antique-inspired motifs – busts, putti, fragments and a strigilated krater – are also visible throughout. As with the etching, there is a female personification – in this case, of sculpture – her hand resting on one bust and pointing to a second with the other, just as Painting does here in the etching. At her feet are the tools of her trade: scalpels, mallet and a drill. Other drawings of similar subject matter, format and date suggest de Cock planned a series on the Allegories of the Arts, perhaps intending them to appear as etchings in a book. His drawing of a female sculptor modelling a recumbent Venus (fig. 3), another Allegory of Sculpture, is also signed, and dated (1706) and is numbered like the New York drawing.6 Further studies by de Cock no doubt relate to the same series.7 However, while the drawings are roughly the same size, the present etching is considerably smaller. The colossal Farnese Hercules became enormously popular immediately after its discovery in the 16th century, and 146 Fig. 3. Jan Claudius de Cock, An Allegory of Sculpture, 1706, pen and brown ink, black chalk, 321 × 192 mm, Christie’s, London, 19 April 1988, lot 140 numerous copies after it were produced, often reduced to life-size or the scale seen here, to make it more manageable and portable.8 A model strikingly similar to that in the etching occurs in a mezzotint of a boy drawing in a studio, c. 1660–75, by the Dutch painter and engraver, Wallerant Vaillant (1623–77), where it is perched on a table at a nearly identical angle (fig. 4).9 Both prints suggest that by the early 18th century, plaster models of the Hercules were commonplace in Flemish and Netherlandish workshops.10 Several of the antiquities in both the etching, here attrib- uted to de Cock, and his two related drawings discussed above, argue knowledge of Jan de Bisschop’s Icones (1668–69), by then the standard reference for antique sculptures in the Netherlands (see cat. 13). For example, the rather unusual left-profile view of the Farnese Hercules in the etching and the pose of the Wrestlers in the New York drawing (fig. 2), both shown reversed in respect to the antique originals, find their counterparts in the Icones (fig. 1 and cat. 13, fig. 5).11 And the pensive Muse, possibly Clio, at the upper right of the Fig. 4. Wallerant Vaillant, A Boy Drawing in a Studio, c. 1660–75, mezzotint, 324 × 300 mm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam, RP-P-1889-A-14489 second Allegory of Sculpture drawing (fig. 3), is a literal quotation from a plate in the second volume of Bisschop’s 12 Born in Brussels, de Cock was apprenticed in the workshop of Peeter Verbrugghen the Elder (c. 1609–86) in Antwerp. After Verbruggen’s death, he established himself in that city, although he later moved to Breda, where King William III Stadholder of the Netherlands commissioned him to work on sculpture for a courtyard in the town.14 However, by 1697 or 1698, de Cock had returned to Antwerp and devoted himself more to teaching, establishing a large workshop with many pupils, some learning drawing, others, goldsmithing.15 In 1720, he wrote a didactic poetical treatise for his students, Eenighe voornaemste en noodighe regels van de beeldhouwerije om metter tijdt en goet meester te woorden (‘Some 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 avl For Pittura from Ripa’s first illustrated edition (1603), see Buscaroli 1992, p. 357 and in the Dutch edition of 1698, reprinted in 1699, see Hoorn 1698, II, p. 515 [c]. Armenini 1587, pp. 52–59 (book 1, chap. 7); Alberti 1604, p. 5 (quoting Federico Zuccaro); Roman 1984, p. 91. Nagler (1966, vol. 3, no. 2100) and Wurzbach (1906–11, vol. 1, pp. 304–05) only briefly mention his etchings and this subject does not occur. Acquired Christie’s, London, 7 July 2010, lot 328. It is signed at lower left: ‘Joannes Claud: de Cock invenit delineavit Anno= MDCCVI’ and numbered below, ‘4’. A further inscription by the artist on the verso, “Sculptura Pace, et Abondante=”/[. . .], may refer to another drawing in the series, perhaps an Allegory of Peace and Abundance or a Concordia. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 286–88, no. 70; pp. 337–39, no. 94. Christie’s, London, 19 April 1988, lot 140. According to the catalogue, it is signed and dated, ‘Joan Claudius de Cock/invenit delineavit/AoMDCCVI’ and numbered ‘3’ below. They include another signed Allegory of Sculpture close to the New York drawing in composition, with differences and executed in pencil, 326 × 194 mm (Christie’s, Amsterdam, 15 November 1993, lot 115) and a signed Allegory of Architecture, pen and brown-grey ink and wash, 328 × 234 mm (Christie’s, Amsterdam, 21 November 1989, lot 52). Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 232; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1, repr. on pp. 207–13. Hollstein 1949–2001, vol. 31, p. 119, no. 96. The 1635 studio inventory of the painter, Hendrik van Balen (1575–1632) mentions a cast of the Hercules among other antique works (Duverger 1984–2009, vol. 4, p. 208). The torso of a draped male statue on the shelf at upper right in the drawing probably derives from a further etching by Bisschop, based on copies by Willelm Doudijns (1630–97), reproducing a marble in the Pighini collection and now in the Vatican (Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 110–11, no. 26, vol. 2, pl. 26; Helbig 1963–72, vol. 1, p. 194, no. 250). Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 184–85, no. 98, vol. 2, pl. 98. In that drawing, the male torso seen from the back on the shelf at right recalls de Bisschop’s etching of the Belvedere Torso (Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 108–10, no. 24, vol. 2, pl. 24). Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 184–85; Haynes 1975, pl. 18. De Gheyn was in London in the summer of 1618 and his drawing (untraced), was in the collection of J. A. Wtenbogaert in Amsterdam (Van Gelder and Jost 1985, vol. 1, pp. 16, 155, 185). For his life and work, see C. Lawrence, “Cock, Jan Claudius de”. Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online, accessed December 10, 2014, http://www.oxford- artonline.com/subscriber/article/grove/art/T018366. Pauwels 1977, p. 37. Published in Brussels by Mertens 1865; Lawrence 1986, p. 283. Mertens 1865; Lawrence 1986, p. 283. The original marble from the Earl of Arundel’s collection, known to de Bisschop through a drawing after it by Jacques de Gheyn III, is now in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.13 publication. chief and notable rules from the sculptor in order to become a good master in due course’) although it remained unpublished until the 19th century.16 It is entirely possible that he intended the Allegory of Arts series to illustrate this treatise, in which he expressed his great admiration for classical sculpture, namely the Laocoön, the Medici Venus – and, most importantly – the Farnese Hercules.17    147  15. Nicolas Dorigny (Paris 1658–1746 Paris), after Carlo Maratti (Camerano 1625–1713 Rome) The Academy of Drawing c. 1702–03 Etching and engraving, 470 × 321 mm (plate); 503 × 331 mm (sheet) State I of II (second state dated 1728 with the address of Jacob Frey). Inscribed on the plate, l.l. on the ground: ‘TANTO CHE BASTI’, same inscription repeated l.r. on the perspective drawing on the easel, and c.l. on the pedestal of the anatomical model. Inscribed u.c. above the statue of Apollo: ‘NON / MAI ABASTANZA’; u.r. above the Three Graces: ‘SENZA DI NOI OGNI FATICA E VANA’. Inscribed l.c. with the title, ‘A Giovani studiosi del Disegno’, followed by ten lines explaining the scene: ‘La Scuola del Disegno, che s’espone delineata con le presenti Figure dal Sig.r Cavalier Carlo Maratti, può molto contribuire al’disinganno di coloro che credono di potere con la cognizione, e studio di molte Arti divenir perfet.ti nell’Arte del dipingere senza procurare in primo luogo d’esser perfettissimi nel Disegno, e senza il dono naturale, et un particolare istinto di saper con grazia, e facilità animare, e disporre vagamente le parti di quell’Opera, che prenderanno a delineare, e và figurando questo suo nobil pensiero con il mezzo dell’azzioni, che qui si additano. Vedonsi alcuni studiosi delle mathematiche in quella parte, che spetta alla Geometria, et Ottica, che conferiscono alla Prospettiva: dall’altro lato, altri applicati all’osservazione d’un Corpo anatomico, dà cui si apprende la giusta proporzione delle membra, e sito de’muscoli, e nervi, che compongono una figura, dimostrato eruditame-te dà Leonardo da Vinci espresso co- la propria effige, con il motto . Tanto che basti . per dimostrare, che di tali professioni basta, che quello, che attenderà al Disegno sia mediocrem.te erudito, per ridurre ad un’perfetto fine qualunque Idea. Mà per coloro, che si esprimono attenti allo studio delle statue antiche, non serve una leggiera applicazione alle mede, essendo lor d’uopo di farvi sopra una lunga, et esatta riflessione, e studio per apprendere le belle forme; e si pone l’esemplare delle statue antiche, come le più perfette, nelle quali quei grandi Huomini espressero ì Corpi nel più perfetto grado, che possano dalla natura istessa crearsi, e perciò vi si pone il motto . Non mai abastanza . Tutto però riuscirebbe vano di conseguire senza l’assistenza delle Grazie, che intende, come accennammo, per quel natural gusto di disporre, et atteggiare con grazia, e delicatezza le positure, et ì movimenti delle Figure, dalle quali poi risulta quella vaghezza, e leggiadria, che destano meraviglia, e piacere in chiunque le mira, ponendosi queste a tal oggetto in alto, e sù le nuvole per significare, che questo dono non viene che dal Cielo, con il motto . Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana . Vivete felici.’1 Inscribed l.l. margin: ‘Eques Carolus Maratti inven. et delin. Cum privil Summi Pont. et Regis Christ.mi’, and l.r.: ‘N. Dorigny sculp.’. watermark: Possibly a four-legged animal inscribed in a double circle. provenance: Possibly Hugh Howard (1675–1737); Charles Francis Arnold Howard, 5th Earl of Wicklow (1839–81), from whom acquired in 1874. literature: Le Blanc 1854–88, II, p. 140, no. 51; Mariette 1996–2003, vol. 3, p. 511, no. 76, fig. 189; Kutschera-Woborsky 1919, pp. 9–28, fig. 5; Goldstein 1978, p. 1, fig. 1; Rudolph 1978, Appendix, p. 203, n. 38; Philadelphia 1980–81, pp. 114–16, no. 101 A (A. E. Golahny); Johns 1988, pp. 17–21, fig. 5; Goldstein 1989, p.156, fig. 1; Winner 1992, fig. 1; Jaffé 1994, p. 128, under no. 251 646; Mertens 1994, pp. 222–24, fig. 94; Goldstein 1996, p. 47, fig. 14; Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 483–84, no. 2 (S. Rudolph); Pierguidi 2014. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1874,0808.1713  This intriguing and complex image has a central role in this catalogue, as it represents the most eloquent visual expres- sion of the classicistic credo of the Roman Accademia di San Luca in the final decades of the 17th century. More generally, it is a strong defence of the Florentine and Roman academic traditions, with their stress on drawing, their celebration of Raphael and, above all, on the study, copy and reverence of the Antique. As we shall see, the original drawing from which the print is derived was most likely conceived in 1681–82, at a time when the aesthetic belief supported by the Accademia di San Luca was being challenged by other pedagogical methods and criticised from other theoretical viepoints, hence its programmatic nature and didactic aim. Carlo Maratti was the most authoritative painter in Rome during the final decades of the 17th century and the beginning of the 18th and the champion of classicism.2 As a boy of twelve he had entered the large workshop of Andrea Sacchi (1599–1661), where he remained until the master’s death in 1661. His training followed the usual curriculum of 148 Roman studios, centred on drawing, and on the copy of the Antique, and of Renaissance and early 17th-century masters.3 His lifelong friend, mentor and biographer, the great art theorist and antiquarian, Giovanni Pietro Bellori (1613–96), tells us that he concentrated especially on copying Raphael’s frescoes.4 He pursued this commitment throughout his life, incorporating the essential qualities of the great Renaissance champion of classicism into his own painting, to the point that he became known as the Raphael of his time.5 In 1664 Maratti became ‘principe’, or president, of the Accademia di San Luca, where, in the same year, Bellori’s discourse, the ‘Idea of the painter, the sculptor and the archi- tect, selected from the beauties of Nature, superior to Nature’, was publicly delivered (see Appendix, no. 11).6 Bellori’s theoretical statement, then published as a prologue to his Vite in 1672, was to become enormously influential in defin- ing and diffusing the central tenets of the classical ideal, preparing the ground for the eventual affirmation of classi- cism in the 18th century.7 Maratti remained an influential 149  figure within the Accademia for almost fifty years – while Bellori held the position of secretary several times – playing a vital role in reorganising its curriculum according to a comprehensive pedagogical programme, based on the exer- cise of drawing from drawings, from casts after the Antique and from the live model, and on students’ competitions and regular lectures.8 The print, which embodies this theoretical and didactic approach, is based on a drawing now preserved at Chatsworth (fig. 1), commissioned from Maratti by one of his most faithful patrons, Gaspar Méndez de Haro y Guzmán, 7th Marquis of Carpio, (1629–87), Spanish ambassador in Rome between 1677 and 1682.9 A sketchier version, in the same direction as the print but with differences in detail, is at the Wadsworth Atheneum (fig. 2).10 Art lover, collector and patron, Carpio commissioned from contemporary Roman artists a large series of drawings with the practice, theory, and nature of painting as their subject.11 The result was a sophisticated collection of allegories of art, of which Maratti’s drawing is by far the most celebrated, largely due to Dorigny’s print.12 Another drawing with the Allegory of Ignorance Ensnaring Painting and Massacring the Fine Arts, now in the Louvre, was probably produced by Maratti for Carpio as a pendant to the Academy of Drawing, and as such was later engraved by Dorigny with a similar explanatory inscription devoted to the ‘Lovers of the Fine Arts’ (fig. 3).13 Possibly intended from the beginning to be printed, Maratti’s drawing for the Academy of Drawing was later engraved by the Parisian printmaker, Nicolas Dorigny, Fig. 1. Carlo Maratti, The Academy of Drawing, c. 1681–82, pen and brown ink with brown wash, heightened with white gouache, over black chalk, 402 × 310 mm, Chatsworth, The Duke of Devonshire and the Chatsworth Settlement Trustees, inv. 646 Fig. 2. Carlo Maratti, The Academy of Drawing, c. 1681–82, pen and brown ink and red chalk, 505 × 355 mm, Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT, inv. 1967.309a who spent the years 1687–1711 in Rome. The rare first state, exhibited here, was probably published around 1702–03 under the supervision of Maratti, who owned the copper- plates and who, no doubt, was the author of the explanatory inscriptions below this print and its pendant.14 The reason why it took twenty years for the original drawing and its pendant to be engraved, may be due to the fact that Carpio left Rome in 1683 to become Viceroy of Naples and his move might have brought the original publication project to a halt. After Maratti’s death in 1713, the plates were purchased by Jacob Frey (1681–1752) who published a second state in 1728.15 The image is a very condensed and crowded composi- tion, in line with similar examples by Stradanus (cat. 4), Pierfrancesco Alberti (cat. 2, fig. 1), and others, which would certainly have been known to Maratti.16 The Academy of Drawing is presented as an antique academy devoted to intellectual pursuits, clearly reminiscent of Raphael’s School of Athens in the Vatican Stanze, and in general subtle refer- ences to Raphael’s works are ubiquitous throughout.17 We are invited to follow the different disciplines and principles essential for the education of the young artists, distributed visually and symbolically in an ascent: from the technical and mathematical rudiments for the representation of space in the foreground, to the ideal models for the depiction of the human figure in the upper left part of the composition, and finally to the divinely inspired grace and artistic talent on the upper left background, without which all the previous learning would be useless. Bellori, in his biography Fig. 3. Nicolas Dorigny after Carlo Maratti, Allegory of Ignorance ensnaring Painting and mas- sacring the Fine Arts, 1704–10, etching and engraving, 468 × 319 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Draw- ings, London, inv. 1874,0808.1714 that. We know from another passage in Bellori that Maratti, although he ‘always considered [...] perspective and anat- omy necessary to the painter’, abhorred some ‘masters, or rather modern censors who, having learned a line or two of perspective or anatomy, the minute they look at a picture look for the vanishing point and the muscles, and [...] scold, correct, accuse and criticise the most eminent masters’.23 Maratti’s attitude was, in fact, very much in line with the Italian art theory of the second half of the 16th century.24 Most writers agreed that, although the knowledge of mathematical sciences was vital, the artist’s judgement and his eye must be the ultimate criteria in the artistic process. Giorgio Vasari (1511–74) clearly formulated this concept, paraphrasing Michelangelo’s famous saying that ‘it was necessary to have the compasses in the eyes and not in the hand, because the hands work and the eyes judge’.25 This opinion was rephrased by Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo (1538– 1600) who wrote precisely that ‘all the reasoning of geome- try and arithmetic, and all the proofs of perspective were of no use to a man without the eye’, and shared also by Federico Zuccaro (c. 1540–1609) the founder and first principal of the reformed Accademia di San Luca in 1593 (see cat. 5).26 A similar approach was reserved for the study of anatomy, the excess of which, as represented by Michelangelo – who is not alluded to in the print – was explicitly condemned by Giovan Battista Armenini (c. 1525–1609) and others, an opinion supported by Bellori and Maratti.27 The ‘Young Students of Drawing’, to which the print is dedicated, need instead to focus their attention on, and constantly draw from, ancient statues, here represented by Fig. 4. Raphael, Apollo, detail, School of Athens, 1509–11, fresco, Stanza della Segnatura, Apostolic Palace, Vatican City  of Maratti, left unfinished at his death in 1696, provides a description of one of Maratti’s original drawings (figs 1–2) and this, plus the explanatory inscription on the print, constitute the best guide to interpret the composition.18 At the centre a ‘master of perspective’ indicates to a young disciple the visual pyramid and various geometrical figures traced on a canvas placed on an easel, at the bottom of which we read: ‘TANTO CHE BASTI’, ‘Enough to suffice’.19 The same inscription recurs on the ground on the left, in front of another pupil intent at drafting geometrical figures on the abacus with his compass, a gesture evoking that of Archimedes in Raphael’s School of Athens. As Bellori explains, this is to signify that ‘once the young have learned the rules necessary to their studies’ – geometry and perspec- tive – ‘they should pass on without stopping’.20 On the right, below the easel, we see a stool supporting the physical tools of the art of painting: another compass and a palette with various brushes. Behind them a ruler leans diagonally against the canvas. The same warning ‘TANTO CHE BASTI’ reappears on the left on the pedestal supporting a life-size anatomical écorché, in a pose reminiscent of the Borghese Gladiator (see p. 41, fig. 54 and cat. 23, fig. 1). Several students draw its muscles, directed by Leonardo, whose anatomical studies were very well known, especially after the first publication of his treatise on painting in 1651.21 ‘Anatomy and the drawing of lines’ continues Bellori, ‘do indeed fall under definite rules and can be learned perfectly by anyone, just as geometry used formerly to be learned in school from childhood’.22 They therefore constitute those sciences that can be taught by rational precepts. But if the young students want to become great artists they need much more than    150 151  the gigantic Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32 and cat. 7, fig. 1), by a Venus Pudica reminiscent of the Venus de’Medici (see p. 42, fig. 56) and by an Apollo, the latter clearly derived from the statue presiding over the philosophers in the School of Athens (fig. 4).28 Apollo, as patron of the arts, combining together a reference to the Antique and to Raphael, conveniently substitutes for the Belvedere Antinous (see p. 26, fig. 22 and cat. 19) seen on the earlier sketch (fig. 2).29 The study of classi- cal sculptures, as the inscription on the wall behind the Apollo instructs us, is ‘NON MAI ABASTANZA’, ‘Never enough’, as they contain ‘the example and the perfection of painting [...] together with good imitation selected from nature’ as Bellori tells us.30 In other words, they materialise Bellori’s concept of the ‘Idea’, intended as the selection of the best parts of Nature according to the right judgement of the artist in order to create ideal beauty (see Appendix, no. 11). If a young artist assimilates their principles, he will have a secure guide towards artistic perfection. On the left, sitting on clouds, the Three Graces – again referring to the similar figures painted by Raphael in the Villa Farnesina in Rome – are there to remind us: ‘SENZA DI NOI OGNI FATICA E VANA’, ‘Without us, all labour is in vain’. Without natural talent and divine inspiration, all the efforts and studies depicted below would be ultimately useless. The concept of grace was one of the crucial features in Vasari’s theory of art, intended as a certain sweetness and facility of execution, dependent on natural talents – namely judgement and the eye – as opposed to beauty which is based on the rules of proportions and mathematics.31 But the great artist must cultivate this natural gift through constant study and, for Bellori, constant imitation of the Antique and of the great masters, especially Raphael, the excellence and grace of whom he exalted in several of his publications.32 Therefore our print reminds us in its subject of the necessary union of natural talent and study. At the same time it provides in its very forms an ideal example of inventive imitation, namely Maratti’s assimilation of the Antique and Raphael. The need to insist on these very points reflects the particular moment in which our image was created. In 1676 the Accademia di San Luca and the Parisian Académie Royale were formally amalgamated and at times French painters became principals of San Luca – Charles Errard (1606/09– 89) in 1672 and 1678, and Charles Le Brun (1619–90) in 1676–77.33 While sharing the same values and attitudes, the Italian could never feel comfortable with the extreme ration- alisation of art characteristic of so much French theory and academic approach.34 The methodical and precise dissection of painting into its main components, as expressed for instance in the Académie’s Conférences, is in fact probably 152 alluded to in the speaker seen below the Graces in our image, who uses his fingers to enumerate the main points of his arguments – referring to Socrates in the School of Athens. The early Académie’s Conférences were published by André Félibien (1619–95) in 1668, and their official presentation at San Luca in 1681 generated a discussion that was most likely at the origin of Maratti’s Academy of Drawing, as reported by Melchior Missirini (1773–1849) in his history of the Accademia di San Luca.35 After the reading of the last two Conférences, devoted to the analysis of the drawing, colour, composition, proportions and expressions of Poussin’s paintings, one of San Luca’s members, Giovanni Maria Morandi (1622–1717), raised the objection that the French had left out art’s most important and beautiful element: grace, that sublime and delicate quality of the ‘imitative practice’, which appeals to the heart rather than the mind.36 The elderly Bellori, present in the audience, interrupted the speech remarking that grace was indeed Apelle’s and Raphael’s best quality, ‘and it is well known’, continues Missirini, ‘that Maratti, who also devoted every effort to obtain this quality, induced by these words painted his three graces with the motto ‘Without you, everything is worthless’.37 No doubt conceived as a response to this intellectual debate, as a defence of the Florentine and Roman attitude and tradition versus its French counterpart, Maratti’s Accademia must be understood also as a celebration of classicism against those painters and theorists who were at that time criticising its values and outcomes. In particular the Venetian Marco Boschini (1515–80) and the Bolognese Cesare Malvasia (1613–93) in their treatises published in the 1770s had attacked the pictorial tradition based on disegno and imitation of the Antique, supporting instead colore and naturalism.38 They, as Bellori remarks right before his discus- sion of Maratti’s drawing, taught ‘in their schools and in their books that Raphael is dry and hard, that his style is statue- like’.39 This dispute had its counterpart in France where the Querelle du coloris had been fiercely debated in the 1770s.40 The theoretical battle escalated further with the publication in 1681 of the Notizie de’ professori del disegno by the Florentine Filippo Baldinucci (1625–97), who strongly defended Vasari and the Central Italian tradition, at the same time directly attacking Malvasia.41 The early 1680s were therefore a moment of intense debate within and between the Italian and French artistic schools and theoretical traditions, of which this image is one of the most telling documents. In the following decades Maratti became the leading artistic authority in Rome. His devotion to Raphael was rewarded in 1693 when he was appointed Keeper of the Vatican Stanze, which he then restored in 1702–03, having already worked on the restoration of Raphael’s frescoes in the Farnesina from 1693.42 In 1699 he was re-elected principal of San Luca, a position he held until his death in 1713. Pope Clement XI (r. 1700–21) nominated Maratti Director of the Antiquities in Rome in 1702, and officially sanctioned support for his classicism by establishing papal-sponsored competitions, the Concorsi Clementini, at the Academy.43 It is probably in celebration of the final affirmation of this classicist aesthetic that Maratti decided to finally print in 1702, or soon after, the complex drawing celebrating above all the study of Antique that he had produced twenty years 44 ‘The School of Drawing, a figurative drawing by Cavalier Carlo Maratti, can contribute much to the disenchantment of those who believe that through knowledge and study of many arts they can become most accomplished in the art of painting without first acquiring the highest skill in drawing and without the natural gift and innate capacity to give, with grace and ease, life and shapeliness to the parts of a work they set out to depict. In addition, he [Maratti] gives form to his fine thought through the activities pointed out here. To one side there are some students of the mathematics of Geometry and Optics that feed into Perspective: elsewhere there are others intent on the observation of an anatomical model, from which can be learned the just proportions of the limbs, the placement of the muscles and sinews that compose a figure, as set out with precision by Leonardo da Vinci, a likeness of whom is given, with the motto ‘Enough to suffice’, to evince that, of these professional skills, he who pursues drawing must be competent enough to bring any idea to a perfect outcome. But for those shown engaged in the study of classical statues, slight attention to the same is of no use since the point is to make a long and detailed study so as learn the forms of the beautiful; and classical statues are given as the most perfect for this since those great sculptors gave shape to bodies in the most perfect state that Nature herself can create, which explains the presence of the motto: ‘Never enough’. Everything, however, would be futile without the assistance of the Graces, understood, as mentioned, as a natural bent for composing and arranging with grace and delicacy those postures and movement of figures from which derive the beauty and allure that stir wonder and pleasure in the spectator, wherefore they are set for that purpose up above on the clouds as indication that this gift comes only from heaven, and are given the motto: ‘Without us all labour is in vain’. Live happily’ (translation by Michael Sullivan). For a biographical summary see Rudolph 2000. Schaar and Sutherland Harris 1967. See Bellori 1976, pp. 625, 636, 639. See Baldinucci 1975, p. 307. On Maratti’s cult for and imitation of Raphael see also Mena Marqués 1990. Goldstein 1978, p. 3. For the text of Bellori’s Idea see Bellori 1976, pp. 13–25, and for an English translation see Bellori 2005, pp. 55–65. On it see Mahon 1947, esp. pp. 109– 54, 242–43; Panofsky 1968, pp. 103–11; Bellori 1976, esp. xxix–xl; Barasch 2000, vol. 1, pp. 315–22; Cropper 2000. On Maratti’s role within the Accademia see Goldstein 1978, esp. pp. 2–5. On Bellori’s see Cipriani 2000. Jaffé 1994, p. 128, no. 251 646. It is not fully clear whether Dorigny used the Chatsworth drawing or a lost copy of it, as he arrived in Rome in 1687, five years after Del Carpio had left the city to become Viceroy of Naples: see Rome 2000b, vol. 2, p. 483, no. 1 (S. Rudolph). Philadelphia 1980–81, p. 116, note 3 and 4; Winner 1992, p. 512, fig. 5. Bellori 1976, pp. 629–31. On Del Carpio’s commission see Haskell 1980, pp. 190–92; Pierguidi 2008; Frutos Sastre 2009, pp. 369–71. For other drawings of the series, see Winner 1992. For the drawing (Louvre, Paris, inv. 17950) see Rome 2000b, vol. 2, p. 484, no. 3 (S. Rudolph). For the print see Philadelphia 1980–81, pp. 114–16, no. 101 B (A. E. Golahny); Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 484–85, no. 4 (S. Rudolph). For the transcription of the print’s inscription see Winner 1992, pp. 517–18, note 7. See Philadelphia 1980–81, pp. 114–16, no. 101 A and B (A. E. Golahny); Rome 2000b, vol. 2, p. 483, no. 2 (S. Rudolph). This second state contains the address of Frey. Rudolph (Rome 2000b, vol. 2, p. 483, no. 2), supposes that the long explanatory inscription was added only to this second state, while the impression exhibited here proves that it was inserted in the first state as well. The inscription is mentioned also in a chronological list of Maratti’s prints produced in 1711: see Rudolph 1978, Appendix, p. 203, no 38. Kutschera-Woborsky 1919; Winner 1992, especially pp. 521–22, 531. Although some will be discussed here, the references to Raphael are too many to be covered comprehensively. For a fuller discussion see Winner 1992. Bellori 1976, pp. 629–31. For an English translation, see Bellori 2005, pp. 422–23. Bellori’s unfinished biography of Maratti was first published with modifications in 1731 and independently in 1732. See Bellori 1976, p. 571, note 1; Bellori 2005, p. 435, note 4. For modern critical editions of the text, see Bellori 1976, pp. 569–654; Bellori 2005, pp. 395–440. Winner (1992, p. 524) suggests that the ‘master of perspective’ could be Vitruvius, as the geometrical figures on the canvas are similar to those illustrated by Andrea Palladio in Daniele Barbaro’s edition of Vitruvius’ De architectura (1556). On the other hand the visual pyramid clearly refers to Albertian perspective, as it had been recently republished and illustrated in Dufresne 1651, see especially pp. 17–18. Bellori 1976, p. 630; Bellori 2005, p. 423. Dufresne 1651: see esp. the ‘Vita di Lionardo da Vinci descritta da Rafaelle du Fresne’, at the beginning of the volume (not paginated) and p. 5, ch. XXII, p. 12, ch. LVII. Bellori 1976, p. 631; Bellori 2005, p. 423. Bellori 1976, p. 629; Bellori 2005, p. 422. On Bellori’s sources in general see esp. Barocchi 2000; Perini 2000a. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 6, p. 109. See also Vasari’s introduction to his chapter on Sculpture: Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 1, pp. 84–86. Lomazzo 1584, p. 262 (book V, chap. 7). Zuccaro 1607, vol. 2, pp. 29–30 (book II, chap. 6). See Armenini 1587, pp. 63–67 (book I, chap. 8); Bellori 1976, p. 630; Bellori 2005, p. 423. On this see also Pierguidi 2014. Bellori had specifically praised the Farnese Hercules and the Venus de’Medici in his Idea: Bellori 1976, p. 18; Bellori 2005, p. 59. On this see also Winner 1992, p. 532. On the Farnese Hercules see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 229–32, no. 46; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1. On the Venus de’ Medici see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 325–28, no. 88; Cecchi and Gasparri 2009, pp. 74–75, no. 64 (137). On the Belvedere Antinous see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 141–43, no. 4; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 62, no. 10. Bellori 1976, p. 630; Bellori 2005, p. 423. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 3, p. 399, vol. 4, pp. 5–6. See also Blunt 1978, pp. 93–99. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87, vol. 3, p. 399; Bellori 1976, pp. 625–26; Bellori 2005, p. 421. Also for Armenini ‘una bella e dotta maniera’ could be acquired only if the artist has a natural gift cultivated by study (Armenini 1587, see esp. p. 6 of the Proemio and pp. 51–69, book I, chs 7 and 8). Bellori’s essays on Raphael, written at various dates, were published in Bellori 1695. On Raphael and grace in Bellori see Maffei 2009. On the cult of Raphael in the 17th century see Perini 2000b. Boyer 1950, p. 117; Goldstein 1970, pp. 227–41; Bousquet 1980, pp. 110–11; Goldstein 1996, pp. 45–46. Mahon 1947, pp. 188–89. Missirini 1823, pp. 145–46 (ch. XCI); Mahon 1947, p. 189; Goldstein 1996, p. 46. Missirini 1823, p. 145. Ibid., p. 146. Boschini 1674; Malvasia 1678. Bellori 1976, p. 627; Bellori 2005, p. 421. On the ‘statuelike’ concept, or ‘statuino’ see esp. Malvasia 1678, vol. 1, pp. 359, 365, 484. See also Pericolo’s forthcoming article. I wish to thank Dr Lorenzo Pericolo for generously putting this study at my disposal. See Teyssèdre 1965; Puttfarken 1985; Arras and Épinal 2004 with previous bibliography. Baldinucci 1681, see esp. his ‘Apologia’ at pp. 8–29. On the controversy between Malvasia and central Italian art theorists see Perini 1988; Rudolph 1988–89; Emiliani 2000. See Zanardi 2007. See Johns 1988. The second state of both prints, published by Jacob Frey in 1728 was explic- itly issued in parallel to the reward ceremony of the 1728 Concorso Clementino: see Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 484–85, no. 4. earlier, with the Allegory of Ignorance as its pendant (fig. 3). aa 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 1 153  16. Charles-Joseph Natoire (Nîmes 1700–1777 Castel Gandolfo) The Life Class at the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture 1746 Pen, black and brown ink, grey wash and watercolour and traces of graphite over black chalk 453 × 322 mm Signed and dated by the artist on recto, on the box at l.c., in pen and dark grey ink: ‘C. NATOIRE f. 1746’. provenance: Possibly sold at the artist’s posthumous sale, Alexandre-Joseph Paillet, Paris, 14 December 1778, lot 100;1 purchased Aubert for 120 livres; Gilbert Paignon-Dijonval (1708–92); Bruzard, Paris, 23–26 April 1839, part of lot 208; Walker Gallery, acquired Sir Robert Witt (1872–1952) (L. suppl. 2228b); Sir Robert Witt Bequest, 1952. selected literature: Bérnard 1810, p. 142, no. 3348; Mirimonde 1958, p. 282, fig. 3; Princeton 1977, pp. 22–23, fig. 3; Troyes, Nîmes and elsewhere 1977, p. 80, under no. 42; Roland Michel 1987, pp. 58–59, fig. 45; Foster 1998, pp. 55–56, fig. 13; Amsterdam and Paris 2002–03, pp. 85–88, under no. 25; Paris 2009–10, p. 40, fig. 13; Petherbridge 2010, p. 222, pl. 152; Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 122, repr., p. 336, no. D. 370, repr.; Rowell 2012, pp. 179–80, fig. 9; London 2013–14, p. 8, repr., p. 69, fig. 24. selected exhibitions: London 1950, p. 18, no. 54; London, York and elsewhere 1953, pp. 27–28, no. 79, not repr.; London 1953, pp. 91–92, no. 391, not repr. (K. T. Parker and J. Byam Shaw); Los Angeles 1961, pp. 51, 58, no. 25; London 1962, pp. 9–10, no. 37, not repr.; Swansea 1962, unpaginated, no. 38; London 1968a, p. 101, no. 490 (D. Sutton); King’s Lynn 1985, p. vi, no. 33, not repr.; London 1991, p. 80, no. 35 (G. Kennedy); Paris 2000–01, pp. 405–06, no. 210 (J.-P. Cuzin); London and New York 2012–13, pp. 161–65, no. 33 (K. Scott).  The Courtauld Gallery, Samuel Courtauld Trust, London, D. 1952.RW.397 exhibited in london only Painter, draughtsman and educator, Natoire was a contem- porary of François Boucher (1703–70) and like him, executed both cabinet pictures and decorative schemes, as well as history paintings.2 Trained in the studio of François Lemoyne (1688–1737), Natoire started his career with a series of successes: having won in 1721 the Prix de Rome of the Académie Royale, he spent the years 1723–28 in Rome where in 1727 he received the most prestigious reward for a young painter, the first prize of the Accademia di San Luca. Back in Paris in 1730, he was received (reçu) as a full member of the Académie in 1734 and spent the following two decades executing decorative ensembles in Royal Palaces and various hôtels and châteaux of the aristocracy, such as the celebrated Hôtel de Soubise (now the Archives Nationales) in Paris. In 1751 he was appointed Director of the Académie de France in Rome and spent the rest of his life there, dying at Castel Gandolfo in the Alban Hills in 1777. Natoire’s large and beautifully preserved drawing – of which there is another version, dated 1745, almost identical but less finished, in the Musée Atger in Montpellier – offers a rare glimpse of the École du modèle of the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture in Paris, where young students spent hours copying the live model.3 But rather than a faithful view of the École du modèle, which was a similar but rather different space,4 it is an idealised representation of how Natoire thought it ought to be. In essence, it is a visual manifesto for the Académie’s reform at a time, as we shall see, when many of its original practices had been abandoned or neglected. Trying, in a programmatic image, to convey as much infor- mation as possible, Natoire ingeniously reconfigures the 154 space for his purpose: a very high ceiling and an angular point of view allow maximum concentration and display of objects. Crammed together, one on top of the other, we see drawings, bas-reliefs, paintings of different format and size and, most importantly, plaster casts after the Antique. Our attention is immediately drawn to the seated figure at the lower left-hand corner wearing a bright red cloak, no doubt Natoire himself: he had been appointed assistant pro- fessor at the Académie royale in 1735, professor in 1737 and from 1736 was instructor in the life class for the month of February.5 Comfortably seated in an armchair, his tricorne hat resting on the box in the centre, he carefully corrects the black chalk drawings after the two live models presented by his pupils. At the centre of the composition, the attention of all students is directed to the two models posed together, a monthly event at the Académie that had been introduced in the mid-1660s.6 The teacher was responsible for placing the models ‘in an attitude’ for afternoon classes lasting two hours, using sunlight during the summer and artificial light during the winter months.7 The sunlight filtering in from the left is therefore imaginary, as in February, when Natoire was in charge of the École du modèle, illumination would have been from lamps. Only male models were allowed, despite repeated requests for female models from the students, all of whom were also male since women were not allowed to join the Académie until the end of the 19th century.8 The same pose was retained for three days in a row for a total of six hours and students were supposed to produce two study drawings of the figures each week.9 As in this case, a curtain was usually placed behind the model or models, to enhance 155  the contours and isolate the figure from the background. The plinth supporting the model had hooks at the corner to allow the professor to move it according to the fall of the light. In addition to posing the model, the ‘duty teacher’ from 1664 onwards was supposed to make his own drawing to serve as an example for the students and to devote part of each session to correcting students’ works, as we see represented in this drawing.10 Natoire’s own drawing of the two models may be in the portfolio leaning against the box in the centre; indeed an identical red chalk composition survives – although reversed – proving that this pose was actually used during one of his sessions (fig. 1).11 The models’ attitude in the middle follows the well- established practice within the Académie of adopting and adapting poses to recall ancient statuary.12 In this case they evoke the dynamic, interlocking bodies of the Wrestlers (see p. 30, fig. 33), of which the Académie possessed a plaster cast, or possibly the pose of the so-called Pasquino.13 The main purpose of the practice was to pose the live model with the same tension and flexing of muscles as the ancient statues, so that students could then correct their drawings from ‘fallible Nature’ against the perfection of the antique exam- ple. The practice was diffused already in the 17th century and explicitly recommended by Sébastien Bourdon (1616–71), in his famous Conférence Sur les proportions de la figure humaine expliquées sur l’Antique delivered at the Académie in 1670.14 We Fig. 1. Charles-Joseph Natoire, Two Models, c. 1745, red chalk, 490 × 420 mm, sold Sotheby’s, Paris, 18 June 2008, lot 101 know from the influential Abrégé de la vie des plus fameux peintres, published by the art writer Antoine-Joseph Dezallier d’Argenville (1680–1765) in 1745, that the great painter Philippe de Champaigne (1602–74) devoted ‘his evenings [...] to drawing at the Académie and, on his return, he would correct from the Antique what he had done from the model’.15 Natoire was exposed to a similar exercise during the years he spent at the Académie de France in Rome during the 1720s and he must often have returned to this practice during his sessions at the Académie in Paris.16 Distributed in a semi-circle around the models are students of different ages, busy drawing the figures. Most of them are using chalk in porte-crayons, drawing on large sheets of paper. The exceptions are the two more mature students on the right who are modelling bas-reliefs in clay with their fingers and wooden sticks; the one on the right holds a sponge in his hand to clean the clay with water as seen in the drawing by Cochin engraved for the Encyclopédie (p. 52, fig. 91).17 The process is clearly described in the Istruzione elementare per gli studiosi della scultura, the famous manual for students of sculpture published by Francesco Carradori (1747–1824) in 1802, and illustrated with a strikingly similar image (fig. 2).18 A third student, in the lower right corner, is wetting rags in a bucket to keep the clay damp and avoid cracks, as Carradori advised. On his left a dog – could it be Natoire’s? – stares at us from its sheltered position. The Fig. 2. Francesco Carradori, Istruzione elementare per gli studiosi della scultura . . . , Florence, 1802, detail of plate 5 disposition of the students reflects the admission conditions and entrance hierarchy of the École du modèle: two-thirds were painters and one-third sculptors, placed in the back rows.19 Behind the semi-circle of students we see life-size plaster casts of four of the most canonical classical sculptures: from left to right the Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32; cat. 7), the Laocoön (see p. 26, fig. 19; cat. 5), the Venus de’ Medici (see p. 42, fig. 56) and the Borghese Gladiator (see p. 41, fig. 54; cat. 23).20 The Hercules and the Venus are looking away from the viewer, as if to signal that the study of the Antique constitutes a different – though inextricably connected – practice from the study of the live model. The four statues provided the students with idealised models of human proportions, anatomy, beauty and emotion: the muscular strength of the heroic male body at rest, embodied by the Hercules, the complex pose and the pathos and drama of the Laocoön, the grace and beauty of the female body ideally incarnated by the Venus and, finally, the active anatomy of the muscular man in motion as expressed by the Gladiator. They repre- sented a sort of ‘canon within the canon’ of classical sculptures for artists, and their choice here is not accidental. These four statues – plus the Belvedere Torso and an antique Bacchus at Versailles – had been specifically selected as subjects of the Conférences devoted to the Antique held at the Académie Royale during the 1660s and 1670s; the text describing them was constantly being re-read by academi- cians since then.21 At the time this drawing was made, the Académie owned casts of all four statues – among many others – but Natoire ingeniously concentrates here what was actually distributed over various rooms.22 Significantly, all the statues in the drawing are in reverse as Natoire did not copy them from the casts but from prints in François Perrier’s celebrated Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum of 1638 (figs 3–6).23 Perrier’s collection of engravings after ancient statues had been for more than a century the standard work of reference for students beginning their study of the Antique, providing them with images in two dimensions that they could master before approaching the three-dimensional casts. This course was firmly recommended at the time of the foundation of the Académie in 1648 by Abraham Bosse (1602–76), its first professor of perspective.24 References to the glorious past of the Académie continue on the walls, where we are invited to ascend from drawings and bas-reliefs to paintings. On the lower tier are the designs and reliefs after the model that teachers had to produce from 1664 onwards (although this requirement was eventually abolished in 1715).25 Above these are displayed a series of canvases representing some of the greatest triumphs of modern French painting: the largest and most prominent, on the left, is Charles Le Brun’s Alexander at the Tent of Darius (1661); to its right, Jean Jouvenet’s Deposition (1697) and below it, barely discernible, Eustache Le Sueur’s Solomon and the Queen of Sheba (1650). Above, in the upper register, is hung another Le Sueur, the circular Alexander and His Doctor (1648– 49). On the right is François Lemoyne’s Annunciation (1725); and finally, below it Sébastien Bourdon’s Holy Family (1660– 70).26 The two square paintings on the upper left, probably a reclining Nymph or Venus and a Cupid and Psyche, have not been identified; it would be tempting to think that they might be Natoire’s own creations, but they do not correspond to any of his known works.27 None of the paintings were displayed at that time in the Académie and all are reversed, meaning that Natoire deliberately assembled them in this crowded space from prints.28 All were revered examples of history paintings by famous past academicians, ranging from Le Brun, Le Sueur and Bourdon, who had been among the twelve original founding members of the Académie in 1648, to Lemoyne, Natoire’s own teacher. Showing different kinds of history painting – Biblical subjects, Mythology and secular history – they here provide the young students with models both to imitate and aspire to. On the central pier, presiding over all the artistic activity below, is Bernini’s 1665 bust of Louis XIV, of which the Académie then displayed a plaster cast,29 reminding us of the glories of the institution under the reign of the Sun King. Such a deliberately programmatic image, which assem- bles so many references from different places and times, must be understood as a visual manifesto in favour of a retour à l’ordre within the Académie. At the time Natoire conceived it, many of the original academic practices and credos had long been neglected. After the late 17th century almost no new Conférences were held, and teachers simply re-read the old ones and the biographies of past academicians.30 Nor does it seem that the study of the Antique was much promoted and certainly the collection of casts was not integrated with the École du modèle.31 Finally, and most impor- tantly, during the first half of the 18th century, history painting had lost its place of pre-eminence within the Académie, a process foreshadowed by the success of Jean- Antoine Watteau (1684–1721) and his acceptance into the Académie in 1717 as a painter of fêtes galantes, a new category that encouraged the development of the ‘lesser genres’ of painting.32 At the same time, because of the popularity of ‘the Rococo interior’, history painters were often obliged to adapt their canvases for decorative schemes, to the point that Natoire complained in 1747 that his painting was regarded as mere furniture.33 Significantly, a completely different model was in place in Rome during the years spent by Natoire in the city as a young   156 157    Fig. 3. (top left) François Perrier, Farnese Hercules, plate 4, from Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum, Rome, 1638 Fig. 4. (top right) François Perrier, Laocoön, plate 1, from Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum, Rome, 1638 Fig. 5. (bottom left) François Perrier, Venus de’Medici, plate 83, from Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum, Rome, 1638 Fig. 6. (bottom right) François Perrier, Borghese Gladiator, plate 28, from Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum, Rome, 1638 years implemented a series of radical changes – such as the re-establishment of the Conférences, the acquisition of new casts, and making the history paintings of the Royal Collection accessible to students – which paved the way to the triumph of the highest genre in the second half of the century.36 It is at this moment that Natoire’s drawing was conceived, probably as a statement in support of Tournehem’s reforms. These, in essence, involved a return to the original credo and mission of the Académie as devised by Louis XIV’s Minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert (1619–83) and his Premier Peintre Charles Le Brun (1619–90): a royal institu- tion intended to support and cultivate History Painting through the practice of drawing and the study of the live model and the Antique. Natoire would apply many of the principles proclaimed in his drawing during his tenure as director of the Académie de France in Rome after 1751. The fact that everything in the Courtauld drawing – statues, paintings and even models – appears in reverse would suggest that it was intended to be engraved.37 How- ever, the students hold the porte-crayons in their right hands, which would seem to contradict this theory. In any case, it is highly likely that this complex image was conceived to be diffused for promotional purposes, possibly on the example of Dorigny’s engraving after Maratti (cat. 15), which Natoire would certainly have known.38 It would have been a persuasive way to promote the study of the live model together with the study of the Antique, a training that would effectively prepare young artists to revive those noble forms of painting that had been the glory of the Grand Siècle. London 2013–14, p. 33. See the 11th article of the 1664 reformed statutes of the Académie: Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 1, p. 253. See also London 2013–14, pp. 33–34. The fact that the drawing is in reverese seems to suggest that it is a counter- proof. For the drawing see Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 481, no. D.794, repr. in colour at p. 128. The drawing was sold at Sotheby’s, Paris, 18 June 2008, no. 101. Some of Natoire’s drawings after the live model were published in 1745: Huquier 1745. Paris 2000–01, pp. 415–29; London 2013–14, pp. 62–69. Guérin 1715, p. 148, no. 49; London 2013–14, p. 94, note 62. On the pose of the two models see also Foster 1998, pp. 56–57. On the Pasquino see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 291–96, no. 72; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, p. 202, no. 155 Lichtenstein and Michel 2006-12, vol. 1.1, pp. 374–77. See also Goldstein 1996, p. 150. Dezailler d’Argenville 1745–52, vol. 2, p. 182. Macsotay 2010, pp. 189–90. As noted by Gillian Kennedy in London 1991, p. 80, no. 35. I wish to thank Camilla Pietrabissa for a fruitful discussion on the subject. Carradori 1802, esp. pp. 3–4, article 2, and plate 5; Carradori 2002, pp. 23–24, and pp. 60–61, plate 5. London 2013–14, p. 34. On the Farnese Hercules see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 229–32, no. 46; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1. On the Laocoön see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 243–47, no. 52; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 164–68, no. 122. On the Venus de’ Medici see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 325–28, no. 88. On the Borghese Gladiator see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 221–24, no. 43; Paris 2000–01, no. 1, pp. 150–51 (L. Laugier); Pasquier 2000–01c. Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, see esp. vols 1–2, passim. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 45–46. Guérin 1715, p. 62, no. 35, pp. 105–06, nos 1–2, p. 185, no. 41; London and New York 2012–13, p. 162; London 2013–14, p. 94, note 62. On Perrier’s Segmenta see Picozzi 2000; Laveissière 2011; Di Cosmo 2013; Fatticcioni 2013. Bosse 1649, p. 98. On the success of the Segmenta see Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 21; Goldstein 1996, p. 144; Coquery 2000, pp. 43–44. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 42. London 2013–14, p. 53. On a similar display in the real École du modèle see Guérin 1715, p. 258 London 1991, p. 80, no. 35; Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 334, no. D.362; London and New York 2012–13, p. 161. The Montpellier version also shows Poussin’s circular Time defending Truth against the Attacks of Envy and Discord on the ceiling: see Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 334, no. D.362. I would like to thank Alastair Laing for discussing these two paintings with me. London 1991, p. 80, no. 35. It was previously thought that the print from Lemoyne’s Annunciation was not in reverse but this has been disproven by Rowell 2012, see p. 178, fig. 7 and p. 180, note 27. Guérin 1715, p. 165, no. 1. See Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12, passim. Guérin 1715, pp. 257–60. See also Foster 1998, pp. 56–57; Schnapper 2000; Macsotay 2010. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Plax 2000. Jouin 1889; London 1991, p. 80, no. 35. On the Concorsi Clementini see Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91 and Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 54. See also cat. 15. Macsotay 2010; Henry 2010–11. Locquin 1912, pp. 5–13; Schoneveld-Van Stoltz 1989, pp. 216–28; Caviglia- Brunel 2012, pp. 86–87. As already noted in Troyes, Nîmes and elsewhere 1977, p. 80, no. 42. Dorigny’s print was reissued in 1728, in parallel to the award ceremony of the Concorsi Clementini, when Natoire was still in Rome (see cat. 15).   student. The Accademia di San Luca officially supported the copying of the Antique and the production of history painting through the system of the Concorsi Clementini, established in 1702, of which, as we know, Natoire obtained the first prize.34 At the same time the Académie de France in Rome saw a complete reorganisation under the directorship of Nicholas Vleughels (1668-1737) between 1725 and 1737. Its enormous collection of casts was redisplayed and integrated with the Ecole du modèle and its students, like Natoire, were strongly encouraged to compare the ideal of casts from the Antique against nature in the form of the live model, as we see promulgated in our drawing.35 These principles began to be re-introduced in Paris after the election in 1745 of Charles- François-Paul Le Normant de Tournehem – the uncle of Madame de Pompadour – as director of the Bâtiments du Roi, the official protector of the Académie Royale on behalf of the king. Tournehem initiated a reform aimed at the rehabilitation of history painting, and in the following 158 159 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 aa Lot 100 is probably this drawing but it could also refer to the very similar version of this sheet now preserved at the Musée Atger, Montpellier, inv. MA1, album M43 fol. 26: see Troyes, Nîmes and elsewhere 1977, p. 80, no. 42; London 1991, p. 80, no. 35; Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 334, no. D.362 and p. 336, no. D. 370, where the lot description is transcribed in full. On Natoire see Troyes, Nîmes and elsewhere 1977; Caviglia-Brunel 2012. For the Monpellier drawing see above note 1. Guérin 1715, pp. 257–60, plate between pp. 256–57; Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 334, no. D.362; London and New York 2012–13, pp. 161–62, fig. 68. Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 5, pp. 171, 193; London 1991, p. 80, no. 35; Caviglia-Brunel 2012, p. 334, no. D.362. Guérin 1715, p. 259; London 1991, p. 80, no. 35; London 2013–14, pp. 46, 62. See the 4th article of the 1648 statutes of the Académie: Montaiglon 1875–92, vol. 1, p. 8. See also Guérin 1715, p. 258. London 2013–14, p. 40. Women were admitted to the Académie, then named École des Beaux-Arts, only in 1896 and allowed to enrol for the Prix de Rome in 1903: Goldstein 1996, p. 61.  17. Hubert Robert (Paris 1733–1808 Paris) The Artist Seated at a Table, Drawing a Bust of a Woman c. 1763–65 Red chalk, 333 × 441 mm provenance: Poulet, whence acquired by Pierre Decourcelle (1856–1926), Paris in October 1912 for 300 francs;1 by descent; Decourcelle sale, Christie’s, Paris, 21 March 2002, lot 317, from whom acquired. literature: Paris 1933, p. 124, under no. 197; Rome 1990–91, p. 191, under no. 135; Ottawa, Washington D.C., and elsewhere 2003–04, p. 308, under no. 92, fig. 142.  exhibitions: Paris 1922, p. 16, no. 85, not repr. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2002–012 Hubert Robert received a classical education at the Collège de Navarre before studying drawing in the studio of the sculptor, Michel-Ange Slodtz (1705–64). Even during this early period, he showed an interest in ‘architecture in ruins’.2 Although not eligible for a place at the Académie de Rome – he had not attended the requisite École Royale des élèves protégés – family connections allowed him to bypass this regulation and on 4 November 1754 Robert arrived in Rome in the retinue of the new French ambassa- dor, Étienne-François, comte de Stainville (1719–85), later duc de Choiseul. The diplomat sponsored Robert for the first three years of his stay before he was granted pensionnaire status at the Academy in 1759, under the directorship of Joseph-Charles Natoire (see cat. 16).3 Robert remained in Rome – with intermittent study trips to Naples, Florence and elsewhere in Italy – for eleven years, responding to the fertile archaeological climate, sparked by recent excavations at Pompeii and Herculaneum as well as the newly opened Capitoline Museum, and indulging his fascination for classical ruins. Natoire encouraged Robert and the other students to sketch antiquities outdoors in situ, in the Roman campagna and beyond. Robert also took inspiration from the work of other mentors including the celebrated vedu- tista, Giovanni Paolo Panini (c. 1692–1765), and the printmaker and draughtsman, Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720–78). With his friend and compatriot, Jean-Honoré Fragonard (1732–1806), Robert enthusiastically sketched classical monuments and antiquities in and around Rome, later fusing real and imagined elements to create highly original compositions – often punctuated by ancient ruins or dilapidated architectural fragments – that would become a trademark of his work. The vast repository of motifs amassed by him during this productive Roman period, coupled to his facile draughtsmanship, would serve him well for years to come. He became a star pupil of the Academy and his drawings in particular would be eagerly sought after before he returned to France in 1765, where he entered the Académie Royale and successfully exhibited at the Salons.4 160 Undoubtedly one of his finest red chalk drawings, the present study shows the artist in a rare moment of casual repose, seated at a table and drawing, legs casually extended and crossed, stockinged feet resting carelessly on a large portfolio of drawings lying open on the floor.5 His relaxed, almost dishevelled appearance and level of undress – the fallen left knee-sock slumped around his ankle, the unbut- toned breeches and the disregarded, rumpled, coat, strewn on a chair opposite alongside his hat and the long shadows cast – all suggest that it is the end of a long day and he is at home, resuming a favourite activity: drawing. The focus of Robert’s gaze is the bust of an attractive young woman in right profile placed on the table. With his chalk-filled porte-crayon in hand, he stares intently at her, poised to sketch. Her head titled downwards, she returns his steady gaze; there is a palpable tension between them. However, the presence of a third figure threatens to interrupt their private moment. With a side-glance, a bearded man drawn on a sheet pinned up on the wall between them also watches the young woman, thereby completing an amusing love triangle of Robert’s invention. The object of the men’s attention is the Roman Empress, Faustina the Younger (c. ad 125/30–175), daughter of Emperor Antonius Pius and Faustina the Elder (fig. 1). She married Emperor Marcus Aurelius, perhaps the bearded rival in the drawing on the wall.6 Her marble bust was discovered in Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli and in 1748 presented by Benedict XIV to the Capitoline Museum where Robert would have seen it.7 Bartolomeo Cavaceppi, the Roman sculptor and antiquities restorer, who worked on the original for a year after its discovery and made several copies after it, was an acquaintance of Robert’s who occasionally visited his studio (cat. 18).8 In fact, his red chalk drawing in the Château Borély in Marseilles (cat. 18, fig. 6) records an antiquities restorer, quite possibly Cavaceppi himself, working on a female bust.9 The present composition is repeated in a small signed painting in the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in 161  room’s generous proportions, the beamed ceiling and for- mal window, the elegant Louis XV-style table– are consistent with those found in Robert’s detailed sanguine of Breteuil’s grand Salone.13 Thus, it is highly likely that the composition was conceived during his stay at the Ambassador’s residence, 1763–65, and that it is Breteuil’s guest room that is shown. Perhaps the drawing, more a ricordo than a preliminary study for the painting, was intended as a gift to the host, as a gesture of gratitude and friendship. A highly regarded collector and patron of the arts, Breteuil was an ardent admirer of Robert’s work.14 At the outset of his posting in Rome, Natoire praised the diplomat as an informed collector who already owned ‘quelque chose’ by Robert.15 Breteuil would later procure many of Robert’s drawings as well as paintings.16 A close friendship between patron and artist followed, evidently based on a shared love of art and antiquity in all its forms.17 Together they translated texts by Virgil and took sightseeing trips in Rome, and at least one to Florence.18 The Ambassador asked Robert to accompany him to Sicily ‘pour visiter et dessiner les beaux morceaux antiques qui sont dans ses cantons-là’, but, it seems, the trip never took place.19 Representations of artists in the act of drawing antique sculpture and other works of art are recurrent in Robert’s oeuvre along with representations of classical architecture in ruin. Detailed studies made on the spot such as The Draughts- man at the Capitoline, c. 1763 (p. 56, fig. 95) convey something of the wonder and excitement that he must have felt at 20 encountering these celebrated sights for the first time. He often represented himself or his associates in grandiose, stage-like settings or as art tourists, of the sort that he would frequently have encountered. But as an intimate scene of private contemplation, the present drawing stands apart Fig. 2. Hubert Robert, The Artist in his Studio, c. 1763–65, oil on canvas, 37 × 48 cm, Museum Boijmans van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 2586 (OK) Fig. 3. Hubert Robert, Young Artists in the Studio, red chalk, with framing lines in pen and brown ink, 352 × 412 mm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1972.118.23 from these. It bears a close resemblance to a composition in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (fig. 3) showing the same room but on another day with visitors: a bare-footed servant and two artists – one drawing, the other inspecting the portfolio.21 A little-known red chalk study formerly in the Camille Groult collection in Paris (fig. 4) probably preceded 22 the present drawing. It shows the same relaxed figure alone – Robert – in identical attire but fully dressed and outdoors, lying on the ground and sketching, presumably after his favourite subject: the Antique. Fig. 4. Hubert Robert, Le Dessinateur, red chalk, 300 × 400 mm, present whereabouts unknown    Fig. 1. Bust of Empress Faustina the Younger, 147–48 ad, marble, 60 cm (h), Musei Capitolini, Rome, inv. MC449 Rotterdam (fig. 2).10 It is of similar dimensions to the drawing but a few modifications were made: Robert no longer has a full head of hair and the open portfolio used as a foot rest is now safely closed, while another leans against his chair. The view of the room is wider and includes a high, beamed ceiling, a generously sized window and a table on the right, on which rest tools and utensils. A further nod to antiquity is a lively copy after the celebrated Roman sculpture, Germanicus (cat. 33, fig. 4) on a pedestal on the left. While it was found in Rome, in Robert’s time the statue was already in Versailles.11 But its fame endured in Italy and a plaster cast was available for study at the French Academy in Rome. Further playful details were introduced: a framed picture and precariously hung drawings (including a possible por- trait of Faustina); a charming dog that takes a keen interest in Robert’s casually flung slippers. While the intimate nature of the scene, bordering on genre, suggests this is indeed Robert’s private space, its spacious grandeur is not that of his student lodging at the Academy. When his official term as pensionnaire ended in October 1763, his stay was extended by the largesse of the French Ambassador of the Order of Malta to the Holy See, the Bailli de Breteuil (1723–85), who housed him at his palace on the Via dei Condotti until he returned to Paris in July 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 avl According to N. Schwed (e-mail, 30 July 2014), this information was provided to Christie’s at the time of the Decourcelle sale in 2002. Taillasson 1808, p. 473. Letters exchanged between the influential Marquis de Marigny, Director General of King Louis XV’s buildings (and brother of his mistress, Madame de Pompadour), and Charles-Joseph Natoire, Director of the French Academy in Rome published by A. de Montaiglon and J. Guiffrey between 1887–1912 provide essential details about Robert and his stay in Italy. For Robert and Choiseul, see ibid., vol. 11, p. 262, no. 5331. Collector and connoisseur, Pierre-Jean Mariette preferred Robert’s draw- ings to his paintings: ‘ses tableaux est fort inferieur à ses desseins [sic], dans lesquels il met beaucoup d’esprit’ (Mariette 1850–60, vol. 4, p. 414). Letters between Marigny and Natoire mention requests from Mariette for drawings: Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 11, p. 365, no. 5477; p. 367, no. 5483; p. 388, no. 5521; p. 428, no. 5589. The traditional view that the drawing is a self-portrait (Paris 1922, p. 16, no. 85; Paris 1933, p. 124, under no. 197), upheld in the recent literature, need not be questioned. The figure resembles Augustin Pajou’s marble bust of Robert (1780) in the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts and Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun’s 1788 portrait of him in the Louvre. He has all the characteristics of an emperor from the Antonine period. It could well be a reference to the bust of Marcus Aurelius in the Capitoline Museum. See Fittschen and Zanker 1985, vol. 1, pp. 76–77, no. 69, vol. 2, pls 79, 81–82. A copy by Cavaceppi in terracotta is preserved in the Museo del Palazzo di Venezia, see Rome 1994, p. 104, no. 19, repr. For the bust, see Fittschen and Zanker 1983, vol. 1, pp.20–21, no. 19, vol. 2, pls 24–26. For its restoration, see London 1983, pp. 66–67. Cavaceppi’s posthumous inventory of 1802 mentions two marble Faustinas and one plaster cast 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 (Gasparri and Ghiandoni 1994, p. 264, no. 310, p. 270, no. 624 and p. 286, no. 109). For surviving copies by Cavaceppi, predominantly acquired by English collectors, see Howard 1970, p. 123, figs 8 and 9, p. 128; Howard 1982, p. 240, no. 6, p. 313, fig. 133, pp. 83, 251, nos. 25–26, p. 326, fig. 211, p. 264, no. 14, p. 268, no. 15, p. 419; I. Bignamini, in London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 211–12, no. 159; D. Walker, in Philadelphia and Houston 2000, p. 242, no. 120. This is not, however, Faustina, as Marianne Roland Michel proposed (Marseille 2001, p. 96, no. 109). For the painting, see J. Ebeling, in Ottawa, Washington D.C. and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 308–09, no. 92, 372, with select previous literature listed. See Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 119–20, no. 42, fig. 114. Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 12, p. 86, no. 5856. Paris, Louvre. Méjanès 2006, p. 77, no. 33 and Ottawa and Caen 2011–12, pp. 140–41, no. 53. The connection was first noted by J. de Cayeux in Rome 1990–91, p. 191, under cat. no. 135. On Breteuil, see Yavchitz-Koehler 1987, pp. 369–78, Depasquale 2001, and Ottawa and Caen 2011–12, pp. 13–17 and 140–41, no. 53. Letter from Natoire to Marigny, 25 April 1759 (Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 11, pp. 272–73, no. 5346). For the drawings, see letter from Natoire to Marigny, 5 January 1763, Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 11, p. 455, no. 5636. Compositions by Robert are among the copies made in 1770 by Jean-Robert Ango (active 1759 – after 1773) after works in Breteuil’s collection (Choisel 1986, nos 23–26, 44, 80). Their close rapport was recorded by Robert’s friend, the painter Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun (Gabillot 1895, pp. 80–81). Breteuil owned antique works as well as copies after the antique by contemporary artists. Some are recorded in drawings by Ango (Choisel 1986, nos. 29, 45, 47, 51, 54–57, 71–72, 74–75, 83 and 125) including a small bronze Venus Pudica, no. 56, and a copy by Laurent Guiard (1723–88) after the Venus Calllypige from the Farnese collec- tion (no. 75). Additional antique works and copies are listed in Breteuil’s posthumous sale in Paris of 16 January 1786, including a copy of the Gladiator by Luc-François Breton (1731–1800), no. 135, and a copy of the bust of Germanicus in the Capitoline, no. 143. Although no bust of Faustina is listed, he may have owned the copy that Robert draws in the present drawing. Gabillot 1895, pp. 61, 81–82. Letter from Natoire to Marigny, 5 January 1763 and another from Marigny to Natoire, 20 February 1763. Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 11, p. 455, no. 5636 and p. 462, no. 5649. J.-P. Cuzin, in Paris 2000–01, p. 373, no. 178. Michel 1998–2000, pp. 60, 62, fig. 13. Sold Galerie Charpentier, Paris, 21 March 1952, lot 52. Present whereabouts unknown. 163  of 1765. 162 12 Certain decorative features in the painting – the  18. Hubert Robert (Paris 1733–1808 Paris) The Roman Studio of Bartolomeo Cavaceppi c. 1764–65 Black chalk, 339 × 443 mm Inscribed verso l.r. in pencil: ‘Salon de 1783 / No. 61 Intérieur d’un atelier à Rome / dans lequel on restaure des statues / antiques / Cet atelier est pratiqué et construit / dans les debris d’un ancien temple / 5 pieds de large sur 3 pieds 9 pounces de haut’ watermark: A coat of arms, possibly containing a star, three hills and the initials ‘CB’ below, surmounted by a Cardinal’s hat with tassels on each side (see Heawood 1950, nos 791–99). provenance: Charles Albert de Burlet (1882–1956), Berlin, around 1910; Sold Galerie Fischer, Lucerne, 13 November 2006, lot 1944; Private collection, Switzerland, in 2006; Le Claire Kunst, Hamburg, in 2011; Sold Villa Grisebach, Berlin, 28 November 2013, lot 307R, from whom acquired. literature: Le Claire Kunst 2011, no. 13 (unpaginated), repr.; Yarker and Hornsby 2012-13, pp. 65–66, fig. 37; Körner 2013, lot 307R, repr. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2013-030  A visit to the studio of Bartolomeo Cavaceppi (1716–99) the sculptor, dealer, antiquarian, collector and especially, restorer of ancient sculpture was essential for any serious art tourist or collector in Rome on the Grand Tour.1 Known as the ‘Museo Cavaceppi’, by the 1770s it was listed in guide- books as among the top sights of the Eternal City.2 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832), who lived nearby, and visited it in 1788 noted that one could experience in the studio ancient sculpture from close proximity in all its gran- deur and beauty.3 The painters, Henry Fuseli (1741–1825) and Giovanni Casanova (1728/30–1795) and the sculptor, Antonio Canova (1757–1822), also came to see the collection.4 The ‘Museo’ was an international meeting place, frequented by many artists including the English sculptor, Joseph Nollekens, who worked for Cavaceppi as an assistant in the 1760s, and the English painter, Charles Grignoin, who resided with him in 1787.5 Strategically located between the Spanish Steps and the Piazza del Popolo and thus in the social hub of Rome, the sprawling workshop was graced by European royalty – Catherine the Great, Maria Christina, Duchess of Teschen, Princess Sophia Albertina of Sweden, her brother, King Gustav III – and a steady stream of English Grand Tourists like Charles Townley (see cat. 28), many of whom became important clients.6 From a modest background, Cavaceppi trained as a sculp- tor before enrolling in the Accademia di San Luca in 1732. Two years later, Cardinal Alessandro Albani (1692–1779), the nephew of Pope Clement XI and then the most respected private collector of antiquities in Rome, appointed Cavaceppi as his personal restorer. The association brought him many profitable commissions from foreign tourists for whom he found antique statues, restored them, or made copies, in marble or plaster. He also created original works, rarely signed, that were often confused with authentic antique originals. Through his friend, the art historian and archaeol- 164 ogist, Johann Joachim Winckelman (1717–68), who, in 1764, published The History of Art in Antiquity (Geschichte der Kunst des Alterthums), Cavaceppi secured many English clients, taken with the current mania for classical antiquity. He later served as chief restorer to the Pope at the Museo Clementino and was made Knight of the Golden Spur in 1770. In 1768 Cavaceppi published the first volume of his Raccolta d’antiche statue, busti, teste cognite ed altre sculture antiche con- taining sixty plates of antique statues that had been repaired in his studio, often ‘corrected’ with missing or broken parts filled in. Over half of these had been acquired by English collectors.7 A year later, he published the second volume, essentially a promotional catalogue with works available for purchase, followed by a third in 1772. Illustrating a total of 196 works, these influential volumes, the first of their kind, helped to satisfy the seemingly insatiable demand for unblemished antique sculpture – free of fragmentary vestiges or other perceived flaws – and to encourage an emerging neo-classical aesthetic. For modern scholars they serve as an indispensible tool for identifying works he restored. By 1756 Cavaceppi established his vast studio on the Via del Babbuino, a workshop and showroom. Cavaceppi employed a range of skilled and unskilled workers with different roles and specialisations, fifteen of whom have been identified by name, with Giuseppe Angelini and Carlo Albacini being the most accomplished.8 The frontispiece to the first volume of Cavaceppi’s Raccolta provides a fascinating look at his active studio with assistants exercising different techniques of restoration and antiques in various stages of completion (fig. 1). It offers a glimpse at what must have been a sprawling complex of rooms with distinctive architectural details – high ceilings, lattice windows and an enfilade of vaulted archways connecting each room, one leading to an open garden courtyard at the back.9 165       Fig. 1. View of Cavaceppi’s Roman Studio, engraving, in Raccolta d’antiche statue, vol. 1, frontispiece, Rome, 1768. Photo: Warburg Institute, London Hubert Robert certainly encountered Cavaceppi during his Roman sojourn, 1754–65 (see cat. 17), and visited his studio on occasion, as this drawing testifies. Executed in soft black chalk, it offers a view of one of the many rooms in the Cavaceppi workshop. As in the engraving, there is a high ceiling with lattice windows, statues and blocks of stone are scattered about, and affixed to the wall on the left, is the same type of wooden structure and lead point suspended on a cord used for measuring sculpture.10 With a chisel in one hand and a mallet in the other, a restorer dressed in formal attire, perhaps Cavaceppi himself, is busy worker-cutting on the cascading drapery of an enormous statue of an armless woman. We can identify this as Cavaceppi’s studio with virtual certainty as two works in the drawing were illustrated in perhaps Cavaceppi himself, working on a female bust (fig. 6). Captivated by the theme of the artist at work, Robert would return to the subject of the restorer’s studio. In 1783 he successfully showed the impressive, rather generically entitled, The Studio of an Antiquities Restorer in Rome at the Salon (Toledo Museum of Art), which, though clearly an idealised vision featuring some of the most famous antique works of the day (including the River Nile, Cupid and Psyche, etc.), is also a wistful reminiscence of the artist’s own Roman years and passionate study of antique statuary: a diminutive figure of an artist sketching is visible in the foreground.18 In another little-known privately owned picture attributed to Robert, well-clad visitors admire antique statues in a sculptor’s studio while the ubiquitous artist is seen drawing (fig. 7). Though certain features suggest the small painting may also represent Cavaceppi’s studio, as with the Toledo canvas, topographical exactitude is tempered with a more generalised, romantic – and highly saleable view – of remnants from Rome’s ancient. For his life and work, see especially Howard 1970, Howard 1982, London 1983, Howard 1991, Gasparri and Ghiandoni 1994, Rome 1994, Piva 2000, Barr 2008, Weiss and Dostert 2000, Bignamini and Hornsby 2010, pp. 252–55; Piva 2010–11, C. Piva in Rome 2010–11, pp. 418–19, no. IV.1 and Meyer and Piva 2011, pp. 149–55 (for essential bibliography). Howard 1988, p. 479; Piva 2000, p. 5; Barr 2008, p. 86. Goethe 1827–42, p. 540, cited in C. Piva in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 418–19, no. IV.1. Piva 2000, pp. 6, 17, note 4; Honour and Mariuz 2007, pp. 26, 60–63. For Nollekens, see Howard 1964, pp. 177–89; Coltman 2003, pp. 371–96. For Grignoin, see Ingamells 1997, pp. 433–34. Howard 1988, p. 479. For Cavaceppi’s works from British collections, see London 1983. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 68. Barr 2008, p. 104 and p. 184, Appendix B. Some of the same topographical details are discernible in a little-known floor plan of the building (Piva 2000, p. 10, fig. 7). For more on this device and an engraving demonstrating its use (published by D. Diderot and J. le Rond d’Alembert in the Encyclopédie in 1765), see Myssok 2010, pp. 272–73, fig. 13.2. As first noted by Stefan Körner (Körner 2013, under lot 307R). Ibid., under lot lot 307R; U. Müller-Kaspar, in Hüneke 2009, p. 416, no. 270. Körner 2013, under lot lot 307R; U. Müller-Kaspar, in Hüneke 2009, p. 430, no. 283. Müller-Kaspar 2009, p. 395. D. Kreikenbom, in Hüneke 2009, pp. 578–79, no. 357. According to Winckelmann, many statues (including Kalliope and possibly also Lucilla) were acquired by Bianconi in 1766 from the sale of Cavaliere Pietro Natali’s collection in Rome. Conceivably, they were brought to Cavaceppi’s studio while they were still in Natali’s possession (Müller- Kaspar 2009, p. 395; U. Müller-Kaspar, in Hüneke 2009, pp. 416, 430). Marseille 2001, p. 96, no. 109. Guiffrey 1869–72, vol. 32, p.25, no. 61: ‘L’intérieur d’un Attelier à Rome, dans lequel on restaure des statues antiques. Cet Attelier est pratiqué & construit dans les debris d’un ancien Temple’. Fig. 2. Lucilla Sotto sembianza d’Urania, anch’essa or esistente in Germania, engraving in Raccolta d’antiche statue, vol. 1, Rome, 1768, pl. 58. Photo: Warburg Institute, London Fig. 3. Kore as Urania, body, Antonine, c. 150 ad after a Greek model, 4th century bc; head, 160–170 ad; marble, 270 cm (h), Berlin, SMBPK, Antikensammlung, Sk 379 in the drawing, to the right, the muse Kalliope, lost in Berlin during World War II, was also restored by Cavaceppi (figs 4–5).13 Both were acquired in 1766 by the Bolognese doctor and antiquarian, Giovanni Ludovico Bianconi, another friend of Winkelmann’s, for King Frederick William II of Prussia and assigned to Cavaceppi for restoration before being sent to the Sansssouci Palace in Potsdam in 1767.14 The child’s sarcophagus visible in the drawing on the left wall is also similar to that preserved today in Charlottenhof Palace in Potsdam though it does not appear in the Raccolta.15 The dating of Robert’s drawing is problematic as in 1766, the year Lucilla and Kalliope were acquired by Bianconi, the Fig. 4. Kalliope, engraving in Raccolta d’antiche statue, vol. 1, Rome, 1768, pl. 45. Photo: Warburg Institute, London Fig. 5. Kalliope, Roman, marble, 98 cm, formerly Berlin, SMBPK, Antikensammlung, Sk 600, lost c. 1945 Fig. 6. Hubert Robert, L’Atelier du restaurateur de sculptures antiques, black chalk, 368 × 323 mm, Château Borély, Marseilles, Inv. 68-194 painter was already back in Paris, having left Rome in July 1765. However, it seems highly likely that the works were lodged in Cavaceppi’s studio before their acquisition and, indeed, they are drawn in their pre-restoration state.16 During the same period Robert probably made the black chalk drawing now in Marseille showing an antiquities restorer, 17 Fig. 7. Hubert Robert, Studio of a Sculpture Restorer, oil on panel, 13 × 10 cm, private collection. Photo: Witt Library   his Raccolta. 166 11 One of them, the monumental female statue in the centre, re-appears in the publication, with arms added and an entirely different head (fig. 2). Cavaceppi identified her as Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelius, with the attrib- utes of Urania, the muse of Astronomy (‘Lucilla Sotto sembian- za d’Urania, anch’essa or esistente in Germania’). A staggering 220-cm in height she is preserved today, with further restorations, in Berlin (fig. 3).12 The seated figure behind her past. avl 167  19. Georg Martin Preissler (Nürnberg 1700–54 Nürnberg) after Giovanni Domenico Campiglia (Lucca 1692–1775 Rome) Self-Portrait of Campiglia Drawing 1739 Engraving, first state (before the lettering) 226 × 167 mm (image); 315 × 223 mm (sheet) Inscribed l.l. below image in pencil: ‘Campiglia se ipse del.’; l.r.: in pencil: ‘G. M. Preisler.Sc.Nor.; and l.c. in pencil: ‘Joh. Dominicus Campiglia, / Pictor Florent. Delineator / Musei Fiorentini.’ provenance: Trinity Fine Art, London, 1999, from whom acquired. literature: Le Blanc 1854–88, vol. 3, p. 244, no. 6, ‘Campiglia (Giov. – Dom.). 1739. In – fol. -1er état : avant le lettere.’ exhibitions: London 1999b, p. 8, no. 16, not repr. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 1999–054  A prolific and accomplished draughtsman, painter and reproductive engraver, Campiglia was a central figure in promoting and disseminating images of the Antique during the middle decades of the 18th century and therefore, is a key figure in the present exhibition.1 His formative years were spent training with his uncle and local painters in Lucca, Bologna and Florence where he studied drawing, as well as anatomy and perspective and made copies after the Old Masters. By 1716, he was residing in Rome studying the most important collections of antique sculpture. That year he received a first prize for painting and for drawings to illustrate a booklet for the Accademia di San Luca. He was already respected for his wide culture and his work was admired by English collectors like Richard Topham, who esteemed his refined and highly finished chalk studies of antique sculpture, as well as his portraits.2 His close involve- ment in two lavishly illustrated and highly successful and influential publications largely devoted to antique sculpture – the Museum Florentinum and the Museo Capitolino (cat. 20) – brought him lasting fame and consolidated the taste for classical antiquity that continued through the rest of the 18th century and beyond.3 In the early 1730s the Florentine antiquarian, Anton Francesco Gori (1691–1757), began to assemble a set of vol- umes that aimed to provide a visual record of the art collec- tions of Florence, mainly those of the Medici, the ruling dynasty. He commissioned Campiglia, already in the city in 1726, and others to make drawings of the works selected to be engraved. The Museum Florentinum was published between 1731 and 1766. It comprised twelve large volumes divided into four parts: Gemmae antiquae ex Thesauro Mediceo et privatorum dactyliothecis florentiae..., devoted to engraved gems (1731–32); Statuae antiquae deorum et virorum illustrium, on antique statues and monuments (1734), Antiqua numismata aurea et argentea, dedicated to ancient coins (1740–42) and, lastly, Serie di ritratti degli eccellenti pittori, illustrating 320 portraits of prominent artists, published in 1752–66. This last volume, based on art- ists’ self-portraits in the Uffizi’s collection, is of particular relevance here, as we shall see later. This rare engraving by Preissler, hitherto unpublished and known only in a single impression of the first state, is probably based on a now untraced self-portrait of Campiglia.4 Without explanation, Le Blanc dates the print to 1739 – when the artist was 47.5 Wearing an ermine collar with a crisp, white, open-necked shirt and directly engaging the viewer, he presents himself as straightforward, successful and brim- ming with confidence. Assuming that Le Blanc’s date is cor- rect, the print appeared at time when Campiglia was enjoying considerable success. The first two parts of the Museum Florentinum had already been published, he had begun work on the Capitolino in 1735 (see cat. 20) and, precisely in 1739, he had been appointed Superintendent of the Calcografia Camerale, the papal printing press. These successes culmi- nated in his nomination for membership of the Accademia di San Luca in November of that same year.6 Resting a sheet of paper against a drawings portfolio held in his left hand, with his right hand he is drawing with a porte-crayon a model of the Belvedere Antinous standing on the table before him (fig. 1). At the statue’s feet is a figurine of a herm with the head of a youth, perhaps Mercury, and two medals, one showing a man holding a lyre, who may be Homer.7 It is not surprising that Campiglia, whose reputation was established through skilfully reproducing artefacts from the ancient world, should present himself with the Belvedere Antinous, one of the most celebrated statues to survive from antiquity. Renowned since its discovery in the 16th century and for its placement in the Belvedere court, it soon ranked among the most famous statues of Rome.8 Casts of the statue of the handsome youth, the lover of the Roman emperor, Hadrian, who drowned himself in the Nile and was deified by 168same year.6 Resting a sheet of paper against a drawings portfolio held in his left hand, with his right hand he is drawing with a porte-crayon a model of the Belvedere Antinous standing on the table before him (fig. 1). At the statue’s feet is a figurine of a herm with the head of a youth, perhaps Mercury, and two medals, one showing a man holding a lyre, who may be Homer.7 It is not surprising that Campiglia, whose reputation was established through skilfully reproducing artefacts from the ancient world, should present himself with the Belvedere Antinous, one of the most celebrated statues to survive from antiquity. Renowned since its discovery in the 16th century and for its placement in the Belvedere court, it soon ranked among the most famous statues of Rome.8 Casts of the statue of the handsome youth, the lover of the Roman emperor, Hadrian, who drowned himself in the Nile and was deified by 168 169  adopts the same pose in the print as he did for his person- ification of painting in the little-known Il Genio della Pittura of around 1739–40 in the Accademia Nazionale di San Luca (fig. 2).13 The chalk holder becomes a paint brush and the drawings portfolio a canvas. Not coincidentally, Campiglia seems to have donated this painting as his entry work to the Academy c. 1740, about contemporary with the present engraving.14 He cleverly fuses iconographic elements in an amusing black chalk study of c. 1737–38 in the British Museum (fig. 3) acquired by Charles Frederick (1709–85) while in Rome on the Grand Tour, where he depicts himself drawing in the company of a seated monkey who playfully holds up a paint brush, a clear allegorical reference to art imitating nature or ‘art as the ape of nature’ as Aristotle describes it in the Poetics.15 Characterised as ‘a very well-bred communica- tive man’, Campiglia and his portraits were enormously popular with English collectors.16 Campiglia made several other self-portraits throughout his career.17 Of particular relevance is the painting made around 1766 for his pupil and collaborator, Pietro Antonio Pazzi (c. 1706–after 1766) and now in the Uffizi.18 It shows the artist at ease, his hands casually resting on his ever-present portfolio. The picture appears, like so many of the Uffizi self-portraits, as an engraving by the same Pazzi in the final volume of the Museum Florentinum (fig. 4).19 In Pazzi’s engraving the format and central image dimensions are nearly identical to our print of Campiglia by Georg Martin Preissler, who, not coincidentally, engraved other portrait plates in the Museum Florentinum. Furthermore, the pencil lettering, Joh. Dominicus Campiglia, / Pictor Florent. Delineator, beneath the image in our engraving is similar in style and format to the engraved inscriptions accompanying the other portraits in the book. Also telling is the final pencil inscription, Delineator Musei Fiorentini, under his name in the print. All this evidence strongly suggests that Campiglia intended to use the present image for the Museum Florentinum – and had it engraved by Preissler for that purpose – but he decided not to use it. Perhaps it served as a kind of test-print for the engraved self-portraits in the volume. Although the portrait series was not published until 1752–66, by 1739, Gori and Campiglia would already have started to plan the format of the later sections. Interestingly, Charles Le Blanc similarly describes Preissler’s engravings of Dürer, Eglon van der Neer, Rubens and Raphael, all destined for the Museum Florentinum, as first states ‘before the lettering’.20 But whatever our print’s true purpose, by the time the portrait volumes appeared, Campiglia, then well into his sixties and in the twilight of his career opted to present a more recent and relaxed version of himself. avl Fig. 2. Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, Genius of Painting, c. 1739–40, oil on canvas, 48 × 63.3 cm, Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome, Inv. 0075 Fig. 3. Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, Self-Portrait of Campiglia Drawing, with a Monkey Seated on the Table at Left, c. 1737–38, black chalk, 417 × 258 mm, Department of Prints and Drawings, British Museum, London, 1865,0114.820 Fig. 4. Pietro Antonio Pazzi after Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, Self-Portrait of Campiglia, engraving in Museum Florentinum, Florence, vol. 12, 1766, plate XXII, 274 × 176 mm (plate), Sir John Soane’s Museum Library, London, 2848     Fig. 1. Belvedere Antinous, Roman copy of the Hadrianic period (117–138 ad) from a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 195 cm (h), Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 907 the grief-stricken emperor, were produced almost immedi- ately after its discovery and copies in marble and bronze were made through the 17th century.9 Considered to embody perfection, according to Bellori the statue was the subject of studies in ideal proportion by François Duquesnoy (1597– 1643) and Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665) (p. 47, fig. 68). The figure had wide-reaching appeal to collectors and connois- seurs, and enticed a range of artists, who, from the 16th century included it in portraits.10 During the 18th century small-scale models in bronze or marble, like that seen in the engraving, were produced in large numbers with ‘restored’ arms, as seen here. Archaeologist and art historian, Winckelmann, no doubt contributed to the statue’s elevated status even more with his claim, ‘our Nature will not easily create a body as perfect as that of the Antinous admir- andus’.11 The widely held belief that the statue was the embodiment of ideal beauty would be upheld into the 19th century: even the usually acerbic William Hogarth admitted its proportions were ‘the most perfect . . . of any of the antique statues’.12 Campiglia was not shy and his other self-portraits make a compelling comparison with this one. Interestingly, he 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 For essential biography, see Prosperi Valenti 1974, pp. 539–41; Quieto 1984a; Quieto 1984b. Through his agent, Francesco Ferdinano Imperiali, Topham commis- sioned Campiglia and others, including the young Pompeo Batoni, to make dozens, if not hundreds of drawings with the aim of systematically illus- trating Roman collections of antiquities. Many of these drawings are now preserved at Eton College. See Connor Bulman 2002, pp. 343–57 and Windsor 2013, pp. 11, 14–15. The corpus of his drawings for the Museum Florentinum are in the Uffizi in Florence (Quieto 1984b, p. 10) and for the Museo Capitolino, in the Istituto Nazionale per la Grafica in Rome (Quieto 1984b, pp. 10, 17–26, 29–36; I. Sgarbozza in Rome 2010–11b, p. 402, no. II.15a-b). It is listed by C. Le Blanc (1854–88, vol. 3, p. 244, no. 6) among the prints by G. M. Preissler: ‘Campiglia (Giov. – Dom.). 1739. In – fol. -1er état : avant le lettere. Frauenholz, 4 flor.’ To the knowledge of the present writer, no impression of the second state exists nor, for that matter, has either state previously been published or discussed. The name and price Le Blanc men- tions – Frauenholz, 4 florins – refer to the Nuremberg-based print dealer and publisher, Johann Friedrich Frauenholz (1758–1822), who may have owned the catalogued impression and who sold (or acquired) it for the price of 4 florins. While it is possible that the present impression is the one described, none of Frauenholz’s collector’s marks or inscriptions (L. 951, L. 994, L. 1044 and L. 1458) appear on it. Campiglia’s relatively youthful appearance suggests the drawn or painted original may have been executed a decade or so earlier. He was proposed by Sebastiano Conca on 15 November 1739 and his mem- bership confirmed, 3 January 1740 (Quieto 1983, p. 3). As noted by Eloisa Dodero (personal communication), the herm is similar to the one seen in the background of Campiglia and Pazzi’s engraving, Students Copying Antiquities at the Capitoline Museum (see following entry, cat. no. 20). 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 Haskell and Penny (1981, pp. 139–42, no. 4) give a full account of the sculp- ture’s history and reception. See also Krahn 1996. See V. Krahn in Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 403–04, no. 9. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 142 and Krahn 1996. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 142; and Winckelmann 1968, p. 153. Hogarth 1753, pp. 81–83. Faldi 1977, pp. 504, 508, fig. 8. Quieto 1983, p. 5; Rome 1968, p. 22, no. 5. Liverpool 1994-95, p. 72, no. 19. Ibid., p. 72. Gentleman’s Magazine 1853, vol. 40, p. 237, as quoted by H. Macandrew 1978, p. 138. Painted self-portraits are in the Palazzo Altieri, Viterbo (formerly Faldi collection, Rome; Quieto 1983, pp. 5–6, 8, fig. 3, c. 1726–28), the Lemme collection, Rome (ibid., 1983, pp. 5, 7–8, fig. 4, 1732–34). See also the two mentioned in note 18, below. Drawn self-portraits of a later date have appeared on the London art market: Chaucer Fine Arts, 2003 (London 2003a, no. 12), Christie’s, December 6, 2012, lot 56 and Christie’s, April 21 1998, lot 126. See Quieto 1983, pp. 4–5, fig. 2 and Quieto 2007, pp. 93–94, fig. 27. As that author noted, it reprises the composition of an earlier work painted for the Accademia di San Luca (1983, p. 5, cover). Although in 1766 the painting was not yet in the Uffizi – it was not left by Pazzi to the Grand Ducal collection until 1768 (Quieto 1983, p. 5) – it is likely that at that date he had already planned to bequeath it, given the self- portraits in the Museum Florentinum are based on the Uffizi’s collection. Le Blanc 1854–88, vol. 3, p. 244, nos. 8, 23, 28, 30. Interestingly, Le Blanc indicates that the Dürer and Raphael were also once owned by Frauenholz. It seems that all these early first states were in a folio together. 170 171  20. Pietro Antonio Pazzi (Florence c. 1706 – after 1766 Florence) after Giovanni Domenico Campiglia (Lucca 1692–1775 Rome) Students Copying Antiquities at the Capitoline Museum 1755 Engraving in Giovanni Gaetano Bottari, Musei Capitolini, vol. 3, Rome, 1755, p. 1 99 × 186 mm (plate), 444 × 287 mm (sheet) Inscribed l.l.: ‘Gio. Dom. Campiglia inv. e disegn.’; and l. r.: ‘P. Ant. Pazzi incis.’ provenance: Robert Adam (1728–92); his sale, Christie’s, London, 20–21 May 1818; purchased by Sir John Soane (1753–1837), not listed in the Christie’s sale catalogue (according to hand list, Sir John Soane’s Museum, Priv. Corr. XVI.E.3.12: ‘Books purchased at Mr Adam’s sale’). literature: Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 84, fig. 46; Lyon 1998–99, pp. 109–10, under no. 89, not repr. (A. Themelly); Paris 2000–01, p. 370, fig. 2; Macsotay 2010, p. 194, fig. 9.3.  exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Sir John Soane’s Museum Library, London, 4033 exhibited in london only Few images capture the process of learning to draw after the Antique in 18th-century Rome as vividly as Campiglia and Pazzi’s densely populated engraving. More readily accessible than the Belvedere Courtyard in the Vatican (cats 5 and 6) and the private aristocratic collections, such as the Borghese and Farnese (cats 6 and 21), the Capitoline Museum was the ideal venue for students to draw in situ from some of the most celebrated antiquities preserved in Rome. Founded in 1471 with Pope Sixtus IV’s (r. 1471–84) dona- tion of several important ancient bronzes – the She Wolf, the colossal bronze head and hand of Constantine, the Spinario and the Camillus – all preserved until then in the Lateran Palace, the Capitoline grew in time to become one of the largest and most prestigious collections of classical antiqui- ties ever assembled in Rome.1 In 1734, in conjunction with the recent acquisition of the celebrated collection of Cardinal Alessandro Albani, and thanks to the enlightened policy of Pope Clement XII (r. 1730–40), the Capitoline opened as a public museum.2 Established with the two-fold civic and educational purpose of preserving and making accessible to the public the city’s antiquities and to cultivate ‘the practice and advancement of young students of the Liberal Arts’, the museum soon became a lure for Italian and foreign antiquar- ians and artists alike.3 The didactic function of the museum was emphasised further by Pope Benedict XIV (r. 1740–58) with the opening of the Pinacoteca Capitolina in 1748, the first public collection of painting in Rome, and, in 1754, the establishment of the Accademia del Nudo.4 The Capitoline thus became the first public museum in Europe in the modern sense of the word and an ideal academy where art students could copy concurrently from the Antique, Old Master paintings and the live model. The museum’s educational mission was sanctioned by its growing associa- tion with the Accademia di San Luca. Academy members 172 presided over the life classes at the Accademia del Nudo (Campiglia directed classes there in April 1757 and November 1760)5 and prizes for the student competitions at the Accademia di San Luca, the Concorsi, were awarded in sump- tuous ceremonies in the rooms of the Capitoline palaces.6 This image is the engraved vignette that introduces the volume devoted to ancient statues of the Musei Capitolini, an ambitious publication produced with the pedagogical intent of spreading knowledge of the museum and its collection of antiquities.7 Conceived by Cardinal Neri Maria Corsini, the nephew of Pope Clement XII, it consisted of large engraved plates (fig. 1), all based on designs by Campiglia, accompa- nied by a substantial commentary by the antiquarian Giovanni Gaetano Bottari (1689–1775); both artist and writer had worked together previously on the monumental Museum Florentinum (cat. 19). First published in Italian as Del Museo Capitolino (4 vols, Rome, 1741–82) and then translated into Latin as Musei Capitolini (4 vols, Rome, 1750–82) in order to reach a wider foreign audience, the large volumes can be Fig. 1. Carlo Gregori after Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, The Dying Gladiator, engraving, 202 × 300 mm, plate 68 from Giovanni Gaetano Bottari, Musei Capitolini, vol. 3, Rome, 1755  173  considered the first systematic catalogue of a public museum.8 The prestige of the publication, the clarity and neatness of the illustrations – produced by many of the engravers who, like Pietro Antonio Pazzi, had participated in the Museum Florentinum – soon made it a celebrated and indispensible reference work that greatly contributed to the diffusion of the classical taste in Europe. It was a familiar presence in the libraries of connoisseurs and artists as this copy, owned by Sir John Soane (1753–1837) and before him by Robert Adam (1728–92), testifies. The engraving is a celebration of the new educational role of the museum and its association with the Academy of San Luca, of which Campiglia had been a member since 1740 (see cat. 19). In a crowded space, a group of students is seen sketching and modelling in clay after two of the most famous statues that had been recently acquired for the museum: the so-called Dying Gladiator (fig. 2) and the Capitoline Antinous (fig. 3), now believed to represent respectively a Gaul and Hermes. The former, discovered around 1623, and already famous in the 17th century when it was in the Ludovisi collection, had been acquired in 1737 by Clement XII for the 9 Capitoline. Placed at the centre of the composition, with Fig. 2. The Dying Gladiator, Roman copy of a Pergamene original of the 3rd century bc, marble, 93 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC0747 Fig. 3. The Capitoline Antinous, Roman copy of the 2nd century ad of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 180 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC0741 the young artists assembled in a semi-circle around it as if in a life class, the Gladiator invited analysis and study of the male anatomy in a complex pose, as well as offering an example of a noble and heroic death. The Capitoline Antinous, recorded in Cardinal Albani’s possession from 1733, had been acquired with the rest of the Cardinal’s collection in the same year and was displayed in the museum a few years later.10 Quickly eclipsing the Belvedere Antinous (see p. 26, fig. 22 and cat. 19, fig. 1), it represented a perfect image of the male body in its youth. It is not by chance that the young students are focusing on these two statues among the many towering over them in the room, for the Dying Gladiator and the Capitoline Antinous were the chosen subjects for the third class of the Concorso Clementino – reserved for the copy – either drawing or modelling – usually after the Antique, organised by the Accademia di San Luca for the year 1754 (fig. 4).11 But if the engraving alludes to a contemporary event, the establishment of the museum as a ‘Scuola del Disegno’,12 it is also a capriccio, as it gathers together sculptures that were in fact displayed elsewhere in various rooms and collections, much as Hubert Robert would do in his beautiful red chalk drawing of almost ten years later (p. 56, fig. 96). The Dying Gladiator, the Capitoline Antinous and the two stand- ing statues behind him, the Antinous Osiris and the Wounded Amazon, could all be admired and studied in the privileged space of the Salone of the Palazzo Nuovo, which housed some of the best masterpieces of the collection.13 The so- called Albani Crater, half visible on the far left, and the seated Agrippina behind the Antinous, were however, displayed elsewhere in the Palazzo Nuovo, respectively in the Stanza del Vaso and in the Stanza dell’Ercole.14 Moreover, Campiglia did not confine himself to depicting only works from the Capitoline collections: even more out of place are the two figures on the right, who turn their backs to Fig. 4. Giovanni Casanova, Drawing of the Capitoline Antinous (third award for the third class in painting of the Concorso Clementino), 1754, red chalk on brown prepared paper, 510 × 290 mm, Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome, inv. A.380 Fig. 5. Giovanni Paolo Panini, View of Ancient Rome or Roma Antica, detail, c.1755, oil on canvas, 169.5 × 227 cm, Staatsgalerie Stuttgart inv. Nr. 3315 us as if to signify that they belong elsewhere. These are the much revered Antinous Belvedere and the Venus de’ Medici – dis- played at that time respectively in the Vatican and in the Tribuna of the Uffizi.15 Their presence here probably served to sanction and affirm the canonical status of their Capitoline companions, all recently excavated or acquired. What we see is therefore a symbolic space, where reality and fantasy are combined to legitimise and promote the relatively new collection of the museum. The volumes of the Musei Capitolini served as a reference tool for many artists and no doubt inspired the scene showing young students drawing the Dying Gladiator in the foreground of Giovanni Paolo Panini’s renowned View of Ancient Rome (fig. 5, and p. 53, fig. 92), the first version of which, not coincidentally, was painted at about the same Fig. 6. Carlo Gregori after Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, Young Artists Copying the ‘Arrotino’, engraving, 118 × 151 mm, page 225 in Anton Francesco Gori, Museum Florentinum . . . , vol. 8, Florence, 1754 time as the publication of this particular volume. Campiglia devised similar graceful allegorical vignettes for the contemporary volumes of the Museum Florentinum.16 One in particular, engraved by Carlo Gregori (1719–59), seems to be the Florentine counterpart of the Roman image, showing students sketching the Arrotino, surrounded by the symbols of the arts and books on anatomy and geometry (fig. 6).17 Although in the second half of the 18th century access to the museum sometimes proved difficult due to lack of personnel, and while artists had to go through the bureau- cratic process of applying to the papal camerlengo or to the director of the museum for licence to make copies, the Capitoline remained one of the most popular sites among artists and travellers, as the many views of its interiors testify (pp. 55–56, figs 94–96).For recent and brief introductions on the history of the Capitoline collec- tions, with previous bibliography, see Parisi Presicce 2010; Paul 2012. On the early years of the Capitoline as a public museum see Arata 1994; Franceschini and Vernesi 2005; Arata 2008. Document dated 5 December 1733 quoted in Arata 1994, p. 75. On the Pinacoteca see Marinetti and Levi 2014. On the Accademia del Nudo see Pietrangeli 1959; Pietrangeli 1962; MacDonald 1989; Barroero 1998. On Campiglia’s supervision of life classes at the Accademia del Nudo see Pirrotta 1969. On the Concorsi see Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91; Rome, University Park (PA) and elsewhere 1989–90; Cipriani 2010–11. See Quieto 1984b; Kieven 1998; Philadelphia and Houston 2000, pp. 484– 86, no. 329 (S. Prosperi Valenti Rodinò); Rome 2004, pp. 96–108, nos 1–7 (A. Gallottini); Rome 2010–11b, p. 401, no. II.14 (I. Sgarbozza). Campiglia started working on his designs for the plates in 1735: see Franceschini and Vernesi 2005, pp. 59–60. See Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 224–27, no. 44; Mattei 1987; La Rocca and Parisi Presicce 2010, pp. 428–35. See Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 143–44, no. 5; La Rocca and Parisi Presicce 2010, pp. 500–01. The statue was exhibited in the museum from 1739 or 1742. Cipriani and Valeriani 1988-91, vol. 2, pp. 219–20, 228. While the 1754 prize drawings depicting the Antinous survive in the archives of the Accademia, the terracottas representing the Dying Gladiator are lost. The Dying Gladiator was also chosen as the subject for the third class in painting in 1758 and the Capitoline Antinous for the third class in sculpture in 1779, and in painting in 1783: ibid., vol. 3, pp. 9–22, 120, 129–30, 141–46. It was referred to as such in the award ceremony for the Concorso: see Belle Arti 1754, p. 36. On the Antinous-Osiris, donated to the museum by Benedict XIV in 1742 and from 1838 in the Vatican Museum, see Paris, Ottawa and elsewhere 1994– 95, pp. 78–79, no. 24 (M. Pantazzi). On the Wounded Amazon, acquired in 1733 as part of Albani collection, see Weber 1976, pp. 46–56. On the Albani Crater and its base, both previously in the Albani collection, see Grassinger 1991, pp. 189–90, no. 32. On the so-called Agrippina, already recorded in the Capitoline collections in 1566, see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 133–34, no. 1; Rome 2011, pp. 324–25, no. 5.9 (A. Avagliano). On their display at that time, see Venuti 1750, pp. 23, 30, 33–34; Arata 1994. For the Antinous Belvedere and the Venus de’ Medici see above p. 26, fig. 22 and p. 42, fig. 56. Many are found in volumes 8 to 12. On the so-called Arrotino or Knife Grinder, once in the Villa Medici in Rome and from 1680 in the Tribuna of the Uffizi see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 154–56, no. 11; Bober and Rubinstein 2010, pp. 83–84, no. 33. On access to the Capitoline Museum in the 18th century see Sgarbozza 2010–11.     174 175  21. Louis Chays (Aubagne c.1740–1811 Paris) The Courtyard of the Farnese Palace in Rome with the Hercules Farnese 1775 Pen and brown ink, brown wash, pencil and white gouache, 434 × 534 mm Inscribed recto, l.l., in pen and black ink: ‘chaÿs f. a rome 1775.’; and l.c., in pencil, possibly by different hand: ‘Cour du Palais Farnése’. provenance: Hippolyte Destailleur (1822–93) collection (no. 110). literature: Berckenhagen 1970, p. 394, no. 3027, repr.; Giuliano 1979, p. 100, fig. 13; Michel 1981b, p. 584, fig. 8; De Seta 1992, p. 240, repr.; Gasparri 2007, p. 53, fig. 45 and p. 178, no. 273.4; Macsotay 2010, p. 194; Göttingen 2013–14, p. 208, fig. 53.  exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Kunstbibliothek, Berlin, Hdz 3027 exhibited in london only Private aristocratic collections of antiquities in Rome contin- ued to attract large numbers of artists and visitors during the 18th century. The Farnese Palace, with its group of canon- ical ancient sculptures – the Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32) the Farnese Bull and the Farnese Flora among others – and its Gallery with the Loves of the Gods, the widely admired fresco cycle by Annibale Carracci (1560–1609), offered the ideal opportunity to copy the Antique and a tour de force of early 17th-century mythological decoration at the same time.1 Drawings after the famous Farnese statues by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498–1574), Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617) (see cat. 7), Annibale Carracci (see p. 43, fig. 58), Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640; see p. 46, fig. 67), Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665), Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641), Carlo Maratti (1625–1713; see p. 43, figs 60–61), Hubert Robert (1733–1808), Jacques Louis David (1748–1825) and Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1780– 1867), to name just a few, testify to the enduring fame of the palace and its legendary collection of antiquities among European artists residing in Rome.2 In the 18th century the palace went through changes of ownership, passing in 1731 from the Farnese to the Bourbon, but it remained a lively envi- ronment, with many artists and others residing in its rooms, and was readily accessible for those who wished to draw or model.3 Between 1786 and 1800 all the ancient statues of the collection were removed by the Bourbon King Ferdinand IV to Naples – where they can be seen today in the National Archaeological Museum – a decision that marked the end of the palace as a privileged place for studying the Antique.4 Louis Chays is one of the lesser-known figures among the French artists who gravitated towards the Académie de France in Rome in the 1770s. He studied at the Academy in Marseille under Jacques-Antoine Beaufort (1721–84), before moving to Rome thanks to the patronage of Louis-Joseph Borély, a wealthy Marseille merchant.5 His five years in Rome, between 1771 and 1776, were probably spent in the company of such pensionnaires of the Academy as Joseph-Benoît Suvée (1743–1807), Jean-Simon Berthélemy (1743–1811), Pierre- Adrien Pâris (1745–1819) and François-André Vincent (1746–1816). These young artists were of the same generation, they all arrived in Rome in 1771 and stayed there for a similar span of years. They seem to have travelled around the city and the Roman campagna as a group, sketching sites, ruins and landscapes, and they naturally shared a similar style and repertoire.6 The result of Chays’ artistic wanderings consists mainly of evocative drawings in the manner of Hubert Robert and Jean-Honoré Fragonard (1732–1806) though Chays’ drawings lack their characteristic vivacity. The corpus of his drawings is preserved in the Kunstbibliothek in Berlin.7 This study, with its companion, The Colonnade of St Peter’s Square, stands apart in Chays’ known graphic production in being a large-scale and highly finished pen-and-wash draw- ing.8 The lively view is the only known representation of groups of students, rather than just individuals, at work in the courtyard of the Palazzo Farnese; nor does the present writer know of any similar record of study in other private collections of antiquities in Rome. It is also an important historical document, being one of the last images to show the statues in their original location before their removal to Naples, from 1786 onwards. Chays cleverly chose a low view- point and an angle that allows for maximum drama: the receding pillars of the portico frame the focus of our atten- tion, the massive statue of the Farnese Hercules. We are standing in the shadowy passage leading to the gardens of the palace and we see the Hercules from behind, by then a view as successful as the front (see cats 7 and 16). Other images of the Hercules from the back in the Farnese courtyard had been produced decades earlier by Giovanni Paolo Panini (1691–1765) (fig. 1), Giacomo Quarenghi (1744–1817) (fig. 2) and Frédéric Cronstedt (1744–1829), and one wonders whether Chays had seen any of them.9 In any case, to animate his composition Chays certainly took inspiration from the many capricci by Panini where the Hercules towers over groups of wanderers and also from such drawings showing artists at 176 177    Fig. 1. Giovanni Paolo Panini, View of the Courtyard of the Palazzo Farnese with the ‘Hercules’ seen from Behind, c. 1730, pen and black and grey ink and wash, and coloured wash, heightened with white, 419 × 417 mm, private collection work in Rome produced by Charles-Joseph Natoire (see p. 55, fig. 94) or Hubert Robert (see p. 56, figs 95–97). We see here the usual cast of characters familiar from Robert’s drawings: a combination of artists, beggars, dogs, young children, and bystanders, some of them dressed in the current fashion, like the elegant aristocratic couple in the centre, no doubt accompanied by a tour guide or cicerone. Others are presented in all’antica dress, such as the beggar and muscular male student on the right, both of whom wear Roman togas and gaze intently at the sculpture from behind. But among the many visitors to the courtyard, the true protagonists are the students, busy at work, sketching on large sheets resting on drawing boards or modelling in clay, as in Campiglia’s and Pazzi’s engraving (cat. 20). Some focus on the Hercules, while others, seated on chairs or on the ground in the middle of the courtyard, turn towards the other star of the collection, the Farnese Flora, visible to the right of the Hercules.10 The entire palace seems to have been turned into an academy, with animated conversations taking place throughout: particularly intriguing is the lively discus- sion taking place around a large drawing in the central bay of the first floor loggia. In the distance, through the entrance vestibule on the lower right, we have a glimpse of the Piazza Farnese and the external world. While the technique in this drawing is precise and although the details are lively, the rendering of the architec- ture, which was evidently drawn first and before the figures were superimposed, is less successful. It is notable that the Fig. 2. Giacomo Quarenghi, View of the ‘Farnese Hercules’ in the Portico of the Courtyard of the Farnese Palace, c. 1775–79, pen and black ink and wash and coloured wash, 304 × 233 mm, private collection scale of the two sides of the courtyard visible behind the por- tico does not quite correspond. In fact, Chays’ real forte was landscape rather than accurate architectural views, although reasonably faithful depictions of the Villa Madama and other Roman buildings survive.11 Although this view is largely imaginary, it seems to evoke the spirit of the courtyard as it appeared to pupils of the Accademia di San Luca and pensionnairesof the Académie de France in Rome who frequented the palace regularly. Visits to grandiose palaces such as this must have left a lasting impression on these young students. The Accademia di San Luca sent its students around Rome to copy the Antique, especially on the occasion of academic competitions, the Concorsi.12 In the 18th century the Hercules and the Flora were chosen several times as subjects for the third class of the Concorso Clementino – reserved for the copy, a drawing or a model, usually after the Antique – and the students’ gather- ings in those occasions must have offered a scene as animated as that we see in Chays’ drawing.13 Most of the artists depicted here are sketching on large sheets of paper, generally reserved in the 18th century for academic drawings after the Antique, as seen also in Campiglia’s and Pazzi’s engraving (cat. 20).14 The Académie de France in Rome had been founded in 1666 with the specific intent of shaping the taste and manner of young artists ‘sur les originaux et les modèles des plus grands maîtres de l’Antiquité et des siècles derniers’ and of furnishing the royal gardens at Versailles with copies of the most famous antiquities from Rome.15 Although the direct copy from antique statuary had been neglected for certain periods since the Académie’s founding, it had once again gained a central place in the official curriculum of the pensionnaires during the direc- torates of Nicolas Vleughels (1725–37) and Charles-Joseph Natoire (1751–75) (see cat. 16). Although no surviving drawings after the Antique by Chays are known, he probably produced them as he spent considerable time in Rome copying Old Master paintings, such as those by Raphael, Titian and Guido Reni.16 He returned to Marseilles in 1776 and spent the following years decorating the château of his patron, today the Musée Borély, where he put into practice the lessons and skills he had acquired in Rome.17 After becoming one of the professors of the Académie in Marseilles, Chays participated in the Revolution and as sergeant-major took part in 1790 in the occupation of the fort of Notre-Dame de la Garde by the Garde National.18 He later published a collection of etchings some of which he based on the views that he had assembled in his Roman years.19 Among the last mentions we have of him are his Paris Salon entries of 1802 and 1804: perspective drawings of the antiquities collection of the Louvre. SeeMéjanès1976;WashingtonD.C.1978–79,pp.148–155. Berckenhagen1970,pp.393–96,nos3026–3074and3673–3674. Ibid.,p.394,no.3026. For Panini’s drawing see Arisi 1961, p. 245, no. 80, fig. 359; Sotheby’s New York, 29–30 January 2013, lot 113. Two paintings attributed to Panini (wrongly, in the opinion of the present writer) in a French private collec- tion show similar views: see Munich and Cologne 2002, pp. 408–10, nos 187 a/b. For Quarenghi’s drawing see Sotheby’s New York, 27 January 2010, lot 90. Another, almost identical version is in the Hermitage, St Petersburg (inv. 25819): Bergamo 1994, pp. 185–86, no. 234. For Cronstedt’s drawing, executed in 1772, now in the National Museum, Stockholm see Palais Farnèse 1980–94, vol. 2, p. 131, fig. b. Before the 18th century the same viewpoint had been represented in a drawing by an anonymous Dutch draughtsman of c. 1540–60, now in the Herzog Anton Ulrich-Museum, Braunschweig (inv. Z 320r): see Gasparri 2007, p. 17, fig. 4 and p. 178, no. 273.1. The Flora is here shown with its Renaissance restorations by Guglielmo Della Porta and Giovanni Battista de Bianchi and before Carlo Albacini’s new restorations undertaken after 1787: see Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, esp. pp. 38–40. See for instance, Berckenhagen 1970, p. 395, no. 3030. On the Concorsi see cat. 20, note 6. Both were chosen for the third class in sculpture in 1703: Cipriani and Valeriani 1988-91, vol. 2, pp. 26–27. The Hercules was chosen for the third class in both painting and sculpture in 1728 and later on in sculpture in 1783 and in 1789 (this time from a plaster since the statue had been transported to Naples in 1787): ibid., vol. 2, p. 182, vol. 3, pp. 130, 153. The Flora was chosen for the third class in painting in 1750: ibid., vol. 2, pp. 209–10. See the size of the drawings for the third class of the Concorsi Clementini of the Accademia di San Luca in Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91, vols 2–3. See also Macsotay 2010, pp. 193–94. ‘On the originals and the examples of the greatest Antique masters and those of preceding centuries’: letter from Jean-Baptiste Colbert to Nicolas Poussin, 1664, mentioned in Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912, vol. 1, p. 1 and in Lapauze 1924, vol. 1, p. 2. See Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, pp. 44–46. These copies now survive in the Musée des Beaux-Arts and in the Musée Borély in Marseille: Paris 1989, pp. 268–69, no. 113 (J.-F. Méjanès). Benoît 1964. Vialla 1910, p. 484. ‘Ouvrage de 36 feuilles tirées des Porte-feuilles du C[itoye]n S. [sic] Chays...’. See Thieme-Becker 1907–50, vol. 6, p. 445. See also Le Blanc 1854–88, vol. 1, p. 625. ‘Dessins perspectives de différens points de vue, qui donnent le développe- ment de toutes les figures antiques du Musée [du Louvre], ainsi qu’une juste idée du local et de la décoration du palais’: Sanchez and Seydoux 1999– 2006, vol. 1, p. 46, no. 58 (1802), p. 76, no. 105 (1804). See also Paris 1989, pp. 268–69, no. 113 (J.-F. Méjanès). 178 179 1 2 3 4 5 aa On the Farnese Hercules see above p. 30 and cat. 7. On the Farnese Flora see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 217–19, no. 41; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 37–42, no. 8, pl. VI, 1–5 (C. Capaldi). On the Farnese Bull see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 165–67, no. 15; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 20–25 no. 2, pl. II, 1–16 (F. Rausa). See Gasparri 2007, p. 11 and pp. 157–78. See Michel 1981b and La Malfa 2010–11. In 1775, the year of this drawing, the palace had 180 inhabitants. See the list in Michel 1981a, p. 565. For a list of artists residing in the palace see Michel 1981b, table between pp. 610–11. Rausa 2007b, pp. 57–60. On Chays (often spelled differently, Chaÿs, Chais, Chaix) see: Thieme- Becker 1907–50, vol. 6, p. 445; Benoît 1964; Toronto, Ottawa and elsewhere 1972–73, pp. 143–44, no. 23; Paris 1989, pp. 268–69, no. 113 (J.-F. Méjanès); Raspi Serra 1997.  22. Henry Fuseli (Zürich 1741–1825 London) The Artist Moved by the Grandeur of Antique Fragments; The Right Hand and Left Foot of the Colossus of Constantine c. 1778–79 Pen and sepia ink and wash, red chalk, 420 × 352 mm Inscribed recto on the pedestal of the foot: ‘S.P.Q.R’, followed by illegible characters and l.r. in pencil: ‘85 W. Blake’ (false signature, perhaps 19th century) watermark: ‘ZP’ and the coat of arms of the city of Zurich1 provenance: Susan Coutts, Countess of Guildford (1771–1837) (her stamp on the verso2); Paul Hürlimann, from whom acquired in 1940. selected literature: Irwin 1966, p. 47, pl. 32; Schiff 1973, vol. 1, pp. 115, 478–79, no. 665, vol. 2, p. 145, fig. 665; Tomory 1972, pp. 49, 90, fig. 4; Füssli 1973, pp. 60–61, repr.; Schiff and Viotto 1980, pl. viii, no. D35 on p. 112; Klemm 1986, no. 4; Lindsay 1986, pp. 483–84, fig. 1; Taylor 1987, p. 125, repr.; Noch- lin 1994, pp. 7–8, fig. 1; Rossi Pinelli 1997, pp. 15, 18, repr.; Bartels 2000, p. 23, note 2; Patz 2004, p. 271, fig. 3; Bungarten 2005, cover; Pacini 2008, pp. 55–56, fig. 4; Valverde 2008, pp. 163–64, fig. 5; Trumble 2010, pp. 6–7, repr.; Barroero 2011, no. 22, repr.; Mongi-Vollmer 2013, p. 294, fig. 127. selected exhibitions: Zurich 1941, no. 251; New York 1954, no. 31; Zurich 1969, no. 165; Copenhagen 1973, p. 55, no. 21, not repr. (B. Jørnæs); Hamburg 1974–75, p. 129, no. 45 (G. Schiff); London 1975, pp. 54–55, no. 10 (G. Schiff ); Paris 1975, unpag., no. 10 (G. Schiff ); Milan 1977–78, pp. 19–20, no. 6 (L. Vitali); Geneva 1978, p. 8, no. 3; Munich 1979–80, pp. 279–80, no. 154 (J. Gage); Tokyo 1983, pp. 62–63, no. 7 (G. Schiff ); Zurich 1984, pp. 49, 179, no. 25; Stockholm 1990, p. 33, no. 3 (G. Cavalli-Björkman and R. von Holten); Stuttgart 1997–98, pp. 5–7, no. 10 (C. Becker); Zurich 2005, p. 256, no. 1, frontispiece 2; Paris 2008, p. 120, no. 36 (B. von Waldkirch).  The Kunsthaus, Graphische Sammlung, Zürich, inv. no. 1940/144 exhibited in london only This celebrated drawing is one of the most powerful images ever produced on the relationship of the artist with the Antique. It presents a very different response to classical antiquity from the many didactic compositions shown in this catalogue, expressing the extremism and the Sturm und Drang that imbued early Romanticism. The artist here confronts the Antique not as a source of information or inspiration but on a deeper level: he meditates on the grandeur of a lost past both as a philosopher, considering the fragility of the human condition and, more powerfully still, as a creator in despair at his own inability to match the achievements of classical antiquity. Fuseli’s evocative image effectively summarises the dramatic change in the approach to the Antique which took place in Rome in the late 18th century within a circle of anti-academic and largely self-taught artists, such as Alexander Runciman (1736–85), John Brown (1749–87), Tobias Sergel (1740–1814) and Thomas Banks (1735–1805), among whom Fuseli was the most influential.3 For them the ancient sculptures were alive, a tangible expression of the emotions and individuality of their creators, rather than models of ideal beauty and proportional perfection. Born Johann Heinrich Füssli in 1741 in Zurich into a fam- ily of artists, his father, Caspar (1706–82), a painter and histo- rian, was one of the Swiss correspondents of Anton Raphael Mengs (1728–79) and Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717– 68).4 Fuseli’s early education benefited from the teaching of Johann Jakob Bodmer (1698–1783) and Johann Jakob Breitinger (1701–76), forerunners of the literary and artistic movement Sturm und Drang, who introduced the young artist to the study of Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton and the Niebelungenlied, decisively contributing to the eclecticism of his imaginative sources. Fuseli moved to London in 1764 and soon became well acquainted with the city’s lively cultural milieu and quickly acquired fame as a painter. In 1770, on the advice of Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–92), Fuseli travelled to Rome. He stayed there for eight years, with very few inter- ruptions, leaving in 1778. After spending a few months in Zurich, he returned to London where he was destined to spend the rest of his life. Elected academician at the Royal Academy of Art in 1790 and Professor of Painting in 1799, Fuseli became one of the most acclaimed artists of his generation; he died in the residence of the Countess of Guilford, one of his patrons and previous owner of the pre- sent drawing, in Putney Hill in south-west London, in 1825. The eight years Fuseli spent in Rome were of great impor- tance for the development of his artistic language and theory of art. Fascinated by the majestic relics of imperial Rome, but even more impressed by Michelangelo’s masterpieces, Fuseli soon distanced himself from the idealised and harmonious view of the Antique espoused in the theoretical works of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–81) and of Winckelmann, who had been murdered in Trieste two years before Fuseli arrived in Rome. This death was symbolic for, although ini- tially a great enthusiast for Winckelmann’s writings, some of which he translated into English, Fuseli became one of his most radical detractors by asserting the importance of appreciating the emotions and conflicts that ran through 180 181  ancient works of art.5 As Fuseli stated many years later in the introduction to his Lectures on Painting presented at the Royal Academy, German critics had taught the artist ‘to substitute the means for the end, and, by a hopeless chase after what they call beauty, to lose what alone can make beauty interest- ing – expression and mind’.6 ‘Expression animates, convulses, or absorbs form. The Apollo is animated; the warrior of Agasias is agitated; the Laocoon is convulsed; the Niobe is absorbed’. This is one of the Aphorisms on Art compiled by Fuseli in the late 1780s, although it was first published only in 1831 by John Knowles in his The Life and Writing of Henry Fuseli.7 These famous masterpieces of ancient sculpture, the Apollo Belvedere, the Borghese Gladiator, the Laocoön and the Niobe Medici, are not seen by Fuseli simply as the embodiment of a canon of perfection, models to imitate, or points of reference in the academic education of a young artist; they are treated as animated forms of the subjectivity of the artists who created them and, ultimately, of their ways of expressing feeling and emotion.8 Fuseli’s many studies after the Antique are never an end in themselves, they are rather means of expression and, because of that, ancient statues can be adapted, distorted, even desecrated by him.9 A homosexual scene depicted on an ancient Greek red-figured vase can become the model for a Shakespearean composition showing the King of Denmark poisoned by his brother in his sleep.10 Likewise, one of the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal Hill (see p. 22, fig. 10), reproduced and adapted many times by Fuseli, can be turned into Odin receiving the Prophecy of Balder’s Death.11 If Winckelmann praised the Laocoön for his dignified grandeur,12 in two of his late sketches Fuseli transformed the Trojan priest into the object of a courtesan’s sexual desire.13 Even the famous Nightmare (1781),14 one of the most disquieting compositions ever created by Fuseli, still retains memories of the Antique, from the devilish head of the horse peeping out of the curtain, so like those of the Quirinal horses, to the reclining figure in which one can recognise a transposition of the celebrated Cleopatra in the Belvedere Court (see p. 26, fig. 20).15 The Artist Moved by the Grandeur of Antique Fragments per- fectly embodies the artist’s revolutionary approach to the Antique. Although no doubt based on sketches made on the spot, and using a technique, sepia ink and wash, often used by Fuseli in Rome, the watermark with the coat of arms of the city of Zurich suggests that the drawing was made during or soon after his brief stay in his home town after he left Rome in 1778.16 The drawing shows a scantily clad figure seated on a block dwarfed by two adjacent marble fragments, the left foot and the right hand of a gigantic statue set on plinths before a wall composed of majestic, square blocks.17 The pose of the artist, loosely inspired by Michelangelo’s Ancestors of Christ on the Sistine Ceiling, is deeply expressive; he cradles his head in deep grief and anguish, and his mood, with his legs casually and unguardedly crossed, is one of total surrender; the forlornness is enhanced by the wild weed that audaciously pushes its way up against the colossal marble hand. The antique fragments are easily recognisable as the left foot and the right hand of a colossal statue of the emperor Constantine the Great (r. 306–37 ad; figs 1–2) which were found in the west apse of the Basilica of Maxentius in 1486 under the papacy of Innocent VIII (r. 1481–92) along with other fragments including the head (fig. 3) and the right foot. By Fuseli’s time they could be admired in the courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori on the Capitoline hill, where they are still preserved today.18 The monumental scale of these fragments fascinated generations of artists from the Renaissance onwards, but they became increasingly a focus of attention in the 17th and Fig. 1. Colossal Statue of Constantine the Great: Right Hand, 313–24 ad, Luna marble, 166 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome, inv. MC0786 Fig. 2. Colossal Statue of Constantine the Great: Left Foot, 313–324 ad, Parian marble, 120 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome, inv. MC0798 Fig. 3. Colossal Statue of Constantine the Great: Head, 313–24 ad, marble, 260 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome, inv. MC0757 in the drawing (‘S.P.Q.R.’) can actually be found on the pedestal supporting the right foot and not the left one, as Fuseli represents it here. The detail, however, is not irrelevant, since it is part of the inscription, commemorating a restoration of the fragments promoted by Pope Urban VIII (r. 1623–44) in 1635 and 1636, so that one can read a clear reference to the awe inspired by the greatness of the ‘Res Romana’.22 Awe of the Antique is expressed in the drawing by the contrast between the muscular fragments of the colossus and the diminutive, frail and almost abstract figure, who can be interpreted both as a personification of a modern man in general and as a symbolic self-portrait of the artist – ‘Füssli’ in German means ‘little foot’, thus suggesting a visual word- play.23 However, the title of the drawing given by Gert Schiff, The Artist Moved by the Grandeur of Antique Fragments, captures only one aspect of the composition, that is, the feeling of artistic and intellectual inadequacy before the sublime Past.24 Possibly, even the inconsistent perspective of the pedestal of the foot was consciously introduced to express the artistic inferiority of the moderns compared to the ancients. But the pose, which recurs many times in Fuseli’s works, can convey at the same time other meanings.25 It could cause a deep Fig. 5. Hubert Robert, Ancient Sculptures of the Capitoline, red chalk, 442 × 330 mm, Staatliche Museen, Kunstbibliothek, Berlin, Inv. Hdz 3076  18th centuries: two wanderers are shown among the colossal ruins in a drawing by Stefano della Bella (1610–64; fig. 4),19 while the foot and hand appear in an evocative capriccio by Hubert Robert (1733–1808; fig. 5).20 As in their studies, Fuseli’s drawing shows the base sustaining the colossal upward pointing right hand on the pedestal supporting the left foot; only in the early 19th century was the hand moved to its present location along the wall of the courtyard. Fuseli, however, modifies the disposition of the fragments in order to create a perfect triangle, whose apex coincides with the index finger of the hand, pointing authoritatively upward. The fact that the drawing was made when Fuseli had already left Rome may account for a few inconsistencies, such as swapping the right foot – flat on the ground – and the left foot – with the heel slightly raised and set on a support.21 Moreover, the first line of the inscription roughly transcribed Fig. 4. Stefano della Bella, Courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, after 1659, pen and grey ink and grey wash, 152 × 194 mm, Istituto Nazionale per la Grafica, Rome, inv. FC 126001     182 183  sense of loss before the dismembered statue as well as a melancholic frustration at the impossibility of achieving a whole, satisfactory knowledge of the ancient world. Finally this evocative image is clearly a grim meditation on human Vanitas, on the cruelty of time and its inevitability, capable of destroying even the most impressive human creations.26 In his vision of antiquity Fuseli was following in the footsteps of Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720–78), the great engraver of ancient Rome, who populated his images with similar figures dwarfed and seemingly lost among the colossal remains of Rome’s decaying statues and buildings. Piranesi’s ancient ruins, the gigantic stones of which fill his modern onlookers with wonder, are evoked by Fuseli in the massive blocks of the background wall, which are not part of the courtyard of the Palazzo dei Conservatori. Piranesi died in 1778, the year that Fuseli left Rome for Zurich where he created this harrowing memory of the city he had just left behind him. Could the present drawing be a posthumous homage to the great Italian artist, with whom Fuseli shared the same inventive, original and imaginative vision of the Antique? aa & ed 1 Schiff 1973, p. 479. 2 Ibid., p. 479. 3 See Pressly 1979; Valverde 2008; Busch 2013. 4 For Fuseli’s biography see Tomory 1972, pp. 9–46; Schiff 1973, vol. 1; Zurich 2005, pp. 13–31. 5 See Pucci 2000b and Busch 2009. During his London years between 1764 and 1770, Fuseli translated into English Winckelmann’s Beschreibung des Torso del Belvedere Zu Rom (1764, translated as Description of the Torso Belvedere in Rome in 1765) and the Gedanken über die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerei Und Bildhauerkunst (1755, translated as Reflections on the Painting and the Sculpture of the Greeks in 1765). 6 See Wornum 1848, p. 345. On Fuseli’s Lectures see in particular Bungarten 2005. 7 Knowles 1831, vol. 3, p. 90, aphorism no. 88. 8 For these statues see respectively p. 26, fig. 18; p. 41, fig. 54; p. 26, fig. 19; p. 30, fig. 34. 9 For a checklist of Fuseli’s drawings of ancient sculptures see Schiff 1973, vol. 1, pp. 475–79, nos 634–65. 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 Schiff 1973, vol. 1, p. 450, no. 445 (dated 1771); the ancient scene is taken from D’Hancarville 1766–67, vol. 2, pl. 32. Schiff 1973, pp. 456–57, nos 485 and 487 (c. 1776). See in particular Winckelmann 2002, pp. 674, 676 (original pagination pp. 347–49). See also Appendix, no. 15. Schiff 1973, vol. 1, p. 547, nos 1072 and 1072a (1801–05). Schiff 1973, vol. 1, p. 496, no. 757. See Powell 1973, pp. 67–75. See in particular Waldkirch 2005, pp. 63–78. For a drawing showing a figure in a similar attire see Schiff 1973, vol. 1, p. 476, no. 561 (1777–79); and for one with similar blocks in the background ibid., vol. 1, p. 447, no. 425. For the right hand and the left foot see Stuart Jones 1926, p. 11, no. 13, pl. 5 (hand), pp. 13–14, no. 21, pl. 5 (foot). For a discussion on the original colos- sal statue see Fittschen and Zanker 1985, pp. 147–52, pls 151–52; Deckers 2005; Parisi Presicce 2007 (in particular for the history of the display); Bardill 2012, pp. 203–17. The provenance of the colossus from the Basilica is testified to by a caption on a drawing by Francesco di Giorgio Martini (1439–1501) (Morgan Library & Museum, New York, Codex Mellon, fol. 54r), see Buddensieg 1962; http://census.bbaw.de/easydb/censusID= 233951. See Paris 2000–01, p. 371 no. 176 (J.-P. Cuzin); Rome 2004, p. 346, no. 46 (V. Di Piazza); another similar drawing is in the Louvre, see Viatte 1974, p. 63 no. 46, p. 65, fig. 46. See Berckenhagen 1970, p. 332; Paris 2000–01, p. 374, no. 180 (J.-P. Cuzin). These details are clearly rendered on the drawings by Della Bella and Robert. Bartels 2000, p. 23 no. 1.7: ‘S(enatus) P(opulus) Q(ue) R(omanus)/ APOLLINIS COLOSSUM A M(arco) LUCULLO/ COLLOCATUM IN CAPITOLIO/DEIN TEMPORE AC VI SUBLATUM EX OCULIS/ TU TIBI UT ANIMO REPRAESENTES PEDEM VIDE/ET ROMANAE REI MAGNITUDINEM METIRE’. (‘The Senate and the People of Rome; that you may bring before your mind’s eye the colossal statue of Apollo set by Marcus Lucullus on the Capitol Hill, later removed from sight by the violence of time; look at this foot and be aware of the greatness of Rome’: translation Eloisa Dodero). Lindsay 1986, p. 483. Schiff 1973, vol. 1, pp. 115, 478–79, no. 665, vol. 2, p. 145, fig. 665. The pose finds parallels in other works by Fuseli chiefly illustrating mourn- ful scenes, such as the painting showing Milton Dreaming of His Dead Wife Catherine (1799–1800): Schiff 1973, vol. 1, pp. 523–24, no. 920; Zurich 2005, p. 223, no. 184. Remarkable is the closeness of Fuseli’s figure with the famous Democritus by Salvator Rosa (Statens Museum, Copehangen; see Scott 1995, p. 97, fig. 101; the composition was known also through a number of etchings, see for instance Naples 2008, p. 281, no. 8). The philosopher in Rosa’s composition is shown deep in thought and surrounded by several symbols of mortality including antiquities; the caption on the etchings describes the scene as ‘Democritus omnium derisor/in omnium fine defigitur’ (‘Democritus, who used to laugh about everything, here meditates on the end of every- thing’). 23. Philippe Joseph Tassaert (Antwerp 1732–1803 London) A Drawing Academy 1764 Pen and black ink, grey and black wash drawn with the brush over black chalk, 331 × 309 mm provenance: Private collection, Vienna; Gallery Kekko, Lucerne, 2004, from whom acquired. literature:None. exhibitions: Brussels 2004, pp. 75–76, repr.; London 2007–08, no. 59, not repr. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2004-004 Although Tassaert was born in Flanders, he moved at a young age to London where he trained with the expatriate Flemish drapery painter, Joseph van Aken (c. 1699–1749), and where he established his career; aside from occasional trips to the continent, Tassaert remained in London until his death.1 Van Aken had a large practice executing draperies for most of the major British portrait painters active during the 1730s and 1740s, and after his death, Tassaert seems to have followed his example, assisting especially the portrait painter, Thomas Hudson (1701–79). In 1769, Tassaert joined the Society of Artists of Great Britain and served as its presi- dent from 1775–77; he exhibited with the Society until 1785.2 Also active as a dealer and picture restorer, Tassaert worked as an agent for the auctioneer, James Christie (1730–1803), valuing paintings in French and English collections, includ- ing that of Sir Robert Walpole at Houghton Hall, for sale to Catherine the Great in 1779.3 He later moved for a period to Italy, residing in Rome between 1785 and 1790.4 As a mezzotinter, Tassaert reproduced many composi- tions after earlier painters, especially those by Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640). The present drawing – a relatively rare survival compared with his production of prints – shows young students, dressed in the costumes of Rubens’ era, sketching a reduced model of the Borghese Gladiator (fig. 1), illuminated by candlelight from above.5 Two instructors, including the imposing figure of Rubens him-self in the doorway on the right, inspect drawings made by two pupils who await their verdict. Casts of busts and statuettes are placed on the shelf above the lamp, as seen in artists’ work- shops from the Renaissance onwards (see cats 2, 10, 14).6 The present drawing is closely related to another, rather larger and more loosely executed, representation of an academy by Tassaert now in the British Museum (fig. 2), that is observed from a closer viewpoint and is horizontal rather than vertical in format.7 Rendered in warm brown instead of grey ink, the British Museum drawing focuses on the group clustered around the sculpture on the left. The master, in the doorway in our drawing, now leans against a chair gesturing towards the sculpture and the copy of it made by one of the pupils. But that student, seen in left profile studying the Gladiator intently, remains essentially unchanged in both sheets. The British Museum drawing is signed and dated, ‘Tassaert. del Bruxelles. 1764’, and the Bellinger drawing was no doubt made at the same time. Both were probably made in preparation for a painting, now lost, but described in a 1774 review of the Society of Artists’ exhibition at the Strand in London: ‘Mr. TASSAERT, Director, F.S.A. [ . . .] 285. An academy with youth’s [sic] at study. -Yellow shaded with black, has a starved effect’, a description which suggests that it may have been monochrome. 8 A keen admirer and copyist of Rubens’ work, Tassaert clearly intended to evoke the atmosphere of the master’s studio. A drawing by Tassaert, ‘Rubens instructing his pupils’ Fig. 1. Agasias of Ephesus, Borghese Gladiator, c. 100 bc, marble, 199 cm (h), Louvre, Paris, inv. Ma 527  184 185    Fig. 2. Philippe Joseph Tassaert, A Drawing Academy, 1764, pen and brown ink and brown wash over black chalk, 330 × 406 mm, The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 2003,1129.1 which was sold in London in 1785 was probably one of the two drawings under consideration.9 The master in both is physiognomically identical, and wears the wide-brimmed hat and voluminous cloak seen in Rubens’ mature self-portraits, such as that of 1623 in the Royal collection, Windsor Castle, an image widely disseminated through engravings.10 Another self-portrait,showingtheartistatsixty,intheKunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (1633–35), may also have been known to Tassaert through prints.11 No doubt Tassaert’s drawings and the lost painting for which they presumably prepared, were intended to commemorate the fact that Rubens’ studio in Antwerp, founded on his return from Italy in 1608, was one of the first in Northern Europe to be organised on the ‘academic’ Italian model. Ruben’s studio – much more than a workshop – encouraged the intellectual as well as practical ambitions of young artists, who vied with each other to become his pupils. The purpose of Tassaert’s lost painting is not certain, but one possibility is that he intended to present it to the recently revamped Brussels art school. It may be significant that Tassaert, who hailed from Antwerp (where he became a member of the Guild of St Luke in 1756), signed the British Museum drawing ‘Tassaert. del Bruxelles’, and dated it, 1764, the year the Brussels school began to flourish under new stewardship.12 Reportedly discovered in Nettuno in 1611, the Borghese Gladiator, signed by Agasias of Ephesus, is thought to copy a statue of the school of Lysippus.13 It was acquired by Cardinal Scipione Borghese (1576–1633), and between 1650 and 1807, was displayed in a room bearing its name on the ground floor of the Casino Borghese before it was sold to Napoleon.14 The statue was keenly admired by artists from the mid-17th century onwards as it embodied the male nude in an active, heroic and resolute pose. François Perrier (1590–1650) ranked it among the finest statues in Rome and published four views of it in his influential collection of etching after antique sculpture (Segmenta nobilium signorum et statuarum . . . , Paris, 1638, pls. 26–29), more than he devoted to any other figure. Casts of it were made for Philip IV of Spain and for the Académie Royale in Paris (see cat. 16) and the Académie de France in Rome.15 It became a standard presence in artists’ manuals from the 17th century onwards, as the perfection of its anatomy and proportions made it an ideal model for young pupils to copy. Its fame endured well into the 18th century as many of the objects in this catalogue make clear (cats 16, 24, 26).16 Rubens, who was thirty-four when the statue was found, revered it greatly. Although his two Roman sojourns (1601– 02 and 1600–08) pre-date its discovery in 1611, he certainly knew the statue through copies and probably owned a cast of it.17 That plaster casts came to be widely used in Northern workshops of the period is shown in the 1635 and 1656 studio inventories of Rubens’ contemporary, Hendrik van Balen (1575–1632) and of Rembrandt (1606–69) and by the many paintings that depict artists making copies of them (see p. 40, figs 49–53 and cat. 14).18 Rubens’ deep interest in antique sculpture, which he collected enthusiastically, is well-documented.19 In one of his theoretical notebooks, De Imitatione Statuarum (‘On the Imitation of Ancient Statues’), recording his observations from 1600 to 1610 on the proportions of the human form, symmetry, perspective, anatomy and architecture, he defined canonical male body types of the first rank: the strongest and most robust, the Farnese Hercules (see cats 7, 14, 16, 21); the less muscular and fleshy, Commodus in the Guise of Hercules and the River Nile (see cat. 5) and the third, lean and slender, with prominent bones and a longer face, the Borghese Gladiator, which he analysed in a diagram.20 Finally, there was the slim and handsome type, less strong, among which statues of Apollo and Mercury were classed.21 Rubens referred to the Gladiator again in another of his notebooks and he adapted it in some of his paintings, such as the Mercury and Argus of 1636–37 (Prado, Madrid) where Mercury in a pose strongly reminiscent of the Gladiator, is about to behead the multi-eyed giant.22 Although Tassaert would not have known Rubens’ manuscript, parts of it were published in 1708 by Roger de Piles in his Cours de peinture par principles, translated into English in 1743 as The Principles of Painting (see Appendix, no. 8).23 Within twenty years of its discovery, casts of the Borghese Gladiator were commissioned by Charles I and other English patrons and it soon became one of the most celebrated 186 187  antique sculptures in the British Isles.24 By the 18th century, copies of it had becoming a mainstay of country house collections.25 Joseph Wright of Derby (1734–1797) depicted a reduced model of the Gladiator studied by candlelight (private collection; see cat. 24, fig. 2), exhibiting it at the Society of Artists in 1765, just a year after Tassaert’s drawings and William Pether made a mezzotint after Wright’s painting in 1769.26 When Tassaert showed his painting of a similar subject, probably based on his earlier studies, at the same venue in 1774 he may have been responding to the challenge of his English colleagues, particularly the fellow mezzotinter, Pether.27 Indeed, it is tempting to suppose that Tassaert, by exhibiting the finished painting, was asserting the suprem- acy of Flemish academies over the English ones by establish- ing that the sculpture was well-known and used as a teaching tool already in Rubens’ time. As will be seen later (see cats 24–26), study after plaster casts increasingly became an indispensible part of artistic training in the English Academies as the 18th century progressed. It is especially significant in the present context that the catalogue of the posthumous sale of the effects of Tassaert’s master, Joseph Van Aken, in 1751 in London, lists no fewer than sixty models in terracotta and plaster after the Antique, among them, the Laocoön, the Farnese Hercules, heads of Antinous and, significantly, two Gladiators.28 It is well known that antique models were widely diffused in England in the first half of the 18th century, well before the foundation of the Royal Academy in 1768 (see cat. 25), but Van Aken’s collection and Tassaert’s preoccupations suggest that interest in the Antique had a particularly Flemish dimension. Of course, such models served a vital role for artists in helping to achieve an idealised representation of the anatomy, poses and expressions of the human body, but also, as in the case of Van Aken, they could act as lay-figures for the arrangement of drapery.29 avl 1 For brief accounts of Tassaert’s life and work, see Edwards 1808, who, on pp. 282–83, asserts that Tassaert was ‘the scholar’ of van Aken; Redgrave 1874, vol. 2, p. 402; Wurzbach 1906–11, vol. 2, pp. 689–90; Thieme-Becker 1907–50, vol, 32, p. 456; Bénézit 2006, vol. 13, pp. 708–09; Wallens 2010, p. 328. Edwards (1808, p. 282) reports his association with van Aken though the latter had already moved to London in 1720, before Tassaert was born. They probably met there though he was only about seventeen when van Aken died. According to Bénézit (2006, p. 708), Tassaert was the brother of the sculptor, Jean Pierre Antoine Tassaert (1727–1788). 2 For his involvement with the Society (and disagreements with), see Hargraves 2005, pp. 141–43, 152–53, 158–72. His paintings were shown also at the Royal Academy. 3 He is listed frequently as buyer/seller in Christie’s sale catalogues of c. 1779– 82 (see Kerslake 1977, vol. 1, p. 337). For Tassaert at Houghton, see Twist 2008, p. 106–07. 4 Wallens. For his engravings, see Le Blanc 1854–88, vol. 4, p. 9; Wurzbach 1906–11, vol. 2, pp. 689–90; Smith 1878–83, vol. 3, pp. 1354–56. A further drawing by Tassaert of an artist’s studio, but with figures in contemporary dress, is in Tate Britain, from the Oppé collection, black chalk on blue paper, 490 × 317 mm, inv. no. T09847. They may also be seen lightly sketched at upper right in Tassaert’s drawing of an artist’s studio in the Tate (see note 5 above). Lock 2010, p. 255, fig. 12.4; Phillips 2013, p. 127, fig. 5. ‘Conclusion of the Account of the Pictures now exhibiting at the Artist’s [sic] great Room near Exeter Exchange, Strand’, published in The Middlesex Journal, 30 April – 3 May 1774, p. 2 (as noted by Elizabeth Barker, under inv. no. 2003,1129.1, British Museum collection database). The same subject painted by Tassaert, probably more than once, is listed in several Christie’s sales in London between 1805–12: 1805 (1–2 March, lot 69, seller: John Mayhew; unsold; 14–15 June, lot 40, seller: John Mayhew; unsold); 1806 (7–8 March, lot 33, seller: John Mayhew; unsold); 1808 (11–12 March, lot 18, seller: Adam Callander; unsold; 14 May, lot 33, seller: Rev. Philip Duval; bought by Daubuz); 1809 (17–18 November, lot 65, seller: Adam Callander; bought by J. F. Tuffen) and 1812 (22 May, lot 44, seller: John Mayhew; unsold; 18–19 December, lot 80, seller: John Mayhew; bought by J. F. Tuffen). Source: Getty Provenance Index. Jean-Baptiste-Guillaume de Gevigney, his sale, Greenwood, London, 14–15 April 1785, lot 44. Presumably the same drawing was sold two years later: ‘An academy by Tassaert, washed in bisque, fine’, Greenwood, London, 14–15 March 1787, lot 29 to John Thomas Smith for £1.0. Jaffé 1989, p. 281, no. 764. Ibid., p. 371, no. 1379. Between 1764 and 1768, the school was revitalized under Count Charles Cobenzl (Phillips 2013, pp. 127–28). Paris 2000–01, no. 1, pp. 150–51 (L. Laugier); Pasquier 2000-01b. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 221; Laugier 2000–01. See also Aymonino’s essay in this catalogue, p. 41. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 221. Ibid., pp. 221–24, no. 43, fig. 115. For Rubens’ study of sculpture in Roman collections, see Van der Meulen 1994-95, vol. 1, pp. 41–68. For van Balen’s inventory, see Duverger 1984–2009, vol. 4, pp. 200–11. Among the casts listed are the Laocoön, Hercules, Apollo, Athena and Mercury (ibid., p. 208). Rembrandt’s 1656 bankruptcy inventory (Strauss and Van der Meulen 1979, pp. 349–88) mentions several plaster casts from life, including hands, heads and arms (ibid., pp. 365, 383), and after the antique (‘A plaster cast of a Greek antique’ (Een pleijster gietsel van een Griecks anticq), p. 383, no. 323). Also mentioned are antique statues of unspecified medium, including a Faustina, Galba, Laocoön, Vitellius (ibid., pp. 365, nos 166, 168; 385, nos 329, 331) and several others. For Rembrandt’s use of statues, casts and models, see Gyllenhaal 2008. For his collection, see Muller 1989, Appendix C, pp. 82–87 and Muller 2004, especially, pp. 18–23. The Johnson manuscript (manuscript transcript of the Rubens Pocketbook), mid-18th century, Courtauld Gallery, London, MS.1978.PG.1, fols 4v-5r, cited in Muller 2004, p. 19. See also Muller 1982, pp. 235–36 and Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 72–73. Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 73. Ms de Ganay (formerly Paris, Marquis de Ganay), fols 22r–23r, transcribed and translated in Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, pp. 254–58. In addition to the Madrid painting (Georgievska-Shine and Silver 2014, p. 136, fig. 5.3), the pose of the sculpture was utilised in other drawn and painted composi- tions by the artist (Van der Meulen 1994–95, vol. 1, p. 239, note 9). De Piles 1708, pp. 139–48; De Piles 1743, pp. 86–92. . Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 221. However, due to the demand for casts the Borghese tried to stop moulds from being made (Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 221). Liverpool 2007, p. 132, no. 10; Clayton 1990, p. 236, no. 154, P3. Tassaert and Pether, both members of the Society of Artists, had a disagree- ment over the latter’s proposed exhibition fee for fellows (Hargraves 2005, pp. 141–42). Landford’s, London, 11–25 February 1751, among lots 1–77. It has been suggested that Rembrandt worked from draped plaster casts, especially during his Leiden years (Gyllenhaal 2008, p. 51). 24. William Pether (Carlisle 1731–1821 Bristol) after Joseph Wright of Derby (Derby 1734–1797 Derby) An Academy 1772 Mezzotint, 579 × 458 mm Inscribed l.l.: ‘Iosh., Wright, Pinxt.’; and l.r.: ‘W. Pether, Fecit.’; on the boy’s portfolio in the centre: ‘An / Academy / Published by W Pether, / Feby, 25th / 1772’; td and l.c., at the foot of the seated artist: ‘Done from a Picture in / the Collection of the R . Hon. / L . Melburne.’ provenance: The Hon. Christopher Lennox-Boyd (1941–2012), from whom acquired by the British Museum in 2010. literature: Chaloner Smith 1883, vol. 2, p. 46, not repr.; Clayton 1990, p. 240, no. 159, P9, this impression listed under II, not repr.; Liverpool 2007, pp. 159–62, no. 33. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 2010,7081.2228 In 1769 Joseph Wright of Derby exhibited An Academy by Lamplight (private collection) at the Society of Artists in London.1 The painting depicted six young boys drawing from casts of antique sculpture in a vaulted space lit only by a concealed lamp. Wright repeated the composition the following year for his patron, Peniston Lamb, 1st Viscount Melbourne (Yale Center for British Art, fig. 1) and it was from this second version that William Pether took the present mezzotint, renamed simply An Academy, published in its first state in February 1772.2 The subject-matter is related to Wright’s earlier painting, Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight (private collection, fig. 2),3 but, by showing a group of students at work, addresses more directly the theme of education by studying casts of antique sculpture by candlelight. Artistic education was of paramount importance to Wright. In December of 1769, the year he settled in Liverpool, twenty-two men in the burgeoning city formed a Society of Artists that gathered at a member’s house to make drawings from a substantial collection of prints and, more signifi- cantly, thirty-five plaster casts.4 These casts had been pur- chased from John Flaxman senior, a plaster-cast salesman in Covent Garden, for £8.8.3, and were intended specifically for furnishing an academy.5 While Wright is not listed as a member of the Society of Artists, his friend, the engraver Peter Perez Burdett (c. 1735–93), was its first President and Wright’s landlord in Liverpool, Richard Tate (1736–87), was an amateur painter who showed works at the Society’s first public exhibition in 1774, so he was certainly aware of the group’s aspirations. Wright seems also to have had at least one student in Liverpool, Richard Tate’s brother, William, who was described by Wright in a letter in 1773 as ‘a pupil of mine’.6 Artistic education would therefore have been a pressing concern when he was conceiving An Academy by Lamplight. Wright no doubt encouraged William Tate to take the same route that he had followed as a pupil of Thomas Hudson (1701–79): first copying drawings by accomplished masters (which for Tate would have included works by Wright him- self) as well as prints, before moving to the study of plaster casts and, ultimately, the life model.7 In 1774 Tate exhibited ‘Venus with a Shell, a drawing in black chalk’ at the first Fig. 1. Joseph Wright of Derby, An Academy by Lamplight, 1770, oil on canvas, 127 × 101 cm, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection, New Haven, inv. B1973.1.66 Fig. 2. Joseph Wright of Derby, Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight, 1765, oil on canvas, 101.6 × 121.9 cm, private collection   188 189  Liverpool Society of Artists exhibition, and a sheet in the Derby Museum and Art Gallery of this subject has been recently been identified as Tate’s drawing.8 This title of that drawing is highly suggestive as it is pre- cisely the so-called Nymph with a Shell that the students are shown drawing in Wright’s painting and Pether’s mezzotint. Housed in the Borghese collection during the 18th century, the sculpture is now in the Louvre (fig. 3).9 While a cast of this statue is not listed among those purchased by the Liverpool Society of Artists, one was probably owned by Wright himself. The other statue shown in the background on the right is the familiar Borghese Gladiator (see p. 41, fig. 54 and cat. 23) – the sculpture being studied in Wright’s earlier Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight (fig. 2). Wright’s composition depicts young students in different attitudes, some at work drawing the Nymph, which is illumi- nated by a hanging lamp, from varying angles, while others merely admire her. Wright has created an ideal representation of an academy of young men, precisely the environment which his contemporaries were attempting to create in Liverpool. The students’ visible drawings are in black chalk similar to Wright’s own and those of his ‘pupil’, Tate. The varying ages of the students, from young boys to young men, also suggests an ideal academic establishment. The date of the work has further resonance: 1769 was the year after the foundation of the Royal Academy in London, where a precise programme of artistic education, which included drawing from antique sculpture, was being formulated (see cat. 25). The composition continues a theme Wright addressed in Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight (fig. 2), the first painting he exhibited in London, showing it at the Society of Artists in 1765. Such was its popularity that Pether produced a mezzotint of it in 1769 and we can suppose that our Fig. 3. Nymph with the Shell, Roman copy of the 1st century ad after a Hellenistic type of the 2nd century bc, marble, 60 cm (h), Louvre, Paris, inv. MR 309-N 247 (Ma 18) mezzotint, published three years later, was conceived as a pendant.10 Wright’s Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight depicts three men – traditionally identified as Wright himself, Peter Perez Burdett (c. 1735–93) and John Wilton – comparing a reduced model of the Borghese Gladiator with a drawn copy of it in black chalk. We know Wright made drawings of the sculpture; and a study in pen and brown ink on brown paper by him is preserved at Derby.11 Dating from before his journey to Italy, it seems likely to have been made from a reduced model. Whilst there is no evidence that Wright owned a model of the Gladiator, it seems likely that he did: reduced models of it appear in numerous artists’ sales during the 18th century and they were also readily available in Derby at the time.12 Viewing and drawing sculpture by candle-light was a feature of many European academies as for example those of Bandinelli and Tassaert (see cats 1 and 23).13 This was intended to emphasise the contrast of the sculpture’s anatomy and facilitate its copy. There were many perceived artistic benefits in owning models. William Hogarth noted in his Apology for Painters: ‘the little casts of the gladiator the Laocoon or the venus etc. if true copies – are still better than the large as the parts are exactly the same [–] the eye [can] comprehend them with most ease and they are more handy to place and turn about’.14 It therefore seems likely that Wright’s picture depicts an evening viewing of his own cast. Burdett was an amateur draughtsman and printmaker, and the comparison between Wright’s own drawing and the model is the probable topic of their conversation. This was the theme that Wright developed more fully in An Academy. Liverpool 2007, p. 159, no. 31. For Yale version of the painting ibid., p. 159, no. 32. Nicolson 1968, vol. 1, p. 234, no. 188; London 1990, pp. 61–63, no. 22; Liverpool 2007, p. 132, no. 10. For a discussion of the foundation of the Society of Artists and a list of the casts it acquired see Mayer 1876, pp. 67–69. Ibid., p. 5. Joseph Wright to William Thompson, Derby 25 March, 1773, in Barker 2009, p. 72. Wright’s work in Hudson’s studio is remarkably well documented in an archive of his drawings as a student preserved in Derby Museum and Art Gallery: see Derby 1997, pp. 49–65. Liverpool 2007, p. 162, no. 34. For the relationship between Tate, Wright and the Liverpool Society of Artists see Barker 2003, pp. 265–74. For the Nymph with the Shell see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 281–82, no. 67; Rome 2000b, vol. 2, p. 335, no. 10 (F. Rausa); Gaborit and Martinez 2000–01; Paris 2000–01, pp. 327–28, no. 147 (J.-L. Martinez); Rome 2011–12, pp. 402–05 (I. Petrucci, M.-L. Fabréga-Dubert, J.-L. Martinez). Clayton 1990, p. 236, no. 154, P3. Derby 1997, p. 88, no. 152. An Italian plaster-modeller based in Oxford, ‘Mr Campione’ is recorded selling: ‘a large and curious collection of statues, modelled from the Antiques of Italy ... in fine plaister paris work’ in the Red Lion in Derby. See Barker 2003, p. 25. On this see Roman 1984, p. 83. See also cat. 1, p. 80, note 8. Kitson 1966–68, p. 86.  190 191  25. Edward Francis Burney (Worcester 1760–1848 London) The Antique Academy at Old Somerset House 1779 Pen and grey ink with watercolour wash, 335 × 485 mm Signed recto, on the portfolio depicted in the drawing at l.c., in pen and black ink: ‘E.F.B. 1779’; and inscribed verso, in pen and black ink, with a key identifying the casts and objects shown on recto, numbered 1–43: ‘View of the Plaister Room in the Royal Academy old Somerset House / 1. Cincinnatus / 2. Apollo Belvedere / 3. Meleager / 4. Biting Boy / 5. Foot of the Laocoon / 6. Arm of M. Angelo’s Moses / 7. Paris / 8. Faun / 9 Anatomy of a Horse / 10. Head of Antinous / 11. A young Orator by M. Angelo / 12. Antoninus Pius / 13. Bacchus / 14. Pompey / 15. Alexander / 16. Model of a Cow / 17. Agrippa / 18. Nero / 19. Augustus / 20. Cicero / 21 Other Roman Emperors / 22. Door of Mr Mosers little Room / 23. Heads. Casts from Trajans pillar / 24. Table for Drawing Hands Heads etc. on / 25. Screens to prevent Double Lights / 26. Modelers stands / 27. Large chalk Drawing of the Virgin etc. by Leon: da Vinci / 28. Homer / 29. Laocoon / 30. Esculapius / 31. Proserpine / 32. Carracalla / 33. Mithridates / 34. Bacchus / 35. Antinous / 36. River Gods from M. Angelo / 37. Boys by Fiamingo / 38. Dying Gladiator / 39. Lamps for lighting the figures in Winter / 40. Antique Bass Relieves / 41. Laughing Boys / 42. Head of a Wolf / 43. Legs cast from nature etc. etc. etc.’ provenance: From an album of drawings in the possession of the Burney family; P. & D. Colnaghi, London, from whom acquired 5 July 1960. literature: Byam Shaw 1962, pp. 212–15, figs 54–55; Hutchison 1986, p. 192, fig. 27; Wilton 1987, p. 26, fig. 25; Rossi Pinelli 1988, p. 255, fig. 4; Nottingham and London 1991, p. 63, under no. 39, fig. 3; Fenton 2006, pp. 98–99, 100–01, repr.; Kenworthy-Browne 2009, pp. 45–46, pl. 16; Wickham 2010, pp. 300–01, fig. 14; Brook 2010–11, p. 158, fig. 5. exhibitions: London 1963, p. 34, no. 87, not repr.; London 1968b, pp. 211–12, no. 651, not repr.; London 1971, p. 18, no. 71, not repr.; London 1972, p. 316, no. 521, not repr. (R. Liscombe); York 1973, p. 40, no. 98, not repr.; London 2001, p. 46, no. 85.  Royal Academy of Arts, London, 03/7485 With its companion The Antique Academy at New Somerset House (fig. 1), this drawing constitutes one of the best and most evocative visual records of the Antique or ‘Plaister’ Academy at the Royal Academy of Arts in London.1 The Academy was founded in 1768 and initially occupied rooms in Pall Mall before moving to Somerset House in 1771. The rather chaotic early records of the Academy means that Burney’s detailed drawings are fundamental in establishing precisely which antiquities were available to the first generation of students at the Academy. Although copying after casts had been a practice fol- lowed in previous British academies and schools of art – such as the Duke of Richmond’s Academy – it was only with the foundation of the Royal Academy that it became part of an extended curriculum modelled on the Roman and Parisian Academies.2 The first Academicians draughted surprisingly few rules governing the education of students, other than the requirement that a student have a ‘Drawing or Model from some Plaister Cast’ approved for admission to the Antique Academy, and again to progress into the Life Academy.3 For at least the first fifty years of its existence there was no stipulation about the length of time students should spend in either School. The timetable itself was fairly minimal, follow- ing the traditional model in which the purpose of an Academy was to provide instruction in draughtsmanship and theory whilst the student learned his chosen art of painting, sculpture or architecture with a master. The Antique or Plaister Academy was open from 9 to 3 pm with a two-hour session in the evening, while the Life Academy consisted of only a two- hour class each night. Until 1860, both were attended by male students only. The collection of casts was under the control of the Keeper, while a Visitor attended monthly to examine and correct the students’ drawings and to ‘endeavour to form their taste’.4 Following the theoretical model of continental academies, the main didactic purpose of drawing from plaster casts was to teach young students to become acquainted with and to internalise ideal beauty before being exposed to Nature in the Life Academy. As Benjamin West (1738–1820), president of the Royal Academy for almost thirty years from 1792, put it, pro- ficiency was ‘not to be gained by rushing impatiently to the school of the living model, correctness of form and taste was first to be sought by an attentive study of the Grecian figures’.5 Edward Francis Burney studied at the Royal Academy Schools from 1777 and left in the 1780s to become a suc- Fig. 1. Edward Francis Burney, The Antique Academy at New Somerset House, c. 1780, pen and grey ink with watercolour wash, 335 × 485 mm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, cessful book illustrator.6 As a young pupil of the Antique Academy, he recorded in the present drawing of 1779 and its companion the rebuilding of Somerset House begun in 1776 by Sir William Chambers (1723–96). This drawing shows the Academy before Chambers’ intervention in a room that was probably designed by John Webb (1611–72) in 1661–64, on the south side of the building facing the Thames. These rooms had windows exposed to direct sunlight and therefore may have required the ‘Screens to prevent Double Lights’, visible in the upper left corner of the drawing and annotated on the verso. The drawing depicts four students at work, the one on the right in the middle distance being guided by George Michael Moser (1706–83), the first Keeper of the Royal Academy Schools, including the Antique Academy.7 In the room everything was moveable. Boxes could be used as seats or as supports for drawing boards, as one is by the student in the foreground on the left, while rails were used for holding the individual students’ candles (see cat. 26). Even the pedestal of the casts could be moved on castors, so that the Keeper could change their position weekly. The collection of plaster casts was one of the largest assembled in Britain in the 18th century.8 Many came from the second St Martin’s Lane Academy, brought by Moser who had been one of its directors.9 The collection was then expanded considerably thanks to donations from aristocratic collectors and acquisitions on the London market.10 Among the most easily identifiable casts are those ubiqui- tous in European workshops and academies from the 17th century onwards, all listed in the long inscription on the verso of the drawing: the Apollo Belvedere (p. 26, fig. 18) at left centre, behind, in the background, the Faun with Kid, and on the far right, the Dying Gladiator (p. 41, fig. 55), which a student is copying, as innumerable other students had done before him (see cat. 20).11 In addition, a series of peculiarly ‘English’ casts are on display, some donated, others copied from origi- nals recently brought to England from Rome. Partly obscured in shadow on the left is a cast of Cincinnatus – which still survives in the collection of the Royal Academy (fig. 2) – close Fig. 6. Relief from an Honourary Monument to Marcus Aurelius: Triumph, 176–180 ad, marble, 324 × 214 cm, Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. MC0808 Fig. 7. Relief with Warriors, Roman, 1st or 2nd century ad, marble, 93 × 82 cm, San Nilo Abbey, Grottaferrata, inv. 1155 Academy’s collection (figs 8–9). Finally, between the shelves and the door on the right, it is possible to discern Leonardo’s cartoon of The Virgin and Child with St Anne and St John the Baptist, today one of the most celebrated works in the National Gallery in London – the present drawing is the earliest to document its presence in the collection of the Royal Academy.16 The cast collection was of paramount importance to the Royal Academy during its first decades, but the ad hoc nature of its accumulation and the inclusion of casts of ‘Grand Tour’ souvenirs – such as Lord Shelburne’s Cincinnatus – left it open to criticism. In 1798 the Academy’s Professor of Painting, James Barry (1741–1806), launched a stinging public attack complaining that the Academy was ‘too ill supplied with materials for observations’ lamenting ‘the miserable beggarly state of its library and collection of antique vestiges’.17 As a direct result, the sculptors John Flaxman (1755–1826) and John Bacon the Younger (1777–1859) were charged with purchasing new casts from the sale of George Romney’s (1734–1802) collection.18 Flaxman spent much of the rest of his career attempting to improve the Academy’s cast collection; after 1815, he finally convinced the Prince Regent to sponsor the Fig. 8. Plaster Cast of Head of a Roman Soldier in Helmet, from Trajan’s Column, 15.7 × 15.4 × 4.4 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 10/3267 Fig. 9. Plaster Cast of the Head of Trajan, from Trajan’s Column, 15.5 × 15.4 × 4.6 cm, Royal Academy of Arts, London, iaa&jy FortheearlyhistoryoftheRoyalAcademysee Hutchison1986,pp.23–54. For drawing after casts in Britain before the foundation of the Royal Academy see esp. Postle 1997; Coutu 2000; Kenworthy-Browne 2009. Hutchison 1986, pp. 29–31. For the full admission process see London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 4, 27 Dec. 1768; Abstract 1797, pp. 18–19. Hutchison1986,p.27.Forthe‘RulesandOrders,forthePlaisterAcademy’, see London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1 Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 6, 27 Dec. 1768, and p. 17, 17 March 1769; Abstract 1797, pp. 22–23. For the role of the visitors see ibid., p. 8. Hoare1805,p.3. SeeRogers2013. The identification of the teacher with Moser is confirmed by other like- nesses: see Edgcumbe 2009. The only other collection that could compete in numbers of casts was the Duke of Richmond’s Gallery: see Coutu 2000; Kenworthy-Browne 2009. On the Royal Academy collection of casts see Baretti [1781], esp. pp. 18–30. See Thomson 1771, pp. 42–43; Strange 1775, p. 74. We would like to thank Nick Savage for pointing out these two sources to us. OnplastershopsandtradersinBritaininthesecondhalfofthe18thcentury see Clifford 1992. Among private donors, Thomas Jenkins, the Rome based dealer, sent a cast of the so-called Barberini Venus shortly after the Royal Academy’s foundation: London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 38, 9 Aug. 1769. Jenkins in turn encouraged many of his clients in London to donate casts, including John Frederick Sackville, Duke of Dorset who sent in 1771 ‘a Bust of Antinous in his collection’ and ‘a cast of Pythagoras’: ibid., p. 111, 25 Oct. 1771, and p. 118, 18 Dec. 1771. Other early donors were Sir William Hamilton, the Rome-based dealer Colin Morrison and the Anglo-Florentine painter Thomas Patch. FortheFaunwithKidseeHaskellandPenny1981,pp.211–12,no.37. The Council Minutes record on 11 June 1774: ‘Resolved that casts be made from three statues in the possession of Lord Shelburne, viz the Meleager, the Gladiator putting on his sandals, & the Paris, leave having been already obtained from his lordship’, London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 179. The three sculptures had recently been sup- plied by Gavin Hamilton (1723–98) from Rome and were largely recently excavated pieces: the Meleager had been found at Tor Columbaro; the Paris and the so-called Cincinatus had both come from an excavation at Hadrian’s Villa near Tivoli, called Pantanello. See Bignamini and Hornsby 2010, vol. 1, pp. 321–22 for Shelburne; for the excavation and purchase of the Cincinnatus and Paris see vol. 1, pp. 162–64, nos 1 and 12; for the excavation and purchase of the Meleager see vol. 1, pp. 180–81, no. 7. London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 38, 9 Aug. 1769 ‘Charles Townly Esq. having presented the Academy with a cast of the Lacedemorian Boy ... ordered that letters of thanks should be wrote.’ On the original relief see Boudon-Mauchel 2005, pp. 251–52, no. 43 and on Duquesnoy’s fame as a ‘classical’ sculptor ibid., pp. 175–210. The cast of the relief had been sent by Sir William Hamilton, then British ambassador to the court of Naples, in 1770 together with a cast of ‘Apollo’: see Ingamells and Edgcumbe 2000 p. 32, no. 25, 17 June 1770; see also London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 72, 17 March 1770. For the Marcus Aurelius relief see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 255–56, no. 56; Rome 1986–87. For the relief with warriors see Musso 1989–90, pp. 9–22. The relief was illustrated in Winckelmann 1767, pl. 136. The same cast appears in Zoffany’s celebrated Portrait of the Academicians of the Royal Academy, 1771–72, in the Royal Collections. See Webster 2011, pp. 252–61; New Haven and London 2011–12, pp. 218–21, no. 44 (M. A. Stevens). For Leonardo’s cartoon see London 2011–12, pp. 289–91, no. 86 (L. Syson). Barry 1798, p. 7. London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/3, Council minutes, vol. 3, pp. 99–100, 22 May 1801. They purchased 16 casts in total for £68.10.3. WindsorLiscombe1987. Fig. 2. Plaster Casts of the So-Called Lansdowne ‘Cincinnatus’, 1774, 162 cm (h), Royal Academy of Arts, London, inv. 03/1488 Fig. 3. Lansdowne Paris, Roman copy of the Hadrianic Period (117–138 ad) from a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 165 cm (h), Louvre, Paris, inv. MNE 946 (n° usuel Ma 4708) Fig. 4. Lansdowne Hermes/Meleager, Roman copy of the Hadrianic Period (117–138 ad) of a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 219 cm (h), Santa Barbara Museum of Art, Gift of Wright S. Ludington, inv. 1984.34.1 to the Faun with Kid is a Paris (fig. 3), and behind Moser the so-called Lansdowne Meleager (fig. 4). All of these were cast in 1774 from the originals in the collection of William Petty, 2nd Earl of Shelburne (1737–1805), recently returned from his Grand Tour.12 Behind the Cincinnatus is partly discernible a cast of the Knucklebone Players given by Charles Townley in 1769, the antique original of which could be admired in his London town-house at 7 Park Street (cat. 28, fig. 1).13 As was customary, the Academy’s collection included also casts of busts and statuettes distributed on shelves and of ‘dismembered’ body parts – arms, legs and feet – hung on the wall, so that students could learn how to draw anatomical details before approaching the whole human figure. Pupils were also required to draw from reliefs, to become acquainted with the composition of historie, or narrative scenes, based on classical models. Above the chimneypiece is a large cast of a relief with music-making angels by François Duquesnoy (1597–1643) – the Boys by Fiamingo identified on the reverse of the drawing – whose most classicising works had, by the end of the 17th century, acquired the same status of antique statuary (fig. 5).14 Above was displayed a reduced version of one of the Marcus Aurelius reliefs in the Capitoline Museum (fig. 6), and a comparatively obscure relief with warriors, which had clearly gained fame because of its inclusion in Winckelmann’s Monumenti Antichi Inediti, published in 1767 (fig. 7).15 Further identifiable casts included a series of heads from Trajan’s Column, which we can see hanging from the shelves on the end wall, many of which remain in the Fig. 5. François Duquesnoy, Relief with Music-Making Angels, 1640–42, marble, 80 × 200 cm. Filomarino Altar, Church of Santi Apostoli, Naples commissioning of a series of new casts from Antonio Canova (1757–1822) in Rome.19 Burney’s image illustrates both the Royal Academy’s aspiration to offer an ‘academic’ education in line with great Continental examples, but also its differ- ences from them, as a private organisation sponsored by the monarch rather than a state-run academy.    194 195  26. Anonymous British School, 18th century A View of the Antique Academy in the Royal Academy c. 1790s Pen and brown ink and grey wash, with watercolour, over graphite, 294 × 223 mm Stamped recto, l.l., in brown ink: ‘J.R’; on separate piece of paper now attached to the reverse of the mount, in pen and black ink: ‘Henry Fuseli R A / 1741–1825. / Bought at Sir J. Charles Robinson’s sale 1902 / E.M.’ provenance: Charles Heathcote Robinson; Sir John Charles Robinson (1824–1913) (not listed in his sales: Christie’s 12–14 May 1902; or Christie’s 17–18 April 1902); Sir Edward Marsh (1872–1953); his bequest through The Art Fund (then called National Art Collection Fund), 1953.  literature:None. exhibitions: London 1969, no.1 (unpaginated), not repr. The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1953,0509.3 This satirical drawing, probably made by a distracted student who ought to have been studying diligently from one of the casts, shows an imposing, heavy-set man towering physi- cally and psychologically over three young seated pupils drawing in the Antique Academy. While traditionally he has been identified as the painter Henry Fuseli (1741–1825), Keeper of the Royal Academy Schools from 1803 to 1825, given the style of the drawing and the subject’s dress he is more likely to be either Agostino Carlini (c. 1718–90), Keeper between 1783 and 1790, or Joseph Wilton (1722–1803) who held the position between 1790 and 1803.1 The view shows one of the end walls of the Antique, or ‘Plaister’ Academy, housed from 1780 in a purpose-built room in Somerset House.2 The same wall, with a similar arrangement of casts, appears in the evocative candlelight view of the room by an anonymous British artist (see p. 60, fig. 105). The young students are busy at work, copying from casts of the Belvedere Torso (p. 26, fig. 23), the Apollo Belvedere (p. 26, fig. 18) and the Borghese Gladiator (p. 41, fig. 54), models of different ideal types of beauty, masculinity and anatomy, repeatedly praised by Sir Joshua Reynolds in his third Discourse of 1770. It is likely that the three moveable casts were often set side by side by the Keepers to reflect Reynolds’ conception of ideal beauty and of the ‘highest perfection of the human figure’, which ‘partakes equally of the activity of the Gladiator, of the delicacy of the Apollo, and of the muscular strength of the Hercules’, as expressed in his third Discourse.3 On the wall behind the casts, are two cupboards possibly containing students’ drawings, which support smaller casts and busts. Whilst the Antique Academy was a serious, professional space, it was naturally the focus of humour from the students, who ranged in ages from fourteen to thirty-four. Several other caricatures exist testifying to the lighter side of academic life, including an earlier study by Thomas Rowlandson (1756–1827) showing a bench of students at work in the Life Academy in 1776 and including mocking depictions of Rowlandson’s fellow students (fig. 1).4 In terms of its public image the cast collection was an important symbol of the Academy’s prestige but this view does not seem to have been shared by some of the students, many of whom must have considered the long hours spent copying after the Antique as a constraining and repetitive exercise. Joseph Wilton was a crucial figure within the acad- emy in promoting a rigid curriculum based on the classical ideal. He never abandoned his firm belief in the didactic value of plaster casts, established while he was director of the Duke of Richmond’s Gallery in the late 1750s.5 His strict teaching methods must have generated discontent and considerable derision, brilliantly visualised in a satirical print by Isaac Cruikshank (1756–1811) (fig. 2) which shows Wilton – trans- formed into Bottom with the head of an ass – inspecting the drawing of an irritated student in the Antique Academy.6 Wilton’s exacting standards, as the lines below the cartoon make clear, would prevent him from seeing the genius of a modern day Raphael and it is clear that some students of the Academy saw him as a ‘formal old fool’. Unlike the Life Academy, where the Visitor presided, setting the model and frequently drawing from it himself, the Antique Academy was presided over by the Keeper of the Schools. Each week the Keeper would set out specific casts and direct and comment on the students’ work. According to Fig. 1. Thomas Rowlandson, A Bench of Artists, 1776, pen and grey and black ink over pencil, 272 × 548 mm, Tate Gallery, London, inv. T08142  196 197  Fig. 2. Isaac Cruikshank, Bless The Bottom, bless Thee-Thou art translated – Shakespere, 1794, hand-coloured etching, 295 × 212 mm, G. J. Saville the rules, students did not choose which casts to draw and they were not allowed to move them without permission.7 But depictions of the Antique Academy suggest that the situation was probably more flexible and may have allowed for individually tailored study. Several anecdotes point to the unruly life of the Academy and its students, who were allowed to choose their own seats, with utter chaos resulting. Joseph Farington (1747–1821) noted in 1794, that they behaved like ‘a mob’: Hamilton says the life Academy requires regulation: but the Plaister Academy much more. The Students act like a mob, in endeavouring to get places. The figures also are not turned so as to present different views to the 8 The reason for the commotion was that once a student had a seat, he was expected to retain it for the week. The atmos- phere seems to have been generally boisterous and there are numerous reports in the Council Minutes of the Academy of misbehaviour, high spirits and students throwing at each. It would be productive of much good to the Students to deprive them of the use of bread; as they would be induced to pay more attention to their outlines; and would learn to draw more correct, when they had not the perpetual resource of rubbing out.11 aa&jy For the traditional attribution of the sitter see the entry on the collection online database of the British Museum. The identification of the sitter with Joseph Wilton has been proposed already by Andrew Wilton in London 1969, no. 1. For a list of Keepers of the Royal Academy see Hutchison 1986, pp. 266–67. Both Carlini and Wilton presented similar physical character- istics as the man in the drawing. For a list of their likenesses see respectively Trusted 2006 and Coutu 2008. See Baretti [1781], pp. 18–30. See Reynolds 1997, p. 47. London 1997, pp. 170–71, no. 67. See Coutu 2000; Kenworthy-Browne 2009. George 1870–1954, vol. 7 (1793–1800), p. 118, no. 8519. See ‘Rules of the Antique Academy’: Royal Academy of Arts PC/1/1, Council Minutes, vol. 1, pp. 4–6, 27 Dec. 1768, quoted in Hutchison 1986, p. 31. Farington 1978–98, vol. 1, p. 281. Pressly 1984, p. 87. Farington 1978–98, vol. 2, pp. 461–62. Ibid., vol. 2, p. 462. These two drawings by Turner epitomise the two principal stages of education provided by the Royal Academy Schools during the late 18th century: the Antique, or Plaister, Academy and the Life Academy. Turner enrolled as a student in the Schools in December 1789 as a boy of fourteen, spent more than two years in the Antique Academy, and then progressed to the Life Academy in June 1792, presumably after presenting a drawing for inspection by the Visitor.1 Although there is no record of the drawing Turner submitted, it may well have been this finished study of the Belvedere Torso (see p. 26, fig. 23) a sculpture of enduring popu- larity among artists as demonstrated by Goltzius’ drawing made almost exactly two hundred years earlier (cat. 8). Turner copied the same cast of the Torso shown in the satiri- cal view of the Academy (cat. 26). He is recorded as having visited the Antique Academy on 137 separate occasions during his studentship but only some twenty of his drawings after the Antique survive (figs 1–4) – many from the casts seen in Burney’s drawing (cat. 25) – and none as highly ren- dered as the present study.2 Turner’s signature at the lower right also suggests it was esteemed by the artist himself and prepared for some formal purpose. Whilst the surviving Academy Council Minutes do not record in detail the process of progression from the Antique Academy to the Life Academy, contemporary accounts offer some insight. Turner’s contemporary, Stephen Rigaud noted: I was admitted as a Student in the Life Academy by Mr Wilton the Keeper, and Mr Opie, the Visitor for the time being, on the presentation of a drawing from the Antique group of the Boxers, in which I had copied the strong effect of light and shade in the whole group coming out by strong lights on one side, and reflected lights on the other, with which Mr Opie expressed himself much pleased.3 The study of the Torso has all the characteristics of a presenta- tion drawing. It is on better, more regularly cut paper than Turner’s other drawings after the Antique and the figure is highly worked and boldly modelled with hatching and cross- hatching in chalk to convey the ‘strong effects of light and shade’ mentioned by Rigaud. This is in keeping with the established tradition of copying casts by candlelight to enhance contrast, so that the students could learn how to render planes and anatomical details. Unlike Goltzius’ Torso, being copied in daylight after the original in the Belvedere Courtyard in Rome, Turner’s cast is strongly lit from above by an oil lamp and set against a neutral screen to provide a uniform background – as clearly visible in the view of the Antique Academy (p. 60, fig. 105). Furthermore, this is the only drawing from the Antique where Turner employed trois crayons, adding red to black and white chalk, a technique he usually reserved for studies from life. Might it be that Turner was attempting to turn marble into flesh, the practice 198 199 students. other the lumps of bread they were given to erase their draw- ings. Stephen Francis Rigaud (1777–1862), son of the Royal Academician, John Francis Rigaud (1742–1810) and a student in the early 1790s, wrote that the Schools were also the forum for political agitation: The peaceable students in the Antique Academy being continually interrupted in their studies by others of an opposite character, who used to stand up and spout forth torrents of indecent abuse against the King [. . .] One evening [. . .] I rose and protested that if they continued to use such abominable language in a Royal Academy I would denounce every one of them to the Council and procure their expulsion [. . .] this threat checked them a little; but they shewed their spite by pelting me well with [. . .] pieces of bread.9 This incident reached the ears of the Academy Council from which the Keeper was excluded. Wilton told Joseph Farington in 1795: The Students in the Plaister Academy continue to behave very rudely; and that they have a practise of throwing the bread, allowed them by the Academy for rubbing out, at each other, so as to waste so much that the Bill for bread sometimes amounts to Sixteen Shillings a week.10 The Council took the decision to stop the allowance of bread altogether, as the President, Benjamin West, noted: 27. Joseph Mallord William Turner (London 1775–1851 London) a. Study of a Plaster Cast of the Belvedere Torso c. 1792 Black, red and white chalk, on brown paper, 331 × 235 mm Signed recto, l.r., in pen and black ink: ‘Wm Turner.’ literature: Postle 1997, pp. 91–93, repr.; Owens 2013, pp. 102–03, pl. 76. exhibitions: Nottingham and London 1991, p. 51, no. 18 (M. Postle); Munich and Rome 1998–99, p. 49, fig. 50, p. 164, no. 62 (M. Ewel and I. von zur Mühlen); Munich and Cologne 2002, p. 414, no. 192 (J. Rees); London 2011 (no catalogue). Victoria and Albert Museum, Prints & Drawings Study Room, London, 9261 b. The Wrestlers c. 1793 Black, red and white chalks, on brown paper, 504 x 384 mm Signed recto, l.r., in pen and black ink: ‘Wm Turner.’ literature: Wilton 2007, p. 16, repr. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Victoria and Albert Museum, Prints & Drawings Study Room, London, 9262 provenance: Both drawings purchased by the Museum in 1884 from R. Jackson with four other academic drawings by different artists (Victoria and Albert Museum Register of Drawings 1880–1884, pp. 171, 174).    200 201  prescribed by Rubens (see Appendix, no. 8), something he may have thought would demonstrate that he was ready to progress to the Life Academy? The Torso would have been a clever choice for a presentation drawing, since the antique fragment held a position of great prominence in the mission and the iconography of the Royal Academy. According to Reynolds the Torso was the greatest exemplar of classical art. ‘What artist’, he asked in his 10th Discourse of 1780, ‘ever looked at the Torso without feeling a warmth of enthusiasm, as from the highest efforts of poetry?’ For him only ‘a MIND elevated to the contemplation of excel- lence perceives in this defaced and shattered fragment [...] the traces of superlative genius, the reliques of a work on which succeeding ages can only gaze with inadequate admi- ration’ (see Appendix, no. 17).4 The muscular figure featured prominently under the words ‘STUDY’ on the obverse of several medals annually distributed as premiums to the students and in Angelica Kauffman’s Design for the ceiling of the Council Chamber, which served also as a second room of the Antique Academy (see p. 60, fig. 107).5 In Turner’s time as a student, the Academy possessed two casts of the Torso, one of which we know was presented by the dealer Colin Morrison in 1770, and significantly Turner himself donated a further cast in 1842.6 The second drawing exhibited here was made from posed models in the Life Academy. The model would be set by the Visitors and Turner studied under a number of them, including Henry Fuseli, James Barry and Thomas Stothard (1755–1834). This drawing possibly dates from 1793 and may represent an unusually elaborate pose set by the sculptor John Bacon (1740–99). Stephen Francis Rigaud, who entered the Life Academy a year after Turner, noted: I remember Mr Bacon once setting a well composed group of two men, one in the act of slaying the other; or a representation of the history of Cain and Abel, which was continued for double the time allowed for a single figure, and which gave general satisfaction to the students.7 This precisely accords with the present group, which shows specific models engaged in combat. Although designed to represent a biblical subject, the pose of the two figures was reminiscent of antique groups, especially the Wrestlers (see p. 30, fig. 33) which had already served as inspiration for posing the live models in the Italian and French academies – as seen for instance in Natoire’s imaginary view of the Académie Royale (cat. 16). Turner continued to attend the Schools throughout the 1790s until he was awarded Associateship of the Academy in 1799; he would continue to visit the Life Academy intermit- tently for the rest of his life.8 He was made inspector of the cast collection of the Royal Academy in 1820, 1829 and 1838 and served as Visitor in the Life Academy for a total of eight years between 1812 and 1838.9 In the latter role he became famous for setting the live model in postures reminiscent of classical sculpture, clearly recalling what he had learned during his time as a student. Lauding this practice and lamenting its decline, the artists and essayists Richard (1804–   Fig. 1. Joseph Mallord William Turner, Study of a Plaster Cast of the Apollo Belvedere, c. 1791, black and white chalks on brown laid wrapping paper, 419 × 269 mm, Tate Gallery, London, inv. D00057 (Turner Bequest V D) Fig. 2. Joseph Mallord William Turner, Study of a Plaster Casts of Marquess of Shelbourne’s Cincinnatus, c. 1791, pencil with black and white chalks and stump on laid buf paper, 425 × 267 mm, Tate Gallery, London, inv. D00055 (Turner Bequest V B) Fig. 4. Joseph Mallord William Turner, Study of a Plaster Cast of a Helmeted Head from the Trajan Column, with Other Studies, c. 1791, black, red and white chalks and stump on dark buf paper, 337 × 269 mm, Tate Gallery, London, inv. D40220 (Turner Bequest V R, verso) 88) and Samuel (1802–76) Redgrave noted: When a visitor in the life school he introduced a capital practice, which it is to be regretted has not been contin- ued: he chose for study a model as nearly as possible corresponding in form and character with some fine antique figure, which he placed by the side of the model posed in the same action; thus, the Discobulus (sic) of Myron contrasted with one of our best trained soldier; the Lizard Killer with a youth in the roundest beauty of adoles- cence; the Venus de’ Medici beside a female in the first period of youthful womanhood. The idea was original and very instructive: it showed at once how much the antique sculptors had refined nature; which, if in parts more beautiful than the selected form which is called ideal, as a whole looked common and vulgar by its side.10 aa & jy For Turner’s attendance at the Academy see Hutchison 1960–62, p. 130. Finberg 1909, vol. 1, pp. 6–8. See also Wilton 2012. Pressly 1984, p. 90. Reynolds 1997, pp. 177–78. On the medals see Hutchison 1986, p. 34; Baretti [1781], p. 28; see also London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 24, 20 May 1769. For the Council Chamber see Baretti [1781], pp. 25–26. On the two copies of the Torso in the Royal Academy see Baretti [1781], pp. 9, 28. On Colin Morrison’s donation of a cast of the Torso, together with ‘Cast of a Bust of Alexander’ in 1770 see London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 70, 17 March 1770; on Turner’s donation see Gage 1987, p. 33. Pressly 1984, p. 90. Hutchison 1960–62, p. 130. See Gage 1987, pp. 32–33. Redgrave and Redgrave 1890, p. 234, quoted in Gage 1987, p. 33.   202 203 Fig. 3. Joseph Mallord William Turner, Study of a Plaster Casts of the Borghese Gladiator, c. 1791–92, black and some white chalk on buf wove paper, 580 × 457 mm, Tate Gallery, London, inv. D00071 (Turner Bequest V S) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10  28. William Chambers ( fl.1794) The Townley Marbles in the Dining Room of 7 Park Street, Westminster 1795 Pen and grey ink with watercolour and touches of gouache, indication in graphite, heightened with gum Arabic, 390 × 540 mm provenance: Charles Townley (1737–1805); by descent to Lord O’Hagan (b. 1945); Sotheby’s, London, 22 July 1985, lot 559; Frederick R. Koch; Sotheby’s, London, 12 April 1995, lot 90, from whom acquired by the British Museum. literature: Cook 1977, pp. 8–9, fig.1; Cook 1985, pp. 44–45, fig. 41; Walker 1986, pp. 320–22, pl. A; Cruickshank 1992, pp. 60–61, fig. 5; Morley 1993, pp. 228, 285, pl. LVII; Webster 2011, p. 425, fig. 321. exhibitions: Essen 1992, pp. 432–36, no. 360a (C. Fox and I. Jenkins); London 1995 (no catalogue); London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 258–60, no. 214 (I. Jenkins); London 2000, pp. 229–30, no. 167; London 2001, p. 42, no. 72; London 2003b, p. 143, fig. 117.  The British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 1995,0506.8 Charles Townley (1737–1805) was the most influential collec- tor of antique sculpture in Britain during the second half of the 18th century.1 From 1777 Townley’s considerable collection was arranged in his London residence, 7 Park Street (now 14 Queen Anne’s Gate), a proto-house-museum praised both for the strength of its collections and their display. It was to become one of the principal tourist sites in London. Writing about the house, James Dallaway claimed that ‘the interior of a Roman villa might be inspected in our own metropolis’.2 Park Street was also a centre of antiquari- anism and Townley – particularly after 1798, when wars with France curtailed travel to the Continent – was a hugely Fig. 1. Johann Zofany, Charles Townley and Friends in His Library at Park Street, Westminster, 1781–90 and 1798, oil on canvas, 127 × 99.1 cm, Towneley Hall Art Gallery & Museum important figure in promoting the study and interpretation of classical sculpture in Britain initiating numerous publica- tions, including the Society of Dilettanti’s Specimens of Antient Sculpture (1809). Townley also formed a famous library and an immense archive of drawings – in effect a ‘paper museum’ – recording antiquities in both British and European collections. To complete this ‘paper museum’ and to prepare publications such as the Specimens, Townley employed numerous young artists to record his own collection. It is clear from the surviving portions of his diary and other records that 7 Park Street became, in effect, an alternative academy in London. Writing in 1829, the then Keeper of Prints and Drawings at the British Museum, J. T. Smith, published a description of 7 Park Street and its contents, observing: I shall now endeavour to anticipate the wish of the reader, by giving a brief description of those rooms of Mr Townlye’s house, in which that gentleman’s liberality employed me when a boy, with many other students in the Royal Academy, to make drawings for his portfolios.3 Townley’s surviving drawings, housed, along with his sculp- ture collection, in the British Museum, testify to the range of artists he employed and demonstrate the popularity of Park Street as a venue for artists both to meet and to draw. Records show that William Chambers – not to be confused with the architect of the same name – was one of the draughtsmen employed by Townley to prepare drawings for his ‘portfo- lios’. A payment of £5.5.0 to Chambers is recorded on 21 October 1795 for the pendant to this drawing, a view of sculp- ture in the hall at 7 Park Street, also in the British Museum.4 Townley’s diary records the comings and goings of painters, particularly his friend, Johann Zoffany (1733–1810) who painted the iconic, largely imaginary view of Townley’s library filled with his sculpture collection and with the owner in conversation with his unofficial curator, the Baron d’Hancarville, and two other friends (fig. 1).5  204 205  The dining room was one of the principal public spaces of the house and contained some of the largest sculptures in the collection. These included the Townley Venus, the Discobolus (fig. 2), the Townley Caryatid, the Townley Vase, and the Drunken Faun, which Chambers places in the foreground. The modish decoration reflected both advanced neo-classical thinking and Townley’s own passions; the walls were articulated by simulated porphyry columns surmounted by capitals whose design came from Terracina; as d’Hancarville explained: ‘the ove is covered with three masks representing the three kinds of ancient drama, the comic, tragic and satyric [...] the choice and disposition of these ornaments leave no doubt that this capital was intended to characterise a building con- secrated to Bacchus and Ceres’.6 Visitors are shown admiring the collection while a woman seated in the foreground is drawing from the Drunken Faun. A drawing attributed to Chambers of the same sculpture, taken from the same angle, made for Townely’s portfolios, is also in the British Museum (fig. 3). Townley’s wide circle of acquaintances included a number of amateur and professional female artists, includ- ing Maria Cosway (1760–1838), whom Townley first met in Florence in 1774. His interest in encouraging young artists led to the publication by Conrad Metz of a drawing manual based on studies of the sculpture in Park Street: Studies for Drawing, chiefly from the Antique. 30 plates (1785). Townley’s support of artists resulted in his taking an active role in the Royal Academy of Arts from its foundation. He donated casts of his own sculpture and solicited dona- tions from friends. The Academy’s Council Minutes record his first donation in August 1769 of a ‘cast of the Lacedemonian Boy’ the so-called Knucklebone Players which appears in Edward Burney’s view of the RA’s Antique Academy on the far left, behind the Cincinnatus (cat. 25).7 One of the artists who appears regularly in Townley’s diary was the sculptor Joseph Nollekens (1737–1823) who is recorded donating to the Academy a ‘cast in plaister of the head of Diomede’ belonging to Townley in 1792.8 Townley also donated casts of sculptures in other collections, among them, in 1794 one ‘of the celebrated Bas relief in the Capitol, of Perseus & Andromeda’, a cast still in the collection of the Academy.9 Townley’s solicitude for the Royal Academy and the educa- tion of young artists continued throughout his life; in 1797 the painter and diarist Joseph Farington noted: ‘Townley [...] thinks the Academy should have additional rooms for Statues &c’.10 29. Joseph Michael Gandy (London 1771–1843 Plympton) View of the Dome Area by Lamplight looking South-East 1811 Pen and black ink, watercolour, 1190 × 880 mm selected literature: Lukacher 2006, pp. 132–33, fig.150 exhibitions: London 1999a, p. 160, no. 68 (H. Dorey); Munich 2013–14, p. 43; London 2014, (unpaginated). Sir John Soane’s Museum, London, For Townley see particularly Coltman 2009. Dallaway 1816, pp. 319, 328. Smith 1829, vol. 1, p. 251. In February that year he had also paid Chambers £2.2.0. for some unspeci- fied drawings, and in August £1.1.0. for ‘drawing gems’: see London 2000, p. 229. Townley’s diary records Chambers returned in May 1798 when he began to make a record of an altar of Lucius Verus Helius which Townley had recently acquired from the Duke of St Albans; he finished the study on Sunday 7 July: London, British Museum, Townley Archive, TY/1/10. For William Chambers’ pendant to this drawing see London 2001, p. 42, no. 71 (with previous bibliography). Webster 2011, pp. 419–43. London and Rome 1996–97, pp. 258–60. London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/1, Council minutes, vol. 1, p. 38, 9 Aug. 1769. It arrived with a cast of a Venus donated by Townley’s principal antiquities dealer in Rome, Thomas Jenkins. The original Knucklebone Players is in the British Museum, Department of Greek & Roman Antiquities, inv. 1805,0703.7. London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/2, Council minutes, vol. 2, pp. 173–4, 3 Nov. 1792. The original marble bust is in the British Museum, Department of Greek & Roman Antiquities, inv. 1805,0703.86, now called the Head of a follower of Ulysses. London, Royal Academy of Arts, PC/1/2, Council minutes, vol. 2, p. 201, 7 Feb. 1794. The cast is in the Royal Academy, inv. 03/2018. The original is in the Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. 501: see Helbig 1963–72, vol. 2, pp. 156–57, no. 1330. Farington 1978-98, vol. 3, p. 840. Fig. 2. The Townley Discobolus, Roman copy of the 2nd century ad after a Greek original of the 5th century bc by Myron, marble, 170 cm (h), British Museum, Department of Greek & Roman Antiquities, London, inv. 1805,0703.43 Fig. 3 Attributed to William Chambers, Drawing of a Statue of an Intoxicated Satyr, 1794–1805, black chalk and grey wash, 280 × 193 mm, British Museum, Department of Greek & Roman Antiquities, London, inv. 2010,5006.87 The Royal Academy School of Architecture was central to the formation of the professional career and teaching of Sir John Soane (1754–1837), who is chiefly remembered today as architect to the Bank of England, of Dulwich Picture Gallery and of his incomparable house-museum at No. 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London. The unique installations of antiquities and casts after the Antique in the Museum, which he built at the back of the house, and which J. M. Gandy so atmospherically evokes in this drawing, also attest to the influence of the Academy on Soane’s pattern of collecting and his own role as a teacher. Soane entered the Academy in 1771 at the age of eighteen; he was the 141st pupil since the Academy’s foundation in 1768 and amongst the first students of the School of Architecture, the earliest institution in Britain to teach architecture in a formalised way. The School was modelled by Sir William Chambers (1723–96) on his own experience of studying architecture in Jean-François Blondel’s École des Arts in Paris, in 1749–50, when the status of the architect and teaching methods in Britain were then very different from those in France. The Académie Royale d’Architecture, of which Chambers became a member in 1762, had been founded in 1671 and was followed, in 1743, by Blondel’s more progressive École. The École’s curriculum was rigorous; it was open for study from Monday to Saturday and from eight in the morning until nine in the evening. The students’ day began with formal discussion of various topics, followed by lectures on set matters relating to drawing such as mathe- matics, geometry, perspective, or to building types such as military architecture, or to practical issues such as drainage and water supply. In the spring, students would undertake site visits to notable buildings in Paris and its environs.1 In Britain, by contrast, the professional status of architect was ill-defined, and was not always distinguished from that of the builder or mason. The ambiguous status of architecture was not entirely clarified by the time Soane entered the architecture school. It was the smallest of the departments at the Royal Academy and Soane was one of only nine pupils admitted in 1771. And although inspired by Blondel’s École, the programme of the architecture school was nothing like so rigourous. Students of architecture were required to attend only six lectures per year.2 The reason for this very limited formal teaching was that most students were attached to a professional archi- tect’s office during the day; when Soane enrolled at the Royal Academy he was working for George Dance the Younger (1741–1825).3 Nor were the teaching collections available to students at all extensive. The collections of plaster casts after the Antique (and antiquities) were dominated by the requirements of painters and sculptors; in the 1810 inventory of 385 casts, only nineteen can be identified as being architec- tural.4 It is against this backdrop that we must understand Soane’s own founding of an ‘academy of architecture’ in his house-museum. The history of Soane’s collections of casts and the manner in which they were installed, deinstalled and reinstalled over a period of time and over three different properties belonging to Soane (two at Lincoln’s Inn Fields and one in Ealing, London) is not straightforward. From the 1790s, Soane started collecting and displaying casts for the use of the young pupils and assistants working in his first office in No. 12 Lincoln’s Inn Fields.5 However, as his collection grew and as his career as an architect developed, the function of the collection of antiquities and of casts after the Antique changed. Gandy’s drawing shows the Dome Area of Soane’s Museum as it appeared in 1811 (a year after the 1810 Royal Academy inventory of casts was com- piled).6 In this view, atmospherically lit from below by an undisclosed light source, we can readily identify a number of casts of antique sculpture and of architectural fragments. The largest casts are the Corinthian capital shown on the south wall, and a fragment of entablature, shown on the east wall, both taken from the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Rome, which Soane had purchased in 1801 from the sale of the architect Willey ‘the Athenian’ Reveley.7 Below the capital, and forming part of the parapet of the Dome we see a cast of one of the panels, decorated with a festoon, from the portico of the Pantheon, purchased from the sale of the architect James Playfair.8 Sculpture is also represented in the casts, and a number of well-known antiquities can be   206 207  described. Just visible through the arch in the lower right- hand corner, is an arrangement of four casts taken from the base of one of the so-called Barberini Candelabra, among the most prized antiquities in the Museo Pio-Clementino, Rome, which shows the gods Minerva, Jupiter (twice), and Mercury in low relief.9 On the east wall, below the entablature of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, is a cast of a relief of two of the ‘Corybantes’, taken from the marble original in the Vatican Museums and also purchased from the Playfair sale.10 Although Soane would rearrange these casts and antiquities as his ‘Museum’ expanded, most are still to be found at No. 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields and the general impression of a dense, ‘romantic’ arrangement remains. If, originally, Soane’s collection of casts and antiquities was intended to provide exemplars for the architects training and working in his office, by the time Gandy drew the arrangements as they appeared in 1811 a shift in their purpose had occurred. In 1806, Soane became Professor of Architecture at the Royal Academy and, as a former student, he was well aware of the relatively meagre resources allocated to the School. He comments on this in his 6th lecture, given to his students at the RA.11 The arrangement of casts shown by Gandy was installed between 1806 and 1809, when Soane was preparing his Royal Academy lectures, of which he gave the first in 1809.12 It has been argued that they are a three-dimensional analogue of the lectures and their drawn illustrations.13 Indeed, Soane saw the casts as being central to his teaching: ... I propose in future that the various drawings and models, shall, on the day before, and if necessary, the day after the public reading of each lecture, be open at my house for the inspection of the students in architecture, where at the same time, they will likewise have an oppor- tunity of consulting the plaster casts and architectural fragments.14 Shortly after Gandy completed this view of the Dome Area, the European Magazine and London Review described Soane’s house-museum as an ‘... Academy of Architecture’.15 At the same time as he was responding to the lack of architectural casts and fragments in the collections of the Royal Academy, Soane’s ‘academy’ should also be seen as Soane’s reflection on the ways in which he himself had come to experience Roman architecture. Unlike the Royal Academy lectures, which Soane arranged programmatically, the ‘Piranesian’ displays of antiquities, casts and architectural 16 to recreate the experience of visiting Rome and to recall the excitement of viewing there the disorganised remains of antiquity.17 However, another reason why Soane rejected a rational academic approach to the arrangements of antiquities in his house-museum might lie in the way that Soane used the collections to form his own identity as an architect. In our drawing Gandy includes a portrait of Soane who is illuminated from the same undisclosed light source as his casts, gesturing in, by 1811, the slightly archaic manner of an interlocutor. He is at once teacher, architect and collector.18 The arrangements of casts and antiquities are not just for the use of his students and pupils but also, as he put it, ‘... studies for my own mind’.19 They reflect one individual’s view of art and architecture through the idiosyncratic juxtapositions that he created. However, there is yet another level of self-identification in Soane’s collection and display of antiquities and architec- tural fragments. In Gandy’s drawing, far above Soane on a shelf, can be seen a row of Roman antique cineraria and cinerary vases. That at the far left, decorated with Ammon masks, came from the ‘Museum’ of the great Italian architect and etcher, Piranesi, as did the cinerary vase decorated with griffins seen on top of the cinerarium in the middle, and the cinerarium decorated with genii on the far right. Though it is not seen in this view, in 1811, a full-size cast of the Apollo Belvedere would join the collections of the ‘academy’. Dating to 1717, it had formerly been owned by Lord Burlington and displayed in his villa at Chiswick. In 1818, further antiquities – this time from the sale of the effects of Robert and James Adam – would enhance the installations. The names of these prominent antiquaries and architects are significant: they create an intellectual genealogy for Soane, who was born the son of a bricklayer. Sir John Soane’s Museum is a very rare survival of an early 19th-century private ‘academy’ in which his collections of casts and of antiquities can be experienced much in the same manner as his own pupils and his Royal Academy students experienced them. It also demonstrates how Soane drew upon the Antique to create his intellectual persona.  fragments are set out idiosyncratically and imaginatively. Why did Soane reject a more conventional arrangement of casts and antiquities in his ‘academy’? Perhaps he wished 208 1 2 3 4 j k-b See Bingham 1993, p.5. ‘In regard to the students in architecture, it is exacted from them only that they attend the library and lectures, more particularly those on Architecture and Perspective...’. Reprinted, La Ruffinière du Prey 1977, p. 47. Soane subsequently entered the office of Henry Holland in 1772. Bingham 1993, p. 7. The lack of collections of casts or of architectural fragments in public collections in Britain, until Sir John Soane formed his collection, was also commented upon by John Britton in the preface to his 1827 ‘guide’ to Soane’s house-museum, Britton 1827, p.viii. 209  5 Soane had originally started collecting and displaying casts for the use of the architects working in his first office in No.12 Lincoln’s Inn Fields in the 1790s. He also hoped to inspire his eldest son – John Soane Junior – to become an architect and arranged antiquities and casts at his country villa, Pitzhanger Manor in Ealing, acquired in 1800 and rebuilt by Soane, to act as an ‘academy’ for John. For a full description of Soane’s acquisition and installation of casts in his house-museum and his use of them see: Dorey 2010. 6 This part of the house was in fact behind No. 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 7 Reveley had collected these casts in Italy and Soane purchased every cast from this sale. Dorey 2010, p. 600. 8 Dorey 2010, p.600. 9 These were found in the remains of Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli in 1730 and were heavily restored by Bartolomeo Cavaceppi. The British antiquary Thomas Jenkins acted as agent for the Pope when negotiating their acquisition. 10 This had been found in 1788 near Palestrina. The subject of the relief is also sometimes identified as the Pyrrhic Dance. 11 ‘...I have often lamented that in the Royal Academy the students in architecture have only a few imperfect casts from ancient remains, and a very limited collection of works on architecture to refer to.’ Reprinted in Watkin 1996, p. 579. 12 As Soane explained in his 6th Royal Academy lecture: ‘On my appoint- ment to the Professorship I began to arrange the books, casts, and models, 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 in order that the students might have the benefit of easy access to them.’ Reprinted in Watkin 1996, p. 579. See: Dorey 2010, p. 606. Watkin 1996, p.579. Observations 1812, p. 382. In fact, Soane does seem to have entertained the idea of creating a more ‘rational’ Museum where casts, antiquities and fragments would be arranged according to academic taxonomies. A drawing by George Bailey, also dating to 1811 and showing the Dome Area (SM 14/6/3), includes a plan relating to a scheme of c. 1809–11 whereby both Nos 12 and 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields would be used by Soane. In this proposed scheme, the whole of No. 13 would become the Museum with the collections displayed according to type. As Soane explained in a rejected draft of his sixth Royal Academy lecture, No. 13 would incorporate: ‘... a gallery exceeding one hundred feet in length for the reception of architectural drawings and prints, another room of the same extent over it, to receive models and parts of buildings ancient and modern’. Reprinted in Watkin 1996, p. 356. Soane even used plain yellow glass in the skylights that illuminated the Dome Area, perhaps to evoke the light of the Mediterranean world rather than that of London. Soane explores the use of architecture as a type of ‘self-portrait’ in notes he made when preparing his Royal Academy lectures. See: Soane. J., Extracts, Hints, Etc. for Lectures, 1813–18, SM Soane Case 170, f.135. Soane, Gijsbertus Johannus Van den Berg (Rotterdam 1769–1817 Rotterdam) The Drawing Lesson c. 1790s Black and red chalk, 483 × 375 mm. Framing lines in black chalk. Signed recto l.r. in black chalk: GVD Berg. fecit provenance: Paris, Drouot, 26 March 1924, part of lot 55, La Leçon de Dessin (sold as a pair with another drawing, La Marchande de frivolités); Private collection, France; Private collection, England; Florian Härb, London, from whom acquired. literature:None. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2011-013 Born in Rotterdam, Van den Berg was a pupil of Johannes Zaccarias Simon Prey (1749–1822), a leading portrait and decorative painter in that city.1 In the 1780s, he studied for three years in Antwerp where he received special recogni- tion for his drawings after live models and casts; he also resided for a time in Düsseldorf and Mannheim.2 In 1790, he returned to Rotterdam where he established himself as a portrait painter and miniaturist. The same year he was appointed ‘Corrector’, a judge and arranger of poses for live models, of the Rotterdam Drawings Society, whose motto was Hierdoor tot Hooger (‘From Hereby to Higher’).3 For the remainder of his career, he devoted himself to teaching. His pupils included his son, Jacobus-Everardus-Josephus (1802–61), who also became a professional painter and from 1844, director of the Teeken-Akademie in the Hague.4 One of Van den Berg’s biographers makes special mention of the finished portrait studies in black and red chalk that he made after his return to Rotterdam; the present drawing is certainly one of them.5 Berg preferred studying female models, usually posing two together: here, two elegantly dressed women in a panelled interior focus their attention on an idealised head, probably a variant of the head of an antique Venus.6 The seated draughtswoman holds up her chalk-filled porte-crayon above an angled drawing-board, intently appraising her subject. She engages with it much in the same way as Hubert Robert did some thirty years earlier in his self-portrait with the Faustina bust (cat. 17). The second woman appears to be commenting on the work in progress. A portfolio leans against a table leg on the floor below. Comparably attired women – possibly the same ones – are shown reading a letter in a sheet by Van den Berg in a private collection.7 The present composition is similar in style and format to several other chalk studies by the artist of the 1790s. It is especially close to his drawing of a female artist seated at a table in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (fig. 1). But instead of holding a porte-crayon, this young woman operates a zograscope, an optical device invented in the mid-18th century that included a magnifying lens to enhance an image’s depth and relief; the subject of her scrutiny remains out of view.8 Another comparable drawing, signed and dated 1791 (Royal Collection, Windsor Castle; fig. 2), shows an elderly man, perhaps a drawing instructor, inspecting a portrait study from a portfolio.9 He is seated at a table which is nearly identical to that in the Bellinger example, but Berg shows him in a less formal attitude, holding a long clay pipe and resting his feet on a portable stove, in a manner reminis- cent of Dutch 17th-century genre subjects. This drawing, plus a number of other figure drawings by Van den Berg preserved at Windsor, were probably obtained as a group by Fig. 1. Gijsbertus Johannus Van den Berg, Study of a Woman Seated at a Table, with an Optical Mirror, black and red chalk, 396 × 303 mm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam RP-T-1997-10  210 211     Fig. 2. Gijsbertus Johannus Van den Berg, A Connoisseur Examining Drawings, 1791, black and red chalk, 407 × 284 mm, Royal Collection, RL 12865 King George III around 1810.10 Most are probably studies after live models set in poses determined in advance in classes at the Rotterdam Drawings Society.11 Draped plaster casts were used when models were unavailable.12 As with the Bellinger drawing, their style, with their sensitive employment of black chalk and red accents for the skin, is strongly reminiscent of portrait drawings by the English artist Richard Cosway (1742–1821) and no doubt register the prevailing taste for English art in Rotterdam at the time.13 It is possible that Van den Berg intended his figure studies to be engraved, perhaps for a series on the art of drawing.14 Women artists did not begin to acquire the same privileges and educational advantages as men until the end of the 19th century; as a general rule they were denied membership of academies and were not permitted to draw after nude or anatomical models.15 They were largely confined to producing art in private studios and especially in aristocratic houses, where drawing tutors were sometimes hired to supplement the education of young women.16 For the most part, they were restricted to producing non-histor- ical, non-mythological and non-biblical subjects, such as portraits and still-lifes, as their exclusion from study of the live model and anatomy was thought to – and generally did Fig. 3. Georg Melchior Kraus, Corona Schröter Drawing a Cast of the ‘Eros of Centocelle’, 1785, watercolour, 380 × 315 mm, Klassik Stiftung Weimar, KHz/01632 – prevent them from acquiring full mastery of the human form.17 Instead, they studied sculptural models and espe- cially antique casts, often ones deemed thematically appro- priate for their gender, such as the ideal head featured in the Van den Berg drawing catalogued here. A comparable situa- tion is depicted in a watercolour close in date by Georg Melchior Kraus (1737–1806), then director of the Weimar drawing school, in which a beautiful and smartly dressed young lady, Corona Schröter, draws after a cast of the girlish son of Venus, the Eros of Centocelle (1785; Klassik Stiftung Weimar; fig. 3), a statue known through Roman copies – namely, the example discovered by Gavin Hamilton in 1772 in the outskirts of Rome and now in the Vatican – after a lost bronze original by Praxiteles.18 The tradition of women drawing from antique plaster casts in Holland, which began in the 17th century,19 was well advanced by the first quarter of the 18th century, evidenced in Pieter Van der Werff’s portrayal of a girl draw- ing after the Venus de’ Medici (1715; Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; p. 40, fig. 53). Van den Berg’s drawing, and others like it, confirm that the practice developed further during the latter part of the century, and became still more widespread in the 19th. The importance of plaster casts in artistic training in 212 213  Holland at this time is indicated by the activities of the Rotterdam Drawing School, but also by Van den Berg’s own self-portrait of 1794, where a reduced model of the Dying Gladiator and others are given prominence of place on the shelf directly behind the artist (Museum Rotterdam).20 avl 1 For his life and work, see Van der Aa 1852–78, vol. 2, pp. 368–69; Thieme- Becker 1907–50, vol. 3, p. 387; Scheen 1981, p. 35. 2 Van der Aa 1852–78, vol. 2, pp. 368–69. 3 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 369; For the society and his involvement therein, see Amsterdam 1994, pp. 2–3 [unpaginated]. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid.; Amsterdam 1994, p. 3 [unpaginated]. 6 Amsterdam 1994, p. 3 [unpaginated]; Berg also oversaw private classes where students drew after nude female models. 7 Ibid., pp. 3–4 [unpaginated], no. 9. 8 Bulletin van het Rijksmuseum, 45, no. 3, 1997, p. 239, fig. 9. For an in-depth study of this device, known in the 18th century as an ‘optical machine’, see Koenderink 2013, pp. 192–206. 9 Puyvelde 1944, p. 20, no. 81, pl. 142; Amsterdam 1994, p. 2 [unpaginated]. 10 Puyvelde 1944, pp. 20–21, nos. 75–83. See also on-line collections database: http://www.royalcollection.org.uk 11 For the society’s use of posed models, see Amsterdam 1994, p. 2 [unpagi- nated]. 12 On the role of casts, see Amsterdam 1994, p. 2 [unpaginated]. An intrigu- ing view of the society’s drawing room, on the upper floor of the Delftse Poort in Rotterdam, was published in Plomp 1982, pp. 11–12 (drawn by an anonymous artist, 1780, whereabouts unknown). Casts of the Laocoön, the Apollo Belvedere, and L’Ecorché (Figure of a Flayed Man), 1767 by Jean-Antoine Houdon (1741–1828) are clearly visible. For the latter, see Washington D.C., Los Angeles and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 62–66, no. 1 (A. L. Poulet). It has also been suggested that the finished quality of Van den Berg’s drawings are reminiscent of engravings by George Morland (Amsterdam 1994, p. 3 [unpaginated]; Bulletin van het Rijksmuseum, 45, no. 3, 1997, p. 239). As proposed by Florian Härb, unpublished fact sheet on the Bellinger drawing, c. 2011. For essential reading on the subject of women artists from the Renaissance to the mid-20th century, see Los Angeles, Austin and elsewhere 1976–77 and especially the authors’ introductory essay, pp. 12–67. See also Goldstein 1996, pp. 61–66. A very small number of women artists managed to get elected to the French academy including Adélaïd Labille-Guiard (1749– 1803) and Elisabeth Vigée Lebrun (1755–1842) in 1783. But from 1663 to the dissolution of the Academy in 1793, only fourteen in total were accepted (Montfort 2005, pp. 3, 16, note 8). The French Salon in Paris was not open to non-Academy members until 1791, when women were permitted to exhibit their work. Goldstein 1996, pp. 62–64. See Los Angeles, Austin and elsewhere 1976–77, especially pp. 13–58; Goldstein 1996, pp. 62–63. Söderlind 1999, p. 23. For the statue, see Spinola 1996–2004, vol. 2, p. 61, fig. 11, p. 63, no. 85; Piva 2007, pp. 48–49, fig. 7. See for example, A Young Woman Seated Drawing, 1655–60, by Gabriel Metsu (1629–67) in the National Gallery, London (NG 5225; Waiboer 2012, pp. 205–06, A-62) and A Lady Drawing, c. 1665, by Eglon van der Neer (1635/36– 1703) in the Wallace Collection, London (inv. no. P243; Schavemaker 2010, p. 462, no. 29). Dordrecht 2012–13, no. 64A (F. Meijer). 31. Wybrand Hendriks (Amsterdam 1744–1831 Haarlem) The Haarlem Drawing College 1799 Oil on canvas, 63 × 81 cm Signed and dated lower left: ‘W. Hendriks Pinxit 1799’ provenance: Wybrand Hendriks (1744–1831); his sale, R.W.P. de Vries & C.F. Roos, Amsterdam, 27–29 February 1832, lot 30; private collection, Paris; Adolph Staring (1890–1980), Vorden; given to the Teylers Museum in 1987 by Mrs. J.H.M. Staring-de Mol van Otterloo. literature: Knoef 1938, repr.; Knoef 1947a, pp. 11–13; Staring 1956, p. 174, fig. LIV; Van Regteren Altena 1970, pp. 312, 316; Praz 1971, p. 37; Van Tuyll 1988, pp. 17–18, fig. 21; Haarlem 1990, pp. 35–36. exhibitions: Rotterdam 1946, p. 8, no. 13; London 1947, p. 4, no. 2; Amsterdam 1947–48, p. 8, no. 10; Haarlem 1972, pp. 25–26, no. 29, fig. 44; Munich and Haarlem 1986, pp. 96–97, no. 13. 214 215 Teylers Museum, Haarlem, KS 1987 002 exhibited in haarlem only In this painting we have been admitted to a gathering at the Haarlem Drawing College. In the 18th and early 19th century every self-respecting Dutch town had its own drawing ‘college’ or ‘academy’. It was where artists and wealthy amateurs met, drew together from the nude or draped model, and where they looked at drawings together during so-called art viewings or ‘kunstbeschouwingen’. In 1799, the year this picture was painted, the Haarlem Drawing College had twenty-six working (as opposed to honorary) members, and this is very probably a group portrait of them and their committee (leaving aside the boy playing marbles on the left, who may be the son of one of the members). The setting is a house that the Haarlem artists rented in Klein Heiligland. The question that immediately arises is: ‘who’s who?’ Although the label listing the sitters that was still with the painting at the sale of Hendriks’s estate in 1832 is no longer preserved, many of the figures can nevertheless be identified with a fair degree of certainty. The two in the middle are very probably the secretary, Jan Willem Berg who gestures to the viewer’s left, and the balding treasurer, Pieter S. Crommelin. On the far right, beneath the bas-relief on the wall, is Hendriks himself.1 The man in the left background, pointing at one of the plaster casts on the mantelpiece, has been recognised as Adriaan van der Willigen (1766–1841), author and art historian avant la lettre.2 Prominently displayed against the chimneybreast are various plaster casts. The large head of the famous Apollo Belvedere in the middle is the most eye-catching (see p. 26, fig. 18). To the right of it is the classical Callipygian Venus and to the left, the crouching Nymph Washing Her Foot after Adriaen de Vries (1556–1626).3 Of the two male casts seen frontally, that on the right is after the classical Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32), while that on the left is probably after a Mercury by François Duquesnoy (1597–1643).4 Hanging on the wall above Hendriks’s head is Vulcan’s Forge, also after Adriaen de Vries, and in the corner on the left is the life-sized cast of another classical statue: the Venus de’ Medici (see p. 42, fig. 56).5 The casts displayed, therefore, reproduce as a whole or in part, statues from classical antiquity and from 16th- and 17th-century Netherlandish sculpture, which in turn reference the Antique. The casts depicted belonged to the Haarlem Drawing Academy, the forerunner of the College. Hendriks had bought them and the rest of the inventory in 1795 to help pay off the academy’s debts, and he donated everything to the Drawing College when it was founded the following year. The prime mover behind the gift was probably the Teylers Foundation, a Haarlem body that had been set up in 1778 to stimulate the arts and sciences. The foundation subsidised art education in Haarlem for decades, and Hendriks was the curator of its art collection, which was housed in the Teylers Museum.6 The fact that these plaster casts were transferred immediately to the Drawing College indicates how impor- tant they were for a society that promoted drawing, and this is confirmed by the prominence they are accorded in this group portrait. On the other hand, it should be appreciated that the supremacy of classical art and the rules of classicism, which in fact had never been applied very strictly in the Dutch Republic, were no longer so sacred in the Netherlands by 1800. Members of some drawing academies often argued that genres like landscape and scenes from everyday life in which nature was imitated literally and not idealised, should be valued as highly as history paintings, which were generally inspired by classical or neo-classical principles. The idea that Adriaan van der Willigen is the man point- ing at the casts is intriguing. He was a learned amateur and the best-versed person in the gathering when it came to the history of the arts. He was very well aware how much they owed to the example of ancient Greece and Rome. A few  years after this painting was executed he wrote an essay in the Verhandelingen uitgegeven door Teyler’s Tweede Genootschap (Discourses published by Teylers Second Society) discussing ‘the cause of the lack of superior history painters in the Netherlands, and the means suitable for their training’. He praised his countrymen for their colouring, chiaroscuro, fidelity to nature and brushwork, yet accused them of impre- cise drawing, inelegant compositions and bad taste. What, Van der Willigen asked, could be done to overcome these defects? To draw from the ‘purest casts in plaster of the finest classical statues, busts and bas-reliefs’! And he then gave a list of the well-known canon of classical sculpture, which included the Apollo Belvedere, the Laocoön, the Venus de’ Medici and the Belvedere Torso.7 In short, he was utterly convinced of the importance of classical sculpture and its formative nature. For him, it was clearly still of paramount importance. mp 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 For the various identifications see Haarlem 1972, p. 25 and Haarlem 1990, pp. 35–36. The Van der Willigen identification was made by A. Staring (1956, p. 174) and has been adopted by other authors (see above, note 1). According to Staring, some of the portraits were added later, when the composition had already been determined, including that of Van der Willigen, who was not yet living in Haarlem in 1799. Van der Willigen is best known today for writing a comprehensive collection of biographies of artists living in the Netherlands from 1750 onwards, together with Roeland van Eynden: Van Eynden and Van der Willigen 1816–40. For the Callipygian Venus see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 316–18, no. 83; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 1, pp. 73–76, no. 31 and repr. on pp. 267–69. For the Nymph Washing Her Foot after Adriaen de Vries: Amsterdam, Stockholm and elsewhere 1998, pp. 131–33, no. 10. For Duquesnoy’s Mercury, of which there are several versions, some of them slightly different, see Boudon-Mauchel 2005, pp. 264–70. For the Farnese Hercules see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 229–32, no. 46; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 3, pp. 17–20, no. 1, pp. 208–13. For the Venus de’ Medici see Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 325–28, no. 88, and for De Vries’ Vulcan’s Forge see Amsterdam, Stockholm and elsewhere 1998, pp. 187–89, no. 27. The plaster casts stood in the top front room of the house in Klein Heiligland. For a description of the house and of Hendriks’ involvement with the casts, see Sliggers 1990, no. 26, pp. 16–17. Van der Willigen 1809, p. 282 (colouring etc.), p. 298 (plaster casts).  216 217  32. Woutherus Mol (Haarlem 1785–1857 Haarlem) The Young Draughtsman c. 1820 Oil on canvas 52.3 × 42.6 cm provenance: A. Pluym; his sale, R.W.P. de Vries, A. Brondgeest, C.F. Roos, Amsterdam, 24 November 1846, p. 7, no. 22; sold to Gerrit Jan Michaëlis (1775–1856) for the Teylers Foundation (f 400,-) literature: Van Eynden and Van der Willigen 1816–40, vol. 4, p. 244; Huebner 1942, p. 69, fig. 63; Knoef 1947b, pp. 8–10, repr.; Van Holthe tot Echten 1984, pp. 60–63, fig. 4; Jonkman 2010, p. 35; Geudeker 2010, p. 60, p. 78, fig. 74. exhibitions: Amsterdam 1822, no. 222; Moscow and Haarlem 2013–14, p. 50 (not numbered). Teylers Museum, Haarlem, KS 015 exhibited in haarlem only  A young draughtsman sitting by an open window is engrossed in his work. He seems to be copying the object leaning against the wall in front of him, but whether it is a drawing or a bas-relief is not entirely clear. The tree visible through the window and the building beyond it stand in a garden or by a narrow canal-side street. The colourful flowers in a vase on the windowsill bring a touch of that outside world indoors. The leaded windows, ceiling beams, whitewashed walls and above all the ornately carved cup- board show that this is an old Dutch interior. Standing on the cupboard are imposing plaster casts of famous classical statues: the Dancing Faun, the Venus de’ Medici (p. 42, fig. 56) Fig. 1. Woutherus Mol, Painter and Draughtsman in a Studio, c. 1820, oil on canvas, 43.5 × 37 cm, present whereabouts unknown and an unidentified statue of the Apollo Citharoedus type.1 It is difficult to make out whether the other objects also record classical prototypes: a bas-relief, a baby’s head, a couching lion and a vase with prominent handles. The interior is bathed in a serene calm, so much so that the song of the little bird in the cage high up on the wall is almost audible. One scholar recently put forward a fascinat- ing argument that the picture is a commentary on the Classicist view of art.2 If the tree and the bouquet of flowers are interpreted as ‘nature’, and the plaster casts as ‘classical antiquity’, then the young draughtsman is occupying a special position, mid-way between them. According to that view of art, nature had to be idealised with the aid of beautiful examples, and such examples were available in abundance in classical antiquity. Statues like the Venus de’ Medici, the Apollo Belvedere and the Dancing Faun had been for centuries part of the canon of the most treasured sculptures. At the same time, however, Mol is remaining true to his Dutch origins, for he has very clearly set The Young Draughtsman in a traditional Dutch interior. A similar painting by him, Painter and Draughtsman in a Studio (fig. 1), is again set in a typical 17th-century Dutch space, with a wooden cross window, ‘Kussenkast’ cupboard, and a massive table with ball feet. It too contains a prominent display of classical sculpture.3 The apprentice draughtsman is copying a plaster cast of the Dancing Faun, and on the cupboard are casts of the same Apollo Citharoedus that we see in our picture, a reproduction of the so-called Priestess in the Capitoline Museum, and another of the Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32 and cat. 7, fig. 3). Standing beside the cupboard there is even a copy after a classical vase, probably the famous Borghese Vase.4 Deliberately or not, the combination of classical art and a 17th-century Dutch setting relates Mol’s two studio scenes directly to the debate about the ‘national taste’ being con- ducted in the Netherlands around 1800 and for some decades  218 219  thereafter. It was felt that Dutch painting was in a deplorable state: essays were written about how standards could be raised and competitions were held to encourage improve- ments. Classical sculpture was regularly invoked: it was only logical that Dutch painters were lagging behind, it was said, given the absence of classical statues in Holland, and drawing academies should therefore acquire copies after antique statues (see cat. 31), and so on.5 Reading between the lines, though, one sees that the same writers were often great admirers of 17th-century Dutch painting. The painters of that Golden Age had paid little heed to Classicist art theory; they imitated nature and did not idealise it. Mol’s two studio scenes contain elements that can be associated with both artistic theories. He was very much at home in both worlds. Born in Haarlem, he had received an old- fashioned Dutch training with the landscapist Hermanus van Brussel (1763–1815). In 1806, however, he went to Paris, where he worked for several years, partly as an élève in the framework of the new arts policy of King Louis Napoleon of Holland (1778–1846), apprenticed to none other than Jacques Louis David (1748–1825). In other words, classicist views about art were well-known to him. 33. Anonymous, Danish School, 19th century Two Artists and a Guard in the Antique Room at Charlottenborg Palace c. 1835 Oil on canvas, 38.6 × 33.9 cm provenance: Private collection, Denmark; Thomas Le Claire Kunsthandel, Hamburg with Daxer & Marschall, Munich in 2003 (as Knud Andreassen Baade), from whom acquired. literature: Zahle 2003, p. 271, fig. 117 (as Julius Friedlænder (?)); Copenhagen 2004, pp. 110–11, no. 8, fig. 16 (as unknown artist); Fuchs and Salling 2004, vol. 3, pp. 194–95, repr. (as unknown artist). 1 2 3 4 5 mp Haskell and Penny 1981, respectively pp. 205–08, no. 34 (Dancing Faun), pp. 325–28, no. 88 (Venus de’ Medici). T. van Druten, in Moscow and Haarlem 2013–14, p. 50. Mak van Waay sale, Amsterdam, 26 May 1964, lot 366. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 205–08, no. 34 (Dancing Faun), pp. 229–32, no. 46 (Farnese Hercules), pp. 314–15, no. 81 (Borghese Vase). For the Priestess in the Capitoline Museum see Stuart Jones 1912, p. 345, no. 6, pl. 86; Helbig 1963–72, vol. 2, no. 1227. Koolhaas-Grosfeld and De Vries 1992, pp. 119, 128. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2003-028 The Antique Room of the Copenhagen Academy of Fine Arts, housed in Charlottenborg Palace, was a popular choice of subject for 19th-century Scandinavian art students, such as H. D. C. Martens (1795–1864), Martinus Rørbye (1803–48) and Christian Købke (1810–48). The Academy was founded in 1754 by King Frederik V, but an informal art school had been established in 1740 by his predecessor, Christian VI, so that there was already a small collection of casts for the students to study, including one of the Laocöon, but with the older son missing.1 The Academy’s programme was modelled on those of others across Europe, especially that in Paris, in which plaster copies after antique models served as the basis for the instruction of artists; in some cases casts were even valued above the originals because they made details more readily accessible to copyists. The expansion of the collection was primarily due to the efforts of three mem- bers of the Academy: a professor of sculpture, Christoph Petzholdt (1708–62), who contributed twenty-five casts and restored many others that had suffered from being moved too often;2 the sculptor and Academy Fellow Johannes Wiedewelt (1731–1802), who in 1758 sent three large chests of casts back to Denmark from Rome;3 and the painter and sculptor Nicolai Abildgaard (1743–1809), who was appointed Director in 1789 and purchased several casts, including Germanicus and the Belvedere Torso, and the missing son of the Laocoön.4 The cast collection focused mainly on Roman copies, and it was not until the first decades of the 19th century that casts of Greek originals were added.5 This was characteristic of academies across Europe, which began to recognise the value of the Greek originals over their Roman derivations, thus diverging from Italian academic tradition. In the painting on display, an artist in his work-robe holds up a plumb-line to check the vertical axis of the cast that he is sketching. He draws his copy on a sheet attached to a drawing-board that rests on his lap, and his portfolio crammed with other drawings leans against a stool in front of him, along with his discarded top hat and cravat. A fellow artist considers his handiwork, but they are about to be interrupted by a museum guard bearing a scroll. When it was acquired in 2003, this canvas was attributed to the Norwegian artist, Knud Andreassen Baade (1808–79), whose painting of the same room now belongs to the National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design in Oslo (fig. 1), and also features a draughtsman at work, holding up a stylus to check the horizontal reference line of his subject. The depic- tion of the room in the Oslo painting, which is dated 1828, just precedes its renovation later that year when, under the direction of the architect C. F. Hansen (1756–1845), the walls were plastered smooth, as seen in the painting on display here.6 A comparison of the two canvases shows the way the room was modified to accommodate the growing collection, as casts were shifted around according to aesthetic, thematic or chronological principles. In the Oslo painting, the Borghese Gladiator (see p. 41, fig. 54 and cats 16, 23–24) is placed in the extreme left foreground, creating a diagonal perspective. The same technique is used in the present painting, though it is now a statue of Perseus that anchors the work, with his outstretched hand grasping a missing Medusa’s head. The Perseus was created in 1801 by Antonio Canova (1757–1822), Fig. 1. Knud Andreassen Baade, Scene from the Academy in Copenhagen, 1828, oil on canvas, 32.4 × 23.8 cm, The National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, Oslo, inv. no. NG.M.01589  220 221    Fig. 2. Relief of an Eagle with a Wreath, 2nd century ad, marble, church of Santi Apostoli, Rome who donated a cast of it to the Academy in 1804, thereby becoming a member. Another modern sculpture hangs on the upper wall at left, which is a roundel with an allegory of Justice, in which Nemesis reads a list of the guilty to Jupiter, who sits in judgment. This was the work of Bertel Thorvaldsen (1770–1844), the leading sculptor in Europe after Canova’s death, who had been trained in the Academy.7 Also modern is the bust of Frederik V at the end of the room by the sculptor J. F. J. Saly (1717–76).8 The remaining casts in the room are of antique statues and reliefs, and extant inventory lists attest to the dates of their acquisition.9 The relief of the eagle in a wreath, after the original in the church of Santi Apostoli in Rome (fig. 2), is displayed on the wall above a reduced copy of a frieze, taken from the Parthenon, both of which were transferred to this southern wall as part of the 1828 reconstruction.10 Facing the viewer and leaning on a column is a reproduction of the Marble Faun (fig. 3). This was a relatively overlooked sculp- ture, more valued for its conjectural attribution to Praxiteles Fig. 3. Marble Faun, Roman copy, c. 2nd century ad, after a Greek original of the 4th century bc, marble, 170.5 cm (h), Capitoline Museums, Rome, inv. no. S.739 Fig. 4. Germanicus, Roman, c. 20 ad, after a Greek original of the 5th century bc, marble, 180 cm (h), Louvre, Paris, inv. no. MA1207 than for its aesthetic significance. It did not achieve world- renown until the publication of The Marble Faun by Nathaniel Hawthorne in 1860, after which it became one of the highlights of the Capitoline Museum.11 Behind the Faun stands a cast of Germanicus (fig. 4), which, in contrast to the Faun, was one of the most revered antiquities almost from its discovery in the mid-17th century.12 Casts of it were commissioned for collections across Europe, including Florence, Mannheim, Madrid and the Duke of Devonshire’s collection at Chatsworth in Derbyshire. The identity of this figure is uncertain, and it has been thought by different scholars to represent Augustus, Brutus, Mercury or an anonymous Roman general; however, its identification as Germanicus, nephew of Tiberius, has persisted since 1664.13 Between Perseus and the Faun is the seated figure of Mercury, cast after the bronze original discovered in Herculan- eum in 1758 (fig. 5). It was one of the most celebrated archaeo- logical discoveries of the 18th century, and its presence is critical to the dating of the Bellinger painting because the cast was only acquired by the Academy in 1834, thus provid- ing a terminus post quem and supporting for it a date of c. 1835.14 This precludes the authorship of Baade, who left Copenhagen in 1829 and spent the early 1830s travelling in his native Norway. In 1836 he followed his mentor, the landscapist J. C. C. Dahl (1788–1857), to Germany, where he lived until his death in 1879.15 Jan Zahle tentatively proposed that the painter was Julius Friedlænder (1810–61),16 who is also thought to be the artist of another painting of the Antique Room in Charlottenborg, dated 1832 (current whereabouts unknown).17 To commemorate the 250th anniversary of the   222 223  Fig. 5. Seated Mercury, Roman copy, 1st century ad, after a Greek original of the late 4th century or early 3rd century bc, bronze, 105 cm (h), Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, inv. NM 5625 Academy in 2004, the Bellinger painting was presented in the accompanying exhibition catalogue as by an unknown artist,18 and until further evidence comes to light, it is prudent to maintain its anonymity. While the Academy continues to function, the cast collection was relocated and dispersed several times; first in 1883, due to lack of space, to a new building. The pieces by Thorvaldsen were transferred to his eponymous museum, founded during his lifetime in 1839 and opened to the public in 1848. In 1895 the rest of the collection was absorbed into the newly created Royal Cast Collection, which shared a building with the newly founded National Gallery of Art, in Copenhagen.19 These casts were neglected over the subse- quent years, as interest in plaster copies waned in favour of original and unique works of art. When the museum under- went renovations from 1966 to 1970, the majority of the casts were packed away and allowed to deteriorate. Only in 1984, due to the combined efforts of concerned art historians, classical archaeologists and artists, were thousands of casts rescued and restorations begun. They were rehoused in the West India Company Warehouse, Fig. 6. Antique Room in Charlottenborg Palace recreated in 2004, curated by Pontus Kjerrman and Jan Zahle, with sculptor Bjørn Nørgaard originally a storehouse for products of the slave trade, and approximately 2,000 casts can be seen on display there. The Faun and Germanicus both belong to this collection, while Canova’s Perseus was transferred to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek. However, in 2004, as part of the anniversary exhibition, replicas of these casts were reunited in the Antique Room of the Palace, just as seen in numerous 19th-century paintings, such as this one. A visitor in 2004, therefore, could stand in the very same spot as our anony- mous painter, and witness a nearly identical scene (fig. 6). literature:None. exhibitions: Not previously exhibited. Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 1997-020 In this striking candlelight view of a 19th-century bourgeois interior by the little-known artist, Desflaches,1 a man examines a work of art displayed on an easel but hidden from our view. In one hand he holds an oil lamp or candle, illuminating the corner of the room in soft, golden light and casting strong and dramatic shadows. It is exactly 10:30, according to the clock on the mantle, and the visitor, proba- bly a connoisseur, has called on the artist at home, presum- ably to inspect his latest work. He has removed his hat and cloak, placed on the chair on the left, and with a pipe in hand, assumes a relaxed yet concentrated stance. Viewing and producing art by candlelight is a tradition that hearkens back to the Renaissance when artist-theorists, Leon Battista Alberti (1404–72), Leonardo da Vinci (1452– 1519), Benvenuto Cellini (1500–71) and others, advised students to draw sculpture by artificial light, to enhance the effects of relief, three-dimensionality and shadow.2 Baccio Bandinelli put this concept into practice, and drawing by candlelight was central to artistic training at his academy (see cats 1–2). Others followed suit including Jacopo Tintoretto and his followers who used an oil lamp when making studies after casts of Michelangelo’s Medici tomb figures and other models ‘so that he could compose in a powerful and solidly modelled manner by means of those strong shadows cast by the lamp’.3 The practice of drawing after models, especially casts, at night continued in the 17th century, as seen in Rembrandt’s small etching, Man Drawing from a Cast, (c. 1641).4 Nocturnal viewings became common in the late 18th century; white casts were popularly studied by flickering torchlight because it made them appear animated.5 Indeed, the spectators’ delight is clearly evident in William Pether’s mezzotints, Three Persons Viewing the Gladiator by Candlelight (1769) 6 and An Academy (1772; cat. 24), both after Joseph Wright of Derby. The female model in the Bellinger painting is a reduced plaster cast of the Crouching Venus – a Hellenistic original of which several antique variations are known (fig. 1).7 The figure was enormously popular, especially in the 17th and 18th centuries when many artists produced imitations of her, the most celebrated being the marble completed in 1686 by the French sculptor, Antoine Coysevox (1640–1720), also reproduced in bronze.8 She is generally believed to represent Venus in, or emerging from, the bath, her head turned sharply to the right and her arms sensuously and protec- tively crossing her body, suggesting that her ablutions have been interrupted. In Desflaches’ canvas the Crouching Venus has been brightly lit and given primacy of place, suggesting she may be the subject of the canvas displayed on the easel; her animation is enhanced by the direct gaze with which she engages the viewer. While the cast in our painting probably ultimately derives from the antique marble in the Uffizi, it seems to have been idealised and modified, to reflect a dis- tinctively Coysevesque sensibility, evidenced in the refined and delicate features of her face.9 Other identifiable works in the Desflaches composition include a second plaster cast – a male portrait bust – partly visible on the covered table in the background, to the visitor’s right. He probably derives from the marble head of a young man in the Museo Pio-Clementino in the Vatican (Roman, 1st Fig. 1. Crouching Venus, Roman copy, 1st c. ad after Hellenistic original, marble, 78 cm (h), Uizi, Florence, inv. no. 188  Zahle 2003, p. 272. For the history of the Copenhagen Academy see Meldahl and Johansen 1904. Saabye 1980, p. 6 and Zahle 2003, p. 272 Zahle 2003, p. 272. Jørnæs 1970, p. 52. Zahle 2003, p. 275. Jørnæs 1970, p. 58. Helsted 1972, p. lxxxvi. Copenhagen 2004, p. 201 (S85). An inventory from 1809 is especially extensive (Fortegnelse over Marmor-og Gibs-Figurerne, samt Receptions-Stykkerne og flere Konstsager i Den Kongelige Maler-, Billedhugger- og Bygnings-Academie paa Charlottenborg, partially transcribed in Zahle 2003, p. 269) and records were kept for several years by the art historian Julius Lange (see, for example, Lange 1866). Copenhagen 2004, p. 198 (S51) and p. 199 (S61). Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 210; La Rocca and Parisi Presicce 2010, pp. 446–51, no. 5. Haskell and Penny 1981, p. 219. Ibid., p. 220. Copenhagen 2004, p. 200 (S72). Thieme-Becker 1907–50, vol. 2, p. 297. Zahle 2003, p. 271. Copenhagen 2004, p. 110, no. 7. Ibid., p. 110, no. 8. Zahle 2003, p. 278. 34. Desflaches (Christian name unknown; probably Belgian, fl. 19th century) The Connoisseur c. 1850 Oil on canvas, 60 × 50 cm Signed recto lower right, Desflaches provenance: Galerie Fischer-Kiener, Paris; property of a European Foundation; their sale, Sotheby’s, New York, 26 October 1990, lot 144; Didier Aaron Inc., New York; Harry Bailey, New York; Didier Aaron Inc., New York; Their sale, Christie’s, New York, 22 May 1997, lot 116, from whom acquired.    224 225    Fig. 2. Head of Lucius or Gaius Caesar, or the Young Octavian (Augustus), 52 cm (h), marble, possibly end of the 1st c. ad or later, Museo Pio-Clementino, Vatican Museums, Rome, inv. 714 Fig. 3. Godfried Schalcken (1643–1706), An Artist and a Young Woman by Candlelight, oil on canvas, 44 × 35 cm, private collection, New York  century ad; fig. 2).10 This bust, believed to be either one of the brothers, Lucius or Gaius Caesar, or a rare depiction of the young Octavian before he became Emperor Augustus in 27 bc,11 enjoyed considerable popularity and was copied by many artists, particularly in the 19th century. Its authen- ticity has occasionally been doubted – at one point it was even attributed to the neo-classical sculptor, Antonio Canova (1757–1822) – but the confirmation of its discovery by Robert Fagan in the ruins of Tor Boacciana (Ostia) in 1800–02, supports its antique origin despite it being consid- erably reworked.12 In addition to works deriving from antique sources are others that directly reference Dutch art of the 17th century. Immediately behind the Crouching Venus is what appears to be a pencil drawing after Rembrandt’s celebrated etching, Self Portrait Leaning on a Stone Sill (1639).13 It is in the same direction as the etching though the line is faint and the lower half of the figure, with the distinctively posed left arm, has been omitted altogether, suggesting the source was either a later impression of the print or a further, reduced copy of the original. To the right of the Rembrandt, is a moonlit landscape strongly reminiscent of the work of Aert van der Neer (1603/4–77). On the opposite wall is a portrait of a man, possibly by, or at least in the manner of, the portraitist and genre painter, Frans Hals (1582/83–1666). Partly obscured in shadow below appears to be a drawing, possibly by Jan van Goyen (1596–1656), or one of his contemporaries. As the distinctive trappings would suggest, the artist may well be Dutch, and this is supported further by a com- parison with a painting by Godfried Schalcken (1643–1706) in a private collection, New York (fig. 3), which may have been known to Desflaches. A pupil of Gerrit Dou (1613–75), Schalcken specialised in night scenes; here a man, drawing in hand, presumably the artist, with his female pupil, points suggestively to a small but lively model of the Crouching Venus, animatedly illuminated by an oil lamp; clearly there is more 226 than just a drawing lesson at play here. An antique head lies dormant, face-up on the table below. By the 19th century, the Antique was readily available, even to amateur artists, via plaster casts, as Desflaches’ composition suggests. Ancient sculpture could now readily be combined with art of different types and in diverse settings, both on the continent – seen, for instance, in the work of Woutherus Mol (cat. 32), which also features Dutch and antique motifs – and in England (cat. 35). As the canon became more diffuse, the standing of the Antique also declined, as other styles, historical and modern, became increasingly more dominant as the century progressed. The painting bears that name at lower right. In the Christie’s catalogue, New York, 22 May 1997, lot 116, the initial of the first name is given as ‘P’, without explanation, and the nationality, French/Belgian. A painting attributed to the artist, Still Life with Brass Oil Lamp, Skeleton Key and Pitcher, oil on canvas, 33 × 29.2 cm, was sold New Orleans Auction Galleries, 20 July 2002, lot 324 (as P. Desflaches). Weil-Garris 1981, pp. 246–47, note 39; Roman 1984, p. 83; Hegener 2008, p. 401. Ridolfi 1914, vol. 2, p. 14; Ridolfi 1984, p. 16. White and Boon 1969, vol. 1, p. 68, no. B130, vol. 2, p. 119, repr. Borbein 2000, p. 31 (see also note 23 listing further bibliography on night- time viewing of casts). Clayton 1990, p. 236, no. 154, P3. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 321–23, no. 86, fig. 171. The authors catalogue the example in the Uffizi, Florence, but discuss the other extant versions as well. See Lullie 1954, pp. 10–17 and Havelock 1995, pp. 80–83. Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 40, fig. 22, 323. The marble version is in the Louvre and the bronze, at Versailles (Souchal 1977–93, vol. 1, pp. 191–92). The cast in the painting bears a striking resemblance to one preserved in the Salzburg Museum, Austria, another idealisation of the original in the Uffizi, see http://www.salzburgmuseum.at/972.0.html It was in the collection of the painter, Anton Raphael Mengs (1728–79). In 1782, the Court of Saxony acquired it, among other casts from his estate, for the Dresden Academy of Art. Spinola 1996–2004, vol. 2, pp. 131, fig. 22, 137–38, no. 123 with previous bibliography. Spinola 1996–2004, vol. 2, p. 137. Ibid. White and Boon 1969, vol. 1, pp. 9–10, no. B21, vol. 2, p. 10, repr. 227  35. William Daniels (Liverpool 1813–1880 Liverpool) Self-Portrait with Casts: The Image Seller c. 1850 Oil on canvas, feigned circle, 43.3 × 43.3 cm provenance: Richard S. Timewell, Tangier, by descent; Timewell family sale, Brissonneau & Daguerre, Paris, 15 June 2005, lot 56; W. M. Brady & Co., New York, 2005, from whom acquired. literature: Bowyer 2013, pp. 49–50, fig. 36. exhibitions: New York 2005b, no. 13, repr.; Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10, pp. 12–16, fig. 9, p. 98.  Katrin Bellinger collection, inv. no. 2005-016 Born into a modest working-class family in Liverpool, Daniels was apprenticed to his father, a brick maker, loading and arranging new stock; in his spare time, he drew faces on the bricks and carved and modelled small figures in wood and clay.1 His artistic talents were recognised by Alexander Mosses (1793–1837), a local painter, who encouraged him to take evening classes in drawing at the Royal Institution in Liverpool. The young Daniels was awarded first prize for a large study ‘in black and white’ of the Dying Gladiator ‘drawn from the round’ which, allegedly, Mosses ‘begged ... off the lad and had ... framed’.2 Daniels later became apprenticed to the painter but was confined to menial tasks, and could only paint at night, slyly returning the cleaned brushes in the morning.3 The resulting night scenes or ‘candlelight pic- tures’, primarily portraits and genre subjects, would become his trademark and he achieved considerable local success, exhibiting at the Liverpool Academy, Post Office Place and the Liverpool Society of Fine Arts, and then in London at the Royal Academy in 1840, 1841 and 1846.4 He became known as the ‘Liverpool Rembrandt’ or the ‘English Rembrandt’, according to one source reputedly quoting John Ruskin.5 Daniels also shared with the Dutch master a life-long pre- occupation with his own image; ‘many of his finest painting were portraits of himself’, as noted in one of his obituaries.6 And like the youthful Rembrandt he was particularly fond of depicting those on the fringes of society with whom he seemed to share a certain affinity, often representing himself in the guise of the urban poor – beggars, gypsies, brigands and others.7 Described by one biographer as ‘of fine, manly form, very handsome’ with ‘a profusion of jet black curly hair’ and a swarthy complexion, it was sometimes said of him that there was ‘gypsy blood in his veins’ and that wear- ing earrings only enhanced his ‘resemblance to the wander- ing tribe.’8 In the striking example seen here, Daniels has fashioned himself as an Italian travelling salesman of plaster casts, a popular subject for Victorian artists.9 With the increasing demand for images in museums, schools and academies but also as adornments in ordinary homes, celebrated 228 sculptures from antiquity, together with portraits of modern worthies, were mass-produced in plaster, generally in reduced form.10 The technique was simple and inexpensive: a mixture of marl and clay was poured into a slip mould of plaster of Paris that absorbed the water, leaving a thin layer of clay inside the mould that could be easily removed, lightly fired, producing a brittle but light-weight and easily portable cast.11 Favourite antique and contempo- rary subjects – including the Farnese Hercules and the Apollo Belvedere as well as busts of Byron, Milton, Napoleon and Queen Victoria – were now displayed and offered for sale together.12 While English firms had been manufacturing casts since the 18th century, the market became increasingly dominated by Italian makers, particularly from around Lucca who organised large groups to sell their wares on the streets of London and beyond.13 Having considerable reach through their travels, these vendors played a seminal role in disseminating knowledge of the iconic works of antiquity through all classes of society.14 The British public regarded the image-makers and sellers, men and boys from forty to fifteen with curiosity and with some suspicion.15 One of the earliest images of them is an amusing caricature by Thomas Rowlandson (1757–1827) in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London (c. 1799, fig. 1). Appearing dishevelled with unbuttoned shirt and jacket, the salesman peddles his wares to an enthusiastic family while a woman watches a peep show in the background. A slightly later example, accompanied by the title, Very Fine. Very Cheap, was etched by John Thomas Smith (1766–1833), known as ‘Antiquity Smith’, the writer, poet and Keeper of Prints and Drawings at the British Museum from 1816 to 1833 (fig. 2).16 On the seller’s board, a reduced cast of the Farnese Hercules (see p. 30, fig. 32) has been relegated to the background, obscured by a cast of a Roman vase. With a slightly sinister glint in his eyes, this figure was included in Smith’s Etchings of Remarkable Beggars, Itinerant Traders and other Persons, published in London, 1815. William James Muller (1812–45) produced a more sympathetic, even romantic portrayal of the itinerant cast seller in 1843 (fig. 3). More closely allied to the Daniels’ 229  Copyright: © Christie’s Images Limited (2012) painting than the others, this hawker is less an object of derision than one of wonder, even admiration.17 In the present example, Daniels, dressed in modest work- man’s attire and silhouetted against a dark backdrop, bal- ances on his head a board fully loaded with a casts of every shape and size, securing it with one hand. Many were based on examples in his own collection, probably used in his studio to prepare accessories in his portrait commissions. Immediately recognisable in the centre right is the bust of Shakespeare, whom Daniels particularly admired. He was said to have a deep familiarity with the poet’s work and could identify the exact source for every quotation, ‘without a moment’s hesitation’.18 In fact, busts of the bard are listed in Daniel’s posthumous sale of 1880, one of which is likely to be the example seen here.19 With the other arm, he cradles a bust of Homer, the blind epic poet of the Iliad and the Odyssey, another favourite of Daniel’s as noted by his biographer.20 The source for this cast was a Roman marble of the Antonine period (138-93 ad, after a lost Hellenistic original of c. 300 bc), probably the version preserved in the Museo Archeo- logico Nazionale di Napoli (fig. 4).21 Known in several variants after the same lost Greek original, this is arguably the most celebrated image of Homer from antiquity and was used by many artists; arguably the most famous example is Rembrandt’s Aristotle with a Bust of Homer which passed through various English private collections in the 19th century (now Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York), and 230 which Daniels was probably referencing, reinforcing his association with both poet and artist.22 The other casts on the tray in the painting appear to reproduce a mixture of English and French works of the mid- to late 18th and 19th century. They include the brightly coloured parrot, probably based on a Staffordshire porcelain example, c. 1850, after a Meissen original of the 18th century, and the hooded figure on the front left, possibly an adapta- tion of ‘La Nourrice’ (Nurse and Child) modelled by Joseph Willems at Chelsea (c. 1752–58), after a French terracotta original of the 17th century.23 Popular images of the three Fig. 4. Bust of Homer, marble, 72 cm (h), Roman Antonine period after a lost Hellenistic original of c. 300 bc, Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, inv. 6023 theological virtues, Faith, Hope and Charity, made by the Wood family at Burslem in Staffordshire, 1800–10, appear to be the inspiration behind some of the other figures on the tray: Hope at the far right, seen in profile with hands clasped; Faith, directly behind the parrot; and Charity, seen from the back, behind the Nurse and Child.24 It has also been suggested that the bust of a boy seen from the back, directly above Daniels’ right hand, might be Alexandre Brongniart (1777) by Jean-Antoine Houdon (1741–1828), known in examples in marble, terracotta, bronze, plaster and biscuit porcelain.25 Daniels appears to be between thirty-five and forty years old in this painting, slightly older than his self-portrait at the easel of c. 1845 in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (fig. 5); a completion date of around 1850 therefore seems likely.26 The theme of the cast vendor clearly intrigued Daniels for he would return to it again about twenty years later. In An Italian Image Seller (1870; Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool; fig. 6), the protagonist (probably Daniels again) rests on the wall of an 27 English country lane. The tray is no longer present but on the ground to his right are two casts, one, a Mercury, the other, the nymph, Clytie (sometimes identified as Antonia, daughter of Mark Antony and mother of the Emperor Claudius). The marble original of the nymph, acquired in Naples by the Grand Tour collector, Charles Townley (1737– 1805) and reportedly his favourite, is now in the British Museum.28 Copies of the popular statue were made in porce- lain by the firm Copeland from 1855 and it has been suggested that Daniels based his depiction on one of them.29 Daniels certainly owned a copy of the Clytie and other busts after the Antique including a Jupiter, Apollo, Diana and Laocoön, ‘which he treated with almost reverential admiration’.30 As Daniels’ Image Seller shows, by the mid-19th century iconic antique statues, once rarefied models of ideal beauty, were now commercialised and readily available on the open Fig. 5. William Daniels, Self-Portrait, c. 1845, oil on canvas, 91.5 × 71.7 cm, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, WAG 1724 Fig. 6. William Daniels, An Italian Image Seller, 1870, oil on canvas, 80 × 63.5 cm, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, WAG 3114 market through mass-produced casts. While the Antique continued to be central to the education of artists both in the studio and in the academy, it became an ubiquitous presence in the home, especially in middle-class interiors where reductions of famous statues were displayed alongside works from other periods, sometimes even assuming a secondary role to them. The amalgamation of styles and influences, in which Ancient, Byzantine, Gothic, Renaissance and Modern were placed on equal footing, was, by the mid-19th century, the result of an historicist aesthetic in which the Antique had become just one of the possible artistic references, thus losing its canonical status and aesthetic primacy. Rowlandson, An Image Seller, c. 1799, watercolour, 326 × 264 mm, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, no. 1820-1900 Fig. 2. John Thomas Smith, Very Fine. Very Cheap, c. 1815, etching, 192 × 114 mm (plate); 267 × 185 mm (sheet), from Etchings of Remarkable Beggars, Itinerant Traders and other Persons, published in London, 31 December 1815, National Portrait Gallery, London, Reference collection D40098 Fig. 3. William James Muller, The Plaster Figure Seller, oil on canvas, 82.5 × 52.1 cm, sold Christie’s, London, 6 November 2012, lot 333. avl An extensive tribute to Daniels was published anonymously in serial form in the Liverpool Lantern (1880), by his friend, K. C. Spier, editor of the paper. It may be consulted at: http://art-science.com/WDaniels/LLessay.html where the artist’s obituaries and private letters and notes also are transcribed, some of which are referred to in Spier’s essay (cited here as Spier 1880). For other accounts of his life and work, see Tirebuck 1879; The Magazine of Art, 5, June 1882, pp. 341–43; Marillier 1904, pp. 95–98; Thieme- Becker 1907–50, vol. 8, pp. 362–63; Fastnege 1951; Bennett 1978, vol. 1, p. 79. Spier 1880, chapter 4. The drawing, presumably after a cast of the famous sculpture in the Capitoline Museum, Rome (see cat. 20, fig. 2) remains untraced. Spier 1880, chapter 4. Marillier 1904, pp. 96–97; Fastnege 1951, p. 80; Bennett 1978, vol. 1, p. 79. Obituary, Liverpool Journal, 16 October 1880; Liverpool Mercury 15 April 1884; Daily Post Liverpool, June 1908. Liverpool Journal, 16 October 1880. Representations of the urban poor in British art was an increasingly popu- lar genre from around the mid-18th century onwards. See Hansen 2010. Spier 1880, chapter 5. Lambourne 1982; Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10, p. 13. For the history and use of casts, see Borbein 2000. For a translation in English by Bernard Fischer, see http://www.digitalsculpture.org/casts/ borbein/index.html For British cast makers and/or sellers in the 18th to early 19th c., see Clifford 1992 and for the 19th c., Haskell and Penny 1981, pp. 117–24; Lambourne 1982; and Simon 2011. Lambourne 1982, p. 119. Ibid. Clifford 1992; Simon 2011. Lambourne 1982, p. 121. Simon 2011 [unpaginated]. Ibid., fig. 3. For other images of the subject, see Lambourne 1982, pp. 118–23, figs 1–10. Spier 1880, chapter 2; New York 2005b, under no. 13. Walker & Ackerley, Liverpool, 6 December 1880, discussed in in Spier 1880, chapter 24. The present writer has not been able to locate a copy of this catalogue. Spier 1880, chapter 2. Richter 1965, vol. 1, p. 50, no. IV, no. 7, figs 70–72; Gasparri 2009–10, vol. 2, pp. 15–16, no. 2 (M. Caso), pl. II, 1–4. Liedtke 2007, vol. 2, pp. 629–54, no. 151. Kindly pointed out by Paul Crane (personal communication), who notes the following example: Melbourne 1984–85, no. 56. As noted further by Paul Crane, who points out their similarity to examples sold at Sotheby’s, New York, 15 April 1996, lot 73 (personal communication). According to George Shackelford (personal communication). See Washington D.C., Los Angeles and elsewhere 2003-04, pp. 127–32, no. 15 (G. Scherf). Bennett 1978, vol. 1, p. 80, no. 1724, vol. 2, p. 129; New York 2005b, under no. 13. Bennett 1978, vol. 1, p. 83, no. 3114, vol. 2, p. 134. Cook 1976, p. 181, fig. 144; Dodero 2013. Bennett 1978, vol. 1, p. 83. Spier 1880, chapter 17.    231  abbreviations L. — F. Lugt, Les marques de collections de dessins & d’estampes . . . , Amsterdam, 1921 L. suppl. — F. Lugt, Les marques de collections de dessins & d’estampes . . . Supplément, The Hague, 1956 ODNB — Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, http://www.oxforddnb. com/, published online since 2004. Abstract 1797 — Abstract of the Instrument of Institution and Laws of the Royal Academy of Arts in London: Established December 10, 1768, London, 1797. Acidini Luchinat 1998 — C. Acidini Luchinat, Taddeo e Federico Zuccari: fratelli pittori del Cinquecento, 2 vols, Milan, 1998. Ackerman 1954 — J. S. Ackerman, The Cortile del Belvedere, Vatican City, 1954. Agosti and Farinella 1987 — G. Agosti and V. Farinella, Michelangelo. Studi di antichità dal Codice Coner, Turin, 1987. Alberti 1604 — R. Alberti, Origine, et progresso dell’Academia del Dissegno, de’ Pittori, Scultori, et Architetti di Roma, Pavia, 1604. Alberti 1972 — L. B. Alberti, On Painting and on Sculpture: The Latin Texts of ‘De Pictura’ and ‘De Statua’, ed. and trans. by C. Grayson, London, 1972. Alberti 1988 — L. B. Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books, ed. and trans. by J. Rykwert et al., Cambridge (MA) and London, 1988. Alberti 1991 — L. B. Alberti, On painting, trans. by C. Grayson, intr. and notes by M. Kemp, London, 1991. Aldega and Gordon 2003 — M. Aldega and M. Gordon, Disegni Italiani, XVI–XX secolo, Rome and New York, 2003. Aldrovandi 1556 — U. Aldrovandi, ‘Delle statue antiche, che per tutta Roma, in diversi luoghi, et case si veggono’, in L. Mauro, Le Antichità della Città di Roma, Venice, 1556, pp. 115–316. Allan 1968 — D. G. C. Allan, William Shipley: Founder of the Royal Society of Arts, London, 1968. Ameisenowa 1963 — Z. Ameisenowa, The Problem of the Écorché and the Three Anatomical Models in the Jagiellonian Library, trans. by A. Potocki, Wroclaw, 1963. Ames-Lewis 1995 — F. Ames-Lewis, ‘Benozzo Gozzoli’s Rotterdam Sketchbook Revisited’, Master Drawings, 33, no. 4, Winter 1995, pp. 388–404. Ames Lewis 2000a — F. Ames-Lewis, Drawing in Early Renaissance Italy, New Haven and London, 2000. Ames-Lewis 2000b — F. Ames-Lewis, The Intellectual Life of the Early Renaissance Artist, New Haven and London, 2000. Amornpichetkul 1984 — C. Amornpichetkul, ‘Seventeenth-Century Italian Drawing Books: Their Origins and Development’, in J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984, pp. 108–18. Arata 1994 — F. P. Arata, ‘L’allestimento espositivo del Museo Capitolino al termine del pontificato di Clemente XII (1740)’, Bollettino dei musei comunali di Roma, n.s., 8, 1994, pp. 45–94. Arata 2008 — F. P. Arata, ‘La diffusione e l’affermazione dei modelli artistici dell’antichità. Il ruolo del Museo Capitolino nella Roma del settecento’, in Rome 2008, pp. 60–71. Arisi 1961 — F. Arisi, Gian Paolo Panini, Piacenza, 1961. 232 Armenini 1587 — G. B. Armenini, De veri precetti della pittura, Ravenna, 1587. Armenini 1977 — G. B. Armenini, On the True Precepts of the Art of Painting, ed. and trans. by J. Olszewski, New York, 1977. Audran 1683 — G. Audran, Les proportions du corps humain mesurées sur les plus belles figures de l’antiquité, Paris, 1683. Aymonino 2014 — A. Aymonino, ‘Eighteenth-Century British Painting and Its Audience: the “Rule of Taste” and Mercantile Society’, in Rome 2014b, pp. 3–9. Ayres 1997 — P. Ayres, Classical Culture and the Idea of Rome in Eighteenth-Century England, Cambridge, 1997. Baglione 1642 — G. Baglione, Le Vite de’ pittori scultori et architetti dal pontificato di Gregorio XIII del 1572, Rome, 1642. Baldini 1999–2000 — N. Baldini, ‘Quasi Adonidos hortum. Il giovane Michelangelo al giardino mediceo delle sculture’, in Florence 1999–2000, pp. 49–56. Baldinucci 1681 — F. Baldinucci, Notizie de’ professori del disegno da Cimabue in qua . . . , Florence, 1681. Baldinucci 1975 — F. S. Baldinucci, Vite di artisti dei secoli XVII–XVIII, ed. by A. Matteoli, Rome, 1975. Bambach 1999 — C. C. Bambach, Drawing and Painting in the Italian Renaissance Workshop: Theory and Practice, 1300–1600, Cambridge, 1999. Barasch 2000 — M. Barasch, Theories of Art, 3 vols, New York and London, 2000. Barasch and Freeman Sandler 1981 — M. Barasch and L. Freeman Sandler (eds), Art, the Ape of Nature: Studies in Honor of H. W. Janson, New York and Englewood Cliffs (NJ), 1981. Bardill 2012 — J. Bardill, Constantine, Divine Emperor of the Christian Golden Age, New York and Cambridge, 2012. Baretti [1781] — J. Baretti, A Guide through the Royal Academy . . . , London [1781]. Barkan 1999 — L. Barkan, Unearthing the past: archaeology and aesthetics in the making of Renaissance culture, New Haven and London, 1999. Barker 2003 — E. E. Barker, Joseph Wright of Derby and Candlelight Painting in Eighteenth-Century Britain, unpublished PhD thesis (Institute of Fine Arts, New York University), 2003. Barker 2009 — E. E. Barker (ed.), ‘Documents Relating to Joseph Wright “of Derby”’, The Walpole Society, 71, 2009, pp. 1–216. Barocchi 1958 — P. Barocchi, ‘Il valore dell’antico nella storiografia vasariana’, in Il mondo antico nel rinascimento. Atti del V Convegno internazionale di studi sul rinascimento, Florence, 1958, pp. 217–36. Barocchi 1962 — P. Barocchi (ed.), Giorgio Vasari. La vita di Michelangelo nelle redazioni del 1550 e del 1568, 5 vols, Milan and Naples, 1962. Barocchi 1971–77 — P. Barocchi, Scritti d’arte del Cinquecento, 3 vols, Milan, 1971–77. Barocchi 2000 — P. Barocchi, ‘Gli strumenti di Bellori’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 55–80. Baroni 2012 — A. Baroni, ‘A Flemish Artist at the Medici Court in Florence in the Second Half of the Sixteenth Century: Life, Works and Modus Operandi of the Painter-Cartoonist Johannes Stradanus’ in Bruges 2008–09, pp. 59–107. Baroni Vannucci 1997 — A. Baroni Vannucci, Jan van der Straet detto Giovanni Stradano: flandrus pictor et inventor, Milan, 1997. Boime 1980 — A. Boime, Thomas Couture and the eclectic vision, New Haven, 1980. Boissard 1597–1602 — J. J. Boissard, Romanae urbis topographia et antiquitates, 3 vols, Frankfurt, 1597–1602. Bibliography Barr 2008 — S. M. Barr, ‘Making Something Out of Next to Nothing: Bartolomeo Cavaceppi and the Major Restorations of Myron’s Discobolus’, unpublished Dissertation for the Degree of Doctor of Philsophy, The Graduate College, University of Arizona, 2008. Barrell 1986 — J. Barrell, The Political Theory of Painting from Reynolds to Hazlitt: “The Body of the Public”, New Haven and London, 1986. Barroero 1998 — L. Barroero, ‘I primi anni della scuola del Nudo in Campidoglio’, in D. Biagi Maino (ed.), Benedetto XIV e le arti del disegno, Rome, 1998, pp. 367–384. Barroero 2011 — L. Barroero, Le Arti e i Lumi. Pittura e scultura da Piranesi a Canova, Turin, 2011. Barroero and Susinno 2000 — L. Barroero and S. Susinno, ‘Arcadian Rome, Universal Capital of the Arts’, in Philadelphia and Houston 2000, pp. 47–75. Barry 1798 — J. Barry, A Letter to the Dilettanti Society, Respecting the Obtention of Certain Matters Essentially Necessary for the Improvement of Public Taste, and for Accomplishing the Original Views of the Royal Academy of Great Britain, London, 1798. Bartels 2000 — K. Bartels, Roms sprechende Steine. Inschriften aus zwei Jahrtausenden gesammelt, übersetzt und erläutert von Klaus Bartels, Mainz, 2000. Bartsch 1803–21 — A. Bartsch, Le peintre graveur, 21 vols, Vienna, 1803–21. Bartsch 1854–76 — A. Bartsch, Le peintre graveur, 21 vols, Leipzig, 1854–76. Bartsch 2012 — T. Bartsch, ‘Praktiken des Zeichnens “drinnen” und “draußen”, zu van Heemskercks römischem Itinerar’, in T. Bartsch and P. Seiler (eds), Rom zeichnen. Maarten van Heemskerck 1532–1536/37, Berlin, 2012, pp. 25–48. Barzman 1989 — K. Barzman, ‘The Florentine Accademia del Disegno: Liberal Education and the Renaissance Artist’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 14–32. Barzman 2000 — K. E. Barzman, The Florentine Academy and the Early Modern State: The Discipline of ‘Disegno’, Cambridge, 2000. Baxandall 1963 — M. Baxandall, ‘A Dialogue on Art from the Court of Leonello d’Este. Angelo Decembrio’s De Politia Litteraria Pars LXVIII’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 26, 1963, pp. 304–26. Bayard 2010 — M. Bayard (ed.), Rome – Paris, 1640. Transferts culturels et renaissance d’un centre artistique, Paris, 2010. Bayard and Fumagalli 2011 — M. Bayard and E. Fumagalli (eds), Poussin et la construction de l’antique, Paris, 2011. Becatti 1968 — G. Becatti, ‘Raffaello e l’Antico’, in L. Becherucci et al., Raffaello. L’opera, le fonti, la fortuna, 2 vols, Novara, 1968, vol. 2, pp. 493–569. Belle Arti 1754 — Delle lodi delle Belle Arti. Orazione, e componimenti poetici detti in Campidoglio in occasione della festa del Concorso celebrata dall’Insigne Accademia del Disegno di San Luca . . . , Rome, 1754. Bellori 1672 — G. P. Bellori, Le vite de’ pittori scultori e architetti moderni, Rome, 1672. Bellori 1695 — G. P. Bellori, Descrizzione delle imagini dipinte da Rafaelle d’Urbino nelle camere del Palazzo Apostolico Vaticano . . . , Rome, 1695. Bellori 1976 — G. P. Bellori, Le vite de’ pittori, scultori e architetti moderni, ed. by E. Borea, intr. by G. Previtali, Turin, 1976. Bellori 2005 — G. P. Bellori, The Lives of the Modern Painters, Sculptors and Architects: a New Translation and Critical Edition, ed. by H. Wohl, trans. by A. Sedgwick Wohl, intr. by T. Montanari, Cambridge, 2005. Bénézit 2006 — E. Bénézit, Dictionary of Artists, 14 vols, Paris, 2006. Bennett 1978 — M. Bennett, Merseyside Painters, People and Places: Catalogue of Oil Paintings, 2 vols, Liverpool, 1978 Benoît 1964 — M. Benoît, ‘L’Œuvre du peintre Louis Chaix au Château-Borély’, Revue Marseille, 55, April–June 1964, pp. 29–34. Berckenhagen 1970 — E. Berckenhagen (ed.), Die Französischen Zeichnungen der Kunstbibliothek Berlin, Berlin, 1970. Bérnard 1810 — M. Bérnard, Cabinet de M. Paignon Dijonval . . . , Paris, 1810. Bernini 1713 — D. Bernini, Vita del Cavalier Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, 1713. Bernoulli 1777–82 — J. Bernoulli, Zusätze zu den neuesten Reisebeschreibungen von Italien . . . 3 vols, Leipzig, 1777–82. Bertini 1958 — A. Bertini, I disegni Italiani della Biblioteca reale di Torino, Rome, 1958. Bertolotti 1886 — A. Bertolotti, Artisti francesi in Roma nei secoli XV, XVI e XVII: ricerche e studi negli archivi romani, Mantua, 1886. Bettarini and Barocchi 1966–87 — R. Bettarini and P. Barocchi (eds), Giorgio Vasari, Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori e architettori: nelle redazioni del 1550 e 1568, 5 vols, Florence, 1966–87. Bieber 1967 — M. Bieber, Laocoon: The Influence of the Group Since its Rediscovery, Detroit, 1967. Bierens de Haan 1948 — J. C. J. Bierens de Haan, L’oeuvre gravé de Cornelis Cort, graveur hollandais, 1533–1578, The Hague, 1948. Bignamini 1988 — I. Bignamini, ‘George Vertue, Art Historian and Art Institutions in London, 1689–1768’, The Annual Volume of the Walpole Society, 54, 1988, pp. 1–148. Bignamini 1990 — I. Bignamini, ‘Osservazioni sulle istituzioni, il pubblico e il mercato delle arti in Inghilterra’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 53, 1990, pp. 177–97. Bignamini and Hornsby 2010 — I. Bignamini and C. Hornsby, Digging and Dealing in Eighteenth-Century Rome, 2 vols, New Haven and London, 2010. Bikker 2002 — J. Bikker, ‘Sweerts’s Life and Career – A Documentary View’, in Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 25–36. Bindman 2008 — D. Bindman (ed.), The History of British Art, 1600–1870, New Haven, 2008. Bingham 1993 — N. Bingham, ‘Architecture at the Royal Academy Schools, 1768 to 1836’, The Education of the Architect, Proceedings of the 22nd Symposium of the Society of Architectural Historians of Great Britain, 1993, pp. 5–14. Black 1992 — J. Black, The British Abroad. The Grand Tour in the Eighteenth Century, Stroud, 1992. Black 2003 — J. Black, Italy and the Grand Tour, New Haven and London, 2003. Blayney Brown 1982 — D. Blayney Brown, Ashmolean Museum Oxford, Catalogue of the Collection of Drawings, Volume IV, The Earlier British Drawings . . . , Oxford, 1982. Bleeke-Byrne 1984 — G. Bleeke-Byrne, ‘The Education of the Painter in the Workshop’, in J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984, pp. 28–39. Blunt 1978 — A. Blunt, Artistic Theory in Italy, 1450–1600, Oxford, 1978. Blunt and Cooke 1960 — A. Blunt and H. L. Cooke, The Roman Drawings of the XVII & XVIII Centuries in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor Castle, London, 1960. Bober and Rubinstein 2010 — P. P. Bober and R. Rubinstein, Renaissance artists & antique sculpture: a handbook of sources, rev. ed., London, 2010.  233  Bolten 1985 — J. Bolten, Method and Practice. Dutch and Flemish Drawing Books 1600–1750, Landau, Pfalz, 1985. Bolten 1993 — J. Bolten, ‘Abraham Bloemaert (1564–1651) and his Tekenboek’, Delineavit & Sculpsit, 9, March 1993, pp. 1–10. Bolten 2007 — J. Bolten, Abraham Bloemaert, c. 1565–1651, The Drawings, 2 vols, Leiden, 2007. Bonfait 2002 — O. Bonfait (ed.), L’ideal classique: les échanges artistiques entre Rome et Paris au temps de Bellori (1640–1700), Rome, 2002. Bora 1976 — G. Bora, I disegni del Codice Resta, Milan, 1976. Bora 2013 — G. Bora, ‘Peter Paul Rubens: Disegni della scultura classica’, in Milan 2013, pp. 168–75. Borbein 2000 — A. H. Borbein, ‘Zur Geschichte der Wertschätzung und Verwendung von Gipsabgüssen antiker Skulpturen (insbesondere in Deutschland und in Berlin)’, in H. Lavagne and F. Queyrel (eds), Les moulages de sculptures antiques et l‘histoire de l‘archéologie Geneva, 2000, pp. 29–43. English trans. by B. Fischer [http://www.digitalsculpture.org/casts/borbein/index.html, accessed 7 Feb. 2015]. Bordini 1998 — S. Bordini, ‘“Studiare in un istesso luogo la Natura, e ciò che ha Saputo far l’Arte”. Il museo e l’educazione degli artisti nella politica culturale di Benedetto XIV’, in D. Biagi Maino (ed.), Benedetto XIV e le arti del disegno, Rome, 1998, pp. 385–93. Borghini 1584 — R. Borghini, Il Riposo, Florence, 1584. Boschini 1674 — M. Boschini, Le ricche minere della pittura veneziana, Venice, 1674. Boschini 1966 — M. Boschini, La carta del navegar pittoresco (1660), ed. by A. Pallucchini, Venice and Rome, 1966. Boschloo 1989 — A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989. Bosse 1649 — A. Bosse, Sentimens sur la distinction des diuerses manières de peinture, dessein & graueure, & des originaux d’avec leurs copies, Paris, 1649. Bosse 1656 — A. Bosse, Représentation de diverses figures humaines, avec leurs mesures prises sur des antiques qui sont de présent à Rome, Paris, 1656. Boudon-Mauchel 2005 — M. Boudon-Mauchel, François du Quesnoy 1597–1643, Paris, 2005. Bousquet 1980 — J. Bousquet, Recherches sur le séjour des peintres français à Rome au XVIIème siècle, Montpellier, 1980. Bowron 1993–94 — E. P. Bowron, ‘Academic Life Drawing in Rome 1750–1790’, in Los Angeles, Philadelphia and elsewhere 1993–94, pp. 75–85. Bowyer 2013 — E. Bowyer, ‘David d’Angers: Making the Modern Monument’, in David d’Angers: Making the Modern Monument, The Frick Collection, New York (E. Bowyer with J. de Caso), 2013, pp. 13–67. Boyer 1950 — F. Boyer, ‘Les artistes français, étudiants, lauréats ou membres de l’Académie romaine de Saint-Luc entre 1660 et 1700, d’après des documents inédits’, Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de l’Art Français, 1950, pp. 117–32. Boyer 1955 — F. Boyer, ‘Les artistes français lauréats ou membres de l’académie romaine de Saint-Luc dans la première moitié du XVIII siècle’, Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de l’Art Français, 1955, pp. 131–42. Boyer 2000 — J.-C. Boyer, ‘Bellori e i suoi amici francesi’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 51–54. Brandt 2001 — A. Brandt ‘Goltzius and the Antique’, Print Quarterly, 18, no. 2, 2001, pp. 135–49. Brewer 1997 — J. Brewer, The Pleasures of the Imagination: English Culture in the Eighteenth Century, London, 1997. Briganti 1982 — G. Briganti, Pietro da Cortona o della pitturra barocca, 2nd ed., Florence, 1982. Briganti, Trezzani and Laureati 1983 — G. Briganti, L. Trezzani and L. Laureati, The Bamboccianti: The Painters of Everyday Life in Seventeenth- Century Rome, Rome, 1983. Brilliant 2000 — R. Brilliant, My Laocoön: Alternative Claims in the Interpretation of Artworks, Berkeley and London, 2000. Britton 1827 — J. Britton, The Union of Architecture, Sculpture and Painting, London, 1827. Brook 2010–11 — C. Brook, ‘La nascita delle accademie europee e la diffusione del modello romano’, in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 151–60. Broos and Schapelhouman 1993 — B. Broos and M. Schapelhouman, Nederlandse tekenaars geboren tussen 1600 en 1660, Amsterdam, 1993. Brown 1907 — G. B. Brown, ed., Vasari on technique: being the introduction to the three arts of design, architecture, sculpture and painting, prefixed to the lives of the most excellent painters, sculptors and architects by Giorgio Vasari painter & architect of Arezzo, trans. by L. S. Maclehose, London, 1907 Brummer 1970 — H. H. Brummer, The Statue Court in the Vatican Belvedere, Stockholm, 1970. Brunel 1978 — G. Brunel (ed.), Piranèse et les français, Rome, 1978. Buddensieg 1962 — T. Buddensieg, ‘Die Konstantinsbasilika in einer Zeichnung Francescos Di Giorgio und der Marmorkoloss Konstantins des Grossen’, Münchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst, 13, 1962, pp. 37–48. Buddensieg 1983 — T. Buddensieg, ‘Die Statuenstiftung Sixtus IV im Jahre 1471: von den heidnischen Götzenbildern am Lateran zu den Ruhmeszeichen des römischen Volkes auf dem Kapitol’, Römisches Jahrbuch für Kunstgeschichte, 20, 1983, pp. 33–73. Buffa 1983 — S. Buffa, The Illustrated Bartsch 38. Formerly Volume 17 (Part 5). Italian Artists of the Sixteenth Century, New York, 1983. Bukdahl 2007 — E. M. Bukdahl, ‘La conception de l’antiquité par Winckelmann et Falconet chez Diderot’, in L. N. Cagiano (ed.), Roma triumphans? L’attualità dell’Antico nella Francia del Settecento, Rome, 2007, pp. 259–73. Bull 1997 — M. Bull, ‘Poussin and the Antique’, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 129, no. 1538, March 1997, pp. 115–30. Bungarten 2005 — G. Bungarten, J. H. Füsslis (1741–1825) ‘Lectures on Painting’. Das Model der Antike und die moderne Nachahmung, 2 vols, Berlin, 2005. Bunzl 1987 — Y. Tan Bunzl, Old Master Drawings, London, 1987. Burchard and D’Hulst 1963 — L. Burchard and R. A. D’Hulst, Rubens Drawings, Brussels, 1963. Burns 1984 — H. Burns, ‘Raffaello e “quell’antiqua architettura”’, in C. L. Frommel, S. Ray and M. Tafuri (eds), Raffaello Architetto, Milan, 1984, pp. 381–404. Bury 1996 — M. Bury, ‘Beatrizet and the “Reproduction” of Antique Relief Sculpture’, Print Quarterly, 13, June 1996, pp. 111–26. Buscaroli 1992 — P. Buscaroli, Cesare Ripa Iconologia, Milan, 1992. Busch 2009 — W. Busch, ‘Gegen Winckelmann. Die Neukonzeption des Klassimisums im römischen Künstlerkreis um Johann Heinrich Füßli’, Idea, 2005–2007 (2009), pp. 40–60. Busch 2013 — W. Busch, ‘Freches Feuer: Sergel und sein Kreis in Rome’, in Schönheit und Revolution. Klassizismus 1770–1820, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main (eds M. Bückling and E. Mongi-Vollmer), Munich, 2013, pp. 88–97. Byam Shaw 1962 — J. Byam Shaw, ‘One Link More in the History of the Leonardo Cartoon’, The Burlington Magazine, 104, no. 710, May 1962, pp. 212–13, 215. Camesasca 1994 — E. Camesasca (ed.), Raffaello. Gli scritti: lettere, firme, sonetti, saggi tecnici e teorici, Milan, 1994. Capecchi 2014 — G. Capecchi, ‘Superare l’antico: il Laocoonte‚ “perfetto”’, in Florence 2014, pp. 128–55. Cappelletti 2014–15 — F. Cappelletti, ‘“Stupenda e misera città”. Luoghi celebri, personaggi di poco decoro e nuova idea della pittura nella Roma di primo Seicento’, in Rome and Paris 2014–15, pp. 43–55. Carlino 2008–09 — A. Carlino, ‘Le modèle italien. L’enseignement de l’anatomie à l’Accademia del Disegno de Florence’, in Paris 2008–09a, pp. 67–73. Carradori 1802 — F. Carradori, Istruzione elementare per gli studiosi della scultura . . . , Florence, 1802. Carradori 2002 — F. Carradori, Elementary Instructions for Students of Sculpture, ed. and trans. by M. Kalevi Auvinen, Los Angeles, 2002. Castiglione 2014–15 — J. Castiglione, ‘Salvator Rosa contro i Bamboccianti. La disputa sulla dignità dell’arte’, in Rome and Paris 2014–15, pp. 111–115. Cavaceppi 1768–72 — B. Cavaceppi, Raccolta d’antiche statue, busti, teste cognite ed altre sculture antiche, 3 vols, Rome, 1768–72. Cavallaro 1988a — A. Cavallaro, ‘Studio e gusto dell’antico in Pisanello’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 89–100. Cavallaro 1988b — A. Cavallaro, ‘I sarcofagi mitologici’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 147–60. Cavallaro 1988c — A. Cavallaro, ‘I rilievi storici: l’Arco di Costantino e la Colonna Traiana’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 181–91. Cavallaro 2005 — A. Cavallaro, ‘Gli artisti intorno all’Alberti e il disegno dall’Antico’, in Rome 2005, pp. 328–32. Cavallaro 2007 — A. Cavallaro (ed.), Collezioni di antichità a Roma tra ‘400 e ‘500, Rome, 2007. Cavazzini 2008 — C. Cavazzini, Painting as Business in Early Seventeenth-Century Rome, University Park (PA), 2008. Caviglia-Brunel 2012 — S. Caviglia-Brunel, Charles-Joseph Natoire 1700–1777, Paris, 2012. Cecchi and Gasparri 2009 — A. Cecchi and C. Gasparri, Le collezioni del cardinale Ferdinando: I dipinti e le sculture, vol. 4 of La Villa Médicis, ed. by A. Chastel, Rome, 2009. Cellini 1731 — B. Cellini, Due trattati di Benvenuto Cellini, scultore fiorentino, uno dell’oreficeria, l’altro della scultura, Florence, 1731. Cennini 1933 — C. Cennini, Il libro dell’arte – The Craftsman’s Handbook, ed. and trans. by D. V. Thompson, 2 vols, New Haven, London and Oxford, 1932–33. Cesareo 1892 — G. A. Cesareo, Poesie e Lettere edite e inedite di Salvator Rosa, pubblicate criticamente, e precedute dalla vita dell’autore . . . , 2 vols, Naples, 1892. Chaloner Smith 1883 — J. Chaloner Smith, British Mezzotinto Portraits from the Introduction of the Art to the Early Part of the Present Century, 4 vols, London, 1883. Chaney 1998 — E. Chaney, The Evolution of the Grand Tour: Anglo-Italian Cultural Relations Since the Renaissance, London, 1998. Chapman 2010–11 — H. Chapman, ‘Introduction’, in London and Florence 2010–11, pp. 15–75. Charlton-Jones 1991 — R. Charlton-Jones, ‘Lely to Kneller 1650–1723’, in R. Strong et al., The British Portrait 1660–1960, Woodbridge (Suffolk), 1991, pp. 74–128. Christian 2002 — K. W. Christian, ‘The De’ Rossi collection of ancient sculptures, Leo X, and Raphael’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 65, 2002, pp. 132–200. Christian 2010 — K. W. Christian, Empire without End: Antiquities Collections in Renaissance Rome, c. 1350–1527, New Haven and London, 2010. Christian 2012 — K. W. Christian, ‘For the Delight of Friends, Citizens, and Strangers: Maarten van Heemskerck’s Drawings of Antiquities Collections in Rome’, in T. Bartsch and P. Seiler (eds), Rom zeichnen. Maarten van Heemskerck 1532–1536/37, Berlin, 2012, pp. 129–56. Churchill 1967 — W. A. Churchill, Watermarks in paper in Holland, England, France, etc. in the XVII and XVIII centuries and their interconnection, Amsterdam, 1967. Ciardi Duprè 1966 — M. G. Ciardi Duprè, ‘Per la cronologia di Baccio Bandinelli fino al 1540’, Commentari, 17, 1966, pp. 146–65. Cipriani 2000 — A. Cipriani, ‘Bellori ovvero l’Accademia’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 480–82. Cipriani 2010–11 — A. Cipriani, ‘Propagandare l’antico nella Roma del Settecento’, in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 133–38. Cipriani and Valeriani 1988–91 — A. Cipriani and E. Valeriani (eds), I disegni di figura nell’Archivio Storico dell’Accademia di San Luca, 3 vols, Rome, 1988–91. Claridge and Dodero forthcoming — A. Claridge and E. Dodero, The Paper Museum of Cassiano dal Pozzo. Series A: Antiquities and Architecture, IV: Statues and busts, London, forthcoming. Clark 1969a — K. Clark, Civilisation: A Personal View, London, 1969. Clark 1969b — K. Clark, ‘Leonardo and the Antique’, in C. D. O’Malley (ed.), Leonardo’s Legacy, Berkeley, 1969, pp. 1–34. Clayton 1990 — T. Clayton, ‘A Catalogue of the Engraved Works of Joseph Wright of Derby’, in London 1990, pp. 231–58. Clifford 1992 — T. Clifford, ‘The Plaster Shops of the Rococo and Neo-classical Era in London’, Journal of the History of Collections, 4, no. 1, 1992, pp. 39–65. Cody 2013 — S. J. Cody, ‘Rubens and the “Smell Of Stone”: The Translation of the Antique and the Emulation of Michelangelo’, Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics, 20, no. 3, Winter 2013, pp. 39–55. Coffin 1979 — D. R. Coffin, The Villa in the Life of Renaissance Rome, Princeton, 1979. Colasanti 1905 — A. Colasanti, ‘Il memoriale di Baccio Bandinelli’, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft, 28, 1905, pp. 406–46. Cole Ahl 1996 — D. Cole Ahl, Benozzo Gozzoli, New Haven and London, 1996. Coliva 1994 — A. Coliva (ed.), Galleria Borghese, Rome, 1994. Coltman 2003 — V. Coltman, ‘“Providence send us a lord”. Joseph Nollekens and Bartolomeo Cavaceppi at Shugborough’, in J. Feijfer et al. (eds), The Rediscovery of Antiquity, Copenhagen, 2003, pp. 371–96. Coltman 2009 — V. Coltman, Classical Sculpture and the Culture of Collecting in Britain since 1760, Oxford, 2009. Condivi 1998 — A. Condivi, Vita di Michelangelo Buonarroti, ed. by G. Nencioni, Florence, 1998. Condivi 1999 — A. Condivi, The Life of Michelangelo, ed. by H. Wohl and trans. by A. Sedgwick Wohl, University Park (PA), 1999. Connor Bulman 2002 — L. M. Connor Bulman, ‘The Florentine Draughtsmen in Richard Topham’s Paper museum’, Annali della Scuola Normale superiore di Pisa, 7, no. 2, 2002, pp. 343–57. Connor Bulman 2006 — L. M. Connor Bulman, ‘The Topham Collection of Drawings in Eton College Library and the Industry of Copy Drawings in Early Eighteenth-Century Italy’, in H. Wrede and M. Kunze (eds), 300 Jahre “Thesaurus Brandenburgicus”: Archäologie, Antikensammlungen und antikisierende Residenzausstattungen im Barock, Munich, 2006, pp. 325–38. Cook 1976 — B. F. Cook, Greek and Roman Art in the British Museum, London, 1976. Cook 1977 — B. F. Cook, ‘The Townley Marbles in Westminster and Bloomsbury’, British Museum Yearbook, 2, 1977, pp. 34–78. 234 235  Cook 1985 — B. F. Cook, The Townley Marbles, London, 1985. Coquery 2000 — E. Coquery, ‘I pittori francesi a Roma nella prima metà del ‘600 e l’antico’, in Rome 2000a, pp. 41–53. Coquery 2013 — E. Coquery, Charles Errard, ca. 1601–1689. La noblesse du décor, Paris, 2013. Costamagna 2005 — P. Costamagna, ‘The Formation of Florentine Draftsmanship: Life Studies from Leonardo and Michelangelo to Pontormo and Salviati’, Master Drawings, 43, no. 3, 2005, pp. 274–91. Coutu 2000 — J. Coutu, ‘“A very grand and seigneurial design”. The Duke of Richmond’s Academy in Whitehall’, British Art Journal, 1, no. 2, Spring 2000, pp. 47–54. Coutu 2008 — J. Coutu, ‘Wilton, Joseph (1722–1803), ODNB, online ed., 2008 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/29706, accessed 21 Oct. 2014]. Couture 1867 — T. Couture, Méthode et entretiens d’atelier, Paris, 1867. Cristofani 1985 — M. Cristofani, ‘Vasari e le antichità’, in G. C. Garfagnini (ed.), Giorgio Vasari, tra decorazione ambientale e storiografia artistica, Florence, 1985, pp. 17–25. Cropper 2000 — E. Cropper, ‘L’Idea di Bellori’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 81–86. Cruikshank 1992 — D. Cruikshank, ‘Queen Anne’s Gate’, The Georgian Group Journal, 2, 1992, pp. 56–67. Dacos 1969 — N. Dacos, La Découverte de la Domus Aurea et la formation des grotesques à la Renaissance, London and Leiden, 1969. Dacos 1986 — N. Dacos, Le logge di Raffaello: maestro e bottega di fronte all’antico, Rome, 1986. Dacos 1995 — N. Dacos, ‘Per vedere, per imparare’, in Brussels and Rome 1995, pp. 17–34. Dacos 1997 — N. Dacos (ed.), ‘Fiamminghi a Roma’, supplement to Bollettino D’Arte, 100, Rome, 1997. Dacos 2001 — N. Dacos, Roma quanta fuit. Tre pittori fiamminghi nella Domus Aurea, Rome, 2001. Dallaway 1816 — J. Dallaway, Of Statuary and Sculpture among the Antients with Some Account of Specimens Preserved in England, London, 1816. Davis 1989 — M. D. Davis, ‘Zum Codex Coburgensis: frühe Archäologie und Humanismus im Kreis des Marcello Cervini’, in R. Harprath and H. Wrede (eds), Antikenzeichnung und Antikenstudium in Renaissance und Frühbarock, Mainz am Rhein, 1989, pp. 185–99. Deckers 2005 — J. G. Deckers, ‘Der Koloss des Konstantin’, in L. Giuliani (ed.), Meisterwerke der antiken Kunst, Munich, 2005, pp. 159–77. Décultot 2003 — E. Décultot et al., Le Laocoon: Histoire et Réception, Paris, 2003. Degenhart and Schmitt 1960 — B. Degenhart and A. Schmitt, ‘Gentile da Fabriano in Rom und die Anfänge des Antikenstudiums’, Münchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst, 11, 1960, pp. 59–151. Degenhart and Schmitt 1996 — B. Degenhart and A. Schmitt, Pisanello und Bono da Ferrara, Munich, 1996. De Klerk 1989 — E. A. de Klerk, ‘“Academy-Beelden” and “Teeken- Schoolen” in Dutch Seventeenth-Century Treatises on Art’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 283–88. Dempsey 1980 — C. Dempsey, ‘Some Observations on the Education of Artists in Florence and Bologna during the Later Sixteenth Century’, Art Bulletin, 62, no. 4, December 1980, pp. 552–69. Dempsey 1989 — C. Dempsey, ‘The Carracci Academy’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 33–43. Denvir 1983 — B. Denvir, The Eighteenth Century. Art, Design and Society 1689–1789, London and New York, 1983. Depasquale 2001 — C. Depasquale, ‘The Bailli de Breteuil, the Château de Breteuil and its literary connections’, The Sunday Times (Malta), 2 September 2001, pp. 42–43. De Passe 1643–44 — C. de Passe, Luce del dipingere et disegnare: van ‘t Light der teken en schilderkonst: de la lumière de la peinture et de la designature: vom Liecht der Reiss und Mahlkunst, Amsterdam, 1643–44. De Piles 1677 — R. de Piles, Conversations sur la connaissance de la peinture et sur le jugement qu’on doit faire des tableaux, Paris, 1677. De Piles 1708 — R. de Piles, Cours de peinture par principes avec un balance de peintres, Paris, 1708. De Piles 1743 — R. De Piles, The principles of Painting . . . in which is contained an account of the Athenian, Roman, Venetian and Flemish Schools . . . London, 1743. De Romanis 2007 — A. De Romanis, ‘Tra Siena e Roma: la collezione di Giovanni Antonio Bazzi detto il Sodoma’, in A. Cavallaro (ed.), Collezioni di antichità a Roma tra ‘400 e ‘500, Rome, 2007, pp. 233–38. De Seta 1992 — C. De Seta, L’Italia del Grand Tour. Da Montaigne a Goethe, Naples, 1992. Deswarte-Rosa 2011 — S. Deswarte-Rosa, ‘Aprender a Desengar em Roma’, in Facciate Dipinte. Desenhos do Palácio Milesi, Museu Nacional de Arte Antigua, Lisbon (A. Reis et al.), 2011, pp. 26–47. Dezailler d’Argenville 1745–52 — A.-J. Dezallier d’Argenville, Abrégé de la vie des plus fameux peintres, 3 vols, Paris, 1745–52. D’Hancarville 1766–67 — P. F. Hugues, Baron D’Hancarville, Collection of Etruscan, Greek, and Roman Antiquities, from the Cabinet of the Hon. W. Hamilton, etc . . . , 4 vols, Naples, 1766–67. Dhanens 1963 — E. Dhanens, ‘De Romeinse ervaring van Giovanni Bologna Dhanens’, Bulletin de l’Institut Historique Belge de Rome, 35, 1963, pp. 159–90. Diderot 1995 — Diderot on Art – 1: The Salon of 1765 and Notes on Painting, ed. by J. Goodman, New Haven and London, 1995 Diderot 2011 — On art and artists: an anthology of Diderot’s aesthetic thought, ed. by Jean Seznec, New York, 2011. Diderot and D’Alembert 1762–72 — D. Diderot and J. le Ronde D’Alembert, Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des metiers. Recueil de planches, sur les sciences, les art libéraux, et les arts méchaniques . . . , 11 vols, Paris, 1762–72. Di Cosmo 2013 — L. Di Cosmo, ‘Un nuovo canone per la “bella maniera”: i Segmenta di François Perrier’, in L. Di Cosmo and L. Fatticcioni (eds), Le componenti del Classicismo secentesco: lo statuto della scultura antica, Rome, 2013, pp. 133–58. Dodero 2013 — E. Dodero, ‘Clytie before Townley: The Gaetani d’Aragona Collection and its Neapolitan Context’, Journal of the History of Collections, 25, no. 3, 2013, pp. 361–72. Dorey 2010 — H. Dorey, ‘Sir John Soane’s casts as part of his Academy of Architecture at 13 Lincoln’s Inn Fields’, in R. Frederiksen and E. Marchand (eds), Plaster Casts. Making, Collecting and Displaying from Classical Antiquity to the Present, Berlin and New York, 2010, pp. 595–610. Döring 1994 — T. Döring, ‘Belebte Skulpturen bei Michael Sweerts. Zur Rezeptionsgeschichte eines vergessenen pseudo-antiken Ausdruckskopfes’, Wallraf-Richartz-Jahrbuch, 55, 1994, pp. 55–83. Dufresne 1651 — R. Dufresne (ed.), Trattato della Pittura di Lionardo da Vinci . . . si sono giunti i tre libri della pittura, e il trattato della statua di Leon Battista Alberti, Paris, 1651. Duverger 1984–2009 — E. Duverger, Antwerpse kunstinventarissen uit de zeventiende eeuw, 14 vols, Brussels, 1984–2009. Edgcumbe 2009 — R. Edgcumbe, ‘Moser, George Michael (1706–1783)’, ODNB, online ed., 2009 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/19391, accessed 16 Oct. 2014]. Edwards 1808 — E. Edwards, Anecdotes of painters who have resided or been born in England: with critical remarks on their productions, London, 1808. Einberg and Egerton 1988 — E. Einberg and J. Egerton, Tate Gallery Col- lections. Vol. 2. The Age of Hogarth: British Painters Born 1675–1709, London, 1988. Elam 1992 — C. Elam, ‘Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Sculpture Garden’, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 36, no. 1/2, 1992, pp. 41–84. Elam 2008-09 — C. Elam, ‘Les Triomphes de Mantegna: la forme et la vie’, in Paris 2008–09b, pp. 363–403. Emiliani 2000 — A. Emiliani, ‘La prospettiva storica di Giovan Pietro Bellori’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 87–91. Emmens 1968 — J. A. Emmens, Rembrandt en de Regels van de Kunst: Rembrandt and the Rules of Art, Utrecht, 1968. Ettlinger 1961 — L. D. Ettlinger, ‘Exemplum doloris: Reflections on the Laocoön Group’, De artibus opuscula, 40, 1961, pp. 121–26. Ettlinger 1972 — L. D. Ettlinger, ‘Hercules Florentinus’, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 16, no. 2, 1972, pp. 119–142. Faietti and Kelescian 1995 — M. Faietti and D. S. Kelescian, Amico Aspertini, Modena, 1995. Fairfull-Smith 2001 — G. Fairfull-Smith, The Foulis Press and the Foulis Academy: Glasgow’s Eighteenth-Century School of Art and Design, Glasgow, 2001. Faldi 1977 — I. Faldi, ‘Gli inizi del neoclassicismo in pittura nella prima metà del Settecento’, in Nuove idee e nuova arte nel ’700 italiano, Convegno internazionale, 19–23 May 1975, Rome, 1977, pp. 495–523. Farington 1978–98 — The Diary of Joseph Farington, ed. by K. Garlick and A. Macintyre, 17 vols, New Haven and London, 1978–98. Fastnege 1951 — R. Fastnege, ‘William Daniels of Liverpool (1813–1880)’, Apollo, 54, September 1951, pp. 79–82. Fatticcioni 2013 — L. Fatticcioni, ‘I Segmenta di François Perrier: paradigmi artistici e antiquari nella Roma del Seicento’, in L. Di Cosmo and L. Fatticcioni (eds), Le componenti del Classicismo secentesco: lo statuto della scultura antica, Rome, 2013, pp. 101–31. Favaretto 1999 — I. Favaretto, ‘La raccolta di sculture antiche di Francesco Squarcione tra leggenda e realtà’, in A. De Nicolò Salmazo (ed.), Francesco Squarcione: pictorum gymnasiarcha singularis, Padua, 1999. Fea 1790–1836 — C. Fea, Miscellanea filologica, critica e antiquaria . . . , 2 vols, Rome, 1790–1836. Feigenbaum 1993 — G. Feigenbaum, ‘Practice in the Carracci Academy’, in P. M. Lukehart (ed.), The Artist’s Workshop, Washington, D.C., 1993, pp. 59–76. Félibien 1668 — A. Félibien, Conférences de l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, pendant l’ année 1667, Paris, 1668. Fenton 2006 — J. Fenton, School of Genius. A History of the Royal Academy of Arts, London, 2006. Ferrino-Padgen 2000 — S. Ferrino-Padgen, ‘Raffaello: gli anni della formazione, ovvero quando si manifesta il genio?’, in Rome 2000c, pp. 20–33. Fileri 1985 — E. Fileri, ‘Giovanni Bologna e il taccuino di Cambridge’, Xenia, 10, 1985, pp. 5–54. Finberg 1909 — A. J. Finberg, A Complete Inventory of the Drawings of the Turner Bequest..., 2 vols, London, 1909. Fiocco 1958–59 — G. Fiocco, ‘Il museo immaginario di Francesco Squarcione’, Atti e memorie dell’Accademia Patavina di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti, 71, no. 3, 1958–59, pp. 59–72. Fiorentini 1999 — E. Fiorentini, Ikonographie eines Wandels: Form und Intention von Selbstbildnis und Porträt des Bildhauers im Italien des 16. Jahrhunderts, Berlin, 1999. Fleming 1962 — J. Fleming, Robert Adam and His Circle in Edinburgh and Rome, London, 1962. Florentini and Rosenberg 2002 — E. Fiorentini and R. Rosenberg, ‘Baccio Bandinelli’s Self-Portrait’, Print Quarterly, 19, no. 1, 2002, pp. 34–44. Fittschen and Zanker 1983 — K. Fittschen and P. Zanker, Katalog der römischen Porträts in den Capitolinischen Museen und den anderen kommunalen Sammlungen der Stadt Rom. Bd. 3 Kaiserinnen und Prinzessinnenbildnisse Frauenporträts, 2 vols, Mainz am Rhein, 1983. Fittschen and Zanker 1985 — K. Fittschen and P. Zanker, Katalog der römischen Porträts in den Capitolinischen Museen und den anderen kommunalen Sammlungen der Stadt Rom. Bd. 1 Kaiser- und Prinzenbildnisse, 2 vols, Mainz am Rhein, 1985. Forlani Tempesti 1994 — A. Forlani Tempesti, ‘Studiare dal naturale nella Firenze di fine ‘400’, in E. Cropper (ed.), Florentine Drawing from the Time of Lorenzo the Magnificent, Bologna, 1994, pp. 1–15. Foster 1998 — C. E. Foster, ‘Jean-Bernard Restout’s “Sleep-Figure Study”: Painting and Drawing from Life at the French Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture’, Cleveland Studies in the History of Art, 3, 1998, pp. 48–83. Franceschini and Vernesi 2005 — M. Franceschini and V. Vernesi, Statue di Campidoglio. Diario di Alessandro Gregorio Capponi (1733–1746), Città di Castello, 2005. Franzoni 1984–86 — C. Franzoni, ‘“Rimembranze d’infinite cose”. Le collezioni rinascimentali di antichità’, in S. Settis (ed.), Memoria dell’antico nell’arte italiana, 3 vols, Turin, 1984–86, vol. 1, pp. 299–360. Frederiksen and Marchand 2010 — R. Frederiksen and E. Marchand (eds), Plaster Casts. Making, Collecting and Displaying from Classical Antiquity to the Present, Berlin and New York, 2010. Frommel, Ray and Tafuri 1984 — C. L. Frommel, S. Ray and M. Tafuri (eds), Raffaello Architetto, Milan, 1984. Frutos Sastre 2009 — L. M. de Frutos Sastre, El Templo de la Fama: alegoría del Marqués del Carpio, Madrid, 2009. Fuchs and Salling 2004 — A. Fuchs and E. Salling (eds), Kunstakademiet 1754–2004, 3 vols, Copenhagen, 2004. Fuhring 1992 — P. Fuhring, ‘Jacob Matham’s Verscheijden cierage: an early seventeenth-century model book of etchings after the antique’, Simiolus. Netherlandish Quarterly for the History of Art, 21, no. 1/2, 1992, pp. 57–84. Fusco 1997 — P. Fusco, Summary Catalogue of European Sculpture in the J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, 1997. Fusco 1982 — L. Fusco, ‘The Use of Sculptural Models by Painters in Fifteenth-Century Italy’, The Art Bulletin, 64, no. 2, June 1982, pp. 175–194. Fusco and Corti 2006 — L. Fusco and G. Corti, Lorenzo de’Medici, Collector and Antiquarian, Cambridge, 2006. Fusconi 1997–98 — G. Fusconi, ‘Cortona e l’Antico’, in Rome 1997–98, pp. 60–67. Füssli 1973 — J. H. Füssli, Sämtlieche Gedichte, ed. by M. Bircher and K. S. Guthke, Zurich, 1973. Gabillot 1895 — C. Gabillot, Hubert Robert et son temps, Paris, 1895. Gaborit and Martinez 2000–01 — J.-R. Gaborit and J.-L. Martinez, ‘La Nymphe à la coquille’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 324–26. Gage 1987 — J. Gage, J. M. W. Turner: A Wonderful Range of Mind, New Haven and London, 1987. Gasparri 2007 — C. Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese. Storia e documenti, Naples, 2007. 236 237  Gasparri 2009-10 — C. Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese, 3 vols, Milan, 2009–10. Gasparri and Ghiandoni 1994 — C. Gasparri and O. Ghiandoni, Lo Studio Cavaceppi e le Collezioni Torlonia. Rivista dell’Istituto Nazionale d’Archeologia e Storia dell’Art, no. 16, 1994. Gaurico 1969 — P. Gaurico, De Sculptura (1504), ed. and trans. by A. Chastel and R. Klein, Paris, 1969. Gaurico 1999 — P. Gaurico, De Scultura, ed. and trans. by P. Cutolo, Naples, 1999. George 1870–1954 — M. D. George, Catalogue of Political and Personal Satires in the British Museum, 11 vols, London, 1870–1954. Georgievska-Shine and Silver 2014 — A. Georgievska-Shine and L. Silver, Rubens, Velázquez, and the King of Spain, Burlington (VT), 2014. Gere 1990 — J. A. Gere, The Life of Taddeo Zuccaro by Federico Zuccaro: From the Collection of the British Rail Pension Fund, Auction cat., Sotheby’s, New York, 11 January 1990. Gerlach 1990 — P. Gerlach, Proportion. Körper. Leben. Quellen, Entwürfe und Kontroversen, Cologne, 1990. Gerson 1983 — H. Gerson, Ausbreitung und Nachwirkung der Holländischen Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts, repr. with additions by B. W. Meijer, Amsterdam, 1983. Geudeker 2010 — E. Geudeker, ‘Niet verbeeld, wél beschreven: het gedeelde atelier’, in M. Jonkman and E. Geudeker (eds), Mythen van het atelier. Werkplaats en schilderpraktijk van de negentiende-eeuwse Nederlandse kunstenaar, Zwolle, 2010, pp. 60–61. Gilbert 1980 — C. Gilbert (ed.), Italian Art 1400–1500, Sources and Documents, Englewood Cliffs (NJ), 1980. Gilmore Holt 1981–82 — E. Gilmore Holt, A Documentary History of Art, 2 vols, Princeton, 1981–82. Giuliano 1979 — A. Giuliano, ‘Documenti per servire alla storia del Museo di Napoli’, Rendiconti della Accademia di Archeologia, Lettere e Belle Arti, n.s., 54, 1979, pp. 93–113. Goddard 2001–02 — S. H. Goddard, ‘Hendrick Goltzius Working around Tetrode’, in Williamstown, Madison and elsewhere 2001–02, pp. 3–45. Goeree 1697 — W. Goeree, Inleiding tot de algemeene teyken-konst, Amsterdam, 1697. Goethe 1827–42 — J. W. Goethe, ‘Italienische Reise’, in Goethes Werke, vols 27–29, Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1827–42. Goethe 2013 — J. W. von Goethe, The Auto-Biography of Goethe: Truth and Poetry: From my Own Life, trans. by J. Oxenford, 2 vols, Cambridge, 2013. Goldstein 1970 — C. Goldstein, ‘Observations on the Role of Rome in the Formation of the French Rococo’, The Art Quarterly, 33, 1970, pp. 227–45. Goldstein 1975 — C. Goldstein, ‘Vasari and the Florentine Accademia del Disegno’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 38, 1975, pp. 145–52. Goldstein 1978 — C. Goldstein, ‘Art History without Names: A Case Study of the Roman Academy’, Art Quarterly, 1, no. 2, 1978, pp. 1–16. Goldstein 1988 — C. Goldstein, Visual Fact over Verbal Fiction: A Study of the Caracci and the Criticism, Theory, and Practice of Art in Renaissance and Baroque Italy, Cambridge, 1988. Goldstein 1989 — C. Goldstein, ‘A New Role for the Antique in Academies’, in H. Beck and S. Schulze (eds), Antikenrezeption im Hochbarock, Berlin, 1989, pp. 155–71. Goldstein 1996 — C. Goldstein, Teaching Art: Academies and Schools from Vasari to Albers, Cambridge, 1996. Golzio 1935 — V. Golzio, ‘Lo “Studio” di Ercole Ferrata’, Archivi, 2, 1935, pp. 64–74. Golzio 1971 — V. Golzio, Raffaello: nei documenti nelle testimonianze dei contemporanei e nella letteratura del suo secolo, Farnborough, 1971. Gombrich 1960 — E. Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation, London and New York, 1960. Grassinger 1991 — D. Grassinger, Römische Marmorkratere, Mainz am Rhein, 1991. Greist 2014 — A. Greist, ‘A Rediscovered Text for a Drawing Book by Odoardo Fialetti’, Burlington Magazine, 156, no. 1330, January 2014, pp. 12–18. Guérin 1715 — N. Guérin, Descriptions de l’Académie royale des arts de peinture et de sculpture ..., Paris, 1715. Guhl 1880 — E. Guhl, Künstler-Briefe (2nd ed., A. Rosenberg), 2 vols, Berlin, 1880. Guiffrey 1869–72 — J. J. Guiffrey, Collection des livrets des anciennes expositions depuis 1673 jusqu’en 1800, Paris, 1869–72. Guiffrey and Marcel 1907–75 — J. Guiffrey and P. Marcel, Inventaire général des dessins du Musée du Louvre et du Musée de Versailles: école française, 12 vols, Paris, 1907–75. Gyllenhaal 2008 — M. Gyllenhaal, Rembrandt’s Artful Use of Statues and Casts: New Insights into his Studio Practices and Working Methods, Ph.D. thesis, Temple University, 2008. Hansen 2010 — D. Hansen, ‘“Remarkable Characters”: John Dempsey and the representation of the Urban poor in Regency Britain’, The British Art Journal, 11, no. 1, 2010, pp. 75–88. Hargove 1990 — J. Hargove (ed.), The French Academy: Classicism and Its Antagonists, Newark (DE), 1990. Hargraves 2005 — M. Hargraves, ‘Candidates for Fame’: The Society of Artists of Great Britain, 1760–1791, New Haven and London, 2005. Harrison, Wood and Gaiger 2000 — C. Harrison, P. Wood and J. Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648–1815. An Anthology of Changing Ideas, Oxford, 2000. Haskell 1980 — F. Haskell, Patrons and Painters. Art and Society in Baroque Italy, New Haven and London, 1980. Haskell and Penny 1981 — F. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antique: the Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500–1900, New Haven and London, 1981. Havelock 1995 — C. M. Havelock, The Aphrodite of Knidos and her Successors: A Historical Review of the Female Nude in Greek Art, Ann Arbor (MI), 1995. Haynes 1975 — D. E. L. Haynes, The Arundel Marbles, Oxford, 1975. Healy 2004 — F. Healy, ‘Drawings after the Antique and the Rubens Cantoor’, in Antwerp 2004, pp. 298–99. Heawood 1950 — E. Heawood, Watermarks Mainly of the 17th and 18th Centuries, Hilversum, 1950. Hegener 2008 — N. Hegener, Divi Iacobi Eqves. Selbstdarstellung im Werk des Florentiner Bildhauers Baccio Bandinelli, Munich, 2008. Heikamp 1957 — D. Heikamp, ‘Vicende di Federigo Zuccari’, Rivista d’arte, 32, 1957, pp. 175–232. Heikamp 1972 — D. Heikamp, ‘Appunti sull’Accademia del Disegno’, Arte Illustrata, 5, 1972, pp. 298–304. Heinecken 1778–90 — K.-H. von Heinecken, Dictionnaire des artistes, dont nous avons des estampes, avec une notice détaillée de leurs ouvrages gravés, 4 vols, Leipzig, 1778–90. Helbig 1963–72 — W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischer Altertümer in Rome, 4 vols, Tübingen, 1963–72. Held 1986 — J. S. Held, Rubens. Selected Drawings, Oxford, 1986. Helsted 1972 — D. Helsted, ‘Sergel and Thorvaldsen’, trans. by H. Ringsted, in London 1972, pp. lxxxiii–lxxxvii. Henry 2010–11 — C. Henry, ‘Lo studio dell’antico nell’Accademia di Francia a Roma’, in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 139–44. Henry 2011 — C. Henry, ‘Imitation, proportion, citation. La relation de Nicolas Poussin à l’antique’, in M. Bayard and E. Fumagalli (eds), Poussin et la construction de l’antique, Paris, 2011, pp. 495–529. Herklotz 1999 — I. Herklotz, Cassiano dal Pozzo und die Archäologie des 17. Jahrhunderts, Munich, 1999. Hind 1938 — A. M. Hind, Early Italian Engraving, a Critical Catalogue, 7 vols, London, 1938. Hind and Popham 1915–32 — A. M. Hind and A. E. Popham, Catalogue of Drawings by Dutch and Flemish Artists preserved in the Department of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum, 5 vols, London, 1915–32. Hirschmann 1919 — O. Hirschmann, Hendrick Goltzius, Leipzig, 1919. Hirschmann 1921 — O. Hirschmann, Verzeichnis des graphischen Werks von Hendrick Goltzius 1558–1617, Leipzig, 1921. Hoare 1805 — P. Hoare, Academic Annals, Published by Authority of the Royal Academy of Arts 1804–5, London, 1805. Hoare 1809 — P. Hoare, Academic Annals of Painting, Sculpture, & Architecture: Published by Authority of the Royal Academy of Arts. 1805–6, 1807, 1808–9, London, 1809. Hochmann 1992 — M. Hochmann, Peintres et Commanditaires à Venise (1540–1628), Paris and Padua, 1992. Hogarth 1753 — W. Hogarth, The Analysis of Beauty, London, 1753 (facsimile ed. 1969). Hollstein 1949–2001 — F. H. W. Hollstein, Dutch and Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts ca. 1450–1700, 58 vols, Amsterdam, Roosendaal and Rotterdam, 1949–2001. Holt 1981–86 — E. G. Holt, A Documentary History of Art, 3 vols, Princeton (vols 1–2), New Haven and London (vol. 3), 1981–86. Honour and Mariuz 2007 — A. Canova, Scritti, ed. by H. Honour and P. Mariuz, Rome, 2007. Hoorn 1698 — T. ten Hoorn, Iconologia, of Uitbeeldinge des verstands, door Cesare Ripa, Amsterdam, 1698. Horster 1974 — M. Horster, ‘Antikenkenntnis in Michael Sweerts’ “Römischem Ringkampf ”’, Jahrbuch der Staatlichen Kunstsammlungen in Baden-Württemberg, 11, 1974, pp. 145–58. Howard 1964 — S. Howard, ‘Boy on a Dolphin: Nollekens and Cavaceppi’, The Art Bulletin, 46, no. 2, 1964, pp. 177–89. Howard 1970 — S. Howard, ‘Bartolomeo Cavaceppi and the Origins of Neo-Classical Sculpture’, The Art Quarterly, 33, no. 2, 1970, pp. 120–33. Howard 1982 — S. Howard, Bartolomeo Cavaceppi Eighteenth-Century Restorer, (Ph.D. thesis, Chicago, 1958), New York and London, 1982. Howard 1988 — S. Howard, ‘Bartolomeo Cavaceppi’s Saint Norbert’, Art Bulletin, 70, no. 3, 1988, pp. 478–85. Howard 1990 — S. Howard, Antiquity Restored. Essays on the Afterlife of the Antique, Vienna, 1990. Howard 1991 — S. Howard, ‘Ancient Busts and the Cavaceppi and Albacini Casts’, Journal of the History of Collections, 3, no. 2, 1991, pp. 199 –217. Huebner 1942 — F. M. Huebner, Die Kunst der Niederländischen Romantik, Düsseldorf, 1942. Hülsen and Egger 1913–16 — C. Hülsen and H. Egger: Die römischen Skizzenbücher von Marten van Heemskerck im Königlichen Kupferstichkabinett zu Berlin, 2 vols, Berlin, 1913–16. Hüneke 2009 — S. Hüneke et al., Antiken I: Kurfürstliche und Königliche Erwerbungen für die Schlösser und Gärten in Brandenburg-Preussen vom 17. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, Berlin, 2009. Huquier 1745 — G. Huquier, Premier et second livre de figures d’académies gravées en partie par les professeurs de l’Académie Royale, Paris, 1745. Hutchison 1960–62 — S. Hutchison, ‘The Royal Academy Schools, 1768–1830’, The Walpole Society, 38, 1960–62, pp. 123–91. Hutchison 1986 — S. C. Hutchison, The History of the Royal Academy, 1768–1968, London, 1986. Hymans 1884–85 — H. Hymans, Le livre des peintres de Carel van Mander: vie des peintres flamands, hollandais et allemands (1604), 2 vols, Paris, 1884–85. Ilchman and Saywell 2007 — F. Ilchman and E. Saywell, ‘Michelangelo and Tintoretto: Disegno and Drawing’, in Tintoretto, Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid (ed. M. Falomir), 2007, pp. 385–93. Ingamells 1997 — J. Ingamells, A Dictionary of British and Irish Travellers in Italy: 1701–1800, New Haven, 1997. Ingamells and Edgcumbe 2000 — J. Ingamells and J. Edgcumbe (eds), The Letters of Sir Joshua Reynolds, New Haven and London, 2000. Irwin 1966 — D. Irwin, British Neoclassical Art. Studies in Inspiration and Taste, London, 1966. Jack Ward 1972 — M.-A. Jack Ward, The Accademia del Disegno in Sixteenth-Century Florence. A Study of an Artists’ Institution, Chicago, 1972. Jaffé 1977 — M. Jaffé, Rubens and Italy, Oxford, 1977. Jaffé 1989 — M. Jaffé, Rubens: catalogo completo, trans. by G. Mulazzini, Milan, 1989. Jaffé 1994 — M. Jaffé, The Devonshire Collection of Italian Drawings. Roman and Neapolitan Schools, London, 1994. Jaffé 2010 — D. Jaffé, ‘Rubens’s Lost “Pocketbook”: Some New Thoughts’, Burlington Magazine, 152, no. 1283, 2010, pp. 94–98. Jaffé and Bradley 2005–06 — D. Jaffé and A. Bradley, ‘Rubens’s “Pocketbook”: An Introduction to the Creative Process’, in London 2005–06, pp. 21–27. Janssens 2012 — S. Janssens, ‘The Flemish Roots of Johannes Stradanus: His Beginnings in Bruges and Antwerp (1523–1545)’ in Bruges 2008–09, pp. 9–29. Jenkins 1992 — I. Jenkins, Archaeologists and Aesthetes in the Sculpture Galleries of the British Museum 1800–1939, London, 1992. Jestaz 2000–01 — B. Jestaz, ‘Les premières copies d’antiques’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 45–52. Joannides 1983 — P. Joannides, The Drawings of Raphael, Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford, 1983. Joannides 1993 — P. Joannides, ‘Michelangelo and the Medici Garden’, in La Toscana al tempo di Lorenzo il Magnifico. Politica, economia, cultura, arte, 3 vols, Pisa, 1996, vol. 1, pp. 23–36. Joannides 1997 — P. Joannides, ‘Michelangelo bronzista: Reflections on his mettle’, Apollo, 145, no. 424, June 1997, pp. 11–20. Joannides 2003 — P. Joannides, Michel-Ange, élèves et copistes. Musée du Louvre. Département des arts graphiques. Inventaire général des dessins italiens, vol. 6, Paris, 2003. Johns 1988 — M. S. Johns, ‘Papal Patronage and Cultural Bureaucracy in Eighteenth-Century Rome: Clement XI and the Accademia di San Luca’, Eighteenth-Century Studies, 22, no. 1, Autumn 1988, pp. 1–23. Jones and Penny 1983 — R. Jones and N. Penny, Raphael, New Haven and London, 1983. Jonkman 2010 — M. Jonkman, ‘Couleur Locale. Het schildersatelier en de status van de kunstenaar’, in M. Jonkman and E. Geudeker (eds), Mythen van het atelier. Werkplaats en schilderpraktijk van de negentiende-eeuwse Nederlandse kunstenaar, Zwolle, 2010, pp. 13–37. Jordan and Weston 2002 — B. G. Jordan and V. Weston, Copying the Master and Stealing His Secrets: Talent and Training in Japanese Painting, Honolulu, 2002. 238 239  Jørnæs 1970 — B. Jørnæs, ‘Antiksalen på Charlottenborg’, Meddelelser fra Thorvaldsens Museum, 1970, pp. 48–65. Jouin 1889 — H. Jouin, ‘Charles Natoire et la peinture historique’, Nouvelles Archives de l’Art Français, 1889, pp. 139–49. Justi 1866–72 — C. Justi, Winckelmann. Sein Leben, seine Werke und seine Zeitgenossen, 2 vols, Leipzig, 1866–72. Kemp 1977 — M. Kemp, ‘From “Mimesis” to “Fantasia”: the Quattrocento Vocabulary of Creation, Inspiration and Genius in the Visual Arts’, Viator, 8, 1977, pp. 347–98. Kemp 2006 — M. Kemp, Leonardo da Vinci. The Marvellous Works of Nature and Man, Oxford, 2006. Kenworthy-Browne 2009 — J. Kenworthy-Browne, ‘The Duke of Richmond’s Gallery in Whitehall’, British Art Journal, 10, no. 1, Spring/ Summer 2009, pp. 40–50. Kerslake 1977 — J. Kerslake, Early Georgian Portraits, 2 vols, London, 1977. Kieven 1998 — E. Kieven, ‘“Trattandosi illustrar la patria”. Neri Corsini, il “Museo Fiorentino” e la fondazione dei Musei Capitolini’, Rivista Storica del Lazio, 6, no. 9, 1998, pp. 135–44. Kitson 1966–68 — M. Kitson, ‘Hogarth’s “Apology for Painters’’’, The Walpole Society, 41, 1966–68, pp. 46–111. Klein and Zerner 1966 — R. Klein and H. Zerner, Italian Art 1500–1600: Sources and Documents, New Jersey, 1966. Klementa 1993 — S. Klementa, Gelagerte Flussgötter des Späthellenismus und der römischen Kaiserzeit, Cologne, 1993. Klemm 1986 — C. Klemm, Johann Heinrich Füssli. Zeichnungen, Zurich, 1986. Knab, Mitsch and Oberhuber 1984 — E. Knab, E. Mitsch and K. Oberhuber, Raffaello. I disegni, Florence, 1984. Knoef 1938 — J. Knoef, ‘Een portretgroep van Wybrand Hendriks’, Oud-Holland, 55, 1938, pp. 175–78. Knoef 1947a — J. Knoef, ‘Het voorbeeld voor een portretgroep van W. Hendriks?’, Kunsthistorische Mededelingen, 2, 1947, pp. 11–13. Knoef 1947b — J. Knoef, Van Romantiek tot Realisme. Een bundel kunsthistorische opstellen, The Hague, 1947. Knowles 1831 — J. Knowles, The Life and Writings of Henry Fuseli, 3 vols, London, 1831. Koenderink 2013 — J. Koenderink et al., ‘Zograscopic Viewing’, i-Perception, 4.3, 2013, pp. 192–206. Published on-line, 24 May 2013 [http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3690410/, accessed 1 Jan. 2015]. Koolhaas-Grosfeld and De Vries 1992 — E. Koolhaas-Grosfeld and S. de Vries, ‘Terug naar een roemrijk verleden. De zeventiende-eeuwse schilderkunst als voorbeeld voor de negentiende eeuw’, in F. Grijzenhout and H. van Veen (eds), De gouden eeuw in perspectief. Het beeld van de Nederlandse zeventiende-eeuwse schilderkunst in later tijd, Nijmegen, 1992, pp. 107–39. Körner 2013 — S. Körner, Cavaceppi entry in Orangerie. Ausgewählte Objekte. Selected Objects, cat. 3, auction no. 217, Villa Grisebach, Berlin, 28 November 2013, lot 307R. Körte 1935 — W. Körte, Der Palazzo Zuccari im Rom: Sein Freskenschmuck und seine Geschichte, Leipzig, 1935. Krahn 1996 — V. Krahn, ‘Der Antinous vom Belvedere als Vorbild und Inspirationsquelle’, in Von allen Seiten schön, 1. Dokumentation zu Ausstellung und Kolloquium, Cologne, 1996, pp. 91–109. Krahn 2014 — V. Krahn, ‘I Bronzetti di Bandinelli’, in Florence 2014, pp. 324–31. Kultzen 1996 — R. Kultzen, Michael Sweerts: Brussels 1618 – Goa 1664, Doornspijk, 1996. Künzl 1970 — E. Künzl, ‘Venus vor dem Bade – ein Neufund aus der Colonia Ulpia Traiana und Bemerkungen zum Typus der “sandalenlösenden Aphrodite”,’ Bonner Jahrbücher, 170, 1970, pp. 102–62. Kutschera-Woborsky 1919 — O. Kutschera-Woborsky, ‘Ein kunsttheoretisches Thesenblatt Carlo Marattas und seine ästhetischen Inschauungen’, Mitteilungen der Gesellschrift für vervielfältigende Kunst, 42, nos 1–3, 1919, pp. 9–28. La Malfa 2010–11 — C. La Malfa, ‘Artisti a palazzo’, in Rome 2010–11a, pp. 263–69. Lambourne 1982 — L. Lambourne, ‘The Image Sellers’, The V&A album, 1, 1982, pp. 119–23. Landau and Parshall 1994 — P. Parshall and D. Landau, The Renaissance Print: 1470–1550, New Haven and London, 1994. Lange 1866 — J. Lange, Fortegnelse over de det kongl. Akademi for de skjønne Kunster tilhørende Gipsafstøbninger over Værker af anitk Skulptur, Copenhagen, 1866. Lapauze 1924 — H. Lapauze, Histoire de l’Académie de France à Rome, 2 vols, Paris, 1924. La Rocca and Parisi Presicce 2010 — E. La Rocca and C. Parisi Presicce (eds), Musei Capitolini. Le sculture del Palazzo Nuovo, 1, Milan, 2010. La Ruffinière du Prey 1977 — P. de la Ruffinière du Prey, John Soane’s Architectural Education 1753–80, New York and London, 1977. Laugier 2000–01 — L. Laugier, ‘La sale du Gladiateur à la Villa Borghèse, Présenter et voir les antiques à Rome au XVIIIe siècle’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 144–49. Laveissière 2011 — S. Laveissière, ‘L’antique selon François Perrier: les ‘Segmenta nobilium Signorum’ et leurs modèles, in M. Bayard and E. Fumagalli (eds), Poussin et la construction de l’antique, Paris, 2011, pp. 49–306. Lawrence 1986 — C. Lawrence, ‘The Ophovius Madonna: A Newly Discovered Work by Jan Claudius De Cock’, Jaarboek Van Het Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerpen, 1986, pp. 273–93. Le Blanc 1854–88 — C. Le Blanc, Manuel de l’amateur d’estampes, contenant le dictionnaire des graveurs de toutes les nations, dans lequel sont décrites les estampes rares, précieuses et intéressantes avec l’indication de leurs différents états et des prix auxquels ces estampes ont été portées dans les ventes publiques, en France et à l’étranger, depuis un siècle, 4 vols, Paris, 1854–88. Le Brun 1698 — C. Le Brun, Conférence de Monsieur Le Brun sur l’expression générale et particulière..., Amsterdam and Paris, 1698. Le Claire Kunst 2011 — T. Le Claire Kunst, On Paper: Four Centuries of Master Drawings, Hamburg, 2011. Lee 1967 — R. W. Lee, Ut Pictura Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting, New York, 1967. Leeflang 2003–04a — H. Leeflang, ‘The Life of Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617)’, in Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 12–31. Leeflang 2003–04b — H. Leeflang, ‘His Artful Pen. Pen Works, Sketches, Chalk Drawings 1587–1614’, in Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 234–63. Leeflang 2012 — H. Leeflang, ‘The Roman Experiences of Hendrick Goltzius and Jacob Matham: a Comparison’, in E. Leuschner (ed.), Ein privilegiertes Medium und die Bildkulturen Europas. Deutsche, französische und niederländische Kupferstecher und Graphikverleger in Rome von 1590 bis 1630, Munich, 2012, pp. 21–38. Leesberg 2012a — M. Leesberg, ‘Between Copy and Piracy: Copies of the Print of Johannes Stradanus’ in Bruges 2008–09, pp. 161–82. Leesberg 2012b — M. Leesberg, The New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, Hendrick Goltzius, 4 vols, Ouderkerk aan den Ijssel and Amsterdam, 2012. Lehmann-Haupt 1977 — H. Lehmann-Haupt, An Introduction to the Woodcut of the Seventeenth Century; with a Discussion of the German Woodcut Broadsides of the Seventeenth Century, New York, 1977. Leonardo 1956 — Leonardo, Treatise on painting (Codex Urbinas Latinus 1270), ed. and trans. by A. Philip McMahon, 2 vols, Princeton, 1956. Levy 1984 — E. Levy, ‘Ideal and Reality of the Learned Artist: The Schooling of Italian and Netherlandish Artists’, in J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984, pp. 20–27. Lichtenstein and Michel 2006–12 — J. Lichtenstein and C. Michel, Conférences de l’Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, 5 vols, Paris, 2006–12. Liedtke 1989 — W. Liedtke, The Royal Horse and Rider: Painting, Sculpture and Horsemanship 1500–1800, London, 1989. Liedtke 2007 — W. Liedtke, Dutch Paintings in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2 vols, New York and New Haven, 2007. Lightbown 1986 — R. Lightbown, Mantegna. With a Complete Catalogue of the Paintings, Drawings and Prints, Oxford, 1986. Lindsay 1986 — S. C. Lindsay, ‘Emblematic Aspects of Fuseli’s Artist in Despair’, The Art Bulletin, 68, 1986, pp. 483–84. Lipking 1970 — L. Lipking, The Ordering of the Arts in Eighteenth-Century England, Princeton, 1970. Liverani 1989 — P. Liverani, L’Antiquarium di Villa Barberini a Castel Gandolfo, Città del Vaticano, 1989. Lock 2010 — L. E. Lock, ‘Picturing the Use, Collecting and Display of Plaster Casts’, in R. Frederiksen and E. Marchand (eds), Plaster Casts: Making, Collecting and Displaying from Classical Antiquity to the Present, Berlin and New York, 2010, pp. 251–67. Locquin 1912 — J. Locquin, La Peinture d’histoire en France de 1747 à 1785, Paris, 1912. Loire 2005–06 — S. Loire, ‘I Pittori Francesi a Roma nel XVIII secolo’, in Rome 2005–06, pp. 75–81. Lomazzo 1584 — G. P. Lomazzo, Trattato dell’arte de la pittura, Milan, 1584. Lomazzo 1590 — G. P. Lomazzo, Idea del tempio della pittura, Milan, 1590. Lomazzo 1973–74 — G. P. Lomazzo, Scritti sulle arti, ed. by R. P. Ciardi, 2 vols, Florence, 1973–74. Luchterhandt 2013–14 — M. Luchterhandt, ‘Schule der Welt. Der Cortile del Belvedere im Vatikan’, in Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der frühen Neuzeit, Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, University of Göttingen (eds. M. Luchterhandt et al.), 2013–14, pp. 27–42. Lugt 1949 — F. Lugt, Musée du Louvre. Inventaire général des dessins des écoles du nord, 2. Ecole Flammande, vol. 2, Paris, 1949. Luijten 2003–04 — G. Luijten, ‘The Art of Italy. The Fruits of the Journey to Italy, 1590–1591’, in Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 117–44. Lukacher 2006 — B. Lukacher, Joseph Gandy. An Architectural Visionary in Georgian England, London, 2006. Lukehart 2007–08 — P. M. Lukehart, ‘Parallel Lives: The Example of Taddeo Zuccaro in Late-Sixteenth-Century Rome’, in Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 105–11. Lukehart 2009 — P. M. Lukehart (ed.), The Accademia Seminars: The Accademia di San Luca in Rome, c. 1590–1635, Washington, D.C. and New Haven, 2009. Lullie 1954 — R. Lullie, Die kauernde Aphrodite, Munich, 1954. Lurin 2009 — E. Lurin, ‘Un homme entre deux mondes. Étienne Dupérac, peintre, graveur et architecte, en Italie et en France (c. 1535?–1604)’, in H. Zerner and M. Bayard (eds), Renaissance en France, Renaissance française?, Rome, 2009, pp. 37–59. Macandrew 1978 — H. Macandrew, ‘A Group of Batoni Drawings at Eton College, and Some Eighteenth-Century Italian Copyists of Classical Sculpture’, Master Drawings, 16, no. 2, Summer 1978, pp. 131–50, 191–215. MacDonald 1989 — M. F. MacDonald, ‘British Artists in the Accademia del Nudo in Rome’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 77–94. MacLaren 1991 — N. MacLaren, National Gallery catalogues: The Dutch school, 1600–1900, 2 vols, London, 1991. Macsotay 2010 — T. Macsotay, ‘Plaster Casts and Memory Technique: Nicolas Vleughels’ Display of Cast Collections after the Antique in the French Academy in Rome (1725–1793)’, in R. Frederiksen and E. Marchand (eds), Plaster Casts. Making, Collecting and Displaying from Classical Antiquity to the Present, Berlin and New York, 2010, pp. 181–196. Maffei 2009 — S. Maffei, ‘Un giano bifronte: Raffaello e Apelle in Giovan Pietro Bellori; osservazioni intorno all’operetta “Dell’ingegno eccellenza e grazia di Raffaelle comparato ad Apelle”’, Humanistica, 4, no. 2, 2009 (2010), pp. 131–45. Mahon 1947 — D. Mahon, Studies in Seicento Art and Theory, London, 1947. Mai 1987–88 — E. Mai, ‘Aspekte der Atelierbilder Balthasar van den Bossches’, Wallraf-Richartz-Jahrbuch, 48/49, 1987–88, pp. 453–62. Malvasia 1678 — C. C. Malvasia, Felsina Pittrice. Vite dei pittori bolognesi . . . , 2 vols, Bologna, 1678. Malvasia 1971 — C. C. Malvasia, Felsina Pittrice. Vite dei pittori bolognesi . . . , ed. by M. Brascaglia, Bologna, 1971. Manetti 1970 — A. Manetti, The Life of Brunelleschi, ed. by H. Saalman, trans. by C. Engass, University Park (PA) and London, 1970. Marani 2003–04 — P. C. Marani, ‘“Imita quanto puoi li Greci e Latini”: Leonardo da Vinci and the Antique’, in Athens 2003–04, vol. 1, pp. 476–78. Marani 2007 — P. C. Marani, ‘Leonardo, l’antico, il rilievo e le proporzioni dell’uomo e del cavallo’, in Milan 2007–08, pp. 17–27. Mariette 1850–60 — P.- J. Mariette, Abécédario et autres notes inédites sur les arts et les artistes, ed. by P. de Chennevières and A. de Montaiglon, 6 vols, Paris, 1850–60. Mariette 1996–2003 — P.-J. Mariette, Catalogues de la collection d’estampes de Jean V, roi de Portugal, ed. by M.-T. Mandroux-França, M. Préaud and J. Thuillier, 3 vols, Lisbon and Paris, 1996–2003. Marillier 1904 — H. C. Marillier, The Liverpool School of Painters. An Account of the Liverpool Academy from 1810 to 1867 with memoirs of the principal artists, London, 1904. Marinetti and Levi 2014 — R. Marinetti and D. Levi, La pinacoteca capitolina nel settecento, Rome, 2014. Martin 1905 — W. Martin, ‘The Life of a Dutch Artist in the Seventeenth Century I-Instruction in Drawing’, The Burlington Magazine, 7, no. 26, May 1905, pp. 125–129, 131. Martin 1907 — W. Martin, ‘Michiel Sweerts als Schilder. Proeve van een Biografie en een Catalogus van zijn schilderijen’, Oud-Holland, 25, 1907, pp. 132–56. Mason Rinaldi 1984 — S. Mason Rinaldi, Palma il Giovane. L’opera completa, Milan, 1984. Massari 1983 — S. Massari, Giulio Bonasone, Rome, 1983. Mattei 1987 — M. Mattei (ed.), Il Galata Capitolino. Uno splendido dono di Attalo, Rome, 1987. Maugeri 1982 — V. Maugeri, ‘I manuali propedeutici al disegno a Bologna e Venezia agli inizi del Seicento’, Musei ferraresi bollettino annuale, 12, 1982, pp. 147–56. Mauro 1556 — L. Mauro, Le antichità della Città di Roma, Venice, 1556. 240 241  Mayer 1876 — J. Mayer, Early Exhibitions of Art in Liverpool, London, 1876. Meder 1978 — J. Meder, The Mastery of Drawing, trans. and rev. by W. Ames, 2 vols, New York, 1978. Meijer 1995 — B. W. Meijer, ‘Da Spranger a Rubens: verso una nuova equivalenza’, in Brussels and Rome 1995, pp. 35–55. Méjanès 1976 — J.-F. Méjanès, ‘A Spontaneous Feeling for Nature. French Eighteenth-Century Landscape Drawings’, Apollo, 104, no. 177, November 1976, pp. 396–404. Méjanès 2006 — J.-F. Méjanès, Hubert Robert, Milan and Paris, 2006. Meldahl and Johansen 1904 — F. Meldahl and P. Johansen, Det kongelige Akademi for de skjønne Kunster, 1700–1904, Copenhagen, 1904. Mena Marqués 1990 — M. Mena Marqués, ‘Carlo Maratti e Raffaello’, in M. Fagiolo and M. L. Madonna (eds), Raffaello e l’Europa: Atti del IV Corso Internazionale di Alta Cultura, Rome, 1990, pp. 541–63. Mertens 1865 — J. H. Mertens, De schilderkonst ... gevolgd van de beeldhouwkonst, in Nederduitsch rijm beschreven door Johannes Claudius de Cock, Brussels, 1865. Mertens 1994 — V. Mertens, Die drei Grazien: Studien zu einem Bildmotiv in der Kunst der Neuzeit, Wiesbaden, 1994. Meyer and Piva 2011 — S. A. Meyer and C. Piva, L’arte di ben restaurare: la Raccolta d’antiche statue (1768–1772) di Bartolomeo Cavaceppi, Florence, 2011. Michaelis 1892 — A, Michaelis, ‘Römische Skizzenbücher nordischer Künstler des XVI’, Jahrbuch des Kaiserlich-Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, 1892, 7, no. 2, pp. 92–100. Michel 1981a — G. Michel, ‘Vie quotidienne au Palais Farnèse (XVIIe-XVIIIe siècle)’, in Le Palais Farnèse. École francaise de Rome, 3 vols, Rome, 1980–94, vol. 1.2, 1981, pp. 509–65. Michel 1981b — O. Michel, ‘L’«Accademia»’, in Le Palais Farnèse. École francaise de Rome, 3 vols, Rome, 1980–94, vol. 1.2, 1981, pp. 567–611. Michel 1987 — C. Michel, Charles-Nicolas Cochin et le livre illustré au XVIIIe siècle, Paris, 1987. Michel 1998–2000 — M. Roland Michel, ‘On Some Collectors of Eighteenth-Century French Drawings in the United States’, in Mastery & Elegance: Two Centuries of French drawings from the Collection of Jeffrey E. Horvitz, Harvard University Art Museums, Cambridge; Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto; Musée Jacquemart-André, Paris; National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh; National Academy Museum and School of Fine Arts, New York; Los Angeles County Museum and School of Fine Arts, Los Angeles (ed. A. L. Clark, Jr.), 1998–2000, pp. 53–75. Michel 2012 — C. Michel, L’ Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture (1648–1793): la naissance de l’École française, Geneva, 2012. Micheli 1983 — M. L. Micheli, ‘Aneddoti sul sarcofago del Museo Diocesano di Cortona’, Xenia , 5, 1983, pp. 93–96. Miedema 1969 — H. Miedema, ‘Het voorbeeldt niet te by te hebben. Over Hendrik Goltzius’ tekeningen naar de antieken’, in H. Miedema, W. Scheller and P. J. J. van Thiel (eds), Miscellanea I. Q. van Regteren Altena, Amsterdam, 1969, pp. 74–78, 289–91. Miller 1999 — E. Miller, 16th-Century Italian Ornament Prints in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1999. Minonzio 1990 — D. Minonzio, ‘De Musi’ in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 38, Rome, 1990, pp. 685–88. Mirimonde 1958 — A. P. Mirimonde, ‘L’Impromptu du plafond, ou l’apothéose de Saint-Louis par Natoire’, La Revue des arts, 6, 1958, pp. 279–84. Missirini 1823 — M. Missirini, Memorie per servire alla storia della romana Accademia di San Luca . . . , Rome, 1823. Mongi-Vollmer 2013 — E. Mongi-Vollmer, ‘“Jeder hat noch in den Alten gefunden, was er brauchte, oder wünschte; vorzüglich sich selbst”. Reflexionen über die Kunst zu Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts’, in Schönheit und Revolution. Klassizismus 1770–1820, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main (eds M. Bückling and E. Mongi-Vollmer), Munich, 2013, pp. 293–99. Montagu 1994 — J. Montagu, The Expression of the Passions: The Origins and Influence of Charles Le Brun’s ‘Conference sur l’expression générale et particulière’, New Haven and London, 1994. Montagu 1996 — J. Montagu, ‘The Quarrel between Drawing and Colour in the French Academy’, in V. von Flemming and S. Schütze (eds), Ars naturam adiuvans. Festschrift für Matthias Winner, Mainz, 1996, pp. 548–56. Montaiglon 1875–92 — A. de Montaiglon (ed.), Procès-verbaux de l’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, 1648–1793, 10 vols, Paris, 1875– 92. Montaiglon and Guiffrey 1887–1912 — A. de Montaiglon and J. Guiffrey (eds), Correspondance des directeurs de l’Académie de France à Rome avec les surintendants des bâtiments ..., 18 vols, Paris, 1887–1912. Montanari 2000 — T. Montanari, ‘La politica culturale di Giovan Pietro Bellori’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 39–49. Montfort 2005 — C. R. Montfort, ‘Portraits of Self: Adélaïd Labille-Guiard and Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, Women Artists of the Eighteenth Century’, Pacific Coast Philology, 40, no. 1, 2005, pp. 1–18. Morel 1997 — P. Morel, Les Grotesques: Les Figures de l’imaginaire dans la peinture italienne de la fin de la Renaissance, Paris, 1997. Morley 1993 — J. Morley, Regency Design 1790–1840, London, 1993. Mozzati 2014 — T. Mozzati, ‘“Dicendo come Scultore non lo Meritassi”: Ritratto, Autoritratto e Conformismo Sociale nella Carriera di Baccio Bandinelli’, in Florence 2014, pp. 452–69. Muller 1982 — J. M. Muller, ‘Rubens’s Theory and Practice of the Imitation of Art’, The Art Bulletin, 64, no. 2, June 1982, pp. 229–47. Muller 1984 — J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984. Muller 1989 — J. M. Muller, Rubens: The Artist as Collector, Princeton, 1989. Muller 2004 — J. M. Muller, ‘Rubens’s Collection in History’, in Antwerp 2004, pp. 11–85. Müller-Kaspar 2009 — U. Müller-Kaspar, ‘Antikenkäufe Frederichs II. in Rom’, in S. Hüneke et al., Antiken I: Kurfürstliche und Königliche Erwerbungen für die Schlösser und Gärten in Brandenburg-Preussen vom 17. bis zum 19. Jahrhundert, Berlin, 2009, pp. 395–99. Musso 1989–90 — L. Musso, ‘Il trasporto funebre di Achille sul rilievo Colonna-Grottaferrata: una nota di iconografia’, Bullettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma, 93, 1989–90, pp. 9–22. Myssok 2010 — J. Myssok, ‘Modern Sculpture in the Marking: Antonio Canova and plaster casts’, in R. Frederiksen and E. Marchand (eds), Plaster Casts: Making, Collecting and Displaying from Classical Antiquity to the Present, Berlin and New York, 2010, pp. 269–88. Nagler 1835–52 — G. K. Nagler, Neues allgemeines Künstler-Lexikon, 25 vols, Leipzig, 1835–52. Nagler 1966 — G. K. Nagler, Die Monogrammisten, 5 vols, reprint, Niewkoop, 1966. Nesselrath 1982 — A. Nesselrath, ‘Antico and Monte Cavallo’, The Burlington Magazine, 124, no. 951, June 1982, pp. 353–355, 357. Nesselrath 1984 — A. Nesselrath, ‘Raffaello e lo studio dell’antico nel Rinascimento’, in C. L. Frommel, S. Ray and M. Tafuri (eds), Raffaello Architetto, Milan, 1984, pp. 405–08. Nesselrath 1984–86 — A. Nesselrath, ‘I libri di disegni di antichità. Tentativo di una tipologia’, in S. Settis (ed.), Memoria dell’Antico nell’Arte Italiana, 3 vols, Turin, 1984–86, vol. 3, pp. 87–147. Nesselrath 1988 — A. Nesselrath, ‘Simboli di Roma’, in Rome 1988, pp. 195–205. Nesselrath 1993 — A. Nesselrath, Das Fossombroner Skizzenbuch, London, 1993. Nesselrath 1994 — A. Nesselrath, ‘The imagery of the Belvedere state court under Julius II and Leo X’, in High Renaissance in the Vatican: The Age of Julius II and Leo X, National Museum of Western Art, Tokyo (eds M. Koshikawa and M. J. McClintock), 1993 (English text supplement, 1994, pp. 52–55). Nesselrath 1998a — A. Nesselrath, ‘Il Cortile delle Statue: luogo e storia’, in Il Cortile delle Statue: Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Akten des Internationalen Kongresses zu Ehren von Richard Krautheimer, Rome (eds M. Winner et al.), 21–23 October, 1992, Mainz, 1998, pp. 1–16. Nesselrath 1998b — A. Nesselrath, ‘Montorsolis Vorzeichnung für seine Ergänzung des Laokoon’, in M. Winner, B. Andreae and C. Pietrangeli (eds), Il cortile delle statue – Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Mainz am Rhein, 1998, pp. 165–74. Nichols 1999 — T. Nichols, Tintoretto. Tradition and Identity, London, 1999. Nichols 2013a — L. W. Nichols, The Paintings of Hendrick Goltzius 1558–1617. A Monograph and Catalogue Raisonné, Doornspijk, 2013. Nichols 2013b — T. Nichols, Titian and the End of the Venetian Renaissance, London, 2013. Nicolson 1968 — B. Nicolson, Joseph Wright of Derby; Painter of Light, 2 vols, London, 1968. Nochlin 1994 — L. Nochlin, The Body in Pieces. The Fragment as a Metaphor of Modernity, London, 1994. Oberhuber 1978 — K. Oberhuber, The Illustrated Bartsch 27. Formerly Volume 14 (Part 2). The Works of Marcantonio Raimondi and of his School, New York, 1978. Observations 1812 — Anon, ‘Observations on the House of John Soane Esq.’, The European Magazine and London Review, vol. 62, November 1812, pp. 381–87. Olmstead Tonelli 1984 — L. Olmstead Tonelli, ‘Academic Practice in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries’, in J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984, pp. 96–107. Opie 1809 — J. Opie, Lectures On Painting, Delivered At The Royal Academy Of Arts..., London, 1809. Owens 2013 — S. Owens, The Art of Drawing: British Masters and Methods Since 1600, London, 2013. Pacini 2008 — D. S. Pacini, Through Narcissus’ Glass darkly. The Modern Religion of Conscience, New York, 2008. Pagani 2000 — V. Pagani, ‘Documents on Antonio Salamanca’, Print Quarterly, 17, no. 2, 2000, pp. 148–55. Palais Farnèse 1980–94 — Le Palais Farnèse. École francaise de Rome, 3 vols, Rome, 1980–94. Palma and de Lachenal 1983 — B. Palma and L. de Lachenal, Museo Nazionale Romano. Le Sculture. 1,5,: i marmi Ludovisi nel Museo Nazionale Romano, ed. by A. Giuliano, Rome 1983. Panofsky 1955 — E. Panofsky, ‘The History of the Theory of Proportions as a Reflection of the History of Styles’, in Meaning in the visual arts: papers in and on art history, Garden City (NY), 1955, pp. 82–138. Panofsky 1962 — E. Panofsky, Studies in Iconology: humanistic themes in the art of the Renaissance, New York, 1962. Panofsky 1968 — E. Panofsky, Idea: A Concept in Art Theory, New York, 1968. Paolucci 2014 — F. Paolucci, ‘La statuaria antica nel giardino di San Marco e nel Palazzo di via Larga all’età di Lorenzo il Magnifico’, in Rome 2014a, pp. 34–41. Parisi Presicce 2007 — C. Parisi Presicce, ‘Konstantin als Iuppiter. Die Kolossalstatue des Kaisers aus der Basilika an der Via Sacra’, in Konstantin der Grosse: Imperator Caesar Flavius Constantinus, Trier (eds A. Demandt and J. Engemann), 2007, pp. 117–130. Parisi Presicce 2010 — C. Parisi Presicce, ‘I Musei Capitolini. Cenni storici’, in E. La Rocca and C. Parisi Presicce (eds), Musei Capitolini. Le sculture del Palazzo Nuovo, 1, Milan, 2010, pp. 16–29. Parisi Presicce 2014 — C. Parisi Presicce, ‘Michelangelo a Roma: il dialogo con la scultura antica’, in Rome 2014a, pp. 44–51. Parker 1983 — R. G. Parker, ‘Academy of Fine Arts’, Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences, 38, 1983, pp. 76–77. Pasquier 2000–01a — A. Pasquier, ‘Antiques restaurées’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 53–59. Pasquier 2000–01b — A. Pasquier, ‘Laocoon et ses fils’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 228–229. Pasquier 2000–01c — A. Pasquier, ‘Le Gladiateur Borghèse’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 276–77. Passavant 1860–64 — J. D. Passavant, Le peintre-graveur, 6 vols, Leipzig, 1860–64. Pasti 1988 — S. Pasti, ‘Niccolò V, l’Angelico e le antichità di Roma di Benozzo Gozzoli’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 135–143. Patz 2004 — K. Patz, ‘Vom Historienbild zum sublimen Kunstwerk. Gattungskonzepte im Werk von Johann Heinrich Füssli’, in P. Griener and K. Imesch (eds), Klassizismen und Kosmopolitismus. Programm oder Problem? Austausch in Kunst und Kunsttheorie im 18. Jahrhundert, Einsiedeln, 2004, pp. 267–78. Paul 2000 — C. Paul, Making a Prince’s Museum: Drawings for the Late-Eighteenth-Century Redecoration of the Villa Borghese, Los Angeles, 2000. Paul 2012 — C. Paul, ‘Capitoline Museum, Rome: Civic Identity and Personal Cultivation’, in C. Paul (ed.), The First Modern Museums of Art. The Birth of an Institution in 18th- and Early-19th-Century Europe, Los Angeles, 2012, pp. 20–45. Paulson 1971 — R. Paulson, Hogarth: His Life, Art, and Times, 2 vols, New Haven and London, 1971. Pauwels 1977 — H. Pauwels, ‘Jan Claudius de Cock’, in La Sculpture au siècle de Rubens dans les Pays-Bas méridionaux et la principauté de Liège, Musée d’art Ancien, Brussels (P. Colman et al.), 1977, pp. 37–44. Pears 1988 — I. Pears, The Discovery of Painting: The Growth of Interest in the Arts in England, 1680–1768, New Haven and London, 1988. Percy 2000 — A. Percy, ‘Drawings and Artistic Production in Eighteenth-Century Rome’, in Philadelphia and Houston 2000, pp. 461–67. Pericolo forthcoming — L. Pericolo, ‘Statuino: An Undercurrent of Anticlassicism in Italian Baroque Art Theory’, Art History, forthcoming. Perini 1988 — G. Perini, ‘Carlo Cesare Malvasia’s Florentine Letters: Insight into Conflicting Trends in Seventeenth-Century Italian Art Historiography’, The Art Bulletin, 70, 1988, pp. 273–99. Perini 2000a — G. Perini, ‘La biblioteca di Bellori: saggio sulla struttura intellettuale e culturale di un erudito del Seicento’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 673–85. Perini 2000b — G. Perini, ‘Una certa idea di Raffaello nel Seicento’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 153–61. Perry Chapman 2005 — H. Perry Chapman, ‘The Imagined Studios of Rembrandt & Vermeer’ in M. Cole and M. Pardo (eds), Inventions of the Studio, Renaissance to Romanticism, Chapel Hill, 2005. 242 243  Petherbridge 2010 — D. Petherbridge, The Primacy of Drawing: Histories and Theories of Practice, New Haven and London, 2010. Pevsner 1940 — N. Pevsner, Academies of Art: Past and Present, New York, 1940. Phillips 2013 — C. Phillips, ‘Count Charles Cobenzl (1712–1770), Promoting the Arts and Learning in the Austrian Netherlands’, in K. Van der Stighelen et al. (eds), Embracing Brussels. Art and Culture in the Court City, 1600–1800, Turnhout, 2013, pp. 119–35. Picozzi 2000 — M. G. Picozzi, ‘“Nobilia Opera”: la selezione della scultura antica’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 1, pp. 25–38. Pierguidi 2008 — S. Pierguidi, ‘“Li soggetti furono sopra la pittura”: Luca Giordano, Carlo Maratti e il Trionfo della pittura napoletana di Paolo de Matteis per il marchese del Carpio’, in R. Spadea, Ricerche sul ‘600 napoletano, Naples, 2008, pp. 93–99. Pierguidi 2011 — S. Pierguidi, ‘Disegnare e copiare per imparare. Il trattato di Armenini come fonte per la vita di Taddeo Zuccari nei disegni del fratello Federico’, Romagna arte e storia, 31, no. 92–93, 2011, pp. 23–32. Pierguidi 2014 — S. Pierguidi, ‘“Tanto che basti”. La notomia nelle arti figurative di età barocca e una polemica tra Carlo Cesi e Carlo Maratti’, in Society and Culture in the Baroque Period, General Conference, Rome, 27–29 March 2014 [http://www.enbach.eu/en/essays/revisiting- baroque/pierguidi.aspx, accessed 05 Jan. 2015]. Pietrangeli 1959 — C. Pietrangeli, ‘“L’Accademia del Nudo” in Campidoglio’, Strenna dei Romanisti, 20, 1959, pp. 123–28. Pietrangeli 1962 — C. Pietrange li, ‘L’Accademia Capitolina del Nudo’, Capitolium, 37, no. 3, 1962, pp. 132–34. Pietrangeli 1974 — C. Pietrangeli (ed.), L’Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome, 1974. Pino 1582 — B. Pino, Nuova scelta di lettere, 4 vols, Venice, 1582. Pirrotta 1969 — L. Pirrotta, ‘I direttori dell’ Accademia del Nudo in Campidoglio’, Strenna dei Romanisti, 30, 1969, pp. 326–34. Piva 2000 — C. Piva, ‘La casa-bottega di Bartolomeo Cavaceppi: un laboratorio di restauro delle antichità che voleva diventare un’accademia’, Ricerche di storia dell’arte, 70, 2000, pp. 5–20. Piva 2007 — C. Piva, Restituire l’antichità. Il laboratorio di restauro della scultura antica del Museo Pio-Clementino, Rome, 2007. Piva 2010–11 — C. Piva, ‘Bartolomeo Cavaceppi tra mercato e restauro’, in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 59–64. Pizzimano 2001 — P. Pizzamano, Giovanni Battista Cavalieri: Un incisore trentino nella Roma dei papi del Cinquecento, Rovereto, 2001. Plax 2000 — J. A. Plax, Watteau and the cultural politics of eighteenth-century France, Cambridge, 2000. Pliny 1999 — Pliny, Natural History, vol. 9 (Books 33–35), trans. by H. Rackham, Cambridge (MA) and London, 1999. Plomp 1982 — M. C. Plomp, ‘Dirk Langendijk in het culturele klimaat van Rotterdam van de 18de eeuw en zijn verhouding tot zijn verzame- laars’, in M. E. Deelen et al. (eds), Dirk Langendijk (1748–1805). Tekenaar tussen kruitdamp en vaderlands gevoel, Rotterdam, 1982, pp. 10–30. Plomp 2001 — M. C. Plomp, Collectionner, passionnément. Les collectionneurs hollandais de dessins au XVIIIe siècle, Paris, 2001. Plomp 2010 — M. Plomp, ‘Some Remarks on Jan de Bisschop’s Icones and Paradigmata’, in C. Hattori et al. (eds), À l’origine du livre d’art: les recueils d’estampes comme entreprise éditoriale en Europe, XVIe-XVIIIe siècle, Milan, 2010, pp. 39–47. Pollitt 1974 — J. J. Pollitt, The Ancient View of Greek Art: Criticism, History and Terminology, New Haven and London, 1974. Pollitt 1983 — J. J. Pollitt, The Art of Rome c. 753 bc – ad 337. Sources and Documents, Cambridge, 1983. Pollitt 1990 — J. J. Pollitt, The Art of Ancient Greece. Sources and Documents, Cambridge, 1990. Pon 2004 — L. Pon, Raphael, Dürer, and Marcantonio Raimondi. Copying and the Italian Renaissance Print, New Haven and London, 2004. Postle 1997 — M. Postle, ‘Naked Authority? Reproducing Antique Statuary in the English Academy, from Lely to Haydon’, in A. Hughes and E. Ranfft (eds), Sculpture and Its Reproduction, London, 1997, pp. 79–99. Postle 2004 — M. Postle, ‘Flayed for Art: The Écorché Figure in the English Art Academy’, The British Art Journal, 5, no. 1, Spring/Summer 2004, pp. 55–63. Potts 1994 — A. Potts, Flesh and the Ideal: Winckelmann and the Origins of Art History, New Haven and London, 1994. Powell 1973 — N. Powell, Fuseli: The Nightmare, London, 1973. Praz 1971 — M. Praz, Conversation Pieces. A Survey of the Informal Group Portrait in Europe and America, London, 1971. Pressly 1979 — N. L. Pressly, ‘Introduction’, in The Fuseli Circle in Rome. Early Romantic Art of the 1770s, Yale Center of British Art, New Haven (ed. N. L. Pressly), 1979, pp. v–xii. Pressly 1984 — W. L. Pressly (ed.), ‘Facts and Recollections of the XVIIIth Century in a Memoir of John Francis Rigaud Esq. R.A.’, The Walpole Society, 50, 1984, pp. 1–164. Prosperi Valenti 1974 — S. Prosperi Valenti, ‘Giovan Domenico Campiglia’, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani, vol. 17, Rome, 1974, pp. 539–41. Pucci 2000a — G. Pucci, ‘Les moulages de sculpture ancienne et l’esthétique du XVIIIe siècle’, in H. Lavagne and F. Queyrel (eds), Les moulages de sculptures antiques et l’histoire de l’archéologie, Geneva, 2000, pp. 45–55. Pucci 2000b — G. Pucci, ‘Oltre lo specchio. Füssli e l’eredità di Winckelmann’, in Altertumskunde im 18. Jahrhundert. Wecheselwirkungen zwischen Italien und Deutschland, Stendal, 2000, pp. 149–57. Puttfarken 1985 — T. Puttfarken, Roger de Piles’ Theory of Art, New Haven and London, 1985. Puttfarken 1991 — T. Puttfarken, ‘The Dispute about “Disegno” and “Colorito” in Venice: Paolo Pino, Lodovico Dolce and Titian’, in P. Ganz et al. (eds), Kunst und Kunsttheorie 1400–1900, Wiesbaden, 1991, pp. 45–99. Puyvelde 1944 — L. van Puyvelde, The Dutch Drawings in the Collection of his Majesty the King at Windsor Castle, London and New York, 1944. Quieto 1983 — P. P. Quieto, ‘Gli autoritratti di Giovanni Domenico Campiglia’, Rassegna dell’Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, 4, 1983, pp. 2–8. Quieto 1984a — P. P. Quieto, ‘Documenti per Giovanni Domenico Campiglia’, Labyrinthos, 3, 1984, 5/6, pp. 162–88. Quieto 1984b — P. P. Quieto, ‘Giovanni Domenico Campiglia, Mons. Bottari e la rappresentazione dell’antico’, Labyrinthos, 3, nos 5/6, 1984, pp. 3–36. Quieto 2007 — P. P. Quieto, L’Ideale classico nella Roma del Settecento, Rome, 2007. Ragghianti and Dalli Regoli 1975 — C. Ragghianti and G. Dalli Regoli, Firenze 1470–1480. Disegni dal Modello, Pisa, 1975. Raspi Serra 1997 — J. Raspi Serra, ‘I “pensionnaires” e l’antichità romana : disegni di Clérisseau, Suvée e Chaÿs (Chaix) alla Biblioteca Nazionale di Madrid’, in G. Barbera, T. Pugliatti and C. Zappia (eds), Scritti in onore di Alessandro Marabottini, Rome, 1997, pp. 305–10. Raspi Serra 1998–99 — J. Raspi Serra, ‘Bouchardon et l’étude de l’antique à Rome’, in Lyon 1998–99, pp. 77–78. Rausa 2007a — F. Rausa, ‘Catalogo dei disegni e delle stampe delle sculture antiche della collezione Farnese’, in C. Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese: storia e documenti, Naples, 2007, pp. 157–78. Rausa 2007b — F. Rausa, ‘Le collezioni farnesiane di sculture antiche: storia e formazione’, in C. Gasparri (ed.), Le sculture Farnese. Storia e documenti, Naples, 2007, pp. 15–80. Redgrave 1874 — S. Redgrave, A Dictionary of Artists of the English School: Painters, Sculptors, Architects, Engravers and Ornamentists, 2 vols, London, 1874. Redgrave and Redgrave 1890 — R. Redgrave and S. Redgrave, A Century of Painters of the English School, London, 1890. Reynolds 1997 — Discourses of Art. Sir Joshua Reynolds, ed. by R. R. Wark, New Haven and London, 1997. Reznicek 1961 — E. K. J. Reznicek, Die Zeichnungen von Hendrick Goltzius, 2 vols, Utrecht, 1961. Riccomini 1995 — A. M. Riccomini, ‘A Garden of Statues and Marbles: The Soderini Collection in the Mausoleum of Augustus’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 58, 1995, pp. 265–84. Riccomini 1996 — A. M. Riccomini, La ruina di sì bela cosa: vicende e trasformazioni del mausoleo di Augusto, Milan, 1996. Richter 1965 — G. M. A. Richter, The Portraits of the Greeks, 3 vols, London, 1965. Ridolfi 1914 — C. Ridolfi, Le maraviglie dell’arte (1648), ed.by D. von Hadeln, 2 vols, Berlin 1914. Ridolfi 1984 — C. Ridolfi, The Life of Tintoretto and of his children Domenico and Marietta, trans. by C. Enggass and R. Enggass, University Park (PA) and London, 1984. Robertson 2009–10 — C. Robertson, ‘Federico Zuccari’s Accademia del Disegno and the Carracci Accademia degli Incamminati: Drawing in Theory and Practice’, Römisches Jahrbuch der Bibliotheca Hertziana, 39, 2009–10, pp. 187–223. Roccasecca 2009 — P. Roccasecca, ‘Teaching in the Studio of the “Accademia del Disegno dei pittori, scultori e architetti di Roma” (1594–1696)’, in P. M. Lukehart (ed.), The Accademia Seminars: The Accademia di San Luca in Rome, c. 1590–1635, Washington D.C. and New Haven, 2009, pp. 122–59. Roethlisberger 1992 — M. G. Roethlisberger, ‘Bloemaert’s Series of Genre Prints’, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 119, January 1992, pp. 14–30. Roethlisberger 2014 — M. Roethlisberger, ‘More Paintings by Abraham and Hendrick Bloemaert’, Oud Holland, 127, nos. 2/3, 2014, pp. 79–92. Roethlisberger and Bok 1993 — M. C. Roethlisberger and M. J. Bok, Abraham Bloemaert and his Sons: Paintings and Prints, 2 vols, Doornspijk, 1993. Roettgen 1998 — S. Roettgen, ‘Begegnungen mit Apollo: zur Rezeptionsgeschichte des Apollo vom Belvedere in 18. Jahrhundert’, in M. Winner et al. (eds), Il Cortile delle Statue: Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Mainz, 1998, pp. 253–74. Rogers 2013 — P. Rogers, ‘Burney, Frances (1752–1840)’, ODNB, online ed., 2013 — [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/603, accessed 16 Oct. 2014]. Roland Michel 1987 — M. Roland Michel, Le dessin français au XVIIIe siè cl e, F r i b o u r g , 1987. Roman 1984 — C. R. Roman, ‘Academic Ideals of Art Education’, in J. M. Muller (ed.), Children of Mercury: The Education of Artists in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Providence (RI), 1984, pp. 81–95. Rosand 1970 — D. Rosand, ‘The Crisis of the Venetian Renaissance Tradition’, L’Arte, 9, 1970, pp. 5–53. Rosand 1997 — D. Rosand, Painting in Sixteenth-Century Venice: Titian, Veronese, Tintoretto, Cambridge, 1997. Rosenberg and Prat 1994 — P. Rosenberg and P.-L. Prat, Nicolas Poussin, 1594–1665: catalogue raisonné des dessins, 2 vols, Milan, 1994. Rosenberg and Prat 2002 — P. Rosenberg and L.-A. Prat, Jacques-Louis David: catalogue raisonné des dessins, 2 vols, Milan, 2002. Rossi 1997 — S. Rossi,‘Virtù e fatica. La vita esemplare di Taddeo nel ricordo “tendenzioso” di Federico Zuccari’, in B. Cleri (ed.), Le idee, gli scritti, atti del convegno di Sant’Angelo in Vado, Milan, 1997, pp. 53–69. Rossi Pinelli 1984 — O. Rossi Pinelli, ‘La pacifica invasione dei calchi delle statue antiche nell’Europa del Settecento’, in S. Macchioni et al. (eds), Studi in onore di Giulio Carlo Argan, 3 vols, Rome, 1984, vol. 1, pp. 419–29. Rossi Pinelli 1984–86 — O. Rossi Pinelli, ‘Chirurgia della memoria: scultura antica e restauri storici’, in S. Settis (ed.), Memoria dell’Antico nell’Arte Italiana, 3 vols, Turin, 1984–86, vol. 3, pp. 181–250. Rossi Pinelli 1988 — O. Rossi Pinelli, ‘Gli apostoli del buon gusto: fortuna e diffusione dei calchi’, in Rome 1988b, pp. 253–58. Rossi Pinelli 1997 — O. Rossi Pinelli, Füssli, Florence, 1997. Rowell 2012 — C. Rowell, ‘François Lemoyne’s “Annunciation” (1727) rediscovered at Winchester College’, Burlington Magazine, 154, no. 1308, March 2012, pp. 177–81. Rudolph 1978 — S. Rudolph, ‘The Toribio Illustrations and Some Considerations on Engravings after Carlo Maratti’, Antologia di belle arti, 2, no. 7/8, 1978, pp. 191–203. Rudolph 1988–89 — S. Rudolph, ‘Vincenzo Vittoria fra pitture, poesie e polemiche’, Labyrinthos, 7–8, nos 13–16, 1988–89, pp. 223–66. Rudolph 2000 — S. Rudolph, ‘Carlo Maratti’, in Rome 2000b, vol. 2, pp. 456–57. Ruesch 1911 — A. Ruesch, Guida Illustrata del Museo nazionale di Napoli, vol. 1: Antichità, 2nd ed., Naples, 1911. Saabye 1980 — M. Saabye, ‘Oprindelsen til Kunstakademiets anitksamling’, Kunst og Museum, 15, no. 1, 1980, pp. 5–12. Salvi 2012 — P. Salvi (ed.), Approfondimenti sull’ Uomo vitruviano di Leonardo da Vinci, Poggio a Caiano, 2012. Sanchez and Seydoux 1999–2006 — P. Sanchez and X. Seydoux, Les catalogues des Salons des beaux-arts, 23 vols, Paris, 1999–2006. Sarti 2001 — S. Sarti, Giovanni Pietro Campana 1808–1880. The Man and His Collection, Oxford, 2001. Scalabroni 1988 — L. Scalabroni, ‘Il sarcofago bacchico di S. Maria Maggiore’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 161–73. Schaar and Sutherland Harris 1967 — E. Schaar and A. Sutherland Harris, Die Handzeichnungen von Andrea Sacchi und Carlo Maratta, Düsseldorf, 1967. Schapelhouman 1979 — M. Schapelhouman, Oude tekeningen in het bezit van de gemeentemusea van Amsterdam, waaronder de collectie Fodor. Vol. 2: Tekeningen van Noord- en Zuidnederlandse kunstenaars geboren voor 1600, Amsterdam, 1979. Schapelhouman 2003–04 — M. Schapelhouman, ‘Drawing the likenesses of the most renowned with the chalks. Portraits made in Italy and after’, in Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04, pp. 147–67. Schavemaker 2010 — E. Schavemaker, Eglon van der Neer (1635/36–1703): His Life and his Work, Doornspijk, 2010. Scheen 1981 — P. A. Scheen, Nederlandse beeldende kunstenaars, 1750–1880, ’s-Gravenhage, 1981. Schiff 1973 — G. Schiff, Johann Heinrich Füssli. 1741–1825, 2 vols, Zurich, 1973. Schiff and Viotto 1980 — G. Schiff and P. Viotto, Tout l’oeuvre peint de Füssli, trans. by C. Lauriol, Paris, 1980. Schlosser Magnino 1967 — J. Schlosser Magnino, La Letteratura Artistica. Manuale delle fonti della storia dell’arte moderna, Florence, 1967. 244 245  Schnapper 2000 — A. Schnapper, ‘L’Académie: enseignement et disctintion de mérites’, in Tours and Toulouse 2000, pp. 61–68. Scholten 1904 — H. J. Scholten, Musée Teyler à Haarlem. Catalogue raisonné des dessins des écoles française et hollandaise, Haarlem, 1904. Schoneveld-Van Stoltz 1989 — H. F. Schoneveld-Van Stoltz, ‘Some Notes on the History of the ‘Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture’ in the Second Half of the Eighteenth Century’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 216–28. Schultz 1985 — B. Schultz, Art and Anatomy in Renaissance Italy, Ann Arbor (MI), 1985. Schwartz 2000–01 — E. Schwartz, ‘Poser l’antique’, in Paris 2000–01, pp. 103–09. Schwartz 2008–09 — E. Schwartz, ‘L’anatomie face à l’antique. De l’usage du moulage dans l’enseignement académique’, in Paris 2008–09a, pp. 83–87. Schwinn 1973 — C. Schwinn, Die Bedeutung des Torso vom Belvedere für Theorie und Praxis der bildenden Kunst: vom 16. Jahrhundert bis Winckelmann, Bern, 1973. Scott 1995 — J. Scott, Salvator Rosa: His Life and Times, New Haven and London, 1995. Sellink 1992 — M. Sellink, ‘“As a Guide to the Highest Learning:” an Antwerp Drawing Book dated 1589’, Simiolus, 21, no. 1/2, 1992, pp. 40–56. Sellink and Leeflang 2000 — M. Sellink (compiler) and H. Leeflang (ed.), New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish etchings, engravings and woodcuts, 1450–1700: Cornelis Cort, 3 vols, Rotterdam, 2000. Sérullaz 1981–82 — A. Sérullaz, ‘A proposito dei disegni del primo soggiorno di David a Roma (1775–1780)’, in Rome 1981–82, pp. 42–83. Settis 1998 — S. Settis, ‘Laocoonte di bronzo, Laocoonte di marmo’, in M. Winner et al. (eds), Il Cortile delle Statue: Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Mainz, 1998, pp. 129–60. Sgarbozza 2010–11 — I. Sgarbozza, ‘Artisti, studiosi, principi e viaggiatori: il pubblico elitario dei musei romani nel Settecento’, in Rome 2010–11b, pp. 127–32. Shearman 2003 — J. Shearman, Raphael in Early Modern Sources, New Haven and London, 2003. Silver 2007–08 — N. E. Silver, ‘The Zuccaro Brothers and Copying after the Antique in Sixteenth-Century Rome’, in Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 86–93. Simon 2011 — J. Simon, ‘Plaster figure makers: a short history’, published on-line, 21 February 2011, National Portrait Gallery, website [http://www.npg.org.uk/research/programmes/plaster- figure-makers-history.php, accessed 2 Feb. 2015]. Slatkin 1976 — R. S. Slatkin, ‘Abraham Bloemaert and François Boucher – Affinity and Relationship’, Master Drawings, 14, no. 3, 1976, pp. 247–60. Sliggers 1990 — B. Sliggers, ‘Teyler, Teylers Stichting en het Haarlemse tekenonderwijs’, Teylers Museum Magazijn, 26, 1990, pp. 14–17. Smith 1829 — J. T. Smith, Nollekens and his Times, 2 vols, London, 1829. Smith 1878–83 — J. C. Smith, British mezzotinto portraits; being a descriptive catalogue of these engravings from the introduction of the art to the early part of the present century . . . 4 vols, London, 1878–83. Soane 1835 — J. Soane, Description of the House and Museum on the North Side of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, privately printed, London, 1835. Söderlind 1999 — S. Söderlind, Gips. Tradition i konstens form. En konstbok fran Nationalmuseum (Nationalmusei Arsbok 45), Stockholm, 1999. Solkin 1992 — D. H. Solkin, Painting for Money: The Visual Arts and the Public Sphere in Eighteenth-century England, New Haven, 1992. Souchal 1977–93 — F. Souchal, French Sculptors of the 17th and 18th Centuries: the Reign of Louis XIV, 4 vols, Oxford and London, 1977–93. Spencer 1957 — J. R. Spencer, ‘Ut Rhetorica Pictura: A Study in Quattrocento Theory of Painting’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 20, no. 1/2, Jan. – Jun. 1957, pp. 26–44. Spike 1985 — J. Spike (ed.), The Illustrated Bartsch 30. Formerly Volume 15 (Part 3). Italian masters of the sixteenth century. Enea Vico, New York, 1985. Spinola 1996–2004 — G. Spinola, Il Museo Pio-Clementino, 3 vols, Vatican City, 1996–2004. Stanic 2013 — M. Stanic, ‘Charles Errard: Album de dessins et mesures de statues romaines . . .’, available on the ‘Architectura’ website of the University of Tours [http://architectura.cesr.univ-tours.fr/Traite/ Notice/ENSBA_PC6415.asp?param=en, accessed 10 Jan. 2015]. Staring 1956 — A. Staring, De Hollanders thuis, The Hague, 1956. Stechow 1966 — W. Stechow, Northern Renaissance Art, 1400–1600. Sources and Documents, Englewood Cliffs (NJ), 1966. Stechow 1968 — W. Stechow, Rubens and the Classical Tradition, Cambridge (MA), 1968. Steinmann 1913 — E. Steinmann, Die Portraitdarstellungen des Michelangelo, Leipzig, 1913. Stemerding 2012 — S. Stemerding, ‘Ontdekking van een vuurspu- wende draak op papier. De tekening als informatiebron over een onbekende kunstenaar: Cavalier Gaspare Celio (1571–1640)’, Desipientia – zin & waan. Kunsthistorisch tijdschrift, 19, no. 1, 2012, pp. 13–17. Stolzenburg 2000 — A. Stolzenburg, ‘An Inventory of Goltzius Drawings from the Collection of Queen Christina’, Master Drawings, 38, no. 4, Winter 2000, pp. 424–42. Strange 1775 — R. Strange, An enquiry into the Rise and Establishment of the Royal Academy of Arts..., London, 1775. Strauss 1973 — W. L. Strauss, Chiaroscuro. The Clair-Obscur Woodcuts by the German and Netherlandish Masters of the XVIth and XVIIth Century: A Complete Catalogue and Commentary, London, 1973. Strauss 1977 — W. L. Strauss, Hendrick Goltzius 1558–1617. The Complete Engravings and Woodcuts, New York, 1977. Strauss and Shimura 1986 — W. L. Strauss and T. Shimura, The Illustrated Bartsch 52. Netherlandish Artists. Cornelis Cort, New York, 1986. Strauss and Van der Meulen 1979 — W. L. Strauss and M. Van der Meulen, The Rembrandt Documents, New York, 1979. Strunck 2007–08 — C. Strunck, ‘The Original Setting of the Early Life of Taddeo Series: A New Reading of the Pictorial Program in the Palazzo Zuccari, Rome’, in Los Angeles 2007–08, pp. 113–25. Stuart Jones 1912 — H. Stuart Jones, A Catalogue of the Ancient Sculptures preserved in the Municipal Collections of Rome. The Sculptures of the Museo Capitolino, Oxford, 1912. Stuart Jones 1926 — H. Stuart Jones, A Catalogue of the Ancient Sculptures preserved in the Municipal Collection of Rome. The Sculptures of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, 2 vols, Oxford, 1926. Sutton 2002 — P. C. Sutton, ‘Introduction’, in Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002, pp. 11–24. Taillasson 1808 — Taillasson, untitled obituary, Gazette Nationale ou le Moniteur Universel, no. 20, 29 April 1808, p. 473. Tatarkiewicz 1970 — W. Tatarkiewicz, History of Aesthetics. Vol.1 Ancient Aesthetics, The Hague, 1970. Taylor 1987 — J. C. Taylor, Nineteenth-Century Theories of Art, Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1987. Teyssèdre 1965 — B. Teyssèdre, Roger de Piles et les débats sur le coloris au siècle de Louis XIV, Paris, 1965. Thieme-Becker 1907–50 — U. Thieme and F. Becker (eds), Allgemeines Lexikon der bildenden Künstler: von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart: unter Mitwirkung von 300 Fachgelehrten des in- und Auslandes, 37 vols, Leipzig, 1907–50. Thomas 2005 — B. Thomas, ‘The Academy of Baccio Bandinelli’, Print Quarterly, 22, 2005, pp. 3–14. Thomson 1771 — W. Thomson, The Conduct of the Royal Academicians, while Members of the Incorporated Society of Artists of Great Britain, viz. From the Year 1760, to their expulsion in the Year 1769..., London, 1771. Tirebuck 1879 — W. Tirebuck, William Daniels, Artist, Liverpool, 1879. Toledo Museum of Art 2009 — Toledo Museum of Art with contributions by D. Bacigalupi et al., Toledo Museum of Art: Masterworks, Toledo, 2009. Tolnay 1969 — C. de Tolnay, Michelangelo. Vol. 1 The Youth of Michelangelo, Princeton, 1969. Tolnay 1975–80 — C. de Tolnay, Corpus dei disegni di Michelangelo, 4 vols, Novara, 1975–80. Tolomeo Speranza 1988 — M. G. Tolomeo Speranza, ‘La Venere Pudica’, in Rome 1988a, pp. 175–80. Tomory 1972 — P. Tomory, The Life and Art of Henry Fuseli, London, 1972. Tormo 1940 — E. Tormo, Os Desenhos das Antigualihas que vio Francisco d’Ollanda Pintor Portogues, Madrid, 1940. Tozzi 1933 — R. Tozzi, ‘Notizie biografiche su Domenico Tintoretto’, Rivista di Venezia, 12, no. 6, June 1933, pp. 299–316. Tronzo 2009 — W. Tronzo, ‘The Cortile delle Statue. Collecting Fragments, Inducing Images’, in W. Tronzo (ed.), The Fragment: An Incomplete History, Los Angeles, 2009, pp. 38–59. Trumble 2010 — A. Trumble, The Finger. A Handbook, Melbourne, 2010. Trusted 2006 — M. Trusted, ‘Carlini, Agostino (c.1718–1790)’, ODNB, online ed., 2006 — [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/4686, accessed 21 Oct. 2014]. Turner and White 2014 — J. S. Turner and C. White, Dutch & Flemish Drawings in the Victoria and Albert Museum ed. by M. Evans, 2 vols, London, 2014. Twist 2008 — A. Twist, A Life of John Julius Angerstein, 1735–1823, Lewiston (NY), 2008. Valverde 2008 — I. Valverde, ‘Sublime heterodoxia: Henry Fuseli y su círculo en Roma’, in Goya e Italia, Museo de Zaragoza, Madrid (ed. J. Sureda), 2008, pp. 157–69. Van der Aa 1852–78 — A. J. van der Aa, Biographisch woordenboek der Nederlanden: bevattende levensbeschrijvingen van zoodanige personen, die zich op eenigerlei wijze in ons vaderland hebben vermaard gemaakt, Haarlem, 1852–78. Van der Meulen 1994–95 — M. van der Meulen, Rubens: Copies after the Antique (Corpus Rubenianum Ludwig Burchard, pt. 23), 3 vols, London, 1994–95. Van der Sman 2000 — G. J. van der Sman, ‘Print Publishing in Venice in the Second Half of the Sixteenth Century’, Print Quarterly, 17, no. 3, September 2000, pp. 235–47. Van der Willigen 1809 — A. van der Willigen, ‘Verhandeling over de oorzaak van het gebrek aan uitmuntende historieschilders in ons land, en de middelen, geschikt tot derzelver vorming’, in Verhandelingen uitgegeven door Teyler’s Tweede Genootschap, 17, 1809, pp. 247–330. Van der Willigen 1866 — A. van der Willigen, Geschiedkundige aantekeningen over Haarlemsche schilders, Haarlem, 1866. Van Eynden and Van der Willigen 1816–40 — R. van Eynden and A. van der Willigen, Geschiedenis der Vaderlandsche Schilderkunst sedert de helft der XVIIIde eeuw, 4 vols, Haarlem, 1816–40. Van Gelder 1972 — J. G. van Gelder, Jan de Bisschop, offprint from Oud Holland, 86, no. 4, 1971, The Hague, 1972, pp. 1–88. Van Gelder and Jost 1985 — J. G. van Gelder and I. Jost, Jan de Bisschop and his Icones & Paradigmata: Classical Antiquities and Italian Drawings for Artistic Instruction in Seventeenth-Century Holland, Doornspijk, 1985. Van Holthe tot Echten 1984 — G. S. van Holthe tot Echten, ‘L’Envoi de jeunes artistes Néerlandais à Paris pendant le règne de Louis Napoléon Bonaparte, roi de Hollande (1806–1810)’, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 103, 1984, pp. 57–70. Van Looij 1989 — L. Th. van Looij, ‘De Antwerpse Koninklijke Academie voor Schone Kunsten’, in A. W. Boschloo et al. (eds), Academies of Art between Renaissance and Romanticism, The Hague, 1989, pp. 302–19. Van Mander 1604 — K. van Mander, Het Schilder-Boeck . . . , Haarlem, 1604. Van Mander 1973 — K. van Mander, Den grondt der de edel vry schilder-const, Utrecht, 1973. Van Mander 1994–99 — K. van Mander, The Lives of the Illustrious Netherlandish and German Painters ..., ed. by H. Miedema, 6 vols, Doornspijk, 1994–99. Van Regteren Altena 1964 — I. Q. Van Regteren Altena, Vereeuwigde stad. Rome door Nederlanders getekend, 1500–1900, Weesp and Amsterdam, 1964. Van Regteren Altena 1970 — I. Q. van Regteren Altena, ‘Herman van Brussel als figuurschilder’, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, 21, 1970, pp. 309–17. Van Thiel 1965 — P. J. J. van Thiel, ‘Cornelis Cornelisz. Van Haarlem as a Drafstman’, Master Drawings, 3, 1965, pp. 123–54. Van Thiel 1976 — P. J. J. van Thiel et al., All the paintings of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, A completely illustrated catalogue, Amsterdam, 1976. Van Thiel 1999 — P. J. J. van Thiel, Cornelis Cornelisz van Haarlem, 1562–1638. A Monograph and Catalogue Raisonné, Doornspijk, 1999. Van Tuyll 1988 — C. van Tuyll, ‘Aanwinst: het Teekencollegie te Haarlem door Wybrand Hendriks’, Teylers Museum Magazijn, 20, 1988, pp. 17–18. Vaughan 1995 — G. Vaughan, ‘Further Towneliana: Two Water Colours’, British Museum Magazine, no. 23, Winter 1995, pp. 18–19. Veldman 1977 — I. M. Veldman, Maarten van Heemskerck and Dutch Humanism in the Sixteenth Century, Maarssen, 1977. Veldman 2001 — I. M. Veldman, Crispijn de Passe and his Progeny (1564–1670). A Century of Print Production. Studies in prints and printmaking, vol. 3, Rotterdam, 2001. Veldman 2012 — I. M. Veldman, ‘The “Roman Sketchbooks” in Berlin and Maarten van Heemskerck’s travel sketchbook’, in T. Bartsch and P. Seiler (eds), Rom zeichnen. Maarten van Heemskerck 1532–1536/37, Berlin, 2012, pp. 11–23. Veldman 2013–14 — I. M. Veldman, ‘The History of Queen Christina’s Album of Goltzius Drawings and the Myth of Rudolf II as their first Owner’, Simiolus. Netherlandish Quarterly for the History of Art, 37, no. 2, 2013–14, pp. 100–17. Venuti 1750 — [R. Venuti], Museo Capitolino, Rome, 1750. Verbeek and Veldman 1974 — J. Verbeek and I. M. Veldman, Hollstein’s Dutch and Flemish etchings, engravings and woodcuts ca. 1450–1700. Vol. 16. De Passe (continued), ed. by K. G. Boon, Amsterdam, 1974. Vetter 1995 — A. W. Vetter, ‘Zeichen göttlichen Wesens, überlegungen zum Apollon vom Belvedere’, Archäologischer Anzeiger, 3, 1995, pp. 451–56. Vialla 1910 — S. Vialla, Marseille révolutionaire. L’Armée-Nation (1789–1793), Paris, 1910. Viatte 1974 — F. Viatte, Dessins italiens du Museé du Louvre: Dessins de Stefano della Bella, 1610–1664, Paris, 1974. 246 247  Viatte 2011 — F. Viatte, Inventaire Général de Dessins Italiens. Tome IX. Baccio Bandinelli. Dessins, Sculptures, Peinture, Paris and Milan, 2011. Viljoen 2001 — M. C. Viljoen, ‘Raphael and the Restorative Power of Prints’, Print Quarterly, 18, 2001, pp. 379–95. Vitet 1861 — L. Vitet, L’Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture, Paris, 1861. Vlieghe 1979 — H. Vlieghe: ‘De leerpraktijk van een jonge schilder: Het notitieboekje van Pieter van Lint in het Institut Néerlandais te Parijs’, Jaarboek: Koninklijk museum voor schone kunsten, 1979, pp. 249–79. Volkmann 1770–71 — J. J. Volkmann, Historisch-kritische Nachrichten von Italien, welche eine genaue Beschreibung dieses Landes . . . , 3 vols, Leipzig, 1770–71. Vossilla 2014 — F. Vossilla, ‘L’Ercole e Caco di Baccio Bandinelli tra Pace e Guerra’, in Florence 2014, pp. 156–67. Waddingham 1976–77 — M. R. Waddingham, ‘Michael Sweerts, Boy Copying the Head of a Roman Emperor’, Bulletin of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, 63, 1976–77, pp. 56–65. Waiboer 2012 — A. E. Waiboer, Gabriel Metsu. Life and Work. A Catalogue Raisonné, New Haven and London, 2012. Waldkirch 2005 — B. von Waldkirch, ‘Pathos und Versunkenheit. Transformationen in Füssli frühen Zeichnungen’, in Zurich 2005, pp. 33–85. Waldman 2004 — L. A. Waldman, Baccio Bandinelli and art at the Medici Court, Philadelphia, 2004. Walker 1986 — J. Walker, ‘Maria Cosway: An Undervalued Artist’, Apollo, 123, no. 291, May 1986, pp. 318–24. Wallens 2010 — G. de Wallens, Les Peintres Belges Actifs à Paris au XVIIIe Siècle à l’Exemple de Jacques François Delyen, Peintre Ordinaire du Roi (Gand, 1684 – Paris, 1761), Brussels and Rome, 2010. Walters 2009 — L. M. Walters, Odoardo Fialetti (1573–c. 1638): The Interrelation of Venetian Art and Anatomy, and his Importance in England, 2 vols, Ph.D. thesis (University of St Andrews), 2009. Walters 2014 — L. Walters, ‘Odoardo Fialetti: Painter and Printmaker’, in D. Howard and H. McBurney, The Image of Venice. Fialetti’s View and Sir Henry Wotton, London, 2014, pp. 57–67. Ward 1993 — R. Ward, ‘New Drawings by Bandinelli and Cellini’, Master Drawings, 31, no. 4, Winter 1993, pp. 395–98. Watkin 1996 — D. Watkin, Sir John Soane. Enlightenement Thought and the Royal Academy Lectures, Cambridge, 1996. Waz ́bin ́ski 1985 — Z. Waz ́bin ́ski, ‘Lo studio – la scuola fiorentina di Federico Zuccari’, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 29, 1985, pp. 275–436. Waz ́bin ́ski 1987 — Z. Waz ́bin ́ski, L’Accademia medicea del disegno a Firenze nel Cinquecento: idea e istituzione, 2 vols, Florence, 1987. Weber 1976 — M. Weber, ‘Die Amazonen von Ephesos’, Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, 91, 1976, pp. 28–96. Webster 2011 — M. Webster, Johan Zoffany 1733–1810, New Haven and London, 2011. Wegner 1966 — M. Wegner, Die antiken Sarkophagreliefs. Bd. 5. Abt. 3. Die Musensarkophage, Berlin, 1966. Weil-Garris 1981 — K. Weil-Garris, ‘Bandinelli and Michelangelo: A Problem of Artistic Identity’, in M. Barasch and L. Freeman Sandler (eds), Art, the Ape of Nature: Studies in Honor of H. W. Janson, New York and Englewood Cliffs (NJ), 1981, pp. 223–51. Weil-Garris Brandt 1989 — K. Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘The Self-Created Bandinelli’, in I. Lavin (ed.), World Art: themes of unity in diversity, 3 vols, University Park (PA), 1989, pp. 497–501. Weinberg 1961 — B. Weinberg, A History of Literary Criticism in Italian Renaissance, 2 vols, Chicago, 1961. 248 Weiss 1969 — R. Weiss, The Renaissance Discovery of Classical Antiquity, Oxford, 1969. Weiss and Dostert 1999 — T. Weiss and A. Dostert, Von der Schönheit weissen Marmors: zum 200. Todestag Bartolomeo Cavaceppis, Mainz, 1999. Weston-Lewis 1992 — A. Weston-Lewis, ‘Annibale Carracci and the Antique’, Master Drawings, 30, no. 3, Autumn 1992, pp. 287–313. Whistler 2015 — C. Whistler, ‘Learning to Draw in Venice: the Role of Drawing Manuals’, in U. Roman d’Elia (ed.), Rethinking Renaissance Drawings, essays in Honor of David McTavish, Montreal, 2015 (forthcoming) [http://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/uuid:37ea6217-a0fa- 4b00-81c4-a91b6608e8bf, accessed 2 Feb. 2015]. Whitaker 1997 — L. Whitaker, ‘Tintoretto’s Drawings after Sculpture and his Workshop Practice’, in S. Currie and P. Motture (eds), Sculpted Object, 1400–1700, Brookfield, 1997, pp. 177–200. White and Boon 1969 — C. White and K. G. Boon, Rembrandt’s Etchings: An Illustrated Critical Catalogue, 2 vols, Amsterdam, 1969. Wickham 2010 — A. Wickham, ‘Thomas Lawrence and the Royal Academy’s Cartoon of “Leda and the Swan” after Michelangelo’, The Burlington Magazine, 152, no. 1286, May 2010, pp. 297–302. Widerkehr and Leeflang 2007 — L. Widerkehr and H. Leeflang, The New Hollstein Dutch & Flemish Etchings, Engravings and Woodcuts 1450–1700, Jacob Matham, 3 vols, Ouderkerk aan den Ijssel, 2007. Wiebel and Wiedau 2002 — C. Wiebel and K. Wiedau, Das Kupferstichkabinett der Kunstsammlungen der Veste Coburg. Ein Blick in die Sammlung. Hundert ausgewählte Werke aus dem Kupferstichkabinett, Coburg, 2002. Wilde 1953 — J. Wilde, Italian Drawings in the Department of Prints and Drawings in the British Museum. Michelangelo and his Studio, London, 1953. Williams 1997 — R. Williams: Art, Theory and Culture in Sixteenth-century Italy: From Techne to Metatechne, Cambridge, 1997. Wilton 1987 — A. Wilton, Turner in His Time, London, 1987. Wilton 2007 — A. Wilton, Turner in His Time, New York, 2007. Wilton 2012 — A. Wilton, ‘Studies from the Antique and Other Sculpture ?1790–3’, in D. Blayney Brown (ed.), J.M.W. Turner: Sketchbooks, Drawings and Watercolours, 2012 [https://www.tate.org.uk/art/research- publications/jmw-turner/studies-from-the-antique-and-other- sculpture-r1162663, accessed 9 Oct. 2014]. Wilton-Ely 1978 — J. Wilton-Ely, The Mind and Art of Giovanni Battista Piranesi, London, 1978. Winckelmann 1765 — J. J. Winckelmann, Reflections on the Painting and Sculpture of the Greeks..., trans. by H. Fuseli, London, 1765. Winckelmann 1767 — J. J. Winckelmann, Monumenti antichi inediti..., Rome, 1767. Wincklemann 1968 — J. Wincklemann, Kleine Schriften, Vorreden, Entwürfe, ed. by W. Rehm, Berlin, 1968. Winckelmann 2002 — J. J. Winckelmann, Geschichte der Kunst der Alterthums: Schriften und Nachlass, IV.1., ed. by A.H. Borbein et al., Mainz, 2002. Windsor Liscombe 1987 — R. Windsor Liscombe, ‘The Diffusion of Knowledge and Taste: John Flaxman and the improvement of the study facilities at the Royal Academy’, The Walpole Society, 53, 1987, pp. 226–38. Winner 1992 — M. Winner, ‘“... una certa idea”. Maratta zitiert einen Brief Raffaels in einer Zeichnung’, in M. Winner (ed.), Der Künstler über sich in seinem Werk, Weinheim, 1992, pp. 511–70. Winner 1998 — M. Winner, ‘La collocazione degli dei fluviali nel Cortile delle Statue e il restauro del Laocoonte del Montorsoli’, in M. Winner, B. Andreae and C. Pietrangeli (eds), Il cortile delle statue – Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Mainz am Rhein, 1998, pp. 117–28. Winner, Andreae and Pietrangeli 1998 — M. Winner, B. Andreae and C. Pietrangeli (eds), Il cortile delle statue – Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Mainz am Rhein, 1998. Winner and Nesselrath 1987 — M. Winner and A. Nesselrath, ‘Ergebnisse: Nachleben der Antike’ in Max Planck-Gesellschaft Jahrbuch, 1987, pp. 861–69. Witcombe 2008 — C. L. C. E. Witcombe, Print publishing in Sixteenth- century Rome: Growth and Expansion, Rivalry and Murder, London, 2008. Wittkower 1963 — R. Wittkower, ‘The Role of Classical Models in Bernini’s and Poussin’s Preparatory Work’, in I. E. Rubin (ed.), Latin American Art and the Baroque Period in Europe, Princeton, 1963, pp. 41–50. Wittkower 1969 — R. and M. Wittkower, Born under Saturn: the character and conduct of artists: a documented history from antiquity to the French Revolution, New York, 1969. Wolf-Heiddeger and Cetto 1967 — G. Wolf-Heiddeger and A. M. Cetto, Die anatomische Sektion in bildlicher Darstellung, Basel and New York, 1967. Wood 2011 — J. Wood, Rubens. Copies and Adaptations from Renaissance and Later Artists. Italian Artists, vol. 3: Artists working in Central Italy and France (Corpus Rubenianum Ludwig Burchard, pt. 26.2), 2 vols, London, 2011. Wornum 1848 — R. N. Wornum (ed.), Lectures on Painting by the Royal Academicians Barry, Opie, and Fuseli, London, 1848. Wrede and Harprath 1986 — H. Wrede and R. Harprath, Der Codex Coburgensis: das erste systematische Archäologiebuch; römische Antiken- Nachzeichnungen aus der Mitte des 16. Jahrhunderts, Coburg, 1986. Wright 1730 — E. Wright, Some Observations made in Travelling through France, Italy &c. in the years 1720, 1721 and 1722, 2 vols, London, 1730. Wright 1984 — D. R. E. Wright, ‘Alberti’s De Pictura: Its Literary Structure and Purpose’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 47, 1984, pp. 52–71. Wünsche 1998–99 — R. Wünsche, ‘Archäologische Deutungen und Ergänzungen’, in Munich and Rome 1998–99, pp. 66–87. Wurzbach 1906–11 — A. von Wurzbach, Niederländisches Künstler-Lexikon, auf Grund archivalischer Forschungen bearbeitet, 3 vols, Vienna, 1906–11. Yarker and Hornsby 2012–13 — J. Yarker and C. Hornsby, ‘Buying Art in Rome in the 1770s’, in Oxford and New Haven 2012–13, pp. 63–87. Yavchitz-Koehler 1987 — S.Yavchitz-Koehler, ‘Un dessin d’Hubert Robert: Le salon du bailli de Breteuil à Rome’, La Revue du Louvre et des musées de France, 5–6, 1987, pp. 369–78. Zahle 2003 — J. Zahle, ‘Afstøbninger i København i Europæisk Perspektiv’ in H. Ragn Jensen, S. Söderlind and E.-L. Bengtsson (eds), Inspirationens Skatkammer: Rom og skandinaviske kunstnere i 1800-tallet, Copenhagen, 2003, pp. 267–97. Zanardi 2007 — B. Zanardi, ‘Bellori, Maratti, Borttari e Crespi intorno al restauro: modelli antichi e pratica di lavoro nel cantiere di Raffaello alla Farnesina’, Rendiconti della Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, series 9, vol. 18, 2007, pp. 205–86. Zuccaro 1607 — F. Zuccaro, Idea de’Pittori, Scultori e Architetti, 2 vols, Turin, 1607. Zucker 1980 — M. Zucker, The Illustrated Bartsch 24. Formerly Volume 13 (Part 1). Early Italian Masters, New York, 1980. Zucker 1984 — M. Zucker, The Illustrated Bartsch 25 (Commentary). Formerly Volume 13 (Part 2). Early Italian Masters, New York, 1980. Zucker 2000 — M. Zucker, The Illustrated Bartsch 24. Commentary Part 3 (Le Peintre-Graveur 13 [Part 1]). Early Italian Masters, New York, 2000. Exhibitions Amsterdam 1822 — Lijst der kunstwerken van nog in leven zijnde Nederlandsche meesters, welke zijn toegelaten tot de tentoonstelling van den jare 1822, Amsterdam, 1822. Amsterdam 1947–48 — Het Hollandsche babbelstuk 1730–1850, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (A. Staring), 1947–48. Amsterdam 1992 — Episcopius: Jan de Bisschop (1628–1671), advocaat en tekenaar, Museum Het Rembrandthuis, Amsterdam (R. E. Jellema and M. Plomp), 1992. Amsterdam 1993–94 — Dawn of the Golden Age. Northern Netherlandish Art, 1580–1620, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (G. Luijten et al.), 1993–94. Amsterdam 1994 — Nederlandse figuurstudies 1700–1850, The Rijksmuseum, Rijksprentenkabinet, Amsterdam (R. J. A. te Rijdt), 1994. Amsterdam 1997 — Mirror of Everyday Life. Genreprints in the Netherlands 1550–1700, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (eds E. de Jongh and G. Luijten), 1997. Amsterdam 2007 — Beeld voor beeld: klassieke sculptuur in prent, Allard Pierson Museum, Amsterdam (eds C. Smid and A. White), 2007. Amsterdam, New York and elsewhere 2003–04 — Hendrick Goltzius (1558–1617). Drawings, Prints and Paintings, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; The Toledo Museum of Art (eds H. Leeflang and G. Luijten), 2003–04. Amsterdam and Paris 2002–03 — De Watteau à Ingres: Dessins français du XVIIIe siècle du Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; Institut Néerlandais, Paris (ed. R. J. A. te Rijdt), 2002–03. Amsterdam, San Francisco and elsewhere 2002 — Michael Sweerts: 1618–1664, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; The Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford (eds G. Jansen and P. C. Sutton), 2002. Amsterdam, Stockholm and elsewhere 1998 — Adriaen de Vries (1556–1626), Imperial Sculptor, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; National Museum, Stockholm; The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles (ed. F. Scholten), 1998. Amsterdam and Washington D.C. 1981–82 — Dutch Figure Drawings from the Seventeenth Century, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam; National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. (P. Schatborn), 1981–82. Antwerp 1977 — P. P. Rubens. Gemälde, Ölskizzen, Zeichnungen, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp (eds R. A. D’Hulst et al.), 1977. Antwerp 2004 — A House of Art. Rubens as Collector, Rubenshuis, Antwerp (eds K. Lohse Belkin and F. Healy), 2004. Antwerp 2004–07 — Rijksmuseum aan de Schelde: meesterwerken uit de schatkamer van Nederland, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp, 2004–07 (no catalogue). Antwerp 2008 — Heads on Shoulders: Portrait Busts in the Low Countries, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp (ed. V. Herremans), 2008. Antwerp 2013 — Kunst Antwerpen Academie 350, Museum aan de Stroom, Antwerp (eds K. van Cauteren et al.), 2013. Arras and Épinal 2004 — Rubens contre Poussin: la querelle du coloris dans la peinture française à la fin du XVIIe siècle, Musée des beaux-arts d’Arras; Musée départemental d’art ancien et contemporain à Épinal (eds E. Delapierre et al.), 2004. Athens 2003–04 — In the Light of Apollo. Italian Renaissance and Greece, National Gallery, Alexandros Soutzos Museum, Athens (ed. M. Gregori), 2 vols, 2003–04. Bergamo 1994 — Giacomo Quarenghi, Palazzo della Ragione, Bergamo (eds A. Bettagno et al.), 1994. Boston, Cleveland and elsewhere 1989 — Italian Etchers of the Renaissance & Baroque, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; The Cleveland Museum of Art; National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C. (S. W. Reed and R. Wallace), 1989. 249  Boston and St. Louis 1981–82 — Printmaking in the Age of Rembrandt, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; The Saint Louis Art Museum (C. Ackley), 1981–82. Bruges 2008–09 — Stradanus 1523–1605: Court Artist of the Medici, Groeningemuseum, Bruges (eds A. Baroni and M. Sellink), 2008–09 (published 2012). Brussels 2004 — Old Master Drawings. Organization of Antique Fairs, Gallery Kekko, Thurn and Taxis, Brussels, 2004. Brussels 2007–08 — Alle wegen leiden naar Rome. Reizende kunstenaars van de 16de tot de 19de eeuw, Gemeentelijk Museum van Elsene, Brussels (D. Vautier), 2007–08 (no catalogue). Brussels and Rome 1995 — Fiamminghi a Roma 1508–1608. Artisti dei Paesi Bassi e del Principato di Liegi a Roma durante il Rinascimento, Palais des Beaux-Arts, Brussels; Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome (eds N. Dacos and B. W. Meijer), 1995. Cambridge 1988 — Baccio Bandinelli 1493–1560: Drawings from British Collections, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (R. Ward), 1988. Chicago 2007–08 — The Virtual Tourist in Renaissance Rome: Printing and Collecting the ‘Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae’, Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago (eds R. Zorach et al.), 2007–08. Choisel 1986 — Un Grand Collectionneur sous Louis XV: Le cabinet de Jacques-Laure de Breteuil, Bailli de l’Ordre de Malta 1723–1785, Château de Breteuil, Choisel, 1986. Cologne 1977 — Peter Paul Rubens, 1577–1640, Museen der Stadt, Cologne, 1977. Cologne and Utrecht 1991–92 — I Bamboccianti: niederländische Malerrebellen im Rom des Barock, Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, Cologne; Centraal Museum, Utrecht (eds D.A. Levine and E. Mai), 1991–92. Compton Verney and Norwich 2009–10 — The Artist’s Studio, Compton Verney and Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts, Norwich (ed. G. Waterfield), 2009–10. Copenhagen 1973 — ‘Maegtige Schweiz’. Inspirationer fra Schweiz. 1750–1850, Thorvaldsens Museum, Copenhagen, 1973. Copenhagen 2004 — Spejlinger i Gips, Det Kongelige Danske Kunstakademi, Copenhagen (eds P. Kjerrman et al.), 2004. Derby 1997 — Joseph Wright of Derby: 1734–1797, Derby Museum & Art Gallery (J. Wallis), 1997. Doha 2011 — The Golden Age of Dutch Painting: Masterpieces from the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Museum of Islamic Art, Doha, 2011 (no catalogue). Dordrecht 2012–13 — Portret in portret in de Nederlandse kunst 1550–2012, Dordrechts Museum (S. Craft-Giepmans and A. de Vries), 2012–13. Edinburgh 2002 — Rubens Drawing on Italy, National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh (J. Wood), 2002. Essen 1992 — London World-City, 1800–1840, Villa Hügel, Essen (ed. C. Fox), 1992. Florence 1980 — Il primato del Disegno, Palazzo Strozzi, Florence (ed. L. Berti), vol. 4 of the exhibition Firenze e la Toscana dei Medici nell’Europa del Cinquecento, 4 vols, 1980. Florence 1987 — Michelangelo e l’arte classica, Casa Buonarroti, Florence (eds G. Agosti and V. Farinella), 1987. Florence 1992 — Il Giardino di San Marco. Maestri e compagni del giovane Michelangelo, Casa Buonarroti, Florence (ed. P. Barocchi), 1992. Florence 1999-2000 — Giovinezza di Michelangelo, Palazzo Vecchio and Casa Buonarroti, Florence (eds K. Weil-Garris Brandt et al.), 1999–2000. Florence 2002 — Venere e amore: Michelangelo e la nuova bellezza ideale, Gallerie dell’Accademia, Florence (eds F. Falletti and J. Katz Nelson), 2002. Florence 2008 — Fiamminghi e Olandesi a Firenze. Disegni dalle collezioni degli Uffizi, Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe degli Uffizi, Florence (eds W. Kloek and B. W. Meijer), 2008. Florence 2014 — Baccio Bandinelli: scultore maestro (1493–1560), Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence (eds D. Heikamp and B. P. Strozzi), 2014. Geneva 1978 — Johann Heinrich Füssli, Musée d’Art et d’Histoire, Musée Rath Genève, Geneva, 1978. Göttingen 2012–13 — Abgekupfert. Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der Frühen Neuzeit, Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, Universität Göttingen (eds M. Luchterhandt et al.), 2012–13. Göttingen 2013–14 — Roms Antiken in den Reproduktionsmedien der frühen Neuzeit, Kunstsammlung und Sammlung der Gipsabgüsse, University of Göttingen (eds M. Luchterhandt et al.), 2013–14. Haarlem 1972 — Wybrand Hendriks 1744–1831. Keuze uit zijn schilderijen en tekeningen, Teylers Museum, Haarlem (I. Q. van Regteren Altena, J. H. van Borssum Buisman and C. J. de Bruyn Kops), 1972. Haarlem 1990 — Augustijn Claterbos 1750–1828. Opleiding en werk van een Haarlems kunstenaar, Teylers Museum, Haarlem (B. Sliggers), 1990. Haarlem and London 2005–06 — Michelangelo Drawings: Closer to the Master, Teylers Museum, Haarlem; British Museum, London (ed. H. Chapman), 2005–06. Haarlem, Zurich and elsewhere 2006–07 — Nicolaes Berchem. Im Licht Italiens, The Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem; The Kunsthaus, Zürich; The Staatliches Museum Schwerin (P. Biesboer et al.), 2006–07. Hamburg 1974–75 — Johann Heinrich Füssli. 1741–1825, Hamburger Kunshalle, Hamburg (ed. W. Hofmann), Munich, 1974–75. Hamburg 2002 — Die Masken der Schönheit. Hendrick Goltzius und das Kunstideal um 1600, Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg (eds J. Müller et al.), 2002. Hannover 1999 — Künstler, Händler, Sammler: zum Kunstbetrieb in den Niederlanden im 17. Jahrhundert, Niedersächsischen Landesmuseum, Hanover (U. Wegener), 1999. Harvard and Evanston 2011–12 — Prints and the Pursuit of Knowledge in Early Modern Europe, Harvard Art Museums, Cambridge (MA); Mary and Leigh Block Museum of Art, Evanston (IL) (ed. S. Dackerman), 2011–12. Heidelberg 1982 — 100 unbekannte Zeichnungen und Aquarelle des 16.-18. Jahrhunderts, Kurpfälzisches Museum, Heidelberg (S. Wechssler), 1982. Houston and Ithaca 2005–06 — A Portrait of the Artist 1525–1825. Prints from the Collection of the Sarah Campbell Blaffer Foundation, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University, Ithaca (NY) (ed. J. Clifton), 2005–06. King’s Lynn 1985 — French Drawings of the 17th and 18th Century, Fermoy Gallery, Guildhall of St George, King’s Lynn (ed. G. Agnew), 1985. Liverpool 1994–95 — Face to Face: Three Centuries of Artists’ Self-Portraiture, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (X. Brooke), 1994–95. Liverpool 2007 — Joseph Wright of Derby in Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool (eds E. E. Barker and A. Kidson), 2007. London 1836 — The Lawrence Gallery, One Hundred Original Drawings by Zucchero, Andrea del Sarto, Polidore da Caravaggio and Fra Bartolomeo Collected by Sir Thomas Lawrence, Late President of the Royal Academy, London, 1836. London 1947 — Dutch Conversation Pieces of the 18th & 19th Centuries, The Allied Circle, London, 1947. London 1950 — French Master Drawings of the 18th Century, Matthiesen Gallery, London, 1950. London 1953 — Drawings by Old Masters, Royal Academy of Arts, London (K. T. Parker and J. Byam Shaw), 1953. London 1955 — A Loan Exhibition: Artists in 17th century Rome: to Save Gosfield Hall for the Nation as a Residential Nursing Home . . . , Wildenstein & Co., London (D. Mahon and D. Sutton), 1955. London 1962 — A Selection of Drawings from the Witt Collection: French Drawings, c. 1600–c. 1800, Courtauld Institute Galleries, London, 1962. London 1963 — Treasures of the Royal Academy, Royal Academy of Arts, London, 1963. London 1968a — France in the Eighteenth Century, Royal Academy of Arts, London (ed. P. Sutton), 1968. London 1968b — Royal Academy of Arts Bicentenary Exhibition, Royal Academy of Arts, London, 1968. London 1969 — Royal Academy Draughtsmen, 1769–1969, Royal Academy of Arts, London (A. Wilton), 1969. London 1971 — Art into Art: Works of Art as a Source of Inspiration, Sotheby’s, London (ed. K. Roberts), 1971. London 1972 — The Age of Neo-Classicism, The Royal Academy of Arts and The Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 1972. London 1975 — Henry Fuseli. 1741–1825, Tate Gallery, London, 1975. London 1977 — Rubens. Drawings and Sketches, British Museum, London (ed. J. Rowlands), 1977. London 1983 — Bartolomeo Cavaceppi: Eighteenth-century Restorations of Ancient Marble Sculpture from English Private Collections, The Clarendon Gallery Ltd., London (C. A. Picón), 1983. London 1986 — Florentine Drawings of the Sixteenth Century, British Museum, London (N. Turner), 1986. London 1990 — Wright of Derby, Tate Gallery, London (ed. J. Egerton), 1990. London 1991 — French drawings, XVI–XIX centuries, Courtauld Institute Galleries, London (eds G. Kennedy and A. Thackray), 1991. London 1992 — Drawings Related to Sculpture, 1520–1620, Katrin Bellinger at Harari & Johns, London, 1992. London 1995 — Prints and Drawings, Recent acquisitions 1991–1995, British Museum, London, 1995 (no catalogue). London 1997 — British Watercolours from the Oppé Collection, Tate Gallery, London (A. Lyles and R. Hamlyn), 1997. London 1999a — John Soane Architect. Master of Space and Light, Royal Academy, London (eds M. Richardson and M. Stevens), 1999. London 1999b — Portraits of Artists and Related Subjects, Trinity Fine Art, London, 1999. London 2000 — A Noble Art: Amateur Artists and Drawing Masters c. 1600–1800, British Museum, London (K. Sloan), 2000. London 2001 — Marble Mania. Sculpture Galleries in England, 1640–1840, Sir John Soane’s Museum, London (R. Guilding), 2001. London 2001–02 — The Print in Italy 1550–1620, British Museum, London (M. Bury), 2001–02. London 2003a — Artists by Artists, Chaucer Fine Arts Inc., London, 2003. London 2003b — The Museum of the Mind. Art and Memory in World Cultures, British Museum, London (J. Mack), 2003. London 2005–06 — Rubens: A Master in the Making, National Gallery, London (eds D. Jaffé and E. McGrath), 2005–06. London 2007–08 — The Artist in Art, Colnaghi in association with Emanuel von Baeyer, London, 2007–08. London 2009–10 — Rubens Drawings, British Museum, Department of Prints and Drawings, London, 2009–10 (no catalogue). London 2011 — Art School Drawings from the 19th Century, Victoria and Albert Museum, London, 2011 (no catalogue). London 2011–12 — Leonardo da Vinci. Painter at the Court of Milan, National Gallery, London (ed. L. Syson with L. Keith), 2011–12. London 2013–14 — The Male Nude. Eighteenth-Century Drawings from the Paris Academy, Wallace Collection, London (eds E. Brugerolles et al.), 2013–14. London 2014 — Diverse Maniere: Piranesi, Fantasy and Excess, Sir John Soane’s Museum, London (ed. A. Lowe), 2014. London and Florence 2010–11 — Fra Angelico to Leonardo. Italian Renaissance Drawings, British Museum, London; Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence (eds H. Chapman and M. Faietti), 2010–11. London and New York 1992 — Andrea Mantegna, Royal Academy of Arts, London; Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (ed. J. Martineau), 1992. London and New York 2012–13 — Master Drawings from the Courtauld Galleries, The Courtauld Gallery, London; The Frick Collection, New York (eds C. B. Bailey and S. Buck), 2012–13. London and Rome 1996–97 — Grand Tour. The Lure of Italy in the Eighteenth Century, Tate Gallery, London; Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome (eds A. Wilton and I. Bignamini), 1996–97. London, Warwick and elsewhere 1997–98 — The Quick and the Dead: Artists and Anatomy, Royal College of Art, London; Mead Gallery, Warwick Arts Centre; Leeds City Art Gallery (D. Petherbridge and L. Jordanova), 1997–98. London, York and elsewhere 1953 — Drawings from the Robert Witt Collection at the Courtauld Institute of Art, London, Courtauld Institute of Art, London; York City Art Gallery; Peterborough Art Gallery, 1953. Los Angeles 1961 — French Masters: Rococo to Romanticism, University of California, Los Angeles, 1961. Los Angeles 1999 — The Early Life of Taddeo Zuccaro, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles (A. V. Lauder; no catalogue), 1999. Los Angeles 2000 — Making a Prince’s Museum: Drawings for the Late-Eighteenth-century Redecoration of the Villa Borghese, Getty Research Institute, Los Angeles (C. Paul), 2000. Los Angeles 2007–08 — Taddeo and Federico Zuccaro. Artist-Brothers in Renaissance Rome, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles (ed. J. Brooks), 2007–08. Los Angeles, Austin and elsewhere 1976–77 — Women Artists, 1550–1950, Los Angeles County Museum of Art; University Art Museum, The University of Texas at Austin; Museum of Art, Carnegie Institute, Pittsburgh; The Brooklyn Museum (A. Sutherland Harris and L. Nochlin), 1976–77. Los Angeles, Philadelphia and elsewhere 1993–94 — Visions of Antiquity. Neoclassical Figure Drawings, Los Angeles County Museum of Art; Philadelphia Museum of Art; Minneapolis Institute of Arts (ed. R. J. Campbell), 1993–94. Los Angeles, Toledo and elsewhere 1988–89 — Mannerist Prints: International Style in the Sixteenth Century, The Los Angeles County Museum of Art; The Toledo Museum of Art; John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, Sarasota; Arthur M. Huntington Art Gallery, University of Texas at Austin; The Baltimore Museum of Art (B. Davis), 1988–89. Lyon 1998–99 — La fascination de l’antique: 1700-1770. Rome découverte, Rome inventée, Musée de la civilisation gallo-romaine, Lyon (eds F. De Polignac and J. Raspi Serra), 1998–99. Mantua and Vienna 1999 — Roma e lo stile classico di Raffaello, 1515–1527, Palazzo Te, Mantua; Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna (eds A. Oberhuber and A. Gnann), 1999. Marseille 2001 — Maurice et Pauline Feuillet de Borsat collectionneurs. Dessins français et étrangers du XVIIe au XIXe siècle, Château Borély, Marseille (M. Roland Michel), 2001. 250 251  Melbourne 1984 — Flowers and Fables. A Survey of Chelsea Porcelain 1745–69, National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne (M. Legge), 1984. Milan 1951 — Mostra del Caravaggio e dei Caravaggeshi, Palazzo Reale, Milan (R. Longhi), 1951. Milan 1977–78 — Johann Heinrich Füssli. Disegni e dipinti, Museo Poldi-Pezzoli, Milan (ed. L. Vitali), 1977–78. Milan 2007–08 — Leonardo. Dagli studi di proporzioni al trattato della pittura, Castello Sforzesco, Milan (eds P. C. Marani and M. T. Fiorio), 2007–08. Milan 2013 — La Biblioteca delle meraviglie: 400 anni di Ambrosiana, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan (eds C. Continisio, M. L. Frosio and E. Riva), 2013. Montreal 1992 — The Genius of the Sculptor in Michelangelo’s Work, The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (P. Théberge), 1992. Moscow and Haarlem 2013–14 — De romantische ziel. Schilderkunst uit de Nederlandse en Russische romantiek, The Tretjakov Gallery, Moscow; Teylers Museum, Haarlem (T. van Druten and L. Markina), 2013–14. Munich 1979–80 — Zwei Jahrhunderte englische Malerei. Britische Kunst und Europa 1680 bis 1880, Haus der Kunst, Munich, 1979–80. Munich 2013–14 — In the Temple of the Self. The Artist’s Residence as a Total Work of Art, Villa Stuck, Munich (eds M. Brandhuber and M. Buhrs), 2013–14. Munich and Cologne 2002 — Wettstreit der Künste: Malerei und Skulptur von Dürer bis Daumier, Haus der Kunst, Munich; Wallraf-Richartz-Museum-Fondation Corboud, Cologne (eds E. Mai and K. Wettengl), 2002. Munich and Haarlem 1986 — Op zoek naar de Gouden Eeuw: Nederlandse schilderkunst 1800–1850, Neue Pinakothek, Munich; Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem (L. van Tilborgh and G. Jansen), 1986. Munich and Rome 1998–99 — Der Torso. Ruhm und Rätsel / Il Torso del Belvedere. Da Aiace a Rodin, Glyptothek, Munich; Musei Vaticani, Rome (ed. R. Wünsche), 1998–99. Münster 1976 — Bilder nach Bilder. Druckgrafik und die Vermittlung von Kunst, Westfälisches Landesmuseum für Kunst und Kulturgeschichte Münster, Münster (G. Langemeyer and R. Schleier), 1976. Naples 2008 — Salvator Rosa: tra mito e magia, Museo di Capodimonte, Naples (eds A. B. de Lavergnée and S. Bellesi), 2008. New Haven and London 2011–12 — Johan Zoffany, RA: Society Observed, Yale Center for British Art, New Haven; Royal Academy of Arts, London (ed. M. Postle), 2011–12. New York 1954 — Fuseli Drawings, a Loan Exhibition, organized by the Pro Helvetia Foundation and circulated by the Smithsonian Institution, Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, 1954. New York 1988 — Creative Copies. Interpretative Drawings from Michelangelo to Picasso, The Drawing Center, New York (E. Haverkamp-Begemann and C. Logan), 1988. New York 2005a — Peter Paul Rubens. The Drawings, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (ed. A.-M. Logan with M. Plomp), 2005 New York 2005b — Pictures & Oil Sketches 1775–1920, W. M. Brady & Co., New York, 2005. New York 2012–13 — Bernini: Sculpting in Clay, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (eds C. D. Dickerson et al.), 2012–13. Nottingham and London 1983 — Drawing in the Italian Renaissance Workshop, University Art Gallery, Nottingham; Victoria and Albert Museum, London (F. Ames-Lewis and J. Wright), 1983. Nottingham and London 1991 — The Artist’s Model: Its Role in British Art from Lely to Etty, University Art Gallery, Nottingham; The Iveagh Bequest, Kenwood, London (I. Bignamini and M. Postle), 1991. Ottawa and Caen 2011–12 — Drawn to Art. French Artists and Art Lovers in 18th-century Rome, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa; Musée des beaux-arts de Caen (ed. S. Couturier), 2011–12. Ottawa, Vancouver and elsewhere 1996–97 — The Ingenious Machine of Nature: Four Centuries of Art and Anatomy, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa; Vancouver Art Gallery; The Philadelphia Museum of Art; The Israel Museum, Jerusalem (M. Cazort, M. Kornell and K. B. Roberts), 1996–97. Ottawa, Washington D.C. and elsewhere 2003–04 — The Age of Watteau, Chardin, and Fragonard: Masterpieces of French Genre Painting, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa; National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.; Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Gemäldegalerie (ed. C. Bailey), 2003–04. Oxford and New Haven 2012–13 — The English Prize. The Capture of the Westmoreland. An Episode of the Grand Tour, The Ashmolean Museum, Oxford; Yale Center for British Art, New Haven (eds M. D. Sánchez-Jáuregui and S. Wilcox), 2012–13. Paris 1922 — Exposition Hubert Robert et Louis Moreau: au bénénfice du foyer des Infirmières de la Croix-Rouge et des infirmières visiteuses, Galeries Jean Charpentier, Paris, 1922. Paris 1933 — Exposition Hubert Robert A l’occasion du Deuxième Centenaire de sa Naissance, Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris (L. Hautecoeur et al.), 1933. Paris 1975 — Füssli, Musée du Petit Palais, Paris, 1975. Paris 1989 — Maîtres français, 1550–1800: dessins de la donation Mathias Polakovits à l’Ecole des beaux-arts, École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts, Paris (eds B. de Bayser et al.), 1989. Paris 1996 — Pisanello. Le peintre aux sept vertus, Musée du Louvre, Paris (ed. D. Cordellier), 1996. Paris 2000–01 — D’après l’antique, Musée du Louvre, Paris (eds J. P. Cuzin, J. R. Gaborit and A. Pasquier), 2000–01. Paris 2003 — A. & D. Martinez, Estampes Anciennes & Modernes. A Collectionner, cat. no. VIII, Paris, 2003. Paris 2008 — L’Âge d’or du romantisme allemand, aquarelles et dessins è l’époque de Goethe, Musée de la Vie Romantique, Paris, (ed. H. Sieveking), Paris, 2008. Paris 2008–09a — Figures du corps: une leçon d’anatomie à l’École des beaux-arts, École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts, Paris (ed. P. Comar), 2008–09. Paris 2008–09b — Mantegna 1431–1506, Musée du Louvre, Paris (eds G. Agosti and D. Thiébaut), 2008–09. Paris 2009–10 — L’Académie mise à nu: l’école du modèle à l’Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture, École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts, Paris (ed. E. Brugerolles), 2009–10. Paris 2010–11 — Musées de papier: l’antiquité en livres, 1600-1800, Musée du Louvre, Paris (eds É. Décultot, G. Bickendorf and V. Kockel), 2010–11. Paris, Ottawa and elsewhere 1994–95 — Egyptomania: l’Egypte dans l’Art occidental, 1730–1930, Musée du Louvre, Paris; National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa; Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna (eds J. M. Humbert, M. Pantazzi and C. Ziegler), 1994–95. Philadelphia 1980–81 — A Scholar Collects: Selections from the Anthony Morris Clark Bequest, Philadelphia Museum of Art (eds U. W. Hiesinger and A. Percy), 1980–81. Philadelphia and Houston 2000 — Art in Rome in the Eighteenth Century, Philadelphia Museum of Art; Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (eds E. P. Bowron and J. J. Rishel), 2000. Princeton 1977 — Eighteenth-century French Life Drawing: Selections from the Collection of Mathias Polakovits, Art Museum, Princeton University (ed. J. H. Rubin), 1977. Princeton, Cleveland and elsewhere 1981–82 — Drawings by Gianlorenzo Bernini from the Museum der Bildenden Künste Leipzig, German Democratic Republic, The Art Museum, Princeton; Cleveland Museum of Art; Los Angeles County Museum of Art; Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth; Indianapolis Museum of Art; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (ed. I. Lavin), 1981–82. Recklinghausen 1964 — Torso: das Unvollendete als künstlerische Form, Städtische Kunsthalle, Recklinghausen, 1964. Rome 1958–59 — Michael Sweerts e i bamboccianti, Palazzo Venezia, Rome (E. Lavagnino et al.), 1958–59. Rome 1968 — Accademia Nazionale di San Luca. Mostra di Antichi Dipinti Restaurati delle Raccolte Accademiche, Palazzo Carpegna, Rome (I. Faldi), 1968. Rome 1981–82 — David e Roma, Villa Medici, Rome, 1981–82. Rome 1986–87 — Rilievi storici Capitolini: il restauro dei pannelli di Adriano e di Marco Aurelio nel Palazzo dei Conservatori, Musei Capitolini, Rome (ed. E. La Rocca), 1986–87. Rome 1988a — Da Pisanello alla nascita dei Musei Capitolini. L’Antico a Roma all vigilia del Rinascimento, Musei Capitolini, Rome (eds A. Cavallaro and E. Parlato), 1988. Rome 1988b — La Colonna Traiana e gli artisti francesi da Luigi XIV a Napoleone I, Accademia di Francia a Roma (ed. P. Morel), 1988. Rome 1990–91 — J. H. Fragonard e H. Robert a Roma, Villa Medici, Rome (eds C. Boulot et al.), 1990–91. Rome 1992–93 — La Collezione Boncompagni Ludovisi: Algardi, Bernini e la fortuna dell’antico, Palazzo Ruspoli, Rome (ed. A. Giuliano), 1992–93. Rome 1994 — Bartolomeo Cavaceppi scultore romano (1717–1799), Museo del Palazzo di Venezia, Rome, (M. G. Barberini and C. Gasparri), 1994. Rome 1997–98 — Pietro da Cortona e il disegno, Istituto nazionale per la grafica, Accademia nazionale di San Luca, Rome (ed. S. Prosperi Valenti Rodino), 1997–98. Rome 2000a — Intorno a Poussin. Ideale classico e epopea barocca tra Parigi e Roma, Accademia di Francia, Rome (eds O. Bonfait and J.-C. Boyer), 2000. Rome 2000b — L’idea del bello: viaggio per Roma nel Seicento con Giovan Pietro Bellori, Palazzo delle Esposizioni, Rome (eds E. Borea and C. Gasparri), 2 vols, 2000. Rome 2000c — Raffaello da Firenze a Roma, Galleria Borghese, Rome (ed. A. Coliva), 2000. Rome 2001–02 — I Giustiniani e l’antico, Palazzo Fontana di Trevi, Rome (G. Fusconi), 2001–02. Rome 2004 — La Collezione del Principe. Da Leonardo a Goya. Disegni e stampe della raccolta Corsini, Istituto Nazionale per la Grafica, Rome (eds E. Antetomaso and G. Mariani), 2004. Rome 2005 — La Roma di Leon Battista Alberti. Umanisti, architetti e artisti alla scoperta dell’antico nella città del Quattrocento, Musei Capitolini, Rome (ed. F. P. Fiore), 2005. Rome 2005–06 — Il Settecento a Roma, Palazzo Venezia, Rome (eds A. Lo Bianco and A. Negro), 2005–06. Rome 2006–07 — Laocoonte: Alle origini dei Musei Vaticani, Musei Vaticani, Vatican, Rome (eds F. Buranelli et al.), 2006–07. Rome 2007 — Dürer e l’Italia, Scuderie del Quirinale, Rome (ed. K. Hermann Fiore), 2007. Rome 2008 — Ricordi dell’antico: sculture, porcellane e arredi del Grand Tour, Musei Capitolini, Rome (eds A. D’Agliano and L. Melegati), 2008. Rome 2010–11a — Palazzo Farnèse. Dalle collezioni rinascimentali ad Ambasciata di Francia, Palazzo Farnese, Rome (ed. F. Buranelli), 2010–11. Rome 2010–11b — Roma e l’Antico. Realtà e visione nel ‘700, Fondazione Roma Museo, Rome (eds C. Brook and V. Curzi), 2010–11. Rome 2011 — Ritratti: le tante faccie del potere, Musei Capitolini, Rome (eds E. La Rocca, C. Parisi Presicce and A. Lo Monaco), 2011. Rome 2011–12 — I Borghese e l’Antico, Galleria Borghese, Rome (eds A. Coliva et al.), 2011–12. Rome 2014a — 1564/2014 Michelangelo. Incontrare un artista universale, Musei Capitolini, Rome (ed. C. Acidini), 2014. Rome 2014b — Hogarth, Reynolds, Turner: British Painting and the Rise of Modernity, Fondazione Roma Museo, Rome (eds C. Brook and V. Curzi), 2014. Rome forthcoming — Spinario. Storia e fortuna, Musei Capitolini, Rome (ed. C. Parisi Presicce), forthcoming. Rome, Dijon and elsewhere 1976 — Piranese et les francais, 1740–1790, Villa Medici, Rome; Palais des Etats de Bourgogne, Dijon; Hotel de Sully, Paris, 1976. Rome and Paris 2014–15 — I bassifondi del Barocco. La Roma del vizio e della miseria, Accademia di Francia a Roma – Villa Medici, Rome; Petit Palais – Musée des Beaux-Arts de la Ville de Paris, Paris (eds F. Cappelletti and A. Lemoine), 2014–15. Rome, University Park (PA) and elsewhere 1989–90 — Prize winning drawings from the Roman Academy, 1682–1754, Accademia Nazionale di San Luca, Rome; Palmer Museum of Art, Pennsylvania State University; and National Academy of Design, New York (eds A. Cipriani and G. Casale), 1989–90. Rotterdam 1946 — Cornelis Troost en zijn tijd, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam, 1946. Rotterdam 1958 — Michael Sweerts en Tijdgenoten, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam (E. Lavagino), 1958. Rotterdam 1994 — Cornelis Cort ‘constich plaedt-snijder van Horne in Holland’ – Cornelis Cort accomplished plate-cutter from Hoorn in Holland, Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam (M. Sellink), 1994. Stockholm 1990 — Füssli, Uddevalla, Stockholm (ed. G. Cavalli- Björkman), 1990. Stuttgart 1997–98 — Johann Heinrich Füssli. Das Verlorene Paradies, Staatsgalerie Stuttgart (ed. C. Becker and C. Hattendorrf), 1997–98. Swansea 1962 — Exhibition of French Master Drawings, Glynn Vivian Art Gallery, Swansea, 1962. Toledo, Chicago and elsewhere 1975–76 — The Age of Louis XV: French Painting, 1710–1774, The Toledo Museum of Art, Ohio; Art Institute of Chicago; National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa (ed. P. Rosenberg), 1975–76. Tokyo 1968–69 — The Age of Rembrandt: Dutch Paintings and Drawings of the 17th century, The National Museum of Western Art, Toyko, and Kyoto Municipal Museum (D. A. van Karnebeek), 1968–69. Tokyo 1983 — Henry Fuseli, National Museum of Western Art and City Art Museum Kitakyushu, Tokyo (ed. G. Schiff), 1983. Toronto, Ottawa and elsewhere 1972–73 — Dessins français du 17e et 18e siècles des collections americaines. French Master Drawings of the 17th and 18th Centuries of the North American Collections, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto; National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa; California Palace of the Legion of Honor, San Francisco; New York Cultural Center (eds C. Johnston and P. Rosenberg), 1972–73. Tours and Toulouse 2000 — Les peintres du roi 1648–1793, Musée des Beaux-Arts de Tours; Musée des Augustins à Toulouse (eds P. Rosenberg et al.), Paris, 2000. Troyes, Nîmes and elsewhere 1977 — Charles-Joseph Natoire (Nîmes, 1700 – Castel Gandolfo, 1777): peintures, dessins, estampes et tapisseries des collections publiques françaises, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Troyes; Musée des Beaux- Arts, Nîmes; Villa Medici, Rome, 1977. Venice 1976 — Tiziano e la silografia veneziana del Cinquecento, Fondazione Giorgio Cini, Venice (eds M. Muraro and D. Rosand), Venice, 1976. 252 253  Vienna 1987 — Zauber der Medusa. Europäische Manierismen, Wiener Künstlerhaus, Vienna (ed. W. Hofmann), 1987. Washington D.C. 1977 — Seventeenth Century Dutch Drawings from American Collections: A Loan Exhibition, organized and circulated by the International Exhibitions Foundation, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. (F. W. Robinson), 1977. Washington D.C. 1978–79 — Hubert Robert: Drawings & Watercolors, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. (V. Carlson), 1978–79. Washington D.C. 1999–2000 — The Drawings of Annibale Carracci, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. (eds D. Benati et al.), 1999–2000. Washington D.C., Los Angeles and elsewhere 2003–04 — Jean-Antoine Houdon: Sculptor of the Enlightenment, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.; The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles; Musée et Domaine National du Château de Versailles (A. L. Poulet et al.), 2003–04. Williamstown, Madison and elsewhere 2001–02 — Goltzius and the Third Dimension, Sterling and Francine Clark Institute, Williamstown (MA); Elvehjem Museum of Art, Madison (WI); Spencer Museum of Art, Lawrence (KS) (eds S. H. Goddard and J. A. Ganz), 2001–02. Windsor 2013 — Paper palaces: The Topham Collection as a Source for British Neo-Classicism, The Verey Gallery, Eton College, Windsor (A. Aymonino et al.), 2013. York 1973 — A Candidate for Praise. William Manson 1725–97, Precentor of York, York Art Gallery and York Minster Library (eds B. Barr and J. Ingamells), 1973. Zurich 1941 — Johann Heinrich Füssli (1741–1825): Zur Zweihundertjahrfeier und Gedächtnisausstellung 1951, Kunsthaus Zürich, Zurich (ed. W. Wartmann and M. Fischer), 1941. Zurich 1969 — Johann Heinrich Füssli, 1741–1825, Kunsthaus Zürich, Zurich, 1969. Zurich 1984 — Meisterwerke aus der Graphischen eichnungen, Aquarelli, Pastelle, Collagen aus fünf Jahrhunderten, Kunsthaus Zürich, Zurich, 1984. Zurich 2005 — Füssli. The Wild Swiss, Kunsthaus Zürich, Zurich (ed. F. Lentzsch), 2005. Fig. 61. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 Fig. 62. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 Fig. 63. © bpk, Berlin / Museum der bildenden Künste, Leipzig Fig. 64. © bpk, Berlin / Museum der bildenden Künste, Leipzig Fig. 65. The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection Fig. 66. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 67. The Samuel Courtauld Trust, The Courtauld Gallery, London Fig. 68. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 69. © bpk, Berlin / École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais Fig. 70. © bpk, Berlin / École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais Fig. 71. © bpk, Berlin / École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais Fig. 72. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 73. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 74. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 75. © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford Fig. 76. Su gentile concessione del Museo Biblioteca Archivio di Bassano del Grappa Fig. 77. Photo Les Arts décoratifs Fig. 78. Photo Les Arts décoratifs Fig. 79. National Library of Medicine (NLM) Fig. 80. National Library of Medicine (NLM) Fig. 81. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of Lincoln Kirstein, 1952, www.metmuseum.org Fig. 82. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 83. © bpk, Berlin / École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais Fig. 84. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 85. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 86. Private collection Fig. 87. © bpk, Berlin / École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais Fig. 88. Philadelphia Museum of Art Fig. 89. Cherbourg-Octeville, musée d’art Thomas-Henry © D.Sohier Fig. 90. Heidelberg University Library Fig. 91. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 92. Staatsgalerie Stuttgart © Foto: Staatsgalerie Stuttgart Fig. 93. Reproduced by permission of the Provost and Fellows of Eton College Fig. 94. © bpk, Berlin / Musée du Louvre, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais / Susanne Nagy Fig. 95. © Musée de Valence, photo Philippe Petiot Fig. 96. © Musée de Valence, photo Philippe Petiot Fig. 97. © Musée de Valence, photo Philippe Petiot Fig. 98. Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington Fig. 99. © Tate, London 2014 Fig. 100. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 101. © Royal Academy of Arts, London; Photographer: John Hammond Fig. 102. RSA, London Fig. 103. RSA, London Fig. 104. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums and Libraries Collection: The Mitchell Library, Special Collections Fig. 105. © Royal Academy of Arts, London; Photographer: Prudence Cuming Associates Limited Fig. 106. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 Fig. 107. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 108. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 109. Photograph courtesy of the National Gallery of Ireland Cat. 1 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 3. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Cat. 2 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Cat. 3 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Courtesy Yvonne Tan Bunzl Fig. 2. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 3. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 4. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett, SMB / Volker-H. Schneider Fig. 5. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 6. S.S.P.S.A.E e per il Polo Museale della città di Firenze – Gabinetto Fotografico Cat. 4 Exhibit a. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Exhibit b. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 1. Private collection Fig. 2. © Kurpfälzisches Museum der Stadt Heidelberg Cat. 5 Exhibit. Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Vatican Museums and Galleries, Vatican City/ Bridgeman Images Fig. 3. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 4. Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program Fig. 5. Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program Cat. 6 Exhibit a. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Exhibit b. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Cat. 7 Exhibit a. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Exhibit b. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 3. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 4. Courtesy Amsterdam Museum Cat. 8 Exhibit. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 1. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 2. S.S.P.S.A.E e per il Polo Museale della città di Firenze – Gabinetto Fotografico Cat. 9 Exhibit. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 2. © Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon. Photo François Jay Cat. 10 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 2. Courtesy of the Master and Fellows of Trinity College Cambridge Fig. 3. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 4. © The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge Cat. 11 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 2. © The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge Fig. 3. © Matthew Hollow Cat. 12 Exhibit. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 1. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 4. The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection Fig. 5. Detroit Institute of Arts, USA, City of Detroit Purchase/Bridgeman Images Fig. 6. Collection Rau for UNICEF / Gruppe Köln, Hans G. Scheib Cat. 13 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Courtesy Amsterdam Museum Fig. 3. Courtesy Municipal Archives of The Hague Fig. 4. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 5. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 6. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Cat. 14 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. © 2015 The Metropolitan Museum of Art/ Art Resource/Scala, Florence Fig. 3. © Christie’s Images Limited (1988) Fig. 4. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Photographic Credits Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologises for any errors or omissions in the below list and would be grateful if notified of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book. Ideal Beauty and the Canon in Classical Antiquity Fig. 1. © 2015 The Metropolitan Museum of Art/Art Resource/Scala, Florence Fig. 2. The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection Fig. 3. The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection ‘Nature Perfected’: The Theory & Practice of Drawing after the Antique Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. © bpk, Berlin / Musée du Louvre, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais / Gérard Blot Fig. 4. © Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Milano / De Agostini Picture Library Fig. 5. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 6. Albertina, Vienna Fig. 7. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 8. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 9. Copyright Comune di Milano – tutti i diritti riservati Fig. 10. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 11. © Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Milano / De Agostini Picture Library Fig. 12. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 13. Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam. Loan Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen Foundation (collection Koenigs) / photographer: Studio Tromp, Rotterdam Fig. 14. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 15. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 16. Rijksmuseum, Amseterdam 254 Fig. 17. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Phyllis Massar, 2011, www.metmuseum.org Fig. 18. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 19. Vatican Museums and Galleries, Vatican City/Bridgeman Images Fig. 20. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 21. © Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels / photo: J. Geleyns / Ro scan Fig. 22. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 23. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 24. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 25. Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna, Austria / Bridgeman Images Fig. 26. Vatican Museums and Galleries, Vatican City / Bridgeman Images Fig. 27. Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington Fig. 28. Albertina, Vienna Fig. 29. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 30. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 31. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 32. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 33. Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence, Italy / Bridgeman Images Fig. 34. S.S.P.S.A.E e per il Polo Museale della città di Firenze – Gabinetto Fotografico Fig. 35. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 36. © Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Milano / De Agostini Picture Library Fig. 37. Katrin Bellinger collection Fig. 38. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Jörg P. Anders Fig. 39. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Jörg P. Anders Fig. 40. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Volker-H. Schneider Fig. 41. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Volker-H. Schneider Fig. 42. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Volker-H. Schneider Fig. 43. © bpk, Berlin / Kupferstichkabinett / Volker-H. Schneider Fig. 44. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 45. © 2015 The Metropolitan Museum of Art/ Art Resource/Scala, Florence Fig. 46. © Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Milano / De Agostini Picture Library Fig. 47. © Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana – Milano / De Agostini Picture Library Fig. 48. Royal Museum for Fine Arts Antwerp © Lukas-Art in Flanders vzw, photo Hugo Maertens Fig. 49. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 50. Musea Brugge © Lukas-Art in Flanders vzw, photo Hugo Maertens Fig. 51. ©Peter Cox/Bonnefantenmuseum Maastricht Fig. 52. Minneapolis Institute of Arts, MN, USA, The Walter H. and Valborg P. Ude Memorial Fund/ Bridgeman Images Fig. 53. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam Fig. 54. Louvre, Paris, France/Bridgeman Images Fig. 55. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 56. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 57. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 58. © bpk, Berlin / Musée du Louvre, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais / Richard Lambert Fig. 59. © bpk, Berlin / Musée Condé, Chantilly, Dist. RMN – Grand Palais / René-Gabriel Ojéda Fig. 60. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 255  Cat. 15 Exhibit. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. © Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth / Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth Settlement Trustees / Bridgeman Images Fig. 2. Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, CT Fig. 3. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 4. Vatican Museums and Galleries, Vatican City / Bridgeman Images Cat. 16 Exhibit. The Samuel Courtauld Trust, The Courtauld Gallery, London Fig. 1. Image courtesy of Sotheby’s Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 4. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 5. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 6. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Cat. 17 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 2. Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam / photographer: Studio Tromp, Rotterdam Fig. 3. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Bequest of Walter C. Baker, 1971, www.metmuseum.org Fig. 4. Witt Library, The Courtauld Institute of Art, London Cat. 18 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. © bpk, Berlin / Antikensammlung, SMB Fig. 4. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 5. © bpk, Berlin / Antikensammlung, SMB / Johannes Laurentius Fig. 6. © photo Musées de Marseille Fig. 7. Photographic Survey, The Courtauld Institute of Art, London. Private collection Cat. 19 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. © Accademia Nazionale di San Luca. Tutti i diritti riservati Fig. 3. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 4. By courtesy of the Trustees of Sir John Soane’s Museum Cat. 20 Exhibit. By courtesy of the Trustees of Sir John Soane’s Museum Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 3. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 4. The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection Fig. 5. Staatsgalerie Stuttgart © Foto: Staatsgalerie Stuttgart Fig. 6. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Cat. 21 Exhibit. © bpk / Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Fig. 1. Image courtesy of Sotheby’s Fig. 2. Image courtesy of Sotheby’s Cat. 22 Exhibit. © 2014 Kunsthaus Zürich. All rights reserved. Fig. 1. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Paulo Cipollina Fig. 2. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Lorenzo De Masi Fig. 3. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Lorenzo De Masi Fig. 4. Istituto Centrale per la Grafica Canoni fotografici (MIBACT) Fig. 5. © bpk, Berlin / Kunstbibliothek, SMB / Dietmar Katz Cat. 23 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Louvre, Paris, France/Bridgeman Images Fig. 2. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Cat. 24 Exhibit. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection Fig. 2. Private collection Fig. 3. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Cat. 25 Exhibit. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 1. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 2. © Royal Academy of Arts, London Fig. 3. © bpk, Berlin / RMN – Grand Palais / Stéphane Maréchalle Fig. 4. Santa Barbara Museum of Art, Gift of Wright S. Ludington Fig. 5. Conway Library, The Courtauld Institute of Art, London Fig. 6. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 7. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 8. © Royal Academy of Arts, London; Photographer: Paul Highnam Fig. 9. © Royal Academy of Arts, London; Photographer: Paul Highnam Cat. 26 Exhibit. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. © Tate, London 2014 Fig. 2. Courtesy of www.gjsaville-caricatures.co.uk Cat. 27 Exhibit a. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London Exhibit b. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London Fig. 1. © Tate, London 2014 Fig. 2. © Tate, London 2014 Fig. 3. © Tate, London 2014 Fig. 4. © Tate, London 2014 Cat. 28 Exhibit. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Fig. 1. © Towneley Hall Art Gallery and Museum, Burnley, Lancashire/Bridgeman Images Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved Cat. 29 Exhibit. By courtesy of the Trustees of Sir John Soane’s Museum Cat. 30 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo Collection RKD, The Hague Fig. 2. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2015 Fig. 3. Klassik Stiftung Weimar, Bestand Museen. Photo Sigrid Geske Cat. 31 Exhibit. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Cat. 32 Exhibit. Teylers Museum, Haarlem Fig. 1. Photo Collection RKD, The Hague Cat. 33 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. The National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, Oslo, photographer Jacques Lathion Fig. 2. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 3. Archivio Fotografico dei Musei Capitolini. Photo Zeno Colantoni Fig. 4. Louvre, Paris, France / Bridgeman Images Fig. 5. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 6. Courtesy of Pontus Kjerrman Cat. 34 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 2. Courtesy of Olga Liubimova Fig. 3. © Tomas Abad Cat. 35 Exhibit. © Matthew Hollow Fig. 1. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London Fig. 2. © National Portrait Gallery, London Fig. 3. © Christie’s Images Limited (2012) Fig. 4. Photo out of copyright (The Warburg Institute, Photographic Collection) Fig. 5. © National Museums Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery Fig. 6. [© National Museums Liverpool, Walker Art Gallery Sammlung. ZMassimo Carboni. Keywords: tratto dalla vita, estetica, arte, icona, parola, immagine, filosofia antica, il concetto dell’antico, l’antico – l’antico e il moderno – drawing from the antique – antico – filosofia antica, arte antica, statuaria antica, the lure of the antique – il gusto e l’antico --. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carboni” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

levi: filosofo italiano - Italian philosopher of Jewish descent. Author of “Storia della filosofia romana.”

 

giornale critico della filosofia italiana.

 

Giovanni d. “Positivismo italiano.”

 

Grice e Cassio – Roma – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza. Filosofo italiano. Gaio Cassio Longino. Gaio Cassio Longino Tribuno della plebe della Repubblica romana Gaio Cassio Longino (a destra), Marco Giunio Bruto (col volto girato) e gli altri congiurati pugnalano Giulio Cesare alle Idi di Marzo; particolare del dipinto di Vincenzo Camuccini, Morte di Giulio Cesare. Nome originale. Gaius Cassius Longinus Nascita: Roma Morte: Filippi Coniuge: Tertulla Figli: Gaio Cassio Longino Gens: Cassia Tribuno militare sotto Marco Licinio Crasso Questura. Tribunato della plebe. Gaio Cassio Longino (in latino: Gaius Cassius Longinus, pronuncia classica o restituta: [ˈɡaːɪ.ʊs ˈkassɪ.ʊs ˈlɔŋɡɪnʊs]; Roma, 87/86 a.C. – Filippi, 3 ottobre 42 a.C.) è stato un politico romano, tra i promotori della congiura che causò l'uccisione di Gaio Giulio Cesare. Appartenne alla gens Cassia, una famiglia patrizia riuscita ad accedere al consolato. Nel sesto decennio a.C. Cassio, dopo il matrimonio con Tertulla, figlia di Servilia, sembra avvicinarsi al partito degl’optimates guidato da Catone Uticense.   Moneta coniata da Longino Prese parte alla guerra contro i Parti, al fianco di Marco Licinio Crasso, salvandosi dal disastro di Carre del 53 a.C., e riuscendo a respingere una loro successiva invasione che si era spinta fin sotto le mura di Antiochia.[1] Nominato tribuno della plebe nel 49 a.C., allo scoppio della guerra civile si schierò dalla parte di Pompeo, che gli affidò il controllo di parte della sua flotta nelle acque del Mediterraneo. Dopo la battaglia di Farsalo e la morte di Pompeo in Egitto, egli decise di beneficiare della clemenza di Cesare: lo raggiunse dunque in Cilicia, vicino Tarso, da dove il dittatore stava pianificando l'attacco a Farnace. Nonostante il suo rapporto con Cesare si fosse consolidato, Cassio decise, nel 44 a.C., di allontanarsi dalla corrente politica di Cesare per essere uno degli organizzatori del complotto che portò costui alla morte.  Dopo l'assassinio del dittatore, Cassio insieme a Bruto, figlio di Servilia, fuggì da Roma, timoroso delle rappresaglie messe in atto da Marco Antonio (luogotenente di Cesare) e dal giovane ed emergente Ottaviano (futuro primo imperatore di Roma con il nome di Augusto). Come si apprende da un'epistola scritta a Cicerone poco prima della battaglia di Modena, Cassio ottenne brillanti successi in Oriente. Recatosi ad Apamea, dove era assediata dai cesariani una legione pompeiana al comando di Quinto Cecilio Basso, riuscì a convincere i capi cesariani sul posto, Lucio Staio Murco e Quinto Marcio Crispo, a defezionare con le loro sei legioni e passare dalla sua parte. Poco dopo giunse dall'Egitto Aulo Allieno con altre quattro legioni, che a sua volta si unì a Cassio[2][3]. Secondo alcune fonti Marcio Crispo tuttavia rifiutò di servirlo[4]. Cassio disponeva ora di numerose legioni e si mosse per affrontare il cesariano Publio Cornelio Dolabella, che in precedenza aveva vinto e ucciso il cesaricida Gaio Trebonio.  Tuttavia i due cospiratori non riuscirono a farla franca. Nel frattempo era stata emanata la lex Pedia, che condannava all'esilio i cesaricidi.  Cassio e Bruto vennero affrontati nella battaglia di Filippi il 3 ottobre del 42 a.C. da Marco Antonio e Ottaviano. Cassio fu sconfitto da Marco Antonio; pensando che anche Bruto fosse stato sconfitto diede ordine ad un suo schiavo, Pindarus, di ucciderlo, usando la stessa daga con cui aveva pugnalato Cesare; Bruto, nonostante la parziale vittoria ottenuta su Ottaviano, fu successivamente raggiunto ed accerchiato dagli uomini di Marco Antonio. Il 23 ottobre del 42 a.C. Bruto, vedendosi sconfitto, si suicidò.  Plutarco riferisce che Cassio era seguace di Epicuro.  Cassio viene definito da più fonti come Ultimus Romanorum, l'ultimo dei romani a incarnare i valori e lo spirito romano: il riferimento è in Tacito, che cita a sua volta lo storico Cremuzio Cordo: «Sotto il consolato di Cornelio Cosso e Asinio Agrippa fu sottoposto a giudizio Cremuzio Cordo per un reato di nuovo genere, noto allora per la prima volta: negli annali da lui scritti, dopo aver elogiato M. Bruto, aveva chiamato Cassio l'ultimo dei romani"[5].  Letteratura Dante lo pone nell'ultimo girone dell'Inferno (Inferno, XXXIV, 64-67), la Giudecca, ove si puniscono i traditori dei benefattori. Assieme a Giuda Iscariota ed a Marco Giunio Bruto, è costantemente maciullato dalle fauci di Lucifero.  Cassio è uno dei protagonisti della tragedia Giulio Cesare di William Shakespeare.  Note ^ Cassio Dione Cocceiano, Storia romana, XL, 28-29. ^ R. Syme, La rivoluzione romana, p. 191. ^ Cassio, epistola a Cicerone ex castris Taricheis, in Charles Chaulmer, Les Epitres familières de Ciceron en latin et en françois., edd. Antoine e Horace Molin, 1689 ^ Broughton, T. Robert S., The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, vol.III, 1986 ^ Annales, IV, 34, 1 Bibliografia Vittorio Sermonti, Inferno, Rizzoli 2001. Umberto Bosco e Giovanni Reggio, La Divina Commedia - Inferno, Le Monnier 1988. Voci correlate Gaio Giulio Cesare Marco Giunio Bruto Battaglia di Filippi Marco Antonio Augusto Ultimus Romanorum Altri progetti Dizionario di storia, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, 2010. Modifica su Wikidata Càssio Longino, Gàio (uomo politico e questore), su sapere.it, De Agostini. Modifica su Wikidata (EN) Gaius Cassius / Gaius Cassius Longinus, su Enciclopedia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc. Gaio Cassio Longino / Gaio Cassio Longino (altra versione), su Goodreads. Modifica su Wikidata V · D · M Guerra civile romana (49-45 a.C.) V · D · M Guerra civile romana (44-31 a.C.) V · D · M Cesaricidi Portale Antica Roma   Portale Biografie   Portale Età augustea Categorie: Politici romani del I secolo a.C.Morti nel 42 a.C.Morti il 3 ottobreNati a RomaCassiiGovernatori romani della SiriaMorti per suicidioPersonaggi citati nella Divina Commedia (Inferno)EpicureiCesaricidi[altre] Cassio, one of those who assassinated Giulio Cesare, was a follower of the philosophy of The Garden. He converted to the sect after an earlier interest in the Porch, and defended his new philosophy in correspondence with his friend Cicerone.

 

Grice e Cassiodoro: -- vide under Briuzi --. noble Italian philosopher. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cassiodoro," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia

 

Grice e casalegno, paolo. Italian philosopher author of “H. P. Grice” in “Filosofia del linguaggio.”

 

Grice e cattaneo: essential Italian philosopher. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, "Grice e Cattaneo," per Il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia.

 

Grice e Carace – Roma – filosofia italiana – Claudio Carace – Charax – Much admired by Antonino.

 

Grice e Carchia: l’implicatura conversazionale dell’ars amandi – signi d’amore – erotico del bello – comunicazione degl’amanti primitive -- filosofia romana – filosofia italiana -- Luigi Speranza (Torino). Filosofo Italiano. Grice: “I once joked that if I’m introduce dto Mr. Poodle as ‘our man in eighteenth century aesthetics, the implictum is that he ain’t good at it! Not with Carchia: because (a) Carchia is a serious philosopher (b) he conceives aesthetics alla Baumagarten, having to do with communication  (“nome e immagine”, “interpretazione ed emancipazione”) and with not just the aesthetis qua sensus – but its truth value (“immagine e verita,” “l’intelligible estetico”) – a genius! On topc, my favourite piece of his philosophising is on the torso del belvedere as representing the ‘rhetoric of the sublime’!” Si laurea a Torino sotto Vattimo con la dissertazione “Il Linguaggio”. Insegna a Viterbo e Roma. Studioso di filosofia antica, traduttore. Opere: Orfismo e tragedia; Estetica ed erotica; Dall'apparenza al mistero; La legittimazione dell'arte; Arte e bellezza; L'estetica antica, ecc.  Si è anche occupato, di arte e comunicazione dei popoli 'primitivi' e di artisti contemporanei quali Savinio, Sbarluzzi e Lanzardo. La casa editrice Quodlibet raccoglie le sue opere postume. Rusce ad immaginare la filosofla, a porla in immagini -- nel solco della filosofia italiana dall'Umanesimo a Vico. Minima immoralia. Aforismi tralasciati nell'edizione italiana (Einaudi, 1954), Milano: L'erba voglio); Comunità e comunicazione (Torino: Rosemberg & Sellier); prefazione e cura di Henry Corbin, L'imâm nascosto, Milano: Celuc, 1979; Milano: SE); Orfismo e tragedia. Il mito trasfigurato, Milano: Celuc); Estetica e antropologia. Arte e comunicazione dei primitivi, Torino: Rosemberg & Sellier); Erotica. Saggio sull'immaginazione, Milano: Celuc) L'intelligibile (Napoli: Guida); Dall'apparenza al mistero. La nascita del romanzo, Milano: Celuc); Il mito in pittura. La tradizione come critica, Milano: Celuc); cura di Arnold Gehlen, Quadri d'epoca. Sociologia e estetica della pittura moderna, Napoli: Guida) Retorica del sublime, Roma-Bari: Laterza); Il bello (Bologna: Il Mulino); Interpretazione ed emancipazione. Torino: Dipartimento di ermeneutica); introduzione a Karl Löwith, Scritti sul Giappone, Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino); “La favola dell'essere. Commento al Sofista” (Macerata: Quodlibet); Estetica, Roma-Bari: Laterza);  L'estetica antica, Roma-Bari: Laterza); L'amore del pensiero, Macerata: Quodlibet); Nome e immagine (Benjamin, Roma: Bulzoni); Immagine e verità. Studi sulla tradizione classica, Monica Ferrando, prefazione di Sergio Givone, Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, Kant e la verità dell'apparenza, Gianluca Garelli, Torino: Ananke,  introduzione a Walter Friedrich Otto, Il poeta e gli antichi dèi, Rovereto: Zandonai. L’immaginazione come orizzonte nomade della conoscenza. Produttività e trascendentalità dell’immaginazione nella critica del giudizio. L’immaginazione senza immagini. La notte delle immagini, il ricordo, la memoria. L’immaginazione come autotrasparire dell’apparenza rappresentativa. Naturalismo simbolico e simbolica naturale. Angelologia. Alighieri: spiritus phantasticus e alta fantasia. Gemellarità dell’immaginazione gnostica. L’immaginazione speculativa. Simbolismo e imagismo. Il fantastico come ideologia. Il romantico. L’immaginazione come dimora del padre. Demone e allegoria. La forza del nome. Icona e coscienza sofianica. Mistica. Mimesi e metessi. La nuova accademia: l’estetico. Paradigma, schema, immagine.  1 Ovidio. Arte amatoria. Chi peregrin nell’amorosa scuola  Entra , me legga, se vuol esser dotto.  Non usansi senz’arte e vele e remi;   Non senz’arte guidar si puote il cocchio;  Non senz' arte si può reggere Amore. Ben sapeva condurre Automedonte (i)   Co’ focosi, destrieri il caiiro , e Tifi r  Sedea maestro \sair emonia poppa. Ne’ mister} d’ Àmot me fece esjperto  V enere bella , e ben dirmi poss’ io  D’Aniore un altro Tifi e Automedonte.  Ch^ ei sia crude!, noi niego » e spesse volte  Contro me stesso si rivolta ; pure  Egli è fiinciullo , e l’immatuTa' etàde  Atta si rende al fren. Docile e mite  Rese Chiron l’ impetuoso^ Achilie (2)    (i) Automédonte, figlio di Dioreo,fu il Cocchierò  d*lAchille , Tifi condusse gli Argonauti in Coleo sul-  la nave Argo , che qui dicesi emonia , perchè era su  <mella Giasone figlio del Re di Tessaglia , e perchè la  Tessaglia si chiamala Emonia dal monte Emo.   (a) Chirone figliuol di Fillira fu il Precettore d’A’^  chille^il qual nen chiamato ^acides fia Eaep suo Avo,  Col dolde suon della canora cetra^   Ed ei, che fu il terrore e lo spavento  De^suoi compagni spessore de’nemici.  Dicesi che temesse il vecchio annoso;   E quelle mani , che dovean un giorno  Gettare a terra il forte Ettor , porgea, Quando Chirone le chiedea,alla sferza.   Ei fu d’ Achille, io son d’ Amor maestro;  L’uno e 1^ altro è fanoiul feroce, e traggo  L’ un e r altro da Diva i suoi natali • (4)  Come r aratro il toro, e come il freno  Doma il cavai focoso ; io cosi Amore  Render placido voglio ancor che il petto  Con r arco mi ferisca , e con la face  Tutte ro’ abbruci le midolle e T ossa.  Quanto più Amore hammi ferito ed arso.  Tanto più voglio vendicarmi . Apollo,   Non io, ché mentirei , dirò che appresi <  Da tl» quest’ arte, o che fui reso dotto  Dal canto degli .augelli A me non Clio,  Né le Sorelle sue , come al Pastore  Della valle d’ Ascrea , compatver mai ; Me un lung’ uso feMstrutto ; e fè pròstate  Air esperto Poeta . <Ió cose vere  Canto : Madre d* Amor.^, siimi propizia.  Gite lungi j o Vestali., e voi Matrone,   Che i piè celaté sotto lunga veste.    J3Ì Achilie uccise Ettore al assedio di Troja Achille nacque dalla Dea Tetide , Amore dalla  Dea Venere,   a Mentre Esiodo, cugino e quasi contemporaneo  nero , pascolava in Elicona le pecore di suo pa*  dre ^ fu dalle Muse condotto al fonte Ippocrene, e Col  hefer 4i quell* acqua divenne Poeta,  Come seguir sensa periglio Amore  Si possa, eA i concessi furti io canto;  Nullo i miei carmi chiuderan delitto.   Tu, che novel nell’ amorosa schiera  Entri soldato, le tue cure volgi  Prima a trovar de’ voti tuoi 1’ oggetto.  Indi a farlo per te amoroso, e infine  Onde lunga stagìon 1’ amor si serbi.   È questo il modo, è questo il campo, in cui  Scorrere il nostro cocchio debbo ; è questa  Del corso nostro la prescritta meta.   Or che il tempo è propizio , or che si puote  Andare a briglia sciolta , una ne scegli,  Cui dir tu possa ; a me tu sola piaci.  Questa dal Ciel non già pensar che scenda.  Ma qui trovar la dei con gli occhi tuoi.  Onde tender le reti al cervo debba.   Sa bene il caccìator , e non ignora  La valle , ove il cignal s’asconde : i rami  L’ UGcellator conosce, onde si gettano  61 ’incauti augelli, e al pescator son note  L’acque, che maggior copia hanno di pesci.  Tu , che d^on lungo amor cerchi materia.  Impara i luoghi, ove frequenti veggonsi  Le vezzose donzelle . Io non ti dico,   Che dar le vele ti fia duopo al vento.   Né córrer lunga e faticosa strada.   Perseo dall’Indie ne condusse Andromeda,  E .Paride rapì di Grecia Eléna. Ma in Roma , in Roma ritrovar potrai  Fanciulle, che in beltà portino il vanto  Più che del Mondo in altra parte . Come Gargaro, Castello sul monte Ida era celebre   V abbondanza delle sue biade , e Metinna , Città nek»   V Isola di Lesbo , per V abbondanza d^ suoi vini.  La gargara contrada abbonda in biade»   In uve la metinnia » in pesci U mare»   In augei il bosco s e còme nell* Olimpo  Splendono stelle; così in Roma ammiransi  Amabili Fanciulle : qui sua sede  Pose del grand’ Enea la bella Madre. Se a nascente beltà ti porta il genio»  Tenera donzelletta eccoti innante;   Se già formata giovine desideri»  Mille ti piaceranno » e fian costretti  A rimaner sospesi i voti tuoi;   Che se a te figlia più matura e saggia  Piaccia » ne avrai, mel credi, un folto stuolo.  De’ portici pompeii all’ ombra i lenti Pàssi rivolgi, allor che Febo i campi  Dall’erculeo Leon saetta ed arde,   O a quel che adorno de’ più scelti marmi  Da lontani paesi a noi venuti,   LaMadre aggiunseindonoa’don delFigHo.(8)  Nè quello lascerai » ohe tragge il nome  Da Livia, ornato delle pinte tele De’Pittori più celebri ed antichi;   Uno de'piU dtliziosi Portici di Roma ora cer^  tornente ^uet di Pompeo . Giaceva questo in vicinanza  dtl suo Veatro , « i Romani lo frequentavano moltis'^  simo in tempo d* estate,  OTTAVIANO (si veda) sotto il nome d’Ottavia fabbrica un  portico in vicinanza del Teatro da lui dedicato a Marcello figlio della medesirrsa  e però dice il Poeta , che  la Madre , cioè Ottavia , a^iunse il dono del portico  al don d^figlio , cioè al Teatro a lui innalzato d’OTTAVIANO,  R questo il portico che Livia moglie d* Augusto  fabbricò nella Via sacra ; ne fa menzione Svetonio , e  vien riputato da Strabono uno d^più be* monumenti  di Roma, Visiterai pnr anco i Inoghi, dove (io)   In atto di far strage de’ Consorti  Effigiate son P empie Danàidi;   E il lor Padre crudel, che nudo tiene  L’acciajo micidial nell’ empia destra;   Nè il Tempio oblia, u’ Venere la morte  Plora del caro Adon , nò il giorno Sabbato  Sacro al culto giudeo • Sarà tua cura  A’xneiifitìcì templi esser presente (ii)  Della liniger’ Iside ; seconda  I voti questa Dea delle fanciulle»   Che desian donne diventar, coni’ essa  Lo fu di Giove ^ Fra i clamori alterni  Del Foro strepitoso ( e chi mai fede  Prestar ci puote ? ) Amor rivolta trova  Atto alle fiamme sue pascolo ed esca.   In quella parte ove s’innalza al cielo (la)  L’ onda d’Appio » che giace appiè del Tempio  Di ricchi marmi adorno , a Vener sacro^  Prigioniero d’ Amore è 1 ’ Avvocato,   (10) Il portico d*Apollo palatino fabbricato da Au^  gusto in una parte della sua casa era adornato di fiin^   ts immagini rappresentanti la strage^ che de*pro-  prj Mariti fecero le Danaidi per comando di Danna  loro padre.   (11) Si adorala Iside figlinola d*Inaco in Menfi  Città d^Egitto, donde furono trasportati in Roma i  suoi sacrificj . Fu questa amata impudicamente da  Giove, il quale la cangiò per timor di Giunone in una  Giovenca j e poi la restitm agli Egiziani nella sua pri^  stina forma . B^la e i suoi sacerdoti andavano coperti  di lino e però si chiamava linigera.   (la) Appio Censore condusse V acqua nel Foro di  Cesare; e d* architettura d* Archelao fu ivi innalzato  a Venere un Tempio , che per somma fretta poi rimase  imperfetto. Che attento alla difesa altrui, se stesso  Guardar non sa • Oh quante volte, oh quante  In quel loco gli manca la favella,   E deir amor che V agita ripieno,   Non della caiìsa altrui, ma della propria  S’occupa solo ! Dal propinquo Tempio  Ride la Dea di Pafo, e il difensore  Trasformato veder gode in cliente.   Ma più che. altrove ne'curvi Teatri  Troverai da far paghi i voti tuoi:   Ivi mille bellezze lusinghiere  Si oifrìranno al tuo sguardo, e tal potrai  Per stabile passion scegliere, e tale  Onde Tore passare in gioco e in festa.  Come frequente la formica in schiera  Vanne al granajo a far preda di cibo;   E come Papi in olezzante suolo  Volan sul timo e sopra i fior ; le culte  Donne in tal modo in folto stuolo assistono  Agli scenici ludi * È cosi grande  11 numero di questo, cho sospeso  Mille volte rimase il mio giudizio.   Non a’ Teatri per mirar, soltanto,   Come per far di lor superila mosffa  Vanno non senza del pudor periglio.   Tu questi giochi strepitosi il primo, ROMOLO, instituisti; allor che il ratto NeW anno del mondo 3a3i. fabbricò Romolo  nei monte Palatino una Città o sia Fortezza , che dal  suo nome chiamò Roma. Per accrescere il numero dei  Cittadini ^ aprì un asilo fra il Palatino e il Campi*  doglio , in cui si ricevevano i Servi fuggitivi^, i De*  hitori y i Malefici . Siccome i Popoli confinanti , e per  conseguenza i Sabini nor^ volevano con tal gente col*  Segui delle Sabine • Ancor non marmi^   E non tappeti ornavano i Teatri,   Nè il palco vago era per piote tele;   Ivi semplicemente allor far posti   I virgulti eie foglie, che recava   II bosco palatino, e non si vide  Decorata la scena allor con V arte*   Sopra i sedili di cespugli infesti  Assistea il popol folto , uhe all’irsuta  Chioma di fronde sol cingea corona*   Col cupid’occhio ognuno intanto nota  Quella, che far desia sua preda, e molti  Pensieri nel suo cor tacito volge.   Mentre d’agreste flauto il suono muove  Grottesca danza, ed il confuso plauso  Ferisce il ciel, ecco che il Re dà segno  Onde alla preda sua ciascun sì volga.  Rapido il proprio loco ognuno lascia,  Fanne co’ gridi il suo desio palese,   E le cupide mani addosso slancia  Sulle Vergin d’insidie ignare , come  Fogge la timidissima Colomba  Dall’ Aquila , e de’ Lupi il fiero aspetto  Agna novella ; di spavento piene  Volean cosi le misere Sabine  De’ rapitori lor schivar gli amplessi;*   Ma da Ogni patte senza legge inondano^  Ninna serba il color , che aveva innante;  ' ' a z    lòcar U lor Donne , Romito gli ' inoitò insieme con Ì 0  sorelle ,'7e moglie e le figlie a unof spettacolo, che fe^ce*  ìebrare in onore del Dio Conso , ossia di Nettuno^ €  comandò d* suoi Romani che cigscun ri rapiste fr0  quelle femmine una Consòrte.    Digitized by Google     IO   Tutte assale il timore ^ e in Tarj modi:  Questa il petto peroote^ il crin si straccia;  Quella riman priva di sensi ; alcuna  Non {>er il duol fa proferir parola;   Altra la cara madre appella invano;   Chi quale statua immobile rimane;   Chi fugge, e chi di grida il cielo assorda.  Ma le rapite Oiovani condotte  Son via, qual preda geniale e cara.   Dì pudico rossoj tinsero molte  Le delicate guance, e vìe più piacquero.  Se troppa ripugnanza alcuna mostra,   £ seguir nega il suo compagno, questi  La porta fra le sue cupide braccia,   E si le dice : a che d’amaro pianto  Da begli occhj tu versi un fiume? teco  Sarò come alla Madre è il Genitore.  Romolo, fu il primiero a’tuoi soldati  Vera recar felicità sapesti;   Se tal sorte goder potessi anch’io, >   Io pur non sdegnerei esser soldato.   Però da quell’esempio anco a’dì nostri  Trovan le Belle ne’Teatri insidie..   D’esser presente ognor cerca e procura ^  Alle corse de’rapidi destrieri.   Di gran popol capace il ;Circo augusto  Molti a te rechei!à comodi ; d’ uopo ^   Onde spiegare i tuoi pensieri arcani  Non avrai delle dita ; nè co* cenni  Intendere dovrai. Franco t’assidi, Che ninno il vieta, alla* tua donna accanto.  Quanto più puòi t’accosta al di lei fiaheo\  lE procura che il loco a.nzi ti sforzi  A toccarla, quand’eUa ancor non ! voglia.    Digitized by Google     Onde seco parlar cerca materia,   E da’ discorsi pubblici incomincia.   Quando i cavalli appariranno, tosto  Di chi sieno richiedi, e quello, a cui  Dirige i voti suoi, tu favorisci;   Macon frequente pompaallor che giungono  Le statue degli Dei, fa plauso a Venere Quale a tua Diva tutelar. Se mai  Della tua bella sulla veste cada  Polve, la scoti con la mano , e fingi *  Scoterla quando pur netta si serbi;   E sollecito ognor prandi motivo  Da leggiere cagion d’esserle grato.   Se la sua veste strascinasse , pronto  Sii tosto a tòrla dalP immonda terra;   Per cosi tenui cure avrai in mercede,   Ch^ ella poi soffrirà, che le sue gambe  Tu possa riguardar. Sia tuo pensiero,   Che quei , che sono assisì al vostro tergo,  ^ ginocchi al di lei dosso,  Non le rechin molestia. I lievi ufBcj  L^alme fiscili adescano : fu a molti  Util Fa ver con destra man composto  Il coscino, agitar con piccol foglio  Il volubile vento, e saper porre  Sotto tenero piè concavo scanno.   Farà la strada al nuovo amore il Circo,  Solevano I ROMANI portar per ih Circo le Statue degli Dei e degli Uomini sommi , quando ivi da¬  vano lo spettacolo della corsa de^ Cavalli 0 d^ altri  giochi'. V* era fra aueste Statue ancor quella di Venere , cui vuole il Poeta che si faccia un gran plauso*  Si veda la seconda Elegia del Libro III, degli amori  scritti dgl modesimo Autore^     E la sparsa nel foro infausta arena*   Ivi pugnò spesso il Fanciul di Venere,   £ chi andò per mirar altri piagato,   Ferito pur rimase. Ah quante volte  Mentre un la lingua a ragionar discioglie^  HoWà. la mano , tiene il libro, e cerca  II; vincitore del proposto premio.   Il .volatile strai senti nel seno,   Gemè piagato , e accrebbe pregio al gioco!   fu bello il mirar quando con pompa  Solenne Cesare introdissse il primo (i 5 )  Non avvezze a pugnar in finta guerra  E le persiche navi e le cecropie!   Da questo e da quel mar vennero allora  Giovani vaghi, amabili donzelle,   E la Città racchiuse immenso mondo.   Fra tanta turba di leggiadri oggetti  Chi non tigvò da far paghi i suoi voti?  Oh quanti e quanti a forestiero laccio  Porsero il piè! Ma Cesar s’apparecchia (Cesare Augusto fece presso il Tevere rappre^  sentore una battaglia navale detta Ncumachia. Intro^  dusse in questa a combattere le flotte che Marc* An-^  ionio aveva raccolte contro di lui nell* Oriente ^e le  navi ateniesi denominate Cecropie da Gecrope primo  Re d* Atene y che seguirono il partito di M. Antonio^  Furono queste armate navali vinte tutte da Azio , e  servirono nella Neumachia d* un brillante spettacelo  a futta Roma.  OTTAVIANO destinò una spedi^àon per V Oriente   contro Frante, e vi mandò il suo Nipote Cajo nato  da Agrippa e da Giulia. Marco Crasso e Publio suo  figlio avidi delle ricchezze de* Parti intrapresero con¬  tro i medesimi una guerra, in cui furono poi essi  miseramente trucidati con undici Legioni . Per far a  Cesare un encomio, dice ora il Poeta , che deve Cajo  riportar vittoria di que* popoli , e riacquistar la  ^ne romane da loro tolte Crassi. Già il restò a sog^ogar del Mondo inter#^  E già Taltiino Oriente è nostro ancora.   La pena avrai dovuta , o Parto audace,   £ voi godete, ombre deaerassi estinti,   E con voi godan le romane insegne  Di barbarica destra a ragion schive.   Ecco il vindice vostro , ognun racclama  Invitto Duce nelle schiere prime;   Giovin sostiene perigliose guerre  Quasi invecchiato fra le stragi e Parmi.  Deh non vogliate, o timidi, il valore  Dagli anni loro argomentar de’Numi;   E la virtù ne’Cesari preepee.   Degli anni Suoi più assai rapido sorge  Celeste ingegno, e mal tollera Ponte  D’una pigra dimora. Era bambino Ercole allor che ì due serpenti oppresse.  Ed èra in fasce pur degno di Giove.   O Bacco^otu che ancor fanciullo sei, (18)   Essendosi Giove innamorato perdutamente d^Alc^  mena , si presentò a lei vestito delle sembianze d*An^  fitrione suo maritoy quando questi trovavasi alla guer¬  ra di Tehe.Da Giove e da Alcména nacque Ercole, che  fu allevato in Tirinta Città in Marea vicina ad Ar¬  go , e però fu detto Tirinzto . Intenta per ciò la ge¬  losa Giunone a vendicarsi delP infedeltà di Giove,  suscitò contro d* Ercole due serpenti ; ma egli li uc¬  cise valorosamente, benché fosse di tenera età,   (18) Bacco armato, d^ una lung^ asta , e seguito da  Ufi esercito d* Uomini e di Donne , corse intrepido nel*  VOriente,e soggiogò quVpaesi che allor tutti,si com¬  prendevano sotto il nome d* India . Essendo quelV asta  così acuta, che imitava la conica figurai del Pino, fu  detta dagli antichi Poeti il Tirso , giacché Thirza ià  lingua ebraica nuW altro significa, se non se un ramo  di Pino^ •Intrecciavano le Baccanti sul tirso V uve e  i pampini cotk P edera p perché Bacco insegnò affli  Qoanto fosti mai grande allor che i tuoi  Tirsi dovè temer l’India domata!'   E tu prode Garzon sotto gli auspiej (ly)  Del Padre , Tarmi tratterai vincendo.  Sotto un nome sì chiaro aver tu dei  I primi erudì menti, e come il Prence (ao)   uomini la maniera di coltivar la vite . Alcuni Eruditi  poi fChe ricercan la moralità nelle favole ^ pretendono  che dipìngasi sempre giovine questo divino coltivator  della vigna ^perche gli uomini si rendon col vino in  lor vecchiezza amorosi e lascivi , come lo furono in  gioventù ,. Mons„ de Lavaur con molti altri , i quali  hanno^ attentamente 'considerato le imprese di Bacco  e l* etimologia stessa del Tirso, porta verisimilmente  opinione y che sia questa favola tratta in origine da  que^libri della sacra Scrittura, che parlano di Mosè.  e di JVoè,   (19) Si rivolge il Poeta a Cajo,che fu adottatò   figlio da Cesare Augusto.   Romolo dalle tre Tribù, nelle quali aveva di^   stribaito il popolo romano y raccolse per ciascheduna  cento uomini, che fer nascita , per ricchezze, e per  altri pregi ^^^no i più riguardevoli. Furono questi  chiamati Cavalieri y perchè trascélse quésoli , che fes¬  ser meritevoli d* un Cavallo , su cui dovean combat¬  tere in difesa di lui ; e si distribuirono in tre Ceti*  turie, che conservando il nome delle Tribù, dov*erano  sfate raccolte, si chiamavano é/e^Rammensi da Romo¬  lo , dei Tasienzi da Tazio Re dé Sabini, e dei Lace¬  ri Lucomone JRe d'Etruria , che fu , come dicono.,  il fondatore della Città di Lueca . Da Tarquinio  Prisco, e da Servio Tullio vennero in seguito accresciati di numero y senza mutar però il nome di Cen*  iurte ; esercitarono poi varie luminose incombenze ; e  JU'denominato il loro ordine Senatus Seminarium,  perchè in esso scieglievansi i Senatori • i 5 . Lu*   Jglio facevano i Cavalieri ogni anno splendidamente  in lor rassegna, mentre dal Tempio dell’Onore, che  era situato fuori della città , andavano al campìdo*   coronati d* ulivo , cinti d^ una purpurea veste det-      Or de’Giorani sei, sarai col tempo  L’oroamento miglior do'rccchj Padri.  Vendica ofFesi i tuoi fratelli, e i dritti (ai)  Del Genitor sostieni : della Patria  £ Padre 6 Dlfensor Parcne ti cìnse;   Ed or che l’inimico i regni invola,   Cruccioso alla vendetta egli t’invita.  Scellerati di lor saran gli strali.   Pietà e Giustizia i tuoi vessilli, e Parrni  Della causa miglior sostenitrici.   ' ta trabea, t assisi sopra i loro cavalli . 0 §ni cinque  anni poi appena giunti al Campidoglio , scendevano  da Cavallo , e presolo per mano lo guidavano avanti  al Censore ivi assiso sopra una sedia curale ; ed egli  comandava di ritenere il Cavallo , se bene aveva il  Cavaliero adempiuto a* suoi doveri ^e di venderlo , se  aveva malamente eseguito le sue incombenze. Leg^  geva il Censore in tale occasione il catalogo de^ Cavalieri yC si chiamava il Principe de* Giovani o della  Gioventù quello che era da lui nominato il primo ; e  ciò non perchè fossero attualmente tutti gióvani , ma  perchè lo fàrono nella prima istituzione^ e perchè Veta  giovanile si estendeva pressò i Romani fino a qua¬  rantacinque anni.   Principe de’Senatori o del Senato ne*primi tempi del¬  la Repubblica si chiamava quello che il primo tra*Sena-  tori viventi era stdto Censorey poi quel che dal Censore  fosse stato nominato ili primo nel leggere il catalogo  d^ Senatori y e nell\ anno dalla fondazione di   Roma quel , che dal Censore era riputato degnissimo.   (al) Pompeo y domato il Re Tigrane y costrinse gli  Armeni a ricevere da* Romani in segno di servitù i  Rettori. Si liberarono essi da un tal giogo y ma Cajo  li obbligò nuovamente a soffrirlo , e vendicò in tal  guisa i dritti d*Augusto y che dal Senato e dal Po^  polo romano fu per mezzo di Valerio onorato del lu¬  minoso titolo di Padre della pAt<‘ia, ^   (^a) I Parti tentavano di farsi padroni delV Ar-  mersia  Ora il mio Duce alle latine aggiunga  L*eoe ricchezze. E voi j Cesare e Marte,  Entrambe Padri soccorrete il Figlio,   Che in difesa di Roma espon sua vita;  Come già Marte^or tu, Cesar, sei nunie Ecco raugurio mio; tu vìncerai;   Sciorrò co’ carmi allora il voto ; degno*   Tu allor fatto sarai d’alto poema.   Porrai le squadre in ordinanza, e all’ armi  Co’ versi miei 1 ’ esorterai : tenaci  Di me nel tuo pensiero i detti imprimi.  11 petto forte de’ Romani, il tergo (24)   Io canterò de’ Parti , e l’inimico  Telo, che vibran dal cavallo in fuga.  Mentre tu fuggi, o Parto , e cosa al vinto,  Oude sia vincitor, tu lasci ? Il tuo  .Marte recò finora infausto augurio.  Dunque quel dì verrà, Cesare, in cui  Tu di natura la piò amabìl opra  Di lucìd’ oro adorno andrai tirato  Da quattro^ candidissimi cavalli ?   Or mal sicuri nella fuga i Regi  Partici andranno innanzi , il collo carco  Dì pesante catena • Insiem confusi  Giovani lieti e tenere Donzelle,   D* un’insòlita gioja il cor ripieno,   Mireran lo spettacolo gradito. "   Se una di quelle a te richiegga i nomi  Di que’ Re, di que’ monti, di que’ fiumi,    (a3) Fu Cesare Augusto ascritto in aita fra i Dei ,  $d ebbe perciò onori diHni. ’   (a4) Avevano i Parti in ' costume di guerreggiar  fuggendo , ed anzi si rendevano formidàbili , mentre  ^ibravan le lor saette^ da wjt cavalle rivoltp in fuga.  Di que* paesi 9 a tatto ciò' rispóndi;   £ non richiesto ancora il; tutto narra,   E le cose puf anco a te mal note.   Cinto di canna il crin l’Eufrate è questo, (aS)  11 Tigri è quel colla cerulea chioma.   Ecco gli Armeni^, e Perside che tragge (a6)  Da Perseo il nome suo ; nell’ achemenie  Valli questa Città si giacque . Il nome  Dirai di questi e di que’Re, se il sai,   O almen 1 ’ adatta . L’imbandite mense  Facile danno ed i conviti accesso,   Ove da far contenti i tuoi desiri  V’ è cosa anc’ oltre i vini : ivi sovente  Calcò di Bacco l’orgogliose corna  Con le tenere mani il bel Cupido,   Di cui se intrise sien 1 ’ ali nel vino  Più non puote fuggir : grave s^ asside;   Tu umide penne , è ver, veloce Scote.   Ma non vola per questo, anzi novelli  Desta incendj nelP alme, che dal vino  Sono disposte e rese atte al calore.   Ogni atra cura e molce e fuga il vino;  Allora il riso ha loco ; allor l’abietta  Mendica gente pure il capo innalza;  Fuggon le cure, il duci ; le crespe fronti  Vengono liete ; e la si rara in questi  Tempi semplicitade i più secreti  Pensier dell’alma svela, che il Dio Bacco   (a 5 ) UEufrate ed il Tigri, avendo , secondo Vo^  pinione d*alcuni, la lor sorgente nei Monti armenii  si prendono qui dal poeta per li principali fiumi del»  V Armenia,   (a6) Persìde è una famosa città , che vuoisi fab.-»  bracata da Perseo figlio di Danae nelle valli persiar  ne, dette achemtiiie dal Re Achemene Ogni mistero svela e l’arte infrange • (27)  De’ Giovanetti il cor ivi ben spesso  Rapiron le Fanciulle ; Amor nel vino  Fu foco a foco unito • Ma non troppo  A lucerna ti fida ingannatrice;   Mal nella notte , e fra i bicchier ricolmi  Della beltade si può far giudizio.   Allo splendor del giorno, a cielo aperto  Paride rimirò le Dive allora  Che alla Madre d* Amor disse : tu vinci  L’ una e 1 ’ altra in beltà , Venere bella.   S’ asconde nella notte ogni difetto;   Ad ogni vizio si perdona , e allora  Ogni donna sembrare alPuom può bella;  Consulta il di guai gemme e quali lane,  Tinte di tìria porpora, sien atte  A fsLjp bella la faccia e il corpo ^ Come  Io delle Donne numerare il ceto  Di non ardua conquista ? E assai maggiore  Dell’ arene del mar . Come di veli  Di Baja. i lidi narrerò coperti.   E per calido zolfo acque fumanti?  Riportando talun ferito il petto  Da queir.onde, non son , ( come racconta  La fama ) dice , salutari ognora.   Ecco di Cinzia suburbana il tempio    Ì ayl Alludesi al pros^erhio latino in vino veritas.  Baja in Campania , o com'oggi dicesi in ter-^  ra di Lavoro i era un amenissimo Castello^ che con-  teneva entro di se degli ottimi bagni caldi, e alcuni  laghi in cui rrnvigavan gli antichi con diverse barche  variamente dipinte, sulle quali facevano ancora de^  gli allegri conviti.   Questa Dea, che si chiama Lucina in Cielo,  Eeate neW inferno, e Diana in terra , ha ancor fra      Silvestre» ed ecco ì conquistati Regni.  Perchè vergifte ella è » perchè ella in odio  Ave d’Amor gli 8tijali,.al popol diede»   £ mai sempre darà mille ferUè. ^   Fin qui Talia sopra ineguali rote( 3 o)  Come tu debba scer T amato oggetto»   E dove tender t’insegnò le reti.   Della tua Bella onde adescare il cére  Preparo or io delF arte opra speciale.  Uomini» voi chiunque » e donde siate,  Porgete al mio parlar docili menti»   E le promesse mie ptopizj udite. Tosto nell’ alma tua scenda la speme  Di conquistarle» e vincitor sarai;   gli altri nomi quello di Cinzia » perchè essa ed Apoi*  lo nacquer nelVIsola di Deio » ov^ è il Monte Cinto.  I popoli del Chersoneso » o com* ora chiamansi » della  Crimea » le immolavano gli ospiti ivi spinti dalle  tempeste, he femmine romane » dopo Vavere ottérsuto  ciò che htamavun co" voti, andavano a* d*Agosto   con le. faci ardenti in mano, e la corona eul capo\  al Tempio suhurbano di questa Dea situato in Arì^  eia. Quivi frequentemente i Sacerdoti succedevano gli  uni agli altri » mentre , non godevano di questa di*  gnità solamente gV ingenui, ma se la contrastavano  anche i servi e i fuggitivi in una guerra particola*  re » in cui chi riportava la vittoria , otteneva a un  tempo stesso il Sacerdozio » che apprezzavano come  un Kegno. Una tal Dea peraltro y quantunque sten*  desse dal cielo per godere del suo Pastorèllo Endi--  mione » fu sommamente gelosa della propria pudici*  zia, giacché trasformò in Cervo Atteone \ perchè osò  di guardarla quando era nuda in un bagno.   (3o) Talia è quella Musa » che presiede principale  mente a* Canti piacevoli e amorosi. Dice OVIDIO che  dia insegnò sopra inegnali rote ec. alludendo al diè  stico latino » il di cui Esametro ha » com* è noto ^ sA  piedi, e cinque il Pentametro^   Ma intanto tender dei T insidie : prima  Gli augelli taceran di primavera,   Le cicale in estate , e il can d^Arcadia  Incontro a lepre prenderà la fuga,   Che dolcemente Femmina tentata  A Giovine resista ; e quella ancora  Tu vincerai, che ti parrà ritrosa.   Come il piacer furtivo è grato alF Uomo,  £ grato alla Donzella . Asconde questa  Le brame sue, T nomo le cela invano;   Ma se tu possa* vincerla una volta,  Preverrà con le sue le tue preghiere.   Ne’ molli prati al suo Torello accanto  La giovenca muggisce ; e la Cavalla  Col suo nitrir fa lusinghiero invito  Al cornipede maschio . In noi pkt forti^  Ma non però cosi furiosi, sono  Gli stimoli d’ amor i lodevol fine  Ha la fiamma delP Uomo. A che di Biblì ( 3 i)  Ricorderò, che d’ un vietato amore  Arse pel suo Fratello , e pon un laccio  Vendicò da se stessa il suo misfatto?   Non, come Figlia dee,Mirra amò il Padre,( 3 a^   (3i) BiUi nata da Mileto e dalla Ninfa. Gianczf ,  amò perdutamente Canno suo fratello. Siccome non  Ve riuscì di renderlo à sitò riguardo amoroso ^ si die  in preda a un pianto così dirotto ( se si presti je e  al libro IX. delle Metamorfosi ) che fu convertita  VI un fonte yo( se si crede al libro presente ) si prò--  curò ella etessa con un laccio la morte.   (3a) Avendo Mirra concepito un immenso amore per  Cinìra suo padre , gli fu posta in letto da  me nutrice in luogo della consorte. Accortosi Cinira  del fallo , tentò di uccìderla } ma essa fuggì  bay ove fu cangiata in albero , e diede alla luce il  bellissimo Adone , che fU V ‘unico frutto d un st fu  nesto incestuoso accoppiamento. E oppressa ora si cela in chiasa scorza:  Delle lagrime poi, che dal suo tronco  Odoroso essa elice ^ ungiam le membra. Che s^ban quteste stille il primo nome,  Del frondos’Ida nelVombròse valli.  Era forse la gloria e la delizia  Deir armento un Torel candido , solo  Negro segnale avea fra corno e corno:  Una sol f^u la maccbìa, e latteo il resto.  Questo bramaron sostener sul tergo  Le giovenche ginosie e di Canea. Oodea di farsi adultera Pasifae (34)   Del Toro., e'nel ano ooj geloso sdegno  Nutria contro le amabili giovenche:   Io cose note canto; e ciò non punte  Creta negar, quantunque siai*iqendace.  Creta, cui son cpnto Città soggette.   Con r inesperta man ; Pasifae ali Totro  Dicesi recideste or verdi frondey S 1  Or r erbe tenerissime de’ prati.2  Erra compagna dèli’st>nentOì,;e invano-  Del maiitoy pensier T arresta j vinto.   Era Minos da-un hove ^ A rche* tu vesti, .  Donna , preziose spoglie ? Il tuo Diletto  Mà è un mont 0 ^ Creta ; nè deéù qui còn^  fondere cpl Monta, Ida^ pqiaao , ope seguii la famgsa  lite fra Venere y Pallade e Óit^none.   (34) Sdegnata Venere contro il Sole y perchè Vavea  fatta sorprèndete da^*Numi det letto con Marte ffe*  à che Pasifae figlia del .medesimo , e moglie di Mi-»  nos Re di Creta, ^ innamorasse ardentemente d* un  Toro. Essendosi questa racchiusa in una Giovenca di  legno coitmtta da Dedìdà y si congiunse col Toro  diletto, e diede al Sole, in nipote il celebre Minotaio-  To , che fu ucciso da Teseo nel famoso làbcrkito»   Di tai ricchezze non conósce il pregio.  Mentre vai di montano armento io traccia,  A che giova lo specchio , a che le chiome.  Lassa, adornar si spesso ? Ah I presta fede  Pare allo specchio 4 che bovina forma  Ti nega ; invan veder sulla tua fronte  Desideri le cornac Se ti piace  ' Minos, a che un adultero ricerchi P  E se brami ingannarlo , a ché noi fai  Con un Uomo? Per boschi e per foreste  Oià la Regina , il talamo lasciato, ^  Vanne quasi fiaccante , a cui furore  Spiri P aonio Dio . Oh quante volte  La giovènca «rivai con volto iniquo  Mirò, e fra se, perchè tu piaci, disse,  Al mio Signor ? Ve^com^* in facciala lai*  Scherza sull’erbe tenere , ed esulta,,   E tài fóIlié/-non dubito non credai ^   Per lei decenti : mentre in suo pensiero:  Volge tai còse , ordina che sia tolta* ^ •   Dal gregge immenso , è immeritevol venga  Al curvo giogo strascinata, o vuole  Di snperstizion sacrai * fra-l’are • •   Vittima cada;!e nella fi^ta dtwtr^ Gode tener .le.:.viscero fumanti — -Dell’uccisa rivai. AHI quante voke ?  Gon le uccise rivaV placando i NUìiii, ^  Disse, tenendo'visceri\-'piacete '   Al mio Dilettov e quante volte ancora  Chiese in Europa èsserconversa e in Io, (35)    (35) Europa figlia di Agenorg Re di Fenicia , ^  éorella di Cadmo , era dotata di^ sorprendente^ bellez¬  za. Aree Giòvo per Ui. di un amore così violento,  aS   Che questa è una Giovenca, e quella ìMotso'  Premè d’ un Bovo . Fè le strane voglie  Paghe Pasifae ascosa in lignea vacca,   Onde il parto alla luce uscì biforme.   Se sapeva piacere ad un sol uomo^ (36)   E foggia di Tieste il turpe amore  D’ Atreo la Sposa, non avrebbe Febo  Il cammino sospeso in mezzo al corso,   E rivoltato il carro, i suoi destrieri  Mossi incontroairAurora. Anco la Figlia,( 37 )  Che i purpurei capelli involò a Niso,  Coprì del corpo suo le parti estreme  Con la sembianza de’ rabbiosi cani.    thè trasformatosi in Toro, la portò sul suo dorso in  quella parte di Mondo , che dal nome della medesu  ma si chiama Europa.   Io y o Iside fu , come Si è detto al numerò ii.  epnoertita dallo stesso Giove in una Giovenca.   (36) Erope moglie d* Atreo giacque con Tieste fra^  tello del medesimo, e nacquer da essi due figlj, che  avendo Atreo dati a mangiare al lor padre medesimo  in un convito, il Sole per celare un tanto misfattò  tornò indietro , e corse incontro aWAurora. Scilla, figlia di Niso Re di Megara s^ inva^  ghì di Minos Re di Creta , che le assediava la pa^*  trìa, e a lui recò il purpureo capello del padre,  dal qual dipendevano i fati di quella Città. Essa fu  jj^i disprezzata harharamente dalV ingrato Minos , e  fu , secondo le metamorfosi, cangiata in uccello. Vi  fu però un^altra Scilla figlia di Eorci , la quale ,  avendo bevuto un^acqua per lei avvelenata da Circe ,  venne subito trasformata in un mostro, la di ciS  parte inferire era simile a quella di un Cane. Con-^  eepì la medesima tanto orror di sé stessa , che si get>»  tò in un golfo del mar di Sicilia , che ha preso da  ^ella il suo nome» Ovidio ha qui confuso fseste due  Il Figliuolo d^Atieo, che in terra e in mare (SU)  Di Marte e di Nettuno evitò V ira.   Cadde vìttima poi della Consorte.   Chi di Creusa sull’inìqua hamma (Sq)  Non sparse il pianto, e sulla Strage orrenda  Che fe* de’proprj figli un* empia Madre ?  Frivo degli occhi pur pianse Fenicio, (4o)  E voi, oarallì spaventati, il vostro ( 4 i)    (38) Agamennone è veramente figlio di Filistene ,  ma da Ornerò^ e da tutti gli antichi poeti gli vien dato  per padre Aireo suo aco come un personaggio più  celebre» Fu dichiarato Agamennone per le sue mira^  bili imprese il Re deTle di Grecia, e per tradimento  di Clìtennestra sua moglie ucciso da Egisto , dal  quale era ella amata impudicamente,   ( 39 ) Giasone j abbandonata Medea, sposò Creusa  figlia di Creonte Re di Corinto, Medea per vendicarsi  di tafe infedeltà , f^ strage di due teneri fanciulli  nati da lei 4 da Giasone, e ridusse con fuoco ariifi-  doso in cenere ì* infelice Creusa e tutta la famiglia  e la Reggia di Cleonte,   (40) Furono tratti gli occhi a Fenicio figliuol d^A^  mintore, perchè una concubina del padre Vaccusò  falsamente d'acerle tolto Vonore, Ricuperò egli la vi¬  sta per i farmaci a lui apprestati da Chirone , il qual  gli die poi in custodia il giovine Achille, con cui  andò aWassedio d,i Troja,   (41) Ippolito figlio di Teseo disprezzo Vamorosa  corrispondenza che gli esibì Fedra sua matrigna, Sde¬  gnata ella fieramene di ciò , disse al padre , che le  aveva il medesima insidiato V onestà ^ e Teseo lo ab¬  bandonò al furor di Nettuno, Essendo per ciò com¬  parso un orribil mostro marino^ mentre Ippolito se ne  andava sul suo, carro lungo la spiaggia del mare , i  cavalli per lo spavento preser la fuga, marciarono  il legno in pezzi ^ e trucidarono miseramente il lor  Cgxìdottii^o, >   Condottier tracidaste.E perchè» o Pinco, (42)  Gli occhi tu togli agPinnpcenti figlj ?   Ah che la atessa ^eaa. il tuo delitto  Un dì vendicherà. Tali infortunj  ^ Da uno sfrenato aq^or trasse sorgente  Delle lubriche donpe . Ornai t’ affretta,   £ non temer di ritrovar contrasto  Nelle Donzelle ; appena, una fra molte  * Ne incontreraiepe. a te neghi vittoria.  E r indulgènti e, le ritrose pure  lì Goì^qu esser pregata; pna ripulsa  I Non ti spaventi ^ è questa ingannatrice.  iMa perchè ingannatrice Y ognor pip grata  INuova per esse voluttà riesce.   |E l’alma loro adescan facilmente  |l novelli amatori ..'Il vici^ campp  Ci sembra più .ijber^^so ,^0 il gregge altrui     ^-,*• /• -   Vedi che a parte sia della Padroni    I    )    Ov, Arte (Tarn. b    (4a) Fineo figlimi Agenore Re Arcadia yO co¬  me ad altri piaqe, di Tracia , o di Paflagonia y spo¬  sò Cleopafi^a figlia di Bqrea, e‘. n*ehbe due figli.  O sia che questa morissero che fosse da lui ripudia¬  ta y prese il medesimo in moglie Arpài ice , e cornane  dò , che fossero ioltìr gli occhi a* due figlj della sua  prima eoniorte, perché temè che aiiesjser avuto un il¬  lecito commercio con Ija novella sua sposa. Fu da  Borea vendicata V innocenza do* nipoti con Vacciecof-  mento di Fineo , e Giunone e Nettuno gli mandaro¬  no sulle mense le Arpie y che a lui macchiavano tur¬  pemente quelle ‘ vivandé y che non mangiavano essa  stesse De’ nascosti consiglj, e de’ piaceri  Suoi più segreti. Con promesse e prieghi  Corrompi la sua fi; tutto otterrai,   Quand’ ella voglia, e non ti sia contraria,  Dalla facil. tua Bella • Il tèmpo scelga.  Come i Medici sogliono , propìzio.   Onde il tuo amor nel dodi cor le infonda.  Ella il tuo amor le infonderà nel core,  Quando per lieti eventi andrà giuliva  Come lussureggiare in pìngue campo '  Suole la biada. Quando r alma è scarca  Dalle pallide cure , e lieta esulta.   Si spande allora , e dà facile accesso  ÀH’arti lusinghevoli d’amore.   Mentre fra i neri affanni involta visse "  Troja , con V armi si difese ; e lieta (43)   Il cavai di soldati e insìdie pieno  Àccolèe entro le mòra. Ancor si tenti,   £ non rimanga inyendicata , quando  Si dorrà , chè riceve ingiuria e scorno  Dall* impudica Amante del Marito.   La punga a sdegno la fedele Ancella,  Quando col pettin mattutin compone  Gl* indocili capelli, ed alle vele.   L’ ajuto aggiùnga anco de’ remi, e dica,  Sospir seco tràehdo, in bassa vocè:   Tu noli potrai, cred’io » come si merta.  Rendergli la pariglia. Allor le parli  Di te con detti insinuanti , e.giuri  Che tu brugi per lei d’immenso amore.  Mentre il tempo è propizio , ella s’ affretti   ( 43 ) Alludesi al cavallo di Ugno ^cht il perfido  Sinone introdusse pien di soldati in Troja , quando  tra assediata da* Greci» Virgilio Endde IÀh»lÌ»v»  Che non cadan le vele, e cessi il vento.  Come sì scioglie il gel, V ira , indugiando^  Si dilegua così. Forse mi chiedi.   Se la servente innamorar ti giovi ?   Tai cose ammesse, il rischio é manifesto^  Una rende V amor più diligente,   L’ altra più tarda e meno attenta : questa  Alla Padrona sua ti serba in dono,   Quella a se stessa • esito dipende  Dalla fortuna, che quantunque arrichì  Agli audaci ^ a te do fedel consiglio.   Che d’ un’ impresa tal lasci il pensiero.  Non per scoscese perigliose strade  Andrò, nè, duce me, verrà ingannato  Alcun Giovine amante * Ma se poi,  Mentre riceve e assiduamente porta  L’innamorate cifrerà te non solo  Per la sua fedeltà piaccia, com’ anco  Per la beltà del corpo ; allor procura  Della Padrona in pria il possesso, e ch’indi  Questa la segua: l’amoroso gaudio  Non dall’ Ancella incominciar tu dei*   Se all’arte mia si crede, e i detti miei  Non portano pel mar rapaci i venti,  Questo consìglio mìo nell’alma imprimi:  Non mai tentar 9 se non compisci l’opra»  Se a parte ella verrà del tuo delitto.   Non la temere accusatrìce • Invano  Invischiato l’angel tenta la fuga.   Nè riesce già uscir dalle allentate  Reti al cinghiale • Il pesce all’ amo colto  Si scota invano ; tu la premi e assedia.   Nè la lasciar , se vincitor non sei.   Se a una colpa comune ella soggiace, Non temer tradimenti ; a te saranno  Note della Padrona opre e parole.   Se cauto celerai 1’ accusatrice.   Sempre, contezza avrai della tua Amica.  Folle è colui che in suo pensier si crede  òhe sol debban del cielo osservar gli astri  Della terra il cultore ed i nocchieri.   Non a’ campi fallaci ognor sì debbe  Cerere abbandonar, nè alle tranquille*^  Cerulee onde del mar la curva prora.   Ah 1 che non sempre assicurar ti puoi  Il cor di vincer delle Belle; spesso  Ciò s’otterrà, se il tempo sìa propìzio.   Se deir Amica il natalizio giorno (44)   (44) Era presso gli Antichi in gran venerazione il  giorno natalizio : e gli Amanti celebravano ‘ con feste  e con doni quello^ in cui eran nate le Donne che ama^  vano . Si dee preferir certamente questa lieta costui  manza a quella che hanno adottato i Messicani e i  Cinesi, i quali riguardano un tal giorno come infausto  e doloroso . Alcuni di essi invece di ricevere con ac¬  clamazioni di gioja la nascita d^ un figlio , gli rispon¬  dono ai suoi primi singulti , mio figlio tu sei venuto  al mondo per soffrire \ soffri ^ e t’acquieta . Si fab-  hrican altri di buon^ ora la tomba, e vanno ogni  giorno a renderle omaggio come al termine consola¬  tor é d^.lor giorni . Non poco influisce, a dir vero, un  tal uso a fomentare il barbaro costume d^ uccidere i  proprp figli in un popola ^ il guala non gli Ottimi suoi  libri classici illustrati dall* immortai Confueio e con  le savissime leggi, su cui ha stabilito il suo pacifico  Impero, cerca di rendersi virtuoso ed illuminato.   Èra presso i Romani nel suo pieno vigore P uso  delle visite e de* doni nel principio dell* anno, il qua-  le incominciava anticamente col mese di Marzo , le  di cui Colende eran consacrate al Dio Marte . Cele-  hravand in Roma nel primo giorno d*un tal mese  alcune feste dette matronali in memoria della pace Ricorra , o le Calende che seguito  Abbiaa quelle di Marte, a Vener piace,   O sia che il Circo sì rimiri adorno, (45)  Non come in altre età, di statue lievi.   Ma per le spoglie ivi de i Re deposte,   L’ opra differirai : sovrasta allora  Con le piovose Plejadi P inverno;   Allor nella marina onda s’immerge  Il Capro tenerello ; allora giova  Deporre ogni pensier . Chi al mar s’afSda  Del lacero naviglio appena puote  1 miseri campar naufraghi avanzi.   Tu se in quel dì incominci , in cui si vide    che le Sabine avevano appunto in tal di stabilita fra  i loro SpoH , ed i loro Padri , i quali volevano con  V armi vendicare il ratto delle medesime . Le persone  maritate avevano solamente diritto a queste feste /  ed OraT^io nell* Ode ottava del Libro III. si scusa,  perchè vi prende parte anch? egli , essendo celibe.   Siccome il mese d* Aprile è sacro a Venere , e suc^  cede a quello di Marzo dedicato a Marte , dice il  Poeta che Venere gode che abhian le sv^e Calende  seguito quelle di Marte per alludere alVamorosa cor^  rispondenza che ella aveva coi Dio della guerra . Le  Ihnne e le Matrone romane facevan nelle Calende  d*Aprile gran festa a questa lor Pea tutelare ; e gH  Amanti contribuivano alle medesime con le donazioni.  Non vuole il Poeta, che si studino i Giovani  per adescar le Donne nel lor giorno natalizio , nel  principio dell* anno , e in occasione de^trionfi celebrati  nel Circo , perchè essendo le medesime allora occupate  in adornarsi , incontrerebbono qiiP gravi pericoli , che  sono qui espressi con l* allegoria dell* Inverno , e con  quella delle Plejadi e del Capro , le quali stelle sorgon  sull* orizzonte nel mese d* Ottobre , che è un tempo  pieno di pioggia e di tempeste , e perciò non propizia  a* Naviganti.. Scorrer sanguigno umor la flébìl Allia Per le piaghe latine, o in quello in cui  Torna la festa settima, che è sacra  Al Palestin siriaco, e in cui s’ astiene  Ognun dalla fatica, avrai mai sempre  Culto superstizioso al di natale  Delia tua Bella ; pur funesto giorno  Sia quello , in cui tu offrir dono le debba;  Ma a te lo rapirà , se tu gliel nieghi,  Che a Femina mancar non puote 1’ arte  Per carpir le ricchezze a Giovin caldo.  Del Mercante il Garzon verrà discinto  Alla vogliosa ed avida Padrona,   E porrà le sue metti in vaga mostra,  Mentre tu giungi, e al fianco suo t’assidi.  Essa ti pregherà, che tu le osservi  Per additarne il prezzo ^ e liberale  Ti sarà di preghiere e ancor di baci,  Perchè le compri , e giurerà contenta  D’ esserne per molt’ anni , e che non puoi  Comprarle cosa che le sia più accetta.   Se poi ti scusi che non hai denaro,   Ti chiederà il tuo nome , e turpe fia  Per scusa addur , che tu firmar noi sai.  Rinasce poi, quando le fa bisogno,   (46) A ih. Agosto ebbero i Romani una sconfitta  da* Galli sul fiume Allia non lontano da Roma , onde  come infausto e di pessimo nome fu condannato un  tal giorno . Crede il Poeta , che debbano i Giovani  onorare il dì natalizio delle lor Belle , e vuole che  intraprendano V amorose loro conquiste 0 in que* ma--  linconici tempi qui figurati sotto il giorno alliense,  CUI aman le Donne d* esser rallegrate, o in que^giorni  festivi simili a* sabbati giudaici , ne* quali non è alle  medesime permesso 4 * occuparsi in alcun lavoro. Che dell* offerte natalizie il giorno  Rìeda y e di pianto sa bagnare il volto  Per la supposta perdita di pietra.   Che le ornava 1’ orecchio . D* altre cose  L’ uso ti chiedrà , che date poi  Renderle nega ; tu le perdi , e invano  Speri per ciò che grata ti si mostri.   No , quando avessi dieci lìngue e dieci  Bocche , io già non potrei dell’ impudiche  Donne n^^rare le sacrìleghe arti,  li guado tenti un ben vergato foglio;   E della mente tua la prima volta  Sia nunzio ; le carezze, e le parole,   Che imitino il linguaggio d’ un Aliante  Rechi , e fervide aggiungi anco preghiere.  Donò da’prieghi mosso a PriamoAchille (4?)  Di Ettor l’esangue spoglia; e Iddio sdegnato  A voci supplichevoli si piega. .   Prometti pur , che nuocer già non ponno  Mai le prorjaesse ; ognun può farai ricco  Con semplici parole. La speraD 2 $a  Data una volta , lungo tempo dura:   C' inganna , è ver , ma Diva utile è a noi.  Se liberal con lei fosti di doni,   Avrà ragion d* abbandonarti ; quello,   Che già le desti, è suo , nò può timore  Di perdita nutrir . Ognor tu devi    (47) Achille dc^ aper ttraseinato tre volte intorno  alle mura di Troja il corpo d* Ettore da lui ucciso  alV assedio di quella Città y lo rese finalmente y 0 a dir  meglio , lo vendè\ a- ^Priamo Padre del, medesimOy che  prostrato a* suoi pièdi > lo pregava di ciò caldamente^  Exanimumaue amo oorpns vendebat Achillea.   1 Virgil Finger di dar quel che non desti; spesso  Fu deluso così di steril campo  II credulo Padron • Così, perdendo  A perder segue il giocator, nè lascia  Per questo il gioco ; e il lusinghiero dado  Nelle cupide mani agita ognora.   Questa è Tiinpresa, e qui il Valore è posto;  Ascolta ; senza doni il suo cor tenta  La prima-volta, ancor che ì doni apprezzi;  Se lor liberal ti sia, 8«^rallo Ognora.   Vada dunque il tuo foglio , ma vergato  Con detti lusinghieri ; della Bella  La mente esplori ,*e primo il caihmin tenti.  Cidippe ingannò un pomo, in bui rincue(48)  Note leggendo, fu di queste preda.   O Giovani romani , io vel consiglio.   Deh coltivate le bell’ arti ; solo  Non utili Saran per la difesa '   De^ paurosi Rei ; ma dalla forza  Del facondo parlar, vinta la mano  A voi daran col Giudice severo.   Con lo scelto Senato , e ilPopol folto  Ancor le culte amabili Donzelle.    (48) Da Zea una delle Isole Clclàdì andò Acanzio  in Deio per assistere a* sacrifici di- Diana , che là si  celebravano splendidamente. Ivi ei concepì uìà^ immenso  amore per Cidippe, ma non ardiva di chiederla in is-  posa . Stette molto tempo dubbioso nello scegliere lin  mezzo per appagare la sua passione ^ ma in lui ces^  sarono i dubbj quando intese che vigeva in Deio una  legge , per cui restava concluso tutto ciò che si diceva  nel tempio di Diana ; è però gettò a* jùedi della sita  Bella un pomo y in cui erano scritti i versi seguenti*  Juro tibi sane per mystica sacra Dianae  He Ubi venturam comitem sponsamque futuram: Ascosa V arte resti, e da principio  Non sii eloquente. Da’vergati, foglj  Vadan lungi parole aspre e ricerche.   Chi mai, se non. di senno affatto privo»   In tuono volgerà declamatorio . < ;   Alla tenera Amica il suo discorso?   Oh quante volte fu giusta cagione  Di grave sdegno un foglio ! 1 detti tuoi  Meritin fede , e adopra usati accenti»   Ma sempre, lusinghieri » onde l,e sembri^   D’udirti ragionare . Se ricusa, •.   Di ricevere il foglio , e sena’ averlo , .   Letto a te lo rimandi » |a speranza  Però non t’abbandoni » e ,il mio consiglio ,  Serba in memoria , II. collo al giogo piega  Il Giovenco difficile col tempo»   E a soffrir s’ammaestra il lento freno  Col tempo anco il Cavallo. Un ferjreo anello  Dal cootinao nso si consuma » e il vomere*  Dal continuo rivolgere la terra  Che del sasso è più duro? e che più molle '  Avvi dell’ onda ? eppure il duco sasso  Dall’ onda molle vieu scavato . Ancora»   Se sii costante» vincerai col tempo  Penelope med^sma : » A vero» ,,   Caddero al suolo le trojatie.^muri^»   Ma pur caddero alfin 1 ìtiglj tuoi ,   Leggerà anch’ oasa » e non darà risposta»   Cui tu non debbi violentarla : solo  Fa che ognor legga lusinghieri accenti»   £ di risposta alba sarà cortese  A ciò che l^sse ; a gradi e con misura  Succedefansi questi ufficj ; Forse /   Verrà da. prima A tc foglio dolente»,   à a    Digitized by “Google     34   Con cui ti pregherà, che r amoroso  Linguaggio cessi ; nia desia il contrario  Entro il suo core, e vuol che tu prosegua.  Continua danque;e alfin resi contenti  Saranno ì voti tuoi . Quando supina  Vien trasportata sulle molli piume.  Fingendo indifferenza, ti presenta  Della Padrona alla lettiga ; e canto,   E in cifre ambigue quanto puoi favella.  Onde qualchfe importuno udir non possa  Il vostro ragionar 7 Sé’ volge il piede  Negli spaziosi portici , tu quivi  Trattienti fin eh* ella^ vi fa dimora.   Or la precedi ed or la segui a tergo:   Or lento movi il passo , ed or t* affretta.  Nè d^ inoltrarti iU ntezzb alle colonne  Abbi rossor, nè di sederle al fianco.   Non ne’ Teatri senza te si trovi,   E segnai póVti al teigo , onde la vegga.  Giacch* ivi il puoi, contemplala , e le dici  Quanto brami co’segni è con lo sguardo.  Alla saltante applaudisci l e sii  Favoirevole a quei che rappresenta  Personaggio amoroso . S* ella sorge,   Sorgi ; e ti assidi pur, s’ ella s’assida;   £ a suo ^piacere il tèmpo tuo consuma.   Ma non volere innanelìare il crine  Coiì’càldo ferro, e con lUordacè pomice '  Stropicciarti le gambe ; il che tu lascia  A’molli Sacerdoti di Cibale. ( 49 )    ( 49 ) Oj9e , o Vesta , che ancor dicevi Rea yC la Dea  Buona, è Madre degli Dei, e si chiama Cibale ; per^  che nel monte Gibele dU Frigia U furono la prima  Beltà negletta agli uomini conviene:   Vinse Teseo; Afianna » e la rapio  Disa.doroo le<t;onipie , il cria scompQsto;( So)  Arse pe}*:FiglÌQ:Fe.drtt., ed era incolto;  Cura e deli^^ia. della Dea ;d’. Amore .   Fu Adon ,:che fra le selve i di traeva.  S’ann^grin pur le membra al marzio Campo,  Ma si^o monde, e monda sia la ve8te.(Si)  Aspra non sia la lingua, e netti sieno.i  Dalla lug^e i denti; il mobil».piede . >  Non nuoti ih larga pollo ;^*ed ìne6perta    i>olta kelel^ati i sacrificj » T suoi Sacerdòti" éràtio ew.-  nuchi , e ogni giorno ,ger comparir moftdi , si raschia^  van membra, t   ( 5 o) Ari^nay figlia del Re Minos , s* innamorò per¬  dutamente di Teseo , che fu da* Greci mandato con al-  tri giovani in Creta per esser divorato dal Ii/Iinotauro~,  Etsa gV insegnò la maniera d*'uscir dal làbérinto quàn^  do avesse ucciso quel mostroe in compagnia di  dra sua sorella s*.iifcamminò con. VAmante^ che dpmato  il Minofauro y tornava in Grecia vittorioso . Teseo chi  nel viaggio orasi gik invaghito di Fedra ^ lasciò bar-'  Caramente in Nasso Arianna , .e andò con la sorella  Ì2i Atene sua patria . Ivi questa dioonne , come si è  detto, amante d*Ippplito nato da Tesele da Ippoli¬  ta Regina duello Amaz%oni.   Venere amò ardehtemente Adone ^figlio di Cinirq,  e di Mirra , quantunque vivesse continuamente né^ bos¬  chi intento a caccksre le fiere. Pianse ella amaramert’^  te perchè questo giovinetto fu ucciso da un cinghiale^  e nony avrebbe mai reso a Proserpina , se Giove non  comandava', che per otto mesi avesse Venere il posses¬  so d* Adone , e per gli altri quattro sei godesse Pro¬  serpina .   '( 5 i) Nel Campo martió d facevano in Roma al¬  cuni giochi, pe*quali i giocatori si snudavano intera¬  mente , « si dngevan le membra con degli unguenti,  che rendeano a* medesimi nera la pelle Forbice non ti renda il crin deforme t  Ma da maestra iuan^ ti sia recisa  E la chioma e la barba i $enza macchie  Sian r unghie, nè soverchinoi le dita;   Nelle concave nari non si scorga ^ ^   Alcun pelo; nè esali nn tris^to fiato* - '  La bocca; e il naso non rimanga olfeilO  „ Da che il fetido becco ognora sape^ '   A lasciva Fanciulla il resto lascia,   £ alla bardassa . Ma già Bacco òhiama  Il vate suo : soccorre ei pur gli amanti;   E, la fiamma che learde ei favorisce. „  Furente errava la creten.^ Ppnna (Sa)   Pcjr di Nasso ignota arena, .   Che flagellano ognor T onde dei mare»   Ella coperta con discinta veste  Come nel sonno , nudo il pjede e sciolte  Le crocee chiome, al sordo mar si volge;.  E bagnando di lagrime le gote,   Teseo chiamava in alto suòli : gridava,   E in un piangea la mìsera, ma in lei  Era tutto decente ; nè men bella  Fu di lagrime aspersa « di dolore.   Mentre di nuovo con le man fa ingiuria  Al delicato petto, a che fuggisti t  É cosa fia.di me, perfido? dice^   Di me che fia, ripete ; e intanto il lido  De* cìtnbali e de’timpani p^cossi'   Da un* attonita mano il suono assorda.   ( 5 2) Quando Arianna si vide aèhandonata nell*  sola di Dfasso^si diede in preda all* ultima dispera^  sùone . Bacco ivi accorso con le Baeeànti e Cón Sileno ,  sfio pedagogo, la prpse in sposa y e collocò la. di hi  chioma in Cieìp prenQ ad 4 rtur ^t \ v.t  Ca<l’ ella al suolo 4a timor sorpresa;   Le mbucaa le iparole ; e piik pon scorro  Per le;geliAe} oppresse membra il sangue.  S’ appreesan ile ^eoauti^ U<cfia disciulto^  Ed opQO;i liéyl 3iltiri soiio  Previa turbo del DiOi*;£coo sul dorso  D* uo< pasciuto asinel V ebrio Sileno  Carico d’ anoi.y^^che :si reggo appena,   E profiumo aspirare>i )brevi crini.   Meiìftr eglit seguei'le! Saeeanti, e queste  Lo cfaiadianp /oggende ; l’inesperto .  Cavaliere il qjUadrtipedo, suo si^za.   Deir aaiào orecchiuto al capo scorre,   E a terra cade : i Satiri griderò;   Sorgi V deh sorgi y o Padre . Intanto giunge  11 Dio ^ che d’ uva al carro adorno accoppia  Le tigri, a ouircoh le dorate briglie  11 freno regge, • Partì : Teseo , e insieme  D’ Arianna, fa voce ed il dolore.   Tentò tre volte di fuggir , ma invanoy  Chè il timor la trattenne, e inorridita  Tremò qUal steril spiga al vento,e com#  Leggiera canna in umida palude;   Allora il Dio le disse : * ogni timore,  Cretease 'Donna , dal tuo cer disgombra;  In me tu* vedi un più fedele amante;   Di Baceo anzi sarai la dolce sposa.   Tu spazierai nel ciel ; la tua corona  Lucida stella in ciel sarà di scorta  Air incerto Nocchiero in suo cammino.  Di^se , e dal carro scese, onde non debba  Seatir paura delle tigri, e il piede  Sulla docil arena impresse Torme.   Eapilla poscia, e se la strinse al seno>     Chè tentato avria id van forgi! contralto^  Mentre fonile a un Dio tutto si rende.   De’suoi segnacr imen cantd una parte,  L’altra ripetè in alto snon gli evviva.  Cosi al letto nuziale il 0io 4 la Sposa '  Furon guidati^ e s’annoSdaro insieme.  Quando tu sederai con donna a mensa,   E di Bacco a te offerti i doiii siedo, >   Tu a Bacco,èa‘*NunJi che^han fa cena in euri  Porgerai voti, onde (dal Vrn non venga  Offeso il capo ’ tuo ; Quivi* tu puoi ‘ ‘   Con ambigue parole a lèi far iloti’ " ;  I segreti del cor, ma per6^in modo '  Che ben s’ accorga esser a lei dirette.  Potrai tu ancor con gocmole di vino  Teneri accenti esporre, onde conosca,   Ch’ ella assolnto ha nel tuo core impero.  Co’ tuoi s’incontrin jgli oocbi suoi ,<ed il fòco  Che t’arde il sené , a lei foccian palese;  Parla talora col silenzio il volto.   Procura il primo di rapir la tazza.   In cni bevv’ ella , e dove i labbri impresse.  Bevi tn pur : qualunque il cibo sia  Bichieder dei, che tocco avrà col dito; *   E mentre il chiedi, a lei strìngi la mano.  Volgi i tuoi voti pure, onde tu piaccia  Della Bella, al Marito . Assai ti puoto *   Util recar, se a te sia fatto amìcoi  Se dai la legge al bere, a lui la mano Solevano i Rfìmarù appena posti a mensa eleg^,  gere il maestro della cena y che da Orazio {lib. i.od^  9. ) li chiama il Taliarco\ Prescriveva il medesimo  U leggi del convito e la manieM di^ becere y'e ordi^   Ce^i, e riponi dal tuo capo tolta  La corona sul suo. Sia a te inferiore,  Egual sia pur, si serva in tutto il primo;  E seconda parlando il suo linguaggio.   Col Telo d’amistà tessere inganno  È vìa sicura e frequentata , pure  Non è senza delitto. 11 Talìarco  Ancor che troppo generoso appresti  I moltiplici vini e le vivande;   £ benché creda di dover più assai  Veder di quel che fu ordinato, certa  Avrai nel ber da noi legge e misura.  Onde la mente e il piè si serbin atti  A’ loro ufficj : d’ evitar procura  Gli alterni detti e gV ingiuriosi accenti,   £ vìe più ancor se sien dal vin prodotti;  E troppo faeil non indur la mano    napa alle Polte Commensali che ognuno , bevuto il  suo bicchiere di pino, proponesse qualche amena que^  stione . Auguravansi spesso tanti anni quanti bicchieri  di vino bevevano, e spesso ne bevean tanti quante e-  ran le lettere che formapano il nome della Beliamo  deW Uomo insigne , a cui facevano un tale onore . Se  molti erano gli anrd augurati , o se molte erari le leU  tere componenti il nome della persona in onore di cui  heveano ; mescepano allora il vino in una tazza assai  grande , e compensavan così i molti bicchieri che apreb’^  ber doputo puotare . Era poi in uso al termine della  mensa il vibrare in aria con le due prime dita i semi  d* una mela fresca : si credepano fortunati in amore  quando toccapan con quelli il soffitto della camera  ov*era apparecchiata la tavola^ e si riputavano infe*  ìici quegli amanti , che non li facean sorgere a queU  V altezza, De^moÙi altri giochi ^ che i Romani usa^  vano in queste circostanze, non ne è a noi perve^  nuta che un* oscura notizia A perigliosa rissa. Al suol trafitto (54)  Euritone cadéo, perchè soverchio  Bebbe i vini apprestati. A* dolci scherzi  Atta è la mensa e il vìu: 8*hai bella voce^  Non ricusa cantar ; salta s’ hai molli  E pieghevoli braccia ; e finalmeute  S’hai doti onde piacer, piaci. La vera  Ebrietà nuoce ^ può giovar la finta.  Balbetti in tronco suon l’astuta lingua^  Onde di ciò che tu ragioni, o fai  Oltra ’l dovere , il vino sol s'incolpu  Augura alla Padrona ed al Marito  Una notte felice ; ma per questo  Fa tacito nel core opposto voto^   Tolta la mensa, allor che i Convitati  Saranno per partir, tra lor ti mischia ;   ( La turba e il loco ti daran T accesso )   A lei che fogge t’ avvicina, e il fianco  Le premi dolcemente , e il piè col piede •.  Abbia ora il conversar libero campo,   E tu lungi , o pudor rustico, vanne.   Che la fortuna e Venere propizj  Sono agli audaci. De’ precetti nostri  Or r eloquenza tua non abbisogna;  Principia pur che ben sarai facondo.  Imitare il linguaggio dell’ amante  Debbi , e mostrar d’ aver ferito il core;   E onde ti presti fede ogni arte adopra..  Ardua impresa non è 1’esser creduto.    {Sii^ ElurUone è quel Centauro^ che reso caldo dab  vino y tentò nelle nozze dì Piritoo di rapire Ippoda»^  mia : Teseo lo percosse perciò così fortemente , che fw  costretto y.come dice Ovidio nelle Metamorfosi, cu vo^  nàtar V anima e il vino Mentre Donna non v’ha, che sè non stìmi^  Sia, quanto imn^agìhar ài può, deforme.  Atta a piacer ; e aémprè inver non epiace.  Quante vòlte in^amor chi sol fingendo  Incominciò , d’ un vera amòr fu preda!  Siate indulgenti pur, vezzose Donne,   «Con questi menzogner, se voi bramate  Che in sincerò si cambi un falso amore.  Con accorte lusinghe ora si tenti  Di guadagnar le Belle, come Tacque  Sa penetrar la sottoposta riva.   Deh non t’incresca ora lodar la faccia,  Ora i capelli, i lunghi è ì rotondetti  Diti, ed il breve piè. Le più ritrose  E le più caste godono alle lodi  Della loro bellezza ; e son pur grate  ^T innocenti Vergini i anzi il primo  È la beltà d* ogni lor cura oggetto.   Percliè tuttora di rossor la faccia  Tingon Palla c Giunca volgendo iti mente  Le frigie selve ed il fatai giudìzio f (551  L’augel sacro a Gìunon le penne ostenta (56;  Se tu le lodi ; e le nasconde allora  Che tacito le miri» Anco il destriero.  Quando contrasta il rapido cammino.    (55) Péllade e Giunone ^vergognandosi d^essere stc^  te da Paride giudicate .met^ belle di Venere , tentare  Tono di ripagare una tate infamia col ^ procurare n  questa Dea vincitrice del Pomo tutti que*danni , eh%  sono resi ormai cèlebri' da' Virgilio e da Omero z   .... Manet i^ha Bueat# repo^tuiu'   Judicium Faridis spretaeqtte ipjuria fbrmae.   . i^rgiL Eneid.   (56) I Paooni ^(hrisi ^li at^elH di Giunone, pospr  che solcpano'essLHinàfe ibìqarroidi fonta Dea*,    Digitized by Google      4»   Gode vedersi il crine adorno , e il collo  Accarezzato. Franco pur prometti,   E tutti chiama in testimonio i Numi,  Che alle promesse pedon facilmente  Le tenere Donzelle. Su dal Paltò  D*un spergiuro amator Giove si ride,   £ comanda che sien per l’aria spersi  I giuramenti dagli eolii venti.   Solea per l’onda stigia a Giuno il falso  Giove giurar ; utile è un tale esempio.  Giova de^ Numi resistenza e giova  Che noi pur la crediamo ; incenso e vino  Lor su gli antichi focolari offriamo:   No, non è ver che una secura quiete!   A letargo simil gli occupi; i Numi  Veggon r opere nostre. Innocua vita  Si tragga adunque ; ad altri il suo si renda;  Sii religioso in consesrYar la fede,   Stia la frode lontana, ed abbi ognora  Vacua la dostra* dalle stragi. Solo  È permesso ingannar, se siete saggi,   Le donne impunemente. Abbi rossore  D’ogni altra frode pur , ma non di questa.  Le ingannatrici inganninsi, che sono  La maggior parte di profana stirpe;   Cadan ne* lacci , cbt^ da lor far tesi,  l^àrrasi che restasse un di l’Egitto ^  DelFacqua a* campi salntevol privo  Per ben nov*anni ; allor che al Re Busiri  Trasio si fece innante , e mostrò come  Possa Pira placar di Giove il sangue  D^un ospite; la vittima tù il primo  Sarai di Giove, a lui disse Busiri,   Ed ospite darai Pacqua all’ Egitto. Falarìde cosi nell’ infocato  Toro arder fè le membra di Perillo, ( 87 )   E T infelice autore il primo empiéo  L’opera sua. Fu 1’uno e l’altro giusto^   Nè vi puote esser mai legge più equa  Di quella y che a morir l’autor condanna  Del tormento inventato. La tradita  Donna si dolga che col proprio esempio  Spergiurando s’ingannan lé spergiuro  Meritamente. Utili a te saranno  Le lagrime; con queste anco il diamante  Ti ha dato ammollir. Fa , se lo puoi^   Che di pianto bagnate ella rimiri  Le guancie tue; se il pianto a te non scende,  Che non si versa sempre a grado nostro^  Tu con la mano inumidisci il cìglio.   Chi mai alle dolci parolette i baci  Saggio non mischierà ? S’ ella ricusa  Darli, tu li rapisci,In prima forse  Combatterà ; di scellerato il nome  Avrai da lei; ma pur ella desia  Pugnando che la vinca. Sìa tua cura,   Che da' rapiti baci i tenerelli  Labbri non sian offesi, o non si dolga  Che furon duri. Quei che i baci tolse.   Se il resto non procura, è degno invero  Di perder ciò che a lui fu dato. Quanto    (87) Perillo fabbricò un Toro di bronzo , e lo dor  nò a Falaride crudelissimo Tiranno de'Grigeati in  Si cilia , perchè collocandolo pieno di rei sopra il fuo*  co ) potesse intendere d^ lamenti simili a' muggiti  de'booì. Falaride accettò il dono y e volle che subito  w entrasse Perillo per incominciar da lui il proposto  esperimento»  Mancò a far paghi dopo i baci i voti!   Ciò non pador, rusticità s’appella.   Benché si chiami forza, è questa grata  Alle donzelle ) che amano sovente  Esser forzate a dar quello che giova.   1 piaceri d’amor, se sian rapiti,   Gode la Donna, e la franchezza ha il premio.  Ma quella che poteva esser forzata.   Ed intatta rimase, ancor che in volto  Mostri allegrezza, ha mesto in seno il core.  Soffrir violenza Febe e la sorella, (58)   Ma fu grato ad entrambe il rapitore.   La donzella di Sciro ìnsiem congiunta ( 59 )  Con l’emonio Guerrier, favola è invero  Nota , ma degna pur d’esser narrata.   Dopo la lite della valle Idea  Per la lodata sua bellezza il premio  Già la Diva avea dato. A Priamo giunta  Dall’ opposta regio Deaera la nuova,   E già viveva nell’ iliache mura  Come un’argiva sposa. I Greci”tutti    ( 58 ) Castore e Pollice rapirono le due sorelle Fe-  be e ilavra, che Leucippo padre delle medesime aoea  date in spose a Ida e Linceo,   (59) Venere per premio del Pomo da lei ottenuto,  promise a Paride Èlena moglie di Menelao ^ e Pa^  rìde la rapì , e la condusse in Troja sua Patria. Sia-  come i TVojani ricusarono di render Piena Greci ^  che la richiescr più volte, questi intrapresero contro  quelli un formidabU assedio. Tetide adendo inteso ,  che il suo figlio Achille sarebbe morto se andava al*  la guerra di Troja, per assicurargli la vita lo man¬  dò in abiti femminili a Licomede Re di Sciro. Ivi   s* innamorò perdutamente di Deidamia Princi*  possa reale, ed ebbe dalla medesima in figlio il ce*  Icóre Pirro. Deir offeso marito avean giurato  Di vendicar V oltraggio, e fero allora  D^'un sol uomo il dolor causa comune.  Se noi forzava^ le materne preci.   Eterna infamia coprirebbe Achille,  Perchè con lunga veste ascose Tuomo.   , Che fai, nipote d^Eaco ? Non sono  Atte a filar le mani tue la lana.   Con arte ben diversa ora tu dei  Volger la mente alla palladia gloria.   A che questi cestelli ? Il braccio tuo  Deve portar lo scudo; e in quella destra.  Per cui un giorno cadrà Ettore, io veggo  Or la conocchia ? Del filato stame  I fusi carchi getta , e Pasta impugna.   Un letto sol la Vergine reale  E Achille accolse ; ed ivi ella conobbe  Che di femmina avea solo la gonna.   Con la forza fa vìnta ; almen sì crede;  Soggiacere alla forza a lei fu dolce.  Quando soverchio s’affrettava Achille,  Che altr’armi avea che la deposta rocca.  Spesso gli disse : per pietà t’ arresta.  Qual valore or dov’è ? Perchè trattieni  Con lusinghiera supplichevol voce  Li’autore,o Deidamia,di tua sconfitta?  Di pudico rossor copre la gota.   Se dee la donna far la prima offerta,  lilla Tè grato il soffrirs*altri incomincia.  Ah I nella sua beltà troppo si fida  Quel giovine, che aspetta che primiera  Ella lo preghi. Deve sempre 1* uomo  Essere il primo ad accostarsi a lei;   Ju uom le sue preci esponga, e le sue r   Riceverà cortesemente. Fréga   Che ti voglia accordare il suo possesso;   Ella ha piacer d’ esser di ciò pregata.   Fa lor palese il tuo desio, che Giove  Supplichevol si fece ognora innanzi  AlF antiche Eroine, e non fanciulla  Offrì preghiere , benché grande , a Giove.  Ma se t’ accorgi che alle tue preghiere  Si fa vie più superba, allora l'opra  Abbandona, ed il piè rivolgi altrove.  Molte amano chi fugge ^ ed odian quello  Che troppo le frequenta; impara dunque  A non tediarle. Nè chi prega sempre  Dee del delitto palesar la speme,   Ma sotto il manto d’ amistà velato   insinui Amor. Con questo mezzo vidi  Deluse rimaner ritrose e fiere  Donzelle, e divenir T amico amante.   Non dee il nocchier, che le marine spume  Solca soggetto alla solare sferza,   Candido avere il volto , e pur disdice  Al cultore de* campi, chfe rivolge  Col vomer curvo , e con pesanti rastri  Le dure zolle , e per te turpe fia  Candide aver le membra , che il tuo crine  Cerchi adornare del palladio ulivo.   Sia pallido ogni amante ; è questo il suo  Proprio color ; tinto di questo il volto  Sarai creduto infermo. Fra le selve  Pallido errò per Lirice Orione (6o),   (6o) Giops, Mercurio , e Nettuno furono henisd*  mo accolti in casa d* Iréo uomo assai povero* Aven¬  do questi domandato medesimi un figlio , che non  dovesse ad alcuna donna la nascita, i tre Ospiti di- E per ritrosa Najado fu Dafni (6i)   Pallido L^almà discopra il volto  Estenuato ; nè a schifo; avrai di pórre  Sulla nitida ^chioma un pìcòiol manto ( 6 a).  Le cure ^ il duolo ^ le vegliate notti.   Che origin traggon dà nn Violento amore,  I Giovanetti estenuai! ; non tf incresca  Comparire infelice , se tu brami  Di far paghi-ì tuoi voti,'onde ognun dica  Che ti rimirà : è (Questi unWeto amante.  Mi dorrò fbrsè , 0 pur' ti farò dk>ttò  A usar rarti pt^rmessé e le vietate?   Ah che amicizia è fè^^on^nòmf vani i  Lodar quella , che adori, al tuo ^compagno,  E perigliosa imprésa , ché se crede  Alle tue Iodi , gli verrà vaghezza  D'entrar nél posto tuo. L'atto rea prole (63)  Non cercò profanai* d-Achillé 11 letto vini hagnàti^no della ptopHa ofina la pelle del Toro  da lui ucciso per Viàrio loro in cidoy é assicurarono  che da mtella nascerebbe un fanciullo: JVé nacque  infatti Orione ^ che fu un ottime Cacciatore. Non si  sa chi sia Lirico da lui : amata Vedansi le note faU  te a questo libro dal Ckier Néiruio.^   (6i) Dafni figlmel di Merèurio rtacque in Sicilia,  ed k VAutore de^virsi buìieeliei. Amando egli una'  Ninfa , da cui era ^matà egualmente, ottenne dal  Cielo, che divenisse cieco chi di loro oiolasse il primo  la fede giùtata,Immemore Dafni del voto fatto,  j* mnémo rò d^ uha ritrosa Nomade , e divenne cieco.   (6a) Q uando i Romard soffrivano qualche incorno^  do di sai ute , si coprivano il capo con un piccol maa-  to da loro iifè/to Piu li alani.   ( 63 ) Patroclo nipote d^Attore € figlio di Mentàpo  fu amicissimo Achille. Non cercò Fedr^ di sedar T amico (64) .  Di Teseo Piritoo ;aè in altra guisai [  Pilade la consorto af«(ò à' Oreste , ( 6 S) 3  Che come Fcho Palla ^ od il tuo  O Tindaro ,gemeUo amò ia suora^ ( 66 )   Ma non sperato rionofvatì spesson J (o r )  Sìmili esempi, se non spe^ri ancora ;  Veder spuntar dal tramarisco i pomi,   E in mezzo al huine ritroTare ,il mele. . >  Quello che è turpe :giova > e ognun ricerca  Il piacer proprio > che divien più grato.   Se altrui costa dolor . Do^e, 8 !:intese  Scelleraggin piA grande ? Pel nemico  Non debhi .amante: paventar .soltanto,   Ma fuggir dei, se vuoi viver, sicuro,; .  Quei che credi fedeli, e siimi amici. <   Il Fratello, il Cognato ,, ed il diletto ;  Compagno temi ; questa tufba tutta; , ;   Vera ti recherà cagion d^ angoscia.   Già toccavo la meta ; ma diversi.   Sono cosi delle Fanciulle^ \i i ^ ^ ’u   Che varj mezzi ancora usar si 4enno,   (64) Piritoo e Teseo concepirono V uno per Poltro   una stima si f^rànde, ohe giurarono di non àhhan^\  donarsi giammai , o itifMi si prestarono vicendevole  mente soccorso in tutte U occtìrrettoo^ Pirotop ^ querie  tunque frequentasse taaasa di Teseo, limita sèmpre  la sua beneoolenaa per Fedra a* sentimenti d* amìci"\  aia e di stima.Pilade figliuolo di. Strofa ^ ehbé per Oreste   un*amicizia con sincera^ ^le.nonjo abbandonò nel-  le più pericolose circostanze a rischio di perder anche  la vita. ’   (66) Castore e Polluce figli di Tindaro amaron la  lor sorella Elena con quell* amore, con cui debbono  i fratelli amare le sorelle.    Digitized by Google     49    Per adescarle. Non la stessa terra  Ogni cosa produce ; atta alle viti  £ questa ; quella vuol gli olivi ; e in altra  Lussureggian le biade. I nostri affetti  Varian come nel mondo le figure.   Piegar si sa chi ha senno ad ogni umore;  E come Proteo , si farà nell’ onde ( 67 )  Sottile ; ed or sarà leone, ed ora  Àlbero 9 ed or cinghiale irsuto. I pesci  Altri si piglieran col dardo, ed altri  Con r amo ^ e alcuni ancor saranno tratti  Àir ampie reti con la corda tesa.   Nè giova ad ogni età lo stesso modo;   La vecchia cerva scorgerà da lungi  Le insidie . Se s’accorge l’ignorante  Che tu sii dotto, e ardito una modesta,   Si porranno in difesa, onde avvien spesso  Che quella che di darsi a un uom d’ onore  Ebbe temenza , fra gli amplessi vili  Giaccia d’ un servo . Parte avanza ancora.  Parte ebbe fin dell’ opra intrapresa ;  Fermo qui tenga l’ancora il naviglio.    Arte ^am. c    (67) Proteo figliuol di Nettuno era un Dio mari-^  no , che si solwa cangiare in ^alsivoglia forma y e  di qui ha origine il proverbio : Proteo mutabilior.   I3ite e ridite lodi al delio Nome:   La desiata preda è alfin caduta  In queste reti. A’versi miei ramante  Lieto conceda rigogliosa palma;   Al Vale ascreo ed al meonio Omero (i)  Son Dreferito. Tal di Priamo il figlio (a)  Con la rapita^ a Menelao consorte  Trionfante spiegò le bianche vele  Dair armifera Amìcla, e tal pur era   (i) Il Vate ascreò è Esiodo ^ e ph si è veduto al»  V annotazione 5 del Lib, /. perchè gli venga dato uts  tal nome. Critei de , ad onta della custodia che ne ave¬  va Vargivo Creonte^ senza divenir moglie d*alcuno^  divenne madre d^un figlio, che chiamò Meletigene  dal jwmt Me]e«^ in vicinanza del quale parton. Si  sa , che essendo Melesigene accieeato , fu sopranno¬  minato Omero, perchè i Cumani chiamavan con tal  nome tutti i ciechi ; ma non si sa se questo inimita»  ìfil Poeta dicasi meonio perchè Meone fosse suo pa»  dre , o perchè da Meone Re de^Lidj fu poscia adot»  tato in suo figlio.   (a) Paride figlio di Priamo rapì Elena moglie di  Menelao nella Città d*Amicla, donde la condusse  trionfante in T^oja sua patria Pelope allox che te vinta traeva (J)   Sul carro peregrino, o Ippodamia:   Perchè, o giovin t’afFretti ? in mezzo alPonde  Naviga il tuo naviglio, e lungi è,il poxto  Più dt quello ché bramo* A te non’basta  Che tratta t’abbia la fanciulla innanzi  Io tuo poeta: presa fu con l’arte;   Con l’arte ancora conservar si debbe.   Non vi bisogna già niìnor virtude  Perchè non fu^gan^ritroVatè : è quella  Opra del caso , e questa sol delParte.  Siimi propizio , o Amore , e Citerea;   E tu , Er^tp pur V qhe* il ncfme pqrti ' :  D’Àmor , m’assisti» pra a cantar m’accipgo    (3) Enomao Re Elìde e^ di Pisa senti  coloy, ohe sarebbe eglt-uodid nel ygiorno^  da avesse presoi in isposa la sua figlia Ippodan^a^  Per allontanare dalla medesima à molti giovani , che  ambivano d'acquistarsi una 5 I belici fttnóiulia in con^  sorte , gV invitò tutti un giorno a far ^secè il gioco  d'una corsa , col patto che. sarebbe^ irpmancabilmente  trucidato chi fosse rimasto vinto da lui , e che do-^  vesse > chi aveva la fortuna di vincerlo^ sposare Ip->  podamia. Pelope fu vincitore con Vajnto di bfirtilo ,  a cui promise , che. nella prima notte de^ suoi spon¬  sali gli avrebbe in ricompensa accordato }L dolce pos¬  sesso 4dla sposa novella. Immernorè egli però della  data parola, e del segnalato servigio a lui reso ^ con^  dusse sul carro vincitore in trionfo la bellissima Ip-  podamia , e quando Mirtilo gli richiese Vadempirnento  delle sue lusinghiere promesse , lo gettò barbaramente  in .mare. . .   . (4) Da EpMT« , che in greco idioma significa Amo-,  re , ha preso il suo nome la Musa Erato. Fu essa,  madre di Tamita ^ che cantò il primo di tutti i versi^  amorosi , ed a lei si attribuisce da alcuni greci ùom-^  mentatòri V invenzion della Éiusica c del BaUf^  Cose stupende : con qual arte Amore  Tener si possa io vi dirò, bench’ abbia  In Vasto mondo ei di vagar diletto.   Egli è leggiero , © doppio p^rta al tergo *  OrdÌB‘'*di'jpènbo , Onde' riniporgli legge  È difiScfr impresa. Àvea'aMa fuga  DelP ospito Mibos ckiusa Ogni via, (5)   Ma ntì'àmdace sentier trovò con Tali.  Poiché Dedalo chiuse il Minotauro,  Giustissimo Minos, disse, abbia £ne  Ora'il’mio esilio , ed il paterno suolo  11 ceder mio riceva. Io non potei.  Perseguitato ogUór da iniqui fati,   Vivore in patria, almen morir vi possa.   Se a me ricusi un tal favor , che sono  Carico d*anni ^ lo concedi al figlio,   E se al figlio .noL vuoi ^ lo dona al padre.  Queste e molt^ altre ancor cose dicea, •   Ma a lui Minos hón permettea il ritorno.  Di sua eVentura cèrto», a se medesmo  Allor Dedalo disse, hai tu materia  Onde mostrar Pingegno; e terra e mare  È in poter di Minos : e mare e terra  Or ci vieta la foga ; a me rimane  Il cammino del ciel ; questo si tenti*   — l^tdato , come già si è accennato , fabbricò irs  Creta il celebre Labirinto, in cui fu racchiuso il  Sfinoiaiiro. A^endògli' Minos vietato d* uscir da quel^   ' io' f non trovò altro mezzo per ritornare alla patria y  se non se di fabbricar dell* ali congiungendo insieme  varie penne d* aòcelii , ed accingersi in tal guisa a  ' 'Volar per il cielo in compagnia d'Icaro suo figlio.  Questi per altro innalzò troppo il suo volo, e preci^  pkò miseramente in quel mare , che prese da lui ii  nome Icario.    Digitized by Google      54   Sommo Giove *, perdona ^ questa impresa:  DelP Empireo stellato non aspiro  Già le sedi a toccar ; sol questa strada  Onde fuggir dal mio Signor mi resta*   Se Io stìgio sentiero a me si mostri,   10 r onde stigie varcherò • Debh’ ora  I dritti rinnovar di mia natura.   I mali aguzzan 1* intelletto. E quando  Si avrebbe dato fà che un uom potesse  Premer le vie del cielo.? In ordìn vario  Dispon le penne , che per V aria sono   11 remo degli augelli ; e unisce insieme  Con del ritorto Un 1’ opera lieve.   Con cera al foco sciolta insieme accoppia  Le parti estreme ; e già della nuov’ arte  Era venuta la fatica a fine;   Ma intanto che trattava e penne e cera.  Rideva il figlio , ignaro che quell* armi  Sarian la sua difesa al tergo unite.   Con tal naviglio, a lai diceva il Padre,   Si può alla Patria far ritorno ; in questa  Guisa fuggir Minos, che ogni altra chiude  Fuor che T aerea via « Tq che lo pupi,  Con questa ch’io inventai arte novella^  Fendi gli aerei spazj ; ma la vista  Della Vergin tegea, e del compagno (6)   (6) Calisto i Licaone Ra d* Arcadia ^ è   soprannominata Tegea, da una Città di tal nome  soggetta alV impero del padre della medesima. DaU  V illecito commercio , che ebbe essa con Giope , diede  alla luce un figlio chiamato Arcade , e fu da Giu¬  none per ciò tra^ormata in Orsa ad oggetto di ven*  dicarst deW infedele suo sposo ^ il quale la collocò in  oielo fra le stelle col nome , che ancor oggi conserta,  d’Orsa Maggiore. Di Boote Orion cinto di spada --—   Tu dei fuggir • Con V apprestate penne  Mi segui ; io ti precedo, e sia tua cara  Batter^ V isteasa via ; da rae guidato  Incolume sarai, li’aeree strade  Se calcherem troppo vicini al Sole,   Al suo caler si scioglierà la oera;   Se al mar propinqui batterem le pennei  Da’ vapori del mar saran bagnate.   Spiega il tuo voi fra ^1 Sole e il mare; i venti  Pur anco temi, o figlio ; e all’ aure in preda  Dà le tue vele allor che sian propizie.  Mentre in tal modo V istruisce ^ ài figlio  Il lavoro dispone, e mostra come  Muover lo debba : in guisa tal la madre  La pennuta ammaestra inferma prole.  L’àJe poi di sua man per se costrutte  Accomoda al suo tergo, e nel novello  Cammin timido libra, in aria il - corpo..  Allor che al volo si accingeva, al figlfo  Diò molti baci, e le paterne gnauce  Furon di calde lagrime bagnate.   Sorgea sul piano un colle assai minore  Del monte, e quivi V uno e l’altro corpo  Si diede in preda a perigliosa fuga.  Mentre le penne sne Dedalo move.   Quelle osserva del figlio, e ognor sostiene  In aria il corso • Icaro si diletta  Del novello sentiero, e ornai deposto    Orione figlio Ireo ( annot, 6o del Lib, I. ) Untò  di dare un disonesto assalto alla casta Diana ; ma  essa lo fece uccìdere da uno scorpione , e poi mossa a  pietà lo trasmutò presso a Boote in una costellazione  fatta a guisa di spada Ogni timor ^ con arte audace vola  Più ibrtemente. Un che insidiava a’ pesci  Con la tremula canna, alzato il guardo,   Li vide in ariane abbandonò P impresa.   Già da sinistra avean passato Samo,   E Nasso e Paro e Delio al clario Dio  Sommamente gradita ^ ed alla destra  Si lasciar dietro Labioto, e Calìnna  Per selve ombrosa, e Stampaglia di guadi  Feraci in pesci cinta, allor che il figlio  Temerario con troppo incauto ardire  Spiegò senza ìL suo duce in alto il volo*   S’allentano i legami ; al Sol vicina  Liquefassi la cera , e i .tenui venti  Male sostengon le commosse braccia.   Dal sommo cielo spaventato il guardo  Rivolse al mare, e dal timor già sorta  Si offro al suo sguardo tenebrosa notte.   Si liquefò la cera, e i nudi braco!   Dibatte ; trema ; e ìnvan ricerca il modo  Di sostenersi *« Cadde , e o padre , o padre  Gridò cadendo, via son tratto , e T onda  Cerulea chiuse al suo parlare il varco.   Ma Pinfeiice Padre.(ah non più padre!)  Icaro , grida , Icaro , dove sei?   Sotto qual asse voli ? Icaro grida,   £ nuotanti sul mar mira le penne*   Copre P ossa la terra , è prende il mare  Il nome suo • Minos già non poteo  D’ un uoni frenarle penne ,ed io m’accingo  Un Nume alato a trattener? S* inganna  Cfii fa ricorso all’ arti emonie, e appresta  Dalla tenera fronte del cavallo  Lo svelto a forzalppomane. Non Verbe ( 7 )  Pon di Medéa far viv*?re l’amore;   Non 1 Tharsfejj^ncàntesmi . Se potesse  Una tal'arte ptolàligàrto , avria '   Medea Giasbn', Cfrcfe teénto Ulisse . ( 8 ^   Nè i pallidi apprestati* éill%*dónzelle  F'iTtri* Valséro { aU’alrne Son nòcivi, ( 9 )   Ed inspirai) farot .'Ogni delitto  Vada put lungi ; se attti essere amato,  Amabile ti- ttióstraf I a: ciò^ nTort giova *   Solo’ le^ menibtk àlve'r’by^^ e là-faècia. ^  Sii pur Nireó tfaro^ ^11’ aiitibd^ Omero ; ( io)   ' ^. t L ; >( 7 ) Q^^àevano gli an tichi , e fra questi ancora Pii-   nio ea Aristotile , che si potesse còncìliar l*amore per  mezzo éAl^lppòinsLne, cioè di qtàel pézzetté rotondo  di carrie .nera ^ che han\ sulla , fronte iì cavalli nati  di fres^qp, Jfa Mars^ figlio^^efia/venefica Circe^^ t^aj-  ser l a lo ro orig ine i M ar si. Abitarono questi popoli m  lidlia non fontani ,àa Uòma ^e Jfùrorio~reputati , èc-  celleràPneWarte dellc^ ' niagìq: “ * '   (8) ,iÌÌe«/èa \e Circe fdronp dii^ ihsiAni Ma^he ^ je  insieme due a^passioriaté 'mài. cohisposte dmànii\  poicHè 'fiorì pótérono có'loro magici incanti trattenere  Ùiasoné\d Utisse i che amavano tèneramente, ‘ ’   (^) t Filtri preparati dalle Maghe , eran composti  di fichi salvatici ^ éP uòva e di penne di civetta, di  * sangue e di. pòlfnone di ranocchie , e d*os5Ì di cani e  'di serpenti'Sventrati. Lèggasi ài Libro quinto V Ode  'd*Orazio cprìlró Canidia. * ^   (io) Nireo], nafo dd Aglajd e dal Re Cecrope,  andò alt*assedio di Trojq ; e vien da Omero nel Li-*  hro secondo dell*Iliade lodato per la sua sorprenden^  te bellezza. Ercole amò sommamente Ila figliuol di  ‘Teodamahte , c lo condusse con se, quando navigò  alla volta di Coléo. MetltP era iri viaggio lo mandò  un giórno ad attinger Vacq.ua dal fiume Ascanio nel’»  la Misià ma essendo ivi disgraziatarkente caduto^  han finto i poeti , che fosse rapito dalle Nufadi Dea  de*fiumu O il tenerello un giorno Ila rapito  Dalle callide Najadì : se brami  Conservarti Y amor della toA donna,   E non vederti abbandonato , aggiogni  Deir alma i preg) alla beltà del corpo.   È la beltade un ben caduco e frale,   Che con gli anni decresce, e a un fisso tempo  Fugge mai seiupre • Le violette^ e i gigij  Non fioriscono ognor;Ia spina , ^ cui  Colta la rosa sìa , rigida viena*,^ ^ '  Vago garzon , i tuoi capelli un giorno  Verranno bianchi, e il corpo tuo le rughe  Ti solcheranno . Formati ed aggiungi  Alla beltade un animo che ^uri:   Sol ei riman fino agli estremi roghi*   Ni sia rultima ina cura con Farti  Ingenuo Padornarlo ^ e di due lingua  Renderlo dotto . Non fu bello Dlisso,(ii)   (il) Colisse t figlia , come credono alcuni, delVO*  etano e dì TeHde, accolse cortesemente il naufrago  Ulisse nell* ìsola Ogigia , ov* essa regnala. Dimorò  questi per sette anni con la Ninfa suddetta , da cui  ebbe varj figli , e poi fu costretto a dividersi da lei  per comando de*Numi , quantunque non lasciasse elìa  alcun mezzo intentato per ritenerlo sempre appresso  di se. Reso Re dei Traci detto odrisio perchè cornane  dava alla Traqia nazione degli Odrini, e sitonio^  perchè anticamente la Tracia ^si chiamava Sithon ,  fu ucciso da Ulisse e da Diomede, mentre andava  con un esercito in soccorso di Troja. D* ordine de*suoi  Troiani si portò Dolone ad osservar gli andamenti  dell*armata de* Greci ; ma incontratosi con Diomede  td Ulisse , che pure osservavano la condotta del cam^  po Trojano , svelò a*meiesimi , dopo d*aver preso Vim^  punita y tutte le più segrete determinazioni de* suoi  concittadini. Volendo egli poi per premio i cavalli  emonj d*Achille , fu ba^aramente trucidato da Ulio^  se e Diomede uccisori di Reso Ma facondo ; c per lui ferito H petto  Portar* r equoree Dive. Oh quante volte  Di sua partenza si lagnò Calisso^   E dicea che non atte erano a* remi  L’onde del mar! Oh quante volte udire  Bramò di Troja i casi , ed ei sovente  Narrò lo stesso con diversi modi I  Stavan sul lido insiem , quando la bella  Calisso ehiese la dolente istoria  Del Duce odrisio; ed ei con tenue verga  ( Mentre a caso la verga in man teqea )  Finge Popra richiesta in sull’arena.  Questa» le^disse, è Troja (e fe’sul lido  I muri) . È questo il Simoe,e queste fingi  Che« sieno le mie tende . Il campo osserva  (E intanto lo disegna) che col sangue  Sì sparse di Dolon, quando gli emonj  Cavalli scaltro d’ involar procura.   Fur del sìtenio Reso ivi le tende;   In questa uotte da i deitrier rapiti ^  Fui strascinato . Dipingea più cose,   Ma improvvisa del mar onda furiosa  Via trasse Troja , e col suo Duce ancora .  Le trinciere di Reso. Allor la Diva,   Vedi quai nomi s’inghiottiron Ponde^   £ vuoi che al tuo cammiò sieno propizie?  Ardirai dunque di fissar tua speme  In fallace fij^ura? e più del corpo  Altro tu non avrai solido e degno?  L’accorta compiacenza a noi concilia  Gl’ animi, ma l’asprezza e le severe  Parole contro noi muovon lo sdegno.   Si ha in edio lo sparvier , perchè tra V armi  Traggo sua jriU, e i lupi che assalire Hanno in costume il timoroso gregge.   Mite è la rondinella , e innocua vive  Dall’insidie dell’uomo ; e l’alte torri  Abita là colomba a lei gradite.   Vadali lungi le liti e i detti amari;   Con soavi parole amor si nutre.   Stia la discordia tra marito e moglie;   Si faggan questi, e credano a vicenda  Di difender lor dritti • Ciò conviene  Alle tnògli/che ognor funesta dote  Recan di lìti . Il dolce suono ascolti  Degli • accenti bramati ognor V amica;  Legge non havvi per gli amanti ; in loro^  Ìj amore è legge • Parolette grate  Reca , e dolce lusinga à lei 1’ orecchio.  Onde alla vista tua lieta si faccia.   Non io d^ Amor maestro a’ ricohì parlo.  Che chi pnote donar > dell’ arte mia  Non abbisogna • Chi quando a lui piace,  Prendi j può dir, non manca mai d’ingegno.  Cedere a Ini dobbiam, che più gradito  Sarà dell’opra nostra. Il vate io sono  J>e’ poveri, dhe ognor povero amai.   Dar doni non poteva, e diei parole.   Cauto ognor sìa povero amante , e tenga  La lìngua a freno, e soffra quel che un ricco  Non soifrirebbe . l^el ponsier mìo torna,  Che irato aia di delia mia Bella feci  Al crine oltraggio . Un tale sdegno ah quanti  Giorni mi fe’ passar pallidi e tristi I  Noi credo, e noi compresi , che la vesta  Io le stracciassi allor, ma lo diss’ ella,   £ comprarne altra a me fu d’ uopo. O voij  Che avete ingegno, del Maestro vostro    Digitized by Google     6i   Fuggite il fallo, e né temete i danni.   J8ia la guerra co’ Parti , e ognor la pace  Con l’Amica diletta'. Usa gli scherzi,   E tutto quel che favorisce Amore.   Se a te che l’ami, docil non si mostra  Qual vorresti e cortese, il suo rigore  So^ri costante , e diverrà benigna.   La forza usando, il curvo ramo frangi,  Che con dolcezza addirizzar potevi.  Varcasi 1’ acqua cón pazienza, e malo  Vìnconsi i fiumi, se pigliar tu tenti  Contrarie Tonde rapitrici k nuoto.'   I numidi leon , le fiere tigri  Pan le lusinghe mansuete e miti;   Ed al rustico aratro la cervice /   A poco a poco sottopone iJ toro.  Dell'arcade Atalanta e chi più fiera.(ia)  Mostrossi mài? Eppur quella crudele  Soggiacque anch’essa al mèrito d* un uomo,  Narra la fama , Melamon piangesse, (i3)  Sotto un arbor giacente all’ombra, spesso  Suoi tristi casi e la crudel Fanciulla.  Spesso* portò le ingannatrici reti  Sul vinto collo, e con spietato ferro    (la) L’arcade Atalanta, figlia di Jasio o d’Aban^  te , fu un.’eccellente cacciatrice ,e si fe* compagna di  Diana per consertare illibato il candore della sun  verginità, Finta essa p<ù dalla fedele e lunga servitù  prestatale da Meleagro o da Melanione , si abbando^  nò finalmente in braccio ni medesimo , ed ebbe in fi^  glio il celebre Partenopeo,   ' (i3) Sono tra loro cod diverse le memorie .a- noi  lasciate dagli antichi scrittori riguardo a Melanione  0 aid Atalanta , che è impossibile il dar de’ medesimi  «Hit distìnta notizia Uccise spesso i barbari cinghiali.   L’arco teso d’Ileo soffri piagato,   Ma conoscea più ancor 1’ arco d’ Amore.  Non vo’che armato le menalie selve  Tu salga, e che le reti al collo porti;   Hò già t’impongo il petto alle vibrate  Saette espor • Dolci più assai saranno,   Se udir mi vuoi, dell’ arte mia le leggi.   A lei che è ripugnante , ognora cedi;   E vincitore partirai cedendo.   Eseguisci fedel ciò eh’ ella impone:   Biasma Quello che biasima, ed approva  Quel che le piace , e il suo parlar seconda.  Di rider ti ricordo al riso suo.   Di piangere al suo pianto , e i moti ancora  A suo piacer del vento tuo componi.   Se giocale nella man P eburneo dado ( 14 )  Agita , tu ancor l’agita, e lo getta    (14) Oltre il gioco de* dadi era presso i Romani in  uso quello dclVAlìosso detto da loro Talut, che con^  sistema in piccoli quadrati d*osso j ne* quattro lati de*  quali erano notati separatamente i numeri uno, tre,  quattro, sette. Doleva pagar senza lucr^o una mone^  ta chi avesse gettato l* uno, che chiamatasi Ganis o  Òanicula. Guadagnata sei monete e ciò che ateta  perduto nel gettare il Cane chi scoprita la parte op*  posta all* uno ^ cioè il sette che ateta il nome di  * Yenns o Gons,* ne guadagnata tre chi gettata il  Seniofper cui intendetasi il tre, e quattro chi ates^  se rappresentato U Ghio, che esprimeva il numero  quattro. Si rileva da**latini Scrittori che fu VAliosso  giocato anche ditersamente ; ma basta per la chiara  intelligenza di questi versi U sapere che erano i Cani  dannosi ^ mentre esprimevano l* ano ^per cui si dote^  va senza lucro pagare una moneta. Il Gioco , ohe  rasfvmbra a guerra , è , come facilmente ri QQtnprew*  dp ^ qugllo degli Scacchi,    Digitized by Google     In modo cV«lIa vinca. L’Àliosso  Se trae, farai in maniera cbe la pena  Non soffra d’ ^sser vinta, e tuoi saranno  Sempre i dannosi cani ; e s’ ella' pone  Opera a gioco « che rassembri a guerra,   Fa cbo perisca dal nemico vinto  Il tno soldato. Sulle verghe steso  Tieni r ombrello , e, nella densa folla  Per dove idee passare , il varco l’apri;  Vicino al letto non t’incresca porre  Lo scanno, e fai piede dilioato togli  E riponi la scarpa .iDei sovente.   Benché ti prenda orror , della Padrona  L’algente,mano riscaldare al seno.   Non creder turpe, henchè a te rassembri.  Con destra ingenna sostener lo specchio,   Se a lei ciò piacerà. Chi ’l fiero sdegna (i5)  Otaneb.della matrigna in domar mostri.  Che ora è nel Ciel , ohe primo egli sostenne.  Si crede , tra Ife joniche Fanciulle  Che tenesse il cestello, e che filasse  Rnstiche lane . Si l’Eroe tirinzio  Servi all’impero d'una Bella ; or dnnqne   Dubiti di soffrir ciò eh’ei sofferse?   Se ti comanda esser presente al Foro  -Previeni 1’ ora del comando , e sempre   ^eoU ' mnst valorosamente ( Annoi. 17. del  Lib. I. ) tutu s mostriyche contro di lui suscitò la  tua rnatngna Giunone, e sostenne sulle sue spai-   ad Atlante affa-  incarico. Innamoratosi egli poi dH)n-  '‘iff reale della Lidia, vestì abiti femi-   mh, e m qualità d’ancella iella medesima filò vil¬  mente l»inne con quella man valorosa, con cui per  le rmrabilt sue gesta s’ era colmato di gloria. ^    Digitized by Google     Ne partirai più tardi • Se ^t* impoiàfe  Di gire in altro loco’, ogni altra cura  Lascia da parte , corri ^ uè la turba ''  LMutrapreso cammìti trattenga , e còma ‘  Servo, sé vuol, tu Taccompagna a Casa^-  Tolte le mense , e^già sorta^ la liOtte; > *   Se fosse in villa,*e tf dicesse: vr<eni> ^ ^  Col piè premi la via , se manca il eocebiò,  Che Amor odia gl’inerti . Il btiitasoosò  Tempo nè la Canicola assetàtai ^ ' n /  Nè per scaduta nòve il sentìev biénco - ^  p’ ostacolò ti aien ^ Simile a gòfei/ra * ^  E r amore , da cui vadano lungi ' ‘ ^ '•   I codardi . Nò , sotéo tali itìsegné*   II timid’ uòmo guerreggiar tiòu' debbe*   La notte, il verno, disastrose strade, ' ’  Dolor cocenti, e ogni altr’aspra fatica  Racchiudono que’mòlli ttccampaihetttli*   Di pioggik dalle untole tìiscioitu'^ * ‘ ‘ *   Ben spesso intrisa avrai la -veste,-è‘Spesso  Gelato giacerai sul nudo suolo." ^   Dicesi che dì Cinto il'Nume' nu giorno (i 6)  Pascesse le ierée vacche d’ Admeto,   £ s’ascondesse in umil capanna.'   A chi non converrà ciò che coriTenné ‘  Apollo, che dicesi i/-Nuine- 4 ì'Cinto fper^hè  ( Ànrvot. 1^9. del Lib, /. ) nacqueove giace  4 in tal monte y sentì il pin, intenso, dolere ^ quanda  Giove fulminò Esculapio di , lui figlio , perchè faceva  rivivere i morti con V ajuto della -Medicina. Per veti^  dicenrA pertanto in qualche maniera d* una tale ingiur-  ria , egli uccise i. Ciclopi y che fabbricavano le saette  a quel Nume supremo , il quale lo spogliò per ques to  della divinità, e lo costrinse a pascolar le vacithe  4 * Admeto Re de* Ferei in te staglia^    A Febo ? O ta, che in lungo amor ^impegni,  Il fasto lascia • Se un cammiii seeuro  £ facil ti si nega, e se alla porta  Ritrovi impedimento, allor t’insinua  Dal precipizio d’ùn aperto tetto,   O da ascoso sentier d’ alta finestra.   Lieta ne fia, quando del tuo periglio  Intenda la cagion ; di certo amore  Sarà per la tua Bella un grato pegno.  Spesso potevi dalla tua Diletta  Star lontanerò Leandro, ma varcavi ( L’ onda del roar, perchè le fosse noto  L’ amante core • Guadagnar l’ancelle  Non abbi a vile, e in special modo quella.  Che sarà favorita , e ancora i servi.   Non temer d’ avvilirti : ognun saluta  Col proprio nome, e alle lor destre umili,  Ambizioso , d'unir cerca la tua;   Ma al servo che ti prega ( è lieve spesa)  Porgi piccoli doni, ed in quel giorno  Pure air ancella, in cui restò ingannata Leandro amò Con tal forza Ero Sacerdotessa  di venere , che spesse volte varcò VEllesponto per visi^  tarla. Essa accendeva Una fiaccola sopra una torre,  affinchè potesse il suo Amante camminar piu sicura^  mente , e quando intese , che era il medesimo misera^  mente annegato , si diede in preda aW ultima dispe-*  razione , e slanciossi intrepida nel mare,   {ìÒ) Ai q di Luglio celebravasi in Roma splendi--^  damente una festa, a cui concorrevano le Servé‘ ve^  stile a Matrone romane , in memoria delV util servii  gio che avevano esse in tal giorno prestato alla Pu^  tria. Ecco ciò che ne dice il Macrohio, Post Urbe in  captam , cum aedatus esset gallicus motus, res vero  publica esset ad tenue reducta, Finìtimi opportuni-    Digitized by Google      66   Da veste maritai gallica truppa,   E che pagò d’ un folle ardire il fio.   Ti fida a me ; fa tua la plebe, e sempre  Sia fra (juesta V ascierò , e quel che giace  Sulla porta del Talamo . Io non voglio  Che ricchi doni appresti alla Padrona;  Piccioli sian, ma convenienti e accorti.  Mentre è ferace il campo , e mentre i rami  Piegan pel peso di mature frutta.   Porti fanciullo in un cestel gli agresti  Doni , e dir ben potrai che da una villa  Suburbana ti vengano, quantunque    tatem invadendi romani nominis aucupati praeferant  sibi Postlmmium Livium, Fideoatiam Dictatorem ,  qui, mandatis ad Senatum misis, postalayit , nt si  yelleut reliquias suae ciyitatis manere , matres fa*  Hiilias sibi et yirgines dederentur . Cumque Patres  esseat in ancipiti deliberatione suspensi, ancilla no¬  mine Phìlotib teu/ Tutela , poilicita est se cum cae-  teris ancillis sub nomine Dominarum ad hostes ita-  ram : habituqae matrnm familiat et yirginum sumpto,  hostibas cum prosequeatium lacrjmis ad iidem do¬  lorii iogestae sunt. Quae cum a Livio in castris di-  stributae faissent, viros plurimo vino proyocarunt ,  diem fbstum apud se esse simulantes. Quibus sopo-  ratis , ex arbore caprifico, quae castris erat proxima,  signum Romania dederunt, qni oum repentina incur¬  sione snperassent ; memor beneficii Senatus, omnet  ancillas manu jùssit emitti, dotemque eis ex publico  fecit, et ornatum quo tunc erant usae, gestare cou-  cesfit, diemque ìpsum Nonas Gaprotinas nuncupa-  yit ab illa Caprifico , ex qua signum yictoriae coe-  perunt, sacrificiumque statuit annua solemnitate ce<-  lebrandum, cui lac, quod ex Caprifico manat, propter  memoriam facti praecedentis adhibetur. Questa è la  fedele esposizione del fatto, d cui non pare che si  uniformi il Poeta Tu gli abbi compri nella laera via. ( 19 )  Rechi pur Tu ve » e le aastagne care  Un giorno ad Amafilli, e che ora a vile  Parehè dono legger avrebbe anch* esso,  Co’t^rdi pure e con ghirlanda mostra  Che memor vivi della tna padrona.   Si compra turpemente con tai mezzi  D’orbo vecchio l’affetto, e la speranza  Di godere i suoi beni. Ahìperan qnelli  Che Così vii disegno a donar move.   E che ! t’insegnerò teneri versi  Io diluviar Fa me lo credi, i carmi  Non ton molto graditi ; e benché Iodi  Ottengano talor, maggior lusinga  Han gli splendidi doni : Un ricco piace  Ancor che nato in barbara contrada.   Questa è per vero dir l’età dell’oro^  Giacché con Voto compransi gli onori,  Criacchè con V oro piegatisi le Belle.   Se tu medesmo con le Mute, Omero,  Venga privo di doni, ab ! tu seaeciato  Sarai di casa. Di fanciulle dotte ^   Havvi turba rarissima , ed un’altra.   Che sé reputa tal benché ignorante,   L’une e l’altre s’encomino co’versi^   Che ottengan dal lettor lodo pel suono  Facile e lusinghiero \ a queste e a quelle  Tenue e da aVersi a vii sembrerà dono  In loro onore vigilato carme. ^   Usa in maniera ché V amica ognora    (19) VendéQasim Ronia ogni torta di frutti e d*al^  tri generi nella Via sacra, che acquistotti un tal nó¬  me , perchè furono ivi conclusi con gran^ sagrifizf i  patti fra Romolo e Tazior     68   A far ti preghi quel che util ti sembra,   E che far già volevi. Se promessa  Abbi ad alcun de’ Cuoi' la li ber Cade, (ao)  Fa pur elisegli la chiegga alla padrona.   Se ta rimetti al servo il suo delitto,^   Se le catene sue dure disciogU, ;   Te ne sia debitrice. ^ A lei la •gloria>   A tediatile venga. Sul:tuo eore  Mostra ohe elFabbia un prepotènte impèro^  Ma illesi serba ognora i dritti tuoi.   Tu che nutrì desio della tua cara ' ^ ^   Consfetvarti V amor , fà oh’ ella pensi  Che tu getonito sei di sua Heltade.*   Se le sue menàbra in vtiria veste avvolga,  Le sii largo (U lodi, e se le doe ' .  Cinge, dirai che accrescono i suoi Veazi.  Se poi s* adorna con aurata veste, *   Dille che più splendente èli’è dell’ oro.   Se prende la pelUcela , e tu T approva; *  Se la tomita lieve , allora, esclama '   Che, desta incendj, e con ièmmes^a voce  Pregala che schivar proeuii il. freddo.   Sia il orine in duo diviso, oppur da oaldo  Ferro ritorta, tu dirai : mi piace.   Di lèi, se.danai, ammirerai le,braccia,   Di lei, ^ canta, 1* armoniosa voce,. •   ' E a lei dimostra con dolèntii note^   Perchè fpresto diè fine, il tuo scontento.  Loda gli abbmcciamenti ,:e in suon piètoso  E querulo ie mostra con KJUéiI foraa ..   (ao) Presso i Homani eruno cortamente i servi in  una condizione sì miserache (^iputavansi fortuna^-  a , quando i padroni per un effetto di^somma cUmon^n  accordavano loro la liberty, ^ -,    Digitized by Google    6p   D’insolita jilaowrfe: il. cor t’inonda.   Gon questi- un4incoc che-|}iù. violenta  Foss’ ella di Medusa ^ e indite: e giusta (ai)  Dìvetrài.co», l’ ansante,* Sia .tua cura -  Di non sembrane -iagantiatore ; e il volto  Kon distrugga i tnoi> detti. Ascosa Térte  Giova j e svelata la vergogna apporta,   E Ii^ tfe. 00» ragiOp j toglie per. sempre.  Spesso Sotba l’ÌAu)tjnA0tì,( iiti quella bella  Parte dall’sanitOf,-^ cui vosaeggia Priva  Del purpureo, lioór ; rieolnta » quando  Il freddo,«cura la?f»reiuej ed era il «aldo  La soioglie,). Pìncostante. aere d cagione  Di languore, alle-metubra,* Elhi^pur viva  Sana, masO'.inat giaceja-in, letto in ferma.  Soffrendo. ..drd tmaligqogciol V Infinstoi  La tua pìetade:;ecP AQt^ctW> palese  Sia alloca .alla fanqiullaj^ fi getta il aenae  Di ciO .cbe mieter, debbi, a larga falce.'  Nè del liingaauo mal poja',ti, prenda^ ,   E faccia» le tue man cid che permette.  Te rimiri piangente, ed i .tuoi baci :   Non r.inore«qa;S<^l-Ìr,;'flon arse labbia ,  Beva il tàO ;piantp,. 4 Ì» .ciel voti farai.   Ma ognor,.palesi,,e di narmr: ti .piaccia  Be» spesso,fausti' sogni..:Àn| sua'magione  Guida la-ivacohiarella , che con ?ìolfo iaa)   (ai) ]ffedasa figlia di Forci^'ed ufl'a delle tre Gorgoni, incontrò-lo tdogn» di Minerva , perché à prestò  all’ impudiche iooglie, di Nettuno • nel Tempio della  medesima* Questa Dea le trasformò^ pertanto i capelli  in serpenti, e fece si che fosse convertito in -sasso  chiunque ardiva di riguardarla.   (ìa) ponducivàn gli antichi le vecchiarelle nello  àuse d^gV frifermi , affinché con le lor preghiere di Purifichi la stanza e insieme il letto,   E con tremola man T ova le rechi.   Di tua premura avrà cosi 1* amica  Kon dubbj segni, e con tai mezzi molti  Far dalle Belle istituiti eredi.   Ma deir inferma per soverchia cura  Deh non volerti procacciar lo/sdegno;  Àbbian tuoi dolci uffioj il lor confinej  Non le vietare il cibo ; il tuo rivale, •   E non la destra tua* pòrga la tazaa  Colma de* succhi amari. Or che n^ll* alto ^  Del mar solca la nave, usar non dei  Lo stesso vento, con cui già dal lido  Le vele hai sciolto. Mentre Amor va errando  Novello ancor, con Taso forza acquisti;  Stabil verrà, se lo saprai ' nutrire.   Ebbe vitel le tue carezze il toro,   Che or è de'tuoi timori oggetto, e Talbore,  Sotto cui posi , un di fu tenue ^etga.  Nasce povero d'acque il fittnré , e forza  Acquista nel suo corso, e dà Ogni parte  Gli vien tributo di novello umore.  S’accostumi con te, che nulla puote  Più di tal cosuetudiue giovarti.   Mentre l’adeschi, a te grave* non sia  Di soffrire ogni tedio • Abbia te sempre  Dinanzi al guardò ; ognor tuoi détti ascólti;  La notte e il di le pinga il volto tuo*   Ma quando poi sicura avrai fiducia  Di poter esser ricercato, allora   Scacciassero Sa quelle, gli spettri. Epicuro deve soffrire  i rimproveri degli Stoici, e VOratore Eschino quei di  Demostene , perchè avevano le lor madri Ulk   simile impiego che riputavasi vile*    Digitized by Google    7 ^    Vanne pur lungi, che la cura sua  Sarai benché lontan . Prendi riposo;   Ciò che s’afBda al campo riposato  Bende ei ben generoso e l’arsa terra  Bey e l’acqua del ciel. Finché pxesente (a 3 )  Fa a Filli Demofonte, il di lei seno  Senti mediocre amor , ma in vasto incendio  Arse allor che le vele ci diede^’ venti.  Mentre vivea lontan l’astuto UÌìsse (a 4 )  Penelope soffriva cura mordaeCr  Tu ti dolesti pur, Laodamla, (aS)   Lontan Protesilao. Brieve tardanza  £ mai sempre sicara. Allevia il tempo  11 dolor dell’assenza ^ e dal pensiero   > e dà loco a nuovo amor 1’ assente*  Mentre tu , Menelao, stavi lontano (26),   (a 3 ) Fillidt, figlia di lÀcurgo He di 'Tracia , rice*  Vè cortesemente nella Reggia e nel letto il naufrago  Demofoonte figlw di Teseo. Quandi egli partì per %  Città d* Atene ., colera chiamato dalla cupidigia di  regnare , le diede parola di ritornarsene a lei dentro  un mese . Aspettò Fillide lungo tempo il suo caro  sposo, e poi afflitta e disperata per la tardanza di  lui , si tolse da se stessa crudelmente la vita.   È noto il verace affetto che aoea Penelope pet  Ulisse suo spesole però si può facilmente compren¬  dere quanto fosse vivo il suo dolore per la lunga di¬  mora che fece fi medesimo alV assedio di Troja.   ^uS^ Laodamia amo sì ardentemente Protesilao detto  in latino Phyllacides daFilaco.4uo avo, che fu sem¬  pre occupata dal più vivo dolore mentre era esso al-  V assedio di Troja , e fece far del medesimo dopo la  sua morte , una statua di cera , che ogni notte pone-  vasi nel letto quando vi andava a dormire.   Menelao trovavasi in Vreta , ove .l* aveano ri¬  chiamato i suoi affari , quando Paride di lui confi-  mcpte gli rapì la bellissima E.lena pia consorte Sulle piume giacer sole non volle  Siena, e nella notte al caldo seno  l)eir ospite fu striata. E chi mai puote  Di ciò nutriremo Menelao, stupore?   Solo partivi, e nel medesmo tetto  Era la moglie e T ospite. In custodia  T,ii folle le colombe al. falco fidi,   Ed al montano lupo il pieno ovile?   Siena non ha colpa, e non commise  L’adultero delitto ; ei fece quello  Che tu faresti, e che farebbe ognuno.   Ad esserti iiifedel la donna sfórzi^.j   Se il tempo e il loco a lei concedi. Quale   Oonsiglio ella usò mai se non il tuo?   Che dovea far ? Il suo marito è lungi,   Ed un amabil ospite presente,   E giacer sola teme in vacuo letto.   Ciò a Menelao era noto. Io dal delitto  Siena assolvo ; usar volle di quella  Libertà, che il marito a lei concesse  Cortese c umano. Non così feroce  Flavo cinghiai si mostra in mezzo all’ira  Contro i rabidi cani, allorché il dente  Fulmineo rota , nè così lionessa  Che a’cari figli suoi porga le mamme,   Nè da piè ignaro vipera calcata ;   Coni’ àrde e mostra 1 ’ agitata mente  Donna che la rivai trovi nel letto  Del suo consorte : e corre , e dà di piglio  Al ferrò e al foco, e ogni decor deposto,  Rassembrà una Baccante. La spietata (27)  Medea nel sangue vendicò de’figlj  ^-   fay) Vedaii V annotaz. 89 del Lib Del marito il misfatto ^ ed i violati  Dritti di sposa. Àltr^empia genitrice, (28)  Mirala in rondinella trasformata.   Or di sangue macchiato il petto porta.  Tali delitti sciolgono V amore  Meglio composto e più costante ; e cauto  Gli dee r uomo fuggir, gli dee temere.   Nè ad una sola donna io ti condanno;  Portin migliore augurio i sommi Dei !   Così rigida legge appena puote  Seguir sposa novella. Abbiano pure  Loco gli scherzi, ma celar ti piaccia  Sotto furto modesto il fallo tuo.   Da cui già non voler cercar la gloria.  Altra non mai conosca i doni tuoi;   Nè prefigger tu dei 1 * ora medesma  Agli amori furtivi, e in un sol loco  Condur le belle, onde non le sorprenda  La donna tua ne’ noti nascohdiglj ;   E quante volte scrìvi , i fogli osserva;  Che molte leggeran più assai di quello  Che tu loro scrivesti. Amante offesa  Move bene a ragion Tarmi, e sovente  Come a lei desti, a te di duol dà causa.  Mentre il figlio d'Atréo fu d’ una sola (29)  Ov. Arte d^am. d    (a 3 ) Progne figlia di Pandìone, e moglie di Teseo ^  fu dagli Dei cangiata in Rondine, perchè vendicane  dosi deW ingiuria recata da Teseo a Filomena di lei  sorella , uccise Iti suo figlio ^e lo apprestò al Padre  barbaramente per cibo,   (39) Agamennone rapì Criseide figlia di Crise  cerdote d*Apollo , il quale in abiti sacerdotali si portò  inutilmente dal medesimo per ricuperarla j tolse Bri*  seide ai Achille ; e condusse poi in Grecia Cassandra  Contentò e pago, quella visse casta.   Ma per i vìej del marito poi  Divenne infame. Inteso avèa che Crise,  Le fasce in capo e il lauro in man portando,  Ottener non potè 1* amata figlia.   Inteso avea il tuo ratto, il tuo rossore,   O Briseide, e per quai turpi dimore  Fosse la guerra prolungata. Queste  Cose la fama a lei narrava. Vide  Con gli occhi prhprj poi la figlia stessa  Di Priamo : vincitor fosti ad un tempo  E preda, o Agamennon , della tua preda.  Nel cor , nel letto ricevè ella poscia  Il figlio di Tieste, e vendicossi  Così de’falli del marito infido.   Gli amori tuoi tener cerca nascosti.   Ma se fian noti e manifesti, sempre  Però li nega , nè ti mostra allora  Nè più sommesso o più giocondo : reo  Ti fa ria ciò scoprir. Novelle prove  Le dà deir amor tuo. Queste il sostegno  Son della pace. La tua prima amante  Fa che di ciò non abbia unqua contezza.  Havvi chi la nociva erba consiglia  Santoreggia di prender; ma ciò stimò  Atro veleno. Mischian altri il pepe  Nel seme dell’ortica , e nell’ annoso  Vino tritano il callido pilatro. ,   figlia di Priamo , la qual fu a luì concassa nella di*  Vision della preda. Clitennestra sua moglie, e figlia  di Tindaro non potè reggere a tanta infedeltà , e /?«-  rò accolse nel letto Egisto figlio^ di Tieste , da cui '  { Annotaz. 88 del I*) uccidere il suo   marito. La Dea che sul ombroso Érice monte ( 3 o)  Ave il suo tempio, no , soffrir non puote  Che siau forzati i suoi piacer. Si prenda  Pure il candido Bulbo che a noi manda  La Città di Megara, e la salace  Erba che cresce ne’giardini. L’ova,   L’imetto mel, del pin le acute noci  Si prendan pur. Perchè alla medie’ arte,  Erato , or tu ti volgi f II cocchio nostro  Debbe più da vicin toccar la meta.   Tu che celavi per consiglio mio  Poc* anzi i tuoi delitti , or altra strada  Batti, e per mio consiglio i furti scopri.  Nè di volubil già merto la taccia:   Non col medesmo vento i passeggieri  Porta la curva nave ; ora si corre  Col tracioBorea, ed or con Euro, e spesso( 31 )  Dal Zeffiro si fan goiihe le vele,   Talor da Noto. Osserva come in cocchio  L’auriga ora le brìglie allenta , ed ora  Frena con l’arte i rapidi cavalli.  Compiacenza servii le rende ingrate,   E amor senza rivale illanguidisce.   Se la fortuna sia propizia, Talme  Divengono lascive , e faci! cosa    ( 3 o) Venere aveva un magnifico Tempio in Sicilia  sul monte Erice , donde fu detta firicina. ,   Sotto il nome di Bulbo iniendonsi tutte^ le radici  rotonde come agl) e cipolle , che i Romani facevan  venire dalla Città di Megara fabbricata da Alcatoo  figlio di Pelope.   {jòi) Il vento Borea f spirando a Settentrione , vien  qià dette treicio perchè la Tracia è più settentrional  della Grecia y e dell* Italia, Euro spira da Levante  [ Zeffiro da ponente, e Noto da Mezzogiorno,    Non è serbare in mezzo allieti eventi  IL cor tranquillo. Come lieve foco,   Che perduto abbia a gradi il suo vigore,  Ascpndesi , e nell’ ultime faville  La cenere biancheggiale se v’unisci  Zolfo , Testinta fiamma manifesta,   E a splender torna il consueto lume;   Così ove pigra e torpida si giaccia  L’alma, destar cop forti e lusinghieri  Stimoli è d’uopo in essa allor Tamore.   Fa che di te paventi : ognor riscalda  L’intiepidito core, e impallidisca  Al, solo udir che tu infedel le sia.   Oh quattro volte e quante io non so dire  Felice quei, di cui si lagna offesa  La sua fanciulla, e che giugnendo annunzio  D’un tal delitto alle sue triste orecchie  Cade, e il color le manca e la favellai  Ah foss’io quello, a cui furente straccia  Il crine ! ah foss’ io quello a cui con l’unghie  Sgraffia le gote, che or piangente mira  Or con bieco ciglio, e senza cui  Vorria , ma non può vivere ! Se chièdi  Il tempo , onde di te la lasci offesa  Lagnarsi, io ti dirò : sia questo breve.  Perchè lo sdegno suo forza maggiore  Con dimora soverchia non acquisti.   Con le tue braccia il bianco collo cingi^  E piangente nel tuo seno l’accogli;  Asciuga co* tuoi baci il . pianto suo,   E i piaceri di Venere concedi  A lei che piange. Già la pace è fatta;  Con questo mezzo sol cessa lo sdegne.   Se feroce divenga, e a te rassembri  Veramente nemica » allor le chiedi  Un dolce amplesso , e la vedrai placata.   Ivi déposte Varmi è la concordia^   £d in qael loco » a me lo credi , nacque  La tenera amistade. Le colombe.   Che già fecero guerra , i rostri insieme  Dolcemente congiungono ; di quelle  11 mormorio son voci, e son carezze.   Fu il mondo in prima una confusa mole;  Non ordine regnò, non vi fu legge ;   £ stelle e terra e mar solo una faccia  Mostravan ; sulla terra il ciel fu posto  E fu dal mar la terra circondata,   £ diviso cessò l’inane caos.   Presero ad abitar le fiere allora  Entro le selve ; a star gli augelli la aria;  £ s’ascosero i pesci entro dell* onde.  L’uomo errò allor ne^aoUtarj campi.   Ma rozao 9 inerte corpo, e senza genio*   T'u il bosco la sua casa ; il cibo l* erba;  Lie frondi il letto ; e già per lungo tempo  Visser fra loro sconosciuti. Dicesi,   Che le feroci loro alme piegasse  La dolce voluttà. Lo steiso loco  Abitarono insiem Tuoibo e la donna;   Non da maestro furon fatti dotti  Di ciò che dovean far ; Venere loia  La dolce opra compì senz’arte alcuna.  Trova da amar Paugel dolce compagna,   E in mezzo all’acqae pur con chi s’accoppj  Non manca al pesce. Il maschio ainato segue  La cerva, ed il serpente a’dolci inviti.  Della femmina cede. Insiem congiunta  La cagna al can s’annoda. Il suo montone   Soffre lieta Tagnella; la giovenca  Gialiva è col torello, e la stizzosa  Capra 1* immondo becco non disdegna.  Parenti le cavalle i maschj segnono  Per lungo spazio , e varcan fino i fiumi  Che li tengon divisi. A che più tardi ?  T’affretta dunque , e alla sdegnata porgi  Il bramato sollievo ; questo calma  L’ atroce suo dolore, e questo vince  I succhi d* Esculapio • Il fallo tuo  Dei con ciò cancellar , tornarle in grazia.  Mentr’ io cantava queste cose, Apollo  apparve » e mosse dell’ aurata lira  Col pollice le corde • In man tenea  L’ alloro, di cui cinta avea la chioma;  ^Queir ammirando vate allor mi disse:   O de’ lascivi amor maestro , guida   1 tuoi scolari alfine al tempio mio; (3a)  Ivi sta incisa la famosa legge,   Che conoscer se stesso a ognuno impone.  Amar solo potrà prudentemente  Quegli che se medesmo appien conosce,   E alle sne forze sa adattar Tìmprese.  Procuri che la Bella ognor Io guardi  Quel cui Natura diè leggiadra faccia.   Si mostri spesso con le spalle ìgnude  Chi candide ha le membra ; parli pure  Quei che lo fa soavemente, e canti,   E beva quel che a bevere e a cantare  Con arte apprese, ma non mai interrompa      (3a) Alludtd al Tempia consacrato in Delfo ad  Apollo ove era scritta a caratteri à* oro qaest^ aurea  legge: nosco te ipiam L’altrui discorw P eloquente, e in mezzo    Al ragionar non reciti importuno  I suoi carmi il Poeta . In questa guisa  Febo i^egnomnii, e. voi di Febo adesso  Seguit^e i precetti. Ah no ! non ponno  Mancar di fe gli oracoli d’ Apollo.   Or son chiamato a più'vicini oggetti.   Chi sagace amerà ; chi la nostr’ arte  In uso saprà porre f avrà vittoria.   Non sempre i campì rendon con usura  Le biade seminate, e a dubbia n^ve ,   Non sempre fausto è il vento. Ah! sono brevi   I piaceri d’ amor , lunghe le pene.   Onde Amante a soffrire il cor disponga:  Quante in Ato son lepri , e quante in Ibla  Pascolan api, quante olive accoglie   II verd' arbor di Palla, • quante il lido  Del mat conchiglie ; tanti son gli affanni  Che soffrenti in amor , tanti gli strali  Jlal felo intrisi che ci passan V alma.   A te diran che usci fuora di casa  Quando con gli occhi tuoi forse la vedi.  Ma creder dei che uscì, che vedi il faUo.  Mella notte promessa a te la porta  Forse chiusa sarà ; soffri, e le membra  Riposa e adagia sull’immonda terra.  Mendace ancella forse in tuon superbo  Dirà; perchè le nostre porte assedjf  Cortese e supplichevole stropiccia  Il limitar della crudel Fanciulla, ^   E al capo tolte ivi le rose appendi.  Quando vorrà, t'appressa, e quando il vieta  Tu vanne lungi. Uomo non dee sincero  Di sua presenza far soffrir la noja.    Digitized by Google     8o   Non sempre con ragion ti potrà Jirer  A me fuggir costui non è permesso*   Non creder turpe di soffrir ingiurie,   Nè d* esser dalla tua Bella battuto,   Nè sul tenero piè d’imprimer baci.   Ma a che mi fermo nelle tenui cosef  Or subietto maggior m’agita l’alma.   Io canterò prodigj ; il volgo attonito  Ascolti i detti miei, mi sia propizio.   A difficile impresa ora m’accingo.   Che nel difficil sol glòria si merca.   Dall’arte una si chiede ardua fatica.   Soffri il rivai pazientemente ; teco  Starà vittoria , e n’otterrai trionfo.   Non già un mortai, male pelasghe querce(33)  Ti dieron tai precetti . Ah i iio, non puote  Dir r artè mia di ciò cosa maggiore.   Farà un cenno amoroso al tuo rivale,   E tu lo soffri ; sctiverà , e t’ astieni  Dal toccar le sue carte ; e venga e tomi  Senza le tue doglianze ove le piace*   Con legittima moglie usi il marito  Quest’indulgenza pure, alior che notte  Le tenebre distende, e il sonno regna.  Non io, Io debbo confessar, non sono  In quest’arte perfetto. E che far deggiof  Io de’ precetti miei minor mi trovo.   Io soffrirò che, me presente, un segno  Si faccia alla mia Bella, e il freno all’ira  Io potrò por ? Ah mi ricordo ancora   ^3) Fabbricarono i Pelasgi un Tempio dedicalo  a Giovò , in vicinanza del quale era situato un bosco  di querce , da cui davano le colomba risposta umana Che il suo marito nn di le diede un bacio,  Ed io del bacio a lei feci querela;   Abbonda il nostro amor di crudeltade.   Non una volta sol mi fu nocivo  Un vizio tal ; piti dotto invero è quello  Per cui, lieto il marito, in casa ingresso  Hanno altri amanti. Ma saria più grato  L’esser di questo ignari. Ah lascia dunque  D’amore i furti ascosi , onde non fugga  Dal vinto labro, confessando i fallì,   Lungi il pudor. Deh risparmiate, o amanti.  Di sorprender colpevoli le amate.   Schetzino pur , ma almeno a se medesme  Perauadan che il fer’ solo in parole.  Sorprese, in esse pel rivai maggiore  Si fa r affetto ; e dove egual la sorte  Fa di due, 1* uno e Paltro son costanti  La causa in sostener del danno loro.  Favola iu tutto il elei nota si narra:  Venere e Marte dagP inganni presi  Pur di Vulcan. Ferito il petto avea  Marte per Vener da un apaore insano,   E divenuto di guerriero amante.   Nè rustica o difficile mostroàsi   (Non v’è di questa Diva altra jpiù molle)   Venere al suppliéhevole Gradivo (34).   Oh quante voltè la lasciva risé ^   da    (34) Marte si Marna Gradivo da apa/vav, ehe si^  grufiea in greco linguaggio vtbraziorfe d'AVta. Aven^  do Giooo preeijntaio Vulcano in Lenno 'per 1 la defar-^  mità del suo corpo, si tuppè questo misero Diojin  tal caduta una gamba ^ e così divenendo zoppo ^ di^  canne ancorst mSgiortncnU deforme.    Digitized by Google     Sa ^   Di Valcano pei piedi e per le mani  Nere e incallite pel lavoro e il foco.  Contraffaceva pur di Marte in faccia  Sempre piena dì grazie il suo marito^   Ma solean ben celare i primi amplessi,   E coprian col pudore il fallo loro;   Ma il Sol che tutto vede ( e chi ingannare  11 Sol può maif ) fece a Vulcan palesi  L’ opre della Consorte • Ah quai ne porgi  Funesti e perigliosi, o Sole, esetuplit  Perchè del tuo tacere a lei non chiedi  Un dono , eh* avrebb* ella il tuo silenzio  Potuto compensare in mille modi.   Vulcan sopra e d’intorno adatta al letto  Un* invisìbil rete , e finge a Lenno  Di far viaggio : a’ noti abbracciamenti  Tornan gli amanti, e nudi entrambe sono  Ne^ lacci avvinti. Quegli i sonimi Dei  Convoca, e fanno L prìgiohier di loro  Vago spettacol. Potè appena il pianto  Venere allora trattener sul ciglio;   Non alla loro nudità potere   Oppor la mano, e non coprir la faccia*   Uno de’ numi allor ridendo disse :   O fortissimo Marte, in me que’ lacci  Deh trasferisci pur^ se ti son gravi.  Nettuno , appena per le tue preghiere  Ebbero i prigionier le membra sciolte.  Chela Dea in Pafo, e Marte andonne in tracia.  £cco,o Vulcano, il tuo profitto: in prima  Celavano il Ipr fallo ; or senza freno  Lo commetton, fuggito ogni pudore.  Sovente, o stolto , confessar dovrai  Che tu dj^rasd da pazzo, e già ( la fama    Digitized by Google     83    Karra.) dell’ira tua ti aei pentito*   Quest’ io vietai. La 6glìa dionea (35)   Or vieta a voi di tender quelP insidie  Ch’ ella stessa soffrì. Nè voi cercate  Por ne’ lacci il rivai, nò legger quello  Che vergato ha^la bella in cifre arcane.  Faccian questo (se lor piace) i mariti  Che legittimi rese e T onda e il foco. (36)  Io'di nuovo, raffermo: in queste carte  Nulla vietato dalle leggi chiudo»   Nè a pudica Matrona i nostri scherzi  Recano ingiuria. Chi a’profani i riti  Osò di Cerere svelare, e i sacri ( 87 )   Misteri nati nella tracia Sanio f  Non nel' silenzio per coprir gli arcani  Gran; virtude abbisogna è colpa grave  Però dir'qnfello che (tacer si dehbe^ t  Ben a. ragion da Tantalo «loquace (38)  Venere , sepondo alcuni , eifbe in madre Dio^  ne 9 e però si chiama la Figlia dionea.   (36) Solevano i Romani nelle nozze solenni offerii   re alla Sposa V acqua ed il foco \ 'perchè pensavano  che si genesUts^ il tutto dall* umore -e dal icàhre ^ ed  anzi lavatiri^ Inacqua f stessa i piei^ Sposa  ed alla Sposo^ ' , I   (87) I Sagrifiz) di Cerere t)ea delle biade, ehe  furono , secondò Dtodoro , ' inventati Heltà' Samotrd»  eia , si celelfravanà dagli aw^ìd con tal \ segretezza g  che acqmdurono il nome di mister   (38) Tqntalo , figlio della Ninfa Piote , palesò agli  uomini le' supreme, determinazioni, che si manìfesta^^  reno scambievolmente gli Dei in un Convito, cui  fu ammesso e^i*pare.da^Giolve.,peTiitaleiempH-^  tà joacpiatO riell^ infermo , iOfl^ à cofitidftaeqMate ,cfudar^  io da una barbara fape, e^   chè è ,eireondatò dàìVacqua e da diversi ' phmi, ékà  fuggono àgnor shp'suòl Idìlli i^qmndo *viol*pré*a'^  arsene*    Digitized by Google     64 .   Fuggono i pomi; o all*assetato labfo  L'acqua mai sempre. Citerea comanda  In special modo di tener celate  Le sacre cerimonie. Io v’ammonisco  Che alcun garrulo'a quelle non s’accosti*  Se sepolti non restano fra’cesti  I mister] di Venere, se i bronzi  Per furiose percosse non risuonano,   Usi abbiam noi pih moderati, e in mòdo*  Che si voglion però tenére ascosi. /  Quando le vesti Venere depone,   La nudità con la sinistra copre.   Nella pubblica via spesso 1 * ugnella.   Si unisce al suo compagno, e la fanciulla^  Da tal oggetto altrove il guardo volgew  Atto è il talamo chiuso a’furti nostri  E a non mirar ciò che la veste > ascóndo* i  Non le tenebre noi, ma nube opacUi ì;  Cerchiamo, e i luoghi ove 1’ aperta luce -  Minor risplenda. Fin d’allor ché il tetto  Non difendea dal Sol, non dalla pioggia,  £ dava il cibo e in un la quercia albergò.  Gli uomini non gustar’ palesemente.   I piaceri di' Venfet ma negli antri ^ ' •   f i ne^bosqhi; cosi dell’onestade *   i preudea cura quella ro^sza gente** \  Ora gli atti si celebraa notturni, ,   £ nulla più si compra a caro prezzo  Che di poter’ parlar: or le donzellò  Ovniique cercherai solo onde dica Qiinsla ancora fo. nostra, ed onde .posniA ^  Mòsttktla ò' dito , e &r ohe sia deb vol^ , '  Dc^^b li pòssèsso^tuòVfev;òIa ^   r.«r. poco «iwiihe ^ini «dolSP* aU>Ì ,   Òose che nègherebbono accadute*   £ di favori vantatisi non veri ;   E se invàn di toccar, cercare il corpo.  Cercano àlmen d’offenderne P onore,   Che le accusi la fama ancor che caste.  Chiudi, o custode rigido , le porte ;   Guarda la tua fanciulla, e cento spranghe  A’durissimi stipiti ora opponi.   Cosa havvi di sicuro in faccia a questi  Adulteri di nome, che creduti  Esser desian ciò che tentare invano ?  Parchi in parlar noi siam de’veri ainori^  E fedelmente ognor tenghìam celati  Col velo deP mistero 1 furti nostri.   Deh non voler rimproverar giammai  Di nati^ra i difetti alle donzelle.   Che fù dissinìularli utile à molti. ^   Perseo che al piè portò le gemìn’ ali (3g) ,  Tlon del color d* Andromedà lagnossi.  Comparve a tutti Andromaca maggiore  D’ uim giusta statura , ed Ettor solo   (3g) iXèrcurió adatfò *U idi Ud ambedue i piedi di  J^érseo^ iluo amiiéo y e fi^ió di Danae e di Giope,  de qu§$iix AndrovaeduslegaiOKyad uno scoglio per  ra'deillcNeTcìdi,^e,\c]^pe, che dovea^esser dioorata da  Ceto mastro marin^, ,perchè Cassìope, madre della  medesima ebèè la vanagloria di dire ^ che la sua fi-*  glia vinceva > ir^ bellezza le stesse Nereidi, Mosso  Perseo a pietà, della' sventurata donzella , uccise il  mostro col jmrgli. davanti agli cicchi la testa di Me^  dusa f è dopo d^aveHa in tal guisa saLveta da un  tanto pericolo y V ottenne in isposa , he mai le riìf  fàpciÒ[ suo fosco colori, essendo ella nata in Etiopia,   " Andromaca è figlia di Elione . Re di Tebe e mo*  glià di Ettore j il qual chiamava medìo^e la sua  statura quantunque fosse veramente sproporziqnatq.    Digitized by Google     86   Mediocre la dicea. Quel che or ti lembra  Darò a soffrir, deh soffri; e verrà uà giorno  Che lieve impresa ti sarà il soffrire^  Mentre ogni pena raddolcisce il tempo.  Nuoyo arboscel che in verde scorza cresce^  Cade, se vento placido lo scote ;   Ma indorato dal tempo arbor diviene.  Resiste a* fieri Noti ^ e alfin s’ adorna ,  Degl* innestati fratti. Un giorno spio  Paò la bruttezza cancellar del corpo,^ ,   £ sempre il tempo fa sembrar minore  Ogni difetto. L* inesperte nari  Mal da principio pon soffrir 1* odore  Della pelle del toro, ma dalTuso  Dome non più risentono mólestia. ^   I vizj ricoprir con dolci nomi  Fa di mestier : bruna chiamar si debbo  Quella che piùehe pece ha negro il sangue»  Se ha gli occhi loschi, a Vener l!as 8 omiglia^^  E se bianchi, a Minerva. Sia 9 Ì scarna ( 40 ) ,  Che appena in piedi sostener si possa.  Gracile la dirai. Nana rassembri,   E tu svelta la chiama, e piena quellf .,.  Che è turgida oltremodo g, e asconder tenta.  Col bene non lontano il vizio ognora.   Gli anni mai non cercar , nè sotto quale \  Consol sia nata : al rigido Censore .   Tai cure lascierai. Maggior riguardo .   Usa per quelle che passate il fiore  Hanno di giovinezze » e i più bei giorni,   (4.0) Non si sa paacepire corno Ooidio chiami loschi  gli occhi di Venere , quando essa fu lodata da Pari^  de. Dubitano alcuni pertanto y che nelF originale la^,   ' ripe si 4tiba leggere leu invece di peU»    Digitized by Google     E cui incomincia a incanutir la chioma*  .Utile è questa o più matura etade,   0 giovani ; e aarà ferace in biade  Questo campo » ed arar però si debbe.  Mentre gli anni il permettono e le forze,  Soffrire la fatica. Ah già la curva  Vecchiezza con piè tacito s’accosta!   O il mar co’ remi solchisi, o la terra  Col vomere, o s^impugnin Tarmi fiere,   O si usi il fianco, T opra , e la forza  Con le fanciulle^è questa una milizia,   E con ciò pur s’ accumulan ricchezze.   S’ artoge a ciò che la prudenza in loro  Maggior sempre delT opere risiede,   E l’esperienza sol può far maestro.   San compensare dell’ etade i danni  Con la mondezza, e in opra e studio ed arto  Pongon per ricoprir la tarda etade.   Come più brami accarezzarti sanno  In mille guise ; in più diversi modi  Pittor non puote colorir le tele.   Non irritata voluttà per loro   Si gode , e danno e gustano il piacere;   10 se non è scambievole Tho in odio,   E però fuggo de’garzon P amore.   Odio il furor di quella che il concede.  Perchè a darlo è forzata, e pensa solo  All’ ntil proprio. A me non è gradito   11 piacer che mi dan sol per dovere;   Da questo io violentier le donne assolvo.  Godo ascoltar le voci che il diletto  Mi palesin di loro, e di frenarmi  Mi preghino ora, ed or perchè mi affretti.  Godo di rimirai languidi gU dicchi . Della mìa bella , che mi dica : è assai.  Questi favor natura non concede  Air inesperta gìoventCì ; si godono  Quando il settimo lustro ornai si compie.  Chi soffre sete, il nuovo mosto beva;   Di vecchio vin ricolmo a me s’ appresti  Vaso che sotto i Consoli vetusti  Sia fabbricato. Al sol resiste vecchio  Il platano, ed offesi i nudi piedi  Sono da’nuovi prati; e chi potria  Ad Elena preporre Ermione? Altea (Era forse miglior della sua madre ?   Se tu t’ accosti a una noi^, giovin bella,   £ sii costante, avrai degna mercede.   Già riceve i dae.amanti il conscio lètto;  Fuof delle chiuse porte ora rimanti,   O Musa ; senaa te sapran ben essi  Trovar di che occuparsi, chè lor porge  Amore i mezzi. Il valoroso Ettorre (4a)   Di cui fu il brando a Troja util cotanto,  Giacque pur con Andromaca, ed Achille  Con la lirnessia giovine rapita,   Allorché dal nemico affaticato  Prese ristoro sulle molli piume.   Da quelle man di frigio sangue tinte  Ricevevi , o‘Brhcide , le carezze,   E perciò forse à te più assai gradito  Fu alla vittfice destra unir tue meuibra.    (4 A Ermione è figlia della famosa Elena moglie  di Menelao,   (4a) Achille # aseedìafa la Città di Lirnesso , uc¬  cise barbaramente Minete marito della bella Briseide^  che si prese egli stesso in isposa, e che dal noma  4 M(k iiMk Pàtria soprannominata iÀtuwia*    Di Venéfe i piaceri » a me lo credi ,   Non SI deniio affrettar; ma a lunghi torsi  Berli. La donnà , se vedrai diletto  Che abbia d’èsser toccata , a te non freni  Pudore allora inopportuno. Gli occhi  Suoi scintillar d*'un tremulo splendore  Mirerai , come dalle liquìd’ onde ^  Riflette il Sole i suoi splendidi raggia. ^  Udrai nn lamento e uh dolce mormorio^  Gemiti grati , ed amòtose note.   Quando thtte le Vele avrai spiegate,   Tu abbandonar non dei la tua diletta.   Nè preceder ti debbe ella nel corso.  Correte insieme alla prescritta meta.   Che il piacer vostro diverrà perfetto.   Se giacerete a un tempo stesso vinti.  Queste leggi seguir dovete quando  A voi concessi siano 02 ] tranquilli,   Nè ad iin furtivo oprar timor v* astringa.  Quando Tindugio è mal sicuro, allora  Tutti forzar si denno i remi, e il fianco  Premere del cavai d’acuto sprone.   L’opra è condotta al fin. Giovani grati,  A me la palma concedete , e il crine  Odoroso cìngetemi di mirto.   Non presso i Greci Podalirio tanto  Fu per la medie’ arte in pregio , Achille  Per il valore, e Nestor per pi'udenza;  Non fu Calcante così esperto e grande  Nel conoscer le viscere, nè Ajaco  Nel maneggio dell’armi , e Automedonte  Nel condur cocchj ; compio sono espCito  E grande nell’amor. Me celebrate,  Uomini tutti ; a me si dian le lodi;    Nel mondo intero il nome mio ti canti.  L* armi io vi porsi come già Vulcano  Le diede a Achille. Or con tal doni voi  Vincete pur, com’egli vinse un giorno;  Ma chi col brando mio potò le fiere  Amazzoni atterrar, sopra le vinte  Spoglie scriva: Nason ci fa Maestro.  Le tenere fanciulle a m^ le preci  Ecco che porgono, onde lor cortese  Sia de’ precetti miei. Ah t sì, sarete  Cura primiera de* futuri carmi porsi contro lo guerriere donne   A’ Greci 1’ armi ; or dare a te le deggìo^  Pentesilea, e alle Amazzoni seguaci.(i)   Ite alla guerra uguali, e vincan quelle  Cui son propizi Venere e il Fanciullo,  Che in tutto il mondo ha di volar diletto.  Giusto non era il combatter nude  Contro gli armati ; e vincerle per voi.  Uomini , turpe mi sembrava. Alcuno  Dirà fra molti : perchè aggiunger cerchi   11 veleno alle serpi ? e perchè in preda  Lasci alle lupe rabide 1’ ovile?   Di poche il fallo non vogliate in tutte  Diffonder ; pe’ suoi merti ogni Donzella  Considerar si dee . Se Menelao  Ha di dolersi d’ Elena cagione^ (a)   (i) Pentesilea Regina delle Amazzoni andò contro  i Greci in soccorso d^ Trojani ,e fu dopo varie glo^  riose azioni uccisa da Achille. Sotto il nome di Greci  P intendono però- dal Poeta quegli uomini , che ^  cingono a conquistare le donne qui figurate sotto il  nome di Amazzoni.   (n) Vedasi V Annotaz, 5 q del Lib. I. e l*Annotaz,  ueuSdelldb.If.   Ved. Vannot. 38 del Lib. /. eVannot. ao del Lib. II.  £ se di Clitennestra i rei costami  SoQ gravi ad Agamennon ; se d’Ecleo (3)   Il figlio scese co* cavalli vivi.   Dalla spietata Enfile^ tradito,   Vivo egli stesso a Stige^havvi pur anco  Penelope che pia serbossi e fida (4)   Al suo marito, benché senza lei  Due lustri errasse , e per due lustri ancora  Passasse i giorni suoi sempre alla guerra.  Protesilao rimira e la consorte, (5)   Che , come narran , pria degli anni suoi  Vide Testremo fatele scese a Dite  Ombra indivisa del marito . Mira  La Sposa pegasea dall*empia sorte (6)   (S) Anfiarao figlio di EcUo ed eccellente indovino  ^ ascose in un luogo segreto per non esser costretto  a portarsi alla guerra di Tebe, in cui sapeva di do-*  ver certamente morire* Eri file sua moglie allettata da  un aureo monile promessole, da Polinice, insegnò a  questo ov'egli sfava, celato* 4 n 4 à pertanto Anfiarao  forzatamente alla guerra^ ma appena giunse in Te¬  be , gli si spalancò sotto i piedi la terra , e rimase  in quella sepolto.   (4) Penelope è V esempio deWamor con fugale* Si  conservò essa sempre fedele al suo sposo Ulisse , ben*  che vivesse egli lontano da lei per lunghissimo spa*  zio di tempo , e benché fosse ella continuamente as¬  sediata da mille fervidi amanti.   (5) Protesilao andò aneW egli all*assedio di Troja,  e fu il primo tra* Greci , che vi perdesse la vitapoi*  che Ettore lo ferì mortalmente , nientre scendeva dal*  la sua nave. Desolata Laodàmia sua moglie da una  tale sventura , ottenne con le sue lagrime da* Numi  di poter veder V ombra del suo amato consorte , e  neWabbracciarla morì*   (6) Soffriva Admeto una malattia coà grave , che  secondo la risposta dell* oracolo ^ era necessario per  salvargli la vita^ che un uomo o una donmft^ morisse Admeto liberare , onde famoso  Rese il suo nome . Evadne a Capaneo ( 7 )  Disse : m* accogli ; il cener nostro insieme  Si confonda ; e slanciossi in mezzo al rogo;  È la Virtude d’abito e di nome ( 8 )   Femina, nè stupore è, se propizia  Si mostra e favorisce al sesso suo.   La nostr’arte però queste non chiede  Alme sublimi 9 e con minori vele  Naviga il legno mio • Per me soltanto  S’imparano a trattar amor lascivi.   Io insegnerò in qual modo amar si debba  La donna, che non face ed arco scote  Sempre crudeli ; agli uomini quest’armi  Nuoccìon più parcamente 9 io ben lo vedo:  Gli uomini più spesso ingannano di quello^  Che ingannin noi le tenere fanciulle;   E poche troverai , se cerchi , xee  Di perfido delitto. Il traditore (9)   Giason Medea lasciò già madre 9 e in braccio  Gittossi ad altra sposa. Oh quante volte  Per te 9 Teseo 9 Arianna abbandonata (io)    per lui4 Alceste sua moglie^ che dicesi sposa pagasea  dalla città di Pagasa in Tessaglia , volle essa stessa  liberar gen^osamente il caro suo spoeo, ed incontrò  con intrepidezza la morte. Quando Eoadne intese che era stato ucciso a/«  la guerra di Tebe il caro suo sposo Capaneo ^ conce»  pi nell*animo un dolor sì fiero ^ che corse valorosor  mente a morire sul rogo dell* estinto consorte.   (8) Adoravano i Romani la Dea Virtù vestita in  abiti femminili.   ^9) Annotaz. 89 del Lih. /•   (io) Arianna fu da Teseo abbandamata {Annoi.  So. del lÀb» I. ) nell*isola di Nasso j e però avrà te»  muto gli Augelli marini provenienti da quella pcffte di  mare, in cui viaggiava il suo perfido amante la solitaria t sconosciuta riva  Temè gli auge! marini ! E perchè Filli (ii)  Calcò per nove volte il sentier stesso.  Cerca, e perchè, la chioma lor deposta,  Piansero Filli le dolenti selve.   L’Ospite, che concetto ha di pietoso.  Porse la cauta e il ferro alla tua morte, ( 12 )  Misera Elisa. E che I narrar vi deggio  Delle vostre sventure io la sorgente?   Voi non sapeste amar ; mancò in voi l’arte,  Mentre con l’arte solo amor si eterna.  Sariano ignare ancor, ma Cìterea  Vuol che per versi miei sien fatte dotte.  Mentr’ella stessa innanzi al mio cospetto  Si fermò, e disse: di qual fallo mai  Si fecer ree le misere fanciulle.   Che inermi si abbandonano agli armati?  Tu con gemini libri bai resi questi  Nell’arte esperti ; or co’ precetti tuoi  Tu devi ancora ammaestrar le donne.  SteSicoro ohe in pria cantò i delitti (i3) Impaziente FUlide per la lontananza del suo  Demofoonte eorse per nooe volte al lido , dà cui do^  vetfa egli passare nel ritorno ; e alfine disperata cd  afflitta per la tardanza di lui ( Annoi, a 3 del Lib,  li.) si tolse da se stessa crudelmente la vita. Le  fabbricarono i suoi parenti un sepolcro , in vicinanza  di cui nacquer degli alberi , che in un certo tempo ,  secondo quello che han scritto i poeti , deposte le lor  foglie , piangevano la morte della medesima.   (la) Enea , che vien soprannominato il Pio, di^  sprezzando Vamore , che è il nome proprio di   Didone, fu causa cVella si precipitasse sulle fiamme  ohe ardevano la eittà e la reggia di Cartagine.   (i 3 ) Stesicoro siciliano è un poeta lirico ^ che doto-'  Sto ne* suoi versi Elena detta tersnoea dal castello ìa D* Elena, poi con più felice lira  Disse le lodi sue. Se V indol bene  Io tua conobbi, no ^ non sei capace  offender Tamorose e culle donne.   Per fin che vivi a te tal grazia chieggo.  Disse, e di mirto (poiché avea le chiome  Di mirto ornate quando a me comparve )  A me una foglia diede e poche bacche.  Ricevuti i suoi doni, io mi sentii  Invaso dal suo nume, e Paer più puro  Splendermi intorno , e facile l’impresa  Comparirmi al pensier. Mentre l’ingegno  E desto , a me i precetti richiedete,   Che a voi, donne, ascoltarli ora è permesso  Dal pudor, dalle leggi e da ogni dritto.  Siate memori ognor della ventura  Vecchiezza, e per voi il tempo ozioso mai  Non passerà. Scherzate ora che lice,   Nè si consumi invano il fior degli anni,  Che come 1 onde fuggono veloci.   Tornar non puote alla sorgente il fiume.  Tornar non puote la passata etade.   Cadete dunque, che trascorre il tempo  Con frettoloso piè, nè lieto mai  Come il primiero siede. Or bianco miri  Questo stelo , su cui già in prima vidi  Io rosseggiar le viole, e questa spina  Grata al c^pe mi porse un di corona.  Stagion verrà che tu , che "fchivi adesso  L’amante , fredda e abbandonata in letto   cui, nacque y perche^ da essa ebbe erigine la rovina di  Troja. Ma i fratelli della medesima , Castore e Polluce  Vacciecarono crudelmente ; ed ei per ricuperare la  sta , fu costretto a comporre un poema in sua lode»    Digitized by Google     Giàf&ttsi vecchia giacerai. Notturna  Rifsa non fia che la tua porta atterri,   Nè sul mattino troverai di rose  II limitar della tua casa asperso.   Misero me ! come corrotti presto  VeggoDsi i corpi dalle rughe , e, come ^  Langue ih nitido volto il color primo!  Quei che sul capo tuo bianchi capelli  Si miran* or,che fin da’di più acerbi  Giuri che furon tali ; ah che ben tosto  Si spargeran per tutto il capo. Méntre (i 4)  La sua spoglia sottile il serpe lascia.  Ringiovanisce ; e rinnovando i cervi  Le corna, non rassembrano^ mai vecchi.  Fuggon senza speranza i nostri beni;  Cogliete il fior, che se non colto vegna,  Cadrà miseramente. A questo aggi ungi  Che fan più breve giovinezza i parti;  Invecchia il campo per continua messe.  Non di vergogna a te , Cinzia , fu causa (i5)  Il latmio Endimion , nè già doveo  Per il rapito Cefalo arrossire (i6)   I Serpenti si spogliane ogni anno della luto  scorza* I Cervi cangiano ogni anno le qorna ; ma ne *  rimangono privi se sian castrati mentre le hanno de~  poste , e più non le varifino, se soffrano una tale ope*  razione phma di deporle. Impiegano i medesimi cin^  que o sei anni nel crescere, e però tioono’ solamente  circa trentacinque o quarànta anni , ttd ortta di tutte *  le fuoole, che gli antichi hanno scritte sulla lunga  ìor vita. Buffon nella sua Storia naturale.   (15) Cinzia ( Annoi, del Lih, I. ) scendeva dal  cielo per godersi Endimione, che qui dicesi latmio per^  chè s^ascondeva ifi Latmo spelonca del monte, di Caria.   (16) S* innamorò la rosea Aurora di Cefalo figlio  di Mercurio, e però lo rapì « Prgcri sua moglie La rosea Diva. Adori si lasci a parte,  Tuttor di pianto a Vetieré^ cagione,  Com’ebb’olla Antonia, cotii* ébbe Enea ? (r 7 )  Seguite" tiiir P esémpid delle Dive,   O bellezze tóót^aK , é a^ desiosi '   UomìAì noilitìegate il favor vostro.:   Siano essi ingannatori ; e che perdete?  Mille vi godan pur<;‘tutto rimane  Nello stato pritòiér. Gon Fuso il ferro*   Si consuma e la‘ pietra ; in Vói non pudte  Cosa alcuna peirir , ricever danno.   Chi ^vieterà cW dal vicino lùme*^   Il lume non si prenda ? e chi nel vasto  Seno del mar V onde serbar procura?   Tu mi dirai che non convien che a un uomo  Si dia la donna in preda ; ma che perdi  Altro che l’acqua che ricever puoi?   Non vogliono i mìei carmi o la mia vocb»  Al libero dell* uom commercio esporvi^   Ma vietanvi temer le cose inani;   Non posson soffrir danno i doni vostri.   Me un’aura lieve , mentre siamo in porto»  Spìnga, che ,al soffio dì più forte vento  Sono per cominciar maggior viaggio.   Dalla cnltura io do princìpio. Il vino  Ceneroso dan sol le calte vigne,   £ sol né’campiVcoltìvatì miri  Lussureggiar le biade. £ la bellezza  Dono del cielo , e come ah vien superba  OQ.Arteà'am. e    (17) La Dea Venere éhhe à(jL Arichise il figlio Enea ,  e da Marte la figlia Anmónia, Bastano . tàli esemp)  per provare che ella permise a molti di possederla .    Digitized by Google     pJbeU^z<i ogui danpa 1 1Ja «ran parte  Di voi prirs rù^.A quf»to 4ouo. .  Con U coltura la beiti ai 4CqWti   Cile si perdo nfgfct^ ^ apci^r cjio eguale  A gueili fosse dpU'idalia Diy*. (i8) ,   Se Io prische fasullo, il corpo Joì;a  Non coti custodirò ^ se gli autieri  Uomini incolti vissero , se cinse ;    Pesante gonna.AndroiMCjayìo non yeggo>(f 9 )  Bagjon 4i,,ayiglia^I es^SA d’un rezzo ,  Guerrier fu^^mpgli^. Fprsé a Ajace incontro  Adorna andap dpvea la sua consorte, (ao)  Se a Ini la^ pflle .poi di sette bovi  Servia di veste ? Ne^ primieri tempi  Rozza regnò semplìcitade, e immense  Ricchezze Roma del soggetto mondo  Ora possiede. Osserva quale adesso (ai) ^ \  Sia,il OampidogUo, e gual no’giorni andati^  E dovrai dir c]lie ,fa d'un altro Giove.  Ventre dicesi idalia dal monte Idale in Cif^ro  a lei consagrato,   (19) Andromaca fa moglie A*Ettore Capitano deU  VArmata Uroijana, Annótàz, 89 del Lih, li.   (ao) AJaae figli^di Telamone è oelebràto daOm'e^'  ro nella sua Iliade come uno piu valorosi Prine^  che andarono all*assedio di Trofa. Sposò egU an*an^  cella nominata Teemessa; e però dice Or ozio  Movit Ajacem Telamone natura ’   Fórina captiTflB Dominuin Teemessa.   La Curia fu anticamente , secóndo F’arrone,  distribuita in due parti, in una delle quali custodi^  vano i Sacerdoti le cose diwine , ’e neWaltra tratta^  vano i Senatori le cose umane. TaaUr fu un Re de*  Sabini così accorto 9 che seppe ottener da Rpmelaiina  parte del Regno dopo d*aver perduto un'atroce bai»  taglia. La Curia, che di tanto ora' rasaembra  Concìlio degna, fu di Tazio a’tempi  Di rozza paglia intesta. Qoe'palagi-  Ch# ora risplendon sacri a Febo e a’Ooci;  Che furon maì^ se non pascolo un giorno  Agli aratori buoi f Piacciano ad altri  Le cose antiche ; io meco stesso godo  D* essere in questa età nato conrorme  A’ miei costumi, non perchè si tragga  Dalle vìscere cieche della terra  11 dutil oro, o perchè venga a noi  Scelta conchiglia da diverso lido;   Nè perchè i monti facciansi minori  Per i marmi scavati ^ o perchè altere *  Sorgano moli ove giaceva il mare;   Ma perchè regna or la cultura , e a’nostri  Tempi rusticitade agli avi antichi  Cara non giunse. non fate carchi  1 vostri orecchi di preziose pietre,   Che in mar lo scolorilo Indìan raccoglie;  Nè comparite già gravi per Toro  Tessuto sulle vesti, onde ben spesso  Le ricchezze cercate e le rapite.   Dalla mondezza noi sìam vinti. Il crine  Si disponga con legge; un pettin dotto  R dona e toglie a suo piacer bellezza.  Non r ornamento stesso a tutte giova;  Quello scelga ciascuna , in cui più splende^  E si consigli col fedel suo specchio.  Chiede una lunga faccia che sul capo (za)   {2.2) Augusto fabbricò nel suo palazzo un Tempio  consacrato ad Apollo Palatino. 1 Duci ^ a* quali ^ dim  cesi sacro il palazzo medesimo, sono Augusto e Tim  bario, mentre quegli vi nacque , e questi vi abitò»  loe   Siati ben divisi non velati i crini;   Così avea Laodàmia le chiome adorne*  Voglion le piene e ritondette guance^   Che della &onte sul confin vi lasci  Piccol nodo onde veggansi, gli orecchi,   D’an*altra il orin flagelli ambe* le spalle,^  Quale al canoro Apollo allor che in mano  Piglia la lira. Come Pagi! Diana  Altra gli .abbia legati, alLor che al bosco  Peiseguita le fiere pau^ròse.   Convien che questa abbia i capelli gonfj;  £ strettamente quella il crine implichi*  Altra s’adorni in guisa tal la ehioma,^   Che alla cilleuia cetera assomigli (aS);  Questa V increspi in modo ohe rassembri  Onda marina. Numerar non puoi  Quante sulla ramosa elea sian ghiande.  Quante in Ibla sian api, e quante fiere  S’ascondano nell’alpi, io pur non posso  A te narrare le diverse fogge  Di dar la legge al crin , mentre ogni giorno  Ne sorgono novelle. A molte giova  Che sia negletto : crederai che il capo  Quelle jerì s^ornasser , che con nuova  Cura testé si pettinar’la chioma.   Studia con l’arte d’imitar Natura.   Era Jole così, quando la vide Mercurio inventò la Lira fatta a gedsa di te»  staggine , e questa dicesi cillenia ^ perchè egli nacque  nel monte Cillene in Arcadia, Se Ooìdio tornasse a  vigere in questo secolo , dorrebbe certamente veder con  Rubilo che le nostre Dame seguono con la massima  esattezza i suoi proietti nell* adornarsi i capelli. Amò Èrcole ardentemente Jole figlia di Eu»  riio, il qual rìcue/ò di dargliela in isposa, quoMtun»  Ercole ; presa la cittade » e disse :  lo ramo; e tal Pabbandonata ; donna  Quando sai carro sosteneala Bacco»   E i Satiri gridare : evviva » evviva.   Quanto in favor della bellezza vostra  Fu Natura indulgente» o donne I Voi  In mille modi ricoprir potete  Z vostri danni. Invan noi ci asix^ndiamò;  Cadono per 1* etade i capei nostri  Come le foglie allor ebe Borea soffia.   Con le germanicb’ erbe asconder pnote (aS)  La donna la canizie » e può con Parte  Miglior del vero altro cercar colore.  Vanne la donna con la chioma folta    f 'glUVaotsu solennemente proméssa, frritmto  gli pertanto da una tal negativa, debellò la Città  d^Occatia » 09 e questi regnava » e gli rapì la sua di¬  letta denteila.   :(a&) si sa veramente auali si fossero quell^er-  he germaniche ^ del di egù amore eUrattivo compone-  vano gli antichi un medicamento » col quale i capel¬  li bianchi si riducevan neri o biondi. Si Sono però,  trovate a’ nostri tempi molte ricette, ohe compensano  largamente una tal mancanza. Cosi se i capelli sìan  bianchi, si posson ridut neri col far uso d*una po¬  mata, a cui siasi aggiunto una piccola porzione di  nero d*aoorio ben macinato » oooero di sughero bru-  glato unito all* azzurro di Berlino. Resta pm assai  difficile di ridurli biondi » se non si vogUono adope¬  rar polveri d^amido leggiermente torrefatte. La mi¬  glior ricetta che si può per quest* effetto accennare »  é la seguente : si faccia una forte liscioìa di cenere di  sarmenti ; vi si unisca una piccola quantità di ra¬  dice di brionia e di celidonia; si faccia il tutto bol¬  lire; ed in fine vi Raggiunga altra più piccola pdtr-  zione di zafferano dell* Indie , di fiorì di stecaae e  di ginestra. Si coli per tela, e si laoino con una tal  acqua piu volte i capélli.      fOft   Per i compri capelli , e col denaro  In mancanza de* saoi porta gK altrou  Nò il coidprar ciò palesemente teca  Ve^ogna i noi vediam che son venduti  D* Ercole in faccia e del virgineo coro. (a6)  Che dirò della veste f Oro ed argento   10 non ricerco ^ o che rosseggi tinta  La lana in tiria porpora. Se mille  A prezzo più leggier vi son colori,   ,, É qual è dì follia segno piò espresso  Che di portar sul corpo i propr} censìf  Ecco il color delFaria allor che searca  Si rimira di nubi, e il tepid*au8tro  Non apporta la pioggia : eccone un altro  Simile a te che sostenesti nn giorno  Come si narra, e Frisse ed Elle quando (27)  Fuggir* le frodi d* Inoe. Imita questo   11 cernleA mare ^ da ciò traggo   Il proprio nome, e di tal veste 10 credo  Si coprisser le Ninfe. Altro è simile (28)   Si rUeva di qui, che in faccia mi Tempia  fMrtcata in onore d'Èrcole e delie Muse , avevano  i Romani una bottega 9 in cui vendei ansi i capelli.   ' (a^) Frisso ed Elle figli dì Adamante Re di Tebe  fuggir dalle frodi d* Inoe loro matrigna, salirò*  no' sopra il montone ornato del Vello d^oro^ che  Mercurio diè in dono a Nefale madre d^ medesimi.  Frisso fu da quello felicemente portato in Coleo , ma  Elle'precipitò in quel mare , che prese da lei il nome  d^ Ellesponto. Con ^esta favola vuol però dire il Poe*  ta 9 che era presso i Romani in uso ( e lo è pure cd  di nostri ) il colore che si assomiglia a quello dell* oro^  - (aQ) Essendo il giovinetto Croco impaziente di poe*  cedere Snùlaoe sua dUetta amante 9 fu trasformato in  un fiore che dicesi volgarmente ZefBivano , o che da lui  Ica preso il nome di Croco.   £t Grocam ia parros yersam cum Smilace flore».   Ovid, Metam.  TOS   AI Croco, e qàaiido accoppia i Ittraihbsi  Destrier, con cròcea reste pur' si rela  La rugiadosa Dea. Di'Pafo a’mirti '  Questo assomiglia , e quello alle purpuree  Amariste , alle rose biancheggianti (29)  Uno‘^ ed tin altro aÈa'straniera grue.   Le ghiande tuè ti sod pure, o Ainarilli,  Nè ri tnancanr le mandorle, e il suo nome  Diede alle lane per la eera. Quanti  Fiori produce la norella terra ~   Allor che fugge iUpìgro rCrnò, e stilla  Gemme la rite ^ tanti beo la lana  Color dirersi, e quello scei tu dei>   Che col tuo rolto Si confà. Ogni reste  Non conriene a ciascuna. I neri ammanti-  Fan risplender le bianche. Assai più. bella  firiseide, allor che fu rapita, apparre,  Perchè le membra accolse in negra reste*.  Odora alle brune donne il color bianco:   E tu piaceri, o di Oefeo, ( 5 o)   In bianca resta allor che di Serifo  Passeggiar! le rie* Io diei consiglio  Che del capro il fetor sotto V ascelle  Non passi, e che non sian per duri peli  Aspre le gambe,. Ma non io già deggio  Delle caucasee rupi le £snciulle  Far dotte, o quelle che di Caico misio {ìi}   (29 ÀmaUsta è una gemma , il di. oui colore è-  quasi simile a quel della porpora.   (So) La figlia di Cefeo à Andromaca: avrà essa  probabilmente passeggiai per le vie di Serifo > perchè  è questa una piccola Isola del mare egeo , nella quàU  fu edueato Perseo suo liberatore.   ( 3 r) Gli abitatori del monte Caucaso furore antica--  menteiCome lo sono tuttora, ferocissitni. FI Caico-è unfiu^  me della Frigia e della Lidia ^ che proviene dalla JS/Lsia.  Bevano all*onde. Che non siano i denti  V*ammonirò per hidblenza foschi,   E che si lavin sul mattin 1 ^ guanoe  Con man dell’onda aspersa. Voi sapete  Pjocacciarvi il candor con distemprata  Cera; e con Parte divien rossa quella.  Cui non colora il sangue suo la. faccia:  Voi con Parte il confin nudo del ciglio  Fate ripieno, e voi con tenue pelle  Ricoprite talor |e vere gote.   Stropicciar gli occhi poi non è vergogna  Con la cenere tepida „ o col crocb  Che nasce presso te , lucido . Cinno. (3a)  Tengo un libretto picciolo, ma grande ^  Opra per il pensiero , in cui i rimedj - '   Qià v’insegnai per la bellezza vòstra»    ( 3 d) Con felice successo adoperarono le Dame Ro^  mane la cera distemprata per far fianca la peUe ; e  con faUe^ ti Adopera ancora in questi tempi   dalle nostre Dame . Ecco il modo di prepararla : ad  una parte di cera bianca di Venezia si uniscono otto  parti d* acqua , a cui si aggiunge una piccola porzione  d*alcali vegetale y e si di^cioglie il tutto finché non si  abbia una sostanza consimile al latte* he Dame ro^  mane solevano ancora adornare co* colori , e riempire  co*peli ben disposti quello spazio ài pelle nuda che é  fra il ciglio e il sopracciglio, s ! •   Il le •apercìlium magaa faligine tinctum  « Obliqua producit acu.   Giovenale.   Dalla Cilicia che è irrigata dal fasme Ciano fa»  cevano esse venire il zaffarono ed altre céneri atte a  purgar gli occhi dagli umori soverchp; e a renderli  per cònseguenza maggiormente^vivaci. Ha scritto Opì-  dio un piccolo libro de medicamiue faciei quale   inségna alle Donne tutti i rimedj, che possono contri»  buire a far bella la lor faccia e le loro membra. Quindi riparo alla figura offesa  Cercate, che non è per gli usi Vostri  Inefficace Farte mia. L’apiaìite  Non miri apertamente i vasi esposti.   Che Tarte ascosa giova alla beltade.   A chi non spiaceria mirar sul volto  Stendere quella feccia , e lentamente'  Cader pel peso suo nel caldo seno?   Quàl dall* immonda lana dell* agnella ( 33 )   €2    ( 33 ) Fahhricavasi in Atene con In lana sudicia e  molle un medicamento che i Greci chiamavano Etipo.  Le Donne facevano uso di questo per mollificare le  ulceri di qualche delicata lor parte. Vedasi Diosco*  ride y Plinio il Mattioli nel suo erbario ; che ne  parlano a lungo , ed insegnano la maniera di fabbri^  cario,   ' Non d può accennare qui il modo , con cui prepa^  radano gli antichi i midolli della Cerva yper averne  un composto atto a far bianchi i denti, era i molti  medicamenti che hanno per quesV effetto inventati i  nostri Chinùci , ci piace di riportar qui la polvere ,  V oppiata i e le spunghe ; di^ cui dà Mons, Beaumé la  ricetta nella sua Farmacia,   Ad un*oncia di pomice, di terra sigillata^ e di  corallo rosso s*aggiunga mexz*oncia di sangue di Dra^  go, un* oncia e mezza di cremar di tartaro^ se ne fac^  da una polvere sottilissima , e vi si unisca una pie-  cola porzione di garofani e di cannella.   Per compor quindi V oppiata > si prenda un* oncia  della polvere suddetta, due once di lacca rossa da  Pittori, quattro di mele di Narhonne, due di siroppo  di more ; a queste ù uniscano due gócce d* dio essen--  ziale di garofani, e si avràr un* oppiata , che S4^à op¬  portuna , come la polvere , a ripulire , imbianchire , e  preservare i denti da molti incomodi.   Una stessa virtà hanno le spunghe preparate , e  intrise in una tintura fatta con lìfibre quattro a^ua,  in cui abbina hoUUo quattVonce di legno del Bras^*  Daraiìne ing^rato odòrè- il 'sugo estratta^  Benché da Atene a noi si mandi t Inverò^  Lodar non so cl^ alla presenza altrui  Della cerva i midolli insìem mischiati  Piglinsi, e che palesemente i denti  Si faccian netti* Utili alla beltade  Sono. tai cose , ma deformi troppa  Agli occhi nostri* Molte cose fatte  Piacciono, e turpi son mentre si fanno»  Le statue di Mirone opre famose, ( 34 )  Furono inerte peso e dura massa,   Per farsi anello , Toro in pria si frange,   E quelle vestì, onde vi fate adorne,,  Furon. sordide lane* Era aspro marmo,.  Mentre erano a scolpirla intenti, quella  Statua nobile in cui Venere nuda  Trae fuor dall* onde gli umidi capelli. (35)*  Fa che pensar possìam che dormi allora  Che tu Vadornì, Io lusingl>ieTa forma  Sarai mirata se alla tua cultura   le, tre dramme di cocciniglia soppesta , e quattri) di  alume di rocca . Quando queste spunghe si sono, im¬  bevute d* una sufficiente quantità d* una tal tintura,  si fanno asciugare, si pongono per alcune ore nello-  spirito di vino, a cui siasi aggiunte una porzione di-  olio di cannella y di garofani,.e di spigo ec.; quindi  si spremono, e sì conservano per valersene al bisogno,  ih vaso di Oetre ben ehiuso.   (34J Mirone discepolo d^ Ageladé seppe formare in  bronzo còsi perfettamente le statue , che Petronio dite  aver egli compreso nel bronzo V anima degli uomini  e delle bestie Alludesi alla famosa statua di PrassiteU , che   rappresenta Venere nuda neW atto d^ uscir dal mora.  Fu questa collocata in Roma nel Tempio di Bruto  Callaico insieme col Colosso di Marte pvesso - il Circ¬  eo ffaminio»  Diligente darai T ultima mano.   Del talamo le porte ben raccbiudi.   Perchè vuoi far^ palese un’opra rozaaf  Molte COEC' ignorar gli uomini danno.   Di. cui gli ofiendón molte, se non copri  Ciò , che & d’uopor di tener , celato.   Vedi quelle che pendono^ da un culto>  Teatro aurate statue, a osserva bene  Qual lieve foglia il legno lor ricopra..   Ma come quelle al popolo* non lice  Veder ae non sien poste in vaga mostra^  Così se non elea gli uomini lontani,   Non si procuri d’acquistar bellezza.   Non vieteiò cbe al pettine abbandoni  Palesemente 1 tuoi capelli, quando  Scender potran per tutto il tergo aspersi.  Di non esser procura allor molesta, •  Ne aciorre spesso le mal calte chiome.  Sicura sìat quella che il crin t’adorna;  Odio colei che le ferisce il volto  Con l’un ghie liCi con rapito ago le punge  1 ( braccia Allor d’ancella là detesta.   Le tocca il capo, e sull’odiate trecce*   Col piaotn suo scende mischiato il sangue*  Quella che il capo.ha.quaai calvo ,ipoDga^  Sulla porta il oustode , o della Dea  Gibele al ten^pio ad adornar si vada. ( 56 )    ^ ( 36 )’ CibéU aveva in Roma un Tempio, in cui non  potevano aver gli uomM V accesso :   4 Sacra Bona maribas non adeunda Des.   Tibullo,   Insinua pmttauio Ovidio con questa frase Me Donne  di non pettinarsi alla pretenza^ degli uomini^ se non  so» Mli i ìorq capelli fui annunziato airimprovviso un giorno   A una -donzalla; e torbida i non suoi  Velò capelli. Uo tal ro 88 or > ricopra  La faccia alle nettiicbe, e questa^ infamia  Fra le particele Nuore abbia soggiorno.  Turpe è Tarmento senza corna, e turpe  Senza gramigna è il campo, Tarboscello  Senza le foglie, e senza i crini il ^apb»  Non-vennero ad udire i miei precetti  Semele, Leda ^ o la sidonia donna (37)  Che via portò pel tnar fallace Toro,   O la tua sposalo Menelao, cW chiedi  Bene a ragione, e che a ragion si tiene   11 Rapitor Trojano^Ecco una turba*'   Di belle donne e dì deformi a un tempo  ( Ahi sèmpre il ben dal male è snperato ! )  Che chiède i miei precetti, ma non tanto  Cercan questi le belle , e men dell^rfe  Procurano rajoto. Han quelle in dota  Beltade senza Parte assai possente.   Quando tranquillo è il mar, sicuro bessa^  Il nocchier dal lavoro, e mentre è gonfio  Si asside, e in opra pone ogni socConk).  Rara è beltà che senza macchie Sia; ^   Le cela , e i vizj del tuo jcorpo ascondi   {37) Semeie figlia di Cadmo He di TeÒe e.madre^  di Bacco , Leda figlia di Tindaro, e sorella di Ca-  stare e Pollice, Buropa figlia di Agenore He di Fe¬  nicia ove giace la città di Sidone , da cui élla vieti  detta Sidonia, furono dotate d*una tal bellezza , che  innamorarono vivamente lo stesso Giove, il quale non^  ebbe à vile di prender per esse le più strane sem^  hianze. Queste con Elena mogUè 'di Menelaosi pro» ^  pongono qui dal Poeta , come eiélnpi troppe rari dì:  perfetta bellezza. Quanta più puoi'« Se di statura breve  Tu sei, t’assidi, onde seder non sembri  Allor che in piedi stai. Se oltre misura  Però lo fo^si^ allor ti porca , e ascondi  Con le vesti su’piedi un tal difetto.  Quelle che sono gracili e minute  Debbon di grossi drappi ornarsi, i quali  Sciolti cader si lascin dalle spallo.   Tocchi il suo corpo con purpurea verga ( 38 ^  Chi è pallida ; e chi è nera abbia ricorso  Al fario, pesce. Un piò lungo e deforme  Sottu candida alunda pgnor si celi, ($9)  Nè secche gambe .sciolgansi da* lacci.    (38) È certo , gU onticfd aoéoano de* medica^  menti , co* quali ti coloravan la faccia ^, benché non d  sappia di qual natura^ quelli si fossero . Il belletto >  che si usa pretentemente è composto di rosso e di  biancone sarà forse pià efficace di quel che adopra*  vano le Daàte romane. Si è per qualche, tempo im-^  piegata Cernita il magistero di Bismuto^ detto  altrimenti bianco di spanna com« quello, che avendo  un leggiero color d* incarnato, era pià analogo aHa  pelle ; ma sì l* una che l* altro anneriscono e guasta¬  no la carnagione, mentre tutte le calci metallici^ ri¬  prèndono una parte del loro flogisto , e, si ripristinano*  Si è pertanto sostituita alla cerussa ed al bismuto  la pomata di spermàceti^e l* olio di mandorle dolci,  unendovi una porziànè di falco'biancò finissimo. Col  talco bianco ùmilmente barico ,della parte coloranto  de* fiori di Cqrt^mfi j a, ,cui si aggiungono poche goc¬  ce di olio di Beri, per renderlo pastoso è molle, si  compone il roiso y che ancor chiamasi-rosso di porto-  gallo o roSso'vegetale. ‘   Il /arto pesce é il Coccodrillo y degl* interiori e della  sterco del quote sh servivano i Homani e(f i Greci per  fare un composto atto a render bianca e splendida,  lo pellé.   (39) X’Alauda b una pelle moUissiuia,  Tenue eoscm conviene ad alte spalici  E se il petto sìk turgida, il circondi  Fascia, e lo stringa. Se le dità pin^ui^   E scabre T ùnghie avrai, allor di rado  Accompagna congesti i detti tuoi.   Chi grave dalla bocca esala oddte ' •  Digiuna mai non parli ^ e dalla bocca  Deir uom stia lungi. Negri, e troppo grandi  Se i denti siéno, o in non belFordin natii  Massimo il «iso allora apporta danno.   Chi ^1 crederiaMiC donne apprendon pure  Le. maniere del ti80 ,'e in qùesta parte  Nuovo per lor procacciano òtnatoeùto.  Non troppo-larga apri la bocca , e brievi  Sian le pozzette in ambedne le. gote,   E le radiche ognor copra de’denti  L’estremità de’labbri , e non bisogna.  Affaticar con smoderato riso .   Il fianco, mentre deve ancor nel riso. -  Dar proprio, delle donne urf dolce sùono'.  V’ è pur chi in mille guise il volto-  Con male acconce risa*, ed altra credi  Piangere allor che tutta allegra ride$  Quella tramanda un, rauco suono ; e stride  Cosi inamabilmente, che ^assembra ;  Asìnella che ragli, allor che intorue s 5  Alla macina gira.^E'do Ve l’arte ^   Non giugno ? Coù decòro itnpajfan )   A lacrimare, e come, e qhandò sembra, ^  Loro opportune. E che dirò di quelle.   Che niegano agli accenti intera forma,   E fan con studio balbettar la linguaf ^  Credon che sia lìa grazia ancor nel viziò^.  E pronunciano mal varie paròle^ •    Digitized by Google     rrii   E con arte studiata altre ne lasciano.   A tutto ciò, che ben giovar vi puote^  Ponete cura, e con femineo passo  Imparate a portare il corpo vostro^   Havvi nel portamento anco il decoro.   Con cui si fan fuggir , con cui si allettano^  Gii uomini ignoti. Muove questa il fianco  Con arte , ed ondeggiar lascia le gopne  Air aure in preda, e stesi i piedi porta  Con maniera superba. Altra cammina  Qual deir umbro marito la consorte (4o).  Rubiconda, e con piede in dentro volto  rapassi move smisurati •y in q^uesto  Serbisi, e in altro pur giusta misura»  Rustici ha questa i moti, e troppo quella^  E molli e ricercatk LMraa* parte  Della spalla, e r estrema ancor del braccio  Di nuda, onde chi posto è al manco lato  Veder la possa. -Hi special modo a voi  Gioverà che qual neve avete bianca  Ina pelle. Quando questa io mira, sem-pr^  Sulla spalla scoperta i bacci imprimo.   Col dolce suon della canora voce  Fermàr le navi più spedite al corso  Le Sirene* del mare iniqui mostri. (41)    {40) Condanna Ovidio a ragione come rozze le mo¬  gli degli Ultori popoli forti e a un tempo stesso /«-  voci f che abitarono in Italia sul monte Appennino,  (41) I>c Sìrerse sono tre barbari mostri che dimora¬  rono nel mar di Sicilia, Col suon lusinghiero deWar¬  moniosa lor voce'allettavano queste in tal maniera i  naviganti , che si lasciavano essi predar facilmente.  Ulisse per evitare un tanto pericolo , chiuse con la cera  ^^^cchie suoi compagni^ e si legò strettamente'^  M albero della na^e ^da cui si disciolse dopo    jia   Udite qneste, se medesmo sciolse  DalParbor della nave, e con la cera  Chiuse Ulisse accompagni ambe le orecchie.  È lusinghiero il canto . Le fanciulle  Apprèndano a cantar ; la voce a molte  Senza bellezza conciliò gli affetti.   Cantino quel che udirò ne’ marmorei  Teatri f ed or versi costrutti in metro (42)  Niliaco; e culta femina tenere  Sappia per mio giudizio or nella destra  11 plettro , ed or con l’altra man la cetra.  Il tracio Orfeo con la sua lira mosse ( 43 )  Le fiere, i sassi, le paludi stigie,   Ed il triforme Cane . O della madre  Giusto vendicatore al canto tuo  Cortesi i sassi fabbricar’ le nlura.   Benché sia muto, il pesce ( è nota al mondo  Favola) al suon del arionia lira( 44 )   sentito il dolce cànto di quelle . Le donne imparino  dunque a cantare ,se ooglionsi conciliare, come dice  Otfidio , P qmore degli uomini,   ( 4 ^) E!ran famigliari a* Romani le canzonette ame^  rose , e spesso lascile , ahe si cantavano in Egitto , ove  scorre il celebre fiume Nilo,   (43) Orfeo nato in Tracia da Apollo e da Calilo •  pe col suono armonioso della sua Lira fece sì che gli  corressero dietro per ascoltarlo , gli alberi , i sassi , i  fiumi , e le beloe feroci : Quand* egli intese la morte  d* Euridice sua moglie , scese con la lira all* Infernot  e con quella intenerì talmente gli Dei infernali, che  a lui la restituirono , purché non ardisse di riguar--  darla prima d* uscir dall* Inferno, Non p9té l* amo^  toso consorte obbedire a tal legge , e però ella dovè  involarsi a* suoi sguardi subito ch^ ei la mirò   ( 44 ) Anfione figlio di Giove e d*Antiope indusse le  pietre col suon della Lira a fabbricar le mura della  città 4i Tebe. Picesi vendicator della madre, perchè.  Si fe* pietoso . Anco a toccare impara  Con Tana e l’altra man le dolci corde  Del Salterio ; son atte a* cari scherzi*   Di Callimaco a te smn noti i carmi.   Quelli del eoo Poeta , e quei del tejo (45)  Vinoso Vecchio. A te Saffo sia nota  (Son più degli altri i carmi suoi lascivi)   E quel per cui viene ingannato il padre (46)  Del servo Oeta con la callid’ arte.   Del tenero Properzio i versi leggi,   O quei di Gallo, o quei del buon Tibullo,  O i velli insigni per le bionde fila (47)   insieme fratello Leto la vendicò dall* ingiurie ,  che recatale Ideo di lei marito y col trucidarlo nel  letto y ove lo sorprese con Dirce sua concubina y a cui  pure tolse la vita.   Atwne nacque in Metinna , e fu im eccellente Po&^  ta lirico , e nel tempo medesimo un ricco mercante.  Ufosid alcuni suoi comùttadini dal desiderio di godere  delle sue ricchezze fissarono di gettarlo in mare, men*^  tre egli se ne tornala alla patria. Accortosi di ciò  Arione cantò intrepidamente una canzonetta , ed un-'  Delfino , allettato da una sì dólce melodià , Vaccai^  se sulle sue spalle y e lo portò in Tanaro promontorio  della Laconia,   (45) Accenna ora Òoidio i Poeti che piacevano ai  suoi tempi , e per lo stile e per le materie galanti ,  come a* dì nostri piacciono Ariosto , Passo , Guaritù ,  è Metastasio ec.   Fiteta fiorì a* tempi d*Alessandro Magno per li suoi'  versi elio^afici , e dicesi eoo Poeta y perche Coo /if ia  sua patria. Anacreonte nacque in TeJo , e scrisse mol^  te canzoni veramente leggiadre in onore del buon vi¬  no , delle donne y e del giovinetto Batillo.   (46) Terenùo compose una commedia, in cui il  padrone , ed il fratello sono ingannati da Geta asti^^  to lor servitore.   .'(47) ^^^^one Àttacino cantò ne* suoi versi la spe^  dizione in Coleo degU Argonauti. Il vello d* oro , che    jbyGoo'gle      ii 4   Che far fanesti, ó Prisso ^ alla tua aaara  Cantati da Varrone, q il pio Trojano  Di coi non y’ha nel Lazio opra più chiara.  Ma forse un dì con 'questi andrà conginnto  H nome nostro, nè i miei scritti in Leta  Saran dispersi/Dirà aldino : leggi ,   I culti versi del maestro nostro^   Con cui poteo far dotti uomini c donne.^  Fra’suoi tre libri che hanno infronte scritto   II titolo d* amor 9 scegli que^ verai ( 4 j 3 )t  Che legger tu potrai con docil bocca  Più mollemente ; oppur con ferma voco ,  Canta P Eroìdi , ignota opera agli altri  Ch’egli compieo. Ahi cosi piaccia aFebo^  Pel corno a Bacco insigne/ ed allò Muse,  Numi che son propizj a noi Poeti.   Chi dubitar potrà ch^ìo la fanciulla  Non voglia al ballo istrutta, onde poi toltq  Il vino dalla mensa » ella le braccia  Volga in composte ed ordinato moto?  Amansi i danzator che della scena  Sonò spettacol, perchè san con arte :   V Saltare y e con decoro. Io mi vergogno  Di doverla ammonir di tenui cose, _   questi ivi andarono a conquistare , fu funesto ai Elle  sorella di Frisso y perchè ella , come si è accennato y  cadde miseramente in mare , mentre il Montone ador^  no d* un tal vello la portava insiem col fratello ih  Coleo,, Tl pio Trojsno h, come è noto y Enea, sulle  aùoni del quale ha scritto Virgilio quell* aureo Poe»  ma che porta il nome d* £aeidb.   {èfi) Ovidio fra l*altre sue opere annovera ancora  ire libri d* Elegie intitolati gli Amori, ed un libro  - intitolato V ^roidi , perchè comprende ventuno lettere  amorose y che fa scrioère scambievolmente dagli Eroi  all’Eroine^ e dalfEroioe agli £roi.  P’istruirla a gettare or l’aliosso,   £ a conoscer de’ dadi anco il valore.   Or tre numeri getti, ed ora accorta (49)  Pensi qual parte segua acconciamente  E qual richieda. Canta in finta guerra (5o)  Muova i soldati, che da duo assalito  Nemici uno perisce. Il Re sorpreso  Senza la sua compagna ^ si difenda  Da se medesmo , e f’emulo ritorni  Per lo stesso seotier.' La tasca è aperta^   E ornai son sparse le pulite palle; (5 i)  Quella che prendi sol muover tn dei.  Ravvi un: gioco diviso in tante parti (Sai  Quanti numera mesi il luhric^anno.   Breve tabella prende da ogni parte (S3)-  Tre tenni pietre, e il vincere consiste  Nel disjpor queste in una dritta  Mille giochi vi SOI» che turpe fia  A una donzella d* ignorar ; col gioco  Si può l’amore conciliar. Leggiera  Fatica è appreodero a giocar ; maggiore  Opra é il compmrre allora i suoi costumi.    C49) Non sappum Diramente per qual ragione si~  éovesse procurare tempi, in cui vivcóa Ovidio di  gettar tre numeri nel gioco d^ Dadi.   ^ 5 “^ •S£r»/erÌjco»o questi versi al gioco degli Scacchi.   (Si) questo un gioco, di cui non possiam dare  tucuna notula.   Sembraci f che sia questo il gioco, che r pure  * *** dell» Dama.   ( 53 ) Alludeu (d gioco del Filetto, che . or gioeano'  nule campagne i ragazzi. Così b decaduto un gioco -  0^ formava la delizia delle Dame romane, e coi»  aecaderanno ancor quelli che si hanno in pregio a‘ dk  nostri, ® '    Digitized by Google    Mentre s’applica al gioco, incanti siamo,   E i reconditi sensi alloc dell’ alma  Facoiam palesi. Ci deforma il volto ^ j   Il cieco sdegno, e sono ognot col gioco  Il desio del guadagno , le .pontese, »   11 sollecito duol, le stolte tìsse.^ j   Rinfaccìansi i delitti ; di clamori *   V aere risuona, e in sno favor s’invocano  Gl’ irati Dei. Non v’ è fede nel gioco  Il qual co’ voti non divìen secondo;   Vidi le gote ognor molli di pianto:   Da voi che amate di piacere all’uomo,  Giove tenga lontan questo delitto.   Diè la pigra natura allo fanciulle   Silaili giochi ; ad altri pii sublimi   S* applica l’ uom : per lui sono il paleo» ( 64 )   I dardi, 1 ’ armi , le veloci palle;   E il cavallo costretto a gire i^^no.   Voi non acosf^il’-campo.o'ra gelata ( 55 )  Vergin , nè voi sulle sue placid’ onde j  Porta il toscano fiume* Ah ! voi potete  Gire all’ ombre pompeje, anzi vi giova ( 56 ) 1  Quando i destrier del Sole ardono il capo    (5 4 ) H Paleo i urto strumento fatta a guisa Jt  trottola, eoi quale giocaoano i fanciulli romani fa-  tendalo con una sferza girare intorno.   ( 55 ) Nel Campo Marzio si esercitavano »  romani in tutti que’giuochi cU potevano «P***^"'^*   • renderli valorosi guerrien. Era ivi   ta Vergine dalla fanciulla che ne scopri la sorgente,   ed in quella si lavavano i giratori le   di polvere e di sudore. Il Tevere e qui detto fannie   tascsno, perchè dall’Appennino   la Toscana nel f<u-t il siSo corso alla wta di tioma.   ( 56 ) Annoi, q. del fàh. I, ^    Digitized by Google     Alla vergin celeste. I sacri a Febo (5^)  i’alagi visitate ; egli sommerse  In alto mar le paretonie navi.   I monumenti ancor» che fur costrutti»  Dovete frequentar, da Ottavia e Livia ( 58 )  Una suora del Ehjce, altra consòrte,   E quelli pur del valoroso Agrippa,   Che ha cinto il capo di navale onore.  Della menfitica Iside agli altari (69)   Siate frequenti , ov^ ardesi P incenso,   E ne’luoghi cospicui a’tie teatri.   Di caldo sangue le macchiate arene  Ite a mirare, e la prescritta meta.   Rapido intorno a coi si volge il cocchia.  Quel che si cela ò ignoto , e ciò che è ignoto  Nessun desio risveglia ; è lungi il frutto  Se manca il testimone a un bel sembiante.  Benché nel canto superi Tamira (60)   ( 5 ?) Dicé con Ovidio ancora Virgilio, che Apollo  nella guerra Azziaca prestò il suo soccorso ad Augu^  sto y il quale aveoagli innalzato un ternpio nel pro^  prio palazzo . Apollo in conseguenr^a , ^Hcondo questi  poeti , sommerse le navi egiziane deste paretonie da  Paretonio città marittima d*Egitto , che Pompeo avem  va armate contro d*Augusto.   ( 58 ) Ved^i l*annot, 8 e g del Libro /. Augusto  decorò A grippa suo generò della Corona navale dopo  d^aver debellato Pompeo ^ ed innalzò al medesimo un  portico y che fu chiamato il Portico d’A^rippa.   (59) Annoi, li del Lib, /. Dice Sirabone che gia¬  cevano tre superbi Teatri in vicinanza del Campa  Marzio.   (60) Fu Tamira un poeta tragico che ardì con la  sua lira di provocare le stesse Muse ^ credendosi a  quelle superiore nella dolcezza del cantoma\dalle  medesime fu vinto , ed in pena della' sua arrogwiza  gli furono tolti gli occhi.    Digitized by Google      ii8   Ed Àmebeo , sarà priva d’ onor«   L’ ignota cetra» Se di Coo il Pittore  Vener ritratta non avesse^ immersa  Sare^bbe ancor nelle mailne spume.   £ che ricercan maggiormente i sac^i  Poeti che la fama ? E questo il fine  Cui tendon tutte le fatiche nostre.   Fur de’Numi e de'Re delizia un giorno.  1 Poeti , ed immensi ottener premj  I cori antichi* Venerando allora,   £ d’ una santa maestà ripieno  Fu questo nome, ed ebbero sovente  Larghe ricchezze. Ennio che il suo natale  Trasse ne’monti calabresi , degno  Si fé’ d’esser unito al gran Scipione. (6i)  Or giaccion senza onor Federe, e il nome  Ha d’inerte colui, che i sacri studj  Cari alle Muse a coltivar s’accinge»   Giova cercar la fama, e chi d'Omero  Contezza avrebbe , se in obblió sepolta   Ateneo^ Plutarco ed altri parlano con somma lo^  de d*Amebeo ateniese , perchè sonava eccellentemen-  te la cetra, Apelle nativo di Coo dipinse Venere nel-  ratto di uscire dalVonde marine \ ed Augusto coliocè  una tal pittura nel Tempio dì Cesare suo Padre,   (6i) ÉrUiio è tra i Latini un poeta che si può da-  gV Italiani paragonare a Dante.   Ennius ingenio maximus , arte xudis.   Owd. Trist, Ub. IL EL I,   Fu egli, nativo di Rudia in Calabria , e visse som¬  mamente caro a Scipione Affricano il vecchio , ed a  molti altri insigni Cavalieri romani. Morì in età di  anni settanta , e dicevi che fu collocata la sua sta¬  tua di marmo nel sepolcro degli Scipioni. Cicerone  ^ro Archia Peata , così parla di ciò : Garas fuit Af-  iiricano superiori ngster Ennius ; itaque in tepulcro  ScipioQum putatur is esse constitutus e marmore.   L'Iliade o^ra imxnortal foase rimasa? ^  Chi Danae conosoiata avr^a , se ascosa (6a)  Posse étata mai sempre^ e «e già vecchia'  Si fo8a''ella lacchiusa eptro la torre?  Utile è a voi , bèllé e vezzose donne,   Di porre oltre le soglie il vago piede<   La lupa a molte agnello insidie tende  Per predarne una, e sopra molti augelli  Vola 1 Augel dj Giove. Il volto mostri  Sposa_ leggiadra ^1 P®poI<>> o fra molti  Un solo appéna rimai^rà sua preda.   In ogni loco ove si tro^ , attenda  Sempre a piacere; ed abi>ia special cura  Di sua bellezza. Puote in ogni incontro  Sempre molto la sorte. Getta l’amo,   Chè in quel gor^o, ovemen lo pensi, il pé^co  t alor SI trova . Erran sovente indarno  Per boschi montuosi i cani , e il cervo  Cade fra’ lacci, mentre uinn l’insegne.   D Andromeda l^ata a un duro scoglio ( 65 )   Il niT*** *Pf far, che a un uom piacesse   Il pianto sue ? ài cerca spesso un uomo  Ne funerali del marito ; i crini  Sciolti portar conviene, e sian la gote   Di lagrime bagnate . Ma fuggite   Gl, uomini che d’aver le ^mbra adorne   hi fanno un pregio ; della lor beltade   Vanno superbi, e portano le chiome  Con ricercata simmetria, disposte.   Ciò che dicono a vói, dissèro a m{llé;   D’ uno in un altro àmot Tàgando vanno ,  Senza restarsi in dmha "parte mai.   Che d’un tal uomo effemi,nato., a cui  Forse molti non mancano amatori.   Dee fer la donna ? 11 crederete appena.   Ma credetelo'pur , Troja' àncor ferma ( 64 )  Starebbé,se di Priamo avesse ih uso\ ‘  Posto gl* insegnamenti . H'a^yi di quelli  Che sotto il mantó di fallate amore ^   ■V* assalgono , e tiòèrcan coh‘ tai mezzi  Vergognosi guadagni . Ntìn la chioma  Per il liquido nardo nitidissima ^  V'inganni, o breve fascia con cui stringa  Le pieghe della veste ; nè v’ illuda  Toga che sia di tenue,fil tèssuta;^   O anel con cui s’adorni uno o più. dita.  Chi fra questi è più colto, è forse un ladro,  E d’ amore arde per la ricca veste.  Gridano spesso le spogliate Donne;   Il mio a me rendi, e il suon per tutto il foro  Rimbomba, e s’ode ; a me deh rendi il mio.  Tu da tuoi templi d’oro adorni miri  Con le femmine d’ Appia indifferente, ( 65 )  Venere, queste lìti , Ancor vi sono  Pessimi nomi'pei^'non dubbia, fama-.    ( 64 ) Priamo iruinuava «’ tuoi Trojatti di rtrtdtr   ^( 65 ) àoeva nella via appia   tomo al quale abitarono molte donne   sacrifici che queste rendevano a quella lor   lare , consistevano in prestar liberante tl lor corpo   alle voglie sfrtnatt desìi uomm Iwrnnio  E molte che rimasero ingjinnatp  Da molti amanti, or d’ un egual delitto  Si trovan .ree. Dalle quetele altrui;  Imparate a; temer le^ vostre ; chiusa,   Sia mai sempre la porta ad uom fi^lace.  Donne ateniesi, uon prestate fade (j66)‘   A Teseo ancor, che giuri • In testimonio»  Come invocolli nn giorno, i Numi invoca.  Tu del delitto, oJDemofonte , erede.   Di Teseo più non meriti credenza, (67)  Perchè ingannasti Fillide . Se molto  A te pròmetteran, loro prometti j *  Con eguali parale . So di doni,   Ti siano liberali, lor concedi   I promessi piacer, ma se gli nìeghi   II dono ricevuto, ancor potrai.   La fiamma estinguer deUa vìgil Vesta, (68)  Rapir da’templi dTside gli arredi,   E air uom porger T. aconito mischiato  Con la trita cicuta«tll mio desire ,   Mi spinge ora a ;fcenarmi, e: tu ritieni.  Musa , le brìglie : nè le mosse rote  * Ti dian.terror» Tentino in prima il guado  Ov..Arte d-am.    (66) Teseo abbandoni Arianna in Nassa,   (67) Demofe^nte non serbò a Fillide la premesti^  di ritornarsene a lei dentro due mesi,   (68) Con questi versi vuol significare il poeta che  è capace di commettere ogni sceUeratezza quella don~  na , che nega il favor suo a quegli uomini da* quali  ha ricevuto de^ doni, Riputavasi in fatti da* Romani  un enorme delitto il rapire il fuoco custodito dalle  Vestali, o i .sacri arredi del tempio d* Iside; e da  ogni nazione si è creduto sempre colpevole colui che  porge alVuQmo /^aconito con la cicuta , cioè il vet^no. Xrli scritti fogli, e T inviate cifre  Riceva accorta ancella . Apprendi e vedi  Dalle stesse parole che tu leggi,   Se finga, o par se son sinceri i prieghi.  Dopo breve dimora ognor rispondi^   Mentre , se è bre;i^e, è stimolo agli amanti.  Deh non prometti al giovin che ti prega  D’ esser docile mai, ma in duri accenti  Non.gli negar ciò che dimanda . Tema  E speri a un tempo^ e ognor che tu il licenzi  Sia minore il timor, maggior la speme.  Scrivi culto parole e consuete,   Che un famigliare stil più eh’ altro piace.  Ah quante volte arse per dólci note  II cor di dubbio amante , e fu nociva  Una barbara lingua a bella Donna!   Benché voi siate nell* ònor perdute.   Tutte le cure vostre or son dirette  A ingannate i Mariti . Idonea mano  D’esperto giovin, di fidata ancella  Rechi le dolci lettere , e tai pegni  Non sian fidati ad un novello amante.  Vidi ben spesso impallidir le donno  Per tal timore , e vìvere i lor giorni  Miseramente in sehìavitudin dura.   Perfido è quei ohe tali doni serba.   Che qual fulmine etnèo sono in sua mano.  Si può tener, se al vero io non m’appongo,  Lungi la frode con la frode ognora;  Contro gli armati impugnar 1 ’ armi, logge  Nissuna vieta . A imprimer sulla carta  S’accostumi la man diverse cifre.   Ah ! peran quelli contro cui vi deggio  Avvertir di tal cose. In foglio mondo    Digitized by Google     123   La risposta si scriva , onde non sembri  Da due mani vergato . Al suo diletto  Scriva la donna, .come un uòmo amante  Scrive air amata » ed usi V uom V opposto.  Ma da lieve materia innalzar V alma  Ora a me piace a più sublimi cose,   E le vele spiegar gonfie dal vento.   Opra è del volto i rabidi trasporti  Saper frenar : candida pace all* nonio  Convien come alle belve ira crudele.   Si fan per Tira tumide le guancie;  Vengpn nere le vene, e inocchio splende  Più truòemente del gorgòueo ‘fòco. (69)  Vanne lungi da 'metromba importuna^  Disse’Pallade ^ allór che il volto suo (*^0)  Mirò )iel fiume . Se voi iii mezzo all’ ira  Riguardate lo specchio ^ alcuna appena ^  liistinguére pbtm W figura. '   Nè dannosa a Voi supérbr^^ facòià j  TurgidJ il voltò ; có^ be^nigiii sguardi  Deèsi a^es9ar 1 ’ amóre ‘J Odiahio ( e voi  Già 1 fó^cre((efé che. ìie siete esperte) ‘   I fasti inambderatl^e spesso chiude  Deir odio 1 sómi taciturna faccia. /   Guard^ ^uel che ii mira , e ùi olle mente  Sorrmi 'a^ueì cjhe rid^ e se à te un cenno   §ia .   Gorgoni étart t^e mostri \^enimente orribili  per ìaHesta ^circonddia di serpi , e per Vocchio spaven^  tegole che ateoanò in: mezzo alla fronte . Chi fissava  occhi in faccia*'alle medesime , rimaneva di sasso,  (70) Pallàde / sécorido^alcuni y gettò via la tromba,  perdhè ^s’accorse chè ih sonarla si faceva troppo gòHf^  la faccia. ‘ ' Con tai preludj il favcitilletlo Amor»   Pose i rozzi da parte, e diè di piglio  A! dardi acuti della sua faretra.   Vadan lungi da noi le donne meste;   Ajace ami Tecmessa t noi sol puote  Tener ne’lacci suoi lemina allegra. (71)  Non fa giammai che a voi porgessi preci,  O Andromaca o Teome^sa , onde a me foste  O r una o Valtra amiche. Appéna posso  Creder che in letto maritar giaceste,  Quando, a crederlo astretto io son da^iiglL  Fprse ad Ajace la dolente sposa ‘  Avrà detto : mia luce, e gli altri accenti,  Cari agli uomin|^ tanto f £ chi mai Vieta,  Applicar gravi esempli a tenni cose,   E di guerrier non paventare il npmef  Cento soldati a questo^ il Duce esperto (72]^  Diè a regger cop la vite ,|è a quello cento  Cavalieri, e lasciò'T altro in custodia ^  Delle l^andiere A; qual vedete impresa  Atti noi siamo ; e^nel suo posto'o^gntipo ^  Venga locato. Un ricco a voi dia doni^ '  Vi sia propizi o, il Giudice , e ; il facondo ‘  Difenda i dritti vostri .'|loi poeti ,   Donp possiam far solo di carmi.   3a più degli altri amare il coro nostro;   (71} Andròniaca dopo ìa rnòrté ^&toré amato sud  sposo , r dopo V incendio di-Trofa-fpssssò for i rn i s uns nm  ti alle nozze di Pirro ^ e però vìsse con ^uosto/s^ssai  malinconicà. Teemessa , moglie di Ajace, er^ una  schiava y e però, secondo Ovidio y. doveva aver sempre  Vanirne occupato da una grave, tristezza*   (711) Da/ Comandante solevansi affidile^cento sol-  dati al Centurione il quale aveva per sua insegna U 9  ramo di vite. Uua grata beltà cott ampie lodi  Sappiamo celebirare , e va fainoso  Dì Nemesi per noi, di Cinzia il nome. (78)  E dove nasce, e dove muore il Sole  Conobbero Licori., e chieggon molti  Chi sia Corinna nostra. Aggiungi a questo  Che son T insidie ignote a" sacri Vati,   Che giova V arte nostra a^ lor costumi.  Kpa ambiziosa voglia, e non desio  D’aver ci punge . Noi sprezziamo il fòro  E son graditi a noi V ombra ed il letto.  Facili amiamo ognor con certa fede,   £ in vasto incendio, il nostro core abbrucia.  Con placid’arte docile T ingegno  Facciamo , e ben s* adattano co* nostri  Studj i postumi. A* Vati aonj, o donne.  Siate indulgènti, che gl^inspira un Nume,.  E lor son fauste le pierie uive. (74)   Ci agita un Dio.; abbiam col Cièl commercio;.  Ci vien lo spirto dall* eteree sedi. *  Chiedere il pre^o è scelléra^in grande  Ad ottimo Poeta . Oh me infelice.   Che scelle raggio tal piti non si teme  Dalle jauciulle • ALmen dissimulate,   Nè vi fate veder tosto rapaci.   No , non cadrà nella prevista rete  Un novèllo amatore . Il Cav^aliero    (y3) Nemesi fu amata a celebrata da Tibullo, Cia*  zìa da Properzio , tdcori da Gallo , a Ovidio ha^da^  to ne^ suoi versi alla propria amante il nome, di  Corinna.   (74) Le Muse si chiamavano le Dive pierie , 0 per^  chi abitarono nel monte Pierio in Tessaglia , o per--  che vinsero e trasformarono in gazze le figlie di Pierio.Non reggerà T indomito cavallo  Al par di quello che già al freno è avvezzo*  Nè lo stesso sentier batter tu dei  Per adescar la verde gìoventude,   E le menti già stabili per gli anni*   QuelP inesperto, che la prima volta  Sotto si pone all* amorose insegne.   Che preda nuova nel tuo letto giacque.  Te sol conobbe, e a te sia unito ognora;  Si cìnga d’ alte siepi una tal messe.  Schiva d’aver rìvjaì;ta vincerai,   S* ei r amor suo con altra non divide;   1 regni e amor non vogliono compagni.  Quel che invecchiò nell’ amoroso agone.  Con prudenza amerà, saprà soffrire  Ciò che invan soffrirla guerrier novello.  Non frangerà le porte, e non furente  Fiamma v’ applicherà. Non dell’ amata  Farà con 1’ unghie ingiuria al delicato  Volto ; e non straccerà della Fanciulla  Le vesti, e non le proprie ; e per dolore  Non svellerassi i crini • Questi eccessi  Convengon solo a’ Giovanetti acerbi  Caldi per poca età, per troppo amore.  Tranquillo ei soffrirà la cruda piaga;   Qual face inumidita a foco lento  Abbrucìerassì, o quale in giogo alpestre  Fresco ramo reciso : è quest* amore  Più certo , è quel più breve e più fecondo.  Con sollecita man cogliete i pomi  Che fuggon. Tutto ormai s* insegni; schiuse  Son le porte al nemico ; e siate fide  Mentre ingannate altrui. Facil Donzella  Puote mal conservare un lungo amore.  Sla la ripulsa rara » e venga sempre  Da lieti scherzi accompagnata • Giaccia  Alla porta nrosteso , alto gridi:   Porta crudele ; e molte cose umile  Faccia 9 e molt^ altre minaccioso. Il dolce  Noi mal soffriam ; ci sana il succo amaro;  Pere spesso la nave » e fausto ha il vento.  Ecco perchè non amansi le mogli;   Seco stanno i mariti a grado loro.   Chiudi la porta 9 e in aspro suon TuBciero  Gli dica f entrar non puoi ; escluso, in seno  Di lui per te si desterà l’amore.   Deh riponete i rintuzzati brandi;   Con gli acuti si pugni, ch^ io con l’armi  Mie già non temo d’ essere assalito.  Mentre ne^ lacci un amator novello  Cade, gli fa sperar xhe del tuo letto  Solo godrà ; poscia il rivai conosca  E i divisi piacer ; senza quest’ arte  Amor illanguidisce • Il generoso  Destrier,se venga dal suo career schiuso.  Corre velocemente , se il preceda  Altri nel corso, o se lo segua . Estinto  Ancor che sembri l’amoroso foco  Con nuova ingiuria si riaccende, ed io,  Lo deggio confessar, soltanto offeso  Nutro r amor . Non troppo manifesta  Sia la causa del duolo ; e ansioso creda '  L’ amante che maggior fia ancor l’offesa  Di quello che gli è noto ; ed or l’inciti  L’aspra custodia di fallace servo,  n geloso rigore or del marito;   E men grato il piacer senza contrasto Èeiichè tu sii di Taide più. }asciya,(75)  Fingi timpri ; e ancor che per la porta  Meglio il possa introdar , fa eh’egli venga  Dalla finestra, e nel tuo volto i segni  Mostra di Donna da timor sorpresa»   Venga l’ancella frettolosa, e dica:   Ah siam perduti 111 trepido Garzone  Allora ascondi; col timor si debbe  Mischiar piacer sicuro, onde 1’apprezzi»  Come il marito accorto e il vigli servo  Si possano ingannare i’avea taciuto*   Tema una Sposa il suo Consorte^ e viva  Certa che altri la guarda ; è ciò decente;  Vuol ciò il padoi:, la legge, e F equitade.  Chi soffrirà che custodita sii  Tu , che or la verga del Prétor redense? (76)  Odiose vuoi ingann^kT, miei sacri carmi»  T’ osservio puro occhi miglior di quei (77)  Ch’ebbe il guardiano d’io , sii risoluta,   £ tesserai l’inganno • E puote invero  Chi t’ ha in custodia a te vietar che scriva  Se non si vieta a te di gire al bagno?   E se potrà, de’tuoi segreti a parte,    (75) Terenzio ha dato il nome di Taide ad una  donna lasciva, che forma la parte principale della  sua Commedia intitolata /^Eunuco.   (76) Parla qui il poeta delle donne schiave y che  divenivano libere quando il Pretore aveva toccato al»  le medesime il capo con una vèrga detta yindiqta ,  e che occupavano nelle case delle Matrone Romane  unposto corrispondente a quello delle nostre Cameriere.   C77) (Giunone diede, cento occhi ad A^go custode  d'io, perchè potesse soddisfare esattamente al suo  incarico, ma il Dio Mercurio Pàìsdpì col suono del*  la lira , e gli recise la testa Recar V ancella i foglj ricoperti  Nel caldo seno da una larga fascia^   O nasconderli avvinti infra le gambe,   O sotto i piedi f Se a tè ciò il custode  Vieti , P ancella porgerà le spalle  Di carta invece, e porterà su queste  li^amorose tue cifre impresse. Un foglio  Con fresco latte scrìtto inganna 1’ occhio^  Con la polve l’aspergi del carbone, *   £ legger lo potrai • Del paro inganna  Lettera pura in cui sia stato scritto  Con la punta del lino inumidito,   E le note ‘segrete incise porta . (jB)  Intento Acrisie a custodir la Figlia, (*^ 9 )  In opra pose ogni più esatta cura:   Eppur col suo delitto il fece eli’ avo.   E che farà il Custode, se cotanti  Sono in Roma Teatri, e se a suo grado    (^8) Non mancano a^dì nostri degli inchiostri sìrw^  patiei y che superano ne^loro effetti la virtù degli  antichi. Con un^ oncia di Ut or girlo y e cinque d^ace»  to stillato si fa un composto , che chiamasi aceto di  Satarno. Con questo si scrioe sulla carta bianca , e  quando è asciutta non si scorgono in alcun modo i  caratteri. Si sparge quindi sopra la carta una picco^  la porzione d* un liquore fatto con un* oncia d* or pig¬  mento e due once di calce viva sciolta nell* acqua ;  éd allora compariscono i caratteri d*un coloraperfet’-  tamente nero.   Il calore e la luce coloriscono altresì i caratteri  scritti con alcune soluzioni metalliche allungate con  Vacqua , cioè con quella dell* oro , dell* argento , e  principalmenie del bismuto. La tintura di galla è  pure ì^n inchiostro simpatico , purché si faccia passar  sopra di essa una qualunque marziale dissoluzione,   ( 79 } Annota (a del lÀb. Presente Può rimirar le corse de* destrieri f  Quando nel tempio d’Isi assister puote (8c)  Al concerto de* sistri, e p^pte in altri  Lochi ella gire » ove l’ingresso poi  È vietato a’ compagni ? Se da’ templi  Della Dea Buona può fuggir gli sguardi (8i)  D’ogni uom fuor di quel eh’ ella desia f  lyientre il Custode fuor del bagno serba  Gli abbigliamenti della sua Padrona,   Se può mrtivo nel; sicuro bagno  Celar 1* Aàotante ? Se ove 1’ uopo il chiegga  Per finto morbo giacerà 1’amica, ,   O se per vero , a lei cederà il letto? .  Quando la chiave adultera col suo  Medesmo nome cosa far c’insegna^   Nè sol la porta dà il bramato ingresso?   S’inganna pur con molto vin la cura  Di vigile Custode , ancor che colte  Vengan l’uve nell’aspro ispano giogo. (8a)  Vi sono ancora i farmaci che al sonno  Aggravan le pupille quasi vinte  Dalla notte letea • Nè mal trattiene  La non ignara ancella l’importuno  Con le tarde delìzie, end’ ella possa  Star col suo vago quanto più le piace.  Che far tante parole, e cosi lievi  .Gli uomini non potevano interpénire nel Tenu»  pio d'Iside , quando le donne celebravano le sue fo»  ste col serbarsi , almeno apparentemente, easte per  molti giorni,   (81) Era agli uomini vietato V ingresso nel Tem»  pio della Dea Buona o sia di Cibele.   (8fl) Denota il Poeta il vin poco generoso, che i  Romani facevano venire dalia Laleiania in  gna provincia di Spagna*    Porger precetti , se con picciol dono  Si corrompe il Custode ? A me lo credi.  Gli Uomini e i Dei guadagnansi co’doni,  £ i doni placan pur lo stesso Giove.   Che farà il saggio , se de’ doni ancora  Gode lo stolto ? Ricevuti i doni,   Si farà muto anco il marito istesso.   Per tutto Panno guadagnar si debbo  Una volta il Custode , e quelle mani  Che un di vi diede, vi darà sovente.   Feci querela , e l’ho ferma in pensiero  Che temer si dovessero i compagni;   Nè diretta soltanto all’ uomo è questa.   Se credula sarai, carpirann’altre  1 tuoi piaceri, e avrai cacciato il lepre  Per esse. Quella, che t’appresta il letto,   E che officiósa a te concede il loco.  Giacque più. volte , a me lo credi, meco.  Nè troppo bella sia l’ancella tua;   Sovente meco fe’della padrona  Ella le veci. Ah ! dove ora mi lascio  Io stolto trasportar ? Perchè contrasto  Col petto inerme contro il mio nemico,   Ed io da me medesmo mi tradiscof  Come pigliar si debba al cacciatore  L’auge! non mostra y ed a’ nocivi cani  Come inseguirla non la cerva insegna.   L’ utll vostro mi piace : io fedelmente  Vi spiegherò i precetti , ed alle donne Di Lenno io porgerò contro il mio fato   Lè Donne di Lenno in una notte, uccimo i  loro mariti , e però Ovidio sotto il nome di  tende quelle che con gli uomini sono troppo severe Sà   Da me stesso il coltello. Ahi fate in modo  ( Ardua non è V impresa ) che crediamo  D’ esser amati , mentre ogutìno crede  Farcii ciò che desia. La donna miri  Con infocato sguardo il fido amante,  Tragga dal sen sospir profondo, e chiegga  Perchè sì tardi venne. Aggiunga il pianto,  E finga gelosia della rivale,   £ gli percota con le mani il volto.   Tosto vivrà sicuro, e nel suo petto  Facile nutrirà per te pietade,   E dirà fra se stesso : ah si consuma  Questa per me d*amore i e specialmente  Se lo specchio consulta, e colto sia, ^   D’innamorar ei penserà le Dee.   Ma a te chiunque sii, grave disturbo  Non arrechin le ingiurie, e sbigottita  Non ti mostrar, della rivale il nome  Allor che ascolti, e facile credenza  Non presta aMetti altrui. Ah quanto nuoccia  Il creder facilmente, a te lo dica  Quello che adesso narrerò di Proori. ( 84 )  Scorre vicino del fiorito Imetto ^   A’ be’ purpurei colli un sacro fonte.   Di cui le sponde ognor fan grate e molli  Verdi cespnglj . Ivi non alta selva   (84) Procri figlia d* Eretteo Re Atene per sos-  petto di gelosia si portò segretamente nelle selve e  né* boschi ad osservar Cefalo figlio di Mercurio , sua  Sposo , ed ottimo cacciatore . Mentre egli prendeva ri-  .poso in un ombroso colletto , essa celandosi dietro alle  siepi , mosse disgraziatamente le foghe degli alberi»  Credè Cefalo che s* ascondesse fra quelle una fiera y e  però vi scagliò una saetta che gli uccise la lua dì*  letta consorte. Un l^co forma; gli arboscelli l'erba  Ricoprono, e un soave odore esalano  II rosmarin, l’alloro, il negro mirto.  Non il tenne citiso, il colto pino,   E il fragil tamarisco ivi già manca^   E non folto di foglie il busso. Scosse  Da dolci aeffiretti « e da salubre  Aura treman le foglie mnltiformi,   £ le cime dell^ erbe. Ama la quiete  Cefalo. Abbandonati i servi e i cani.   Ivi stanco il Garaon spesso s’adagia;  Solea cantar : mobil auretta , vieni  Onde t’accolga nel mio seno, e allevj  Il cocente càlor. Le intese voci  Da un malaccorto far recate intere  Alle timide orecchie della moglie.   Tosto che Procri il nome adì dell’aura,  Qnal fosse uua rivale, a terra cadde;  Ammutolissi pel dolor ; nel volto  Impallidid^ come le tarde foglie.   Se colte sieno dalle viti l’uve.   Sogliono impallidir dal verno offese,   O i maturi cotogni, i di cui rami  Piegansi, o le corniole ancor non atte  A* cibi nostri. Tosto che; rinvenne.  Straccia dal petto suo le tenui vesti.   Con V unghie impiaga le innocenti guance.  Jndugie non conosce, e qual Baccante  Mossa dal J'irso , furibonda vola  Per le pubbliche vie, sparsa i capelli.   Ma già vicina, in una valle lascia  I suoi seguaci ; intrepida e furtiva  Nel bosco con piè tacito s’innoltra.  QuaPera il tuo consiglio, allor che stolta O Procri, t’ascondeyi ; e quale ardore  NelPattonito séno allor ti corset  Già tu pensavi di sorprender l’aura  Qualunque fosse, e di mirar co’proprj  Occhj P infedeltà del tuo Consorte.   Quivi d’esser venuta ora Rincresce;   Or la rivale di mirar ti piace,   Ed or ti penti ^ opposti affetti in seno  Destan tumulto. A creder la costringe  ( Che quel che tenie ognor crede l’amante )  L’accusatore, il loco , il nome. Quando  SulP erbe vide impresse Torme umane,  Balzolle il cor nel pauroso petto.   Già T ombre brevi aVea il meriggio strette,  E in spazio egual giaceva l’Occaso e l’Orto,  Allor che di Mercurio il figlio Cefalo  Dalle selve ritorna, e T innainmate  Guance delTacque di quel fonte asperge.  O Procri, tu t’ascondi ansiosa ; ei giace  Sull’ erbe consuete, e vieni disse,   ZefHro fucile, o molle curetta vieni.  Quando conobbe il dolce error del nome,  AlT infelice il cor tornò nel seno,   E il primiero color sul volto suo.   S’alza, movendo il corpo e move ancora  Le frondi circostanti ; e fra le braccia  Va per gittarsi del marito • Mosso  Credendo quel rumor da qualche belva,  Imprudente la man slancia sull’arco.   Ed ave i dardi già nella sua destra.  Infelice che fai? non è una fiera,  rw Deponi ì dardi.... Oimè la tua consorte  Dalle saette tue giace trafitta.   Oh me infelice i eéclamà ; in petto amico   Vibri il tuo dardOi o sposo. Ah che fa sempre  Da te questo trafitto! Io pria del tempo  La morte trovo « noa offesa almeno  Da un rivale .^h farà ciò la terra,   Ov* io riposi, a nae cara e leggiera.   Fra quest’aure ^ che odiai sol per un nome.  Già spazierà il mipspirto.. oh Dio!•• vacillo...  Mi chiuda i lumi quella destra amata.   Le membra moribonde egli sostiene  Nel mèsto seno, e la crudel ferita  Con le lagrime asperge^ Ella già spira,   E la bocca del misero marito  Lo spirto accoglie che dal petto incauto  Deir infelice, Porcri alfine eeala.   Ma sul sentier si torni. lo debbo adesso  Agir palesemente , onde il naviglio  Indebolito tocchi i porti suoi.   Ch* io ti scorga a conviti aspetti forse, e ch’io ti guidi in questo pure attendi? Non t’affrettar; vien tardi, e già sia posta  La lacerna i e decente i passi volgi. Grato è a Vener Findugio, e molto giova. Benché bratta tu sii, sembrerai bella, che coprirà la notte i tuoi difetti. Prendi co’ diti il cibo; havvi pur l’arte nel modo di cibarsi; con l’immonda mano cerca non ungerti la faccia; nò mangiar prima in casa, ma t’astieni dal farlo allor che avrai mangiato meno di quel che il ventre tuo capè, e tu brami. Paride, se veduto avesse Elena cibarsi avidamente, avria per lei nutrito sdegno, e detto fra se stesso: Ah fui ben stolto nel rapir costei! Meno disdice a donna il ber, che Bacco  £ di Venere il figlio uniti vanno. Sì beva pur fin che il permetta il capo,  E Talma e ì piè siaxi atti a* loro nfficj , nè raddoppiati sembrinti gli oggetti.  Donna che giaccia per soverchio vino,   £ turpe, e di soffrir merta ogni assalto.  Sparecchiata la mensa, è gran periglio cadervi per il sonno; in mezzo a quésto  Molte si soglìon far cose impudiche. Io di stender più innanzi i^niiei precetti  Sento rossor. La figlia dionea  Mi disse: utile è a noi quelPòpra ìstessa che in se desta vergogna. A voi si sveli. Donne, ogni fatto. I varj atteggiamenti  Noti vi sien, che a tutte non conviene la medesma figura. Tu che sei pel volto insigne, giacerai supina quella che ha bello il tergo, il tergo mostri. Recava Melanion sulle sue spalle le gambe d’Atalanta; se sian belle. Si dee imitare allora un tale esempio. Porti il cavai pìccola donna ; avéa  statura immensa la tebana sposa; Suirettoreo cavai però non giacque. Quella che può mostrare un lungo fianco prema con le ginocchia il letto e alquante ritorca la cervice chi le membra  Ha giovanili, e senza macchie il seno mentre l’uomo sta in piedi, ella corcata  giaccia obliqua sul letto nè già turpe  Credete scioglier qual Baccante il crine.  (OS) XeSpoifk tsUoa ^ 4fl4rQmcé mQglk E ondeggiando i capei, piegate il collo.  Tu pure, a cui la pronuba Lucana macchiò il ventre di rugh , imita il l’arte Quando combatte sul cavai fugace, Ben mille son di Venere le foggie, ma la piò facil, di minor fatica  È quella, in cui semisupina giace  Sul destro fianco, I Tripodi febei, O il cornigero Ammon cosa piò vera Non conteran di quel che or la mia Musa-  se Parte , che ci costa un lungo studio, merita fè, credete, ancor che i carmi  Nostri eccedano forse ogni credensà  Venere abbrugi le'midolle e l’ossa delle donne, e sia caro ad ambedue  Lo scambievol piacer. Un mormorio dolce, e parole lunsinghiere e grate  non manchino, nè tacita si stia in mezzo ascari scherzi unqua la donna, tu , cui d’amor negò natura il gaudio, finger lo devi con mendace suono; Lucina è un nome di Giunone, la quale presiede a matrìmon) ed apparti,  i Greci dopo d^ a^er ointo i Persiani nella  battaglia di Platea, levarono una decima suUe spoglie per fare un Tripode d’oro eonsagrato ad Apollo,  Ateneo lo chiama il tripode della verità perchè si  ritrovavano verissimi gl’oracoli di questo dio, Ammone è un soprannome di Giove, Quinto Curzio fa menzione del magnifico Tempio che gli fu edificato nella Libia, La sua statua avea la figura d’a-  liete , e però si chiama cornigero Ammone. Dava essa  de certi oracoli a chi la consultava , ed era a guisa  d’un automa, che crollava la testa per additare a sacerdoti la strada, che dovean fare quando la portavano in processione. Ben infelice e miseranda donna  È quella, che a sa stessa ìnntil tragga unutile pèr l’uomo i giorni suoi. Mentre e#ò fingerai, che non ti scofira  Cerca, é col moto, fin con gl’occhi stessi  procura d’ingannar. Faccian palese un frequente respiro e dolci accenti quello che giova. Termini novelli  Sa la donna inventare in quegristanti quella, che chiede dopo il gaudio i doni, non sia molesta almen con le preghiere.  Nè il pieno giorno introdurrai nel talamo chè giova a voi tener del corpo vostro molte cose celate. Ha fine il gioco. È tempo ornai di scendere da’Oigni che sul collo guidaro il nostro cocchio, e come fero i giovanetti un giorno, così la turba delle donne scrìva sulle spoglie, Nason ci fu maestro. Gianni Carchia. Keywords: ars amandi, erotica, il bello, la comunicazione dei primitivi, Ovidio, arte amatoria. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carchia” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Cardano: l’implicatura conversazionale del valore civico di Melanippo -- Caritone -- the tasteful Milanese maschi – prospero -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Pavia). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I’m sure Cardano does not mean chance by aleae! It’s a Roman notion, not an Arabic one!” Grice: “Cardano is a fascinating philosopher, but then so is I [sic]!” Grice: “My faavourite philosophical topic by Cardano is what he calls, well, his Italian translators call – recall that Italian philosophy is written in the ‘learned’! – ‘gioco d’azzardo’, ludo alaea – which is what conversation is – what is conversation is not a game of azzardo? But Cardano also refutes all that Malcolm says about ‘dreaming,’ never mind Freud – Italians are obsessed with a male sleeping: Rinaldo, Tasso, Botticelli (“sleeping Mars”), not to mention the search for the Etruscan equivalent to ‘oneiron,’ the god – one of my most precious souvenirs is a little medal of Cardano: not so much for his very Roman nose (charming as it is) but for the backside, which represents Oneiron, indeed, aong the ladies!” Poliedrica figura del Rinascimento. Riconosciuto come il fondatore della probabilità, coefficiente binomiale e teorema binomial. A lui si deve anche la parziale invenzione dell’ implicatura e della serratura, della sospensione cardanicache permette il moto libero, ad esempio, delle bussole nautiche ed è alla base del funzionamento del giroscopioe della riscoperta del giunto cardanico. Animos scio esse immortales, modum nescio. So che l'anima è immortale, ma non ho capito come funzioni la cosa. Figlio del nobile Fazio, un giurista esperto nella matematica tanto da essere consultato da da Vinci su alcuni problemi di geometria.  Fazio conobbe a Milano la vedova, madre di tre figli, Chiara Micheri (o de Micheriis) di cui s'innamora iniziando con questa, che vive con la famiglia del defunto marito, una relazione clandestina che porta al concepimento di un quarto figlio. Per non essere coinvolto nello scandalo prega un suo amico di Pavia, il patrizio Isidoro Resta, affinché assumesse Chiara come governante nella sua casa. Prima che lei partorisse, i suoi tre figli morirono quasi contemporaneamente di peste e lei tenta allora di abortire, senza riuscirci, del nascituro che ebbe il nome di Gerolamo e che lasciò scritto nella sua autobiografia. Dopo che mia madre tenta senza risultato dei preparati per abortire, vengo alla luce a Pavia. Come morto, infatti, sono nato, anzi sono stato strappato al suo grembo, con i capelli neri e ricciuti. Il bambino contrasse la peste dalla sua balia, che ne morì, e fu allevato da altre nutrici. E trasferito a Milano dal padre che anda ad abitare con lui solo quando ha solo sette anni, età in cui prese ad accompagnare il padre nei suoi viaggi d'affari. Essendo delicato di salute, si ammala gravemente. Solo dopo una lunga convalescenza poté riprendere a viaggiare con il padre dedicandosi nel frattempo agli studi di filosofia, nei quali ha modo di eccedere per le sue doti quando puo iscriversi a Pavia e Mantova per studiare filosofia, contrariamente ai desideri del padre che avrebbe preferito avviarlo agli studi giuridici.  Lasciata Milano in preda alla peste e sconvolta dalla guerra francese, si trasfere a Padova e si laurea a Venezia. E oggetto dell'astio che molti tutori hanno nei confronti di quello tutee geniale ma dal carattere scontroso e talora offensive. Sono poco rispettoso e non ho peli sulla lingua, soprattutto mi lascio trascinare dall'ira, al punto che poi mi dispiace e me ne vergogno. Riconosco che tra i miei vizi ce n'è uno molto grande e tutto particolare: quello di non riuscire a trattenermianzi ne gododal dire a chi mi ascolta ciò che gli risulta sgradevole udire. Persevero in questo difetto coscientemente e volontariamente, pur sapendo quanti nemici da solo mi abbia procurator. Nel frattempo a Milano e morto il padre che ha regolarizzato la sua convivenza sposando la madre del filosofo.  Non potendo tornare a Milano per l'epidemia e la guerra, prese dimora a Piove di Sacco. Esercita la sua professione a Gallarate. Ottenne la cattedra per l'insegnamento della filosofia presso le scuole Piattine di Milano, dove aveva insegnato anche il padre. La sua fama di esperto dottore si accrebbe per aver risanato alcuni membri della famiglia Borromeo. Dovette rifiutare alcuni incarichi di prestigio perché non retribuiti fino a quando e ammesso nel Collegio dei medici di Milano. Accetta di ricoprire la cattedra di filosofia a Pavia, rifiutando le offerte che gli venivano reiterate dal papa Paolo III. Cura, con esiti positivi, l'arcivescovo di Edimburgo John Hamilton, malato d'asma. Intuì probabilmente la natura allergica della malattia proibendo a Hamilton di usare cuscini e materassi di piume. Per aumentare la sua fama volle fare l'oroscopo all'arcivescovo e al re, e lesse nelle stelle un futuro radioso per entrambi. Hamilton fu impiccato quasi subito dai riformatori. Il re muore di tubercolosi. Rifiuta le prestigiose e ben retribuite offerte del re di Francia e della regina di Scozia.  Colpito da un doloroso avvenimento riguardante il figlio Giovanni Battista, medico anche lui, che, nonostante gli avvertimenti del padre, aveva voluto sposare una donna povera e di cattivi costume. Per necessità economiche il figlio coabita dai parenti della moglie avviando una convivenza caratterizzata dalla nascita successiva di tre figli e da continui litigi dovuti anche alle infedeltà della moglie che egli decise di uccidere, con la complicità di una serva, facendole mangiare una focaccia avvelenata con l'arsenico. Arrestato subito per uxoricidio, il figlio confessa il delitto e dopo un veloce processo, nonostante la difesa con tutti i mezzi messa in atto dal padre, fu condannato alla decapitazione. Gerolamo, convinto che la durezza della condanna fosse dovuta all'invidia dei suoi colleghi, per sfuggire alle malevole voci che lo accusavano di intrattenere rapporti illeciti con i suoi tutee, si trasfere a Bologna. Venne ulteriormente amareggiato dalla condotta scapestrata del figlio Aldo che lo diffama per tutta la città e che arriva a derubarlo così che il padre dovette denunciarlo alle autorità che espulsero il figlio dal territorio bolognese. A questa disgrazia si aggiunse inaspettata la notizia che si stava preparando contro di lui un'accusa di eresia tanto che il cardinale Giovanni Morone gli consigliò di lasciare il pubblico insegnamento della filosofia. Questa misura prudenziale non valse però a salvare Gerolamo che fu arrestato per eresia assieme al suo tutee Rodolfo Silvestri che non volle abbandonare il tutore. Non si conoscono le accuse che gli erano rivolte dall'Inquisizione. Tuttavia si era distinto per una certa imprudenza nei confronti della Chiesa, governata dal severo Papa Pio V, per aver compilato un oroscopo di Gesù, la cui vita così sarebbe stata decisa dalle stelle, scritto l'encomio di Nerone, persecutore dei cristiani, e soprattutto per i suoi confidenziali rapporti con i circoli protestanti frequentati dal suo tuteei, dal genero e dall'editore e tipografo dei suoi libri. Nonostante le testimonianze a suo favore di quasi tutti i suoi tutee, C. fu messo in carcere e poi agli arresti domiciliari sino a quando la Sacra Congregazione tramite l'inquisitore di Bologna gli impose la professione dell'abiura prima in forma grave (de vehementi) coram populo e successivamente in forma meno infamante (coram congregationem). Si sottopose docilmente alla abiura promettendo in una lettera a papa Pio V di non insegnare più pubblicamente filosofia (la cattedra all'università gli era stata intanto tolta) e di non pubblicare altre opere.  Lasciata Bologna Cardano si trasfere, sotto la diretta protezione di Pio V, a Roma dove fu ben accolto ma gli fu negata una pensione che gli fu invece assegnata da Gregorio XIII che era stato suo tutee a Bologna..E ammesso al Collegio romano. Si dedica alla composizione della sua autobiografia De vita propria. Il punto focale della sua filosofia è il concetto rinascimentale di “uomo universale" che dà alla sua ricerca della verità un contenuto enciclopedico. Scrive più di duecento opere che solo in parte furono pubblicate nel XVI secolo e che, altrettanto parzialmente, confluirono nei dieci volumi della monumentale “Opera omnia” dove si trattano temi di metafisica, omosessualita, mascolinita, il machio, il maschile, la medicina, scienze naturali, matematica, astronomia, scienze occulte, tecnologia. Egli, che si occupa anche della interpretazione dei sogni, della chiromanzia, della numerologia, del paranormale rende difficile distinguere nella sua filosofia il contenuti moderno del sapere dalle tradizioni metafisiche e magiche del passato. Vuole arrivare a una sistemazione unitaria della molteplicità dei saperi così che la nostra incerta conoscenza eviterebbe la confusione se potesse discendere dall'uno ai molti. Ma questo obiettivo, di origine neo-platonica, sfugge però all'uomo il quale allora è preferibile che occupi il suo intelletto in quei campi dove riesce, quasi come un dio creatore o ‘genitore’ – o ingegnero, a fare le cose. Questo avviene nell’aritmetica che si incarna nell'esperienza in un rapporto astratto-concreto la cui definizione ancora non è in grado di elaborare  Dopo aver analizzato nel “De subtilitate” i molteplici principi delle cose naturali e artificiali, si rivolge allo studio di tutto l'universo e delle sue parti (De rerum varietate), che concepisce come legate da sim-patia (attrazione) e anti-patia (repulsione) fra gli astri e l'uomo) e connessioni che consentono al filosofo, che conosce il linguaggio della natura e gli effetti degli influssi astrali sulla vita sessuale umana, di compiere quei "miracoli naturali" che sono le magie, di elaborare previsioni astrologiche e di stendere gli oroscopi delle religioni come quello dedicato a Cristo.  Il contributo in matematica  Noto soprattutto per i suoi contributi all'aritmetica, pubblica le soluzioni dell'equazione cubica e dell'equazione quartica nella sua “Ars magna”. Parte della soluzione dell'equazione cubica gli era stata comunicata da Tartaglia. Successivamente questi sostenne che C. aveva giurato di non renderla pubblica e di rispettarla come di sua origine. Si avvia così una disputa che dura un decennio. C. sostenne di averne pubblicato il testo solo quando era venuto a sapere che il Tartaglia avrebbe appreso la soluzione dalla voce dal bolognese Scipione del Ferro. La soluzione di Tartaglia, pur essendo successiva a quella di Scipione Dal Ferro (comunque mai pubblicata), risulta essere indipendente da questa. La soluzione della equazione cubica è detta comunque di C.-Tartaglia. L'equazione quartica venne invece risolta da Lodovico Ferrari, un tutee di C.. Nella prefazione dell'“Ars Magna” vengono accreditati sia Tartaglia che Ferrari. Nei suoi sviluppi delle soluzioni occasionalmente si serve del concetto di numero complesso, ma senza riconoscerne l'importanza come invece saprà fare Bombelli. Nell'ambito della scienza medica, l'esempio di Vesalio, che negli stessi anni aveva contestato l'anatomia galenica, spinse C. a definire Galeno un cattivo interprete di Ippocrate. Le sue critiche a Galeno erano comunque presentate come parte integrante di un tentativo di recuperare una tradizione ancora più antica e, si presumeva, più autentica. Fu il primo a descrivere la febbre tifoide. Venne invitato in Scozia a curare l'Arcivescovo di Sant'Andrea che soffe di asma probabilmente d'origine allergica. Seguendo i precetti di Maimonide riusce a guarirlo utilizzando delle cure modernissime per l'epoca: eliminare piume e polvere e mantenere una dieta controllata. Al ritorno dalla Scozia si ferma a Londra, dove incontrò il re d'Inghilterra per il quale redasse un oroscopo secondo il quale prospetta Edoardo VI una lunga vita seppure turbata da alcune malattie. La sua fama di si diffuse in Inghilterra tanto da interessare Shakespeare che nella "Tempesta" rappresenta un personaggio molto simile a C. ed inoltre una prova della sua perdurante popolarità può essere vista nel fatto che un’edizione del suo ‘De Consolatione’ è proprio il libro che Amleto tiene in mano quando recita il suo celeberrimo monologo ‘Essere o non essere’. De subtilitate e il libro che Amleto tiene in mano all'inizio del secondo atto, quando Polonio gli domanda cosa stia leggendo e lui risponde: "parole, parole, parole". Progetta inoltre svariati meccanismi tra i quali:  la serratura a combinazione; la sospensione cardanica, consistente in tre anelli concentrici collegati da snodi, in grado di ospitare una bussola o un giroscopio, garantendo la libertà di movimento dello strumento; il giunto cardanico, dispositivo che consente di trasmettere un moto rotatorio da un asse a un altro di diverso orientamento e viene tuttora usato in milioni di veicoli. Ma pare fosse già conosciuto, anche se porta il suo nome perché appare nella sua opera De Rerum Varietate  in una illustrazione navale. L'invenzione di questo tipo di giunto in realtà risale almeno al III secolo a.C., ad opera di scienziati greci come Filone di Bisanzio, che nella sua opera Belopoiika lo descrive chiaramente. Egli dette svariati contributi anche all'idrodinamica. Sostene l'impossibilità del moto perpetuo, con l'eccezione dei corpi celesti. Pubblica anche due opere enciclopediche di scienze naturali che contengono un'ampia varietà di invenzioni, fatti ed enunciati afferenti all'occultismo e alla superstizione: il De Subtilitate e successivamente il De Varietate. Introdusse la griglia cardanica, un procedimento crittografico.A Cardano è attribuito anche il gioco rompicapo descritto nel De subtilitate, ma probabilmente risalente a un periodo più antico, chiamato Gli anelli di C.. Altre opere: Della sua vita avventurosa e molto travagliata, rimane testimonianza nella sua autobiografia. Ebbe spesso problemi di denaro e per cavarsela si dedicò ai giochi d'azzardo per i quali ha una vera passione di cui si pente. Così ho dilapidato contemporaneamente la mia reputazione, il mio tempo e il mio denaro. (zeugma – segnato da ‘dilapidare’ – denaro, dilapidare il suo tempo, dilapidare la sua reputazione. Pubblica un saggio sulle probabilità nel gioco, “De ludo aleae” che contiene la prima trattazione sistematica della probabilità, insieme a una sezione dedicata a metodi per barare efficacemente. Oltre alla produzione dialettica, di carattere più strettamente filosofico sono invece il De subtilitate e il De rerum varietate, ampie raccolte delle sue osservazioni empiriche e delle sue speculazioni occultistiche.  Della sua produzione filosofica sterminata possono considerarsi come le opere più importanti:  De malo recentiorum medicorum usu libellus, Venezia (medicina). Practica arithmetice et mensurandi singularis, Milano. Artis magnae sive de regulis algebraicis liber unus (conosciuta anche come Ars magna), Nuremberg. De immortalitate. Opus novum de proportionibus. Contradicentium medicorum. De subtilitate rerum, Norimberga, editore Johann Petreius (fenomeni naturali). De libris propriis, De restitutione temporum et motuum coelestium; De duodecim geniturarum -- commento astrologico a dodici nascite illustri. De rerum varietate, Basilea, editore Heinrich Petri. Fenomeni naturali. De signo. De causis, signis, ac locis Morborum. Bologna. Opus novum de proportionibus numerorum, motuum, ponderum, sonorum, aliarumque rerum mensurandarum. Item de aliza regula, Basilea (matematica). De vita propria. Proxeneta  (politica).  Metoscopia libris tredecim, et octingentis faciei humanae eiconibus complexa, Liber de ludo aleae, postumo (probabilità). Le sue opere vennero raccolte e pubblicate a Lione  in 10 volumi. L’Encomio di Nerone. A lui è dedicato il cratere lunare Cardano e un asteroide. È intitolato a lui l'Istituto  "G. Cardano" della sua città natale, nel cui cortile interno è posta una scultura che rappresenta il giunto cardanico, nonché infine l'omonimo collegio universitario pavese.  La blockchain "Cardano" (ADA) prende il suo nome, in quanto basata su un approccio scientifico e matematico. Della mia vita. Somniorum synesiorum omnis generis insomnia explicantes (Basilea). tti del Convegno, Castello Visconti di San Vito, Somma Lombardo, Varese ed. Cardano); Università Bocconi. Equazione di terzo grado"  Il Rinascimento. Omeopatia e allergie, Tecniche Nuove); Cardano, Edizioni Cardano, Il Prospero della "Tempesta”  somiglia tanto a Cardano in Corriere. La tecnologia scientifica, in La rivoluzione dimenticata: il pensiero scientifico greco e la scienza moderna, Feltrinelli Editore); Il libro della mia vita, Cerebro editore); Della mia vita, Alfonso Ingegno, Serra e Riva editori, Milano). La formula segreta. Il duello matematico che infiammò l'Italia del Rinascimento. ileae, per Ludouicum Lucium); “De propria vita” (Milano, Sonzogno). Lugduni, sumptibus Ioannis Antonii Huguetan & Marci Antonii Ravaud. Aforismi (Milano, Xenia). Palingenesi. Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Il filosofo quantistico. L’avventure di Cardano, filosofo e giocatore d'azzardo (Bollati Boringhieri, Torino Edizione); “La mia vita” (Milano, Luni). Che sfortuna essere un genio. Indice delle Opera omnia Volume 1  Frontespizio  Lettera dedicatoria  Praefatio  Vita C. per Gabrielem Naudaeum  Testimonia  Elenchus generalis  Index librorum tomi primi  Previlege du roy 1De vita propria. De libris propriis. De Socratis studio. Oratio ad I. Alciatum Cardinalem sive Tricipitis Geryonis aut Cerberi canis. Actio in Thessalicum medicum. Neronis encomium. Podagrae encomium. Mnemosynon. De orthographia De ludo aleae  De uno Hyperchen. Dialectica Contradictiones logicae Norma vitae consarcinata, sacra vocata Proxeneta De praeceptis ad filios De optimo vitae genere De sapientia De summo bono De consolatione Dialogus Hieronymi Cardani et Facii C. ipsius patris Dialogus Antigorgias seu de recta vivendi ratione Dialogus Tetim seu de humanis consiliis Dialogus Guglielmus seu de morte De minimis et propinquis Hymnus seu canticum ad Deum De utilitate ex adversis capienda De natura Theonoston seu de tranquilitate Theonoston seu de vita producenda Theonoston seu de animi immortalitate Theonoston seu de contemplatione Theonoston seu hyperboraeorum historia De immortalitate animorum De secretis De gemmis et coloribus De aqua De vitali aqua seu de aethere De aceti natura Problemata Se la qualità può trapassare di subbietto in subbietto Discorso del vacuo  De fulgure De rerum varietate De subtilitate In calumniatorem librorum de subtilitate (Archivio)  Indice rerum De numerorum proprietatibus Practica arithmeticae Libellus qui dicitur, Computus minor Ars magna Ars magna arithmeticae  De aliza regula Sermo de plus et minus Geometriae encomium Exaereton mathematicorum De proportionibus Operatione della linea Della natura de principii et regole musicali De restitutione temporum et motuum coelestium De providentia ex anni constitutione Aphorismorum astronomicorum segmenta septem In Cl. Ptolemaei de astrorum iudiciis De septem erraticarum stellarum qualitatibus atque viribus. De iudiciis geniturarum De exemplis centum geniturarum Geniturarum exempla  De interrogationibus De revolutionibus De supplemento almanach Somniorum synesiorum Astrologiae encomium Medicinae encomium De sanitate tuenda Contradicentium medicorum De usu ciborum De causis, signis ac locis morborum De urinis Ars curandi parva De methodo medendi De cina radice De sarza parilia Disputationes per epistolas liber unus De venenis In librum Hippocratis de alimento commentaria In librum Hippocratis de aere, aquis et locis commentaria In septem aphorismorum Hippocratis commentaria In Hippocratis coi prognostica commentaria In librum Hippocratis de septimestri partu commentaria Examen aegrorum Hippocratis Consilia De dentibus De rationali curandi ratione De facultatibus medicamentorum De morbo regio De morbis articularibus Floridorum libri sive commentarii in Principem Hasen Avicenna  Vita Ludovici Ferrarii Vita Andreae Alciati De arcanis aeternitatis  (Archivio) 10.2Politices seu Moralium liber unus Elementa Graeca inventione De naturalibus viribus De musica Artis arithmeticae tractatus de integris (Archivio) 10.8Expositio Anatomiae Mundini In libros Hippocratis de victu in acutis commentariaIn libros epidemiorum Hippocratis commentaria De epilepsia De apoplexia De humanis civilibus successionibus (Paralipomena)  De humana perfectione (Paralipomena) Peri thaumason seu de admirandis Paralipomena De dubiis naturalibus (Paralipomena) De rebus factis raris et artificiis  humana compositione naturalium De mirabilibus morbis et symptomatibus (Paralipomena) De astrorum et temporum ratione et divisionibus Paralipomena De mathematicis quaesitis Paralipomena Historiae lapidum, metallicorum et metallorum (Paralipomena) Historiae animalium Historiae plantarum De anima De dubiis ex historiis (Paralipomena) De clarorum virorum vita et libris (Paralipomena) De hominum antiquorum illustrium iudicio. De usu hominum et dignotione eorum, tum cura et errore. De sapiente (Paralipomena.  De vita propria. De libris propriis. De Socratis studio. Oratio ad I. Alciatum Cardinalem sive Tricipitis Geryonis aut Cerberi canis. Actio in Thessalicum medicum. Neronis encomium. Podagrae encomium. Mnemosynon. De orthographia. De ludo aleae. De uno. Hyperchen. Dialectica. Contradictiones logicae. Norma vitae consarcinata, sacra vocata. Proxeneta. De praeceptis ad filios. De optimo vitae genere. De sapientia. De summo bono. De consolatione. Dialogus Hieronymi Cardani et Facii Cardani ipsius patris. Dialogus Antigorgias seu de recta vivendi ratione. Dialogus Tetim seu de humanis consiliis. Dialogus Guglielmus seu de morte. De minimis et propinquis. Hymnus seu canticum ad Deum. De utilitate ex adversis capienda. De natura. Theonoston seu de tranquilitate. Theonoston seu de vita producenda. Theonoston seu de animi immortalitate. Theonoston seu de contemplatione. Theonoston seu hyperboraeorum historia. De immortalitate animorum. De secretis. De gemmis et coloribus. De aqua. De vitali aqua seu de aethere. De aceti natura. Problemata. Se la qualità può trapassare di subbietto in subbietto. Del vacuo. De fulgure. De rerum varietate. De subtilitate. In calumniatorem librorum de subtilitate. De numerorum proprietatibus. Practica arithmeticae. Libellus qui dicitur, Computus minor. Ars magna. Ars magna arithmeticae. De aliza regula. Sermo de plus et minus. Geometriae encomium. Exaereton mathematicorum. De proportionibus. Operatione della linea. Della natura de principii et regole musicali. De restitutione temporum et motuum coelestium. De providentia ex anni constitutione. Aphorismorum astronomicorum segmenta septem. In Cl. Ptolemaei de astrorum iudiciis. De septem erraticarum stellarum qualitatibus atque viribus. De iudiciis geniturarum. De exemplis centum geniturarum. Geniturarum exempla. De interrogationibus. De revolutionibus. De supplemento almanach. Somniorum synesiorum. Astrologiae encomium. Medicinae encomium. De sanitate tuenda. Contradicentium medicorum. De usu ciborum. De causis, signis ac locis morborum. De urinis. Ars curandi parva. De methodo medendi. De cina radice. De sarza parilia. Disputationes per epistolas. De venenis. In librum Hippocratis de alimento commentaria. In librum Hippocratis de aere, aquis et locis commentaria. In septem aphorismorum Hippocratis commentaria. In Hippocratis coi prognostica commentaria. In librum Hippocratis de septimestri partu commentaria. Examen XXII. aegrorum Hippocratis. Consilia. De dentibus. De rationali curandi ratione. De facultatibus medicamentorum. De morbo regio. De morbis articularibus. Floridorum libri sive commentarii in Principem Hasen (Avicenna). Vita Ludovici Ferrarii. Vita Andreae Alciati. De arcanis aeternitatis. Politices seu Moralium. Elementa Graeca. De inventione. De naturalibus viribus. De musica. Artis arithmeticae tractatus de integris. Expositio Anatomiae Mundini. In libros Hippocratis de victu in acutis commentaria. In libros epidemiorum Hippocratis commentaria. De epilepsia. De apoplexia. Paralipomena. De humanis civilibus successionibus. De humana perfectione. Peri thaumason seu de admirandis. De dubiis naturalibus. De rebus factis raris et artificiis. De humana compositione naturalium. De mirabilibus morbis et symptomatibus. De astrorum et temporum ratione et divisionibus. De mathematicis quaesitis. Historiae lapidum, metallicorum et metallorum. Historiae animalium. Historiae plantarum. De anima. De dubiis ex historiis. De clarorum virorum vita et libris. De hominum antiquorum illustrium iudicio. De usu hominum et dignotione eorum, tum cura et errore. De sapiente. Melanippus and Chariton Italy Greek athletes  Lovers separator. Hieronymus the peripatetic says that the loves of youths used to be much encouraged, for this reason, that the vigour of the young and their close agreement in comradeship have led to the overthrow of many a tyranny. For in the presence of his favorite a lover would rather endure anything than earn the name of coward; a thing which was proved in practice by the Sacred Band, established at Thebes under Epaminondas; as well as by the death of the Pisistratid, which was brought about by Harmodius and Aristogeiton. "And at Agrigentum in Sicily the same was shown by the mutual love of Chariton and Melanippus - of whom Melanippus was the younger beloved, as Heraclides of Pontus tells in his Treatise on Love. For these two having been accused of plotting against Phalaris, and being put to torture in order to force them to betray their accomplices, not only did not tell, but even compelled Phalaris to such pity of their tortures that he released them with many words of praise.  "Whereupon Apollo, pleased at his conduct, granted to Phalaris a respite from death; and declared the same to the men who inquired of the Pythian priestess how they might best attack him. He also gave an oracular saying concerning Chariton - 'Blessed indeed was Chariton and Melanippus, Pioneers of Godhead, and of mortals the one most beloved. M/M: Chariton and Melanippus, Blessed Pair: Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae. Like the Athenian couple Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the couple Melanippus and Chariton are also seen as symbols of political freedom. Felix & Chariton & Melanippus erat, mortalium genti auctores coelestis amoris. εὐδαίμων Χαρίτων καὶ Μελάνιππος ἔφυ, θείας ἁγητῆρες ἐφαμερίοις φιλότατος. Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae XIII.78; Translated in to Latin by Iohannes Schweighaeuser Chariton & Melanippus were blessed;  Pinnacle of holy love on earth. ATHENAEUS MAP: Name: Athenaeus Works: Deipnosophists    REGION  4  Region 1: Peninsular Italy; Region 2: Western Europe; Region 3: Western Coast of Africa; Region 4: Egypt and Eastern Mediterranean; Region 5: Greece and the Balkans BIO:  Timeline:   Athenaeus was a scholar who lived in Naucratis (modern Egypt) during the reign of the Antonines. His fifteen volume work, the Deipnosophists, are invaluable for the amount of quotations they preserve of otherwise lost authors, including the poetry of Sappho. ROMAN GREEK LITERATURE  ARCHAIC; GOLDEN AGE; HELLENISTIC; ROMAN; POST CONSTANTINOPLE; BYZANTINE:M/M: Melanippus and Chariton, Two Lovers of Freedom Athenaeus, Deip. XIII.78 Like the Athenian couple Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the couple Melanippus and Chariton are also seen as symbols of political freedom. ut ait Heraclides Ponticus in libro De Amatoriis. Hi [Melanippus & Chariton] igitur deprehensi insidias struxisse Phalaridi, & tormentis subiecti quo coniuratos denunciare cogerentur, non modo non denuntiarunt, sed etiam Phalarin ipsum ad misericordiam tormentorum commoverunt, ut plurimum collaudatos dimitteret.   ὥς φησιν Ἡρακλείδης ὁ Ποντικὸς ἐν τῷ περὶ Ἐρωτικῶν, οὗτοι φανέντες ἐπιβουλεύοντες Φαλάριδι καὶ βασανιζόμεναι ἀναγκαζόμενοί τε λέγειν τοὺς συνειδότας οὐ μόνον οὐ κατεῖπον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸν Φάλαριν αὐτὸν εἰς ἔλεον τῶν βασάνων ἤγαγον, ὡς ἀπολῦσαι αὐτοὺς πολλὰ ἐπαινέσαντα.   --Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae XIII.78; Translated in to Latin by Iohannes Schweighaeuser. According to The Lovers by Heraclides of Pontus, [Melanippus and Chariton] were caught plotting against Phalaris. Even when they were tortured to provide the names of their accomplices, they refused. Moreover, their plight moved Phalaris’ sympathy to such an extent that he praised them and released them. ATHENAEUS  MAP:  Name:  Athenaeus Works:  Deipnosophists     REGION  4  Region 1: Peninsular Italy; Region 2: Western Europe; Region 3: Western Coast of Africa; Region 4: Egypt and Eastern Mediterranean; Region 5: Greece and the Balkans    BIO:  Timeline:   Athenaeus was a scholar who lived in Naucratis (modern Egypt) during the reign of the Antonines. His fifteen volume work, the Deipnosophists, are invaluable for the amount of quotations they preserve of otherwise lost authors, including the poetry of Sappho.  ROMAN GREEK LITERATURE  ARCHAIC; GOLDEN AGE; HELLENISTIC; ROMAN; POST CONSTANTINOPLE; BYZANTINE. KrisArmodio, che viene riparato dal braccio sinistro del compagno più adulto. Quel gesto inavvertito o solo genericamente descritto dalle letture critiche, tese più che altro alla considerazione dei principali contenuti politico-encomiastici del gruppo si fa segno leggibile invece di una categoria interiore trasversale a tutte le epoche e alle geografie e tanto presente nello spirito antico quanto nel nostro: l'omoaffettività. Un uomo della fine del VI secolo a.C., chiamato Aristogitone, che aveva affrontato un rivale, oggi potrebbe chiamarsi Marco, Francesco o Giovanni, e compiere un medesimo atto, allungando poi un braccio come uno scudo su altri Armodio, dai nomi di Mario, Alessandro e Franco, per la reciprocità, l'attaccamento, il calore e il mutuo soccorso che il sentimento di essere in due sempre realizza. Quel gesto del braccio, inventato da Nesiotes e Kritios, fissa dentro un modello di valore civico per la retorica libertaria il segno di un amore.  Armodio e Aristogitone tirannicidi ateniesi Lingua Segui Modifica Armodio e Aristogitone (in greco antico: Ἁρμόδιος, Harmódios e Ἀριστογείτων, Aristoghéitōn) furono gli ateniesi tirannicidi che cercarono di porre termine al potere personale della famiglia di Pisistrato.   Statua di Armodio e Aristogitone, Napoli. Copia romana di originale greco perduto Sono noti come "i tirannicidi" per antonomasia, che assassinarono il tiranno di Atene Ipparco, ma vennero a loro volta uccisi dal fratello di costui, Ippia.  AntefattoModifica Pisistrato riuscì nel 534 a.C., dopo vari tentativi (meno riusciti) negli anni precedenti, approfittando delle tensioni che laceravano la città di Atene, ad assumere su di essa un potere personale. Pisistrato fu un tiranno,[1] prese il potere con la forza, ma, a giudizio unanime degli storici, fra i quali Erodoto, Tucidide e Aristotele, non ne abusò per modificare le istituzioni di cui la città disponeva e governò più da cittadino che da tiranno.  Quando morì nel 527 a.C.-528 a.C., i suoi figli Ippia e Ipparco gli succedettero. Ippia, il figlio maggiore, tese a continuare nella politica paterna, mentre Ipparcoebbe un ruolo minore nella tirannide, ma l'atteggiamento del regime mutò profondamente in seguito alla fallita cospirazione.  I fatti si svolsero a quattordici anni dalla morte di Pisistrato. Tucidide racconta che a far scattare la messa in atto della congiura vi furono motivi personali di tipo sentimentale. Ipparco s'invaghisce del giovane Armodio che, secondo quanto racconta lo storico Tucidide, "era allora nel fiore della bellezza giovanile", dal che si deduce che doveva avere 15 anni. Armodio era l'eromenos(giovane amante) di Aristogitone, descritto da Tucidide come "un cittadino di mezza età" - probabilmente aveva 35 anni - e appartenente ad una delle vecchie famiglie aristocratiche.  Le relazioni sessuali fra un uomo più anziano (l'erastès) e un giovane non erano di costume sanzionate ad Atene ed altre città greche, sebbene tali rapporti non fossero omosessuali nel moderno senso della parola, ma pederastici. Certe relazioni erano governate da severe convenzioni, e le azioni di Ipparco per cercare di rubare l'eromenos di Aristogitone erano un deciso affronto alle regole (Tucidide dice aspramente che Aristogitone "era il suo amante e lo possedeva").  Armodio rifiutò Ipparco e raccontò ad Aristogitone cos'era successo. Ipparco, rifiutato, si vendicò ottenendo che la giovane sorella di Armodio fosse esclusa dalla cerimonia di offerta alle feste Panateneeaccusandola di non essere sufficientemente nobile. Questa offesa fu così grande per la famiglia di Armodio che egli decise di assassinare, con la complicità di Aristogitone, sia Ippia che Ipparco e rovesciare la tirannia.  L'uccisione di IpparcoModifica Il piano - che doveva essere portato a termine con pugnali nascosti nelle corone di mirto cerimoniali - coinvolgeva anche un certo numero di cospiratori, ma vedendo uno di questi salutare amichevolmente Ippia il giorno fissato, i Tirannicidi pensarono di essere stati traditi ed entrarono subito in azione, senza rispettare l'ordine che si erano dati. Riuscirono così ad uccidere Ipparco, pugnalandolo a morte mentre stava organizzando le processioni delle Panatenee ai piedi dell'Acropoli, ma perirono per mano delle guardie del tiranno senza scatenare ribellioni.  Aristotele, nella Costituzione degli Ateniesi, tramanda una tradizione che vede la morte di Aristogitone avere luogo solo dopo una tortura volta alla speranza che questi indicasse il nome degli altri cospiratori. Durante la sua agonia, personalmente sovrintesa da Ippia, questi finse benevolenza affinché egli tradisse i suoi cospiratori, sostenendo che la sola stretta di mano del tiranno sarebbe bastata per garantirgli la salvezza. Nel ricevere la mano di Ippia si dice che Aristogitone l'abbia criticato per aver stretto la mano dell'assassino di suo fratello, al che il tiranno cambiò immediatamente idea e lo uccise sul posto.  Allo stesso modo, una tradizione dice che Aristogitone fosse innamorato di una etera dal nome di Leaena(leonessa) che era ugualmente tenuta in tortura da Ippia - in un vano tentativo di costringerla a divulgare i nomi degli altri cospiratori - finché questa morì. Si diceva che era in suo onore che le statue ateniesi di Afrodite furono da allora accompagnate da leonesse [secondo Pausania].  L'assassinio del fratello portò Ippia a stabilire una dittatura ancora più severa che fu molto impopolare e che venne rovesciata, con l'aiuto di un esercito proveniente da Sparta, nel 510 a.C. Questi eventi furono seguiti dalle riforme di Clistene, che stabilì in città la democrazia.  La fama successivaModifica Magnifying glass icon mgx2.svgLo stesso argomento in dettaglio: Gruppo dei Tirannicidi. La mitologia successiva venne così ad identificare le figure romantiche di Armodio e Aristogitone come martiri della causa della libertà ateniese, e divennero noti come i Liberatori (eleutherioi) e Tirannicidi (tyrannophonoi). Secondo scrittori successivi, ai discendenti di Armodio e Aristogitone furono concessi privilegi ereditari come la sitesis (il diritto di mangiare a spese pubbliche al palazzo del governo cittadino), l'ateleia (esenzione da certi doveri religiosi), e la proedria (posti in prima fila a teatro). Visto che non si sa se Armodio abbia avuto discendenti (è inverosimile che li abbia avuti anche Aristogitone), questa potrebbe essere un'invenzione seguente, ma illustra la loro fama postuma.  La storia di Armodio e Aristogitone, e come venne trattata dai successivi scrittori greci, è dimostrativa dell'attitudine nei confronti dell'omosessualità al tempo. Sia Tucidide che Erodoto dicono che i due erano amanti senza commentare il fatto presumendo la familiarità dei loro lettori con tale pratica sessuale istituzionalizzata senza trovarvi stranezze.  Nel 346 a.C., per esempio, il politico Timarco fu perseguito (per ragioni politiche) per il fatto che si era prostituito. L'oratore che lo difendeva, Demostene, citò Armodio e Aristogitone, così come Achille e Patroclo, come esempi degli effetti benefici delle relazioni omosessuali.  NoteModifica ^ Con la celebre spiegazione di Cornelio Nepote, nel mondo greco veniva chiamato tiranno chi era signore di una città precedentemente libera Voci correlateModifica Omosessualità militare nella Grecia antica Omosessualità nell'Antica Grecia Pederastia greca TirannideAristogitone e Armodio, in Dizionario di storia, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, Armodio e Aristogitone, su Enciclopedia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.La storia di Armodio e Aristogitone. Da: Projet Androphile.  Portale Antica Grecia Portale Biografie Portale LGBT PAGINE CORRELATE Ipparco (tiranno) tiranno di Atene, figlio di Pisistrato  Ippia (tiranno) tiranno di Atene, figlio di Pisistrato  Leena di Atene etera ateniese --se Sive Oeconomia omnium Operum Hieronymi Cardam, forum.  Signum  t prifixum, ea  denotat, qui modo in Iuccm prodeunt. PHILOLOGICA, Logica, Moralia.Vita propria, Libet. Ephemerus, de Libris proprii». SPe|[)K  De  Libris propriis,  eoruaaquevfu.exeditRovilliji   IV.  ltMriijs'  De  Libris propriis et eorum usu, ex  edit. Henricpetr. V Aeca De Socratis (ludio. Oratio ad Cardinalem Alciatum,  (ive  Tricipitis  Geryonis , aut Canis Cerberi. In Theffalum Medicum, Attio secunda. Encomium  Neronis. Encomium  Podagri.  Mneroofynon. De Orthographia. De  Ludo  alel. DIALETTICA. Contradictiones logici. De  Vno. Hyperchen. Norma viti confarcinata.facra  vocata.  Proxeneta,  feude Prudentia  ciuili. De  Priceptis  ad filios. De Optimovitx genere, De Sapientia. De Summo bono. De Consolatione. Dialogus Hieton. Cardani, et Facij Cardam patri».  Dialogus Antigorgias, feu De retta vivendi ratione. Diaiogus Tetim, feu De humanis confiltii. Dialogus De morte, feo Guglielmus. De Minimis & propinquis. Hymnus, feu Canticum ad Deum, Moralia quidam, Physica. Vtilitate ex adversis capienda. De Natura, Thconofton de Tranquillitate. Dialogus de Vita producenda, feu Thconofton Thconofton. dc  Animi  immortalitate.  Thconofton feu de Contemplatione.  MTheonofton  seu  Hyperboreorum.  De Immortalitate  animorum. De Secretis. De  Gemmis,  & coloribus.   De Aqua. Dc Vitali aqua, seu  aethere. De Aceti natura. Problematum  fc&ionesfcptcm. Discorso del Vacua. Se la qualita puo trapaliare di subbietto in subbietto. Dc fulgure. Physica. De subtilitate. Aftio prima in Calumniatorem librorum dc Subtilitate. DcKcrum varietate. Arithmetica, Geometrica,  Mufua. t 1 A E Numerorum  proprietatibus, Pradtira  Arithmetica. Computus  minor. Artis magnx, sive de Regulis Algebraicis. Liber Artis  magnx, five  quadraginta  capitulorum, Si quadraginta quxftionum. De Aliza regula. Sermo de plus  fcminus. Exxreton mathematicorum. Encomium Geometnx. Operatione della linea, De Proportionibus numerorum, motuum, ponderum, f onorurm, Delia natura deprincipij, e regolo  Muficali. AJlronomica, AJlrologica, Onirocritica, DE Reftitutione temporum & motuum cacleftium. De Prouidentia ex anni conftitutionei Aphorifmotum Aftronomicorum fegmenta feptem. Commemarij in Ptolcmxum, de  Aftrorum  judiciis. De  feptem  Erraticarum  ftellarum  viribus. De  Interrogationibus. De ludiciis geniturarum. De Exemplis cdhtum geniturarum. Liber duodecim  genurarum. De Revolutionibus. De fupplemento Alraanach. Somniorum Synefiorum libri. Medicinalium  primus. Ncomiutn Medicini, De Sanitate tuenda. Contradicentium Medicorum Ubii duo, olim' impreffi, nunc audtiores. Contradicentium  Medicorum  Libri  o&opofteriores,  nunc  primum in lucem emergentes. Medicinalium fecundus.  LVfu ciborum. De Causis, Signis, ac locis morborum. De Vrinis. Ars curandi parva. De Methodo medendi, fettiones tres priores.dempta quarta que Confilia quidam  continebat, fuo loco redituta.  De Radice Cina- De Cyna radice, seu de Decodis magnis. De Sarza parilia.  De Oxyinelicis usu in plcuritide. De Venenis Commentarij  in  librum  Hippoc.  de  Alimento. Medicinalium  tertius. Commentarij in librum Hippocr. De Aere, aquis, et locis. Commcntarij in Aphorismos  Hippocratis. Conclufiones  de  Lapidibus  Galeni  in  explicatione Aphorifmoru. Apologia ad Andream Camutium. Commcncarij in lib. Prognofticorum Hippocrati. Medicinalium quartus  & poliremus. Commentarij  in  lib. Hippocr. De Septiroeftri partui   Examen  agrorum  Hippocr. in Epidem. Lonliha varia partim  edita,  partimhaidenusanecdota. Opufcula  Medica  lenii  ia, (eu  de  dentibus   De  Dentibus, liber cjuintus, seu de morbis articularibus. Floridorum s ive Comtnent. in Principem Hazen.Vita Ludovici Ferranj, et Alciaci. Miscellanea, ex  Fragmentis, & Paralipomenis: L fragmenta.  EArcanis xternitatis,tractatus. Politica, seu Moralium, Laber vnus. Elemehta lingua: Grscx. De Inventione.V.  t De Naturalibus viribus, traftatus. De Musica. De Integris, traftatus Arithmeticus. Expositio Anatomix Mundini-Commentarij in libros Hippocr. de Viftu in acutis. Commentarij in duos libros priores Epidem.Hippocr. De Epilcplia, traftatus. De Apoplexia. PARALlFOMENON Itbri. De humanis ciuilibus fucceffiombus. De humana perfectione. HI. tn«o', feude Admirandis.De dubiis naturalibus, De rebus  faftis  raris  ,&  artificits.M.S.  De  humana  compolitione naturalium. De mirabilibus  morbis  Stfymptomatibus. Deaftrorum & temporum  ratione et divisionibus. De mathematicis quxlitis. Historix lapidum, metallicorum et metallorum. Hiftorix  animalium. Hiftorix  plantarum. De anima. De dubiis ex hiftoris. De clarorum virorum  vita  Selibris. De hominum antiquorum illuftrium judicio. De vfu hominum, et dignotione eorum, tum cura Sc errore. De sapiente. Hieronymus Cardanus. Hieronimo Cardano. Gerolamo Cardano. Keywords: masculinity, machio – maschile, Prospero, De signo, De signis, de Casis, signis, ac locis Morborum, ten volumes of “Opera omnia” analytic index – he wrote about almost everything – including logic, dialettica, metafisica, psicologia, anima, fisionomia, same-sex, he criticised Galenus for not realizing the distinction that at 14, a puer becomes an adolescent – his oeuvre is being examined in masculinity studies – masculinity Italian, Bolognese masculinity. He claimed that Bolognese males were ‘tasteful’ and underrated compared to Milaenese or Florentine males – he lived all over the place – he had many tutees, whose names survive – he was possibly paranoid – Silvestri was his best known tutee –analytic index of “Opera Omnia” --  Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cardano” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Cardano: l’implicatura conversazionale del Pietro della Lombardia -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Lumellogno). Filosofo italiano. lombardia -- Grice: “If William was called Ockham, I should be called Harborne, and Petrus Lombardia!” --  Pietro Lombardo rappresentato in una miniatura a decorazione di una littera notabilior di un manoscritto Pietro Lombardo o Pier Lombardo (Lumellogno di Novara, 1100Parigi, 1160 circa) teologo e vescovo italiano. Nacque a Novara o nei dintorni (a Lumellogno esiste una lapide su di una casa che risorda il luogo della nascita), all'inizio del XII secolo. Ricevette la sua prima formazione teologica a Bologna, dove acquisì una perfetta conoscenza del Decretum Gratiani. Si recò a Reims e poi a Parigi, dove fino alla sua elevazione alla sede vescovile di questa città insegnò teologia. Almeno una volta in questo periodo si recò alla corte pontificia, dove venne a conoscenza della traduzione del De fide orthodoxa di Giovanni Damasceno, compiuta da Burgundio Pisano per incarico di Eugenio III. Quasi certamente è uno dei teologi che nel sinodo parigino presero posizione contro Porretano.  Dopo un breve episcopato morì. Il suo epitaffio si conservò nella chiesa di Saint Marcel fino alla Rivoluzione francese. ALIGHIERI (si veda) lo nomina in Paradiso. Oltre ai commenti all'opera di Paolo di Tarso e ai Salmi, la sua opera maggiore rimane il Liber Sententiarum (Libro delle Sentenze), per la quale ottenne l'appellativo di Magister Sententiarum. Sebbene il testo rientri in un genere letterario tipico della teologia medievale, ossia l'esposizione delle sentenze delle autorità di fede (i padri della chiesa ed i riferimenti biblici) l'opera del Lombardo, per l'ampiezza delle fonti e la sua originalità, diverrà il testo di riferimento per la didattica nelle facoltà di teologia e l'elaborazione letteraria nello stesso campo. Egli infatti attinge ad una vasta letteratura in merito, adottando anche testi che normalmente non erano contemplati in queste composizioni, come Il De fide ortodoxa di Damasceno.  Con la sua opera il Lombardo tenta di sistematizzare e armonizzare la disparità e le divergenze che la pluralità delle auctoritates aveva generato, dando luogo ad un certo scompiglio ermeneutico e dottrinale. Riprendendo la classica distinzione agostiniana tra signa e res, Lombardo afferma che il motivo delle divergenze non appartiene alla natura delle cose trattate, bensì alla metodologia esegetica.  Il testo si divide in quattro parti:  la prima tratta di Dio, della sua natura e dei suoi attributi; la seconda delle creazione degli angeli, del mondo e dell'uomo sino al peccato originale; la terza dell'incarnazione cristica e della promessa della Grazia; la quarta dei sacramenti. Anche lo sviluppo del testo mantiene la distinzione tra res (le prime tre parti) e signa (l'ultima) Lo stile del Lombardo snoda l'esposizione delle sentenze coll'eleganza dialettica di tipo anselmiano mantenendosi aderente al rispetto delle varie auctoritates anche riguardo o stile letterario col quale egli opera una volontaria mimesi.  Il testo venne criticato sin dalla sua prima uscita per via del cosiddetto nichilismo cristologico. Lombardo descrive infatti l'incarnazione nei termini di assumptus homo, ossia la persona divina del Cristo avrebbe assunto una natura umana (accessoriamente). Ciò contrastava con la determinazione di origine boeziana per la quale la natura cristologica traeva la sua forma da un sinolo unico di divino ed umano. Note  Per approfondimenti vedere: Nicola Abbagnano, Storia della filosofia,  II, pag.30 e seg. Novara, Istituto Geografico de Agostini, per Gruppo Editoriale l'Espresso, Roma (I contenuti di questo volume sono tratti da: Abbagnano, Storia della filosofia, Torino, Pomba, e Abbagnano, Dizionario di Filosofia, terza edizione aggiornata ed ampliata da Giovanni Fornero, Torino, Pomba 1998)  Nicola Abbagnano, Storia della filosofia,  II, pag. 37 e seg. Novara, Istituto Geografico de Agostini, 2006 per Gruppo Editoriale l'Espresso, Roma (I contenuti di questo volume sono tratti da: Nicola Abbagnano, Storia della filosofia  I, II, III, quarta edizione, Torino, Pomba, e Abbagnano, Dizionario di Filosofia, terza edizione aggiornata ed ampliata da Giovanni Fornero, Torino, Pomba); Colish, C., Leiden, Brill; C. Atti del Convegno: Todi, Spoleto, Fondazione Centro italiano di studi sull'alto Medioevo, Minuscule 714il manoscritto del Nuovo Testamento e di "Sententiae". Libri Quattuor Sententiarum Scolastica (filosofia) C. su TreccaniEnciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana.  Francesco Pelster, Pietro Lombardo, in Enciclopedia Italiana, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. C., su Enciclopedia Britannica, Siri, C. in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia; C., openMLOL, Horizons Unlimited, C.,  Les Archives de littérature du Moyen Âge; C.  Catholic Encyclopedia, Robert Appleton Company. Rovighi, C., in Enciclopedia dantesca, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, C., Opera Omnia dal Migne Patrologia Latina con indici analitici.Chisholm, C., in Enciclopedia Britannica, Cambridge; Illustrare 'k iSlosofia di C.  finora casi trascurata dagli' storici della filosofia è im lavoro del tutto  nuovo spedialmente per lltalia. Protois affe!rim»a decisamente che C.  non è un filosofo, Thaureau ch'egli è il principe degl’indifferenti in materia fìlosofica. Entrambe le asserzioni  sono affrettate. Solo in Germania C. venne studiato con maggior serietà e con particolare attenzione! Kogel pubblica a Lipsia una monografia su C. Questa però parve confusa ed inesatta ad Espenberger che intraprese un studio acuratissimo della filosofia di C. e della posizione sua nel Beitràge zur Geschichte der Philosophie  des Mittelalter diretti da BàumJcer e Herttìng. Di tale pubblicazione mi servii in special modo [Notre auteur ne fui donc pas un philosophe.] De la philosophie scolastique — Paris, [Cesi lui qua notes reconnaissons corame le chef des indiffèrents en matière de philosophie.  C. in s. Stellung z. Phil. d. Mittelal, Leipzig. Die philosophie des C. und ihre Stellung im  vwblften Jahrhundert. Aschendorffschen Milnster] per questi miei appunti sulla filosofìa di C. sebbene mi pervenisse al momento di stenderli e troppo lardi  per farne Fesaane minuto che essa si merita. Poiché è veramente questo il primo saggio che si occupa con severa  e profonda indagine critioa della filosofia  del Maestro delle Sentenze. L'autore dimostra una profonda conoscenza delle opere patristiche e delle scritture sacre  colle quali esercita opportuni raffronti. Egli non si è poi  solo limitato all'esame del Libro delle Sentenze, ma ha  giustamente esteso le sue indagini alle altre opere meno conosciute di C. e pure ricche di impvortanti digressioni filosofiche, quali il Commentano o Gloessa dei  Salmi detto anche Salterio, ed i Commentarli alle Epistole di S. Paolo. Solo non ha tenuto conto dei Sermoni che sottio tra le cose più interessanti se non più belle del Sentenz.iario, pur nel severo giudizio di Hanreau e Bourgain, di cui Protois ha tratto dai mss. degli utili  estratti mentre se ne trova l'intero testo con poche varianti  nelle Opere Omnia del vescovo Ildeberto. Essi sono utili  per completare la figura intellettuale di C. Del quale a questo punto ripeleremo le parole: sed  terrei immensitas laboris. In verità quantunque grande  sia la nostra buona volontà non ci dissimuliamo la vastità  del lavoro intrapreso : onde lo restringeremo entro i limiti  a noi concessi, raffigurandoci un poco a quello spigolatore  che move fidente sulle orme dei più abili mietitori pago di  fare un piccolo fascio delle spighe dimenticate.  HAUREàU Not. et Extr. t. Ili p. 49.  BouBGAiN. La chaire firancaisc au XII siede Paris,  cfr. FjsBitT (La faculiè de Theol.). I Padri della Chiesa iniziarono la filosofia oristiana,  ma in forma espositiva, avendo ripugnanza a sottopome troppo minute dimostrazioni le verità rivelate. È secondo il pensiero di Gregorio una profanazione fassoggettare il verbo divino ALLE REGOLE DI DONATO. Ma quando, prima chei si diffondessero per tutta Europa le  opere di Aristotile, si attese a studiare con amore i libri dell’Organum tradotti da BOEZIO, si accede quella tendenza già iniziata nei secoli antecedenti a fortificare il dogma col sillogismo e l'autorità della ragione. Da questo connubio della teologia colla dialettica del LIZIO nasce la scolastica la quale se ha i suoi precursoiri  nei primi secoli del cristianesimo non riconosce i suoi veri  fondatori che nel secolo di Abelardo e di C. Essa nasceva per una necessità di rendere più conformei la  fede al sapere più progredito. E se da una parte non cessa di fiorire la .scuola dei mistici con Bernardo e gli    Ai tempi di Abelardo e di C. non si possede altro d'Aristotile che la logica, cioè ciò che si chiama l'Organum e  comprende: le Categorie coll'introduzione di Porfirio, l'Ermeneutica, gl’Analitici, i Topici, la Sofistica nella traduzione di Boezio,  (Cousm — Fragments philosophiques Paris)  abati Ugo e Riccardo di S. Vittore, da un'altra il mal compresso bisogno di libertà di pensiero apre la via ad  interminabili dispute quali giungevano talvolta ad intaccare il dogma, come accadde per Abelardo. C.  apparve come moderatore tra le due opposte tendenze: la  mistica e la speculativa, e valendosi dello stesso metodo dialettico usato dagli avversarti eerli si propose di dimostrare come le apparenti contraddizioni che si rileivano nelle Scritture sacre e patristiche rischi'arate dalla ragione riconducono a rinvigorire maggiormente te verità  della fede. C. però nel Prologo delle Sentenze si scaglia contro coloro qui non rationi voluntatem suhiiciunt, che la ragion sommettono al talento, traduce ALIGHIERI, e vogliono  fare credere per verità, i sogni di lor mente inferma. Qui non irationi voluntatem subiiciunt, nec doctrinae studium impendunt, sed his quae somniarunt sapientiae verba coaptare nituntiu, non veri sed placiti etiam  sectantes. C. è dunque tenuto dallo stesso compito che egli si era pronosto, cioè di dimostrare cHte nelle  scritture sacre non v'ha vera sconcordanza e che ogni ragionamento umano si riduce in ultima analisi a dimostrarne la veracità assoluta, a non imporra egli stesso nuove e diverse dottrine le auala lo avrebbero condotto fuori della sua serena imparzialità. Se ciò si possa chiamare indifferentismo io non so, poiché il Maestro delle  Sentenze non sdegna di entrare e di approfondirsi nelle più minute distinzioni e controversite fìlosofìche, cosi care  ai suoi tempi, sforzandosi con passione di ricavarne le verità da lui srià piresupposte. Nella sua umiltà che diventò poi lefir-srendaria esrli preferisce lasciar la parola affli altri,  a Gerolamo, ad Ambrogio, e specialmente ad Agostino che è il stio autore preferito come quello che suipera  tutti srli altri padri per profondità di vedute e copia d’argomenti nelle questioni fondamentali del dogma. Ma non  è vero che il Maestro rimanga empire nascosto e non ap-  [Questi ultimi conobbero oltre Aristotile anche Platone a cui  sembrano dare la preferenza e non furono del tutto stranieri alle  vedute dei neoplatonici. V. Bòbba La dottrina dell’intelletto in  Aristotile e nei 8140Ì pie illustri commentatori; paia di tratto in tratto a mostrarci la via da seguire, per  non perderci nel djedalo inestricabile delle questioni.  JJei «resto i più che hanno parlato di C.  si sono aoconlentati di scorrere i libri delle Sentenze: non  hanno letto i suoi lunghi e lucidi Commentarii alle Epistole  di Paolo, e neppure quelli ai Salmi che egli riunì sotto  il titolo sintetico di Psaterium, nom^ i sjuoì ispirati Sermoni  che si trovano manoscritti alla Biblioteca Nazionale di  Parigi, e stampati tra quelli del vescovo Ildeberlo. In tutte  queste opere C. non è solo un puro e disadorno  espositore di dottrine. Certamente il Maestro va considerato precipuamente mei suo saggio delle Sentenze, il quale  lormò testo nelle scuole ed è letto e commentato più della  Bibbia mentre le altre opere vennero più presto dimenticate. Ma anche qui se egli non espone dottrine nuove, ha però il merito grande e riconosciuto da  tutti gli storici della filosofia di distribuirle con metodo razionale, cosi che esse ricevevano lume le une dalle altre. Metodo già sperimentato con altro intento d’Abelardo, ma  dal Nostro condotto a singolare perfezione. Egli slesso sull'autorità d’Agostino, espone l’ordine col quale si deve disputare.  (Sent.): Gaeterum, ut in primo libro de Trinitate Augustinus  docet, primo secundum auctoritates Sanctarum Scriptura-  nim utrum fides ita ee habeat demonstrandum est. Deinde  adversus gamilos ratiocinatores elaliores magis quam  capaciores, rationibus catholicis et similitudinibus congniis  ad defensdonem et assertioneim fidei utendum est; ut eorum  inquisitionibus satisf<icientes, mansuetos plenius instrua-  mus et illi si nequiverunt invenire quod quaerunt, de suis  menlibus polius quam de ipsa veritate vel de nostra assertione conquerantur. . Il Deniflb in Carivi, Univer. Paris IntrodttcHo Methodus Abaelardi in IHo etiam opere quod in schoh's Theologiae  per aliquot saecula adhibebatur usurpata est, dicimus Sententias  Magistri C.Per queste come per le altre numerose citazioni delle opere  di C. ci serviamo della Patrologia  dil Migne, Paris. Fu in apecia»! modo ai metodo da mi usato che si  deve J'eaiorme diffusione del libro delle Sentenze nelle  scuole. Esso nel mentre veniva a soddisfare la naturiate  curiosità del conoscere ed a dare la spiegazione di molte credenze poneva dei limiti alla libertà del raziocinio. Ma  vienne sempre lasciato un cantuccio alle discussioni intermmabili sulle questioni minori, dalla risoluzione delle quali in un senso o in un altro poco aveva a soffrirne l'ortodossia. yui si esercitavano le intelligenze, inquisitionibus  satisfacientes, SMANIOSE DI SOTTILIZARE e di sillogizzare, con  tanta maggior sicurezza, quanto minore era il pericolo di  intaccare la fede. Lo stesso C. nel suo  saggio non si trattiene dal diffondersi nell'esame di questioni che a noi sembrano del tutto FUTILI e vane come quelle  ad esempio che riguardano la natura degli angeli.  E  non è raro anche il caso che le lasci insolute. Cosi nel  libro I, laddove domanda perchè mentre amare è lo  stesso che essere, si dice che il Padre ed il Figliuolo non  sono in essenza costituiti dell’amore col quale si amaaio  scambievolmente, CONFESSA MODESTAMENTE CHE LA QUESTIONE GLI SEMBRA TROPPO DIFFICILE e che egli si propone più di riportare le dottrine dei Padri che di accrescerle: Diffìcile mihi fateor hanc quaesti onem,  praecipue cum ex praedictis oriatur quaei siniilem videntur  habere rationem quod meaei intelligentiae attendens infirmitas turbatur, cupiens magis ea dictis sanctorum referre. Il De Vulf, Hist, de la phil. Medievale, Louvain, come  il Dknefle da un troppo reciso apprezzamento. Ces sinthèses thèologiquea, dont la premiere idee semble appartenir  à Abelardo ètaient appellées a un succès immense. Il faut en chercher le secret dans le besoins de la classification et d' orgànisation  qu^on eprouvait devant la masse des materiaux rassemblès, bien plus  que dans l’originante de ceux qui ont appose leur signature a ce  travail de mise en oeuvre. Cosicché il libro fatto per conciliare ogni controversia sembrò  sortire l'effetto contrario. Erasmits in Mattaei I, iP (cit. Da Fabricius,  Bib. m. aevi) e Siquidem apparet illum hoc egisse ut semel collectis  quae ad rem pertinpbant, questiones omnes excluderet. Sed ea res  in diversum exiit. Videmus enim ex eo opere nunquam fìnìendarum  quaestionum non exanima sed maria prorupisse. Flettrt, Hist eccl. Paris]  ri   quam uff erre >k E limsce col coaicmiDa^e.  Eam tameu quaestionjeon leolorum ddligentiae plenius dijudicandam atque absolvendam ireiiinquimus ad hoc minus sufficientes. Perciò l'opera del Sentenziario ha un intento assai  modesto, né presume di sciogliere ogni dubbio e di dirimere ogni questione. Qui il Maestro risentei della scuola  di Abelardo il quale (nel trattato Sic et non riconosceva  ai pastori il diritto di emendare le opere dei dottori della  Chaesa (Migne) « Hoc et ipsi eccleisiastici  dactores attendentes et nonnulla in suis operibus corri-  genda esse credentes posteris suis emendaindi vel non se-  quendi licentiam concesserunt ».   E il nostro C. così dice di sé :   (Sent. in prol.):  In hoc aulem tractatu, non solum  pium leolorem, sed etiam correctionem desidero, maxime  ubi prolunda versatur veritatis quaestio, quae utinam tot  haberet inventores quot habet contradictores ! »   Il libro delle Sentenze dove così riuscire più accetto  giacché il giogo del dogma era imposto alla libera riflessione del pensiero con assai più illuminata larghezza che  non fosse abitudine del passato. Tanto che parve a più  d'uno dei suoi contemporanei la sua dottrina pericolosa e  Giovanni di Goimovaglia potè chiamarlo uno dei quattro labirinti della teologia ponendolo allo stesso livello di Gi-  jDerto Porretano, Pietro di Podtiers, Abelardo.   Scopo di C. è di fare un trattato che  risparmiasse al lettore tempo e fatica. È per rispetto ai  suoi tempi un volgarizzatore della scienza teologica dispersa ne^ libri canonici e negli scritti malagevoli dei Padri  e incompiutamente contenuta nei libri di Abelardo, PuUeyn,  Ugo di S. Vittore. Egli compila una specie di Enciclopedia  teologica ove il lettore avesse a trovare senza sforzo tutto  quanto gli facesse al ciaso. Però avverte nel Prologo. « JNon igitur debet hic labor cuiquam pigro vel multum  docto videri superfluus, cum multis impigris multisque  indoctìs, inter quos etiam et mihi, sàt necessarius: brevi  volumine complicans Patrum sentias, appositis eonim te-  stimoniis ut non sit necesse quaerenti librorum numero-  sitatem evolvere, cui brevitas quod quaeiritur oBert sine  labore».   E cosi nel distribuire la materia egli seguì un nuovo  ordine sistematico e compiuto non seguito né da Ugo di S. Vittore, né da Roberto PuUeyn, né da Abelardo {Am quali  pure trasse assai dalle sue doltrine) e pose a ciascun ca-  pitolo un titolo per facilitare le ricerche (Sani, in prol.) Ut autem quod quaeritur facilius oc-  currat, titulos quibus singnlarum capitula dislingumitur  praemisimus.     Relijiiooe e scieoza.     Giovanni Scoto Erigena afferma che la teologia e la  filosofia sono una sola e una medesima scienza (1). Ma  giustamente si poa&ono fare a questo punto delle riserve  perché la scuola e la chiesa si accodano nel dire che  l'ordine della ifede non é Tordine della jnagione e che sia  pei filosofi come per i teologi vi sono dei limita al proprio  dominio. Con lutto ciò la ragione e la fede non riusdroTio  mai a vivere completamente separate. Ed a torto credano  alcuni che si cominciò propriamente dalla scolastica a coffiy  ciliare colla scienza la religione. Anche ai primi Padri  della Chiesa piacque di giovarsi di entrambe e Clemente  Dragone, Agostino, sono nello stesso tempo filosofi e  teologi. L'opposizione alla filosofìa come indegna di essere  applicata ai veri divini, non fu più propria e peculiare  dell'età patristica che della scolastica, le quali non sono  già in opposizione, ma Funa é naturale svolgimento del-  l'altra. Questo sforzo di comporre il dissidio ira Taulo-  rità e la speculazione filosofica si continuò per tutta i se^  coli fino al nostro SERBATI che parlando dell età dei Padri  e dei Dottotti scrive. L'uomo allora sentiva altamente che la teologia non  era divisa da luii, e che, sebbene ella travalicasse, per  l'origine e la sostanza, i limiti della natura, passava dal  ragionevole al rivelato, quasi ascendendo da un palco in*   (1) De praedestinatione (Collection de Mangin). Coniicitur inde veram esse philosophiam veram religionem, conversimque veram religionem esse veram philosophiam, cit. in Coasin Cours  de la phU, I p. 344. feriare ad un altro superiore dello slesso palagio delia  mente, con un solo disegno da Dio fabbricatogli.   La teologia in quell'età era senza contrasto  la conduttrice e la custode di tutte le altre scienze, la signora delle opinioni. Chi avrebbe allora pensato che sarebbe venuto un altro tempo in cui alcuni pensassero doversd la teologia dividere interamente dalla FILOSOFIA? Vediamo ora in quale rapporto si tirovassero le verità  teosofiche colle verità filosofiche nel pensiero di Pier  bombardo.   11 Maestro si attiene in massima alle parole d’Agostino (sup. Joan). Credimus ut cognoscamus, non  cognoscimus ut credamus. E nella distinzione XXII del  libro III, là dove esaminia si Christus in morte fuit homo, e risponde che benché Pietro morì come uomo, tuttavia  era in morte Dio ed uomo, non mortale e non immortale,  e tuttavia vero uomo, dice a coloro che voglioo io troppo  sotìsticare sulla ragione di ciò. Illae enim et Jiujusmodi  argutiae in creaturis locum habent sed fidei sacramentum  a philosophicis est liber. linde Ambrosius (De. fide): Aufer argiimenta, ubi fides guaeritur. In ipsis gymnasìis suis dam dialectica taceat, piscatoribus creditur, non  diaileoticis. Ma questa fede da pescatori però, C. aggiuge più oltre, non è cosa a noi lutto affatto estranea,  peirchè essa non può essere di ciò che l'animo ignora. E qui  egli sente rinllusso del misticismo del suo- protettore. Bernardo e dei Vittorini che primi lo accolsero a Parigi (Sent. Ili dist.). Cum fides sit ex auditu  non modo exteriori sed etiam interiori, non potest esse  de eo quod animo ignoratur. Ancora è necessario fare con Agostino una distinlone. Alcune cose non sono intese se prima non si credono. Ma è pure vero che alcune cose non si possono credere se prima non sono intese, come la fede in Dio che [Opere edite ed inedite di SERBATI Introd. alla Filosofia Casale Tip. Casuccio p« 48 sgg. Per maggiori notizie sul tei-  smo degli scolastici vedi : P. D'Ercole — Il teismo filosofico cristiano Torino  — Pbantl - Geschicte  d. Logik] viene dalla predicazione, e queste pai per la fede intendono di più. Uoc. cil.). Ex his apparet quaedam intelligi aliquando etiam antequam credanlur al nunc eliam per  tldem ampiius intelligìintur linde colligdtur quaedam non credi nisi prius intelligantur et ipsa per fidem  ampiius inleJlegi. Quanto poi alle cose che mima sono credute che  comprese esse non sd ignorano ael lutto perchè anche si  amano (Sen.). Nec ea quae prius creduntur penitus ignorantur tamen ex parte, quia non sciumtur. Creditur ergo quod ignoratur non penitus sdcut etiam  amatur, quod ignoratur. Pensiero ripetuto in AQUINO ed in ALIGHIERI.   In conclusione C. si libra Ira un misticismo ed un razionalismo temperato non sfuggendo alla  contraddizione, ma affronlaaidola. Il suo concetto è quello  che informa in gran parte il cattolicismo. La fede  non distrugge la ragione ma al contrario le da ali più  potenli per sollevarsi. Ed è in questo senso che bisogna  mtendere le parole d’Agostino: Intellectum ualde cana,  e quelle d’Anselmo: Fides quaerens intellectum. Principia rerum inquirenda sunt prius ut earum  notitia plenior haberì possi t. (Prol. in Collectanea). Dell’arti e delle scienza del trivio e del quadrivio,  secondo la celebre classificazione data da Marciano Capella e riprodotta da BRIUZI e da Isidoro, LA DIALETTICA ovverosia la logica che da principio parve una scienza preparatoria avente per ogge'tio più le parole che le cose, acquistò nelle scuole un  tale sviluppo che fini col proporsà i più alti problemi metafisici e diventare la prima delle scienze. Tra questi problemi, il più importante, anzi il fondamentale che sembra  raggruppare sotto di sé tutti gl’altri, ed agitò potentemente l'età di cui parliamo, è il problema degl’universali,  quale LA FILOSOFIA si è posto innanzi in tutti i tempi. Protois scrive che la questione degl’universali ha a suo autore Roiscelino. Ma ciò è per lo meno detto  male. Già Aristotele nel LIZIO si è posto innanzi il problema nelle “Categorie” ed in molti altri suoi libri; e nella prefazione  della Isagoge di Porfirio tradotta da BOEZIO, esso è pure [Haurbaux — De la philosophie scoi. Paris] enuniciato, ma non risolto, parendo esso al commeintatore  d’Aristotele di troppo grave importanza. Ecco le parole  Ui Porfirio. M Cosi tralascierò di dire SE I GENERI E LE SPECIA SUSSISTONO o sono soltanto e puramente nei pensieii, se come  bUSbisleaiti sono corporei od incorpoi'ei, se sono fuori oppure entro le cose seìusibili e con esse coeistenti: essendo troppo grave una tale impresa e rictiiedendo maggiori ricerctxe   Porfirio divide cosi il problema nelle sue III questioni  fondamentali e iu in tal modo che esso è segnalato ai  primi scolastici.  I I generi e le specie sussistono per sé o consistono semplicemente in puri pensieri ? II Come sussistenti, sono essi  corporei od mcorporei ? Ed infine: III sono essi separati dagl’oggetti sensibili o sono contenuti negli oggetti stessi formando con essi qualche cosa di coesistente?  A ragione Porfirio reputa queste questioni di somma difficoltà. Perchè comunque vi si risponda si è condotti nell'alto mare della speculazione, ed ognuna di esse  sembra pod risolversi nelle suprema questione della quaile  tutte dipendono : Che cosa è l’essere?   JNuUa di più naturale che gli scolastici inoltrandosi a  disputare di un tale argomento con molto ardire ed acutezza d mgegno, ma non con pari preparazione filosofica  sollevassero infinite e tempestose discussioni che molto spesso non approdavano ad alcun risultato. Tre furono le scuole principaU che si avviarono ad  una diversa soluzione del problema: quella dei REALISTI, dei NOMINALISTI, dei CONCETTUALISTI. Il nome di realisti è dato  a coloro che  affermano che i generi e le specie -- gli universali insomma -- sono una realtà sostanziale, una vera entità distinta  dall’altre. NOMINALISTI sono detti coloro che negano la realtà di questi universali, e li ritenevano come semplici concezioni astratte del soggetto ricondotte ad una  idea comime per mezzo della comparazione. Ma poiché  questa conclusione, dovendo ammettere che tutto ciò che  v'ha di comune non è ohe im suono, un nome vuoto di significato, flatus vocis, porta alla negazione di ogni  scienza, sorsero i CONCETTUALISTI i quali aggiungeno che  un tale suono, im tal nome rappresenta un pensiero, un  concetto il quale proviene dalla somiglianza  delle  cose diverse: il che non è sostanziale ma è percepito dall’intelligenza umana come inerente a una natura individualmente deiterminata. Dopo che Scoto porta agl;estremi  il realismo, venne Roscelino che parve dirigere la dottrina  del nominalismo contro lo stesso dogma sollevando un grave scalpore nelle scuole.   Poiché, se nulla esiste che non sia individuale, il dogma del divino, uno in tre persone vienne dalla ragione  ricalzato nelle sue basi. È bensì un errore l'uso stesso d’armi dialettiche prò e contro i misteri della fede, perchè  l'ordine della fede non è quello della ragione, ma d'altra parte è un errore rimediabile. Ed a difesa della realtà univereale si leva AOSTA (si veda),  prima abate di Bec in Normandia poi arcivescovo di Cantorberv e Guglielmo di Chamoeaux, il fiero  avversario d’Abelardo. Ed è quella del primo propriamente un realismo mistico, quello del secondo un realismo  scientifico. Abelardo poi è il capo riconosciuto, a volte vincitore,  a volle vinto, del CONCETTUALISMO, col anale si possono trovare molti riscontri nella filosofìa moderna. Quale dove essere l'opinione dei Dottori della  Chiesa in tanto contrasto di idee? Evidentemente nessuna  delle suesposte- se e quando lo notevano. I realisti confondeno le cose con la generalità delle idee, i concettualisti negano il reale fondamento delle idee universali, i nominalisti le idee stesse. I dottori non possono appartenere a nessuna di queste dottrine pericolose. Essi doveno essere tratti a trovare un criterio conciliativo, né  ciò è diffìcile, secondo l'avviso dellHaureau. E quale  è questo criterio? La specie non è solamente un concetto. Essa è altresì una cosa, non una cosa in sé, a parte  dell’oggetto sensibie, ma nna cosa facente parte con essi,  formante con essi qualche cosa di co-esistente.  Tale a un dipresso la posizione dei dottori tra le  scuole che divideno i logici disputanti,  corrispondenti sotto altro nome alla scuola dell'idealismo  critico ed alla scuola dell’idealismo trascendentale. Tra questi dottori concilianti che l'Haureau non propriamente chiama indifferenti si trova il nostro Maestro delle sentenze, il quale pero non si occupa espressamente  della questione, ma solo ne tratta per incidenza, ragionando della Trinità nel 1 libro delle Sentenze. Per C.,  l'universale non è come per Guglielmo di Champeaux un  solo essere dappertutto identico  e però difficile a comprendere, ma al contrario colla moltiplicazione numerica dell'individuo diventa anche in essenza tante volle accresciuto. Se l’animale è il genere, dice il Maestro, e IL CAVALLO la specie si avranno III CAVALLI ed anche tre ammali (Sent. I d. XIX, 8) CVM SI ANIMAL GENVS ET EQVVS SPECIES APPELLANTUR III EQVI IIDEMQVE ANIMALIA.  Perciò, quando la specie può dirsi triplice devono  anche essere III gli individui. Tutto dunque si raccoglie  nell'individuo. Ma egli poi aggiunge : SMITH, JONES, WILLIAMS -- Abramo, Isacco, Giacobbe sono  tre individui. Ma, nello stesso tempo, anche tre uomini e  tre animali. Specie e genere non sono quindi forme soggettive, ma un oggetto che è nelle cose poste al difuori di  noi. Ma non si dirà che l'essenza divina è una specie  e le persone individui, come è specie Tuomo e sono individui Àbramo, Isacco e Giacobbe. Poiché se l’essenza  divina fosse una specie come l’uomo, come non si direbbe  che Abramo, Isacco e Giacobbe sono un sol uomo cosi  non si direbbe una essenza essere tre persone (Sent.)..Sicut enim dicuntur Abraham,  Isaac, lacob, TRIA INDIVIDUA ITA TRES HOMINES ET TRIA ANIMALIA 10: Nec speoies est essentia divina et persona  individua, sicut homo species est, individua autem Abraham, Isaac et lacob. Si enim essentia specìes est ut  homo sicut non dicitur unus homo esse Abraham, Isaac  et lacob. ita non dicitur una essentia esse tres personas. Il Maestro quindi, a mio parere, non nega all’universale un fondamento reale in quanto però va unito  all’oggetto sensibile, ma distingue nettamente le cose  temporali dalle cose divine alle quali NON convengono i  nomi di universale e di partìcdare e le distinzioni della  logica. Abael hist. cai.:Erat antem in ea sententia de communitate universaliam, nt eandem essenti ali ter rem totam simtil singulis  suis inesse astrueret individuis. cfr. Espenberg — Die phil. d C. EsPENBEROER. « Art nnd Gattung sind dem-  nach nicht subjektive Gebilde, sondern objektiv in der una mngebenden Auszenwelt begrìindet »,  Teoria della coi>osc^i>za.     i\el Gommenlario delle Epistole di S. Paolo C. -venendo a parlare delle visioni le distingue 'n  tre generi: corporali, spirituali, intellettuali. E le ultime  sono le. più perfette perchè vedono non cogli occhi corporali ó colla immaginazione, ma per sé stesse. Qui il Maestro viene a toccare sebbene in modo indiretto della conoscenza che noi abbiamo coi sensi corporali, ei di quella  che acquistiamo colla memoria, la quale ci ripresenta immagini vere quali abbiamo già apprese coi sensi o finte  quali rimmagin azione forma secondo il suo potere (Collectanea in epist. ad Cor. II, 12). In bis tribus generibus (scil. visionis) illud primum manifestum est om-  nibus quo vid'etur coelum et omnia oculis conspicua. Nec  illud alterum quo absentia oorporalia cogitantur, insi-  nuare difficile. Coelum enim et terram et quae in eis videre possumus, etiam in eis constituti cogitamus. Et ali-  quaiido nihil videntes oculis corporis* animo tamen corporales imagines intuemur vel veras sicut ipsa corpora  vidimus et memoria retinemus vel fictas sicut cogitatio  formare potuerit. Aliter cogitamur quae novimus, aliter  quae non «novimus w.   Altrove nel Commentario dei Salmi paragona la me-  moria al ventre che riceve i cibi : (Comm.) Sicut enim venter escasi recipit ita memoria rerum  tenet notitiam. Nel libro III delle Scinlenze C. pariando della  fede dice che essa si riferisce soltanto alle cose che non  ci appaiono è sostanza di cose sperate come disse Paolo  e ripetè poi ALIGHIERI (1), che conobbe il Maestro forse più d’AQUINO. E qui contrappone la fede alla conoscenza  che si ha delle cose evidenti, tra te qiiali pone anche l'anima  deiruomo che sebbene non veduta, è da lui intuita cogitando. Concetto raccolto poi e svilupipato da Cartesio, il  quale prende la coscienza umana come il punto di par-   [Paolo (Ep. ad Eb. XI\* « Est fides sperandanim snbstan-  tia rerum, argumentum non apparentinm . » — ALIGHIERI (Par.):  Fede è siLStanzìa di cose sperate - ed argomento dene non parventi.  ieaia dì ogni indagiiie filosofica ed argomenterà che IV  sistenza ci è data dal pensiero: cogito ergo sum. Sent.). c( Non sicul corpora quae videmus oculis  corporeis, et per ipsorum imagines quas memoria tenemus, etiam absentia cogitamus; nec sicut ea quae non videmas et ex his quae videmus cogitalionem utromque  formamus, et memoriae commendamus, nec sicut hominem, cuius animam etsi non videmus, ex nosbna coniicimus et ex motibus corporis hominem sicut videndo didicimur, intuemur etiam cogitando: non sic vìdetur fides in  corde in quo est, .ab eo cuius est, sed eam tenel oerliseima  scientia. CosH nel capitolo già citato delle CoUectanea, il Maestro tocca della conoscenza che noi abbiamo del nostro  intelletto intellicfendo . E' insomma nella ragione stessa la  spiegazione della nostra ragione (In epist. ad Cor.) Hac visione quae didtur  intellectualis ea cemuntur, quae nec cemuntur corporea,  nec ullas gerunt formas similes corponim, velui ipsa mens   et omuis animae affectio bona. Quo enim alio modo nisi  intellisrendo intellectus consoicitur? Nullo. ».  C. paragona l’intellieenza ad una luce  interiore che illumina res<=ere intelligente:   (im epist. ad Eph.). Omnis qui inteiligit  quadam luce interi ore illusfrRtiir». Ripete in sostanza il  concetto già espresso da S. Agostino:   (in ps. 41 n. 2 Mierne) « omnis qui inteiligit  luce quadam non corporali, non carnali, non exteriore sed  interiore illustratur ».   Chiarito il modo di conoscere, resta a parlare dell'oggetto della conoscenza. Che cosa è il vero? Tutto che è è vero, secondo il concetto della filosofia  patristica, come, e questo Io si vedrà in appresso, tutto  ciò che è è pure buono. Il falso va inteso in un sen®o del  tutto privativo, cioè non è sostanza di qualche cosa, non  è ciò che è, ma è ciò che non è.   (In ps.). Veritas enim est de eo quod est. Men-  dacium vero non est subslantia vel natura ìd est, non est  de eo, quod est natuiraliter, sed de eo, quod non est. Ed in altro luogo dice il Maestro : la verità è ciò che  è come vien detto : (in ps.). Veritas est cum res  ita est cum dicitur. Quia ip9e diodi ei faeta suut   Paolo     Sostanza e^ accM^ote.     S. Agostino concepiva la sostanza come il concetto di  assenza o di naliu-a preso in senso generale da subsistere  peirchè ogni cosa sussiste a sé slessa : omn«is enim res ad  se ipsam subsistil. Ma in senso più particolare, s'intende  di ciò che è soggetto d'altre cose come del colore, delle  forane corporee, ecc.   J\on attrimenti Pier Lombardo: (sent.; in ps.).  Substanlia intelligitur illud ouod  sumus: homo, pecus, terra, sol; omnia ista substantiae  snnt : eo ipso quo sunt naturae, ipsae substantiae dicun-  tur. Nana et quod nulla est substantia, nihil omnino est.  Substantia enim est cdiquid esse ».   Ma in quest'ultima significazione, il detto .^oncetto non  appropriasi a Dio perchè Dio è semplice.   (Sent.) « Res ei^o anutabiles. . . proprie di-  cuntur substantiae, deus autem, si subsistit, ut substantia  proprie dici possit, inest in eo aliquid in subiecto et non  est simplex ».   E' quindi a torto che parlando di Dio si dice che è  una sostanza, perchè non vi è nulla in lui che non ©ia  Dio, e la parola sostanza non si dice propriamente che  delle creature. Parlando di Dio è meglio servirsi della  parola essenza»  Riguardo all'accidente il maestro delle Sentenze è  dello stesso avviso di BOEZIO che lo definisce : (in Porph.  ed. Basii) Accidens est quod adest et abest praeter  subiecli corruptionem. (Sent.) a non sicut ac-  cidentia in subiéctis quaé possunt abesse vel adesse ».   S. Agostino e BOEZIO sono i due filosofi ai quali iì  nostro C. attinge con eguale misura. Nelle Sentenze parla degli accidenti, cioè delle apparenze che  gli sembrano piuttosto esistere senza soggetto che essere  nel soggetto, quali il sapore ed il peso (accidenti) nel sa-  cramento della Eucaristia, che sono senza soggetto, poi-  ché quivi non è altra sostanza che quella del sangue e del  corpo del Signore, che non soggiaciono a quelli accidenti.  Perciò son quegli accidenti per sé sussistenti.   (Sent. IV d. XII, 1; in epist. ad Cor.). Si autem  quaeritur de acciflentibus quae remanent i. e. de speciebus  et sapore et pondere, in quo subiecto fundentur, potius  mihi videtur fatendnm existere sine subiecto quam esse  in subiecto, quia ibi non est substantia nisi corporis et  sangumis dominici, quae non affìcitur illis accidentibus...  remanent ergo illa accidentia per se subsistentia ad my-  slerium riti ». « Natura multiplex nomen est. Nam et philosophi et e-  thici et theologi usu plurimo ponunt hoc nomen». Cosi   Porrelano (in Boet. ed. Basii). Ma se  molli sono i nuovi significati presso i filosofi, vediamo in quale senso più propriamente l'adopera  il nostro Pier Lombardo. Per lui natura è ciò che é concreata colla sostanza.   (Sent.). Substantiae nomine atque  naturae dicunt signifìcari substantias ipsas et ea quae  naturali ter habent scilioet quae concreata sunt eis sicut ani-  ma naturaliter habet intellectum et imaginem et volnnta-  tem et huiusmodi». Le €086 che awemgano per causa seminale, si dice che  aweaigono secondo natura, quelle invece fuori natura av-  vengano soltanto per volontà divina. Ne viene che ogni  creatura obbedisce a leggi naturali.   (Sent.). Et illa quae secund'um cau-  sam seminalem fìunt, dicuntur naturaliter fieri, quia ita  cursus naturae hominibus innotuit. Alia vero praeter natu-  ram, quorum causae tantum suni in deo... omnis creaturae  cursus habet naturales leges. yuale sarà dunque la legge naturale ? Quella che eb-  bero anche i pagani (2), che indica all'uomo ciò che è  bene e ciò che è male e che si riassume nel non fare  agli altri ciò che non si vuole sia fatto a noi.   (in epist. ad Rom.). Etsi non habeat (s'cil.  gentilis homo) scriptam legem, habet tamen naturalem,  qua intellexil et sibi conscius est, quid sit bonum quidve  malum; lex enim naturalis iniuriam nemini inferre, nihil  alienum praecipere, a fraude et penuria abstinere, alieno  coniugio non insidiari et caelera alia et ut breviter dicatur  nolle aliis facere auod tibi non vis fieri. Quanto poi alla persona, il Lombardo, parte dal con-  cetto ^ià enunciato da BOEZIO che la persona è la sostanza  individuale d'una natura ragionevole: (ed. Peiper). Persona est naturae rationalis individua substantia. Ovunque noi troviamo una sostanza individuale nella  specie umana, ivi è una persona. Ma l'anima che è so-  stanza razionale, è dunque una persona? C.  risponde negativamente ricorrendo all'airtificio di parole  ^à adoperato da BOEZIO nel sfuo libro de duabus naturìs  (ed. Peiper). Cioè Tanima è sostanza razionale,  ma non tuttavia persona, perchè non è per se sormns^ cioè  è congiunta ad altra cosa. Dio solo può agire contro natura: (Sent. loc cit) super hunc  naturalem cursum Creator habet apud se posse de omnibus facere  aliud, quam eorum naturalis ratio habet; ut. scilicet, vir^a arida re-  pente fioreat, et fructum ^^at. et in juventute sterilis femina, in  senectute pariat, ut asina loquatur et huiusinodi. CICERONE, De leg.; Atque, si natura confirmatura ius  non erit, virtutes omnes toUentur Nam haec nascuntur ex eo, quia natura propensi sumus ad diligendos homines, quod fundamentum iuris est.  (Sent.) Nam et modo anima est substantia rationalis, non tamen persona, quia non est per se  sonans, imo alii rei comiuncta. Tuttavia l'anima è persona quando per se est: onde  quando è sciolta dal corpo è persona come è Fangelo.   (Sent.) « Anima, non est  persona, quando alii rei unita est personaliter absoluta  enim a corpore persona est siculi angelus.    U^ià Agostino parla di una materia informe dalla  quale sarebbero derivate tulle lè cose che sono distinte e  formate.   (de genes. contra Manich. I, 5, 9 Migne). Primo ergo materia facta est confusa et informis unde  omnia fìerenl quae distincta atqua formata sunt, quod  credo a graecis caos appellari). Così pure BOEZIO (edit  Basii p. 1138) parla di una materia informe e siemplice  come la ale e di una materia formata e non semplice come  i corpi. Anche per C. le cose create furono  formate da una materia informe (I'n ps.). Quoniam ipse dixit, idest voluit  et facta sunt (scil. coelum et terra) id est formata de informi materia. E cosi pure nel secondo libro delle Sentenze : (dist.). Alii vero hoc magis probaverunt  et asseruerunt, ut prima materia rudis atque informis creata sii Postmodum vero ex illa materia rerum corporalium genera sunt formata secundum species propria.   D’Agostino C. deriva pure il suo concetto della forma. (Sent.) « Dicit Augustinus causas  primordiales omnium rerum in deo esse mducens simili-  ludinem artifìcis in cuius dispositione est qualis futura sii  arca. Il Maestro ripete a questo punto appoggiandosi intieramente ad Agostino quanto Abelardo e Gilberto Prretano dicono con compiuto linguaggio scientifico quando chiamaiio le idee forme esemplari della mente divina. Non  così chiara come in questi elementi platonici è l'idea della  forma presso i sentenziarii ai tempi aristotelici. Causalità. Qui il Maestro dà questa definizione della idea di causa. Tutto ciò che in sé permanendo genera od opera  qualche cosa, è il principio, ossia la causa di ciò che genera od opera.   (Sent.). Si autem quicquid in se manet  et gignit vel operatur aliquid, principium est eius rei  quam gignit vel edus quam operatur. Dio però si dice eh fa ed opera qualche cosa, per-  chè è la causa delle cose scientemente esistenti.   (Sent.). Deus ergo aliquid agere vel facere dicitur, quia causa est rerum noviter existentium. Con ciò vien presupposto che tutto ciò che avviene,  avviene per una causa necessaria e che nulla nasce che  non sia preceduto da una legittima cagione. C. in seguito si domanda se nulla possa sfuggire o  questa legge di causalità e possa awemare per caso. Ma  egli risponde : se qualche cosa avviene nel mondo per  caso, non tutto il mondo è regolato dalla divina pìnovvi-  denza. Se non tutto il mondo è regolato dalla divina  provvidenza, v'è qualche natura o sostanza che non appartiene all'opera della Providenza. Ma tutto ciò che è, è  buono per la partecipazione di quel bene che noi chiamia-  mo divina provvidenza. Nulla dunque può avvenire per  caso. Inutile è il notare che questo argomento si trova  già in Agostino, Ugo di S. Vittore, Abelairdo.   (Sent.) « Si ergo casu aliqua fiunt in  mundo, non providentia universus mundus administratur.  Si non providentia universus mundus administratur, ali- [Vedi EspuNBKBOBB] qua natura vel substanlia est quod ad opus providentiae  non pertinel. Omne autem quod est... boni illius parteci-  patione... bonum est, quod divinum bonum provideoliam  vocamus. JNihil ergo casu flit in mundo. Le nozioni di spazio e di misura, ci vengono date da  C., laddove parla di Dio che è immensurabile  ed iniCBteso.   (Sent.) Neque dime(nsionem habet  (sdì. deus) sicut corpus cui secundimi locum assigmatur  principium, medium et finis et ante et retro, dextera et  smistra, sursum et deorsum quod sui interpositione facit  distantiam et circumstantiam... dicitur in Scriptura aliquid locale sive circumscriplibile et e converso, sci!, quia  diimensionem (bapierus longiltudinis et latitudinis distaai-  liam lacit in loco ut corpus.  Più avanti definisce il luogo nello spazio ciò che è  occupato in lunghezza, altezza e larghezza da un corpo (Sent.) « Locais in spatio est quod lop-  giludine et altitudine et latitudine corporis oocupatur)).   Come Dio neppure gli spiriti creati possono essere  circonscritti nello spazio. Essi però possono in certo modo  essere locali perchè quando si trovano in un luogo (non  si trovano in un altro : però non hanno dimensioni e per  quanto siano numerosi, non possono riempirlo.   (Sent.) « Spiritus vero creatus quo-  dammodo est localis, quodammodo non e®t localis. Localis  quidem dicitur, quia definitione loci terminatur, quoniam  cum alicubi praesens sit totus, alibi non invenitur. Non  autem ita localòs est ut dimensionem capiens distantiam in  loco faciat. C.  infine conclude che Dio non si muove  né nello spazio, né nel tempo, che Tanima si muove nel  tempo, ed il corpo nelo spazio e nel tempo. Di qui le loro  diverse natuire. Ecce hic aperte oistendilur, quodi nec locis  aec temporibus mutatur vel movetur Deus, spiritualis au-  tem natura per tempus unovetur, corporalis vero etiam  per tempus et locmnn.  Che cosa è il tempo ?   Ad una tale domanda cosi risponde S. Agostino nelle  Confessioni: Se nessuno me lo chiede lo so; se voglio  spiegarlo a chi me lo chieda non lo so: con piena fede  dico tuttavia di sapere che se nulla passasse, non vi sa-  rebbe un tempo passato e se nulla dovesse avvenire^ non  vi sarebbe un tempo futuro, e se nulla fosse non vi sareb-  be un teimpo presente. C. definisce il tempo, la variazione delle  qualità che sono nella stessa cosa che si muta.   (Sent. ) <( Mutari autem per tempus  est variari secundum qualitates quae sunt in ipsa re quae  mutatur... Haec enim mutatio qua fìt secundum tempus,  vanatio est qualitalum . . . et ideo vocatur tempus».   L'eternità fa antilesi al tempo. Il Lombardo come A-  belardo ripete qui le parole di Boezio: Stabilisque ma-  nens das cuncta momri quando dice: (In ps.) «Et  video, id est sciam, quoniam tu es proprie qui stabiEs ma-  nens das cuncta moveri. Garattei'a appunto dell'eternità è la stabilità, del tem-  po la mutabilità (in epist. ad Hebr. I) « In aeternitate  enim stabilitas est, in tempoire autem varietas ; m ae-  ternitate omnia stamit, in tamporei alia aocedunt, alia suc-  fcedHint. Il problema cosmologico si presenta al Maestro nel  libro II delle Sentenze alla prima distinzione. Egli dimostra  sulla fede delle Sacre Scritture, che non vi è che un prin-  MiGNB  ( Espenberger). Quid est tempus? Si nemo ex me quaerat, scio; si quaerenti expli-  care velim nescio: fidenter tamen dico scire me, quod si nihil prae-  teriret, non esset praeteritum tempus ; etsinihil adveniret, non esset  fUtunim tempus, ei si nihil esset, non esset praesens tempus , cipio solo di tulle le cose. Alcuni (ilosoli, come Platone ed  Anstolile, avevano pensalo che il mondo avesse molti  principii, che la materia che lo comipone fosse increata  ed eterna, che Dio non ne fosse punto il Greatore, ma sem.-  plicamente l' oa^ganizzatore. Ma la dottrina cattolica al  contrario ci insegna che Dio solo, principio di tutte le cose,  ha tutto crealo dal nulla, le cose visibili e le invisibili, il  cielo e la terra (Sent.). Creationem rerum insinuans Scrip-  tura deum esse creatorem initiumque temporis atque om-  nium visibilium ved invisibilium creaturarum in primordio  suo ostendìft dicens (g:en. I, 1) In principio creavit deus caelum et terram.  His enim verbis Moyses... in uno principio a deo creatore  mundum factum refert elidens errorem quorundam plura  sine principio fuisse opinantium. Plato namque tria inilia  existimavit deum scilicet exemplar et matenam et ipsam  mcreatam sine principio et deum quasi artificem non  creatorem. E altrove conferma che il mondo non è coetemo a  Dio e senza alcun principio, ma creato da Dio come in-  segna la scrittura.   (in ps.) « Quia ipse dixit et faota sunt —  hoc dicit contra illos qui dicunt mundum deo coateoiimn. Dio creò ogni cosa dal nulla : creare è propriamente  ricavare qualche cosa dal nulla : onde a Dio solo compete  il nome di creatore (Sent.). Creator enim est, qui de nihilo ali-  quid facit. Et creare proprie est de nihilo aliquid facere hoc nomen (scilicet creator) soli deo proprie congruit...  Ipse est ergo creator et opifex et factor. C.  passa poi ad esamina-re la creazione del  mondo e specialmente .l'opera dei sei giorni commentando  il racconto della Genesi. Le spiegazioni ch'egli offre, sono  tolte ai padri antichi tra i quali S. Ambrogio, Agostino, Gregorio, il venerabile Beda e Giovanni Grisostomo.  Insieme con vedute geniali e profonde, si trovano in quella  parte dei suoi libri ove si paria della creazione, alcune  teorie che le scienze naturali hanno poi definitivamente  condannate. Basta ricordare la teoria dei quattro elementi  di cui si compone il cosmo, e quella che considera il fir-  mamento come una immensa volta solida alla quale sono  attaccati gli astri, e Topinione che i piccoli insetti nascano     &6  dalla corruzione dei carpi organici. Ma il Lombardo espone  la scienza dal secolo decimosecondo : d'altronde egli di tali  cose sembra parlare in forma dubitativa e come è suo  costume non fa che esprimere le opinioni che ai suoi tempi  correvano.     dell'uorpo o^il'unlv^rso*  Là dove parla della creazione, il Maestro pada anche  del fine per il quale l'uomo e l'angelo furono creati. La  somma bontà divina ha voluto far parte della sua felicità  etema a due delle sue creature, all'angelo ed all'uomo :  perciò li creè ragionevoli affinchè conoscessero il sommo  bene, l'amassero, ed amandolo lo jK>ssedesseiro e posse-  dendolo fossero felici. L'angelo di natura incorporea e  l'uomo composto di anima e di corpo furono creati per  lodare e per servire Iddio; non già perchè questi abbia bi-  sogno dei servigi umani, ma affinchè l'uomo godesse nel  servirlo, poiché in questo si giova chi serve e non colui  al quale si serve.   (Sent.) Factus ergo... homo projter deum  dicitur esse, non quia creator deus et summe beatus alte-  rutrius indiguerit officio... sed ut servirei ei ac fruirelur.'..  in hoc ergo proficit serviens... non ille cui servi tur.   Pensiero che vien perfezionato da S. Tommaso (Sum.  contra gentes II, 46) e dall'ALIGHIERI (Parad.):   Non per avere a sé di bene acquisto  Ch'esser non può, ma perchè suo splendore  Potesse risplendendo, dir: Subsisto.   In seguito aggiunge che come l'uomo è stato fatto per  Dio, così il mondo per l'uomo, il quale si trova in un  mezzo tra ciò che a lui serve e ciò a cui egli stesso deve  servire.   (Sent. II, I, 8) « Et sicut factus est homo propter  deum i. e. ut ei serviret, ita mundus factus est propter     é6   hominem, scil. ut ei servirei. Positus est ergo homo 'n  medio ut et ei servirelur et ipse serviret; ut acciperet u-  trumque et reflueret totum ad bonum hominis et quod ac-  cepit obsequium et quod impeffidit... ».   L uomo infine si distingue da tutti gli altri animali  per la sua aspirazione alle cose superne, ed è perciò  che egli ha il corpo eretto e quasi rivolto al cielo.   (Sent.) « Ecce osl^isum est, secundum  quid sit homo similis dei... Sed in corpore quaaidam pro-  prieitatem habet quae haec indicat, quia §st erecta statura  secundum quam corpus ajiimae rationali congruit, quia a  caelum erectum est ». È  LO STESSO CONCETTO DI CICERONE (De legibus). Nam quum caeteras animantes abiecisset ad pastum, solum hominem erexit ad caelique quasi cognationis  domiciliique pristini conspectum excitavit.  E non di CICERONE soltanto. Tra i gentili cf. OVIDIO Metamorf. I, 84-86 SALLUSTIO Catil.  Tra i filosofi cristiani Agostino (de gen. centra Manich. I, XVII),  BRUZI (de anima cap. IX) Beda (in hexaem I) Abelardo (in  hexaem).  Tantum enim, ut tradit auctoritas, cognoscit  ibi quiHque quantum diligit. (Sent.)  Foteoze d^ll'anirpa. 11 problema psicologico veniva proposto da Ugo di  S. Vittore in queisti termini: (de sacram.)  yuaerunlur autem quiam plurima de origine animae,  quando creata fuit et tolde creala fuit et qualis creata  fuit. (cfr. August. de quant. animae I, 1).  August. de quant. animae).   Era questione tra i filosofi secondo Giovanni di Salisbury (Mei.) se fosse una sola potenza la quale  ora sentisse, ora ricoondasse, ora immaginasse o se pur  rimanendo l'anima semplice, essa fosse dotata di molte  potenze (MieNB). Recolo enim fuisse philosophos, quibus placuit, sicut incorpoream simplicem et individuam esse substan-  tiam animae, ita et unam esse potentiam, quam multipliciter prò  rerum diversitate exercet. Eorum ergo opinio est, quod eadem po-  tentia, nunc sentiat, nunc memoretur, nunc immaginetur; nunc di-  scemat investigando nunc investigata assequendo intelligat. Sed  plures sunt e contrario sentientes animam quidem quantitatem simpli-  cem, sed qualitatibus compositam et sicut multis obnoxiam passio-  nibus, sic multis potentiis utentem ». V. Espenberger. C. si attiene in ciò a S. Agostino e definisce quei^le potenze come naturali proprietà dell'anima,  yueste sono una sola sostanza ed esistono nell'animo so-  stanzialmente; e noiii accidentalmente : poiché sebbene rela-  tive tra di loro ciascuna è sostanzialmente nella sostanza  oell animo.   (Sent.) « Hic attendendum est ex quo sensu  accipiendum sit quod supra dixit, illa tria, scilicet memo-  riam, intelligentiam, voluntatem esse unum, imam mentem,  unani essentiam, quod utique non videtur esse venim  juxta »pix>piietatem sermonis... Illa vero tria, naturales  proprietales seu vii-es sunt ipsius mentis. Sed jam  videndum est quoniodo liaec tria dicantur una substantia.  Ideo quia sciJicet in ipsa anima vel mente substantialiter  existunt, non sicut accideiitia in subiectis, quae possunt  adesse vel abesse uiide Augustinus in lib. IX de Trm. cap.  5 alt : Admonemur, si utcumque videre possumus, haec in  animo existere substantialiter, non tanquam in subiecto,  ut color in corpore; quia etsi relative dicuntur ad invincem,  singula tamen substantialiter sunt in substantia sua.  Spiegata cosi coli autorità altrui la natura delle potenze dell anima, il Lombardo distingue nella ragione due  parti : la parte superiore che si volge alle ragioni eteme  delle cose, la inferiore che si piega a osservare le cose  temporali!   (Sent.) « Ratio vero vis animae est superior, quae,  ut ita dicamus, duas habet partes vel differentias, superio-  rem et inferiorem. Secundum superio«rem, supemis con-  spiciendis vel consulendis intendit; secundum inferiorem,  ad temporalium dispositionem conspicit ».   Da ciò deriva la distinzione ch'egli fa della sapienza  e della scienza. La definizione che diedero gli antichi della  sapienza, cioè : Sapientia est rerum divinarum humana-  rumque scientia, va divisa cosi che sapienza si dica pro-  priamente della conoscenza delle cose divine, scienza della  conoscenza delle cose umane.   (Sent.). Illa definitio dividenda est, ut  rerum divinarum oognitio sapientia proprie nuncupetur,  hùmanarum vero rerum cognitio proprie scientiae nomen  obtineat. L'influsso mistico di S. Bernardo suo protettore e dei  suoi primi maestri di S. Vittore, si fa sentire in C. là dove afferma che la maggiore o minore quantità  di sapere deriva dalla quantità di amore: (Sent.) Sed qui magis diligit plus coginioscit ». Abelardo definisce Tanima come una certa essenza  spirituale e semplice: (introd. ad theol. Ili, 6) « Anima  quippe spiritualis quaedam et simplex essentia est ». Non  diversamente la definisce il nostro C.  là dove dice  (sent.) « Mens enim i. e., spiritus rationalis essentia est spiritualis et incorporea ».  Così Abelardo come C., si riconnettono a  Agostino che in più luoghi dei libri tratta deU anima -n quanto spirituale ed incorporea. L'anima si dice semplice perchè non si diffonde in e-  stensione, ma in qualunque corpo in tutto o in qualsivoglia  paorte di essa è intiera. Cosi quando avviene qualche cosa  nella più piccola parte del corpo, che sia avvertita dall'a-  nima benché non avvenga in tutto il corpo, tutta Tanima  sente perchè non tutta si tien nascosta.   (Sent.) Simplex dicitur anima) quia mole  non diffunditur per spatium loci sed in unoquoque corpore  et in toto tota est et in qualibet eius parte tota est. Et  ideo cum fit aliquid in quavis exigua particula corporis  quod sentiat anima, quamvis non fiat in toto corpore, illa  tamen tota sentit quia totam non latet.  In ciò segue C. la dottrina professata da Agostino e da Plotino, il primo nel libro di trinitate, de quantitate animae, de immut, animae, il secondo in enn. (edit Volkmanm).  Ma se l’anima è semplice, dice il Lombardo nel luogo  citato, in confronto del corpo, per sé stessa non è semplice  ma molteplice. Poiché altro è essere operoso, altro Inerte,  altro acuto, altro memore, altro è desiderio, altro è ti-  more, altro è letizia, altro è tristizia, e queste cose ed altre  dello stesso genere si possono trovare nella natura delVa-  nima ed alcune senza le altre ed alcune più ed altre meno,  onde è manifesto che la natura dell'anima non é semplice,   ma molteplice « unde manifestum est animae non sim-   plicem sed multiplicem esse naturam. In conclusione la natura dell’anima offre due lati: è  semplice da un lato se si paragona colla natura del corpo  molteplice se si paragona colle sue potenze  Ma ranima è altresì immortale. L'uomo è fatto a  somiglianza di Dio e la somiglianza nella essenza perchè  essa è immortale ed indivisibile (Sent.) Factus est homo ad similitudinem dei -- similitudo in essentia quia et immortalis eit indivisibilis est. linde Augustinus, de quant, anim. Anima facta est similiter deo, quia immortalem et indissolubilem fecit eam deus. Ma la filosofia scolastica fedele al precetto: distingue  prequenier^ come limita e divide il concetto della semplicità  deiranima cosi na limita e divìde quello della immoortalilà,  distinguendo il coooeilto della morte intesa in senso asso-  luto di annientamento da quello della stessa intesa in senso  relativo di mutazione : ed in quest'ultimo senso l’anima non  è del tutto immortale (Sent.) In omni mutabili natura nonnulla  mors est ipsa mutatio quia fecit aliquid in ea non esse quod  erat, unde et anima humana quae ideo dicitur immortalis  quia secundum modum suum nunquam desinit vivere^ ha-  bet tamen quandam mortem suam. Riguardo all’origine dell’anima si agitavano ai tempi  di C. due diverse opinioni, l’una del traduzionismo (1) che pretendeva che l’anima vienne generata come  il corpo, l'altra del creazionismo che pretendeva al contrario che è creata da Dio direttamente. A quest ultima si attiene naturalmente C.  con Abelardo, Roberto PuUus, Ugo di S. Vittore. Dio creò  ranima dal nulla dice il Maestro: (Sent.) «Flatus  factus est a deo, non de deo, non dealiqua materia sed de  Odo di Cambra!: (de pen. orig. II) « Sunt autem multi qui  volunt animam ex traduce fieri sicut corpus et cum corporis semine  vim etiam animae procedere » Vedi Espen. 6,  I 101   nihilo ». Quindi cornhatte; ropinione di coloro che affer-  maaio con Origene che le anime sono state tutte create  al principio del mondo, e quella di coloro che con i Lu^ci-  feriani e Cirillo ed alcuna dei Latini pensano che Tanima si  comunichi ai figli per generazione e nello stesso modo  che il corpo. Mentre Tanima non è infusa nel corpo che  quando esso è tonnato ed adatto a riceverla.   (Sent.) Sed quicquìd de anima primi hominis aestimeoitur, de alias certissime sentiendum est, quod  in corpore creentur; creando emim infundit eas deus et in-  fundendo creat ». E più avanti: (Sent.) e( Unde  Augustiiniis in ecclesiast, dogm. animas hominum di<rit non  esse ab initio inter creaturas intellectuales natuT^as nec  simili creatas sicut Origenes fìngit necque in corporibtis  per coitum seminum sìcuT Luciferani et Cyrillns et quidam  LatiinoiTum praesuanptoìres affìrmant, sed dicimus corpus  tantum per coniugii oopulam seminari, creationem vero  animae solum cneiatoirem nosse eiusque iudicio formato  iam corpore animam creavi atque infimdi ».   E nel libro IV spiega ancor meglio quest'ultimo pen-  siero ricorrendo all'esempio della casa e del suo abitatore  che vi entra soltaoito quando è ben costruita  (Sent.). Sed iam formato corpori anima  datur, non ini conceptu corporis nascitur cum semine de-  rivata. Nam SI cum semina et anima existit de anima, tunc  et multae animae quotidie pereunt cum semen fluxu non  proficit Ti'ativitati. Primum oportet domum compaginari et  sic habitatorem induci».   E qui è opportu/no ricordare che questa teoria dell'anima si trova pure con poche varianti nel canto del  Purgatorio laddove il Poeta discorre della nascita dell'uomo e spiega come (Tanimal divenga fante.     Relazione tra Fanirpa ed il corpo.   . Seguendo il concetto aristotelico dell'età di mezzo, il  Lombardo ritiene Tanima come forma del corpo.   (Sent.) « Formatum vero intelligitur corpus propria anima animatum et informe quod nondum  Habet animam. Un tal concetto va intimamente collegato con un passo  della Bibbia: (Exod.) « Si quis percusserit  mulierem praegnantem et aborlivum fecerit, sì adhuc in-  formalum fuerit, multabitur pecunia; quod si formatmn  fuerit, reddel animam prò anima », C. deride le favole di coloro che immagi-  nano che le anime siano rinchiuse nel corpo, come in un  carcere, per i peccati commessi in cielo (Sent.) Multi in fabulas, vanitatis abierunt dicenls, quod animae sursum in caelo pecoant, et secundum peccata sua ad corponia prò meritis diriguntur, et  dignis sibi guasi carceribus includuntur. lerunt hi tales  post cogilationes suas et... versi sunt in profundum, dicentes animas in caelo ante conversatas et ibi aliquid vel  mali egisse et prò meritis ad corpora terrena detrusas esse.  Hoc autem respuit catholica fides ».   Ma invece Dio diede senso alla natura coirpoTea perchè l’uomo capisse che se potè unire due cose cosi diverse,  quali l'anima è il corpo in una tale unità, non è impossibile ch'egli possa partecipare per quanto umile alla sua  gloria (Sent.) Lufeamque materiam fecit ad vitae  sensum vegetare, ut sciret homo, quia si potuit deus tam  disparem naturam corporis et animae in federationem unam et in amicitiam tantam coniungere, nequaquam ei  impossibile futurum rationalis creaturae humilitatem ad  sua Rloriae partecipationem sublimare. C. non crede che il corpo sia carcere  dell'anima nel senso che sopra si è detto, perchè f)er es-  sere opera di Dio è un bene: ma è pure un carcere nel  senso che il corpo a corrompe e corrompendosi aggrava l’anima (in ps.) «Vel potius corpus est career non  utique secundum id, quod deus fecit ipsum bonum est, sed  secundum id, quod comimpitur et aggravat animam i. e.  oorruptio eius quae venit ex peccali, career est. Altrove chiama il corpo quasi strumento e servo del-  Tanima : (in epist. ad Rom.) « Si corpus, quo inferiore  tamquam famulo vel instrumento utitur anima... ». E cosi  pure si legge in un suo sermone : (2P De codem die: In passione Domini seu in annuntiatione (Protois). Dominus est spiritus noster, anima tamquam domina, corpus  tanquam servus. Hi tres ini domo una cooperantur et si  oonveniunt in bono, vdr bonus intelligilur ». Che cosa è infatti Tuoino se non un'aniina fornita  di corpo? si domanda Ugo di S. Vittore (1). Però a que-  sto riguardo il Lombardo usa di una certa moderazione;  ed il suo modo di pensare intomo alla persona deiruomo  ci fa credere che egli dà un posto importante anche alla  vita. Il Maestro delle Sentenze sul finire del suo libro  principe, cioè alla distinzione, entra  poi a discorreire della morte e della risurrezione del corpo.  E fu il padre Michele da Carbonara il primo a far notare  la conformità che vi è tra le dottrine svolte da Pier Lom-  bardo e i luoghi della Divina Commedia che parlano della  risurrezione, quantuncfue la ragione fondamentale di essa  data dal Maestro diversifichi in sostanza da quella data dal  Poeta.   Nella risurrezione ciascuna anima separata riprenderà  il coqx),   ripigtierà sua carne e sua figura (Inf.)   quale era nel fiore della età: e sarà mage^iore allora la  sua beatitudine e la sua cognizione : « amplior erit eorum  cognitio ». Ciò è diffìcile a spiegarsi, dice il Maestro. Ma  è certo che nell'anima è un vivo desiderio di ripigliare il  corpo; riunita al corpo Tanima ha perfectum naturae suae  modum ed ha ampliorem cognitionem.   Altri che verranno poi, si spingeranno più addentro  nella questione come farà S. Tommaso. Ma, dice il Carbonara, il Maestro sta come colui che tira le linee più  larghe d'un quadro, in suU'indeterm inalo; e si legga at-  [Sent., Migm. Quid enim est homo nisi anima  habens corpus ? Nel sermone 11 (in die Cineris ad poenitentes — .Ms. lat. in Protois p. 138): «vita praesens messi comparatur et aestati, quia  nunc inter ardores tentationum colligenda sunt futurorum merita  praemiorum. Carbonara, Dante e C. (Sent.) con prefazione e per cura di Murari 2  ediz. Città di Castello Collezione di Opuscoli Danteschi inediti o rari diretti da Passerini.  tentamente questo tratto « ^f mmor sU healitudo sanctorum  post iudicium; sì leig'gta attentamente e si vedrà che se vi  è trailo che specchi il canto del Paradiso, questo tratto  è desso. La slessa queslfone, gli stessi punti determinali;  ma Insieme rindeterminatezza, il vago, che neirinsieme  domina il Maestro, si risente nel Poeta. Come la carne gloriosa e santa  Pia rivestita, la nostra persona  Più grata fia, per esser tutta quanta :   (cperfeobum natuirae suae modum habebit anima».Omne qaod est, in quantum est, bonum est.  Tutta TEtica scolastica è necessariamente compene-  trala della dogmatica teologica. Quella di C. non diversa in sostanza da quella dei suoi maestri^ si riat-  taeca alle discussioni teologiche intorno alla morale che  ai suoi tempi si dibattevano. La prima questione che ci conviene esaminare, è  quella che riguarda il libero esercizio della volontà.  La libertà, pensa egli con Ugo di S. Vittore (Sent.), di cui sente più volle l'influsso, chiede di poier  compiere non solo il male, ma anche il bene.   (Sent.) « Verum nobis magis placet ut  ipsa libertas arbitrii sit et illa, qua magi® liber est malum,  et alia qua quis liber est ad bonum faciendum. Ex causis  enim variis sortitur diversa vocabula».   Il Lombardie si chiede in appresso quali fattori deter-  minano la libertà umana e ne distingue due, cioè la ra-  gione e la volontà. La prima disceme tra il bene ed il male, la seconda  si muove con desiderio spontaneo ad effettuarlo. Ecco la  definizione e la spiegazione del libero arbitrio secondo C.  (Sent.). Liberum verum arbitrium est  facultas rationis et voluntatis, qua bonum eligitur gratia  assistente, vel malum ea desistente. Et dicitur liberum,  duantum ad voluntatem quae ad utrumlibet flecti potest.  Arbitrium vero, quantum ad rationem, cuius est facultas  et potentia illa, cuius etiam est discemere inter bonum et  malum et aliquando quidem discrelionem habens boni et  mali, quod malum est eligit, aliquando vero quod bonum  est...,.» e più avanti:   (Sent.) « Liberum ergo dicitur arbitrium  quantum ad voluntatem, quia voluntaTie moveri et sponta-  neo appetitu ferri potest ad ea quae bona vel mala indicet  vel indicare potest ».   Il Lombardo si affretta poi a spiegare un passo di  S. Agostino, ove questi afferma che l'uomo perde il libero  arbitrio dopo il peccato, onde si legge nei Vangeli: (Pel.) A quo erdm devictus est, huic servus est (Vedi  August. enchirid. Migrie).   TIon ciò non si vuol dire che l'uomo perde intiera-  mente la libertà, ma solo quella che ci trattiene dalla mi-  seria e dal peccato (Sent.) <( Ecce liberum  arbitrium dicit (scil. Augustinus) hominem amisisse; non  quia post peccatum non habuerit liberum arbitrium, sed  quia libertatem arbitrii perdidit non quidem a necessitate,  sed libertatem a miseria et peccati. Est namque lib^rtas triplex, scilicet a necessitate,  a peccato, a miseria. A necessitate et ante peccatum et  post aeque liberum est arbitrium. Sicut enim lune cogi  non poterai, ila nec modo. Ideoque voluntas merito apud  deum indicalur, quae semper a necessitate libera est *i  iiiunquam cogi potest. Ubi necessitas, ibi non est libertas;  ubi non est libertas, nec volunlas et ideo nec merilum.  Haec libertas in omnibus est tam in malis quam in bonis. Il Sentenziario perciò nel suo Commentario nei Salmi  (rimprovera coloro che attribuiscono alle stelle ed al fato,  la colpa dei loro peccati facendone in certo modo respon-  sabile Iddio, che è Tautoire del creato: (in ps.)  « Ila clamel aeger ad medicum, et dicat : Cum libero ar-  bitrio creavi! me Deus: ideoque si peccavi, ego peccavi  non fatum, non fortuna, non diabolus, me coegit : sed' ego  persuadenti consensi ».     io:   In conclusione, il maestro delle Sentenze^ come già  si è veduto, definisce il libero arbitrio un& facoltà della  ragione' e della vodontà colla quale si sceglie il bene col  soccorso della grazia od il male se la grazia ci manca.  Ma questa definizione, aggiunge l'autore, non conviene a  Dio né ai santi che par essere incapaci di peccare, hanno  un libero arbitrio più perfetto. 11 libero arbitrio di Dio è  la sua volontà ònnisapiente ed onnipotente, che fa senza  necessità e liberamente tutto ciò che le piace. Quella degli  angeh e dei santi non può più portarsi verso il male,  perchè essi sono coiiifermati neha beatitudine e neilla  grazia. L'uomo dopo il peccato ha pure conservato il  suo, ma perchè egli voglia il bene gli è necessaria la  grazia del Redentore.   La teoria del libero arbitrio, che il Maestro professa,  intesa a conciliaire il dogma coi dettami della ragione, non  sfugge, come è ben naturale, a gravi difficoltà. Cosi egli  è costretto per quaiinto si sforzi di provare il contrario,  a mettere l'uomo in una posizione non del tutto giusta,  rispetto alla sua libertà, poiché se egli fa il male, ne è  tutta sua colpa (ideoque si peccavi ego peccavi — in ps.  loc. cit.) quantunqua non possa andare ^nte dal peccalo,  mentre se fa il bene, il merito è tutto di Dio.   (Sent.) « Non tamen sine libero arbitrio  proveoiiunt merita nostra, scilicet boni effectus eo-rumque  progressus atque bona opera quae Deus remunerat in no-  Das et haec ipsa sunt Dei dona. Unde Augustinus ad  Sixtum presbyterum: Cum coronat Deus merita nostra  nihil aliud coronai quasn munera sua. Quamto poi alla obbiezione che se Dio sa tutte le cose  che debbono avvenire, noi non possiamo fare in altro modo  di quello che a lui è noto, dal che ne verrebbe la nega-  zione di ogni libertà umana, egli non oppone nulla in que-  sto punto dove espone la teorica del libero arbitrio. Ma noi  possiamo conoscere il suo parere in proposito, purché  noi ci riportiamo a quel punto del libro P, ove parla della  prescienza di Dio, allora assai dibattuta dalle sette sco-  lastiche, come quella che sembrava condurre a riconoscere  il fatalismo. Il Maestro delle Sentenze per rispondere a  questo argomento, fa uso della distinzione così nota agli  scolastici del senso composto e del senso diviso, ovvero  del senso congiuntivo e del disgiuntivo; cioè che non si  può dare che Dio abbia preveduto una cosa e ch'essa non  avvenga, ma è possibile che essa non avvenga, e allora Dio non Tavrebbe preveduta. Sottigliezze a cui la scuola  dogmatica è costretta a ricorrere ogni qualvolta vien messa ale strette. Ondie il Pomponnazzi nel suo libro: De  Fato, libero (mbitrio et providentia Dei (V lib. Bàie)  ove si sforza egli pure si conciliare il destino la provvi-  denza e la libertà deiruomo, finisce col non saper dare  altre soluzioni che quelle poste innanzi dalla scolastica,  confessando però che esse sono piuttosto delle illusioni che  delle vere risposte: Videntur potius esse illusiones islae  quam respomiones.  Fine a cui tendiamo tutti é la felicità : (sent.) « Beatos autem esse velie, omnium hominum esl ». C. ricorda le parole di CICERONE: Beati certe  omnes esse volufnus, ed è lontano dal contraddirvi, ma  anzi ne deduce che poiché tutti desiderano la felicità, tutti  ne hanno dentro di sé la conoscenza: «... sequitiu' ut  omnes beatam vitam sciant. Vediamo ora come procede il Lombardo neiranalisi  della felicità. Sul principio del primo libro egli comincia  dal distinguere la differenza che v*è tra usare di una cosa  e fruirne. Usare d'una cosa è adoperarla a compiere la  nostra volontà, fruirne è usarne con gioia, è aderirvi per  amore e ciò non avviene in questa vita.   (Sent.) « Uti est assumere ali<juid! in f acultateni  voluntatìs. Frui autem est, uti cum gaudio, non adhuc spei  sed jam rei... et ita in hac vita non videmur frui sed tantum uti, ubi gaudeamus in spe, cum supra dictum sit, frui  esse amore dnhaerere alieni rei propter se : qualiter etiam  hic multi adhaerant De. ALIGHERI, Purgatorio: Ciascun confusamente un bene apprende  Nel qual si queti T animo, e desira:  Perchè di giugner lui ciascun contende. E poiché questo sembra far iidsceire eontraddiàoni,  egli la rivolse così chiarendo il suo concetto. Tanto qui  come nel futuro si può in certo modo fruire della beati-  tudine eterna, ma mentre in cielo noi la godremo in modo  perfetto perchè, come dice S. Agostino, l'avremo vicina  qui in terra, non la godiamo che per riflesso ed è ciò che  ci fa sopportare i travagli della vita.   (Sent.) « Haec ergo quae sibi contradicere vi-  demtur, sic determinamus, dioente», nos et hic et in futuro  frui : sed ibi proprie et perfecle et piene ubi per speciem vi-  debimus quo fruemur, hic autem, dum in spe ambulamus  fruimur quidem sed non adfeo piene... Idem (scil. Augu-  stinus) in Uh. de Doc. christ. ail (lib. I, cap. 30) : Angeli  ilio fruentas jam beati sunt quo et nos frui desideramus;  et quaai'timi in hac vita iam fruimur, vel per speculum,  vel din aenigmate, tanto nostram peregrinationem et lolera-  bilius sustioemus et ardentius fruire cupimus ». In questa  teorioa il Lombardo si liem stretto a Agostino ed esprime  41 medesimo comcetto che più tardi sarà svolto da S. Tom-  maso col fine mediato ed iumiediato.   guanto alla questione, se si possa gioire della virtù  per sé stessa o solo come mezzo di acquistare la vera fe-  licità, egli si prova come è suo metodo di conciliare la  prima opinio*ne, che sembra confortata da un passo di Ambrogio, con la seconda professata da S. Agostino,  affermando che la virtù può essere amata per sé slessa,  ma che non dobbiamo fermarci lì, ma bisogna tendere ad  un fine più elevato e riferire la virtù a Dio come fine ul-  timo. Amoralità d^Ue aztooi urpaoe* Quali sono le azio^ni umane che si debbono chiamare  buone secondo C.  e quali cattive ? Egli risponde  suirautorità di S. Ambrogio e di S. Agostino, che ciò che  fa buona o cattiva una azione è Tintenzione. Ed in ciò non  discorda da Abelardo che afferma appunto nelFEtica: « Unde ab eodem homine cum in diversis temporibus     Ilo   idem fiat, prò divemsitate tametn inlentionis eius operatio  modo bona modo mala dicitm* ». Infatti il Maestro nel libro  secondo d^e Sentenze (dist. XI, 1) dice quasi allo slesso  modo : « Nam simpliciter ac vere sunt boni illi actus, qui  bonam causam et intentionem id est qui voluntatem bonam  comitantur et ad bonum finem tendunt: mali vero sim-  pliciter dici debent qui perversam habent causam et inten-  tionem ». E cita a questo proposito le parole di S. Ago-  stino : (enarr. in ps.) « Bonum eriim opus intentio  facitìK   In conseguenza è un'azióne buona confortare i po-  veri se si fa per compassione e misericordia : ma la stessa  azione diventa cattiva se la si fa per ambizione. Vi sono  tuttavia delle azioni le quali sono cattive per sé stesse e  che la intenzione non può rettificare: tali sono la menzogna e la bestemmia.   Ksse poi sono cattive in quanto sono privazioni dell'es-  sere, perchè ogni cosa, in quanto è, è buona : Omne quod  est in quantum est bonum. L.a le^^e fT)orale« Stabilito cosi guali sono le azioni buone o cattive, &  seconda dell'intenzione, restava a determinare quale è il  caratieire morale che deve contraddistinguere le nostre a-  zioni e qual norma si deve necessariamente seguire per  muovere al bene : dione insomma dove deve dirigersi- la buo-  na intenzione. In coerenza colle dottrine da lui professate,  •il Maestro pone la regola delle azioni umane nella legge  divina : perciò il peccato consiste in una infrazione alla  legge divina (1).   (Sent.) « Peocatum est omne dictum vel  factum vel concupitum quae fit contra legem Dei, . . Quid est  ipeccatum nisi legis divanae praevaricatio? ».  n C. ammette altresì una legge naturale, lex natu^  raliSj la quale ebbero anche i Gentili, ma questa non basta a con-  durre a salvamento.  Ili   Nofli è qui il luogo di indicare il difetto originale d una  tale dottrina che nel porre fuori di noi la legge del nostro  operare, si condanna alla, contraddizione. Mi basterà ri-  coirdare che essa si presenta assai più sviluppata in AQUINO, il quale pone innanzi iJ concetto aristotelico della  ragione umana, la quale è la natura dell'uomo in quanto  è uomo: ondfe poiché ogni cosa è buona quando è con-  forme alla sua propria natura, ogni cosa sarà buona ri-  spetto airuomo quando sarà conforme alla ragione. Ma  questa stessa ragione e natura umana ripete il suo potere  regolativo dalla natura divina : « quod autem ratio umana  sit regula voluntatis humanae, ex qua eius bonitas mensuretur, habet ex lege aeterrm quae est divina ». (Sum  theol..).   In conclusione la filosofia patristica e scolastica, si  accorda nel porre il principio normativo dell'operare u-  mano fuori aeiruomo stesso, cioè nella sapienza divina  identica essenzialmente col suo volere. Bei}e ^ n)ale.  Abbiaino veduto come Pier Lombardo affermi che  tutto ciò che è, in quanto è, è bene : « Omne quod est, in  quantum est, est bonum » (Sent.). E poi-  ché l3io é d'autor© di tutto ciò che esiste Dio é rautore di  ogni bene.   (Sent.) (Deus) omnium quae sunt auctor  est, quae in quantum siuiif bona sunt. Ma non viieme di conseguenza che Dio sia l'autore an-  che del male, giacché il Lombardo come tutti gli Scolastici, concepisce il male come gualche cosa di propria-  mente negativo, cioè come la privazione o la corruzione  del bene.   (Sent.) « Malum enim est comiptio yel  privatio boni... Quid enim aliud quod malum dicitur nisi  privatio boni?».   Anche Agostino nel libro De civitate Dei (Migne) parla di causa deficiente e non efficiente  del cattivo operare « Nemo igilul* quaeral ellkientem cau-  sani malae volunfalis: non enim efficiens est, sed defl-  ciens, quia nec illa effectio est sed defeclio ».   E di qui trae buon argomento il Maestro a confutare  l'obbiezione di eoJoro che insinuano che Dio essendo au-  tore di tutto ciò che esiste, deve essere altresì autore del  peccato.   (Sent.) « Quocirca mali auctor non ^t  (scil. deus) et ideo ipse summum bonum est, a quo ^n  nullo delicere bonum est, et malum est deflcere. Non est  ergo causa deficiendi id' est tendendi ad jion esse, qui,  ut ita dicam, essendi causa est, quia omnTum quae suoit,  auctor est, quae in quantum sunt, bona sunt... Ecce aperte  habes quod deficere a deo... malum est ».  L.oiT7bardo nel cielo del 5oIe.     Entrato €on Beatrice nella sfera del sole Dante, ap-  preoide diairanima di S. Tommaso chi essa sia e chi siano  i fulgor vivi e vincenti Sella sua ghirlanda.   Se si di tutti gli altri esser vuoi certo,  Di retro al mio parlar ten vien col viso  * Girando su per lo beato serto,   QuelValtro fiammeggiare esce dal riso  Di Graziano, che Vano e l'altro foro  Alutò si che piace in Paradiso.   L'altro ch'appresso adorna il nostro coro  Quel Pietro fu che con la poverella  Offerse a Santa Chiesa suo tesoro   {Par.);.   Qui Buti commenta :  con la poverella offerse fece la sua offerta della sua fa-  cilità, come la po-verella della quale dice rEvangelio di  Santo loanni, che offerse poco, perchè «poco aveva, ma  con buon cuore e peirò Iddio accettò più la sua offerta che  quella del ricco, che, benché offerisse molto, non offerse  con si buono animo. Commento di Buti sopra la Divina Commedia per  cura di C. Giannini Pisa I più dei oammentatapi ricordano le prime parole del  prologo del Liber Sententiarum :   « Cupientas aJiquid de penuria a-c temiitate nostra  cum paupercula in gazophilacium Domini miUere ardua  scandere et opus supra vires nostras praesumpsimus».   Le parole di C. chiaramente fidludono al  noto episodio della poverella, riportato da San Luca e da S. Marco  e nooi da Giovanni  come erroneamente riferisce il Buli.   Dice San Luca:   « Respiciens autem vidit eos, qui mittebant munera  sua in gazophilacium diviles. Vidit autem et quamdam vi-  duam pauperculam mittenlem aera minuta duo. Et dixit:  Vero dico vobis, quia vidua haec pauper, plus quam  omnes misit. Nam omnes hi ex abundantia siti miserunt  in munera Dei : haec autem et ex eo, quod deest illi, omoiem  victum suum quem habuit misit.  Così ad un dispreeso racconta San Marco con leggere  vananti : solo è da notarsi che egli chiama la donna uidua  una pauper e vidua hxiec pauper e non mai col diminu-  tivo tanto affettuoso di paupercula che per essera stJ^lo  scelto da Pier Lombardo fa pensare ch'egli si sia riferito  in special modo al passo di San Luca della Volgata. Ma ciò poco importa : importa invece assai il notare  come l'umiltà della vidua paupercula avesse toccato «profondamente il cuore di C. il quale nel vergare  quelle parole doveva forse ricordarsi con teneirezzìa di  un'altra vedova poverella di un lontano paese di Lombardia: e come ALIGHIERI che nei veirsi che dedicava ai persooiaggi  della sua^ Commedia soleva «per lo più introduirre Tele-  mento soggettivo dei ricordi ed affetti personali non senza  ragione ricordò quel punto e quello solo dell'opera di  C..   L'influenza che il ma^fister Petrus esercitò sul pensiero del Divino Poeta non è stata ancora tutta quanta  spiegata e compresa nella sua giusta entità. 11 tkeologus  . Dantes nullius dogmatis expers dà a S<a«n Tommaso il  posto d'onore che gli conviene, ma ad AQUINO commentatore di C.. Se ALIGHERI ed AQUINO  non si possono ancor dire contemporaiiiei sono vissuti a  poca distanza di tempo e sono entrambi commentatori e  perfezionatori dell'opera ancora rozza si ma feconda di  Pier Lombardo : l'uno raggiunge finalmente colla sua ma-  unifica somima quel connubium fidei ac rationis che il  Magister aveva solo tentato, Taltro ina canta il trionfo  glorioso. Che Dante avesse letto il Rbro delle Sentenze con  mollo amore ci è provato non solo dai versi succitati, ma  da numeirosi passi del Paradiso ove come diremo tosto  rimitaziione risulta evidente : ed io sarei anche propenso a  credere che rAlighieri non si fosse Termato alla lettura di  quel libro solo ed a tutti noto di Pier Lombardo.   Qui sono tratto ad accennare fuggevolmente alla  famosa questione del viaggio di Dante a Parigi : questione  ove troppo, eletti ingegni si cimentarono perchè io presu-  ma di recare qualche nuovo raggio di luce.  Dante zill'Uoiversiià di Parigi. Giovanni di Serravalle comme«ntatore racconta. Anagogico dilexit Theojogiam sacram, in qua diu  studuit tam in Oxoniis in regno Angliae quam Parisius  in regno Franciae : et fuit Bachalarius in Universitate Pa-  risiensi in qua legit Senlentias prò forma magisterii : legit  Biblia : respondit omnibus doctoribus, ut moris est, et  fecit omines actus qui fieri debent per doctorandum in  Sacra Theologia. Egli continua poi a dire che Dante non potè ottenere  la laurea perchè gli mancò il denaro per la licenza (deerat  pecunia). Onde tornò in Firenze per acquistarlo, optimus  artista, perfectus Theologus e quivi fatto «priore si diede ai  pubblici uffici e più non si curò della Università di Parigi.  Il (racconto di Giovainni di Serravalle fu accolto dairO-  zanam e dairArriviabene con maggior serietà che mm me-  (1) G. TiBABOSOBi — storia della leti. Hai. Modena - Fratria F. de Serravalle Translatio et comentum totius libri  Dantis Aldighieri cum textu italico Fratria Da Colle, nunc primum  edito — Prati - (Jiachetti in fol. ritasse. Secondo un tale» racconto Dante sarebbe andato a  Parigi nella sua giovinezza contro raffestazione del Villani, del Boccaccio, di Benvenuto da Imola che fanno il  viaggio degli ultimi anni. Ed il chiaro professor Cipolla  osserva che è appena credibile che Dante fossei in cpiel  tempo cosi spirovviiyto di credito da non potere ottenere  la somma che gli era necessaria : onde giudica il racconto  di poca probabilità. Ma TinverosimigHanza di lutto il rac-  conto appare manifesta quando un poco si pensi al modo  come era organizzata la facoltà teologica di Parigi ai tempi  di Dante.  Il buon vescovo di Fermo volendo mostrarsi molto ap-  profondito nella conoscenza dei gjradi accademici com-  mette degli errori grossolani : et fuit Bacchalarius in Universitate Parisiensi in qua legit Senlentias prò forma Ma-  gisterii: legit Biblia. Ma si è veduto nella parte storica del lavoro che  Tanno in cui il baccelliere éiventsiV aSententiarius cioè  commentava in pubblico il libro delle Sentenze non pre-  cedeva, ma seguiva la spiegazione della Sacra scrittura:  dopo quell'anno il baccelliere si chiamava baccalaureus  forrnatus che risponderebbe mutatis mutandis al nostro  laureando. Perciò Giovanni di Serravalle per essere esatto  come vuol parerlo, avrebbe dovuto invertire l'ordine delle  parole. Ma non vogliaino essere molto esigenti su ciò:  c'è ben altro.   Gli omnes aclus qui fieri dehent per doctorandum  in sacra Theologia (1) erano e forse Giovanni di Serravalle lo ignorava, i sermoni (sermones) e le conferenze  (controversia^) che si dovevano tenere nei .tre o quattro  anni che precedevano la licenza ed infine le tre dispute  pubbliche di cui la più solenne veniva chiamata Sorbonica:  ma la licenzia (licentia) che veniva dopo tali prove accor-  data e che il Serravallei chiama con termini vaghi inceptio,  conventus^ non esigeva alcuna pecunia di sorta. Il SerravaUe e tutti i Commentatori si riferivano aU' accenno  Dantesco;   si come il baccelUer s'arma e non paria,  fin che il maestro la question propone,  per approvaria e non per terminarla.   Par.  - i8, Infatti già il concilio Lateranense del 1179 aveva  proclamato due punti fondamentali : la necessità e la gra-  tuità della licenza ed un tale decreto trovò po'sto nelle De-  finire di Gregorio' IX. Solo per eccezione fu eoncess^o sul  finire del Xll a Pietro Comestore, cancellario di Nótre  Dameij per i suoi pregi personali, da Alessandro III, di pre-  levare uoiia piccola rimunerazione per la concessione della  licenza.   Ed ancora il Regolamento di Roberto di Courcon insiste sulla concessione gratuita ed ìncondiziomita  della licenza : ed una tale disposizione veniva conifermata  nelle reigole aggiunte dal papa Gregorio II di cui conosciamo il benefico intervento nei dissensi tra rUniversità  ed di Re di Francia. Nella famosa bolla Parens scientiarum viene prescritto formalmente « che il cancel-  liere non potrà esigere da coloro ai quali conferirà la li-  cenza né giunamento, né obbedienza, né denaro, né cau-  zione, né promessa ».   Ora è noto a tutti che lo statuto di Roberto di Courcon  confermato e completato dalla bolla di Gregorio IX, la  quale fu pure rinnovata senza modificazione da Urbano IV  continua ad essere per tutto il secolo XIII 'a  legge fondamentale deirUniversità e pertanto della facoltà  teologica di Parigi.   Per il che sembra a me che il fondo storico del racconto di Giovanni di Serravalle venga a mancare sempre  più di consistenza.   Carlo Cipolla nel suo dotto ìavaro Sigieri nella Divi-  na Commedia, dopo avere ossei-vato che il Sigieri ricor-  dato tra i beati del canto X deve ritenersi come Sigieri di  Brabante, e non va identificato col Sigieri de Conrtrai {Le  Clero) visisuto in epoca diversa, e neppure con quello di  cui si iparla nel sonetto del Fiore (Castets) avverso ad AQUINO, crede probabile, che ALIGHIERI fn a Parigi negli  ultimi anni di sua vita ed airincirca negli anni 1316-1318  e non vi ascoltò le lezioni di Sigieri di Brabante perché  questi era morto avanti il 1300 ( Feret tornando su questa questione nel volu-  me II deiropera cit. (cap. Les Sorbonnistes) crede errat-ì  così, l'opinione del Le Clerc che del Castets, combatte ^e   Giornale storico den« Lett. It. Voi. Vili — Torino LoescUer]  asserzioni di Gaston Paris, ed airiimesso che il Sigieri di  Dante è il Sigieri di Brabante che quitla cette vie en repu-  tation d'une orthodoxie parfaite, non si discosta mollo  dalle oonclusdoni del professor Cipolla che mostra di mion  conoscere. Questo sembrerebbe coaidurci assai fuori del nostro ar-  gomento se una buòna osservazione del prof. Cipolla a  questo proposito della partecipazione dell'Alighieri alle  lezioni dd Sigieri non mi facesse tosto ritornarvi.   Egli afferma che « per ciò che riguarda Sigieri, altro  è ammettere nel luogo Dantesco vm ricordo personale, ed  altro è credere che questo ricordo personale sia tale dav-  vero da comprenderà poS la partecipazione dell'Alighieri  alla scuola di quel filosofo. Alle scuole di Parigi i libri  del Sigieri eratno rimasti auasi come lesti agli scolari,  tanta Sama le sue lezioni vi avevano lasciato ».   Cosi per ciò che riguarda Pier Lombardo, io ag-  giungerò che oer spiegare la profonda conoscenza che  Dante ebbe del Libro delle sentenze, non è necessario di  credere col Serravalle che Damle abbia commentato le sen-  tenze nella scuola di Teologia perchè lo studio che in quei  tempi se ne faceva in Parigi, la fama che vi godeva e che  già aveva provocato i lamenti di Ruggero Bacone, certo  potevano non poco contribuire a farglielo conoscer© più  in là del frontìsipizio e del prologo.   Per fama egli conobbe a Parigi Sigieri, per fama vi  conosce C. ed entrambi egli ricordò con particolar cura nei suoi versi ove palpita un affetto personale. Ma se poca o nessuna influenza ha la filosofìa di Sigieri nell’opera d’ALIGHIERI; molta invece ne ha in quella di  C..  Un esempio:   Speme dissHo, è un attender certo  Della gloria futura, il qual produce  Grazia divina e precedente merlo.   {Par.)  P. Fkrkt La f acuite de Tkeol, de Paris – Ricarcl] Pietro di Dante, TOttimo, la Chiosa Cassanese, ricor-  dano la definizione di Pier Lombardo: «est spes certa  exjeiotatio futurae beatitudinis veniens ex Dei gralia et  mentis praecedentibus ». (Lib. Seni. IH. dist. 26).   Iacopo della Lama, rÀnonimo rioooimno assai meno  opportunamente a San Toit^màso: spes est motus appe-  Wiiae virtutis consequens apprehensione boni fulnri ad-  nui possibilis adiptsci ».   Ho citato, per ppoporre un esempio, uno dei tanti  luoghi ove il Lombardo viene dal poeta preferito all'Aqui-  nale, o meglio dire ove cosi San Tommaso come Dante  attingono -alla medesima fonte: Pier Lombardo. Qui si  ha una traduzione letterale delle parole del Maestro che  appaiono anche in San Tommaso sotto una veste più fi-  losofica. Ma non è questo il solo punto ove un tale raf-  fronto è possibile.   Fu uno dei più assidui, il Senatore Carlo Neg'-;ni,  a far notare la ^ainde importanza che ebbe il libro del  Maestro nel pensiero di Dante.   JNella prefa/jine al volume. .V. della Bibbia volaare  ri884), accennando a Pier Lombardo della cui opera si  giova Tespositore dei salmi di quella Bibbia, promise di  occuparsene : « In un altro mio scritto dove avrò Taiuto di  un teologo profondo, e mio buon amico, farò il confronto  tra le «proposizioni teologiche della Divina Commedia e  quelle dei libri delle Sentenze: ed il lettore vedrà che le  prime non sono altro che Tespressione poetica delle secon-  de, fedelissima e latta con invidiabile precisione ». Disgraziatamente Negroni occupato in altri lavori, non  potè adempiere .alla sua promessa, ma dando esempio dì  larghezza d'animo, consigliò ed aiutò l’amico suo Carbone, (Carbonara), poi prefetto Apostolico  deirÉritrea, nell'opera a cui egH non poteva attendere, e  ne promosse la pubblicazione. Carbonara pubblica infatti Slcuni Studi Danteschi  e   Tortona Tip. A. Rossi — Stttdi Danteschi; Dante  e S. Francesco; ALIGHIERI e FIDANZA (si veda)   Nella Biblioteca Negroni si trovano nel carteggio privato le lettere  che il Carbone indirizzava a Carlo Negroni piene d'erudizione e di  affetto per l'illustre amico. Trov.ansi pure tra i copiosi ms. due fa-  scicoli; n. 26: Pier L. nel Paradiso; n. 27: Appunti Danteschi. Essi  contengono citazioni, note erudite che il Negroni veniva man mano  scrivendo. La malattia e la morte tolsero il modesto studioso e gene-  roso filantropo aUa tranquilla ed utile sua operositét letterarii^.    nel volume I. dedicato al Neuroni, prese in esame» il I\'  Libro delle Sentenze collo studio: Dante e C. Questo appunto- che è il migliore ed il più originale, entrò  poco dopo inella collezione di opuscoli inediti e rari diretta  da Passerini per cura di Murari. In  esso il Carbone che si limita «all'esame delle distinzioni delle Sentenze, conclude che il seme che è  nel libro delle Sentenze di Pier Lombardo mostra i suoi  fiori ed i suoi frutti ini Dante.   Nella tornata del 19 Aprile 1891 airAccademia Ponta-  niana, il socio residente Alberto Agresti le^e una memo-  ria dal titolo: Eva in Dante ed in Pier Lombardo (1) ed  anch'egli ricordò a proposito di questi studi, Tamico Ne-  groni e lo studio di frate Michele da Carbonara.   Ponendo a raffronto i passi danteschi ove vien citala  Eva (tacendo di tre che non danno alcun ^udizio della  sua colpa : (Purg.) uno comune con Adamo (Purg.);  gli altri (Purg.; Par.), ove si dà un giudizio sfavorevole di Eva ed il passo del DeViilgari Eloquio  ove ALIGHERI chiama Eva praesumptuosissimam), cerca da  quali letture Dante ricavò il severo giudizio. Combatte To-  •pinione di V. Imbriani, (Studi danteschi. Firenze, Sansoni) che coIFesempio del Boccaccio vuol dimostrare 'i&  scarsa erudizione teologica di Dante. Nella testimonianza  di San Tommaso {Summa) Isidoro {Sentent.), Sant'Anselmo {De pec-orig.), Ugo  da S. Vittore, FIDANZA non trova la ragione delli  eccessiva severità deirAlighieri, bemsì in Pier Lombardo  (Lib. II. dist. 22) che così si esprime:   « Adamo non istimò vero ciò che il diavolo aveva sug-  gerito; stimò di peccare in maniera da esserne perdonato.  Forse come vide che la donna, gustato il frutto, non era  peranco morta, prevaricò e volle ainch^'egli fare esperimen-  to del legno proibito. Più però Ta donna, perchè volle  usurpare l'eguaglianza della divinità e levata in superbia  nimia vraesumptione^ credette così doversi avverare.   Adamo non volle contristare la donna, ma certo non  vinto da carnale concupiscenza, non sentila peranco in    Napoli, Tip. della R. Università, lui, ma per una certa amichevole heoievotenza per la quale  il più delle volte avviene che si offende Dio per non of-  fender l'amico. In un certo modo Adamo fu anch'egli de-  ceptus ! Nella donn<a /fu majoris tumoris praesumptio :  ella peccò in sé, nel prossimo , in Dio : l'uomo solo ui  sé ed in Dio ».   E l'Agresti finisce insomma col concludere che « stu-  diare la D. Commedia al lume dei libri delle Sentenze è  tutto un lavoro nuovo che manca alla letteratura dante-  ca ». A me non resta che augurarmi che un tale 1'  si compia e che una feconda curiosità subentri alla sterile  dilRdenza nelFaprire il libro di P. L. che Dante non certo  per cura della rima chiamava il suo tesoro.  I ìinyiìì dell'erudizione. Ristrettezza di tempo mi ha impedito di dare, com'era  mio desiderio, maggior svolgimento a questi insufficienti  cenni sull'influenza esercitata dal maestro delle Sentenze  sull'opera di Dante e non sulla Divina Commedia soltan-  to. Dell'utilità di una maggiore e più profonda conoscenza  di tali rapporti, è prov:a quanto si è venuto in questi anni  scrivendo dagli studiosii di Dante coll'intento in verità non  sempre raggiunto di recar "maggiore luce airinterpreta-  zione' del poema dantesco. Ancora in un recente fascicolo del Bollettino della  Società Dantesca Italiana. Parodi  m una dotta recensione consacrata ad un apprezzato studio  del prof. Surra su La conoscenza del futuro e del pre-  sente nei dannati danteschi (Novara, Tip. Guaglio),  si vale del confronto colla dottrina del Maestro delle Sen-  tenze per meglio chiarire i dubbi che le parole di Farinata  non sciolgono sul modo di conosceniza dei dannati. Contro  la tesi del Surra, che fortificandosi del concetto delFìrra-  zionale nell'arte, ampiaonente illustrato da Fracoaroli, vuol chiudere il passo ^ai diritti 3eireru3ìzioaie, Parodi  dimostra, citando una distinzione del IV delle Sentenze. Ve animabus damnatorum si qua habent notitican eorum  quae hic fiunt, come l’esposizione di Farinata cresce d'importanza venendo a combaciare colla dotlrin<a professata  dal Maestro. Ed è certo che se la contraddizione non può  essere evitata dal pensiero umano, specie cpiando s'aderge  sulle ali della poesia, tanto in Dante come in C., scola5?tóci entrambi, v'è Tidentioa «preoccupazioaiei di  sfug^rle colla cura più scrupolosa.   Non si può riconoscere tuttavia all'erudizione il dirit-  to di andar troppo oltre, specie nelle sue conclusioni,  perchè Terudizioflie è alla poesia come la ragione è alla  fede, che il sapere riconosce potene illumi-  nare senza spiegarla interamente.   Se anche col raffronto più minuto dei passi danteschi  ooiropera di C. (non limitato alle Semtenze) noi  potremo trovare nuove e curiose rispondenze che ci dimostreranno le fonti di sapere e d'inspirazione del Poeta divino, dovremo limitarci a riconoscere nulla più che la  materia preziosa, ma informe trasportata e nobilitata dal-  Fopera (in che è il fatto nuovo) dello statuario.   E\ per limitarmi ad un solo esempio, notevole il modo  onde mei Sermoni vengono disposti gli argomenti morali  che il Lombardo distilla da un qualunque versetto biblico:  sono quasi sempre tre i sensi che se ne ricadano ed il numero 3 entra con una particolare predilezione ìiell armo-  nica e spesso sin troppo misurata distribuzione delle parti  nei suoi discorsi. Queste ed altre minuzie di logica ar-     Tres igitur tortae pani8 tres sunt modi dìvinam paginam in-  telligendi Triplex igitar pani8 eat intellectus: tropologicus, scilicet  moralis vel historicus; mysticus, idest allegoricus et anagogeticum  Moralis mores componit, exhauriens malos et confovens bonos; allegorìcufl mentis acuit oculos ut mysterioram abdita penetrare  valeant; anagogeticus mentes super se effundit ut in voce exulta-  tionis et confessionis, constituto die, e condensis usque ad domum  Dei rapiatur; nam sicut allegoria alitar intellectus, ita anagoge su-  perior sermo vel sursum tendens interpretatur. Moralis, idest tropo-  logicus, est dulcior, historicus facilior, mysticus auctior. Historicus  insipientibus, moralis proficientibus, mxsticus perfìcientibus congruit.- Sermone: Convertimini fili revertentes . .  fine inedita riportata da Haureau op. cit* chitettura oasi caire a Pier Loonbardo, come si avverte  nello slesso Prologo delle Sentenze', do ve vaino esercitare il  loro influsso nel poeta della Vita Nuova e del Paradiso.   Ma non dal solo Pier Lombardo, bensì da tutta 'a  scienza teologica, Dante raccolse mei grande specchio  ustorio della sua mente, la luce che brilla nel suo divino  Poema. Né possiamo comprendere come uno studiotso  deìlla coltura del prof. Amaduocd, possa restringere nel-  rarido opuscolo XXXII di San Pier Damiano, quasi l'unica  tonte del poema dantesco, lo schema dottrinale a cui Damte  avrebbe informato, con perfetta fusione della lettera col-  l'allegoria^ la Commedia, e annunciare seriamente che di-  stinguendo i 100 canti nelle 42 marcie e fermate {num-  sioni} deirallegorico viaggio degli Ebrei contemplato dalla  modesta fantasia di San Pier Damiano, verrà sostituito  nell'esame del poema ai fondamenti ipotetici, il fondamento  scientifico, gli enigmi di sei secoli, troveranno fàcile spie-  gazione e sarà aperta la via ad una nuova valutazione  artistica (1).   Ma tale via non Tha aperta Dante stesso coU'opera  sua?     (1) Z/' opuscolo XXXII di S, Pier Damiano fonte diretta della  Divina Commedia? in Grùymaìe Dantesco dir, da G. L. Passerini  voi. XXI - Firenze, Dischi. cfr.  Parodi La fonte diretta della divina Commedia —  in Marzocco, Firenze. A questa trattazione epero far seguire prosslntamefite un   canltolo, su C. E LA SCUOLA. Ohe per l'economia dei presente iavoro non potè essere inoluoo. Le origini oscure. La nascita a Lumellogno. L'ambiente nativo. Dipendenza di Lmnel-  il^gno dal Capitolo Novarese — Stato delle scuole  novaresi. Pier Lombardo fu allo studio Bolog^nese?   Gap. il — Nell'ombra del cammino . . pag. 25  Alla scuola di Leutaldo novarese a Reims. « ParisiUiSi » — La « universitas scholarium. San Vittore. Santa Genoveffa. Nella luce della fam^i. La scuoia di Nòtre Dame. L'episcopato. La morte. La  tomba di S. Marcello. Le onoranze. L'opera e la fortuna di Pier Lombardo. Le Sentenze. I Sentenziarii. I detrattori. Il « tesoro ». Opere edite ed inedite. I Seamoni.  LA DOTTRINA FILOSOFICA. Posizione di C. nella filosofia.  Metodo. Religione e sciens&a.   Problema metafisico e conoscitivo pag. 8Ì  Teoria degli universali. Teoria ctella oonoscenza. Problema ontologico e cosmologico. Sostanza ed accidente. Natura e persona. Materia e forma. Causalità. Spazio e tempo. CosmoJKJgia — Posizione dell'uomo neirunàverso.   Cap. Problema psicologico. Potenzie dell' aiiim.. Natura dell'ajiima. Origine dell'anima. Relazione tra l'anima e il corpo.  Problema morale. Libero arbitrio. Felicità. Moralità delle azioni  umane — La legge morale — Bene e mailie.   Gap. vi. — Lm dottrina scolastica in C. e Dante Pier Lo!ml>ardo nel cielo del Sole. Dante adl'Università di Parigi. Influenza di Pier Loonbardo  sull'opera di Dante. Aggiunta necesaaria. I limiti  dell'erudizione.  Ritratto di Pier Lombardo dall'incisione del Thevet « Les vrais portraàts ecc. »  Paris. Portico della Canonica di Novara da un'incisione delle « Monografìe Novanesi »  MigUo Vene de la VUle de Paris du coté de Vlsle   N. Dame   (antica incisione).   A. N ótre Dame de Paris, (antdca incisione).  Con Agostino si opera, per la prima volta e in maniera esplicita, una completa saldatura fra la teoria del SEGNO e quella del linguaggio. Per trovare una altrettanto rigorosa presa di posizione teorica bisogna aspettare il Corso di lin­guistica generale di Saussure, scritto quindici secoli dopo. La grande importanza che la tematica semiolinguistica ha in Agostino deriva in gran parte dal suo assorbimento della lezione stoica, come del resto testimonia il trattato DE DIALECTICA De dialectica. In esso sono riassunti molti dei principali temi stoici in materia semiotica, tra cui il princi­ pio che la conoscenza è, in linea generale, conoscenza attra­ verso segni (Simone). Ma vari elementi differenziano l'impostazione agostinia­ na da quella stoica. In primo luogo, infatti, gli stoici, racco­ gliendo e formalizzando una lunga tradizione di origine so­ prattutto medica e mantica, consideravano propriamente segni (smeia) solo i segni non verbali, come il fumo che svela il fuoco e la cicatrice che rinvia a una precedente feri­ ta. Agostino, invece, per primo nell'antichità, include nella categoria dei signa non solo i segni non verbali come i gesti, le insegne militari, le fanfare, la pantomima ecc., ma anche le espressioni del linguaggio parlato (''Noi diciamo in gene­ rale segno tutto ciò che significa qualche cosa, e fra questi abbiamo anche le parole", De Magistro, 4.9).  In secondo luogo, gli stoici avevano individuato nell'e­ nunciato il punto di congiunzione tra il significante (semaf­ non) e il significato (semain6menon), elemento che comun­ que non coincideva con il segno (semefon). Agostino, inve­ ce, individua nella singola espressione linguistica, cioè nel verbum (''parola"), l'elemento in cui significante e signifi­ cato si fondono, e considera questa fusione un segno di qualcos'altro ("Quindi, dopo aver sufficientemente assoda­ to che le parole [verba] non sono nient'altro che segni [si­ gna] e che non può essere segno ciò che non significhi [si­ gniflcet] qualcosa, tu hai proposto un verso di cui io mi sforzassi di mostrare che cosa significhino le singole paro­ le", De Mag., 7.19). In terzo luogo, gli stoici avevano elaborato una teoria del linguaggio che aveva le due caratteristiche di essere formale (il lekt6n non coincideva con alcuna sostanza) e centrata sulla significazione. Agostino, invece, elabora una teoria del segno linguistico che ha un carattere psicologistico (i si­ gnificati si trovano nell'animo) e comunicazionale (passano nell'animo dell'ascoltatore) (Todorov 1977: 35; Markus 1957: 72). 10.1 n triangolo semiotico e la stratificazione ter­ minologie& È del resto con l'analisi della nozione stessa di parola (verbum simplex) che si apre il De dia/ectica ed è con questa nozione che si inaugura una serie interessante di distinzioni terminologiche. Al capitolo V, Agostino elabora una triplice distinzione che possiamo mettere in corrispondenza con i moderni con­ cetti di significato, significante e referente. Infatti individua in primo luogo la vox articu/ata (o il sonus) della parola, cioè quello che è percepito dali'orecchio quando la parola viene pronunciata. In secondo luogo individua il dicibi/e1 (corrispondente, anche dal punto di vista della trasposizio­ ne linguistica, al /ekt6n stoico), definito come ciò che viene avvertito dall'animo e che è in esso contenuto. In terzo luogo, infine, distingue la res, che viene definita come un og­ getto qualsiasi, percepibile con i sensi, o con l'intelletto, op­ pure che sfugge alla percezione (De dialect.). È così possibile ricostruire il triangolo semiotico nei se­ guenti termini: dicibile  vox articulata (o sonus) res Ma Agostino guarda ai segni anche dal punto di vista del loro potere di designazione, oltre che da quello della signifi­ cazione. Questo lo spinge a elaborare un'ulteriore suddivi­ sione terminologica in corrispondenza dei due aspetti che può assumere il referente di una parola: (i) può infatti avve­ nire che la parola rimandi a se stessa come proprio referente (fatto che si verifica nel caso della citazione, ovvero della designazione metalinguistica), e allora prende il nome di verbum;2 (ii) oppure può avvenire che la parola, intesa co­ me combinazione del significante e del significato, abbia come referente una cosa diversa da se stessa (come avviene con l'uso denotativo del linguaggio), nel qual caso prende il nome di dictio.3 È precisamente la nozione di dictio che, come ha osserva­ to Baratin ( 198 1 ), costituisce l'elemento di congiunzione tra la teoria del linguaggio e quella del segno. E ciò in virtù di uno sfasamento semantico che la nozione stoica di léxis (si­ gnificante articolato, ma senza essere necessariamente por­ tatore di significato) ha subìto nel corso degli studi lingui­ stici antichi.  Dictio è traduzione di léxis; ma non ha lo stesso significa­ to che le attribuivano gli stoici, bensì quello che le davano i grammatici alessandrini, in particolare Dionisio Trace, che definiva la léxis come "la più piccola parte dell'enunciato costruito" (Grammatici graeci, l , l , 22, 4), a metà strada tra le lettere e le sillabe, da una parte, e l'enunciato, dall'al­ tra. Questa sua particolare posizione fa sì che la léxis venga considerata come portatrice di un significato (in contrappo­ sizione alle lettere e alle sillabe che non lo posseggono), ma incompleto (in opposizione all'enunciato che porta un sen­ so completo). Lo spostamento di fuoco dalla centralità stoica dell'e­ nunciato alla centralità alessandrina della singola parola, fa sì che quest'ultima assuma al(\une delle funzioni prima spet­ tanti solo all'enunciato. In particolare, quella di essere un segno.4 Agostino definisce decisamente la parola come un segno al cap. V del De dialectica: "La parola è, per ciascuna cosa, un segno che, enunciato dal locutore, può essere compreso dall'ascoltatore". E, del resto, il segno viene definito come "ciò che presentandosi in quanto tale alla percezione sensi­ bile, presenta anche qualche cosa alla percezione intellet­ tuale (animus)" (ibidem). 10.2 Relazione di equivalenza e relazione di im­ plicazione Ponendo l'accento sulla parola, anziché sull'enunciato, Agostino ritrova l'opposizione platonica tra parole e cose. Incontro non casuale, in quanto Platone è l'unico, prima di Agostino, ad avere una concezione semiotica del linguag­ gio; per Platone, infatti, il nome era d/Oma, svelamento di qualcosa che non è direttamente percepibile, ovvero dell'es­ senza della cosa. Ma mentre nel Crati/o platonico si discute se il rapporto tra nome e cosa sia un rapporto iconico (pe­ raltro con la soluzione che conosciamo, cfr. cap. 4), in Agostino tale rapporto - configura subito come una rela­ zione di significazione: il nomt "significa" una cosa (nozione equivalente a quella di "essere segno di" una cosa). Nel momento in cui Agostino propone la sua concezione della parola come segno, si producono alcune modificazio­ ni teoriche, conseguenti allo spostamento di prospettiva. In effetti nelle teorie linguistiche precedenti a quella di Agosti­ no il rapporto tra le espressioni linguistiche e i loro conte­ nuti era stato concepito come una relazione di equivalenza. La ragione, come noto, era di carattere epistemologico e ri­ guardava la possibilità di lavorare direttamente sul linguag­ gio, in sostituzione degli oggetti della realtà, dato che il lin­ guaggio veniva concepito come un sistema di rappresenta­ zione del reale (per quanto mediato dall'anima). Al contrario, il rapporto tra un segno e ciò a cui esso rin­ via era stato concepito come una relazione di implicazione, per cui il primo termine permetteva, per lo stesso fatto di esistere, di arrivare alla conoscenza del secondo. Eco (1984: 33) ha suggerito che, nell'enunciato stoico, i rapporti tra la relazione segnica e quella linguistica possono essere illustra­ ti da uno schema in cui il livello implicazionale si regge su quello equazionale:  onIE=>c m_E:! c dove E indica "espressione", C "contenuto", ::J "implica" e == "è equivalente a". In Agostino l'unificazione tra le due prospettive avviene a livello della singola parola e senza chiamare in causa rapporti di equivalenza. Caso mai la dic­ tio, che è rappresentabile con il livello i, è costituita dali'u­ nione, o prodotto logico, di una vox (significante) e di un dicibile (significato), unità che diviene segno di qualcos'al­ tro (livello ii). Conseguenze dell'unificazione delle prospet­ tive La prima conseguenza dell'unificazione agostiniana, co­ me sottolinea Eco, è che la lingua comincia a tro­ varsi a disagio all'interno del quadro implicativo. Essa in­ fatti costituisce un sistema troppo forte e troppo strutturato per sottomettersi a una teoria dei segni nata per descrivere rapporti così elusivi e generici, come quelli che si ritrovano, a esempio, nelle classificazioni della retorica greca e roma­ na. Infatti l'implicazione semiotica era aperta alla possibili­ tà di percorrere l'intero continuum dei rapporti di necessità e di debolezza. Inoltre la lingua, come del resto Agostino mette in risalto nel De Magistro, possiede un carattere peculiare rispetto agli altri sistemi di segni, corrispondente al fatto di essere un "sistema modellizzante primario",5 cioè tale che qualun­ que altro sistema semiotico può essere tradotto in esso. La forza e l'importanza della lingua fanno sì che i rapporti con gli altri sistemi di segni si rovescino, e che essa, da specie, divenga genere: a poco a poco, il modello del segno lingui­ stico finirà per essere senz'altro il modello semiotico per ec­ cellenza. Ma quando il processo evolutivo arriva a Saussure, che ne rappresenta il punto culminante, si è ormai venuto a per­ dere il carattere implicativo, e il segno linguistico si è cri­ stallizzato nella forma degradata del modello dizionariale, in cui il rapporto tra la parola e il suo contenuto è concepito come situazione sinonimica o definizione essenziale. La seconda importante conseguenza dell'innovazione agostiniana riguarda il problema della fondazione della dia­ lettica e della scienza (Baratin). Fintanto­ ché il rapporto tra linguaggio e oggetto del reale era conce­ pito nei termini dell'equivalenza, il primo non appariva di­ rettamente responsabile della conoscenza del secondo. Ma nel momento in cui si attribuisce un carattere di segno alle espressioni linguistiche, la conoscenza delle parole sembra implicare, di per se stessa, e a priori, la conoscenza delle co­ se di cui esse sono segno. Tutta la grande tradizione semiotica, del resto, convergeva nel considerare il segno come il punto di accesso, senza ulteriori mediazioni, alla conoscen­ za dell'oggetto di riferimento. Il problema che si pone ad Agostino è allora quello di prendere una posizione rispetto alla questione se il linguag­ gio fornisca o meno , di per se stesso , informazioni sulle co­ se che significa. Agostino affronta la questione del carattere informativo dei segni linguistici nel De Magistro (389 d.C.). L'opera, in forma di dialogo tra Agostino e il figlio Adeodato, inizia stabilendo due fondamentali funzioni del linguaggio: (i) in· segnare (docere) e (ii) richiamare alla memoria (commemo­ rare), sia propria sia degli altri. Si tratta di funzioni con­ temporaneamente informative e comunicative, in quanto coinvolgono in maniera centrale la presenza del destinatario nel momento in cui forniscono informazione. La prima parte del dialogo è tesa a dimostrare che queste funzioni, principalmente quella informativa, sono svolte dal linguaggio in quanto sistema di segni. Sono le parole, infatti, che, in qualità di segni, danno informazione sulle cose, senza che nient'altro possa assolvere alla medesima funzione. Nella seconda parte del dialogo, però, Agostino ritorna sull'argomento e cambia completamente la sua prospettiva. Fondandosi ancora una volta sul fatto che la lingua è un in­ sieme di segni, egli mostra che si possono presentare due ca­ si: (i) il primo caso è quello in cui il locutore produce un se­ gno che si riferisce a una cosa sconosciuta al destinatario; in tale situazione il segno non è in grado, di per se stesso, di fornire informazione, come dimostra l'esempio, riportato da Agostino, dell'espressione saraballae, la quale, se non precedentemente nota, non permetterà di comprendere il ri­ ferimento ai "copricapr', che essa effettua; (ii) il secondo caso è quello in cui il locutore produce un segno che si rife­ risce a qualcosa che è già noto al destinatario; e nemmeno in questa evenienza si potrà parlare di un vero e proprio processo di conoscenza (De Mag.). Alla fine Agostino conclude invertendo il rapporto cono­ scitivo tra segno e oggetto, e stabilendo che è necessario co­ noscere preliminarmente l'oggetto di riferimento per poter dire che una parola ne è un segno. È la conoscenza della co­ sa che informa sulla presenza del segno e non viceversa. La soluzione ha una ascendenza chiaramente platonica, e a es­ sa si collega anche la presa di posizione, di marca ugual­ mente platonica, che la conoscenza delle cose deve essere pregiata maggiormente della conoscenza dei segni, perché "qualunque cosa sta per un'altra, è necessario che valga meno di quella per cui essa sta" (De Mag., 9.25). Ma se per le cose sensibili (sensibilia) sono gli oggetti esterni che ci permettono di arrivare alla conoscenza, non altrettanto avviene nel caso delle cose puramente intelligibi­ li (intelligibilia). Per queste ultime Agostino individua una soluzione "teologica": la loro conoscenza deriva dalla rive­ lazione che viene fatta dal Maestro interiore, il quale è ga­ ranzia tanto deli'informazione quanto della verità (De Mag.). Ma anche con questa soluzione "teologica" del problema linguistico, al linguaggio è lasciato uno spazio, che in parte coincide con la funzione del segno rammemorativo, ma in parte la supera: quando conosciamo già l'oggetto di riferi­ mento, le parole ci ricordano l'informazione; quando non lo conosciamo , ci spingono a cercare (De Mag.) . In Agostino la soluzione teologica non è una scappatoia per uscire da un'impasse teorica. Al contrario, essa mette capo a nuove problematiche. È nel De Trinitate (415) che viene affrontato il tema dell'espressione del verbo interiore, una volta che sia stato concepito nella profondità dell'ani­ mo. In effetti, per poter comunicare con gli altri, gli uomini si servono della parola o di un segno sensibile, per poter  234 10. AGOSTINO provocare nell'anima dell'interlocutore un verbo simile a quello che si trova nel loro animo mentre parlano (De Trin., IX, VII, 12). D'altra parte Agostino sottolinea la natura prelinguistica del verbo interiore, il quale non appartiene a nessuna delle lingue naturali, ma deve essere codificato in un segno quan­ do ha bisogno di essere espresso e portato alla comprensio­ ne dei destinatari. Il verbo interiore ha, del resto, una duplice origine: da una parte esso costituisce una conoscenza immanente, la cui sorgente è Dio stesso; dall'altra esso è determinato dalle im­ pronte lasciate neli'anima dagli oggetti di conoscenza. Ma anche in questo secondo caso esso è riconducibile a Dio, in quanto il mondo è il linguaggio attraverso il quale Dio si esprime. Si trovano qui gli embrioni del simbolismo univer­ sale, che tanta parte avrà nella cultura del Medioevo. Quello che comunque emerge con sempre maggiore chia­ rezza è il carattere comunicativo della semiologia agostinia­ na, che è individuabile anche nello schema riassuntivo pro­ posto da Todorov (1977: 42): oggetti di conoscenza potenza !Immanente verbo verbo verbo divina interiore - esteriore - esteriore pensato proferito sa pere. È comunque innegabile che se la semiologia agostiniana presenta un aspet­ to "teologico", connesso al problema del verbo divino, tut­ tavia possiede anche un ben individuato e autonomo aspet­ to laico, che prende in considerazione i caratteri che il segno ha di per se stesso. Fanno parte di quest'ultimo aspetto le varie classificazioni dei segni, alle quali Agostino si dedica soprattutto nel trattato De doctrina Christiana secondo il modo di trasmissione: vista/udito secondo l'origine e l'uso: segni naturali/segni intenzio­ nali secondo lo statuto sociale: segni naturali/segni conven­ zionali secondo la natura del rapporto simbolico: proprio/tra­ slato secondo la natura del designato: segno/cosa con aggiunte più tarde), ma che ritorna anche in varie altre opere . Todorov (1977: 43 e sgg.) individua e analizza cinque tipi di classificazione a cui Agostino sottopone la nozione di se­ gno : Todorov lamenta il fatto che Agostino giustappone quel­ lo che in realtà avrebbe potuto articolare, in quanto gene­ ralmente queste opposizioni sono tra di loro irrelate. Questo non è però del tutto vero, perché (soprattutto nel De Magistro) c'è un tentativo di dare una classificazione combinata di alcuni aspetti del segno. A questo proposito è possibile ricostruire tale classifica­ zione ordinandola secondo uno schema arboriforme (Ber­nardelli), secondo il modello dell'albero di Porfirio (Eco); cfr. p. 236. La classificazione di Agostino non è totalmente a inclu­ sione, come tende a essere quella porfiriana; e si può osser­ vare che se venissero sviluppati i rami collaterali, si vedreb­ bero comparire, una seconda volta, alcune categorie elenca­ te sotto il ramo principale. Tuttavia è Agostino stesso a metterei sulla strada di una classificazione inclusiva da ge­ nere a specie quando definisce la relazione tra nome e paro­ la come "la stessa che c'è tra cavallo e animale" e includen­ do la categoria delle parole in quella più ampia dei segni (DeMag., 4.9).  genen· e specie AES SEGNO PAROLA NOME ------ segno udibile di cose (funzione denotativa) res sensibili (Romulus, Roma, fluvius) differenze significanti qualcosa verbale (voce articolata) differenze  (significabilis, non significanti     nome in senso particolare non verbale (gesti. insegne, lettere, tromba militare ecc.) altra parte del discorso (si, ve/, ex, nsmque, neve, ergo, quonism ecc.) segno udibile di segni udibili (funzione metalinguistìca) res intelligibili ( virtus)   SIGNIFICANTE delle .. AES" La prima relazione interessante è quella tra res e signa. Per quanto il mondo sostanziahnente venga diviso in cose e segni, tuttavia, Agostino non concepisce tale distinzione co­ me ontologica, bensì come funzionale e relativa. Infatti anche i segni sono delle res e l'uomo è libero di as­ sumere come segno una res che fino a quel momento era sprovvista di quella dignità. Anzi, la stessa nozione di res viene definita in termini rigorosamente semiologici (Simone 1969: 105): "In senso proprio ho chiamato cose (res) quegli oggetti che non sono impiegati per essere segni di qualche cosa: per esempio i legno, la pietra, il bestiame" (De doctr. Christ. , I, Il, 2). Ma, immediatamente dopo, cosciente del­ la pervasività dei processi di semiosi, aggiunge: "Ma non quel legno che, leggiamo, Mosè gettò nelle acque amare per dissipare la loro amarezza (Esodo, XV, 25); né quella pietra sulla quale Giacobbe riposò la sua testa, né quella pecora che Abramo immolò al posto di suo figlio. L'articolazione che esiste tra segni e cose è analoga a quella dei due processi essenziali: usare (ut1) e godere (jrul) (De doctr. Christ.). Le cose di cui si usa sono tran­ sitive, come i segni, che sono strumenti per giungere a qual­ cos'altro; le cose di cui si gode sono intransitive, cioè sono prese in considerazione per se stesse. Nel De Magistro Agostino propone anche un nome per le cose che non sono usate come segni, ma sono signifi­ cate attraverso segni: significabilia. Niente toglie che in un secondo momento anche quest'ultime possano essere assun­ te con funzione significante. Dopo aver così articolato i rapporti tra segni e cose, Ago­ stino propone questa definizione di segno nel De doctrina Christiana: "Il segno è una cosa (res) che, al di là dell'impressione che produce sui sensi, di per se stessa, fa venire in mente (in cogitationem) qualcos'altro". Nel nostro albero porfiriano abbiamo deciso di ricostrui­ re la principale suddivisione agostiniana dei segni secondo la dicotomia verbale/non verbale, anche se altre opzioni, ugualmente esplicite nei testi di Agostino, erano disponibili. Questa decisione è autorizzata da un passo del De doctrina Christiana in cui, a conclusione di un'analisi dei vari tipi di segni, Agostino sostiene: "Infatti di tutti quei se­ gni, di cui ho brevemente abbozzato la tipologia, ho potuto parlare attraverso le parole; ma le parole in nessun modo avrei potuto enunciarle attraverso quei segni". Viene esplicitamente fatto riferimento al carattere, tipico del linguaggio verbale, di essere un sistema modellizzante primario, e tale carattere viene assunto come criterio della divisione fondamentale dei segni. I0.6.3 Segni classificati in base al canale di perce­ zione Una classificazione incrociata rispetto alla precedente è quella effettuata in base al canale di percezione. Agostino infatti sostiene che "tra i segni di cui gli uomini si servono per comunicare tra di loro ciò che provano, certi dipendono dalla vista, la maggior parte dali'udito, pochissimi dagli al­ tri sensi" (De doctr. Christ., Il, III, 4). Tra i segni che vengono percepiti con l'udito ci sono quel­ li, fondamentalmente estetici, emessi dagli strumenti musi­ cali, come il flauto e la cetra, o anche quelli essenzialmente comunicativi emessi dalla tromba militare. Naturalmente, ritroviamo tra i segni percepìbili con l'udito, in una posizio­ ne dominante, anche le parole: "Le parole, in effetti, hanno ottenuto tra gli uomini il primissimo posto per l'espressione dei pensieri di ogni genere, che ciascuno di essi vuole ester­ nare" (Dedoctr. Christ., II, III, 4). Tra i segni percepibili con la vista Agostino elenca i cenni della testa, i gesti, i movimenti corporei degli attori, le ban­ diere e le insegne militari, le lettere. Infine vengono presi in considerazione i segni che riguar­ dano altri sensi, come l'odorato (l'odore dell'unguento sparso sui piedi di Cristo), il gusto (il sacramento dell'euca­ ristia), il tatto (il gesto della donna che toccò la veste di Cri­ sto e fu guarita). 10.6.4 "Signa naturalia" e "signa data" Sicuramente fondamentale, anche se non direttamente integrabile al nostro albero inclusivo, risulta lo schema di classificazione che oppone i signa naturalia ai signa data. I primi sono "quelli che senza intenzione, né desiderio di si­ gnificare, fanno conoscere qualcos'altro, oltre a se stessi, come il fumo significa il fuoco" (De doctr. Christ. , II, I, 2). Ne sono esempi anche le tracce lasciate da un animale e le espressioni facciali che rivelano, inintenzionalmente, irrita­ zione o gioia . Dopo averli definiti , Agostino dichiara di non volerli trattare ulteriormente. È invece maggiormente interessato ai signa data, in quan­ to a questa categoria appartengono anche i segni della Sa­ cra Scrittura. Essi vengono definiti come "quelli che tutti gli esseri viventi si fanno, gli uni agli altri, per mostrare, per quanto possono, i movimenti della loro anima, cioè tutto ciò che essi sentono e pensano" (De doctr. Christ. , II, II, 3). Gli esempi sono soprattutto i segni linguistici umani (le pa­ role) . Ma Agostino, curiosamente, include in questa classe an­ che i segni emessi dagli animali, come quelli che si hanno quando il gallo segnala alla gallina di aver trovato il cibo (ibidem). Questo crea una marcata differenza rispetto ad Aristotele, che include i gridi degli animali tra i segni natu­ rali (De int., 16 a). Ma Aristotele opponeva "naturale" a "convenzionale", mentre i signa data non sono i "segni convenzionali", come Markus (1957: 75) aveva suggerito (e come del resto era sta­ to proposto dalla traduzione francese di G. Combès e J. Farges). I signa data sono i "segni intenzionali" (Engels 1962: 367; Darrel Jackson 1969: 14), e corrispondono a 1:1na  AGOSTINO ben precisa intenzione comunicativa (De doctr. Christ. , Il , III, 4). È del resto il carattere intenzionale che permette ad Agostino di includere tra i signa data quelli emessi dagli animali, anche se egli non si pronuncia sulla natura di que­ sta intenzionalità animale (Eco 1987: 78). Del resto, come nota Todorov, porre l'accento sull'idea di intenzione corrisponde al progetto semiologico generale di Agostino, orientato verso la comunicazione. I segni intenzionali, o meglio, creati espressamente in vista della comunicazione, possono essere messi in corrisponden­ za del syrnbolon di Aristotele e della combinazione stoica di un significante con un significato; quelli naturali, ovvero già esistenti come cose, corrispondono invece ai smeia, sia aristotelici che stoici Uno dei punti fondamentali della semiologia agostiniana è costituito dalla ricerca dei modi in cui si può stabi­ lire il significato dei segni. Tale indagine è condotta soprat­ tutto nel De Magistro, dove si può rintracciare una conce­ zione semantica che si avvicina al tipo della "semiosi illimi­ tata" di Peirce. Come ha rilevato anche Markus (1957: 66), il significato di un segno, per Agostino, può essere stabilito o espresso mediante altri segni, per esempio: fornendo dei sinonimi; attraverso l'indicazione con il dito puntato; per mezzo di gesti; tramite astensione (De Mag. , III e VII). Questa concezione del significato si rende possibile sol­ tanto nel momento in cui viene abbandonato lo schema equazionale del simbolo, per adottare, come fa Agostino, quello implicazionale del segno. La teoria semiologica ago­ stiniana si apre così, come ha messo in evidenza Eco, verso un modello "istruzionale" della descrizione semantica. Se ne può cogliere un esempio neIl'analisi che Agostino conduce insieme ad Adeodato del verso virgiliano "si nihil ex tanta superis placet urbe relinqui" (De Mag.). Esso viene definito come composto di otto segni, dei quali, appunto si cerca il significato. L'indagine comincia da l si l , di cui si riconosce che espri­ me un significato di "dubbio", dopo aver tuttavia sottoli­ neato che non si è trovato un altro termine da sostituire al primo per illustrare lo stesso concetto. Si passa, poi, a lni­ hi/1 , il cui significato viene individuato come !'"affezione dell'animo" che si verifica quando, non vedendo una cosa, se ne riconosce l'assenza. In seguito Agostino chiede ad Adeodato il significato di lexl ed esso propone una definizione sinonimica: lexl sa­ rebbe equivalente a l de l . Agostino non è soddisfatto di questa soluzione e argomenta che il secondo termine è certo un'interpretazione del primo, ma ha bisogno di essere a sua volta interpretato. La solu2ione finale è che l ex l significa "una separazione" da un oggetto. A questa conclusione, pe­ rò, viene aggiunta anche una successiva istruzione per la sua decodifica contestuale: il termine può esprimere separa­ zione rispetto a qualcosa che non esiste più, come nel caso della città di Troia a cui si allude nel verso virgiliano; oppu­ re il termine può esprimere separazione da qualcosa che è ancora esistente, come quando diciamo che in Africa ci so­ no alcuni negozianti provenienti da Roma. Il significato di un termine, allora, "è un blocco (una se­ rie, un sistema) di istruzioni per le sue possibili inserzioni contestuali, e per i suoi diversi esiti semantici in contesti di­ versi (ma tutti ugualmente registrabili in termini di codice).” La struttura implicativa permette regole del tipo "Se A appare nei contesti x, y, allora significa B; ma se B, allora C; ecc.", regole che sono comuni tanto al modello istruzio­ nale quanto alla semiosi illimitata. In definitiva, è proprio grazie ali'assunzione generalizza­ ta del modello implicazionale che la semiologia agostiniana riesce a porsi sia come sintesi delle acquisizioni semiolingui­ stiche del mondo antico (teoria della parola come segno), sia come potente anticipazione di alcune delle più recenti tendenze della ricerca attuale in campo semantico (modello istruzionale) . 1 In altre opere, al posto di dicibile troviamo l'espressione significatio; a esempio in De Magistro, 10.34. 2 Si deve notare che Agostino adopera l'espressione verbum in due sen­ si: (i) uno tecnico e specifico, che è quello dell'uso metalinguistico della pa­ rola; (ii) uno generale, che corrisponde alla nozione ampia di "parola", co­ me "segno di ciascuna cosa che, proferito dal parlante, possa essere inteso dalJ'ascoltatore" (cap. V). 1 La natura della nozione di dictio, come composizione di significante e significato, è messa chiaramente in risalto dalla definizione del cap. V da De dialectica. Quel che ho detto dictio è una parola, ma una parola che significhi ormaj le due unità precedenti conten1poraneamente, la parola (verbum) stessa e ciò che è prodotto nell'animo per mezzo della parola [di­ cibile]". La dictio, inoltre, "non procede per se stessa, ma per significare qualcosa d'altro" (ibidem). 4 Si ricorderà che dagli stoici un segno era concepito, in termini propo­ sizionali, come un antecedente che rimandava a un conseguente; cfr. Sext. Emp., Adv. Math., VliI, 245. s Per questa nozione, cfr. Lotman-Uspenskij (1975). Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Philosophical psychology in the commentaries of Pietro Lombardo and Grice,” per il Club Anglo-Italiano, The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Grice, Liguria, Italia. Lombardia Grice: “It is strange that he was called Piero da Lombardia; it would be like ‘a lad from shropshire.’ ‘Lombardia,’ unlike Ockham, ain’t a townbut a full regionIt’s different with ‘veneto,’ which is toponymic and metonymic for Venice. But if Milano was the main ever settlement in Lombardia this would be “Peter, the one from Milan.” Lombardo Pietro Lombardo Lumellogno Cardano – Grice: “It’s only natural that he was Pietro Cardano – after the city in Lombardy, Cardano – Plus, the implicature that he went by “Peter of Lombardy” having been born in Piemonte, means that the locals never saw him as one of their own!” --  Pietro Cardano – la stirpe Cardano 1600 --. Familia patrizia di Novara.  Pietro Cardano. Keywords: Cardano, implicatura. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cardano” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Cardano.

 

Grice e Cardia: l’implicatura conversazionale del culto del laico – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “Cardia is what I would call the Italian Hart – with a tweak – Italy and religion is Cardia’s forte – recall that the bishop of Rome has the roots in the ‘pontifex’ of old Rome, so he knows what he’s talking about!” – Grice: “Like me, Cardia has philosophised, as what the Italians call a professore di filosofia del diritto, on the ethical versus legal implicatures of the very idea of a ‘right’ (diritto). We don’t have that economy of vocabulary in Engish – calling Hart the professor of right would be unnacepptable at Oxford!”. Si laurea a Roma. Clifton has chapel services and a focus on Christianity. This is the Chapel: here, my son, Your father thought the thoughts of youth, And heard the words that one by one The touch of Life has turn'd to truth. Here in a day that is not far, You too may speak with noble ghosts Of manhood and the vows of war You made before the Lord of Hosts. The magnificent Chapel sits at the heart of Clifton both spiritually and physically and has played an important part of life. Topped by a striking copper-clad lantern and built from soft red and honey-coloured stone, the Chapel provides Christian calm, and forms a powerful link between past and present. It is a place where the community come to mark milestones and celebrate successes, and for quiet contemplation or spiritual guidance.  Brass plates placed on the back of the staff stalls mark the names of all those who have carved out a reputation. High on the walls are memorials of pupils of another age who died by accident or disease serving the Empire. One bears the moving epitaph ‘A good life hath but few days but a good name endureth forever.’  The Chapel was built to a design by C. Hansom. It is a narrow aisleless building. It is the gift of the widow of W. J. Guthrie. Hansom is given permission to quarry sufficient stone from the grounds of Clifton for the purposes of the Chapel building". The Chapel building is licensed by the Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol.  Stato, Chiese e pluralismo confessionale Rivista telematica statoechiese.it) Colaianni (ordinario di Diritto ecclesiastico nella Facoltà di Giurisprudenza dell’Università degli Studi di Bari) Quale laicità. Con questo saggio C. si affaccia sul versante polemistico della letteratura giuridica con la maestria affinata attraverso una copiosa produzione saggistica e con la non comune versatilità che negli ultimi anni lo ha portato ad occuparsi dei problemi di tutela non solo delle confessioni religiose ma anche dei diritti umani. I bersagli della polemica sono indicati nel sottotitolo: etica, multiculturalismo, islam, non in sé naturalmente ma in quanto declinati in maniera rispettivamente relativistica, separatistica, fondamentalistica. Capaci cioè di esaltare le identità oltre ogni limite e di attentare, quindi, a quello “stato laico sociale” che, dopo secoli di storia travagliata e i totalitarismi del secolo breve, a cavallo del nuovo millennio ha trionfato un po’ dovunque in Europa e in tutto l’occidente. Questo carattere ben si coglie secondo l’autore nella “rivincita dei concordati”. Un fenomeno effettivamente impressionante, tanto più perché si inserisce in un trend favorevole alle relazioni con le confessioni, da cui non prendono le distanze neanche l’Unione europea, in base ad una dichiarazione allegata al trattato di Amsterdam, e la Francia della Loi de séparation, secondo le proposte della commissione governativa Machelon1. Da esso C. deduce che lo stato è ormai amico delle religioni, che contribuisce attivamente a sottrarre all’irrilevanza degli affari privati e a reimmettere nel circuito pubblico, relegando l’ostilità del laicismo ottocentesco nel museo della memoria. C., Le sfide della laicità. Etica, multiculturalismo, islam, Edizioni San Paolo, Cinisello Balsamo, destinata alla pubblicazione sulla rivista “Laicità”, Torino. Cfr. F. MARGIOTTA BROGLIO, su Reset Stato, Chiese e pluralismo confessionale Rivista telematica Dal quale non varranno a riesumarla le “guerricciole”, rinfocolate dal “micro-massimalismo” di chi spera di “rivivere un po’ dell’epopea del passato” e non si accorge che ormai lo stato italiano gli accordi li fa anche con confessioni non cattoliche e, peraltro, non è l’unico ad integrare le scuole private e confessionali nel sistema scolastico, ad assicurare l’insegnamento religioso confessionale nelle scuole pubbliche, a finanziare lautamente la chiesa cattolica ma anche le altre confessioni. L’agile sintesi storico-politica, condotta nella prima metà del libro, consente a C. di avallare questa laicità realistica, che ad altri è sembrata più propriamente “praticistica”. A quella stregua l’autore tratta con sufficienza i rinnovati contrasti tra stato e chiesa (che pure sono al centro delle preoccupazioni di altri libri coevi3 ) tanto quanto con drammaticità le sfide suindicate. A cominciare dal multiculturalismo, che in effetti nella versione spinta si presenta sotto la forma di un comunitarismo senza coesione. Il “fascino discreto” che in molti differenzialisti suscitano gli statuti personali, di medioevale o ottomana memoria, è giustamente visto come una relativizzazione della laicità: a vantaggio, in particolare, dell’islam. Ovviamente C. è severo con la “partita giocata su due tavoli”: non si può invocare la laicità contro i “simboli e la memoria del cristianesimo” e a favore di quelli dell’islam, per cui “verrebbero estromessi i crocifissi, ma sarebbero ammessi il velo e la preghiera degli islamici”. Ma i termini del paragone sono omogenei solo apparentemente: il crocifisso fa problema per la laicità non se portato addosso al corpo, se fa parte del libero abbigliamento dei cittadini (come il velo o altri segni religiosi), ma in quanto esposto autoritativamente, cioè imposto, negli spazi pubblici, scolastici, giudiziari. In effetti, è tutta la seconda parte del libro a risentire di questa drammatizzazione impressa ai vari scenari. Islam versus cristianesimo. Di là un sistema chiuso ad ogni interpretazione evolutiva, un’identità fissa e immutabile, di qua una religione tollerante, aperta all’interpretazione storico-critica dei testi sacri e alla laicità, la quale in essa sarebbe addirittura “germinata”. La schematizzazione diventa  2  Per esempio a BELLINI nel saggio coevo Il diritto d’essere se stessi. Discorrendo dell’idea di laicità. Come quelli di ZAGREBELSKY, Lo stato e la chiesa, o di BIANCHI, La differenza cristiana, o di RUSCONI, Non abusare di Dio.  Stato, Chiese e pluralismo confessionale Rivista telematica inevitabile. In realtà, l’involuzione della seconda metà del XX secolo, a parte i fanatismi e i terrorismi, non è riuscita a spegnere le numerose voci laiche dell’islam moderno4  né, a livello istituzionale, ad annullare, pur frenandola, l’applicazione negli stati islamici di una legge non religiosa, il kanun, “nel senso laico di ‘legge di stato’in contrapposizione alla sharī ‘a” 5. D’altro canto, bisogna riconoscere che abbiamo tutti sovracaricato il detto evangelico “Quae sunt Caesaris Caesari, quae sunt Dei Deo” di un significato improprio e anacronistico, in termini appunto di laicità, che nessun biblista ha mai potuto avallare (vorrei ricordare qui almeno Barbaglio, che ci ha lasciato pochi mesi fa: nel suo La laicità del credente non cita mai il versetto di Matteo). Storicamente poi, anche a voler retrodatare – seguendo Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde6 - alla lotta delle investiture l’inizio del processo di secolarizzazione, non v’è dubbio che per secoli la chiesa ha sostenuto la supremazia del potere spirituale ratione peccati o salutis anche nella sfera mondana. E al giorno d’oggi la più netta distinzione degli ordini formulata dal Concilio non sta impedendo il tentativo di informare la legislazione italiana al magistero ecclesiastico: è la chiesa dei no alla procreazione medica assistita (divieto dell’eterologa, della diagnosi preimpianto dell’embrione), al testamento biologico, visto come anticamera di pratiche eutanasiche, al riconoscimento pubblico di unioni civili in qualsiasi forma (pacs, dico, cus, ecc.), emblematicamente (a luglio alla Camera) al richiamo del principio di laicità come fondamento di una legge sulla libertà di religione (che pur non tocca la chiesa cattolica). Neanche C. indulge su questi punti. Il suo no è altrettanto netto. In nome della laicità e contro il relativismo etico. Ma poiché su quei punti, con varie sfumature, il pensiero laico (di non credenti e agnostici ma anche di credenti) è per il sì, è evidente che ci si trova davanti ad una diversa concezione della laicità. Tanto rispettabile nei suoi riferimenti eteronomi, divini o naturali e perciò antichi o “ancestrali”, quanto incapace di far capire - per dirla con Habermas7  - “quale ruolo e significato i fondamenti giuridici secolarizzati della costituzione possono avere per una società [Cfr. l’antologia di BRANCA e quelle più recenti di V. COLOMBO. 5  Così ne Il linguaggio politico dell’Islam B. LEWIS, studioso fra i più citati nel libro. 6  Cfr. BÖCKENFÖRDE, Diritto e secolarizzazione. HABERMAS, Il futuro della natura umana. Stato, Chiese e pluralismo confessionale Rivista telematica (statoechiese  postsecolare”, come la nostra. In una democrazia necessariamente relativistica (se, al contrario, fosse assolutistica non sarebbe democrazia, insegna Kelsen) la laicità alimenta norme non di supremazia ma di compatibilità, espressive di una vocazione non paternalistica, ma responsabilizzante, nei rapporti tra stato e cittadini: visti non come meri educandi, da guidare nelle scelte etiche in base a valori esterni, ma come persone responsabili delle loro scelte nella propria autonomia e capaci di mediarle alla ricerca di quella “giusta”8. Una laicità pluralistica e perciò non espressiva di una sola cultura ma interculturale (come dovrebbe porsi ormai tutto il diritto secondo Otfried Höffe9 ). Le cui sfide, e il libro di Cardia stimola ad intraprendere questo percorso di riflessione, non vengono da una parte sola.  8  In questo senso rilegge il da mi factum, dabo tibi ius RODOTÀ, La vita e le regole. 9  Cfr. O. HÖFFE, Globalizzazione e diritto penale. LA LAICITA’ IN ITALIA (C.) (Convegno Giuristi) Sommario. Premessa. 1. La laicità in Italia tra conflitto e moderazione. 2. Laicismo, intransigenza cattolica, isolamento culturale. 3. Dai Patti Lateranensi al modello costituzionale di respiro europeo. 4. La crisi della laicità. Laicità ed etica. 5. Cultura laica e questione islamica. Laicità e multiculturalismo. Ambiguità e prospettive. Premessa. E’ mia intenzione soffermarmi sulle problematiche attuali della laicità in Italia, anche perché sono diverse e complesse. Però, penso sia necessario dare spazio a qualche riflessione storica che ci aiuti a comprendere meglio le questioni che abbiamo di fronte nel tempo presente. Si tratta, più che di una analisi organica, di spunti ricostruttivi utili a cogliere alcune costanti della nostra tradizione. Ho avvertito questa esigenza perché l’esperienza italiana ha un tratto caratteristico che non si rinviene altrove, avendo dato vita nello spazio di poco più di un secolo a tre tipologie diverse di relazioni ecclesiastiche: una laico-separatista, una di tipo concordatario neo-confessionista, e quella costituzionale che poi si è evoluta nel quadro di una Europa che ha finito per seguire il nostro modello. Infine, l’Italia sta vivendo una vera crisi della laicità, in rapporto alla questione etica, e al multiculturalismo, ed è entrata in quella globalizzazione dei rapporti tra religione e società che riguarda l’Occidente nel suo complesso. Quindi, l’esperienza italiana non è comprensibile all’interno di un solo orizzonte storico-culturale, mentre l’analisi deve mantenere un respiro più ampio e saper individuare delle linee trasversali di riflessione, dei fili conduttori che chiariscano il percorso storico complessivo che si è compiuto. La laicità in Italia tra conflitto e moderazione Il primo filo conduttore che voglio privilegiare è il rapporto che si è determinato tra conflitto e moderazione, tra correnti estreme del pensiero laico, e di quello cattolico, e soluzioni storico- 2 normative che sono state adottate. La storiografia più accreditata ci ha abituati a interpretare questo rapporto a tutto favore della conflittualità e a discapito della moderazione. Ancora oggi il conflitto tra Stato e Chiesa è considerato un tratto eminente della storia italiana, il punto focale che illumina tutto il resto. Il processo di unificazione nazionale viene letto alla luce del contrasto tra laici e cattolici, della fine del potere temporale, della prevalenza della modernizzazione sul conservatorismo cattolico. Anche l’epoca autoritaria che dà vita ai Patti Lateranensi è vista in chiave di rivincita cattolica e di sconfitta laica, come un rovesciamento di fronte rispetto all’epoca liberale. Questa interpretazione resta valida perché permette di capire tante pagine della nostra storia nazionale, ma può essere integrata con un’altra chiave di lettura che aiuti a vedere anche i chiaro-scuri, i toni più morbidi, della storia italiana. Questa chiave di lettura è quella della moderazione e dell’equilibrio che, pur nelle vicende aspre che conosciamo, ha segnato la storia italiana. L’Italia è stata moderata ed equilibrata nel separatismo, in parte nel sistema concordatario, in modo speciale nella elaborazione della Costituzione. Quando parlo di moderazione non intendo esaltare il carattere per così dire compromissorio generalmente riconosciuto alla genti italiche. Mi riferisco ad un dato realmente presente nelle nostre leggi, in ampi settori della cultura laica e di quella cattolica, che ci aiuta a meglio comprendere la storia e l’evoluzione della laicità in Italia. La moderazione del periodo separatista si manifesta in tanti modi, ma nell’insieme consente all’Italia di operare un sottile, solido compromesso con l’anima cattolica del paese su punti essenziali, ed evita l’affermazione di tendenze francesizzanti che pure esistono in esponenti della classe dirigente liberale. In Italia non si afferma mai l’idea della reformatio ecclesiae come obiettivo proprio dello Stato. L’aspirazione ad una evoluzione della Chiesa è parte integrante del pensiero laico e dei riformatori cattolici dell’Ottocento, ma da noi non si trovano tracce significative di quel disegno (tipicamente transalpino) che mira alla costituzione civile del clero, a stravolgere le strutture ecclesiastiche, a creare una chiesa nazionale quieta e obbediente al potere civile. La struttura della Chiesa, gli enti ecclesiastici mantenuti, l’educazione e la disciplina del clero, non subiscono ingerenze o stravolgimenti diretti a modificarne la natura. Nel dibattito sulle Facoltà di teologia è il ministro Correnti che respinge le tentazioni giurisdizionaliste e afferma che lo Stato non ha “né interesse, né volontà, né facoltà di creare teologi”, che l’evoluzione della religione è compito della Chiesa, e la “Chiesa troverà in sé stessa, e solo in se stessa può trovare, la volontà e la forza di ravvicinarsi” alla modernità. L’unico intervento chirurgico è quello che sopprime le corporazioni e le congregazioni religiose. Ma anche in questo intervento, che storicamente si giustifica con la necessità di ridistribuire la grande proprietà ecclesiastica, non mancano i segni di moderazione, se vogliamo della dissimulazione. Come quando le comunità religiose si ricostituiscono progressivamente al riparo delle c.d. frodi pie, che consentono l’utilizzazioni di proprietà immobiliari messe a disposizione da veri prestanome. Comunque, a nessuno in Italia è mai venuto in mente di adottare leggi draconiane come quelle transalpine, la prima che vieta alle congregazioni religiose non riconosciute l’insegnamento, la seconda che prevede multa e carcere per chi apra una scuola nella quale insegni anche un solo religioso. Ho sfioato il problema della scuola, perché su questo terreno si opera il più grande compromesso italiano, sul quale storici e giuristi si soffermano poco. Alla laicizzazione della scuola italiana, con la Legge Casati , non segue la cancellazione della presenza cattolica nel corpo scolastico pubblico. Se l’insegnamento religioso viene escluso nelle scuole superiori, rimane però in quelle elementari. La Legge Coppino non dice nulla al riguardo, e questo silenzio, con l’aiuto del Consiglio di Stato, consente di mantenere l’insegnamento religioso che, ci dice Francesco Scaduto, viene attivato da quasi tutti i Consigli comunali e seguito dalla totalità delle famiglie italiane. Neanche si può dire che la questione passi sotto silenzio, perché un Regolamento conferma l’insegnamento religioso, e la Camera respinge nello stesso anno una mozione di Bissolati che chiede di vietare ogni presenza religiosa nelle scuole. Molto chiaramente Minghetti compara gli inconvenienti di una scuola che preveda l’insegnamento religioso a quelli di una scuola che lo esclude, e afferma che “i primi saranno sempre minori di quelli di una scuola che dovrebbe essere popolare, ma che senza Dio ripugna alla coscienza popolare e addiviene atta a soddisfare soltanto una piccola minoranza”. Si può dire che è poco, invece è moltissimo, perché la scuola elementare è l’unica vera scuola di massa dell’epoca. Per questa ragione l’Italia separatista ha operato le grandi riforme della modernità ma ha saputo mantenere un raccordo di fondo tra il sentire comune della popolazione e una legislazione non aggressiva e non punitiva. E’ l’Italia laica e separatista che affida ai maestri e alle maestrine della letteratura dell’Ottocento l’onere di trasmettere elementari ma importanti valori religiosi e morali nelle nuove generazioni. L’elogio della moderazione non deve fare aggio sull’altro fattore endemico dell’esperienza italiana, su quella arretratezza che, in modo diverso, caratterizza alcuni settori della cultura laica, e della cultura cattolica, e che provoca per lungo tempo un isolamento rispetto ad altre più avanzate esperienze europee e alla cultura anglosassone, cioè rispetto al resto del mondo. Mi riferisco alle correnti laiciste che animano la cultura politica, danno vita al pensiero più autenticamente anticlericale, rendono la laicità ostile alla religione. Ma anche all’arroccarsi di quell’intransigenza che frena la capacità di iniziativa dei cattolici, li estranea a lungo dalla vita politica del Paese. Nel conflitto, e nel corto circuito, tra intransigenza cattolica e correnti laiciste sta la radice di una chiusura provinciale che in Italia condiziona a lungo le relazioni ecclesiastiche. Il radicarsi di queste tendenze immette nella cultura italiana semi che tornano a fiorire di tanto in tanto. Il laicismo produce cultura, mentalità, costume, e fa sì che anche da noi come in Francia, laicità voglia dire tante cose negative: estraniazione della religione dalla società e dalla dimensione pubblica, ostilità alla scuola privata nonostante il liberalismo sia altrove il difensore del pluralismo scolastico, riduzione della Chiesa ad un ambito puramente cultuale. In Italia, come oltr’Alpe, il termine laico è contrapposto a cattolico, e questa antitesi, sconosciuta nei paesi anglosassoni, diviene da noi categoria del pensiero e del linguaggio. Quando faccio riferimento alle tendenze laiciste mi riferisco sia all’anticlericalismo di matrice ottocentesca che alle correnti culturali di grande dignità che da Spaventa a Bissolati rivivono poi in Salvemini e in Rossi, e che di più aspirano ad una Chiesa riformata, apparentemente tutta spirituale ma muta sul piano civile e sociale. Queste correnti si ravvivano quando l’accordo tra Chiesa e fascismo di fatto umilia la laicità, provocando una frattura seria tra la cultura laica ed un cattolicesimo al quale viene restituito un ruolo di primo piano, ma con il sacrificio di altre idealità e di altri ruoli. Anche l’intransigenza cattolica riaffiora più volte nella storia italiana, impedisce a tratti di cogliere le trasformazioni della società, di discernere gli aspetti positivi dalle spinte disgreganti, porta all’arroccamento su posizioni che potrebbero essere evitate. La critica più autentica a questo corto circuito non è diretta alle singole posizioni radicali che produce, quanto al fatto che da lì è derivato un certo isolamento rispetto alla cultura anglosassone, rispetto ad altre esperienze europee, come quelle dell’Olanda, del Belgio e della Germania, dove già nell’Ottocento maturano equilibri più stabili tra religione e società. Una conferma di questo provincialismo sta nell’incomunicabilità tra esperienza italiana ed esperienza statunitense, alla quale pure molti laici si richiamano, senza mai averla capita e forse conosciuta. Lo stesso Salvemini, che pure conosceva la società americana, di quell’esperienza evoca sempre e soltanto la parola separatismo, non i suoi contenuti, né la sua anima pregna di rispetto e di amicizia verso la religione. Possiamo verificare questa lontananza della cultura laica rispetto alle correnti del pensiero anglosassone su un particolare problema, quello della scuola privata, nel quale il liberalismo italiano si è discostato dai canoni del liberalismo classico per seguire un indirizzo statalistico destinato a dominare a lungo. C’un dibattito di metà Ottocento (oggi dimenticato ma molto importante all’epoca) nel quale Berti critica quei liberali che per paura di monopolio combattono la libertà di insegnamento, e afferma che questa trae il suo diritto dall’individuo medesimo, dalla sua libertà, ed è da annoverarsi tra “gli altri diritti naturali”. E’ Bertando Spaventa che si oppone a Berti ed esplicita la vera ragione della contrarietà alla scuola privata. La ragione sta nel fatto che “i paladini” del libero insegnamento finiscono per portare acqua al mulino della “libertà del papa”, perché in Italia dare via libera alle scuole private vuol dire favorire la scuola cattolica. Quindi, con grande trasparenza si riconosce che il vero liberalismo postula la libertà della scuola, ma in Italia questo liberalismo non è praticabile perché se ne avvarrebbero i cattolici. Insomma, al liberalismo si ricorre quando fa comodo, altrimenti lo si mette da parte. 3. Dai Patti Lateranensi al modello costituzionale di respiro europeo In Italia, però, si ritrova un altro elemento equilibratore che consente di attenuare le asperità e finisce col favorire le soluzioni strategiche adottate in sede di Costituente. Parlo di quella questione romana che nessun altro Paese conosce, e che tocca all’Italia affrontare e risolvere in modo autonomo. Anche su questo problema vorrei offrire uno spunto ricostruttivo diverso rispetto alla storiografia prevalente. E’ vero che la questione romana ha costituito il punto di maggiore attrito tra Stato e Chiesa, ed ha agito come coagulo dell’intransigenza cattolica e come bersaglio dell’anticlericalismo. Tuttavia, pur nei termini del conflitto che conosciamo, essa ha rappresentato anche un elemento equilibratore nel periodo separatista, con la stipulazione dei Patti Lateranensi, soprattutto all’atto della elaborazione della Costituzione democratica. Quando parlo di elemento equilibratore intendo dire che la presenza della Santa Sede ha fatto uscire il meglio di sé dalla classe dirigente liberale nell’Ottocento, ha attenuato gli effetti che i Patti Lateranensi hanno avuto sulla società italiana, ha favorito notevolmente il lavoro che ha portato alla formulazione del disegno costituzionale complessivo dei rapporti tra Stato e Chiesa. Già nell’Ottocento, la classe dirigente liberale conferma la propria lungimiranza con quella Legge delle Guarentigie che, pur temporaneamente, risolve la più grande questione storica europea, e, dovendo misurarsi con un evento che interessa i cattolici di tutto il mondo, si rivela capace di ad attenuare, smussare, equilibrare le asperità del separatismo. Anche quando il Concordato ferisce duramente la laicità e la cultura laica italiana, la soluzione definitiva del questione romana stempera il valore politico del patto con il FASCISMO. Non a caso il giudizio delle forze politiche ANTI-fasciste sui Patti Lateranensi si presenta come scisso in due: severo e aspro, anche da parte cattolica, nei confronti dell’accordo politico tra Chiesa e fascismo e del Concordato, ma positivo e accogliente nei confronti del Trattato del Laterano. Sin dall’inizio Croce approva la soluzione della questione romana, riservando le sue critiche al Concordato. Ma anche Salvemini, durissimo con il Concordato, riconosce che la questione romana è ben risolta, anzi afferma che ciò che è stato fatto avrebbero dovuto farlo i liberali. Infine, i programmi elaborati dai leader dell’antifascismo durante la guerra in vista della ricostruzione del Paese, concordano nel non voler rimettere in discussione i risultati del Trattato del Laterano. Credo si possa dire che, senza una questione romana risolta, forse non avremmo avuto quel tipo di rapporti con la Chiesa che l’Italia elabora e che ha saputo anticipare un modello oggi utilizzato in un numero considerevole di Paesi europei. Nell’incontro tra le correnti del cattolicesimo democratico e la maggioranza della cultura laica, l’Italia trova il modo di abbandonare un certo provincialismo e riesce a parlare un linguaggio europeo, supera quel corto circuito che l’aveva appesantita a lungo. Le scelte del costituente non sono riconducibili al solo articolo, quanto alla maturazione di una laicità che è destinata a fare scuola, a prefigurare un modello di Stato laico sociale che diverrà prevalente nell’Europa che si unisce e conosce la fine dei totalitarismi. Si tratta di una laicità complessa dove converge il meglio della tradizione separatista (in materia di libertà religiosa), e dove il laicismo è superato dal riconoscimento pieno della presenza e del ruolo sociale della religione. Si abbatte il muro della incomunicabilità tra religione e società, si conferma e si estende il metodo della contrattazione e dell’incontro, tra Stato e Chiese; si supera l’ultimo tabù dell’Ottocento, per il quale nessun culto dovrebbe essere finanziato dallo Stato perché lo impedirebbero le differenti opinioni religiose dei cittadini. Sul finire del Novecento questo Stato laico sociale trionfa un po’ dovunque. Non si contano più i concordati tra Santa Sede e Stati in Europa, che sono oltre 20, come non si contano più intese, accordi, convenzioni tra Stato e confessioni religiose, protestanti, ebraica, islamica, e altro ancora. Ma è nel merito delle relazioni ecclesiastiche che il modello italiano fa scuola in Europa. Dall’Atlantico alla Russia, ovunque troviamo una laicità fondata su principi comuni: libertà religiosa, tutelata nel quadro dei diritti umani, riconoscimento delle Chiese come entità impegnate in molteplici attività, sostegno pubblico alle confessioni. Insomma, un mixer tra la tradizione nordamericana di amicizia verso la religione, e la tradizione europea di contrattazione e reciproca integrazione. Tanto solido è questo nuovo orizzonte di laicità sociale che ormai in Europa si discute di riforma dei rapporti tra Stato e Chiesa soltanto in Inghilterra e nei Paesi protestanti del nord, dove ancora esistono Chiese ufficiali sottomesse e apparentate alle dinastie regnanti. La laicità torna di attualità e vive una crisi di cui non siamo ancora pienamente consapevoli, su terreni nuovi e in editi, come quelli dell’etica e del multiculturalismo. Si tratta di fenomeni molto diversi, perché nel primo caso siamo di fronte ad un uso indebito, quasi una strumentalizzazione, del concetto di laicità, nel secondo assistiamo ad un pericoloso arretramento dei valori più intimi dello Stato laico. Non entro nel merito del rapporto tra etica e diritto. Non è oggetto della mia relazione, non è possibile neanche sfiorarlo nella sua complessità. La mia attenzione è più ristretta, riguarda il rapporto che esisterebbe tra laicità ed etica nel momento in cui un ordinamento è chiamato a pronunciarsi su questioni decisive per la collettività, come la famiglia, l’ingegneria genetica, l’eutanasia, e via di seguito. Alcune elaborazione teoriche danno per scontato che il pluralismo etico non è che un altro aspetto del pluralismo religioso, e “come oggi ammettiamo e rispettiamo le varie confessioni religiose, così dobbiamo riconoscere le varie moralità che affiancano o sostituiscono la fede religiosa”. D’altra parte, si aggiunge, come nella religione non si dà verità oggettiva, ma solo opinioni, così in campo etico lo Stato deve accettare tutte le convinzioni e le scelte che si contendono il campo. Questa similitudine tra religione ed etica è accattivante, ma nasconde un’insidia dialettica. In primo luogo perché la neutralità dello Stato riguarda le convinzioni religiose, la sfera più intima della spiritualità e della coscienza, non i comportamenti delle persone, tanto meno quelli che coinvolgono gli altri. In questa materia la legge non pretende mai di definire qual è la verità, ma sceglie sulla base di valori che hanno una loro validità nel tempo, nella struttura sociale nella quale si incarnano, e che possono dar vita a equilibri diversi tra etica e diritto. In secondo luogo, si trascura il fatto che una neutralità dello Stato estesa a tutte le scelte etiche porterebbe alla paralisi del legislatore e allo svuotamento della funzione della legge. L’ordinamento non si interesserebbe più della procreazione, dei doveri verso i figli, non potrebbe più disciplinare il matrimonio, dovrebbe consentire tutto in materia di bioetica. Uno Stato eticamente neutrale dovrebbe disporre il “rompete le righe” e preoccuparsi solo di regolare il traffico delle attività sociali. C’è, poi, un corollario di questa impostazione che viene utilizzato frequentemente. Si tratta di quel ritornello che in Italia viene ripetuto spesso, secondo il quale in queste materie lo Stato deve permettere, non proibire. Infatti, se permette non obbliga nessuno, ma se proibisce impedisce a qualcuno di realizzarsi. Lo Stato che liberalizza l’eutanasia non obbliga nessuno a praticarla, ma consente a chi vuole di scegliere un’altra opzione. Se permette la fecondazione eterologa, non la impone, ma se la nega erode spazi all’autonomia individuale. Io credo che ci troviamo di fronte ad un uso improprio della laicità, e ad un vero sillogismo. Se applicata coerentemente, questa logica porterebbe a risultati che ben pochi si sentirebbero di sostenere. Si legittimerebbe la pratica della clonazione umana, perché una legge che la liberalizzasse non costringerebbe nessuno a clonare cellule e individui, mentre un divieto impedirebbe ad alcuni di seguire i propri convincimenti. Dovrebbe essere permesso di intervenire sul genoma per determinare alcune caratteristiche del nascituro, come il sesso, o il colore della pelle o degli occhi, perché in ogni caso non si obbligherebbe nessuno a queste operazioni, mentre vietandole si diminuirebbe l’autonomia individuale. Questa impostazione dovrebbe indurre l’Authority inglese a rispondere positivamente al recente quesito del Kings College, se sia lecito produrre ibridi di umanità e animalità. Infatti, consentendo questa pratica non si impone a nessun ricercatore di creare la chimera, ma proibendola si violerebbe la libertà di quanti non hanno remore nel procedere su questa strada. Molti sostenitori del relativismo si dichiarano contrari alla clonazione, alla chimera e ad altre scelte estreme, ma spesso non sanno dire il perché. E non sanno dirlo perché dovrebbero riconoscere che clonazione e chimera possono essere escluse soltanto se si fa leva su valori antropologici primari, meritevoli di trovare spazio nel mondo del diritto. Si dovrebbe allora riconoscere che la laicità dello Stato non c’entra nulla quando la discussione riguarda questi valori. E che nel gioco democratico della discussione, del convincimento, si determineranno gli equilibri essenziali, modificabili nel tempo, sui confini del diritto, sul rapporto tra autonomia e solidarietà. In questa discussione vi è spazio per tutti, per le convinzioni religiose e per quelle filosofiche, per l’apporto delle scienze e la mediazione della politica. Ma se il confronto viene by-passato ricorrendo alla laicità per sbarrare la strada a determinate scelte, vuol dire allora che c’è insicurezza in alcune posizioni relativistiche, le quali non riescono ad elaborare valori convincenti, e utilizzano impropriamente la laicità per dare alle proprie tesi una forza che probabilmente non hanno. 5. Cultura laica e questione islamica L’analisi si fa più complessa se affrontiamo il tema del multiculturalismo, perché questo fenomeno costituisce una grande opportunità ma anche un grande rischio. Una opportunità per la laicità, che può far risaltare il suo volto accogliente e il suo carattere universale di fronte al mischiarsi delle popolazioni, delle pagine della storia, e della geografia. Ma anche un rischio se con il multiculturalismo si vogliono reintrodurre nelle nostre società antiche intolleranze, o costumi e tradizioni che evocano un lontano passato. Le prime risposte a questo evento sono deludenti, alcune preoccupanti, ma tutte riflettono un disorientamento generale. Vi sono a volte reazioni di tipo islamofobico che fanno d’ogni erba un fascio, alimentano paure e diffidenze, che vogliono negare all’islam ciò che la laicità deve garantire a tutti. Mi sembra, però, che siano prevalenti le reazioni opposte, perché la cultura laica sta rispondendo con uno spaesamento che tradisce incertezza e insicurezza. Il multiculturalismo sta facendo emergere una insicurezza dei valori della laicità, della loro validità e tendenziale universalità. Anche quell’orgoglio che ha dato forza allo Stato laico, che ha prodotto diritto e storia, sembra vacillare di fronte a chi appare più estraneo ai principi di libertà ed eguaglianza. Potrei citare una pluralità di fatti, ed eventi, che sembrano slegati tra di loro ma sono uniti da un robusto filo conduttore. Ne indico alcuni per far riflettere sul loro significato complessivo. Pochi si accorgono che si sta creando un divario crescente tra l’atteggiamento nei confronti delle Chiese tradizionali e quello che si manifesta di fronte a clamorose lesioni della laicità per motivi di multiculturalismo. Le prime riflettono un’antica suscettibilità, quasi la memoria del conflitto, le altre sono fatte di stupore e di silenzi. Se una Chiesa lucra ancora oggi qualche favore giuridico, si reagisce con veemenza perché la laicità dello Stato sarebbe in pericolo. Ma se vengono lanciate fatwe di morte contro letterati, giornalisti o registi, per offese all’Islam, si tratta di episodi che non riguardano lo Stato laico, non costituiscono istigazione all’omicidio. Se una fatwa viene eseguita, l’omicidio è di competenza della cronaca nera.  8 Se in un paese europeo si discute su temi etici, le prese di posizione delle Chiese cristiane sono viste come espressioni di un nuovo temporalismo. Ma se, in Europa o ai suoi confini, avvengono omicidi di donne che rifiutano regole tribali, di derivazione islamica o meno, oppure se il diritto di cambiare religione conduce ancora alla morte o all’emarginazione sociale, si considerano questi eventi come frutto di arretratezza, anziché un salto indietro nella storia della laicità. Nessun grido, nessun manifesto, nessun convegno è dedicato loro. Uno strabismo particolare colpisce la cultura laica quando è in gioco la questione femminile. Mentre gli ordinamenti europei adottano raffinati strumenti per rendere effettiva la parità tra uomini e donne, normativa e pratiche aliene che discriminano le donne, o le umiliano, non suscitano ribellione o ripulsa. Un tempo la cultura laica reagiva con forza, definendole oscurantiste e censorie, alle richieste di non eccedere nella liberalizzazione dei costumi, e di frenare la licenziosità con cui veniva usata la figura femminile. Oggi tace, quasi si nasconde, quando le donne vengono chiuse nel burqa, o si chiedono classi separate nelle scuole, spiagge differenziate, reparti ospedalieri distinti, o gli uomini rifiutano di essere subordinati sul lavoro a dirigenti donne, e via di seguito. In diversi paesi occidentali, dall’Inghilterra al Canada, dalla Germania al Belgio ai paesi del Nord Europa si moltiplicano le proposte di introdurre la scharì’a, o suoi segmenti, senza che suscitino scandalo per la ferita che porterebbero ai diritti umani fondamentali. Soltanto il 24 ottobre corso, con grande ritardo, il Parlamento europeo, ha approvato una risoluzione (peraltro molto positiva) sulla condizione delle donne, sulla illegalità della poligamia, sulla lesione dei diritti fondamentali. Le reazioni islamiche al discorso di Benedetto XVI a Ratisbona sono ormai note, e non mi ci devo soffermare. Ma nessuno ha notato un fatto che, in tema di laicità, ha sovrastato tutti gli altri. Il silenzio che i più rigorosi laicisti hanno mantenuto nel difendere la libertà di parola e di espressione contro minacce, violenze, ricatti. Eppure, per decenni questi gruppi hanno ripetuto sino alla nausea il pensiero di Voltaire per il quale, anche se non si condividono le idee di un altro, si è però pronti a spendere la propria vita perché l’altro possa esprimere quelle idee. Ma dopo Ratisbona, non si è spesa neanche una parola per difendere il diritto del Papa, come di chiunque altro, ad esprimere le proprie valutazione sul rapporto tra fede e violenza. A questi silenzi si aggiunge un fenomeno culturale meno appariscente e più sotterraneo. Il cattolicesimo, e il cristianesimo, sono stati per due secoli letteralmente vivisezionati per criticare e sradicare tutto ciò che sapesse di temporalismo, di anti-modernità, per spezzare la loro alleanza con il potere politico. Sull’intreccio tra altre religioni e sistemi politici dittatoriali, oggi prevale l’afasia nella cultura liberale, in quella marxista o anti-istituzionale. Sembra quasi che la critica illuministica e storicistica che, pur con asprezze a faziosità, ha saputo fustigare, in certa misura ha contribuito a rinnovare, le Chiese delle nostre società, scelga il silenzio di fronte a ben più pesanti congiunzioni tra religione, violenza, dispotismi più o meno teocratici. Tutto ciò apre degli interrogativi sul futuro della laicità in Italia e in Europa; e li apre non su un punto o su un altro, ma sulla spinta propulsiva che la laicità ha esercitato nel realizzare lo Stato moderno. Da questi, e altri episodi, sta scaturendo una sorta di assuefazione rassegnata di fronte alla mutazione genetica della laicità come la conosciamo in Occidente, che può portare ad un esito paradossale: ad una laicità occhiuta e diffidente verso le religioni tradizionali e ad un multiculturalismo disarmato e senza valori verso altre religioni e tradizioni. Sarebbe la fine della neutralità dello Stato. Laicità e multiculturalismo in Italia. Ambiguità e prospettive Per meglio capire i rischi di questa frattura tra laicità e multiculturalismo torniamo per un attimo all’esperienza italiana. L’Italia, ancora una volta, si è dimostrata più di altri Paesi equilibrata e accogliente, non condizionata da pregiudizi etnici o religiosi. L’Italia non ha fatto la guerra al velo, e a nessun simbolo religioso, forse perché di simboli confessionali ne conosce tanti da tanto tempo, dalle cattedrali alle chiese, dai conventi ai battisteri, alle fogge vestiarie di religiosi e religiose d’ogni genere. Quindi non avvertiamo disagio per un modesto velo che peraltro può appellarsi alla libertà di abbigliamento. L’Italia ha predisposto una vasta rete di accoglienza e sostegno sociale per l’immigrazione; sta cercando in tanti modi di soddisfare le esigenze di culto dei soggetti dell’immigrazione; prevede nei contratti di lavoro spazi per pratiche religiose, diversità alimentari, tradizioni come quello del ramadan. Ma questo che può essere considerato legittimamente un nostro vanto, si sta trasformando lentamente in qualcosa d’altro. Si sta trasformando nell’oscuramento di principi e valori essenziali, e nella accettazione di una cultura della separatezza che può colpire la laicità. Parlo della tendenza a rimuovere il crocifisso dalle aule scolastiche, e più in genere, tutta una simbologia e una tradizione di memorie del cristianesimo, riprendendo concezioni laiciste superate. E’ di questi giorni la notizia che nelle scuole, negli alberghi, in luoghi pubblici e privati diminuiscono i presepi e gli alberi di natale per non urtare suscettibilità di persone aderenti ad altri culti. Si realizza così quella che da tempo definisco una partita giocata su due tavoli: quello della laicità che limita o cancella simboli e presenze cristiane, e quello del multiculturalismo che legittima altri simboli o presenze religiose. Sempre in Italia si manifestano i primi sintomi di un cedimento multiculturale che mette a rischio i diritti fondamentali dei cittadini, in primo luogo delle donne. Si accetta qua e là la presenza del burqa, aumentano le voci favorevoli alla poligamia, si introducono in qualche parte forme separate di vita collettiva, nelle scuole, nei luoghi pubblici, si consente l’apertura di scuole islamiche fuori dei canoni previsti dalle nostre leggi. Si tratta di primi sintomi, ma sono parecchi e di significato univoco, e ci dicono che neanche noi siamo immuni dal rischio della perdita di senso della laicità e dei suoi valori. Altra cosa sarebbe se della laicità si offrisse il volto più maturo e accogliente, quello che sa distinguere tra quanto di autenticamente religioso emerge da una tradizione, e quanto appartiene ad arretratezza storica e culturale. Che sa rispettare e tutelare il patrimonio spirituale di ciascuna religione ed etnia, ma sa criticare e respingere ciò che collide con il sistema universale dei diritti umani, con la libertà religiosa, con l’eguaglianza tra uomo e donna. Che sa, cioè, promuovere il meglio della nostra e delle altrui tradizioni, ma si impegna a far arretrare il resto. Sarebbe un’altra cosa, un’altra storia, e potremmo dedicarvi un altro convegno.  Trovare l’uomo capace, e l’investirlo de’ simboli della capacità (culto, o com’altro sì chiami) così ch’egli possa avere agio a governare secondo la propria facoltà, è l’officio di ogni procedura sociale.   A questo punto il Carlyle riscrive ‘worship’ WORTH-ship, per accentuarne l’etimologia da ‘worth,’ valore, compincendosi che la ragione etimologica venga quasi ad attestare la nocessità del fatto che gli sta tanto a cuore.   Per mantenere questa relazione logica Loubatières muta ‘worship’ nell’*équivalent adequat* di *élection* da prima, e poi di *élite*.   ‘Carlyle,’ soggiunge Loubatières, de son pergant et rapide regard, dénude la racine des mots et des choses.’ Carlyle non è punto tenero degli studi etimologici.   Le parole gli si dischiudono ad un tratto come si fendono le roccie allo sguardo diabolico del suo jötun Hymir.  Ci fa ripensare a quello che dice Daudet:   ‘Il y a dans cortains mots que nous employons ordinairement un ressort cachè qui tout à coup les ouvre jusqu’au fond, nous les explique dans leur intimité exceptionelle.’  ‘Puis le mot se replie, reprend sa forme banale et roule insignifiant, usé par l’habitude et le machinal.’Carlo Cardia. Keywords: il laico, filosofia vs. teologia, italia anti-papista, il filosofo italiano deve essere neutro in questione di religione. Verdi – il papa – stati papali – repubblica italiana – liberta di culto – giurisprudenza – religione dell’antica roma – il pontifice nella religione romana antica – credenza religiosa – credenza naturale – credenza super-naturale – il sovra-naturale – il naturale – l’idea di religione nella antica Roma – il mito romano – la mitologia romana antica – il sacro – il pagano – la filosofia della roma antica pagana – la critica dei antichi romani al cristianesimo, il culto del laico, worship of the hero, il culto dell’eroe -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cardia” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Cardia.

 

Grice e Cardone: l’implicatura conversazionale -- La nudita eroica di Napoleone -- Clark Kent; ovvero, sul sovrumano – trasumanar – l’eroe di Vico – hero-worship -- Annunzio e il fascismo -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Palmi). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “Cardone plays with a coinage, sobraumnao, in Dionigio e Luciano – it triggers implicata: what’s wrong with ‘human’? One is reminded of Pico (‘dignita dell’uomo’) and D’Annunzio – it is a problem of linguistic botanising for Italian phiosophers, ‘altreuomo’ being rendered as a translation of Emersen’s ‘plus man’ – and cf. Carlyle – D’Annunzio, who should have known better, prefers ‘suPer,’ when we know that in the ‘volgare,’ the ‘p’ becomes ‘v’, so Cardone has it just right!” Si laurea a Roma. Membro de Partito Socialista Unitario. Fonda "Ebe" e la rivista "Rivista". Fonda “Ricerche filosofiche”. Fonda la Società Filosofica Calabrese. Aattività deontologica per la realizzazione di un'etica sociale della Cultura, in difesa e promozione della civiltà, onde onorarlo per le sue incessanti iniziative anche in favore della fratellanza umana. Altre opere: Saggi di storia, filosofia e diritto; Il relativismo gnoseologico” (Palmi, A.Genovesi & figli ed); Reazione collettiva (Torino, Paravia & C); I filosofi calabresi nella storia della filosofia, con appendice sui sociologi e gli psicologi, Palmi, A.Genovesi & Figli ed., “La filosofia dello Stato” (Città di Castello, Casa Editrice Il Solco); Filosofia della vita, Città di Castello, Casa Editrice Il Solco); Umanismo (Messina); Cristianesimo, liberalismo e comunismo, Palmi, G. Palermo ed); Il Divenire e l'Uomo, Palmi, Ricerche filosofiche, “Civiltà, Palmi, G. Palermo ed); Vita di Gesù secondo il Vangelo incompiuto, Modena-Roma, Guanda Editore); La filosofia di Gesù, Milano, Bocca ed); L'uomo nel cosmo. Storia e prospettive, Palmi, Ricerche filosofiche ed); Bio critica, a cura della sezione bibliografica della Società Filosofica Calabrese, Bologna, Mareggiani ed); Seguito alla Bio critica, a cura della sezione bibliografica della Società Filosofica Calabrese, Cosenza, MIT); La vita come esperienza inutile, Cosenza, Pellegrini); L'ozio la contemplazione il gioco la tecnica l'anarchismo, Roma, Ricerche). Ricerche filosofiche, Torino, Edizioni di Filosofia). Il Divenire” (Padova, Rebellato Editore). Si vis pacem para pacem, Montepulciano, Editori Del Grifo,  Ludi. Bologna, Soc. Tip. Mareggiani ed); I confini dell'anima, Palmi, Ed. Del Fondaco di Cultura); La banca della carità” (Milano, M. Gastaldi ed., 1962 Terapia del tramonto (Milano, M. Gastaldi); Il figlio del dittatore” (Milano, M. Gastaldi); Canti del Sant'Elia, Poggibonsi, Lalli); L'assenza e la mancanza: meditazioni quasi poetiche, Cosenza, MIT). Dialogo sulla solitudine. divenir e vita. Filosofo-poeta. Un inattuale nella sua attualita. i Napoleone non mi sembra per nulla così grande come  il Cromwell. Le sue enormi vittorie, che s’ estesero A 1 «Napoleone fu l'idolo della comune degli   " 3 i gli nomini, perchè  a le qualità e le facoltà degli Cn OI k Ni  Chi co: i 0 fesso moderno; auche quand'è all'apice della fortuna;  “gli aleggia dentro lo stesso spirito che troviamo nei giornali del tempo.    da 7  si limitò alla piccola Inghilte  che gli alti trampoli ti  la statura dell'uomo per essi  lui sincerità parl  d'una specie molto inferiore: NOn quel suo  silenzioso. Per 1  L'universo; NOn il « cammino co  lo chiamava;   ‘pensiero, il valore, che S1 co   latenti, © 8° accendono poi quasi amm Napoleone vive in un’ epoca che non avera più  este: ;  fede in Dio; che considera non-entità jl significato ; a  d’ogni silenzio, d'ogni qualità latente: non PIù sulla |. È  Bibbia puritan& aveva egli & fondarsi, ì  scettiche Enciclopedie. Eppure,  tanto ei giunse- ed  meritorio L essere arrivato così lontano. Tl suo carattere :  compatto, pronto ed articolato, in ogni Senso, è in sè -  stesso piccolo; forse, a paragone i quello del nostro i  grande Cromwell, caotico ed inarticolato. Non è « muto  profeta che si sforza di parlare.; > ha piuttosto in sè  un portentoso miscuglio di ciarlataneria ! Il concetto  dell’ Hume, d'una fanatica ipocrisia, Con quanto è in esso  di vero, potrà applicarsi molto meglio Napoleone che  non s’ applicasse al Cromwell,  Maometto od ai loro  simili, per 1 quali realmente, preso & tutto rigore, conte-  neva a mala pena alcuna stilla di verità. Sin da prim-  cipio, appare in quest’ uomo un elemento di riprovevole  ambizione, che alla fine lo vince,  trascina lui e l’opera  sua in ruma.  a SE vi be divenne motto prover=  era necessario di Ei a Se ARen  alto il coraggio de’ DARE bisognava tenere  aggio de’ suol uomini e così  plesso, non ci son ; via. Fio  Non è un santo, mon è un cappuccino, per Usare la    nemmeno un eroe, nell'alto signi  \ x guificato d  al capo VI: Napoleone o l' uomo di pagata pa    tutta 1 Europa, mentre il e: o di &  da  espressione sua; È ;  » (Emerson, op. cita È    dedi  $ A.  prrura SEST è  i eglio, lungo    e stato ID o  resse Ind  so, se non at i  oleone ste55° ;  atti, ba alcun proposito che sì  ; :orno; ch'è destinato  e KI x .  ‘no vantaggio può mal ve-    anl a  dolo one? Le menzogne SI sco-  ul a ruinos@ La prossima  agi ‘ near   È e prestar fe al bugiardo; quand an  +1 della più alta impor prono, © se  nessuno VOST  Da uand' anche s1a    che dica il vero» È ;l vecchio grido: < Al   tei venga creduto. A  cr È Una bugia è nulla; al nulla, nom Potere  lupo ‘> a farete, e avrete    vare qualch - alla fine, null    er giunta rimess Y x  È Dare verain Napoleone una certa sincerità ; anche  è)    nella insincerità, bisogna distinguere quanto è super:  ficiale da quanto è fondamentale. A traverso & que  ste sue macchinazioni esteriori, & queste ciarlatanerie,  ch''erano molte e riprovevolissime, vediamo pure nel-   Jla realtà, istintivo e impossi-    l'uomo un certo senso de )  bile a sradicare; vediamo ch' el Sl fondò sul fatto.... SI  n lui l'istinto di na-    tanto ch’ ebbe alcun fondamento. I  tura è superiore alla cultura. Il Bourrienne ' racconta  che i suoi savants, in quel viaggio d’ Egitto, s' affanna=  vano una sera a dimostrare che non ci può essere Dio.  Erano riusciti a provarlo, a loro grande soddisfazione,  con ogni maniera di logica. Napoleone, guardando su,  alle stelle, risponde : «La dimostrazione è molto inge-   gnosa, messieurs ; ma chi ha fatto tutto ciò? » La dot-   trina atea gli passa sopra come un’ ondata ed egli   rimane al cospetto del grande fatto: « Chi f ti   ci09 > Similm Ì | fece utto  ente nella pratica: come 0   possa essere grande e trionfare i gni.u9Maro   onfare in questo mondo, egli 1 Mémoires de Mi de Rourri. i  Villemarest, Paris, chez Tadrocat, lui-meme, rédigéa par Mi de    Fauyol  Fauvolot do Bonrrionna, amico d'infanzia e segretario    timo di Napoleone, — colui  MA i, colui cho formulò, d'accordo co  diem nl DE Oi orrori contenuti ola COLI REA  to I ‘ourrienne et nen erreura volontaires dI RT  fontraverso tuttii viluppi, il nocciolo pra    vede,  de direttamente.!  tione; ed a quello ten 9 2 bj pei  driscalco del suo palazzo delle Tuileries gli    e tappezzerie, dimostrandogli ‘con    me fossero magnifiche, e DEF giunta @ He,  mercato; Napoleone, Per tutta risposta, hiese Sa  Ni forbici, mozzò una napPInA dl oro dele o  finestra, se la messe in tasca, e tirò via. Qualche Hai :  dopo, la cavò fuori al momento buono, gran È SE  rore del suo fornitore: non era Oro, ma. orpello! ; no-  tevole come anche a Sant' Elena, sempre; sino & #  ultimi giorni, egli insista sul pratico, sul reale: < A che  parlare e lamentare? & che, sopra tutto, leticare? Non  ‘gi viene con ciò ad alcun risultato; nulla si riesce,  a far nulla. E se nulla potete fare; tacete! > Parla  ‘spesso così a’ suoi poveri seguaci malcontenti ; è come  una forza silenziosa tramezzo alle loro morbose querele. A  E per conseguenza, non possiamo dire che fosse in n   lui pure una fede genuina, Der quant’ era possibile? Ve- i  deva in questa nuova enorme democrazia, che s’ affer- n  mava nella rivoluzione francese, un fatto che non sì può -  sopprimere, un fatto che il mondo intero, con tutte le  sue vecchie forze e le instituzioni, non può metter da  parte: di ciò egli aveva il vero intuito, e quell’ intuito  trascinava seco la sua coscienza ed il suo entusiasmo :  era la sua fede. Forse che non ne interpetrò bene  l’oscura portata ? La carriòre ouverte auv talents — gli  strumenti & chi sa maneggiarli: quest’ è effettivamente  la verità, tutta la verità anzi, e comprende tutto il si- :  bo dell riluzione fece 0 i a  ix Ò n ‘ »  al ieri i dda  DE nidi pae CE cedono innanzi a quest'uomo Dire ecm  vr i rat dp  degli soci dl diplomati e vugle cha ogni ir  facoltà di RIGA RARI HRolnio: egoista, prudente, psn se :  ale parvenza altrùi, uè da e sntisinne. 1a Siocniae da alcuna @  re, da nessuna fretta. » (Emerson, loco cit, sì VI meg SaIoaaai Si ù Napoleone nel suo primo periodo sie to  “vero democratico ; nondimeno, Per sua natura, QI  ati ita mili sapeva che Ja democrazia,    in quanto mai fosse verità, non poteva essere: RIO  ed odiava cordialmente P'anarchia. T1 20 giugno 5  seduto col Bourrienne in un caflè, mentre la folla Diso,  schiamazzando, Napoleone esprime il più DIOCr, a 3 i-  sprezzo per le antorità che non reprimono que! dio  dine. Il 10 agosto sì meraviglia che nessuno prenda 1  o di que’ poveri Svizzeri : vincerebbero Se uves:  dante. Tanta fede nella democrazia, eP7  comand    sero un coman I I  pure tant! odio dell’ anarchia sostengono apoleone IM  illanti campagne    grande Opera. Nelle br IO]  d'Italia, via via sino alla pace di Léoben,' 81 direbbe  che il suo ideale sia questo: fatta trionfare la rivoluzione francese; affermarla contro questi simulacri aus  striaci che 0Sano dirla, un simulacro! Nondimeno,  egli sente pure; ed ha diritto di sentire, quanto neces?  siria sia una forte autorità; e come senz) essa l’opera  della rivoluzione non possa prosperare nè durare. Fre-  nare quella granda rivoluzione devastatrice, che divorava  sè stessa ; domarla così, che, raggiunto il suo intrinseco  scopo, essa possa divenire organica, capace di vivere tra  gli altri organismi, tra le altre cose formate, e non sol-  tanto quale opera di devastazione, di distruzione : non  mirava egliin parte a questo come alla vera mèta della  sua vita? non s'ingegnò, anzi, effettivamente, di far  IA A traverso Wagram ed Austerlitz, a traverso  Re.  SOT aan Hg per osare ed operare, € s'inalzò  ica IRE re. Tutti gli uomini videro  sione Cad Ro ioni soldati solevano dire  ai dala avvocati di Parigi, tutti  ‘Bisogna che mettiamo là il Pan Diga  ‘andarono, e lo messe ni nostro Petit Caporal!> E  S ro là; essi, e tutta la Trancia in    tutta la sua  DAI  massa E poi il consolato; 1° impero; la vittoria su tutta  pEuropa {.. È abbastanza naturale che il povero luogo-    ” n 9  tenente del reggimento La Fère, potesse apparire ai pro-  i ‘n erande fra quanti nomini fossero da 56    sto punto; quel fatale elem nto di ciarla-  0. Rinnegando la sua vel   chia fede nei fatti, cOn jò a credere nelle parvenze,  brigò per imparentarsì con le dinastie austriache, col  papati, con le vecchie false feudalità, che pure un tempo  gli apparivano chiaramente false; pensò & fondare una  e così via — come se la enorme   mirasse che @    dinastia Sua  rivoluzione francese non    era dunque € dannato a  zogna;> è terribile, m®    il vero dal falso quando v  ventosa ammenda, questa, che 1 uomo paghi per avere    ceduto alla infedeltà del cuore. La falsa ambizione ego  stica era divenuta ora il suo dio: una volta scesi sino  all’inganno di sè stessi, tutti gli altri inganni seguono  naturalmente, € si cade sempre più e più basso. In quale  gretta e rappezzata miseria, in quale mascherata tea-  trale di manti di carta e d'orpello, aveva ravvolta que-  st'uomO la propria grande realtà, immaginando cor ciò  di farla più reale! E quel vacuo Concordato col papa;  che pretende ristabilire il cattolicismo mentr' egli stesso  1 riconosce ch è il metodo di estirparlo, la vaccine  religioni e quelle cerimonie d’incoronazione, quelle con-  È sacrazioni nella chiesa di Notre-Dame per mezzo della  Ai. vecchia chimera italiana — « cui nulla mancava, > come  disse l’Augereau,' ca completarne la pompa, Se non'quel  mezzo milione d’uomini, morti per far finire tutto ciò!...> +  | RIA Ae di Cromwell fu con la spada e con la —  ja, e dobbiamo dirla genuinamente vera. La spada    \aneria prese  Da or Francesco Auger at   Drama EETUIGIO), ANA onu, duca di Castiglione, maresciallo e pari di |  ‘che fu governatore a Berlino nel 1818, è difese Tione nel 1814    18 fruttidoro (LT9T); © ne ESTA. i  ETTURA SES  ; lui senz alcuna chi-  blemi del purttatni  Aveva usato en-  ; I  a et pretendev® ora difenderle!  bagliò credette troppo  vide nell'uomo    di -]*   i ta facilità...  della fame © di questa 12  Siglo ta (Lor che edificasse sulle nubi, e:  SAR ina, e di arve dal mondo?    i ni Sì  ‘gua casa IN confusa rund; | i DO  art in ciascuno di noi, esiste quest SE.  e potrebbe svilupparsi ove la tenti    ciarlataneria, ;  fosse forte abbastanza. € on    Ma il suo sviluppo; invero; |  come ingrediente riconoscibil e  ie DE: Sa a di Napoleone, &  stessa piccina. Che fu dunque 1 opere SI  i lpore? Uno sprazzo come di po   malgrado di tanto sca p 3 Re  vere da fucile largamente sparsa; Una fiamma t)   di eriche secche. Per un'ora, | universo intero sembra  avvolto dal fumo e dalle fiamme; ma per un' ora sol-  tanto. Poi svanisce, ed ecco riapparire Vl umiverso CON  le sue vecchie montagne ed i vecchi fiumi, con le stelle  nell'alto e giù sotto il benefico suolo.   Il duca di Weimar diceva sempre agli amici di farsi  animo, chè questo Napoleonismo era ingiusto, era men-  zogna, e non poteva durare. La teoria è vera. Più questo  Napoleone calpestava il mondo, tenendolo tirannicamente   + oppresso, più fiera sarebbe un giorno la reazione del  mondo contro di lui. L' ingiustizia si ripaga da sè, e con  uno spaventevole interesse composto. Non so davvero  a in dina pro alt OG  Dio si ha risersata jar lui Ladino Boo oi SA TmaSoni ne  PESI Lira si, Sraianol: cho vuol gio del HIFEMENE   la la mila cl 1 ila son fumi tie  tnio parere non durabile perchè LARA RE LIE ICINLI  cod’ artiglieria 0 veder affogare il suo reg-    jelior pal 7 ; cite  rimento migliore, anzichè fucilare quel povero libraio  {edesco palm!? Fu un'aperta ingiustizia, una, tirannia,    un assassinio, che nessun uomo, la dipinga pure con uno  strato di colore alto un dito, potrà mai far apparire  altrimenti. Questa ed altre simili ingiustizie s' impres?  sero profonde nei cuori; un fuoco represso balenava  dagli occhi degli uomini quando vi ripensavano.... aspet-  tando il giorno! Ed il giorno venne: € la Germania gli  si sollevò d’ intorno. — L'opera di Napoleone sl ridurrà   a lungo andare & quanto egli compì giustamente, 2 quanto  la natura sancirà con le sue leggi, a quanto di realtà  era in lui; ® tanto, e nulla più. Il resto fu tutto fumo  e sciupio. La carrière ouverte Aux talents: questo grande  messaggio di verità, che ha ancora da articolarsi e da  adempiersi dappertutto, ei lo lasciò in uno stato affatto  inarticolato. Egli fu un grande schema, un abbozzo, non  mai completato: ed invero, forse che il grand’ uomo è  mai altro? Ma egli, ahimè, rimase in uno stato tr0ppo  rudimentale |...   È quasi tragico il riflettere alle sue opinioni sul  mondo, quali le esprime là, a Sant'Elena. Sembra pro-  vare la più sincera meraviglia che tutto sia andato &  quel modo: ch’ egli sia stato gettato là, sulla rupe, e  "che il mondo ruoti ancora sul suo asse. La Francia. è   ‘grande, anzi è sola grande; ed in fondo Napoleone è la  Francia. La stessa Inghilterra, egli dice, non è per na-  ura che un'appendice della Francia; < è per la Francia  n'altra isola d’Oleron. >» Così era per natura, per l ‘Non può comprendere, non sa concepire che la realtà  «ela confederazione del Reno veniva formandosi, la polizia scoperse al Sci librai furono arrestati )  ono per avervi avuto parte e Napol   Sa commissiono militare. Quattro degli Roca LARE   oro provincie: due, Schiderer e Palm, condannati a    mi % 4  to Napoloone fece grazia, una il libraio Palm di Norimberga vi atura di Napoleone. Guardate, infatti : ECCOMI QUI da    i  1 Nel 1806, mentre l’ esercito francese occupava ancora la Germania,    cuni documenti, che rivelavano i piani d'un comitato segreto d'insurre- e  LEmTURÀ de mma; che la Francia   TR da ci c  jeposto al suo P o, Ji non S1a la Francia.  3 ‘n a credere ciù    andezza, © dI DI ipbia i  nesta “iano, COSÌ compatta, così   ana, ì  g'è involuta; s'è quasi    sua N° 0  ante un temp: e a di fanfaronnadi    da tmosfer:  torbida n'ai osto & lasciarsi calpe:  LS contastare come pla  si tà alla Francia ed a sè;  0A   it A mire! Napoleone 7 1 costene  Ma, ahimè, OF he giov Le,  ui ; e natura, anch’ ess% si dia  Essendosi UNA volta staccato 1) st e)   scamp nel vuoto; è Vv ebbe per  o di rado tocco ad un uomo sorte tanto desolata:  e dovette morire; povero Napoleone !..    mento troppo presto sciupato, sino &  "& ecco il nostro ultimo eroe!   A si  er * *  Sa Tiltimo in un doppio significato, poichè debbono con    ‘]ui terminare queste nostre peregrinazioni a traverso  ‘tempi e luoghi così diversi, cercando, studiando gli eroi.  UR ME ne rinoresce: era un piacere per me in quest’ occu:  | pazione, sebbene misto a molta pena. È un grande s0g=  5 molto grave, molto vasto, questo che io, appunto  darmi tropp'aria di gravità, ho chiamato cult@  Esso penetra profondo nelle secrete vie del-  ‘e ne’ più vitali interessi di questo mondo;  tei ge bro ben degno di svolgimento. In sei  Invece che sei giorni, avremmo potuto far meglio.  lo: chi sa se nemmeno vi sono riu-  per penetrarvi un poco, dovetti  Dn DIRE Tronno spesso, con bru-  uttate là isolate, senza commento, ho ‘cortese benevolenza, non voglio ora parlare.  per saviezza e leggiadria, ha ascoltato pazient  pozze parole. Sentitamente, cordialmente, vi rendo    zie, ed a tutti dico: Dio sia con voil  Precisely a century and a year after this of Puritanism had  got itself hushed-up into decent composure, and its results made  smooth, in 1688, there broke-out a far deeper explosion, much  more difficult to hush-up, known to all mortals, and like to be  long known, by the name of French Revolution. It is properly  the third and final act of Protestantism ; the explosive confused  return of mankind to Reality and Fact, now that they were  perishing of Semblance and Sham. We call our English Puri-  tanism the second act : “Well then, the Bible is true ; let ils  go by the Bible 1 ” “ In Church,” said Luther ; “ In Church   and State,” said Cromwell, “let us go by what actually God’s  Truth.” Men have to return to reality ; they cannot live on  semblance. The French Revolution, or third act, we may well  call the final one ; for lower than that savage Sansculottism men  cannot go. They stand there on the nakedest haggard Fact,  undeniable in all seasons and circumstances ; and may and  must begin again confidently to build-up from that. The French  explosion, like the English one, got its King, — who had no  Notary parchment to show for himself. We have still to glance  for a moment at Napoleon, our second modern King.   Napoleon does by no means seem to me so great a man as  Cromwell. His enormous victories which reached over all  Europe, while Cromwell abode mainly in our little England,  are but as the high stilts on which the man is seen standing ;  the stature of the man is not altered thereby. I find in him  no such sincerity as in Cromwell ; only a far inferior sort. No  silent walking, through long years, with the Awful Unnamable  of this Universe; ‘walking with God," as he called it; and  faith and strength in that alone : latent thought and valour,  content to lie latent, then burst out as in blaze of Heaven’s  /lightning 1 Napoleon lived in an age when God was no longer  believed ; the meaning of all Silence, Latency, was thought to  'be Nonentity : he had to begin not out of the Puritan Bible,  but out of poor Sceptical EncyclopMies, This was the length  the man carried it. Meritorious to get so far. His compact,  prompt, everyway articulate character is in itself perhaps small,  compared with our great chaotic /^articulate Cromwell’s. In-  stead of 'dumb Prophet struggling to speak,' we have a por-  tentous mixture of the Quack withal I Hume’s notion of the Fanatic-Hypocrite, with such truth as it has, will apply much  better to Napoleon than it did to Cromwell, to Mahomet or the  like, — where indeed taken strictly it has hardly any truth at  all. An element of blamable ambition shows itself, from the  first, in this man ; gets the victory over him at last, and in-  volves him and his work in ruin.   * False as a bulletin’ became a proverb in Napoleon’s time.  He makes what excuse he could for it : that it was necessary  to mislead the enemy, to keep-up his own men’s courage, and  so forth. On the whole, there are no excuses. A man in no  case has liberty to tell lies. It had been, in the long-run, better  for Napoleon too if he had not told any. In fact, if a man  have any purpose reaching beyond the hour and day, meant to  be found extant next day, what good can it ever be to promul-  gate lies ? The lies are found-out ; ruinous penalty is exacted  for them. No man will believe the liar next time even when  he speaks truth, when it is of the last importance that he be  believed. The old cry of wolf 1 — K Lie is nMhing ; you can-  not of nothing make something ; you make nothing at last, and  lose your labour into the bargain.   Yet Napoleon had a sincerity; we are to distinguish be-  tween what is superficial and what is fundamental in insin-  cerity. Across these outer manceuverings and quackeries of  his, which were many and most bian>able, let us discern withal  that the man had a certain instinctive ineradicable feeling for  reality ; and did base himself upon fact, so long as he had any  basis. He has an instinct of Nature better than his culture  was. His savans, Bourrienne tells us, in that voyage to Egypt  were one evening busily occupied arguing that there could be  no God. They had proved it, to their satisfaction, by all man-  ner of logic. Napoleon looking up into the stars, answers,  “Very ingenious. Messieurs ; but who made all that?” The  Atheistic logic runs-off from him like water ; the great Fact  stares him in the face : “ Who made all that ?” So too in  Practice : he, as every man that can be great, or have victory  in this world, sees, through all entanglements, the practical  heart of the matter ; drives straight towards that. “N^en the  steward of his Tuileries Palace was exhibiting the new uphol-  stery, with praises, and demonstration how glorious it was, and how cheap withal, Napoleon, making little answer, asked for a  pair of scissors, dipt one of the gold tassels from a window-  curtain, put it in his pocket, and walked on. Some days after-  wards, he produced it at the right moment, to the horror of his  upholstery functionary ; it was not gold but tinsel I In Saint  Helena, it is notable how he still, to his last days, insists on the  practical, the real. Why talk and complain ; above all, why  quarrel with one another ? There is no result in it ; it comes  to nothing that one can do. Say nothing, if one can do no-  thing I” He speaks often so, to his poor discontented follow-  ers ; he is like a piece of silent strength in the middle of their  morbid querulousness there.   And accordingly was there not what we can call a faith in  him, genuine so far as it went ? That this new enormous De-  mocracy asserting itself here in the French Revolution is an  insuppressible Fact, which the whole world, with its old forces  and institutions, cannot put down ; this was a true insight of  his, and took his conscience and enthusiasm along with it, — a  faith. And did he not interpret the dim purport of it well ?   * La carriers ouverte aux ialens^ The implements to him who  “ran handle them ;* this actually is the truth, and even the whole  truth ; it includes whatever the French Revolution, or any Re-  volution, could mean. Napoleon, in his first period, was a true  Democrat. And yet by the nature of him, fostered too by his  military trade, he knew that Democracy, if it were a true thing  at all, could not be an anarchy : the man had a heart-hatred  for anarchy. On that Twentieth of June (1792), Bourrienne  and he sat in a coffee-house, as the mob rolled by : Napoleon  expresses the deepest contempt for persons in authority that  they do not restrain this rabble. On the Tenth of August he  wonders why there is no man to command these poor Swiss ;  they would conquer if there were. Such a faith in Democracy,  yet hatred of anarchy, it is that carries Napoleon through  all his great work. Through his brilliant Italian Campaigns,  onwards to the Peace of Leoben, one would say, his inspir-  ation is ; ‘ Triumph to the French Revolution ; assertion of   * it against these Austrian Simulacra that pretend to call it  ‘ a Simulacrum 1’ Withal, however, he feels, and has a right  to feel, how necessary a strong Authority is ; how the Revolution cannot prosper or last without such. To bridleMn that  great devouring, self-devouring French Revolution ; to tameit,  so that its intrinsic purpose can be made good, that it may be-  come organic, and be able to live among other organisms and  formed things, not as a wasting destruction alone : is not this  still what he partly aimed at, as the true purport of his life ;  nay what he actually managed to do ? Through Wagrams,  Austerlitzes ; triumph after triumph, — he triumphed so far.  There was an eye to see in this man, a soul to dare and do.  He rose naturally to be the King. All men saw that he was  such. The common soldiers used to say on the march : “ These  babbling Avocats, up at Paris ; all talk and no work ! What  wonder it runs all wrong ? We shall have to go and put our  Petit Caporal there I” They went, and put him there ; they  and France at large. Chief-consulship, Emperorship, victory  over Europe ; — till the poor Lieutenant of La Fire, not unna-  turally, might seem to himself the greatest of all men that had  been in the world for some ages.   But at this point, I think, the fatal charlatan-element got  the upper hand. He apostatised from his old faith in Facts,  took to believing in Semblances ; strove to connect himself  with Austrian Dynasties, Popedoms, with the old false Feud-  alities which he once saw clearly to be false ; — considered that  he would found “ his Dynasty” and so forth ; that the enormous  French Revolution meant only that ! The man was ‘given-up ^  to strong delusion, that he should believe a lie a fearful but j  most sure thing. did not knowJrue from false no\y.wheiLj  he looked at them, — the fearfulest penalty a man pays for yielding .  to untruth of heart. Self and false ambition had now become ^  his god : j^^deception once yielded to, all other deceptions  follow naturally more and more. What a paltry patchwork of  theatrical paper-mantles, tinsel and mummery, had this man  wrapt his own great reality in, thinking to make it more real  thereby ! His hollow ^-Concordat, pretending to be a re-  establishment of Catholicism, felt by himself to be the method  of extirpating it, ^fa vaccine de la religion his ceremonial  Coronations, consecrations by the old Italian Chimera in Notre-  Dame, — “wanting nothing to complete the pomp of it,” as  Augereau said, “nothing but the half-million of men who had died to put an end to all that” ! Cromwell’s Inauguration was  by the Sword and Bible ; what we must call a genuinely  one. Sword and Bible were borne before him, without any chi-  mera : were not these the’’ r^a/ emblems of Puritanism ; its true  decoration and insignia ? It had used them both in a very  real manner, and pretended to stand by them now 1 But this  poor Napoleon mistook : he believed too much in the Dup^~  ability of men ; saw no fact deeper in man than Hunger and  this 1 He was mistaken. Like a man that should build upon  cloud ; his house and he fall down in confused wreck, and de-  part out of the world.   Alas, in all of us this charlatan-element exists ; and might  be developed, were the temptation strong enough. ‘ Lead us  not into temptation’ I But it is fatal, I say, that it be developed.  The thing into which it enters as a cognisable ingredient is  doomed to be altogether transitory; and, however huge it may  look, is in itself small. Napoleon’s working, accordingly, what  was it with all the noise it made ? A flash as of gunpowder  wide-spread ; a blazing-up as of dry heath. For an hour the  whole Universe seems wrapt in smoke and flame ; but only  ^for an hour. It goes out : the Universe with its old mountains  and streams, its stars above and kind soil beneath, is still there.   The Duke of Weimar told his friends always, To be of  courage ; this Napoleonism was unjust^ a falsehood, and could  not last. It is true dqctrine. The heavier this Napoleon tram-  pled on the world, holding it tyrannously down, the fiercer would  the world’s recoil against him be, one day. Injustice pays jt-  self with frightful compound-interest. I am not sure but he  had better have lost his best park of artillery, or had his best  regiment drowned in the sea, than shot that poor German  Bookseller, Palm I It was a palpable tyrannous murderous  injustice, which no man, let him paint an inch thick, could  make-out to be other. It burnt deep into the hearts of men,  it and the like of it ; suppressed fire flashed in the eyes of  men, as they thought of it, — ^waiting their day 1 Which day  came : Germany rose round him. — ^What Napoleon did will in  the long-run amount to what he did justly j what Nature with  her laws will sanction. To what of reality was in him; to that  and nothing more. The rest was all smoke and waste. La  carri^re ouverte aux talens : that great true Message, which  has yet to articulate and fulfil itself everywhere, he left in a  most inarticulate state. He was a great Sbatiche, a rude-  draught never completed ; as indeed what great man is other ?  Left in too rude a state, alas 1   His notions of the world, as he expresses them there at St.  Helena, are almost tragical to consider. He seems to feel the  most unaffected surprise that it has all gone so ; that he is  flung-out on the rock here, and the World is still moving on  its axis. France is great, and all-great ; and at bottom, he is  France. England itself, he says, is by Nature only an ap-  pendage of France ; “another Isle of Oleron to France.” So  it was by Nature, by Napoleon-Nature ; and yet look how in  fact — Here am I I He cannot understand it : inconceivable  that the reality has not corresponded to his program of it ;  that France was not all-great, that he was not France. ‘Strong  delusion,’ that he should believe the thing to be which is not I  The compact, clear- seeing, decisive Italian nature of him,  strong, genuine, which he once had, has enveloped itself, half-  dissolved itself, in a turbid atmosphere of French fanfaronade.  The world was not disposed to be trodden-down underfoot ; to  be bound into masses, and built together, as he liked, for a  pedestal to France and him : the world had quite other pur-  poses in view! Napoleon's astonishment is extreme. But alas,  what help now ? He had gone that way of his ; and Nature  also had gone her way. Having once parted with Reality, he  tumbles helpless in Vacuity; no rescue for him. He had to  sink there, mournfully as man seldom did ; and break his great  heart, and die, — this poor Napoleon ; a great implement too  soon wasted, till it was useless : our last Great Man I   Our last, in a double sense. For here finally these wide  roamings of ours through so many times and places, in search  and study of Heroes, are to terminate. I am sorry for it: there  was pleasure for me in this business, if also much pain. It is  a great subject, and a most grave and wide one, this which,  not to be too grave about it, I have named He?'o-worship. It  enters deeply, as I think, into the secret of Mankind’s ways and  vitalest interests in this world, and is well worth explaining at present. With six months, instead of six days, we might have  done better. I promised to break-ground on it ; I know not  whether I have even managed to do that. I have had to tear  it up in the rudest manner in order to get into it at all.  Often enough, with these abrupt utterances thrown-out iso-  lated, unexplained, has your tolerance been put to the trial.  Tolerance, patient candour, all-hoping favour and kindness,  which I will not speak of at present. The accomplished and  distinguished, the beautiful, the wise, something of what is best  in England, have listened patiently to my rude words. With  many feelings, I heartily thank you all ; and say, Good be with  you all ! Domenico Cardone. Domenico Antonio Cardone. Keywords: Clark Kent; ovvero, sul sovrumano, “Ricerche filosofiche”; futilitarianism, inutilitarianism, Grice, “The philosophy of life,” Grice, “Philosophy of life”, essere e divenire – il sovraumano, Nietzsche, Bergson, D’Annunzio, sobra-uomo, super-uomo. Jesus as a philosopher! Tommaso Carlyle, Il culto degl’eroi – culto, worth-ship, valore, Napoleone, natura italiana -- -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cardone” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Cardone.

 

Grice e Carifi: l’implicatura conversazionale dell’ablativi relativi – Roman implicata -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Pistoia). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I would call Carifi a poet rather than a philosopher! He did indeed philosophise ‘in difesa della filosofia,’ but that  should read of ‘his’ ‘filosofia,’ which he sees as an elaboration on death! My favourite are his ‘lezioni’ di filosofia and his ‘ablativo assoluto,’ something English lacks, but ‘deo volente’ doesn’t!” --  Studia sotto Bigongiari, tra i maggiori esponenti dell'ermetismo fiorentino,  profondamente influenzato dalle voci liriche di Rilke e Trakl, su cui si è esercitato anche come traduttore, oltre a essere poeta, svolge l'attività di critico letterario e filosofico. Autore de “Il segreto”. Al fianco degli studi filosofici, vi sono quelli di psicoanalisi a Milano. Mentre nelle liriche si risente la dizione rilkiana e emerge il debito verso Heidegger, nei componimenti successivi questi motivi vengono amalgamati a nuove istanze della sensibilità. In particolare dopo la dura prova della malattia, l'incidente, come lui chiama l'ictus da cui è stato colpito, i suoi versi abbracciano una nuova forma di rarefazione dissolvente in cui l'essere, attraversato dal dolore, cerca una via estrema di comunicazione per ricongiungersi al mondo.  Luoghi e figure dell'anima. Due sono i temi che incardinano la sua poetica: la madre e il legame con la città natale, Pistoia, che di quel rapporto affettivo è l'emanazione, entrambi raccolti filosoficamente nel rimando all'infanzia, epoca originaria dei sensi, periodo d'elezione per l'anima ma anche ingrato, di cui si fatica a cogliere l'essenza se non a patto di una discesa spossante. Ora è l'attimo che attende, è l'istante che prepara i tempi a un altro istante dove si deve attendere l'infanzia, quella bastarda che era là, tragico volto dei bambini. La madre, dolorosa musa, abbandonata dal marito quando il bambino aveva appena tre anni, ha lungamente accompagnato e sorretto la voce del figlio. La sua scomparsa è una perdita incolmabile nella vita e nel suo immaginario. La città rappresenta un caldo grembo, dove tutto rimanda a quel legame dissolto ma anche alle tante amicizie e perfino a quegli spiriti gentili di artisti e letterati che continuano ad aggirarsi, figure di sogno, nelle strette strade del centro. Bigongiari era di Pistoia. Era figlio del capostazione e abitava in Via del Vento, accanto a Manzini. Nei miei viaggi onirici li vedo tutti e due, Bigongiari e Manzini, camminare tra Via del Vento e Via Verdi, in silenzio perché parlano una lingua muta, una lingua del deserto che solo i poeti e i mistici capiscono. Nei suoi versi rivive di continuo la devozione spirituale per il luogo, la cui essenza poetica sta nell'intreccio di memorie che lo abitano, un passato con cui si misura in uno stato di incerta beatitudine tra sogno e veglia. Nasco filosofo con una grande tensione verso la poesia. Una tensione, la mia, che si è poi sviluppata fino a rendermi filosofo, ma soprattutto poeta. La filosofia arriva fino ad un certo punto, da quel punto in poi c’è la poesia. La poesia parla del cielo, delle foreste degli uomini, fa un salto verso la verità. Abbandona il linguaggio su cui, bene o male, la filosofia regge e sceglie un linguaggio pre-sentativo'', il linguaggio della presenza.  La sua ricerca è la risposta alle varie vicende dell’uomo. L’uomo colma e coglie sé stesso attraverso il percorso del lume, l’apertura alla conoscenza. L’uomo mite che miete la luce, capace di cuore della verità, che non rinuncia al pensiero della responsabilità e della parola, è l’uomo C.. Non bisogna accostarsi a lui con il timore di leggere un incomprensibile tomo di filosofia analitica alla teoria dell’implicatura di Grice, sia pur condividendo con lui che non esistono concetti semplici, né concetti già pronti, perché la filosofia analitica di Grice è, Grice morto, in divenire, è in movimento. Un sottile ma preciso filo conduttore che caratterizza la raccolta delle sue lunghe e silenziose riflessioni è la pratica dell’intensità, destini che si rivelano fino in fondo. Esercita il bello della profondità portandola, a tutti, sul piano conoscitivo della conversazione. Le sue opere sono cammini culturali e spirituali dove l’uomo ed il valore sono all’unisono un giro concentrico di piaceri.  La conversazione è un abisso che, in un’intima solidarietà, unisce il moto interiore all’estetica dell’espressione, e la conversazione diviene il veicolo principale dove il silenzio meditativo e contemplativo si colora di una dimensione inter-oggettiva. La conoscenza dell'altro.L'uomo del pensiero: Roberto Edizione Polistampa, Firenze. Poesia e filosofia convivono e si alternano nella sua vasta produzione, tra i maggiori autori contemporanei. E conosciuto per i testi filosofici e per l’intensa attività poetica, influenzata, a partire dagli anni Ottanta, dall’amicizia con Bigongiari; ma anche per le traduzioni in italiano di Hesse, Rousseau, Racine, Bataille, Trakl e Weil. La poesia è una stretta di mano su «Naturart», rivista di cultura, Giorgio Tesi Editrice»  Scopre il dolore con la perdita della madre che diventa la sua ossessione poetica, descritta come un pozzo in cui scendere. Le sue due antologie poetiche (Infanzia; Nel ferro dei balocchi), pur seguendo percorsi diversi, si ergono entrambe su due abissi: l'infanzia personale, ma al contempo quella di intere generazioni europee, segnate da un legame indissolubile. Archivio Festival Letteratura, Palazzo Ducale, Mantova. È una poesia in cui la forte componente autobiografica trasfigura il vissuto, in quanto ciò che si racconta assume valore paradigmatico: situazioni ed episodi emblematici in cui l’uomo incontra l’assoluto. Incontro su «VIinforma», rivista culturale della Banca di credito coooperativo di S. Pietro in Vincio»  «La raccolta Madre, proprio perché torna su un tema già fortemente praticato, consente di guardare al complessivo percorso poetico di Carifi potendo distinguere in esso un momento di passaggio e di mutamento, determinato prima dall’avvicinamento al buddismo, poi dalla malattia. Giuseppe Grattacaso, Supplica alla madre su «Succedeoggi» Cultura nell’informazione quotidiana»  Opere Raccolte poetiche Simulacri (Forum/Quinta Generazione, Forlì); Infanzia (Società di Poesia, Milano, rist. Raffaelli, Rimini ); L'obbedienza (Crocetti, Milano); Occidente (Crocetti, Milano); Amore e destino (Crocetti, Milano); Poesie (I Quaderni del Battello Ebbro, Porretta Terme); Casa nell'ombra (Almanacco Mondadori, Milano); Il Figlio (Jaca Book, Milano); Amore d'autunno (Guanda, Parma-Milano); Europa (Jaca Book, Milano); Il gelo e la luce (Le Lettere, Firenze); La pietà e la memoria (Edizioni ETS, Pisa); D'improvviso e altre poesie scelte (Via del Vento edizioni); Nel ferro dei balocchi (Crocetti, Milano 2008); Tibet (Le Lettere, Firenze ); Madre (Le Lettere, Firenze); Il Segreto (Le Lettere, Firenze ); Racconti Victor e la bestia (Via del Vento edizioni, Pistoia); Lettera sugli angeli e altri racconti (Via del Vento edizioni, Pistoia); Destini (Libreria dell'Orso editrice, Pistoia); Saggi Il gesto di Callicle (Società di Poesia, Milano); Il segreto e il dono (EGEA, Milano); Le parole del pensiero (Le Lettere, Firenze); Il male e la luce (I Quaderni del Battello Ebbro, Porretta Terme); L'essere e l'abbandono (Il Ramo d'Oro, Firenze); Nomi del Novecento (Le Lettere, Firenze); Nome di donna (Raffaelli, Rimini ). Rilke, L'angelo e altre poesie, Via del Vento edizioni, 2008; Georg Trakl, La notte e altre poesie, traduzione di Massimo Baldi e Roberto Carifi, Postfazione di Roberto Carifi, Via del Vento edizioni. Tiene la rubrica mensile "Per competenza" sulla rivista «Poesia». Per ulteriori notizie si veda la sezione dedicata ai cenni biografici del poeta nel volume Roberto Carifi, D'improvviso e altre poesie scelte, Via del Vento edizioni, Da Roberto Carifi, Tibet, Le Lettere,.  Da Pistoia in parole. Passeggiate con gli scrittori in città e dintorni, Alba Andreini, introduzione di Roberto Carifi, Edizioni ETS,.  M. Baudino, Nel mitico mondo di Carifi, «Gazzetta del Popolo»; C. Viviani, Il mito e il nuovo inquilino, «Il Giorno», F. Ermini, Il mito per relazionarsi al reale, «Il quotidiano dei lavoratori», G. Giudici, Il gesto di Callicle, «L'Espresso»; A. Porta, Il gesto di Callicle, «Alfabeta», M. Spinella, La microfisica del significante poetico, «Rinascita», nQui sento odor di buoni versi, «Il Messaggero»; Infanzia, «Il piccolo Hans», Al fuoco di un altro amore, Jaca Book, L'anima e la forma nel verso. «Avvenire»; P.F.Iacuzzi, Il paradosso della poesia italiana. «Paradigma»; Utopisti e menestrelli, «L'indice», R. Nostalgia del tragico, «Corriere del Ticino»; I Quaderni del Battello Ebbro. Basso continuo del rumore bellico per litanie epiche sull'occidente, «Il Manifesto». Il filo del tramonto e del rimpianto, «Il Giornale», La poesia, il luogo del ritorno a casa, «La Nazione», La lingua continua a battere dove la carità duole, «Il Mattino»,   Il buio mondo che ci avvolge, «Il Sole 24 ore», Il lato oscuro delle cose, «La Repubblica»;  Sul vuoto appesi alla parola, «La Nazione», Amore senza tempo, «Il Sole 24 ore»,; E per musa ispiratrice la nostalgia, «Avvenire»,  Classici pensosi versi, «Gazzetta di Parma», Amore per una donna e per il nulla, «Il Giorno», Gli amori di Carifi, «La Nazione»; B. Manetti, Carifi il poeta errante, «La Repubblica»; D. Attanasio, Amore e morte trascendenti segreti, «Il Manifesto», R. Copioli, Carifi: il desiderio è mitico, «Avvenire», 14 maggio 1994; E. Grasso, L'amore quando il lume si spegne, «L'Unità»; A. Donati, Intervista a Roberto Carifi, «Il Giorno», Doni al confine del tempo, «Il Sole 24 ore»; L'angelo poetico della solitudine, «Il Giorno», R. Figli innamorati del proprio destino, «Avvenire»; Il male come provocazione estetica – estetica del male -- Chiaroscuro con lampada e scialle, «Il Sole 24 ore»; Chi son? Sono un poeta, «Il Giornale»; Il dolore nelle sillabe, «La Gazzetta di Parma»; Un angelo in esilio, «Avvenimenti»; U. Piersanti, Il figlio, «Tutto Libri»; Bigongiari, Carifi: parole e voce di Figlio, «La Nazione»; Quel contratto da verificare, «Il Sole 24 ore», Angeli sospesi tra essere e abbandono, «Avvenire», Un neoromantico invoca il cuore, i sogni, l'addio, «Tutto Libri»,  Amore d'autunno, «L'Espresso», Morte di madre. Quando la poesia "riversa la vita", «Il Giornale», L’elegia di uno stile semplice, «Avvenire»; Quei legami vitali tra figlio e madre, «La Nazione»; Tra infelicità e silenzio, «Il Sole 24 ore»; Un dolcissimo amore d'autunno, «Il Giornale», L'estetica dell'amore, «Il Tirreno», Dalla parte del cuore, «Gazzetta di Parma»; E. Coco, Rivista de Literatura. Un dialogo a distanza sull'alterità del figlio, introduzione a C. e U. Buscioni, Figure dell'abbandono, maschiettoemusolino, Siena; Il pathos del sublime: la poesia di Carifi, «Atelier», D. Fiesoli, Europa, «Il Tirreno», B. Garavelli, Addio alla madre, «Avvenire», G. Colotti, Europa, «Il Manifesto»;  La religiosa tragicità di Carifi, «Poesia»; F. A. Scorrano, La conoscenza dell'altro. L'uomo del pensiero. Edizione Polistampa, Firenze, S. Ramat, Roberto Carifi nel nome della madre, «Il Giornale»,  Per la sezione bibliografica questa voce trae informazioni dalla  inglese.   Piero Bigongiari Gianna Manzini Pistoia Via del Vento edizioni //poesia.blog.rainews//09/blog Poesia Rai News L'UOMO DEL PENSIERO. Saggio sulla poesia di Carifi Tre poesie su «Sagarana», su sagarana.net. Una recensione di Infanzia, su margininversi.blogspot. Roberto Carifi. Il sisma silenzioso del cuore articolo di Andrea Galgano su «Clandestino». Grice: “One impotant thing to consider is the passive voice of the future perfect – TEMPVS PLVSQVAMPERFECTVS PRAETERITVM – there was a specific form, ‘dedidi’ i. e. an inflected form, only in the passive voice. However, no record was found of the passive voice, except by use of what I call an ‘auxiliary’ verb – ‘have’ – cf. my notes on ‘do’ – ‘do’ and ‘have’ as auxiliary. However, the Romans found a way: the ablativo assoluto – the house given, she proceeded to furnish it. Money having been given to the merchant, the buyer left – Admirably, as Aelfric noted, in Latin, the pluperfect, strictly tempus praeterium plusquamperfectum, is formed without an auxiliary verb . MODUS INDICATIVUS/SUBJUNCTIVUS. Pecuniam mercatori DEDERAT. Pecunimam mercatori DEDISSET – Ha had given money to the merchart. He should have given money to the merchant. The Roman even had a choice of the ablative absolute hrase, consisting of the noun and the perfect participle in the ablative case. Pecuniis mercatori datis cessit emptor , Money having been given to the merchant, the buyer left. pecuniis mercatori non datis non cessit emptor. Money not having been given to the merchant, the merchant killed one of the buyer’s slaves. The difference is merely implicatural. In the verbal form (dederat, dedisset) is is explicated that it was the buyer who paid. In the absolute-ablative case, it is merely implicated. For all the utterer cares, it could have been the buyer’s slave. Cicero refers to an use of the RELATIVE ablative which is even ‘more slippery’ and thus optimal for cross examination. Money  Carifi. Keywords: ablativi relative, filosofia e poesia – l’implicatura del poeta – l’implicatura di Blake – l’implicatura di Guglielmo Blake – rhyme or reason – the invention of rhyme – l’invenzione della rima – empedocle: ragione senza rima -- Heidegger, conversation, language, silence, being, inter-subjectivity. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carifi” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Carifi.

 

Grice e Carle – le radici del diritto romano – la legge romana – la natura romana -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza -- (Chiusa di Pesio). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Carle – he is like Hart, only better – his Latin tract on ‘exceptio’ is eaxactly what Hart means by defeasibility, only that Carle can found it on Roman law – Like me, he likes the use of ‘principio,’ as when he speaks of a ‘principle of responsibility,’ and his essays on what he calls ‘social philosophy’ is pretty akin to my concerns on cooperation as the epitome of joint behaviour.” Insegna a Torino. Linceo. Esponente del positivismo.  La dottrina giuridica del fallimento nel diritto privato internazionale, Napoli, Stamperia della Regia Università); Prospetto d'un insegnamento di filosofia del diritto. Parte generale, Torino, F.lli Bocca); “La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale. Studio comparativo di filosofia giuridica” (Torino, F.lli Bocca); “Le origini del diritto romano: ricostruzione storica dei concetti che stanno a base del diritto pubblico e privato di Roma” (Torino, F.lli Bocca); La filosofia del diritto nello stato moderno, Torino, Unione Tipografico-Editrice); Lezioni di filosofia del diritto” (Torino). Dizionario biografico degli italiani.  Positivismo: ius – fatto – non valore – l’implicatura di Romolo e Remo. Naturalism – giusnaturalismo – forza – autorita – ius – “LE ORIGNI DEL DIRITTO ROMANO” -- RICOSTRUZIONE STORICA DEI CONCETTI CHE STANNO A BASE DEL DIRITTO PUBBLICO E PRIVATO DI ROMA. Fuit haec sapientia quondam Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis. HOR., poet Ars. LABOR NOR TORINO FRATELLI BOCCA EDITORI LIBRAI DI S. M. IL RE D'ITALIA SUOQURSALI ROMA FIRENZE Via del Corso. Via Cerretapi. DEPOSITI PALERMO NAPOLI CATANIA Università, Piazza Plebiscito, 2 S. Maria al Ros.°, 23 (Carosio ) Carosio )TORINO BONA. La nobile Università di Bologna, commemorando in questi giorni l'ottavo centenario dalla sua fondazione, ci rammenta anche l'epoca, in cui essa iniziando gli studi sul diritto romano si rese benemerita di tutto il mondo civile. Agli omaggi, che in questa occasione solenne convengono costi d'ogni paese, mi sia consentito di aggiungere quello di un'opera ispirata al desiderio di mantenere viva nella gioventù studiosa italiana la tradizione civile e politica di Roma. Di Lei Rettore Magnifico bord Torino, Devot.mo ed obblimo. Ritornato di proposito allo studio del diritto romano, in seguito all'incarico affidatomi di insegnarne la storia nella R.Università di Torino, parvemi di rileggere uno di quei libri, la cui meditazione può riempiere tutta una vita, perché ad ogni lettura e ad ogni età offrono campo ad osservazioni, che prima sono sfuggite. Quegli studii di giurisprudenza comparata, che in questi ultimi anni si vennero facendo sulle istituzioni primitive di quel periodo gentilizio, nel quale debbono essere cercate le fondamenta, sovra cui furono poscia edificate le città, mi parvero irradiare di nuova luce l'antichissimo diritto di Roma, e aprire nuove vie per spiegare il processo, con cui ebbe ad essere iniziata la formazione del medesimo. È strano infatti che, mentre il diritto romano, fra le grandi elaborazioni del genere umano, è certamente quella, che ebbe ad essere maggiormente studiata nei frammenti che a noi ne pervennero e nei suoi ultimi risultati, continui pur sempre ad essere un grande mistero il processo, con cui i romani giunsero ad elevare un cosi grande edifizio, e il motivo per cui essi e non altri riuscirono ad innalzarlo. La causa tuttavia di questa singolarità deve essere riposta in ciò, che per risolvere il problema delle origini del diritto romano non può bastare lo studio staccato dei frammenti, nė l'esegesi applicata ai testi, ma conviene ricomporre le epoche, raccogliere i rottami che ci pervennero di esse, colmarne le la cune, riportarsi col pensiero alle condizioni economiche e sociali del primitivo popolo romano, sforzarsi di rivivere in quel tempo e di pensare in certo modo alla romana, tener conto delle particolari attitudini dell'ingegno romano, far procedere di pari passo la formazione della città e lo svolgimento delle sue istituzioni pubbliche e private. Conviene insomma ricostruire la vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale di Roma, e cercare cosi di decifrare la pagina più splendida della vita del diritto nella storia dell'umanità. Certo era naturale cosa, che uno studioso della vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale mal sapesse resistere alle attrattive di un simile argomento, credendo con ciò, non di venir meno,madi perseverare in quel l'ordine di studii, a cui si è dedicato con tutte le forze. Miproposi pertanto di ricostruire il processo logico e storico, che governa la formazione deldiritto romano, sopratutto nei suoi esordii, non coll'intento di sostituirmi ai dottissimi nella materia, ma con quello più modesto di valermi dei materiali che furono raccolti con tanta diligenza, sopratutto in Germania. Mi accinsi poi all'arduo compito con un entusiasmo, che forse più non conviene alla mia età, ma che ebbe il vantaggio di rendermi aggradevole la lunga fatica, e che vorrei trasfondere nella gioventù studiosa, unitamente alla convinzione profonda, che le grandi elaborazioni dell'ingegno umano, mentre cambiarono in maestri dell'umanità coloro, che giunsero a crearle, hanno anche il pregio di confortare ed elevare il pensiero di coloro, che si travagliano per comprendere il processo natu rale, che ne governd la formazione. Debbo tuttavia una confessione al lettore benevolo: ed è che il presente saggio, cominciato forse coll’idea, non preconcetta, ma latente, che il diritto pubblico e privato di Roma fosse il frutto di una evoluzione determinata dalle condizioni esteriori, in cui si trova il popolo romano, riusci invece a conclusioni alquanto diverse. I romani, cosi nel formare la propria città, come nell’elaborare le proprie istituzioni pubbliche e private, seguirono un processo, che chiamo di selezione. Anziché essere dominati dai fatti esteriori, cercarono invece di dominarli, e di sottometterli alla logica inesorabile del proprio diritto. Come le mura della loro città sono costruite coi massi più solidi delle costruzioni gentilizie, cosi i concetti, che stanno a base del loro diritto pubblico e privato, sono trascelti nel seno stesso della organizzazione gentilizia. Ma trapiantati nella città ed isolati cosi dall'ambiente, in cui si erano formati, si cambiarono in altrettante concezioni logiche, che si vennero poi svolgendo ed accomodando alle esigenze della vita civile e politica. Anche questo e un processo naturale. Ma non è più il processo, che governa la formazione degli strati geologici, che si sovrappongono gli uni agli altri e serbano l'impronta dei bassi fondi sovra cui si vengono precipitando, bensi il processo, che governa la formazione dei cristalli, per cui gli elementi affini, depurati da ogni scoria, si vengono, per dir cosi, ricercando ed attraendo e si dispongono costantemente secondo quelle forme tipiche, che ne governano la formazione. Di quiconseguita, che il diritto romano non èu na produzione determinata esclusivamente dall'ambiente e dalle condizioni esteriori. Ma è già l'opera in parte consapevole dello spirito vivo ed operoso di un popolo, il quale, valendosi di attitudini naturali, che in questa parte si possono chiamare veramente meravigliose, riusci a secernere e ad isolare l'essenza giuridica dei fatti sociali ed umani, a modellarla in concetti tipici, a svolgere i medesimi in tutte le conseguenze, di cui po tevano essere capaci, e a trasmettere cosi alle nazioni moderne un capolavoro di arte giuridica. Questo è il risultato ultimo, a cui sono pervenuto. Per la prova del medesimo invito gli imparziali amici del vero a leggere il saggio, nel quale, malgrado la varietà immensa dei particolari, cerca di riprodurre quella coerenza organica, che è la caratteristica dello svolgimento storico delle istituzioni pubbliche e private di Roma. Le tradizioni e le leggende da cui appare circondata la fondazione di Roma presentano a primo aspetto un carattere singolare di contraddizione. Da una parte, Roma ha infanzia. E fondata di pianta da un avventuriero di origine latina e di stirpe regia, condottiero di una banda armata, il quale, dopo aver circondata la città di mura, avrebbe aperto un asilo agl’esuli e ai rifugiati dalle dalle comunanze vicine. E il fondatore stesso che da a Roma le sue istituzioni pubbliche e private. Il suo successore le da  l'organizzazione del culto, finchè da ultimo Roma già ingrandita, mediante l'incorporazione di popoli e di genti diverse, avrebbe ricevuto una nuova organizzazione civile, politica e militare per opera di Servio Tullio, che si sarebbe così meritato il nome di secondo fondatore della città. Per tal modo, la forza dapprima, poi la religione -- e da ultimo la sapienza civile hanno posto, le fondamenta della città, e le sue istituzioni civili e politiche appariscono come una creazione personale dei re, fra i quali la tradizione avrebbe perfino distribuito il compito. Il suo fondatore è latino, mentre invece è sabino l'organizzatore del culto, e da ultimo è probabilmente di origine etrusca quegli, che ne ha riformato compiutamente l'organizzazione civile e politica e ha stabilito quelle istituzioni, che riceveranno poi il proprio svolgimento durante l'epoca repubblicana. Da un altro lato, invece, la stessa tradizione circonda la fondazione di Roma di cerimonie religiose, di carattere tradizionale, che supponneno una religione già compiutamente formata, e fa apparire Roma nella storia con un nucleo di istituzioni pubbliche e private, che dove poi svolgersi con un rigore pressochè geometrico, ma che intanto suppongono una lunga elaborazione anteriore. Di fronte a questa apparente contraddizione, il maggior problema, che si presenta al filosofo e quello di sostituire alla storia leggendaria delle origini di Roma una storia viva ed organica di essa, ricercando le origini delle istituzioni primitive con cui essa appare nella storia. In questa ricostruzione, la filosofia dapprima si scosto per modo dalle tradizioni a noi pervenute da scorgere in queste poco più di una serie di leggende. Ma dovette poi riaccostarsi alle medesime, e finisce per giungere a questo risultato, che le istituzioni con cui Roma compare nella storia non possono esser ritenute come l'opera esclusivamente personale dei re. Debbono essere riguardate come il frutto di una lunga e lenta elaborazione già compiutasi in un periodo anteriore di organizzazione sociale, che sarebbe il periodo dell'organizzazione gentilizia o patriarcale. Roma secondo i risultati della filosofia, avvalorati anche dagli studii comparativi fatti sui popoli primitivi sopratutto di origine ariana, continua quell'opera di formazione della convivenza civile e politica, iniziata gia dalle altre popolazioni italiche, le cui memorie risalgono ad epoca anteriore a quella che è fissata per la fondazione di Roma. Quindi è presso le genti latine ed italiche, che debbono essere cercate le origini delle primitive istituzioni di Roma. Secondo il computo più universalmente adottato, Roma è stata fondata nell'anno – ANNO I – ed e comparsa fra popolazioni diverse, delle quali alcune in parte già erano uscite dall'organizzazione gentilizia, e stano avviandosi ad una vera e propria organizzazione civile e politica. Senza entrare nella questione dei rapporti, che possono correre fra [Per un riassunto esatto delle tradizioni intorno alla storia primitiva di Roma accompagnato da una critica finissima per separare il nucleo primitivo della tradizione dalle aggiunte che si fecero più tardi, è da vedersi BONGHI, “Storia di Roma”. Per lo studio delle istituzioni poli tiche importa sopratutto la parte che si occupa appunto della costituzione politica di Roma, secondo CICERONE, Livio, Dionisio] le stirpi italiche e le stirpi elleniche e in quella della loro provenienza dall'Oriente (1), questo è certo che fra le stirpi italiche già erano pervenute ad un certo svolgimento di civiltà e di potenza le stirpi umbro-sabellica, latina ed etrusca. Scavi dimostrano che il sito occupato da Roma dove già essere popolato da un'epoca assai remota e del tutto pre-istorica. E scoperta sull'Esquilino una vasta necropoli, la cui esistenza dimostra che una città etrusca di grande estensione ed importanza (Rasena) esiste anche prima del periodo reale leggendario, e costituisce una prova molto importante contro quella teoria che, attribuendo a Roma un'origine esclusivamente latina e sabina, tende ad escludere o quanto meno ad attenuare l'influenza dell'elemento etrusco. Tale provenienza delle stirpi italiche dalle razze ariane e la conseguente loro, parentela colle elleniche, colle germaniche, celtiche e slave, è oggidì universalmente ammessa, salvo che si mantiene ancora sempre una grande oscurità circa l'origine della razza etrusca. Tra gli autori recenti ha recato un contributo alla dimostrazione di tale provenienza Leist, “Graeco-italische Rechtsgeschichte” (Jena), sopratutto nella parte in cui dimostra l'identità di certi concetti primitivi comuni agl’arii dell'India e alle genti italiche ed elleniche. È da vedersi la parte, che si riferisce alle instituzioni sacrali, in cui discorre dei concetti di rita, themis e ratio. Quest'origine comune è pure ammessa dal BERNHÖFT, “Staat und Recht der Römischen Königszeit” (Stuttgart). Per quello poi che riguarda il vario svolgimento, che le istituzioni elaboratesi nell'oriente dagl’arii primitivi ebbero a ricevere presso gli’arii dell'India, della Persia, e poscia nell'occidente presso i greci, gli’italici ed i germani, mi rimetto a quanto ho scritto in “La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale” (Torino), i cui primi due libri sono appunto dedicati a tale svolgimento. Sono a vedersi in proposito le notizie sugli scavi, che si pubblicano dall'Accademia dei Lincei. Come riassunto degli studii topografici fatti intorno a Roma fino a questi ultimi tempi mi sono valso dell'opera di MIDDLETON, “Ancient Rome” (Edinburgh). Middleton parla di questi scavi e dei resti dell'antichissima Rom. Fra gli autori che tendono a scemare l'influenza del l'elemento etrusco sopra Roma primitiva, abbiamo il MOMMSEN, il LANGE, e il Pelham nella sua storia di Roma antica pubblicata nell’Encyclopedia Britannica, ninth edition, Edinburgh, -- voce: Rome. Combatte questa opinione il Taddei nel suo l”Roma e i suoi Municipii” (Firenze). Senza pretendere di risolvere la questione, è lecito osservare che mal si può sostenere la niuna influenza su Roma primitiva di un popolo come l'etrusco che ha già delle città in siti vicini, che conosceva quei riti con cui Roma fu fondata, e che diede a Roma i tre ultimi re, quelli cioè, che rinnovarono più profondamente non solo l'aspetto esteriore della città, ma anche la costituzione politica della medesima. 4 Queste varie stirpi, che abitavano il suolo italico, per quanto ora si ritengano tutte uscite dalla stirpe aria, hanno però dimenticata la provenienza comune ed apparivano distinte fra di loro di origine, di costumi e non hanno fra di loro comunanza di matrimonii. Solo sono ravvicinate da feste religiose e da certi luoghi di mercato, ove taceno i conflitti e si praticao gli scambi ed i commerci. Quanto alla loro organizzazione sociale, esse, secondo l'opinione di Mommsen, del Leist, del Lange, si trovano nel periodo di transizione dall'organizzazione gentilizia di carattere patriarcale all'organizzazione politica della città e del municipio. Però anche a questo riguardo si presentano in stadii e gradazioni diverse. La stirpi umbro-sabellica apparisce con un carattere pro fondamente religioso. Sono dedite ancora più alla pastorizia che al l'agricoltura. Preferiscono per formarvi le proprie sedi i luoghi montani e conservano ancora quel carattere di fiera indipendenza, che è proprio degli abitanti della montagna. Esse non abitano ancora in vere e proprie città, ma in villaggi aperti, che costituiscono al trettante comunanze rurali, e serbano le traccie di una potente organizzazione gentilizia, di cui puo trovarsi un notevole esempio nella gens “Claudia”. Queste stirpi anche più tardi dimostrarono poca attitudine alla formazione di un vero e proprio stato, come lo provano le sorti dei bellicosi sanniti, che sono appunto derivati dal ceppo umbro-sabellico. Trovansi invece già in condizione più progredita, per quel che riguarda l'organizzazione sociale, la stirpe latina. Il Lazio infatti appare diviso in altrettante comunanze di villaggio aperte, che sono costituite da una aggregazione di famiglie e di genti, le quali discendono da un antenato comune, di cui portano il nome e professano il culto gentilizio. Tali aggregazioni di genti, che chiamansi tribù, abitano nei vici e nei pagi. Ma, riconoscendo la loro origine comune, anzichè avere una esistenza del tutto separata ed indipendente, sono già a far parte di un'aggregazione più vasta, che costi [In ciò sono d'accordo Mommsen, Histoire Romaine. Trad. De Guerle. Paris, ed anche il Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome. Trad. Berthelot et Didier. Paris. Lange attribuisce alle genti sabine un carattere più conservatore che non alle Latine [-tuisce poi il “populus” e la “civitas”. Questa aggregazione più vasta non solo ha comune la lingua, il costume e la religione, ma eziandio la legge, l'amministrazione della giustizia e la difesa contro gl’attacchi e l’aggressioni esterne. Essa quindi abbisognava di un centro comune, a cui potessero metter capo le diverse comunanze di villaggio, il quale centro comune era l'”urbs”, così chiamata dall'*orbita* sacra che la circonda, nel cui recinto trovavasi l'arx o fortezza, a cui riparare nei momenti di pericolo, il tempio del divino patrono – “dius,” “dius-piter” -- dell'intiera comunanza, il luogo ove si amministra giustizia, il sito per il mercato e per le pubbliche riunioni. Questi stabilimenti pertanto, più che vere e proprie città quali noile intendiamo, sono piuttosto inizii di città future, in quanto che esse contenevano sopratutto quegl’edifizii, che hanno pubblica destinazione. L'urbs era in certo modo il centro della vita pubblica per le diverse comunanze di villaggio, come lo dimostrano anche le varie porte esistenti nel muro di cinta, le quali porgevano modo di accedervi agl’abitanti dei diversi villaggi. Si aggiunge che le varie città latine, le quali, secondo la tradizione, sarebbero state in numero di XXX, erano anche confederate fra di loro e mettevano capo ad una capitale: Alba Longa. Cid dimostra come le popolazioni latine già fossero abbastanza progredite nella loro organizzazione sociale, poichè, pur continuando ancora a vivere nelle comunanze di villaggio, sono pero già pervenute a concepire e in parte ad attuare quella vita pubblica comune, che dove poi svolgersi nella città e nel municipio. Vengono infine la stirpe etrusca, la cui civiltà è ancora oggidi celata nel mistero, perchè le traccie di essa furono in certo modo cancellate ed assorbite da Roma. Non può tuttavia esser dubbio, che esse già erano in condizione di maggior progresso eco nomico e civile delle altre popolazioni italiche, in quanto che posse devano vere e popolose città, conoscevano le arti e la moneta, e per essere dedite al commercio si trovano in comunicazione maggiore cogli altri popoli e sopratutto coi Greci. Anche presso di queste era largamente svolto l'elemento religioso, come lo dimostra la sapienza loro attribuita nell'arte augurale e nella consultazione degli auspizii, come pure la tradizione, che presso di essi esistessero libri, (1) MOMMSEN, FUSTEL DE COULANGES, La cité antique (Paris) - che determinano i riti con cui le città dovevano essere fondate, e davano le regole secondo cui la loro popolazione dove essere ripartita in tribù ed in curie. Del resto anche l'antica costituzione della città etrusca, secondo Mommsen, si accosta nei suoi tratti generali a quella della città latina, salvo che in essa il passaggio dall’organizzazione patriarcale all'organizzazione muicipale già erasi spinto più oltre, in quanto che la stirpe etrusca, per essere sopratutto dedite alla navigazione ed al commercio, erano state naturalmente condotte a svolgere di preferenza le comunanze urbane, che non le comunanze di carattere esclusivamente rurale. I capi etruschi avevano il nome di Lucumoni. La popolazione delle loro citt dividevasi in nobili ed in plebei, come pure in tribù ed in curie, e se al disopra delle singole città apparivano eziandio delle confederazioni, i vincoli pero che stringevano insieme le varie città, che entravano a costituirle, non sono cosi intimi e stretti come quelli che esisteno fra le città della confederazione latina. Esse infine pure presentano le traccie dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ma queste sono già alquanto più alterate per il maggior svolgimento a cui è pervenuta la comunanza civile e politica. È a questo punto dello svolgimento dell'organizzazione sociale e della convivenza civile, che Roma compare nella storia. Per quanto possano esservi dei dubbi sull'influenza, che su di essa abbiano esercitato più tardi l'elemento latino e l'elemento etrusco, questo è certo che il primo nucleo di essa ebbe ad essere costituito da un gruppo di uomini armati di origine latina. Sono i Ramnenses -- guidati da Romolo -- e usciti come colonia o per secessio da Alba Longa, che hanno fondato quella Roma palatina, che, per la forma quadrangolare delle sue mura, di cui sussistono ancora gli avanzi, suole essere indicata col nome di “Roma quadrata”. Festo, v° Rituales: “Rituales nominantur etruscorum libri, in quibus prae scriptum est quo ritu condantur urbes, arae, aedes sacrentur; qua sanctitate muri, quo iure portae, quomodo tribus, curiae, centuriae distribuantur, exercitus consti. tuentur, ordinentur, caeteraque eius modi ad bellum ac pacem pertinentia ». MOMMSEN. LANGE cerca di distinguere il popolo dei “Rasennae”, che sarebbero secondo lui i veri Etruschi, che egli ritiene di origine aria ma di provenienza settentrionale, dagli abitanti del “vicus tuscus”, che apparterrebbero invece ai Tursci, da lui ritenuti di origine umbra. È questa la Roma, il cui pomoerium è stato descritto da TACITO. Nulla vi ha di ripugnante nella tradizione, che questa mano di guerrieri, stabilitasi colla forza in un sito chiuso e fortificato, siasi dapprima trovata in lotta aperta colle altre comunanze, che erano stabilite in prossimità del Palatino. Essa però ben presto esercita una attrazione potente sulle popolazioni vicine, e si trasforma in un centro per la vita pubblica di una confederazione di varie comunanze di villaggio, che sono disperse in quell'antico septimontium, che ci è descritto dal giureconsulto M. Antistio Labeone, il quale avrebbe compreso il Palatino, il Fagutale, la Subura, il Cermalo, l'Oppio, il Celio e il Cespio. Cosi pure dovette presto entrare nella federazione anche una comunanza di origine sabina, che era stabilita sul Quirinale. Di qui la conseguenza, che le tradizioni antiche ed anche gli studi recenti, fatti sulla topografia di Roma, condurrebbero a conchiudere che Roma primitiva avrebbe attraversato nel periodo, che suole essere assegnato al regno del suo fondatore, due stadii ben distinti nella propria formazione. Nel suo primo comparire infatti Roma non è ancora che lo stabilimento romuleo, il quale, malgrado la denominazione che già assume di vera e propria città, consiste nella sede fortificata di una tribù di origine latina, che è quella dei Ramnenses, ancorchè intorno ad essa già si trovi in via di formazione una plebe, il cui numero sarebbesi accresciuto, secondo la tradizione, mediante l'asilo aperto ai rifugiati ed agli esuli delle comunanze vicine. Più tardi invece questo nucleo agreste di guerrieri di origine latina entra dapprima in ostilità e poscia viene in alleanza con comunanze già prima stabilite sui colli vicini. Allora Roma diviene centro e capo di tale federazione, e mutasi in una vera urbs, secondo il con È pur nota la questione relativa al pomoerium, che alcuni vorrebbero collocare entro le mura fondandosi su Livio, I, 44, mentre altri sostengono che fosse al di là delle mura, come lo indicherebbe la stessa parola post-moerium. La questione fu di recente trattata con grande corredo di erudizione da CARLOWA (“Romische Rechtsgeschichte” Leipzig). Carlowa sembra propendere per l'opinione, che il pomoerium serve di confine fra il territorio dell' “urbs” e l' “ager” circostante. Cf. MIDDLETON Il testo di LABEONE è riportato da HUSCHKE, “Iurisprudentiae anti-Iustinianeae quae supersunt”, Lipsiae. Un accenno a questo concetto trovasi in Lange, “Histoire intérieure de Rome”. Tuttavia non pare che il medesimo consideri lo stabilimento romuleo come una semplice tribù.] cetto latino, ossia nella sede della vita pubblica di queste varie comunanze. Questi due stadii nella formazione di Roma primitiva, di cui non si tiene sempre sufficiente conto, sono accennati da diversi autori e fra gli altri anche dal giureconsulto Pomponio, secondo il quale Romolo non procede alla divisione della città in curie subito dopo la fondazione di essa. Ma vi sarebbe invece addivenuto soltanto “aucta ad aliquem modum civitate” -- cioè quando altre comunanze già eransi incorporate o meglio federate con essa nel l'intento di partecipare ad una vita pubblica comune. Gli elementi primitivi, che secondo la tradizione sonno entrati a far parte della comunanza romana in questo suo primo periodo di ingrandimento, sono dalla stessa tradizione ridotti a TRE tribù, cioè alla tribù dei TRIBU I -- Ramnenses, che era quella dei fondatori, a quella TRIBU II -- dei Titienses, di origine Sabina, stabiliti sul Quirinale, i quali sarebbero entrati nella comunanza mediante un foedus aequum, come lo dimostra il fatto che i capi delle due tribù avrebbero regnato insieme e poscia i loro successori si sarebbero alternati nel comando, e a quella infine TRIBU III -- dei Luceres, coi quali sembra in vece sia seguito un foedus non aequum. L'origine di questo ultimo elemento è incerta, ma dovette probabilmente essere etrusca, quando si consideri, unitamente alla loro denominazione, l'esistenza di un antichissimo Vicus Tuscus, la serie degli ultimi re che furono di origine etrusca, e si tenga conto del fatto che le recenti scoperte dimostrano come le genti etrusche già avessero da epoca ante riore fondato delle vere e proprie città in prossimità del sito, ove Roma e edificata, Cosi intesa la formazione di Roma primitiva, si dovrebbe venire alla conclusione, che la incorporazione delle tre tribù nella comunanza romana avrebbe dovuto operarsi fin dal periodo assegnato dalla tradizione al regno di Romolo -- il che però non toglie, ed [POMPONIUS, L. 2 Dig. Credo doversi accogliere questa opinione nell' intricatissima questione, perchè non si comprenderebbe la divisione tripartita della città, che viene attribuita a Romolo, quando il concorso delle tre tribù non si fosse effettuato durante il suo regno. Vero è, che nella storia primitiva di Roma havvi un momento storico, in cui per l'aggiunzione di nuovi elementi si raddoppia il numero dei membri dei collegi sacerdotali e quello delle centurie dei cavalieri, ma il raddoppiamento si fa sempre sulla [ 9 anzi spiega anche meglio come Roma, risultando di elementi diversi fin dalla propria origine, ha poi accolte nella comunanza nuove genti di origine latina, come di origine sabina e di origine etrusca, ed abbia in certo modo esercitata una specie di attrazione sopra queste varie stirpi italiche, come lo dimostrano le tradizioni relative alla cooptazione delle genti albane, quelle relative a Celes Vi benna e alla venuta di Tarquinio a Roma colla sua gente, ed all'in corporazione, avvenuta negli inizii del periodo repubblicano, della gente Claudia di origine sabina. Intanto però il fatto, che Roma avrebbe preso le mosse da uno stabilimento romuleo di origine latina, fondato in guisa analoga a quella con cui si fondavano anche più tardi le colonie e con una analoga ripartizione dal territorio occupato, spiega il carattere che Roma ha poi sempre a ritenere di città eminentemente latina, in quanto che gli elementi, che si vennero aggiungendo al nucleo primitivo, dovettero entrare nei quadri propri dello stabilimento latino. Ciò accadde per mezzo di successive federazioni, una delle quali, quella coi Luceres, sarebbe stata un foedus non aequum, in quanto che il nuovo elemento sarebbe entrato nella comunanza in una condizione inferiore (1 ). Conviene quindi conchiudere, che Roma primitiva, oltre all'essere di origine latina, fu anche foggiata sul modello delle città latine, e che quindi, al pari dell'urbs delle popolazioni del Lazio, diventa fin dapprincipio una città federale, che può essere considerata come il centro della vita pubblica di varie comunanze di villaggio. È però naturale, che questa trasformazione, per cui Roma cessa di essere esclusivamente la sede fortificata di una tribù per diventare centro e capo di una confederazione, abbia fatto sentire la necessità di fortificare anche il Capitolino, e di munire di un vallum od agger l'Aventino, costruzioni queste, che, secondo Dionisio, si sarebbero compiute dallo stesso Romolo, ma di cui non rimasero più gli avanzi, che sono base di tre, il che indica che già anteriormente dovevano esservi tre tribù, che con correvano alla formazione di Roma. Cfr. Bloch, “Les origines du Sénat Romain” (Paris) e per l'opinione contraria Bouché-LECLERCQ, “Manuel des institutions romaines” (Paris). Il principio “prior in tempore, potior in iure” è dai Romani applicato non solo in tema di diritto privato, ma anche in tema di diritto pubblico. Questo concetto è ancora espressansente enunciato nella legge 74, § 1, Cod. Theod. 12, 1. “Anteriore tempore adscitos ipsa aequum est antiquitate defendi” [- invece notevoli quanto alla primitiva Roma quadrata. Vero è che questa narrazione di Dionisio e posta in dubbio dalla critica contemporanea. Ma Dionisio è certo che in se stessa non ha nulla di improbabile, in quanto che era ben naturale, essendosi estesa la comunanza colla federazione di altre popolazioni vicine, che anche il caput ed il centro di Roma fosse trasportato in un sito, a cui fosse più facile l'accesso dalle varie comunanze, e che non fosse la dimora pressochè esclusiva di una delle tribù confederate, come era della città palatina. Si comprende pertanto come, sotto lo stesso Romolo o sotto i sei re che lo seguirono, la fortezza della città e il tempio del divino patrone comune – “dius”, “dius-piter” -- siansi fondati sul Capitolino e come a poco a poco gl’edifizii pubblici di Roma antica siansi venuti concentrando fra il Palatino ed il Capitolino, in quel sito appunto in cui ancora oggidi si ammirano le grandi reliquie degli edifizii pubblici di Roma antica -- edifizii che al tempo d’Ottaviano già sono considerati come una specie di museo, e come tali erano divenuti oggetto di venerazione e di culto, ed erano custoditi qual memoria di una vita politica, che ormai ha cessato di esistere. A questo periodo però, che può dirsi di semplice confederazione, ne succedette un altro, in cui comincia ad effettuarsi una vera e propria incorporazione delle varie comunanze di villaggio in una città, la quale, fortificata e chiusa in se stessa, apparisse paurosa e potente alle popolazioni vicine. Due cose si richiedevano per una simile trasformazione. Convenne anzitutto che alla distinzione delle tre tribù primitive, che ricorda ancor sempre la loro origine diversa, si facessero sottentrare altre distinzioni, le quali sostituissero al vincolo genealogico il vincolo territoriale, e che gl’elementi diversi, che sono entrati a far parte della stessa comunanza politica e militare, fossero anche stretti insieme, mediante la coabitazione entro le medesime mura. Fu allora, che, secondo la vigorosa espressione di Floro, comincia a mescolarsi insieme il sangue di elementi originariamente diversi, i quali finirono col tempo per costituire un unico corpo ed un organismo coerente in tutte le sue parti. Dion. Cfr. MIDDLETON, Ancient Rome. -- FLORUS, III, 18. “Quippe cum populus romanus etruscos, latinos, sabinosque miscuerit et unum ex omnibus sanguinem ducat, corpus fecit ex membris et ex omnibus unus est. Questi sono i divisamenti, che, incominciando da Tarquinio Prisco, già cominciano a delinearsi nella mente dei re. È noto infatti che Tarquinio Prisco già avrebbe tentato, secondo la tradizione, di aggiungere nuove tribù alle tre primitive e di rompere così il modello primitivo, sovra cui Roma erasi venuta formando. Il suo tentativo però trova opposizione nell'augure sabino Atto Navio, che qui evidentemente si fa interprete dello spirito conservatore del patriziato romano, e quindi l'opera di Tarquinio Prisco dovette limitarsi a fare entrare gl’elementi sopraggiunti nei quadri delle tribù primitive. Gli è perciò, che gli viene attribuito di aver raddoppiato il numero delle vestali, di aver duplicato il numero delle centurie degl’equites, aggiungendo alle tre centurie dei Ramnenses, Titienses, Luceres primi le tre dei Ramnenses SECUNDI, Titienses SECUNDI, Luceres SECUNDI, e di avere infine anche raddoppiato o quanto meno portato a CCC il numero dei senatori con aggiungere ai “patres MAIORUM gentium” quelli “patres MINORUM gentium” Così pure è ormai dimostrato che i re anteriori a Servio Tullio già iniziano dei lavori di cinta e di fortificazione, che poi furono com presi nella cinta Serviana, e che la grande opera di questa nuova cerchia di Roma già e incominciata sotto Tarquinio Prisco. L'una e l'altra opera fu poi continuata da Servio Tullio, che forte dell'appoggio della plebe e di parte anche del popolo, sembra aver fatto a meno anche dell'approvazione dei padri. Egli infatti, senza distruggere la primitiva organizzazione di Roma, fondata ancora sulla discendenza, riusci a creare, accanto alla medesima, una nuova organizzazione militare, politica e tributaria, per cui la popolazione romana ricevette una nuova ripartizione in V CLASSI ed in centurie, e il suo territorio venne ad essere diviso in tribù locali. Così pure riusci a compiere quell'opera gigantesca della cinta, che fu dal nome di lui chiamata Serviana, i cui avanzi formano ancora oggi la meraviglia degli investigatori dell'antichità e dimostrano da soli la grandiosità e l'unità del concepimento, malgrado che parecchi re avessero partecipato alla costruzione di quelle mura e di quell'agger, che poi furono chiamati Serviani; costruzione, che sarebbe pressochè incomprensibile se non fosse stata compiuta col concorso di quelle “plebs”, ormai già fatta numerosa, che con Servio [Cic. de Rep., LANGE -- Tullio sarebbe entrata a far parte del Populus Romanus Quiritium. È da questo momento che Roma appare chiusa e fortificata nelle proprie mura, già splendida di edifizii, ricca eziandio di una popolazione urbana, che può ancora essere accresciuta senza che occorra di estenderne il pomoerium. È da quest'epoca parimenti, che Roma, forte del rigore del proprio diritto e della propria disciplina domestica e militare, si mette in lotta aperta con tutte le tribù o genti, che non siano disposte ad accettarne la superiorità o l'alleanza. Noi ci troviamo così di fronte alla Roma storica, conquistatrice e legislatrice prima dell'Italia e poscia dell'universo, degna di essere studiata nelle sue lotte intestine e nella sua unità compatta di fronte alle altre genti.Tuttavia, anche dopo Servio Tullio, Roma non giunge mai a chiudere nelle proprie mura tutta la sua popolazione, ma soltanto le quattro tribù urbane, mentre è ben maggiore il numero delle tribù rustiche. e lo spazio dalle medesime occupato. Per tal modo essa continua ancor sempre ad essere il centro della vita pubblica, a cui mettono capo le popolazioni sparse nelle comunanze di villaggio o pagi, che la circondano, ed è la sua persistenza in questo processo già seguito in Roma primitiva e non mai abbandonato anche più tardi, che spiega come Roma abbia potuto cambiarsi in una città, i cui cittadini erano sparsi dapprima in tutto il Lazio, poi per tutta l'Italia, e da ultimo per tutto il territorio dell'impero. Se insisto alquanto lungamente sopra questo concetto, gli è per dimostrare come non possa accettarsi l'opinione che sull'autorità di Mommsen e di altri fu pressochè universalmente accolta e che a mio avviso rende del tutto incomprensibile la storia primitiva di Roma, secondo cui questa sarebbe stata fin da principio l'unione, la fusione, l'incorporazione di varie tribù e genti e dei territorii dalle medesime occupati. Ciò è smentito dal processo seguito nella formazione delle città latine, quale è descritto dallo stesso Mommsen, ed è in contraddizione con tutta la storia primitiva di Roma. Roma nei proprii inizii e modellata sull'urbs dei popoli latini, e come tale non e che la capitale di una federazione e il centro della sua vita pubblica, mentre lascia che le genti e le famiglie con [V. in proposito BARATTIERI, “Sulle fortificazioni di Roma all'epoca dei re”, Nuova Antologia] -- tinuassero la propria vita domestica e patriarcale nelle comunanze di villaggio, alle quali continud a lasciare i proprii territorii gentilizii. La sua formazione pertanto non è dovuta ad un processo di aggregazione, ma ad un processo di *selezione*, cosa che sarà più largamente dimostrata a suo tempo. Qui basta il notare che questo modo di spiegare la formazione di Roma primitiva conduce a conseguenze molto diverse da quelle, ch e furono pressochè universalmente adottate. Partendo infatti dall'idea di una semplice aggregazione si giunge a trasportare le gentes fra le ripartizioni delle città, come ha fatto Niebhur; a sostenere con Mommsen che la primitiva proprietà di Roma e una proprietà collettiva come quella delle gentes, ciò che è smentito assolutamente dal diritto primitivo di Roma, a dare collo stesso autore un carattere assolutamente patriarcale alla primitiva costituzione di Roma, e ad una quantità di altre illazioni, che rendono del tutto inesplicabile e contradditoria la storia primitiva di quel popolo, che ha usato una maggior logica nello svolgimento delle proprie istituzioni. Con questo sistema si dove necessariamente giungere a considerare la storia primitiva di Roma come una serie di leggende, che sarebbero state inventate da un popolo, che in tutto il resto si è dimostrato invece ben poco fantastico, nell'intento di combinare l'umiltà delle proprie origini colla grandiosità dello svolgimento, che ebbe a ricevere dappoi. Pare strano che nella mia pochezza venga a combattere opinioni, le quali appariscono suffragate da un così gran cumulo di erudizione e di studii. Nè io l'avrei fatto quando si trattasse di questo o di quel documento storico, ma dal momento che trattasi di ricostruire in base alle induzioni più probabili il processo, che Roma segue nella propria formazione, mi parve di doverlo fare, poichè sono appunto le opinioni inesatte dei grandi filosofi, che pongono gli altri sopra una falsa via. È incredibile la quantità di induzioni errate, che produsse nella storia di Roma la confusione fatta da Niebuur dell'organizzazione gentilizia coll'organizzazione politica allorchè volle scorgere nelle dekódeS di Dionisio le gentes, e sostenne così che queste fossero una divisione politica della città. Tutta la critica storica tedesca si pose in questa via e tutti vollero scorgere nella città un'aggregazione di gentes, il che rese del tutto inesplicabile la storia primitiva di Roma. Mi basterà citare fra gli altri; MOMMSEN che dice che le genti erano incorporate tali e quali nello stato con tutti i loro territorii e con tutte le famiglie, che contenevano e che il gruppo della famiglia e della gens continuava a sussistere nello Stato. LANGE, con uno sforzo mirabile, ma sfortunato, di sottigliezza, vuol trovare ad ogni costo i caratteri della famiglia nello Stato romano. Parmi invece un processo assai più logico e che può condurre a risultati assai più verosimili quello, che ha già ad esser iniziato da Bonghi, di prendere Roma, quale essa si presenta nelle tradizioni esaminate col sussidio della critica. Dal momento che Roma si è veramente staccata da una popolazione latina, è naturale che essa sia stata dapprima foggiata sul modello delle città latine, e che abbia continuata tenacemente l'opera già da queste incominciata di organiz zare, accanto alla vita patriarcale e gentilizia, quella vita pubblica, che dispiegasi appunto nell'urbs e nella civitas. Roma si presenta nella storia memore di tutte le tradizioni, che già si erano formate nel periodo anteriore dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ed è con queste tradizioni, che si accinge ad organizzare un nuovo aspetto di vita sociale, che è quello della vita pubblica e municipale. Essa quindi non assorbe di un tratto nè le tribù nè le gentes, ma lascia che esse continuino ad essere campo alla vita domestica e patriarcale. Solo richiama a se lentamente e gradatamente tutti quegli ufficii di carattere pubblico, che prima si compievano nel seno dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ed è in tale intento che essa intraprende l'elaborazione del proprio diritto. Una volta poi che quest'opera è iniziata, Roma, con quella tenacità di proposito, che è sopratutto propria del popolo romano, non si arresta nell'opera sua sinchè non sia pervenuta non solo ad organizzare nel proprio seno una vita pubblica e municipale, ma a cambiare il mondo allora conosciuto in un complesso di città, di colonie, di provincie organizzate tutte a somiglianza di se medesima, e gli abitanti dell'impero in cittadini di un'unica città. La qual opera e compiuta da Roma seguendo sempre quel medesimo processo, a cui erasi attenuta nella sua primitiva formazione.  È per questo motivo, che era impossibile comprendere le origini delle istituzioni di Roma senza tener dietro alla sua formazione esteriore, quale può ricavarsi dagli studii topogra e il Sumner Main [E, “L'ancien droit,” trad. Courcelle Seneuil,dove, dopo aver detto che la gens era una aggregazione di famiglie, e la tribù un ' aggregazione di gentes, finisce per dire che la città non è essa stessa che “un'aggregazione di tribù e la repubblica una collezione di persone legate per discendenza comune all'autore di una famiglia primitive” -- il che certamente non può ammettersi. Del resto la gravissima questione sarà trattata più a lungo  quando si discorre della costituzione primitiva di Roma. [fici recentemente fatti intorno all'antica Roma. Si potrebbe poi fa cilmente dimostrare, che questa formazione progressiva, che risulta dall'estendersi della cerchia stessa di Roma, viene anche ad essere provata dal formarsi progressivo della sua religione, del suo senato, dell'ordine dei cavalieri, del suo esercito, dei suoi collegi sacerdotali, ma cid risulta anche più chiaramente dalla formazione delle sue istituzioni, poichè ciascun popolo imprime sopratutto il proprio carattere in quella parte dell'opera sua, in cui giunse senz'alcun dubbio a maggiore grandezza. A ciò si aggiunge la considerazione già stata fatta da un autore assai benemerito della ricostruzione della storia primitiva di Roma, che è Rubino, secondo il quale le tradizioni, che a noi pervennero circa i primi tempi di Roma, debbono distinguersi in due specie. Vi hanno quelle relative alla costituzione primitiva di Roma ed agli istituti religiosi e giuridici, che sono collegati con essa, e queste fino a prova contraria debbono essere ritenute per vere. Perchè trattasi [Vi ha questo di particolare nella storia di Roma, che lo svolgimento di essa, sotto qualsiasi aspetto sia considerato, presentasi organico e coerente in tutte le sue parti. Ne deriva che tanto le investigazioni pazienti e minute quanto le ricostruzioni ardite, che si vennero succedendo, finirono per sussidiarsi a vicenda per l'intelligenza di Roma primitiva. Vi conferirono gli studiosi della topografia di Roma antica, della sua arte militare, della sua letteratura, della sua filosofia, dei suoi monumenti, della sua costituzione politica e delle sue istituzioni giuridiche. Che anzi la coerenza del suo svolgimento appare così meravigliosa, che vi sono autori che, seguendo soltanto il formarsi della sua religione e dei suoi collegi sacerdotali, cercano di inferirne gli stadii della sua formazione progressiva, come tenta di fare Bouché-LECLERCQ (“Les Pontifes de l'ancienne Rome”, Paris, e “Manuel des institutions romaines”, Paris). Altri, che tentarono di venire allo stesso risultato, seguendo lo svolgimento di un istituto particolare, come sarebbe quello del senato, come WILLEMS, “Le sénat de la république romaine” (Paris), come pure Blocu (“Les origines du sénat romain,” Paris), od anche quello dell'ordine dei cavalieri, come tenta di fare Belot (“Histoire des chevaliers romains,” Paris). Non può però esservi dubbio che penetrarono più profondamente nella vita primitiva di Roma quelli sopratutto, che, come Vico e Niebuur, ne ricercano la storia nelle lotte degl’ordini, che entrano a costituirla e nello svolgimento delle istituzioni giuridiche e politiche. Il diritto è la grande occupazione di Roma, e quindi è quello che conserva meglio le vestigia di un'epoca pre-romana. Il diritto forma la filosofia costante non solo dei sacerdoti, dei patrizi, e dei giureconsulti, ma ancora dei poeti, per modo che fuvvi un autore, il quale raccogliendo, come egli dice, “disiecti membra poetae” potè giungere a ricostruire in parte l'edifizio giuridico di Roma, anche nei particolari minuti della sua procedura. Henriot, “Maurs juridiques et judiciaires de l'ancienne Rome” Paris] d'un argomento che ha un carattere pressochè sacro per il popolo romano, e in cui concentra tutta la propria vita, per guisa che esso continua sempre a svolgere con pertinacia e con co stanza quei concetti e quelle istituzioni, che furono posti durante lo stesso periodo regio. Hanvi invece le tradizioni, che si riferiscono a racconti di guerre e ad incidenti, che le avrebbero accompagnate, a vicende di uomini illustri, a quei particolari insomma che danno vita ed attrattiva alla storia romana, e queste rimasero per lungo tempo affidate alla leggenda popolare e poterono cosi essere alterate sia dalla vanità nazionale che dalla vanità delle grandi famiglie di Roma. Bene è vero, come osserva Bonghi, che anche nella prima parte possono essersi introdotte dell’alterazioni, che sono causate dal partito diverso, a cui appartengono gli scrittori, ma siccome trattasi di istituzioni, che hanno un processo storico non mai interrotto, cosi egli è ben più facile di ristabilire la verità, che non quando trattasi di semplici incidenti della storia di Roma, che, non collegandosi così strettamente col resto, potevano dare argomento ad altrettante leggende, che si arricchivano di nuovi particolari, a misura che si veniva ripetendone la narrazione. Dopo aver cosi seguita la formazione progressiva della comunanza romana vediamo ora gli elementi, che si trovano in lotta nell'in terno della medesima. È da vedersi al riguardo Bonghi, “La fede degli storici superstiti di Roma antica”, che anche ora non è pubblicato, malgrado il desiderio che l'illustre autore e gl’italiani tutti hanno di vedere pubblicata un'opera, che egli solo è in condizione di compiere. Rivista storica italiana. IUna delle circostanze più accertate della condizione di Roma primitiva si è, che nella popolazione della medesima comincia fin dai primordii a manifestarsi un dualismo potente, quello cioè fra il patrizii – descendenti dei ‘patres patriae’ -- e la plebe. La tradizione cerca di spiegare questo dualismo dicendo, che Romolo apre un asilo, ove si potessero rifugiare coloro che per qualunque ragione avessero dovuto abbandonare la propria città. Ciò farebbe credere che la distinzione fra i “patres” della “patria” (e suoi descendenti) e la plebe e in certo modo nata con Roma, quando non e certo, che cotale distinzione già esiste in altre città, e non vi fossero formole antiche, che accennassero al doppio elemento coi vocaboli di populus et plebes. Sembra anzi che le stesse tribù primitive, che entrarono nella costituzione della più antica comunanza romana, già avessero con sè una propria plebe, indipendentemente da quella che si sarebbe rifugiata nell'asilo aperto da Romolo, in quanto che, secondo il racconto di Dionisio, uno dei primi provvedimenti di Romolo e quello di affidare al plebeio la coltura dei campi, l'allevamento del bestiame e l'esercizio delle arti manuali, e di collocarle sotto la clientela del padre, il che sarebbe anche confermato da Cicerone come pure da un luogo di Festo, secondo cui il senatore e chiamato “pater”, in quanto che e incaricato di fare distribuzione di terre ad un ordine inferiore di persone (tenuioribus). La distinzione fra il populus e la plebes trovasi ancora in un documento importantissimo, cioè nella lex latina tabulae Bantinae, ove è ripetuta più volte la frase “quisque eorunt sciet hanc legem populum plebemve iousisse” --  formola che ha certo grande importanza quando si consideri che era tradizione romana quella di conservare le formole arcaiche nel tenore della propria legge. Quella formola dimostra che populus e plebes dovevano dapprima essere distinti e che, quando i due elementi si fusero insieme nella comunanza, per qualche tempo ancora i due vocaboli serbarono rispettivamente la primitiva loro significazione. V. la lex latina tabulae Bantinae nel Bruns, Fontes, Friburgi. Quanto al testo di Dionisio, esso è riportato nella traduzione latina nel Bruns, Fontes. Quanto a quello di Festo, vº Patres, è bene di CARLE, “Le origini del diritto di Roma”. Questo è certo che il pater e il plebeio, anche quando giungono a considerarsi come parti della medesima comunanza e a far parte dello stesso popolo, il che è accaduto molto tempo dopo l'epoca della fondazione, continuano sempre a costituire due ordini e pressochè due caste compiutamente distinte, fra le quali non esiste ne identità di istituzioni, nè comunanza di tradizioni, nè il diritto di connubio. Mentre il pater si presenta colla tradizione di un passato, le cui origini si perdono nel l'oscurità dei tempi e deve forse essere cercate nello stesso Oriente, e con una organizzazione potente, le cui traccie si mantengono ancora durante il periodo storico. Il plebeio, invece presentasi dapprima come una massa mobile, composta di elementi eterogenei e di origine probabilmente diversa. Il plebeio ha pochissima importanza negl’inizio di Roma, ma viene sempre più crescendo in numero e in potenza, anche perchè, a differenza del pater, può continuamente accogliere nel proprio seno nuovi elementi. Durante il periodo regio, il plebeio non sembra ancora essere in condizione di affrontare la lotta col “pater”, ma cominciando dalla repubblica i conflitti si fanno pressoché quotidiani, cosi in materia di diritto e dalle discussioni, che seguono fra I due ordini, si può raccogliere che le differenze essenziali, che servivano a distinguerli, erano essenzialmente le seguenti. Il pater anzitutto e e si ritene il fondatore della urbs e il solo membro della civitas. Il plebeio e un elemento, che trovasi in condizione inferiore e che per la maggior parte e sopravvenuto più tardi, nè puo quindi, secondo le idee del “pater”, pretendere ad un pareggiamento completo. Il “pater” ha un'organizzazione potente, che era quella per gentes, la cui forza venne ancora ad accrescersi mediante l'istituto della qui riportarlo. “A patres senatores ideo appellati sunt, quia agrorum partes attri buerant tenuioribus, ac si liberis propriis.” V. Bruns. Questi passi unita mente a quello di CICERONE, De rep. “Romulus habuit plebem in clientelas principum descriptam” -- rispondono abbastanza all'opinione di coloro, che come LANGE (“Histoire intérieure de Rome”) e Padelletti (“Storia del diritto romano”) ostengono, che l'origine della plebe sia posteriore alla fondazione della città, ed abbia solo avuto origine «coll'ammissione di persone libere nella cittadinanza e nel territorio dello stato, avvenuta per atto pubblico e accompagnata dalla concessione in proprietà di terreni da coltivare. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Hist. Introd., clientele. Il “pater” quindi puo indicare la serie dei proprii antenati e dimostrare che i medesimi sono sempre stati ingenui e che niuno di essi erasi trovato in condizione servile. Il plebeio, invece, se si deve credere alle ragioni poste innanzi molto più tardi dagl’oratori patrizii, allorchè trattavasi di Roma di respingere la legge Canuleia diretta a togliere il divieto dei connubii fra i due ordini, non conosce ancora la famiglia organizzata in base al potere del padre ed al culto degli antenati, per cui una unione plebea non e dal “pater” considerata come “iusta nuptia”, nè santificate dalla partecipazione al medesimo culto. E un semplice “matrimonium”, in cui il vincolo di parentela e determinato piuttosto dalla cognazione *maternal*, che dall'agnazione paterna. Di qui la conseguenza, che ancora dopo la legge di Le XII Tavole il pater non puo comprendere una comunanza di connubio – iusta nuptia – fra un pater (say, Charles III) e una plebea (say, Diana), come lo dimostrano le parole di Livio relative al plebiscito Canuleio. “Rogationem promulgavit, qua contaminari sanguinem suum patres confundique iura gentium rebantur.” Da ultimo, una differenza importantissima consiste anche in questo, che solo il pater possede un “auspicium”, cosicchè tutti gl’atti, che lo riguardavano, assumevano un carattere solenne e religioso. Il plebeo, pur avendo una religione e feste [(1) Gellio, Noc. Att., 10, 20 chiama la plebe quella parte della popolazione romana, nella quale “gentes patriciae non insunt.” È poi noto che, secondo Livio, nelle discussioni fra pater e plebeo gl’oratori di questa attribuivano ai primi di vantarsi di esser soli ad avere le gentes con parole, che riassumono i titoli di superiorità del pater. “Semper ista audita sunt eadem: penes vos solos au spicia esse, vos solos gentes habere, vos solos iustum imperium et auspicium domi militiaeque ecc.” Pare tuttavia che non possa affatto escludersi l'esistenza di gentes plebeiae, le quali però costituivano una eccezione. La causa di questo fatto può essere duplice. O queste gentes potevano derivare dalle popolazioni delle città latine, che già avevano un'organizzazione simile a quella delle genti patrizie, sebbene non fossero più state ammesse nel patriziato, – o la formazione di queste gentes accade più tardi, quando una parte della plebe, entrata a far parte della nobiltà, cerca essa pure di imitare l'organizzazione gentilizia, il che comincia ad es sere possibile dopo la legge Licinia Sestia, colle quali il plebeo e ammesso al console. Così Cicerone ci attesta, che la famiglia dei Marcelli erasi staccata dall'antica gente patrizia dei Claudii (De Orat.). Così pure Cicerone ci parla di una “gens” Minucia, che sarebbe stata *plebea* (In Verr., I, 45 ). Fra i filosofi sull'argomento sono da vedersi il Voigt, “XII Tafeln”, Leipzig, e il KARLOWA, Röm., R. G., -- Liv., – “popolari, non possedeva gli auspicia, nè aveva un proprio culto gentilizio -- “sacrum gentilicium” --. Queste differenze sono tali, che sebbene le circostanze conducessero col tempo i due ordini a far parte della stessa comunanza, e pero naturale, che essi non potessero entrarvi alle stesse condizioni. Dalle differenze sovra enumerate questo intanto si può inferire, che in Roma primitiva la superiorità, che si attribuiva il pater sul plebeo, trova sopratutto la propria causa in ciò, che esso era già era più progredito nell'organizzazione sociale, ed era prima uscito dallo stato di confusione, di privata violenza e di promiscuità primitive, che esso riteneva in parte essere ancora proprie della plebe. Il pater sa indicare i proprii antenati, ha conservato gelosamente le proprie tradizioni, ed e già pervenuto al l'organizzazione di un culto gentilizio. Di più e la “gens”, che aggruppandosi insieme avevano dato origine alla tribù, come pure erano le tribù, che, confederandosi insieme in conformità di certi riti e dopo aver assunto solennemente gli auspicii, erano pervenute a fondare la città, in cui provvedevano ai comuni interessi ed obbedeno ad una legge, espressione della volontà comune. Bene è vero che, per accrescere la forza della loro città del loro esercito, e spediente di incorporare in essi anche le plebes cioè le moltitudini, che naturalmente si venivano raccogliendo ove era fondata e fortificata un'aggregazione di genti patrizie. Ma chi tenga conto della umana natura, che in questa parte non sembra ancora essersi modificata, non può certo meravigliarsi se le genti patrizie abbiano applicato colla plebe la massima – “prior in tempore, potior in iure” -- , e si siano cosi prevalse del vantaggio, che loro somministra una più antica esperienza delle cose civili ed umane, per conservare a lungo una posizione privilegiata nella comunanza civile. Piuttosto è da ammirarsi la tenacità e perseveranza del plebeo, il quale, composta [Quinto all'origine ed al carattere del patriziato primitivo di Roma, contiene delle buone ed acute osservazioni l'articolo di  FREEMAN nell'Encyclopedia Britannica, vº Nobility, ove il pater romano è posto a paragone cogli Eupatridi di Grecia, colla nobiltà feudale, coi Pari Inghilterra ecc. È pure a vedersi il Duruy, “Histoire des Romains,” Paris, chi parla del “pater” come di un'istituzione propria della società primitiva e nota le analogie e le differenze fra il pater di Roma e i bramano dell'India. Cfr. Muirhead] dapprima di elementi eterogenei e priva di qualsiasi organizzazione sociale, seppe col tempo in tutto e per tutto imitare l'organizzazione propria dei pater, creare genti plebee accanto alle genti patrizie, contrapporre le tribù alle curie, i tribuni ai veri magistrati, e che, appena potè ottenere il riconoscimento di un diritto, di quello cioè della proprietà quiritaria, riusci a valersi del medesimo come di strumento e di mezzo per ottenere a poco l'uguaglianza giuridica e politica, e perfino l'ammissione a quegli auspicia, a quei sacerdotia, e a quella scienza del diritto, che solo molto tardi vennero ad essere comunicati al plebeo. Questo intanto può aversi per certo, che la formazione del pater e del plebeo costituisce in certo modo la questione fondamentale della storia politica e giuridica di Roma. Vero è che accanto ai plebei trovansi pur anche i servi ed i clienti, ma questi due elementi non hanno certo l'importanza della plebe, che dove poi avere tanta parte nella storia di Roma, in quanto che un servo entra a far parte della famiglia ed il cliente ri-entra anch'essi nell'organizzazione gentilizia. Di più tanto il servo come il cliente, al lorchè riescono a svincolarsi dal “pater”, entrano a far parte della plebe, che è quella veramente, che sostiene e vince la lotta per il pareggiamento giuridico e politico col “pater”. Quindi è che nè il servo, né il cliente come tali riescono ad avere una piena personalità giuridica e civile. Il cliente scomparisce a poco a poco o si trasforma in semplice salutator. Il servo si mantenne bensì, ma non giungono mai, durante il predominio di Roma, ad essere riconosciuti come capaci di diritto. La questione limitasi pertanto al pater ed al plebeo ed è quindi l'origine di questi due elementi, che è il maggior problema, che offra la storia primitiva di Roma. Cio non ostante, sinchè non siansi esaminate l'organizzazione dei patres e la composizione della plebe, non pud certo affrontarsi il problema della origine delle due classi. Basterà unicamente, per l'intelligenza di ciò che verrà dopo, di osservare che le differenze, che esisteno fra di esse negli inizii. Queste lotte per il pareggiamento sono largamente esposte da LANGE, “Histoire intérieure de Rome”. I risultati poi della lotta sono riassunti nel dotto lavoro del GENTILE, “Le elezioni e il broglio nella repubblica romana” (Milano) e sopratutto in “Le assemblee elettorali”] di Roma, la superiorità pressochè incontestata del “pater” e l'ossequio pressochè servile del plebeo nei primi tempi della città dimostrano abbastanza, che la loro distinzione non potè certamente essere opera della legge, nè delle circostanze storiche speciali, in cui Roma ha a trovarsi. Dovette essere il frutto di una lunga evoluzione storica, la cui preparazione deve essere cercata in un periodo anteriore di organizzazione sociale. Non può esservi dubbio, che l'origine di una distinzione, così altamente radicata nel costume e nelle abitudini delle due classi, deve essere cercata in quei cataclismi, che dovettero avverarsi nell'urtarsi e nel sovrapporsi delle stirpi italiche, di origine aria, sovra altre stirpi, che già abitavano il suolo, sovra cui esse si arrestarono nelle proprie migrazioni. Essa è una distinzione, che deve certamente rannodarsi ad una divisione ben più antica, e le cui traccie si mantengono sempre nella storia dell'umanità, che è quella fra la classe dei conquistatori, dei vincitori, dei primi pervenuti a stabilirsi in un determinato suolo, e quella dei soggiogati, dei vinti, e dei sopraggiunti più tardi a porre la propria sede in un suolo, che altri hanno prima occupato e sovra cui i medesimi già si erano stabiliti e fortificati. Egli è certo, che nel sopraggiungere delle stirpi italiche migranti dall'Oriente dovette certamente avverarsi un periodo di privata violenza non dissimile da quello, che accadde più tardi allorchè le popolazioni germaniche invasero il principato. Anche allora dovettero esservii vincitori ed i vinti, e frammezzo a quella promiscuità di genti e a quella prevalenza della forza, che ci ricordano ancora gli filosofi latini quando ci parlano di “connubia more foerarum” e di “viri duro ex robore nati”, dovette sentirsi urgentissimo il bisogno di una protezione giuridica e di una forte organizzazione sociale. Dovettero [Sono sopratutto i filosofi latini, come interpreti delle primitive tradizioni e leggende, che alludono frequentemente a questo stato primitivo, in cui si trovano le genti italiche, ora descrivendo una età dell'oro, che assegnano al regno di Saturno, che sembra corrispondere al Savitar degli Arii, ed ora accennando eziandio a un periodo, in cui avrebbe imperato la forza e la violenza. È veramente preziosa in proposito e riflette mirabilmente la coscienza primitiva delle genti italiche la raccolta, che l'Henriot ha a fare dei testi dei filosofi latini, che possono avere qualche attinenza col diritto, nella sua opera col titolo: “Mæurs juridiques et judiciaires de l'ancienne Rome d'après les poètes latins” (Paris) sull’età dell'oro e sull'imperio della forza. È poi notabile come tutti i filosofi accennino al concetto di un “diritto” della “natura”, preesistente alla formazione del civile consorzio, e tutti esprimano con grande efficacia l'altissima importanza, che dovette avere per l'umanità l'origine della legge] allora succedere fra le popolazioni italiche dei cataclisminon minori di quelli, che si attribuiscono al nostro suolo, e furono questi cataclismi, che condussero necessariamente alla formazione di un aristocrazia – il pater del patriarcato -- territoriale, militare e patriarcale ad un tempo, che era il solo ed unico mezzo per uscire da uno stato di promiscuità e di violenza. Fu questa patriarcato – ottimati -- che comprende il padre nella famiglia, il patre nella gente e il pater nella tribù, ed abbraccia cosi tutte quelle genti, le quali, memori forse di istituzioni che eransi altrove elaborate, trapiantarono frammezzo al disordine ed alla lotta la potente organizzazione gentilizia, che una volta formata si chiuse in certo modo in se stessa e riguardo come di origine inferiore tutti coloro che non appartenevano alla medesima. Fu questa aristocrazia del ‘pater’ potentemente organizzata per gentes, che costituì la classe privilegiata e che merita dapprima anche di essere considerata come tale. Ma accanto alla medesima dovette naturalmente formarsi una classe subordinata, i cui gradi corrispondono precisamente ai varii stadii dell'organizzazione gentilizia, in quanto che comprende il servo nella famiglia, il cliente nella gente, ed il plebeo, che cominciano a comparire colla tribù. Per tal modo nelle popolazioni, che si vengono così organizzando, si disegnano per spontanea e naturale formazione, due strati, che si corrispondono fra di loro, e mentre in una lunga e lenta evoluzione, di cui non sopravisse alcun ricordo, salvo nella lingua e negli oggetti trovati nelle tombe, il ‘pater’ della famiglia si cambiano in ‘pater’ nella gente e quindi in ‘pater’ nella tribù, anche i servi mano messi dal ‘pater’ mutansi in clienti del ‘pater’ ed il cliente rimasnne senza ‘pater’] formano il primo nucleo della plebe. Il pater – qua Padri, patrone e patrizio – e, in sedimenti successive, la classe alta dei vincitori, dei proprietari delle terre, dei primi organizzatori di una vita sociale. Il servo, il cliente ed il plebeo rappresentano i varii stadii, per cui passa la classe inferiore dei vinti, e di quelli che, per avere una prot zione, si accalcano intorno allo stabilimento di una casata patrizia. Il primo puo indicare suoi proprii antenati ed escludere qualsiasi origine servile. Il plebeo, se giunsero col tempo ed essere indipendenti dal patriziato, appartennero probabilmente alla classe del servo e del cliente, e non ha dapprima quelle giuste nozze, che accertano la discendenza per la linea maschile. È in questo modo che il patriziato venne formandosi l'alto concetto della propria superiorità e che giunse fino a dire, se non a credere, che discende dal divino (il che del resto non era intieramente falso dal momento [ - che ha elevato a divinio il proprio antenato). Mentre la plebe, memore forse della servitù antica, trovasi dapprima in una abbiezione pressochè servile, da cui non venne a liberarsi che quando ebbe ad essere rigenerata da un nucleo potente di famiglie latine, che appartenevano alle città conquistate da Roma. Intanto pero fra le due classi vi ha questa differenza. La prima tende a tircoscriversi, anche per la difficoltà di far entrare nuovi elementi in una organizzazione così gerarchica, come era l'organizzazione gentilizia, la quale non poteva accogliere degli individui ma soltanto delle altre gente. La plebe, appena viene ad affermare la propria esistenza, tende invece ad incorporarsi nuovi elementi, senza vagliarne l'origine, per modo che essa puo accogliere i vinti che non siano ridotti in ischiavitù, gl’emigranti che non siano ricevuti come cliente. Non solo può aggregare nel proprio seno delle famiglie, ma anche individui, che essendosi disgiunti dal gruppo, a cui erano uniti, abbisognino di protezione e di tutela. Intanto pero fra l'uno e l'altro ordine, la grande differenza è questa, che nelle origini, solo il pater ha una vera posizione di diritto. Il plebeo non ha dapprima che una posizione di fatto. Il pater e il popolo da esso costituito è un ordine. La plebe non è che una moltitudine, una folla non ancora organizzata. Il pater ha tradizioni militari, religiose, giuridiche. Il plebeo non ha dapprima che quelle costumanze e quegli usi, che possono formarsi in una folla di provenienza diversa e di formazione del tutto recente. Il pater ha una religione gentilizia, formatasi nel suo seno mediante il culto degli antenati. Il plebeo non ha che un complesso di credenze popolari, che ancora abbisognano di ricevere una forma religiosa. Ben si comprende quindi, che la distanza e grande e che dove essere assai malagevole di raccogliere i due elementi nella stessa comunanza, elaborando un diritto, che potesse essere comune ad entrambi. Fermi cosi i caratteri generali dei due ordini, importa di ricercare più particolarmente l'organizzazione già formata del pater, e quella ancora in via di formazione, che dovrà poi comprendere il plebeo – Livio: “En unquam fando audistis patricios primo esse factos, non de caelo demissos, sed qui patrem ciere possunt, id est nihil ultra quam ingenuos.” Non può esservi dubbio, che a costituire il patriziato primitivo di Roma concorsero elementi diversi, usciti per la maggior parte da quelle tre stirpi di popoli, che secondo la tradizione entrarono a for mare la comunanza romana. Sonvi quindi genti di origine latina, e fra queste sonovi quelle che figurano come più antiche, genti di origine sabina, ed altre, in numero forse minore, di origine etrusca. L'origine diversa poi facilmente persuade, che le loro istituzioni tradizionali dovevano anche essere dissimili, e che quindi quella completa analogia di istituzioni, che in esse apparisce più tardi, do vette essere l'effetto di una lenta assimilazione, che vennesi operando gradatamente mediante la loro partecipazione ad una stessa comunanza civile e politica. Tuttavia, malgrado le differenze che potevano esservi nelle sue tradizioni, il pater romano, comunque fosse originariamente composto, presenta fin dalle origini della città le traccie di un'organizzazione potente di carattere patriarcale, che è l'organizzazione gentilizia. Non è qui il caso di cercare, se questa organizzazione per genti sia stata una necessità storica per uscire da quello stato di conflitto e di privata violenza, che dovette avverarsi all'epoca delle migrazioni, e se sia stata invece una istituzione, che le stirpi migranti già avevano elaborata altrove e che loro servi per sovrap porsi alle popolazioni indigene, il che sembra essere più probabile. L'enumerazione delle primitive genti patrizie col riassunto delle opinioni di. verse intorno alla loro origine e alle molteplici dirainazioni, che partirono da cia scuna di esse, può trovarsi in Bonghi, “Storia di Roma”, Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Hist. Introd., in princ. Ivi l'autore cerca perfino di determinare la parte, che nel diritto si attribuisce alle varie stirpi] questo in ogni caso deve aversi per certo, che è in virtù di questa organizzazione, che le primitive genti patrizie, per quanto potessero essere diverse di numero e di potenza, appariscono pero foggiate sul medesimo modello. Tale organizzazione tuttavia nel periodo storico già trovasi in via di dissoluzione; ed anche quello che ne rimane già presentasi alquanto alterato nelle sue primitive fattezze per essersi confuso coll'elemento civile e politico, dal quale è assai difficile sceverarlo. Ciò non ostante dalle vestigia, che ne rimangono e che sono dovute sopratutto allo spirito eminentemente conservatore del popolo romano, si può dedurre che l'organizzazione gentilizia dovette nel patriziato romano presentarsi in gradazioni diverse, tutte strettamente connesse fra di loro. Esse sono: la famiglia fondata sull'agnazione, la gente accresciuta ed afforzata dalla clientela, e da ultimo la tribú, in cui già compare nei proprii inizii la distinzione fra il patriziato e la plebe. Sarebbe certo cosa di grande interesse il ricercare qui se nelle prime origini l'organizzazione gentilizia ha prese le mosse dalla famiglia, o dalla gente, o dalla tribù. Ma ciò ci recherebbe a quel l'epoca e a quel sito, in cui le stirpi arie ponevano le prime basi dell'organizzazione patriarcale, cominciando probabilmente dal più piccolo e più naturale dei gruppi, che era la famiglia. Qui pero non e inopportuno il mettere innanzi, almeno a titolo di congettura, che dei varii gradi dell'organizzazione gentilizia quello, che probabilmente servi per la migrazione delle varie stirpi dall'Oriente all'Occidente, dovette essere il gruppo della “gens”. Ciò è dimo [Questa stessa gradazione è accolta dal SUMNER MAINE, Ancien droit, ma non è invece quella seguita da Leist, Graeco- Italische R. G., il quale parmi non distingua sempre abbastanza due cose affatto diverse fra loro, che sono l'organizzazione gentilizia e l'organizzazione politica, considerando come altrettante divisioni del populus, non solo le tribus e le curiae, ma anche le gentes. Senza voler quientrare in una questione, chemi trarrebbe troppo per le lunghe, non posso però tralasciare di notare, che la così detta famiglia patriarcale non deve ritenersi come la famiglia veramente primitiva, poichè essa è già una famiglia, le cui fattezze vengono ad essere trasformate a causa del suo entrare a far parte della organizzazione gentilizia. È nota in proposito la discussione, anche oggi non definita, fra il Sumner MAINE, “Early law and custom” (London) da una parte, e MORGAN e Mac-Lennan dall'altra, come pure la cri tica fatta, alla teoria patriarcale del SUMNER Maine, dallo SPENCER, Principes de sociologie, strato dal fatto, che è dalla gente che il patrizio romano deriva quel nome, che esso ha ricevuto dall'antenato comune e che deve trasmettere poi ai proprii discendenti, e che, anche nei tempi storici di Roma, allorchè accade qualche nuova incorporazione nel patriziato mediante la cooptatio, questa non si effettua nè per famiglie, nè per tribù, ma per genti. Mentre la famiglia è il gruppo più ristretto ed unificato in tutte le sue parti e la tribù è già una vera e propria comunanza di villaggio, in cui si preparano gli elementi costitutivi della città, la gente invece è il gruppo intermedio, che da giustamente il suo nome e la propria impronta all'organizzazione gentilizia, perchè di sua natura è un gruppo più elastico e pieghevole di tutti gl’altri, e che può meglio accomodarsi a qualsiasi evenienza in un periodo di migrazione. La “gens” infatti è più forte e numerosa della famiglia, perchè continua a stringere insieme le famiglie, che per discendere da un comune antenato sono anche unite tra di loro da un medesimo culto, e intanto è più compatta della tribus, la quale essendo già l'aggregazione di più genti, che o sono di origine diversa o hanno già dimenticata l'origine comune, può già fornire argomento a dissidii fra i capi delle varie genti, che entrano a costituirla. La gente poi è per sua natura tale, che ora può cambiarsi in una carovana in migrazione, ora attendarsi e stabilirsi in un determinato sito, ed ora anche raccogliersi a guisa di un ma nipolo di soldati, e tutto ciò senza che possa mai sorgere questione di preminenza, perchè è la consuetudine, che designa chi debba esserne il capo e perchè il vincolo della comune discendenza fa sì che tutti i suoi membri ne subiscano volenterosi il comando. In tanto è nella gente, che si vengono formando e distinguendo le famiglie, come pure sono le genti che, aggregandosi intorno ad una preminente fra le altre, danno origine alla tribù, la quale è già più atta ad arrestarsi in un determinato sito e ad essere così di avviamento alla convivenza civile e politica. I tre gruppi tuttavia sono sedimenti di una spontanea e naturale formazione, che si vengono sovrapponendo l'uno all'altro per modo, che appariscono tutti foggiati sul medesimo modello, che è quello del gruppo patriarcale, e si vengono reciprocamente influenzando per guisa, che tutti appariscono come strati diversi di un'unica organizzazione. Di qui la [Cfr. Willems, “Le droit public romain,” Paris] conseguenza, che tutti questi gruppi, dal momento che difetta an cora una vera convivenza civile e politica, compiono l'uffizio ad un tempo di convivenza domestica e di convivenza civile, colla differenza tuttavia, che nella famiglia prevale ancor sempre il vincolo del SANGUE, e nella tribù già si fa strada il vincolo civile e politico, mentre la gente è quella, che ha il carattere più schiettamente patriarcale. Cio premesso quanto ai caratteri generali della organizzazione gentilizia, cerchiamo di ricostruirne le principali fattezze, desumendole dalle traccie che ancora ne rimangono nella storia primitiva di Roma, nella quale vi ha questo di particolare che, anche quando un'istituzione si dissolve, si sanno mantenere le forme esteriori della medesima. In cio sarà bene incominciare dalla famiglia, come quella che ha ad esser meglio conservata e intanto costituisce il gruppo più ristretto dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Per quanto sia vero che la famiglia, quale presentasi più tardi nel diritto quiritario, sia una istituzione comune così al patriziato che alla plebe, sonvi tuttavia forti argomenti per credere che la sua primitiva organizzazione fosse di origine patrizia. Fra gli altr’argomenti l'importantissimo è questo, che una moltitudine come la plebe, che era di provenienza diversa e di formazione ancora del tutto recente, non poteva possedere fin dai suoi inizii una organizzazione famigliare, che presuppone una lunga serie di antenati e perciò una lunga elaborazione anteriore. Ciò del resto è anche dimostrato da che nelle origini il vocabolo di “patres” indica sopratutto i capi delle *famiglie* patrizie, e perfino gli stessi senatori, che certo usci [Quanto ai caratteri comuni al gruppo patriarcale degl’arii, alla “gens” romana ed al gévos dei greci ed alla letteratura copiosissima sull'argomento, mi rimetto alla mia opera: “La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale” (Torino), ed all'opuscolo, “Genesi e svolgimento delle varie forme di convivenza civile e politica” (Torino). Recarono un nuovo contributo allo studio comparativo delle istituzioni primitive presso le genti di origine aria, oltre le opere già citate del Sumner Maine, il BERNHÖFT, Staat und Recht der röm. Königszeit, Stuttgart, e Leist] vano dal patriziato, al modo stesso che il vocabolo di “patricii” indica “figlio del pater.” Lo stesso provano eziandio le nozze confarreate, certamente proprie del patriziato, che nella leggi attribuita a Romolo ed a Numa sembrano essere il solo modo con cui si puo contrarre le giuste nozze. Si aggiunge infine il carattere agnatizio della famiglia primitiva di Roma, il quale non è e non può essere un carattere originario, ma è una conseguenza della stessa organizzazione gentilizia, di cui la famiglia entra a far parte. Dal momento infatti, che in questo periodo non esiste ancora una vera comunanza civile e politica, diveniva inevitabile che l'organizzazione gentilizia ne assumesse le funzioni e le veci, e che perciò anche la famiglia, in quanto ne fa parte, venisse a ricevere un'organizzazione piuttosto fondata sul potere del PADRE, che non sul vincolo del SANGE. È questa la causa per cui la famiglia primitiva Romana sembra, almeno in apparenza, soffocare i naturali affetti del SANGUE, per guadagnare in forza ed in potenza, unificandosi sotto la potestà del proprio capo. Una volta poi che il fondamento della unione domestica si riponeva nella potestà del PADRE, er una conseguenza logicamente inevitabile, che come il PADRE prevaleva nella costituzione e nel governo della famiglia, cosi l'agnazione, ossia la DISCENDENZA dal padre, per la linea MASCHILE, dove prevalere nella composizione diessa. È in questo senso, che la famiglia primitiva Romana viene a costituire un organismo potente, che può essere considerato come il primo anello e come il nucleo più ristretto dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Essa infatti ha una costituzione eminentemente monarchica, perchè tanto le persone, che la costituiscono, quanto le cose, che ne formano il PATRI-MONIO, dipendono esclusivamente dalla potestà del padre. La famiglia patrizia poi è un vero e proprio organismo, che può considerarsi in due momenti diversi. Finchè infatti vive il PADRE, nel cui potere essa trovasi unificata, la famiglia è un vero corpo vivente, che può andar soggetto a continui mutamenti, in quanto che vi hanno persone che possono uscirne ed altre che pos sono entrarvi. Quando poi il padre muore, quelli che un tempo erano soggetti alla sua potestà possono ancora continuare a tenere [Dion., 2, 25 e 2, 63, testo è riportato da Bruns, Fontes “Leges Regiae”] indiviso il patrimonio comune, assecondando un antico costume romano, che si esprimeva colle parole conservateci da Gellio “ercto non cito” -- le quali significano in sostanza che non si dovesse procedere alla divisione immediata del patrimonio. In tal caso si mantiene fra gli agnati un di soggetti alla patria potestà una specie di società universale di tutti i beni, per cui sembra in certo modo che si perpetui ancora l'esistenza della famiglia, e si ha così quella famiglia in largo senso, di cui ci parlano ancora i giureconsulti, che la chiamano “familia omnium agnatorum.” Questa indivi sione dove certamente essere frequente nei tempi primitivi e fu questa la causa per cui, oltre la famiglia nel vero senso della parola, che comprende tutti quelli che sono soggetti alla “patria potestà”, venne delineandosi una famiglia più vasta, che è quella degli agnati, la quale sebbene abbia cessato di essere unificata dalla potestà del padre, continua tuttavia ancora ad essere unita insieme e a costituire un tutto – “consortium” -- stante l'indivisione del patrimonio. Ciò però non toglie che il concetto della famiglia agnatizia siasi poscia cambiato e che si siano compresi col nome di agnati tutti coloro, che [Mi fo lecito di mettere innanzi questa interpretazione delle parole arcaiche “ercto non cito” e ciò in base a quello che ci attesta Servio, il quale interpretando questa espressione, dice appunto, che essa significa “patrimonio vel hereditate non divisa” -- Serv., in Aen., VIII, 642 (Bruns, Fontes). Queste parole furono poi applicate per indicare in genere la « societas omnium bonorum » in virtù della quale, secondo l'attestazione di Gellio. “Comnes simul in cohortem recepti erant, quod quisque familiae, pecuniae habebat in medium dabat, et coibatur societas in separabilis, tamquam illud fuit antiquum consortium, quod iure atque verbo romano appellatur cercto non cito.” Che poi queste parole siano in certo modo un'antica clausola testamentaria, con cui il padre proibiva la divisione immediata appare da ciò, che “ercto” deriva certamente da “ercisco” e “cito” è un avverbio che deriva da cieo e significa « prontamente ». Vedi BRÉAL e Bailly, Dictionnaire étymologique latin, Paris,  pº Ercisco e Cieo. Che poi veramente presso gli antichi romani fosse consuetudine di mantenere, per quanto fosse possibile, l'indivisione, appare dal seguente testo, che trovo citato da KARLOWA, Röm. R. G., ricavato dalle PETRI, Excep. legum romanarum, lib. I, cap. 19, De vendenda hereditate. Consuetudo antiquorum esse solebat, ut frater de rebus suis immobilibus non venderet nisi fratri, propinquus propinquo, nec consors nisi consorti, si emere vellent. È questo forse il motivo, per cui presso i romani un heredium potera conservarsi integro nella stessa famiglia per parecchie generazioni, e un vicus poteva essere costituito per intiero di famiglie appartenenti alla stessa gens, senza mescolanza di elementi estranei. Cid sarà meglio dimostrato ove trattasi appunto prietà nel periodo gentilizio >. della pro -- - - 31 erano stati sotto la patria potestà della stessa persona, come quelli che avevano formato parte di una medesima casa ed erano usciti dalla medesima gente. Tuttavia, per ben comprendere il carattere della famiglia patrizia primitiva, vuolsi sempre aver presente, che essa non è già un organismo isolato, ma è parte di un organismo maggiore di cui costituisce il nucleo più ristretto. Diqui la conseguenza che quel potere del padre, che giuridicamente considerato sembra essere senza confini, trovasi nella realtà limitato sia dal tribunale domestico, che circonda il capo di famiglia, sia dal consiglio dei padri, che trovasi nella gente e nella tribù, per guisa che i temperamenti, che non vi sarebbero nella natura del potere paterno, si incontrano invece nel costume e nell'organizzazione gerarchica, di cui la famiglia entra a far parte. È per questo motivo, che tutti gli atti, che toccano in qualche modo l'organizzazione gentilizia, quali sarebbero l'adrogatio, che serve a perpetuarla quando manca una prole diretta, il testamento, che modifica le regole con suetudinarie relative alla successione, ed anche il matrimonio per confarreatio di uno dei membri della famiglia, devono essere fatti coll' intervento, colla testimonianza e perfino coll'approvazione dei capi di famiglia, che entrano a formare la gente e la tribù; il che ancora appare dalle formalità, che accompagnarono questi atti nei primitempi di Roma. Intanto è incontrastabile, che anche la successione legittima e la tutela assumono un carattere del tutto gentilizio, in quanto che l'una e l'altra, sebbene non stabiliscano delle differenze per causa del sesso o per causa di primogenitura, mirano però fino all' evidenza a conservare il patrimonio e l'amministrazione di essa nella [Leg. 195, $ 2 e 196, Dig., De verb. signif. (50, 16 ): Communi iure, scrive Ulpiano, familiam dicimus omnium agnatorum, nam, etsi patre familias mortuo, sin guli singulas familias habent, tamen omnes, qui sub unius potestate fuerunt, recte eiusdem familiae appellabantur, quia ex eadem domo et gente proditi sunt. Qui viene ad essere evidente, che la giurisprudenza classica, che non poteva più favorire quella indivisione che era tanto accetta agli antichi romani, conserva però sempre il concetto della famiglia degli agnati, non più desumendolo dalla indivisione del patrimonio famigliare, ma dalla circostanza che gli agnati erano un tempo dimorati nella stessa casa ed erano stati sotto la patria potestà del medesimo capo. È da vedersi sull'agnazione l'articolo di SEMERARO, “Enciclopedia giuridica italiana”, vº “agnazione”, vol. I, parte 2*, pag. 720. 32] linea agnatizia. Il che può scorgersi ancora nella legislazione decemvirale, la quale, come si vedrà a suo tempo, in questa parte riusci a far prevalere pressochè intieramente il sistema di successione e di tutela, che dovevano essere in vigore presso il patriziato durante il periodo gentilizio. Quanto al testamento, esso era certamente conosciuto in questo periodo, ma collo spirito che prevale nell'organizzazione gentilizia si può affermare con certezza, che esso, dovendo essere fatto coll'approvazione del consiglio degli anziani e nelle riunioni gentilizie della tribù, anzichè servire qual mezzo per sottrarre l'eredità alla gente, dovette invece servire per ritardare od impedire la soverchia divisione dei patrimoni. Intanto è pure da notarsi il carattere speciale, che assumeva la famiglia primitiva nel periodo gentilizio, in quanto essa comprende eziandio nella propria cerchia un numero più o meno grande di servi, che in antico sono anche detti “famuli”, dal vocabolo “famel”, che in lingua osca significa appunto “servo”; dal quale, secondo Festo, sarebbe anche derivato l'antico vocabolo “famuletium”, che avrebbe significato servitium. È infatti per mezzo dei servi, a cui era [Si può ricavare l'importantissima conseguenza, che a suo tempo servirà a spiegare molte istituzioni del diritto romano primitivo, che il concetto di comproprietà, in virtù del quale i figli durante la vita del padre sono comproprietarii dell'heredium, e dopo la morte di esso in certa guisa eredi di se stessi (“heredes sui”), come pure quello, in virtù di cui è dal novero degli agnati, che si debbono ricavare i tutori delle femmine, degli impuberi e dei furiosi, sono tutti concetti, la cui origine rimonta ed è anzi un effetto della stessa organizzazione gentilizia, di cui la famiglia entra a far parte. Quanto al testamento fra le genti patrizie non dove certo essere applicazione del principio: a uti paterfamilias super familia tutelave suae rei legassit, ita ius esto », ma doveva mirare sopratutto all'”ercto non cito”. Il testamento esiste, ma nell'intento di serbare il patrimonio indiviso e di trasmetterlo tale di generazione in generazione. L'importante concetto di questa comproprietà famigliare già trovasi nettamente espresso in uno degli ultimi lavori di Dubois, alla cui memoria mando qui un riverente saluto, nel suo ultimo diligentissimo lavoro col titolo: “La saisine héréditaire en droit ro main” (Paris) pubblicato nella “Nouvelle revue historique de droit français et étranger”, ove, combattendo iMaynz ed altri autori, dimostra che gli eredi suoi erano immediatamente investiti dell'eredità, senza che occorresse accettazione della medesima e ciò appunto in base a questa comproprietà famigliare. Al concetto del DuBois è solo da aggiungersi, che cið era un effetto dell'organizzazione gentilizia prima esistente, idea, che egli già aveva in germe, come lo dimostrano le parole con cui egli conchiude il suo lavoro, ma che non ebbe più campo di svolgere. (2) V. Festo, vº Famuli (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 338 ). 33 affidato il servizio rustico od urbano (familia rustica, familia urbana) che la famiglia primitiva veniva ad essere organizzata per modo da bastare a qualsiasi bisogno ed emergenza. Cio diede un carattere speciale alla vita economica dell'antichità e coopera a dare alla famiglia antica il carattere di un tutto organico e coerente in tutte le sue parti. La servitù ebbe per effetto, come ben nota Padelletti, di fare in guisa che i prodotti non venissero a cambiare di possessore in tutto il corso del loro processo produttivo, perchè il servo e impiegato non soltanto nella produzione, ma benanche nella trasformazione e nel trasporto dei prodotti. Per tal modo ogni famiglia tende a supplire a tutti i suoi bisogni, e intanto ogni capo di famiglia poteva apparire come possessore difondi, essere ricco di greggi ed armenti, che costituivano in certo modo il primo capitale, e intanto attendere eziandio al commercio dei proprii prodotti Puo tuttavia affermarsi con certezza, che durante il periodo gentilizio le genti patrizie fossero sopratutto ricche di greggi ed armenti, come lo dimostra l'uso frequentissimo di vocaboli anche di carattere giuridico de rivanti dall'industria pastorale (quae ex pecoribus pendent), il che, secondo Festo e Varrone, deriva appunto da cid, che presso imaggiori le ricchezze ed i patrimoni si componevano sopratutto di greggi e di armenti (2 ). e (1) PADELLETTI, Storia del dir. rom., pag. 15. Sull'importanza della servitù nella famiglia primitiva è da vedersi PERNICE, M. Antistius Labeo, Halle, ove parla dei rapporti degli schiavi colla casa di cui fanno parte, sopratutto MARQUARDT, Das Privatleben der Römer, Leipzig. Fra questi vocaboli basti citare quello, che ebbe poi tanta parte nel vocabolario giuridico, di “agree”, che, secondo BRÉAL, nel suo significato primitivo suo nava « spingere, stimolare », e si applica sopratutto al gregge; quello di grex talvolta applicato al popolo; quello di ovilia adoperato per significare i recinti (septa ) ove il popolo era distribuito per dare il voto nei comizii; i vocaboli di abgregare, adgregare, congregare citati appunto da Festo come vocaboli di origine pastorale (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 331); quelli di pecunia, di peculium, di peculatus, di ager compascuus, e molti altri i quali spiegano come VARRONE (Bruns, Fontes, p. 388 ) finisca per esclamare. Romanorum populum a pastoribus esse ortum, quis non dicit? Mulcta etiam nunc, ex vetere instituto, bubus et ovibus dicitur, et aes anti quissimum, quod est flatum, pecore est notatum. Si vedrà invece a suo tempo che mentre la ricchezza del patriziato primitivo consisteva di preferenza in greggi, in mandre ed armenti, che pascolavano nei compascua della tribù, e poscia nell'ager pubblicus della città, la plebe invece fin dagli inizii diede sopratutto opera all'agri coltura, concentrandosi nella coltura del proprio heredium o mancipium. Questo G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. Del resto quello, che qui importa, e sopratutto di mettere in evidenza il carattere gentilizio della famiglia; poichè essa, fra le istituzioni anteriori alla comunanza, è certamente quella che conserva più lungamente il suo carattere primitivo. Quindi anche nel periodo storico si troveranno nel patriziato romano quelle stesse formalità solenni e quelle cerimonie religiose, che dovevano accompagnare gli atti relativi alla famiglia durante il periodo gentilizio. La sola differenza consiste in questo, che all'approvazione dei padri del gruppo gentilizio nella comunanza civile e politica sottentrerå - o la testimonianza dei dieci Quiriti che rappresentano le curie in cui divi devasi la tribù e l'intervento dei Pontefici, siccome accade nelle confarreatio, - o l'approvazione delle curie, coll'intervento pure dei Pontefici, siccome accade nella adrogatio e nel testamento, che per il patriziato verranno a compiersi davanti all'assemblea delle curie, cioè in calatis comitiis (curiatis). Credo ad ogni modo, che anche questa breve esposizione dei caratteri della famiglia del patriziato romano dimostri abbastanza che essa non deve essere riguardata come una istituzione del tutto primitiva, come alcuni vorrebbero considerarla, in quanto che la medesima già erasi scostata in parte dalle sue primitive e naturali fattezze, a causa della influenza, che ebbe ad esercitare su di essa l'organizzazione gentilizia, di cui e entrata a far parte. Essa in sommanon è più la famiglia, quale dovette uscire dagli istinti e dalle tendenze naturali del genere umano; ma è già una famiglia che in parte ha soffocato i naturali affetti onde fortificarsi per la lotta per l'esistenza e per entrare in un'organizzazione, che funge da associa zione domestica, religiosa,militare e politica ad un tempo. Ed è anche questa la ragione, che la renderebbe a noi pressochè incomprensibile, se non fosse riportata nell'ambiente in cui ebbe a formarsi. svolgimento storico pertanto conferinerebbe il risultato, a cui giunsero SPENCER ed altri sociologi, secondo il quale sarebbe stato sopratutto il periodo della vita pastorale, che avrebbe determinato la formazione e l'afforzamento di quell'organizzazione gentilizia, che trovasi così profondamente radicata presso il primitivo patriziato romano (V. SPENCER, Principes de sociologie, Paris). Tale è ad esempio l'opinione del Sumner Maine, che in questa parte fu com battuto dallo SPENCER. La gens e la sua importanza per il patriziato di Roma. 28. Se la famiglia, quale comparisce più tardi nel diritto Quiri tario, riproduce pur sempre i caratteri dell'antica famiglia patrizia, altrettanto invece non può dirsi della gens, la quale perciò è assai più difficile a ricostruirsi nelle sue primitive fattezze. Sebbene in fatti la gens mantengasi ancora lungamente durante la comunanza civile e politica, viene tuttavia fin dalle origini della convivenza civile e politica, ad essere sottoposta ad un processo di dissoluzione, in quanto che una parte delle sue funzioni di un tempo, quelle cioè che avevano un carattere politico o militare o legisla tivo, finiscono per essere a poco a poco assorbite dalla città. A cid si aggiunge, che in questa parte la grande autorità di Niebhur, sulla fede di un testo di Dionisio, a cui diede una interpretazione che non può essere ammessa, pose gli investigatori della storia primitiva di Roma in un indirizzo erroneo, in quanto che condusse a cre dere per lungo tempo, che la gens non fosse che una ripartizione politica della città. Per tal modo l'organizzazione politica della [NIEBHUR, Histoire romaine, trad. Golbery, Paris, ove parla: des maisons patriciennes et des curies e specialmente a pag. 19. Ivi l'illustre storico, avendo trovato che Dionisio divideva in dekádec le curie, pensò che queste decurie non potessero essere che le gentes e trasportò così l'organizzazione gentilizia nella città, concetto, che d'allora in poi ha dominato le ricerche contempo ranee intorno a Roma primitiva, per guisa che occorre pressochè universalmente di trovare che la città di Roma si divideva in tribù, queste in curie e queste ul time in gentes. Così, ad esempio, anche gli autori più recenti, pur avendo modifi cato il concetto della gens con ritenerlo un ampliamento naturale della famiglia, continuano pur sempre in questa distinzione. Citerò fra gli altri KARLOWA, Röm. R. G., il quale continua ad essere intitolato: “Das Volk und seine Gliederungen (tribus, curiae, gentes)”, quasi che il popolo romano sia stato mairipartito in gentes; ed iLeist, Graeco- Italische R.G. che segue pure la stessa distinzione. Così pure il WILLEMS (“Le droit public romain,” Paris)che continua ancor esso a dire, che le curie si suddividono in gentes. Questa distin zione non fu mai accennata dagli antichi scrittori, i quali soltanto ebbero a dire con Gellio, che i comiziä сuriati si raccoglievano ex generibus hominum, il che significa solamente, che nella composizione delle curie si teneva conto della discen denza, mentre invece nei comizii centuriati si badava al censo e nei tributi alle lo calità. Il populus insomma è ricavato dalle gentes,ma non fu mai diviso in gentes.] città venne ad essere confusa con quella patriarcale della gente e i due elementi gentilizio e politico si confusero per modo che per qualche tempo fu impossibile riuscire a sceverarli, ed anche oggi si scorgono evidenti, anche in dottissimi scrittori, le conseguenze di tale confusione. Allora soltanto le indagini furono rimesse in una via, che poteva condurre a qualche risultato, allorchè gli studii, che si vennero facendo sul gruppo patriarcale nell'Oriente, dimostrarono che anteriormente alla città era lungamente durato un altro pe riodo di organizzazione sociale, che riceveva appunto il suo carat tere fondamentale dalla gens, la quale, formatasi nell'Oriente, era poi stata trasportata nell'Occidente tanto dalle stirpi Elleniche, quanto dalle stirpi Italiche (1). Fu quindi collo studiare il gruppo patriar cale nell'Oriente, ove per circostanze storiche speciali erasi mante nuto stazionario ed immobile nelle sue principali fattezze, che si cominciò a comprendere e a ricostruire nel suo carattere primitivo quella gente, che in Grecia ed in Roma era stata in parte trasfor mata colla creazione dell'urbs e della civitas. Questo lavoro di ricostruzione poté per le genti italiche essere agevolato da ciò, che Quanto alle dekádes di Dionisio, il MUELLER ebbe a dimostrare che esse sono invece una divisione delle centurie degli equites, al modo stesso, che esse erano pure una divisione del senato -- MUELLER, Philologus. Si può infatti comprendere che i senatori, che erano cento prima e trecento dappoi, si dividessero in decurie, e che così pure si facesse delle tre centurie primitive degli equites, ma non si può veramente capire come le curie, divisione dei Quiriti, che erano uomini di arme, potessero suddividersi in gentes, le quali, essendo un ampliamento della fa miglia, comprendevano maschi e femmine,maggiori e minori di età e così di seguito. (1) Il merito di aver richiamato l'attenzione sul gruppo patriarcale presso le stirpi Arie, è da attribuirsi sopratutto al Sumner MAINE, L'ancien droit, chap. V. La société primitive et l'ancien droit, pag. 107 a 163. Tuttavia mi pare giustizia il far notare, che il primo che abbia, se non provata, almeno intuita questa organizzazione patriarcale delle genti primitive fu sopratutto il nostro Vico, il quale per compro varla ebbe a citare quegli stessi versi di Omero, in cui parlasi delle istituzioni pri mitive dei Ciclopi (V. 22, Scienza nuova, ediz. Ferrari, Milano, ove parla dell'economia poetica e dice che i Polifemi furono i primi padri di famiglia del mondo), dai quali prende appunto le mosse il SUMNER Maine (pag. 118 ); versi del resto, che già erano stati citati da Platone nel dia logo delle Leggi, quando voleva appunto dimostrare che il patriarcato era stata l'organizzazione sociale primitiva non solo presso i Greci, ma anche presso i Barbari. Plato, Leges, III, Ed. Didot, Paris, 1848. Del resto che l'organizzazione gentilizia sia stata comune a tutti gli Arii e quindi anche ai Greci e agli Italici è cosa, che oggidì non forma più argomento di discussione. (Per maggiori particolari vedi Carle, La vita del diritto, lib. I e II, e sopratutto a pag. 90 e seg.) i 37 esse più di tutte le altre stirpi hanno saputo attribuire al gruppo gentilizio quei contorni precisi e determinati, che solo si rinvengono presso quelle popolazioni, che svolgono le proprie istituzioni sotto un aspetto essenzialmente giuridico. Di qui la conseguenza, che, a parer mio, i veri caratteri dell'organizzazione per gentes possono più facilmente essere trovati nelle poche reliquie delle primitive genti del Lazio, che non nella stessa India, ove l'elemento religioso preponderante fini per assorbire e soffocare ogni altro aspetto della vita primitiva. 29. Intanto questo ormai si può affermare con certezza, che la gente, anzichè essere una divisione artificiale della città, deve invece es sere considerata come il perno, intorno a cui si esplica l'organizza zione gentilizia. Essa è un naturale ampliamento della famiglia pa triarcale, in quanto che non comprende più soltanto coloro, che dipendono dalla stessa patria potestà, maabbraccia tutte le famiglie, che, memori dell'antenato comune, da cui sono discese, non solo ne portano il nome, ma ne professano e perpetuano il culto. Però oltre questo carattere, che la gens latina ha comune colle genti Arie, essa ha eziandio un carattere suo peculiare, ancorchè comune forse alle genti elleniche, il quale consiste in ciò che le gentes sono considerate come proprie di quelle aggregazioni domestiche, che oltre all'avere uno stipite comune, sono riuscite a mantenersi perennemente ingenue, immuni cioè da qualsiasi rapporto di servitù e di clientela. Delle gradazioni del gruppo patriarcale, la “gens” è quella che possiede elasticità maggiore, perchè talvolta può avere le proporzioni soltanto di una famiglia, col qual vocabolo infatti è talora indicata la stessa gens. E talvolta invece può avere già dato origine a tante pro [Il vocabolo ad esempio di familia è adoperato per significare la “gens” nel seguente passo di Festo. “Familia antea in liberis hominibus dicebatur, quorum dux et princeps generis vocabatur pater et materfamilias; unde familia nobilium Pompiliorum, Valeriorum, Corneliorum (Bruxs, Fontes). Si possono vederne molti altri esempi nel Voigt (“Die XII Tafeln”, Leipzig). In ciò si ha una nuova prova che la familia e la gens fanno parte della stessa organizzazione, per guisa che i due vocaboli si scambiano fra di loro. Mentre è difficile trovare negli antichi scrittori il vocabolo di familia per indicare il populus, loro pare invece di essere più esatti, paragonandolo ad un grez e dividendolo al pari di questo in altrettanti capita. Del resto sono abbastanza noti i significati molteplici, che ha il vocabolo familia nel diritto primitivo di Roma, ove significa ora un complesso di persone o 38 paggini diverse da prendere quasi le proporzioni di una grande e numerosa tribù, come la tradizione ci narra essere accaduto della gens Claudia, da cui sarebbe originata la tribù dei Claudienses, e della gens Fabia, le cui proporzioni pervennero a tale che essa poté colle sole sue forze affrontare, secondo la tradizione o leggenda che voglia chiamarsi, una impresa militare, che in tristi circostanze appariva ardua alla intiera città. Non è dubbio tuttavia, che le popolazioni italiche e sopratutto quelle del Lazio dovettero avere un criterio per scindere la gens propriamente detta dalla familia in stretto senso e se fosse lecita una congettura avvalorata da una quantità notevole di indizii, la stregua dovette essere la seguente. Non vi ha dubbio che i caratteri distintivi della famiglia primitiva erano due, cioè la patria potestà del suo capo e l'esistenza di un patrimonio, probabilmente chiamato here dium, che apparteneva esclusivamente alla famiglia nella persona del proprio capo. Di qui la conseguenza, che tutti i discendenti nella linea maschile (comprese anche le femmine non ancora uscite dal gruppo per matrimonio e quelle entrate in esso per la stessa causa ) che dipendevano da un solo capo costituivano la famiglia in stretto senso; ma questa poi continuava ancora a mantenersi e a considerarsi tale, anche dopo la morte del padre, finchè il pa trimonio indiviso di essa perpetuava in certo modo l'unità fami gliare. Che se invece i fratelli, dipendenti un tempo dall'autorità di un solo padre, venivano a dividersi il patrimonio famigliare e a rompere così anche quanto ai beni l'unità primitiva, in allora venivano ad esservi altrettante famiglie, di cui ciascuna aveva un proprio capo, ma che tutte facevano parte di una medesima gens, perchè continuavano ad avere il medesimo nome e il culto comune per il proprio antenato. La “gens” comincia pertanto quando cessa l'unità indivisa della famiglia, e quindi nel periodo gentilizio quelli che erano agnati e che come tali costituivano ancora la famiglia omnium agnatorum, finchè il loro patrimonio era indiviso, costituivano già il primo grado della gentilità, allorchè questa divisione era seguita. È di qui che provenne la difficoltà, ancora non superata, per distin di cose, ora un complesso di persone, ora soltanto un complesso di cose (fa milia pecuniaque) – ed ora infine il complesso dei servi (familia rustica ed urbana).] guere gli agnati dai gentiles, perchè colla divisione del patrimonio gli uni si potevano convertire negli altri e fu solo posteriormente allorchè diventò più rara questa indivisione, che si chiamarono agnati tutti coloro, che un tempo si erano trovati sotto la patria potestà della stessa persona, ai quali si aggiunsero poi anche quelli, che lo sarebbero stati se il comune capo non fosse premorto. Non è quindi il caso di dover supporre col Muirhead, che l'ordine degli agnati, cosi nella successione che nella tutela legittima, sia stata una creazione artificiale della legislazione decemvirale per provvedere alla successione e alla tutela dei plebei, che mancavano di genti. Gl’artificii nelle epoche primitive sono meno frequenti che non si creda, e non si possono supporre che quando ve ne siano prove dirette, quale è quella, ad esempio, che abbiamo quanto alla fin zione di postliminio ed altre analoghe. Per contro il gruppo degli agnati può benissimo essere attribuito ad una formazione spontanea durante il periodo gentilizio, poichè era cosa naturale, come notd più tardi il giureconsulto, che l'essere stati un tempo sotto la patria potestà della stessa persona e l'aver partecipato al godimento dello stesso patrimonio dovesse distinguere il gruppo degli agnati da quello più remoto dei semplici gentiles, che solo avevano comune la discen denza da uno stesso antenato, ma che non avevano mai dimorato nella stessa casa, nè avevano mai formato parte della stessa famiglia. D'altronde sarebbe veramente strano ed incomprensibile, che la le gislazione decemvirale avesse dovuto essa creare il concetto degli agnati, mentre è appunto quest'agnazione, che sta a base delle or ganizzazioni domestica e gentilizia, le quali certo già esistevano pre cedentemente. C [Che l'ordine degl’agnati sia stata una creazione della legislazione decemvi. rale, è uno dei concetti veramente nuovi enunciati dall'illustre autore dell' “Historical Introduction”. Egli quindi insiste più volte sul medesimo e dopo averlo accennato a pag. 43 nel testo e nelle note 2 e 3 vi ritorna sopra a pag. 121 e 172 e note relative. Il solo suo argomento però consiste nei due testi di Ulpiano da lui citati, ove il giureconsulto mentre dice che: lege duodecim tabularum testamentariae hereditates confirmantur », usa invece, quanto alla successione legittima, l'espressione che « legitimae hereditatis ius ex lege duodecim tabularum descendit », espressione che pure adopera altrove quanto alla tutela legittima. È però evidente, che qui il giureconsulto non parla solo della successione degli agnati, ma di tutta la succes sione legittima, e quindi anche degli heredes sui, e dei gentiles, per guisa che, se stesse il ragionamento del MUIRHEAD, converrebbe dire, che secondo il giureconsulto tutto il sistema della successione legittima discende dalle XII tavole. E questo ve [La gente intanto, dopo essere partita dal gruppo degli agnati, che avevano diviso il patrimonio paterno, poteva poi prendere uno svol gimento grandissimo, in quanto che essa poteva abbracciare tutte le diramazioni per la linea maschile, che si staccavano da ciascuno di questi agnati e non cessava mai di costituire una sola aggregazione gentilizia, finchè tutte le famiglie continuassero ad avere lo stesso nome e a professare il culto del medesimo antenato. Potevano perd darsi dei casi, in cui la gente cosi pervenuta ad un numero stragrande di persone venisse a ripartirsi essa stessa in diramazioni diverse; tuttavia anche allora il nome primitivo della gens è sempre conservato, ma ciascuna delle diramazioni prende un proprio agnomen o cognomen, che ne costituisce in certo modo la caratteri stica, ed è seguendo la serie dei cognomina, che si possono seguire le propaggini tutte della stessa pianta. Cosi accadde, ad esempio, della “gens” Claudia, la quale già numerosissima conserva ancora una sola denominazione, ma che più tardi venne assumendo una quantità di cognomina diversi, che indicano in certo modo il punto, in cui sopra un unico ceppo cominciarono ad apparire diramazioni diverse. Lo stesso è a dirsi della “gens” Cornelia e di molte altre, il che serve, anche a spiegare come nel tempo in cui anche quella parte della plebe, che già era pervenuta alla nobiltà cerca di imitare l'organizzazione gentilizia, si veggano delle gentes plebeiae staccarsi da un fusto patrizio. Ciò infatti deve probabilmente indicare un antico vincolo di clientela, che stringe l'antenato, da cui parti la formazione della gente plebea, a gente patrizia. Bastano queste considerazioni per spiegare l'energia vitale, che ramente fu quello, che volle dire il giureconsulto; poichè furono appunto le XII tavole, che, nell'intento di appoggiare l'organizzazione gentilizia, trasportarono di peso la successione legittima esistente nelle tradizioni patrizie anche alla plebe, nel che può vedersi uno dei motivi, per cui il cittadino romano, per sottrarsi ad un sistema di successione, che era disadatto alla città e conduceva all'esclusione di per sone care, credevasi quasi dimorire disonorato, se moriva senza testamento. Fu quindi tutta la successione legittima e non soltanto l'ordine degli agnati, che fu creazione dei decemviri, i quali la tolsero dipeso dell'organizzazione gentilizia; in cui già eranvi le distinzioni di heredes sui, di agnati e di gentiles, come appare dal fatto, che tutta l'organizzazione gentilizia è fondata sull'agnazione, il che è pure ammesso dal MUIRHEAD. Ciò del resto sarà meglio comprovato quando si tornerà sul gravissimo argomento, discorrendo della successione legittima in base alle XII tavole. Quanto all'agnazione e ai caratteri di essa è pure da vedersi il Voigt (“Die XII Tafeln”) - poteva avere un gruppo, che, ad una compattezza pressochè uguale a quella della famiglia, accoppiava talvolta il numero e la forza della tribù, sopratutto allorchè essa era capitanata da uomini di energia tenace e di propositi costanti, come furono per parecchie genera zioni quelli, che guidavano la gens Claudia o la gens Valeria, e come in essa potessero anche perpetuarsi tradizioni diverse, ostili o favorevoli alla plebe dapprima e poi al partito popolare. È questo carattere della gens, che spiega la perennità di un numero origi nariamente piccolo di genti patrizie, malgrado una quantità di influenze, che tendevano a dissolverle e a circoscriverne l'azione. Così pure deve spiegarsi il fatto che, mentre le tribù primitive, di fronte alla potenza assorbente della città, finirono per scompa rire fin dal periodo regio con Servio Tullio, le genti invece per. durarono per parecchi secoli, sostennero in poche una lotta lunga e pertinace con una plebe, il cui numero veniva facendosi sempre maggiore, ed anche vinte continuarono sempre a dare un contri buto larghissimo a quegli onori e a quelle magistrature, che per secoli erano stati loro privilegio esclusivo, finchè da ultimo anche l'impero fini per consolidarsi per un certo tempo nei discendenti di antiche genti patrizie, che si erano imparentate fra di loro. Del resto questa potenza del gruppo gentilizio fu anche sentita da quella parte della plebe, che mediante l'ammessione agli onori fini per costituire una nuova nobiltà, come lo dimostra il fatto, che essa per afforzarsi non trovò mezzo più efficace di quello di ricorrere al ius imaginum e di imitare cosi una organizzazione, che ormai trovavasi in decadenza. Intanto i due caratteri fondamentali della gens, quali si pos sono raccogliere dalle vestigia che ci rimangono delle antiche genti italiche,malgrado le divergenze, che possono esistere nella descrizione dei particolari minuti, si riducono essenzialmente ai seguenti, cioè, primo, alla discendenza da un antenato comune, la quale rivelasi nel nome, nel culto, e nel sepolcro comune; secondo, ed alla ingenuità perenne dei membri, che entrano a costituirla, per modo che essa deve essersi ser bata immune da qualsiasi mescolanza con persone di origine servile. Il primo di questi caratteri è quello che costituisce la forza, la compattezza e la perennità dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ed il se condo, che il pontefice Q. Muzio SCEVOLA volle si aggiungesse alla deffinizione dei gentiles serbataci da Cicerone, è quello che spiega la superiorità delle genti patrizie di fronte alla plebe. Esse avevano attraversato un lungo periodo di lotta e di privata violenza vincitrici sempre e non vinte mai, e quindi la loro gentilitas era indizio, che esse appartenevano alla classe dei vincitori, il cui sangue non erasi mai mescolato con quello dei vinti, dei servi e dei clienti, donde la conseguenza eziandio, che il vocabolo patricii in sostanza non significava che gli ingenui, il quale ultimo vocabolo allude ap punto alla niuna mescolanza del loro sangue con quello servile. Questi due caratteri sono dimostrati anzitutto dalle varie diffinizioni della gens stateci trasmesse da Varrone, da Festo, da Isidoro e da altri, le quali accennano tutte alla discendenza dei gentili da un antenato comune, e da quella anche di Cicerone, il quale, parlando di un nome comune – “qui inter se codem nomine sunt” -- non esclude certamente, ma conferma il carattere della comune discendenza e in tanto vi aggiunge quello della ingenuità non interrotta dei gentiles. Questa del resto è pur confermata da ciò, che la plebe stessa nelle sue discussioni coi patrizii se non ammetteva la loro discendenza dal divino riconosce però, che il vocabolo “Patrizio” nelle sue origini significa “ingenuo”. Di qui intanto si comprende come dapprima il patrizio e poscia tutti i cittadini romani avessero *tre* appellazioni. La prima – “prae-nomen” -- indicava l'individuo. L’altra e il vero nome – “nomen” --  designa la gente, a cui egli appartene in quanto la gente e in certo modo il gruppo che contene le diverse famiglie. La terza infine – “cognomen” – designa la famiglia, in quanto questa era una particolare diramazione, della gente. A queste appellazioni si potevano poi anche aggiungere (1) Festus, vo Gentilis: « Gentilis dicitur ex eodem genere natus, et is qui simili nomine appellatur ». Bruns, Fontes; VARRO, De lingua Latina. “Ut in hominibus quaedam sunt agnationes ac gentilitates, sic in verbis; ut enim ab Aemilio homines horti Aemilii ac gentiles, sic ab Aemilio nomine declinatae gen tilitates nominales.” Bruns, Fontes, Isidoro. “Gens est multitudo ab uno principio orta, appellata propter generationes familiarum, id est a gi gnendo uti natio a nascendo.” Bruns; CICERO, Top. “Gentiles sunt qui inter se eodem nomine sunt.” “Qui ab ingenuis oriundi sunt.” “Quorum maiorum nemo servitutem servivit.” “Qui capite non sunt deminuti.” V. anche Livio. Per ciò che si riferisce ai nomi romani è da vedersi il MICHEL, “Du droit de cité romaine” (Paris), e sopratutto la trattazione veramente magistrale del MarQUARDT, “Das Privatleben der Römer,” che nota come vi fossero gruppi, che non avevano cognomen, come gli Antonië, i Duilii, i Flaminii ecc. Quanto agl’esempi citati nel testo a pag.40, è pare a vedersi Bonghi, “Storia di Roma”, “Appendice sulle primitive genti patrizie”, nella parte, che si riferisce alla gens Claudia e Cornelia] uno o più soprannomi – “agnomina” -- che servivano a contraddistinguere l'individuo stesso o per essere egli stato adottato da altra famiglia, o per impresa da lui compiuta, o per indicare le suddistinzioni operatesi nella stessa famiglia. Può darsi che in antico potesse esservi anche qualche indicazione della località abitata dalla gente, a cui apparteneva l'individuo, come lo dimostrano i soprannomi di “Regillensis”, “Collatinus,” e simili. Di questo si ha un indizio nel fatto, che allora quando il territorio di Roma e veramente distribuito in tribù locali, anche la indicazione della tribù comparve a completare le denominazioni del cittadino romano, e precedette anzi il soprannome suo particolare. Del resto, questi caratteri particolari della “gens” sono anche comprovati dalla radice “gen,” comune alla “gens” latina e al “genos” dei greci, che significa “generare” e produrre; come pure da ciò, che i nomi gentilizii sono nomi di persona piuttostochè di luoghi, e che i diritti gentilizii, come il ius hereditatis, il ius curae, il ius sepulchri sono di carattere eminentemente privato. Così è pure dei sacra gentilicia, i quali da Festo sono annoverati fra i sacra privata, che sono a spese delle singole genti, e contrapposti ai sacra pubblica, che si compiono invece a pubbliche spese. Solo sembra far eccezione il ius decretorum. Ma oltrecchè questo diritto sembra nel periodo storico esercitarsi di preferenza in cose d'ordine privato, il medesimo puo facilmente essere spiegato quando si consideri, che la genteha compiuto un tempo funzioni politiche, che non puo scomparire di un tratto anche colla formazione di Roma. Tali sono le appellazioni di Publius Cornelius Scipio Aemilianus, di Lucius Cornelius Scipio Asiaticus, di Publius Cornelius Lentulus Spinther, ecc. V. Mar QUARDT. VARRO, De ling. lat. “In hoc ipso analogia non est, quod alii no mina habent ab oppidis, alii aut non habent, aut non, ut debent, habent.” BRUNS. FESTUS, p Publica: “Publica sacra, quae publico sumptu pro populo fiunt, quaeque pro montibus, pagis, curiis, sacellis, et privata, quae pro singulis hominibus, familiis, gentibus fiun.” Bruns. I casi ricordati dalla storia, in cui le gentes si sarebbero valse del ius decretorum, sarebbero i seguenti. La gens Fabia vieta ai suoi membri il celibato e la esposizione degl’infanti (Dionisio). La gens Manlia proscrive il prenome di Marcus (Livio). Affine, la gens Claudia proscrive il prenome di Lucius (Svet., Lib. I), che ri chiamavano per esse tristi ricordi. Più tardi però e il Senato, che prende simili provvedimenti, vietando il prenome di Marcus agl’Antonië (Plut., Cic., 19), e quello [È invece assai più difficile l'argomentare quale potesse essere l'organizzazione interna della gens da quelle poche traccie, che ne rimangono nel periodo storico. Non si può anzitutto accertare, se la gens ha sempre e costantemente un proprio capo – “princeps gentis” --, o se il medesimo invece fosse eletto dal consiglio dei padri o indicato dall'anzianità di nascita, solo allorchè trattavasi di qualche impresa da compiere, come quando, ad esempio, Atto Clauso abbandona Regillo per recarsi a Roma. Questo però è certo, che la gente dove avere un consiglio di anziani o di padri, che raccoglieva in sè la somma dei poteri, e conserva e trasmetteva le tradizioni della gente. Era nel suo seno, che si sceglievano gli arbitri e gli amichevoli compositori delle controversie, che potevano sorgere fra i varii capi di famiglia, che appartenevano alla medesima gente. Era questo consiglio parimenti, che sull’ “ager gentilicius” fa degli assegni di terre ai clienti, ed attribuie gl’ “Heredia” alle nuove famiglie che si formavano nel seno della gente. E il medesimo ancora, che poteva richiedere il servizio militare non solo dei suoi membri – “gentiles” -- ma anche dei dipendenti da essa – “gentilicii”. Cosi pure era questo consiglio, che sovra intende alla condotta dei singoli capi di famiglia, prevenne e reprime l’abuso dell'autorità domestica, ed impede eziandio che i capi di famiglia, contro il buon costume della gente, disperdessero quei beni – “bona paterna avitaque” -- di cui in certo modo erano custodi nel l'interesse proprio e della famiglia e che, potendo, dovevano trasmettere ai proprii eredi. E la gente infine che, in mancanza di prossimi agnati, e chiamata a succedere al capo di famiglia morto senza eredi suoi, e che dove perciò anche provvedere alla tutela perpetua delle femmine e a quella dei figli, che fossero rimasti or di Cnaeus ai Calpurnii Pisones (Tacito). Parteno eziandio dalla gens i provvedimenti, che riguardavano la sepoltura. È da vedersi in proposito l'opera di Henri DANIEL LACOMBE, “Le droit funéraire à Rome” (Paris), dove dice che la gens conserva il suo sepolcro gentilizio, finchè si mantenne la sua organizzazione e l'unione stretta fra i suoi membri, cioè fin sotto il principato. E allora che incominciano i sepolcri di famiglia od ereditarii. Secondo quest'autore, mentre i liberti partecipavano ai sacra gentilicia, e quindi probabilmente anche al sepulchrum gentilicium, essi invece erano esclusi del sepolcro della famiglia, al quale hanno diritto soltanto gl’agnati. In proposito del princeps gentis o magister gentis è da vedersi Voigt, “Die XII Tafeln,” ove parla dei poteri al medesimo spettanti.] fani prima di essere pervenuti alla pubertà, come pure doveva essere essa, che facevasi vindice delle offese, che fossero recate ad alcuno dei membri che entravano a costituirla. Da ultimo, fra i membri della gente esiste l'obbligo della reciproca assistenza, per cui dovevano essere alimentati se indigenti, riscattati se prigionieri, sostenuti nelle loro controversie, e vendicati se fossero stati uccisi od ingiuriati. Se a tutto ciò si aggiunga il vincolo del nome, quello del culto, e quello del sepolcro, e facile il comprendere come un gruppo così intimamente connesso, unito nel passato e nell'avvenire, in vita e dopo la morte, nelle cose divine ed umane non potesse essere facilmente distrutto dalle influenze contrarie che si vennero svolgendo nella città. Esso continua, durante il periodo storico, ad avere una quantità di istituzioni tutte sue proprie, come lo dimostrano i vocaboli di “gentilis” e di “gentilicius”, l'esistenza anche nel periodo storico di un “ager gentilicius”, quelli dei “sacra gentilicia”, del “sepulchrum gentilicium”, per modo che, anche prima del formarsi di Roma, dove svolgersi tutto un “ius gentilicium”, che governa appunto i rapporti fra le varie persone, che entravano a costituire il gruppo gentilizio. Esso quindi non deve confondersi col “ius gentilitatis”, che indica il complesso dei diritti spettanti ai gentiles, al modo stesso che il “ius civitatis” indica i diritti spettanti al civis. Così pure non può esservi dubbio, che il vocabolo di “iura gentium”, che poscia ebbe a prendere un così largo svolgimento, dove nascere già in questo periodo per indicare appunto i rapporti, che intercedevano fra le varie genti e i capi delle medesime. Quanto ai poteri della gens, tanto sui gentiles quanto sui gentilicii, è a vedersi Voigt, “Die XII Tafeln”. La bibliografia copiosissima intorno alla gens può vedersi nel BOUCHÉ-LECLERCQ, “Institutions romaines”, come pure nel WILLEMS, “Le droit public romain”. Fra gli autori che tentarono la “ri-costruzione” del “ius gentilicium”, sono a vedersi sopratutto KARLOWA, Römische R. G., MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd. Parmi tuttavia importante il distinguere il “ius gentilicium”, che comprende anche i rapporti fra la classe superiore dei gentiles e quella dei dipendenti da essi o gentilici, il “ius gentilitatis” che significa il complesso dei diritti spettanti ai membri di una stessa gente (gentiles), e i “iura gentium”, che governano i rapporti fra le varie gentes. Fra gl’istituti di questo “ius gentilicium”, quello che più merita di essere preso in considerazione è certo quello della clientela, essendo essa una delle cause del numero e dell'importanza, a cui giunsero i gruppi gentilizii. I clienti, durante il periodo storico, costituiscono una classe inferiore di persone, che appare vincolata al patriziato da certe obbligazioni di carattere ereditario, in contraccambio della protezione e difesa che esso gli accorda. Le due persone, fra cui intercede questo vincolo ereditario, sono indicate coi vocaboli di patrono e di cliente, il quale ultimo vocabolo, secondo l'opinione ora generalmente adottata, deriva da “cluere”, che significa audire nel senso di essere obbediente. Come tali, i clienti entrano a far parte della gente, a cui appartiene il loro patrono, ma non assumono perciò la quantità di gentiles. Ma quella soltanto di gentilicii e costituiscono cosi nel gruppo gentilizio una classe di uomini, di condizione inferiore, che in una posizione già alquanto migliorata corrisponde all'ordine dei servi e dei famuli in seno dell'organizzazione domestica. Il servo e il famulo non partecipano al ius gentilitatis, ma sono sotto la tutela del ius gentilicium. È Dionisio quegli, che ci ha conservato l'enumerzione più particolareggiata delle obbligazioni e dei diritti, che intercedono fra il patrono ed il cliente, attribuendo l'istituto della clien [Willems, “Le droit public romain” -- Non potrei però convenire in ciò, che Willems considera i clienti come una classe speciale di cittadini di diritto inferiore, perchè la clientela in ogni tempo e sempre considerata come un rapporto di diritto privato e non mai come un rapporto di diritto pubblico, che basta ad attribuire da solo la qualità di cittadino. I clienti poterono poi avere tale qualità quando hanno degli assegni in terre dal proprio patrono, mediante cui poterono figurare nel censo, ma non si capisce come potessero essere considerati come cittadini e avere il diritto di suffragio persone, le quali non potevano nep far valere direttamente le proprie ragioni in giudizio, ma abbisognano perciò del patrono. Questa è ancora sempre una conseguenza della confusione fra l'organizzazione gentilizia e l'organizzazione politica. BRÉAL, Dict. étym. lat., vo Clueo. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Encyclopedia Britannica, vº Patron and client] -- tela allo stesso Romolo. Ma egli è evidente, che anche la sua descrizione già altera alquanto le fattezze della clientela, stante lo sforzo fatto per trasportare nella convivenza civile e politica un'istituzione, che ee ata e si era svolta nell'organizzazione gentilizia. Secondo Dionisio, il cliente ha delle obbligazioni, nelle quali si può scorgere un carattere, che noi chiameremmo semi-feudale. Il cliente infatti deve al patrono riverenza e rispetto; deve accompagnarlo alla guerra; soccorrerlo pecuniariamente in certe occasioni, come nel caso di matrimonio delle proprie figlie, e di riscatto di sè e dei figli se siano prigionieri, come pure deve concorrere con lui a sostenere le spese di giustizia, ed anche quelle dei sacra gentilicia. Ciò tutto fa credere, che i clienti ottenessero dai loro patroni delle terre a titolo di precario, dalla cui coltura potevano ricavare dei proventi che loro appartenevano, e che le terre loro assegnate facevano parte dell' “ager gentilicius”, proprietà collettiva della gente; il che non rende esatta, ma spiega l'etimologia as segnata al vocabolo di clientes, che si dicevano così chiamati “quasi colentes”, perché avrebbero coltivate le terre dei padri. Infine, Dionisio parla perfino dell'obbligazione del cliente di non poter votare contro il patrono, la quale dimostrerebbe come la clientela, adatta al gruppo gentilizio, venne ad essere un'istituzione ripugnante al carattere di una comunanza civile e politica. Alla sua volta poi il patrono dove al cliente protezione e difesa, e quindi e tenuto a provvederlo diciò, che fosse necessario per il sostentamento di lui e della sua famiglia, il che facevasi mediante concessione di terre, che il cliente coltiva per suo conto. Esso dove di più assisterlo nelle sue transazioni con altre persone, rappresentarlo in giudizio, apprendergli il diritto – “clienti promere iura” -- , ottenergli risarcimento per le ingiurie patite, averlo in certo [È Servius, In Aeneidem, 6, 609, che vuol derivare il vocabolo di “clients” da “quasi colentes”. “Si enim clientes quasi colentes sunt, patroni quasi patres, tantundem est clientem quantum filium fallere.” (Bruns). Parmi tuttavia che, tenendo conto del contesto della frase di Servio, qui il vocabolo quasi colentes non accenni tanto al coltivare le terre, quanto piuttosto all'osservanza ed alla riverenza del cliente verso il patrono, per guisa che anche l'etimologia di Servio confermerebbe quella oggidì adottata. Questo passo di Dionisio, in cui egli riporta le obligazioni rispettive del patrono e del cliente, attribuendo in certo modo l'origine della clientela a Romolo, è riportato dal Bruns, Fontes] modo in considerazione di membro della gente, ancorchè in condizione inferiore, in quanto che nella gerarchia gentilizia il cliente venne bensì dopo gl’agnati, ma era prima dei cognati e degli affini, i quali appartenevano ad un altro gruppo. Questi obblighi poi scambievoli, in mancanza di sanzione giuridica, sono collocati sotto la protezione del “fas” come lo dimostra la legislazione posteriore di Le XII Tavole, la quale, sanzionando un obbligazione certo preesistente, ebbe a stabilire – “si patronus clienti fraudem fecerit, sacer esto” -- ed al pari di tutti gli altri rapporti gentilizii hanno un carattere ereditario. Infine, siccome patrono e cliente appartengono entrambi allo stesso gruppo gentilizio, ancorchè in posizione diversa, cosi Dionisio va fino a dire, che essi non possono proseguirsi reciprocamente in giudizio, condizione anche questa, che, consentanea al carattere dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ripugna invece a quello della convivenza civile e politica, ove ognuno deve avere il mezzo di poter far valere le proprie ragioni davanti ad un'autorità, che accorda a tutti la propria protezione. Basta questa esposizione per dimostrare, come la clientela e un istituto nato e svolto nell'organizzazione gentilizia prima esistente, che continua ancora per qualche tempo a produrre i proprii effetti a Roma, ove tuttavia si trova compiutamente disadatto, perchè ripugna a quell'uguaglianza di posizione giuridica, che deve esservi fra coloro, che partecipano alla medesima cittadinanza. Essa quindi era destinata necessariamente a scomparire o quanto meno a trasformarsi, in quanto che nella città le persone, che trovansi in condizione inferiore, possono essere aggruppate nella plebe e fare a meno della protezione del patrono, essendovi un'altra autorità che li tutela. Di qui la conseguenza, che la clientela potè ancora mantenersi finchè i due ordini in lotta fra di loro si [MASURIUS SABINUS – “In officiis apud maiores ita observatum est.” “Primum tutelae, deinde hospiti, deinde clienti, tum cognato, postea adfini.” HUSCHKE, Jurisp. ante-iust. quae sup. -- Aulo Gellio invece accenna ad un'altra opinione, che dà la preferenza al cliente sull'ospite. Noct. Att., V, 13. Che poi il cliente entri in certo modo a far parte della famiglia è affermato da Festus, vº Patronus. « Patronus a patre cur ab antiquis dictus sit, manifestum; ut quia ut liberi, sic etiam clientes numerari inter domesticos quodammodo possunt >; Bruns. Cfr. Karlowa, Römische R. G., attenneno ancora strettamente alla propria organizzazione e rappresentano in certo modo due elementi fra di loro contrapposti nella medesima Roma. Ma dopo il pareggiamento invece dei due ordini, la clientela riusce solo più a mantenersi di nome, anzichè di fatto. Senza più importare quegli obblighi di carattere religioso ed ereditario, che ne conseguivano un tempo. I clientes si scambiarono cosi in semplici aderenti, che accompagnavano il patrizio od anche l' “homo novus” nella piazza e nel foro e ne costituivano in certo modo il corteo, e diventarono anche semplici salutatores; il che tuttavia non tolse, che il vocabolo “cliente” sopravvive alla istituzione da esso indicata, e rimanesse ad indicare il rapporto di colui che si affida al patrocinio legale di un'altra persona, ricordando così uno dei primitivi uffici, che il patrono ha certamente avuto verso il proprio cliente. Tuttavia, anche dopo il pareggiamento dei due ordini, allorchè la vera clientela già scompare nei rapporti fra i cittadini romani. Noi la vediamo sopravvivere nei rapporti dei cittadini romani colle altre genti, in quanto che trovansi le traccie di un ius applicationis, la cui origine rimonta alle tradizioni gentilizie, col quale un individuo, un municipio, un re od un popolo straniero ricorrevano al patronato di un cittadino romano per far valere o avanti al Senato o davanti ai magistrati di Roma ragioni e diritti che essi non sarebbero stati in caso di far riconoscere. Così pure nell'interno di Roma, la clientela, ancorchè scomparsa come istituzione giuridica, continua pur sempre ad esercitare una grandissima influenza sopratutto nel periodo dell’elezione -- nel quale tutte le aderenze si mettono in movimento e quindi anche quelle che ricordano uno stato di cose ormai scomparso. Accenna al ius applicationis CICERONE, De orat. ma sembra che già ai suoi tempi fosse assai oscuro il carattere di questa istituzione. Sonvi però autori, che, come MISPOULET, vorrebbero scorgere nelmedesimo la forma contrattuale della clientela. “Les institutions politiques de Rome” (Paris). In ogni caso converrebbe pur sempre dire, che il ius applicationis poteva essere la forma, che riveste il rapporto della clientela nell'epoca romana, ma non si potrebbe affer mare altrettanto dell'epoca gentilizia. Le formole epigrafiche, da Mispoulet citate in nota, si riferiscono alla così detta pubblica clientela, che era già stata creata a somiglianza di quella prima esistente. Del resto punto non ripugna, che anche la clientela potesse assumere un carattere contrattuale e che la formola di essa puo anche essere analoga a quella ricostrutta da Voigt. “Te mihi patronum capio. At ego suscipio poichè noi troviamo qualcosa di analogo anche nella deditio”. C. “Le origini del diritto di Roma”. Quanto alla clientela, e sopratutto disputata ed ha veramente grande importanza la questione intorno alla origine di essa. Si è sostenuto in proposito che i clienti fossero i primi plebei stati ripartiti da Romolo sotto il patronato dei patrizii; che essi fossero i primi abitanti del Lazio ridotti a vassalli; che fossero gl’immigranti in Roma in seguito all'asilo aperto da Romolo; che essi infine fossero antichi servi manomessi, la quale opinione, posta innanzi da Mommsen, si appoggerebbe sull'analogia, che corre fra gl’obblighi primitivi del cliente verso il patrono e quelli che ancora si mantengono durante il periodo storico a carico dei *liberti* verso il patrono. Di queste varie opinioni, quella che andrebbe a sorprendere la clientela nella sua prima formazione e che sembra essere più con sentanea al carattere dell'organizzazione gentilizia è l'opinione soste nuta da Mommsen, per cui i primi clienti della gente sarebbero stati i servi, i quali, manomessi dopo un lungo e fedele servizio nel seno della famiglia, sarebbero diventati clienti nel seno della gente, a cui appartene il proprio patrono. Ciò e non solo naturale, ma indispensabile nell'organizzazione gentilizia in quanto che, se cosi non e stato, i servi manomessi si sarebbero trovati abbandonati a se stessi e staccati da quel gruppo, al di fuori del quale non poteva esservi protezione giuridica, finchè non fu costituita una vera autorità civile e politica. Si aggiunge che l'organizzazione gentilizia è una formazione naturale e spontanea, che cerca in ogni suo stadio di bastare a se stessa, e tende così a ricavare dal proprio seno tutti i suoi successivi sviluppi. Viene quindi ad essere naturale e serve anche a dare una certa elasticità ai varii gruppi gentilizii e a permettere il passaggio da uno ad un altro la costumanza per cui coloro, che erano stati famuli o servi nella famiglia, potessero essere accolti come clienti o gentilicii nella gente. La clientela in tal modo venne a costituire una condizione relativamente più elevata a cui poteva aspirare il servo, e si comprende eziandio come la sua co-abitazione in una famiglia potesse da una parte disporre la gente a renderlo partecipe del culto e del sepolcro gentilizio, mentre dall'altra la sua fedeltà ed obbedienza nella qualità di servo e preparazione all'ossequio ed alla riverenza del cliente, L'esposizione più particolareggiata delle varie opinioni, colla indicazione degli autori, che ebbero a professarle, occorre nel.WILLEMS, “Le droit public Romain”, e nel Borché-LECLERC, “Instit. Rom.” È in questo senso che il concetto del Mommsen può essere accettato. Ma il medesimo vuol essere reso compiuto col ritenere che qui dovette verificarsi un processo, che è comune a tutte le istituzioni, per cui, una volta creata la configurazione giuridica della clientela per mezzo di elementi usciti dal seno stesso dell'organizzazione gentilizia, si poterono poi fare entrare in essa tutti coloro, che essendosi per qualsiasi causa staccati da un gruppo abbisognavano di collegarsi ad un altro e di mettersi sotto la protezione o difesa di esso. Come quindi e naturale, che il servo affrancato dal capo di famiglia divenne cliente della gente a cui esso appartene, così dovette pure essere naturale, che una volta creato il rapporto religioso, giuridico ed ereditario della clientela e compresi nella medesima anche gli immigranti, che si rifugiano presso la gente, vincolandosi mediante il ius applicationis ad uno dei membri di essa, che ne diventava il patrono. Quelli, che per un diritto di guerra universalmente riconosciuto fra le varie genti, essendo posti nella condizione di dediticii, venivano ad esser privi di religione, di territorio, e di mezzi di sussistenza. Quelli, che erano soggiogati e vinti da una gente o tribù, che sopravveniva e si imponeva nel sito da essi occupato. Quelli che, fermata la propria sede accanto ad uno stabilimento di casate patrizie, ne ottenevano concessioni di terra e riconoscevano così il patronato delle medesime. Tutti quelli insomma, che in un'epoca di lotta e di violenza cercano protezione e difesa presso la gente, e che questa, per affinità di stirpe o per altro motivo, riteneva di poter accogliere nella comunanza gentilizia, assegnando pero ai medesimi una posizione subordinate. Cio intanto dimostra come la clientela e una istituzione indispensabile in questo periodo di organizzazione sociale. Serve ad incorporare nel gruppo gentilizio persone, che altrimenti si sarebbero trovate nell'isolamento e percio prive di diritto, e quindi, mentre da una parte accresce il numero e la forza delle genti, dall'altra procura al cliente una protezione giuridica, di cui e stato altrimenti privato. In questo senso non è certamente [Questa più larga estensione data all'origine della clientela, che, senza escludere l'opinione di Mommsen, la comprende, sembra essere giustificata dal seguente passo di Gellio: “Clientes, qui in fidem patrociniumque nostrum sese dediderunt”] destituita di fondamento la potente intuizione del nostro Vico. Vico ritenne che la clientela o come egli la chiama il “famulato” e un mezzo indispensabile per giungere al governo civile, in quanto che essa e il primo mezzo,mediante il quale individui e famiglie di origine diversa poterono, coll'accettare una posizione dipendente e subordinata, essere aggregate ad un gruppo, a cui non apparteneno per nascita, senza tuttavia essere assorbiti intieramente nel gruppo stesso nella qualità di famuli e di servi.  Non può quindi essere accolta l'opinione di coloro, che vorrebbero collocare il cliente in una posizione intermedia fra il servo ed il plebeo, poichè sebbene sia vero che l'uno poteva trasformarsi nel l'altro, tuttavia la clientela e la plebe sono istituti, che compariscono in stadii diversi dell'organizzazione sociale. Mentre la clientela appartiene ancora totalmente all'organizzazione gentilizia, il comparire invece della plebe segna già l'iniziarsi della vita civile e politica in seno della tribù, donde la conseguenza che la città formandosi soffoca la clientela, mentre verrà invece a somministrare il terreno, sovra cui la plebe potrà dispiegare la propria attività ed energia. Al disopra della gens compare infine nella organizzazione delle genti italiche un'aggregazione più vasta, che è quella della TRIBU, come lo dimostra il fatto, che, secondo la tradizione, sarebbe dal confederarsi delle tribù dei Ramnenses, dei Titienses e dei Luceres, che sarebbe uscita Roma, allorchè essa cesso di essere il primitivo stabilimento romuleo. La tribù tuttavia, delle istituzioni anteriori a Roma, è certo la più difficile a ricostruirsi nelle sue primitive fattezze. Siccome infatti essa, per le funzioni esercitate, e tra le varie aggregazioni quella, che più si accosta Roma, così è anche quella, che per la prima e assorbita dalla medesima, per modo che il nome stesso delle tre tribù primitive di Roma sarebbesi forse perduto, se non l'avesse [Vico, Scienza nuova, Lib. II. – “Della famiglia dei famoli innanzi delle città, senza la quale non potevano affatto nascere le città” – Milano] conservato la curiosità investigatrice di qualche antiquario, e non ne fossero rimaste le vestigia nelle VI centurie degli equites -- VI suffragia -- composte dei Ramnenses, Titienses e Luceres primi et secondi. Gli è perciò che come e assai difficile il discernere la gente dall'aggregazione più ristretta dalla famiglia, cosi non è meno difficile il constatare in qual modo alle genti venga a sovrapporsi la tribù e come, riunendosi le prime, venga ad apparire la seconda. Di questo pero possiamo essere certi, che le tribù primitive di Roma risultavano composte da una aggregazione di genti, le quali si venivano raggruppando intorno al capo di una gente prevalente fra tutte le altre, da cui desumevano il loro nome complessivo, il quale percio e ricavato dalla persona che guida la tribù, più che dal luogo, ove questa era stabilita. Così, per arrestarsi alle due tribù primitive, la cui origine è meglio accertata, si può essere certi, che la tribù dei “Ramnenses” rica il proprio nome complessivo da “Romolo” *e* da “Remo”, che sono a capo di essa, secondo la tradizione. Il che è pure di quella dei “Titienses”, il cui nome deriva da Tito Tazio, capo della tribù sabina, stabilita sul Quirinale. Nel che è anche a notarsi, che il nome della tribù viene ad essere composto in guisa diversa da quello della gens, per guisa che mentre parlasi di una gens “Romilia”, “Titia” è “Claudia”, le tribù invece vengono ad essere dei Ramnes o Ramnenses, dei Tities o Titienses, e dei Claudienses. Di qui pud indursi, che la [Non mancano negli autori delle trattazioni anche relativamente alla tribù; ma di regola essa suol essere considerata come una ripartizione della città, nè cer casi di ricostruire la tribù primitiva, che sola può porgere il mezzo di comprendere la formazione della città. Tutti però concordano in riconoscere, che altre sono le tribù primitive, fondate sul vincolo genealogico, ed altre quelle posteriori introdotte da Servio Tallio, desunte invece dalle località, ove erano stabilite. Cfr. CARLOWA, “Römische Rechtsgeschichte”. Non può certamente essere accettata l'etimologia di VARRONE, De ling. lat. (Bruns), il quale vorrebbe in certa guisa far derivare il nome delle tre tribù dalle tre parti dell'agro, che sarebbe stato fra esse distribuito. “Ager romanus, primum divisus in partes *tres*, a quo tribus appellatae Titiensium, Ramnium, Lucerum.” Infatti l'opinione di Varrone in questa parte è contraddetta da Livio, da Servio, da Dionisio, che fanno invece derivare il nome delle tre tribù non dalle località, ma dal nome dei loro capi. È quindi evidente, che qui VARRONE confuse in certo modo le tribù primitive con quelle di Servio Tullio, come lo dimostra il [tribù comincia a delinearsi, allorchè viene ad avverarsi un'aggregazione di gentes, le quali, non essendo più strette dal vincolo della comune discendenza, si raggruppano intorno al capo della stirpe prevalente fra di esse e mentre conservano in particolare i proprii nomi gentilizii, assumono in comune un nome, che desumono dal proprio capo. Questa formazione novella viene poi ad essere determinata ogni qualvolta un'impresa o spedizione qualsiasi può porgere occasione a questo aggregarsi delle gentes. Di qui la conseguenza che la tribú - o può assumere un carattere pressochè militare, come accadde della tribù dei Ramnenses, che sarebbesi formata fra le genti albane in occasione di una spedizione di carattere militare, o può invece avere il carattere di una propria comunanza di villaggio, come era di quella dei Titienses già stabilita sul Quirinale. Tanto nell'uno quanto nell'altro caso la tribu assume immedia tamente un carattere religioso, ponendosi sotto la protezione del divino domune patrono – “dius”, “dius-piter” --  perchè fra le genti non si puo comprendere un'aggregazione qualsiasi senza un vincolo religioso che la stringa insieme. Qui intanto l'unificazione del gruppo divenne indispensabile, anche per l'intento che la tribù si propone di conseguire, e quindi viene ad accentuarsi assai più che nella gente la figura di un capo, che prende il nome di “praetor” o di dic. fatto, che egli dopo continua con dire. “Ab hoc agro quatuor quoque partes urbis tribus dictae ab locis, Suburana, Palatina, Esquilina, Collina, etc.” Del resto non pud neppure ammettersi, che occorresse una divisione dell'agro fra le TRE TRIBU, dal momento che ciascuna continua ad avere il proprio terrritorio, salvo che si tratta, non di una ripartizione di territorio, ma di una divisione meramente amministrativa, come dovette appunto essere. Secondo Bouché-LECLERCQ, la cui competenza è incontrastabile nella parte, che si riferisce alla religione di Roma per i suoi studii sui pontefici e sull'arte della divinazione, il culto delle tribù de' Ramnenses sarebbe stato quello di Marte e QUIRINO quello della tribù dei Titienses sarebbe stato quello di QUIRINO e di Giano. Quello infine della tribù de' Luceres sarebbe stato quello di Giove, sebbene queste varie divinità sembrino talvolta confondersi fra di loro, il che accade quanto a Marte e a Quirino, come pure di Giove e di Giano. Si può aggiungere, che del triplice divino rimasero ancora le traccie nei tre flaminimaggiori, che sono quelli di Marte, di QUIRINO e di Giove (Gaius I, 112). Di qui LECLERCQ ricava indizi dei diversi stadii, che Roma ha a percorrere nella sua formazione progressiva. “Institutions Romaines”] tator, se la tribù si trova avviata ad una spedizione; di iudex in tempo di pace; di magister pagi, se trattisi di una comunanza di villaggio già ferma in un determinato sito; dimeddix, come accadeva presso gl’osci, ed infine anche di rex, sebbene questo vocabolo, sembri comparire di preferenza quando trattisi del capo di una città propriamente detta. Tuttavia questo capo suol essere nella tribù ancora designato di preferenza dalla nascita, che non dall'elezione; come lo dimostra il fatto, che i due duci della tribù dei Ramnenses sono entrambi di stirpe regia e per essere *gemelli* debbono conoscere mediante gli auspicii quale di essi sia chiamato a fondare la città, o meglio il primo stabilimento romuleo sul Palatino. Quando invece da capo della tribù dei Ramnenses, Romolo dove già trasformarsi in reggitore della “civitas”, formatasi mediante la confederazione di varie tribù, in allora, secondo Dionisio, e già necessaria l'approvazione dei padri e la creazione del Popolo. Però accanto al capo si mantiene ancor sempre un consiglio, che può continuarsi a chiamare dei patres, perchè è effettivamente composto dei capi delle singole genti, e a cui probabilmente già viene data la denominazione di “senatus”. Infine, nella tribù già può avverarsi la riunione – “comitium” – degl’uomini, che colle armi – “iuniores” -- o col consiglio – “seniors” -- possono provvedere alla comune difesa od al comune in teresse; donde la conseguenza, che già nella stessa tribù può venirsi iniziando il concetto eminentemente concreto ed organico del “populus”, salvo che gl’elementi per costituirlo si ricano ancora direttamente dalle varie genti – “ex generibus hominum” -- cosicchè la sua classificazione continua ancora sempre ad avere un carattere prettamente gentilizio.  Questa naturale formazione della tribù dimostra, come la medesima corrisponda fra le genti italiche a ciò che per l'Oriente suol essere indicato col vocabolo di “vîc” o comunanza di villaggio, e fra I greci col vocabolo di dñuos. Essa costituisce in certo modo [Dion., HAUSSOULIER, “La vie municipale en Attique”. Devo però far no tare che, secondo l'autore, il demos dei Greci sarebbe già una vera associazione civile e politica e corrisponderebbe alla “curia” e più soventi al “pagus”, sebbene a mio avviso la curia ed il pagus siano due cose compiutamente diverse. La “curia”, infatti, è una divisione politica di Roma. Il “pagus” e la località, in cui dimora la tribus. Crederei quindi più esatto che il demos corrisponda a quest'ultima.] il più largo sviluppo, a cui pervenne l'organizzazione patriarcale, perchè mentre il suo elemento costitutivo e il modello, a cui si in forma, è pur sempre il gruppo gentilizio, da essa pero già si vengono elaborando quegl’elementi, che, trasportati nella comunanza civile e politica, finiranno per dare origine ad un rapporto del tutto nuovo, che è quello della “civitas”, il quale più non dispiegasi nel “pagus” come la “tribù”, ma bensi nell' “urbs”. Ben si potrebbe osservare contro questo tentativo di “ri-costruzione” concettuale, che la tribù mal puo essere l'ultimo stadio dell'organizzazione patriarcale, mentre essa ricompare poi come la prima ripartizione della città; ma anche ciò può essere facilmente spiegato quando si consideri, che era dalla tribus, che si sono ricavati i primi elementi, in base a cui si costituie Roma, come lo dimostrano anche i vocaboli di “tri-bunus”, “tri-butum”, “tri-bunal”, i quali tutti richiamano la “tribù”, e quindi era conforme al processo costantemente seguito nelle formazioni italiche, che l'edifizio novello di Roma si ripartisse nell'interno sul modello degli elementi primitivi, che con correvano a costituirlo. D'altronde è noto, che le tribù di Servio Tullio hanno un carattere di preferenza locale e non già genealogico come le tribù primitive. Intanto, senza volere per ora trattare a fondo dell'origine della plebe, non sarà inopportuno indicare, che è certamente colla formazione delle tribù, il cui nucleo è ancor sempre composto di genti patrizie, che può essersi iniziata la formazione della plebs, essendo naturale che attorno ad uno stabilimento di genti patrizie, che già riconoscono un capo, si venne formando una comunanza plebea, che provede al proprio sostentamento, o coltivando terre concesse dalle genti o dal capo di esse, o esercitando i mestieri e le professioni diverse. Il bisogno di questo nuovo elemento puo essere sentito dalle stesse genti, per quanto esse coi loro servi e coi loro client sono organizzate in guisa da poter bastare da sole a tutte le loro esigenze. Ciò è comprovato eziandio da quelle Quanto al diverso svolgimento di questi varii elementi in Roma, vedi Carle, “La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale”] come pure: Genesi e sviluppo delle varie forme di convivenza civile e politica, colle opere ivi citate. La distinzione è fatta nettamente da Dionisio, il quale chiama la tribù primitiva “qulai revikai” e quelle di Servio Tullo “qulai totikaí”.antiche formole, in cui parlasi di populus et plebes, dualismo il quale fa credere che dovette esservi un tempo, in cui si chiamo populus l'assemblea politica e militare ricavata dal seno delle genti, secondo il rito e l'ordine prescritto dalle consuetudini e dalle tradizioni, mentre invece si chiama plebes dapprima e poscia plebs (da “pleo”, riempire) quella moltitudine ragunaticcia, che dopo essersi cominciata a formare con clienti rimasti senza patrono e che come tali venivano ad essere esclusi dal gruppo gentilizio, potè poi una volta formata accrescersi in guise varie e molteplici. Questo infatti risulta dalla storia delle istituzioni sociali, che il compito più difficile nella grande povertà delle idee primitive è la formazione di un nuovo gruppo. Ma quando esso è formato e corrisponde alle esigenze dei tempi, viene ad essere un potente richiamo per tutti gl’elementi, che per questo o quel motivo si vengono staccando dall'organizzazione prima esistente, e che abbandonati a se cercano un nucleo novello a cui possano aderire. Riassumendo questa lenta e faticosa ricostruzione dell'organizzazione sociale delle genti Italiche anteriore a Roma, credo che la medesima abbia abbastanza dimostrato, come l'organizzazione stessa siasi venuta svolgendo mediante un processo di naturale e spontanea formazione, costituita in certo modo da altrettanti sedimenti, che si vennero sovrapponendo l'uno all'altro, in modo pero che gli elementi, che formansi in ciascuno di essi, subiscono delle trasformazioni allorchè passano in quelli che vengono dopo. Infatti, anche lasciando in disparte la grave questione della provenienza delle genti Italiche, è molto probabile, che esse già recassero con sè l'organizzazione gentilizia, quantunque la medesima non avesse forse assunto quelle determinazioni precise, che acquisto più tardi. Furono i conflitti delle genti colle stirpi già stabilite sullo stesso suolo, le lotte fra vincitori e vinti, e quelle eziandio fra le stesse genti migranti, che presto dimenticarono la discendenza comune, che produssero un irrigidirsi dei varii gradi dell'organizzazione gentilizia e condussero alla formazione di una potente aristocrazia territoriale, militare e religiosa ad un tempo, che attrasse anche i vinti nei quadri del proprio ordinamento, collocandoli però in una posizione subordinata a quella dei vincitori. Ne consegui che la famiglia, per rendersi atta a sostenere i conflitti cogli altri gruppi, si venne concentrando e raggruppando sotto il potere del proprio capo, il quale sembra quasi perdere l'aureola di padre per assumere quella di sacerdote, di giudice, di uomo di guerra e di fondatore di una schiatta destinata a perpetuarsi. Intanto le persone, cheda lui dipendono, si dividono in liberi o figli e in servi o famuli, due vocaboli che si contrappongono fra di loro ed indicano due classi di uomini, che rimarranno distinte per contrassegnare in certo modo la discendenza dei vincitori e quella dei vinti. Di qui quel carattere eminentemente monarchico della costituzione della famiglia gentilizia, che tenacemente conservato nella famiglia quiritaria fini per attribuire alla medesima quella speciale impronta, che i giureconsulti romani più non ravvisavano nelle istituzioni famigliari degl’altri popoli. La gente invece continua sempre a ritenere alquanto dell'elasticità primitiva, nè giunge ad una concentrazione uguale a quella della famiglia. Ma intanto, memore del culto del proprio antenato, custode gelosa delle proprie tradizioni, riunita e resa compatta dai comuni pericoli, accresciuta dai clienti, si cambia anch'essa in una specie di corporazione potente, che continua ad essere il perno del l'organizzazione gentilizia, e mentre da una parte tiene unite le famiglie, dall'altra, aggruppandosi con altre genti, dà origine alla tribù. Intanto però anche in essa continua quel dualismo, che già erasi rivelato nella famiglia, salvo che i rapporti fra quelli, che un di furono i vincitori e quelli che furono i vinti, rimettono al quanto della propria rigidezza, e vengono cosi a trovarsi di fronte i gentiles ed i gentilicii, i cui rapporti. prendono un carattere pressochè giuridico nel patronato e nella clientela. Così pure nella gente, accanto all'elemento monarchico della famiglia, già viene a svolgersi un elemento, che potrebbe chiamarsi aristocratico, il quale costituisce un consiglio degl’anziani, che concentra in sè medesimo le principali funzioni, che appartengono alla gente. Da ultimo, nella tribu havvi pur sempre un'aggregazione di genti, ma intanto fra le medesime già distinguesi una gente, che predomina su tutte le altre e viene così ad essere ritenuta come di stirpe regia. Di qui la conseguenza, che in essa compare la figura di un capo, che è il principe della gente, che predomina su tutte le altre, conservasi il consiglio degl’anziani, che già mutasi in senato, perchè è già composto dei capi di genti diverse, ma intanto aggiungesi l'elemento democratico o popolare, che componesi di tutti gl’uomini, che, ricavati dalle varie genti, possono valere come uomini di armi o come uomini di consiglio. Cio però non toglie, che continui sempre il dualismo, che già esi steva negli altri gruppi in quanto che accanto al popolo formasi la plebe, la quale trovasi dapprima al di fuori della comunanza gentilizia e ha percio più un'esistenza di fatto, che non un'esistenza di diritto. Essa è dapprima riguardata con disprezzo dal patriziato, perchè esce dai quadri consacrati dalla religione e dal diritto delle genti. Ma cio non toglie, che passandosi dall'organizzazione gentilizia a Roma essa sia l'unico elemento, che possa sostenere la lotta coll'antico ordine di cose. Per tal modo si ha nel periodo gentilizio una vera formazione naturale delle varie condizioni di persone e dei varii elementi, che entrarono più tardi a costituire la comunanza civile e politica. Che anzi, mentre dura ancora il periodo gentilizio, già si vengono lentamente e gradatamente elaborando quei concetti, che serviranno poi di base a Roma. “Tantae molis erat romanam condere gentem.” Non è già che questo processo di naturale formazione sia proprio soltanto delle genti italiche, in quanto che le traccie di essa appariscono evidenti presso tutte le stirpi di origine aria. Nessuna però giunse a racchiudere i varii stadii di questa formazione in forme più determinate e precise delle stirpi italiche, e sono esse parimenti che, gettando nel crogiuolo i materiali tutti elaborati e conservati nel periodo gentilizio, seppero ricavarne le basi e il fondamento di Roma. Ciò è stato provato largamente dal SUMNER MAINE, “L'ancien droit.” È poi interessantissima a questo proposito la comparazione, che fa Revillout fra l'organizzazione domestica dei romani e quella che vigeva presso gli Egiziani nella sua opera col titolo, “Cours de droit égiptien” (Paris) della quale può considerarsi come un compimento, per ciò che si riferisce alle forme di celebrazione del matrimonio, il lavoro del suo allievo PATURET, “La condition juridique de la femme dans l'ancien Egipte” (Paris). Fra i problemi, che presenta la storia delle istituzioni primitive di Roma, uno fra i più difficili per comune accordo degli autori è certo quello, che si riferisce all'origine di quella forma di “proprietà”, che suol essere indicata col nome di proprietà quiritaria, la quale in certo modo venne ad essere il modello, sovra cui si foggia la proprietà presso la maggior parte dei popoli civili. A questo proposito le tradizioni a noi pervenute sembrano presentare alcune contraddizioni a prima giunta inesplicabili. Da una parte infatti, anche dopo la formazione di Roma, si rinvengono ancora le traccie di una proprietà collettiva, conosciuta sotto il nome di “ager gentilicius” e di “ager compascuus”, mentre dall'altra la proprietà quiritaria si presenta fin dai proprii inizi con un carattere cosi assoluto ed esclusivo, che sembra perfino escludere la possibilità dell'esistenza anteriore di una proprietà collettiva. A cio si aggiunge, che mentre da una parte la storia primitiva di Roma ci dipinge il patriziato fin dai più antichi tempi in condizioni tali da concentrare nelle sue mani tutto il capitale – “pecunia” --  allora esistente, e come il proprietario pressochè esclusivo di una gran parte del territorio, dall'altra la tradizione parla di una ri-partizione fatta da Romolo del territorio di Roma e di un assegno da esso fatto di soli due iugeri – “bina iugera” --  ai capi di famiglia, che lo segueno, il quale assegno avrebbe co stituito il primo patrimonio – “heredium” -- del più antico patriziato, che era quello della tribù dei Ramnenses. Ecco i principali passi di filosofi che si riferiscono all'argomento. VARRONE:: “Bina iugera, quod a Romulo primum divisa viritim, quae heredem sequerentur, heredium appellarunt”. PLINIO: “Bina tunciugera populo romano satis erant, nullique maiorem modum attribuit (Romulus).” Lo stesso Plinio: “M. Curii nota dictio est, perniciosum intel legi civem, cui septem iugera non essent satis. Haec autem mensura plebi post ex ictos reges adsignata esto.” (Brons, Fontes). Se ne ricaverebbe pertanto - Non è quindi meraviglia se le congetture a questo proposito siansi avviate in direzioni compiutamente diverse. Alcuni ritenneno che la proprietà privata in Roma sia stata una creazione dello stato. Contro questa opinione si è osservato che l'idea di una sovranità territoriale e affatto ignota ai romani, per guisa che un'imposta fondiaria qualsiasi sarebbe loro parsa un segno di soggezione odioso tanto, che fino al principato, Roma e l'Italia ne furono escluse. In senso contrario, si fa pero notare, che non può ammettersi che la proprietà in Roma siasi potuta sottrarre a quella evoluzione storica, che sarebbesi avverata presso tutti i popoli, in quanto che Roma avrebbe esordito con un concetto della proprietà, che presso gli altr’popoli non si rinviene che quando essi sono pervenuti al termine della loro evoluzione. Ne deriva che, lasciando in disparte le gradazioni diverse delle opinioni intermedie, le teorie estreme si potrebbero ridurre essenzialmente alle seguenti. Vi ha l'opinione di Niebhur, di Mommsen, seguita anche da molti altri, fra cui noto De Ruggero, secondo cui la proprietà in Roma, come presso gl’altri popoli, sarebbe prima esistita sotto forma collettiva e non sarebbesi cambiata in proprietà esclusivamente privata ed individuale, che colla ammessione della plebe alla cittadinanza e cogli assegni di terre fatti dallo stato ai che ai primi fondatori dello stabilimento romuleo l'assegno non fu che di due iugeri, mentre poi più non parlasi di altri assegni fatti anche al patriziato. Per contro gli assegni posteriori, incominciando da Numa, appariscono fatti ai plebei ed anzi ai più poveri della plebe. Solo fa eccezione Cicerone, il quale dice che Numa divide fra i cittadini l'agro pubblico conquistato sotto Romolo – “agros divisit viritim viribus” (De rep.). Ma in ciò è contraddetto da Dionisio, il quale parla di una distribuzione da Numa fatta ai più poveri, Quanto agl'assegni attribuiti ai re, che vennero dopo, sono tutti fatti alla plebe, ed è dopo le leggi Licinie Sestie, che i medesimi furono portati a sette iugeri. Ciò è attestato fra gl’altri da Columella, De re rustica. “Post reges exactos Liciniana illa VII iugera, quae plebi tribunus viritim diviserat, maiores quaestus antiquis retulere, quam nunc nobis praebent amplissima vetereta.” Ho citato questi varii testi per provare, che il solo assegno fatto ai primi padri o capi di famiglia fu quello di II iugeri attribuito a Romolo, mentre gli altri sono fatti alla plebe; il che dimostra che i padri dovettero continuare ad avere i loro agri gentilizii. PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto Romano, con annotazioni di Cogliolo, Firenze, si sforza, e a parer mio, inutilmente, a dimostrare che il piccolo “heredium” di II iugeri puo bastare ai bisogni della famiglia, stante la coltura intensiva applicata al medesimo.] singoli cittadini; e vi ha quella invece, sostenuta con ardore dal nostro Padelletti, secondo cui sarebbe affatto esclusa questa origine collettiva dalla proprietà, in quanto che l'istituto della medesima, quale si è svolto fin dai più antichi tempi di Roma, per usare le sue stesse parole, avrebbe assunto un carattere spiccatamente privato ed avrebbe segnato il grado più perfetto, a cui sia pervenuto il regime della proprietà. È poi degno di nota che siccome oggidi la ricerca intorno all'origine delle proprietà assunse le proporzioni di una questione economica e sociale, in quanto che ad essa si rannodano teorie diverse intorno all'ordinamento delle proprietà, così la ricerca delle sue origini presso un popolo, le cui istituzioni esercitarono tanta influenza sopra tutti gl’altri, ha assunto eziandio il carattere di un problema economico e sociale. Sonvi infatti coloro che, come Laveleye ed altri autori più o meno apertamente favorevoli ad un ordinamento collettivo della proprietà, vogliono trovare, anche presso [L'autore, che primo approfondì i concetti dell' “ager publicus” e dell’ “ager privatus”, è certamente Niedhur, “Histoire romaine.” Niedhur però sembra partire dal preconcetto, che anteriormente a Roma non esiste proprietà privata, e che questa e costituita mediante gli assegni stati fatti alla plebe. La sua opinione e seguita da Puchta, “Corso delle Istituzioni”. Trad. Turchiarulo, da MOMMSEN (“Histoire romaine”). Segue pare questa opinione De-RUGGERO nei suoi dotti articoli sull’ “ager publicus”, “ager privatus”, e sulle “lex agrariae”, inserti nell'”Enciclopedia giuridica italiana”, come pure nel suo precedente lavoro, “La gens in Roma avanti la formazione del comune” (Napoli). PADELLETTI. La questione dell'origine collettiva della proprietà comincia dall'essere posta in campo dal Sumner Maine (“L'ancien droit, -- Histoire de la propriété primitive”). Essa poi fu allargata da Laveleye nel “La propriété et ses formes primitives”, dove si oc cupa della proprietà presso i romani. Di recente poi la discussione -surse di nuovo, a proposito della proprietà primitiva presso i germani, in occasione di una dissertazione letta da FUSTEL DE COULANGES all'Accademia di Scienze morali e politiche di Parigi, in cui sostiene che anche i primitivi germani conosceno la proprietà famigliare e privata. Alla discussione presero parte GEFFROY, Glasson, Aucoc e Ravaisson, e ne usce una specie di studio comparativo fra la proprietà e la famiglia romana e la proprietà e la famiglia dei primitivi germani. Compte rendu de l'Académie des sciences morales et politiques. L'opinione del Fustel DE COULANGES, quanto alla proprietà privata già conosciuta dai germani, e stata già sostenuta in modo anche più esclusivo da Ross, “The early of Land-holding among the Germans” (Boston)] i Romani, le traccie di una proprietà collettiva, mentre altri, sostenitori invece della proprietà privata ed individuale, cercano di avere per sè l'autorità di un grande popolo per giustificare la forma di proprietà che è loro prediletta. Il vero si è che tanto l'una come l'altra teoria solleva dei grandi dubbi. Da una parte infatti, quando si riconosca presso i romani solo una proprietà originariamente collettiva, viene ad essere inesplicabile come un popolo, che suole procedere così gradatamente nella trasformazione delle proprie istituzioni giuridiche, abbia potuto senza altro operare una rivoluzione così radicale nel concetto della proprietà. Dall'altra, se si sostiene che la proprietà romana e senz'altro una proprietà assoluta ed esclusiva, non è men vero che il popolo romano sembre rebbe appartarsi da tutta l'evoluzione della proprietà, quale almeno sarebbe stata formolata da coloro, che si occuparono delle forme primitive dalla medesima assunte. In questa condizione di cose non puo negarsi la gravità e la importanza del problema, e questo è certo che il medesimo non potrà mai essere risolto, finché non si ricerchino le condizioni della proprietà presso le genti del Lazio, per mettersi cosi in caso di apprezzare le trasformazioni, che esse ebbero a subire nel passaggio dal periodo gentilizio alla comunanza civile e politica. Tuttavia, prima di inoltrarsi nella ricerca, non e inopportuno di premunirsi contro alcune idee, che, sopratutto in questi ultimi tempi, si vennero introducendo intorno alla legge di evoluzione storica, che governa la proprietà. Laveleye cerca di stabilire sopra una grande quantità di fatti una legge storica, secondo cui la proprietà comincia dall'esistere sotto forma collettiva e poi sarebbe venuta assumendo un carattere sempre più individuale, lasciando così sottintendere, che l'unico rimedio di ovviare a questa individualizzazione soverchia della proprietà sarebbe quello di richiamare l'istituzione ai propri inizii. L'opera del LAVELEYE è quella già citata col titolo, “La propriété et ses formes primitives” (Paris), e la legge storica ricordata nel testo è da lui formolata nello stesso primo capitolo, il che giustifica alquanto la censura fattagli dal PADELLETTI di essersi sforzato a dimostrare una tesi. Del resto le idee del LAVELEYE trovano molti seguaci e possono anche essere accettate in certi confini, con che non si voglia cambiare in una legge storica generale un fenomeno, che ebbe solo a verificarsi in un periodo dell'umanità stessa, cioè nel periodo gentilizio. Di più si potrebbe [Senza entrare ora nella discussione di questa legge, devesi però notare, che ricerche di altri investigatori imparziali, fra i quali  Spencer, hanno già dimostrato, che una legge di questa natura non puo essere ammessa, in quanto che presso popoli del tutto primitivi già si trovano le traccie di una proprietà privata ed individuale. Quindi è che l'unica legge storica, relativa all'evoluzione della proprietà, che allo stato attuale degli studi possa formolarsi, e che la proprietà, essendo una istituzione eminentemente sociale, ha in tutti i tempi ad assumere tante forme, quanti sono gli stadii per corsi dall'organizzazione sociale. Sopratutto poi la storia delle istituzioni giuridiche presso i varii popoli dimostra, che le sorti della proprietà si presentano strettamente connesse con quelle della famiglia, cosa del resto che può essere facilmente compresa quando si consideri, che il primo bisogno della famiglia e certamente quello di assicurare il proprio sostentamento. Siccome pero la famiglia nel periodo, che suole essere chiamato patriarcale, entra essa stessa a far parte di un organizzazione maggiore, che è l'organizzazione gentilizia, cosi anche la proprietà finisce per assumere tante con figurazioni diverse, quanti sono i gradi di questa organizzazione sociale. Ciò può scorgersi anche presso quei popoli, i quali sono recati come esempio da quelli, che sostengono che nelle origini e prevalso il regime collettivo della proprietà, quali e le antiche comunanze dell'Oriente e anche dell'Occidente, il cui ter sempre notare a LAVELEYE e con esso al SUMNER MAINE che, finchè non sia provato che l'organizzazione patriarcale è l'organizzazione primitiva, non si puo neppure sostenere che la forma di proprietà, che trovasi durante l'organizzazione gentilizia, sia la forma primitiva. Quanto alla letteratura copiosa sull'argomento, può vedersi il dotto lavoro di VioLLET (“Précis de l'histoire du droit français”, Paris). L'autore ritiene, che la proprietà privata e la collettiva possano essere ugualmente antiche, ma che nella origine ha prevalenza la proprietà collettiva, mentre la proprietà individuale sarebbe stata ristretta a qualche cosa mobile di uso esclusivamente personale. Questa proprietà collettiva si e poi venuta frazionando ed avrebbe assunto un carattere sempre più individuale, in quanto che la proprietà famigliare e privata ha prevalso su quella più estesa della tribù. L'autore però non spiega, come ciò abbia potuto accadere, mentre il passaggio può invece essere seguìto presso i romani. SPENCER, Principes de sociologie, Paris, ove egli parla “de la fausseté de la croyance mise en avant par certains auteurs, à savoir que la propriété individuelle était inconnue aux hommes primitifs.”] ritorio, secondo consuetudini antichissime, suole essere ripartito in varie parti, di cui una viene ad essere assegnata alle singole fa miglie. L'altra è lasciata a prato ed a pascolo, ove i singoli capi di famiglia possono pascolare un numero determinato di capi di bestiame; e l'altra infine è considerata come proprietà della intera comunanza, ancorchè sovra di essa continuino ancora ad esercitare certi diritti i singoli comunisti. Or bene se la legge dell'evoluzione storica della proprietà è contenuta in questi, che sono i suoi veri confini, credo di poter affermare in base ai fatti, che la storia della proprietà a Roma non solo non costituisce un'eccezione alla medesima, ma è quella invece, che conserva le traccie più evidenti di tale evoluzione. Non è dubbio anzitutto, che presso i romani le sorti della proprietà e quelle della famiglia procedettero strettamente connesse fra di loro. Basterebbe a dimostrarlo il fatto, che il quirite entra nella comunanza civile e politica nella sua doppia qualità di capo di famiglia e di proprietario sopratutto del suolo, e che nel diritto primitivo di Roma i poteri del capo di famiglia sopra le persone e le cose si presentano così strettamente uniti fra di loro, che un solo vocabolo, quello appunto di familia, comprende le une e le altre. A ciò si aggiunge che è un principio, costantemente applicato dai romani, quello per cui non può esi stere nè alcuno stadio di organizzazione sociale, nè alcuna corporazione anche di carattere sacerdotale senza che le debba essere assegnato un patrimonio, il quale, indicato col vocabolo generico di “ager”, [LAVELEYE, come pure il SUMNER Maine, Village Communities. London, Early history of institutions. London, Early law and custom. London. Questa è la significazione che il vocabolo “familia” riceve nell'antico diritto, come lo dimostrano le espressioni familia habere, emere, mancipio dare e simili. Che anzi essa talvolta significa direttamente la proprietà, come può vedersi nella Lex latina tabulae Bantinae. Le varie significazioni del vocabolo “familia”, coi testi che loro servono di appoggio, possono vedersi in Roby, Introduction to Justinian's Digest. Cambridge, Notae ad Tit. « de usufructu », vº Familiae. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma] può essere chiamato, secondo i casi, ager privatus, gentilicius, compascuus, publicus, communis, peregrinus e simili. Ciò prova fino all'evidenza, che il romano primitivo, allorchè si presenta nella storia, ha già il concetto profondamente radicato, che non possa quasi esservi la famiglia senza una proprietà, che le serva di sede e le fornisca i mezzi di sostentamento, e che questo concetto e da esso applicato a tutte le altre corporazioni, le quali tutte furono primitivamente modellate sulla famiglia. Non è quindi possibile il sostenere, che la proprietà privata o meglio famigliare possa, presso i romani, considerarsi come una creazione dello stato, ma conviene necessariamente ammettere che e conosciuta già prima, se appena fondato lo stato, il primo atto che esso compie, secondo la tradizione, è quello di assegnare una proprietà ai singoli capi di famiglia. È questo il motivo per cui anche qui, per comprendere l'istituto della proprietà quale comparisce in Roma, conviene cercarne l'origine presso le genti, fra cui Roma si è formata. Vero è che sono pochissime le vestigia veramente genuine, che ci riman gano dello stato di cose, che esiste anteriormente a Roma. Ma tuttavia anche con pochi frammenti non è impossibile la ricostruzione di questa condizione anteriore, quando si tenga conto del processo costantemente seguito dai romani, anche nel periodo storico, che è quello di trasportare nel periodo seguente i concetti e le istituzioni, che hanno ad elaborarsi nel periodo anteriore.  Intanto un primo sussidio può aversi in questo carattere del l'organizzazione gentilizia, per cui essa, a misura che giunge a produrre un nuovo gruppo, che si sovrappone e si intreccia al precedente, viene ad essere naturalmente condotta a creare una sede esteriore, in cui il gruppo stesso possa trovare il proprio svolgimento. Come più tardi la sede esteriore della “civitas” è stata l' “urbs”, così le sedi esteriori dei varii gruppi gentilizii sembrano, presso le antiche genti italiche, essere state indicate coi vocaboli certo antichissimi di domus, di vicus e di pagus. De-RUGGERO, Enciclopedia giuridica italiana, vº Ager publicus-privatus. Ciò può vedersi nel Pictet, Origines Indo Européennes; Paris, come pure nel BRÉAL, Dict. étym. lat. ai vocaboli indicati. Non vi è dubbio, che tutti questi vocaboli già esistevano anteriormente alla [Domus è la sede del capo famiglia coi proprii figli e coi proprii servi, sede, che può anche avere un cortile ed essere circondata da un piccolo orto e forse anche da un piccolo ager, che uniti colla casa costituiscono un tutto, che con un vocabolo non meno antico poteva es sere chiamato heredium da “herus”, od anche mancipium, perchè di pendeva direttamente dalla manus del capo di famiglia, intesa come la somma dei poteri al medesimospettanti, o infine anche familia, perchè comprendeva tanto i liberi quanto i servi. Non vi ha poi dubbio che è dalla domus, che si staccherà più tardi il concetto di “dominium” e si capisce anche che di questo dominium, il quale potrà poi acquistare una larghissima estensione, la parte più sacra, più preziosa, quella, da cui il capo di famiglia si separa più a malincuore e che egli vorrebbe perpetuare nella famiglia, continua sempre ad essere riposta in quel nucleo primitivo, che costitue l'heredium, e che nel diritto quiritario prese poi il nome di mancipium. La riunione poi delle abitazioni di diverse famiglie, provviste di un cortile e cinte da uno spazio, a somiglianza diquelle che Tacito ci descrive presso i germani, viene a costituire il vicus, il quale di regola nella organizzazione gentilizia suole comprendere le abitazioni delle familiae, che dividono il medesimo culto e appartengono alla medesima gente. Il vicus quindi ha ancora un carattere del tutto patriarcale e si comprendono cosi le circostanze attestateci da Festo: che i vici si trovavano di preferenza presso quei popoli, che non avevano ancora delle città, quali erano i Marsi ed iPeligni; che essi erano stabiliti fra i campi – “in agris” -- ; e che se essi già avevano un luogo di mercato, non avevano però sempre un luogo, dove si amministrasse giustizia, nè sempre nominavano un magister vici, a somiglianza del magister pagi, che ogni anno si nominava invece nel pagus. Cio dimostra, che se il vicus puo svolgersi formazione della comunanza, e quindi dalla loro esistenza si può argomentare che dovevano pur conoscersi le istituzioni, che con essi erano indicate. Quanto alle domus familiaque è da vedersi il numero stragrande dei passi raccolti da Voigt, “Die XII Tafeln” -- TACITUS, Germania. Festo, vº Vici, fa, quanto al vocabolo di vicus, ciò che suol fare per ogni altro vocabolo, la cui significazione siasi venuta trasformando, indica cioè le significazioni diverse, che il medesimo ebbe ad assumere. Egli quindi esamina il vicus, finchè trovasi ancora fra i campi – “in agris” -- , ed è a proposito di questo primo vicus, che egli dice: “sed ex vicis partim habent rempubblicam, et ius dicitur, partim nihil eorum et -- talvolta in guisa da prendere le proporzioni ed avere le esigenze del pagus, nei casi ordinarii però era la sede di una comunanza puramente gentilizia. E poi naturale, che come le singole famiglie in esso avevano il proprio heredium, cosi anche il vicus, sede della gente, fosse circondato dal proprio ager gentilicius, sul quale si potevano anche fare gli assegni ai clienti. Viene ultimo il “pagus”, ove esiste un sito per il mercato, ma che contemporaneamente può anche servire per amministrarvi giustizia, sito, che probabilmente può già essere chiamato forum, almodo stesso che in esso già trovasi il magister pagi, dal cui nome ebbe a derivarsi senza alcun dubbio quel vocabolo di magistratus, che tamen ibi nundinae aguntur, negotii gerendi causa. Poi trova il vicus nel seno degli oppida, e dice che comprende « id genus aedificiorum, quae continentia sunt his oppidis, quae itineribus regionibusque distributa inter se distant, nominibusque dissimilibus discriminis causa sunt distributa ». Tuttavia, anche nella città, il “vicus” indica ancora qualche cosa di privato, cioè quei vicoli privati, che dànno accesso esclusivo ad abitazioni contigue. V. Bruns, Fontes. L'interporsi di un elemento estraneo nel seno del vicus e poi naturalmente impedito da quella antica consuetudine romana, per cui il fratello vende al fratello, il vicino al vicino, il consorte al consorte. Che poi esistesse veramente una proprietà spettante al vicus e destinata ad uso comune degl’abitanti di esso lo dimostrano certe iscrizioni, in cui il vicus quale *persona giuridica* fa contratti di compra e di vendita, Corpus inscrip. latin.-- Del resto anche il Digesto ammette il vicus a ricevere donazionie legati. L. 73, 1 Dig. -- È da vedersi, quanto ai vocaboli con cui ebbe ad essere indicato il vicus nelle lingue Indo-Europee, il Pictet, Origines Indo-Européennes. Quanto al concetto del vicus e delle “vicinitas” presso i germani vedi Ross, Land holding among the Germans. Boston. Il vocabolo di “forum” è uno di quelli, che ci indica il processo col quale le genti latine, trovato una volta il vocabolo, venivano trasportandolo a tutte quelle significazioni, che corrispondevano al concetto ispiratore del medesimo. Noi sappiamo da Festo, che “forum” significa il vestibolo di un sepolcro, ove convenivano i parenti per dare l'estremo saluto al defunto. V. Bruns, Fontes. Poi sappiamo da VARRONE, De lingua latina, che le genti latine « quo conferrent suas controversias et quae vendere vellent quo ferrent, forum appellarunt. Infine l'abbre viatore di VERRIO Flacco colla sua consueta diligenza ci dice che “forum sex modis intellegitur; primo negotiationis locus; alio, in quo iudicia fieri, cum populo agi, contiones haberi solent; tertio cum is, qui provinciae praeest, forum agere dicitur, cum civitates vocat et de controversiis earum cognoscit, ecc.” (Brons). Per tal modo, il luogo di convegno per i parenti, che piangono un defunto, viene col tempo a convertirsi nel sito, ove il magistrato romano risolve le controversie fra le città ed i popoli.] serve ad indicare tutte le cariche della città. Nel “pagus” per tanto havvi già un accenno alla vita civile, e quindi si può ritenere con certezza, che esso è già la riunione di più vici e comprende il complesso delle abitazioni occorrenti per un'intera tribù. Ciò del resto è dimostrato dal fatto, che le tribù rustiche di Servio Tullio presero il nome di tanti pagi, che prima esisteno nella stessa località. Così pure, nota Lange, e dimostrato che il pagus Succusanus e sostituito dalla tribus Suburana, che è una delle quattro tribù urbane dello stesso Servio, come pure vi sono iscri zioni, che parlano di un pagus Aventiniensis e di un pagus laniculensis, nei quali nomi è anche degna di nota la terminazione di essi, che è analoga a quella, con cui si indicano le popolazioni, che compongono le tribù. È poi anche naturale, che questo pagus ha pur esso un ager, certamente situato a maggiore distanza, perchè in prossimità vi sono gli agri gentilicii, e che questo ager chiamisi “compascuus”, e che comprenda talvolta eziandio, oltre il sito destinato per il pascolo, anche delle siloae e dei saltus. Intanto da questa configurazione esteriore dell'organizzazione gentilizia si può inferire che, almodo stesso che questa venne forman dosi per una naturale sovrapposizione di varii gruppi, così anche le varie forme di proprietà si vennero assidendo l'una sull'altra. L'ager [LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, NIEBHUR, Histoire Romaine. Del saltus è da vedersi la diffinizione di Elio GALLO conservatasi da Festo, pº Saltus. I saltus potevano essere oggetto di proprietà collettiva del pagus e della città, ed anche di proprietà privata. È poi degno di nota, che il vocabolo “saltus”, allorchè già si venivano formando i latifondi per modo che, secondo Plinio, sei persone possedevano metà dell'Africa (Hist. nat., XVIII, 7), finì per significare quegli immensi dominii, posseduti da privati e soventi anche dal principe, sovra cui dimora una popolazione, di carattere pressochè colonico, che dipende più dall'arbitrio del possessore o del suo procurator, che non dalle leggi del principato. Riguardo ad uno di questi saltus, situato appunto nell'Africa e chiamato Saltus BURANITANUS, si scoperse di recente una importante iscrizione, che contiene una petizione della popolazione del saltus al principe. Fondandosi su di essa ESMEIN, sostiene che in questi saltus comincia a formarsi l'istituzione del colonato. — Mélanges d'histoire du droit et de critique. Paris, V. pure FUSTEL DE COULANGES, Le colonat romain. Paris] si viene, per dir così, atteggiando in tante guise, quanti sono i gruppi che si vengono sovrapponendo. Presentasi anzitutto la casa (domus od anche tugurium, se nel contado) colla sua corte, coll'orto e col campicello attiguo, che appartiene alla famiglia nella persona del suo capo, e ne costituisce l'heredium, la familia, il mancipium. Ma siccome ogni capo di famiglia, oltre questa parte sostanziale del suo patrimonio, può anche avere un capitale circolante, composto di greggi e di armenti e di altre cose mobili, così è naturale, che accanto al concetto dell'heredium si formi quello del peculium, accanto a quello della familia quello della pecunia e accanto a quello del mancipium quello del nec mancipium; distinzione, che tornerà poi in acconcio per spiegare a suo tempo la famosa divisione del diritto quiritario fra le resmancipii e le res nec mancipii. Che veramente questa forma di proprietà già preesiste alla comunanza romana viene ad essere provato da cio, che fin dal primo formarsi di questa occorrono i concetti di herus, di heredium, di heres, il qual ultimo vocabolo ha pur la stessa origine di “herus” e scrivesi talvolta anche semplicemente “eres”, per guisa che anche questo vocabolo significa, se non il proprietario, al meno il comproprietario, come lo prova la testimonianza di Festo, secondo la quale « heres apud antiquos pro domino ponebatur ». Non vi ha poi dubbio, che con questi vocaboli ha eziandio strettissima attinenza il vocabolo di herctum o erctum, che significa ripartizione da erciscere, donde proviene la denominazione certamente antica dell'actio familiae erciscundae. Tuttavia, comegià si accenna, è un costume antichissimo quello indicatoci dall'« ercto non cito » di Aulo Gellio, la cui significazione letterale è, a mio avviso, quella di non venire ad una pronta divisione e che indica il più antico dei con [Trovo confermata la descrizione sovra esposta dell' heredium dal dottissimo lavoro, di recente pubblicato da Voigt, così benemerito degli studii sull'antica Roma, col titolo, “Die römischen Privataltertümer und römische Kulturgeschichte”, estratto dall' Handbuch der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, pubblicato dal Beck in Nördlingen. Quivi Voigt ritiene che l'heredium comprenda l'hortus, l'ager, la cohors o chors, il pomatum, più tardi detto anche “pomerium”, e di più la casa, detta anche tugurium, che comprende il granarium, il foenilium, il palearium ecc. Ivi poi si trova citata tatta la letteratura sull'argomento, compresa anche l’italiana, così spesso trascurata. Anche Voigt sembra accostarsi alla significazione qui attribuita al dualismo di familia pecuniaque, senza però accennare alla correlazione, che sembra esistere eziandio fra heredium e peculium, mancipium e nec mancipium, sorzii e delle società, che è quella fra i fratelli e gli agnati, che lascia vano indivisa l'eredità ed il patrimonio. Intanto la conseguenza viene ad essere questa, che i vocaboli di mancipium e di manceps, quelli di familia e di pater familias rimontano tutti al periodo gentilizio, e segnano, insieme con herus ed heredium, l'atteggiamento diverso sotto cui poteva essere considerata la figura molteplice del capo di famiglia. Di questi vocaboli però quello che significa meglio il potere giuridico del capo di famiglia era quello certamente di man ceps e di mancipium, ed è questa forse la causa, per cui il vocabolo, che prevarrà più tardi nel diritto quiritario e quello di “mancipium”, al quale solo più tardi sottentrerà quello di dominium ex iure Quiritium. Non vi è poi dubbio, che all'heredium ed all’ager privatus si sovrapponesse l'ager gentilicius, che era quello spazio, non compreso negli heredia, che trovavasi nei dintorni e nelle circostanze del vicus e ritenevasi come proprietà collettiva della intiera gente. Era su quest'ager gentilicius, che potevansi fare degli assegni ai clienti, i quali però non hanno una proprietà, ma ritenevano e godevano le terre loro assegnate a titolo di semplice precario. Dell'esistenza di questo ager gentilicius e del modo di ripartirlo noi troviamo ancora un esempio durante il periodo storico, in occasione della venuta a Roma di Atto Clauso, e della sua gente. Questi viene di Regillo per porre la propria dimora nel territorio stesso di Roma, senza che vi siano elementi nè per affermare nè per negare, che egli con ciò avesse rinunziato all'agro gentilizio, che dove certamente essere posseduto colà da una gente che, come la Claudia all'epoca. Questa induzione, a cui già ebbi occasione di accennare, parlando della familia omnium agnatorum, trova una conferma nel diligente lavoro di POISNEL, “Les sociétés universelles chez les Romains,” specialmente in quella parte ove si occupa del primitivo consortium, accennato da Aulo Gellio, il quale avveravasi tra fratelli ed agnati, stante l'indivisione del patrimonio. “Nouvelle revue historique de droit français et étranger”. È anche degna di nota l'attinenza fra i vocaboli di consortium e di consors con quello di “sors”, che dapprima indicava la quota di eredità spettante a ciascuno. V. BRÉAL, Dict. étym. lat., vu Sors. Ciò è anche confermato dall'espressione di familia inercta nel significato di indivisa, ricordata da Paolo Diacono [Cfr. in proposito i passi citati da Voigt, Die XII Tafeln. Festo, v° Patres. Tale è pure l'opinione di Esmein, “Les baux de cinq ans en droit romain” – “Mélanges d'histoire de droit”, Paris.] della sua venuta a Roma, ha, secondo la tradizione, compresi ben MMMMM clienti. Questo è certo, che dal momento che egli abbandona la sua sede originaria e veniva accolto nel patriziato romano, mediante la cooptatio, gli fu dato un tale spazio di terreno oltre l'Aniene, che egli potè assegnare II iugeri in godimento a tutti i suoi clienti, oltre al che gli sarebbero ancora rimasti XXV iu geri per sè e la sua gente. Questo assegno di territorio, mediante il quale e la gente Claudia, che diede il nome a quella tribù rustica, non impede, secondo Dionisio, che e eziandio assegnato ad Atto Clauso un sito nel circuito stesso di Roma, ove puo abitare egli e la sua famiglia. È facile il vedere, che qui occorrono i concetti tanto dell'heredium, quanto dell’ager gentilicius, e si ha pur anche la prova, che nell'organizzazione gentilizia e alla stessa gens od al consiglio di essa, che si appartene di fare il riparto fra le singole famiglie ed anche gli assegni ai clienti. Di qui deriva la conseguenza, che, fra le varie forme della proprietà nel periodo gentilizio, quella che predomina sopra tutte le altre è la proprietà della gente, ossia l'ager gentilicius; perchè al modo stesso che è nella gens, che si formano le famiglie, cosi è pure dall'ager gentilicius, che si ricano gli heredia. Cosi pure è anche probabile che, in mancanza di eredi suoi, i quali possono in certo modo essere considerati quali comproprietarii dell'heredium, e in difetto eziandio di agnati prossimi, che mantengano ancora indiviso l'asse paterno, questi heredia tornano all’ager gentilicius, cioè alla sorgente stessa, da cui essi furono staccati. Da ultimo sonvi eziandio molti indizii dell'esistenza di una proprietà, che considerasi come spettante alla intiera tribù, e che prende il nome di ager compascuus, di compascua, di pascua, presso le genti del Lazio piuttosto dedite alla pastorizia, e di communia o communalia nell'Etruria. Puo darsianzi, che un ager compascuus puo esservi già nello stesso vicus, come lo dimostrerebbe la deffinizione di Festo – “compascuus ager relictus ad pascendum com muniter vicinis.” Ma in ogni caso non vi ha dubbio, che questo compascuus ager certo esiste nel pagus e già dava origine ad una [Dion. Cfr. Bonghi, Storia di Roma. L'esistenza di questi compascua è dimostrata da diversi passi, sopratutto di agrimensori. Basti il seguente di FRONTINO – “Est et pascuorum proprietas, pertinens ad fundos, sed in commune, propter quod ea compascua communia appellantur, qui busdam provinciis pro indiviso.” Bruns, Fontes] specie di pubblico reddito (vectigal), consistente nel contributo, che doveno dare gl’abitanti, che ivi pascolavano i proprii greggi ed armenti, contributo, che all'epoca romana viene poi ad essere indicato col nome di scriptura. Una prova dell'esistenza di questi pascua e di ciò, che essi costituirono forse le prime sorgenti di reddito pubblico, può ricavarsi da un testo prezioso di Plinio, il quale, dopo aver detto che pecunia a pecude appellatur, cosa del resto che è attestata da tutti gli antiquarii, aggiunge questo particolare importantissimo – “etiam nunc in tabulis censoriis PASCUA dicuntur omnia, ex quibus populus reditus habet, quia diu hoc solum vectigal fuerat” -- il che vuol dire in sostanza, che i romani, in questa parte conservatori come in tutto il resto, finirono per indicare col vocabolo primitivo dei “Pascua”, che costituivano la proprietà collettiva della tribù, tutta quella parte della proprietà collettiva del populus, ossia dell’ager publicus, da cui il popolo stesso ricava qualche reddito. Del resto l'esistenza di questo ager compascuus e anche accennata in quel tradizionale riparto, che Romolo fa fra i Ramnenses, quando aveva fondata la Roma Palatina, poiché delle tre parti una sarebbe stata assegnata al Re ed al culto; l'altra alle singole famiglie e avrebbe costituito gli heredia; e la terza sarebbe stata appunto l'ager compascuus, che e anche la prima forma di ager publicus, in cui le genti patrizie, probabilmente dedite ancora in parte alla pastorizia, potevano far pascolare i proprii greggi ed armenti. Credo che le cose premesse dimostrino abbastanza che, anche anteriormente alla formazione di Roma, la proprietà già esi stesse in tante gradazioni, quanti erano i gruppi, che entravano nella stessa organizzazione gentilizia, per modo che vi era una proprietà privata o meglio famigliare, una proprietà gentilizia, e una proprietà spettante alla comunanza della tribù. Di queste varie forme di proprietà, quella che predomina era la proprietà gentilizia, perchè da essa usceno e ad essa ritornano gli heredia, come poi erano anche i capi di famiglia delle varie genti, che hanno il godimento dei compascua; nel che può forse trovarsi l'origine pro [NIEBHUR, “Histoire romaine”, Voigt, “Die römis. Privataltert.”, LANGE, “Histoire intér. de Rome” --- Plinio -- Dion. NIEBHUR, Hist. rom. - babile di quel fatto importantissimo nella storia di Roma, per cui le genti patrizie riputarono per qualche tempo di avere da sole il diritto di occupare l'ager publicus, il quale a Roma non è che una trasformazione ed un ampliamento per mezzo della conquista del primitivo ager compascuus. Queste varie forme di proprietà nel periodo gentilizio si intrecciano insieme per modo, che si vengono temperando e limitando scambievolmente per guisa, che il potere giuridicamente illimitato del capo di famiglia sul proprio heredium nel costume gentilizio viene ad essere trattenuto da una quantità di temperamenti, che ne impediscono qualsiasi abuso per parte del capo di famiglia. Quindi anche quel potere, che più tardi e affidato al “praetor” di interdire nel iudicium de moribus quel padre di famiglia che disperdesse i bona paterna avitaque, dove certamente rimontare alle consuetudini gentilizie e che probabilmente appartenne al consiglio degl’anziani della gens di frenare queste dispersioni e prodigalità del capo di famiglia con un iudicium, che e de moribus e con una formola, che certo dovette essere analoga a quella adoperata dal praetor. oLe cose premesse intanto ci mettono anche in condizione di poter risolvere in poche parole alcune questioni grandemente agitate fra gli interpreti del diritto romano primitivo. La prima di esse sta in vedere se gl’antichi heredia, ossia quei bina iugera, che Romolo distribusce ai capi di famiglia e di cui Varrone dice che erano così chiamati in quanto che heredem sequerentur, doveno o non ritenersi inalienabili, e se i figli doveno considerarsi come com proprietarii del patrimonio del padre. Senza occuparci per ora della trasformazione, che subi l'heredium ossia la proprietà famigliare e [Questa esclusione dei plebei dall'agro pubblico è attestato da un testo di Nonio MARCELLO, riportato dagli Annali di qualche autore più antico – “Quicumque propter plebitatem agro pubblico eiecti sunt.” Bruns, Fontes, -- il che è pur confermato da un passo di Sallustio. “Regibus exactos servili imperio patres plebem exercere, agro pellere.” Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Histor. introd., accenna per nota, che anche in Grecia vi era un' eguale sollecitudine per i beni aviti.] privata colla formazione di Roma – ANNO I -- , noi possiamo perd affermare con certezza che questo concetto dell'heredium esiste già anteriormente ed erasi naturalmente formato durante il periodo gentilizio. O che l'heredium doveva potersi alienare dal capo di famiglia, perchè, se questa alienazione non e stata possibile, non si comprenderebbe il concetto e l'esistenza di un commercium, come pure non si comprende l'esistenza certo antichissima di un iudicium de moribus, di- a retto appunto ad impedire l'imprudente e prodiga dispersione di questo patrimonio, che nel suo concetto informatore era destinato ad essere trasmesso dai genitori nei figli e da questi ai nipoti. O che tuttavia questa alienazione, durante il periodo gentilizio, dovette essere gover nata da solenni formalità e dovette forse anche compiersi colla approvazione o quanto meno colla testimonianza dei notabili del villaggio. O che infine nella primitiva organizzazione gentilizia i figli si riputano comproprietarii sopratutto di quella parte del patrimonio paterno che costituie l'heredium, il che e in certo modo indicato dal vocabolo “heres”, che in antico avrebbe significato comproprietario, e che posteriormente continua a significare la medesima cosa mediante l'espressione più completa di “heredes sui”. Insomma nel concetto primitivo il padre è come custode e detentore del patrimonio famigliare nell'interesse suo e della sua prole. È questo probabilmente il motivo, per cui non dove nei primi tempi di Roma avere nulla di ripugnante al modo dipensare e diagire del tempo quel concetto giuridico del diritto quiritario primitivo, che ora a noi appare cosi ostico e pressochè inesplicabile, per cui tutto ciò che appartiene od è acquistato dalla moglie, dai figli, dai servi, finisce per essere considerato come di spettanza del padre e tutto ciò, che essi stipulano od acquistano, deve in certo modo ritenersi fatto per conto e nell'interesse del capo di famiglia. Questo concetto infatti, mentre indica l'unificazione potente della famiglia romana sotto l'aspetto giuridico, prova eziandio la comunione ed intimità di vita, che dove esistere nel costume della medesima; comunione ed intimità di cui il diritto non si occupa, perchè non dove occuparsene, ma che sono largamente attestate da tutti gli scrittori, che richia -- Ciò è anche confermato dalla nota proposizione di Gaio, II, 157: « Qui quidem heredes sui ideo appellantur, quia domestici heredes sunt et vivo quoque parente quo dammodo domini existimantur ».] mano la memoria della primitiva famiglia, governata dal “mos pa trius, ac disciplina”. Ad ogni modo la conseguenza ultima della nostra ricerca è questa, che, se gli heredia erano alienabili allorchè l'individuo era ancora legato nei vincoli strettissimi dell'organizzazione gentilizia, per maggior ragione dovettero esser tali, quando egli venne ad essere libero cittadino di una libera Roma. Intanto se si ammette che nell'organizzazione della proprietà nel periodo gentilizio la forma prevalente è quella della proprietà gentilizia, in quanto che essa da una parte origina la proprietà privata e famigliare e dall'altra si estende al godimento della proprietà collettiva della tribù, è facile il dedurne la conseguenza, che il sistema di successione, allora introdotto dal costume e che fini col tempo per cambiarsi in successione legittima, dovette proporsi essenzialmente per iscopo di mantenere e perpetuare la proprietà nella gente con impedire che la medesima potesse passare ad estranei. Si comprende pertanto, che in base al costume gentilizio la proprietà va ai figli, che ne sono comproprietarii, ed anche agli agnati prossimi, finchè essi mantengono indiviso il patrimonio paterno, ma appena questi manchino, dovranno succedere i gentiles e questi non individualmente, come alcuni credono, ma collettivamente in quanto cioè formano la comunanza gentilizia. Il motivo è questo, che se la legge di Roma puo favorire il riparto immediato fra gli eredi, il costume invece di una comunanza gentilizia favorisce invece per quanto esso può l'ercto non cito, come diceno i Romani, cioè l'indivisione e la comunione dei patrimonii; perchè essa mira, non a favorire lo svolgimento dell'individualità del capo di famiglia, ma a rendere compatto per quanto è possibile il gruppo, in cui gli individui vengono ad essere pressochè assorbiti. Parimenti è certo incontrastabile, che la successione, quale compare nei primitivi tempi di Roma e quale esiste anteriormente, non ammette nè distinzioni di primogenitura, nè distinzioni di sesso, quanto alle persone che erano chiamate a succedere. Ma si può anche [Cic., Cato maior, 11, 37, parlando di Appio Claudio il cieco scrive: « Quatuor robustos filios, quinque filias, tantam domum, tantas clientelas Appius regebat et caecus et senex... Tenebat non modo auctoritatem, sed etiam imperium in suos; metuebant servi, verebantur liberi, carum omnes habebant; vigebat in illa domo mos patrius ac disciplina.]- essere certi, che il costume dovette certamente dirigersi costantemente, se non a favorire il primogenito, almeno ad impedire, che si venisse alla divisione del patrimonio, ed anche ad evitare, che le femmine colla libera disposizione della parte di sostanza, che loro apparteneva, potessero compromettere gli interessi della gente. Ciò infatti viene ad essere comprovato dalla tutela perpetua, a cui le donne erano soggette per parte degli agnati -- tutela che aveva sopratutto lo scopo di sottrarre alle femmine la libera disposizione delle proprie cose, e che col tempo divenne per modo odiosa, che esse, aiutate dai giu reconsulti, trovano modo di sottrarvisi mediante quell'espediente giuridico, di carattere eminentemente romano, che è la “coemptio fiduciaria.” Quanto alle istituzioni dell'adrogatio e del testamentum, non può esservi dubbio, che esse doveno certamente esistere nel costume antico dei maggiori, anche anteriormente alla formazione di Roma, in quanto che esse sono istituzioni, che compariscono compiutamente formate, come appare da ciò che le XII tavole, nei frammenti a noi pervenuti, non parlano dell'adrogatio e quanto al testamento non fanno che confermare una istituzione preesistente. Di più e ben naturale, che il concetto dell'una e dell'altro doveno presentarsi naturalmente a capi di famiglia, che da una parte erano tutti in tesi al culto dell'antenato e dall'altra sono fissi nel pensiero di perpetuarsi in una posterità, che continuasse il proprio culto gentilizio. Istituzioni quindi, come l'adrogatio e come il testamento, sono acconcie e indispensabili ad una organizzazione come la gentilizia, ma intanto cosi l'una che l'altra non possono nella medesima servire come mezzo per soddisfare ad un affetto o ad una predilezione capricciosa, ma dovevano avere l'unico scopo di provvedere alla perpetuazione della famiglia e del suo culto. Questa coemptio fiduciaria, in virtù della quale la donna passa in manu di una persona che non divenne marito di lei, nell'intento solamente di farsi manomettere da lui per essere liberata dalla tutela degli agnati, è ricordata da Gaio. E questa coemptio, che fa dire a CICERONE, pro Murena, che i tutori, anzichè essere i protettori delle donne, si erano cambiati in un mezzo per liberarle da ogni tutela. Cfr. MUIRHEAD. Puo sembrare poco logico, che io qui discorra, trattando della proprietà, anche dell'adrogatio, che ha piuttosto rapporti coll'organizzazione della famiglia, ma ho creduto di poterlo fare in quanto anche l'ad rogatio mira a fare in guisa che il capo famiglia abbia un erede, che ne perpetui [Questo carattere è incontrastabile per ciò, che si riferisce al l'antica adrogatio, la quale e una istituzione gentilizia ed aveva in certo modo per intento di perpetuare una famiglia ed un culto, che sarebbero andati perduti per difetto di prole maschile, togliendo da un'altra famiglia l'elemento che in questa sovrabbondava. Trattavasi quidi un vero affare di stato e quindi, se si debba giudicare dalle formalità, che sono poscia seguite dal patriziato nella comunanza romana (dove per compiere un'adrogatio volevasi, comeper una legge, l'intervento dei pontefici e l'approvazione del popolo radunato in curie) conviene certamente inferirne, che solennità non minori dovettero ri chiedersi nel periodo gentilizio. Se questo trapianto dell'innesto di una famiglia sul ceppo sterile di un'altra si opera fra le famiglie della stessa gente, puo forse bastare l'approvazione del consiglio della gente, ma se seguiva invece fra famiglie, non appartenenti alla stessa gente ma alla stessa tribù, dove certo esservi l'approvazione dei padri delle tribù. La cosa invece potrebbe lasciar luogo a qualche dubbio per ciò che si riferisce al testamento, ma se si considera, che in so stanza anche il testamento patrizio in comitiis calatis, cioè davanti all'assemblea delle curie, compievasi con formalità del tutto analoghe a quelle proprie dell'adrogatio, converrà inferirne,che lo spirito informatore del testamento in questo periodo gentilizio dove essere del tutto analogo a quello, che ispira l'adrogatio. Il testamento per sua natura è tale che, come può essere un mezzo per far valere, dopo la propria morte, l'impero di una volontà arbitraria, così può anche es sere il mezzo per impedire, che si avveri fra gli eredi quella ripartizione e quell'uguaglianza di parti, che può essere introdotta o dalla legge o dalla consuetudine. Ora è certo, che la successione invalsa nel periodo gentilizio, secondo cui succedevano prima i figli, poi gli agnati prossimi, e infine la gente collettivamente considerata era bensi già intesa a conservare il patrimonio nella gente, ma intanto aveva an cora due inconvenienti dal punto di vista gentilizio. L'uno di essi consiste nel diritto, che i figli hanno di venire ad una ripartizione immediata dell'asse paterno in porzioni uguali, divisione che face i sacra, e in ciò ha un'attinenza anche col testamento. Di più in questo periodo la proprietà e la famiglia sono ancora strettamente connesse fra di loro, per modo che non può essere il caso di scindere affatto le istituzioni che le riguardano.] vasi per stirpi e non per capi, e l'altro era quello dell'uguaglianza fra maschi e femmine, il che fa si, che ana femmina, passando a matrimonio, sottraesse alla famiglia una parte del patrimonio uguale a quella di un maschio. Queste conseguenze, che sono per noi da approvarsi, non potevano sembrare tali a capi di famiglia, che mirano sopratutto a conservare integro il patrimonio e a perpetuarlo come tale nella famiglia. Si può quindi essere certi, che i capi di famiglia, che si ispirano a questo concetto e che nel fare testamento dovevano anche avere l'approvazione degl’anziani, che pure avevano la stessa tendenza, non potevano certamente servirsi di esso per sottrarre la loro sostanza alla famiglia od alla gente. Essi invece dovevano servirsene o per impedire la pronta ripartizione del patrimonio, usando le antiche parole « ercto non cito » – o per accentrare per la maggior parte il loro patrimonio in uno soltanto dei figli, – o infine per scemare la quota spettante alle femmine, come quella, che dove essere riguardata come una sottrazione fatta al patrimonio vero della famiglia perpetuantesi nella linea maschile. Mone della famiglia e del suo culto. Si può quindi conchiudere, che per lo genti patrizie il testamento non dovette certamente essere un mezzo per disporre liberamente e a capriccio delle proprie cose, come fu poi il testamento nel di ritto quiritario; ma dovette servire alle medesime per conseguire quello scopo, che anche oggi si propongono bene spesso i capi delle famiglie, anche non patrizie ma solo ricche ed agiate, allorchè, dettando il loro testamento, cercano d'accentrare la loro fortuna in una od in poche persone, nell'intento di assicurare ciò che con linguaggio antico e moderno suole essere chiamato il decoro e la dignità della famiglia. Pervenuto a questo punto, parmi di aver dimostrato in un modo, che avendo convinto me potrà forse anche persuadere gli altri, che le genti patrizie, anche anteriormente alla formazione di Roma, già conoscevano una proprietà privata, attribuita al capo di famiglia. Ciò pero non toglie, che quest'ultimo fosse ben lontano dall'avere quella libera disposizione delle proprie cose per atto tra vivi e per testamento, che trovasi invece riconosciuta senza alcun confine nel diritto quiritario, e ciò perchè lo spirito dell'organizzazione gentilizia si informava tutto all'intendimento di serbare integro il patrimonio alla famiglia, ancora indivisa, degli agnati dap prima e in mancanza di essa alla gente. Come dunque potrà essersi operata presso un popolo, di spirito così eminentemente conservatore, una trasformazione cosi radicale nel carattere della proprietà da cambiare la medesima di proprietà gentilizia in quiritaria, allorchè esso passò dal periodo gentilizio alla convivenza civile e politica? Ecco il gravissimo problema, al quale non credo che siasi data ancora una soddisfacente risposta, a causa del l'idea universalmente accolta sull'autorità di Niebhur e di Mommsen, che lo stato romano siasi formato mediante la fusione e l'incorporazione di varie genti e tribù. Secondo questi autori infatti, lo stato costituendosi avrebbe in certo modo incorporato in sè la proprietà gentilizia, cambiandola cosi in territorio nazionale, e sarebbe poi addivenuto al riparto di una parte di esso a favore dei singoli capi di famiglia, ritenendo il restante come ager publicus. Fra gli autori, che trattarono largamente e di recente il gravissimo tema, mi limito a citare De-Ruggero, come quegli che riassume nettamente la opinione universalmente seguita. Egli, dopo di aver premesso che prima della formazione dello stato esiste soltanto la proprietà collettiva o gentilizia, la quale appartene alla gens e non alle singole famiglie, viene alla conclusione seguente. Fondatosi quindi il comune e lo stato con la unione di più genti, esso sarebbe divenuto, come la gente stessa nel periodo della sua autonomia, proprietario del territorio generale di tutte le genti romane, cioè, del territorio nazionale. E come la gens lascia alle sue singole famiglie la coltivazione e l'uso di alcuni terreni (fundi), rimanendo gli altri proprietà comune. Cosi anche lo stato lascia ai privati una parte del territorio come proprietà (adsignatio romulea) e ritiene per sè un'altra parte destinata a tutta la cittadinanza (ager publicus). Di fronte ad una teoria così recisa, conforme del resto alla opinione generalmente seguita, mi sia lecito osservare, che anzitutto non è provato, che prima della formazione dello stato non vi fosse che la proprietà gentilizia, e che la gente non lascia alle famiglie, che la coltivazione e l'uso di alcuni terreni. I vocaboli certamente preesistenti di herus, heres, heredium, che senza alcun dubbio si applicano al capo di famiglia, provano invece che il concetto di una proprietà privata già preesiste fra [DE- RUGGERO, V° Ager publicus-privatus, nella Enciclopedia giuridica italiana. Del resto queste sono le idee che l'autore aveva già sostenute in “La gens avanti la formazione del comune romano” (Napoli), e che stanno pure a base del suo dotto ed interessante articolo sulle Agrariae leges nella stessa Enciclopedia giuridica italiana.] le genti del Lazio; poichè se così non fosse stato non sarebbesi trovata la parola già preparata ed acconcia per indicare gli assegni fatti ai capi di famiglia, e gli assegni si sarebbero fatti alle genti, alle tribù e non ai singoli capi di famiglia, o meglio a ciascun individuo, che segue Romolo nella sua intrapresa. Viha di più, ed è che, tenendo conto del carattere delle genti latine, in cui l'idea del “mio” e del “tuo” – il “nostro” -- presentasi in ogni tempo cosi profondamente radicata, non può essere probabile che le gentes e le tribù, che potevano essere ed erano in effetto in condizioni disuguali quanto ai loro possedimenti, come continuarono ancora ad esserlo dopo, si siano contentate dimettere tutto in comune, malgrado la loro origine diversa, per starsi paghe “ai bina iugera”, assegnati da Romolo. Si aggiunge, che se tutta la fortuna del patriziato primitivo Ramnense si riducesse soltanto ai II iugeri, non si saprebbe veramente comprendere come la medesima potesse bastare per la famiglia coi servi e coi clienti. Del resto non consta, che siavi veramente alcun autore antico, che accenni a questa specie di societas omnium bonorum, per cui si sarebbero messi in comune tutti gl’agri gentilicii. Noi sappiamo soltanto, che Romolo, in base ad un costume tradizionale fra le genti latine, che dove già esistere prima e che e applicato anche più tardi in occasione dell'impianto di colonie, divide Roma in parte fra i proprii seguaci, mentre un'altra parte ritenne per sè e per il culto, ed un'altra riservò a titolo di pascolo comune. Intanto pero le varie genti, che parteciparono alla fondazione di Roma, dovettero continuare a tenere i proprii agri gentilicii, come lo dimostra il fatto, che anche all'epoca di Servio Tullio le varie tribù rustiche continuarono a prendere il nome da quelle genti patrizie, che dovevano avere più larghi possessi nel territorio delle medesime. Vi ha di più, ed è che la tradizione accenna a due testamenti, fatti durante il regno stesso di Romolo, a favore del popolo romano, coi quali questo avrebbe ereditato dei campi presso Roma, ed anche quello stesso campo marzio, che avrebbe poi costituito il primo nucleo dell'ager publicus; fatti e tradizioni queste, che sarebbero del tutto incomprensibili, quando lo Stato romano nella propria formazione fosse diventato il proprietario di tutti i territorii gentilizii, e li avesse poi distribuiti ai singoli privati. Inoltre se Romolo, come dicesi, avesse imitato [I testamenti, a cui qui si accenna, sono quelli ricordati da Aulo Gellio, Noct. Attic., VII, 7, 4, 6, e che egli attribuisce l'ano ad Acca Laurenzia, la quale fino il sistema gentilizio, i capi di famiglia avrebbero dovuto soltanto avere la coltivazione e l'uso dei fondi loro assegnati, mentre la proprietà avrebbe dovuto spettare alle genti; e ciò mentre noi sappiamo, che non vi fu mai proprietà più assoluta, che la proprietà quiritaria fin dai proprii inizii. Del resto convien dire, che l'opinione, di cui si tratta, è per sè una conseguenza logica ed inesorabile del ritenere con Mommsen, che Roma risulta dall'incorpora zione e fusione delle varie genti e tribù; poichè è naturale che con un tale sistema lo stato avrebbe dovuto incorporare ogni cosa nelle proprie mani e farne poi il riparto ai singoli capi di famiglia. Solo sarebbe a spiegarsi come lo stato, creando esso la proprietà famigliare e privata, l'avesse costituita senz'altro cosi illimitata, senza confini e senza alcuna sua ingerenza, quale appare essere stata la proprietà quiritaria. Tutte queste incoerenze invece scompariscono quando si ritenga che il comune romano non assorbi nè le tribù, nè le genti, nè le famiglie, ma intese solo a costituire fra di esse un centro di vita pubblica, e non distribui quindi ai privati altre terre. Quanto alla divisione dell'agro fra le tre tribù, a cui accenna Varrone, la medesima non potè essere che una divisione puramente amministrativa, con cui si riconobbe alle varie tribù la parte del territorio, che già loro apparteneva, prima che entrassero a far parte della stessa comunanza. Di qui la conseguenza, che la proprietà quiritaria, ed anche la famiglia, con cui essa appare strettamente congiunta, non possono essere che quella proprietà e quella famiglia, che già esistevano nell'anteriore organizzazione gentilizia, salvo che le medesime, staccate dall'organizzazione stessa, apparvero con un carattere di assolutezza, che prima era temperato dall'am dall'epoca romulea avrebbe lasciato allo stato certi campi siti presso Roma, e da lei ereditati dal proprio marito; e l'altro alla vestale Gaia Taracia, che avrebbe lasciati al popolo romano tutti quei campi presso il Tevere, che presero poscia il nome di campo marzio, dove si radunarono più tardi i comizi centuriati. Pongasi pure che i due racconti siano leggendarii. Ma essi certo hanno un fondo di vero ed indicano quanto meno, che'i cittadini romani non hanno mai creduto che lo stato fosse il proprietario di tutto il territorio. I due testamenti sono anche citati dal De Rug GERO, V ° Ager publicus privatus, nell'Enc. giur. it. Devo però dichiarare che questa divergenza di opinione nulla toglie alla stima che ho grandissima per l'autore, così benemerito per gli studi di diritto pubblico romano.] biente in cui si erano formate. La causa poi, per cui gli assegni di terre furono fatti ai singoli capi di famiglia, o meglio ai singoli seguaci di Romolo proviene da ciò che essi entrarono nella comunanza non come membri delle genti ma nella loro qualità di capi di famiglia, donde la conseguenza, che di fronte alla nuova formazione della convivenza civile e politica, mediante una federazione fra le varie tribù, più non si trovarono di fronte che la proprietà del capo di famiglia (ager privatus) e la proprietà dell'ente collettivo (ager publicus). Continuano però ancora sempre a mantenersi nel fatto gli agri gentilizii, i quali però sono naturalmente destinati a scomparire, a misura che si dissolve l'organizzazione gentilizia, in quanto che a costituire il populus primitivo non entrano già i membri delle genti, come tali, ma soltanto i capi di famiglia in quanto sono ad un tempo proprietarii di terre; il qual carattere del populus viene ancora ad accentuarsi maggiormente colla costituzione Serviana, in base a cui ognuno partecipa ai diritti ed agli obblighi di cittadino (munera), in proporzione del censo. Questo e non altro e il processo seguito nella formazione di Roma, e per conseguenza anche nella formazione della famiglia e della proprietà, quali comparvero nel diritto quiritario. Per ora intanto, prendendo le mosse dall'ordine logico dei fatti e delle idee, che si vennero svolgendo fin qui, cercherò di riassumere logicamente e sotto forma di ipotesi quello svolgimento del l'istituto della proprietà, che più tardi appare comprovato nell'ordine dei fatti. Pongasi che una mano di uomini forti ed avventurosi, appartenenti a genti diverse ma tutte di stirpe latina – “nomen latinum” -- si raccolgano intorno ad un duce di stirpe regia e sotto la sua guida abbandonino la loro residenza gentilizia, per recarsi a fondare uno stabilimento fortificato sul Palatino. Essi, lasciando per ora in disparte il rito religioso seguito nella fondazione, cominciano dall'occupare il suolo necessario per erigervi il loro stabilimento, e cercano anche di fortificarsi in esso, per essere in caso di difendersi dalle popolazioni vicine, le quali, per appartenere forse a stirpi diverse, non possono vedere di buon occhio quest'ospite novello e pericoloso. Quanto al suolo conquistato ed occupato, è naturale che si cominci dal ripartirlo, secondo le regole tradizionali seguite dai maggiori. Del suolo quindi sono fatte tre parti. Una è assegnata al loro capo, al culto, ai publici edifizi. L’altra è divisa fra i singoli capi di famiglia in altrettanti piccoli heredia di due iugeri, i quali potranno essere ritenuti sufficienti quando si consideri, che questi capi di famiglia continuano ancor sempre ad avere i loro agri gentilizi nei dintorni, e solo abbisognano di uno spazio per costruirvi le loro case, con un cortile ed un orto. La terza, infine, è lasciata a pascolo comune per i singoli capi di famiglia, che possono immettervi i proprii greggi ed armenti, pagando un corrispettivo (scriptura), che costi tuirà il primo reddito pubblico. Fin qui però noi non abbiamo ancora, che la tribù dei Ramnenses e lo stabilimento romuleo da essa fondato sul Palatino. Pongasi ora, che, in seguito ad ostilità seguite con altre comunanze stanziate sui colli vicini, gl’uomini atti alle armi e abili per consiglio di queste varie tribù, rappresentati dal proprio capo, con vengano sotto forma di foedera, di entrare nella loro qualità di capi di famiglia e di proprietarii di terre a far parte della stessa comunanza civile e politica. È naturale allora, che il centro e la [Cfr. De RUGGERO, V ° Ager pub. priv., -- ove considera appunto questo riparto attribuito a Romolo come una istituzione fondamentale romana che, conservatasi nei tempi posteriori, puo naturalmente essere attribuita, nella ricostruzione che si fa posteriormente della storia e del diritto primitivo di Roma, anche al fondatore e al legislatore di questo. Ciò lascia credere che l'autore vegga in questo riparto, che pur è attestato da tanti autori e che d'altronde non ha nulla d'improbabile, in quanto che lascia anche le sue traccie nella centuria in agris e nel centuriatus ager, ricordati da Festo e da VARRONE. Non mipare che siavi motivo per un dubbio di questa natura, solo che si spieghi la formazione di Roma, come è accaduta. Che poi il centuriatus ager e la centuria in agris non comprendessero tutto il territorio romano, nè tutto l'ager romanus conglobando in esso anche gli agri gentilizi, ma solo la parte di esso, che era conquistata sul nemico, risulta oltre che dalla definizione datane da VARRONE e da Festo, anche da un testo di Siculo Flacco, citato dallo stesso DE RUGGERO, vº Ager pub. priv. – “Antiqui agrum ex hoste captum victori populo per bina iugera partiti sunt. Centenis hominibus ducentena iugera dederunt.” Cfr. NIEBHUR, Histoire romaine] fortezza dell'urbs si trasportino in un sito, a cui possano avere facile accesso gl’abitanti delle varie comunanze, quale e il sito, che è fra il Palatino ed il Capitolino, il quale verrà così ad essere la comune fortezza e servirà per la costruzione dei pubblici edifizi e sacri. È pero a notarsi, che per eseguire un simile accordo, siccomei capidi famiglia entrano come tali nella comunanza e non quali membri delle genti e delle tribù, così non e punto il caso, che si mettano in comune gli agri gentilizii e i pascoli delle varie tribù. Quindi se le genti e le tribù sono prima ricche ed agiate e possedevano larghi spazii di suolo, sopra cui disperdevano i proprii servi e clienti, continueranno ad essere tali e a poterlo fare anche dopo. Ciò che viene ad essere comune fra di esse è soltanto l'urbs, in quanto essa comprende i pubblici edifizii, i templi consacrati al divino, che la protegge, non che l'arx o fortezza, che serve per assicurare la comune difesa. Intanto, di fronte a questa nuova specie di comunanza, teatro ed organo della vita civile, politica e militare, non esistono che capi di famiglia proprietarii di terre e quindi le sole istituzioni, che abbiano un'importanza giuridica, politica e militare negli inizii di Roma, sono la proprietà e la famiglia unificate sotto il proprio capo. Pongasi ora, procedendo innanzi, che questa mano di uomini forti raccolta in esercito entri in lotta con altre comunanze e che, in virtù di un diritto delle genti universalmente riconosciuto, venga soggiogandone le popolazioni e conquistandone il territorio. Allora e naturale che questa comune conquista appartenga dapprima al popolo stesso e sia cosi considerata come un ager publicus, che verrà con trapponendosi a quell'ager privatus, che già prima apparteneva ai singoli capi di famiglia. Questo infatti è il dualismo, che domina tutta la storia economica di Roma. Però, a misura che si accrescono le conquiste, l'ager publicus pud anche crescere permodo da sopravanzare ai pubblici bisogni e quindi si comprende, che quelli, che cooperarono alla sua conquista, ne domandino la ripartizione almeno parziale. Dapprima tali assegni sul l'agro pubblico – “adsignationes viritanae” -- sono fatti ai più poveri, i quali sono per tal modo posti in condizione di avere quella pro prietà, che è riputata necessaria per partecipare alla comunanza; ma poscia, di fronte all'incremento sempre maggiore dell'ager publicus, si comincia anche a disporne in guisa diversa. Continua sempre ad esservi una parte dell'ager, che è distribuita fra i più poveri della città e fra quelli, che partono per fondare una colonia, e si ha cosi l'ager adsignatus, che serve per somministrare ai cittadini poveri quella proprietà, quel censo, quell'”ager privatus censui censendo”, che è ritenuto necessario per far parte della vera cittadinanza. Un'altra parte invece e venduta ai pubblici incanti (ager quaestorius), o sarà data in affitto, mediante il pagamento di un corrispettivo, detto scriptura (ager vectigalis). Il primo di questi continuerà ad accrescere l'ager privatus, ma non più quello della classe povera, ma di quella ricca ed agiata, che possiede già il capitale per acquistarlo; ed il secondo, quello cioè dato in affitto, finirà col tempo per dare origine a quelle lunghe locazioni, che quasi si assomigliano a vere compre-vendite, dalle quali uscirà poi una nuova forma di contratto, che è l'enfiteusi. Infine dell'ager publicus puo ancora rimanervene una parte, la quale, o per essere sterile o scoscesa (propter asperitatem ac sterilitatem ), non trovi compratori nè affittavoli, o che il consiglio dei padri non abbia ritenuto opportuno di mettere in vendita. Questa parte continua naturalmente ad appartenere all'ager publicus e ancorchè immensamente ampliata colle conquiste corrisponde in certa guisa ai pascua o compascua, che esistevano nelle antiche tribù. Quindi si comprende come i padri delle genti patrizie, memori ancora del diritto che hanno di slargare nei pascua i proprii greggi ed armenti (compascere), affermino il loro diritto di occupare questa terra in certo modo abbandonata e di spargere in essa le tormedei clienti e dei servi ed anche dei liberi, che siano alla loro mercede. Sorge per tal modo il concetto dell'ager occupatorius, il quale, non essendo stato acquistato, non può certo essere oggetto di proprietà privata, ma costituisce le cosi dette possessiones, le quali, dopo essere durate per qualche tempo, acquistano un carattere pressochè giuridico e danno occasione di [Tutto questo processo ci è attestato dagli agrimensori romani, dei quali sappiamo, che avevano grande autorità anche nelle provincie. L'autore, che primo mise in evidenza l'importanza dei loro scritti, e NIEBHUR, che loro dedica un saggio che può vedersi nell' Histoire romaine. Ora poi sta preparando un lavoro di lena sugli agrimensores Brugi. Quanto alle affermazioni, che sono contenute nel testo, sono esse abbastanza giustificate da quegli estratti degli agrimensores, che sono raccolti dal Bruns, Fontes. Qui infatti io non mi proponeva di entrare in particolari discussioni, ma bensì di mettere in evidenza il processo, che i romani hanno ad applicare costantemente nella distribuzione di un agro, che veniva crescendo colle loro conquiste.] svolgersi alla protezione pretoria, la quale fa cosi entrare nelius honorarium l'istituto giuridico del possesso. Intanto tutta questa parte dell'ager publicus, che è cosi lasciata alla occupazione, viene ad essere come una sottrazione alle ripartizioni gratuite fra quelle classi inferiori, che non hanno mezzi e capitali per tentare una occupazione, e che, anche avendoli, non sarebbero dal senato autorizzati a farla, e quindi tra il patriziato antico, a cui si aggiunge col tempo la nuova nobiltà plebea, e la plebe minuta viene ad esservi una opposizione di interessi. Da una parte si ha interesse a provocare nuovi riparti per impedire le occupazioni e per limitare le occupazioni stesse, che col tempo minacciano di trasformarsi in latifondi; e dall'altra parte ogni ripartizione, se riguarda terreni già occupati, appare in certa guisa come una usurpazione di possessi lungamente durati, e se riguarda terreni solo conquistati di recente, appare come una sottrazione a quel diritto di occupazione, che il patriziato attribuisce a sè stesso. Di qui le lotte intorno alle leggi agrarie, le trasformazioni del concetto ispiratore delle medesime, e infine la insufficienza di esse per risolvere la grande questione sociale dell'epoca, allorchè l'antico patriziato e la nuova nobiltà plebea si strinsero insieme contro una plebe minuta, che già comincia a cambiarsi in una turba forensis, e che incapace di durare in lunghi e persistenti sforzi già si era as suefatta a preferire alle conquiste legali gli spettacoli del circo e le distribuzioni di frumento. Con cio non intendo però di ammettere l'opinione di Niebhur, di SAVIGNY e di altri, che farebbero nascere il concetto della possessio coll'ager pubblicus. Io credo che la *possession*, come istituzione di *fatto* più che di diritto, avesse origini ben più antiche, e che la medesima sia stata anzi il modo, con cui i plebei occuparono le prime terre nei dintorni della città patrizia, il che però non toglie che la prima tutela giuridica del possesso abbia anche potuto cominciare colle possessiones nell'agro pubblico: cosicchè accade del possesso, come di un grandissimo numero di altre istituzioni, che prima cominciano ad esistere di fatto e solo più tardi entrano a far parte del diritto civile di Roma. Che anzi, dacchè sono in quest'ordine di idee, aggiungerà ancora che il concetto dell'ager occupaticius già erasi formato anche prima delle occupazioni del patriziato sull'ager publicus. Lo dimostra Festo, vº Occupaticius, ove scrive: < occupaticius ager dicitur qui desertus a cultoribus frequentari propriis, ab aliis occupatur ». (Bruns, Fontes) -- la qual deffinizione dimostra che anche fuori dell'ager publicus poteva formarsi l'ager occupaticius, il quale perciò differisce dall'occupatorius. Intanto è sempre da questo ager publicus, che ricavansi eziandio gli assegni, che si sogliono fare alle colonie, alle città benemerite del popolo romano, e infine alle stesse provincie. Trattandosi di colonie, questi esemplari di stabilimenti che Roma crea a somiglianza di sè stessa, traendone la popolazione dal proprio seno, si applica quel medesimo sistema, che si applica per la popolazione di Roma, il sistema cioè delle adsignationes viritanae, fatte ad ogni capo di famiglia, ed hannosi così quegli agri, che gli agrimensori chiamano divisi et adsignati, i quali sono fuori di Roma una imitazione di quegli assegni di piccoli heredia, che facevansi un tempo ai cittadini poveri di Roma. Se trattisi invece di città benemerita, a cui il senato e il popolo sovrano intendano di dare un segno di soddisfazione ed un corrispettivo ad un tempo per i servizii prestati, havvi l'ager mensura comprehensus, il quale, essendo assegnato come proprietà collettiva ad una città, non è determinato che nella sua generale misura. Infine se trattasi di delimitare in modo almeno generico i confini del territorio di una popolazione si ricorre alle indicazioni delle valli, dei fiumi, dei torrenti, delle grandi strade, dell'acqua pendente, a quelle indicazioni insomma, che in un periodo ancora molto remoto serviranno poi ad indicare il territorio, che dalla natura stessa sembra essere segnato ai singoli stati e alle nazioni, e si avrà così quell'ager, che gli agrimensores chiamano “arcifinius”. Infine anche nelle porzioni di agro pubblico, che sono vendute all'incanto o date in affitto (ager quaestorius, ager vectigalis), possono esservidelle parti, che, per essere scoscese o sterili, non possono trovare da sole nè compratori, nè affittavoli, e in allora questi siti si aggregano a quelli, che già furono venduti o a quelli dati in af fitto « in modum compascuae », il che significa che essi, a somiglianza dei primitivi compascua, si ritengono appartenere per la proprietà o per il godimento ai più vicini fra quelli, che hanno comprato od affittato gli altri. Di qui la creazione di una specie di proprietà o di possessione privata, con pertinenze consistenti in pascoli accessorii, la cui proprietà e il cui godimento possono dare occasione a questioni fra i giureconsulti per vedere se, vendendosi od affittandosi il fondo principale senza parlare del pascolo accessorio, anche questo debba ritenersi compreso nella vendita o nell'affittamento, sul che [Frontinus, De agrorum qualitate et condicionibus, BRUNS, Fontes] giureconsulti risponderanno affermativamente, quando non consti dell'intenzione contraria dei contraenti. Pongasi infine, e anche quest'ultima supposizione è stata una realtà, che la piccola tribù del Palatino, mutatasi poi nella Roma dei sette colli, divenga conquistatrice dell'universo allora conosciuto, e quindi anche legislatrice del suo suolo. Ma essa continua pur sempre ad applicare, nel piccolo e nel grande, entro l'Italia e fuori di essa, nella proprietà e nel possesso, nel territorio italico e nel suolo provinciale, quei concetti, che ebbe ad applicare nelle proprie origini, e che noi abbiamo dimostrato essersi già preparati in un periodo anteriore alla formazione stessa di Roma. Certo questi sono svolgimenti logici, che precorrono la serie dei fatti, ancorchè siano fondati sopra di essi; ma non sono inopportuni per mettere ordine in una materia, che le minute indagini hanno tal volta resa intricatissima, e danno anche un esempio sensibile del processo semplice, ma sempre logico e coerente, che Roma ha ad applicare non solo nell'estendere il concetto della sua proprietà a tutto il territorio da essa conquistato, ma anche nell'estendere la sua cittadinanza e l'impero della sua legislazione al mondo allora conosciuto. Sono i grandi popoli che con mezzi semplici e pressochè tipici applicati in proporzioni e in condizioni diverse sanno conseguire i grandi effetti. È questo un esempio di quella dialettica potente e pressochè celata, che senza apparire negli scritti dei giureconsulti, i quali sembrano talvolta smarrirsi nei casi singoli e nelle fattispecie, trovavasi tuttavia nei loro intelletti, ed era certo nella mente del popolo da essi rappresentato. Ci sono altre applicazioni di questo processo dialettico, che, mentre non appare allo sguardo, stringe però con una coerenza meravigliosa le parti più disparate della giurisprudenza romana. [Higinus, 117. « In his igitur agris quaedam loca, propter asperitatem aut sterilitatem, non invenerunt emptores; itaque in formis locorum talis adscriptio facta est in modum compascuae; quae pertinerent ad proximos quosque possessores, qui ad ea attingunt finibus suis ». Bruns, -- Frontinus poi, De controversiis agrorum, soggiunge: « Nam et per haereditates aut emptiones eius generis (pascuorum) controversiae fiunt, de quibus iure ordinario litigatur ». Bruns -- È da vedersi a proposito di tali controversie lo scritto del Brugi, “Dei pascoli acces sorii a più fondi alienate”. Bologna. In una organizzazione come quella che ho cercato di ricostruire, così nelle persone che entravano a costituirla, che nei territorii che le servivano di sede, sarebbe affatto fuor di luogo il ricercare delle norme direttive della vita pubblica e privata, che potessero meritarsi il nome di leggi nella significazione, che noi sogliamo attribuire a questo vocabolo. Ormai il lavoro di secoli ha strettamente legato il vocabolo di “legge” e la significazione sua propria alla convivenza civile e politica. Senza negare che un tempo l'uomo abbia ricavato l'idea di una legge direttiva delle cose umane dalla contemplazione dell'ordine, che governa l’universa natura, questo è certo che il vocabolo di legge, nella sua significazione originariamente romana, che poi fu adottata da tutti gli altri popoli, significa ormai l'espressione di una volontà collettiva, che si imponga alle singole volontà individuali. Esso quindi suppone la distinzione fra l'ente collettivo ed i singoli, fra lo stato organo ed interprete della volontà comune e I membri che entrano a costituirlo. È quindi inutile cercare della legge, nel senso proprio della parola, in un'organizzazione, in cui lo stesso gruppo compie ad un tempo le funzioni domestiche e le funzioni politiche, e nel quale pertanto non si può rinvenire la distinzione fra il tutto in sè e le parti, che entrano a costituirlo e neppure quella fra la vita pubblica e la vita privata. Siccome tuttavia qualsiasi stadio di organizzazione sociale suppone di necessità delle norme, che lo governino, cosi noi possiamo indurre, che queste norme non dovettero mancare nel periodo gentilizio. Anzi si può anche aggiungere, che fra le varie forme di organizzazione sociale quella, che tende più di qualsiasi altra a stringere in certe regole precise cosi i rapporti domestici, che quelli della vita esteriore, è certo la comunanza gentilizia, la quale, essendo esclusivamente fondata sulla eredità, finisce per trasmettere, di generazione in generazione, non solo IL SANGUE e degli antenati, non solo il patrimonio e il territorio da essi conquistato, ma anche il nucleo delle tradizioni dei maggiori. Si aggiunge, che al modo stesso che le genti, fisse nell'esempio dei proprii antenati, finiscono per mutarli in oggetto di culto, cosi anche le loro tradizioni tendono, non per impostura di uomini ma per un naturale processo di cose umane, ad assumere un carattere sacro e religioso, per cui qualsiasi atto anche meno importante finisce per acquistare una significazione religiosa. È questa tendenza, cheha condotto tutte le comunanze gentilizie a diventare pressoché immobili e stazionarie, e che avrebbe prodotto forse il medesimo effetto fra le genti italiche, come lo produsse fra le altre genti che appartengono alla medesima stirpe, quando fra esse non si fosse formato un nuovo focolare di vita, che fu quello che brucia nel tempio di Vesta, cambiatasi in patrona della città. Che anzi non dubiterei di affermare, che quello stesso spirito conservatore, che appare in Roma primitiva, sopratutto per parte del patriziato, non è che una trasformazione di questa tendenza naturale delle comunanze gentilizie a diventare immobili e stazionarie, quando sono pervenute a quel maggiore sviluppo, che può comportare il principio informatore di esse. Dal momento in fatti, che questa tendenza all'immobilità e a fare entrare ogni elemento in quadri precisi, determinati dal costume e consacrati dalla religione, male può accomodarsi ad una città piena di vita, i cui elementi nuovi più non possono ad un certo punto entrare nei quadri antichi, è ben naturale, che la tendenza stessa riducasi a trapiantare nel nuovo terreno quanto più si possa dell'antico ordine di cose ed a lottare per la conservazione di esso, come chi è pro fondamente convinto di lottare per uno scopo religioso e santo. È questo culto del passato, che contraddistingue le genti italiche [È abbastanza noto come in quella guisa che la famiglia aveva per centro il focolare, che le serviva anche di altare, così la città ha pur essa un pubblico focolare nel tempio di Vesta, la quale per tal modo di dea del focolare domestico venne a cambiarsi in custode e patrona del focolare di Roma. Questo invece è da essere notato, che le recenti scoperte intorno al “locus Vestae” hanno dimostrato, come questo focolare si trovasse a piedi del Palatino presso il foro e fuori della Roma quadrata; il che serve a provare sempre più, che la vera città, di cui dove essere centro il tempio di Vesta, non era già lo stabilimento romuleo primitivo, ma bensì la città dei Quiriti, che risultò dalla confederazione delle varie comunanze. In una casa poi attigua altempio di Vesta dimora, secondo la tradizione, il Re (domus regia Numae), il quale, come custode della città, dove pur trovarsi nel centro di essa. Cfr. LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, -- dalle elleniche. Mentre queste colla loro intelligenza acuta e profondamente critica, appena hanno analizzate le proprie tradizioni, rivestite anch'esse di carattere religioso, le abbellirono e trasformano colla propria fantasia e finirono per ridurle in frantumi, la credula e religiosa Italia invece colla sua intelligenza più tarda, ma colla sua volontà più tenace le conservo a lungo e potè cosi rica varne tutto il succo vitale, che contenevasi in esse. Questo intanto è certo, che appena noi possiamo arrestare lo sguardo, non sulle gesta primitive delle genti italiche, che solo più tardi furono argomento di storia, ma sul linguaggio di esse e sulle traccie della loro civiltà, che sopratutto ci serbd il culto per i tra passati, noi riconosciamo immediatamente, che tutte le loro tradizioni, le cui origini sono celate in un remotissimo e misterioso passato, hanno già assunto un carattere sacro e religioso. Una religione, per nulla immaginosa ed estetica come la ellenica, ma eminentemente pratica ed applicata con cura minuta a tutte le emergenze della vita, ha già consacrato le basi della organizzazione gentilizia, per modo che le genti italiche, sempre occupate dal divino, che sovraintendono a ciascun atto della vita, cercano con tutti i mezzi di riconoscere i segni della benevolenza o malevolenza divina. Per gli atti della vita quotidiana questa volontà potrà essere indicata anche dai piccoli incidenti della vita; mentre per i fatti di importanza maggiore per il gruppo, è la volontà del cielo, che deve essere consul [Osserva giustamente il SUMNER Maine, L'ancien droit, che mentre l'intelligenza greca colla sua mobilità e la sua elasticità era incapace di chiudersi nella stretta veste delle formole legali, Roma invece possede una delle qualità più rare nel carattere delle nazioni, che è l'attitudine ad applicare e a svolgere il diritto come tale, anche in condizioni non favorevoli alla giustizia astratta, non scompagnata tale attitudine dal desiderio di conformare il diritto ad un ideale sempre più elevato. Del resto il primo, che con occhio veramente acuto abbia scrutato le attitudini mentali diverse dei greci e dei romani, è il nostro Vico, De uno et universo iuris principio et fine uno. D'allora in poi il paragone non è più venuto meno. Lo fanno gli storici, come Mommsen, LANGE ed altri; lo fanno parimenti gli studiosi della giurisprudenza comparata, come MAINE, op. cit., Freeman, Comparative politics, London, Hearn, Arian Household, London, IHERING, L'esprit du droit Romain. Per maggiori particolari in proposito mirimetto al libro: La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale,. ove ho tentato di richiamare alle facoltà psicologiche prevalenti presso i due popoli il diverso svolgimento, che i medesimi ebbero a dare alla religione, al diritto, ed alle istituzioni sociali e politiche] tata. Di qui quella osservazione antichissima del volo degl’uccelli, che è d'origine latina, e l'altra dell'osservazione delle viscere degli animali da sacrifizio, che è di origine etrusca, e quel concetto per noi pressochè incomprensibile degli auspicia, che appartengono al magistrato e che danno al suo potere una consacrazione religiosa e giuridica ad un tempo. Per attenersi tuttavia a quel complesso di norme, che riflettono la vita, intesa questa distinzione in un senso che possa applicarsi al periodo gentilizio, noi troviamo che anche in questa parte le genti italiche mostrano fin da principio decisa tendenza a racchiudere le loro tradizioni in forme certe e precise, e a designarle con vocaboli di significazione determinata, la cui semplicità primitiva sembra indicarne l'antichità remota. Questi vocaboli per le genti latine sono quelli di “mos”, di “fas” e di “jus”, i quali tutti nelle origini sembrano presentarsi con una significazione, che tiene del religioso e del sacro. Del “mos” infatti noi abbiamo una definizione conservataci da Festo. “Mos est institutum patrium, id est memoria veterum pertinens maxime ad religiones caerimoniasque antiquorum.” Qui è notabile anzitutto la significazione larghissima, attribuita al vocabolo, per cui tutte le patrie tradizioni sarebbero inchiuse nel medesimo, come pure l'esplicazione che viene dopo, la quale, restringendo in apparenza il contenuto del vocabolo, indica in sostanza che la parte. BouchÊ-LECLERCQ, Histoire de la divination dans l'antiquité, e lo stesso autore, Institutions romaines. Questo ricorrere agli auspizii in ogni affare pubblico e privato è attestato da Servio, In Aen. “Romani nihil nisi captatis faciebant auguriis et praecipue nuptias” e da CICERONE, De divin. “Nihil fere quondam maioris rei nisi auspicato ne privato quidem gerebatur, quod etiam nunc nuptiarum auspices declarant.” Per quello poi, che si riferisce agl’auspicia, alle varie loro specie, alla procedura solenne, da cui erano accompagnati, ed alla importantissima distinzione fra auspicia privata e publica, distinzione, che fu anch'essa un effetto della formazione di Roma, non ho che a riferirmi alla trattazione magistrale di Mommsen, “Le droit pubblic romain”. Trad. Girard, Paris] prevalente nelle istituzioni dei padri era sopratutto quella, che si rifere alla religione ed alle cerimonie di essa. Questo carattere religioso non ha poi bisogno di essere provato quanto al vocabolo di “fas”. Poichè il fas delle genti italiche è paragonato dagli stessi scrittori latini alla Oeuis dei Greci, e col tempo fu questo vocabolo di fas, che, distinguendosi sempre più da ogni altro elemento estraneo, fini per significare quelle norme di carattere esclusivamente religioso, che si riferiscono agli auspicia, al l'arte augurale ed alle cerimonie del culto. Infine i più recenti investigatori del significato primitivo del “ius”, quali Leist,  Bréal, al quale aderisce anche Muirhead, e diavviso, che il medesimo nelle proprie origini avesse eziandio una significazione religiosa. Cosi Bréal ritiene, che il “ious” antico dei latini, cambiatosi poscia in “ius”, sia perfettamente conforme al iaus, che occorre nel più antico vocabolo, la cui significazione è alquanto vaga ed incerta, ma che egli ritiene essere quella di « volontà, potenza, protezione divina ». Questa primitiva signifi [Festo, vo Mos. È poi notabile come lo stesso Festo, confermando il carattere religioso, comune al mos ed al fas, definisca il ritus dicendolo un “mos comprobatus in administrandis sacrificiis ». Bruns, Fontes, -- Festo, v° Themin, scrive. “Themin deam putabant esse, quae praeciperet ho minibus quid fas esset, eamque id esse existimabant, quod et fas est.” Bruns, Fontes. Lo stesso concetto ha ad esprimere Ausonio, Edyl.: “Prima deum Fas Quae Themis est Graiis.” Per altri passi è da vedersi Voigt, Die XII Tafeln. È poi degno di nota, che nelle formole antiche occorre sovente la frase “secundum ius fasque”, la quale indica in certo modo il bisogno di dare al diritto anche l'appoggio del fas. BRÉAL tratta la questione in “Sur l'origine des mots dési gnant le droit et la loi en latin” nella “Nouvelle revue historique de droit Français et étranger” -- la cui conclusione è la seguente: “Le droit, qu'on a appelé la création la plus originale du génie latin, et qui a l'air de sortir tout d'une pièce de la tête des décemvirs a ses origines dans le passé le plus lointain. Il est inséparable des premières idées religieuses de la race. Questo è pure il concetto di LEIST, Graec. Ital. R. G., MUIRHEAD, Hist. Introd., segue l'opinione del Bréal. Parmi però, che questa etimologia non debba fare abbandonare intieramente quella dalla radice s < iu, che significa stringere, legare, unire, la quale indicherebbe la funzione, che il diritto compie di vinculum societatis humanae. Questo è certo, ad ogni modo, come nota Bréal, che le parole mos, fas e ius debbono essere considerate come caposti pite, e quindi, più che derivare da altre, sono esse che diedero dei derivati, quali. cazione del vocabolo spiega poi come tanto i Latini attribuissero un carattere religioso e sacro alla “lex”, sebbene questi due vocaboli siano di più recente formazione, e ritenessero la legge come un dono del divino; come pure spiega quel sentimento, le cui traccie occorrono ancora in Roma, per cui si ama meglio di lasciar cadere in dessuetudine il diritto costituito, che non di abrogarlo espressamente. Intanto questo carattere comune a questi diversi vocaboli e ai concetti inchiusi neimedesimi, conduce ad inferire, che dovette forse esservi tempo, in cui furono contenuti in qualche concetto più vasto e comprensivo, del quale essidebbono perciò considerarsi come specificazioni ed aspetti diversi. Questo concetto, secondo Müller ed anche secondo Leist, sarebbe stato dagli antichi arii significato col vocabolo di rita, il quale esprime ora l'ordine che regge l'universo, col suo alternarsi del giorno e della notte, ed ora l'ordine stesso della natura, in quanto governa il generarsi, il crescere e il disparire degli esseri viventi. A questo vocabolo di rita corrispon dono perfettamente i concetti del “ritus”, del “ratum” e della “ratio” dei latini, ed anche quello, che essi indicano coll'espressione di “rerum natura”, per guisa che anche il concetto di “ius naturale” nel senso che ha ad essergli attribuito da Ulpiano di un “ius quod natura omnia animalia docuit” puo rannodarsi a questi primitivi concetti. Lo stesso Leist poi osserva, che al concetto fondamentale di rita o di ratio la sapienza antichissima degl’arii associa altri con sarebbero quelli di fari, iubere, iustitia, iudes, iurgium, iniuria e simili. Una trattazione poi di questo elemento etico e religioso dell'antico diritto, sussidiata da una larghissima erudizione, occorre in Voigt, Die XII Tafeln. Leist. Ciò confermerebbe l'asserzione contenuta nelle Institut. Justin.: “palam est autem vetustius esse ius naturale, quod cum ipso genere humano rerum natura prodidit: civilia enim iura tunc esse caeperunt, quum et civitates condi, et magistratus creari,et leges scribi caeperunt.” Questo è certo poi, che a questo diritto naturale primitivo anteriore alle leggi accennano soventi i filosofi latini. Cfr. Henriot, Meurs jur. et judic. Conviene quindi indurne che il concetto di un diritto della natura comincia in certo modo ad essere sentito dall'universale coscienza, e solo più tardi diventò anch'esso argomento di una elaborazione filosofica. In proposito la classica opera del Voigt, “Das ius naturale, bonum et aequum et ius gentium der Römer”, Leipzig] -cetti, che sono espressi coi vocaboli di orata, a cui corrisponde il fas e il ratum dei latini, due vocaboli che sovente procedono uniti: di dhāma, che egli dice analogo alla Oeuis greca e infine quello di svadhā, che corrisponderebbe all'čnog od neos dei Greci e quindi anche al mos dei latini, mentre infine il concetto di dharma già si accosterebbe, quanto alla sua significazione, al vocabolo latino di lex, il quale sarebbe però sopravvenuto più tardi. Parmi tuttavia che la parentela ed analogia fra questi varii concetti possa essere facilmente spiegata, quando si consideri che fra i latini il vocabolo di ratum e quello più astratto di ratio, si associano talvolta al fas, al ius ed anche al mos. Si può quindi inferirne con fondamento, che il ratum, da cui derivò poi ratio, significava l'ordine, che governa il corso delle cose divine ed umane, mentre il fas, il mos ed il ius, che dapprincipio si presentano tutti circondati da un'aureola religiosa, significano i diversi aspetti, sotto cui si manifesta questa forza o volontà operosa, che muove e regge l'universo. Il fas quindisarebbe la stessa volontà divina, in quanto si estrinseca nei fenomeni della natura, ed è interpretata da coloro che sanno conoscerne il significato riposto. È quindi dal fas, che derivano i riti e le cerimonie del culto, le quali sono appunto intese a rendere propizia agli uomini la volontà divina, e che presso le genti italiche assumono anche esse il carattere contrattuale del « do ut des ». Il mos significa la stessa volontà divina, ma non più in [ Leist. Questo scindersi dal concetto primitivo appare nelle parole di Virgilio “Fas et iura sinunt” che Servio commenta con dire – “id est divina humanaque iura per mittunt; nam ad religionem fas, ad homines iura pertinent.” In Aen.  (Bruns, Fontes). La parentela poi fra i vocaboli di ratum e di ratio è dimostrata da Leist con una quantità di passi da lui citati nella Graec. It. R. G. Ciò appare da tutte le formole primitive, che si indirizzavano agli dei di una città nemica, per ottenere che i medesimi abbandonassero la città stessa. V. HUSCHKE, Iurisp. anteiust. quae supersunt, Nota in proposito il Bouche-LECLERCQ, Institutions romaines, che il culto romano e una procedura del tutto analoga a quella delle « legis actiones > che i pontefici trasmisero poi più tardi ai giureconsulti. Che anzi per i Romani il sacrifizio è una offerta fatta in uno scopo interessato e la preghiera, che necessariamente l'accompagna, è una stipulazione, il cui effetto è infallibile, se essa sia concepita nei termini sacramentali, fissati dal costume – “rite”. Ciò significa che è per tal modo immedesimata coi romani l'idea secondo la quale il diritto formasi mediante la convenzione e l'accordo, che essi in ogni argomento scorgono una specie di contratto.] quanto si rivela con segni, la cui interpretazione è lasciata al sacerdote. Ma bensì in quanto si palesa in quella tacita hominum conventio, che dà appunto origine al costume ed alla consuetudine. Infine il “ius” è sempre questa stessa volontà divina, ma in quanto viene ad essere interpretata e statuita espressamente dagli uomini, che appartengono alla comunanza, nell'intento di provvedere alle esigenze della medesima. Per tal modo da un unico ceppo sonosi staccate propaggini diverse; ma siccome esse continuano ancora sempre ad essere in comunicazione fra di loro, così è molto difficile il precisare la significazione di ciascuna, sopratutto nel periodo gentilizio, allorchè vindice di questi varii aspetti della volontà divina era l'autorità patriarcale del padre e del consiglio degli anziani. È poi'degno di nota, che questi varii concetti, negli inizii di Roma, si presentano come patrimonio esclusivo delle genti patrizie come appare da ciò, che queste chiamano le usanze plebee non già col vocabolo di mores, ma con quello di “usus.” Ed anche da ciò che la cognizione del fas e del ius fu per lungo tempo un privilegio del patriziato ed una causa della sua superiorità sopra la plebe. In ciò può con fondamento scorgersi una prova, che queste nozioni doveno elaborarsi in altro suolo ed essere trapiantate da genti migranti dall'Oriente sul suolo italico, ove hanno poiservito per l'educazione di stirpi, che si trovavano in condizioni inferiori di civiltà. Sebbene qui non possa essere il caso di cercare in quale ordine questi varii concetti siansi venuti formando, non è tuttavia inopportuno di avvertire, che, nelle origini, il primo a prodursi, almeno nell'ordine dei fatti, dovette probabilmente essere il “mos”, il quale, dopo essersi formato pressochè inconsapevolmente nel seno delle comunanze patriarcali, viene poi mutandosi in una tradizione, che si trasmette di genitore in figlio e che col tempo assume un carattere sacro e religioso. È poi nel seno di questo mos primitivo, che si opera una distinzione, in virtù della quale una parte di esso riceve una sanzione religiosa, e l'altra una sanzione giuridica, mentre una parte continua sempre ad avere un carattere puramen temorale e costituisce ciò che le genti latine chiamano “i boni mores”. Intanto egli è certo, che le genti italiche si presentano con questi varii concetti, già compiutamente formati, e che fra essi ha già acquistata una incontestabile prevalenza quello del fas. E il fas, che primo ha a ricevere elaborazione e a concretarsi in certe massime, riti e pratiche, che tendono a diventare immutabili e ferme, come la volontà divina, di cui si ritengono essere l'espressione. È poi sotto la protezione del fas, che si vennero elaborando i concetti del ius e e dei boni mores, al modo stesso che più tardi sarà sul modello del ius pontificium, che verrà a formarsi il ius civile. Quasi si direbbe che, mancando ancora un'autorità abbastanza salda per porsi alle passioni dell'uomo in un periodo di lotta e di violenza, siasi sentita la necessità di porre sotto la protezione divina anche quelle regole, che appariscono indispensabili per il mantenimento della convivenza sociale. Intanto queste considerazioni intorno ai concetti fondamentali, che costituiscono il substratum della sapienza popolare delle genti italiche, ci preparano la via a comprendere il processo storico, secondo cui venne svolgendosi ciascuno di essi. Il vocabolo di fas esprime per le genti italiche, più fantastici ed immaginosi, giunsero perfino a personificare nei concetti di Themis, Nemesis, Adrasteia. Esso è l'espressione della volontà divina, in quanto impone e regge l'ordine delle cose divine ed umane, e vendica in modo irresistibile le violazioni, che l'uomo rechi al medesimo colle proprie azioni. Nel fas pertanto non è solo compresa una parte, che si riferisce ai riti e alle cerimonie del culto, ma una parte eziandio, che contiene delle norme che riguardano l'umana condotta. Che anzi, siccome la riverenza per il divino non è propria di questa o di quella gente, ma è comune alle varie genti, cosi è anche sotto la protezione del fas, che si trovano tutti quei rapporti fra le varie genti, senza di cui sarebbe stato impossibile, che esse potessero entrare in comunicazione le une colle altre. È quindi il fas, che determina i modi in cui debba es sere dichiarata una guerra, e copre della sua protezione coloro, che sono inviati a trattare le alleanze e le paci. È esso parimenti che dà un carattere sacro a quell'istituzione dell'ospitalitá (hospitium), che ha un così largo sviluppo presso le genti primitive, e che poi ricompare, come hospitium publicum, dopo la formazione [Per una più larga prova di questa analogia, vedi CARLE, La vita del di ritto, cogli autori ivi citati] della città, come pure è il fas che consacra le obligazioni, che intercedono fra il patrono ed il cliente. È esso, che condanna le violenze dei figli verso i genitori, le nozze incestuose, il falso giuramento e il venir meno ai voti fatti al divino, e alle promesse, che sotto il suggello della fides siansi fatte anche ad uno straniero. Esso in somma nei primordii sembra abbracciare i rapporti fra i membri della famiglia, quelli fra le varie genti, e quelli infine fra le varie tribù; donde la conseguenza, che anche più tardi, allorchè si tratto di patti fondamentali fra il patriziato e la plebe, questa per assicurarne l'adempimento non trova altro mezzo, che di porre i medesimi sotto la protezione di quel fas, che esercita tanto impero fra le genti patrizie, come lo dimostra il concetto ispiratore delle cosi dette leges sacratae. Chi poimanchi a questo complesso di norme, sopratutto allorchè lo faccia di proposito (dolo sciens), mentre offende gli uomini reca pure offesa al divino, e quindi deve espiare il proprio fallo, mediante certi sacrifizii, le cui traccie occorrono ad ogni istante nel ius pontificium e negli scritti dei più antichi giureconsulti, che si erano formati sullo studio di esso; i quali sacrificii prendevano il nome di piacula, e dovevansi anche fare, allorchè altri cade in fallo per semplice imprudenza (imprudens). Di qui si raccoglie, che già dall'epoca più remota, a cui rimontino le tradizioni, trovasi la distinzione, almeno fra le genti patrizie, fra colui che abbia compiuto un delitto di proposito (dolo malo, dolo sciens, prudens), e quello invece, che l'abbia compiuto solo per imprudenza (imprudens), nel che si avrebbe una prova, che queste genti già erano pervenute a tale da analizzare l'atto umano e scrutare perfino l'intenzione dell'agente, sebbene più tardi il diritto quiritario dove fare un passo in dietro, come quello che dove applicarsi a classi, che non erano tutte giunte allo stesso grado di sviluppo. Che se il fallo sia tale [Sul carattere delle leges sacratae è da vedersi Lange, De sacrosanctae tribuniciae potestatis natura, eiusque origine. Lipsiae -- Sono poi diversissime le guise, mediante cui le promesse, che non avevano ancora sanzione giuridica, si mettevano sotto la protezione del fas. Sopratutto a ciò serviva il giuramento, la cui larghissima applicazione, nel periodo storico, appare dal diligente lavoro di Bertolini, Il giuramento nel diritto privato romano. Roma. Cio è dimostrato dal fatto, che la distinzione fra l'omicidio commesso di proposito e quello commesso per imprudenza già occorre nelle leges regiae attribuite da non potersi espiare in questa guisa, in allora il reo viene assoggettato ad una specie di espiazione sacrale, la cui forma tipica consiste nella capitis sacratio. Questa dove essere pena gravissima durante il periodo gentilizio, poichè il colpevole veniva con essa ad essere sot toposto ad una specie di scomunica religiosa e domestica, che lo stacca dal gruppo gentilizio, di cui faceva parte, e lo poneva in certo modo fuori della legge, per guisa che sebbene il sacrifizio della sua vita non potesse essere accetto al divino, esso puo pero essere ucciso impunemente da chicchesia. Di qui il carattere di espiazione sacrale, che informa ancora tutto il diritto penale di Roma, durante il periodo patrizio, come pure i vocaboli e i concetti di expiatio, supplicium, di consecratio bonorum, di interdictio aqua et igni, i quali confermano l'osservazione di Voigt, secondo la quale le genti patrizie avrebbero ravvisato nei delitti più un'offesa al divino che non agl’uomini, a differenza delle plebi, che risentivano di preferenza l'offesa e il danno materiale. Non potrei quindi ammettere l'opinione di coloro, i quali, supponendo le genti italiche in una condizione del tutto primitiva e come nella loro infanzia, mentre sotto un certo aspetto sono già nella loro età matura, vogliono ad ogni costo trovare nel diritto penale le traccie della vendetta. Se cio intendasi nel senso che erano i singoli capi di famiglia, che dovevano essere essi i vindici del proprio diritto e proseguire le offese, che loro fos sero recate, in mancanza di un'altra autorità che lo facesse per essi, ciò può essere facilmente ammesso. Che se invece si intenda che nella stessa comunanza gentilizia dovessero spesseggiare una reazione violente e una vendetta, cio più non può conciliarsi col rattere patriarcale di una comunanza, ove tutto è già regolato dalla a Numa. V. Bruns, Fontes. Tale distinzione poi incontrasi frequentemente in ciò, che a noi pervenne degli scritti dei pontefici dei veteres iurisconsulti. Che anzi pare, che, secondo il Pontefice Quinto Muzio Scevola, i fatti commessi contro il fas allora soltanto potessero espiarsi colla piacularis hostia, quando fossero compiuti per imprudenza; mentre non ammettevano espiazione, quando fossero commessi di proposito. Ciò appare dal seguente passo tolto da VARRONE, De ling. lat. Praetor, qui diebus fastis tria verba fatus est, si imprudens fecit, piacu lari hostia piatur; si prudens dixit, Quintus Mucius ambigebat eum expiari non posse.” Altri esempi occorrono in Huschke, Iurisp. anteiust. quae sup., Voigt, XII Tafeln] religione e dal costume. Non potrebbe certo affermarsi che anche le genti italiche non abbiano attraversato uno stadio, in cui dovette dominare la forza, la vendetta e la violenza. Ma l'organizzazione patriarcale e i vincoli strettissimi di essa erano già un mezzo per uscire da tale condizione di cosa. Quindi, se si deve giudicare dal diritto primitivo di Roma patrizia, sarebbero così poche le traccie, che rimangono in esso della vendetta, nel senso che suole attribuirsi a questo vocabolo, da doverne inferire che nel periodo gentilizio la religione, compenetratasi in ogni atto della vita, ne aveva già cacciata la vendetta ed aveva esclusa perfino la composizione a danaro, almeno nella cerchia delle genti patrizie. Che se il padre di famiglia può incrudelire contro la moglie e la figlia adultera e contro l'adultero (sorpresi in flagrante), o contro il ladro, egli lo fa più come giudice e come investito di un carattere sacerdotale, che non come uomo, che si abbandoni all'impeto della collera e della vendetta. La religione già incatena le passioni dell'uomo, ed è solo più fra la plebe, che ancora si trovano le traccie della vendetta e della composizione a danaro, le quali poi ricompariscono in qualche parte nella legislazione decemvirale, come quella che era comune ad entrambe le classi. Fra gli autori, che cercano di dare una larga parte alla vendetta nel diritto romano, havvi il MUIRHEAD, Hist.introd. Egli argomenta da ciò, che colui il quale commetteva un omicidio per imprudenza dove fare l'offerta di un ariete agli agnati dell'ucciso. Da ciò che il vendicare la morte di un congiunto ucciso e un dovere per i superstiti per acquetare i mani di lui. Dal diritto del padre e del marito di uccidere la figlia o la moglie sorprese in adulterio unitamente all'adultero. Dal taglione, le cui traccie ancora rimangono nella legislazione decemvirale, e perfino dal diritto del creditore di chiudere nel carcere il debitore, chemancasse ai proprii impegni. Parmi tuttavia, che di questi fatti alcuni indichino invece la preponderanza dell'elemento religioso, e gli altri siano concessioni, che il diritto decemvirale fece al modo di pensare e di agire proprio della plebe, presso la quale avevano ancora certamente una più larga parte la privata vendetta, il taglione e la composizione a danaro. Cfr. Ihering, L'esprit du droit Romain. Trad. Meulenaere. Paris, -- ove discorre della giustizia privata e delle forme, con cui essa e esercitata. Finchè quindi si dice, che sono i singoli capi di famiglia, che, in mancanza di una autorità investita dal pubblico potere, perseguono essi stessi le ingiurie e le violazioni di diritto, di cui furono vittima, si afferma una verità indiscutibile. Ma ciò non deve più confondersi coll'esercizio sregolato di una vendetta, che non prende norma che dalla violenza della passione, dal momento che la religione e la consuetudine già hanno determinato la procedura solenne, a cui egli deve attenersi per ottenere soddisfazione dell'ingiuria o del danno sofferto, e che l'organizzazione gentilizia ha appunto per iscopo di porre termine alla pri vata violenza fra coloro che appartenevano alla medesima gente o tribù.Accanto però a queste regole dell'umana condotta, che già sono munite di sanzione religiosa, sonvene delle altre che, appoggiate unicamente al costume, costituiscono, per cosi esprimerci, una morale. Esse vengono indicate col vocabolo di “mos patrius”, di “mores maiorum”, di “boni mores”, e costituiscono un complesso di norme direttive della condotta, le cui traccio si trovano più tardi ancora nel iudicium de moribus, at tribuito al Praetor, e sopratutto nel “regimen morum”, affidato alla custodia dei censori. Anche questi “mores maiorum” si sono venuti formando durante il periodo gentilizio, nella cerchia sopratutto delle familia e delle gens, e sono quelli, a cui deve essere attribuito l'obsequium e la reverentia verso gli ascendenti, la pudicitia delle mogli e il mantenimento della fides, anche per quelle promesse, che non fossero munite di sanzione giuridica e che fossero fatte anche ad uno straniero. Sono questi boni mores, che da una parte conteneno in certi confini il potere delle varie autorità, le quali, giuridicamente considerate, apparivano senza alcun confine; e che dal l'altra colpivano colla sanzione efficace della disistima generale della comunanza coloro, che mancavano a certi doveri, i quali non erano muniti di sanzione giuridica. Così, ad esempio, furono i boni mores, che ancora molto più tardi condussero l'opinione pubblica dei cittadini Romani a condannare al disprezzo quei prigionieri d’Annibale che, lasciati liberi sotto la condizione del ritorno, credettero di liberarsi dalla promessa mediante lo stratagemma di ritornare immediatamente nel campo e di sostenere di aver così attenuta la loro [Questo concetto trovasi espresso da Publio Siro, allorchè scrive – “Etiam hosti est aequus, qui habet in consilio fidem.” Del resto sono diversissime le guise, con cui i filosofi esprimono l'efficacia moralmente obbligatoria delle promesse. È qui che compariscono i concetti del pudor humani generis, del foedus, che talvolta significa anche il patto e la convenzione, il concetto della casta fides, quello della santità inerente alle parole, in quanto che immutabile sanctis Pondus inest verbis; concetto che trova poi la sua espressione giuridica nell' “uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto.” Così pure nell'Andria di Terenzio trovasi elegantemente espresso il concetto, che l'obbligazione è un vincolo che la volontà impone a se stessa colle parole – “coactus tua voluntate es” -- concetto che trova pur esso forma nell'assioma giuridico, “Quae ab initio sunt voluntatis ex post facto fiunt necessitates.” Per altri esempi può vedersi HENRIOT, Meurs juridiques et judiciaires] promessa. Del resto è sempre questo concetto del buon costume, che tornerà poi a penetrare, per opera della classica giurisprudenza, nella compagine soverchiamente rigida del diritto civile romano, come lo dimostrano le considerazioni di ordine morale, che talvolta occorrono nei grandi giureconsulti, l'influenza che esercitò mai sempre l'existimatio anche sulla capacità di diritto, e l'introduzione dell'infamia, della ignominia, della levis nota, che danno in certo modo una configurazione giuridica alle varie gradazioni della publica disistima, in cui sia incorsa una determinata persona. Al qual proposito non e inopportuno di osservare, che quella separazione fra l'elemento esclusivamente GIURIDICO ed il meramente morale, che tarda così lungamente ad operarsi nella scienza, presentasi invece con una meravigliosa nettezza nel diritto di Roma, il quale, dopo essersi separato dal fas e dai boni mores, continua logicamente la propria via, e assunse così quel carattere di rigidezza e di logica pressochè inumana (“dura lex, sed lex”), che solo più tardi e temperato nella classica giurisprudenza, la quale di nuovo richiama in esso quell'alito morale, da cui almeno in apparenza erasi dapprima compiutamente disgiunto. Intanto, per ciò che si riferisce ai boni mores, non è più la religione, che si incarica di punirne le violazioni, ma sono i capi stessi dei diversi gruppi, che vegliano sovra quel retaggio del buon costume, che loro ebbe ad essere trasmesso dagli antenati. Sono quindi il padre nella famiglia, il consiglio degl’anziani nella gente ed il magister pagi nella tribù, che sovraintendono almantenimento di questa morale. Mentre è poi la disistima generale della comunanza, che condanna al disprezzo e all'isolamento coloro, che abbiano esercitato professioni ignominiose, o abbiano mancato alla fede promessa, o abusato del potere loro spettante, o abbiano infine commessa alcuna di quelle azioni, che, senza senza essere colpite [Cfr. Muirhead, Hist. Introd. Basta leggere le commedie di Plauto, e fra le altre specialmente il Trinummus, per scorgere la significazione larghissima, che davasi al vocabolo di boni mores, e come fosse altamente sentita l'importanza di essi di fronte alle leggi e l'impotenza di queste, quando quelli cominciavano a venir meno. Ciò verrà ad essere largamente provato nel ius Quiritium, dovuto ad un ' astrazione potente, mediante cui si riuscì ad isolare l'elemento giuridico da tutti gli elementi affini.] dalla sanzione religiosa o giuridica, incorrono però nella disapprovazione generale. Se il modo in cui formasi questa generale opinione e l'influenza, che essa esercita, male possono scorgersi ancora a Roma, in cui già scomparve ogni traccia della vita patriarcale, possono invece essere anche oggidi facilmente compresi quando si arresti lo sguardo ad una comunanza di villaggio, ove tutti si conoscono e debbono necessariamente essere in rapporto fra di loro, ed ove le colpe dei padri pesano più duramente sulla riputazione dei figli. Se ora si vogliano cercare le origini del ius nel periodo gentilizio, apparisce fino all'evidenza, che e soltanto, collocandosi in un posto intermedio, fra il fas da una parte ed i boni mores dall'altra, che puo riuscire e farsi strada quel ius, che dove poi ricevere cosi largo sviluppo durante il periodo della comunanza civile e politica. Sonvi in una comunanza certi modi di operare e di agire, che, per essere costantemente ripetuti in modo uniforme, fini scono per acquistare un carattere pressochè obbligatorio per tutti coloro, che trovansi in una determinata condizione sociale, e danno cosi origine non più al mos propriamente detto, ma a quella formazione giuridica, che viene poi ad essere indicata col vocabolo efficacissimo di “consuetudo”, il quale in certo modo contiene in sè la propria deffinizione. Colui che manca a queste regole non offende solo il divino e non viola solamente il buon costume, ma viene meno ad obbligazioni, che sono imposte dalla convivenza, cui appartiene e si sottrae cosi alle esigenze della vita sociale. Fra i fatti irreligiosi ed immorali viene così formandosi una categoria di fatti umani, in cui appare soltanto in seconda linea l'offesa alla religione ed alla morale, mentre viene ad essere evidente sopratutto l'offesa [Servius, In Aen. -- VARRO valt morem esse communem consensum omnium simul habitantium, qui inveteratus *consuetudinem* facit ». Del resto questo passaggio del costume, che ha carattere meramente MORALE, in *consuetudine*, che ha carattere strittamente GIURIDICO, è indicato anche da molti passi dei giureconsulti, che possono trovarsi raccolti nell'Heumann, “Handlexicon zu den Quellen des römisches Rechts”. Jena, Va Mos e Consuetudo] alla comunanza, a cui altri appartiene e il danno che vengono a soffrirne gli altri membri della comunanza. Di qui la conseguenza, che comincia già ad operarsi, nel seno delle comunanze anche patriarcali, come una specie di selezione, per cui dal complesso dei precetti religiosi e morali se ne vengono sceverando alcuni, che assumono il carattere *giuridico* propriamente detto. Naturalmente questo lavoro di selezione non può ancora spingersi molto oltre, fino a che trattasi di una comunanza, che adempie a funzioni domestiche, religiose e civili ad un tempo. Ma intanto già comincia ad avvertirsi il carattere particolare di certi precetti, che appariscono più rigidi di quelli puramente morali e religiosi, per ottenere l'adempimento dei quali non può più bastare una sanzione meramente religiosa, né la disistima generale, ma vuolsi una specie di sanzione co-attiva da parte della intiera comunanza e dell'autorità che la governa. Al modo stesso, che già fra le genti e le tribù si vengono gradatamente svolgendo quelle arces, quegli oppida, quei conciliabula, quei fora, che sono il primo nucleo, intorno a cui verrà poi a svolgersi l'urbs e la civitas; cosi, anche frammezzo ad una convivenza, i cui precetti hanno ancora sopratutto un carattere religioso e morale, già cominciano a presentarsene alcuni, che assumono un carattere civile e politico. Che anzi, per continuare nello stesso paragone, al modo stesso che Roma, limitata dapprima ad essere il rifugio degli abitanti dei villaggi, viene poi ad essere il luogo, ove si amministra la giustizia e si tengono le riunioni, e viene infine ad abbracciare nella sua cerchia anche le abitazioni private, e a sottrarre all'organizzazione domestica e gentilizia tutte quelle funzioni di carattere civile e politico, a cui essa prima adempiva; così anche [Questo concetto, per cui chi manca al diritto offende non solo l'individuo, ma reca un danno alla intiera comunanza, che ora noi diremmo danno sociale, è un concetto profondamente sentito dai romani, il quale ha ad essere variamente espresso dai filosfi latini. Basti riportare dall'Henriot questi versi di Pubblio Siro: Multis minatur, qui uni facit iniuria: Tuti sunt omnes, ubi defenditur unus; Omne ius supra omnem iniuriam positum est. O quello di Orazio: « nam tua res agitur, paries quum proximus ardet ». Come pure le frequenti scene di Plauto e di TERENZIO, in cui una persona ingiuriata chiama gli altri testi in testimonio e chiede aiuto con formole, che hanno una precisione giuridica: “Obsecro vos, populares, ferte misero atque innocenti auxilium. Ovvero: Obsecro vestram fidem, subvenite cives ».] questo primo nucleo di precetti giuridici, che negli inizii abbisogna ancora dell'appoggio della religione e del costume e si modella sul fas, viene col tempo accrescendosi sempre più, e richiamando a se una quantità di precetti, i quali nell'organizzazione anteriore non hanno che un carattere religioso o MORALE. Per tal guisa il ius viene in certo modo accrescendosi a spese degl’elementi, da cui si è staccato. Quando poi sentesi forte abbastanza per procedere per proprio conto, afferma senz'altro la propria indipendenza, e assume, per opera dei romani, un processo tutto speciale nel proprio svolgimento, che chiamasi appunto iuris ratio, mediante cui finisce per qualche tempo per isolarsi anche troppo da quegli elementi, da cui ricava il suo primitivo nutrimento. Quel carattere pertanto di rigidezza, che suole condannarsi nel diritto dei Quiriti, è la miglior prova della sua potenza ed energia; perchè indica come l'elemento giuridico ormai fosse giunto a tale da potersi svolgere senza più tener conto della considerazione MORALE o religiose -- al modo stesso che Roma, teatro del suo svolgimento, ormai e pervenuta a tale da cercare ancor essa di spogliarsi di ogni traccia della influenza gentilizia e patriarcale. Questo è poi degno di nota, che anche quando il ius viene ad affermare la propria esistenza separata continua pur sempre a svolgersi sotto due forme, che corrispondono alle due sorgenti da cui esso ebbe a derivarsi. Havvi infatti la parte, in cui il diritto cerca in certo modo di imitare la solennità del fas, ed è quella in cui esso viene ad essere rivestito della forma di “lex.” Quando cioè il popolo, interrogato dal magistrato, dà una forma solenne ed espressa alla propria volontà – “iubet atque constituit” -- creando cosi il “ius legibus introductum”. Intanto si mantiene sempre un altro aspetto del ius, in cui la volontà collettiva del popolo si manifesta nella formazione lenta delle proprie consuetudini, che i romani considerano come il frutto di una tacita civium conventio – “ius moribus constitutum”. Ad ognimodo però il ius, prenda esso il carattere di una *regola*, che il popolo pone a sè stesso, o di una norma, che formisi tacitamente nel costume, è pur sempre il frutto di un accordo espresso e tacito dei cittadini, e deve essere considerato come l'espressione di una volontà comune, che si sovrappone alla volontà dei singoli individui. Finchè esso è in via di formazione può essere argomento di discussioni, le quali hanno luogo nelle riunioni meno solenni del popolo, che chiamansi contiones; ma allorchè la legge viene ad essere posta e costituita con quei riti solenni, che accompagnano i comizii, la vox populi viene ad essere considerata come vox dei, e debbono ubbidirvi tutti coloro, che cooperarono a formarla, non eccettuati quelli che erano di avviso contrario. Vi ha di più, ed è che accanto a questo dualismo se ne delinea ben presto un altro, per cui distinguesi una parte del diritto, che si riferisce all'interesse generale della comunanza, e chiamasi ius publicum; e una parte invece, che si riferisce all'interesse parti colare delle famiglie e delli individui, che entrano a costituirla, e chiamasi ius privatum. Il primo si forma sulla piazza e nel foro, fra gli urti ed i conflitti delle varie classi, lascia le sue traccie nella storia politica di Roma, e si esplica mediante gli accordi e le transazioni, cheavvengono fra patriziato e plebe. L’altro viene elaborandosi pressochè tacitamente nella coscienza generale del popolo, e trova i suoi interpreti nei pontefici e nei giureconsulti. Intanto però l'uno e l'altro sono in certa guisa atteggiamenti diversi di un medesimo diritto, in quanto che il di ritto pubblico è in certo modo il palladio, sotto la cui protezione può nascere e svolgersi il diritto private. Insomma al modo stesso, che l'urbs e il frutto di una lenta formazione, mediante cui si vennero sceverando dalle abitazioni pri vate gl’edifizii aventi pubblica destinazione, e che il formarsi della civitas e del populus si dovette al raccogliersi e al riunirsi di tutti gli uomini (viri) che col braccio o col consiglio potevano provve dere alla difesa ed all'interesse comune; cosi anche la formazione del diritto e attribuita ad una specie di elaborazione, che venne operandosi nella coscienza generale di un popolo, e all'attrito dei varii elementi, che entravano a costituirlo, [È da vedersi, quanto alla distinzione fra diritto pubblico e privato, Savigny, Sistema del diritto privato romano, trad. Scialoia. Sopratutto importa il notare, che il diritto pubblico e il privato, nel concetto romano, sono due atteggiamenti diversi del medesimo diritto – “duae positions” -- e non deve essere dimenticato il detto, che Bacone certo ricava dallo spirito del diritto romano, secondo cui “ius privatum sub tutela iuris publici latet”, De augm. scient., de iust. univ. Quanto alle altre suddistinzioni, che presentansi nel campo del diritto, è da consultarsi Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, come pure lo stesso autore, Das ius naturale, gentium etc. Leipzig] mediante cui da tutti gli elementi morali e religiosi, che già si erano formati durante il periodo gentilizio, si vennero sceverando tutti quelli, che potevano ritenersi indispensabili per il mantenimento della convivenza civile e politica. Roma insomma che, piccola dapprima e limitata a pochi edifizii, si venne però sempre ingrandendo a spese delle comunanze di villaggio, che erano entrate a costituirla, deve essere considerata come il crogiuolo, in cui si gettarono indistintamente tutti gl’elementi della vita patriarcale, per sceverarne ed isolarne quella parte, che ha un carattere essenzialmente giuridico, politico e militare. E questa una specie di chimica scomposizione, che un popolo mirabilmente atto a sceverare nel fatto umano tutto ciò, che in esso si presenti di giuridico, e a concretarlo in forme tipiche e precise, venne in certo modo compiendo a benefizio del genere umano. Espresse quindi una grande verità il filosofo coll'esclamare: Fuit sapientia quondam Publica privatis secernere sacra profanes. Poichè tale veramente e il compito delle città primitive e quello sopratutto di Roma. Il nucleo di questi precetti, di carattere esclusivamente giuri dico, e dapprima assai scarso, e si ridusse a quel poco che Roma, ancora nei proprii esordii, poteva sottrarre ad un'organizzazione come la gentilizia, che ancora aveva tutta la sua vitalità ed energia. Poscia però col crescere di Roma, coll'estendersi delle sue mura, col fondersi insieme degli elemeuti, che entrano a costituirla, coll'in corporarsi di nuovi elementi nel populus, quel ius, che prima ha solo una posizione subordinata, si cambiò invece in tutore e custode della vita pubblica e privata, ed e riconosciuto come sovrano nel seno della comunanza civile e politica. E allora che, consapevole della propria forza e dell'ufficio, che gli e affidato, si riaccosta di nuovo a quell'elemento religioso e sopratutto etico, da cui aveva dovuto disgiungersi, allorchè nel periodo della propria formazione non riconosce più altra guida, che una logica esclusivamente giu ridica – “iuris ratio”. Di qui intanto deriva la conseguenza, che Roma, pur ricevendo [Orazio, Ars poetica] le proprie istituzioni dal passato, ci fa però assistere alla formazione lenta e graduata di un diritto, che venne adattandosi alle esigenze della convivenza civile e politica, e differenziandosi sotto molteplici aspetti. Questo diritto tuttavia può essere logicamente spiegato in tutto il suo processo, ed anche nelle distinzioni che comparvero in esso, in quanto che è stato veramente una costruzione logica e coe rente in tutte le sue parti, che venne svolgendosi “rebus ipsis dictantibus et necessitate exigente.” Che questo sia stato veramente il processo, con cui si esplica il diritto in Roma, risulta poi con tanta evidenza dallo svolgersi della comunanza romana, che per ora non occorre altra dimostrazione. Bensi importa, ed è assai più difficile determinare, quali siano i rapporti, che primi hanno ad assumere un carattere giuridico, e quali siano stati gli aspetti essenziali, sotto cui si presenta questo primitivo diritto presso le antiche genti italiche. Finchè noi siamo nelle mura domestiche e nel seno della famiglia la religione comune, la riverenza verso il proprio capo, il suo carattere patriarcale, il suo potere pressochè senza confini, non che l'autorità moderatrice di quel consiglio o consesso di parenti, da cui egli è circondato, creano un'organizzazione di tale natura, che può bastare a qualsiasi emergenza, senza che occorra perciò di ricorrere al diritto propriamente detto. Che anzi, se il diritto cerca di penetrare nelle mura domestiche, la fiera indipendenza dei padri riguarderebbe ciò come una violazione del proprio domicilio ed una usurpazione della propria autorità, come lo dimostra ancora il padre di Orazio, uccisore della sorella, allorchè osserva che, se il proprio figlio non ha a ragione uccisa la sorella – “iure caesam” -- e toccato a lui di provvedere. Se quindi la moglie, i figli, gli schiavi manchino a quei doveri, che sono fissati dal costume e consacrati dalla religione, e il padre stesso, che e vindice dei loro [Liv., Hist., I, 24. Di qui si può' raccogliere, come non possa ammettersi l'opinione di coloro, i quali vorrebbero senz'altro attribuire al re, come primo magistrato di Roma, la giurisdizione per giudicare di qualsiasi misfatto. CLARK, Early roman law. Deve invece ritenersi a questo riguardo col MuiruEAD, Histor. che la giurisdizione criminale del re o magistrato venne gradatamente svolgendosi frammezzo alla giurisdizione dei capi di famiglia, e a quella che apparteneva alle singole genti, quanto ai delitti, che erano commessi da membri, che entravano a costituirle.] falli, salvo che in certi casi di maggior gravità, come quando trattisi della moglie adultera, non stata sorpresa in flagrante, egli dove circondarsi del tribunale domestico e pronunziare la condanna, dopo averne sentito l'avviso. Allorchè poi l'azione, che reca danno altrui, sia stata compiuta da un altro capo di famiglia, o da persona soggetta al potere del medesimo, e fra i due capi di famiglia, che la questione e risolta, e se quest'ultimo non intenda di riparare il danno arrecato dal suo dipendente, non ha nulla di ripugnante al modo di pensare dell'epoca, che egli consegni la persona, che ha recato il danno, al capo di famiglia, che ha a soffrirlo, mediante l'antichissimo istituto delle noxae deditio. Cosi pure [È noto a questo proposito come nel diritto, distinguasi fra “noxia” e “noxa”, per cui mentre il vocabolo “noxia” significa il danno, veniva anche dai filosofi adoperato per significare la colpa, mentre il vocabolo “noxa” si adopera per significare il peccato, il delitto, ed anche la pena di esso -- donde la espres sione di noxae deditio, la quale trova poi una larga applicazione, tanto nei rapporti fra i capi di famiglia, quanto eziandio nei rapporti fra le varie genti e tribù nel “ius pacis ac belli” nel periodo gentilizio. V. Festo, vº Noxia (Bruns, Fontes). Intanto dalla estesa comprensività del vocabolo di “noxa” o di “nocia”, nella sua significazione primitiva, parmi di poter inferire con fondamento, che nelle origini uno stesso vocabolo significa ad un tempo la colpa, che cagionava il danno, e il danno, che deriva da essa, e che non dove esservi distinzione fra colpa e danno di carattere civile e colpa e danno di carattere penale, come neppure dove distinguersi fra colpa contrattuale ed extra-contrattuale od aquiliana. I concetti e i vocaboli sono sinteticamente potenti nel diritto romano, ed è solo col tempo, che in essi si osservano quegli atteggiamenti diversi, che costituiscono poi altrettante configurazioni giuridiche di un unico concetto fondamentale. Un altro carattere del diritto si è anche questo, che esso prende di regola le mosse da un vocabolo di significazione materiale, e poi gli attribuisce una significazione sempre più estesa e perfino traslata o figurate. Abbiamo un esempio di ciò nel vocabolo “rupere”, che significa il rompere materialmente un membro, od altra cosa; ma fu poscia recato ad una significazione traslata, attestataci da Festo, per cui rupere significa damnum dare, al modo stesso che rupitias e ruptiones finiscono per significare ogni maniera di danno. È uno dei processi più consueti nel diritto di Roma, quello per cui una volta formato un concetto od un vocabolo giuridico non si teme di estenderlo a tutte le configurazioni affini. Come si estese il parricidium ad ogni uccisione di un uomo libero. Così il membrum rupere o la rupitias, essendo stato il danno, che prima ebbe ad essere configurato giuridicamente, passa poi ad indicare qualsiasi danno. Rimando in proposito al dottissimo lavoro del collega G. P. Cuironi, “La colpa nel diritto civile” (Torino). Di quest'opera credo di poter dire, senza offendere la modestia dell'amico, che servirà a rimettere in onore fra noi quel mirabile magistero, che ha fatto la] gli è tenendo conto della posizione rispettiva, in cui in questo periodo si trovano due capi di famiglia, che si può comprendere il nascere e lo svolgersi di certe procedure, che più tardi appariscono strane e pressochè incomprensibili. Tale è, per dare un esempio, quella del “furtum lance lincioque conceptum”, in cui abbiamo un capo di famiglia, che ricercando una cosa statagli derubata può ottenere di entrare nella casa del vicino, in cui teme sia stata nascosta; ma cio a condizione di fare anzitutto una libazione propiziatoria ai lari della casa, in cui egli si inoltra, il che è dimostrato dal piatto, che egli tiene fra mano (lance), e intanto deve stringersi la persona con un cingolo (lincio), che gli impedisca di nascondere qualsiasi oggetto. Sembra però, che questa perquisizione domiciliare dove per un senso di pudicizia arrestarsi dinanzi al cubiculum della moglie, con che però il capo di casa giurasse che nulla di derubato vi era stato nascosto. Del resto in questa condi grandezza della giurisprudenza romana, secondo cui, una volta che si è formata una configurazione giuridica, la medesima non deve più essere perduta di vista nelle in definite trasformazioni e distinzioni, che pud subire nelle vicissitudini delle legislazioni e della giurisprudenza, ma deve sempre essere richiamata alle proprie origini e seguita nella sua dialettica fondamentale. L'autore tratta dei concetti di “rupere”, di “rupitias”, di culpa della lex Aquilia.] Esmein in “La poursuite du vol et le serment purgatoire”, trova le traccie di una procedura analoga a quella, che seguivasi per il “furtum lance lincioque conceptum”, anche presso il popolo di Israele nel fatto di Rachele, che avendo sottratti gli idoli di Labano, li aveva poi nascosti sotto le coperte del cammello, sovra cui essa si era seduta; come pure nel fatto narrato da MACROBIO, Saturnalia, I, 1, cap. VI in fine, ove si narra di un Tremellio, a cui sarebbesi imposto il soprannome di Scrofa, perchè avendo rubata una scrofa uccisa, aveva poi fatto sedere sopra di essa la propria moglie, e aveva giurato, in via di purgazione, che colà non eravi altra scrofa, fuori di quella. Ciò dimostra come questa procedura siasi naturalmente formata presso popoli diversi. Ma non posso convenire nell'apprezzamento dell'autore, per cui nelle epoche primitive non si guarderebbe che all'adempimento delle forme esteriori della procedura. Poichè nel fatto stesso citato da MACROBIO, noi abbiamo l'opinione generale, che segna a dito colui, che ricorse a quell'ignobile stratagemma, imponendogli il soprannome di Scrofa (Esmein, Mélanges d'histoire de droit, Paris). L'autore poi, il quale avvertì che il piatto, tenuto fra mani da colui, che ricerca la cosa derubata nel “furtum lance lincioque conceptum”, ricorda in certo modo la libazione propiziatoria ai lari e ai penati, che dovevasi fare prima di metter piede nella casa altrui, è Leist, Graec. Ital. R. G. Sul “furtum lancie lincioque conceptum” è da vedersi il saggio di Gulli, “Del furtum conceptum secondo la legge delle XII Tavole. Bologna] zione di cose, mancando ancora un'autorità, che siasi fatta ella stessa investigatrice e punitrice dei misfatti, si comprendeche sia il derubato che prosegue il ladro, il marito offeso che tenga dietro all'adultero e sorpreso l'uccida, e si richiederà ancora lungo tempo prima che, in Roma, l'autorità pubblica si incarichi direttamente della punizione di questi e di altri misfatti. Che se la riparazione non venga ad essere accordata all'offeso, e anche naturale, che impegnisi una lotta fra le due famiglie, e che associandosi alle medesime le genti, a cui esse appartengono, il DUELLO mutisi talvolta in un conflitto fra le due genti, ed anche in una guerra fra le tribù, di cui esse entrano a far parte. Cosi è pure dei rapporti interni fra i diversi membri, che entrano a costituire la gente, quali sono i rapporti fra il patrono ed il cliente, ed anche i doveri della ospitalità, poichè essi cadono sotto la protezione religiosa, e le violazioni di essi sono punite mediante la pubblica disistima, e coll'intervento dell'autorità patriarcale e del consiglio degl’anziani, custodi e vindici delle tradizioni dei maggiori. Siccome però nella gente già vengono ad esservi diversi capi di famiglia, che hanno una propria familia, un proprio “heredium”, un proprio “peculium”. Cosi comprendesi come nel “vicus” già puo sorgere delle controversie di carattere GIURIDICO fra i diversi padri. Controversie che talvolta possono anche essere rese più accanite dal vincolo stesso di parentela, che intercede fra le famiglie che appartengono alla medesima gente. È tuttavia ancora sempre verosimile, che l'interporsi di qualche anziano, che goda la fiducia comune dei contendenti, possa indurli ad un amichevole componimento. Il che spiega come nei vici siavi sempre un luogo per il mercato, in quanto che la distinzione del mio e del tuo già rende possibile il commercium, manon vi si rinvenga sempre il luogo per amministrare giustizia. Infatti, il carattere esclusivamente patriarcale dei rapporti, che intercedono fra i membri di essa, rendono [Ciò accade sopratutto, quanto all'adulterio, che comincia a formare oggetto di un “iudicium publicum” solo colla legge Iulia, De adulteriis, che e una di quelle con cui Ottaviano cerca, ancorchè con poco frutto, di far rivivere il buon costume. [In proposito l'interessante articolo dell'Esmein, “Le délit d'adultère à Rome e la loi Iulia, De adulteriis” – “Mélanges d'histoire de droit”. Quanto al vicus e al difetto, che talora trovasi in esso di un magistrato per amministrarvi giustizia] ripugnante l'idea di una vera e propria lite, non solo fra patrono e cliente, ma anche fra i padri o capi di famiglia, che discendono dal medesimo antenato e hanno per mettersi d'accordo fra di loro l'autorità dei proprii anziani. Nella tribù invece, già si trovano di fronte capi di famiglia, che appartengono a genti diverse e che più non discendono dal medesimo antenato, nè partecipano allo stesso culto gentilizio. Quindi già viene ad imporsi il bisogno di provvedere in qualche modo all'amministrazione della giustizia, più non essendovi un'autorità di carattere esclusivamente patriarcale, che possa imporsi ai capi di famiglia, che sono di discendenza e d'origine diversa. Dovette quindi probabilmente essere questa necessità di provve dere all'amministrazione della giustizia, che suggere l'idea di una autorità chiamata a dirigere e ad amministrare il pagus – “magister pagi” -- , la cui primitiva destinazione è ancora indicata dai nomi di “iudex” e di “praetor”, ed anche da quello di “tribunal” (derivato certamente da “tribus”), che significa dapprima il seggio, più elevato sovra cui collocavasi quegli che e chiamato ad amministrare giustizia, e indica così anche esteriormente la posizione cospicua, in cui egli trovavasi di fronte agli altri membri della comunanza. Queste controversie intanto non puo naturalmente sorgere che fra i varii capi di famiglia, i quali, memori delle loro tradizioni, sono dapprima troppo altamente compresi del proprio diritto, perchè sia necessario che intervenga una legge a dichiarare quello che loro appartenga. Ma hanno piuttosto bisogno di essere contenuti nell'esercizio violento delle proprie ragioni e di conoscere il processo, che deve seguire per ottenere giustizia, senza dover ricorrere alla privata violenza. È questo il motivo, per cui presso tutti i popoli la prima forma che giunse ad assumere il diritto e quella dell' “actio”, che è il complesso degli atti e dei riti solenni, che si debbono compiere per far valere il proprio diritto davanti al magistrate. Atti e riti solenni, che presso genti come le latine, le quali imitano coi gesti e coi riti. La posizione elevata del tribunal, sovra cui trovasi assiso il magistrato, perchè – “sedendo quiescit animus, et sedendo ac quiescendo fit animus prudens” -- trovasi soventi accennata dai filosofi latini, come indizio della dignità, a cui era assunto colui, che e chiamato ad amministrare giustizia. V. Henriot, “Mæurs juridiques et judi ciaires de l'ancienne Rome”).] giudiziarii, ciò che un tempo dovette seguire nei fatti, finiranno per contenere una storia simbolica dei varii stadii, per cui dovette passare l'amministrazione della giustizia, prima di giungere ad essere accettata e riconosciuta dallo spirito fiero ed indipendente dei primi capi di famiglia. Che se si volesse spingere anche più oltre questa ri-costruzione logica e concettuale del diritto romano, che ha a svolgersi nel seno della tribù, potrebbe affermarsi con certezza, che le due prime figure di rei, contro cui la giustizia umana associa i proprii sforzi colla giustizia divina e colla esecrazione della generale opinione, dove essere quella del parricidas e del perduellis. Ivi infatti è sopratutto l'uccisione del padre di famiglia, che per il carattere patriarcale della comunanza viene ad essere considerato come padre rimpetto a tutti i membri di essa, i quali talvolta continuano ancora a chiamarsi col nome di fratelli, che è il grande misfatto contro la legge umana e divina, il quale puo mettere in lotta le famiglie fra di loro, ed anche rimanere impunito, quando l'autorità comune non si mette in movimento contro di esso. Nè ripugna al carattere della comunanza patriarcale, che la punizione del parricida acquistasse in certo modo un carattere tradizionale e fosse accompagnata da certe pratiche, che possono anche avere un significato simbolico, e che potrebbero anche essere state portate dall'Oriente. Tali sono quelle, che più tardi ancora accompagnano la punizione del parricida; pratiche tradizionali, che anche oggi in parte sopravvivono e non possono dirsi compiutamente abbandonate anche presso le nazioni civili. Così pure dovette essere un processo del tutto natu [Questa circostanza, che tutti i membri della comunanza patriarcale si chiamano fratelli, è attestata dal Sumner MAINE, “The early history of institutions”, e qualche cosa di analogo dovette accadere ancora nella tribù italica, ove non vi ha dubbio, che i capi di famiglia sono generalmente indicati col vocabolo di patres; poichè di questo stato di cose rimasero ancora le traccie in Roma. È nota la punizione tradizionale contro il parricida, ricordata ancora nel Digesto: “Poena parricidii more maiorum haec instituta est, ut parricida, virgis sanguineis verberatus, deinde culleo insuatur cum cane, gallo gallinaceo et vipera et simia; deinde in mare profundum culleus iactatur ». Qui il giure-consulto lascia travedere, che la pena del parricidio e conservata nel costume e trasmessa per via tradizionale – “mos maiorum”. Essa pertanto dopo essersi mantenuta nel costume più che nella legge, contro i parricidi in senso stretto, ha poi ad essere sanzionata dalla lex POMPEIA, De parricidiis] rale, che condusse l'opinione generale di una comunanza patriarcale a ravvisare un nemico in colui, che getta la perturbazione nella comunanza stessa e si disponeva a tradirla coi nemici di essa. Cosicchè non dubitarono di applicargli il nome stesso, che davano al nemico, con cui erano in guerra, il qual nome era quello appunto di “perduellis”. Cio intanto darebbe una spiegazione molto probabile e naturale del fatto, che fa meravigliare gli stessi romani, per cui Romolo, prima e Numa, dopo chiamare col nome di “parricidas” anche l'uccisore di un uomo libero, non che di quello per cui le prime e sole autorità incaricate di perseguire e punire i mi sfatti in Roma avrebbero assunto il nome di “quaestores parricidii” e di “duumviri perduellionis”. Anche qui la legislazione di Roma comincia dal riconoscere come pubblici reati quelli, che già hanno cominciato ad assumere questo carattere nello stesso periodo gentilizio, e a questi sarebbe poi venuta aggiungendo man mano quelli la cui repressione appare necessaria. Vi ha di più, ed è che nella tribù già si incomincia la formazione di due ordini diversi di persone, che sono i patrizi e i plebei, i quali ultimi più non entrano nei quadri dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ma già cominciano ad es sere indipendenti dal patriziato, sebbene ancora si trovino in condizione assai inferiore e non abbiano potuto ancora dimenticare la loro antica origine servile. Di fronte a questa condizione parmi non sia temeraria la congettura, che mi permetto di avventurare, secondo cui, nel periodo della tribù e nel seno del pagus, non dovette soltanto cominciarsi lo svolgimento dell'elemento giuridico, ma questo diritto primitivo dovette assumere due forme essenziali; in quanto che altro dovette essere il diritto, che governava i rapporti fra i padri, che appartenevano alla stessa comunanza gentilizia, ispirato all'idea della loro parità ed uguaglianza di condizione; ed altro invece il diritto, che venne a svolgersi nei rapporti, che necessariamente dovettero stabilirsi fra l'ordine superiore dei padri e quello INFERIORE della plebe, il quale non potè a meno di ritenere qualche traccia della superiorità che [La questione del “parricidium” e della perduellio scorreno delle leges regiae.] si attribuivano i primi e dell'inferiorità di condizione, in cui sanno di trovarsi i secondi. È solo col dare la debita parte a queste due forme del diritto, le quali del resto trovano la loro base nelle condizioni di fatto dei due ordini, che si possono spiegare certe istituzioni del diritto romano, quali sarebbero quelle del “mancipium”, del “nexum”, della “manus iniectio” e simili; le quali sono tutte forme giuridiche, che non trovarono applicazione nei rapporti fra i padri e i loro discendenti patrizii, ma soltanto nei rapporti fra i patrizii ed i plebei. Se si comprende infatti che un plebeo, il quale non ha altra garanzia da dare che quella della propria persona, e costretto a dare a mancipio sè stesso o la propria figliuolanza, o ad obbligarsi con quella severità, che era propria del nexum, e che il patrizio insoddisfatto puo mettere la mano sopra di lui e trascinarlo nel suo carcere, mediante la procedura della “manus iniectio”. Questi modi di procedere non si possono invece comprendere fra due capi di famiglia appartenenti alle genti patrizie. Nè serve il dire, che queste istituzioni passarono poi effettivamente nel diritto quiritario; poichè anche questo e l'opera dei patrizii, i quali, dettandolo, hanno sopratutto per iscopo di governare e di reggere le plebi. Di più è un processo del tutto romano quello per cui, quando si è creato un vocabolo o un concetto, non si dubita di trapiantarlo in condizioni anche diverse da quella in cui ebbe a formarsi. E quindi opportuno tentare la ricostruzione dell'una e dell'altra forma di questo diritto per trovare in esso la spiegazione alcune singolarità del tutto peculiari al diritto quiritario. Lo svolgimento di questa teorica tratta appunto di alcuni primitivi concetti del diritto quiritario. I giureconsulti col dire che il “ius hominum causa constitutum est”, enunciarono una verità che trova una piena conferma nei fatti, quando seguasi il processo, con cui il diritto vennesi formando fra le genti del Lazio. Finchè trattasi di persone che appartenno al medesimo gruppo, il fas, il mos e l'autorità patriarcale, stabiliti in seno delle varie aggregazioni, possono bastare a qualsiasi emergenza. Così invece non era, allorchè i capi di fa miglie, appartenenti ai diversi gruppi, venivano a mettersi in rapporto fra di loro; poichè in allora, mancando la comune discendenza e l'autorità patriarcale di un capo, convenne di necessità porre le reciproche obligazioni sotto l'impero di un comune diritto. Di qui provennero alcuni caratteri importantissimidel diritto, che possono spargere molta luce sulla formazione del diritto quiritario, e dileguare una quantità di sottigliezze, che furono immaginate per spiegare quel diritto, senza cercarne la causa nelle condizioni sociali che ne determinano la formazione. Il primo di tali caratteri sta in questo, che i rapporti giuridici, sorgeno dapprima fra i capi di gruppo, anzi che fra i singoli individui, che sono assorbiti ed unificati nel medesimo. Di qui le solennità, che dove necessariamente accompagnarne gl’atti, come quelli che non riguardavano gli interessi particolari di questo o di quell'individuo; ma si rifereno all'interesse dell'intiero gruppo da lui rappresentato, e così hanno, per usare il linguaggio moderno, un'importanza pressochè internazionale. Non fu pertanto amore di formalismo, che guida un popolo così eminentemente pratico come il romano nella formazione del proprio diritto; ma questo, nei suoi esordii apparve ingombro di formalità e difinzioni, solo perchè, dopo essere stato preparato in un periodo di organizzazione sociale, e trapiantato in un altro dallo spirito conservatore del popolo romano. Anzichè archittettare formalità artificiose, i romani si valgono invece di quelle, che si sono formate nella realtà dei fatti in un periodo anteriore, e con piccole modificazioni, che sono rese necessarie dalle nuove esigenze, fanno entrare in esse i rapporti, che si vengono svolgendo più tardi nella comunanza civile e politica. Nel che seguono un processo, che non abbandonno neppure più tardi; quello cioè di non creare giammai una forma novella, finchè quella già prima [Il formalismo è certo uno dei caratteri più salienti del diritto di Roma. Si comprende quindi, che I filosofi se ne siano largamente occupati e fra gli altri il SUMNER Maine, L'ancien droit, in cui si occupa delle finzioni legali, e sopratutto poi JHERING, che ha a dedicarvi buona parte del “L'esprit du droit Romain”. La conclusione, a cui sarebbero venuti questi filosofi, e, che questo formalismo del diritto di Roma dove essere attribuito alla predilezione del popolo romano per l'elemento esteriore; carattere, che Roma avrebbe comune con tutti i popoli, e proveniente da ciò, che i medesimi riguardano più alla forma che alla sostanza. Senza voler qui entrare in una discussione, che mitrarrebbe troppo in lungo, mi limito unicamente ad osservare, che il formalismo non è un fenomeno, che comparisca presso tutti i popoli. Esso compare soltanto, al lorchè istituzioni formatesi in un'epoca si trasportano in un'altra, in cui più non si comprenda la significazione delle medesime. Dei popoli non si può dire, che essi siano amici della formalità; perchè essi cercano di esprimere ciò che sentono col gesto, cogli atti e colle parole ad un tempo, e quindi hanno una mimica, la quale, anzichè essere artificiosa ed architettata, tende ad essere l'espressione effettiva e reale delle loro sensazioni ed emozioni. Quindi, il formalismo, anzichè essere l'indizio di un popolo, è invece l'effetto dello spirito conservatore, che trasporta una forma creata in un periodo ad un altro, in cui esse hanno perduto qualsiasi significazione. Tutte le forme che si conservano come tali sono sopravvivenze di un'epoca trascorsa, che sono trapiantate in un'altra, la quale più non le capisce, e quindi si limita ad osservarle pressochè materialmente. Ciò accade nella religione, nella morale, nel di ritto, e accadde certamente nel diritto di Roma, il quale, se divenne formalista, e perchè il patriziato romano vuole conservare le vestigia del passato e fare entrare nella forma preparata nel periodo gentilizio un nuovo rapporto che e creato dalla convivenza civile e politica colla plebe. Non è quindi da ammettersi, che la forma esteriore del diritto si elabori prima della sostanza di esso; nè che i popoli primitivi diano maggior importanza alla forma, che alla sostanza. Forma e sostanza invece si presentano dapprima indissolubilmente congiunte, ed è solo più tardi, allorchè si vorrebbero conservare la forma antica, e fare entrare nelle medesime una sostanza nuova, che si viene alla conseguenza, per cui “a forma dat esse rei”. Ciò che accade nel diritto, avverasi eziandio nel linguaggio, il quale nella sua formazione adatta la parola al concetto; il che non impedisce pero, che più tardi, trasportandosi la stessa parola ad un altro concetto, si venga alle significazioni traslate, la cui origine può talvolta essere poi difficilmente compresa.] esistente possa ancora bastare al bisogno. Del resto non può neppure dirsi, che negli inizii di Roma questo diritto e veramente disacconcio, dal momento che allora soltanto si usce da una condizione di cose, in cui il padre rappresenta effettivamente quel complesso di persone e di cose, che dipendeno da esso. Quindi e naturale che per qualche tempo il diritto conserva quel medesimo carattere, che aveva acquistato durante il periodo gentilizio. Solo comincia a diventare artificioso e disadatto alle nuove condizioni sociali il diritto di Roma, quando al PADRE si venne sostituendo il CITTADINO, e più ancora quando al cittadino si sostitui L’UOMO LIBERO e L’UOMO NUOVO. Del resto non è poi difficile il ricostruirsi nel pensiero un'organizzazione, in cui sia veramente il PADRE, che compia tutto ciò, che si riferisce al gruppo da lui rappresentato, per guisa, che esso sia PADRE (quanto ai figlio), PADRONE (quanto al servo), PATRONO (quanto al cliente), e rappresenti il gruppo da lui governato, ogni qualvolta trattasi di entrare in rapporto con altri gruppi. Di questo padre antico ci hanno conservato la imponente figura non tanto gli scrittori di cose giuridiche, che lo irrigidiscono di troppo perchè lo riguardano sotto l'aspetto esclusivamente giuridico; ma i filosofi latini, allorchè ci dipingono, ad esempio, APPIO Claudio, capo di una grande famiglia, custode geloso dell'antico costume, il quale continua, ancorchè vecchio e CIECO, ad esercitare, venerato e temuto ad un tempo, la propria autorità sui figli, sui servi, e sopra un numero grandissimo di client. Del resto anche il diritto lascia di quando in quando travedere quest'aureola patriarcale, che circonda il capo di famiglia, come lo dimostrano le seguenti parole attribuite ad Ascanio. “Moris fuit, unumquemque domesticam rationem sibi totius vitae suae per dies singulos scribere, quod appareret quid quisque de reditibus suis, quid de arte, de foenore lucrove sepo suisset, et quo die, et quid idem sumptus damnive fecisset.” Tuttavia anche questa descrizione tende già a dare all'autorità del padre un carattere essenzialmente giuridico. Mentre invece, riportandoci al periodo gentilizio, questa figura primitiva presentasi anche [Cic., Cato maior -- È poi sopratutto nei filosofi latini, e specialmente nei comici, come Plauto, che si può facilmente scorgere la differenza fra la patria podestà, quale era giuridicamente concepita é quale invece esisteva nel fatto. È da vedersi in proposito Henriot, Moeurs juridiques et judiciaires de l'ancienne Rome. Bruns, Fontes juris romani antiqui. Edit. V, Friburgi] più imponente col suo carattere patriarcale e religioso ad un tempo; e quindi si può comprendere come l'acceptum, l'expensum, lo sponsum, lo stipulatum, l'actum, il iussum del capo di famiglia si cambiano in altrettanti atti solenni, che diventarono poi il substratum di altrettante configurazioni giuridiche in un periodo posteriore. Un secondo carattere poi sta in questo, che il diritto presentasi fra questi capi di famiglia appartenenti a genti e a tribù diverse, come il solo mezzo per stabilire e mantenere la pace fra i medesimi. Se infatti il suo impero non fosse riconosciuto non ha altro espediente, che quello di ricorrere alla manuum consertio, la quale, allargandosi dalla famiglia alle genti, e da queste alle tribu, mantenne le medesime in uno stato di guerra permanente, i cui rancori si verrebbero poi perpetuando di generazione in generazione. Accenno qui ad un concetto, che sarà svolto più largamente altrove. Diregola si suol cercare nel diritto quiritario il complesso di tutti gli atti e dei negozi giu ridici, che potevano essere richiesti dalle condizioni sociali del popolo, fra cui esso vige. Esso invece non comprese dapprima tutti i rapporti giuridici, che già esi stevano nel costume e nella consuetudine; ma comincia dal comprendere quelli, che erano resi più urgenti dalle esigenze della vita civile e politica. E in questo modo, che esso comincia dall'essere un ius quiritium, che si aggira su pochissimi concetti fondamentali, i quali si adattano a tutte le possibili evenienze; poi trasformasi nel “ius proprium civium romanorum”; quindi assorbisce anche nella propria cerchia le istituzioni del ius gentium; e da ultimo giunge ad informarsi persino al ius naturale; concetti questi che, se non avevano ancora una configurazione scientifica, viveno però già nella coscienza generale del popolo romano, fin dal proprio esordire nella storia. Ciò mi conferma in una antica convinzione, che ho già avuto occasione di esporre nell'opera: La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale, la quale consiste in ritenere, che anche nelle epoche primitive il diritto non confondesi colla forza; ma compare invece qual mezzo per reprimere la forza e la violenza. So che questa opinione ha ad essere combattuta da egregi che si occuparono dell'argomento, e fra gli altri da Zocco-Rosa, Preistoria del diritto. Milano, e da Puglia, L'evoluzione storica e scientifica del diritto e della procedura penale, nota; ma i fatti mi inducono a persistere nella medesima. Non è già che io nego, che siavi stato un periodo, in cui abbia predominata la forza e la privata violenza: ma quando presentasi il diritto, esso non solo non confondesi colla forza, ma si propone senz'altro di reprimerla, obbligandola a seguire certi processi, che ne impediscono l’esagerazioni e gl’eccessi. In questo senso aveva ragione il filosofo di scrivere – “Nam genus humanum. Ex inimicitiis languebat; quo magis ipsum Sponte sua cecidit sub leges arctaque iura.” Lucretius, De rerum natura. Cio è anche dimostrato dal carattere del tutto particolare, che assumono le guerre in questo periodo, e che si mantiene ancora per qualche tempo nella storia di Roma. Tali guerre infatti il più spesso prendono le mosse da qualche controversia, di carattere pressochè famigliare, che viene poi estendendosi mediante le aderenze e le parentele, e riduconsi in sostanza a scambievoli scorrerie, che le varie tribù e genti vengono facendo nei rispettivi loro territorii; scorrerie, che si sospendono mediante le induciae nella cattiva stagione, e vengono poi ad essere riprese nell' anno seguente. Ciò fa quasi credere, che queste genti primitive sono in uno stato perpetuo di guerra; il che non può essere ammesso, perchè è contraddetto dalle solennità stesse, che accompagnano così le dichiarazioni di guerra, come la formazione delle tregue, delle alleanze e delle paci. Un ultimo carattere infine, sta in ciò, che la formazione del diritto non si ha dapprima nei rapporti interni dei singoli gruppi; ma piuttosto nei rapporti fra le famiglie, fra le genti, fra le tribù, o almeno fra i loro capi, per guisa che i primi vocaboli di significazione eminentemente giuridica contrappongono sempre l'uomo all'uomo, ed indicano dei rapporti amichevoli od ostili, che vengono a svolgersi fra i diversi capi di gruppo. Di qui la conseguenza in apparenza strana, ma certamente fondata sui fatti, che la formazione di un diritto, che governava i rapporti fra le varie genti, precede la formazione del diritto privato propriamente detto: il che è dimostrato anche dalla considerazione, che nei filosofi si discorre dei “iura gentium”, prima ancora che si discorra del ius quiritium e del ius civium romanorum. Infatti, i iura gentiun, i foedera, le sponsiones fra i capi delle varie genti sono già rapporti, che si sono svolti anteriormente alla formazione della comunanza romana, mentre il ius quiritium dapprima e il ius civile più tardi nacquero e si svolsero colla stessa Roma; il che appare eziandio dal processo delle cose sociali ed umane, che ci è descritto dai filosofi latini. Intanto e sopratutto sui mercati, ove compareno i varii capi di famiglia, ed ove, oltre gli scambi, si puo anche trattare le alleanze e le paci, che comincia la formazione del diritto; il quale, esplicandosi fra capi di famiglia, che appartenano a genti diverse, e che non erano ancora soggetti al medesimo diritto, dove necessariamente essere dapprima piuttosto un “ius gentium”, che non un diritto, che potesse chiamarsi ius civile. Questo anzi non potè formarsi altri menti, che col trasportare fra i cittadini della medesima città quelle forme, che si sono prima elaborate nei rapporti contrattuali fra i capi delle varie genti e famiglie. Si può quindi affermare, che anche quel diritto pdi Roma, che appare nella storia con caratteri di maggior rozzezza e violenza, non trova sempre la propria origine nella forza, come molti sostengono; ma che in parte ha invece un'origine essenzialmente *contrattuale*, come la città, in cui esso era chiamato a ricevere il suo svolgimento. Il diritto, anziché doversi confondere colla forza, compare invece, allorchè si comincia ad uscire da uno stato di violenza, e se la forza continua ancora nei rapporti fra le varie tribù, gli è perchè esse non riuscirono ancora a sottoporsi, mediante accordo, all'impero di un medesimo diritto. E solamente più tardi, allorchè la città comincia ad essere abbastanza forte e potente, per imporsi ai singoli gruppi, che l'autorità civile potè penetrare eziandio nelle mura do [Non mi dissimulo l'arditezza di una idea, che conduce in sostanza a dire, che si forma dapprima il ius gentium, che non lo stesso ius civile, e che il ius quiritium e un diritto, formatosi dapprima fra le genti e i loro capi, e poscia trapiantato fra i quiriti: ma questo processo è per tal modo confermato dai fatti e ne appariranno man mano prove così evidenti, che mi sembra impossibile il poterlo negare. Del resto la ragione di esso trovasi in questo, che mentre la famiglia poo fare a meno del diritto nei suoi rapporti interni; questo invece e indispensabile nei rapporti fra le varie famiglie e fra le varie genti. Che anzi, dacchè sono nel dominio delle induzioni, aggiungerò ancora, che ai iura gentium dovette precedere il senso di quei iura naturalia, quae natura omnia animalia docuit; per guisa che il diritto nel suo svolgimento di fatto sarebbe prima uscito dalle tendenze spontanee dell'umana natura. Poi sarebbe stato elaborato nei rapporti fra le varie genti. Solo più tardi e comparso nell'interno di Roma. Esso insomma nei fatti seguì un processo del tutto opposto a quello che segue la scienza del diritto in Roma; la quale comincia invece dalle cautele del *ius civile*. Poi venne ad abbracciare anche l'equità del *ius gentium*. Più tardi soltanto giunse ad innalzarsi all'umanità del *ius naturale*. Vi ha però questa differenza, che i iura naturalia primitivi sono l'opera in consapevole degli istinti dell'umana natura, e i primitivi iura gentium consistono in un complesso di pratiche fra le varie genti, imposte dalle necessità di fatto; mentre il ius gentium accolto dal praetor e il ius naturale dei giureconsulti sono già nozioni astratte, a cui essi pervennero, mediante la riflessione ed il ragionamento, e forse neppure da soli, quanto al ius naturale, ma col sussidio della filosofia, atta a svolgere questi concetti speculativi ed astratti. Mi rimetto, quanto allo svolgimento del concetto di ius gentium e di ius naturale, a ciò che ho scritto nella Vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale, lasciando a chi legge di notare le modificazioni, che qui sonovi arrecate.] mestiche, e sostituirsi a poco a poco alle norme di carattere esclusivamente morale o religioso, imponendo un diritto, a cui tutti devono inchinarsi, perchè è l'espressione della volontà collettiva e comune. I caratteri del diritto che ho fin qui cercato di ricavare dall'esame dei fatti, appariscono eziandio dai vocaboli più antichi, che presso le genti latine abbiano avuta una portata veramente giuridica, quali sono quelli di “connubium”, di “commercium” e di “actio”, e dalla significazione, che questi vocaboli hanno anteriormente alla formazione stessa di Roma. Infatti non può esservi dubbio, che questi tre concetti già avevano un contenuto preciso, allorchè comparve la comunanza romana. Ma essi non indicano ancora un complesso di diritti, che appartenga a questa od a quella persona, ma piuttosto dei rapporti, di carattere pressochè *contrattuale*, che esistono fra le famiglie, le genti e le tribù e i capi rispettivi delle medesime. L’ “action”, nel suo significato giuridico, ha un'origine pressochè contrattuale, come lo dimostra il fatto, che essa suppone il rimettersi di due persone ad un'autorità accettata da entrambi, ed una reciproca scommessa fra i contendenti, con cui entrambi affermano di essere nel buon diritto. E solo più tardi, che questi vocaboli, i quali significavano primitivamente dei rapporti, che intercedevano fra le varie genti e i loro capi, trapiantati fra i cittadini vennero a costituire altrettanti capi saldi, da cui si staccarono le forme essenziali, sotto cui ebbe poi a svolgersi il diritto quiritario. È poi degno di nota, come questi vocaboli, che primi acquistarono una significazione giuridica, abbiano questo di particolare, che contrappongono l'uomo all'uomo, indicando per tal modo come il diritto sia veramente nato colla società umana, e sia chiamato ad essere il “vinculum societatis humanae”. Nel “connubium” infatti abbiamo una persona, che esce da una famiglia per entrare in un'altra. Nel “commercium” abbiamo una persona, che, obligando se stessa od alienando la sua proprietà, addiviene a quelle molteplici relazioni di affari e di negozii giuridici, di cui si intesse la vita sociale sotto l'aspetto economico. Nell' “actio”, infine, abbiamo parimente una persona che, ritenendosi lesa in questo o in quel diritto da un'altra persona, lo afferma e lo fa valere di fronte alla medesima, appigliandosi a quei mezzi, che possono conciliarsi colle esigenze della vita sociale. Per tal modo il ius pone l'uomo di fronte all'altro uomo, e si può affermare con ragione che “hominum causa constitutum est.” Intanto ciascuno di questi concetti è eminentemente sintetico e comprensivo per modo che ognuno può servire come punto di partenza a tutto un complesso di diritti; il che apparirà ancora, allorchè Gaio, riassumendo l'elaborazione scientifica di molti secoli, finisce per con chiudere: “omne ius vel ad personas, vel ad res, vel ad actiones pertinet.” Non ignoro come questa classificazione sia stata di recente combattuta sopra tutto in Germania, e fra gli altri. dallo stesso SAVIGNY, il grande iniziatore del movimento contemporaneo negli studii storici intorno al diritto, il quale giunse fino a sostenere, che la distinzione di Gaio non ha nè valore storico, nè valore intrinseco. Traité de droit Romain. Trad. Guexoux, Paris. Parmi tuttavia, che chi consideri la correlazione perfetta, che vi ha fra la classificazione teorica di Gaio, e i concetti da cui il diritto quiritario prende le mosse, e tenga conto di quella dialettica potente, che stringe insieme le varie parti della giurisprudenza romana, malgrado il tempo per cui durò l'elaborazione di essa, possa difficilmente ammettere, che qui trattisi, come il SAVIGNY dice dell'opinione individuale di un giureconsulto, e che come tale sia priva di qualsiasi valore storico ed intrinseco. Essa invece ha valore storico ed intrinseco ad un tempo, perchè compenetra tutta la giurisprudenza romana, in quanto che e facile il dimostrare a suo tempo, che nel diritto civile romano tutta la parte relativa ai diritti di famiglia e quindi alle persone non e che uno svolgimento del concetto primitivo del “connubium.” Tutta quella relativa alle cose non fa che una deduzione dal concetto di “commercium.” Infine, quella che si riferisce alle azioni, non fu che il frutto di un'elaborazione lenta e non mai interrotta del concetto primitivo di “actio”. Cfr. al riguardo Carle, “De exceptionibus in iure romano” (Torino). L'autore che pose meglio in evidenza la correlazione fra “connubium”, “commercium” ed “actio”, e LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome. Che anzi i giureconsulti proseguirono lo svolgimento di queste forme essenziali del diritto, senza mai confondere lo svolgimento dialettico dell'una con quello dell'altra; per modo che certe singolarità del diritto romano solo si puo spiegare, in quanto che la dialettica giuridica non consente di confondere due ordini diversi di idee. Di più se fosse qui lecito di porre innanzi una considerazione, che puo parere TROPPO filosofica, non dubito di affermare, che nel concetto romano la distinzione seguita da Gaio esprime tre atteggiamenti diversi del diritto compreso in tutta la sua larghezza, il quale appartiene alla persona, si spiega sulle cose, e infine, violato, affermasi mediante l'azione. È da questa concezione sintetica e potente del diritto in Roma, che procede la primitiva indistinzione fra il diritto *personale*, il diritto reale, e l'azione, che serve a difenderli. Fra questi concetti presentasi anzitutto quello di “connubium”, che nella sua significazione primitiva indica la facoltà, che appartiene ad individui, i quali appartengono a genti diverse, di imparentarsi fra di loro, mediante quelle nozze, che dalle genti sono riconosciute come giuste e legittime. Esso ha per effetto di mescolare le stirpi, e quindi si comprende, che nell'alto concetto, che hanno le genti patrizie dei proprii antenati e del SANGUE, che corre nelle loro vene, questo dove essere un rapporto, in cui tendevano piuttosto a restringersi, che non ad estendersi. Solo le genti, che appartenevano al medesimo “nomen” -- e questo il latino, il sabino o l'etrusco – hanno fra di loro comunanza di connubii, il che è anche provato dalla tradizione, secondo cui, se i Ramnenses vuoleno il connubium coi Titienses, doveno ricorrere alla violenza ed alla forza; il che pero non tolse, che il MESCOLARSI DEL SANGUE delle due tribù sia stata la causa del loro successivo affratellarsi per formare una medesima Roma. Furono infatti le DONNE di origine SABINE che secondo una tradizione, la quale è certo ben trovata -- si interposero fra i mariti ed i fratelli e riuscirono così ad affratellarli, dando perfino il loro nome alle curie, in cui essa è ripartita. Cosi pure si comprende, che anche fra le genti, che appartenevano allo stesso “nomen” e facevano anche parte della STESSA tribù, il connubium non potesse esistere fra i due elementi, di cui [È questa la significazione primitiva, che si attribuisce al vocabolo, allorchè parlasi di “connubium” fra le varie genti, o fra il patriziato e la plebe. E solo nel diritto quiritario, che il “ius connubië” passa a significare il diritto di addivenire alle iustae nuptiae, e venne così a dare origine a tutti quei rapporti giuridici, che si riferiscono alla famiglia. È da esso infatti, che deriva la manus, che fonda la famiglia; la patria potestas, che spiegasi, allorchè nascono dei figli; e infine la stessa successione legittima, la quale si avvera, allorchè, morendo il capo di famiglia, si discioglie quel gruppo, e si riparte quel patrimonio, che in lui trovavansi unificati. Questa tradizione è riferita da Livio e da Dionisio: ma non sembra essere confermata dai fatti, perchè alcuni dei nomi delle curie primitive, che giunsero fino a noi, sembrano essere tolti più dai luoghi che dalle persone. V. LANGE, Hist. intér. de Rome. Ad ogni modo questa è una tradizione, che è certo ben trovata, in quanto che dimostra l'importanza, che dove avere un avvenimento che la rompe col passato, e rende possibile il connubium fra persone che non appartenevano al medesimo nomen, preso nel senso di stirpe e di schiatta. E questa prima MESCOLANZA DEL SANGUE latino col sabino, che rese possibile la potente attrazione esercitata da Roma su tutte le stirpi italiche, il che è riconosciuto da CICERONE, De Rep.] l'uno in origine rappresenta la classe dei vincitori e l'altro quella dei vinti. Non poteva quindi esservi connubio, nè fra i liberi ed i servi, nè nè fra i patroni ed i clienti, e neppure fra i patrizii ed i plebei. Queste varie gradazioni costituivano pressochè due caste diverse, il cui sangue non dove confondersi, come lo dimostrano le lunghe lotte, che si dovettero sostenere anche più tardi per accomunare i matrimonii fra il patriziato e la plebe. Intanto pero questo connubium, frammezzo a genti, che costitui vano per così dire altrettante piccole potenze, riducesi in realtà a staccare una donna da un gruppo, di cui prima fa parte, per trasportarla in un altro; il che importa eziandio un cambiamento nel culto gentilizio, perchè la donna abbandona il culto dei suo padre per diventare partecipe di quello del marito. Di qui la necessità per le giuste nozze di una cerimonia religiosa, come quella della “confarreation”, a cui assisteno i capi di famiglia della gente e delle tribù, a cui appartene lo sposo e la moglie, e che importa la comunione delle cose divine ed umane. Di qui la conseguenza eziandio, che quanto era dalla moglie recato con sè dovesse diventare [A chi chiedesse col linguaggio ora adottato, se le genti italiche praticassero l'endogamia o l'exogamia (V. SPENCER, Principes de sociologie), si dove rispondere, che esse sotto un certo aspetto erano exogame, perchè ritenevano nefarie le nozze fra persone strette da un certo vincolo di parentela, fra quelle persone cioè, fra cui esiste, secondo l'antico linguaggio, il “ius osculi”, ossia fino al sesto grado; mentre poi erano endogame nel senso, che il Patrizio, per scegliere la propria compagna, non puo uscire dalle genti che appartenevano allo stesso nomen. Pare però, che questa consuetndine tradizionale siasi modificata dagli stessi romani, i quali, misti fin dalla origine, furono anche in seguito i più facili a mescolare il proprio sangue con altre stirpi. Cfr. PANTALEONI, Storia civile e costituzionale di Roma. Torino. Parmi allo stato attuale degli studii incontrastabile l'opinione, che considera la “confarreatio” come esclusivamente propria delle genti patrizie. Tra gli autori seguono tale opinione EsMein (“La manus, la paternité et le divorce” – “Mélanges d'histoire de droit, Paris); Glasson (“Le mariage civil et le divorce, Paris), e pare anche il nostro Brininel suo bel lavoro sul “Matrimonio e divorzio nel diritto romano” (Bologna). Del resto varii indizii di questa origine patrizia della “confarreatio” si hanno nel carattere religioso della cerimonia, nei X testimonii che ricordano le X curie delle tribù, e in ciò che le leggi regie da Dionisio attribuite a Romolo ed a Numa, non ricordano che le nozze confarreate. V. Bruns, Fontes. Per ciò che si riferisce alla famiglia romana è fondamentale l'opera dello SCHUPFER, La famiglia nel diritto romano. Padova] proprietà del marito, o di colui, sotto la cui potestà trovavasi ancora il marito; e che la medesima, per entrare nei quadri del gruppo, a cui venne ad aggregarsi, cadesse sotto la manus del capo di famiglia, ed acquistasse la posizione migliore, che puo esservi nella medesima, che era quella di figlia – “filiae loco”. Viene in seguito il “commercium”, il quale in questo periodo non significa ancora quel complesso di diritti, che scaturiscono dal dominio, ma ha il suo vero e proprio significato di rapporti commerciali, che possono intervenire fra i capi di famiglia, appartenenti a genti diverse. Qui il rapporto è assai più superficiale, ed è per sua natura tale, che può essere di reciproco vantaggio per i contraenti. Il “commercium” pertanto prende un più largo sviluppo; ed esiste non solo fra il patriziato e la plebe, fra cui era reso indispensabile dalla coesistenza sul medesimo suolo, ma anche fra coloro, che appartengono a stirpi diverse. Che anzi fra queste sonvi anche le stirpi, che, per avere attitudine maggiore ai commerci, fannosi in certo modo intermediarie dei medesimi fra le varie genti e tribù; il quale ufficio fra le genti italiche sembra essersi compiuto sopratutto per opera dell'elemento etrusco. Sono questi commerci, che vengono ravvicinando le varie genti, e conducono gradatamente a cambiare certi siti neutrali in luoghi di riunione ad epoche de terminate e fisse – “conciliabula”, “for a” --. È poi un grande vantaggio [Anche qui la significazione primitiva del vocabolo “commercium” appare da ciò, che Roma fin dagli inizii trovasi circondata da popolazioni, con cui pratica il “commercium”. È solo per opera del diritto quiritario, che il concetto di commercium, applicato fra i cittadinidi una medesima città, dà origine al “ius commercii,” il quale poi, sviscerato negli elementi, che entrano a costituirlo, viene a scindersi; nel “ius emendi ac vendendi”, che operasi colla “mancipatio”; nel “nexum”, da cui deriva la teoria delle obbligazioni; e infine nella “testamenti factio”, che comprende la facoltà di fare e di ricevere per testamento, e quella perfino di essere testimonio nel medesimo. Cfr. Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome. Per tal modo, nello svolgimento dialettico del diritto quiritario la successione legittima e la testamentaria vengono a spiegarsi in un diverso ordine di idee in quanto che la prima dipende dal connubium, e l'altra deriva dal commercium. Questa forse è la vera ragione della massima. “Ius nostrum non patitur eumdem in paganis testato et intestato decessisse, earumque rerum naturaliter inter se pugna est.” Pomp., I, Dig. È proprio infatti dei giureconsulti, che essi una volta, che hanno separato due ordini di idee, non li confondano più insieme. Secondo il SUMNER Maine, qualche cosa di analogo sarebbe anche accaduto fra 128 per una comunanza incipiente, se la medesima sia posta in tal sito da richiamare alle proprie fiere ed ai proprii mercati le popolazioni vicine; vantaggio, che e una delle cause, per cui Roma, diventata ben presto un emporio per il commercio delle popolazioni latine, potè esercitare sovra di esse un'attrazione ed assimilazione potente] le antiche comunanze di villaggio dell'Oriente; fra le quali esistevano degli spazii di terreno neutrali, che serveno per trattare le paci e per il mercato (Village Communities). Secondo Maine, si ha un indizio dell’associazione del commercio e della neutralità negli attributi di MERC-V-RIO, dio comune alle stirpi di origine aria, che da una parte sarebbe il dio dei termini, il primo dei messaggeri ed ambasciatori, e per ultimo anche il patrono del commercio, dei confini, e un poco anche dei furti e dei ladronecci. Intanto da questa circostanza in apparenza di poco rilievo, per cui nel medesimo sito si fanno gli scambii e si trattavano le alleanze e le paci fra le varie genti, deriva questa importantissima conseguenza, che come in quest'epoca non si distingueva il diritto privato dal pubblico, così non distinguesi il diritto commerciale, da quel diritto, che ora si chiama internazionale. L'uno e l'altro erano compresi nel ius gentium, il che spiega come questo vocabolo talvolta indichi soltanto dei rapporti fra cittadini e stranieri, e talvolta comprenda anche i rapporti di carattere pubblico fra varii popoli. Non puo però esservi dubbio, che il ius gentium, allorchè viene a penetrare nel diritto romano, per opera del “praetor”, appare circoscritto ai rapporti privati fra cittadini e stranieri, ed ha quindi un carattere essenzialmente commerciale. Ciò è molto bene dimostrato da Fusinato nel suo accurato lavoro “Dei Feziali e del diritto feziale”, Accademia dei Lincei. Memorie della Classe di scienze mor. stor. filol.; del quale credo di poter dire, senza offendere la modestia di un collega ed amico, che ha cominciato ad introdurre qualche concetto direttivo in una materia, che certo ne ha grande bisogno. È poi noto, che la grande autorità sull'argomento è Voigt, Das ius naturale, bonum et equum, gentium, etc. Leipzig, dei quali il 2° si occupa pressochè esclusivamente del ius gentium. Fra il modo di vedere di questi autori e quello qui esposto corre però questa differenza, che essi ritenne il concetto ed anche la denominazione del ius gentium, come opera riflessa dei giureconsulti; mentre per me il ius gentium esiste nel fatto e nella parola anche anteriormente e solo più tardi riuscì a trovar posto anche nel diritto civile di Roma. Sembra tuttavia che prima fossero adoperate le espressioni di iura gentium, e di iura naturalia, mentre dopo i vocaboli adottati sono quelli di ius gentium e di ius naturale, i quali indicano l'unificazione, che vi si è operata. MOMMSEN, Histoire Romaine, da tale importanza alla posizione eminentemente commerciale di Roma, da ritenere la popolazione primitiva di essa comededita al commercio e Roma come una città commerciale. PADELLETTI ha combattuta tale opinione (Storia del diritto romano) e parmi in verità che il fatto, per cui Roma divenne l'emporio delle genti del Lazio, possa essere spiegato senza dire, che essa fosse una città sopratutto commerciale; poichè anche per una città agricola e militare ad un tempo, come era Roma nei propri inizii, puo essere grandemente utile di essere in tal sito, da richiamare il commercio [E sui mercati, dove convenivano persone appartenenti a comunanze diverse, che dovettero formarsi quelle convenzioni più semplici, fondate unicamente sul consenso dei contraenti, e fra le altre anche la compra e vendita, che alcuni vorrebbero far nascere solo, quando Roma era già divenuta una grande città. Solo deve avvertirsi, che questa compra e vendita primitiva, avverandosi talvolta fra capi di famiglia, che appartenevano a comunanze diverse, fra cui non esiste forse comunione di diritto, non dove naturalmente ritenersi perfetta, se non era accompagnata dalla tradizione della cosa e dal pagamento del prezzo, come ha a stabilire anche più tardi la legislazione decemvirale. E qui parimenti, che dove nascere e svolgersi quella sponsio o stipulatio, la quale, allorchè poi ottenne di essere riconosciuta dal diritto quiritario, venne ad essere il mezzo più semplice e più acconcio per dar forma giuridica ad ogni maniera di convenzioni. Sono eziandio queste fiere, che die delle popolazioni latine. Può darsi anzi, che anche questa posizione eminentemente commerciale l'ha resa meno esclusiva nell'accogliere nuovi elementi. Del resto anche i romani senteno l'eccellenza della posizione della loro città, e ce ne parla CICERONE, De Rep. Non può quindi, a parer mio, essere giustificata l'opinione di coloro i quali ritengono, che solo più tardi si fosse introdotta in Roma l’emptio venditio, e che la sponsio e la stipulatio, che certo già esisteno nei rapporti fra le varie genti, sonno state invece importate di Grecia, per ciò che si riferisce alle convenzioni private. L'opinione erronea proviene dal credere, che il diritto quiritario comprende dapprima tutto il diritto in uso presso i romani; mentre invece esso fu una codificazione e un adattamento progressivo del diritto già esistente nelle consuetudini. Esso quindi comincia dal comprendere solo quella parte di esso, che era confermata da una “lex publica”, come lo dimostrano le antiche espressioni di “agere per aes et libram”, di “facere testamentum, nexum, mancipium secundum legem publicam”. Quindi, accanto al ius quiritium, visse sempre in Roma un ius gentium, che, senza aver ricevate le forme quiritarie, e però sempre adoperato e forse anche applicato nelle controversie dai recuperatores, anche anteriormente all'istituzione del praetor peregrinus. Ciò è provato dai filosofi latini e sopratutto da Plauto, che ne danno come usuali e frequenti certe forme di negozii e di atti, che non risultano ancor sempre penetrati nel diritto quiritario. Ciò poi è indubitabile per la sponsio o stipulatio, atto romano per eccellenza, dai romani applicato nei trattati pubblici e nelle convenzioni private. Può darsi quindi, che le genti italiche l'avessero comune colle elleniche, e che la espressione spondeo fosse anche comune ai due popoli. Ma i romani non ebbero certo bisogno di apprenderlo d’altri, nè aspettarono ad adoperarlo solo piu tarde verso come sostengono fra gli altri il MurueAD, Histor. Introd. e Leist, Graeco- Italische Rechts geschichte. Solo può ammettersi, che, dopo aver vissuto lungamente nell'uso e davanti ai recuperatores, la sponsio o stipulatio penetra anche nello stretto diritto civile ed e adottata come forma propria del medesimo] dero più tardi occasione al giureconsulto Manilio di concretare in poche parole delle formole acconcie per concepire quelle vendite, che sono più frequenti per una popolazione agreste; delle quali formole alcune pervennero a noi e potrebbero trovare riscontro in formole, ancora oggi usate nelle stesse occasioni, salvo che queste non hanno più la sobrietà e precisione antica. È qui infine, che dove prepararsi la formazione di un ius gentium, che ha dapprima un carattere commerciale, come il commercium da cui esso deriva, e che, accanto al diritto proprio di ogni singola gente o tribù, era indispensabile per le transazioni commerciali fra i capi di famiglia, appartenenti a genti ed a tribù diverse. Sia pure, che solo più tardi questo modesto ius gentium, formatosi sulle fiere e sui mercati, richiami l'attenzione del pretore, e gli dia animo per scostarsi dalle formalità ormai divenute soverchie del ius proprium civium romanorum: cio però non toglie, che le origini di quelle lente formazioni, che si verificano nella coscienza generale di un popolo, si debbano talvolta anche cercare in un'epoca di gran lunga anteriore, come accade delle piccole sorgenti, che solo appariscono degne di osservazione e di ricerca, quando si scorge il corso maestoso del fiume, che ebbe a derivarsi da esse. Da ultimo non può esservi dubbio che, già nel periodo gentilizio, dovette essersi formato il concetto dell' “actio”, ma questa non significa un mezzo accordato dalla legge o dal pretore, per far valere in giudizio un proprio diritto, ma e, per dir cosi, il diritto stesso, che mettevasi in azione, estrinsecandosi in quel complesso di atti, che erano indispensabili per ottenere il proprio riconoscimento. Il poco che pervenne a noi delle formole Maniliane, trovasi riportato dall'HuSCHKE, Iurispr. anteiust. quae supersunt, ed è una prova dell'attitudine dei veteres iurisconsulti a sceverare da un fatto tutto ciò, che in esso eravi di giuridico, modellandolo in una formola tipica, che puo poi servire per tutti i casi dello stesso genere. Accostasi a questo concetto dell' “actio”, nella sua significazione primitiva, l'ORTOLAN, Histoire de la legislation romaine, Paris, parla dell'azione nel periodo decemvirale. “Action est une dénomination Générale. C’est une forme de procéder, une procédure considérée] È a questo punto, che si può trovare la ragione, per cui il diritto di tutti i popoli e quindi anche il romano si è sviluppato dapprima sotto forma di azione e di procedura, che non come legge, che determini i diritti rispettivi dei cittadini. Finché il capo di famiglia è esso il sovrano nella propria casa, egli NON HA BISOGNO CHE LA LEGGE VENGA A RICORDARGLI QUALI SIANO I SUOI DIRITTI. Questo diritto egli porta con sè e ha profondamente impresso nella sua coscienza. Quindi, se il medesimo diritto venne ad essere violato, egli non può aspettare che lo Stato, che quasi ancora non esiste, si metta in moto per ottenere la riparazione dal torto, che ha ad essergli arrecato. Come quindi è il capo di famiglia che vendica l'adulterio, o che corre sui passi del ladro che lo ha derubato, e ne perquisisce la casa, mediante certi riti, che sono determinati dal costume e a cuiniuno osa ribellarsi, perchè sono sotto la protezione del fas: così è pur egli che, quando si vede occupato un fondo, od usurpato uno schiavo, o sottratto un figlio, si mette in movimento ed in azione e afferma in presenza ed a scienza della intiera comunanza, che è suo quel fondo, quello schiavo, quel figlio. Quindi è, che l'azione viene ad essere naturalmente la prima manifestazione del diritto. Prima il diritto esiste allo stato latente, ed ora si produce, si afferma, perchè incontro una persona, che ebbe a violarlo. Quest'azione tuttavia, non è ancora la “legis actio”; perchè in compierla l'uomo offeso non ispirasi ad una *legge*, che forse non esiste ancora, ma ispirasi al senso intimo e profondo del proprio diritto. Tuttavia è in questo momento sopratutto, sotto la sferza dell'offesa e sotto l'impeto dell'indignazione, che il capo di famiglia può anche trascendere nel far valere il proprio diritto, e ricorrere anche alla violenza ed alla vendetta. Quindi è, che se per avventura verrà a formarsi nel seno della comunanza qualche forma di procedura, la quale, mentre da una parte rispetta la fiera indipendenza dell'uomo, consapevole del proprio diritto, dall'altra contenga il prorompere violento di colui, che ha ad essere dans son ensemble, dans la série des actes et des paroles, qui doivent la constituer.” Qui però l'autore parla già della “legis actio”. Ma se noi andiamo più oltre nei tempi, allorchè essa non è ancora “legis actio”, ma semplicemente “actio”, questa non è ancora un modo di procedere, ma è soltanto un modo di *agire*, ed è anzi il diritto stesso in azione. Cfr. Carle, La vita del diritto. È poi notabile, come per i latini il vocabolo “agere” indichi un'azione continuata, che può scindersi in parti diverse; mentre “facere” si adopera di preferenza invece per indicare un'azione, la quale compiesi, per così dire, in un unico contesto.] offeso nel proprio diritto, l'occasione non dove certamente essere trascurata. E quindi prima il mos, che comincia coll'additare la via consuetudinaria, a cui debbe appigliarsi colui, che vuol far valere il proprio diritto. Poi e il fas, che intervenne anch'esso e dichiara empio chi non segue quel determinato rito. Ed infine sarà anche il ius, che venne notando in certo modo i varii stadii, per cui passa quella procedura, e obbliga i contendenti a passare, almeno per forma – “dicis gratia” -- , per ciascuno di questi stadii. E in tal modo, che all'actio violenta, rozza, avida, appassionata dell'individuo sottenne la legis actio, consacrata dalla legge, compassata e lenta, quasi per attutire le passioni irrompenti dei contendenti; ma che intanto ricorda ancora gli stadii dell'anteriore violenza, quasi per ricordare che a quella dovrebbe farsi ritorno, quando la legge non e rispettata. Non è quindi da approvarsi, a mio avviso, l'opinione di coloro, i quali ritengono che il prevalere delle norme procedurali nel diritto, e quindi anche nel romano, sia prevenuto da ciò, che sarebbesi prima badato alla forma, che alla sostanza. La ragione di questo fatto è molto più profonda e deve essere cercata nelle origini stesse della convivenza civile e politica. La causa del fatto sta in ciò, che l'opera della legge negl’inizii e sopratutto necessaria non tanto per assicurare il diritto, quanto per reprimere le reazioni violente, a cui abbandonavasi colui, il cui diritto e violato. In questa parte diritto privato e diritto penale segueno analoghe vicende. Al modo stesso, che la legge penale non mira tanto a punire i misfatti, quanto piuttosto a porre dei confini alla vendetta, e rende cosi obligatoria quella composizione a danaro, che dipende dall'accordo delle parti: cosi anche le norme procedurali comparvero le prime, non tanto perchè i popoli comprendeno più la forma che la sostanza; ma perchè il primo e più urgente bisogno di una società, in via di formazione, e quello di impedire fra i consocii la manuum consertio, ossia l'esercizio violento delle proprie ragioni. Per lo svolgimento parallelo della vendetta e della pignorazione privata, è da vedersi: Del GIUDICE, “La vendetta nel diritto longobardo” (Milano). Sembra poi attribuire la precedenza delle norme di procedura, presso i popoli alla prevalenza, che presso di essi ha la forma sulla sostanza, lo stesso Sumner Maine, The early history of institutions, ove, discorrendo della forma primitiva dei rimedii legali, scrive che in uno stadio delle cose romane i [Intanto non vi ha forse nel vocabolario giuridico parola, che presenti al giureconsulto filosofo e storico una più lunga storia di cose sociali ed umane, dei vocaboli di “agere” e di “actio”, e che lo fa rimontare più oltre nelle tenebre e nella oscurità del passato. Nella loro significazione primitiva di « stimolare » e di « spingere », questi due vocaboli sembrano ancor richiamare gl’antichi abitatori del Lazio, che, pastori di greggi, prima di diventare reggitori di popoli, spingevano al largo le proprie mandre e i proprii armenti. Memori e quasi alteri della propria origine, non dubitarono di applicare il medesimo vocabolo a significare l'attività del magistrato, che si spiega in rapporto col popolo – “ius agendi cum populo” -- , ed anchequella di colui, che forte della convinzione nel proprio diritto intraprende quella specie di conflitto e di lotta, che dove essere necessaria per ottenere il riconoscimento delle proprie ragioni. Questo è certo, che fra capi di famiglia dal carattere fiero ed indipendente non dove esser così facile il conseguire che essi si sottoponessero ad un'autorità per la decisione delle loro controversie, e non è quindi meraviglia se l'avvenimento dove loro apparire così importante, che ritennero opportuno di conservare la memoria dei diversi stadii, che hanno dovuto attraversare per giungervi. Allorchè sorgeva una controversia fra capi di famiglia, appartenenti alla medesima tribù, il modo più naturale di risolverla dovette certamente essere quello di rimettersi ad uno o più arbitri ed amichevoli compositori, che doveno essere concordati fra le parti, come lo dimostra un antico costume, che gli filosofi latini attribuiscono ai proprii maggiori. Era poi naturale, che queste persone, chiamate a risolvere la controversia, dovessero essere scelte fra i padri ed anziani del villaggio; del che rimasero le traccie anche in Roma, ove i iudices furono per secoli tratti dall'ordine dei padri diritti ed I doveri sono piuttosto un'aggiunta della procedura, che non la procedura una mera appendice aidiritti ed ai doveri.  BRÉAL, Dict. étym. latin., v° Agere. Cic., Pro Cluentio. “Neminem voluerunt maiores nostri, non modo de existimatione cuiusquam, sed ne pecuniaria quidem de re minima esse iudicem, nisi qui inter adversarios convenisset.” Del resto, anche secondo la legislazione decemvirale, sembra che alla discussione della causa precedesse un tentativo di componimenti, come lo dimostra il fram., Rem, ubi pacant, orato, tavola II, legge 14, secondo la ricostruzione del Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, o senatori, e solo dopo una lunga lotta, che si avvero già sul finire della Repubblica fra il partito deg’ottimati e quello popolare, poterono anche essere scelti fra gl’equites. La cosa però venne a farsi più grave, allorchè i contendenti non si mettevano d'accordo per un amichevole componimento. Non vi ha nulla di ripugnante, che essi, compresi vivamente del proprio diritto, trovandosi sul fondo stesso o davanti allo schiavo, oggetto della controversia, cominciassero dall'affermare altamente il proprio diritto sul fondo o sullo schiavo. Che se niuno di essi cede, lo studio della natura umana ci insegna anche ora, che non è punto improbabile, che essi potessero addivenire a quella vis realis, a cui secondo Gellio e poi sostituita la “vis festucaria”, e che si effettua cosi fra di essi una vera e propria lotta, che prese il nome “dimanuum consertio”. È però consentaneo eziandio al costume patriarcale che, quando due persone sono cosi in lotta fra di loro, puo anche interporsi fra di esse una persona autorevole, la quale goda la comune fiducia, e che loro imponga di separarsi colle parole, che più tardi sonno pronunziate dal praetor nella procedura quiritaria – “mittite ambo hominem”. Tace allora la lotta: i contendenti, fatti umili dall'autorità stessa di chi intervenne fra di loro e dallo stato stesso di violenza, in cui furono sorpresi, chiamano entrambi a testimoni il divino, che la ragione è dalla parte loro, e per dare energia maggiore alla propria affermazione aggiungono alla medesima una scommessa, la quale, per essere accompagnata dall'affermazione giurata di rimettersi al giudizio della persona intervenuta fra di essi, può prendere il nome di “sacramentum:. Si ha cosi una successione di fatti, che conducono naturalmente la persona autorevole, che si è in [La legge che trasporta dall'ordine dei senatori a quello degli equites la capacità ad essere giudici fu la lex SEMPRONIA iudiciaria del 632 di Roma, proposta da C. Gracco, la quale dove però dar luogo a gravi lotte ed agitazioni, che sono fatte manifeste dalle leggi giudiziarie degli anni, che vengono dopo. È da vedersi in proposito ORTOLAN, “Histoire de la législation Romaine”. Aulo Gellio, Noct. attic. -- Questo sentimento veramente sociale ed umano del pudore, che guadagna colui che si appiglia alla violenza, trovasi maravigliosamente espresso da OVIDIO, Fastorum. “Et cum cive pudet conseruisse manus.” È però a notarsi, che Ovidio limita quel senso di pudore alle violenze fra i cittadini. Con quelli che non sono tali sarebbe tutt'altra cosa.] terposta, ad essere giudice non tanto della ragione o del torto dei contendenti, quanto piuttosto della scommessa intervenuta fra i me desimi; sebbene però venne ad essere naturale conseguenza del suo giudizio, che debba ritenersi aver ragione chi vince la scommessa e torto colui, che perde la medesima. Fin qui pertanto, non si ha che un processo di cose sociali ed umane, di cui si potrebbero trovare le traccie anche ai nostri giorni, e che dove certo essere frequente, allorchè le contese sono sostenute dai capi di gruppo, che non conosceno altra autorità superiore, salvo quella, che sono accettata di comune accordo. Pongasi ora, che questo processo di cose si ripeta più e più volte frammezzo a genti, che, come le italiche, siano use a modellare in formole ed in gesti solenni tutti gli atti tipici della loro vita giuridica, e allora si puo facilmente comprendere, come siasi venuta formando quel l’ “actio sacramento”, che costitui poi l'azione fondamentale di tutto il diritto quiritario, e e dai quiriti conservata con cura così gelosa, che, già abolite le altre azioni delle leggi, l' “actio sacramento” continua ancora a celebrarsi davanti al tribunale quiritario per eccellenza, che è il tribunale dei centumviri. Non è quindi il caso di ridurre questa primitiva azione ad una pantomina incomprensibile, nè di cambiare il popolo maestro al mondo nel diritto in un architetto di formalità e di sottigliezze senza scopo; ma è il caso piuttosto di leggervi la storia delle vicende, che ha a percorrere l'amministrazione della giustizia, riportandola in quell'ambiente patriarcale, nel quale soltanto si può riuscire a ricostruirla nelle sue primitive fattezze. Qui tuttavia non posso passare sotto silenzio l'opinione messa innanzi da una grande autorità, quale è il Bekker, e che e poi anche divisa da molti altri autori, secondo cui dovrebbero ritenersi più an [È già da qualche tempo, che rivelasi nei filosofi la tendenza a dare una spiegazione naturale della formazione dell'actio sacramento. Se ne possono vedere degli accenni nel Maynz, Cours de droit Romain, Bruxelles; nel SUMNER MAINE, Early history of institutions, nel MUIRIEAD, Historical Introduction, nel BUONAMICI, Storia della procedura romana. Pisa. Non credo tuttavia che essa sia stata studiata nell'ambiente stesso, in cui ha dovuto formarsi, nè che siasi dimostrato che essa debba riguardarsi come una sopravvivenza di un'epoca anteriore. È però noto, che Omero nell'Iliade descrive, sopra uno dei compartimenti dello scudo di Achille, una procedura del tutto analoga a quella dell'actio sacramento.] tiche della stessa “actio sacramento”, quelle altre forme di azioni, che sono indicate col vocabolo di “manus iniectio” e di “pignoris capio”, in quanto che le medesime ricorderebbero più direttamente l'uso della forza per far valere il proprio diritto. Lasciando per ora in disparte la “pignoris capio”, che ha solo una importanza secondaria, per i pochi casi in cui fu ammessa, importa anzitutto notare, che il vocabolo di “manus iniectio” può essere tolto in due significazioni diverse, anche secondo la legislazione decemvirale. Havvi anzitutto la “manus iniectio”, a cui ricorre colui che, dopo aver invitato inutilmente il debitore a seguirlo avanti al magistrato, gli pone addosso la propria mano e lo trascina in ius, somministrandogli però quei mezzi di trasporto, che possano esser necessari per lo stato di malattia, in cui egli si trovi. In questo senso però non havvi ancora una vera “legis actio”, ma solo un mezzo per ottenere la comparizione del convenuto davanti al magistrato. Invece la “manus iniectio”, in quanto costituisce una “legis actio”, consiste nel potere, che appartiene al creditore di porre la sua mano sopra il nexus, l'aeris confessus, ed il iudicatus per trascinarlo nel suo carcere, e costringerlo così al pagamento del proprio debito od a lavorare per lui finchè sia soddisfatto. BEKKER, Die Actionen der römisches Privatrechts, Berlin. Del resto un tale concetto è stato in parte enunziato anche dal JHERING, L'esprit du droit romain, Trad. Maulenaere, Paris, salvo che egli dà poi alla “manus iniectio”, come “legis action”, una significazione del tutto speciale. A questa “manus iniectio” accennasi nella prima legge delle XII Tavole. “Si in ius vocat, ito. Ni it, antestamino: igitur em capito. Si calvitur pedemve struit, manum endo iacito.” -- Sonvi persino degli autori, i quali dubitano che la “manus iniectio” puo essere considerata come una vera “legis actio”, in quanto che essa non richiede l'intervento del magistrato e ha solo luogo quando trattasi di esecuzione. E questo il motivo, che induce il JHERING a dare una significazione speciale alla “manus iniectio”. Quanto alla letteratura sull'argomento e alle discussioni, che di recente sorgeno intorno alla questione, se la “manus iniectio” dove ritenersi come una “legis actio”, è da vedersi il MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd. Parmi tuttavia, che il dubbio non possa esistere, quando si tenga conto della significazione larghissima, che ha il vocabolo di “legis actio” nel diritto; nel quale esso indica in sostanza i diversi genera agendi in conformità di una lex publica, per modo da comprendere la stessa in iure cessio, allorchè serve per effettuare una adozione, una emancipazione, una manomissione, od un trasferimento di proprietà.] Quanto alla manus iniectio Voigt, Die XII Tafeln. Or bene la “manus iniectio”, cosi intesa, non può certamente essere considerata, come di formazione anteriore all' “actio sacramento”. Per verità mentre questa contiene la storia delle varie peripezie, per cui passa lo stabilimento dell'umana giustizia, e quindi richiama ancora un'epoca, in cui non eravi amministrazione di giustizia; la “manus iniectio” invece, quale appare nelle XII Tavole, suppone già stabilita una amministrazione della giustizia, in quanto che essa è un modo di procedere all'esecuzione contro colui, che o siasi obbligato colla solennità del nexum, o abbia confessato il proprio debito davanti al magistrato, o sia stato condannato al pagamento. Nè serve il dire, che la “manus iniectio”, essendo un mezzo per l’esercizio delle proprie ragioni, dove essere applicata anche in altri casi; mentre la legislazione decemvirale la circoscrive ai casi da essa determinati, nell'intento di impedirne gli abusi. A ciò infatti si può facilmente rispondere, che se fra i capi di famiglia delle genti patrizie si può comprendere una procedura solenne, come quella dell' “actio sacramento”, in cui le due parti sono eguali fra di loro e finiscono per accordarsi nell'accettazione di un giudice della loro scommessa, è invece affatto ripugnante una procedura, come e quella della “manus iniectio”. Non è un'eguale che può sottomettersi ad una procedura di questa specie, per quanto egli puo essere profondamente convinto del proprio torto. Fra due eguali, che siano in contesa, può comprendersi la “manuum consertio”, e in seguito l'accettazione di un arbitro; ma non mai che uno obbedisca pecorilmente al cenno dell'altro, e si lasci cosi stringere nei ferri e nelle catene del suo carcere. Con ciò tuttavia non voglio dire, che la “manus iniectio” e direttamente introdotta dalla legislazione decemvirale, e che non esiste anteriormente alla medesima. Ritengo anzi, che essa dove già esistere da lungo tempo: ma intanto a questo proposito mi fo lecito di avventurare la congettura, che la “manus iniectio” dove essere una speciale forma di procedura, che non si adopera già nei rapporti fra i capi di genti patrizie, ma bensì unicamente nei rapporti, che intercedeno fra il creditore patrizio ed il debitore plebeo. Si comprende infatti, come un'aristocrazia territoriale, come quella delle genti patrizie, puo anche adoperare modi simili di procedura verso una classe, che nei primi tempi non aveva ancora dimenticato l'origine servile. Quindi è, che la “manus iniectio” deve essere considerata come una delle istituzioni, che non appartiene al diritto, che dovette formarsi nei rapporti fra i capi delle genti patrizie, ma bensi a quello, che dove formarsi nei rapporti fra la classe dominante e la classe inferiore: il che spiega eziandio come la legislazione decemvirale l'ha solo ammessa contro i nexi, gli aeris confessi e i iudicati, e come la plebe lotta cosi lungamente per l'abolizione del nexum, il quale forse era ancora un segno dell'antica sua soggezione servile. Per quello poi, che si riferisce all'esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni, mi limito ad osservare, che esso nel dominio del diritto corrisponde alla vendetta nel campo dei delitti e delle pene. Quindi, come è esistita la vendetta anche fra le genti italiche, così dove anche esservi un tempo, in cui fra queste esiste l'esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni. Questo tuttavia può affermarsi con certezza, che l'intento supremo dell'organizzazione gentilizia e quello di impedire fra i membri di esse cosi la vendetta, che l'esercizio privato e senza confini delle proprie ragioni. E a questo scopo, che il fas, il ius e il mos riunirono i proprii sforzi, e solo a forze riunite riuscirono a cacciare dalla comunanza la violenza, che continuo a dominare fra le persone, che non appartenevano alla medesima e quindi non avevano fra di loro comunanza di diritto. Quindi non è più nell'organizzazione gentilizia, che deve cercarsi l'esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni, dal momento che in essa tutto è regolato dal mos e dal fas, e che il suo intento supremo e quello dimettere termine allo stato anteriore di violenza. Fin qui si considerano soltanto le norme direttive dai rapporti giuridici, che intercedono fra i capi dei diversi gruppi, norme le quali finiranno per dare in parte origine a quel diritto, che e poi chiamato ius quiritium dapprima e ius civium romanorum più tardi. Ora importa cercare invece, quali rapporti corressero fra i varii gruppi collettivamente considerati, e quale sia stata l'origine del primitivo ius pacis ac belli. Anche i rapporti fra le varie genti, collettivamente considerate, hanno nel periodo gentilizio un carattere esclusivamente patriarcale, e appariscono modellati sui rapporti, che possono intercedere fra i varii capi di famiglia. E a questo proposito parmi anzitutto opportuno di rettificare un concetto, che ormai suole essere ripetuto come un dogma, mentre in verità non merita di essere considerato come tale. Di regola suol dirsi, che lo stato naturale delle antiche genti fosse lo stato di guerra. Esse invece non erano nè in uno stato di pace, nè in uno stato di guerra; ma si consideravano come indipendenti le une dalle altre e non avevano fra di loro comunanza di diritto. Era quindi facile, che fra loro scoppiasse la guerra, ma questa non e però lo stato naturale di esse. Ciò e come dire, che due persone che non si conosceno e non hanno fra di loro alcun rapporto giuridico sonno fra di loro in lotta. Puo darsi che esse siano in reciproca diffidenza, e che stiano in guardia: ma non percio puo dirsi che siano in guerra effettiva fra di loro. Ci vorrà pur sempre qualche causa, od anche semplicemente un pretesto, perchè l'una si arresti minacciosa contro dell'altra. Sarebbe qui inutile citare tutti gli autori, che professano questa opinione; mi basta ricordare LAURENT, Histoire du droit des gens a Roma; il JHERING, L'esprit du droit romain, il quale attribuirebbe a questo stato di guerra il concentrarsi delle genti antiche nella città, a cui esse appartengono; il che è certamente vero, ma non proviene unicamente dalle guerre esteriori, ma anche da ciò, che, creandosi una nuova forma di connivenza sociale, e naturale, che tutte le forze ed energie vitali si concentrassero in essa. Anche Fusinato sembra dividere la stessa opinione nel suo lavoro: Dei Feziali e del di ritto feziale, Roma, « Atti della R. Accademia dei Lincei », Memorie, Classe scienze mor. stor. filologiche, -- al quale io mi rimetto quanto alla bibliografia completissima sul tema. Egli tuttavia già trova, che il popolo romano e stato, fra le altre genti, il meno esclusivo su questo punto, a differenza di PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto romano. Che questi e lo stato dei rapporti fra le genti primitive è provato dalla distinzione, che nell'antico linguaggio già viene fatta fra “hostis” e “perduellis”. “Hostis” chiamasi quello straniero, con cui non sonno rapporto di diritto, e contro il quale il popolo romano si riserva piena ed intera la propria autorità giuridica e la propria libertà di azione. “Perduellis,” nella sua significazione, e colui con cui era scoppiato il dissidio, e col quale, per mancanza di un comune diritto, venne ad essere necessità di appigliarsi alla guerra. E solo più tardi, che il vocabolo di “hostis” assunse una significazione più dura e significa il nemico. In allora le significazioni accettate furono le seguenti. “Peregrinus” chiamasi colui, col quale non havvi nè amicizia, nè ospitalità, nè alleanza; “hostis” quegli, con cui Roma trovasi in guerra aperta; “perduellis” infine colui, che nell'interno dello stato cerchi di recare perturbazione e conflitto, mettendosi in lotta coll'interesse della patria sua. Questa trasformazione si opera però lenta e note relative, il quale attribuirebbe al popolo romano una esclusività maggiore degli altri popoli, per trattarsi di un popolo agricoltore, conservatore e guerresco ad un tempo. Per parte mia ritengo, che i romani in questa parte si governano colle norme stesse delle altre genti italiche, come lo dimostra il fatto che il primitivo ius foeciale è loro comune cogli altri popoli, da cui sono circondati. Non posso però ammettere che essi, sopratutto nei primi tempi, si ritenne in stato naturale di guerra cogli altri popoli; perchè in tal caso tutte le formalità dell'antico ius foeciale si converte in una commedia inesplicabile e in contraddizione col prin cipio direttivo dei rapporti fra le varie genti. Quanto agli argomenti, che sono messi in campo, essi consistono in sostanza nella significazione di hostis e nel passo di Pomponio, Leg. Dig. Quanto a questo passo di PomPONIO, egli, anzichè affermare che gli stranieri sono nemici, dice anzi espressamente che – “si cum gente aliqua neque amicitiam, neque hospitium, neque foedus amicitiae causa factum habemus, hi hostes quidem non sunt.” Tuttavia siccome con questa gente non vi ha comunione di diritto, così contro di “aeterna auctoritas esto” -- donde la conseguenza, che se le cose nostre cadono in loro mano, diventano loro proprie, e così pure se le cose loro vadano in mano dei romani: certo la conseguenza è grave, ma essa non è una conseguenza dello stato di guerra, ma bensì di ciò che fra i due popoli non esiste comunanza di diritto. Nè vorrei si dicesse, che la questione sia soltanto di parole, poichè se la guerra e lo stato naturale, non si sa come CICERONE scrive: “Nullum bellum esse iustum, nisi quod aut rebus repetitis geratur, aut de nuntiatum ante sit, et indictum.” De off, e De Rep. Del resto anche questa opinione è una conseguenza del ritenere, che le cerimonie del diritto feziale e semplici formalità esteriori, il che certamente non dove essere, allorchè questa procedura fra le genti venne ad essere introdotta. essa [mente, e nella stessa legislazione decemvirale, che, come tutta legge, tende a conservare i vocaboli nella loro significazione arcaica, il vocabolo di « hostis », continua ancora sempre a significare colui, col quale non esiste comunione di diritto, come lo dimostrano le espressioni ricordate da Cicerone di “status dies cum hoste” e l'altra “adversus hostem aeterna auctoritas esto.” Del resto, che il vocabolo “hostis” negli esordii non suonasse nemico, nella significazione, che noi siamo soliti attribuire a questo vocabolo, viene anche ad essere dimostrato dall'analogia evidente, che corre fra i vocaboli di “hostis” e di hospes, il quale ultimo sarebbe una sincope di hosti-pes, che significa o protettore dello straniero o straniero ricevuto in protezione -- donde anche i vocaboli di hospitium e di hospitari. Fermo questo concetto dei rapporti, che intercedeno fra le genti, che non entrano a far parte della medesima tribù e non hanno perciò comunione di diritto fra di loro, viene ad essere facile il comprendere come qualsiasi rapporto giuridico fra di esse dovesse derivare dalla convenzione e dal patto; per modo che anche il “ius pacis ac belli” dove avere un'origine contrattuale, analoga a quella, che abbiamo riscontrato nei rapporti privati fra i diversi capi di famiglia. Infatti al rapporto di carattere negativo, che intercede fra le varie genti, per cui sono estranee le une alle altre, pud poi sottentrare il rapporto positivo di pace o di guerra. Tanto l'uno come l'altro indicano, che le genti sono già uscite da quello stato di indifferenza reciproca, in cui si trovavano fra di loro. Quindi perchè siavi lo stato di pace, già occorre che fra le genti sia intervenuta una conven [BRÉAL, Dict. étym. lat., Paris, vº Hospes e Hostis. Del resto questo trasformarsi dalla significazione di hostis viene ad essere indicato con una mirabile chiarezza da CICERONE, allorchè scrive. “Hostis enim apud maiores nostros is dicebatur, quem nunc peregrinum dicimus.” “Quamquam id nomen durius iam effecit vetustas; a peregrino enim recessit, et proprie in eo, qui contra arma ferret, re mansit.” De off., I, 12. Ciò è poi confermato da VARRONE, De ling. lat., V, I (Bruns, Fontes). Intanto l'analogia, che vi ha fra hostis straniero, ed hospes, che significa e lo straniero ricevuto in protezione, come pure il fatto, che nelle origini “per-duellis” significa il nemico esterno ed interno ad un tempo, costituiscono una nuova prova, che in quei primordii non distinguevasi la guerra pubblica dalla privata, nè i dissidii interni delle guerre esterne. E solo più tardi, nel seno della città e nei rapporti delle città fra di loro, che potè operarsi questa distinzione, e in allora talvolta i reggitori della città si appigliarono alle guerre esterne per sopire le lotte interne.] zione od un patto (come lo dimostra l'analogia fra il vocabolo di “pax” e quello di “pactum”). Al modo stesso che, accio siano in istato di guerra, occorre, che siavi una dichiarazione della medesima, tanto più se trattisi di genti che, senza essere in rapporto giuridico fra di loro, riconoscano pero l'impero del fas. Si può quindi affermare con certezza, che anche il “ius pacis ac belli” già erasi formato anteriormente alla formazione della comunanza romana, e che la medesima in questa parte non fa che attenersi a pratiche e a riti, i quali, preparatisi in un periodo anteriore ed affidati alla custodia di un collegio sacerdotale, furono poi applicati con qualche modificazione ai rapporti, che vennero a svolgersi più tardi fra i popoli e le città. Di qui in tanto, deriva la conseguenza, che il diritto, che suol essere chiamato foeciale, essendo stato trapiantato da uno in altro periodo di organizzazione sociale, acquisce un carattere artificioso, che lo fa talvolta apparire come un ostentazione puramente esteriore, diretta non a provare che le guerre si fa per una giusta causa, ma piuttosto a dissimulare l'ingiustizia intrinseca della guerra. Non può tuttavia esservi dubbio, che essó, trasportato nell'ambiente, in cui ebbe a formarsi, ha dovuto essere una procedura viva e reale, la quale ebbe ad essere determinata dalle condizioni, in cui si trovano le genti. Siccome nel periodo gentilizio i rapporti di pace, che si vengono a stabilire pressochè contrattualmente fra le varie genti, si riducono in sostanza a rapporti fra i capi delle medesime. Cosi essi finiscono per modellarsi e per ricavare la propria denominazione dai rapporti stessi, che possono intercedere fra i loro capi. In altri termini quei vocaboli stessi, che indicano le gradazioni diverse, in cui possono trovarsi i capi delle varie genti, sono pur quelli, che desi gnano il vincolo più o meno stretto, in cui possono essere le varie genti o i varii popoli, fra cui intervenne una convenzione di pace. Cosicchè i vocaboli anche qui vengono a dimostrare, come in quei primi tempi non esiste la distinzione fra i rapporti pubblici dei varii gruppi ed i rapporti privati fra i capi, da cui essi sono rappresentati. I vocaboli, intanto, che indicano questi rapporti pubblici e privati ad un tempo, sono quelli di amicitia, di hospitium societas. Prima presentasi l' “amicitial”, che indica quel rapporto contrattuale, che intercede fra due genti diverse o meglio ancora fra i capi di esse, senza che il medesimo imponga obbligo reciproco di difesa e di aiuto in tempo di guerra. La gente “amica” è quella, a cui si puo, in caso di bisogno, ricorrere per un favore e con cui si intenda di intrattenere amichevole commercio. L'amicizia quindi conduce già ad un riconoscimento del diritto della gente amica, e quindi se una persona, od una cosa venga a cadere in mano di una gente amica, questa non puo appropriarsela; il che e potuto fare, allorchè non e esistita fra di loro alcuna comunanza di diritto. Possono tuttavia esservi dei casi, in cui i reciproci commerci, fra individui, che appartengono a tribù diverse, porgano occasione al sorgere di controversie. Quindi fra i patti, che accompagnano i trattati di amicizia, dovette essere frequente quello, che più tardi noi troviamo indicato col vocabolo di “actio” e specialmente con quello di “reciperatio”; il quale è certamente bene appropriato per significare il rapporto, a cui intendeva di accennare, malgrado le difficoltà di in terpretazione a cui esso da luogo. È nota in proposito la definizione di Elio Gallo. “Reciperatio est, cum inter populum, reges, natio nesque et civitates peregrinas lex convenit, quomodo per recipe ratores reddantur res reciperenturque, resque privatas inter se persequantur.” La sua interpretazione non può dar luogo a dubbio, quando diasi al vocabolo di “lex” la sua significazione primitiva di convenzione e di patto; interpretazione, che del resto è anche imposta dall'espressione di “lex convenit.” È evidente infatti, che qui trattasi di un patto intervenuto prima fra le tribù e più tardi fra i popoli, le nazioni e le città, nell'intento di permettere ai membri delle genti, delle tribù e delle città di far valere rispettivamente le proprie ragioni presso la gente, tribù o città, con cui trovansi in rapporto di amicizia; come pure è evidente la correlazione, che intercede fra questo vocabolo e quello di “rerum repetitio”, che costitue uno dei preliminari, che precedevano la vera dichiarazione di guerra. Questo vocabolo è poi meglio spiegato da quello di reciprocare, il quale, secondo Festo, significa « ultro citroque poscere » cioè far valere rispettivamente le proprie ragioni: vocabolo, che anche oggidi conserva l'antica sua significazione in quei trattati fra gli stati e le nazioni, che chiamansi di reciprocità e di reciprocanza. Ciò infine spiega eziandio, come si chiamano recuperatores quei giudici od arbitri, che sono chiamati a risolvere le controversie degli stranieri fra di loro e dei cittadini cogli stranieri. Infine si viene anche a darsi ragione, come in una città come Roma, che e sempre un emporio di tutte le genti, i recuperatores abbiano finito per essere una autorità giudiziaria, pressochè permanente, la quale, mentre decide le questioni con stranieri, puo anche essere chiamata a risolvere delle controversie fra i cittadini, in quei casi sopratutto, in cui non si trattasse di applicare il ius quiritium, ma piuttosto quei iura gentium, che fin dai primi tempi dovettero almeno di fatto esistere accanto al medesimo. A proposito dei “re-cuperatores”, si è poi lungamente disputato se i medesimi fossero chiamati soltanto a risolvere controversie di diritto privato, o se potessero essere chiamati eziandio a risolvere controversie di carattere pubblico fra i popoli e le genti. La definizione di Elio Gallo sembra comprendere le une e le altre, in quanto che essa accenna alla ricupera delle cose tolte da un popolo ad un altro, e alla prosecuzione delle cose private. Se quindi e lecito avventurare una congettura, misembrerebbe essere probabile, che in quell'epoca, in cui ancora mal si distingue la ragion pubblica dalla privata, i recuperatores, che sono persone scelte fra le due genti amiche, possono essere arbitri dell'uno ed un altro genere di controversie, perchè queste tenevano del pubblico e del privato ad un tempo. Allorchè invece, al disopra delle genti, venne a formarsi la città, e per tal modo comincia a distinguersi la cosa pubblica dalla privata, i recuperatores hanno circoscritta la propria competenza alle controversie di carattere privato. Fu in allora che i recuperatores si manteneno per le controversie di indole privata, e che i “fetiales” sono creati invece per le controversie, che insorgevano fra i varii popoli. E allora parimenti che la recuperatio e il modo, con cui gli individui “res privatas inter se persequuntur”, mentre la “rerum repetitio” divenne un preliminare della guerra. E allora infine che i iura gentium si vennero biforcando, e mentre da una parte il vocabolo di ius gen tium rimane ad indicare un complesso di norme, che governa i rapporti di indole privata, quello invece di ius foeciale o di ius belli ac pacis e adoperato per indicare i rapporti di carattere pubblico fra i popoli e le città. Anche qui insomma non si fa che applicare un processo, le cui traccie sono evidenti in ogni argomento, il quale consiste nel “publica privatis secernere, sacra profanes” -- Di qui deriva quell'incertezza di significazione, che questi vocaboli sembrano avere nelle proprie origini; incertezza, che non dovette recare imbarazzo a coloro, che avevano operate queste distinzioni; ma che complica invece grandemente l'opera di coloro che tentano fondarsi sovra pochissime vestigia di ricostrurre l'opera compiuta. Al modo stesso poi, che nei rapporti fra i privati dopo l'amico viene l'ospite, il quale già viene accolto nella casa e per qualche tempo entra in certo modo a far parte della famiglia; cosi nei rapporti fra le varie genti, al disopra dell'amicitia, viene a comparire l'hospitium. L'ospitalità, che diventa un ufficio di cortesia presso le nazioni civili, è invece una vera necessità presso tutti i popoli primitivi, i quali senza di essa si troverebbero isolati gli uni dagli altri. Non è quindi meraviglia, se i doveri dell'ospitalità, oltre al fondarsi sul costume, entrino eziandio sotto la protezione del fas, e se la medesima, presso le genti primitive, tenda ad acquistare un carattere ereditario. L'ospite entra in un certo senso a far parte della stessa famiglia, come lo dimostra il fatto che gli antichi giureconsulti disputano perfino, se gl’ufficii verso l'ospite dovessero precedere o susseguire quelli verso il cliente: nella quale questione, [Quanto alla definizione della recuperatio, HUSCHKE, Jurisp. ante-iust. quae sup. Questa congettura, che d'altronde è molto semplice, ha il vantaggio di risolvere parecchie controversie, che sono largamente trattate da Voigt, Das ius naturale, gentium, etc., e dal Fusinato, Dei Feziali e del diritto feziale. Essa spiega anzitutto come una sola frase, quello di “ius gentium”, possa presentarsi con un duplice significato (V. FusInATO, dove egli combatte in parte l'opinione del Voigt). Essa spiega in secondo luogo, come la recuperatio, che più tardi trovasi solo applicata alle controversie private, nell'antica sua definizione comprenda invece anche quelle di carattere pubblico. Di qui una divergenza fra Fusinato da una parte, che vorrebbe negare ai recuperatores ogni competenza giudiziaria in interessi di pubblica natura e il SelL ed il Rein da lui citati, che sostengono invece un'opinione diversa. Credo poi che non possa essere posta in dubbio l'analogia strettissima fra recuperatio e rerum repetitio, sebbene i due vocaboli abbiano ciascuno una propria significazione, poichè recuperatio significa reciproca actio, mentre rerum repetitio significa il tentativo, che un popolo fa per riavere ciò che gli fu tolto, prima di appigliarsi alla guerra. Del resto questa stessa analogia compare fra le noxae datio del diritto privato e le noxae deditio dei cittadini colpevoli contro il diritto delle genti, di cui discorre lo stesso Fusinato. Ciò significa pertanto, che noi ci troviamo di fronte ad un processo logicamente applicato in tutte le distinzioni, che si vennero introducendo fra i rapporti pubblici e privati, e quindi la coerenza stessa dei risultati, in varii argomenti ad un tempo, dimostra come sia fondata la congettura di cui si tratta. Come poi i recuperatores sono in Roma an’autorità giudiziaria, pressochè permanente, appare da ciò, che essi non sono ignoti alla stessa legislazione decemvirale, il cui impero era ristretto ai soli cittadini.] -- mentre vi era chi colloca prima le persone affidate alla tutela del capo di famiglia, poi il cliente, quindi l'ospite. Masurio Sabino invece preponeva l'ospite al cliente. Tutti però sono concordi nel ritenere, che l'ospite dove avere la precedenza sui cognati e sugli affini. Non puo quindi essere temeraria la congettura, che l'ospitalità e la clientela sono nell'organizzazione gentilizia due istituzioni, che hanno una correlazione fra di loro; colla differenza, che la ospitalità importa solo una difesa e protezione provvisoria, mentre la clientela importa un rapporto di protezione permanente. Sotto quest'aspetto pertanto, si puo dire che il cliente venne prima del l'ospite. Ma, quando, invece si consideri che la clientela importa subordinazione e dipendenza, mentre l'ospitalità può alternarsi in guisa che l'ospitato di un giorno sia l'ospite in un altro, ben si puo comprendere il motivo, per cui Masurio Sabino concede sotto questo aspetto la precedenza all'ospite sopra il cliente, in quanto che l'ospite e l'ospitato sono in rapporto di UGUAGLIANZA fra di loro, il che non accade del patrono e del cliente. Così il concetto dell'amicitia, che quello dell'hospitium, dove nel periodo gentilizio avere un carattere pubblico e privato ad un tempo. E solo posteriormente, quando dalle genti e dalle tribù usceno le città, che cosi l'amicitia come l'hospitium subirono quella distinzione, che si opera in qualsiasi altro argomento, per cui si ebbero l'amicitia e l'hospitium pubblico e privato. Che anzi nella transizione fuvvi un periodo, in cui la casa stessa del re dapprima e del magistrato dappoi servì per accogliere gl’ospiti del popolo romano; ma, a misura che si venne distinguendo l'ente collettivo dello stato dalla persona dei singoli cittadini, si dove anche distinguere l'amicizia e l'ospitalità in pubblica e in privata. Cosi e un effetto della pubblica amicizia, che il cittadino romano, quando e fatto prigioniero di guerra, gode senz'altro del diritto di postliminio, appena ponesse il piede nel territorio di un re alleato od anche solo amico, poichè da quel momento comincia ad essere “pubblico nomine tutus.” Parimenti l'hospitium pubblicum, allorchè e accordato non solo ad un individuo, ma alla intiera popolazione di una città, venne a cambiarsi in certo modo nella [V. sopra il passo di Masurio Sabino -- Dig.] concessione della civitas sine suffragio: il che rende non destituita di fondamento l'opinione di coloro, i quali, dietro l'autorità del Niebhur, vogliono trovare nel concetto dell'hospitium pubblicum la primitiva significazione, che, secondo Festo, e stata attribuita al vocabolo di “municipium”. Infine al disopra dell'amicizia e dell'ospitalità, presentasi la “societas”. Qui non trattasi più di semplici officii di cortesia, ma di obbligazioni che già assumono un carattere giuridico; poichè la “societas” fra le genti, al pari della societas fra i privati, è un accomunare le proprie forze per il conseguimento di un intento comune, e per ripartire i vantaggi, che si possono ricavare dall'opera insieme “associate”. I patti e le condizioni di questa “societas” possono essere molto diversi; ma di regola essa importa alleanza difensiva ed offensiva delle genti, fra cui interviene, e una conseguente ripartizione del bottino. Di qui la conseguenza, che mentre l'amicizia e l'ospitalità possono anche trovare origine nel fatto e nella consuetudine; la “societas” invece suppone una convenzione espressa fra le genti ed i popoli, fra cui interviene: quindi con essa viene a sorgere il concetto del foedus, il quale ha larghissimo svolgimento e da luogo ad importantissime conseguenze nel periodo gentilizio. Per quanto sia dubbià l'origine della parola, questo è certo, che l'essenza del “foedus” sta nella “fides”, che stringe quelli che entrano in confederazione fra di loro, e che il medesimo, nei rapporti fra le varie genti, compie quello stesso ufficio, a cui adempie il contratto fra i singoli capi di famiglia. Infatti, sebbene di regola sogliano ado perarsi come sinonimi i due vocaboli di societas e di foedus, è [NIEBhur, Histoire romaine. Questa opinione e sostenuta dal TADDEI, Roma e i suoi municipii, Firenze] Senza negare che possa esservi esistito un qualche rapporto fra l'hospitium pubblicum e il municipium, nella prima delle significazioni che è attribuita a quest'ultimo vocabolo da Festo, vº Municipium, vuolsi però avere presente che l'hospitium è istituzione di origine gentilizia, mentre il municipium suppone già esistente e svolta la convivenza civile e politica.] però facile l'avvertire, che i medesimi, sopratutto negli inizii, dove avere significazione diversa. Mentre infatti la “societas” indica il rapporto, in cui entrano le genti ed i popoli, il vocabolo di “foedus” invece significa di preferenza l'accordo, la convenzione, con cui questo rapporto viene ad essere stipulato. Che anzi, siccome fra le genti non si distinguono i rapporti di carattere pubblico da quelli di carattere privato: cosi il vocabolo “foedus: si presenta dapprima con una larghissima significazione, instesse convenzioni e stipulazioni private e, sopratutto nei filosofi, significa persino quelle convenzioni tacite, che sembrano stringere tutti i popoli, che si trovino in analoghe condizioni di civiltà: convenzioni e rapporti, che sono appunto indicati col vocabolo di “foedera generis humani”, poichè il popolo che vi venisse meno sembra in certo modo uscire dal novero dalle umane genti. Tali so fra i romani l'inviolabilità e l'immunità dei legati, senza la quale e stata impossibile qualsiasi trattativa fra genti, che non hanno fra di loro comunione di diritto; tale e eziandio quel costume veramente umano per cui, terminata la battaglia, ad divenivasi ad una breve tregua, accio i due eserciti potessero addi venire alla sepoltura dei morti. Di più, anche nei rapporti fra le genti, il “foedus” non significa soltanto la confederazione o l'alleanza; ma puo significare qualsiasi accordo, che venisse a seguire fra due popoli, sia per conchiudere la pace, sia per rimettere la decisione della guerra ad un duello fra individui scelti negli eserciti che si trovavano di fronte, ed anche quell'accordo, in base a cui si addivenne alla deditio di un popolo ad un altro e se ne fissano le condizioni. Il “foedus” insomma indica il momento, in cui l'elemento contrattuale comincia a penetrare nei rapporti fra le varie genti; ed è perciò, che, malgrado tutti i dubbii che possano avere gl’etimologi, non sotrattenermi dall'esprimere la persuasione profonda, che il vocabolo di “ius foeciale”, con cui si indicava il complesso delle pratiche e delle trattative, che poterono seguire fra i varii popoli così in pace, come in guerra, non può essere che una corruzione ed una sincope di “ius foederale”. Gl’etimologi non possono accertare che “foedus” origina da “fides”, nè che “foeciale” derivi da “foedus”. Ma questo è certo, che le parole di “fides”, “foedus”, e “foeciale”, come sembrano avere una parentela materiale, così hanno una strettissima attinenza, quanto al concetto dalle medesime espresso, ed è questo il motivo, per cui continuo a scrivere “ius foeciale” a vece di “ius fetiale.” Quanto alla larghissima significazione pri [Intanto il “foedus” è il rapporto fra le genti e le tribù, che suppone un maggiore progresso nell'organizzazione sociale. Qui infatti non è più il caso di un semplice ufficio di amicizia e di ospitalità; ma trattasi già di un rapporto che assume il carattere GIURIDICO, in quanto che il foedus impone alle genti e alle tribù, che vi addivengono, delle vere e proprie obbligazioni giuridiche, sebbene queste continuino ancora sempre ad essere sotto la protezione del fas. Gli è perciò, che col foedus già comincia a comparire quell'istituto della stipulazione giuridica, che le genti latine recarono non solo nelle convenzioni private, ma eziandio nelle convenzioni di pubblica natura; stipulazione che, a mio avviso, dovette probabilmente essere prima adoperata per i rapporti di carattere pubblico, che non per quelli di carattere privato. Quanto alle formalità solenni, che accompagnavano il foedus, ritengo, che se più tardi potè essere attribuita importanza sopratutto all'elemento esteriore, che serve per dargli il carattere di iustum, come lo dava al testamento, alle nozze e a qualsiasi altro atto; questo è però certo, che le cerimonie, che accompagnavano la conclusione del foedus nel periodo, in cui si vennero formando, dovettero avere una reale ed effettiva significazione. Non dove quindi nel periodo gentilizio esservi un “pater patratus”, che addivenisse alla formazione dell'alleanza: ma erano i padri o capi effettivi delle genti, che da essi erano rappresentati, quelli che conchiudevano il patto. Così pure dovette anche avere una efficace significazione l'obtestatio deorum, per cui chiedevasi il divino in testimonio del patto, che interveniva fra di essi, e si poneva il trattato sotto la protezione del fas, chiamando la collera del cielo contro colui, che venisse meno al patto intervenuto, e simboleggiando, col ferire con un coltello di selce la vittima, il modo, con cui il divino avrebbe colpito il violatore del patto.  [mitiva di foedus, essa appare sopratutto dall'uso che ne fanno I filosofi latini, pei quali indica dapprima qualsiasi patto fra gli individui e fra le genti; quindi anche qui abbiamo una parola, che si rifere dapprima ai rapporti pubblici e privati ad un tempo; argomento questo che gli uni non si distinguevano dagli altri. Questo significato di foeduse presentito dal nostro Vico, allorchè chiama le religioni, le sepolture ed i matrimonii “i foedera generis humani”. Il duplice significato pubblico e privato di foedus occorre poi nel seguente passo di Livio – “Aenean apud Latinum fuisse in hospitio: ibi Latinum, apud penates deos, dome sticum pubblico adiunxisse foedus, filia Aeneae in matrimonium data.” Questo è provato anche da ciò, che nel primo caso narratoci di un patto se [Questo ad ogni modo è fuori di ogni dubbio, che il concetto del foedus, vincolo religioso e giuridico ad un tempo fra le varie genti e le tribù, ha certamente a precedere la formazione della comunanza romana, e dove anche prima ricevere applicazioni molteplici e diverse, durante il period gentilizio. Il foedus può essere anzitutto il mezzo, con cui si pone termine allo stato di guerra fra diverse tribù, e siccome al momento, in cui si addiviene al medesimo, le sorti delle armi possono essere diverse per i contendenti, cosi è probabile, che già, anteriormente a Roma, dovesse esservi quella distinzione, di cui essa poi fa così larga applicazione fra il “foedus aequum” ed il “foedus non aequum”. Eranvi infatti dei casi, in cui il foedus, nella significazione di convenzione e di trattato, serve, come ricorda Gellio, per dettare la legge ai vinti; altri in cui, senza opprimere affatto quello dei contendenti, per cui volgessero sfavorevoli le sorti della guerra, il medesimo in una posizione di ossequio e di subordinazione verso quello che sta per vincere, il che costituie appunto il “foedus non aequum” e da origine ad una specie di clientela di un popolo verso un'altro, che nell'epoca romana e poi indicata coll'espressione « at maiestatem populi romani coleret »; altri infine, in cui, essendo incerte le sorti della guerra, si pone termine alla medesima con un “aequum foedus” e si veniva, secondo i patti, alla reciproca restituzione dei prigionieri di guerra e all'abbandono del territorio occupato.] si pone. Per quanto poi si riferisce a quella distinzione fra foedus e sponsio, stata invocata qualche volta dai romani, sembra che la medesima costituisca già un'applicazione, eminentemente giuridica, trovata dallo stesso popolo romano e posteriore alla formazione della città. È noto in proposito, che i romani ritenevano per foedus il trattato guìto secondo il “ius foeciale”, che è quello relativo al combattimento degl’orazii e dei curiazii, DIONISIO ci narra, che il medesimo e solennemente stipulato, e che due cittadini eletti a ciò, facendo le veci di padri dei due popoli, lo sancirono a nome di ciascuno d'essi. Dion. Cfr. Bonghi, Storia di Roma. Ritengo poi verosimile l'opinione di Pantaleoni, ricordata da Fusinato, “Le droit international de la république romaine” (Bruxelles) – “Revue de droit international”, secondo cui il coltello di selce rimonterebbe all'età della pietra, poichè questo studio di conservare anche materialmente l'antico è veramente nel carattere romano. Quanto alle varie specie di foedera fra le città ed i re è da vedersi Livio. Esempii poi di foedera non aequa possono vedersi in Gellio, Noc. att., e nello stesso Livio] stipulato coll'intervento del “pater patratus” e colle cerimonie tutte del “ius foeciale”, mentre “sponsio” e la pace giurata soltanto dal generale. Mentre il primo obbliga direttamente il popolo pomano, l'altra invece, quando non fosse ratificata dal senato, obbliga solo a fare la consegna del generale, che ha giurato la pace. Ora è evidente, che questa distinzione cosi ingegnosa e sottile presuppone già il passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla città propriamente detta. Finchè trattasi di tribù o di genti, è il pater o capo effettivo della tribù, che la guida nelle sue imprese militari, e quindi è egli stesso, che tratta la pace circondato da altri capi, ed adempie alle cerimonie tutte di carattere religioso, che devono accompagnare la stipulazione del foedus. Non occorre quindi ancora l'artificio del “pater patratus”, nè l'intervento dei feziali, perchè esso possa obbligare direttamente il proprio popolo. Quando invece trattasi di una città, tanto più se retta a repubblica, il generale non può più dirsi che rappresenti il popolo e il senato, e quindi egli non può addivenire che ad una semplice “sponsio”, la quale, per essere cambiata in un vero trattato, abbisogna della ratifica del senato e dell'adempimento delle cerimonie del diritto feziale. Intanto pero, siccome il generale è colpevole per aver giurata una promessa, che non mantiene o per aver obligato il popolo oltre i limiti del suo mandato; cosi il senato, che non ratifica il suo operato, si appiglia alla noxae deditio del generale stesso. Intanto si comprende, che altri popoli, come i Sanniti, al tempo della pace delle forche caudine, i quali non erano ancora pervenuti ad un eguale sviluppo della loro organizzazione civile e politica, stentassero a comprendere questa sottigliezza giuridica dei romani: poichè per essi il loro generale era anche il loro capo effettivo, e quindi puo obbligare direttamente il popolo da lui rappresentato. Non parmi quindi, che possa essere il caso di introdurre qui la triplice distinzione, a cui accenna Mommsen nel “Le droit public romain” fra la semplice “sponsio” del capitano, il foedus foeciale e il foedus del solo capitano; poichè è dichiarato abbastanza chiaramente da Livio, che tanto il foedus che la sponsio, se siano fatte in iussu populi, non possono obbligare il popolo romano. Quindi la distinzione viene ad essere questa: o la convenzione è opera del solo capitano, in iussu populi ac senatus, che sono quelli che inviano i feziali, e in allora abbiamo una semplice sponsio; o invece vi ha il iussus populi ac senatus, che inviano i feziali e abbiamo il vero foedus: donde la prova che la distinzione dove essere un effetto del passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia all'organizzazione politica. Cfr. Fusinato, “Dei Feziali e del diritto feziale.” Non credo poi si possa ammettere con Mommsen, che sulla forma del foedus ha esercitata una visibile influenza la teoria del contratto, in quanto che nel foedus sarebbesi adoperata per analogia la forma della stipulazione, come quella che era considerata come il modo generale e di diritto comune per contrarre le obbligazioni. Ciò è del tutto impossibile: perchè è certo che esisteno già il foedus e la sponsio nei rapporti fra i varii popoli e che l'uno e l'altra già si stipulano con quella forma determinata, assai prima che i giureconsulti costruissero la teoria della stipulazione e ne fanno applicazione alle convenzioni private. Del resto la forma della stipulazione, adoperata dai romani nei rapporti col divino, nella formazione della legge, nella conclusione dei trattati di pace, solo più tardi sembra essere stata accolta nel diritto civile romano ed applicata alle convenzioni private; per guisa che vi sono autori, che ritengono la stipulazione nelle convenzioni private come di impor tazione greca. Il vero si è, che nel diritto primitivo trovasi sempre un'analogia fra i rapporti di diritto pubblico e quelli di diritto privato; la quale deriva da ciò, che nel periodo gentilizio tanto gli uni come gli altri sono rapporti tra capi di gruppo, e quindi le stesse forme, che servono nei rapporti fra le varie genti, possono poi anche servire nei rapporti contrattuali e privati. Sonvi però molte pratiche comuni agli uni e agli altri e fra le altre havvi quella della sponsio, che sembrano aver acquistato forma ed efficacia giuridica prima nei rapporti fra le genti, che nei rapporti dicarattere privato. Del resto cio è anche attestato da Gaio, che chiama sottigliezza il voler applicare la teoria della stipulazione privata alla sponsio del generale romano; poichè, se si venga meno al patto, non ex stipulata agitur, sed iure belli res vindicatur. V. Mommsen, Le droit public romain, il quale, secondo la traduzione Gérard, di cui mi valgo, scrive. “En ce qui concerne la forme, le principe du droit civil a fait employer ici par analogie les formes de la stipulation, parce qu'elle était considérée comme le mode général et de droit commun de contracter des obligations.” Parmi, con tutta la riverenza al dottissimo autore, che questa proposizione non possa essere accolta, e che sarebbe vera piuttosto la proposizione inversa. Infatti secondo MUIRHEAD, Hist. Introd., e molti altri, la sponsio o stipulatio nelle convenzioni private non sarebbe penetrate in Roma, che verso l’epoca, in cui la teoria della sponsio e del foedus, nei rapporti fra le città ed i popoli, aveva già ricevuto tutto il suo sviluppo. Quindi è che pur non ainmettendo l'opinione del MUIRHEAD, in quanto che ritengo che la sponsio e romana fino dalle origini e vivesse nel costume, anche [Un'altra applicazione del foedus era anche quella, per cui tribù e genti, che potevano anche non essere in guerra fra di loro, stringevano fra di loro un'alleanza, i cui patti potevano essere molto diversi, ma che il più spesso costituiva una lega difensiva ed offensiva ad un tempo; la cui idea tipica pud essere ricavata dal foedus latinum, detto anche foedus Cassianum, il cui tenore ha ad esserci conservato da Dionisio. È poi notabile, che queste specie di alleanze fra tribù e popoli vicini, siccome per lo più dipendevano da relazioni ed aderenze fra i capi di gruppo, cosi si venivano for mando e disfacendo con grande facilità, per cui bene spesso l'alleato di oggi poteva essere il nemico di domani. Il che tuttavia non toglie, che la forza e l'efficacia del patto d'alleanza sia cosi profondamente sentita, che stipulavasi talvolta che essa dovesse durare eterna ed im mortale, come lo erano i popoli, fra cui interveniva. Ciò è dimostrato dall'energica espressione adoperata nel foedus latinum, secondo la quale la pace e l'alleanza fra romani e latini doveva durare: « dum coelum et terra eandem stationem obtinuerint.” Infine un'altra importantissima applicazione del foedus nelle epoche primitive, è quella, in virtù della quale più tribù, che possono anche essere di origine diversa, societatem ineunt fra di loro, nel l'intento di formare una stessa civitas e di partecipare così ad una vita pubblica comune. È stato questo il foedus, che ha servito per la formazione dell'urbs e della civitas dei latini, e che fu anche il tipo, sovra cui ebbe ad essere foggiata Roma primitiva; il qual ca rattere è importantissimo, in quanto che induce ad affermare che Roma nei suoi inizii ebbe un carattere federale e pressochè con trattuale. Dal momento infatti, che fra le varie tribù mancava il vincolo della comune discendenza, non poteva esservi che quello della fides, e quindi è nel foedus, che deve essere cercata l'origine prima dientrare nel diritto, conviene pur sempre riconoscere che la teoria della sponsio si svolse prima nei rapporti fra le genti, che non nel diritto civile di Roma. Giu stamente quindi Gaio voleva tener distinte le due cose: poichè, dalmomento che la sponsio nei trattati fra i popoli erasi distinta da quella nelle convenzioni private, non era più il caso di confonderle insieme. Da questa nasceva l'actio ex stipulatu, mentre dalla violazione di quella nasceva la guerra. I due isti tuti, che nella origine potevano essere uniti, ora seguono invece ciascuno la propria via, come la recuperatio e la repetitio rerum, il ius gentium e il ius belli ac pacis e simili, e più non debbono essere insieme confusi. Dion.] 154 della città. Se la tribù può ancora essere una formazione del tutto naturale, perchè è l'effetto del primato, che una gente acquista sopra le altre che la circondano; la città invece suppone di necessità l'accordo delle varie tribù, che entrano a costituirla, accordo, che riveste appunto la forma di un foedus. Intanto egli è evidente, che allorquando le cose sono per venute a tale, che nell'organizzazione gentilizia, in cui prima do minava esclusivamente il vincolo di discendenza, già comincia a pe netrare l'elemento federale e contrattuale, questo non può a meno di attribuire all'organizzazione stessa una elasticità e pieghevolezza, che essa prima non poteva avere. Infatti egli è sopratutto da questo punto, che nel seno della tribù e della città, costituita mediante la federazione di varie tribù, cominciano a comparire dei mezzi, i quali o servono ad aggregare alla comunanza un nuovo elemento, o ser vono invece a staccarne un elemento, che prima ne faceva parte per trasportarlo altrove. Fu in questa guisa, che, già anterior mente alla formazione della comunanza romana, si erano venuti svolgendo gli istituti della cooptatio, della concessio civitatis sine suffragio, della secessio e della colonia; la cui nozione è indispen sabile per comprendere la storia primitiva di Roma. In virtù della cooptatio le genti, che già entrarono a far parte di una medesima comunanza civile e politica, possono accoglierne delle altre a far parte della medesima. Essa fu applicata più volte in Roma primitiva; come lo dimostra la cooptazione delle genti Al bane, dopochè Alba fu, secondo la tradizione, distrutta da Tullo Ostilio, e fu applicata eziandio alla gente sabina, capitanata da Atto Clauso.Questa origine federale delle città costituite sul tipo latino pud servire a spiegare il fatto, per cui i Latini nella loro qualità di socii coi Romani abbiano messa innanzi la pretesa, che Roma e il Lazio dovessero dare origine ad una comu nione ed unità di governo; per cui dei consoli uno dovesse essere nominato dal Lazio e l'altro da Roma, e il senato dovesse comporsi in parti eguali dai due popoli. Vedi Liv. VIII, 3, 4, 5. Cfr. WALTER, Storia del diritto di Roma, Trad. Bollati, Torino. È poi questa istituzione, che ci dà la ragione per cui, durante il periodo di Roma patrizia, la cittadinanza non era conceduta ad in dividui, ma a genti collettivamente considerate, in quanto che la cooptatio era per sua natura applicabile all'intiero gruppo gentilizio e non ai singoli individui (1). Non pud poi esservi dubbio, che questa cooptatio, per essere una istituzione eminentemente patrizia, doveva certainente essere accom pagnata da cerimonie religiose; perchè la gente, che era ammessa nella tribù o alla città, diventava eziandio partecipe della religione di esse, ne aveva comuni gli auspicia, ed il suo capo poteva anche conseguire un seggio nel senato. Quasi si direbbe, che la cooptatio di una gente nella tribù o città corrispondeva alla adrogatio per la famiglia. Quindi si comprende, come al modo stesso che l'adrogatus, per essere disgiunto dalla gens, di cui faceva parte, doveva prima addivenire alla detestatio sacrorum; così anche il gentile, per uscire dall'ordine delle genti patrizie e passare, ad esempio, nella plebe, il che chiamavasi transitio ad plebem, doveva pure appigliarsi ad una specie di abdicatio o detestatio sacrorum; alla quale dovette appunto assoggettarsi Clodio, allorchè abbandono l'ordine patrizio e passò alla plebe per poter essere nominato tribuno [È poi degno di nota, che questa cooptatio ebbe pure ad essere applicata ai collegi sacerdotali, finchè i medesimi furono esclusiva mente tratti dall'ordine patrizio, e fu solo più tardi, allorchè anche la plebe fu ammessa ai sacerdozii pubblici del popolo romano, che ad alcuni fra essi fu applicata l'elezione popolare, la quale anzi fini per essere affidata ai comizi tributi. Quando poi la città cesso di essere esclusivamente patrizia, in allora noi vediamo svolgersi, qualmodo di accrescere la popola zione, la concessione della civitas sine suffragio, in virtù della quale gli abitanti di una città vicina, che venivano a prendere il [Dion., III, 29; Liv., 1, 30. Cfr. Willems, Le droit public romain; CARLOWA, Römische Rechtsgeschichte. La necessità di una specie diabdicatio, anche per uscire da una gens, è provata dal seguente passo di Servio, In Aen. 2, 156: « Consuetudo apud maiores fuit, ut qui in familiam vel gentem transiret, prius se abdicaret ab ea, in qua fuerat, et sic ab alia reciperetur ». Quanto alla transitio ad plebem, è da vedersi Cic., Brut., 16, e Aulo Gellio] nome di municipes (a munere capiendo), recandosi a Roma, erano ammessi a partecipare ai diritti e alle obbligazioni del cittadino, esclusa però la partecipazione al godimento dei diritti pubblici, che consistevano nel ius suffragii e nel ius honorum. Fu con questo mezzo, che Roma incominciò a mettere le basi di quel sistema mu nicipale, per mezzo del quale tutti gli abitanti prima delle città del Lazio e poi quelli delle città italiche, finirono per essere considerati come cittadini di Roma, che era la patria communis; il che però non impediva, che ogni città avesse una propria amministrazione municipale. Questo carattere dei municipia, i quali in sostanza erano città per sè esistenti, che venivano ad essere associate alle sorti di Roma, fu espresso da Gellio con dire, che imunicipia, a differenza delle colonie, veniunt extrinsecus in civitatem et radicibus suis nituntur. Ciò però non tolse, che il concetto del municipium abbia subito poi delle trasformazioni profonde, le quali sono indicate dalle significazioni diverse, che Festo attribuisce a questo vocabolo (). i 125. A questi duemezzi, con cui veniva accrescendosi il numero di coloro, che partecipavano alla stessa civitas, se ne contrapponevano invece degli altri, che servivano piuttosto a trasportare altrove una parte della popolazione, sia che ciò occorresse per il vantaggio della stessa città, come accadeva nella colonia, sia che una parte di essa si trovasse in condizioni incompatibili col rimanente, nel qual caso si ricorreva alla secessio e all'expulsio. Non può esservi dubbio, che il sistema delle colonie, che prese poi cosi largo sviluppo in Roma, esisteva già prima nel costume delle genti italiche, ed era anzi loro comune colle genti elleniche, sebbene il suo scopo potesse essere diverso. Ciò è dimostrato dal fatto, che, secondo la tradizione, la tribù dei Ramnenses non dovette essere dapprima, che una colonia di Alba Longa. Le colonie poi sono gruppi di famiglie, le quali, collettivamente considerate, si staccano dalla madre patria, colla approvazione di quelli che rimangono, la quale si manifesta nella lex coloniae deducendae, e colla buona volontà di coloro che partono, i quali debbono perciò farsi iscrivere nel numero dei coloni. Ciò ebbe ad essere espresso da Servio con dire, che le [I principali passi degli autori, relativi almunicipium e alla colonia, possono trovarsi raccolti nella eruditissima opera del Rivier, Introdution historique au droit romain, Bruxelles, la quale contieneun numero grandissimodi passi di autori e questi raccolti con molta sagacia.] colonie « ex consensu pubblico, non ex secessione conditae sunt ». Di qui la conseguenza, che la colonia porta con sé la religione, la lingua, le tradizioni della tribù o della città, dalla quale si stacca e si organizza a somiglianza di essa, per guisa che, secondo la efficace espressione di Gellio, le colonie sono quasi effigies parvae, simula craque della madre patria, e sono quasi propaggini della città, da cui sonosi staccate, comequelle, che continuano ancor sempre a mantenersi in rapporti con essa (ex civitate quasi propagatae sunt). Punto non ripugna, che le colonie nelle loro origini siansi cosi chiamate a colendo; in quanto che può darsi benissimo, che esse fossero in certo modo delle spedizioni agricole, che partivano da una tribù, sta bilita sopra un territorio, per trasportarsi sopra un altro suolo, quando quello prima occupato più non potesse bastare ai bisogni della intiera popolazione. Però anche in questa parte, allorchè riuscì a delinearsi l'istituto della colonia, nulla impedi che esso potesse essere rivolto ad intenti di diversissima natura, marittimi, militari, commerciali, e che servisse anche a diminuire il numero soverchio della plebe, quando essa, raccolta nella sola città, già cominciava a cambiarsi in una factio forensis e a diventare pericolosa. 126. La secessio invece sembra contrapporsi alla cooptatio, colla differenza che questo vocabolo, in cui non havvi accenno ad alcun rito religioso, sembra aver trovato origine piuttosto nei rapporti fra patriziato e plebe, che non in seno all'ordine patrizio. Ad ogni modo la secessio, intesa in largo senso, ha luogo allorchè un ele mento già ammesso nella comunanza, trovandosi incompatibile colla medesima, se ne stacca volontariamente e recasi altrove a porre la propria sede. Lasciando anche a parte i tentativi di secessio per parte della plebe, i quali non ebbero mai un esito definitivo, può forse scorgersi un esempio di secessio, ancorchè dissimulato dalle tradizioni, nel fatto della gens Fabia, che abbandonava Roma coi suoi numerosi clienti per stabilirsi alla Cremera, ove poi fini per essere distrutta dai Sanniti, lasciando un solo superstite, che entrò di nuovo a far parte della cittadinanza romana. Servio, In Aen., I, 12; Gellio. L'importanza delle colonie nel periodo gentilizio fu già messa in evidenza dal Vico, Scienza nuova. Intorno alle colonie ed alle varie loro specie, è accurata la trattazione del WALTER, Storia del Dir. Rom., Trad. Bollati.Quanto alla tradizione circa la gens Fabia, vedi Bonghi, Storia di Roma. Alla secessio, che è volontaria, si contrappone invece l'expulsio, quale fu quella, che ebbe ad avverarsi per la gens Tarquinia; espul sione, che per la intimità del vincolo, che stringe insieme i membri di una medesima gente, dovette poi essere estesa a tutti coloro che portavano quel nome, non escluso quel Tarquinio Collatino, marito a LUCREZIA, il cui oltraggio, secondo la tradizione, e stata occasione allo scoppio di quella rivoluzione patrizia e plebea ad un tempo, che condusse alla trasformazione del governo regio in repubblicano. Intanto questi varii istituti, unitamente all'amicitia, all'hospitium, alla societas e al foedus, che serviva a dar forma giuridica e so lenne a tutti i rapporti amichevoli fra le varie genti e tribù, avendo in gran parte avuto origine nel periodo gentilizio, dimostrano abba stanza come la città, la quale era uscita dalla federazione e dall'accordo, potesse anche subire dei mutamenti, che si operavano nella stessa guisa. Essa aveva mezzi diversi per accrescere o scemare il numero di coloro, che partecipavano alla stessa comunanza. Finchè infatti la città fu esclusivamente patrizia, potevano bastare la cuoptatio o la expulsio, mediante cui una gente poteva essere ac colta o respinta dall'ordine patrizio, e cosi entrare od uscire dalla partecipazione alla stessa comunanza. Quando poi patriziato e plebe si fusero insieme ed entrarono così a far parte dello stesso esercito e dei medesimicomizii, in allora si svolgono la secessio da una parte e la concessio civitatis dall'altra, e quest'ultima potè essere consen tita cum suffragio o sine suffragio. Infine havvi la colonia che, adoperata prima dalla tribù e poscia dalla città, serve a questa per trapiantare le sue propaggini altrove; mentre il municipium viene a convertirsi in un mezzo,me diante cui popolazioni,che avevano altrove la propria sede ed avevano anzi una propria amministrazione ed una propria vita, vengono ad es sere ammesse a partecipare alla vita pubblica della città, senza però essere ammesse agli onori ed al suffragio. Sarà solo più tardi, allorchè il sistema municipale sarà svolto in tutte le sue conseguenze, che le città latine prima e le città italiche dappoi, pur serbando il diritto di partecipare alla amministrazione della loro patria originaria, otter ranno tuttavia la partecipazione alla piena cittadinanza di Roma, che comincierà cosi ad essere considerata come la communis patria. Così viene preparandosi l'organismo della città per guisa, che essa possa essere capo e centro di qualsiasi vasto impero, e mentre le popolazioni, ammesse alla cittadinanza romana, avranno ancor esse interesse al mantenimento della grandezza romana, sarà però sempre in Roma, dove si decideranno le sorti del mondo e si eleggeranno i magistrati chiamati a governarlo. Solo più ci resta a vedere, se anche le varie forme, sotto cui ebbe a svolgersi il ius belli, già aves sero avuto origine nello stesso periodo e come siansi venute formando. In proposito già si è dimostrato, come non possa ammettersi il concetto, pressoché universalmente accolto, che la guerra debba essere considerata come lo stato naturale delle genti italiche. Esse invece si considerano come straniere le une alle altre e non hanno fra di loro comunione di diritto. Quindi al modo stesso che occorrono degli accordi, perché si trovino in condizione di amicizia e di pace; cosi è necessario che intervenga qualche fatto speciale, che le faccia uscire da questo stato di reciproca indifferenza, accið esse possano essere considerate come in stato di guerra. Quanto alle cause, che possono far scoppiare una guerra, esse sono determinate dalle condi zioni sociali, in cui si trovano le tribù ed i popoli diversi. Appena uscite da uno stato nomade, in cui dovette dominare la privata vio lenza, le genti si fissarono in territorii, i cui confini non erano an cora ben determinati, e quindi dovettero essere frequenti le questioni di confine e le reciproche usurpazioni di territorio. Di più pud ac cadere, che una comunanza nella sua totalità (populus da populari) o gli uomini singoli,che appartengono alla medesima (homines Her munduli) abbiano commesso devastazioni e saccheggi nel territorio della comunanza vicina. Così pure può avvenire, che una contro versia insorta fra due famiglie, appartenenti a tribù diverse, ingros sandosi mediante le parentele e le aderenze dell'una e dell'altra, come avvenne appunto in occasione della cacciata da Roma di Tarquinio e della sua gente, prenda le proporzioni di una vera e propria guerra. Siccome poi le varie genti e tribù sono in questo pe [A questo proposito però fu giustamente notato, che una delle cause della de. cadenza di Roma fu l'impossibilità, in cui erano le popolazioni delle città italiche di prendere parte effettiva alla vita politica di Roma,.in cui finiva perciò per pre valere la turba forensis. Vedi a questo proposito GENTILE, Le elezioni e il broglio nella Repubblica Romana.] riodo rappresentate dai proprii capi; cosi punto non ripugna che le sorti della guerra siano anche rimesse ad un combattimento singolare fra individui, col patto che l'esito della guerra dipenda dalle sorti di un privato duello. Così pure, è nel carattere del tempo che, quando si incontrano i due capi, essi vengano fra loro ad un combattimento non dissimile da quello, che la tradizione attribuisce a Giunio Bruto e ad Arunte, il più forte fra i figli di Tarquinio, e che la moltitudine dei combattenti si arresti a contemplare la lotta fra i proprii capi. Niuna maggior gloria potrà ottenersi, che quando uno dei capi potrà avere le spoglie dell'altro, ed è a questo concetto certamente che rannodasi il culto, che ancora trovasi così radicato in Roma, per cui le spoglie opime, che erano quelle appunto che dal capo di una tribù erano state tolte a quello dell'altra, erano appese nel tempio di Giove Capitolino, ed i fasti e gli annali ricordavano le volte in cui rinnovavasi il memorabile fatto. Per quanto questimodi di pensare e diagire possano riuscire singolari per noi, che siamo giunti a scorgere nella guerra un rap porto fra due Stati; questo è però certo, che i medesimi trovano una naturale spiegazione nel fatto, che durante il periodo gentilizio i rap porti fra le stesse tribù non riescono ancora a distinguersi da quelli fra i capi, che le rappresentano. Diqui conseguita, che il concetto della guerra fra i popoli ancora si confonde col duello fra i capi che lo rappresentano; il che è dimostrato fino all'evidenza dall'origine co mune dei vocaboli duellum e bellum, come appare dal vocabolo perduellis, che mentre ancora accenna al duellante significa già il pubblico nemico. Ciò spiega eziandio le traccie, che occor rono anche in Roma di duello giudiziario, poichè in esso noi abbiamo quel mezzo, che serve per risolvere le controversie fra i popoli appli [È ovvio osservare l'analogia,che presentano le primitive guerre di Roma con quelle, che Omero ci descrive nell'Iliade, ove soventi gli eserciti si arrestano spetta tori delle gesta dei proprii capi. Quanto alla spiegazione del culto per le spoglie opime parmi così naturale, che mi meraviglio di non averla trovata negli autori, che da me furono letti. (2) A questo proposito osserva il BRÉAL, Dict. étym. lat., vº Duo, che il cambia mento di duellum in bellum è analogo a quello di duonus in bonus, di Duilius in Bilius, di duis in bis, per guisa che come da duo derivd duellum, così da bis potè derivare bellum. Del resto il vocabolo di duellum per bellum occorre ancora sovente nei poeti latini e fra gli altri Plauto chiama i Romani « duellatores optimi »] cato a risolvere una controversia privata fra individui; il che in so stanza costituisce il processo inverso di quello, in cui il duello fra due individui viene ad essere adoperato qual mezzo per risolvere la guerra fra due popoli, e dipende perciò dal medesimo ordine di idee, cioè dal sostituirsi dei rapporti pubblici ai privati e viceversa. È nello stesso modo, che possiamo riuscire a darsi ragione di quella analogia costante, che non può a meno di essere notata fra le formalità, che accompagnano la dichiarazione di guerra, e quelle, che accompagnano l'azione che il capo ili famiglia propone in giudizio. 130. È solo infatti questo modo di riguardare le cose, fondato sulla realtà dei fatti ed ispirato al modo di pensare degli uomini e dei tempi, che può condurre a dare una spiegazione del tutto naturale di quella procedura grandiosa e solenne, che accompagna appunto la dichiarazione di guerra. Per quanto tale procedura, tras portata dallo spirito conservatore dei Romani in un'epoca diversa da quella in cui erasi formata, possa apparire artificiosa e siasi talvolta considerata come un complesso di formalità esteriori, archi tettato per celare l'ingiustizia e la prepotenza di un grande popolo; questo è però certo, che essa, ricondotta col pensiero all'ambiente in cui ebbe a formarsi, viene ad essere l'immagine di modi di pen sare e di agire veri e reali, che intanto poterono essere espressi in modo così vigoroso ed efficace, in quanto furono a quell'epoca profondamente sentiti. Questo intanto è fuori di ogni dubbio, che i varii stadii del dramma corrispondono mirabilmente alla realtà dei fatti, quali dovet tero svolgersi in un'epoca patriarcale. Una popolazione vicina o uomini appartenenti alla medesima in vasero il territorio della comunanza, saccheggiandone i raccolti ed (1) Le formole grandiose del ius fociale ci furono conservate sopratutto da Livio, nel libro primo delle sue storie, ove descrive il processo per la dichiarazione di guerra al cap. 32; quello per la conclusione di un'alleanza al cap. 24; e quello per la deditio al cap. 38. Come è notabile la solennità di esse, così è degna di attenzione la coerenza che esiste fra queste varie procedure, le quali perciò appari scono come lo svolgimento di un medesimo concetto. Quanto alle divergenze circa la loro interpretazione e ai tentativi di ricostruzione di formole, che a parer mio appariscono del tutto complete, mi rimetto all'opera del FusinaTO, I Feziali ed il diritto feziale. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. [esportandone mandre ed armenti. La comunanza ne è profonda mente commossa, e il capo di essa, che è pur sempre il padre co mune di tutti, accompagnato da altri capi di famiglia, recasi in persona sul confine del territorio, che appartiene al popolo unde res repetuntur; quivi, chiamando in testimonio le divinità patrone della sua comunanza, quella che protegge il confine e il fas, protettore comune ditutte le genti, espone l'ingiuria e il danno sofferto, e questo ripete a chiunque incontri per la via, e da ultimo sulla piazza del villaggio, spergiurandosi di dire il vero. Questa parte preliminare chiamasi clarigatio, da questo dichiarare ad alta voce e ripetuta mente il torto sofferto, e repetitio rerum, dal chiedere la restituzione delmal tolto. Se le cose, che eglidomanda, sono restituite, egli ritorna con esse, e cogli uomini, che hanno compiuto il saccheggio, che gli sono consegnati, mediante la noxae deditio; ma se egli non ottiene soddisfazione, ha luogo l'obtestatio deorum, con cui chiede in testi monio le divinità del suo popolo e tutti gli altri Dei, che il popolo, di cui si tratta, è ingiusto e vienemeno al diritto (populum illum iniustum esse, neque ius persolvere). Viene infine l'ultima parte della dichiarazione di guerra, in cui il capo del popolo offeso, dopo essersi consultato coi suoi, dichiara al popolo offensore la guerra, get tando entro i confini del suo territorio un dardo intriso di sangue accompagnato dalle parole: « bellum indico facioque », e si ha così in un solo atto l'indictio belli e l'initium pugnae. È fuori di ogni dubbio, che questa procedura, eminentemente patriarcale, dovette assumere alcun che di artificioso per essere adat tata ad un popolo, come il romano: poichè il medesimo aveva una co stituzione politica molto complicata, in base alla quale i feziali, che si erano recati per la rerum repetitio, dovevano poi tornare per avere l'avviso dei padri, e forse anche la deliberazione del popolo intorno alla guerra, che trattavasi di fare; ma questo è certo, che anche così trasformata essa non perde le sue primitive fattezze. Tolgasi il pater patratus, che, anche essendo una finzione, richiama pur sempre l'im poneute figura del patriarca primitivo; tolgansi i feziali, che erano sacerdoti, i quali, al pari di ogni altro collegio sacerdotale del popolo románo, avevano solo per compito di custodire le tradizioni, relative al diritto di guerra e di pace, senza avere alcuna competenza intorno alla giustizia intrinseca della causa, per cui si addiveniva alla guerra o all'alleanza; e non si potrà a meno di riconoscere, che tanto la repetitio rerum, accompagnata dalla clarigatio, quanto l'obtestatio deorum, quanto infine l'indictio belli, sono altrettante procedure, che serbano il colore e il carattere di un età patriarcale e richiamano scene vive e reali, che dovettero seguire in quella primitiva condi zione di cose. Ciò però non toglie, che le procedure del diritto fe ziale, al pari delle antiche procedure dell'actio sacramento e simili, allorchè furono trapiantate nel seno di un organizzazione sociale di altra indole e natura, affidate alla custodia di un collegio sacerdotale, rese complicate dei varii congegni di una costituzione politica, che più non consentiva un perfetto adattamento delle medesime, assun sero di necessità un carattere alquanto artificioso, e apparvero come forme, vuote di contenuto e conservate solo per imitazione dell'an tico, da un popolo, che in sostanza si era già spogliato di ogni ca rattere patriarcale, ed era venuto nel proposito tenace di conquistare e di sottomettere le altre genti. Il diritto feziale tuttavia rimane an cora sempre ad attestare, che in un'epoca remotissima dovette già essere conosciuto un tentativo di amichevole accomodamento nelle controversie, non solo fra i privati, ma anche fra le varie genti. Era pero naturale, che questa sopravvivenza dell'epoca patriarcale fosse destinata a scomparire, a misura che diventava più difficile di pene trarne l'intima significazione. Tuttavia, anche in questa parte, appare sempre lo spirito conservatore del popolo romano, che continuò a conservare e a tenere in onore l'istituto dei feziali, anche allorchè il diritto, di cui essi erano i depositarii ed i custodi, era andato compiutamente in disuso. Intanto non pud essere negata eziandio una certa analogia fra questa procedura e quella, che abbiamo visto svolgersi nell'actio sacramento. Siccome però queste procedure non sono invenzioni di pontefici e di giureconsulti, come alcuni le avrebbero ritenute, ma sono forme tipiche di fatti, che un tempo dovettero seguire nella realtà: cosi, per essere il processo effettivo veramente diverso nel venire al duello od alla guerra fra due popoli, e nel sorgere di una controversia fra due privati, ne derivò, che le due procedure non poterono essere perfettamente conformi, comevorrebbe sostenere il Danz, ma dovettero di necessità riuscire diverse. Nell'actio sa cramento noi abbiamo la storia di una controversia fra due capi di famiglia, i quali, stando già per venire alle mani, piuttosto che ab bandonarsi alla forza ed alla violenza, accettano l'interposizione di una persona autorevole, scommettendo di essere dalla parte della ragione e chiamando lui a giudice della scommessa. Fra due genti 164 invece non può esservi altro giudice che la divinità, e quindi, dopo aver reclamato il mal tolto, è questa, che chiamasi in testimonianza del l'ingiustizia, che quel popolo ha commessa, e a nomedella medesima divinità gli si dichiara la guerra « extremum remedium expedien darum litium ». Quello è il processo, che si è seguito per strappare i contendenti alla privata violenza e per indurli ad accettare l'au torità di un arbitro o di un giudice: questo è il processo, che deve seguirsi prima di cedere alla triste necessità della guerra. Che poi vi fossero buone ragioni, perchè una procedura solenne precedesse una dichiarazione di guerra, appare dalle dure conseguenze, che il consenso delle genti aveva attribuito al diritto di guerra. Questa nel periodo gentilizio era un vero duello fra due popoli, che non doveva cessare, finchè uno non avesse portato nel proprio tempio le spoglie opime dell'altro. Era guerra di uomini e guerra anche fra gli Dei dei due popoli, come lo provano le for mole che ci furono conservate, con cui quel popolo, che faceva delle stipulazioni e dei contratti « do utdes » anche cogli Dei, cercava di attirare a se il favore delle divinità del popolo, con cui era in guerra. Una volta poi, che questa era intrapresa ben potevasi dire, che la guerra diventava lo stato naturale dei due popoli; perchè se si tol gono le tregue (induciae), o per seppellire imorti o a causa della cattiva stagione, la guerra si continuava finché non si veniva ad un trattato di pace, o non si avverasse la dedizione di uno dei popoli in guerra. La deditio era per un popolo ciò, che per un privato il darsi a [È mirabile lo sforzo di sottigliezza fatto dal dotto e compianto Danz, prof. a Iena, per trovare una identità, che non esiste. I suoi ragionamenti sono riportati dal Fusinato nell'opera più volte citata. Intanto tutto questo sforzo di acutezza è ancor esso una conseguenza dell'aver ritenuto il diritto primitivo di Roma, e quindi anche il diritto feziale, come una costruzione essenzialmente formale e non basata sulla realtà dei fatti. Se invece si ritenga, che tutto il diritto primitivo di Roma dovette in altri tempi essere up complesso di reali ed effettive procedure, non si potrà certo pretendere che l'actio sacramento e l'indictio belli, avendo com piuto un ufficio diverso, potessero essere pienamente identiche fra di loro. Quanto alle loro analogie esse sono facilmente spiegate, stante l'indistinzione fra il diritto pubblico e privato,durante il periodo gentilizio. Queste formole ci furono conservate da MACROBIO, Saturn., il quale dice di averle ricavate da un libro antichissimo di un certo Furio (cuius dam Furii), che l'HUScake ritiene possa essere un A. Furio Anziate, scrittore di diritto sacro e di annali in versi. Esse sono riportate dall' HUSCHKE, Iurisp. an teiust. quae sup., pag. 11. - 165 mancipio, cioè un perdere famiglia, patria, territorio, religione, libertà e non avere altra speranza, che quella della clemenza del vincitore. Erano le sue divinità, che l'avevano abbandonato, e a lui non rimaneva, che di accettare rassegnato la propria sorte, entrando in quella classe dei vinti, che formava un eterno dualismo con quella dei vincitori. Che anzi i Romani applicavano anche a se stessi quel medesimo diritto di guerra, e fu soltanto colla fin zione del diritto di postliminio, che riuscirono ad attribuire effi cacia ad atti, che il cittadino romano aveva compiuto, mentre era prigioniero di guerra, e a fare astrazione dal tempo, che egli aveva trascorso in tale qualità presso il nemico. Sono queste dure conseguenze del diritto di guerra, che spiegano quanto dovesse essere profondo il solco, che erasi venuto scavando fra la classe dei vincitori e quella dei vinti, e come fra essi non potesse esservi, nè comunione di matrimonii, nè di reli gione, salvo dopo una lunga convivenza nei quadri dell'organizza zione gentilizia, in cui i vinti formarono la classe dei servi, dei clienti e per ultimo quella dei plebei, mentre i vincitori costituirono quella dei padri, dei patroni e dei patrizi. Intanto di tutto questo periodo, in cui le genti italiche vennero elaborando la religione, il diritto, la famiglia, le istituzioni, il co stume, non un solo nome proprio è sopravvissuto: dei veri grandi uomini, dei veri fondatori di una convivenza sociale non si conosce nè la patria, nè il nome, nè l'epoca precisa, in cui siano vissuti; ma se la memoria degli uomini è perita, sopravvissero perd le isti tuzioni e tutti i concetti fondamentali, che costituirono poi la base della futura grandezza di questi popoli. Fin qui del patriziato e delle sue istituzioni, di cui dovette essere lungo il discorso, perchè era lungo il suo passato; ora importa stu diare le condizioni della plebe, la quale se non ha per sè il passato, dovrà perd avere una gran parte nell'avvenire della città. La formola della deditio ci fa conservata da Livio, I, 38. È notabile: che in essa intervengono anche i Feziali; che si domanda se il popolo che fa la deditio è in sua potestate (il che prova che un popolo, al pari di una persona, poteva essere sotto la potestà di un altro); e che è serbata affatto la forma contrattuale della stipu lazione: « Deditisne vos populum Conlatinum, urbem, agros, aquam, terminos, de « lubra, utensilia, divinaque humanaque omnia, in meam populique romani ditio « nem? – Dedimus. At ego recipio ». Le cose premesse intorno all'organizzazione ed alle istituzioni proprie delle genti patrizie ci pongono finalmente in condizione di prendere in esame la questione della origine della plebe e della sua posizione giuridica di fronte al patriziato negli inizii della comu nanza romana. La genesi di questo elemento, che, poco importante dapprima, fini per esercitare tanta influenza sull'avvenire della città, è certo il più importante problema della storia primitiva di Roma, e quindi si comprende che gli autori tutti siansi travagliati intorno al medesimo ed abbiano anche proposto opinioni compiutamente di verse (1). Sonovi alcuni, fra i quali il Lange, che vorrebbero rannodare l'origine della plebe alla caduta di Alba e alla conquista di altre città latine, la cui popolazione sotto Anco Marzio sarebbe stata tras portata a Roma. Certo un tale avvenimento non potè a meno di avere grande importanza per accrescere il numero ed assicurare l'avvenire della plebe romana; ma egli è impossibile riconoscere in questo fatto l'origine primitiva della plebe, dappoichè, secondo la tradizione, la medesima sarebbe già esistita all'epoca della prima fondazione di Roma; cosicchèRomolo prima e Numa dappoi già avreb bero preso dei provvedimenti per l'ordinamento di essa.L'enumerazione delle varie opinioni circa l'origine della plebe colla indicazione degli autori, che le professano, può vedersi nel Willems, Le droit public romain, pag. 31, e nel Bouchè-LECLERCQ, Manuel des institutions romaines, pag. 11, né 3; come pure nell'opera, ancora in corso di pubblicazione, del prof. LANDO LANDUCCI, col titolo: Storia del diritto romano dalle origini fino a Giustiniano. Corso scola stico. Padova, 1886, pag. 274; opera che,mentre nel testo offre riassunti i risultati, a cui son pervenuti gli studii sulla storia del diritto romano, nelle note porge no tizia agli studiosi della ricchissima letteratura sull'argomento. (2) Il Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome, I, pag. 56 e segg., tratta largamente la questione e considera la plebe primitiva di Roma, come una moltitudine di pe regrini dediticii, il cui nucleo più importante sarebbe uscito dalle città latine. A suo avviso, essa è dapprima affatto estranea al popolo delle curie, la quale opinione è pure seguita dal KarlowA, Römisches Rechtsgeschichte] Non può parimenti ammettersi col Vico, che la plebe fosse origina riamente costituita da clienti ammutinati contro l'ordine dei padri, in quanto che, durante il periodo regio, la plebe non trovasi an cora in condizioni tali da impegnare la lotta col patriziato; lotta che, sebbene siasi forse iniziata al tempo dei re, cominciò solo ad essere argomento di racconto e di storia col periodo repubblicano. A ciò si aggiunge, che anche durante la lotta i clienti ed i plebei appariscono in opposizione fra di loro, comeappare dai richiamidella plebe contro la clientela, che costituiva la forza maggiore dell'or dine patrizio. Tuttavia questo fatto, che condusse taluni a con siderare la plebe e la clientela, come due termini inconciliabili ed opposti fra di loro, non ha impedito, che più tardi sianvi state delle famiglie, che originariamente erano in condizione di clienti, e che poi il quale considera anzi la plebe comeuna popolazione residente fuori della cerchia della Roma primitiva, e nota che il Celio, l’Appio e il Cispio, secondo una osservazione stata fatta di recente, hanno un nome identico a quello proprio di genti plebee. Anche il Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, I, pag. 258, viene alla conclusione che i plebei non solo non partecipassero alle curie; ma che essi costituissero una corporazione distinta, la quale, dopo l'istituzione del tribunato della plebe, si sarebbe organizzata nei comitia tributa. La corporazione esercitava sui suoi membri un potere di coerci zione, ne quid ex publica lege corrumpent. Il suo magistrato era il tribunus plebis; al modo stesso che i suoi giudici non sarebbero stati dapprima i centumviri, ma i decemviri, che sarebbero stati tratti dalla plebe. È quindi questa l'opinione, che contrappone più apertamente il populus e la plebes, e ci fa assistere alla lenta fu sione dei due elementi, anche dopo che entrarono a formare parte della stessa comu. nanza. Questo è certo, e cid apparirà meglio a suo tempo, che quella singolare isti tuzione del tribunato della plebe, che non riesce mai ad inquadrarsi perfettamente nella costituzione politica di Roma, dimostra abbastanza, che se colla legislazione decemvirale i due ordini cominciarono ad essere governati da un comune diritto; essi continuarono però ancora per lungo tempo a costituire due classi sociali com piutamente distinte, e recarono un contributo molto diverso sia nello svolgimento della costituzione politica, che in quello del diritto privato di Roma. Cfr. al riguardo PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto romano, pag. 19, e la nota del prof. Cogliolo, in cui pare che l'annotatore si scosti dall' opinione certamente troppo recisa del Padel LETTI, il quale sostiene che patriziato e plebe siano stati, fin dalle origini, ammessi a far parte della assemblea delle curie. Il luogo, in cui il V100 svolge più chiaramente questo suo concetto, è nella prima Scienza nuova, lib. II, Cap. XXXII, dove scrive: « che le prime repubbliche sorsero dagli ammutinamenti dei clienti, attediati sempre di coltivare i campi per li signori, dai quali essendo fino all'anima malmenati, gli si rivoltarono contro; e dai clienti così uniti sorsero le prime plebi; onde, per resister loro, furono i nobili dalla natura portati a stringersi in ordini »: Di qui appare, che anche il Vico fa rimontare l'origine della plebe ad epoca anteriore alla formazione della città. 168 recarono un contributo potente alla plebe nella sua lotta col patri ziato; donde si può argomentare, che anche nella plebe primitiva possono essere entrati degli antichi clienti, che per circostanze di varia natura erano stati prosciolti dal vincolo della clientela. Cosi stando le cose, ha molto del verosimile l'opinione del Mommsen, che in qualche parte si accosta a quella del Vico, secondo cui il nucleo primitivo della comunanza plebea si sarebbe venuto formando per mezzo di clienti, che di fatto si trovavano svincolati dal loro patrono per l'estinzione della gente, da cui essi dipendevano (1). Se non che si presenta ovvia l'osservazione, che quando questo fosse stato il solo mezzo per costituire la plebe, la medesima diffi cilmente avrebbe potuto, fin dal periodo regio, prendere così grandi proporzioni da imporsi al patriziato e farsi accogliere nella città. Quindi è, che l'opinione del Mommsen trova forse un opportuno compimento nella teoria del Niebhur, il quale, tenuto conto del modo, in cui le comunanze plebee si erano formate in condizioni sto riche analoghe a quelle in cui trovavansi i primitivi stabilimenti delle genti patrizie, venne a considerare come una legge storica costante, quella per cui accanto ad uno stabilimento di casate pa trizie, chiuso e fortificato in sè stesso, formasi naturalmente una specie di comunanza plebea; la quale, senza partecipare dapprima agli onori, ai suffragi, e ai matrimonii della città patrizia, pud tut tavia giungere ad una certa indipendenza dalla medesima, mediante il possesso e la coltura delle terre, e mediante l'esercizio dei mestieri e delle professioni diverse (2 ). Tuttavia anche l'opinione del Niebhur (1) MOMMSEN, Histoire romaine, I, Chap. V, pag. 103 e segg. Questa opinione fu poiadottata dal WILLEMS, Le Sénat de la République Romaine,Paris, 1878, pag. 15. (2) Ritengo che anche oggi il Niebhur sia l'autore, che è pervenuto a studiare con vedute più larghe l'origine della plebe. Di regola esso è annoverato fra coloro, i quali ritengono che la plebe sia stata composta delle popolazioni vicine a Roma, state dalle medesima sottomessa. Tale è, ad esempio, l'opinione, che gli è attribuita dal WILLEMS dal Bouchè-LECLERCQ, op. e loc. cit. La lettura invece del capitolo intitolato: « La commune et les tribus plébéiennes » della Histoire romaine, mi ha convinto che il NIEBHUR si è fatta una idea più larga della questione. Le conquiste, secondo lui, hanno bensì contribuito ad accrescere e a trasformare la plebe romana, sopratutto coll'incorporazione delle popolazioni latine; ma intanto essa già preesisteva nelle stesse tribù primitive, costituiva una specie di vera comunanza separata e distinta dal patriziato, composta mediante l'ammessione di cives sine suffragio, e di clienti rimasti senza patrono (op. e loc. cit., pag. 149). Tuttavia misia pur lecito di constatare, che l'autore, il quale ha meglio compreso quel carattere 169 lascia ancor sempre senza spiegazione quello stato di inferiorità e di abbiezione, pressochè servile, in cui una parte almeno della plebe trovasi di fronte al patriziato negli inizii di Roma; cose tutte, che non si comprenderebbero quando si trattasse di possessori e di cul tori di terre, che fossero stati sempre indipendenti dal patriziato. 137. Tutte queste considerazioni mi confermano nell'opinione già altrove manifestata, che il fenomeno della formazione primitiva della plebe debba cercarsi nella sovrapposizione delle genti italiche di origine aria sovra altre razze già preesistenti. In quel periodo di privata violenza, che non dovette essere dissimile da quello, che ebbe poi ad avverarsi, allorchè le razze germaniche invasero l'Impero, gli elementi in urto ed in lotta fra di loro dovettero dividersi in due classi, cioè, in quella dei vincitori e in quella dei vinti; in quella di coloro, che erano tenuti compatti dalla potente organizzazione genti lizia, e in quella di coloro, che non erano ancora cosi progrediti nella loro organizzazione domestica e sociale. Quelli costituirono la classe dominante dei padri, dei patroni, dei patrizii e si vennero sempre più fortificando nella loro ferrea organizzazione gentilizia, e tentarono di fare entrare nei quadri della medesima anche la classe dei vinti, ponendola nella condizione subordinata di servi e di clienti. È in quest'epoca di lotta e di conflitto, che è mestieri di cercare l'o rigine prima di quella distinzione di classi, che si trova agli inizii della comunanza romana; al modo stesso, che è nell'epoca feudale, che deve essere cercata l'origine di quelle distinzioni di classi, le cui traccie simantennero a lungo dappoi, e la cui lotta diede eziandio origine al movimento democratico odierno. Per trovare quindi la prima origine della distinzione converrebbe poter scomporre le po polazioni italiche primitive, conoscere le stirpi diverse da cui esse provennero, e determinare la posizione, in cui i vinti ebbero a tro varsi di fronte alla potente organizzazione dei vincitori; problemi tutti, per la cui risoluzione ci mancano per ora gli elementi necessarii. particolare della città antica, per cui essa suppone il concorso di due elementi, di cui l'ano superiore e l'altro inferiore, le cui lotte danno vita e movimento alla città, è certamente il nostro Vico. La città patrizia non è ancora che un ordine e una cor porazione di padri; mentre è la città patrizio-plebea, che ci porge lo spettacolo della lotta tra quelli, che intendono sopratutto a conservare l'antico ordine di cose, e quelli che abbisognano di innovare per migliorare la condizione presente. 170 138. Forse tali indagini potrebbero anche condurre al risultato, che fra le varie comunanze di villaggio ve ne erano di quelle dedite alle armi ed organizzate per genti e che come tali appartenevano al patriziato e costituivano una specie di aristocrazia territoriale;mentre poi ve ne erano delle altre, prive di tradizioni, dedite soltanto al lavoro dei campi e all'esercizio delle professioni e dei mestieri di versi (quale sembra essere stato ad esempio il vicus Tuscus), che costituivano delle comunanze plebee. Quest' ultime naturalmente dovevano trovarsi in una specie di dipendenza e pressochè di vas sallaggio, rimpetto alle prime; il che potrebbe spiegare in certi con fini quei forcti ac sanates, di cui ci parla Festo, che comprende vano le popolazioni superiori ed inferiori a Roma e trovavansi in dipendenza rimpetto alla medesima, la quale tuttavia già accomunava ad essi una parte del proprio diritto, cioè il ius nexi manci piique (1). Tuttavia, se ciò può esser vero delle plebi rurali, questo si può affermare con certezza, che certamente un buon dato della plebe primitiva e sopratutto della plebe urbana di Roma ebbe ad uscire dalla classe, che trovavasi in condizione inferiore nell'orga nizzazione gentilizia. Cid soltanto può spiegare la superiorità incon trastata del patriziato e l'abbiezione pressochè servile di una parte della plebe, che tradisce ancora quel sentimento di rispetto e di paura, che ha il servo affrancato per il suo antico padrone (2 ). (1) La questione intorno alla condizione dei forcti ac sanates è una delle più difficili, che presenti la storia primitiva di Roma, per la povertà ed anche la muti lazione dei passi degli autori, che vi si riferiscono (V. Festo, vº Sanates, quale è riportato nel Bruns, Fontes, pag. 364, nella Va edizione, pubblicatasi in quest'anno dal Mommsen). Io credo tuttavia, che la medesima, dandoci un concetto del tratta mento giuridico, che i Romani usavano colle popolazioni circostanti a Roma, possa porgerci dei dati preziosi per argomentare quale fosse la condizione della plebe, du rante il periodo esclusivamente patrizio. Rimetto quindi l'esame della questione al Capitolo I di questo stesso libro. (2) Ecco quindi la conclusione, a cui parmi di poter venire. Nella plebe primitiva di Roma voglionsi distinguere due correnti: una uscita dalla stessa organizzazione gentilizia forma il primo nucleo di una popolazione, che ha sede contigua allo stabili mento patrizio, ma non è più compresa nei quadri del medesimo; l'altra invece, per conquiste o per immigrazione, viene ad incorporarsi in questo nucleo primitivo, e l'accresce per modo da richiamare l'attenzione sopra di esso. Questi due elementi appariscono accennati dalla tradizione stessa intorno alla plebe primitiva, poichè altra è la plebe, che già appartiene alle varie tribù, e che viene ancora ad essere col locata sotto la clientela dei padri, ed altra è la plebe, che la tradizione dice rac -- - 171 - 139. La formazione poi di questa plebe dovette cominciare, allorchè i vincoli dell'organizzazione gentilizia già cominciavano a rallentarsi. Ciò accadde quando alla gente, che era ancora stretta insieme dal vincolo della discendenza, cominciò a sovrapporsi la tribù; la quale comprendendo elementi, che potevano essere di origine diversa, fini per non riuscire sempre a chiudere nei suoi quadri, consacrati dalla religione, tutti gli elementi, che si venivano affollando intorno alla medesima. Cominciò cosi a formarsi al di fuori dell'organizza zione gentilizia, che era l'unica riconosciuta dalle genti patrizie, una moltitudine ed una folla, il cui primo nucleo può essere uscito dal seno stesso della medesima, ed essere anche costituito da clienti rimasti senza patrono; al modo stesso, che le comunanze popolari del medio Evo erano in parte costituite da famiglie, che un tempo erano vassalle del feudatario. Siccome però nell'epoche primitive ciò che è più difficile è il creare l'elemento novello, mentre il mede simo, una volta formato, può poi accrescersi in varie guise ed acco. gliere tutti coloro, che, per questa o quella considerazione, si trovano spostati nell'anteriore organizzazione: cosi questo primo nucleo, dopo essersi staccato dalla stessa organizzazione gentilizia, venne richia mando e quasi attraendo a sè rifugiati di altre comunanze; servi fuggitivi; immigranti, che non amavano di porsi sotto la protezione del patriziato, o che, per motivi religiosi o di altra natura, non erano ammessi alla medesima; popolazioni di vinti, che perdevano territorio, religione e famiglia; abitatori di vici, che si erano dati all'esercizio dei mestieri e delle professioni diverse; cultori di terre, che di fatto si erano stabiliti sul territorio situato nelle circostanze dello stabilimento patrizio; popolazioni stabilite superiormente od inferiormente a Roma, a cui per necessità di commercio si dovette dapprima accordare quel ius nexi mancipiique, di cui parlano le dodici Tavole, quanto ai forcti ac sanates. Ciò spiegherebbe anche come queste popolazioni, il cui nome era diventato inesplicabile per gli stessi antiquarii romani, abbiano col tempo perduta la loro an tica denominazione, in quanto che, a misura che estendevasi la do minazione romana, tutte queste popolazioni vennero ad essere com prese nella plebe, e non fu cosi più il caso di attribuire ad esse una colta mediante l'asilo offerto da Romolo. È parlando di questo asilo, che Livio, I, 8, ebbe a scrivere: « E. (asylo) ex finitimis populis, turba omnis, sine discrimine liber seu servus esset, avida novarum rerum, perfugit; idque ad caeptam magnitu dinem roboris fuit ». 172 speciale posizione giuridica. Per tal guisa il nucleo primitivo si venne ingrossando, e quando le genti patrizie volgero lo sguardo at torno a sè videro in esso una plebs, che nel significato primitivo suona moltitudine o folla. Il nome pertanto, che le fu dato, corrisponde alla impressione, che questa folla deve aver fatto sopra una classe di uomini, che non conosceva altra organizzazione fuorchè la gentilizia. Le genti infatti non potevano scorgere in essa dapprima, che ceti di uomini riuniti in una guisa, che per esse non aveva quel carattere religioso e sacro, che avevano tutte le loro istituzioni. Non potevano infatti chiamarla un populus, perchè non era nè divisa in curie, nè aveva consiglio di anziani, nè aveva un magistrato, che la diri gesse, nè era insomma un « coetus hominum iuris consensu et uti. litatis comunione sociatus », e quindi la chiamarono plebes. Di qui il dualismo fra populus et plebes, che trovasi in alcune formule arcaiche; dualismo, che per essere l'effetto di cause naturali viene a presentarsi non solo in Roma, ma in tutte le comunanze delle genti italiche. Di queste tuttavia, se ne hanno di quelle, in cui quest'elemento è tenuto in umile stato, come sarebbero le città etrusche, ed altre invece, in cui esso già ottiene qualche concessione, quali sarebbero appunto le città latine. Il primo senso del patriziato per quest'elemento novello, che prendeva ad esistere fuori dei quadri della propria gerarchia, dovette essere di un disprezzo non dissimile da quello, che più tardi i patrizii manifestarono per quei concilia plebis, che pur dovevano trasformarsi nei comizii tributi; ma al lorchè il numero di questa plebe venne facendosi sempre più grande, si comprende come questo elemento dovesse di necessità essere te nuto in conto, sopratutto in una comunanza di carattere belligero, quale era la romana. 140. Narra infatti la tradizione, per bocca almeno di Dionisio e di Cicerone, che il fondatore della città avrebbe collocata la plebe nella clientela del patriziato, e incaricato i padri di farle assegnidi terre, a titolo di precario, non dissimili da quelli, che essi facevano ai clienti. In verità per una città eminentemente patrizia, come era Roma primitiva, il miglior modo per organizzare la folla, che aveva seguito l'esercito del fondatore o che erasi accalcata intorno allo stabilimento da essa fondato, era quello di farla entrare nella ge rarchia dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Fin qui pertanto la plebe non è ancora veramente tale, ma è costretta ancora nei quadri della clientela. Pero a misura che la fortuna nascente di Roma od 173 anche l'apertura stessa di un asilo ai rifugiati e agli esuli dalle altre città (questo vetus urbis condentium consilium, che non è poi cosi improbabile, come ebbe a farlo la critica storica ) cominciarono a richia mare nei dintorni della città una quantità di individui e di capi di famiglia di provenienza diversa; anche la clientela venne ad essere insufficiente per comprendere nei proprii ranghi questa folla di uo mini, di cui una parte potè forse essere di origine ellenica ed etrusca, ed avere tradizioni e credenze diverse da quelle dai fondatori della città. Era stata la lunga coabitazione come servi e famuli nella famiglia, che nell'anteriore organizzazione gentilizia aveva servito a preparare la clientela delle genti patrizie. Questa preparazione invece mancava nel nuovo elemento, che accorreva nei dintorni di Roma; per tal modo l'antica istituzione religiosa ed ereditaria della clientela venne ad essere inadeguata e disacconcia al bisogno ed inetta a dare un'organizzazione al nuovo elemento. Quasi si direbbe che, collo svolgersi della città, l'antica forma, sovra cui si era modellata l'anteriore organizzazione sociale, che colla tribù già erasi alquanto sgretolata, venne a rompersi affatto. Quindi mentre tutto prima era compreso nella gerarchia gentilizia, colla città in vece comincia a farsi palese e a colpire lo sguardo questo ele mento novello, che guadagna e richiama a sè tutto ciò, che sfugge all'antica organizzazione. Dapprima il fatto dovette colpire l'ordine stesso dei padri, e loro parve strano di dover riconoscere, che l'or ganizzazione gentilizia più non potesse bastare ad ogni emergenza. Ma col tempo fu necessità arrendersi all' evidenza, e l'elemento nuovo non poteva essere trascurato per una comunanza come la Romana di carattere eminentemente belligero, e che abbisognava perciò di un contingente sempre nuovo per riempire le file del proprio esercito. Sopratutto il nuovo elemento doveva apparire im portante per il re, il quale da una parte poteva trovare in esso un sussidio potente per la formazione dell'esercito, e dall'altra, as sumendo la qualità di patrono non dei singoli plebei, ma dell'in tiera classe, poteva anche trovare in essa un appoggio per bilanciare la soverchia influenza dei padri. Questi infatti, memori, che il re era il loro eletto ed il rappresentante, a cui avevano affidato i proprii auspicia, lo volevano naturalmente ligio ai proprii interessi e mira vano a valersi di esso per trasportare anche nella città l'organiz zazione per genti e per tribù, per quanto la medesima male si accon ciasse alla nuova condizione.  Gli è questo il motivo, per cui noi vediamo, secondo la tra dizione, prendersi dai re, che vengono dopo, una serie di provve dimenti nell'intento di organizzare la plebe. Mentre Romolo, dopo avere, secondo Dionisio, affidato alla plebe la coltura delle terre e l'esercizio delle arti manuali, si limita a porla sotto la clientela dei padri, e si vale cosi di un istituto vecchio per comprendere un ele mento nuovo (1), Numa invece già prende quanto alla plebe due importantissimi provvedimenti. Il primo è quello di distribuire direttamente ai più poveri, che sono appunto quei tenuiores, di cui parla Festo, e che appartengono alla plebe, l'ager conquistato da Romolo, e che era venuto ad ac crescere l'ager publicus; il quale provvedimento produsse l'effetto, che la plebe da questo momento, almeno in parte, cesso di essere sotto il patronato dei patres. Però siccome i cambiamenti sono e devono essere lenti; cosi al patronato dei patres sembra sottentrare una specie di patronato del re, il quale fa alla plebe quegli assegni di terre, che dapprima erano affidati ai patres (2). Forse può darsi che dapprima questi assegni di terre, fatti dal re alla plebe sull'ager publicus, fossero soltanto a titolo di semplice precario, come quelli che erano fatti dai patres ai clienti sull'ager gentilicius; ma in tanto è già un passo importante per la plebe quello di non dipen dere più direttamente dai capi delle genti, ma di essere sotto il patronato o almeno sotto la protezione diretta del re, custode e ma gistrato della città. L'altro provvedimento, ricordato da Plutarco, e che egli dice essere stato altamente lodato, fu quello per cui Numa avrebbe di (1) Dion., 2, 9: « Romulus postquam potiores ab inferioribus secrevit;mox legem tulit et quid utrisque faciendum esset disposuit: patricii sacerdotiis et magistra tibus fungerentur et iudicarent, plebeiï vero agros colerent et pecus alerent etmer. cenarias artes exercerent » (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 3 ). (2 ) Quanto a questa ripartizione fatta da Numa, vi ha divergenza fra CICERONE, De rep., II, 14, secondo cui la ripartizione si sarebbe fatta viritim ai cittadini in genere, mentre DIONISIO vuole che siasi fatta ai più poveri, II, 62. Cfr. Bongur, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 85. - Per quello che si riferisce al patronato del re sopra la plebe, ritengo col KARLowa, che ilmedesimo non possa essere preso nella signifi cazione giuridica attribuita al vocabolo (Röm. R. G., I, pag. 63 ). Ciò tuttavia pon toglie, che la plebe, dopo essersi resa indipendente dal patriziato, abbia trovato nel re il suo protettore naturale, e siccome tale protezione non si comprendeva al lora che sotto la figura di clientela, così gli autori considerarono il re come patrono o la plebe come sua cliente. - stribuito quella parte della plebe, che era dedita alle arti manuali e all'esercizio delle professioni diverse, in corporazioni di arti e mestieri (collegia ), che furono nove: quella cioè dei suonatori di flauto, degli orefici, dei muratori, dei tintori, dei calzolai, dei cuoiai, dei fabbri, dei vasai e l'ultima di tutte le altre professioni, dando alle medesime proprie riunioni e i proprii riti. Vero è, che questo provve dimento ebbe ad essere posto in dubbio dalla critica e fra gli altri dal Mommsen, e che probabilmente i collegi, la cui formazione si attribuisce a Numa, potevano già esistere precedentemente, sopra tutto nel vicus Tuscus, la cui popolazione fu una delle prime ad essere compresa nella plebe romana: ma non è punto improbabile che, come erasi cercato di provvedere alla plebe dedita alla coltura delle terre, cosi si cercasse di dare un'organizzazione alla plebe dedita agli esercizi delle arti e professioni diverse, o di consacrare almeno l'organizzazione, che già esisteva precedentemente o che tro vavasi in via di formazione (1). Non è quindi il caso di respingere la tradizione, dal momento che non vi ha nulla di meglio da sosti tuirvi; almodo stesso che è meglio accettare anche le figure alquanto leggendarie dei re, piuttosto che sostituirvi qualche cosa, che non ha neppur più della leggenda, la quale è pur sempre intessuta sopra un fondo di vero. Intanto questo si può affermare con certezza, che fin dagli inizii di Roma cominciò ad apparire un dualismo nella plebe ro mana, che, accennato fin dall'epoca di Romolo con affidare alla plebe la coltura delle terre e l'esercizio delle arti manuali, già comincia a delinearsi con Numa, il quale ad una parte della plebe fa assegni di terre e l'altra distribuisce per arti e mestieri, e che più tardi finisce per accentuarsi molto più recisamente. Havvi infatti in Roma, fin dai proprii esordii, una plebe rurale, composta di piccoli possidenti, ed (1) PLUTARCO, Numa, 17: « De ceteris eius institutis maximam admirationem « habet plebis per artificia distributio; haec vero fuit: tibicinum, aurificum, fabrorum « tignuariorum, tinctorum, sutorum, coriariorum, fabrorum aerariorum, figulorum; « reliquas artes in unum cöegit, unumque ex iis omnibus fecit corpus; consortia et < concilia et sacra cuique generi tribuens convenientia » (V. BRUNS, Fontes, pag. 11 ). L'autore, che sembrava porre in dubbio questa distribuzione della plebe in arti e mestieri, sarebbe lo stesso MOMMSEN, De collegiis ac sodaliciis; Liliae, 1843, citato dal MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 11; ma pare che nella Storia Romana accetti la ripartizione stessa come una verità di fatto. - - una plebe, composta di artieri, commercianti, esercenti le arti e le professioni diverse. L'ideale della prima è quello sopratutto di mu tare le sue possessioni di terre in una proprietà indipendente, che la ponga in condizione di provvedere al sostentamento di sè e della propria famiglia; quello insomma di avere quell'heredium o man cipium, che pur appartiene al capo della famiglia patrizia. A questa plebe, che non abita nelle mura di Roma, ma nelle circostanze di essa, dovette probabilmente dalla città patrizia essere riconosciuto quel diritto, che più tardi da Roma fu pure riconosciuto alle popo lazioni vicine, che sono indicate col nome di forcti ac sanates, cioè il ius nexi mancipiique. Cid pud essere argomentato da cid, che Roma di regola suole seguire gli stessi processi in condizioni anaa loghe e quindi è probabile, che questa plebe, che risiedeva fuori della città, e costituiva in certo modo una popolazione circostante alla medesima, fosse trattata nel modo stesso, in cui da essa furono poi trattate le altre popolazioni vicine. L'altra parte della plebe invece, mancando di altra organizzazione, cerca di rafforzarsi, come farà più tardi anche la popolazione commerciante dei comuni del Medio Evo, mediante le corporazioni di arti e di mestieri. Quelli, che apparten gono alla plebe rurale, convengono in Roma i giorni di mercato per vendervi i loro prodotti, e per conoscere anche i provvedimenti, che siano presi nell'interesse comune; mentre gli altri, che apparten gono alla classe dei piccoli commercianti ed artieri, formano fin d'allora il primo nucleo di quella plebe urbana, nel seno della quale si formerà più tardi quella forensis factio, che già comincia ad apparire sotto la censura di Appio Claudio, e getta il discredito sulle tribù urbane. 143. Già erasi così delineata la distinzione fra plebe rurale ed urbana, quando sopraggiunse un avvenimento, il quale diede una grande compattezza all'organizzazione della plebe romana, e mentre ne accrebbe il numero e la potenza, le diede anche un nuovo indi rizzo e ne assicurò l'avvenire. Questo avvenimento fu l'aggregarsi alla plebe romana della parte più povera della popolazione di Alba, la cui distruzione è attribuita a Tullo Ostilio, e quella del trasporto od anche, come pare più probabile, della riunione alla plebe di Roma per opera di Anco Marzio, della popolazione di varie città latine da lui conquistate. Questo nuovo contributo venne ad accrescere la forte plebe rurale, vivamente affezionata al fondo da essa coltivato, e disposta a porre la vita per la difesa di esso, e fece entrare nella - 177 plebe un elemento, la cui origine era analoga a quella del patriziato, e che aveva già un'organizzazione domestica, non dissimile da quella del medesimo. Fu il rifiuto del corpo chiuso del patriziato primitivo di Roma di ricevere nel proprio seno queste famiglie delle città la tine, che assicurò l'avvenire della plebe romana, incorporando in essa un elemento, che portò nella lotta per il pareggiamento giuri dico e politico una tenacità e perseveranza, non dissimili da quelle, che contraddistinguono il patriziato romano. Di qui la conseguenza, che come era stata latina l'organizzazione del patriziato romano, poichè gli elementi sopraggiunti erano entrati nei quadri della città latina; così fu sopratutto latina la massa più forte della plebe ro mana, quella massa, di cui una buona parte entro più tardi a costi tuire la nuova nobiltà. Senza questo elemento la plebe primitiva, di origine diversa e che in parte era forse di origine servile, avrebbe molto probabilmente continuato lungamente a mantenersi tale;mentre questo innesto di famiglie latine, che nel loro paese nativo tenevano già un certo grado, per cui loro dovette riuscire grave di vedersi respinte dai quadri dell'ordine patrizio, portò forza, organizzazione, tenacità nella plebe e ne assicurò l'avvenire, fino a che questo ele mento vigoroso e vitale non fini per uscire dalla plebe stessa, che aveva resa potente, e aggregandosi alla nobiltà abbandonò la plebe minuta agli spettacoli del circo e alle distribuzioni di frumento. 144. Per comprendere però un avvenimento di questa natura, importa farsi un'idea chiara della lotta, che vi era fra Alba da una parte e Roma dall'altra. Erano entrambe due città latine, cioè due centri di vita pubblica fra varie comunanze di villaggio, ed erano troppo vicine per poter coesistere. L'una o l'altra doveva cedere, e la conseguenza era per la soccombente di dover scompa rire come città e come urbs, per modo che le comunanze, che mettevano capo ad essa, dovessero invece fare capo a quella, che riusciva vittoriosa. Il patto quindi che, secondo la tradizione, ebbe ad essere suggellato fra i capi dei due popoli, con tutte le cerimonie del diritto feziale, era che, trattandosi di popoli fratelli, si dovessero rimettere al combattimento di tre per parte le sorti della guerra (1). (1) Questo intento della guerra Albana è messo in evidenza dalle parole, che Livio, I, 27, attribuisce a Tullo Ostilio nella concione tenuta avanti ai due popoli prima di condannare allo squartamento Metto Fuffezio: « Quod bonum, faustum G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 12 178 La lotta quindi leggendaria fra Orazii e Curiazii era lotta di pre dominio fra le due città, la cui parentela era ricordata e riconosciuta, ed era una specie di giudizio di Dio per sapere quale dovesse preva lere: senza che occorra di sforzarsi col Lange a volere che il numero dei tre corrisponda alle tre tribù, e che il nome di Curiazi provenga dalle curie (1). Conseguenza dell'esito del duello fu, che la città soccombente perdette la propria esistenza separata e fu distrutta come urbs, e quindi le genti patrizie albane furono aggregate al patriziato romano, a cui si aggiunsero cosi i Tullii, i Servilii, i Quinzii, iGe ganei, i Curiazii, i Clelii, le cui genti pero, per essere sopraggiunte più tardi, furono poi collocate dallo stesso Tullo Ostilio o da Tar quinio Prisco nel novero delle gentes minores. Tutta la popolazione invece, che, nelle condizioni, in cui allora si trovava, non poteva entrare nel patriziato entro in massa nei ranghi della plebe, e una parte di essa, cioè la più povera, ebbe anche degli assegni di terre. Cid pure accadde, quando Anco Marzio vinse altre comunanze latine, e ne aggregò la popolazione alla plebe romana; il che fu dalla tradi zione espresso con dire, che Anco Marzio aveva trasportata a Roma la popolazione di quattro città latine (2 ). 145. È a questo punto pertanto, che la plebe acquista in Roma una vera importanza, e che viene ad essere indispensabile di trovare un modo per farla entrare, ancorchè a condizioni disuguali, nella cittadi nanza romana; tentativo cominciato con Tarquinio Prisco, e condotto a compimento da Servio Tullio (3). Mentre Tarquinio Prisco non riesce felixque sit populo romano ac mihi,vobisque, Albani; populum omnem Albanum Romam traducere in animo est; civitatem dare plebi; primores in patres legere: unam urbem, unam rempublicam facere ». (1) Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome, I, pag. 35. (2) Questi fatti attestati dalla tradizione e da tutti gli storici rendono a parer mio non accoglibile l'opinione sostenuta con molta erudizione dal PANTALEONI nella sua Storia civile e costituzionale di Roma, lib. I, cap. 6, pag. 97 a 113, Torino, 1881, secondo cui il partiziato romano sarebbe stato Sabellico, mentre la plebe sarebbe stata Latina. Questi fatti invece dimostrano, che la popolazione delle città latine era essa pure divisa in patriziato ed in plebe, cosicchè quel dualismo che presentasi in Roma già preesisteva nel Lazio. Del resto l'ipotesi del dotto au tore sarà poi presa in esame quando si tratterà della legislazione regia, Lib. II, cap. IV, discorrendo del contributo recato dalle varie stirpi italiche alle istituzioni giuridiche di Roma. (3) L'importanza grandissima per l'avvenire della plebe romana di quest' innesto 179 che a conglobare i rappresentanti di queste varie genti nei sacer dozii, nel senato e nell'ordine dei cavalieri, raddoppiandone il numero, e continua a lasciare la plebe nella condizione, in cui prima si trovava; Servio Tullio invece inizia una organizzazione novella, che può comprendere così nelle file dell'esercito, che nelle riunioni dei comizii quella plebe, che è già pervenuta a tale po sizione economica e sociale, da interessarla alla cosa pubblica. È da questo punto parimenti, che la plebe rustica di Roma comincia ad essere più apprezzata che la plebe urbana, e che principia ad avverarsi fra i due ordini la possibilità della formazione di un diritto comune ai medesimi. Il motivo di questo ravvicinamento deve anche essere riposto nel fatto, che le istituzioni del patriziato e quelle del nuovo elemento, aggiuntosi alla plebe, non erano a grande distanza fra di loro; poichè l'uno e l'altro avevano la medesima organizza zione domestica, ed oltre a ciò fra queste famiglie latine ve ne erano di quelle che un patriziato, meno esclusivo e geloso dei suoi privilegi, avrebbe potuto accogliere nel proprio seno (1). Ferma quest'origine della plebe e questa primitiva organizzazione della medesima, veniamo a ricercare quali fossero le istituzioni giu ridiche, che essa poteva possedere all'epoca, in cui entrò a far parte della comunanza romana. di forti popolazioni latine sulla plebe primitiva, in parte di origine servile, è un fatto riconosciuto da tutti gli storici. Cominciò a notarlo il NIEBHUR, e dopo di lui il Mommsen, il Lange e molti altri. (1) Nota molto accortamente a questo proposito il Gentile, Le elezioni e il bro glio, pag. 142, che « quella nobiltà, che poscia fu chiamata nuova e che in gran parte esce di ceppo latino, non era tanto nuova, quanto sembra alla prima; perchè discendeva dalle vecchie aristocrazie di comunità italiche, venute ad aggregarsi allo stato romano, e che avevano aspirato agli onori in quella cittadinanza, a cui più o meno recentemente erano ascritte ». Di qui la conseguenza, a cui egli allude a pag. 150, che « la costituzione romana, eminentemente democratica nei principii, colla piena sovranità popolare nel nome, lasciava il reggimento della cosa pubblica, immobile nella mano di pochi ». La posizione giuridica della plebe di fronte al patriziato. 146. Se posta questa origine della plebe e questa primitiva or ganizzazione della medesima, si domandasse ora in che consistesse la plebe all'epoca, in cui essa appare nella storia di Roma, sarebbe necessità di rispondere con una deffinizione di carattere negativo. La plebe infatti è negli esordii di Roma tutto quel nucleo di indi. vidui e di famiglie di origine diversa, che di fatto trovasi stabilita nel territorio romano, nei dintorni della città patrizia; ma che intanto è priva ancora di qualsiasi posizione giuridica, perchè non entra a far parte dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Essa è, come dice Gellio, quella parte di popolazione, che è stabilita di fatto sul suolo romano, ma in cui « gentes patriciae non insunt » (1); o meglio an cora quella parte di tale popolazione, che, non essendo compresa nei quadri della organizzazione gentilizia, non può dapprima entrare nelle curie e negli ordini della città patrizia. Al modo stesso, che più tardi si chiamerà peregrinus chiunque non sia cittadino di Roma, o non sia in guerra con essa, e per passare anche ad un altro ordine di idee si chiameranno con Gaio nec mancipii tutte quelle cose, che non appartengono alla cerchia prima formatasi della res mancipii, e anche più tardi si diranno in bonis tutte quelle cose, che appar tengono ad una persona senza appartenerle ex iure quiritium; cosi alla domanda in che consista la primitiva plebe di Roma si pud solo rispondere, che essa è quell'elemento, che esiste accanto al po pulus, ma che non entra nei quadri di esso, consacrati dalla reli gione; quell'elemento, che esiste di fatto sul territorio della città patrizia, ma che non è compreso nell'organizzazione giuridica e politica di essa. Ora e sempre sarà questo il punto di vista, a cui si colloca il popolo romano, il quale ferma il suo sguardo sopra di sè, sopra il suo culto, sopra la sua religione, sopra la sua urbs, la sua civitas, sopra il suo diritto, e in base al medesimo classifica e dispone tutto il rimanente dell'universo, secondo la posizione, che esso tiene riguardo a sè e alle proprie istituzioni. Questo modo di (1) GELL., Noct. att., X, 21, 5. - 181 - procedere del resto non sembra esser proprio soltanto dei Romani, che chiamano tutti gli altri popoli hostes o peregrini; ma anche dei Greci, che hanno una sola qualificazione per tutti gli altri, che è quella di Barbari; anche dei cristiani del Medio Evo, che chia mano tutti gli altri col nome di infedeli; ed in genere sembra es sere proprio di tutte le stirpi Ariane, anche nell'Oriente, le quali cre. dono di avere il diritto di sovrapporsi a tutte le altre. Che anzi questo modo di procedere può anche ritenersi comune a tutto il genere umano, sopratutto nelle epoche primitive, in cui ogni popolo, chiuso in sè stesso, mal conoscendo il rimanente, giudica ed ap prezza ogni cosa, facendo sè il centro dell'universo (1). È sempre applicando questa logica superba, ma ad un tempo ingenua e del tutto conforme alla natura dell'uomo, che il popolo formato dalle genti patrizie, chiamò plebe tutto ciò, che non era compreso nei suoi ordini, cioè nelle sue genti e nelle sue curie, e che poscia il populus romanus quiritium, dopo che già comprende va la plebe, vide una folla e moltitudine di peregrini e di hostes in tutti quelli, che non erano compresi nei quadri della città romana. Di qui con seguita, che la definizione di quell'elemento, che è il solo ad essere tenuto in conto, implica eziandio la deffinizione negativa di quello, che ne costituisce il contrapposto. 147. Se quindi è solo il populus delle gentes, che possiede un diritto, ne verrà comeconseguenza, che la plebe non può negli inizii avere rimpetto ad esso che una posizione di fatto, e continuerà ad esser sempre in questa condizione, finchè il populus non le verrà facendo qualche concessione, o la plebe stessa troverà modo di ac costarsi all'organizzazione del populus, e di penetrare, sotto questo o quell'aspetto, nei suoi ordini e nei suoi quadri, consacrati dalla religione e tutelati dal diritto. La plebe insomma è un elemento, che ha una posizione di fatto, e che si viene avviando alla conquista di una posizione di diritto. Essa è nella stessa posizione, in cui saranno poi i Latini e gli Italici, allorchè formeranno già il grosso dell'e sercito romano, e intanto non saranno ancora ammessi alla cittadi. (1) Fo qui applicazione di un concetto del Vico, il quale certo vide molto addentro alla natura dell'uomo primitivo. Tale concetto costituisce anzi la prima degnità della sua Seconda scienza nuova, secondo cui: « L'uomo per l'indefinita natura della mente umana, ove questa si rovesci nell'ignoranza, egli fa sè regola dell'universo ». Solo è a notarsi, che i Romani ciò non facevano per ignoranza,ma perchè veramente attri buivano a se stessi una superiorità sugli altri. 182 nanza romana: mentre questi ricorreranno in tale intento alla guerra sociale, la plebe ricorrerà invece alle lotte civili, finchè non avrà ottenuto il pareggiamento civile e politico. Qui, comenel resto, il processo della logica romana è sempre il medesimo; incomincia da tanti cerchi, che si vengono formando nell'interno della città, e che poi si vengono sempre più allargando, finchè non giungono a comprendere tutto l'universo conquistato dalla eterna città. 148. Ciò premesso si può comprendere, quale potesse essere lo stato delle istituzioni giuridiche presso la plebe primitiva di Roma. Esse erano istituzioni, che avevano un'esistenza di fatto: ma a cui il patriziato non annetteva effetti e conseguenze giuridiche. Tuttavia, anche considerate sotto questo aspetto, le istituzioni plebee non po tevano certo avere fra di loro un ' analogia, che possa paragonarsi con quella, che esisteva fra le istituzioni delle genti patrizie, la quale erasi fatta più intima, stante la loro partecipazione alla stessa co munanza civile e politica. Anzitutto si cercherebbero indarno presso la plebe quei concetti fondamentali, che abbiamo trovato cosi nettamente delineati presso le genti patrizie coi vocaboli di fas, di mos e di ius. Alla plebe invece non si applica dal patriziato che il vocabolo di usus, che riceve però presso di essa una larghissima applicazione. Per verità è coll'usus, che si vengono a rivelare esteriormente le unioni ma trimoniali della plebe, le quali non importano comunione delle cose divine ed umane. Parimenti è col mezzo dell'usus, che nelle consuetudini plebee potè avverarsi l'appropriazionedelle cose esterne. Non essendovi presso di essa quelle forme, che a giudizio del patriziato sono indispensabili per l'acquisto ed il trasferimento dei beni; così è solo, mediante l'usus, che appartenga ad una persona, a scienza e pazienza di tutti gli altri, che viene a manifestarsi non tanto la pro prietà, quanto la possessio, che dapprima tiene luogo di essa. In fine sarà eziandio, mediante l'usus, che, allorquando verrà a morire un capo di famiglia plebea, i suoi figli prima, e in sua mancanza i suoi congiunti ed anche i suoi vicini verranno a mettersi a possesso dei beni da esso lasciati; e avrà così origine quella singolare istitu zione dell'usucapio pro herede, che il buon Gaio trovava disonesta ed immorale, perchè non era coerente al principio dell'agnazione posto a fondamento della successione quiritaria (1). Tutto ciò insomma, (1) GAIO, Comm., II, 53, 54. 183 in cui predomina l'usus auctoritas (per usare l'efficacissimo voca bolo adoperato dalla legislazione decemvirale), piuttosto che il ius propriamente detto, tutto ciò che si fonda di preferenza sul fatto che sul diritto, è da ritenersi di origine plebea, e solo più tardi entrò a far parte del diritto quiritario sotto il nome di usucapio, di usureceptio, di possessio e simili. Cid spiega anche il motivo, per cui, allorchè la legislazione decemvirale attribuì carattere giuridico a queste istituzioni, essa abbia dovuto imporvi delle limi tazioni e prescrivere delle condizioni, alle quali poi si aggiunsero quelle richieste più tardi dalla giurisprudenza, perchè siavi usu capione, e perchè il possesso possa ottenere protezione giuridica. Ciò del resto era una conseguenza delle condizioni reali, in cui trovavasi la comunanza plebea; poichè se in un patriziato, dalle an tiche tradizioni, tutto era preveduto e regolato con norme e regole fisse, le quali se non avevano sempre un carattere giuridico, avevano almeno un carattere religioso e morale; in una comunanza invece, composta di individui e di famiglie di origine diversa, priva di tra dizioni e di recente formazione, i rapporti fra i singoli individui non potevano essere governati, che dall'usus. Credo non occorra qui di richiamare l'attenzione sulla grandissima importanza, che ha questa induzione per spiegare l'origine dimolte istituzioni primitive di Roma, e sopratutto quell'usucapione, che appare introdotta dalla legislazione decemvirale. Colla medesima viene ad apparire l'unità di concetto, a cui si informarono idecem viri, allorchè introdussero contemporaneamente l'usus auctoritas per l'acquisto della manus, per l'acquisto della proprietà immobile e mobile, e per l'acquisto anche del l'eredità. L'usucapio infatti era l'unico mezzo per mutare al più presto la posizione di fatto, in cui trovavasi la plebe, in una posizione di diritto. Ciò spiega eziandio come la primitiva possessio non dovesse richiedere nè giusto titolo, nè buona fede, e come sia stata necessaria una lunga elaborazione, perchè potesse uscirne la teorica del possesso e quella a un tempo dell'usucapione, le quali hanno fra di loro strettissima attinenza. Così pure si spiegano le definizioni di Ulpiano e di Modestino, secondo cui: < Usucapio est dominii adeptio per continuationem possessionis anni vel biennii », senza che richiedasi altra condizione. Lo stesso è a dirsi degli sforzi dei decemviri per trattenere l'istituzione da essi accolta in limiti tali, che non la rendessero pe ricolosa per la convivenza sociale, escludendola per le cose rubate, e consentendo alla moglie, che coabitava colmarito, di interrompere l'usucapione della manus, mediante il singolare istituto del trinoctium. Intendo però di riconoscere, che un avviamento a questa spiegazione già può ravvisarsi nel MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 48 e 179, nella sua ingegnosa congettura intorno all'origine della usucapio pro haerede, e nell' Esmein nel suo recente articolo sull' « Histoire de l'usucapion » che si trova nei suoi Mélanges d'Histoire de droit, Paris, 1886, pag. 171 a 217. Solo credo di 184 149. Parimenti, è sempre sotto l'influenza di queste speciali con dizioni, in cui trovasi la plebe, che i suoi commercii non possono essere governati da forme solenni, simili a quelle che si erano for mate fra i padri delle famiglie patrizie; ma dovettero svolgersi con forme semplici, quali erano suggerite dai bisogni di una comunanza, in seno a cui non era ancora organizzata una vera propria pro tezione giuridica. Fu quindi certamente nei rapporti della comune plebea, che dovette anche svolgersi l'emptio-venditio, accompagnata dalla tradizione della cosa e dal pagamento del prezzo, e questo fu forse anche il motivo, per cui presso gli antichi, secondo Festo, emere pro accipere ponebatur, in quanto che emere era vera mente prendere la cosa comperata (1). Fu in essa parimenti, che dovette aver origine quel singolare istituto della fiducia, il quale serve qual mezzo per accordare una efficace garanzia al proprio creditore, lasciando a sua mano la cosa, che deve servirgli di malle veria (2 ). Fu parimenti in essa, che dovette svolgersi quel modo aver allargato il concetto riunendo istituzioni, che potevano apparire disparate, e dimostrando, che l'opera dei decemviri fu in questa parte indirizzata a dare carat tere giuridico ad istituzioni, che avevano solo un'esistenza di fatto presso la comu nanza plebea. (1) Sarebbe infatti pressochè incomprensibile, che un popolo nelle condizioni eco nomiche, in cui trovavasi allora il Romano, e del quale una parte aveva già attra versato, e non inutilmente, tutto un periodo di organizzazione sociale, potesse igno rare contratti, come l'emptio venditio, la locatio conductio, e simili. Essi dovevano certamente esistere, quand'anche non fossero per avventura penetrati nel diritto qui ritario. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., COGLIOLO, Prefazione, pag. XI, alla traduzione del GOODWIN, Le XII Tavole, eseguita dal Gaddi, Città di Ca stello, 1887. È poi noto, che la disposizione della legge decemvirale, per cui la ven dita non è perfetta, che col pagamento del prezzo, è anche coinune alla Grecia; il che dimostra, che dovette essere determinata da comuni necessità, in quanto che la vendita seguiva talora fra persone, che appartenevano a genti e a comunanze diverse, e non sarebbe stato facile riavere la cosa, quando non ne fosse stato pagato il prezzo. (2 ) Anche l'istituto della fiducia è uno dei più antichi e dovette nascere nella comunanza plebea, perchè fuorusciti ed immigranti senza posizione giuridica non potevano ricorrere che a quella. Si spiega pertanto il largo uso, che se ne fece nel diritto primitivo di Roma, in quanto che vi si ricorre nel testamento, per la nomina di un tutore, per la concessione di un pegno e forse in molti altri casi ancora, che dovettero verificarsi pel costume e non penetrarono nel diritto quiritario propria mente detto. Ciò è dimostrato dalla frequenza, con cui nei poeti latini e sopratutto nei comici occorre il caso, in cui una persona, allontanandosi, affida il patrimonio e la figliuolanza (mandat familiam pecuniamque suam ) ad una persona di sua confi denza. Questo costume è anzi il perno, intorno a cui si aggira il Trinummus di PLAUTO. 185 - semplicissimo di fare testamento, che ci venne più tardi ancora de scritto da Gaio nelle sue forme primitive ed arcaiche, e che dovea servire più tardi come base al testamento quiritario per aes et li bram, per cui il plebeo, che muore senza figliuolanza, affida ad un amico il suo patrimonio e le sue sostanze, indicandogli la maniera in cui dovrà poi distribuirli, quando egli sarà morto. Del resto è questo il modo che ancora oggidi torna opportuno all'emigrante, che, trovandosi in pericolo di vita ed essendo lontano dalla patria e dalla famiglia, affida ad un amico, che avrà la fortuna di tornare in patria, tutto ciò, che egli ha potuto risparmiare, perchè lo riporti a coloro, che gli sono cari. Che anzi, dacchè siamo nella ricostruzione di quest'ordine di idee, parmi che a questo modo pri mitivo di fare testamento si rannodi senz'alcun dubbio quella istitu zione del fedecommesso, che, mantenutasi per certo nel costume, senza poter penetrare nella cerchia rigida del diritto civile romano, fini tuttavia per trionfare negli inizii dell'Impero e trionfo, perchè popu lare erat (1). Quel testamento quindi, che per un capo di famiglia patrizia doveva essere fatto coll'approvazione dell'assemblea della tribù dapprima, e poi davanti ai comizii della città e serviva sopra tutto a perpetuare l'heredium nelle famiglie, e ad impedire che il patrimonio uscisse dalla gente; per i membri invece della comunanza plebea non poteva essere che un atto di fiducia, un rimettersi, (1) Il testamento primitivo, a cui accennanoGaio, Comm. II, 102, ed anche Gellio, XV, 27, 3, è una specie di mancipatio cum fiducia, in virtù della quale una persona « si subita morte arguebatur, amico familiam suam, id est patrimonium suum,mancipio dabat, eumque rogabat, quid cuique post mortem suam dari vellet ». Ciò indica che la prima forma, sotto cui comparve il vero testamento, quello che poi si svolse nel testa mento per aes et libram, fu il fedecommesso,malgrado tutte le difficoltà che il mede simo incontrò poi per passare dal costume nel diritto civile romano. È poi degno di nota, che i Romani più tardiritennero di aver ricevuto dai peregrini questa istituzione del fedecommesso, che certo già esisteva nella primitiva comunanza plebea. Gaio in fatti, Comm. II, 285, scrive: « ut ecce peregrini poterant fidem commissam facere et ferre: haec fuit origo fideicommissorum »; il che mi conferma nell'induzione, che il primitivo diritto plebeo, di fronte al diritto già elaborato delle genti patrizie, dovette compiere quello stesso ufficio, che più tardi il diritto delle genti verrà a compiere di fronte al diritto civile di Roma. Che il fedecommesso poi, ancorchè non accolto nel diritto quiritario, abbia sempre continuato a mantenersi nel costume, è provato ad evidenza dai comici latini. Fra gli altri esempi basti il seguente tolto dall'Andria di TERENZIO, I, 5: « Bona nostra tibi permitto et tuae mando fidei ». È da vedersi in proposito l’Henriot, Mours jurid. et judic., I, pag. 411 e segg. 186 che altri faceva ad un amico o ad congiunto, acciò egli distribuisse le sue cose per il tempo, in cui avrebbe cessato di vivere. 150. Lo stesso infine è a dirsi dei modi di procedere contro il debitore in questo primitivo diritto plebeo. Sarebbe inutile cercarvi la forma solenne dell'actio sacramento, che era nata e si era svolta fra capi di famiglia, che sentivano la loro superiorità ed indipen denza; ma è più facile che trovisi fra la plebe l'uso della manus iniectio, ed anche quello della pignoris capio, istituzioni che sa rebbero incomprensibili fra capi di famiglie patrizie, ove sono già penetrati il fas ed il ius, ed hanno escluso, almeno nei rapporti fra i capi famiglia, l'uso di farsi ragione colla forza e l'esercizio della pignorazione privata (1). Così pure è naturale, perchè conforme alle condizioni della plebe, che in essa ancora si rinvengano le traccie della privata vendetta, del taglione, come pena di colui che ha recato un danno, della composizione a danaro per un furto sofferto, e perfino anche per un adulterio;perchè queste sono tutte istituzioni, che sono consentanee col modo di agire e di pensare di una comunanza plebea, mentre ri pugnerebbero all'organizzazione gerarchica e di carattere religioso, che era così fermamente stabilita presso il patriziato (2). La plebe (1) L'origine plebea dell'actio sacramento è esclusa dal carattere religioso inerente alla medesima ed anche dalla circostanza, che noi la troviamo comune alle genti italiche ed elleniche, come lo dimostra la descrizione, che ne troviamo in OMERO, Iliade, Canto XVIII, ove descrive lo scudo di Achille, il che può indurre a credere, che essa fosse già importata dall'Oriente. Quanto alla manus iniectio, essa poteva esistere fra la plebe, come esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni; ma non poteva avere la significazione giuridica, che vi attribuì il patriziato. In questo senso ritengo, che la manus iniectio fosse una procedura usata dai padri contro i debitori plebei, il che cercherò di provare nel capitolo seguente. (2) Questa varia concezione del delitto presso ceti di persone, che erano in con dizioni sociali compiutamente diverse, può essere facilmente compresa. Il patrizio sente di far parte di una corporazione religiosa e civile ad un tempo, e quindi può scorgere nel delitto un'offesa al costume dei maggiori, una violazione del fas, ed un danno alla comunanza: non così il plebeo, che è ancora soltanto un individuo, o un capo di famiglia, pressochè isolato in una comunanza in via di formazione. È quindi naturale, che egli nel delitto senta sopratutto il danno materiale che gliene deriva, che consideri la noxa (colpa ) come una noxia (danno): che quindi reagisca contro quel danno; ricorra al taglione; venga alla composizione a danaro; e così riverberi in modo più schietto l'impressione, che dovette fare il delitto nelle epoche primitive. Quegli vede già ogni cosa attraverso al gruppo di cui fa parte, e quindi comincia 187 primitiva nel delitto sente sopratutto il danno e reagisce contro di esso; mentre il patriziato già vi scorge un peccato contro la divinità e già comincia a ravvisarvi un danno, che colpisce l'intiera comu nanza. Tutte le istituzioni insomma, che non presuppongono una lunga preparazione anteriore, che non hanno una storia nel passato, ma che trovano direttamente la propria radice nelle tendenze naturali dell'uomo e nei bisogni immediati di una comunanza, che è soltanto in via di formazione, e in cui entra ad ogni istante un nuovo ele mento, che si viene aggregando, debbono essere ritenute di origine plebea. Non chiedansi alla plebe nè i iura gentium colle cerimonie solenni, da cui sono circondati, né le procedure, che contengono una storia del passato, nè gli auspicia, che ad ogni atto pubblico e pri vato imprimono un carattere religioso;ma solo chiedasi ad essa il senso di quel ius naturale, quod natura omnia animalia docuit. Sarà anzi questo connubio di un elemento onusto di tradizioni con un altro vergine di esse, che potrà rendere possibile la formazione di un di ritto, che finirà per dar forma giuridica a tutta l'immensa suppel lettile dei rapporti derivanti dalla civil convivenza. Come quindi esistevano, fin dagli inizii di Roma le traccie del ius gentium; cosi vi erano anche quelle del ius naturale, non come idea filosofica, pre sente alla mente di un giureconsulto, ma come un complesso di forze e di energie inerenti all'umana natura, che spingevano una comu nanza in via di formazione a provvedere a tutti i bisogni e a tutte le esigenze, che si venivano presentando. Per talmodo ciò che più tardi verrà ad essere nozione astratta, negli inizii è forza ed energia, che spinge, come direbbe il Vico, l'uomo ad celebrandam suam so cialem naturam. Basta questo per dimostrare, come anche negli usi della plebe potesse esistere un materiale greggio, che potè a poco a poco ricevere forma giuridica nel diritto quiritario. Per tal modo certe istituzioni, che compariscono solo più tardi, poterono già esi stere, come usi, da un'epoca ben più antica. Cid serve intanto a spiegare come nel diritto quiritario non trovisi dapprima una quan tità di atti e di negozii, senza cui sarebbe stato impossibile ogni com già a scorgere nel delitto un'offesa collettiva; mentre questi non sente ancora che il danno privato, che possa derivargliene. È questa la ragione, per cui i delitti nel diritto quiritario si presentano dapprima col carattere di offese private, e solo a poco a poco si convertono in delitti pubblici. Cfr. Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, I, pag. 434. 188 mercio per un popolo, le cui istituzioni giuridiche e politiche già dimostrano assai progredito. Qui intanto, per non spingere questa ricostruzione a particolari troppo minuti, arresterò l'attenzione alle due istituzioni fondamentali del diritto privato, che sono la famiglia e la proprietà. 151. Se noi consideriamo la plebe riguardo all'organizzazione della famiglia, quale è giudicata dai patrizii, noi troviamo che essa non ha le iustae nuptiae,madei semplici matrimonia, quasi ad in dicare che i plebei potevano bensi indicare le loro madri, ma non potevano indicare con certezza i loro padri. Al qual proposito si deve ammettere col Muirhead, che, trattandosi di persone, alcune delle quali erano di origine servile, potesse anche esistere una certa qual rilassatezza nelle unioni matrimoniali dell'infima plebe. Non sembra tuttavia, che la congettura possa spingersi fino al punto, a cui la spinge il Bachofen, secondo il quale, fra gli elementi che entra vano a costituire la plebe, avrebbero dovuto esservene di quelli (e sarebbero quelli di origine etrusca, abitanti nel vicus Tuscus) i quali avrebbero solo conosciuta la parentela dal lato delle femmine, e si sarebbero cosi trovati nella condizione del matriarcato. Senza affermare, nè negare il fatto, perchè mancano gli elementi per decidere, credo pero didovere osservare che, quando questo fosse stato, ne sarebbero rimaste maggiori traccie ed indizii. Il vocabolo dima trimonia per sè significa soltanto, che la plebe riconosceva la pa rentela dal lato di madre, ossia la cognazione, mentre l'organizza zione della famiglia patrizia fondavasi esclusivamente sul vincolo dell'agnazione. Quindi quello solo, che noi possiamo affermare con certezza, si è che nella plebe primitiva quanto che serve talora ad indicare leesisteva una famiglia, costi tuita sulle sue basi naturali, cioè fondata sulla cognazione e sulla affinità. Ed è anche facile trovare la ragione di questo fatto, la quale consiste in questo, che la famiglia plebea, appunto perchè non era ancora entrata a far parte dell'organizzazione gentilizia, cosi non aveva ancora potuto subire quell'artificiale ordinamento, che veniva ad essere necessario per una famiglia, che doveva servire di convivenza domestica e politica ad un tempo. Era quindi naturale, che la plebe, non avendo l'organizzazione gentilizia fondata sull'a [Cfr. Muirhead, Histor. Introd., e il Bachofen, Das Mutterrecht Stuttgart] gnazione, cercasse modo di rafforzarsi mediante vincoli più natu rali e più facili a comprendersi, quali sono appunto quelli della co gnazione e dell'affinità. Non è quindi il caso di contrapporre alla famiglia patriarcale una famiglia matriarcale; ma solo di dire, che la plebe, non avendo la famiglia fondata sull'agnazione, aveva in vece quella fondata sulla cognazione, in quanto che quella potrà aver valore per le genti dalle antiche tradizioni, mentre questa pud essere capita e sentita da chicchessia. Qui però si potrebbe opporre che, così essendo, male si com prende come nel diritto quiritario a vece della famiglia, fondata sul vincolo del sangue, che certo dal nostro punto di vista avrebbe do vuto essere preferita, abbia invece avuta prevalenza la famiglia, fon data sull’agnazione, e come solo più tardi la cognazione sia riuscita a correggere almeno in parte la famiglia primitiva romana. Cid tuttavia può essere facilmente compreso, quando si consideri, che la città, in cui trattavasi di entrare, era stata fondata dai patrizii; che questi erano i forti ed i ricchi, mentre i plebei erano, almeno negli esordii, i deboli ed i poveri; che quelli avevano una posizione di diritto, e che questi erano solo tollerati per la loro posizione di fatto. Era quindi naturale, necessario, che la plebe, sopratutto quando fu for temente compenetrata dall'elemento latino, la cui organizzazione domestica era analoga a quella delle genti patrizie, si sforzasse di imitare anche in questa parte il patriziato, e che anzi col tempo le famiglie plebee, che erano pervenute al ius imaginum, si sforzassero di imi tare perfino l'organizzazione per gentes in un'epoca, in cui essa åveva già certamente perduto della propria importanza. Del resto è incontrastabile, che di questo fondamento cognatizio della famiglia plebea rimasero delle traccie nella legislazione pri mitiva di Roma, sopratutto in quelle istituzioni domestiche, che dovettero probabilmente essere di origine plebea. Così, ad esempio, è notabile che la legislazione decemvirale, mentre assegna la suc cessione legittima e la tutela legittima agli agnati, lascia invece al gruppo dei cognati e degli affini (cognati et adfines ) il diritto ed il dovere di proseguire e porre in accusa l'uccisore di un parente, quello di appellare da una sentenza capitale pronunziata contro un congiunto: disposizioni, che possono considerarsi come sopravvivenze e quasi accenni di vendetta privata, la quale, come si è visto sopra, sussisteva sopratutto in seno alla plebe. Insomma la conclusione ultima sarebbe questa, che Roma, fin dai suoi esordii, non ignorò la famiglia fondata sulla cognazione e la possedette anzi sotto la umile apparenza di un'istituzione plebea; che tuttavia questa famiglia naturale, nel periodo di formazione del di ritto civile di Roma, fu in certo modo soverchiata dalla famiglia agnatizia, propria del patriziato; e solo riusci di nuovo più tardi, comemolte altre istituzioni, a rientrare in modo indiretto nella cer chia del diritto romano, sotto la protezione del pretore e del diritto delle genti. Nè questa è conseguenza di poca importanza, perchè colla famiglia si connette tutto il sistema della successione e della tutela legittima, le quali perciò penetrarono eziandio coll'organizza zione gentilizia della famiglia nel diritto quiritario. Cid intanto spiega eziandio, come in via di reazione nello stesso diritto quiritario abbia preso così largo svolgimento l'istituzione del testamento, perchè questo era il solo mezzo per sottrarsi alle conseguenze di un sistema di successione legittima, ispirato ancora al concetto di serbare in tegro il patrimonio nelle gentes; sistema, che una piccola minoranza di genti patrizie era riuscita ad imporre ad un numero assai mag giore di famiglie, e che col tempo, col dissolversi della organizza zione gentilizia, fini per divenire grave allo stesso patriziato. 154. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alle condizioni economiche della plebe, è assai probabile che la medesima, prima di giungere ad una vera proprietà di diritto, abbia cominciato dall'occupare di fatto quella parte di suolo, sovra cui i plebei venivano a stabilirsi nelle vicinanze di Roma insieme colla propria famiglia. Dapprima queste possessioni figuravano, od erano in effetto assegni loro fatti o dai padri o dal re come loro patroni, od erano anche terreni incolti, sovra cui si arrestava la famiglia plebea, per fondarvi il proprio tugurium e dissodarvi attorno un piccolo ager. Questo stato primitivo di cose può essere indotto da alcuni passi di Festo, che si riferiscono a questi primitivi possessi ed all'occu pazione di agri, che, per mancanza di coltivatori, fossero stati ab bandonati. Egli infatti scrive: Possessiones appellantur agri late patentes, publici privatique, quia non mancipatione sed usu (1) Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., tenebantur, et ut quisque occupaverat, colebat (1). Qui infatti è evidente, che non si parla solo di possessioni nell'agro pubblico, ma anche di possessioni di carattere privato, e furono queste, che do vettero appunto essere le prime possessioni della plebe. Ciò è pure confermato dallo stesso Festo, ove scrive: occupaticius ager di citur, qui desertus a cultoribus frequentari propriis, ab aliis occupatur (2), indicando cosi l'esistenza di una consuetudine, per cui, se l'agro era abbandonato dai suoi cultori, ne sottentravano degli altri. Del resto che le possessioni dovessero acquistarsi in questo modo, in seno alle comunanze plebee, lo dimostra l'importanza, che presso di esse acquistò l'usus auctoritas. Tale importanza appare dal fatto, che secondo le leggi decemvirali bastava il possesso di un anno per l'acquisto delle cose mobili e quello di due anni per quello delle immobili; disposizione questa, che dovette uscire dagli usi proprii della plebe. Mentre infatti, presso le genti patrizie, tutto era governato dal mos e dal fas; in una comunanza plebea, che era soltanto nella propria formazione, non poteva esservi altra autorità, che quella dell'usus, e doveva apparire proprietario quegli, che in effetto usucapiva la cosa od il fondo, del quale si trattava. La pro prietà non poteva ancora in questa condizione di cose distinguersi affatto dal possesso, e quindi si comprende che il giureconsulto più tardi ancora dicesse: dominium rerum ex naturali possessione cae pisse, Nerva filius ait; eiusque rei vestigium remanere de his, quae terra, mari, coeloque capiuntur; nam haec protinus eorum fiunt, qui primi possessionem eorum apprehenderint (3). Si com prende parimenti, comein una comunanza di questa natura, che dap principio era costituita da una massa mobile ed eterogenea, dovesse ri. tenersi sufficiente il breve termine di un anno per l'usucapione delle cose mobili, e di due anni per l'usucapione di quelle immobili; e cið nell'intento di poter trasformare con celerità lo stato di fatto in stato di diritto, il possesso in proprietà. Se in una comunanza già formata importa di allungare il termine dell'usucapione, acciò essa non serva come mezzo per usurpare il diritto esistente; in una co (1) V. Festo, v° Possessiones (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 354): la qual definizione è ri portata tal quale anche da Isidoro (BRUNs). Festo, Occupaticius. Di qui già il RUDDORF ebbe ad indurre che l'ager occupatorius non doveva confondersi coll'ager occupaticius (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 348, nota 6). Vedi per l'opinione contraria Karlowa, Röm. R. G.; Paulus, L. 1, § 1, Dig.] munanza invece, la quale sia in via di formazione e attragga in sé nuovi elementi, importa di abbreviare il termine di tale usuca pione, acciò lo stato di fatto mutisi al più presto in uno stato di diritto. Con tale sistema una famiglia plebea, quando fermava il piede sopra un suolo incolto od abbandonato (possessio, da pedum quasi positio) aveva appena tempo a metterlo in coltivazione, che già ne diventava proprietaria ex iure quiritium, e intanto, appena un posto rimaneva vacante, veniva ad esservi quello, che lo occu pava, e dopo breve tempo era considerato ancor esso come legittimo proprietario. Certo non poteva esservi un migliore sistema per po polare immediatamente il territorio circostante a Roma, e per popo larlo di famiglie che, affezionandosi al suolo, finissero per prendere interesse alla grandezza e all'avvenire di quella città patrizia, sotto la cui protezione e tutela la plebe aveva potuto diventare anch'essa proprietaria del suolo (1 ). Ciò però non dovette accadere di un tratto; ma solo a misura che i commerci fra Roma patrizia e la popola zione circostante conducevano alla formazione di un comune diritto. 155. Fu quindi solo col tempo, che queste possessioni, tollerate dai padri, od anche dai medesimi o dal re assegnate ai plebei a titolo di precario, poterono cambiarsi in una specie di proprietà di fatto più che di diritto, sovra cui essi vivevano colla propria famiglia. Intanto questo piccolo podere coi frutti, che se ne potevano ricavare e che portavansi al mercato, porgeva anche alla plebe occasione di entrare in commercio col patriziato. Si comprende quindi, che quando le cose furono a tal punto, che i re sentirono la conve nienza di aggregare la plebe alla cittadinanza romana, anche per afforzare l'esercito della città patrizia, dovesse sorgere naturalmente l'idea, attuata poi da Servio Tullio, di ammetterli alla comunanza, in quanto erano capi di famiglia, e avevano uno spazio di terra, sovra cui potevano vivere colla propria famiglia. Siccome poi la plebe non conosceva altra proprietà, che la privata, o meglio quella, che ap (1) Trovo in Gellio, Noc. Att., XVI, 11 un passo, che dimostra come i Romani comprendessero l'importanza, che aveva la proprietà per interessare la plebe alle sorti della Repubblica: « Sed quoniam res pecuniaque familiaris obsidis vicem pignorisque esse apud rempublicam videbatur, amorisque in patriam, fides quaedam in ea, firmamentumque erat ». Fu questo, aggiunge Gellio, il motivo, per cui i prole tarii, e i capite censi, solo tardi e quando non se ne potè fare a meno, furono chia inati a far parte dell'esercito. 193 partiene al capo di famiglia, non aveva agro gentilizio, e non doveva neppure dapprima essere ammessa ad immettere i proprii greggi nell'ager compascuus della tribù, al modo stesso che più tardi non fu ammessa all'occupazione dell'ager publicus, la quale occupazione dapprima ritenevasi come un privilegio dell'ordine pa trizio; cosi ne derivò la conseguenza, che l'unica proprietà, che poteva essere riguardata come posta a base della comunanza patrizio-plebea, perchè era la sola, che fosse comune ai due or dini, era la proprietà privata. Cid può servire a spiegare il fatto, che da Servio Tullio in poi quasi più non si discorre degli agri gentilicii, che pur continuavano sempre ad appartenere alle genti: ma solo più dell'ager privatus, delmancipium, dei praedia censui censendo, e dell'ager publicus. Questi sono l'unica proprietà della plebe; mentre l'occupazione dell'agro pubblico è una gran sor gente della ricchezza del patriziato. Quindi si comprende l'affetto tenace, con cui la plebe si attacca alla propria terra, il suo sotto porsi al duro vincolo del nexum, piuttosto che alienarla, e la lotta, che essa sostiene per ottenere quelle ripartizioni dell'ager publicus, che le porgevano mezzo di entrare nella vera cittadinanza di Roma. Intanto siccome questa proprietà e il commercio, che derivava da essa, erano gli unici diritti, che la plebe avesse comuni col patri ziato: così viene eziandio a spiegarsi, come gli atti tutti del primitivo diritto quiritario assumano un carattere essenzialmente mercantile, e siano tutti fatti entrare forzatamente sotto le figure del nexum e del mancipium, come meglio apparirà più tardi. Dalle cose premesse si può raccogliere la conclusione se guente, quanto ai rapporti, che intercedono fra il patriziato e la plebe negli esordii della comunanza romana. Per quanto debba ri tenersi, che il primo nucleo della plebe siasi costituito mediante ele menti,che si vennero staccando dalla stessa organizzazione gentilizia, perchè più non potevano essere compresi nei quadri della medesima; tuttavia la plebe, avendo richiamati a sè tutti coloro, che si trovarono spostati nell'anteriore organizzazione, crebbe per modo in numero ed importanza da costituire di fronte alla città patrizia una vera e propria comunanza plebea, che doveva di necessità essere presa in considerazione. Siccome tuttavia la plebe è fuori di quella organiz zazione, che è l'unica riconosciuta dal patriziato; così essa viene dapprima ad essere lasciata a se stessa ed è considerata come una moltitudine ed una folla, la quale ha bensì una esistenza, C. Le origini del diritto di Roma.] di fatto, ma che è priva di qualsiasi posizione giuridica di fronte al patriziato. Di qui il dualismo fra i due ordini, che, nato già nella tribù, viene a costituire il gran dramma della comunanza civile e politica. In questa infatti son chiamati a convivere due elementi: di cui uno ha una posizione di diritto, ha la città, ha gli auspicii, le magistrature, gli onori; mentre l'altro non ha che una posizione di fatto, più tollerata che riconosciuta, e non può fare as segnamento, che su quello spazio di terra, sovra cui si è stabilito colle proprie famiglie, ed è solo poggiandosisopra di esso, che potrà entrare a fare parte della comunanza. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alle loro istituzioni religiose, giu ridiche e politiche, non corre una minore differenza fra i due or dini. Mentre il patriziato è nei vincoli delle tradizioni e del culto dei suoi antenati, dei concetti, che forse ha recati dallo stesso Oriente, e trovasi fra le strette dell'organizzazione gentilizia, che dopo aver fatta la sua forza, comincia ora ad impedirne il naturale sviluppo e a cambiarlo in un'aristocrazia chiusa in se stessa; la plebe invece ha l'inconveniente, ma al tempo stesso il vantaggio di en trare nella vita politica, senza la memoria dei maggiori ed il culto di essi, senza essere vincolata dalle proprie tradizioni, e trovasi cosi in condizione di ubbidire al proprio interesse, alle proprie esi genze, ai bisogni e alle necessità della nuova organizzazione so ciale. A ciò si aggiunge, secondo la profonda osservazione del Kar lowa, che nell'uomo della plebe per la prima volta compare la nozione per cui l'uomo libero, sciolto da ogni vincolo sociale e gen tilizio, deve essere riguardato come persona, ossia come capace di diritto e di obbligazioni; per guisa che anche il maggior concetto, a cui abbia saputo elevarsi il diritto romano, che è quello di rico noscere l'uomo libero come capace di diritto, ebbe in parte a svol gersi sotto l'influenza dell'elemento plebeo (1). 157. Per tal modo Roma si trovò di fronte al problema di far convivere nelle stesse mura, e di sottoporre all'impero delmedesimo (1) KARLOWA, Römische Rechtsgeschichte, I, pag. 64. L'autore, che ebbe giusta mente a notare che il più alto concetto, a cui giunse il diritto privato di Roma, è quello che l'uomo libero, come tale, sia capace di diritto, è il compianto Bruns, Geschichte und Quellen des römisches Recht's, $ 3, in HoltZENDORFF's, Encyclo pädie, I, pag. 105, 4.ed. — È da vedersi in proposito il Brugi, Le cause intrinseche della universalità del dir. rom., Prol., Palermo, 1886. 195 diritto due ordini, di cui uno era ricco di tradizioni e stretto nei vincoli del passato, mentre l'altro, per le speciali sue condizioni di fatto, non aveva per sè che il presente e sopratutto l'avvenire. Il problema per la plebe era quello di mutare la sua posizione di fatto in una posizione di diritto, e per il patriziato quello di dare alla plebe un diritto e di farla entrare nei quadri della sua città, senza comunicarle che gradatamente quel fascio di tradizioni reli giose, giuridiche e morali, di cui esso era gelosissimo conservatore. Certo il problema era di difficile risoluzione, ma la logica giuri dica di Roma seppe risolverlo in un modo, che può veramente dirsi meraviglioso. La conseguenza venne ad essere questa, che il di ritto, che venne formandosi in Roma, si presenta antico sotto un aspetto e nuovo sotto un altro. È antico nei concetti, nelle forme, nei vocaboli stessi, che già tutti esistevano precedentemente ed erano stati elaborati dal patriziato nel periodo dell'organizzazione genti lizia; ma è nuovo in quanto che nelle forme antiche penetra uno spirito nuovo e si fa entrare tutta una nuova vita civile e poli tica, che più non poteva essere contenuta nei quadri dell'organiz zazione gentilizia. Nella formazione di questo diritto tutto ciò che è di forme solenni, di concetti già elaborati, di istituzioni aventi carat tere religioso e morale, viene ad essere di origine patrizia; mentre tutto ciò, che trova origine nel semplice usus, nella semplice pos sessio, nel fatto più che nel diritto, e non è avvolto ancora in forme solenni e tradizionali, deve ritenersi piuttosto di origine plebea. La distanza stessa poi, a cui trovavansi i due elementi, che dovevano entrare a far parte della medesima città, obbliga il diritto quiritario a prendere le mosse nella propria formazione dai concetti elemen tari della proprietà e della famiglia, che erano i soli, che fossero comuni ai due ordini, per venire poi all'elaborazione lenta e graduata di tutti gli altri istituti giuridici. Per tal modo nella formazione del diritto pubblico e privato di Roma noi abbiamo un nucleo co piosissimo di tradizioni, di concetti e di vocaboli, già preparati in un periodo anteriore, che viene in certo modo a fondersi nel cro giuolo della comunanza civile e politica, per guisa che, precipitando e cristallizzando lentamente e gradatamente, finisce per dare origine ad un diritto, del quale si può dire con ragione, che si è formato rebus ipsis dictantibus et necessitate exigente. Solo resta a spiegare, come in questa condizione di cose siasi de. terminata la prima formazione del diritto quiritario nello stretto senso, che suol essere attribuito a questo vocabolo. Non può certamente negarsi, anche da uno schietto ammi ratore della logica, che ha governata la formazione e lo svolgimento del diritto privato di Roma, che esso nei proprii esordii presentasi con un carattere di rozzezza e di violenza, che desta un'impressione sfavorevole e pressochè di ripugnanza, e spiega anche l'affermazione di coloro, che ebbero a considerarlo, come l'opera esclusiva della forza. Tale impressione è prodotta specialmente da certi vocaboli e concetti, che occorrono nel primitivo jus quiritium: vocaboli, che portano con sè l'impronta della forza e della violenza. Fra questi vocaboli non deve essere annoverato quello di manus, che nel di ritto quiritario significò il potere spettante al capo di famiglia sulle persone e sulle cose, che da esso dipendono, in quanto che questo vocabolo se da una parte indica la forza e la potenza, che si impone; dall'altra può anche significare la protezione e la difesa, che la manus accorda a tutti coloro, che da essa dipendono. Si aggiunge, che questo vocabolo di manus o qualche altro, che corrisponda al me desimo, sembra essere stato adoperato nella stessa significazione dalle altre stirpi di origine ariana (1). Sonvi invece nel primitivo ius quiritium altri vocaboli, come quelli di mancipium, di nexum, di manus iniectio, che non solo si ispirano al concetto della forza, [ È abbastanza noto in proposito che alla manus del capo di famiglia romano corrisponde anche nella sua significazione materiale il mund ed il mundium del capo di famiglia germanico; il che però non toglie che i due istituti abbiano rice vuto un diverso svolgimento presso i due popoli, sopratutto per ciò che si riferisce al potere del padre sui figli. V. in proposito: VIOLLET, Histoire du droit français, Paris, 1886, pag. 412, cogli autori citati a pag. 447. Del resto fra il primitivo diritto romano e il primitivo diritto germanico vi hanno ben altre istituzioni, che si corrispondono, e fra le altre potrebbesi forse fare un interessante raffronto fra il ius applicationis dei Romani, e il comitatus e la commendatio presso i popoli Germanici. 197 ma, applicandosi anche alle persone, sembrano recare con sè l'idea di soggezione e di dipendenza di una persona da un'altra. È quindi assai difficile a spiegarsi, come mai dal mos e dal fas delle genti patrizie, e dall'usus, che veniva formandosi nel seno della plebe, abbiano potuto scaturire concetti di questa natura, a cui manca non solo quell’aureola religiosa, da cui sono circondate le istituzioni gentilizie, ma perfino quel carattere di fiera indipendenza, che con traddistingue le istituzioni primitive dei popoli italici. 159. Ritengo tuttavia, che questa apparente contraddizione fra questi concetti del primitivo ius quiritium e gli elementi, che avreb bero contribuito alla sua formazione, possa essere spiegata, quando si ammetta la congettura, a cui ho accennato più sopra parlando dell'actio sacramento e della manus iniectio, e sulla quale importa qui di insistere più lungamente. La congettura sta in questo, che nelle istituzioni del diritto quiritario vene hanno alcune, che si erano formate nei rapporti fra i capi delle famiglie patrizie, e perciò nel seno stesso delle genti e delle tribù; ma ve ne hanno eziandio delle altre, le quali dovettero invece formarsi ed assumere un contenuto preciso nelle lotte e nei conflitti fra la classe dei vincitori e quella dei vinti. Il ius quiritium primitivo non governo solo rapporti fra capi di famiglia uguali fra di loro e appartenenti alla stessa tribù; ma dovette eziandio reggere i rapporti fra le genti organizzate nella tribù e la moltitudine e la folla, per la maggior parte di origine servile, che ancora circondava i primitivi stabilimenti patrizii. Quindi se era naturale, che la prima parte del ius quiritium portasse le traccie della fiera indipendenza di quei capi di famiglia, dei quali nemo servitutem servivit; la seconda invece doveva portare quelle della soggezione, a cui era ridotta la classe inferiore. Non può cer. tamente presumersi, che questi due ordini di persone potessero en trare in rapporti giuridici fra di loro, sopra un piede di assoluta eguaglianza. Quindi mi sembra naturale, che il primitivo ius qui ritium, a somiglianza del diritto feudale, che ebbe poi a formarsi in una condizione di cose non dissimile da questa, debba in qualche parte portare le traccie della superiorità, che si attribuivano i vincitori, i conquistatori, i primi organizzatori di una convivenza sociale, e dell'abbiezione invece, a cui erano ridotti i vinti, i con quistati e quelli, che, non essendo ancora pervenuti ad una organize zazione sociale, abbisognavano perciò di protezione e di difesa. Questo è certo che anche più tardi noi troviamo una disu guaglianza di condizione giuridica fra Roma e le popolazioni, da cui essa è circondata; come lo dimostra ancora l'accenno, che più tardi è fatto dalla legislazione decemvirale dei forcti ac sanates, ai quali, secondo Festo, sarebbe stato accordato unicamente il ius nesi man cipiique. Da questo peculiare rapporto giuridico, che intercede fra Roma e le popolazioni circostanti, mi sembra di poter dedurre con fondamento, che quel nexum e quel mancipium, che poscia vennero a significare dei rapporti privati fra i cittadini, abbiano potuto un tempo indicare dei rapporti, che correvano fra le genti patrizie e le popolazioni di diritto inferiore e pressochè vassalle, che abitavano nel territorio circostante a Roma. Che anzi qui mi pare opportuno di dare svolgimento ad un concetto, che fino ad ora potè solo essere accennato, ma non svolto. Il medesimo consiste in ritenere, che la condizione primitiva della plebe, di fronte alla città patrizia, dovette essere analoga a quella, in cui ci vengono descritti posteriormente i forcti ac sanates, in base alla legislazione decem virale. È un magistero eminentemente romano quello di seguire sempre il medesimo processo, allorchè si avverano le stesse condizioni di fatto. Ora non è dubbio, che la plebe in Roma primitiva era costituita da popolazioni circostanti, superiori ed inferiori a Roma, in condi zioni quasi del tutto simili a quelle, in cui Festo ci descrive essersi poscia trovati i forcti ac sanates. È quindi naturale e del tutto pro babile, che Roma abbia fatto dapprincipio alle popolazioni, che lo erano più vicine, e che costituivano così la prima plebe, la posizione stessa, che fece poi ai forcti ac sanates; che cioè abbia loro rico nosciuto dapprima il ius nexi mancipiique, il diritto cioè di obbli garsi, di acquistare e di trasferire la proprietà nei modi riconosciuti dal suo stesso diritto. Ciò era necessità, perchè fossero possibili i commercii fra patriziato e plebe; e intanto spiega eziandio, come i primi concetti, che compariscano nel diritto quiritario, comune ai due ordini, siano appunto quelli del nexum e delmancipium, i quali perciò, al pari di quello del commercium, al quale corrispondono, si svolsero dapprima fra popolazioni diverse, e poi furono portati nei rap porti interni fra i membri di una stessa città. Roma patrizia insomma avrebbe in questa parte usato il più semplice dei processi. Dapprima avrebbe considerata la plebe come una popolazione circostante alla città, con cui non poteva a meno di essere in commercio, e perciò avrebbe accordato alla medesima quel ius nexi mancipiique, che anche più tardi continuò ad accordare ai forcti ac sanates. Quando 199 - poi la plebe fu anch'essa incorporata nella città, e coll'ampliamento delle mura serviane una parte delle abitazioni dei plebei si trovò entro il recinto dell'urbs, quel diritto, che prima governava i rap porti, che intercedevano fra due popolazioni distinte, continud natu ralmente a governare i rapporti dei due ordini, in quanto essi fa cevano parte della stessa comunanza; quello, che era dapprima un diritto esterno, divento diritto interno, e fu il punto di partenza dello svolgimento del ius quiritium. Certo questa non è che una congettura fondata sul processo solitamente seguito dai Romani; ma fornisce una spiegazione così naturale delle cose, e così conforme al metodo romano, che non mi sembra temerità di aggiungerla alle altre, che già si escogitarono al riguardo. Intanto, come ho già altrove avvertito (1), viene eziandio a comprendersi il motivo, per cui questa speciale posizione giuridica dei forcti ac sanates, poscia sia scomparsa per guisa da non sapersi più comprendere il signifi cato della medesima, poichè col tempo anch'essi entrarono a far parte della plebe romana, e quindi mancò ogni ragione per serbare loro questa peculiare condizione giuridica. & neaco (Il solo passo, che a noi pervenne intorno ai forcti ac sanates, è di Festo, ed il medesimo è ancora in tale stato, che fu assaidifficile la ricostruzione di esso. L'OFFMANN, Das Gesetz d. XII Tafeln von den Forcten und Sanaten. Vienna, 1866, ritiene che il passo delle XII Tavole, a cui Festo accenna, vº Sanates (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 664), fosse così concepito: mancipatoque ac forcti sanatique idem iuris esto ». Questa lezione stata adottata dal LANGE, Hist. intér. de Rome, I, pag. 171, fu respinta dal MOMMSEN, sulla conside razione che qui trattavasi di determinare la condizione dei forcti ac sanates in sè considerati, e non di metterli a comparazione coi nexi ac mancipati, dei quali non si saprebbe poi dire, quale potesse essere la speciale posizione giuridica. Il Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, I,pag. 273 e 733, Tab. XI,6, ricostruirebbe invece la legge in questa guisa: e nexum mancipiumque, idem quod Quiritium, forcti sanatisque supra infra que urbem esto »; ma non pare che sia nell' indole della legge decemvirale di en trare in particolari così minuti. Parmi quindi di adottare piuttosto il testo della legge, quale sarebbe accettato dal MOMMSEN; ~ Nexi mancipiique forcti sanatesque idem iuris esto »; il che significherebbe in sostanza ciò, che pure dice il Voigt, che cioè i forcti ac sanates possono obbligarsi e trasferire il proprio mancipium nel modo riconosciuto dal diritto quiritario, cosicchè verrebbe ad essere probabile, che la loro posizione fosse precisamente quella della plebs, allorchè era già ammessa in questi confini al commercium,ma non aveva ancora il connubium. Quanto alle varie lezioni proposte è da vedersi il Mommsen nella nota al Bruns, Fontes; ed anche il MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 111, nota 12, ove proporrebbe la se guente ricostruzione: « nexum mancipiumque forcti sanatisque idem esto »; pure avrebbe la medesima significazione. Non conosco però che altri abbia cercato di. la quale 200 161. Del resto, checchè si possa dire di questa induzione, questo deve certo essere ammesso, che il ius quiritium, il quale, sebbene comparisca con Roma, pud tuttavia avere le sue radici, in epoca di gran lunga anteriore, almeno in parte si formò in un periodo di lotta e di violenza fra gruppi e ceti di persone, che si trovavano in condi zione affatto diversa, in quanto che alcuni di tali gruppi e ceti già erano pervenuti alla formazione di consorzii civili ed umani: mentre gli altri ancora vivevano in uno stato di promiscuità e confusione, che le genti patrizie riputavano nefario. Non può quindi essere mera viglia, se alcuni dei resti, che giunsero fino a noi, portino ancora i segnidelle lotte e dei conflitti, che vi furono fra vincitori e vinti, non che della soggezione e della dipendenza, in cui erano le classi inferiori. Al modo stesso, che i ruderi delle costruzioni primitive di mostrano, colla rozzezza e coll'enormità delle loro proporzioni, quali edifizii in quell'epoca fossero necessarii per ripararsi contro i cataclismi del suolo: così i resti, che ancora ci rimangono del primitivo ius qui ritium, in questi vocaboli, che sono sopravvissuti ai tempi, in cui si sono formati, dimostrano quali specie di vincoli si potessero richiedere per richiamare da una condizione pressochè nefaria, per usare l’es pressione del Vico, le moltitudini e le folle ad celebrandam suam socialem naturam. Gli uomini in questa epoca dovettero sentire l'impotenza loro di fronte ai terrori della sconvolta natura, ai pe ricoli delle fiere, e agli scontri continui con genti di origine stra niera, e quindi non poterono preoccuparsi tanto della loro libertà, quanto sentire il bisogno di ripararsi sotto la protezione di quelle genti, che prime erano riuscite ad organizzarsi e a fortificarsi sotto il potere dei loro capi. Cid spiega come l'antico vocabolo di « iobi lare » abbia potuto significare il gridare salvezza per l'aperta campagna e come i deboli fossero nella necessità di fare appello alla fede ed alla protezione dei forti, e disposti ad accettare la posizione portata dal mancipium e dal nexum, pur di averne la protezione e la difesa. Non era perciò un diritto mite ed umano e pieno di grada zioni delicate e sottili, che poteva nascere in questi inizii dell'organiz zazione sociale, sopratutto nei rapporti fra classi, di cui una era su periore e l'altra inferiore; ma bensi un diritto rozzo e violento, che risentisse in certo modo della lotta, da cui esso usciva, e che da una inferire da questa disposizione la condizione giuridica primitiva, in cui si trovò la plebe di fronte alla città patrizia. - 201 parte avesse l'impronta della superiorità dei vincitori e dei forti e dall'altra dell'abbiezione, a cui erano ridotti i vinti ed i deboli (1). 162. Si comprende quindi come in questo periodo, la manus, armata di lancia, pronta da una parte ad atterrare il nemico, a seguirlo fuggi tivo e a farlo prigioniero di guerra, e dall'altra disposta a difendere tutti i proprii dipendenti, potesse presentarsi come l'espressione più, naturale e più energica ad un tempo per significare il potere giu. ridico, che spetta al capo di una famiglia sopra tutte le persone, che da lui dipendono, e per significare eziandio l'unità della famiglia nei rapporti esteriori. Genti come le italiche, le quali, secondo l'at testazione di Servio, avevano nella loro ingenua personificazione di tutte le energie proprie dell'uomo dedicato ad un nume le varie parti del corpo, cioè l'orecchia alla memoria, la fronte all'ingegno, la destra alla fede, le ginocchia alla pietà e alla misericordia, perchè abbracciano le ginocchia coloro che implorano, non avevano che ad applicare il medesimo processo per dedicare la manus ad espri mere il potere unificatore della famiglia (2). Non era forse la manus che atterrava il nemico e lo faceva prigioniero di guerra e che intanto proteggeva moglie, figli, clienti e servi? Non era essa, che riuniva e stringeva la famiglia nella sua compagine interna, e che serviva a renderla forte e compatta contro le aggressioni esterne? Intanto però è evidente, che la manus, intesa in questo significato, poteva solo spettare a quei capi di famiglia, che avevano serbata intatta la loro autorità di diritto, perchè non erano mai stati sotto (1) Buona parte di questi concetti trovasi accennata qua e là dal Vico; na è avvolta in una forma fantastica, proveniente dall'idea preconcetta di voler conside rare i Romani come i rappresentanti di quell' epoca eroica, che, secondo le sue teorie, avrebbe susseguito quei tempi,che egli chiama divini, e preceduto quelli, che egli chiama umani; idea, che finì per condurlo a considerare come una leggenda tutta la storia primitiva di Roma, fino alla prima guerra Cartaginese. Ciò però non impedisce che le sue divinazioni, anche non essendo vere, se applicate a Roma sto rica, possano contenere del vero, se riportate all'epoca veramente patriarcale ed eroica, che avrebbe preceduta la fondazione di Roma. In proposito è da vedersi il MORIANI, La filosofia del diritto nel pensiero dei Giureconsulti romani, Firenze, 1856, pag. 14 e segg., ove parla dell'origine del diritto e dell'etimologia del vocabolo ius. (2) Servius, In Aen., 3, 607: « Phisici dicunt esse consecratas singulis numinibus singulas corporis partes: ut aurem Memoriae, frontem Genio, dexteram Fidei, genda Misericordiae, unde haec tangunt rogantes. Iure pontificali, si quis flamini genua fuisset amplexus, eum verberari non licebat.] posti a servitù, e primi erano pervenuti a fondare una vera organiz zazione sociale. Il concetto quindi di manus, in quanto è l'unificatore della famiglia e dà alla medesima la compattezza necessaria per re spingere ogni aggressione, dovette prima formarsi nei rapporti fra le famiglie, le genti e le classi diverse, che non nei rapporti interni della famiglia; perchè la causa, che determino questo irrigidirsi della famiglia, non fu interiore alla medesima, ma bensì esterna, ossia la necessità di provvedere alla lotta per l'esistenza. Dal momento per tanto, che il concetto di manus ha un'origine, che potrebbe chia marsi pressochè esteriore ed internazionale, ne consegue eziandio, che nel conflitto delle genti il concetto della manus, in quanto indica un potere, che non ebbe giammai a soccombere sotto la schiavitù, non potè essere applicato che ai capi delle famiglie patrizie, e non già alla folla e alla moltitudine, di cui erano circondati gli stabili menti dei padri. Si comprende pertanto, come nel diritto quiritario primitivo continuamente comparisca la manus, la quale è quella, che lotta nella manuum consertio; che rivendica nella vindicatio; che trascina il debitore nella manus iniectio; che distendendosi lascia in libertà lo schiavo (manu emittit); che obbliga la propria fede nella dextrarum iunctio; e da ultimo è anche quella, che afferrando il vinto, lo trasmuta in mancipium. Essa quindi non ha soltanto una significazione relativa alla costituzione interna della famiglia, ma dap prima ha sopratutto una significazione, quanto ai rapporti esteriori in cui la famiglia può trovarsi, essendo la manus, che la rende unita e compatta nel respingere ogni aggressione. Sarà solo più tardi, che essa verrà a significare il complesso dei poteri giuridici, che ap partengono ai quiriti, in quanto essi costituiscono una specie di ari stocrazia fra la moltitudine e la folla, da cui sono circondati. Però almodo stesso, che la manus in questa significazione è già il frutto di una specie di astrazione, cosi deve pur dirsi del concetto del qui rite. Senza entrare nell'etimologia della parola e senza discutere se la medesima venga da quiris lancia, o da curia, come vorrebbe il Lange; questo è certo che in ogni caso il vocabolo di quiriti non significa i membri delle genti patrizie individualmente considerati; ma li indica in quanto appartengono ad uno stesso populus, che ora ra dunasi nelle curie, ed ora costituisce un esercito. Come tali i qui riti trovansi in una posizione privilegiata e quindi sono essi sol tanto, a cui appartiene la manus, come simbolo del diritto quiritario; sono essi soli, che abbiano le iustae nuptiae; che sappiano consultare gli Dei cogli auspizii; e che partecipino direttamente al bene fizio delle istituzioni proprie della città. Malgrado di ciò è improbabile, che nel periodo anteriore alla fondazione della città, e in quello della città esclusivamente patrizia non intercedano dei rapporti fra la classe dominante e quelle inferiori, da cui essa è circondata. Sarebbe tuttavia a meravigliarsi, se in questi rapporti essi si trattassero alla pari, e se le istituzioni, che dovettero nascere in questa condizione di cose, non portassero le traccie della disuguaglianza di condizione, in cui si trovavano le due classi. Il plebeo, che non ha una posizione giuridica, e che quindi non può offrire garanzia di sorta al patrizio, quando voglia entrare in rapporto con esso, non può avere altro mezzo che quello di darsi a mancipio o divincolarsi col nexum, per guisa che, se esso non paghi, possa essere ridotto alla condizione di mancipio, assoggettandosi cosi alla manus iniectio. Di qui la conseguenza, che i durissimi concetti del mancipium, del nexum, della manus iniectio, prima di diventare istituti proprii del diritto quiritario, in cui presero poi una significazione speciale, dovettero significare dei rapporti, che si stabilirono fra patriziato e plebe, prima che entrassero a far parte della stessa comunanza; il che spiega appunto quel carat tere di soggezione e di dipendenza di una persona ad un'altra, che è loro inerente. Che anzi, siccome le origini di certi concetti primitivi debbono talora cercarsi in un periodo anteriore a quello, in cui essi appari scono e cominciano a prendere una forma determinata e precisa, cosi anche questa significazione dei vocaboli di mancipium, di nexum, di manus iniectio non è ancora quella assolutamente pri mitiva; ma conviene cercarne le origini nelle lotte, che dovettero esistere in epoca più remota fra i vincitori ed i vinti, fra i con quistatori ed i conquistati. In questa indagine non può esservi altra luce fuori di quella, che viene dalla significazione diversa, che as sunsero i vocaboli, di cui si tratta. 164. Nella povertà del linguaggio giuridico primitivo il vocabolo mancipium ebbe ad assumere significazioni molto diverse, che però riduconsi a due essenziali; a quelle cioè per cui significa: - o ciò (1) LANGE, Hist. inter. de Rome, I, pag. 29. 204 che è soggetto al potere del capo di famiglia – o il modo per trasfe rirlo di una ad altra persona. Nel primo significato mancipium in dica anzitutto il prigioniero di guerra, stato ridotto in schiavitù; poi indica eziandio tutto cid, che può essere preso e assogettato colla manus: quidquid manu capi subdique potest,uthomo, equus, ovis; infine indica eziandio, allorchè il diritto quiritario è già formato, il complesso delle persone e delle cose, che dipendono dalla manus del capo di famiglia. Questa serie di significazioni, che si vengono sempre più estendendo, contengono in compendio la storia dell'istituzione. Non può esservi dubbio, che il primo mancipium dovette essere lo schiavo ed il vocabolo era anche acconcio ad esprimerlo, in quanto che questo era stato veramente manu captum e poi ridotto in schia vitù; poscia l'analogia lo fece estendere eziandio alle cose e persone, che erano assoggettate in modo analogo al potere della persona, quali erano i cavalli e i buoi, allorchè domati cominciavano a dipendere dalla mano dell'uomo; infine, quando la manus prese la significazione traslata, per cui essa designa il potere del capo di famiglia, tanto le persone, che le cose soggette al medesimo, poterono essere indi cate col vocabolo di mancipium. Giunge però tempo, in cui questo vocabolo sembra per la sua stessa origine essere disadatto a signi ficare tanto le persone, che le cose soggette al capo di famiglia, ed in allora esso scompare in questa significazione, ma continua ancora sempre a mantenersi nella sua significazione primitiva, che era la vera; come lo dimostrano le disposizionidell'editto degli edili curuli col titolo de mancipiis vendundis, ove il vocabolo continua sempre a significare lo schiavo. Quanto al tenore dell'Editto curule vedi Bruns, Fontes, pag. 214. Non potrei ciò stante ammettere la significazione, che il MUIRHEAD ebbe di recente a proporre per i vocaboli di mancipium e di mancipatio, colla quale egli direbbe, che mancipium significa eziandio il potere, ossia la padronanza del manceps, e che perciò debba ritenersi come sinonimo di manus; donde egli deriva, che mancipare non deriverebbe da manu capere, ma piuttosto da manum capere (Histor. Introd.). Oltrecchè questa etimologia non servirebbe veramente a spiegar meglio la significazione primitiva del vocabolo; parmi eziandio che contraddica all'uso, che i giureconsulti fecero di questo vocabolo, attribuendo costantemente al medesimo una significazione passiva, la quale indica piuttosto la soggezione di una persona o di una cosa, che non il potere che appartiene sulla persona o cosa soggetta. Noi ve diamo infatti, che mentre occorrono talvolta le espressioni di habere manum, habere potestatem, habere dominium, i giureconsulti invece non direbbero mai habere man cipium nel senso di significare un potere, che spetti ad una persona,al modo stesso - 205 Se non che il vocabolo mancipium non significa soltanto ciò, che è soggetto al capo di famiglia, ma indica eziandio il trasferimento, di cui possono essere oggetto le cose, che entrano a costituirlo. Ciò è dimostrato dall'espressione vigorosa della legislazione decemvirale, nella quale si dice facere mancipium, facere nexum, al modo stesso, che direbbesi facere testamentum. Or bene non vi ha dubbio, che anche il facere mancipium deve avere subito delle trasforma zioni profonde nel proprio significato. Facere mancipium infatti dovette negli inizii indicare il darsi o il prendere a mancipio, la dedizione del vinto o la presa del vincitore, per cui quello viene in tutto ad essere a disposizione di questo. Ciò è dimostrato da questo che i servi, che erano chiamati mancipia ex eo, quod ab hostibus manu capiuntur, sono anche chiamati servi dediticii, in quanto che essi provenivano da una specie di resa o di dedizione del vinto al vin citore. Cio però non tolse, che il concetto del facere mancipium si applicasse eziandio a persone libere, che potevano dare se stesse a mancipio, od anche a persone, che dipendevano da esse, come accadeva nella noxae deditio. Che anzi è molto probabile, che nel periodo, in cui i plebei non erano ammessi a far parte della citta dinanza, il solo mezzo, che essi avessero per trovare protezione e difesa, fosse quello di darsi a mancipio. Infine, allorchè il mancipium prese quella significazione, eminentemente giuridica, per cui significa il complesso delle persone e delle cose, soggette al capo di famiglia, anche il facere mancipium ricevette una larghissima applicazione, per modo che la mancipatio verrà ad essere come il perno, sovra cui si modellano tutti gli atti, che modificano in qualche modo il potere del capo di famiglia (2 ). che non adoperano mai il vocabolo di nexus per indicare il creditore, ma sempre per designare il debitore. Convien quindi dire, che mancipium significò sempre la cosa soggetta o la trasmissione della medesima, ed è anche questo il significato, che ha sempre conservato dipoi, allorquando accade ancora di usare il vocabolo di mancipio. A ciò si può anche aggiungere, che il vocabolo di capio nella sua significazione giuridica suole sempre essere accompagnato dall'ablativo, come accade nell'usucapio, nell'usureceptio e simili. (1) A questo proposito è notabile il seguente passo di Festo, Vº Quot.: Quot servi tot hostes in proverbio est, de quo Sinnius Capito existimat esse dictum initio quot hostes tot servi» quod tot captivi fere ad servitutem adducebantur », BRUNS, Fontes, pag. 359. (2) Per la larghissima esplicazione della mancipatio nel diritto quiritario è da vedersi il Longo, La mancipatio, parte 14, Firenze, 1886. 206 165. Passando ora alla manus iniectio, noi riscontriamo nella medesima un processo del tutto analogo. Non può esservi dubbio che essa dovette essere dapprima il modo effettivo, con cui il vinci tore afferrava il vinto, in base al diritto di guerra e lo riduceva in schiavitù. Il suo concetto quindi nacque anch'esso nella lotta e nella violenza; ma poscia dai rapporti fra vincitori e vinti fu tra sportato anche fra le persone, che appartenevano alla stessa co munanza e significò l'esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni, come lo dimostra la seguente deffinizione di Servio: manus iniectio di citur, quotiens, nulla iudicis auctoritate expectata, rem nobis de bitam vindicamus. Pare però, che quest'esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni, che non si può conciliare coll'esistenza della pubblica autorità, non fosse riconosciuto dal diritto quiritario, che in alcuni casi soltanto. Infatti nel diritto quiritario noi troviamo la manus iniectio in due significazioni. Essa è il modo per trascinare avanti al magistrato colui che invitato a venirvi siasi rifiutato; ma in ciò non havvi ancora un esercizio privato delle proprie ragioni, bensì un mezzo per ottenere la presenza del convenuto avanti al magistrato. La manus iniectio poi, nella legislazione decemvirale, è anche un mezzo di esecuzione contro il proprio debitore; ma in questo senso è solo ammessa in alcuni casi, cioè: contro coloro che o abbiano confes sato il proprio debito (aeris confessi); contro coloro che siano stati condannati (iudicati); o infine contro coloro, che si siano ob bligati mediante il nexum (nexi). Ora di queste varie applicazioni del diritto di esecuzione privata contro il debitore, quella, che ri guarda gli aeris confessi ed i iudicati, suppone già un intervento dell'autorità giudiziaria; mentre quella, che riguarda il nexum, ri monta certamente ad epoca anteriore alla formazione della comu nanza, il che fa credere che la manus iniectio nelle proprie origini abbia avuto una stretta attinenza col nexum. Cio miporge quindi occasione di discorrere brevemente di esso e di dimostrare, che anche l'istituto del nexum è una di quelle istituzioni primitive, che trovo solo applicazione nei rapporti fra il patriziato e la plebe, e che poi entró a far parte del diritto quiritario. 166. Il nexum è certo uno degli istituti, che diffonde una triste aureola sul diritto primitivo di Roma. La sua origine è ignota; ma si può affermare con certezza, che essa rimonta ad epoca anteriore alla formazione della comunanza romana: poichè la tradizione già attribuisce a Servio Tullio dei provvedimenti diretti a limitare gli effetti, che derivavano da esso. Lo stesso è a dirsi della legislazione decemvirale, che lo suppone già esistente e si limita a trattenere in certi confini i maltrattamenti contro il debitore. Fu poi notato a ragione dal Niebhur, che il nexum con tutti i tristi suoi effetti apparisce soltanto nei rapporti fra il patriziato e la plebe; per guisa che la sua abolizione si riduce ad una specie di questione sociale fra le due classi; come è anche dimostrato da ciò, che Livio consi derd l'abolizione di esso come una vittoria della plebe sopra il pa triziato. Vero è, che questo fatto può anche essere spiegato con dire che solo il patriziato era in condizione di fare degli imprestiti alla plebe, e che perciò esso solo aveva interesse al mantenimento di questo « ingens vinculum fidei »; ma parmiche il carattere vero di questa istituzione possa essere più facilmente spiegato, quando si cer chino le cause, che vi hanno dato origine. Il nexum dovette essere un modo di obbligarsi di colui, che, non avendo altre garanzie da offrire al proprio creditore, obbligava direttamente la propria persona. Ora è questa appunto la condizione, in cui si trovò il plebeo di fronte al patrizio, anteriormente alla formazionedella comunanza romana, allorchè, sprovvisto di qualsiasi diritto, non aveva altro mezzo, per trovare protezione o credito, che o di dare a mancipio se o la fa miglia, o di vincolarsi col nexum. Quello era una specie di dedizione di se stesso e questa era una specie di ipoteca, che egli consentiva sulla propria persona. Siccome poi, come si vedrà a suo tempo e come del resto fu già ritenuto dal Niebuhr, il nexum non obbligava che la persona, e non attribuiva qualsiasi diritto sui beni di esso; cosi in parte si comprende che il diritto del creditore sul debitore, sia stato spinto a quelle estreme esagerazioni, che a noi riescono pressochè inesplicabili (1). 167. Quanto al vocabolo poi non può esservi dubbio, che esso ebbe ad assumere significazioni molto diverse. (Liv. VIII, 28, in princ.: « Eo anno plebi romanae velut aliud initium liber tatis factum est, quod necti desierunt »; e più sotto: « victum eo die ingens vin culum fidei. Cfr. Niebhur, Hist. Rom., III, pag. 375. Della portata e degli effetti del nexum, come pure del mancipium, si discorrerà più sotto; poichè qui importava solo di cercare l'origine dei vocaboli e dei concetti coi medesimi significati. 208 Anche qui è probabile, che il nexum nella sua primitiva signifi cazione indicasse veramente i vincoli, a cui sottoponevasi lo schiavo fuggitivo; ma che poscia dalla significazione letterale siasi fatto pas saggio alla significazione giuridica. Tuttavia rimangono ancor sempre le traccie delle due significazioni, in quanto che gli storici chiamano col vocabolo di nexi, ora quelli che si trovano già condotti nel car cere privato del debitore, ed ora invece i debitori, che si sono ob bligati colle forme solenni del nexum. Del resto anche questo vo cabolo, al pari di quello dimancipium, significa non solo il vincolo fisico o giuridico, a cui altri si sottopone, ma eziandio l'atto con cui egli contrae il vincolo stesso (nexum facere). La conclusione intanto viene ad essere cotesta, che tutti questi istituti più rozzi, che appariscono nel primitivo ius quiritium, dovet tero aver avuto origine nei rapporti fra i vincitori e i vinti, i quali trasformati in varia guisa furono poi estesi anche ai rapporti fra il patriziato e la plebe. Sarebbe insomma anche qui accaduto cið, che pure accadde delle altre istituzioni del diritto quiritario, che esse si svolsero dapprima fra le varie genti o almeno fra i diversi capi di gruppo e furono poiapplicate nei rapporti dei quiriti fra di loro. Al modo istesso, che i concetti di connubium, di commercium e dell'actio sacramento si spiegarono dapprima fra le varie genti ed i loro capi, e solo più tardi si svilupparono nel diritto quiritario; così i concetti del mancipium, del nexum, e della manus iniectio, dopo essersi formati fra la classe dei vincitori e quella dei vinti, ed essersi poi applicati ai rapporti fra il patriziato e la plebe, si tra sformarono in istituzioni proprie del diritto quiritario. Di qui il carattere di rozzezza, di violenza, inerente ai medesimi, che rese necessaria la loro trasformazione ed anche il cambiamento dei vo caboli, con cui furono indicati, a misura, che vennero sempre più pareggiandosi le due classi, dopo che entrarono a far parte della stessa comunanza civile e politica. 168. Che se, riassumendo, si volesse ora dare uno sguardo sinte tico a quelle istituzioni esistenti fra le genti italiche, anteriormente alla fondazione della città, che si vennero ricostruendo a poco a poco, noi possiamo scorgere fin d'ora, che già si erano poste le basi fondamentali del diritto pubblico, privato ed internazionale, che ebbe poi a svolgersi in Roma. Quanto al diritto pubblico infatti, già erasi elaborato il concetto del potere monarchico, di cui avevasi il modello nel capo di famiglia; - 209 quello di un elemento aristocratico, che era rappresentato dal con siglio degli anziani, proprio della gente; e quello infine di un ele mento popolare e democratico, il quale già aveva cominciato a svolgersi nelle tribù e a presentare quel dualismo fra patriziato e plebe, che doveva poi ricevere nella città tutto lo svolgimento, di cui poteva essere capace. Furono questi elementi che, accomodati alle esigenze della vita civile e politica, servirono di base alla co stituzione primitiva di Roma e condussero naturalmente allo svolgi mento dei poteri, che furono attribuiti al re, al senato ed al popolo. 169. Così pure quanto al diritto privato, già erano in pronto gli elementi diversi, i quali,amalgamandosi insieme, dovevano porre le basi del diritto civile di Roma. Eravi infatti un diritto proprio delle genti patrizie, che, appoggiandosi da una parte sull'elemento religioso del fas e dall'altra sopra l'elemento morale del mos, già aveva dato origine ai concetti fondamentali del connubium, del commercium e dell'actio sacramento, ed aveva elaborato tutte quelle forme tradizionali e solenni, in cui si fecero entrare a poco a poco i nuovi rapporti giu ridici, ai quali diede occasione il formarsi e lo svolgersi della convi venza civile e politica. Esisteva parimenti, ancorchè solo in via di formazione, un diritto proprio della comunanza plebea, fondato so pratutto sull'usus auctoritas, il quale, per essere più semplice nella sua forma, più alieno dalle solennità, più libero da ogni influenza del passato poteva meglio adattarsi alle esigenze della vita civile e po litica. Da ultimo già cominciava ad elaborarsi un diritto, che non poteva dirsi proprio, nè del patriziato, nè della plebe, mache ten deva a racchiudere in forme rozze e primitive i rapporti, che inter cedevano fra di essi. Questo diritto era tutto uscito dal concetto fondamentale della manus, in quanto esprime il potere del capo di famiglia patrizio, ed aveva dato origine ai concetti del mancipium, del nexum e della manus iniectio, i quali, debitamente trasformati, si dovranno poi convertire in altrettanti concetti fondamentali del diritto quiritario. È quest'ultimo elemento, che attribuisce al ius qui ritium quel carattere di rozzezza e di forza, che lo contraddistingue. Tuttavia fu esso che, isolando l'elemento giuridico dall'elemento re ligioso e dal morale, con cui prima trovavasi confuso, viene a for mare il primo nucleo di quel ius quiritium il quale, assimilando col tempo istituzioni patrizie e costumanze plebee, finirà per conver tirsi in un ius civile, che poteva convenire alle due classi, che erano chiamate a far parte della stessa comunanza civile e politica. C., Le origini del diritto di Roma. De ultimo, anche per quello che si riferisce a quei rapporti, che con vocabolo moderno si potrebbero chiamare internazionali, già erausi poste le basi di un ius belli ac pacis, e si erano elabo rati i concetti dell'amicitia, dell'hospitium,della societas, e del più importante fra tutti, che era quello del foedus, il quale poi doveva somministrare il mezzo per far partecipare più tribù alla stessa vita politica, militare e giuridica, e per dare cosi origine alla città. Questa parimenti, traendo profitto dagli istituti della cooptatio, della co lonia, della concessio civitatis sine suffragio, del municipium, pos sedeva anche i mezzi per accrescere la sua popolazione e per esten dere il proprio impero. I materiali quindi erano in pronto: solo rimane a vedersi il pro cesso, col quale Roma, gittandoli tutti nello stesso crogiuolo, abbia saputo scegliere ciò, che in essi eravi di vigoroso e di vitale, e sia così riuscita a ricavarne lentamente e gradatamente la propria co stituzione politica, e quel diritto privato, il quale svolgendosi sempre sul medesimo modello e sempre arricchendosi di nuovi elementi, finirà per diventare tale da poter essere accettato da tutte le genti. Intanto una delle cause, che condurrà a questo risultato, sarà la distanza stessa, a cui trovansi i due ordini, che debbono insieme con tribuire alla formazione della città. Sarà tale distanza infatti, che forzerá la costituzione di Roma a percorrere tutte le gradazioni, di cui possa essere capace, e che obbligherà il diritto privato di Roma a riconoscere la capacità di diritto ad ogni uomo, purchè libero. Per tal guisa tutte le gradazioni del senso giuridico, dalle più semplici e naturali alle più sottili e raffinate, cadranno sotto l'elabo razione dei giureconsulti, e l'universalità del diritto romano dovrà sopratutto essere attribuita a ciò, che esso è la più completa e pre cisa espressione di un complesso di sentimenti eminentemente sociali ed umani, che nacquero e si svolsero insieme colla convivenza ci vile e politica. - 1 LIBRO II. Roma e le sue istituzioni nel periodo esclusivamente patrizio ("). CAPITOLO I. Genesi e carattere della città primitiva. 171. Nella storia non vi ha forse avvenimento, il quale abbia eser citata maggiore influenza sulle sorti dell'umanità che il passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla comunanza civile e politica. Sotto quest'aspetto non sarà mai abbastanza approfondita la storia pri mitiva di Roma, perchè non vi ha certamente altro popolo, che abbia più vivamente sentito, e quindi più profondamente scolpito nelle proprie istituzioni questa importantissima trasformazione, che (* ) Pervenuto a questo punto della trattazione, trovomidi fronte ad una lettera tura così copiosa, che mi sarebbe impossibile di poter indicare la bibliografia, che può riferirsi ad ogni singolo argomento. Siccome quindi l'intento del libro è quello unicamente di tentare una ricostruzione delle istituzioni giuridiche e politiche di Roma primitiva; così mi limitero ad indicare in nota gli autori, di cui prendo in esame le opinioni, e i passi di antichi scrittori, sui quali si fonda l'opinione da me sostenuta, e non mi fard anche scrupolo di citare una traduzione, quando non tenga l'originale, sopratutto di autori tedeschi. Quanto alla bibliografia, essa potrà essere facilmente trovata nei recenti trattati di storia del diritto romano, o di introduzione storica allo studio del diritto romano, quali sono in Francia quelli dell' ORTOLAN, del Bouché -LECLERCQ, del Maynz, del MISPOULET, del Roblou et Delaunay, del MORLot, ecc.; nel Belgio quelli del Maynz, del Rivier, del WILLEMS, ecc.; in Ger mania quelli del Bruns, del BARON, del KARLOWA, del Voigt, dell'HERZOG, ecc.; in Inghilterra quelli del MUIR EAD e del Roby; e nella nostra Italia quelli del PA DELLETTI-Cogliolo, e del LANDUCCI, ecc.; trattati, che ho citato già, o che mi occor rerà di citare in seguito. Mi perdoni il lettore: ma la sola bibliografia, fatta un po ' a dovere, mi avrebbe assorbito il volume. 212 accadde nell'organizzazione sociale. A ciò si aggiunge, che lo spirito conservatore del popolo Romano ha fatto si, che esso, modellando e svolgendo la città primitiva, abbia sempre conservato le traccie delle istituzioni preesistenti, e dei periodi diversi, per cui passò la nuova formazione. Di qui la conseguenza, che quando si riesca a penetrare il processo logico, stato seguito dai Romani nella fondazione della loro città, si potranno determinare con rigore geometrico non solo l'orientamento materiale di essa, e il modo, con cui furono costrutte le sue mura; ma eziandio la serie di quei concetti fondamentali, che, preparati in un periodo anteriore, ricevettero poi nella città tutto lo sviluppo, di cui potevano essere capaci. Già si è veduto, come nella organizzazione gentilizia siasi svolta la famiglia colla sua distinzione fra i padroni ed i servi, la gente con quella fra patroni e clienti, e infine la tribù con quella fra patrizii e plebei. È da questo punto dell'evoluzione sociale e da questo dualismo costante, che incomincia la formazione della città. Trattasi pertanto di vedere in qual modo, con questi elementi, che si erano naturalmente formati e sovrapposti gli uni agli altri, abbia potuto essere iniziata la convivenza civile e politica. Fu questa una continuazione del medesimo processo formativo dell'organizzazione gentilizia, o fu invece il risultato di qualche nuova energia o forza operosa, che si introdusse nell'organizzazione sociale? 172. Le teorie, che furono escogitate in proposito dagli studiosi della storia primitiva di Roma, sono molte in numero e diverse nei risultati a cui giunsero; quindi per noi sarà necessità di arrestarsi alle principali. Per il Mommsen, il Sumner Maine, e per la maggior parte degli autori moderni, la città primitiva avrebbe nei proprii esordii un ca rattere eminentemente patriarcale, e non sarebbe in certo modo, che un ulteriore svolgimento della stessa organizzazione gentilizia; essa sarebbe un edifizio, le cui proporzioni si sono fatte più grandi, ma che è foggiato sempre sul medesimo modello. A quel modo, che la famiglia ingrandita, dando origine a diramazioni diverse, avrebbe costituita la gente, e che le genti, riunendosi insieme, avrebbero dato origine alle tribù; cosi l'aggregazione delle tribù in un numero determinato, che sembra essere diverso secondo i varii popoli, avrebbe dato origine alla civitas. Afferma pertanto il Mommsen, che la famiglia e la gente non solo avrebbero somministrati gli elementi, da cui fu costituita, ma anche il modello, sovra cui sarebbesi fog --- - - 213 giata la comunanza civile e politica. Il re della città sarebbesi mo dellato sul capo di famiglia, e avrebbe i poteri patriarcali al mede simo spettanti; il senato non sarebbe che un consiglio di anziani, come lo prova il nome di patres, dato per tanto tempo ancora ai senatori, e compierebbe nella città quella medesima funzione, che il tribunale domestico compieva nella famiglia, e il consiglio degli anziani nella gente e nella tribù; il populus non sarebbe che la riu nione delle gentes, per guisa che sarebbe cittadino ogni individuo, che appartenga ad una di tali gentes; e da ultimo il territorio ro mano comprenderebbe i territorii riuniti, che appartenevano alle varie gentes, le quali pertanto sarebbero incorporate nello Stato nella condizione stessa, in cui prima si trovavano, e con tutte le fa miglie, che entravano a costituirle (1). Tale a un dipresso sarebbe eziandio la teoria del Sumner Maine, il quale si limita a dire, che come la tribù era stata una riunione di gentes, cosi la città era dovuta all'incorporazione di varie tribù (2). Il Lange invece, mentre si studia in tutti i modi per dimostrare, che lo Stato e il suo ordi namento è fondato sulla famiglia, e che il diritto pubblico di Roma sarebbe in certo modo uscito dal seno del diritto privato, e sareb besi modellato sul medesimo, viene poi a riconoscere, che la città primitiva è già fondata sopra una specie di contratto, il quale avrebbe modificato i poteri patriarcali del re, e al principio dell'e redità avrebbe fatto sottentrare quello dell'elezione (3 ). Il Jhering invece scorge nella costituzione primitiva di Roma un carattere essenzialmente militare. Per lui il re sarebbe un condottiero, un capitano, e il suo potere sarebbe, in sostanza, un militare im perium, destinato sopratutto a mantenere la disciplina nell'esercito, e percid accompagnato dal ius gladii; la curia da conviria sa rebbe una riunione di uomini armati, che si chiamano quiriti da quiris, asta, che è il contrassegno del potere aimedesimi spettante; il populus romanus quiritium sarebbe l'assemblea complessiva dei guerrieri, portatori di lancia; e infine le gentes stesse, in cui egli ritiene ancora che si dividano le curiae, sarebbero gruppi naturali, basati bensì sulla discendenza, ma già raffazzonati secondo le esi (1) Mommsen, Histoire Romaine. Trad. DeGuerle. Paris, 1882, I, pag. 77 et suiv. (2 ) SUMNER MAINE, L'ancien droit. Trad. Courcelle Seneuil. Paris, 1874, pag. 121. (3) Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome. Trad. Berthelot et Didier, Paris, 1885, pag. 37. 214 - genze di un esercito; donde quel numero fisso di trenta curiae, in cui sarebbe ripartito il popolo primitivo di Roma, le quali poi sareb bero suddivise in trecento gentes. A queste vuolsi eziandio aggiungere la teoria, così splendidamente esposta dal Fustel de Coulanges, secondo la quale quella religione, che avrebbe fondata la famiglia e la proprietà, la gente e la tribù, sarebbe pur quella, che avrebbe fondata e cementata la primitiva città. La civitas pertanto sarebbe per lui l'associazione religiosa e politica delle famiglie e delle tribù; mentre l'urbs sarebbe il luogo di riunione, il domicilio, e sopratutto il santuario di questa associa zione, nella quale ogni istituzione assumerebbe un carattere essen zialmente religioso. Non è a dubitarsi, che queste varie opinioni contengano tutte alcun che di vero, e che ognuna possa invocare delle analogie e degli argomenti, che le servano di appoggio; ma intanto ciascuna di esse, collocandosi ad un punto di vista esclusivo, mal pud riuscire a spie gare in modo coerente la natura cosi varia e complessa della costi tuzione primitiva di Roma: il cui concetto sembra sbocciare da una sintesi potente, la quale non può altrimenti essere ricostruita, che riportandoci nell'ambiente stesso, in cui essa ebbe a formarsi. È questo il motivo, per cui è impossibile spiegare quel carattere di unità e di varietà ad un tempo, con cui Roma compare nella storia, senza seguire la lenta e progressiva formazione della città, e tener conto delle necessità reali ed effettive, a cui le genti primitive cer carono di soddisfare, creando la comunanza civile e politica. Or bene io non dubito di affermare che, collocandosi a questo punto di vista, apparisce fino all'evidenza, che la città per le po polazioni latine non può essere considerata come una continuazione del processo formativo dell'organizzazione gentilizia prima esistente; ma inizia un nuovo ordine di cose sociali, e segue un indirizzo (1) V. IHERING, L'esprit du droit romain. Trad. Maulenaere. Paris, 1880, I, $ 20, pag. 246 e segg.; dove mette molto bene in evidenza il carattere militare della primitiva costituzione romana, e l'influenza che esso esercitò anche sullo svolgersi del suo diritto; alla quale opinione in parte anche si accosta lo SchweGLER, Rö mische Geschichte, I, pag. 523. (2) FUSTEL DE COULANGES, La cité antique. Paris, 1876. Liv. III, Chap. IV, p. 155. È però a notarsi, che l'autore è a un tempo fra quelli, che a ragione insistono sul carattere confederativo della città primitiva. Cfr. pag. 147. 215. compiutamente diverso, il quale doveva logicamente condurre alla dissoluzione dell'organizzazione sociale preesistente. Per verità si è veduto più sopra, come le popolazioni latine, che avevano preceduta la fondazione di Roma, già fossero pervenute ai concetti dell'urbs, del populus, della civitas. Che anzi tali concetti, per le popolazioni del Lazio, erano già stati il frutto di una lunga evoluzione. Esse avevano cominciato dal costruire dei siti fortificati (arces, oppida ), in cui le comunanze rurali potessero cercare rifugio nei momenti di pericolo, e in cui potessero ricoverarsi coi proprii greggi e coi proprii armenti in un'epoca, in cui erano quotidiane le scorrerie e le depredazioni nei rispettivi territorii delle varie co munanze. Il primo bisogno pertanto, a cui le genti del Lazio ave vano cercato di soddisfare, era stato quello di provvedere alla co mune difesa. Poscia, siccome la sicurezza è condizione, che favorisce gli scambi ed i commerci, così fu naturale, che, accanto a questi luoghi fortificati, si siano formati dei siti (fora ), a cui le genti convenivano per scopo di commercio, e dove, occorrendo, si tratta vano anche le alleanze e le paci. Col tempo infine questa mede sima località apparve anche sede opportuna così per l'amministra zione della giustizia, che per la trattazione di quegli affari, che riguardassero l'interesse delle varie comunanze (conciliabula ) (1). Per genti poi, in cui era vivo il sentimento della religione, era naturale, che questa comune fortezza e questo luogo di convegno (comitium ) fossero posti sotto la protezione di una divinità, non propria di questa o di quella gente, ma comune alle varie genti; e fu anche in questa guisa, che le menti giunsero a concepire una reli gione collettiva al di sopra di quella propria delle singole famiglie e genti. 174. Per tal modo il concetto della città non sboccið di un tratto, ma ebbe ad essere provato e riprovato in varie guise sotto forma di arces, di oppida, di fora, di conciliabula, di comitia, e infine di urbes; e fu soltanto, allorchè questa lenta costruzione ebbe ad essere compiuta, che i riti, secondo cui le città dovevano essere fon date e la loro popolazione doveva essere ripartita, assunsero un (1) Questa idea, che è fondamentale nella presente trattazione, ebbe ad essere accennata e dimostrata più sopra, nei suoi varii aspetti, nel lib. I, ai numeri 5, 14, 66, 99. - 216 - carattere sacro e religioso, per modo che ogni fondazione di città ebbe ad essere accompagnata da cerimonie religiose. L'urbs venne così ad essere il frutto di una lunga evoluzione, che già erasi inco minciata in seno alla stessa organizzazione gentilizia. Essa per tanto, fin dai suoi primordii, non si presenta sotto l'aspetto di una aggregazione di gruppi gentilizii, come vorrebbero il Mommsen e gli autori sopra citati; ma piuttosto come il frutto di una specie di selezione, per cui dal seno stesso dell'organizzazione gentilizia, si viene sceverando ed isolando tutto ciò, che si riferisce alla vita pub blica. Quindi la città primitiva viene ad apparire come un centro e un focolare di vita pubblica, fra varie comunanze di villaggio, la cui vita domestica e patriarcale continua a svolgersi nei vici e nei pagi. Di qui la conseguenza, che se essa sia materialmente consi derata, cioè come urbs, non si presenta, nelle proprie origini, come la riunione delle abitazioni private; mapiuttosto come la riunione in una orbita sacra degli edifizi, aventi pubblica destinazione, come la fortezza, il santuario comune, la dimora del re (custos urbis ) e dei sacerdoti (sacerdotes populi), il luogo (forum ) ove si tiene il mercato e si am ministra la giustizia, il sito ove si tengono le riunioni (comitia ) per deliberazioni di pubblico interesse; donde la curia, il qual vocabolo designa tanto il luogo di riunione, quanto il complesso delle persone che vi si riuniscono. Che se poi la città primitiva sia riguardata negli ele menti, che entrano a costituirla, essa non è più l'organizzazione delle gentes o delle tribù, nelle quali si comprendevano anche le donne, i vecchi ed i fanciulli; ma è solo il complesso di quegli uomini, ricavati dalle gentes e dalle tribù, che possano aver partecipazione attiva alla vita pubblica; di quegli uomini cioè, che possano difendere la cosa pubblica come soldati (iuniores), o che col proprio consiglio possano giovare alla medesima nelle deliberazioni, che la riguardano (se niores). L'urbs insomma è il risultato di una selezione, in virtù della quale si raccolgono in uno stesso sito tutti gli edifizi, che hanno pubblica destinazione; il populus è una selezione, per cui fra i membri delle gentes si organizzano, in esercito ed in comizii ad un tempo, coloro, che siano in età e in condizione di provvedere alla difesa ed all'interesse comune; la civitas infine, è quel rapporto speciale, che intercede fra le persone, che compongono il populus, in quanto esse appartengono alla medesima cittadinanza, e parteci pano alla stessa vita politica e militare. La città latina pertanto, e quindi anche Roma, che è un esemplare tipico della medesima, anzichè essere un'aggregazione di gentes e di tribus, corrisponde invece a un nuovo aspetto di vita sociale: cioè al nascere ed allo svolgersi di una comune vita poli tica, frammezzo a popolazioni rurali, che continuano ancora a svol gere la loro vita domestica nelle comunanze patriarcali. Allorchè essa compare, quella organizzazione gentilizia, che aveva prima com piuto le funzioni di associazione domestica e politica ad un tempo, si viene biforcando: mentre la vita privata continua a spiegarsi nelle pareti domestiche, ed in gruppi concentrati sotto l'autorità del capo di famiglia, la vita politica invece prende a svolgersi nella piazza e nel foro, e dà cosi origine a quelle discussioni e a quelle lotte, che costituiscono la vita e il movimento della città. Di qui la conseguenza, che la città, dopo aver ricavato gli elementi, che entrano a costituirla, dalle comunanze che la circondano, finisce per preparare la via alla estinzione dell'organizzazione gentilizia, e sopratutto di quelle gradazioni di essa, che prima compievano eziandio una funzione politica, quali sarebbero la gente, la tribù e la clientela. Le istituzioni invece, che colla sua formazione vengono ad affermarsi e a costituire le due basi dell'organizzazione sociale, sono i due elementi estremi, cioè: la famiglia da una parte, la quale finisce per richiamare a sè medesima tutto quello, che si riferisce alla vita domestica; e la città dall'altra, poichè essa, essendo la meta e l'aspirazione comune, tende ad attirare nella propria cerchia tutte le energie naturali e sociali, che possono conferire a darle forza e con sistenza. Di qui la conseguenza, che le due figure preponderanti, negli inizii della città, vengono ad essere il pater familias, il quale è il solo, che abbia piena capacità di diritto, ed il populus, il quale richiama a sè tutti gli elementi vigorosi e vitali, che esistono nelle comunanze, che colla propria federazione hanno dato origine alla città. Siccome perd l'opera si viene compiendo gradatamente; cosi sarà necessario un lungo svolgimento, prima che la città si possa affatto spogliare di quelle forme, che essa ricava ancora dall'orga nizzazione gentilizia, e prima che la famiglia possa perdere quel carattere pressochè civile e politico, che essa aveva assunto durante il periodo gentilizio. 176. Si può quindi conchiudere, che il processo formativo della organizzazione gentilizia e quello della città si avverano in guisa com piutamente diversa, e sono avviati in senso pressochè contrario ed opposto. - 218 Mentre il processo formativo dell'organizzazione gentilizia, in tutte le sue gradazioni, consiste in una stratificazione di gruppi natu rali, che si sovrappongono gli uni agli altri, e intanto continuano sempre ad essere foggiati sul medesimo modello, che è quello della famiglia patriarcale; la città invece non deve più la sua esistenza ad un processo di aggregazione, ma ad un processo, che potrebbe chiamarsi diselezione. Essa non comprende più tutta la vita sociale, come la tribù; ma tende invece ad isolare l'elemento giuridico, po litico e militare dagli altri aspetti di vita sociale, che si spiegavano strettamente uniti, e pressochè confusi gli uni cogli altri nell'orga nizzazione patriarcale. Di qui derivano alcune importantissime conseguenze. – Mentre l'organizzazione gentilizia, per quanto abbia già in sè qualche cosa di artificiale, in quanto che in essa la famiglia deve anche compiere funzioni politiche, può tuttavia ancora considerarsi come una pro duzione naturale, come quella che è composta di gruppi uniformi, che si sovrappongono gli uni agli altri, e il cui vincolo, vero o supposto, è pur sempre quello della discendenza da un antenato comune; la città invece viene già ad essere il frutto dell'accordo, del contratto, della federazione insomma di varii elementi, che si associano per costituirsi un centro comune di vita politica, e per provvedere così alla comune utilità ed alla comune difesa. Mentre l'organizzazione gentilizia, comprendendo persone, che si suppongono derivare da un medesimo antenato, tende a mantenere una proprietà comune e collettiva; la città invece, uscendo dalla federazione e dall'accordo, tende ad assicurare ai singoli capi di famiglia le possessioni e le terre, che loro appartengono, solo se parandone quel complesso di beni e di interessi, che riguarda l'uni versalità dei cittadini, il quale costituisce così un patrimonio co mune, che col tempo sarà indicato col vocabolo di res publica. Mentre infine il principio informatore dell'organizzazione gentilizia consiste nell'eredità e nella discendenza, per guisa che in essa tutto tende ad acquistare un carattere ereditario; il principio in vece informatore della comunanza civile e politica, appena essa compare, viene ad essere quello della capacità e dell'elezione. Tutto questo svolgimento della città primitiva, che solo erasi iniziato presso le popolazioni latine, potè spingersi con Roma a tutte le conseguenze, di cui poteva essere capace. Allorchè essa compare, il periodo di incubazione della città può 219. già ritenersi compiuto, e quindi le cerimonie, che ne accompagnano la fondazione, già hanno assunto un carattere sacro e religioso. È cogli auspizii, che incomincia la fondazione di Roma, per conoscere a quale dei due fratelli debba essere affidata la fondazione e il reg gimento della città. Tuttavia la Roma Palatina, finchè è contenuta. nei limiti dello stabilimento romuleo, non pud ancora chiamarsi una vera e propria città; ma è piuttosto lo stabilimento fortificato di una aggregazione di genti, dedita di preferenza alle armi, che è la tribù dei Ramnenses. Tutto è ancora patriarcale nella medesima; il suo re, che è il sacerdote, il capitano, e che non è ancora eletto, ma è designato dalla propria nascita e dagli auspizii; i suoi anziani, i quali non sono che i padri delle genti, che entrano a costituire la tribù; e infine anche il suo populus, che è composto ancora di persone, che si ritengono unite dal vincolo della comune discendenza, come lo dimostra la loro stessa denominazione di Ramnenses, derivata dal nome del proprio capo. Non è quindi appena stabilitosi sul Palatino, che Romolo, secondo la tradizione, procede alla costituzione politica della città. Secondo Livio, ciò accade soltanto dopo la guerra coi Sabini, e secondo Ci cerone aspettasi perfino la morte di Tito Tazio, capo dei medesimi(1 ). È da questo momento, che la città assume un carattere federale e pressochè contrattuale. Le singole tribù infatti continuano a risie dere ciascuna sopra il proprio colle, e ad avere delle proprie forti ficazioni; ma è il Capitolium, che mutasi nella fortezza delle varie comunanze, come pure gli edifizii pubblici si vengono raccogliendo nel sito, che trovasi fra il Palatino ed il Capitolino. È quivi che è collocato il locus Vestae, la domus regia Numae, le novae cu riae, da non confondersi colle curiae veteres (2 ), il cui sito era sul Palatino, edifizii tutti, che, secondo il rito, dovevano trovarsi nel cuore stesso della città. Non consta quindi che le tribù confederate abbiano abbandonate le proprie possessioni e le proprie terre; ma ciò, che esse ebbero comune fu soltanto la città ed il governo di essa, come lo dimostra il fatto, che secondo la tradizione vi sarebbe stato un breve periodo di tempo, in cui Romolo e Tazio avrebbero (Livio, I, 13; Cic., de Rep. II, 8. Cfr. più sopra, i numeri 85, 86. « Novae curiae (scrive Festo) proxime compitum Fabricium aedificatae sunt, quod parum amplae erant veteres a Romulo factae ». Tuttavia vi restarono an cora sette curie, che continuarono a compiere i loro sacra nel sito antico (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 346 ). 220 regnato contemporaneamente: il che significa, che ciascuno di essi avrebbe conservato la qualità di capo della propria tribù. Non è quindi meraviglia, se la città primitiva presenti ancora per qualche tempo le traccie dell'organizzazione gentilizia, perchè il trapasso dalla semplice tribù ad una vera e propria città si operò solo gra datamente. Intanto però la trasformazione viene ad essere iniziata e proseguita senz'interruzione fin da quel momento, in cui al vin. colo della discendenza si sostituisce quello della federazione e del l'accordo, e alla trasmessione ereditaria sottentra il principio del l'elezione. 178. A ciò si aggiunge, che Roma, fin dai proprii esordii, si trovo in una condizione diversa da quella delle altre città latine, da cui trovavasi circondata. Essa infatti non costitui soltanto un centro di vita pubblica, frammezzo a varie comunanze rurali; ma diventò ben presto un centro di vita urbana, contrapposta alla vita rustica dei campi. I suoi primi fondatori, pur conservando i proprii agri genti lizii, avevano ottenuto nel recinto stesso della città uno spazio di terra, ove avevano potuto costruirsi una casa, circondata da un orto. Per tal guisa in Roma non eravi soltanto l'elemento, che conveniva nei giorni di festa, o di pubbliche riunioni, o per causa di fiera e di mercato; ma eravi una parte eziandio, e questa era quella dell'antico patriziato, che, pur conservando la propria dimora gentilizia, aveva posta sede permanente dentro la città, o in prossimità di essa. Fu in questa guisa, che Roma diventò ben presto, secondo l'espressione del Mommsen, l'emporio del Lazio, e che, dopo aver cominciato, al pari delle altre città latine, dall'essere un centro di vita pub blica fra diverse comunanze, cambiossi ben presto eziandio in un centro urbano, la cui vita si contrappose a quella dei campi, e venne cosi accrescendosi costantemente, mediante quell'attrazione, che i centri urbani esercitano anche oggi sulle popolazioni, da cui tro vansi circondati. È questo che spiega come, durante lo stesso periodo regio, Roma da sola già potesse conchiudere un foedus aequum con tutta la confederazione latina, e come l'intento costante dei re sia stato quello di estenderne la cerchia per guisa da comprendere in essa anche le abitazioni private dei cittadini. Intanto agli altri dua lismi, che presenta Roma fin dai proprii inizii, debbe anche aggiun gersi quello, per cuidistinguesi la vita urbana dalla vita rustica; come lo dimostra il fatto che il patriziato romano ha serbata sempre la consuetudine di passare un periodo di tempo fra le mura della città, 221 e un altro invece alla campagna (ruri), frammezzo alle proprie pos sessioni gentilizie: consuetudine, che anche oggi può dirsi mantenuta dal patriziato romano. Di qui la conseguenza, che Roma, in una lunga e lenta evoluzione, poté compiere in ogni sua parte quello svolgimento, che solo erasi iniziato presso le altre popolazioni latine. Essa riusci a sceverare la vita pubblica dalla privata, l'elemento sacro dal pro fano, la vita urbana dalla vita rustica, la vita militare dalla vita civile; ed effigid questi atteggiamenti diversi della vita sociale ed umana con un linguaggio così efficace e scultorio, che nessun'altra città può in questa parte competere con essa. Di queste varie distin zioni, quella, che cominciò ad effettuarsi fin dal periodo di Roma esclusivamente patrizia, fu la distinzione fra la vita pubblica e la vita privata; mentre la distinzione fra l'elemento sacro ed il profano cominciò solo ad operarsi, allorchè la plebe, che non era partecipe del culto gentilizio, fu anche ammessa a far parte della cittadinanza romana; e da ultimo la distinzione fra la popolazione rustica ed urbana, solo prese a farsi evidente, allorchè la città si accorse di essere in parte dominata dalla turba forense. Infine il dualismo fra la vita militare e la vita civile è anche uno di quelli, che appariscono costantemente nella storia di Roma, e che rimontano fino agli inizii di essa. Il suo populus è un'assem blea ed un esercito ad un tempo; il suo magistrato ha l'imperium domi, militiaeque; i suoi cittadini hanno un periodo di età, in cui partecipano al servizio attivo, e un altro, in cui entrano a formare l'esercito di riserva; gli atti stessi più importanti della vita, quale sarebbe, ad esempio, il testamento, possono farsi in guisa diversa, secondo che trattisi di cittadini in tempo di pace, o di soldati in procinto di venire a battaglia; la quale distinzione poi mantiensi co stante per modo, che anche con Giustiniano il testamento pud distin guersi in comune ed in militare. Per tal modo il cittadino di Roma è uomo di toga e di spada ad un tempo, e si acconcia alle esigenze della pace e a quelle della guerra (rerum dominos, gentemque togatam ). 180. Sopratutto qui importa di mettere in evidenza quel dua lismo, che colla formazione della città venne ad introdursi fra la vita pubblica e la privata; in quanto che fu questo il grande intento, a cui si ispirò Roma primitiva, e a cui accennano costantemente i 222 poeti latini, i quali non trovano espressione più efficace per indicare la corruzione del costume, e il perdersi delle buone tradizioni, che l'accennare alla confusione della cosa pubblica colla privata (1). È questo il dualismo veramente fondamentale, che, una volta in trodotto, finisce per riverberarsi, con un processo logico non mai in terrotto, in una quantità di altri dualismi, che compariscono costan temente nelle stesse circortanze sociali, e che potrebbero essere paragonati ad una voce, che con gradazioni diverse viene ad es sere ripercossa e ripetuta dall'eco. 181. Per verità è ovvio il considerare, come in seguito alla forma zione della città, accanto alla gentilitas, che era il rapporto, che stringeva i varii membri dell'organizzazione gentilizia, si svolga la civitas, la quale è il rapporto, che unisce coloro, che appartengono alla stessa comunanza militare e politica. Quindi è, che alla distin zione fra liberi e servi, fra gentiles e gentilicii, viene ad aggiun gersi e ad acquistare un'importanza sempre maggiore quella fra cives e peregrini. Cosi pure, accanto ai genera hominum, che sono sparsi nei pagi e nei vici, e che comprendono senza distinzione tutti coloro, che si suppongono discendere da un medesimo antenato, si svolge il concetto del populus, che dapprima non comprende ogni ordine di persone, ma solo il complesso degli uomini validi ed ar mati, che col braccio e col consiglio possono partecipare alla difesa ed al governo della cosa pubblica. Procedendo ancora innanzi, accanto al concetto della res fami liaris, che comprende il complesso degli interessi privati di una de terminata persona, si esplica il concetto della res publica, il quale, per essere più astratto, compare più tardi, che non quello del popu lus; ma finisce anch'esso per esprimere con potenza ed efficacia il complesso degli interessi comuni alla intiera città, ed a tutto il popolo (res populi). Intanto così la res familiaris, come la res pu blica debbono avere un'autorità che le governi, e mentre questa per la famiglia sarà indicata col vocabolo di manus, nella sua signi ficazione più larga, per la repubblica invece sarà indicata col vo cabolo di publica potestas. Che anzi i due poteri sono cosi distinti (1) Per dimostrare l'importanza, che nel concetto romano ha la distinzione fra il pubblico e il privato, basti citare il Trinummus di Plauto, questa commedia, così profondamente morale, in cui, ogni qualvolta occorre una censura contro i corrotti costumi, si lamenta sempre questo mescersi del pubblico col privato. 223 fra di loro, che la subordinazione più estesa nel seno della famiglia non toglie, che altri possa esercitare tutti i suoi diritti come cit tadino, e partecipare come tale agli onori ed alle magistrature. La distinzione poi, che è nella natura dei rapporti, viene natu ralmente a riflettersi eziandio nel diritto, che è chiamato a gover narli. Di qui la distinzione che, iniziata fin dalla formazione della città, viene col tempo facendosi sempre più netta e precisa fra il diritto pubblico ed il diritto privato; il quale ultimo, secondo il con cetto romano, non deve già essere soffocato ed assorbito dal diritto pubblico, ma trovasi invece collocato sotto la tutela e la protezione di esso. Non può quindi essere ammesso il concetto del Lange, che in parte è anche quello del Mommsen, secondo cui il diritto pubblico verrebbe in certo modo a modellarsi sul diritto privato: poichè il processo che si segui in Roma si avverd invece in senso contrario ed opposto. Non fu il diritto pubblico, che si modello sopra il pri vato; ma fu il diritto privato, che venne svolgendosi in quella guisa e in quei confini, che erano consentiti dalla costituzione politica della città. Quindi è che il diritto privato di Roma non si formo di un tratto, ma venne svolgendosi gradatamente, a misura che le esigenze della vita civile fecero sentire il bisogno del suo ricono scimento. Ciò ci è dimostrato dal fatto, che fin dalle origini di Roma noi possiamo trovare poste le basi di tutto il diritto pubblico di Roma, mentre la vera elaborazione del diritto civile romano, co mune alle due classi del patriziato e della plebe, incomincia solo più tardi. Prima si fondò la città, e poi si pensò alla formazione del suo diritto, ed è anche questo uno dei motivi, per cui il diritto di Roma potè riuscire tipico ed esemplare per tutti i popoli. Intanto, in prosecuzione del medesimo processo, anche la legge, che è l'espressione delle volontà riunite e concordi, viene a distin guersi in les privata ed in lex publica, di cui quella esprime l'accordo di due o più contraenti, mentre la lex publica invece è l'espressione della volontà collettiva del popolo, che si impone alla volontà dei singoli individui. Anche i sacra vengono a subire la medesima distinzione; la quale pure si verifica per cid, che si rife [ La distinzione fra la lex publica e la lex privata è accennata più volte da Garo in formole, che da lai ci furono conservate. Comm. I, 3; II, 104; III, 174. Una delle modificazioni state introdotte dal MOMMSEN nell'ultima edizione, Friburgi, 1887, da lui curata del Bruns, Fontes iuris romani antiqui, fu quella di intito larne il capo terzo: Leges publicae populi romani post XII Tabulas latae. 224 - risce agli auspicia (1). Lo stesso infine deve dirsi dei crimina, i quali, a misura che si vengono delineando, sono pure richiamati alla distinzione fondamentale di publica e di privata, secondo che il danno, che ne deriva, e quindi la prosecuzione di essi appar tenga ai singoli individui, oppure colpisca ed interessi l'intiera co munanza; distinzione, che riflettesi eziandio nei iudicia, i quali fin da Servio Tullio cominciano a dividersi in iudicia publica e pri vata. A queste si potrebbero aggiungere ancora molte altre distin zioni, che son tutte il riverbero di un medesimo concetto, che una volta accettato percorre l'intiera vita sociale e lascia dapertutto le traccie del suo passaggio. È in questo senso, che le proprietà si distinguono in due categorie, indicate coi vocaboli di ager pri vatus e di ager publicus; che i rapporti stessi, che possono correre fra cittadini e stranieri, subiscono la stessa distinzione, cosicchè la societas, l'amicitia, l'hospitium, il foedus si distinguono anche essi in pubblici e in privati. Non è quindi meraviglia, se parlisi eziandio di costume pubblico e privato, di virtù pubbliche e private, e se la distinzione si inoltri nei particolari più minuti della vita, co sicchè anche i servi stessi si distinguono in publici e privati, e chiamasi publicus l'equus, che è somministrato dallo Stato agli equites, che vengono così ad essere denominati equo publico. 182. Conviene quindi ammettere, che la distinzione dovesse es sere profondamente sentita, se essa lasciò le proprie traccie in qual siasi argomento. Non occorre poi di notare, che l'esplicazione dia lettica dei due concetti, che qui si compendia in pochi tratti, dovette naturalmente essere il frutto di una lunga evoluzione; ma se questa potè accadere colla fondazione della città, mentre prima non erasi avverata, la causa di un tal fatto deve trovarsi in ciò, che la città non si propose di agglomerare genti e famiglie, ma intese fin dapprincipio a sceverare la vita pubblica dalla privata. Che se si volesse spingere più oltre lo sguardo sarebbe anche facile il dimostrare, che la formazione della città cooperò eziandio allo svol gersi di sentimenti e di affetti, che prima non riuscivano a sceverarsi (1) Quanto alla distinzione dei sacra publica ac privata, è da vedersi Festo, vu Publica sacra (Bruns, Fontes pag. 358), stato già citato a pag. 43, nota nº 3. Quanto alla distinzione poi fra gli auspicia publica e gli auspicia privata, è da vedersi Mommsen, Le droit pubblic romain. Trad. Girard. Paris, 1887, I, pag. 101, cogli autori ivi citati in nota. 225 dagli affetti domestici e patriarcali. Fu infatti la città, che, accanto agli affetti di famiglia ed al culto per gli antenati, suscitò l'affetto per la propria terra, e il culto per coloro, che si sacrificavano per essa, e quell'illimitato amore di patria, che informa tutta la storia e tutta la letteratura di Roma, e che fece esclamare al cittadino ro mano: dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. Fu essa parimenti, che accanto al culto per i mores maiorum riusci a svolgere il concetto di una legge, espressione della volontà comune, che doveva a tutti essere nota, e costituire in certo modo la base e il fonda mento della comunanza civile. Fu essa ancora, che, accanto alle tradizioni, che si serbavano gelosamente nelle famiglie e nelle genti e si trasmettevano di generazione in generazione, diede origine a quella narrazione dei fasti e degli avvenimenti notevoli per la città, da cui doveva poi uscire la storia; al modo stesso che, accanto al comando del padre ed alla persuasione degli anziani, fece svolgere l'arte oratoria e l'eloquenza, le quali più non si impongono per l'au reola religiosa, da cui sono circondate, ma commuovono e trasci nano la moltitudine e la folla, a cui si indirizzano. Fu essa infine, che, accanto alla narrazione delle gesta degli eroi e dei principi, cantate nelle epopee primitive, rese possibile la storia militare e po litica della città e del popolo, e pose anche in evidenza l'impor tanza politica di quell'elemento, che chiamavasi plebe (1 ). 183. Dopo cið parmi di poter conchiudere, che non può essere accolta l'opinione di coloro, che considerano Roma primitiva come uno Stato patriarcale. « Lo Stato romano, noi diremo con un re. cente autore, che è il Pelham, appartiene, quanto alla sua struttura, ad uno stadio già molto più inoltrato dello sviluppo della convivenza sociale e suppone innanzi a sè una lunga preparazione storica. Certo esso conserva ancora le traccie di un più antico e più pri mitivo ordine di cose; ma queste sono traccie di un periodo ormai trascorso, le quali tendono sempre più a scomparire » (2). La supre (1) Per una più larga trattazione dei mutamenti, che recò nella vita sociale il surrogarsi della città all'organizzazione patriarcale, mi rimetto all'opera: La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale, Torino, 1880, nº. 34, pag. 94 e segg., e alla dissertazione: Genesi e sviluppo delle varie forme di convivenza civile e po litica. Torino, 1878. (2 ) Pelham, vº Rome (ancient), nell'Encyclopedia Britannica, ninth edition. Edinburgh, 1886, vol. XX, pag. 731. C. Le origini del diritto di Roma.] mazia dello Stato è ormai stabilita sopra ciascuno dei gruppi, dalla cui confederazione esso è uscito, e ciascuno di questi gruppi più non si mantiene, che come una corporazione di carattere esclusivamente privato. In questa parte pertanto « lo Stato Romano, come ben nota il Gentile, lascia a grande distanza la monarchia delle popolazioni Orientali, ed anche quella delle primitive società greche, la quale è ancora stretta da intimo vincolo colla divinità, da cui ritiensi pro cedere, e che trasmettesi per eredità nei discendenti per sangue, e signoreggia con assoluta potestà il populus od il demos, il quale è solo convocato ad udire le decisioni sovrane e non mai a deliberare. Il principio invece della sovranità popolare ed il diritto a partecipare all'amministrazione della cosa pubblica con un voto direttamente esercitato, e il diritto anche di voto nell'elezione dei reggitori dello Stato è fin dalle prime origini inerente alla cittadinanza romana » (1). Il Re, fin dagli esordii della città, è la suprema magistratura dello Stato, e questo è l'opera del volontario accordo dei cittadini e dei capi di famiglia, che concorsero alla sua formazione, i quali, nella propria elezione, più non badano esclusivamente alla nascita ed alla stirpe, ma cominciano a riguardare al valore ed alla sapienza dei proprii reggitori. Sarà collocandosi a questo punto di vista, che non segue questo o quell'elemento esclusivo, ma cerca di riguardarli tutti ad un tempo nel loro progressivo sviluppo, che potrà riuscire più facile di com prendere i primitivi elementi dello Stato romano, ed il carattere dei poteri, che lo governano. (1) GENTILE, Le elezioni e il broglio nella repubblica romana, Milano, 1879, pag. 2 e 3. 227 . Le cose premesse hanno abbastanza dimostrato, come nella formazione primitiva dell'organizzazione sociale domini una legge di evoluzione, non dissimile da quella, che governa le formazioni naturali. Le traccie di essa apparirono evidenti, allorchè fra i gruppi gentilizii si veniva lentamente preparando e quasi sperimentando in varie guise la convivenza civile e politica. Tuttavia questo concetto deve essere completato con osservare, che nella storia delle cose sociali ed umane, ogni qualvolta sono preparati gli elementi di una formazione novella, e questa trovi un terreno acconcio al proprio sviluppo, gli elementi, di cui si tratta, sembrano richiamarsi l'un l'altro, attirarsi scambievolmente, riunirsi per guisa, che la nuova formazione sboccia tanto più rigogliosa e potente, quanto è più matura la preparazione di essa. Per tal modo ad una lenta incuba zione può anche succedere una pronta e rapida formazione: il che talvolta accade ancora a ' nostri tempi, e accadde senz'alcun dubbio nella storia primitiva di Roma, allorchè la nuova città, dopo essere stata lungamente preparata, presentasi nella storia pressochè con sapevole della propria destinazione. Tutte le incertezze sembrano essere scomparse, e quasi si potrebbe dire con ragione, che la co stituzione primitiva di Roma, al pari di Minerva, sembra uscire compiutamente armata dal cervello di Giove. Se infatti si possono ancora scorgere delle incertezze, in quanto riguarda la formazione di una religione, comune alle varie tribù, perchè questo non è lo scopo essenziale, a cui Roma intende; la costituzione politica di Roma invece sembra in certo modo essere il frutto di una intuizione po tente, tanta è l'armonia dell'edifizio, tanta l'efficacia e l'acconcezza dei vocaboli, con cui si esprimono le singole istituzioni, tanto è il sentimento, che ciascun organo del nuovo Stato ha di sè medesimo. e del contributo, che deve recare all'opera comune. Noi ci troviamo 228 di fronte ad un popolo, che con uno sforzo collettivo giunge a mo dellare ne' fatti un edificio, al quale a stento potrebbe riuscire un pensatore, che raccolto nelle proprie meditazioni cercasse di isolare da una quantità di materiali, posti a sua disposizione, tutto ciò, che si riferisce alla vita politica, giuridica e militare. Tutte le energie naturali e sociali sembrano concentrarsi in un'opera sola, e ben può dirsi con Ennio e con Cicerone, che fin dai propri esordii: Moribus antiquis res stat romana virisque. Secondo la tradizione, bastó un solo regno per porre le basi di una costituzione, che richiese poi parecchi secoli per svolgersi in tutte le sue parti (1): nè la tradizione pud essere così facilmente respinta, come vorrebbe la critica moderna, in quanto che noi difficilmente possiamo comprendere l'entusiasmo potente, da cui poterono essere stimolati re, senato, sacerdozii e popolo, allorchè erano intesi tutti all'attuazione di un grande concetto. 185. L'urbs, dopo la federazione delle varie tribù, viene ad essere collocata in un sito, a cui hanno facile accesso le diverse comunanze e trovasi così in tale posizione da potersi cambiare nel l'emporio del Lazio. Essa per la prima, fra le comunanze italiche, da cui trovasi circondata, l'ha rotta colle tradizioni, e si è formata mediante il connubio di genti, che appartengono a stirpi e a nomi diversi. I padri, che si riunirono per costituirla, hanno parentele ed aderenze nei territori contigui, e probabilmente continuano a tenervi delle possessioni, e possono così esercitare un'attrazione potente sulle popolazioni vicine, a qualunque stirpe esse appartengono. Se a tutto ciò si aggiunge la fortuna della nascente città, la fortezza della sua posizione e delle sue mura, il carattere tenace e perseverante de' suoi cittadini, che tutto aspettano dall'avvenire di essa, potrà lasciarci ammirati, ma non increduli il suo rapido incremento. Anche lasciando in disparte il provvedimento, che viene attribuito a Ro molo, di aver aperto un asilo ai rifugiati delle altre città, era na turale, che essa dovesse cambiarsi in un asilo per tutti coloro, che « Vi. (1) Cic., de Rep., V, 1. È lo stesso CICERONE, che insiste più volte sul rapido svolgimento di Roma all'epoca romulea, e fa dire fra le altre cose a Scipione: detisque igitur, unius viri consilio non solum ortum novum populum, neque ut in cunabulis vagientem relictum, sed adultum iam pene et puberem? » (De rep., II, 11). Lo stesso pure appare dal racconto di Livio e di Dionisio. 229 si trovassero spostati nella propria terra o nella propria organiz zazione gentilizia. Il grande scopo dei fondatori era quello di fon dere insieme questi elementi diversi e di unificare così la città, tanto nelle mura, che la circondano, quanto nei concetti giuridici politici e militari, che servono a stringerne insieme le parti diverse. 186. La cerchia delle mura e la sua compagine interna sembrano cosi procedere di pari passo. I suoi fondatori già hanno una lunga esperienza di cose civili e non ignorano anche i riti religiosi, da cui deve essere accompagnata la fondazione di una città. Cominciasi pertanto dagli auspizi, per conoscere « quod bonum, felix, faustum, fortunatumque siet populo Romano», e per tal modo anche la re ligione viene ad essere posta a base della nuova formazione. Quanto alla sua costituzione interna, tutto sembra essere preparato ed ac concio. I concetti politici di Roma primitiva, nella loro sintesi po tente, possono essere paragonati a quei massi rozzamente modellati, che sovrapposti gli uniagli altri formano la cerchia delle sue mura, e che per il proprio peso e la propria quadratura non abbisognano di essere cementati gli uni con gli altri. Essi non escono da una costituzione scritta: ma erompono dalla stessa realtà dei fatti, e sono altrettante costruzioni logiche e coerenti in tutte le loro parti, le quali, una volta accolte nella costituzione, potranno essere svolte con rigore dialettico, fino a che non abbiano ricevuto tutto lo svi luppo, di cui possono essere capaci. Le forme esteriori delle istituzioni politiche di Roma sono bensì ricavate da istituzioni analoghe, esi stenti nell'organizzazione anteriore, ma il contenuto di esse viene ad essere determinato dalle esigenze della nuova città. Quanto all'in tento, che la città si propone, esso è universalmente sentito, e quindi non è meraviglia, se la nuova città proceda verso il proprio scopo con l'ordine, con cui si dispiegherebbe un esercito, e se dei suoi fondatori possa dirsi col poeta: cui lecta potenter erit res, nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucidus ordo (1). Per tal modo il concetto della città presentasi determinato in tutte le sue parti, e si esplica con un rigore geometrico, che rende pos sibile di rifare i diversi stadii, che ha dovuto percorrere. (1 ) ORAZIO, Ars poetica. 230 187. La città è un edifizio nuovo, costruito con elementi tolti dall'organizzazione gentilizia preesistente, i quali però, mirando ad un intento novello, ricevono uno svolgimento compiutamente diverso. L'urbs è una selezione dalle comunanze di villaggio circostanti, per cui tutti gli edifizii, che hanno pubblica destinazione, sono con centrati in un medesimo sito; il populus non è tutta la popolazione delle comunanze, ma il complesso dei viri, che col braccio e col consiglio possono cooperare all'interesse comune; la civitas non è più un vincolo di sangue, ma è determinata dalla partecipazione alla medesima vita pubblica sotto l'aspetto politico e militare ad un tempo; il munus non è il complesso delle obbligazioni, che incom bono all'uomo come tale, ma il complesso dei diritti e delle obbli gazioni, che derivano dall'ubbidire al medesimo diritto e dal par tecipare alla stessa comunanza civile e politica (1); la res publica non è la somma degli interessi de' singoli cittadini,ma il complesso degli interessi, che riguarda l'universalità dei cittadini, considerata come un tutto organico e coerente; infine la lex publica è il com plesso dei patti ed accordi votati nei comisii, in base ai quali si conviene di partecipare alla stessa vita pubblica, e quindi per la formazione di essa debbono concorrere tutti gli elementi costitutivi della città. 188. Intanto perd nella formazione della città non può aversi altro punto di partenza, che quello delle istituzioni preesistenti, per guisa che il nuovo edificio richiama pur sempre l'antico, ma intanto la sua base è mutata; poichè mentre quello si reggeva sull'eredità e sulla discendenza, questo invece si fonda sulla capacità e sull'ele zione; mentre quello si fondava sul vincolo del sangue, questo invece pone la sua base salda sopra un determinato territorio, nel quale si fortifica e si chiude; mentre in quello ogni cosa veniva ad essere determinata dall'età e dalla posizione naturale, che altri tiene nella famiglia e nella gente, in questo invece le funzioni degli (1) « Munus (scrive Festo, quale è restituito dal Mommsen nell'ultima ediz. del Bruns, Fontes, pag. 344 e 3-15 ) dicitur administratio reipublicae, magistratus alicuius, aut curae, imperiive, quae multitudinis universae consensu, atque legitimis in unum convenientis populi comitiis, alicui mandatur per suffragia, ut capere eum eamque oporteat, et statim, certove ex tempore, certum usque ad tempus administrare », Qui però il vocabolo munus è preso in una significazione più ristretta, che non quella che lo stesso autore vi attribuisce, quando discorre del municipium.] individui vengono ad essere determinate dalla cooperazione, che possono recare alla città. Giovani debbono esserne i soldati; anziani debbono esserne i consiglieri. — Solo potrebbe trarre in inganno quel l'aureola religiosa, che sembra ancora circondare la formazione della città; maanche questa religione non deve più confondersi con quella preesistente; essa non è nè il fondamento, nè l'intento supremo, a cui la città intende, come sembra sostenere il Fustel de Coulanges (1); ma è soltanto una consacrazione dello scopo, che viene a proporsi la nuova comunanza, politica e militare ad un tempo, e quindi anche la sua religione, i suoi sacerdozii, i suoi auspizii hanno un carattere pubblico, e come tali si contrappongono alla religione, ai sacerdozii, e agli auspicii delle singole genti. $ 2. Il populus e le sue ripartizioni (tribus, curiae, decuriae). 189. Anche le divisioni, che compariscono nella città, a prima giunta appariscono come un riverbero di quelle, che esistevano nel periodo precedente e quanto alla loro conformazione esteriore, sono veramente tali; ma se si riguardano più da vicino, si presentano con un contenuto, che già comincia ad essere diverso e che tende a diventarlo sempre più. Così è certamente vero, che la città viene ad essere divisa in tribu; ma è evidente, che questa divisione in tribů, trasportata nell'interno di una stessa comunanza, non può più considerarsi come una distinzione del populus, ma tende di necessità a cam biarsi in una ripartizione del suo territorio. Le tre tribù primitive, ancorchè serbino per qualche tempo la denominazione antica, ten dono necessariamente a trasformarsi in altrettante divisioni territo riali; poichè col mescolarsi degli elementi riuniti in una stessa co munanza, la distinzione delle stirpi primitive finisce per non più corrispondere alla realtà dei fatti. Come si potrà ancora parlare di una tribù di Ramnenses, di Titienses e di Luceres, quando, per la comunanza di connubio e di diritto, le varie genti si vengono me scolando insieme e nulla pud impedire, che le persone di una stirpe possano anche trasportare la propria sede nel territorio dell'altra? Si (1 ) FUSTEL DE COUlanges, La cité antique, liv. III, chap. 5, 6, 7. 232 comprende pertanto, che fin dapprincipio i re tentassero di togliere di mezzo questa distinzione, che solo ebbe a mantenersi ancora per qualche tempo in conseguenza di quello spirito conservatore, che dimostrasi tenace sopratutto fra le genti di stirpe Sabina, alle quali appunto apparteneva l'augure Atto Nevio. La sua opposizione tut tavia non mutasi che in una dilazione, e la soppressione delle an tiche tribù, se non di diritto, verrà ad essere operata di fatto da Servio Tullio, che alla tribù fondata sulla discendenza sostituirà la tribù di carattere territoriale, e sarà cosi conservato il nome antico per indicare una istituzione compiutamente nuova. In questo modo infatti si sostituisce il vincolo territoriale, a quello della discendenza, che prima era il solo ad essere riconosciuto (1). 190. La distinzione invece, che è veramente fondamentale per il populus, è quella per cui il medesimo viene ad essere ripartito in curiae. Un tempo si è dubitato circa il carattere originario delle curiae, e sull'autorità del Niebhur si è soventi sostenuto, che esse non fossero, che aggregazioni di gentes, e che si ripartissero anzi in gentes (2 ). Ora però comincia ad essere universalmente ammesso, che la curia può essere una istituzione, la cui origine è forse an teriore alla comunanza romana, e che poteva già essere conosciuta alle genti latine ed etrusche; ma che essa deve ad ognimodo essere considerata come la base di tutte le divisioni politiche e militari della città, finchè questa si mantenne esclusivamente patrizia. Essa, al pari del populus, di cui è una suddivisione, costituisce una cor porazione religiosa, politica e militare ad un tempo; ha un proprio capo (curio); un proprio sacerdote (flamen curialis ); un proprio culto, che fa parte dei sacra publica; un proprio santuario (sacel um ); e tutte insieme riunite hanno proprie assemblee, che pren dono il nome di comitia curiata. L'esattezza stessa del loro nu mero già dimostra come questa divisione abbia un carattere del tutto artificiale, e miri a uno scopo preordinato, che è quello di dare (1) Del resto anche VARRONE, De ling. lat., IX, 9, parla della divisione primitiva in tribù, come di una divisione piuttosto dell'ager che del populus. Cfr. Karlowa, Röm. R. G., I, pag. 31, il quale anzi nota che la distinzione in tribus, secondo Livio I, 13, si applicherebbe di preferenza agli equites. (2) Niebhur, Histoire Romaine. Trad. Golbery. Paris, 1830, II, pag. 19. Vedi in proposito ciò, che si è detto parlando delle gentes nel lib. I, cap. III, al nº. 28 e seg. e nelle note relative. 233 - ai quiriti, posti sotto la protezione della religione, un ordinamento politico e militare ad un tempo, per modo che essi sotto un aspetto possano costituire un'assemblea di quiriti, e sotto un altro un eser cito di Romani. Quello viene ad essere il loro nome nei rapporti interni (domi), e questo è quello, con cui sono designati nei rapporti esterni (foris, militiae). Nulla vieta, che imembri di una medesima curia siano anche stretti da vincoli gentilizi fra di loro, e che essi, come attesta Aulo Gellio, siano anche tratti ex generibus homi num (1); ma le curie sono già composte di uomini scelti, di viri, diguerrieri armati di lancia (quiris), di persone comprese in certi limiti di età, e quindi non possono più avere colle gentes altro rapporto, salvo quello che da esse ricavasi il contingente, che entra a costituirle. È quindi incomprensibile, che le curiae possano ripartirsi in gentes, le quali comprendono indistintamente tutti coloro, che derivano dal medesimo antenato, senza riguardo nè all'età, né al sesso. Solo può dirsi, che i membri della curia possono essere considerati sotto un doppio aspetto: o in rapporto colle famiglie, colle genti, colle tribù, da cui ebbero a staccarsi, e sotto quest'aspetto essi continuano ad essere dei gentiles; o rimpetto al populus ed alla civitas, di cui entrano a far parte, e sotto questo aspetto sono dei viri, dei quirites, degli uomini di arme e di consiglio, che non debbono avere altro pensiero, che quello della res publica. 191. Quanto alla suddivisione in decuriae, che è solo accennata da Dionisio, essa non può certamente essere confusa colla riparti zione in gentes, come avrebbe voluto il Niebhur; ma può essere facilmente compresa, quando si ritenga, che dalle curie usciva poi quel contingente, scelto e nominato dal re, che doveva poi entrare a costituire le centurie dei cavalieri e le decurie dei senatori. I [Aulo Gellio, Noctes Atticae, lib. XV, 27, ci conservò in succinto tutta una teoria intorno ai comizii, che egli dice di aver ricavata dal libro di Laelius Foelix, ad Quintum Mucium, e sarebbero parole testuali di quest'ultimo le seguenti: « cum ex generibus hominum suffragium feratur, curiata comitia; cum ex censu et aetate, centuriata; cum ex regionibus et locis, tributa ». Fu anche fondandosi su questo passo, che si è sostenuto per lungo tempo, che le curiae si dividessero in gentes; ma parmi evidente, che, anche ammettendo che genus in questo caso suoni gens, il medesimo non potrà mai condurre ad altro risultato salvo a quello, che il contingente delle curie era ricavato dalle genti e in base alla discendenza, mentre quello delle cen turie era ripartito in base al censo, e quello dei comizii tributi in base alle località o alle tribù, a cui erano ascritti i cittadini. 234 senatori (patres) ed i cavalieri (celeres, equites) nella città primi tiva appariscono come due corpi scelti nel seno stesso delle curie, e corrispondono in certo modo alla divisione dei iuniores e dei se niores. I primi sono l'elemento giovine, splendido nell'armi, che costituisce il corteggio del re e l'ornamento della città (civitatis or namentum ), sotto il comando di un tribunus celerum, o di un magister equitum; mentre il senato, nella concezione estetica ed armonica della città primitiva, rappresenta l'elemento più maturo negli anni, più saggio nel consiglio, e costituisce veramente il con siglio, da cui il re è circondato (regium consilium ). Non vi ha poi dubbio, che l'uno o l'altro elemento viene ad essere ricavato dal seno delle curie, e quindi è assai probabile, che, nell'ordinamento simmetrico della città primitiva, ogni curia potesse anche sommini strare un numero eguale di cavalieri e di senatori, numero che dovette appunto essere quello di dieci per ogni curia; donde il con cetto, che anche le curiae si dividessero in decuriae. Del resto non avrebbe nulla di ripugnante, che questa suddivisione esistesse vera mente nel seno delle curie: mentre sarebbe in ogni caso incom prensibile, che le curie si potessero suddividere in gentes (1 ). 192. Conchiudendo si può dire: che la ripartizione in tribù, qualunque potesse esserne la significazione primitiva, tende a cam biarsi in una divisione territoriale, ossia in una ripartizione del l'ager; che il populus, ricavato per selezione dalle genti e dalle tribù, dividesi in curiae, che sono corporazioni religiose, politiche e militari ad un tempo, i cui quadri sono regolari, come quelli diun esercito, cosicchè riunite possono costituire sotto un certo aspetto un esercito e sotto un altro aspetto un'assemblea politica, e sotto altro assumono eziandio un carattere sacerdotale, che fu quello (1) Che le decuriae non debbano confondersi colle gentes, ma debbano invece ri cercarsi piuttosto negli equites e senz'alcun dubbio anche fra i patres del senato, è provato anzitutto da ciò, che il senato fin dai primi tempi si divideva senz'alcun dubbio in decuriae, il che dovette pure essere degli equites, il cui corpo, secondo OVIDIO, Fast., III, 130 dividevasi appunto in dieci squadroni o turme, così chia mate « quasi turimae, quod ter deni equites, ex tribus tribubus Titiensium, Ramnium, Lucerum fiebant » (V. Festo, vº Turmam ). Del resto la divisione del senato in de curiae fu ancora mantenuta nelle coloniae e nei municipia, dei quali si sa, che erano organizzati sul modello stesso della metropoli. Cfr. in proposito Belot, His toire des chevaliers romains, I, pag. 151, 152; e il Bloy, Les origines du Sénat romain. Paris, 1883, pag. 102-105. 235 - che serbarono più a lungo, allorchè già avevano perduto le altre funzioni politiche e militari; che da ultimo il corpo scelto degli equites e dei patres dividesi in decuriae. Questo è certo ad ogni modo, che nel populus non deve più essere cercata la riparti zione in gentes, delle quali solo si può dire ciò, che Cicerone disse più tardi della famiglia, che esse cioè erano il seminarium reipublicae, perchè da esse ricavavasi il contingente, che entrava a costituire le curie. § 3. — Il pubblico potere e gli aspetti essenziali del medesimo (regis imperium, patrum auctoritas, populipotestas). 193. Intanto questo esame del populus e della sua composizione può facilmente condurci a spiegare in qual modo abbia potuto sboc ciare nel seno del medesimo il concetto del pubblico potere, ed in quali forme esso siasi venuto manifestando. I vocaboli sono qui una guida incerta, poichè il potere in genere viene ad essere indicato, ora col vocabolo di potestas, ed ora con quello di imperium; ma l'in certezza, che è nei vocaboli, può essere tolta di mezzo, se si riesca a ricostruire il processo logico, che in questa parte seguirono i Romani. Anche a questo riguardo esistevano degli elementi, che già erano preparati nell'organizzazione preesistente. Per unificare la città, presentavasi acconcia la figura del padre; per consultarsi nei momenti più difficili, eravi il consiglio degli anziani; e in fine per deliberare intorno alle cose, che riguardavano il comune interesse, già si conosceva l'assemblea della tribù. Erano così in pronto l'elemento monarchico, l'aristocratico e il democratico; nė ai fondatori della città patrizia poteva ripugnare, che queste con figurazioni dell'organizzazione gentilizia fossero trasportate nella nuova comunanza. L'imitazione dell'antico avrebbe conciliato rive renze alle istituzioni novelle, e quindi tutte queste estrinsecazioni del potere, preesistenti nell'organizzazione anteriore, ricompariscono nella città; ma intanto il concetto ispiratore viene ad essere com piutamente diverso. Il re infatti non è più tale per nascita, ma è creato dall'elezione; il che deve pur dirsi del senato, e fino anche dei comizii del popolo, i quali non sono una moltitudine, ne una folla, in qualsiasi modo congregata, ma costituiscono un esercito di uomini di arme, ed un'assemblea, debitamente organizzata, di uomini di senno e di consiglio. Il re, il senato ed il popolo, adunato nei comizii, vengono così ad essere i tre organi essenziali, in cui si estrinseca il pubblico potere nella costituzione primitiva di Roma. 194. Quanto al vocabolo adoperato per significare questo supremo potere, la cosa è dubbia, poichè occorrono in significazione generica ora quello di potestas, ed ora quello di imperium. Dei due vocaboli tuttavia quello, che a mio avviso appare più largo e comprensivo, è certamente il vocabolo di potestas, il quale, per la propria ge neralità, può facilmente adattarsi ad indicare qualsiasi gradazione del pubblico potere. Esso quindi si applica talora per significare il potere del magistrato (potestas regia, consularis, censoria ); quello del popolo (populi potestas) e talvolta eziandio quello del senato, al modo stesso che può anche adoperarsi per significare il potere domestico e privato. Potestas insomma, nella sua significa zione più larga, indica il potere, riguardato in tutte le sue mol teplici manifestazioni; il che però non toglie, che, contrapponen dosi talvolta lo stesso vocabolo a quello di imperium, possa anche assumere una significazione più circoscritta (1). L'espressione quindi (1) Questa incertezza di significazione fra potestas ed imperium è notata, fra gli altri, dal KARLOWA, Röm. R. G., I, pag. 84, il quale trova eziandio, che il voca bolo di potestas ha una significazione più generica. Così pure la pensa il MOMMSEN, secondo il quale il vocabolo di potestas esprime l'idea più larga, e quello di impe rium la più ristretta; sebbene ciò non tolga, che nel linguaggio corrente il vocabolo di imperium siasi poscia riservato alle magistrature maggiori,mentre si adoperò quello di potestas per i magistrati, che non avevano imperium. Ciò risulta dal passo di Festo ivi citato: « Cum imperio dicebatur apud antiquos, cui nominatim a populo dabatur imperium; cum potestate est, dicebatur de eo, qui negotio alicui praeficiebatur ». Le droit public romain, I, pag. 24. Lo stesso autore poi osserva, che quel vocabolo di imperium, che in un senso tecnico indicava in genere il potere del magistrato, in un senso ugualmente tecnico e più frequente indicava il comando militare. Op. cit., I, pag. 135. Parmi tuttavia, che queste apparenti incoerenze nella significazione di questi vocaboli vengano a dileguarsi, quando si ritenga, che il vocabolo di potestas indicava il potere pubblico in genere, mentre quello di imperium usavasi di prefe renza per il potere del magistrato, e più specialmente ancora per l'imperium militiae. Anche nell'indicazione del potere privato del capo di famiglia accadde alcun che di analogo. Questo potere infatti in origine era indicato col vocabolo generico dimanus o di potestas; ma ciò non tolse, che questi vocaboli abbiano poi designato i singoli aspetti di questo potere, cioè la manus il potere del marito sulla moglie, e la po testas quello del padre sui figli. Ciò significa, che i vocaboli presentansi dapprima con una significazione più larga, che corrisponde al vigore sintetico di quei concetti primitivi, di cui sono l'espressione; ma quando poi questi concetti si vengono diffe renziando nei varii loro aspetti, il vocabolo primitivo suol sempre essere mantenuto per significare in modo più specifico uno di tali aspetti. 237 - più generale del potere viene ad essere quella di publica potestas; ma siccome poi esso può atteggiarsi sotto aspetti diversi, così ben presto nella indeterminazione primitiva, compariscono i vocaboli, che esprimono gli atteggiamenti diversi, che il medesimo viene ad assumere. Tali sono i vocaboli di imperium, che applicasi di prefe renza al potere del magistrato; quello di auctoritas, che sopratutto si accomoda al senato; e quello infine di potestas, che, applicato al popolo, indica il potere di esso, in quanto iubet atque constituit (1), Tutti questi concetti sono ancora vaghi ed indeterminati: ma intanto sono concepiti in una sintesi potente, che renderà possibile a cia scuno di ricevere uno svolgimento pressochè indefinito. 195. Ciò può scorgersi anzitutto quanto al concetto di imperium, che indica di preferenza il potere del magistrato. Il medesimo, nel concetto romano, non esce dalla nascita, nè dalla investitura divina; ma esce dall'accordo delle volontà, che concentrano ed unificano in esso il potere, che prima era disperso fra i singoli capi di fa miglia, alla cui potestà trovasi talvolta applicato il vocabolo stesso di imperium. Per esprimere un tal concetto non poteva esservi im magine più efficace, che quella di raccogliere e di riunire quelle aste, che sono l'emblema del potere spettante ai singoli quiriti (2 ). (1) Che il potere del re e degli altri magistrati maggiori, che a lui sottentrarono più tardi, sia di regola indicato col vocabolo di imperium, è cosa che appare da tutti gli antichi scrittori. È poi sopratutto CICERONE, che accenna a queste varie distin zioni, allorchè afferma che « potestas in populo, auctoritas in senatu est ». De le gibus III, 12, § 28; distinzioni, che egli fa rimontare fino agli inizii di Roma, in quanto che, parlando di Romolo, scrive: « vidit singulari imperio et potestate regia tum melius gubernari et regi civitates, esset optimi cuiusque ad illam vim do minationis adiuncta auctoritas », nel qual passo il potere regio viene efficacemente chiamato vim dominationis, mentre quello del senato è indicato con quello di au ctoritas. De rep., JI, 8. [Magistratus, scrive a questo proposito il Mommsen, è l'individuo investito di una magistratura politica regolare, in quanto essa emana dall'elezione del popolo (Le droit public romain, I, pag. 8 ); e aggiunge poi a pag. 10, che il magistrato, quanto alle forme esteriori, è appunto colui, che ha diritto di portare i fasci dentro la città. Ora se il magistrato è l'eletto del popolo, e se i fasci, che simboleggiano i poteri riuniti dei quiriti, sono l'emblema del suo potere, non so veramente com prendere, come siasi potuto sostenere, in parte dallo stesso Mommsen, che il re non riceva il proprio potere dal popolo: tanto più, che gli scrittori antichi parlando del popolo usano le espressioni di imperium dare, magistratum creare, iubere, sibi ad scire e simili. 238 Per tal guisa, dal fascio delle armi usci il fascio dei littori, e si frapposero in esso anche le scuri, che simboleggiano quel ius vitae et necis, il quale apparteneva al capo di famiglia, e non poteva perciò essere negato al capo della città. È tuttavia degno di nota, che questo imperium, formatosi mediante la riunione dei poteri spettanti a ciascuno, appena costituito apparisce pauroso per coloro stessi, che ebbero a conferirlo, in quanto che le sue stesse insegne esteriori (fasces) indicano, come al disopra del potere dei singoli siasi formato un potere collettivo, a cui tutti debbono inchinarsi. È questa la causa, per cui, davanti ai fasci dei littori, si apre la molti tudine e la folla per lasciare il passo a quel magistrato, il quale, mentre è il frutto dell'elezione di tutti, viene ad essere imponente e pauroso per ciascuno; e che se il magistrato ordini al littore « col liga manus », il cittadino non osa sottrarsi al comando. 196. Intanto in questa prima concezione del potere del magi strato, non si potrebbe certamente aspettare, che siano determinati i confini, in cui il medesimo debba essere contenuto. La necessità di un elemento unificatore è universalmente sentita, trattandosi di una città, che fin dalle proprie origini era il frutto della con federazione di elementi eterogenei e diversi; né si può aspettare, che un popolo, il quale non pose dapprima alcun limite al potere giuridico del capo di famiglia, possa cercare di mettere dei confini alpubblico potere del magistrato. Il medesimo percid compare senza limitazione di sorta; è potere religioso, militare, politico e civile ad un tempo; ed è concepito in una sintesi cosi potente, che, secondo il Mommsen, per ricostruire il potere primitivo del re, con viene in certo modo ricomporre quei poteri, che si vennero poi di stribuendo fra tutte le magistrature più elevate di Roma, quali sono il console, il pretore, il dittatore ed il censore. Fu solo l'esperienza, che venne dopo, che fece conoscere come del potere possa abusare anche un eletto dal popolo, e in allora si assiste ad una singolare scomposizione del potere primitivo del re, per cui ogni sua particolare funzione finisce per dare origine ad una ma gistratura speciale. Tuttavia, anche allora, cercherebbesi indarno una circoscrizione netta di qualsiasi potere, cosicchè il magistrato ro mano, che può talvolta essere reso impotente per un atto di minima (1) Mommsen, Op. cit., pag. 5 e 6. 239 importanza, viene ad avere un potere pressochè senza confini, al lorchè trovasi appoggiato e sorretto dalla pubblica opinione. Lo stesso è a dirsi della patrum auctoritas. Anche qui occorre un vocabolo, che come quello di potestas, presentasi con significazione alquanto vaga ed indeterminata, e che trovasi applicato eziandio, cosi in tema di diritto pubblico che di diritto privato. Chi ben riguardi tuttavia non potrà a meno di notare, che il vocabolo auctoritas, nella varietà delle significazioni, che sogliono essergli attribuite, significa costantemente l'appoggio, l'approvazione, la ga ranzia, che si arreca o si assume per un determinato atto. Tale è la significazione fondamentale di questo vocabolo, sia quando parlasi di iuris auctoritas, di usus auctoritas, sia anche quando è questione di tutoris auctoritas, o del venditore, il quale, dovendo garentire l'evizione al compratore, auctor fit dirimpetto al medesimo. Or bene anche questa è la significazione del vocabolo di patrum auctoritas. Da una parte havvi il re, che agisce ed esercita l'imperium, dal. l'altra il popolo, il quale iubet atque constituit; mentre il senato trovasi nel mezzo, e cosi da una parte dà i suoi consilia almagi strato, dall'altra auctor fit, cioè accorda la propria approvazione alle deliberazioni del popolo (1). Esso componesi di persone, alle quali, per la loro età e per il loro grado, si appartiene non tanto l'agere, quanto il consulere, e quindi, senza avere propria iniziativa, completa in certo modo l'opera dell'uno e dell'altro; poichè per mezzo del senato le misure prese dal re vengono ad avere l'autorità e l'appoggio del suo consiglio, e le delibera zioni del popolo ricevono consistenza ed autorità, mediante la sua approvazione. Finchè dura il periodo regio, il concetto si man tiene ancora vago ed indeterminato; ma durante il periodo repub blicano quest'autorità, essenzialmente consultiva, riceverà una lar ghissima esplicazione, e finirà per penetrare in qualsiasi argomento; e quindi può affermarsi a ragione, che la grandezza di Roma non fu L'ufficio consultivo, che il senato compie rispetto al re, è bellamente espresso da CICERONE, allorchè dice di Romolo: « Itaque hoc consilio et quasi senatu fultus ». De rep., II, 8. Quanto poi all'auctoritas, che il senato esercita rimpetto al populus, essa non può certamente pareggiarsi coll' auctoritas tutoris dirimpetto al pupillo, perchè non trattasi qui di integrare una personalità incompleta; ma bensì di recare il sussidio e l'autorità, che viene dall'età e dall'esperienza, ai provvedimenti, che ri guardano il pubblico interesse. Cfr. Karlowa, Röm. R. G., I, pag. 47. 240 solo opera della fortezza del suo popolo, nè dell'energia del suo ma gistrato, ma benanco della sapienza del suo senato. Per i Romani ebbe importanza l'agere e il iubere; ma l'uno e l'altro dovettero essere temperati dal consulere. 198. Intanto, dacchè sono in quest'argomento, importa qui di accen nare alla questione tanto controversa, fra gli autori, circa la signifi cazione da attribuirsi al vocabolo di patrum auctoritas: col qual vocabolo alcuni intendono l'approvazione del senato; altri invece l'approvazione, che, durante i primi secoli della repubblica, i pa trizii delle curie dovevano dare alle deliberazioni prese negli altri comizi; mentre altri infine ritengono, che con esso intendasi l'ap provazione dei senatori esclusivamente patrizii (1 ). Sembra a me, che la questione possa essere risolta in modo assai più naturale e più verosimile, quando si abbia presente che, in una lunga evoluzione storica, quale è quella della costituzione politica di Roma, una stessa espressione può in varii periodi di tempo anche assumere significazioni compiutamente diverse. Durante il periodo regio, il vocabolo di patrum auctoritas significò senz'alcun dubbio l'approvazione del senato; perchè nella città esclusivamente patrizia erano chiamati col nome di patres i senatori, mentre gli altri capi di famiglia costituivano il populus e l'assemblea delle curie. Più tardi invece, allorchè, accanto ai comizii curiati, si vennero for mando anche i comizii centuriati, ed anche i comizii tributi, il vo cabolo di patres o patricii potè naturalmente comprendere tutto l'ordine patrizio, il quale costituiva veramente l'ordine dei patres e dei patricii di fronte al rimanente del popolo, ed aveva ancora una propria assemblea, che era quella appunto delle curie. Di qui (1) Questa è una delle questioni più controverse, che presenti la storia politica di Roma, e credo veramente, che la causa del dissenso provenga dalla supposizione, che un medesimo vocabolo in una lunga evoluzione storica debba sempre avere una medesima significazione. Le opinioni diverse sostenute dagli autori possono vedersi riassunte dal WILLEMS, Le droit public romain, 5me éd., Paris 1883, pag. 208 e dal Bouché-LECLERCQ, Manuel des institutions romaines, Paris 1886, pag. 16, nota 1. Di recente la questione ebbe ad essere trattata con grande chiarezza ed eradizione dal PANTALEONI, L'auctoritas patrum nell'antica Roma nelle sue diverse forme (Rivista di filologia, Così pure ebbe nuovamente a trattarla il KARLOWA, op. cit., pag. 42 a 48; il quale finisce per associarsi all'opinione già soste nuta dal Rubino, che l'auctoritas patrum debba ritenersi per l'approvazione dei se natori patrizii. 241 la conseguenza, che d'allora in poi, per indicare l'approvazione del senato si usd di preferenza il vocabolo di senatus auctoritas, in quanto, che il senato aveva già cessato di essere composto esclusi vamente di veri patres, e cominciava a raccogliersi fra gli equites e più tardi fra i magistrati uscenti di uffizio (patres et conscripti); mentre il vocabolo di patrum auctoritas potè servire acconciamente per indicare la ratifica, che i comizii curiati, composti ancora dell'ele mento patrizio, dovevano dare alle leggi ed alle altre deliberazioni, che fossero state votate nelle altre riunioni comiziali; il che è dimo strato da ciò, che si usano promiscuamente le espressioni « patres o patricii auctores fiunt ». Siccome però in questo periodo, il senato è ancora essenzialmente l'organo del patriziato, così si comprende come posteriormente, allorchè la necessità della patrum auctoritas era stata abolita, l'espressione siasi talvolta adoperata per significare l'una o l'altra approvazione (1). (1) Nella gravissima questione, che è tuttora aperta, gli unici argomenti, vera mente saldi, di cui possiamo valerci, sono i seguenti: 1° Che l' auctoritas patrum, durante il periodo regio esclusivamente patrizio, non potè significare che l'approva zione del senato, come risulta dal racconto di Livio, relativo all'elezione di Numa, ove i patres, qui auctores fiunt, non possono essere che i senatori. Hist. I, 17, ed anche da Cicerone, il quale, comesopra si è visto, attribuisce l'auctoritas al senatus; 2° Che colla Repubblica il senato continuò senz'alcun dubbio ad approvare le deli berazioni curiate e centuriate, ed anche tribute, in quanto che parlasi più volte di senatus auctoritas, come risulta da Livio, XXXII, 6; IV, 46, ove i colleghi di Sestio di chiarano: nullum plebiscitum nisi ex auctoritate senatus passuros se perferri; 3º Che oltre a questa approvazione del senato si parla sovente di patres o di patricii auctores sopratutto da Livio, ogni qualvolta trattasi di proposta di un interrex, o di qualche provvedimento voluto dalla plebe. Hist. III, 40, 55, 59; IV, 7, 17, 42, 43 ecc. Ora quest'ultime parole non possono più riferirsi al senato, e quindi l'unica conclusione probabile viene ad essere, che, siccome l'assemblea delle curie, composta di patricii, era in certo modo stata esclusa dalla formazione delle leggi, la quale era passata invece ai comizii centuriati, che erano la vera riunione del populus, così essa, accid ritenesse sempre una parte nella formazione delle leggi, è stata chiamata a dare la patrum o patriciorum auctoritas, che venne così ad essere distinta dalla senatus au ctoritas. Cid fu una conseguenza della modificazione introdottasi nella costituzione colla introduzione dei comizii centuriati, e del principio ispiratore della costituzione primitiva, secondo cui, per la formazionedella legge, richiedevasi il concorso di tutti gli organi politici dello stato. Ciò che è accaduto dell'auctoritas patrum, si è pure verificato della lex curiata de imperio, ed anche della proposta dell' interrex, che pure appartengono all'assemblea esclusivamente patrizia, quale fu per qualche tempo ancora quella delle curie; mentre il Senato, avendo anch'esso accolto in parte l'ele mento plebeo, aveva seguito lo svolgersi della costituzione, e aveva così cessato di C., Le origini del diritto di Roma. 16 - 212 199. Viene infine la potestas populi, e a questo riguardo io non dubito di affermare, che essa nel concetto della costituzione pri mitiva di Roma, debbe essere considerata come la sorgente di ogni altro potere. Alcuni autori trovano ripugnante, che Roma sia sen z'altro pervenuta al concetto della sovranità popolare, e quindi cercano di dare, come fondamento all'imperium del magistrato, il concetto degli auspicia, che essi considerano come una specie di investitura divina. Parmi invece, che la genesi dello Stato romano essere esclusivamente patrizio. Insomma, coll'accoglimento della plebe nel populus quiritium, il vero potere legislativo viene a portarsi nei comizii centuriati; ma in tanto l'assemblea delle curie conserva l'auctoritas patrum, la lex curiata de imperio, e la proposta dell'interrex. Certo è una congettura anche questa, ma mentre essa non contraddice ai passi degli antichi autori, corrisponde allo spirito della costitu zione primitiva, in cui ogni organo politico deve aver parte nella formazione delle leggi e nell'elezione del magistrato, ed al sistema romano, che, pur introducendo un nuovo organo politico, suole ancora mantenere per riverenza e per culto quelli, che esistevano precedentemente. Il vero intanto si è, che queste varie funzioni dell'as semblea delle curie non avevano più una vera ed effettiva influenza, poichè la lex curiata de imperio divenne una semplice formalità, la proposta dell'interrex era una reliquia del principio, che auspicia ad patres redeunt, e la patrum auctoritas soleva solo essere negata, quando trattavasi di opposizione d'interessi fra patriziato e plebe. Dovrò ritornare sull'argomento nel Capitolo III, al § 1° e 2°, discorrendo dello svol gimento storico del concetto di lex, e di quello dell'interregnum. Del resto delle opinioni poste innanzi dagli autori quella, che parmi la meno probabile, è quella adottata dal KARLOWA, che intende per patrum auctoritas l'approvazione dei soli senatori patrizii, perchè essa non si concilia coll'espressione dei patricii auctores fiunt, patricü coeunt, interregem produnt e simili, e perchè crea una divisione nel senato, che è incompatibile col carattere di unità coerente, che ebbe sempre questo corpo. Mentre l'assemblea delle curie diventava una soprav vivenza dell'antica' costituzione, il senato invece si mantenne sempre vigoroso e vi tale, e subì modificazioni analoghe a quelle del populus, senza mai portare le traccie di dissidii che fossero nel suo seno, poichè la nobiltà plebea, che entrava in esso, aveva già le stesse tendenze dell'antico patriziato. Che poi il vocabolo di patres, in questo periodo, fosse venuto a significare in genere l'ordine patrizio, è dimostrato in modo incontrastabile da quella disposizione della legge decemvirale: « connubium patribus cum plebe ne esto », dove il vocabolo patres non comprende certo soltanto i senatori, ma tutti i patrizü; come pure dal fatto, che gli storici parlano soventi dei iuniores patrum, la cui intransigenza è condannata dal senato. (1) Parmi, che questa proposizione sia abbastanza provata dalle espressioni ado. perate dagli autori per significare il potere del popolo. CICERONE, ad esempio, parla di questo potere, dicendo che il populus regem sibi adscivit, creavit, iussit, constituit; espressioni, che indicano abbastanza, che la potestà suprema, a suo avviso, risiedeva presso il popolo. Lo stesso è da lui confermato, allorchè nel discorso de lege agraria 2, 7, 17 dice: « omnes potestates, imperia, curationes ab universo populo romano 243 dovesse logicamente condurre al risultato di riporre la sorgente del pubblico potere nella sovranità popolare, circondandola però di quel l'aureola religiosa, che occorre in tutte le primitive istituzioni di Roma. Lo Stato romano esce dalla confederazione e dal contratto, e quindi al modo stesso, che la patria riceve la sua denominazione dai patres; così il potere pubblico si forma mediante la riunione del potere, che appartiene ai singoli quiriti, e che è rappresentato dalla lancia, di cui essi sono armati. Quanto agli auspicia, che appar tengono al magistrato, essi non mirano, che a dare una consacra zione religiosa al potere stesso, e a metterlo in condizione di sapere giudicare, se questo o quel provvedimento, da prendersi nel pubblico interesse, possa essere o non accetto agli dei. Che anzi gli auspicia publica del magistrato debbono considerarsi essi stessi come una trasmessione, che i padri fanno al magistrato di quegli auspicia, che appartengono a ciascuno di essi. Cid è dimostrato dal fatto che, du rante l'interregno, gli auspicia ritornano ai padri (ad patres re deunt auspicia ); il che significa, che in origine dovevano appartenere ai padri stessi, i quali, nell'interesse delle loro genti e famiglie, as sumevano quegli auspicii, che il magistrato romano doveva invece consultare, quando si trattasse di qualche deliberazione importante per il popolo stesso. Tuttavia se ai patres tornano gli auspicia, è però sempre al populus, che spetta di creare il magistrato, che debba succedere nell'imperium, come lo dimostra la tradizione, per venuta fino a noi, della elezione diNuma. Si aggiunge, che è solo dopo il conferimento dell'imperium, fatto mediante la lex curiata de imperio, che il re dapprima e le magistrature, che gli sottentrarono più tardi, possono entrare nell'adempimento del proprio uffizio. Ri tengo pertanto, che a questo proposito non possa essere accolta l'opi nione del Mommsen, la quale riesce pure inammessibile per il Kar proficisci convenit ». Lo stesso è indicato da Festo, allorchè parlando del magi stratus cum imperio, dice, che esso è quello al quale « a populo dabatur imperium ». Malgrado di ciò convien dire, che l'opinione contraria, come si vedrà in seguito, ha la prevalenza presso gli autori anche recenti, che si occuparono dell'argomento. Si accostano però al concetto da me sostenuto il Mainz, Introd. au cours de droit romain. Bruxelles, ed il GENTILE, Le elezioni e il broglio nella repubblica romana, il quale fino dapprincipio afferma molto chiaramente e giusta mente, a parer mio, che « i pastori della leggenda riconoscono Romolo per capo supremo; ma, pur conferendogli la somma autorità, riguardano ancor sempre se stessi quali depositarii, e quasi natural sorgente della sovranità ». 244 - lowa, secondo la quale la lex curiata de imperio non conferirebbe l'impero, ma soltanto vincolerebbe il popolo verso il re (1). Se cosi fosse infatti, il magistrato dovrebbe poter esercitare il proprio ufficio, anche prima di aver ricevuto questa specie di giuramento di fedeltà, che servirebbe ad obbligare il popolo, ma nulla aggiungerebbe al suo potere. Il vero invece si è, che anche in questa appare il carattere eminentemente contrattuale della costituzione primitiva di Roma, per cui anche il conferimento del potere supremo si opera colla forma propria della stipulazione, in quanto che havvi il magistrato, che prima di entrare in ufficio rogat imperium, ed havvi il popolo, che con una legge glie lo conferisce: e intanto l'uno e l'altro co noscono i diritti e le obbligazioni, che una legge di questa natura può loro conferire. Una prova poi di questo riconoscimento della sovranità popolare l'abbiamo per parte del patriziato, in quel fatto di Valerio Pubblicola, che in tempo di pace e dentro la città ordinava ai littori di abbassare i fasci, e di togliere daimedesimi le scuri, come pure nel fatto, che gli imperatori, quando già si erano fatti onnipotenti, sentirono il bisogno, per rispettare un tradizionale concetto, di essere investiti dell'imperium dal popolo. 200. Intanto però il concetto, che il potere supremo risiedesse nel popolo, non poteva in nessun modo affievolire l'imperium: poichè al modo stesso che il popolo doveva ubbidire alle leggi, che si erano (1 ) Che il magistrato non possa entrare in ufficio, e tanto meno esercitare l'im perium, prima della lex curiata de imperio, è provato da due passi di CICERONE, nei quali si dice: « consuli, si legem curiatam non habet, rem militarem attingere non licet » (De lege agraria, II, 12, 30 ) e più genericamente ancora: « sine lege cu riata nihil agi per decemviros posse » (Ibidem, II, 11, 28). Dal momento quindi, che il concetto dell'imperium dei consoli è in tutto identico a quello del regis im perium, non si comprende come il Mommsen, Staatsrecht, I, 588 s. possa ridurre la lex curiata ad un semplice giuramento di fedeltà, che vincola i soli sudditi, e meno an cora, che il Karlowa, op. cit., I, pag. 52 e 82 possa sostenere, che la lex curiata de imperio non sarebbe entrata in azione, che colla costituzione Serviana, ossia colla in troduzione dei comizii centuriati, i quali avrebbero conferita la potestas, mentre i comizii curiati avrebbero poi conferito l'imperium. Ciò è contraddetto ripetutamente da CICERONE, de Rep. II, 10, 17, 18, 20, che parla appunto della lex curiata de imperio a proposito dei primi re. Non solo deve negarsi, che questa lex entrò in azione solo colla costituzione Serviana; ma deve dirsi piuttosto, che essa da quel momento perde della propria importanza e riducesi ad una semplice sopravvi venza dell'antico ordine di cose, in cui erano i patres, che investivano il re del. l'imperium, e a cui ritornavano gli auspicia. - 245 da lui votate nei comizi, così esso doveva eziandio inchinarsi al potere, che aveva conferito al magistrato per mezzo di una pro pria legge. Che anzi questo potere riusciva tanto più efficace ed imponente, in quanto si fondava sopra una volontà collettiva, che ve niva a sovrapporsi alla volontà dei singoli. Ed è anche questo il mo tivo, per cui il potere del magistrato romano veniva in certo modo ad essere senza confini, finchè aveva l'appoggio della pubblica opinione. Fermo cosi il concetto della costituzione primitiva di Roma, quale esce dalla logica delle istituzioni (logica, che nel fatto dovette anche essere più rigorosa e coerente di quella, che a noi possa esser riu scito di ricostruire ), riescirà più facile di ricomporre insieme i cenni, che gli autori ci conservarono di questa primitiva costituzione e di comprendere il vero ed intimo significato della medesima. § 4. Il re ed il regis imperium. 201. Dei concetti politici del periodo regio, quello che presentasi modellato in modo più vigoroso e potente è certamente il potere del rex. Tutti i poteri infatti, che nel periodo anteriore, presso le genti latine, erano indicati coi vocaboli di magister populi, di magister pagi, di dictator, di praetor, di iudex appariscono fusi e concentrati nella concezione sintetica del regis imperium. Per tal modo il con cetto del rex da una parte inchiude la sintesi di tutte le manifestazioni del potere, che eransi avverate nel periodo gentilizio, e dall'altra è il punto di partenza,da cui prendono le mosse tutti i poteri, che, durante il periodo repubblicano, saranno poi affidati alle diverse magistrature maggiori. Il rex nel concetto romano è l'unificazione potente del populus; accoglie in sè la somma dei poteri, che possono essere necessarii nell'interesse della cosa pubblica; nė vi ha costituzione scritta, che gli prescriva alcun limite nell'esercizio dei medesimi. Cid però non toglie, che questi limiti esistano di fatto nel costume pubblico e privato; nel bisogno incessante, che il re ha dell'appoggio della pubblica opinione; ed anche negli imbarazzi, che gli possono creare i padri, ogni qualvolta egli volesse spingere troppo oltre la propria azione. Capo del populus, egli è custode eziandio della città spiega la vita pubblica (custos urbis), e deve avere la propria casa nel cuore stesso della città, accanto al sito, ove deve bru 246 ciare perenne il focolare della vita pubblica, che si conserva nel tempio di Vesta. Che se, per provvedere al pubblico interesse, debba abbandonare la città, dovrà lasciare nella medesima un proprio delegato, che prenderà il nome di praefectus urbis. È quindi anche il re, che provvede al lustro esteriore della città, che progetta e costruisce quelle opere grandiose, che già rimon tano all'epoca regia, e che non furono le meno durature fra quelle costruite nell'eterna città. È nella successione dei re parimenti, che può scorgersi una continuità nel grandioso intento di ampliarne le mura e le fortificazioni; lavori tutti, le cui reliquie dimostrano abbastanza, come trattisi di un concepimento, che già presentatosi ai primi re, ebbe poi ad essere continuato da quelli, che vi suc cedettero, non eccettuato quello, che aspird alla tirannide. 202. Cid quanto alla custodia materiale dell'urbs. Che se si con sidera dirimpetto al populus, il re, condottiero di un popolo, che è ripartito in curie, le quali hanno un carattere religioso, militare e politico ad un tempo, riunisce in sè tutti questi caratteri. Finché dura il periodo regio, il magistrato non è solo il capo dell'esercito (impe rator) od il magister populi, o il giudice cosi in tempo di pace che in tempo di guerra, ma è anche il sommo sacerdote del popolo romano. Esso è augure sommo, e tale appare Romolo stesso; è pontefice massimo, come lo dimostra il fatto, che questa ' magistratura sacer dotale del popolo romano compare soltanto colla repubblica, allorchè sentivasi già il bisogno di limitare in qualche modo il sovrano po tere, disgiungendone la parte che si riferiva alla religione, la quale ebbe ad essere ripartita fra il pontifex maximus ed il rex sa crorum; e fino a un certo punto esso è ancora il pater patratus del popolo romano, come lo dimostra il fatto, che nelle descrizioni dei più antichi trattati sono i capi dei due popoli, che vengono alla stipu lazione del foedus e al compimento solenne delle cerimonie del ius foederale o foeciale, mentre gli eserciti si limitano a salutarsi re ciprocamente, e così approvano tacimente l'opera dei proprii capi (1). Verò è, che già fin dal periodo regio noi troviamo l'istituzione dei collegii sacerdotali, ma questa creazione è opera del re stesso, nè essi hanno, anche nella città patrizia, alcuna partecipazione diretta all'e (1) Ciò appare dal seguente passo di Livio, I, 1, a cui se ne potrebbero aggiungere molti altri: « inde foedus ictum inter duces, inter exercitus salutationem factam.] sercizio del pubblico potere; ma sono soltanto, come si dimostrerà a suo tempo, depositarii e custodi delle tradizioni giuridiche, politiche, internazionali delle genti e delle tribù, da cui essi sono tolti, e aiu tano così il re nella opera di unificazione legislativa, che dovette essere urgente cosa e difficile negli inizii di Roma, per trattarsi di città, che risultava dalle confederazioni di genti, che appartenevano a stirpi diverse (1). Vero è parimenti, che durante il periodo regio già appariscono altre cariche, quali sono quelle del tribunus celerum, dei quaestores parricidii, e deiduumviri perduellionis; ma anche questi non sono che ufficiali dipendenti dal re, e da lui nominati. Di qui la conseguenza, che è solo il re o qualche suo delegato, che può essere preceduto dai fasci dei littori e dalle scuri, simbolo del pubblico potere. È esso parimenti, che solo può convocare il popolo e il senato, salvo che egli deleghi questo potere al tribunus celerum o al praefectus urbis (2). È quindi vero, che colla creazione del regis imperium si rias sumono in una sintesi potente tutte le manifestazioni del magi stratus nel periodo gentilizio, e si inizia lo svolgimento di tutti i poteri, che possono convenire ad una comunanza civile e politica. Nel rex insomma, per usare una espressione dello Spencer, termina l'integrazione del potere preparatasi nel periodo gentilizio, e da esso incomincia quella differenziazione del potere pubblico, che dovrà poi operarsi nella città. 203. Per quello poi, che si riferisce ai poteri che sono inchiusi nell'imperium regis, indarno si cercherebbero quelle decise ripar tizioni, che compariranno più tardi. L'imperium regis è una con cezione logica, più che l'opera di una costituzione scritta, e quindi egli può compiere tutto ciò, che può essere indicato coi vocaboli di agere, di ius dicere, di rogare, di imperare. Egli deve pren dere norma più dalla funzione, che è chiamato a compiere nella città, che non da una precisa e particolareggiata determinazione del (1) Quanto al compito dei collegi sacerdotali in Roma primitiva, mi rimetto a quanto avrò a dirne in questo stesso libro, capitolo IV, § 2º. (2) Secondo il LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, pag. 115, sarebbe, valendosi di questo potere, che Giunio Bruto, come tribunus celerum o Spurio Lucrezio Trici pitino, quale praefectus urbis, avrebbero convocato il popolo, dopo la cacciata dei Tarquinii: quantunque sia probabile, che in circostanze del tutto eccezionali non siasi forse pensato all'adempimento di tutte le formalità. 248 proprio uffizio. Tuttavia già fin da quest'epoca nel potere regio si possono distinguere atteggiamenti diversi, che cominciano a diffe renziarsi mediante i vocaboli di auspicia, di imperium domi, e di imperium militiae. A lui quindi si appartiene di assumere gli au spicii, allorchè trattasi di qualche deliberazione, che si riferisca al pubblico interesse, cosicchè, già fin da questo periodo, gli auspicia publica si vengono a distinguere dagli auspicia privata. Nell' as sumere tali auspicii potrà valersi dell'opera degli auguri, ma a questi solo si appartiene la custodia dei riti e il compimento delle cerimonie tradizionali; mentre è al re stesso, che si appartiene di giudicare se essi siano favorevoli o non lo siano (1). Così pure ha l'imperium domimilitiaeque, col quale incomincia una distinzione, le cui traccie si perpetuano per tutta la storia politica e militare di Roma. Per verità, se i Romani credettero di porre dei confini al l'imperium nei confini della città, e vollero che i consoli, entrando nella medesima, facessero togliere le scuri dai fasci, e facessero abbassare anche questi, allorchè concionavano il popolo, compresero però la necessità, che le scuri fossero rimesse nei fasci, e che la provocatio ad populum fosse tolta di mezzo, allorchè si trattava di mantenere la disciplina dell'esercito; quasi si potrebbe dire, che a Roma il re o il magistrato rogat in tempo di pace, e imperat in tempo di guerra. In virtù dell'imperium militiae, egli fa la leva (delectus) ed è capitano supremo in tempo di guerra (2 ): nè può ammettersi l'opi nione, secondo cui il re sarebbe il duce della fanteria, mentre il tribunus celerum sarebbe quello della cavalleria, in quanto che quest'ultimo non è che un ufficiale da lui stesso nominato, e quindi, sebbene guidi il proprio drappello, che forma il corteggio militare del re, deve però sempre dipendere dagli ordini del capo supremo. In virtù poi dell'imperium domi, il re convoca i comizi: ra duna il senato; amministra giustizia, non nella propria casa, ma all'aperto, in cospetto della cittadinanza; propone le leggi; e (1) Cfr. Mommsen, Le droit public romain, I pag. 119, ove discorre della proce dura seguìta nel prendere gli auspicia, e del compito affidato agli auguri. Sulla distinzione fra l'imperium domi e l'imperium militiae è da vedersi la trattazione magistrale del Mommsen, op. cit., I, pag. 68 e 69 e sui poteri compresi nell'imperium militiae, ivi, pag. 135 e 157. Non occorre però di notare, che tutti questi poteri nell' epoca regia sono, per dir così, allo stato embrionale, e solo più tardi ricevono tutto lo sviluppo, di cui possono essere capaci. 249 infine nomina i cavalieri e i senatori. Al qual proposito mi fo lecita la congettura, già accennata più sopra, che nella costituzione primitiva di Roma i senatori ed i cavalieri, i quali finirono poi per mutarsi in due classi o ordini sociali, indicati coi vocaboli di ordo senatorius e di ordo equestris, furono due corpi scelti, in base a un numero determinato, dall'assemblea delle curie. I primi scelti fra i giovani, splendidi nella propria armatura, formano la corte militare del re; mentre i secondi, scelti fra gli anziani, ne costitui scono il consiglio; donde la naturale distinzione, in cui vennero ad essere posti l'uno e l'altro ordine, e le lotte perfino di prevalenza, che poterono esservi fra i medesimi, allorchè l'uno e l'altro già eransi profondamente trasformati. Un indizio di cið l'abbiamo in questo, che negli inizii di Roma sembra esservi una correlazione fra il numero degli equites e quello dei patres, col numero delle curie; correlazione, che non tardd a scomparire, in quanto che il numero degli equites si accrebbe coll'aumentare delle legioni, mentre il numero dei patres si arrestò a trecento, fino agli ultimi anni della Repubblica. Di più il senato costituisce un organo politico dello Stato, il che non può dirsi degli equites, i quali hanno solo il pri vilegio di essere i primi chiamati a dare il proprio voto (sex suf fragia ) nei comizii centuriati, al modo stesso, che anche più tardi hanno, al pari dei senatori, un posto distinto nel circo per assi stere ai pubblici spettacoli (1). 204. Questo è certo ad ognimodo, che nella costituzione primitiva di Roma il re appare come l'elemento più operoso ed intraprendente, per modo che la tradizione finisce per attribuire tutto all'opera personale del re. Egli impone tasse, distribuisce terre, costruisce (1) Parmi di scorgere un accenno all'idea qui svolta nel PANTALEONI, Storia ci vile e costituzionale di Roma, I, nel IV ed ultimo appendice, ove discorre dell'isti tuzione dei cavalieri a Roma e dell'ordine equestre. È poi Livio, I, 35, che parla dei « loca divisa patribus equitibusque » nel circo; altra prova questa, che essi formavano fin dagli inizii due ordini distinti dal resto del popolo delle curie. È poi degna di considerazione l'idea dello stesso Pantaleoni, secondo cui gli equites costituiscono non solo un militaris ordo, ma anche un ordo civilis, in quanto che ciò serve a spiegare, come essi abbiano poi potuto trasformarsi nel l'ordo equestris. Del resto questo carattere militare e civile ad un tempo è inerente a tutto il popolo delle curie, e a tutte le istituzioni primitive di Roma, eccettuato il senato; sebbene siavi chi attribuisce anche al senato un'origine militare. LATTES, Della composizione del senato (Mem. Istituto Lombardo, 1870 ). 250 - edifizii. Può darsi, che la tradizione colla sua tendenza a semplifi care e a sintetizzare i processi seguiti, e a concentrare in un solo l'opera dei molti, abbia in questa parte esagerata l'opera personale del re; ma ad ogni modo, quando si consideri che il primo periodo di Roma fu essenzialmente un periodo di unificazione dei varii ele menti, che concorrevano alla formazione della città, si dovrà sempre riconoscere, che la parte più operosa nel compito comune doveva appartenere a quell'elemento, che era chiamata ad unificarle. Allorchè trattasi della formazione di una città (e si potrebbe anche dire di uno Stato e di una nazione), importa sopratutto l'agere; soltanto si potrà fare una parte maggiore al consulere, allorchè si tratterà di provvedere all'amministrazione interna, o a quella delle provincie; sarà infine soltanto, allorchè saranno ferme le basi della grandezza dello Stato, che potranno svolgersi largamente il iubere e il constituere. Cid intanto prova ad evidenza che il potere del re in Roma pri mitiva aveva già assunto un carattere essenzialmente politico e mi litare, come quello, che conteneva in germe tutti quei poteri essen zialmente politici, che furono poscia affidati a magistrature diverse. Nelle forme esteriori può ancora assomigliarsi ad un padre: ma nella sostanza è già un principe, ossia il primo del popolo (prin ceps), è il duce dell'esercito, e il magistrato della città. Un carattere analogo può riscontrarsi eziandio nel senato, quale appare nella costituzione primitiva di Roma. Può darsi benis simo, che il nome stesso di senatus sia una sopravvivenza dell'or ganizzazione gentilizia, come lo è certamente quello di patres, che fu dato ai senatori, e che essi conservarono anche più tardi, allorchè certamente avevano cessato di esser tali. Può darsi eziandio, che il primo concetto del senatus potesse essere suggerito da quel consi glio domestico, che temperava talvolta il potere del primitivo capo di famiglia, od anche dal consiglio degli anziani, che provvedeva all'interesse comune della gente. Questo ad ogni modo è fuori di ogni dubbio, che il senato romano assume fin dai proprii inizii un ca rattere eminentemente politico, e che presentasi come l'applicazione di un concetto, che i Romani avevano profondamente radicato, il quale consisteva in ciò, che tanto il regis imperium, quanto il iussus populi abbisognassero di un ritegno in quell'autorità, che viene ad essere attribuita dall'esperienza e dall’età. Di qui conseguita, che la patrum auctoritas, allorchè comparenella costituzione primitiva di Roma, non è un'autorità, i cui limiti siano stabiliti e determinati; ma è anch'essa una costruzione logica, che potrà col tempo rice vere tutto quello svolgimento, di cui può essere capace il concetto ispiratore della medesima. Di essa, come dell'imperium regis, non potrebbe dirsi quale sia l'influenza, che verrà ad esercitare sulle sorti di Roma; solo si conosce la funzione che, in base al proprio concetto informatore, è chiamata ad esercitare nella costituzione politica della città. Saranno poi gli eventi, che additeranno al senatus la via che dovrà seguire, i limiti in cui dovrà contenersi, e i casi eziandio, in cui dovrà forzare il proprio ufficio e spingerlo perfino oltre i confini, in cui la logica dell'istituzione dovrebbe contenerlo. 206. Siccome perd la funzione del consulere, per essere una fun zione intermedia, ha per sua natura una indeterminatezza molto maggiore, che non quella dell'agere e del iubere; così ne viene, che i poteri del senato presentano negli inizii ed anche nello svolgi mento posteriore un carattere vago ed indeterminato, che dipenderà dall'influenza effettiva e reale, che i membri, che lo compongono, saranno in condizione di esercitare sull'andamento della cosa pubblica. Possono esservi dei consigli che, per le persone da cui vengono, si cambiano in ordini ed in comandi, per quanto siano accompagnati dalla formola « si eis videbitur »; al modo stesso, che possono esservi dei responsi e degli avvisi, che, per l'autorità della persona, da cui partono, possono anche valere come sentenza, contro cui non sia consentito di appellare. Queste esplicazioni sono frequenti nella lo gica romana, e sono esse, che possono spiegare in qual modo il se nato, pressochè lasciato in disparte dallo spirito intraprendente dei re, che dovevano preferire l'appoggio dell'elemento popolare e quello anche della plebe, abbia potuto, senza romperla affatto col concetto ispiratore della propria istituzione, cambiarsi colla Repubblica nel l'organo più potente della costituzione politica di Roma, per guisa da attribuire ai proprii avvisi (consulta ) l'autorità di vere leggi; (1) Parmi di trovar espresso questo concetto, a proposito di Romolo, in CICERONE, de Rep. II, 8. 252 mentre invece coll'Impero viene ad essere ridotto a concedere la propria autorità ai decreti di un principe, al cui arbitrio non era più in caso di poter resistere. 207. Del resto questo carattere non è proprio solo del senato, ma di tutti gli organi della costituzione politica di Roma, nella quale, ad esempio, occorre un magistrato, come quello del censore, che in caricato dapprima di una funzione, che sembrava non adatta alla di gnità di un console, quale si era quella della compilazione del censo, cambiasi poi in censore del pubblico e del privato costume, in elet tore supremo del senato, e per la dignità finisce in certo modo per essere considerato come superiore allo stesso console. Nè altrimenti accade anche delle magistrature plebee, e sopratutto dei tribuni della plebe, i quali negli inizii non hanno che il ius auxilii, e non mirano che a difendere i debitori dai maltrattamenti dei creditori, e i plebei dai maltrattamenti del console; ma poi da ausiliatori si mutano in organizzatori della plebe, in accusatori del patriziato, e nell'organo certamente più efficace del pareggiamento giuridico e politico della plebe; finchè da ultimo il potere tribunizio, che continua pur sempre ad essere circondato dal favor popolare, mutasi ancor esso nella base più salda, sovra cui poggi ildispotismo imperiale. È quindi sopratutto in Roma, che qualsiasi aspetto del potere sovrano tanto vale quanta è la tempra della persona, che trovasi investito di esso, e quanto è l'appoggio, che esso trova nella pubblica opinione, con quest'unica limitazione, che esso deve trattenersi nei limiti del concetto, a cui si informa dai proprii inizii. Questo concetto da una significazione materiale potrà passare ad una significazione morale e politica, sic come accadde del censore, che da compilatore del cengo si cambiò in censore del costume, dalla difesa potrà anche passare all'accusa, in uno scopo di difesa, siccome fecero i tribuni della plebe;ma intanto nel proprio sviluppo sarà costantemente percorso da una logica interna, a cui i Romani seppero mantenersi fedeli, non solo nelle istituzioni giuridiche, ma anche in quelle politiche. Questo carattere perd so pratutto si appalesa nell'istituzione del senato. Potere consultivo nelle proprie origini trovò opposizione nel partito popolare, allorchè cerco di cambiare i proprii senatusconsulti in leggi; ma anche in quei senatusconsulti, che ebbero autorità di vere leggi, esso si propose costantemente di esercitare sulla comunanza un ' autorità di carat tere consultivo e pressochè di protezione e di tutela: come lo pro 253 vano il senatusconsulto intorno ai Baccanali, ed i senatusconsulti Macedoniano e Velleiano. Intanto per tornare all'argomento, questo è certo che tutti gli autori sono concordi nel descrivere il senato come elettivo fin dagli inizii di Roma. Festo anzi ci attesta, che la nomina attribuita al re era più libera di quella, che più tardi appartenne al censore, in quanto che l'essere lasciati in disparte dal re (praeteriti sena tores) non era riputato ignominia; il che fu invece di quei ma gistrati, uscenti d'uffizio, che, avendo le condizioni per entrare nel senato, non vi fossero chiamati dal censore, o fossero rimossi dal medesimo, se già ne facevano parte (1). 208. L'incertezza invece è grande, quanto alle funzioni, che da esso furono effettivamente esercitate; il che provenne probabilmente da ciò, che, trattandosi di un potere di carattere vago ed indeterminato, gli autori, e fra gli altri Dionisio, non potendo attribuirgli dei poteri determinati da una costituzione scritta, dovettero sforzarsi ad asse gnargli quei poteri, che sembravano convenire alla funzione, che esso era chiamato ad esercitare. Questo è certo ad ogni modo, che le sue funzioni, anche durante il periodo regio, furono essenzialmente con sultive. Esse anzi sembrano ancora tenere del patriarcale, come quando i senatori son chiamati a fare ripartizioni di terre fra le popolazioni di classe inferiore, e quando ad essi viene affidata, almeno secondo Dionisio, la punizione dei delitti meno importanti, mentre il re sarebbesi riservata la giurisdizione sui più gravi. Non può invece ammettersi, perchè ripugna al carattere dell'istituzione, che il re, dopo aver chiesto l'avviso del senato, fosse obbligato ad attenervisi: inquantochè, se questo fosse stato il carattere degli avvisi dati al re, che da solo aveva per tutta la vita quei poteri, che poscia furono non solo suddivisi fra magistrati diversi, ma anche attenuati e limitati quanto alla propria durata, per maggior ragione i senatusconsulti avrebbero conservato e spinto anche più oltre questo carattere, allor chè, durante il periodo repubblicano, il senato venne ad essere pres sochè onnipotente. Sembra invece, per quello che risulta dagli avveni menti,cheil senato, durante il periodo regio, non abbia potuto esercitare tutta quella influenza, che spiego più tardi; cosicchè, quando volle (1 ) Festo, V ° Praeteriti senatores (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 355). (2 ) Dion. 2, 12, 14, il cui testo è riportato in greco ed in latino dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 4 e 5. 254 - contrastare alla intraprendente operosità del re ed alle innovazioni dal medesimo tentate, dovette ricorrere all'intermezzo degli auguri e dei sacerdoti, come lo dimostra la tradizione relativa all'augure sabino Atto Nevio, all'epoca di Tarquinio Prisco. Il suo potere con sultivo trovavasi inefficace di fronte ad un re a vita, che aveva per sè l'appoggio del popolo non solo,ma anche della plebe, la quale già cominciava ad esercitare un'influenza, se non di diritto, almeno di fatto. Quindi fu solo colla cacciata dei re, che il senato, consesso permanente fra magistrati, che mutavano ogni anno, e che usciti dalla magistratura entravano a farne parte, divenuto così custode della politica tradizionale diRoma, sopratutto nei rapporti esteriori, potè dare al concetto ispiratore dell'istituzione tutta la portata logica, di cui poteva essere capace, e forse spingerla anche oltre i confini, che dalla logica erano consentiti. 209. Sopratutto sono gravi i dubbii e le incertezze intorno alla composizione ed al numero dei senatori, durante il periodo esclusi vamente patrizio; al qual riguardo parmi impossibile di ricomporre e coordinare i pochi e non concordanti accenni, che pervennero fino a noi, senza ricostrurre il processo logico, che segui la politica dei re nel formare e nell'accrescere il senato primitivo di Roma. In proposito tutti gli autori sembrano essere concordi nell'atte stare, che Roma, nella sua primitiva formazione, non fece che imi tare, quanto al senato, l'organizzazione delle altre città latine; quindi il suo senato appare dapprima limitato al numero di cento, che sembra appunto essere il numero adottato per le altre città latine, e per gli stessi municipii, che ebbero poi ad essere organizzati sul modello ro mano (1). Tuttavia la politica di Roma, che nel periodo regio non pensa ancora a chiudersi in sè stessa,mapiuttosto ad aggregarsi nuovi ele menti, condusse in questa parte a modificare il modello latino. Al lorchè trattavasi di associare nuove popolazioni alle sorti di Roma, il processo a seguirsi non poteva offrire difficoltà, finchè trattavasi soltanto di famiglie o di individui, che appartenessero alla plebe. Questa non era ancora organizzata o almeno lo era in guisa tale, che poteva accogliere, senza difficoltà, qualsiasi nuovo elemento. Di più (1) Liv. I, 8; Dion., II, 12; Cic., De Rep., II, 12. Che il senato o meglio l'ordo decurionum delle colonie e dei municipii si componesse solitamente di cento, appare da ciò, che essi talvolta erano perfino chiamati centumviri. Cfr. Willems, Le droit public romain, pag. 535. 255 l'Aventino, che sembra essere il colle, sovra cui accentrasi di prefo renza la comunanza plebea, è ancora spopolato, e fu anche più tardi lasciato fuori della cinta Serviana, in modo da poter offrire territorio e spazio, ove le nuove famiglie si possano stabilire. Tutto al più oc correrà di far loro concessioni di terre, che sotto la tutela del ius mancipii porgano loro un mezzo sicuro di provvedere al proprio sostentamento. Cosi invece non accade, allorchè trattasi di famiglie, che già abbiano ottenuta posizione elevata nella comunanza, a cui esse appartengono, e tanto più se trattasi di quelle, che,mediante l'orga nizzazione gentilizia e le numerose clientele, siano in condizione tale da offrire un contingente poderoso alla crescente popolazione romana. Allora anche Roma deve venire a patti, in quanto che genti nume rose e potenti difficilmente si disporrebbero ad abbandonare la pro pria sede gentilizia, quando non fossero accolte nell'ordine patrizio, mediante la cooptatio, e quando non potessero ottenere, che i loro capi entrassero nel senato, e i gentili, che entrano a costituirle, non fossero ammessi a far parte delle curie. Quanto a quest'ul time, non occorre dimutare l'ordinamento primitivo della costituzione romana, nè di aumentarne il numero, poichè, non essendo determinato il numero dei componenti ciascuna curia, le curie costituiscono dei quadri, che possono anche accogliere gli elementi, che si vengono aggiungendo. Cosi non è invece del senato; la consuetudine latina vorrebbe che il medesimo fosse limitato al numero di cento, e tale esso fu veramente nelle origini, secondo la tradizione, e lo fu anche più tardi nei municipii e nelle colonie: ma, una volta completato questo numero, sarebbe stato necessario arrestarsi, salvo di appigliarsi al partito di aggiungere un determinato numero disenatori, ogniqual volta si avverasse in una sola volta una considerevole aggregazione di genti patrizie. Tuttavia non è nel costume dei romani di abbandonare senz'altro il numero prefisso, poichè tutto ciò, che viene daimaggiori, è sacro per essi. Quindi, siccome Roma risulta in certo modo dalla confederazione di un triplice elemento: così il senato potè essere portato fino a trecento, il qual numero aveva anche il vantaggio di essere in esatta correlazione con quello delle curie, e di non contrastare cosi colla composizione simmetrica della città. 210. Come e quando siasi fatta quest'aggiunta, non è bene atte stato. Alcuni, ritenendo che Roma avesse successivamente incorpo rato nelle sue curie le tre tribù primitive, direbbero, che i primi cento senatori furono tolti dalle tribù dei Ramnenses, gli altri, che 256 vengono dopo, dai Titienses, e gli altri infine dai Luceres: la cui aggregazione sarebbe accaduta sotto Tarquinio Prisco, al quale ap punto si attribuisce di aver portato a trecento il numero dei sena tori (1). Questa spiegazione sarebbe abbastanza verosimile, allorchè non fosse contraddetta dalla tradizione, che fa rimontare fino al regno di Romolo la federazione delle tre primitive tribù. Di più se veramente quest'aumento si fosse fatto, allorchè una nuova tribù veniva aggregata, non si comprenderebbe come potesse parlarsi di Ramnenses, Titienses e Luceres primi et secundi; la quale distin zione appare essere stata introdotta nelle centurie dei cavalieri, il cui aumento sembra, quanto alle epoche, in cui è seguito, corrispondere all'aumento nel numero dei senatori. Di qui deriva la conseguenza, che la spiegazione più verosimile del processo, che è stato seguito in questo argomento, sia quella stessa, che ci viene additata dalla tradi zione. Le tre piccole tribù, che costituirono Roma primitiva, non potevano essere tali da offrire il numero di trecento senatori, e Livio ci dice appunto, che il numero del senato primitivo fu di cento, per chè Romolo non ne trovò un numero maggiore che fosse degno di sedere nel senato (2). Ma intanto, dopo la primitiva costituzione romulea, che sarebbesi avverata in seguito alla federazione delle tribù dei Titienses, sono due sopratutto gli avvenimenti, che, du rante il periodo della città esclusivamente patrizia, contribuirono ad un forte aumento del patriziato romano. 211. Il primo di questi avvenimenti consiste nella sconfitta di Alba, in seguito al combattimento degli Orazii e dei Curiazii, il quale, come ho già notato altrove, più che una vera e propria scon fitta, deve piuttosto essere considerato comeuna specie diduello giu diziario, a cui si rimisero i due popoli fratelli per sapere quale delle due città dovesse essere centro della vita pubblica per le po polazioni, che ne dipendevano. In quella circostanza infatti la (1) Tale è l'opinione sostenuta dal WILLEMS, Le Sénat de la république romaine, Paris, 1878, I, pag. 21 e segg.; dal Bloch, Les origines du Sénat romain, Paris, 1883, pag. 43 e 55; i quali pure accennano alle diverse opinioni professate in proposito. (2) Liv., I, 8. È però a notarsi, che Livio farebbe rimontare la composizione del senato per opera di Romolo, ad un'epoca anteriore all'aggregazione coi Sabini, mentre parla invece della formazione delle trenta curie, come avvenuta posteriormente. In ciò è però contraddetto da CICERONE, che accenna alla formazione del senato, dopo la federazione coi Sabini. De Rep., II, 8. (3 ) V. sopra, lib. I, Cap. VIII, nº 144. 257 tradizione narra, che la parte povera della popolazione latina entrò a far parte della plebe, ed ottenne delle concessioni di terre. Quanto alle genti patrizie, noi sappiamo, che uno dei patti era quello, che esse dovessero venir accolte nel patriziato romano, e noi sappiamo in effetto, che così accadde. Ora l'effetto naturale di questa coo ptatio era, che i capi di queste genti dovessero essere ammessi nel senato, il che non avrebbe potuto essere fatto, senza aumentare il numero dei senatori. Se quindi ci mancassero anche le testimo nianze di un tale aumento in questa occasione, non sarebbe invero simile il supporlo; sonvi invece degli storici, i quali, senza accennare espressamente alle proporzioni di tale aumento, attestano però che esso dovette aver luogo. Così, ad esempio, Livio attribuisce a Tullo Ostilio di aver duplicato il numero dei cittadini; di aver accolto nei patres i principali cittadini d'Alba; di aver costrutto in quell'occa sione la curia Ostilia; e di aver aggiunto dieci torme di cavalieri, acciò a ciascun ordine si recasse un contributo dal nuovo popolo. Così pure Dionisio parla di un aumento fatto nel patriziato e nel senato all'epoca di Tullo, in occasione della distruzione di Alba, seb bene poi non accenni le proporzioni dell'aumento (1). Il numero tut tavia si può argomentare da ciò, che entrambi affermano più tardi, che Tarquinio Prisco elesse altri cento senatori, e ne portò così il numero a trecento, il qual numero non avrebbe potuto essere raggiunto, se nel frattempo e precisamente all'epoca di Tullo Ostilio non si fossero aggiunti gli altri cento (2). Alcuni, e fra gli altri il Pantaleoni, vor rebbero, che il secondo centinaio si fosse aggiunto coll'aggregarsi della tribù Tiziense; ma ciò non può essere ammesso, in quanto che l'ordinamento politico della città, per opera di Romolo, era già se guito dopo l'aggregazione di questa tribù, come lo dimostra la tra dizione, che le trenta curie avrebbero perfino ricevuto il loro nome dalle donne sabine; inoltre, cid ammettendo, rimarrebbe inesplicato quell'aumento, che certo ebbe a verificarsi sotto Tullo Ostilio (3 ). 212. Quanto all'ultimo aumento, la tradizione e concorde nell'attri (1) LIV., I, 30; Dion., III, 29. (2) Liv., I, 35 dice di Tarquinio Prisco « centum in patres legit »; e Dion., III, 62: « Et tunc primum populus tercentos senatores habuit, qui ducentos tantum ad eam usque diem fuerant ». (3) PANTALEONI, Storia civile e costituzionale di Roma. Appendice III, pag. 645 a 672. G. CARLE, Le origini dil diritto di Roma. 17 258 buirlo a Tarquinio Prisco; ma vi ha divergenza nel modo, in cui sa rebbesi operato. Cicerone dice, che egli avrebbe duplicato il numero dei senatori, e portatolo cosi a trecento, il che farebbe supporre, che anteriormente fossero soli cento cinquanta, il qual numero non può essere ammesso, perchè non risponde ai numeri comunemente seguiti dai Romani, e dai quali non solevano scostarsi. Resta quindi la testi monianza concorde di Dionisio e di Livio, che l'aumento da lui fatto sia stato di cento senatori. Questi nuovi senatori, alcuni vogliono che fos sero delle genti Albane: ma è ovvio l'osservare, che non può essere probabile, che genti, entrate nella comunanza fin dall'epoca di Tullo Ostilio, siano rimaste tutto questo tempo senza rappresentanti nel se nato. Altri invece, come il Pantaleoni, sostengono che i nuovi senatori aggiunti fossero tratti dalla tribù dei Luceres, i quali, a suo avviso, deriverebbero il proprio nome da Lucer, che in Etrusco corrisponde rebbe a Lucius (1); ma contro quest'opinione vi ha sempre la consi derazione, che se questi entravano per la prima volta nella comunanza romana, non poteva esservi motivo, perchè le nuove centurie di equi tes, ricarate da essi, si chiamassero Luceres posteriores o secundi. Ciò indica, che dovevano esservi i Luceres primi, i quali erano en trati prima nella comunanza; il qual fatto potrebbe forse essere spie gato colla tradizione, serbataci da Varrone, secondo cui Romolo in guerra coi Sabini avrebbe avuto soccorso dai Lucumoni Etruschi, uno dei quali (forse Celes Vibenna, che dette nome al Celio, già compreso nell'antico Septimontium ) avrebbe anche preso parte alla confede razione, che segui allora fra i due popoli, sebbene le sue genti siano state forse collocate in condizione inferiore (2). Bensi è probabile, che le genti, da cui si trassero i nuovi senatori, potessero essere altre genti, pure di origine Etrusca, come i Luceres primi, le quali fossero venute a Roma al seguito di Tarquinio e della sua gente: il che spiega molto meglio, che non la leggenda di Tanaquilla, comemaiTarquinio, appena giunto a Roma, abbia potuto avere un seguito e un appoggio così forte nella popolazione romana, da aspirare e da ottenere colle (1) PANTALEONI, op. cit., pag. 660. (2 ) L'opinione di VARRONE a questo proposito è ricordata da SERvio, in Aen., V, ove scrive: « nam constat tres fuisse partes populi Romani. Varro tamen dicit, Romulum dimicantem contra Titum Tatium, a Lucumonibus, id est Tuscis, auxilia postulasse; unde quidam venit cum exercitu; cui, recepto iam Tatio, pars urbis data est ». Del resto anche Livio, I, 13, fa rimontare a Romolo l'aggregazione dei Lu ceres primi, solo mettendo in dubbio la loro origine. 259 forme tradizionali la dignità regia. Egli tuttavia non potè passar sopra almetodo essenzialmente romano, che è quello di porre come primi quelli, che veramente sono tali, e quindi dovette collocare i nuovi senatori nel novero dei patres minorum gentium; quest'appellazione tuttavia non sembra tanto indicare la minor dignità delle medesime, quanto il loro essere entrati più tardi a far parte della comunanza. È questo il motivo, per cui dovevano essere chiamati gli ultimi a dare il proprio avviso; al modo stesso, che anche più tardi nei co mizii centuriati erano chiamati primi a dare il loro suffragio i se niores, ossia i maiores natu, e soltanto dopo venivano i iuniores, che erano i minores natu. Cid dimostra, che, trattandosi di un processo costantemente seguito, non può ricavarsene indizio di minor dignità di questi senatori, ma solo della costanza romana in appli care il principio: « prior in tempore, potior in iure ». 213. Le genti insomma, che, a nostro avviso, si vennero ag giungendo, escono da quelle stirpi, a cui appartenevano le tribù, la cui confederazione primitiva aveva dato origine alla città dei quiriti, e per tal modo si spiega come esse abbiano potuto esservi attirate dalle aderenze e parentele, che già potevano avere in Roma, e come, offrendosi ad entrare nella nuova città, abbiano po tuto esservi accolte. A misura però, che esse erano conglobate, do vevano pure avere una rappresentanza nel senato, e così il numero di questo venne ad essere portato a trecento; il quale, essendo in correlazione con quello delle curie, non ebbe ad essere più superato fino all'epoca dei dittatori, che prepararono l'Impero. D'altronde le occasioni di aumento vennero mancando dappoi: perché quando la città patrizia ha riempiuto il vuoto dei suoi quadri, essa comincia a rinchiudersi in sè stessa, e a vece di farsi grande, mediante le federazioni e le cooptazioni, si propone invece di affermare la pro pria superiorità sugli altri popoli, e di associare la comunanza ple bea, di cui trovasi circondata, all'avvenire della sua città. Bene è vero, che si verifica ancora più tardi la cooptazione della gente Claudia: ma essa avverasi, quando erano troppi i vuoti nel senato, perchè bisognasse aumentarne il numero, e poi trattavasi di una gente soltanto, la quale, per quanto numerosa, non poteva occupare tanti seggi nel senato, da richiedere un aumento nel numero. La spiegazione, che mi son fatto lecito di proporre, quanto ai suc cessivi incrementi nel numero dei senatori, parmi, fra le moltissime che si posero innanzi, che si concilii più facilmente colla tradi 260 zione e col processo eminentemente romano di far procedere di pari passo gli aumenti, chesi introducono nel senato, con quelli dell'or dine dei cavalieri e di tutti gli ordini della popolazione; non poten dosi negare, che nel concetto primitivo della città tutte le parti di essa debbono essere simmetriche, proporzionate e coerenti fra di loro. La medesima intanto ci prepara anche la via a risolvere la questione, intorno alla composizione del senato nel periodo regio. 214. Gli storici, al modo stesso che parlano talvolta dei comizii curiati, come se essi abbracciassero l'intiero popolo, il quale all'e poca, in cui essi scrivevano, comprendeva anche la plebe, così sem brano talvolta accennare a nomine, che i re avrebbero fatte di se natori, che non sarebbero stati tolti dalle genti patrizie; e cid fra gli altri attribuiscono allo stesso Tarquinio Prisco. Un tale fatto sembra anzitutto essere smentito dalla circostanza, che anche questi nuovi senatori sono chiamati patres minorum gentium, denomina zione, che poteva solo accomodarsi all'ordine patrizio, il quale consi derava come un suo privilegio la gentilità. A ciò si aggiunge, che in quest'epoca la distanza era ancora troppo grande fra i due ordini, perchè deimembridella plebe potessero essere ammessi nell'ordine più elevato della cittadinanza romana, tanto più se i plebei, come dimo strerò a suo tempo, non erano ancora ammessi a far parte delle curie. Ritengo quindi in proposito, che l'opinione più probabile e più conforme al processo solitamente seguito nello svolgimento politico di Roma, ove i cambiamenti, più che da arbitrio di uomini, sogliono derivare dal processo naturale delle cose, sia quella, che l'ammessione della plebe al senato dovette essere una naturale conseguenza del l'ammessione di essa a far parte del populus delle classi e delle centurie; poichè, modificandosi la composizione di uno degli organi essenziali della costituzione, che erano i comizii, anche il senato dovette subire un'analoga trasformazione (1 ). Più tardi poi, allorchè (1 ) Il WILLEMS, nella sua opera: Le Sénat de la République romaine, I, 19, 28 e poi anche nel Droit public romain, pag. 46, sostiene invece che i plebei non sareb bero stati ammessi nel senato, che a misura che furono ammessi alle magistrature ed agli onori. Tale opinione trovasi in contraddizione col fatto, che gli storici attri buiscono a Giunio Bruto od a P. Valerio di aver colmato i vuoti lasciati nel senato da Tarquinio il Superbo, mediante persone tolte dalla plebe più ricca ed agiata (ex primoribus equestris gradus); la qual tradizione ha nulla di ripugnante, perchè il cambiamento nella composizione del popolo richiedeva una modificazione correlativa - - 261 - i senatori cessarono in realtà di essere nominati esclusivamente fra i patres delle antiche gentes, ma furono scelti fra i magistrati, uscenti di ufficio: ne consegui per una naturale evoluzione di cose, che anche i plebei, che un tempo non avrebbero potuto esservi am messi per nascita, poterono esservi ammessi per la dignità, che avevano coperto. Probabilmente fu poi in questo secondo periodo, e in conse guenza di questa trasformazione, per cui la dignità e gli onori con seguiti cominciano a tener luogo della nascita, che i capi delle grandi famiglie plebee, che erano già pervenute al ius imaginum, e ave vano così imitata l'organizzazione gentilizia, poterono perfino entrare a far parte delle curie; le quali, se avevano perduta ogni loro im portanza politica, continuavano però sempre ad avere una impor tanza grande sotto l'aspetto religioso e sacerdotale, sopratutto per coloro, che già eguali in influenza e in ricchezza al patriziato pri mitivo, potevano desiderare di apparire loro eguali, anche nella no biltà di origine. § 6. – I comizii curiati e la populi potestas. 215. Anche i comizii curiati, che furono l'unica assemblea del popolo romano, finchè durò la città esclusivamente patrizia, appa riscono vigorosamente tratteggiati nella costituzione primitiva di Roma. Per quanto i medesimi abbiano poscia perduto della propria importanza e siansi ridotti ad un'assemblea di carattere gentilizio e sacerdotale, che può quasi considerarsi come una sopravvivenza dell'antico ordine di cose; ciò però non toglie, che essi siano stati il modello, sovra cui più tardi si vennero foggiando tutte le altre assemblee del popolo romano. Fu quindi solo più tardi, allorchè si videro privati di ogni importanza politica e militare, che essi si circo scrissero a funzioni meramente gentilizie e sacerdotali: manel loro comparire essi hanno un carattere religioso, militare e politico ad anche nel senato; ed anche perchè in tal modo il patriziato sottraeva alla plebe i capi delle più potenti ed agiate famiglie. La questione della composizione del senato all'epoca regia fu dottamente trattata dal Lattes nelle Memorie dell'Istituto Lom bardo di scienze e lettere, vol. XI, Milano, 1870, il quale inclina a credere che il numero primitivo fosse quello di 300, come quello, che corrispondeva già al numero delle 30 curie. È poi degno di nota, che egli attribuirebbe anche al senato primitivo un carattere militare. 262 un tempo (1). Essi, nella costituzione politica della città, corrispondono all'assemblea patriarcale della tribù, che accorre al cenno del proprio capo, per accordarsi con esso intorno alle cose, che possono interes sare la comunanza. In questo però le curie già differiscono da quella, che non comprendono tutta la popolazione delle varie tribù, ma solo la parte eletta della medesima, ossia coloro, che col braccio o col consiglio possono giovare alla cosa pubblica. Esse quindi hanno per iscopo di far partecipare, sopra un piede di uguaglianza, alla vita pubblica le varie tribù, la cui confederazione è concorsa a formare le città (2 ). 216. I membri delle curie, come tali, chiamansi quirites, e sono noti i dubbii intorno all'origine di questa denominazione. Sonvi coloro, che fanno discendere il vocabolo da quiris, asta, che sa rebbe stata l'arma del quirite, il simbolo del potere al medesimo spettante; nè l'etimologia può dirsi inverosimile, quando si consideri, che nei carmi saliari il popolo ramnense è chiamato populus pi lumnus, ossia il popolo del pilo, e viene così ad essere qualificato anch'esso dall'arma, che lo contraddistingue (3). Altri invece, fra i (1) Il carattere non solo politico, ma anche essenzialmente militare dei comitia curiata, è stato posto in evidenza sopratutto dal IHERING, L'esprit du droit romain, $ 20. Esso è poi provato dal seguente passo di Livo, V, 32: « comitia curiata, qui rem militarem continent », e da un altro di Cicerone, De lege agraria, II, 12, 30, ove è detto, che il console, finchè non abbia ottenuta la legge curiata, non può as sumere il comando militare (rem militarem attingere non licet). È però notabile, che il carattere militare di quest'assemblea, che dapprima fu il più accentuato, come lo indica il nome stesso di quirites, e l'asta di cui erano armati, fu anche il primo ad essere perduto coll' introduzione dei comizii centuriati, che assunsero di preferenza questo carattere militare: poscia i comizii curiati vennero perdendo anche il carattere politico, allorchè la lex curiata de imperio fu ridotta ad una semplice formalità e la patrum auctoritas fu tolta di mezzo dalla lex Hortensia o dalla lex Moenia. Il carat tere invece, che sopravvisse più a lungo nelle curie, fu il carattere religioso e sacer dotale, in quanto che fu in esse, che si mantennero gli auspicia, come lo dimostra la nomina dell'interrex, la quale viene ad essere loro affidata, in quanto i patres o pa tricii delle curie sono i soli depositarii dei primitivi auspicia, e sono le curie, che presiedute dal pontefice, continuano ad avere la custodia dei culti gentilizii e fa migliari. Ciò spiega, come anche nell'età moderna, il vocabolo curia sia sopravissuto con una significazione pressochè sacerdotale. (2) Cfr. il Bouché-LECLERCQ, Manueldes institutions romaines, Paris, 1886, pag. 6 e 7, e il BourgeaUD, Le plébiscite en Grèce et en Rome, Paris, 1887, pag. 39. (3) Cfr. PANTALEONI, Storia civile e costituzionale di Roma. Appendice II, pag. 617. 263 quali, il Niebhur, vogliono che fossero così chiamati da Curium o da Quirium, città sabina, e che avessero ricevuto un tal nome, allorchè ai Ramnenses si unirono per confederazione i Titienses (populus romanus et quiritium ) (1); la quale opinione non pare si possa ac cogliere per il modo diverso, con cui sarebbero indicati idue popoli insieme uniti, ed anche perchè il vocabolo di quirites, più che l'origine, sembra indicare l'ufficio, il compito, a cui essi sono chia mati di fronte alla città, poichè il nome loro nei rapporti esteriori continua sempre ad essere quello di Romani. Altri infine, come il Lange, fanno provenire il vocabolo da ciò, che essi facevano parte delle curiae, cosicchè quiriti significherebbe per essi gli uomini delle curie (2). È perd facile il vedere, che il vocabolo quirite, derivi da quiris o da curia, esprime pur sempre il medesimo concetto, poichè è la lancia, che è il simbolo del potere di chi appartiene alle curie, e sono i portatori di lancia, che sono i membri delle curie. I quiriti quindi in ogni caso son chiamati tali, in quanto hanno partecipazione effettiva al governo della cosa pubblica, mentre nei rapporti esterni continuano ad essere Romani; cosicchè anche questa distinzione sembra corrispondere, sotto un certo aspetto, a quella indicata coi vocaboli domi, militiaeque. 217. I comisii poi sono la riunione solenne dei quiriti, allorchè sono chiamati ad esercitare il loro sovrano potere. Finchè trattasi di semplici notificazioni, che il re o i suoi delegati debbono fare al popolo, o di discussioni intorno a qualche proposta di legge ba stano le semplici contiones. In queste possono anche sentirsi gli oratori in pro e in contro; intervenire i patres, quali moderatori del populus; e tenersi anche orazioni (conciones), le quali, senza essere precisamente quelle da Dionisio e Livio attribuite ai personaggi della loro storia, dovettero però essere ispirate alle circostanze, in (1) NIEBAUR, Histoire romaine, I, 407. Questa opinione fu poi seguita dal WALTER e da molti altri autori. Nella inedesima però vi ha questo di vero, che il vocabolo di Quirites fu assunto dopo la confederazione coi Sabini, il che ci è attestato espres samente da Festo. Vº Quirites: « Quirites autem, dicti post foedus a Romulo et Tatio percussum, comunionem et societatem populi factam indicant ». (2) LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, pag. 29. Inering, L'esprit du droit ro main, 1, $ 20, pag. 20. Secondo il Lange, il vocabolo quirites non è però da con fondersi con quello di curialis; poichè quelli sono gli uoniini delle curie in genere, mentre questo è colui, che appartiene ad una determinata curia. 264 cui venivano pronunziate. Allorchè invece sono convocati i comizii, tutti questi preliminari già sono compiuti, e il popolo, ordinato a guisa di un esercito, si avvia unito al luogo della riunione, donde il vocabolo di comitium (1 ). Quasi si direbbe, che nelle pubbliche de liberazioni il popolo romano primitivo osservi un processo analogo a quello da lui seguito nelle sue transazioni private. Finché trattasi di mettersi di accordo, è lecito discutere e può anche adoperarsi quel dolus bonus, che mira a porre sotto l'aspetto più favorevole la transazione proposta; ma allorchè il periodo delle trattative è finito, più non occorre che una interrogazione ed una risposta, so lenni, ed allora: « quod lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto ». È in questo senso soltanto, che deve essere inteso, ciò che attestano gli storici, che nei comizii, il popolo non poteva nè discutere, nè di videre o modificare le proposte fattegli, ma solo accettare o respin gere il candidato propostogli o la legge, oppure condannare od as solvere. Già nelle adunanze anteriori erano seguite le discussioni, e queste ripetute nei comizii avrebbero impedito quella solennità e quel silenzio, che ritenevansi indispensabili nelle deliberazioni, che ri guardavano l'interesse pubblico, e che avevano per i Romani primitivi alcunché di religioso e di sacro (2 ). 218. I comizii pertanto erano preceduti dagli auspizii, per cono scere se la volontà divina si palesasse favorevole, o non alla delibera zione, che si stava per prendere; si radunavano in un luogo con sacrato, che chiamavasi templum; e si tenevano in certi giorni, che i riti ritenevano adatti alle pubbliche deliberazioni, i quali perciò chiamavansi dies comitiales. (1) Quanto alla distinzione fra comitium e contio, vedi il KARLOWA, Röm. R. G. I, pag. 49. È però a notarsi, che anche la contio non è una riunione qualsiasi del popolo, ma suppone anch'essa una convocazione del magistrato, il che appare dal seguente passo di Paolo Diacono: « Contio significat conventum; non tamen alium, quam eum, qui a magistratu vel a sacerdote publico per praeconem convocatur ». Ciò pur conferma Liv., 39, 15. (2 ) Combatto qui l'opinione universalmente seguìta dagli autori, specialmente ger manici (v. fra i recenti Karlowa, Röm. R.G., pag. 52), che riduce i c omizii ad una funzione puramente passiva nella formazione delle leggi, in quanto che la medesima, a mio avviso, altera il carattere del populus primitivo; il quale, composto di capi di famiglia e di persone esperte negli auspicii e ricchedi tradizioni, poteva benissimo anche prender parte viva alla discussione delle leggi, come dimostrerò più larga mente nel capitolo III, § 2º, discorrendo della lex, e nel capitolo IV, § 1º, parlando delle leges regiae. - 265 Il modo poi, in cui doveva essere proposta la deliberazione, di mostra fino all'evidenza, come il magistrato fosse consapevole del potere, che apparteneva al popolo, e come questo conoscesse l'impor tanza del proprio uffizio. Da una parte eravi il re o magistrato, che, dopo aver premessa la formola: quod bonum felis, etc., invitava il popolo (rogabat) ad esprimere il proprio volere (iussus populi ) sulla proposta fattagli colla formola: velitis, iubeatis, quirites; e dall'altra vi erano i membri delle curie, che rispondevano affermando (uti rogas), o negando (antiquo). Quanto al processo, che seguivasi nella votazione, già appare nelle assemblee curiate quel sistema, che ebbe poi ad essere mantenuto negli altri comizii. I singoli quiriti votano viritim nella propria curia, e in questa prevale il voto della maggioranza, ma intanto la decisione definitiva dipende dal voto complessivo delle curie; nel che abbiamo un indizio del vincolo potente, che stringeva l'indi viduo alla corporazione, di cui faceva parte, in quanto che non era il voto degli individui, che prevaleva, ma quello dei gruppi, a cui appartenevano. Cid da una parte è un concetto trapiantato dalla stessa organizzazione gentilizia, in cui non si può comprendere l'in dividuo, che aggregandolo ad un gruppo; ma dall'altra dovette anche condurre alla disciplina del voto. I membri delle curie non atomi vaganti, ma parti vive di un organismo, senza del quale sa rebbero ridotti all'impotenza; disciplina questa, che ebbe pure ad essere mantenuta più tardinei comizii centuriati, ed anche nei tri buti, salvo che alla curia si sostituirono la centuria, e la tribů. Intanto anche nella votazione appare il carattere religioso e per fino superstizioso del romano primitivo, che da qualsiasi avvenimento suole trarre un pronostico, in quanto che il voto della prima curia si ritiene come un augurio (omen ); donde la denominazione di curia principium, che viene ad essere imitata anche negli altri comizii, e che è conservata nell'intitolazione stessa delle delibera zioni comiziali. sono 219. Sopratutto poi importa determinare, quali fossero le funzioni affidate ai comizii curiati; il che riesce assai difficile, in quanto che anche il potere dell'assemblea popolare presentasi dapprima piuttosto abbozzato, che non compiutamente formato. Secondo Dio nisio, il quale talora si sforza a precisare i contornidelle istituzioni primitive di Roma, sarebbe già l'assemblea delle curie, che, me diante una lex de bello indicendo, avrebbe deciso della pace o della 266 guerra; sarebbe essa, che conferirebbe la cittadinanza non ad indi vidui, ma ad intiere popolazioni o gentes, mediante la cooptatio; sarebbe essa parimenti, che voterebbe le leggi, e nominerebbe il magistrato supremo (1). Che se invece si tiene conto dei fatti, dei quali ci pervenne notizia, ben poche sarebbero state le occasioni, in cui l'assemblea delle curie avrebbe esercitato queste funzioni. Cid vuol dire, che anche il potere dei comizii curiati non dovette dap prima essere determinato da una costituzione scritta; ma deve ri guardarsi come un potere in via di formazione, che poi si svolgerà, a seconda delle occasioni e degli avvenimenti, mantenendosi perd sempre fedele al proprio concetto informatore. Esso tuttavia, come si vedrà più sotto (2 ), già contiene in germe tutti quei poteri, che l'assemblea del popolo acquisterà colle altre forme di comizii. È esso infatti, che nomina il Re e si ha così il germe del potere elettorale; è esso che, secondo la tradizione, sanziona le leges re giae, e si ha così l'inizio del suo potere legislativo; è esso infine, che già avrebbe avuto l'occasione di esercitare una specie di giu risdizione criminale, come lo dimostra la provocatio ad populum, che si fa rimontare all'epoca dei primi re, e si sarebbe dispiegata, secondo la tradizione, nel fatto dell'Orazio, uccisore della propria sorella. 220. Sopratutto poi è notabile nei comizii coriati uno speciale ca rattere, che, a parer mio, è la prova più evidente del passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla comunanza civile e politica, e che non parmi siasi tenuto in conto sufficiente dagli autori. Questo ca rattere consiste nella doppia competenza della assemblea delle curie; la quale, sotto un certo aspetto, è ancora sempre una riunione di ca rattere gentilizio, e coll'intervento dei pontefici provvede alla con servazione delle genti e delle famiglie, e del loro culto, e sotto un altro aspetto è una riunione di carattere eminentemente politico. Quasi si direbbe, che il quirite, al pari di Giano, protettore della città, deve avere lo sguardo rivolto in due opposte direzioni: da una parte egli è ancora un rappresentante della gente e della tribù, (1) DION., 2, 14, scrive in proposito: « populo vero haec tria concessit,magistratus creare, leges sancire, et de bello decernere, quando rex rogationem ad eum tulisset ». (2) Rimando la prova di ciò al capitolo seguente, ove si considera la costituzione primitiva di Roma nelle sue principali funzioni. 267 da cui discende, e come tale è ancora strettamente vincolato al l'organizzazione gentilizia, e deve curare che il culto di essa non venga ad interrompersi, e che il suo patrimonio non sia disperso; dall'altra invece è membro del populus, e come tale deve obbe dire ai cenni del magistrato, e deve aver presente sopratutto il pubblico interesse, in quanto che « salus populi suprema lex esto ». Questa doppia qualità del quirite si appalesa nell'indole diversa delle riunioni, di cui esso è chiamato a far parte. Accanto ai veri comizii, convocati dal magistrato, per mezzo dei littori, e in cui si votano le cose attinenti al pubblico interesse, sonvi i comitia ca lata, convocati dal pontifex maximus, per mezzo dei suoi calatores, nei quali si compiono quegli atti, che possono toccare in qualche modo l'organizzazione gentilizia. Nei primi si votano le leggi; si deliberano le guerre e le paci; si nomina il magistrato; si assolvono o condannano coloro, che appellarono al popolo. Nei secondi invece, che rivestono di preferenza un carattere religioso, i quiriti si ra dunano, in quanto hanno un culto, a cui debbono provvedere. È quindi in essi, che compiesi l'inauguratio regis, ed anche quella dei flamines; come pure è in essi, che si compiono quegli atti, che possono alterare in qualche modo l'organizzazione gentilizia, e com promettere l'avvenire del culto. È perciò in questa specie di co mizii, che deve essere approvata l'adrogatio di una persona sui iuris, come quella che ha per effetto di fare entrare un capo di famiglia sotto la podestà di un altro; il che significa sopprimere una famiglia e il suo culto, per continuare invece un'altra famiglia e il culto della medesima. È in essi parimenti, che ha luogo la detestatio sacrorum, che è la rinuncia al proprio culto gentilizio, per causa di adrogatio o di transitio ad plebem; come pure è ivi, che segue la cooptatio di una gens nell'ordine patrizio: cooptativ, che si opera per l'intiero gruppo, e non per i singoli individui, che entrano a costituirla. È in essi infine, che deve seguire quel testamen tum, che vien detto appunto in calatis comitiis; il quale, secondo il concetto delle genti patrizie, costituiva materia di diritto pubblico, come quello, che alterava le norme relative alla successione genti lizia, e quelle riferentisi alla trasmessione dei sacra. Cid è provato dal fatto, attestatoci da Cicerone, che il ius pontificium, nell'intento d'impedire l'interruzione dei sacra, fini per porre i medesimi a ca rico di coloro, che avevano gli utili dell'eredità; donde l'espressione popolare, che occorre soventi nei comici latini, di haereditas sine - 268 sacris, per significare un vantaggio conseguito senza i pesi inerenti al medesimo (1). 221. Intanto questo speciale punto di vista, sotto cui debbono, a parer mio, essere considerati i comitia calata, ci spiega quel carattere singolare e pressochè contraddittorio del diritto primitivo di Roma, il quale, mentre da una parte dà al quirite il più illi mitato arbitrio di disporre delle proprie cose per testamento; dal l'altra vuole, che i testamenti, le adrogationes e simili atti, che pur riguardano interessi privati, siano compiuti in cospetto dell'intiero popolo, e li ritiene come relativi ad argomenti di diritto pubblico. Gli autori vollero spiegare la cosa con dire, che in Roma primitiva tutti questi atti costituivano altrettante leges publicae, e che, come tali, dovevano essere fatti in cospetto e coll'approvazione del po polo. Riterrei invece, che in questa istituzione dei comitia calata si debba ravvisare, se mi si consenta l'espressione, il rudere meglio conservato, che dall'organizzazione gentilizia sia stato trasportato nella costituzione primitiva di Roma. Si è veduto a suo tempo, che il grande intento dell'organizzazione gentilizia era quello di perpe tuare le famiglie e il loro culto, e di impedire la dispersione dei patrimoni; donde la conseguenza, che il testamentum e l'adrogatio dovevano farsi coll'approvazione dell'assemblea della gente o della tribù (2 ). Or bene così continuò ancora ad essere, finchè la città fu esclusivamente patrizia: quindi questi atti continuarono ad essere fatti coll'approvazione delle curie, e di quei collegi sacerdotali, che erano incaricati di serbare integri non solo i sacra publica, ma ancora i sacra privata. Quindi conviene ammettere, che le curie non prestassero soltanto la loro testimonianza a questi atti, ma fossero chiamate a darvi la loro approvazione, dopo aver sentito l'avviso dei pontefici; il che viene ad essere provato dalla formola, conserva taci da Aulo Gellio, relativamente all'adrogatio (3 ). Una volta poi, (1) La teoria dei comitia calata ci fu conservata sopratutto da Aulo Gellio, Noc. Att.. XV, 28 e 3, il quale dice di averla ricavata da un'opera di Laelius Felix. Quanto alla ripartizione dei sacra, in proporzione della sostanza ricevuta dagli eredi, è attestata da CICERONE, De legibus, II, 19, SS 47, 49. (2) Vedi libro I, cap. IV, $ 4, nº. 61 a 65. (3 ) Aulo Gellio, Noc. Att., V, 19. Ivi si dice che a adrogatio per rogationem populi fit », ed è riportata la formola, che è quella della vera e propria legge, in quanto che comincia colle parole velitis, iubeatis, quirites » e termina coll'espres. sione « Haec ita, uti dixi, ita vos, quirites, rogo ». 269 che una istituzione di questa natura sia penetrata nella primitiva costituzione romana, noi oramai conosciamo abbastanza il tempera mento del popolo romano per poter affermare, che esso non l'abban donerà così presto. Si comprende pertanto, che quando si introdussero i comizii centuriati, anche questi, secondo la testimonianza di Gellio, abbiano avuti i proprii comizii calati, salvo che nei medesimiil po polo, radunato due volte all'anno, più non dovette approvare il te stamento, ma solo prestare la propria testimonianza. Ciò è dimostrato dal fatto, che il testamento in calatis comitiis potè poi essere surro gato da quello per aes et libram, in cui i quiriti sono chiamati non per approvare, ma solo per testimoniare (testimonium mihi perhi bitote). Intanto però, anche quando l'adrogatio e il testamentum furono atti di carattere intieramente privato, rimane però sempre la traccia dell'antico stato di cose nel concetto, ricordatoci da Papiniano, secondo cui la testamenti factio pubblici iuris est (1). A questo riguardo poi, è ancora degno di nota, che quando l'as semblea delle curie fini per perdere ogni importanza politica e mi litare, e si ridusse ad essere una riunione di trenta littori, presie duta dai pontefici, serbò però ancora sempre e forse esagero perfino questa competenza, per ciò che si riferisce agli atti, che riguardano l'organizzazione gentilizia, e sopratutto, quanto all'adrogatio. Questa fu praticata ancora, davanti alle curie, dagli imperatori Augusto e Claudio, i quali, non avendo dimenticata la loro antica origine dalle genti patrizie, seguirono le forme tradizionali nella arrogazione di Tiberio e di Nerone. Cosi le primitive istituzioni vengono anche esse perdendosi a poco a poco in Roma,ma ne rimane ancora sempre un'eco lontana. Resterebbe qui ad esaminarsi la questione fondamentale se la plebe sia stata ammessa a far parte della assemblea delle curie; ma (1) Papin., L. 4, Dig. (28, 1). La conclusione sarebbe questa, che il carattere di lex del testamento primitivo è una reliquia dell'antica organizzazione gentilizia. Tale carattere poi in parte avrebbe cominciato a dileguarsi, allorchè accanto ai comizië curiati calati, si introdussero anche i comiziï centuriati calati, la cui esistenza ci.è attestata da Aulo Gellio, XV, 27, 2, e che probabilmente dovettero essere quelli, i quali, secondo Gaio, Comm., II, 101, si radunavano due volte l'anno,acciò in essi po tessero farsi i testamenti. Il fatto stesso della loro riunione periodica dimostra, che molti testamenti si potevano presentare ad un tempo, e che perciò in essi il popolo doveva limitarsi a prestare la propria testimonianza. Fu questo il motivo, per cui il testamento in calatis comitiis potè poi essere sostituito dal testamento per aes et libram, ove i quiriti si riducono ad essere dei classici testes. Gaio, Comm., II, 103. 270 credo opportuno rimandarne l'esame ad un capitolo speciale, in cui cercherò di determinare la posizione dei clienti e della plebe, cosi sotto l'aspetto del diritto pubblico, che sotto quello del diritto pri vato; premettendo però fin d'ora, che seguo l'opinione, secondo cui la plebe non potè, durante il periodo regio e nei primisecoli della Repubblica, essere ammessa all'assemblea delle curie (1 ). $ 7. Sguardo sintetico allo svolgimento storico dei comizi in Roma. 222. Le cose premesse sarebbero sufficienti per formarsi un con cetto del carattere speciale della primitiva assemblea curiata: ma intanto per scoprire certe relazioni, che difficilmente potrebbero es sere afferrate, quando non fossero sorprese alle origini, ed anche per rendere intelligibili gli svolgimenti, che verranno dopo, e dimo strarne la continuità, ritengo opportuno, a costo anche di precor rere gli avvenimenti, di dare uno sguardo sintetico allo svolgimento che ebbero i comizii in Roma. Roma antica, simile in cið alla moderna Inghilterra, ci presenta bene spesso l'esempio di congegni della costituzione politica ed am ministrativa, la cui creazione rimonta ad epoche compiutamente di verse, ma che intanto funzionano contemporaneamente. Ciò è vero sopratutto per quello, che si riferisce ai comizii. Roma patrizia, e forse anche Roma, durante tutto il periodo regio, non conosce altra assemblea del popolo, che quella delle curie. Essa è un'assemblea, di carattere religioso e sacerdotale, politico e militare ad un tempo: è la riunione del primo populus romanus quiritium, di quello cioè, che era ristretto al populus, che usciva esclusivamente dalle genti patrizie. In base alla costituzione Serviana, che ammette la plebe a far parte delle classi e centurie, sulla base del censo, intro ducesi un' altra assemblea del populus romanus quiritium, già inteso in senso più largo, che è la centuriata. Anch'essa è mo dellata sulla prima, e secondo Gellio, imita perfino i comizii calati, come pure è anche preceduta dagli auspicii;ma intanto, accogliendo già un elemento, che non partecipava al culto gentilizio, che era quello della plebe, perde ogni carattere religioso e sacerdotale, e (1) La questione qui accennata sarà presa in esame in questo stesso libro, cap. V. 271 assume un carattere essenzialmente militare, e poscia anche poli tico. Da questo momento l'assemblea per curie più non può rap presentare l'intiero populus, perchè una parte di questo, cioè la plebe, non entra a farne parte. L'assemblea curiata quindi diventa, dirimpetto alla centuriata, un' assemblea di patres, perchè com prende coloro, che discendono sempre dalle antiche genti patrizie. La vera rappresentanza dell'intiero populus (comitiatus maximus) viene quindi ad essere l'assemblea per centurie; perchè essa soltanto comprende tutto il popolo, organizzato sulla base del censo. Siccome però i patres o patricii, cioè i discendenti delle antiche genti pa trizie, continuano ancora sempre a formare un nucleo separato del populus, cosi essi sono ancora chiamati a dare alle deliberazioni dei comizii centuriati la patrum auctoritas, la quale viene, come sopra si è veduto, a distinguersi dalla senatus auctoritas. Così pure l'antico populus, composto appunto dai patres, continua ancora sempre a con ferire l'imperium colla lex curiata de imperio, sebbene l'una e l'altra funzione tendano naturalmente a perdere della loro im portanza, e l'assemblea curiata si limiti sempre più a funzioni di carattere puramente gentilizio e sacerdotale (1). 223. Fin qui lo svolgimento della costituzione primitiva procede ancora regolarmente: ma la cosa si fa più malagevole, quando, fra i congegni della costituzione politica di Roma, compare un nuovo elemento, che è quello delle assemblee proprie della plebe (concilia plebis). La plebs forma già parte del populus e partecipa alla civitas; ma la sua civitas è ancora minuto iure, in quanto che essa non ha ancora nè il ius connubii col patriziato, nè il ius honorum. È quindi naturale in essa l'aspirazione al pareggiamento, e sorge una opposizione di interessi fra il patriziato e la plebe. Quest'ultima, che, uguale sotto un aspetto, aspira a diventarlo anche sotto gli altri, viene naturalmente a costituire sotto un certo riguardo una fazione nello Stato, poichè i suoi interessi si contrappongono a quelli del patriziato, il quale continua ad essere il vero reggitore dello Stato, essendo il solo ammesso alle magistrature e agli onori. La plebe però ha già un proprio magistrato, sotto cui si organizza, che è il tribuno della plebe, il quale, in base alla costituzione, può (1) È da vedersi, quanto all'auctoritas patrum, questo stesso capitolo, § 3º, n° 198, pag. 240 e seg. colle note relative. 272 convocarla per prendere deliberazioni nel proprio interesse. Sorge cosi spontaneamente l'istituto dei concilia plebis, i quali dapprima hanno più un'esistenza di fatto, che non di diritto: ma che intanto, fatti forti dal numero e dalla intraprendenza dei tribuni, tendono naturalmente a prendere dei provvedimenti, che mirano a prepa rare l'uguaglianza giuridica e politica fra la plebe e il patriziato. Essi perciò mettono in accusa patrizii avversi alla plebe e gli stessi consoli, allorchè escono di ufficio. Proibirli è impossibile, perchè è principio riconosciuto dalle XII Tavole, che ogni sodalizio, che abbia un capo (magister ), possa dettarsi una propria legge, e perchè in ogni caso sarebbe impossibile vietare le riunioni di un elemento, che ha per sè il numero e la forza, e che, ricorrendo ad una secessio, potrebbe mettere a repentaglio l'avvenire della città (1). L'unico partito pertanto, che rimanga al patriziato ed al senato, che lo rap presenta, è quello di riconoscere queste riunioni e di farle entrare, per quanto sia possibile, nei quadri legali della costituzione politica di Roma, trasformando a poco a poco i concilia plebis in comitia tributa: in comizii, cioè, che comprendano eziandio tutto il popolo, ma non più in base al censo, come l'assemblea delle centurie, ma in base alle tribù locali, in cui è raccolta tutta la cittadinanza ro mana. È questa la trasformazione, che incomincia col tribuno Pu blilio Volerone, il quale, nel 283 U. C., dopo lunghe lotte, ottiene che la plebe possa nominarsi i suoi tribuni nei proprii comizii; ma con ciò questi non possono ancora prendere che provvedimenti riguar danti la sola plebe, e che possono soltanto essere obbligatorii per essa. Quindi incomincia da parte di questa uno sforzo inteso a pareggiare i comizi tributi agli altri comizii, e a fare si che i plebisciti obbli ghino anche il patriziato, il che si opera per mezzo delle leggi Va leria -Orazia, Publilia e Ortensia; le quali, sebbene, per il poco che a noi ne pervenne, mirino tutte allo scopo di rendere obbligatorii i plebisciti per tutto il popolo, segnano però, come si vedrà più sotto, pag. 728, (1) La proibizione dei concilia plebis sarebbe stata contraria a quelle disposizioni della legge decemvirale, secondo cui « Sodalibus potestas esto, pacionem, quam volent, sibi ferre, dum ne quid ex publica lege corrumpant. V. Voigt, die Tafeln, I, che attribuisce tal legge alla Tavola VIII, n. 12. Qualcosa di analogo ci è pure accennato da Livio, 39, 15: « ubicumque multitudo esset, ibi et legitimum rectorem multitudinis, censebant maiores debere esse »; ed è questo forse il motivo, per cui i concilia plebis cominciano a diventare potenti, quando la plebs ha trovato un proprio rector o magister nel tribunus plebis. - 273 discorrendo del concetto romano di lex, i varii stadii, per cui passò la risoluzione del gravissimo problema (1). 224. Giungesi cosi ad un periodo della costituzione politica di Roma, in cui nei quadri di essa trovansi tre specie di comizii. I primi e i più antichi sono i comizii curiati,ma essi vengono ad essere sempre più ridotti a funzioni puramente gentilizie e sacerdotali, e anzichè essere in effetto ancora le riunioni delle curie, si riducono ad essere la riunione dei trenta littori, che le rappresentano, e diven tano così una sopravvivenza dell'antico ordine di cose. Accanto ad essi sonvi i comizii centuriati, che sono sempre la vera assemblea del popolo romano, e continuano a conservare in qualche parte il pri mitivo carattere militare: ma anch'essi si fanno più democratici, come lo dimostrano le riforme, che sappiamo essere state introdotte, senza saperne precisare il come ed il quando, e debbono dividere in parte le proprie funzioni colla nuova assemblea tributa, più fa cile a convocarsi e più intraprendente nella propria iniziativa. Certo si richiedeva il genio pratico dei Romani per far procedere di pari passo assemblee, che rappresentavano un principio diverso, cioè la nascita, il censo, ed il numero. Dapprima ciascuna di queste istituzioni potè serbare intatto il proprio carattere primitivo; ma poscia la fusione sempre maggiore dei due ordini condusse al ri sultato, che poterono esservi plebei di grandi famiglie, che furono accolti nelle curie, e che vi ottennero anche la dignità sacerdotale di curio maximus; al modo stesso, che i pochi discendenti delle an tiche genti patrizie poterono anche intervenire ai comizi tributi, i quali ricevettero cosi anche la consacrazione religiosa, e poterono essere presieduti da magistrati, che un tempo erano esclusivamente patrizii. Quando le cose pervennero a questo punto, il vero populus trovasi raccolto nei comizii centuriati, e nei comizii tributi. Quelli sono organizzati in base al censo, e questi in base alle tribù lo cali, a cui i cittadini trovansi ascritti; quelli serbano ancora un carattere specialmente militare e radunansi al campo Marzio, fuori delle mura Serviane, e questi invece hanno un carattere civile e (1) Rimetto la discussione gravissima relativa a queste tre leggi al capitolo se guente § 2º, n ° 232 e seg. dove si discorre del concetto romano di lex. Quanto alla proposta di Publilio Volerone e alla portata della medesima è da vedersi il Bonghi, Storia di Roma, pag. 439 a 451, come pure a pag. 593, ove parla dell'elezione dei tribuni nei comizii tributi. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 18 274 radunansi nel fôro, cosicchè il vero movimento della costituzione politica di Roma ondeggia fra l'una e l'altra assemblea. Tuttavia, a ricordare l'antico dualismo, sopravvivono ancora sempre i comizii curiati ridotti ad essere la riunione di trenta littori, presieduti dal pontefice, e circoscritti a funzioni di carattere essenzialmente reli gioso, e i concilia plebis, che ricordano ancora quel tempo, in cui la plebe costituiva un dualismo col patriziato, e nei quali continuano a nominarsi le magistrature esclusivamente plebee (1). Intanto è ancora degno di nota, che la trasformazione, che si opera nei comisii tri buti, accade anche nei tribuni della plebe, i quali, sebbene debbano sempre essere trattidalla plebe, diventano però a poco a poco magi strati urbanidel popolo romano; comepure accade nei plebisciti, i quali a poco a poco vengono ad essere pareggiati alle leggi propriamente dette, il che sarà meglio dimostrato nel capitolo seguente. Questo è il solito processo, seguito dai Romani, nello svolgimento delle proprie istituzioni, ed è la logica che lo governa, che per mette di poterlo ricostruire, malgrado le lacune, che possono esservi nel racconto storico, che a noi pervenne. Questa logica è, per così esprimersi, intensiva ed estensiva ad un tempo, e quindi si può es sere certi, che se un concetto entri nella compagine romana non scomparirà, se prima non siasi ricavato da esso in profondità ed estensione tutto ciò, che contenga di vigoroso e di vitale. Studiata cosi la costituzione primitiva di Roma negli organi, che entrano a costituirla, importa ora di considerarla nell'esercizio delle sue principali funzioni. (1) È questo, a parer mio, il solo modo per risolvere la questione così contro versa relativa alle analogie ed alle differenze, che possono intercedere fra i comitia tributa ed i concilia plebis. È noto in proposito, come il Niebhur non ammettesse che un'unica assemblea tributa (Histoire romaine, III, 283), la quale, esclusivamente plebea dapprima (concilium plebis), avrebbe più tardi compreso anche il patriziato, e sarebbesi così cambiata in comitium tributum. Il Mommsen invece (Römische For schungen, Berlin, 1864, I, 151 a 155) sostenne, dai decemviri in poi, l'esistenza di due assemblee tribute: l’una patrizio-plebea (comitia tributa ); l'altra esclusivamente plebea (concilium plebis). Ritengo che quest'ultima opinione possa essere accolta, ma limitando le funzioni dei concilia plebis a cose di interesse esclusivamente plebeo, quali erano la nomina dei tribuni e degli edili plebei, mentre il vero potere legisla tivo, elettorale e giudiziario appartiene ai comitia tributa, i quali soli possono con siderarsi come un vero organo della costituzione romana. Cfr. BOURGEAUD, Le plébi scite dans l'antiquité, Paris, 1887, pag. 57 a 76; Karlowa, Röm. R. G., pag. 118; MORLot, Précis des instit. polit. de Rome. Paris. La primitiva costituzione di Roma nelle sue principali funzioni. $ 1. - Carattere generale della medesima. e 225. La costituzione primitiva di Roma, finchè si mantenne esclusivamente patrizia, si presenta con un carattere di unità e di coerenza, che indarno si cercherebbe più tardi nelle istituzioni po litiche di Roma. Vero è che la plebe, entrando a far parte della comunanza politica, recò nella medesima il movimento e la vita, rese possibile per Roma un avvenire, che non avrebbe mai conse guito la città esclusivamente patrizia, la quale da sola tendeva più a chiudersi in se stessa, che ad estendersi; ma è vero eziandio, che colla plebe penetrò il dualismo in ogni aspetto della costituzione primitiva di Roma. Dirimpetto ai comizii disciplinati del popolo rac colto nelle curie, si svolsero i concilii talvolta tumultuosi della plebe; ai magistrati del popolo si contrapposero quelli della plebe; ed alle leggi votate nella solennità e nel silenzio dalle curie si so vrapposero i plebisciti. Fu in tal guisa, che la costituzione primitiva di Roma venne in certo modo ad essere forzata a spingersi oltre il concetto ispiratore della medesima, e fini per assumere un ca rattere del tutto peculiare, in quanto che dovette stringere insieme due popoli, che politicamente erano associati, ma che non erano intimamente uniti fra di loro, di cui uno pretendeva di avere per sè la priorità ed il diritto, mentre l'altro aveva per sè il numero e la forza. Nè conseguita che, per comprendere lo spirito della primitiva costituzione di Roma, conviene in certo modo isolarla dagli elementi, che sopravvennero coll' ammessione della plebe alla cittadinanza, e quando ciò si faccia non si può a meno di rima nere ammirati di fronte all'unità ed alla coerenza, che presenta la costituzione esclusivamente patrizia. Essa è un vero organismo, che componesi di varie parti, delle quali ciascunaè chiamata ad adempiere la propria funzione: ma che tutte intanto si suppongono e si completano a vicenda. La potestas in largo senso si ritiene bensi appartenere al popolo, ma questo non potrebbe esercitarla, se 276 non fosse posto in azione dall'imperium del magistrato; e intanto fra di loro si interpone l'auctoritas del senato, il quale da una parte modera col suo consiglio il regis imperium, e dall'altra da la consistenza e l'appoggio della propria autorità ai iussa populi. 226. Questa coerenza poi appare anche più evidente, allorchè i congegni della costituzione siano considerati nel loro movimento; poichè mentre ciascun aspetto del pubblico potere non ha altra norma e altro confine, che il proprio concetto ispiratore, niuno di essi però può compromettere l'interesse comune, senza che vi concorrano tutti gli altri. Questo carattere della costituzione politica di Roma ha fatto dire a Polibio, che essa appariva mo narchica, aristocratica e democratica ad un tempo, secondo che altri la considerava rimpetto a questo o a quell'aspetto del pubblico potere (1); ma se altri poi la consideri in movimento ed in azione, essa si presenta con tutti questi caratteri ad un tempo. L'imperium regis, la senatus auctoritas, la populi potestas sono altrettante concezioni logiche, destinate col tempo a ricevere tutto lo sviluppo, di cui possono essere capaci; ma intanto son disposte per modo, che si contengono e si limitano a vicenda, non già perchè esista fra di essi una ripartizione o circoscrizione di poteri, ma perchè nessuno di questi elementi puo compromettere la pubblica salute senza la cooperazione di tutti gli altri. Onnipotente ciascuno coll'appoggio degli altri, viene ad essere impotente, quando trovi opposizione o contrasto in alcuno fra essi; donde l'importanza, che ebbe nella costituzione romana l'istituto dell'intercessio, la quale viene atteg giandosi in guise molteplici e diverse, in quanto che tale intercessio, o può esercitarsi a nome della religione, o frapponendo la par ma iorve potestas, o contrapponendo anche quelli, che esercitano la medesima magistratura (2 ). Questo è, a parer mio, il carattere fon (1) Polibio, Histor., lib. VI. (2) È mirabile il partito, che Roma seppe trarre dal concetto dell'intercessio nello svolgimento storico della sua costituzione, come appare dalla magistrale trattazione dell'argomento nel Mommsen, Le droit public romain, pag. 230 a 329. Non potrei tuttavia accettare la sua affermazione recisa, che l'intercessio non esistesse nel periodo regio. Certo essa non ebbe occasione di svolgersi, perchè i tre elementi od organi della costituzione erano potentemente unificati; ma intanto la cost ituzione primitiva inchiudeva già allo stato latente il germe di tutta la teoria dell'intercessio, in quanto che in essa niun provvedimento, che possa compromettere il pubblico interesse, pud  damentale della costituzione primitiva di Roma, per cui essa ora apparisce conservatrice fino allo scrupolo, ed ora invece diventa operosa ed intraprendente fino all'audacia, secondo che essa abbia o non l'appoggio dell'opinione generale. Intanto quando trattasi della res publica, ossia di cosa, che possa interessare l'intiera comunanza, tutti questi elementi sono chia mati ad arrecare il proprio contributo. È infatti almagistrato (rex, interrex, tribunus celerum, praefectus urbis) che si appartiene l'agere, quando trattasi di convocare il popolo o il senato; il ro gare, quando importa di ottenere l'approvazione di qualche proposta; l'imperare, allorchè nei pericoli di una guerra il suo imperium si spinge fino alla maggiore estensione, di cui possa essere capace. E invece al senato, che si appartiene il consulere, quando trattasi di dare il proprio avviso al magistrato, o di richiamare l'attenzione di lui su qualche imminente pericolo, « ne res publica detrimenti capiat »; e l'auctor fieri, se è questione invece di appoggiare le de liberazioni del popolo. È infine al popolo, che spetta il iubere e lo statuere, quando trattasi di una lex, sotto la qual forma si manifesta di regola la volontà collettiva del quando trattasi della elezione dei magistrati. Intanto però, siccome queste gradazioni dell'azione collettiva debbono tutte concorrere in sieme per costituire un atto compiuto, cosi niun elemento pud da solo prendere un provvedimento, che possa compromettere l'interesse comune (1 ). Ciò sopratutto appare nel compimento di quegli atti, che, per propria natura, interessano l'intiera comunanza, quali sarebbero: la formazione di una legge, l'elezione del magistrato, e l'amministra zione della giustizia; dai quali poi discendono le tre manifestazioni essere preso senza il concorso di tutti. L'intercessio nel periodo repubblicano non fu che uno svolgimento di questo concetto, e toccò il suo massimo sviluppo per opera dei tribuni, stante il carattere negativo del potere spettante aimedesimi. È poi notabile, come essa si applichi al decretum, alla rogatio, ed al senatus consultum, il quale, se colpito dall'intercessio, non può più essere posto in esecuzione: ma tuttavia deve essere perscriptum, perchè è sempre una espressione dell'auctoritas senatus, col quale vocabolo viene appunto ad essere indicato. Cfr. MOMMSEN, op. cit., (1) Ho già insistito su questo concetto, che può essere considerato comela chiave di volta della primitiva costituzione di Roma, in una prolusione al corso di Storia del diritto romanu col titolo: L'evoluzione storica del diritto pubblico e privato di Roma, Torino, 1886, pag. 13. pag. 317. 278 del potere sovrano nella città antica, che sono il potere legislativo, il potere elettorale, ed il potere giudiziario. È quindi sopratutto a proposito di questi atti, che vuolsi cercare in qual modo entri in movimento ed in azione la primitiva costituzione di Roma, dando al tempo stesso un popolo, o ilo sguardo allo svolgimento storico, che dovrà poi ricevere ciascuno di questi poteri. $ 2. Il concetto romano di lex nei suoi rapporti colla patrum auctoritas e col plebiscitum. 228. Nel considerare il concetto primitivo della lex in Roma si riman magistratum creare,e anzitutto colpiti dalla larghissima significazione, colla quale si presenta questo vocabolo. Esso significa dapprima qualsiasi ac cordo di più individui in una stessa volontà, e viene così, fin dagli esordii, a distinguersi in lex privata, che significa una convenzione od una norma, che altri si impone relativamente ad interessi privati (lex contractus, lex mancipii, lex testamenti), ed in les publica, che significa la volontà collettiva e comune, che si sovrappone alla volontà dei singoli individui. Quando poi il concetto di lex privata viene ad essere assorbito da quello di convenzione o di contratto, quello di lex publica continua ancora ad avere una estesissima si gnificazione; poichè esso comprende in certo modo qualsiasi delibera zione solenne del popolo. Parlasi infatti di una lex belli indicendi, foederis ineundi, coloniae deducendae, agri adsignandi e simili; e fino a un certo punto la nomina stessa del magistrato, o almeno il conferimento dell'imperium, spettante al medesimo, viene ad essere argomento di una legge. Gli è solo più tardi, che il vocabolo di legge viene a significare un generale iussum populi, che si rife risce alla generalità dei cittadini, e si distingue così da qualsiasi de liberazione, relativa ad una persona o ad un fatto particolare (1). Ciò (1) Insomma il concetto dominante è sempre quello, che la lex è il risultato di un accordo. Quindi la lex publica, essendo il risultato dell'accordo di tutti gli organi dello Stato, viene ad essere una communis reipublicae sponsio, e deve da tutti essere rispettata; donde la conseguenza, che il ius publicum privatorum pactis mutari non potest. La lex privata invece è l'accordo di due o più individui in tema di loro interessi privati: non è quindi la legge pubblica, che deve occuparsene, secondo il principio della stessa legge decemvirale, privilegia ne inroganto: donde conseguita, che la legge cambiasi a poco a poco in un generale iussum. È in questa guisa, che vuol dire, che anche la nozione di lex subisce in Roma una lunga evoluzione: ma intanto il concetto, che la pervade in ogni tempo, è quello di un accordo di più volontà in un medesimo intento. Tale significazione sembra pure essere indicata dall'etimologia del vocabolo di lex a legendo od a colligendo, la quale perciò non indica tanto la forma scritta, assunta dalla legge, come vorrebbe il Bréal, quanto piuttosto il collegarsi delle volontà in un medesimo intento (1 ). 229. Un altro carattere della lex, secondo il primitivo concetto romano, si è quello di un'aureola religiosa, che la circonda, come lo dimostrano le cerimonie solenni, da cui son precedute le deliberazioni comiziali, e la reverenza e il culto, di cui la legge viene ad essere l'oggetto in Roma primitiva, dopo che essa fu solennemente votata dal popolo. Di qui alcuni autori ebbero a ricavare la conseguenza, che la forza obbligatoria della legge, anche per Roma, non deri vasse tanto dal suffragio del popolo, quanto piuttosto da questo carat tere religioso, da cui essa appare circondata. Se con ciò si vuol dire, che la legge solennemente votata dal popolo, dopo aver assunto gli auspicii, doveva in certo modo considerarsi come una interpreta zione della stessa volontà divina, questo concetto pud essere facil mente ammesso, essendo il medesimo una conseguenza di ciò, che il ius, come si è dimostrato a suo tempo, aveva nei suoi primordii un carattere religioso, e impotente a sostenersi da solo cercava di mettersi sotto la protezione del fas. Ma se con ciò si intende in la legge e il contratto, uniti nell'origine, più tardi si vennero separando, e quasi si contrapposero fra di loro, lasciando perd sempre una traccia nel concetto, che « il contratto costituisce legge per i contraenti ». (1) L'etimologia di lex a legendo nel senso di « leggere, suole appoggiarsi al testo di Varrone, De ling. lat., VI, 66: leges, quae lectae et ad populum latae, quas ob servet; ma egli è evidente, che qui Varrone, non sempre felice nelle sue etimologie, non ha punto l'intenzione di proporne una. Se quindi è vero, come del resto insegna lo stesso BRÉAL, Dict. étym. latin, vº lego, che il vocabolo di legere ebbe anche la antica significazione di raccogliere, di scegliere, di riunire, parmi sia molto più acconcio di dare questa etimologia al vocabolo di lex. Così si potrà anche compren dere la lex privata, la quale certo non pud essere derivata da ciò, che i contratti fossero scritti; ma da cid, che le volontà si accordavano e si riunivano. Cfr. BRÉAL et BAILLY, Dict. étym., vº lex. Un passo, in cui il vocabolo « legere » prende questa an tica e larga significazione, è il seguente di Virgilio: Iura, magistratusque legunt, sanctumque senatum. (Aen., I, v. 431). - 280 vece, che la sua efficacia obbligatoria provenga direttamente dalla volontà divina, se questo può forse ancora ammettersi per il vóuos de' Greci, più non può ritenersi vero per la lex romana (1). Questa non potrà essere votata senza che prima si assumano gli auspicii; ma intanto, fin dal periodo esclusivamente patrizio, essa è già l'espres sione della volontà collettiva del popolo, come lo dimostra il fatto, che assume la forma di una vera e propria stipulazione fra il ma gistrato che propone (rogat), e il popolo che vota (iubet atque con stituit); come pure il concorso nella formazione di essa di tutti gli organi della costituzione politica di Roma, per cui essa, fin dagli esordii della città, deve essere considerata come una « communis rei publicae sponsio ». Essa sarà ancora riguardata come una volontà divina; ma il popolo già si attribuisce facoltà d'interpretare questa volontà, ogni qualvolta trattisi, non di cosa relativa al culto, ma di provvedimenti, che riguardano l'interesse generale della comu nanza. Anche la definizione dei Giureconsulti classici: « lex est, quod populus, senatorio magistratu rogante, iubet atque con stituit », può già essere applicata alla legge, durante il periodo regio; salvo che in questa definizione più non compare l'elemento della patrum auctoritas, che nella città patrizia era ancor ritenuto indispensabile, e che era poi stato tolto di mezzo dalla legge Ortensia. Vero è, che più tardi il patriziato cercò di dare sopratutto prevalenza all'elemento religioso, che accompagnava la legge; ma ciò accade unicamente, allorchè l'assemblea patrizia delle curie perdette ogni importanza politica; poichè in allora la religione e gli auspicii diven tano pressochè il solo titolo di superiorità del patriziato sopra la plebe, e fu naturale che si cercasse di accrescerne la importanza. 230. Intanto questo carattere, eminentemente contrattuale della legge, che corrisponde all'origine federale della città, ed anche la necessità, secondo il concetto primitivo delle genti patrizie, che, a formare la legge, dovessero concorrere tutti gli organi dello Stato, servono a spiegare naturalmente certe singolarità del diritto primitivo (1) V. in senso contrario il FUSTEL DE COULANGES, La cité antique, liv. III, chap. XI, pag. 221 e segg., e fra i recentiilBourgeaud, Leplébiscite dans l'antiquité, Paris, 1887, pag. 91 e segg. Quest'ultimo nega il carattere contrattuale alla legge, anche per la considerazione, che essa non potrebbe obbligare quelli, che non vi hanno consentito; ma egli è evidente, che l'accordo in una pubblica votazione non può aversi, che dando prevalenza al maggior numero. 281 di Roma, che ebbero a verificarsi, allorchè la plebe entrò a far parte della comunanza politica. Allora infatti venne ad essere necessità, che il potere legislativo si portasse ai comizii centuriati, in quanto che questi soltanto erano l'assemblea plenaria del populus romanus (comitiatus maximus). Siccome però, accanto ai comizii centuriati, si manteneva pur sempre l'assemblea curiata dei patres o dei patricii: così, per ubbidire al principio che tutti gli organi politici dello Stato dovevano concorrere alla formazione della legge, fu necessario che vi contribuisse eziandio l'assemblea dei patres; donde la conseguenza, che la legge centuriata dovette dapprima essere proposta dal magistrato, votata dal popolo, e poscia ancora approvata non solo dal senato, ma anche dall'assemblea delle curie. Di qui dovette provenire la distinzione della patrum o patriciorum auctoritas dalla senatus auctoritas, ancorchè le due approvazioni si riducessero in sostanza ad una medesima cosa, perchè in questo periodo il senato può riguardarsi sopratutto come l'organo del patriziato; il che spiega appunto la confusione, che gli storici vengono facendo fra l'una e l'altra auctoritas, in un'epoca, in cui erano già scomparse e l'una e l'altra (1). 231. Se non che il mantenersi fedeli a questo principio diventò assai più difficile, allorchè alle altre fonti legislative venne ad ag giungersi eziandio il plebiscitum, che costituiva in certo modo una lex inauspicata. Questo dapprima non può obbligare tutto il popolo, perchè è l'opera soltanto di una parte di esso; e quindi, al pari dei concilia plebis, in cui viene ad essere votato, ha più un'esistenza di fatto, che non di diritto. Intanto però la plebe ha per sè il nu mero e la forza, e valendosi di essi cerca talora di forzare la mano al senato. In questa condizione di cose viene ad essere nell'interesse stesso del patriziato di fare rientrare nell'ordine legale tanto i concilia plebis, trasformandoli in comitia tributa, allorchè trattisi di provvedimenti, che possano interessare tutto il populus, quanto eziandio di riconoscere l'autorità dei plebisciti, con che essi subi scano le condizioni richieste per obbligare tutto il popolo. È in questa occasione, che nella storia politica di Roma compa riscono successivamente tre leggi ad epoca diversa, il cui contenuto, conservatoci dagli scrittori, sembra essere identico (ut plebiscita (1) V. sopra capitolo II, § 3, n ° 198, pag. 240 e segg. e le note relative. 282 omnem populum tenerent); ma che intanto sembrano indicare tre successivi stadii di una importantissima trasformazione. La difficoltà di conciliarle, che formò oggetto di lunghe discussioni e che anche oggi suole essere considerata come una delle più gravi questioni, che presenti la storia politica di Roma (1), pud, a parer mio, essere supe rata, quando abbiasi presente il concetto della primitiva costituzione di Roma, secondo cui qualsiasi vera legge suppone il concorso di tutti gli organi politici dello Stato. 232. Occorre anzitutto la legge Valeria Orazia, dell'anno 304 di Roma; la quale è la prima a dichiarare, che i plebisciti obblighino tutto il popolo (ut quod tributim plebs iussisset omnem populum te neret) (2 ); ma ancorchè la legge nol dica, questo è certo che, secondo il concetto informatore della costituzione politica di Roma, ciò poteva solo accadere, allorchè i provvedimenti, che erano di iniziativa della plebe, avessero subite tutte le prove, a cui erano sottoposte le stesse (1) Così si esprime il Soltau, die Gültigkeit der Plebiscite, Berlin, 1888, pag. 107. La bibliografia sulla questione pud vedersi nel BOURGEAUD, Le plébiscite dans l'anti quité, Paris, 1887, pag. 121, il quale sosterrebbe, che il plebiscito sia stato in ogni tempo una deliberazione presa dalla sola plebe, esclusi i patrizii. Non potrei divi dere tale opinione, poichè vi fu un tempo, in cui la differenza fra plebiscito e legge si ridusse unicamente alla persona diversa, che ne prendeva l'iniziativa, secondo che essa fosse un tribuno, od un altro magistrato. Vero è che il vocabolo di plebs signi fica il populus, esclusi i senatori ed i patrizii;ma il motivo, per cui i patrizii non si tenevano legati dai plebisciti non consisteva già in ciò, che essi non potessero inter venire ai comizii tributi, essendo anch'essi iscritti alle tribù, ma in ciò, che essi soste nevano « plebiscitis se non teneri, quia sine auctoritate eorum facta essent »,Gaio, Comm. I, 3. Tolta poi la necessità della patrum vel patriciorum auctoritas, i plebisciti divennero obbligatorii per tutto il popolo, e anche i patrizii poterono certo intervenire ai comizii tributi. Difatti dopo la legge Ortensia le due espressioni di leo e di plebi scitum diventano fra di loro equipollenti, e occorrono perfino le espressioni populum plebemve iussisse, come nella lex tabulae Bantinae (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 51). (2) Secondo il Mommsen, è da questa legge, che parte l'istituzione dei comizii curiati, e quindi egli riterrebbe, che nei termini conservatici da Livio, III, 55, come proprii della legge Valeria Orazia, si dovrebbe sostituire il vocabolo di populus a quello ivi adoperato di plebs, e leggere quindi: quod tributim populus iussisset, omnem populum teneret (Römische Forschungen, I, pag. 164-5 ). Non parmi, che questa opinione possa essere accolta, sia perchè tutti i giuristi fanno partire il pareggiamento del plebiscitum colla lex dalla legge Ortensia, e non dalla legge Valeria Orazia, ed anche perchè poste riormente la denominazione di lex o di plebiscitum non sembra più dipendere dalla composizione dei comizii, ma piuttosto dal magistrato, da cui sono convocati, il quale come dava il suo nome alla legge, così poteva anche attribuirvi il carattere di lex o di plebiscitum: tanto più che la sua efficacia veniva ad essere uguale. 283 - leggicenturiate. Questa legge pertanto significo solamente, che anche i tribuni della plebe potevano prendere l'iniziativa di un provvedi mento, che potesse obbligare tutto il popolo; ma che il medesimo, per avere un tale effetto, doveva poi essere approvato dal Senato, ed ottenere anche la patrum auctoritas, come lo dimostrano gli sforzi, che in questo periodo si fanno dai tribuni per ottenere l'ap provazione del senato a plebisciti, come quelli di Canuleio, di Icilio e altri ancora. Quasi si direbbe, che questo è il periodo delle seces sioni, a cui ricorre appunto la plebe, quando non può ottenere dal senato l'approvazione di un provvedimento da essa desiderato. Suc cede quindi una seconda legge, che è la legge Publilia del 415 di Roma, la quale, mentre in un capo statuisce, che la patrum auctoritas doveva precedere le leggi centuriate, ripete in un altro l'ingiunzione già fatta che « plebiscita omnes quirites tene rent (1). È però evidente, che la portata di questa legge verrà ad essere diversa, perchè in virtù di essa i plebisciti, al pari delle leggi centuriate, non dovevano più essere susseguiti, ma preceduti dalla patrum auctoritas, che comprende probabilmente anche la senatus auctoritas. Noi abbiamo quindi un secondo periodo, in cui tutte le proposte di provvedimenti, per parte dei tribuni della plebe, sogliono esser precedute da trattative ed accordi fra il senato e i tribuni della plebe, per guisa che il senato si vale talvolta di questi per ottenere, che essi prendano la iniziativa di una determinata proposta (2 ) 233. Da ultimo infine apparve, che anche questa previa approva (1) È lo stesso Livio, che ci conservò i termini di questa legge, VIII, 12. (2 ) Secondo il WILLEMS, Le Sénat, II, chap. I, l'espressione di patrum auctoritas sarebbe equipollente a quella di senatus auctoritas. Tale opinione è divisa dal Bour GEAUD, op. cit., pag. 135, ed è combattuta invece dal Soltau, die Gültigkeit der Ple. biscite, pag. 135, come pure dal Pantaleoni nella 3a parte della sua dissertazione: Dell'auctoritas patrum nell'antica Roma (< Rivista di Filologia », Torino, 1884, pag. 350 a 395). Di fronte ad una quantità di passi di scrittori antichi, citati da quest'ultimo, in cui si usano le espressioni di patricii auctores, mentre altre volte si parla invece della senatus auctoritas, fra cui è notabile il passo di Livio, III, 63, parmiche l'opinione del WILLEMS non possa essere accolta. Ritengo tuttavia, che gli storici, mossi forse dall'identico interesse, che potevano spingere le curie dei patrizii e il senato a fare opposizione ad un provvedimento di iniziativa della plebe, possano talvolta aver comprese le due cose col vocabolo alquanto incerto di patrum aucto ritas. V. in proposito ciò, che si è detto nel capitolo precedente 83, n ° 198, pag. 240 e note relative. 284 zione dei padri, senza sempre riuscire nell'intento, finiva per essere causa di dissidii e di secessioni. Fu quindi, in seguito ad una di queste secessioni, che sulla proposta del dittatore Ortensio, uscito dalla no biltà di origine plebea, sopravviene una legge Ortensia, nel 467 della città, che ripete pur sempre la stessa formola; ma intanto toglie di mezzo la necessità della previa approvazione dei padri e produce, se condo Pomponio, l'effetto, che « inter plebiscita et legem species con stituendi interessent, potestas autem eadem esset (1) ». Fu neces saria una secessione e ci volle un dittatore per vincere questa legge; ma ve ne era ben donde, poichè, a mio avviso, non vi ha forse nella storia della costituzione primitiva di Roma una rivoluzione più ra dicale di questa. Con essa infatti l'antico concetto di lex, quale era stato concepito da Roma patrizia, viene ad essere sovvertito; in quanto che potrà esservi una legge, alla cui formazione non coope rino tutti gli organi politici dello Stato; poichè d'allora in poi anche un solo elemento, la plebe, può dettare leggi, che sono obbligatorie per tutto il popolo. Strappo più grave non poteva essere arrecato alla costituzione patrizia: ma tentasi ancora di rimarginarlo nel senso, che fu da questo tempo probabilmente, che la nobiltà plebea co minciò a penetrare nelle curie, e che il patriziato antico si valse * della sua iscrizione alle tribù per intervenire anche ai comizii tri buti, i quali poterono anche esser presieduti da magistrati patrizii, e furono anche essi preceduti dagli auspizii. Per tal modo i concilii un tempo della plebe diventarono anch'essi comizii del popolo, e solo cambiò il criterio, che doveva essere di base alla riunione, in quanto che i comisii centuriati si adunavano in base al censo, e i comisii tributi in base alle tribù. Da questo momento il senato trovossi (1) Che il pareggiamento fra la lex e il plebiscitum parta veramente dalla legge Ortensia, la quale deve aver tolta dimezzo la patrum auctoritas, risulta dai seguenti passi di scrittori e giureconsulti, che erano meglio in caso di apprezzare il valore tecnico delle parole. Pomponio L. 2, 8, Dig. (1, 2 ), oltre l'espressione già riportata nel testo, scrive: « pro legibus placuit et ea plebiscita observari », e aggiunge al $ 12: « plebiscitum, quod sine auctoritate patrum est constitutum », con che accen nerebbe all'abolizione della patrum auctoritas per i plebisciti. Così pure Gaio, Comm., I, 3: « lex Hortensia lata est, qua cautum est, ut plebiscita omnem populum tene rent, itaque eo modo legibus exaequata sunt; Giustin., Instit., I, 2: « sed et plebi scita, lege Hortensia lata, non minus valere, quam leges, coeperunt ». Lo stesso confermano Aulo Gellio, Noc. Att., X, 20 e XV, 27; come pure Plinio, Hist. nat., XVI, 15, 10. — Cfr. ORTOLAN, Histoire de la législation romaine, pag. 161, n. 178 et suiv. e il Madvig, L'État romain, trad. Morel, Paris, 1882, I, pag. 260. 285 costretto ad invitare frequentemente i tribuni a presentare dei pro getti di riforme o di misure amministrative alla plebe (agebat cum tribunis, ut ferrent ad plebem ), e quindi il tribunato viene a for mare l'elemento riformatore, ed attivo nell'organizzazione dello Stato. Che anzi i comizii tributi possono anche essere presieduti da magi strati patrizii, trattandosi di leges praetoriae, o di elezioni dimagi strati minori. Accanto ai medesimi, si mantengono perd ancora i concilia plebis: ma si limitano a provvedimenti, che riguardano la sola plebe, e alla nomina di magistrati esclusivamente plebei. 234. Intanto però eravi sempre l'organo politico più potente in questo periodo, che era il senato, il quale veniva ad essere lasciato in disparte nella formazione della legge, in quanto che non era più richiesta la sua approvazione. È in allora che il senato, non avendo più in questo argomento una parte proporzionata alla effettiva sua influenza, non potendo sempre bastargli di far dichiarare gli au spicia vitiata e di rifiutare l'esecuzione dichiarando « ea lege non videri populum teneri » viene ad essere condotto a forzare la propria funzione consultiva. È quindi da quell'epoca, che cominciano a compa rire dei senatusconsulti con autorità di leggi (1 ). Indarno i seguaci del partito popolare protestano contro questa violazione della logica inerente all'istituzione del senato, poichè questo ha influenza suffi ciente per far valere la propria pretesa. Si capisce quindi come più tardi i giureconsulti finiscano per esclamare « non ambigitur senatum ius facere posse »; indicando così colla stessa loro affermazione, che il dubbio era veramente esistito (2 ). Siccome però le trasgressioni alla logica di una costituzione non si fanno impunemente: cosi in questa stessa epoca, anche gli editti dei magistrati e sopratutto quelli del pretore,avendo l'appoggio dalla pubblica opinione, finiscono ancor essi per costituire un ius non scriptum, che viene poi a conver tirsi in un ius scriptum e in una copiosa fonte legislativa. A questo punto lo Stato romano è ormai un organismo troppo (1) Cfr. Madvig, L'État romain, I, 260; WILLEMS, Le Sénat, II, chap. III. Però è sopratutto il PUCATA, che hamesso in evidenza l'importante rivoluzione introdotta della legge Ortensia (Cursus der Institutionen). Solo mi pare di dover ag giungere, che la rivoluzione stessa sta nell'aver cambiato il primitivo concetto di lex, e di aver così iniziato l'esercizio di una specie di potere legislativo per parte dei singoli organi politici dello Stato. (2 ) ULP., L. 8, Dig. (1, 3 ). 286 grande, perché possa mantenersi ancora il rigoroso principio del l'antica costituzione patrizia, che a formare le leggi debbono con correre tutti gli elementi costitutivi dello Stato; conviene di ne cessità lasciare, che ciascuno di questi elementi possa dal suo canto prendere l'iniziativa. È per questo motivo, che i comizii tributi di ventano la sorgente legislativa più copiosa, durante gli ultimi secoli della repubblica, e che i pretori, di magistrati preposti all'ammini strazione della giustizia, si mutano in certo modo in legislatori (ius honorarium ): al modo stesso che più tardi anche i giureconsulti sa ranno autorizzati a dare dei responsi, che avranno autorità di leggi (responsa prudentum ). Tuttavia siccome tụtti questi fattori con tinuano pur sempre a procedere sulle traccie antiche; così l'edificio non solo potrà mantenersi saldo, ma per qualche tempo si innal zerà tanto più rapido e grandioso, quanti più sono gli artefici, che cooperano alla costruzione. Sarà invece quando mancherà il senso del pubblico bene, e quando scomparirà la distinzione antica fra l'interesse pubblico e il privato, che, per salvare un edifizio, il quale tende a scompaginarsi, sarà necessario di rimettere ogni cosa nelle mani di un solo, la cui volontà, in base ad una apparente investi tura del popolo, legis habet vigorem (1). Questo sguardo allo svolgimento storico del concetto di legge, pro lungato oltre i confini, che misarebbero prefissi, deve essermi per donato; perchè era soltanto sorprendendo il concetto alle origini, che poteva comprendersene l'incerto ed irregolare sviluppo, come lo dimostrano le divergenze di opinioni, che ancora oggi dominano l'ar gomento. (1) Ulp., L. 1, Dig. (1, 4 ) « Quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem; utpote quum lege regia, quae de imperio eius lata est, populus ei et in eum omne suum imperium ac potestatem conferat ». Per tal modo la lex, che era un tempo il frutto dell'accordo di tutti gli organi politici, diventa ormai l'opera di un solo; ma intanto si mantiene sempre il concetto, che la sorgente di ogni potere sia il popolo; altra conferma dell'opinione, fin qui sostenuta, relativamente alla populi potestas. Questo svolgimento storico della legge in Roma sembra essere compendiato da POMPONIO, allorchè, dopo aver discorso delle lotte fra la plebe, il patriziato ed il senato, con chiude dicendo: « Ita in civitate nostra aut iure, id est lege, constituitur, aut est proprium ius civile, quod sine scripto in sola prudentum interpretatione consistit; aut sunt legis actiones, quae continent formam agendi; aut plebiscitum, quod sine auctoritate patrum est constitutum; aut est magistratuum edictum, unde ius hono rarium nascitur; aut senatus consultum, quod solum senatu constituente inducitur sine lege; aut est principalis constitutio, id est, ut quod ipse princeps constituit, pro lege servetur », L. 2, 12, Dig. (1, 2). 287 $ 3.- L'elezione del rex, l'interregnum, e la lex curiata de imperio. 235. Per quello che si riferisce al magistrato supremo del popolo romano, il concetto, a cui si informa la primitiva costituzione pa trizia, consiste nel ritenere che, come è immortale il popolo, cosi non debbano mai essere interrotti nè gli auspicia, nè l'imperium, indispensabili entrambi per la prosperità della repubblica. È questo concetto, che spiega, come, morto il re, auspicia ad patres re deant; è questo parimenti, che condurrà più tardi a fissare il co stume per cui i magistrati annui succeduti al re, debbono, prima di uscire di ufficio e finchè ritengono ancora gli auspicia, proporre il proprio successore; è questo infine, che può somministrare il mezzo per comprendere quella singolare istituzione dell'interregnum, non che la procedura solenne per l'elezione del re, che, introdotte fin dagli inizii di Roma, si perpetuano ancora col medesimo nome e colle stesse formalità sotto la repubblica, allorchè i re sono aboliti, e che in questi ultimitempi ebbero ad essere argomento di tante e cosi erudite elucubrazioni. 236. Un recente autore, il Bouchè Leclercq, ebbe a scorgere nel l'interregnum e nella procedura per l'elezione del re, « un capo lavoro di casuistica, in cui appare lo spirito sottile e formalista degli antichi romani » (1). Ciò darebbe a credere, che le due pro cedure siano una creazione architettata dai pontefici, i quali in que st'argomento avrebbero dato prova del loro acume teologico e giuridico. Parmi invece assai più semplice e più verosimile il ri tenere, che i romani, in questo, come in altri casi, non si compiac ciano nella creazione di formalità, come tali, ma intendano piuttosto a conservare le tradizioni del passato. Le formalità infatti, che accompagnano l'interregno e la elezione del re, non dimostrano l'investitura divina del re, come alcuni vorrebbero: ma provano sol tanto, che i romani avevano altissimo il concetto della continuità ideale dello Stato, alla guisa stessa, che prima avevano avuto quello della perennità della famiglia e della gente. Esse provano parimenti, (1) Bouché-LECLERCQ, Manuel des institutions romaines, Paris, 1886, pag. 15. 288 che, secondo il concetto primitivo della costituzione romana, al l'elezione del magistrato, per trattarsi dell'atto forse più importante per la comunanza, dovevano prendere parte tutti gli elementi costi tutivi dello Stato. Ciò stante, anche in quest'elezione riscontrasi quel carattere contrattuale, che abbiamo trovato nella legge, in quanto che il re, già nominato e consacrato, deve ancora sottoporre all'assemblea della curia la lex curiata de imperio, e solo dopo la medesima può compiere gli uffici a lui affidati, come capo civile e militare della comunanza. Infine queste formalità possono anche considerarsi come un indizio, che in un anteriore periodo di orga nizzazione sociale gli auspicia risiedevano nei patres, ai quali perciò dovevano ritornare, allorchè il re veniva a mancare. 237. Per conchiudere, questa istituzione dell' interregnum, ar gomento di tante discussioni, deve essere considerata anche essa come un naturale processo, che dovette spontaneamente formarsi in una comunanza primitiva, uscita allora dal seno dell'organizzazione gentilizia: processo, che è perd rivestito di quel carattere religioso e solenne, che i romani attribuivano ad ogni loro atto, e sopratutto a quelli, che riguardavano il pubblico interesse. In una comunanza infatti di carattere gentilizio, formatasi mediante una confederazione, riverente verso l'età e memore delle tradizioni del passato, era na turale, che, mancando il capo comune, il suo potere religioso, civile e militare dovesse passare al padre più anziano della più antica decuria del senato, e da questa trasmettersi successivamente ai principes delle altre decurie, che venivano dopo, in base all'an zianità, accið non venisse ad essere offeso il senso geloso, che i capi di famiglia avevano della propria uguaglianza, e non potesse neppur nascere il timore, che uno di essi « regni occupandi consilium iniret ». Era naturale parimenti, che la proposta del successore dovesse partire da uno dei padri, ed anzi dal più anziano fra essi, sebbene sia pur consentaneo all'indole di questa comunanza, che la sua proposta potesse essere anche comunicata agli altri padri, e che fosse anche sentito in famigliari concioni l'avviso del popolo, ancora composto esclusivamente di membri delle genti patrizie. Maturata così la proposta, è l'interrè, che deve farla; le curie, che debbono approvarla; la presa degli auspicii, che deve inaugurarla; e infine fra l'eletto e la comunanza deve intervenire quella specie di con venzione e di accordo, che avverasi mediante la lex curiata de imperio; la quale, sotto un aspetto, costituisce l'investitura del ma 289 gistrato per parte del popolo, e dall'altro vincola quest'ultimo alla obbedienza verso di quello. Infine questo processo naturale di cose viene come al solito gittato e fuso in certe forme solenni, che si trasmettono ad epoche, le quali mal sanno apprezzare i motivi, che le fecero adottare; cosicchè viene ad apparire artificiosa ed architettata in modo casuistico e sottile quella procedura, che dovette un tempo essere la naturale conseguenza del modo di pensare e di agire di coloro, che concorrevano alla formazione di essa. 238. Ad ogni modo il caso, di cui ci fu serbata memoria parti colareggiata, e in cui appare in tut a la sua solennità questa pro cedura solenne, è la elezione di Numa, il quale fra i re primitivi si presenta ancora con un carattere pressochè patriarcale. Sparito Romolo e collocato fra gli dei col nome di Quirino, gli auspicia e l'imperium erano passati ai capi delle decurie del senato, che se ne trasmettevano di cinque in cinque giorni le insegne (decem imperitabant, unus cum insignibus imperii et lictoribus erat). I padri, che non parevano troppo soddisfatti del regis imperium, agitano il partito se non fosse il caso di non più nominare il re: ma di lasciare, che il potere si venga cosi avvicendando, senza che alcuno possa essere re per tutta la vita. Il partito non prevale fra il popolo, il quale non ama di avere cento capi, a vece di un solo, e quindi a re si sceglie Numa di stirpe sabina. È l'interrè, che è chiamato a proporlo (rogat), ed è il popolo che è chiamato a crearlo, mentre sono i padri, che approvano l'elezione (quirites, regem create: deinde, si dignum crearitis, patres auctores fient). Segue poscia l'inauguratio, che è descritta in modo particolare da Livio; e viene ultima la proposta della lex curiata de imperio, la quale, non ri cordata da Livio, è invece ricordata e ripetuta da Cicerone ad ogni elezione di re, quasi ad indicare l'importanza, che la medesima doveva avere. Ci attesta poi Livio, che questta procedura, che egli descrive come introdotta per quel caso determinato, ma che Dionisio farebbe già rimontare allo stesso Romolo, non è stata abbandonata più tardi: « hodieque in legibus magistratibusque rogandis usurpatur idem ius, vi adempta », cioè esclusa la violenza, a cui dovette dal popolo ricorrersi in quel caso, accid i patres procedessero alla proposta del nuovo re (1) (1) Livio, I, XVII; Cic. De Rep., II, 13, 17, 18, 20; Dion., II, 57; PLUTARCO, Numa, 2. Di fronte a queste testimonianze concordi, non può esservi dubbio, che du G. Carle, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 19 290 239. Il concetto informatore dell'elezione del magistrato non po trebbe qui essere più chiaro; essa deve essere l'opera di tutti gli organi dello Stato, ed assume un carattere pressochè contrattuale fra magistrato e popolo, al pari di qualsiasi altra legge. Cacciati i re, il concetto si mantiene, poichè anche con magistrati annui la con tinuità degli auspicia e dell'imperium non deve essere interrotta; quindi è l'antecessore, che è chiamato a proporre il successore, e se egli per qualche motivo non possa farlo, si ricorre alla nomina di un interré, anche quando i re già sono aboliti. Tuttavia, anche in questa parte, l'accoglimento della plebe nel populus delle classi e delle centurie produce una modificazione nella primitiva costituzione; modificazione, che in questi tempi diede argomento a gravissime discussioni, e che, in coerenza alle cose sovra esposte, pud a mio avviso essere spiegata nel modo seguente. Non può esservi dubbio che, durante il periodo regio, l'interres era uno dei patres del senato, ai quali redibant auspicia. Colla repubblica invece, al modo stesso che nel populus delle classi e delle centurie fu compresa anche la plebe, così anche il senato venne ad essere non più composto esclusivamente di patrizii, ma anche di nobili plebei; del che alcuni scorgono un indizio nella de nominazione data ai senatori di patres et conscripti. Comunque stia la cosa, questo è certo, che il senato, divenuto patrizio -plebeo, non poteva più rappresentare gli antichi patres o patricii, che erano stati i fondatori della città, e ai quali redibant auspicia. Erano le curiae invece, le quali continuarono ancora per lungo tempo ad essere esclusivamente patrizie, e di cui potevano fare parte anche i senatori di origine patrizia, che di fronte al rimanente del popolo rappresentavano l'antico ordine dei patres o dei patricii, e alle quali perciò dovevano ritornare gli auspicia. Di qui la conseguenza, che furono i patricii, o in altri termini le curiae, a cui venne a devolversi la proposta dell'interrex, come lo dimostrano le espres sioni « patricii coeunt ad interregem prodendum », « patricii rante il periodo regio l'interrea era tolto, secondo certe regole tradizionali, dal se nato, e che dallo stesso senato partiva la patrum auctoritas. Anche quanto alla lex curiata de imperio, ancorchè solo ricordata da CICERONE, di fronte alla sua atte stazione ripetuta, manca ogni motivo di ragionevole dabbio. Non potrei quindi, come sopra già si è accennato, nº 199, pag. 244, in nota, consentire col Karlowa, Röm. R.G., pag. 52 e 82 e segg., il quale ritiene che la lex curiata de imperio sia entrata in azione soltanto colla costituzione di Servio Tullio. 291 interregem produnt» e simili, e ciò perchè l'interrex, facendo in certa guisa ancora rivivere la figura del rex primitivo, ed essendo depositario e custode degli auspicia, durante il periodo della va canza del magistrato, non poteva esser nominato che da patrizii e fra i patrizii, come espressamente ci attesta Cicerone allorchè af ferma: « cum interrex nullus sit, quod et ipsum patricium et a patriciis prodi necesse est » (1). Come sia accaduto questo cambiamento, se cioè per legge o per il logico sviluppo delle isti tuzioni, il che è più probabile, non si può affermare con certezza; ma certo dovette essere questo il processo logico, che governo tale modificazione. In questo modo infatti si vengono a rannodare insieme tre istituzioni, che furono argomento di lunghe discussioni, e di cui tutti riconoscono la strettissima attinenza, che sono la patru patriciorum auctoritas per le leggi, la lex curiata de imperio per la elezione dei magistrati, e la proposta dell'interrex, accið l'im perium e gli auspicia non siano interrotti, durante la vacanza del magistrato. Tutte queste istituzioni non sono che conseguenze ed ap plicazioni dell'antico principio, che « auspicia penes patres sunt»; dal qual concetto conseguiva, che nè una legge, nè un magistrato, nè un interrex potevano ritenersi bene auspicati per lo Stato, senza l'intervento dell'ordine patrizio, il quale, di fronte al nuovo popolo, corrispondeva ai patres del periodo regio. In questo senso viene ad essere spiegato quanto ci afferma Cicerone che « curiata comitia, tantum auspiciorum causa, remanserunt », come pure si com prende, che col tempo i medesimi si siano ridotti ad una imitazione od adombramento dell'antico per mezzo dei trenta littori, che rap presentavano le trenta curie (ad speciem atque ad usurpationem vetustatis per XXX lictores) (2 ). Intanto però, anche coll' introduzione dei comizii centuriati, la nomina dei veri magistrati cum imperio continua ancora sempre ad essere l'opera di tutti gli organi politici dello Stato, in quanto che vi ha sempre il magistrato o interrè, che lo propone (rogat); il popolo delle classi o centurie, che lo elegge (creat); il senato, che continua a dare la propria auctoritas alla elezione (auctor fit); e da ultimo l'assemblea delle curie, che lo investe degli auspicia e dell'imperium mediante la lex curiata de imperio, per modo (1 ) CICERO, Pro domo sua, 14. (2) CICERO, De lege agraria, II, 11, 27 e 28. 292 che il magistrato non può entrare in ufficio, e compiere sopratutto atti di carattere militare, prima di aver ottenuta la legge stessa (1). 240. Se non che anchequi lo svolgimento armonico e coerente della primitiva costituzione romana comincia a dar luogo ad un dualismo, allorehè compariscono i magistrati plebei, e sopratutto il tribunato della plebe, il quale, pur essendo la magistratura urbana più operosa del periodo repubblicano, non riesce però mai ad inquadrarsi per fettamente nella costituzione politica di Roma. Dapprima infatti i tribuni della plebe non sono ancora veri magistrati, ma piuttosto ausiliatori della plebe, e non si pud neppure affermare con certezza dove fossero nominati, in quanto che gli storici parlano di una no mina fatta dalla plebe per curie, di cui non si comprende il signifi (1) Ho cercato qui di riunire e di risolvere, mediante i concetti informatori della primitiva costituzione di Roma, e dei cambiamenti, che in essa si vennero operando, alcune questioni, che furono oggetto di gravi e lunghe discussioni. La patrum au ctoritas, la lex curiata de imperio, la proposta dell'interrex furono spiegate in varia guisa. Havvi l'opinione del Niebhur, seguìta anche dal Becker, Röm. Alterth., vol. II, pag. 314-332, che pareggia fra di loro la patrum auctoritas e la lex curiata de imperio, e quindiattribuisce l'una e l'altra alle curie fin dal periodo regio; vi ha quella del WILLEMS, Le droit public romain, pag. 208 a 212, che invece attribuisce al vocabolo di patrum auctoritas la significazione costante di senatus auctoritas, affi dando al senato anche la proposta dell' interrex; sonvi il Rubino, e fra i recenti il Karlowa, Röm. R.G., I, p. 44 e seg., i quali sotto le espressioni di patrum aucto ritas e di patricii interregem produnt scorgono i senatori patrizii, e quindi affidano ad essi così la patrum auctoritas, come la proposta dell'interrex. Vi banno infine quelli, i quali sostengono, che la primitiva costituzione dovette certo subire qualche modi ficazione, allorchè la formazione delle leggi e la elezione dei magistrati dal popolodelle curie passò al popolo delle classi e delle centurie, e che il senato diventò pa trizio-plebeo; poichè in allora tutte le funzioni, che si rannodavano agli auspicia, dovettero di necessità passare alle curie, che erano il solo corpo esclusivamedelle curie passò al popolo delle classi e delle centurie, e che il senato diventò pa trizio-plebeo; poichè in allora tutte le funzioni, che si rannodavano agli auspicia, dovettero di necessità passare alle curie, che erano il solo corpo esclusivamente pa trizio. Tale è l'opinione sostenuta con molta dottrina dal PANTALEONI, L'auctoritas patrum nell'antica Romu (Rivista di Filologia, Torino, 1884, pag. 297 a 395). Se guendo un processo diverso, sono riuscito ad una conclusione analoga a quella soste nuta dal Pantaleoni, e intanto ho cercato di richiamare ad un unico concetto i varii aspetti, sotto cui presentasi la questione. Ritengo poi, che tanto il pareggiamento della patrum auctoritas e della lex curiata de imperio (BECKER), quanto quello della patrum auctoritas e della senatus auctoritas (WILLEMS), quanto infine il con cetto di un senato patrizio, diviso dal plebeo, che darebbe l'auctoritas e proporrebbe l'interrex (KARLOWA), per quanto sostenute con ingegno e con erudizione, siano in contrasto coi passi degli antichiautori, e collo svolgimento storico della costituzione romana. 293 cato (1 ). Più tardi nel 283 U. C. da Publilio Volerone si ottiene, che la plebe possa nominare i suoi tribuni nei proprii concilii, i quali cosi vengono ad essere legalmente riconosciuti. Come quindi con tinua ad esservi sempre un magistrato esclusivamente patrio, il qualedeve essere nominato dai patrizii delle curie, che è l'interrex; così vengono ad esservi deimagistrati, esclusivamente plebei, quali sono appunto i tribuni e gli edili della plebe, che debbono esser sempre nominati nei concilia plebis. Per quello poi, che si rife risce ai magistrati veri del popolo romano, e comuni ai due ordini, si viene ad operare una specie di divisione del potere elettorale fra i comizii centuriati, che continuano sempre a nominare i magi strati maggiori, ei comizii tributi, che finiscono per attirare a sè la nomina dei magistrati minori; di quei magistrati cioè, che un tempo erano nominati direttamente dal magistrato maggiore. Per talmodo anche qui sonvi i poteri, in cui i due ordini si confondono e si ripartono gli uffizii, ma rimangono ancor sempre le traccie del l'opposizione, che un tempo esisteva fra patriziato e plebe (2 ). Infine è ancora degno di nota in quest'argomento il processo, che i romani seguirono nella creazione dei pro-magistrati nelle pro vincie, secondo cui i magistrati di Roma, allorchè avevano terminato il proprio ufficio nella città, diventavano pro-magistrati nelle pro vincie. Per noi la cosa può sembrare singolare: ma pei romani era un processo regolare e costante, in quanto che essi, al modo stesso che avevano prese le istituzioni gentilizie e le avevano tra piantate nella città, così presero i magistrati di Roma, e li tras portarono nelle provincie, prorogandone l'imperio e chiamandoli pro-magistrati, poichè i veri magistrati dovevano essere quelli di (1) È Dionisio, IX, 41, il quale dice, che i tribuni furono dapprima eletti nelle curie, ma in verità non si riesce a comprendere come i difensori della plebe potes sero essere eletti coll'intervento del patriziato; salvo che con ciò si voglia dire, che la plebe, per la nomina dei suoi primi tribuni, siasi raccolta nel luogo stesso, ove si riunivano le curiae. La proposta di Volerone ebbe poi grandissima importanza in quanto che è con essa, che incomincia il riconoscimento legale dei concilia plebis. Cfr. Bonghi, Storia di Roma, pag. 593 e segg. Non parmi tuttavia, che si possa far rimontare a quest'epoca l'esistenza dei comitia tributa, poichè i tribuni della plebe, anche più tardi, furono sempre nominati nei concilia plebis. (2) Questa è una prova, che in questo periodo della costituzione politica di Roma i veri comizii del popolo romano erano i comiziï centuriati e i comizii tributi; mentre i comizii curiati erano solo più conservati auspiciorum causa, ed i concilia plebis per provvedimenti di interesse esclusivo alla plebe. 294 Roma (1 ). Veniamo ora all'esercizio del potere giudiziario nel periodo regio. § 4. – L'amministrazione della giustizia, la distinzione fra ius e iudicium, e la provocatio ad populum nel periodo regio. 241. Per quello che si attiene all'amministrazione della giustizia durante il periodo regio, la questione fondamentale, intorno a cui vi ha grande divergenza fra gli autori, è quella che sta in vedere se l'esercizio della giurisdizione, cosi civile come penale, apparte nesse esclusivamente al re, oppure vi avessero anche partecipazione il senato ed il popolo. Questo è però fuori di ogni dubbio, che in questo periodo si cercherebbe indarno una delimitazione precisa fra la giurisdizione civile e la criminale, sebbeue già sianvi dei reati, che sono pubblicamente proseguiti, come si vedrà più tardi, discor. rendo del parricidium e della perduellio, e delle autorità incari cate della prosecuzione e punizione di essi (quaestores parricidii e duumviri perduellionis ) (2). Senza pretendere di volere risolvere le gravissime questioni, che si agitano in proposito, mi limito unicamente ad osservare, che anche in questa parte la costituzione primitiva di Roma contiene il germe di tutte quelle istituzioni, che son chiamate a determinare lo svolgimento ulteriore del potere giudiziario in Roma. Queste isti tuzioni primordiali, che gli antichi fanno già rimontare al periodo regio, sono: la potestà di giudicare, che appartiene al re; la distin zione fra il ius e il iudicium, per cui, accanto al magistrato qui ius dicit, già compariscono i iudices, gli arbitri, i recuperatores in materia civile, ed i duumviri, ed i quaestores in materia crimi nale; e da ultimo l'istituto della provocatio, che col tempo sarà quello, che finirà per trasportare la giurisdizione penale dal magi strato ai comizii. Questi istituti sono in certo modo altrettanti abbozzi, che svolgendosi a poco a poco finiranno per determinare l'evoluzione del potere giudiziario, durante il periodo repubblicano. 242. Che la potestà del ius dicere sia compresa nella concezione (1) Non occorre di notare, che qui si parla dei pro-magistrati, che dopo essere stati consoli o pretori in Roma, diventavano proconsoli o propretori nelle provincie. Cfr. in proposito MOMMSEN, Le droit public romain, I, pag. 11 e segg. (2 ) Cfr. Muirhead, Histor. introd., Sect. 15, pag. 59. 295 - sintetica del regis imperium, sebbene non esista ancora la sepa razione recisa fra la iurisdictio e l'imperium, è cosa a parer mio chenon può essere posta in dubbio. Non può quindi essere accolta l'opinione del Maynz, che quasi vorrebbe fin dal periodo regio attribuire la giurisdizione criminale al popolo (1 ). Tuttavia in pro posito occorre di rettificare un concetto, che sembra essere general mente adottato, secondo cui si vorrebbe in certo modo riconoscere nel re il potere di giudicare di qualsiasi controversia e di qualsiasi misfatto. Questo concetto ripugna col processo seguito nella forma zione della città, e dell'imperium regis. Almodo stesso, che la ci vitas non assorbi tutta la vita delle genti e delle famiglie, ma è dovuta ad una specie di selezione, che si viene operando di quelle funzioni civili, politiche e militari, che prima erano esercitate dalle singole comunanze patriarcali; così anche il potere regio venne for mandosi, mediante lente e graduate sottrazioni, che si vennero ope rando da quei poteri, che prima appartenevano ai capi di famiglia e delle genti. Di qui la conseguenza, che negli esordii dovette per lungo tempo mantenersi vigorosa, accanto al potere del re, la giu risdizione propria dei capi di famiglia e delle genti, e che per lungo tempo ancora i capi di famiglia curarono essi la prosecuzione delle proprie offese e continuarono ad essere i vindici della disciplina, che doveva essere mantenuta nelle famiglie; come lo dimostra il fatto stesso dell'Orazio, quale ci viene narrato da Livio. Tut tavia in questa progressiva formazione del potere del magistrato fu la stessa realtà dei fatti e l'intento della comunanza civile e po litica, che somministrò il concetto direttivo, che ebbe a determi narla. Questo concetto consiste in cid, che il re primitivo non si impone ai membri delle genti e delle famiglie come tali, ma bensi ai medesimi, in quanto sono quiriti, cioè in quanto partecipano alla stessa convivenza civile e politica. Quindi il re dapprima non è il custode dell'ordine delle famiglie, nè il vindice delle offese tutte, che possono patire i membri di esse; ma è il custos urbis, ed è incaricato sopratutto di provvedere al mantenimento di quelle leges publicae, che sono in certo modo la base della confederazione ci vile e politica, a cui addivennero le varie comunanze. Nel resto continuano ad essere competenti i singoli padri e capi di famiglia, V. Maynz, Introd. au cours de droit romain, n. 20, pag. 60, ove sostiene, che anche in tema di giurisdizione criminale la sovranità appartenesse alla nazione. 296 ed anche i capi di tutti gli altri sodalizii di carattere religioso o civile (magistri): i quali, secondo il concetto primitivo, hanno giuris dizione sui membri tutti del sodalizio, come lo dimostra, fra le altre, la giurisdizione del pontefice sui sacerdozii, che da esso dipendono (1 ). Sarà quindi solo più tardi, ed a misura che nella cerchia delle mura cittadine saranno anche comprese le abitazioni private, che la giu risdizione del magistrato perderà questo suo carattere, e si potrà esten dere anche a fatti, che, quantunque compiuti fra le pareti domestiche e da persone dipendenti dall'autorità del capo di famiglia, potranno tuttavia produrre una pubblica perturbazione. 243. Di questo carattere speciale della giurisdizione, spettante al magistrato primitivo di Roma, abbiamo una prova eloquente in quella distinzione fondamentale per l'antica amministrazione della giustizia, così civile come penale, fra il ius ed il iudicium. Sono note le discussioni, che seguirono in proposito, e non mancarono anche coloro, che attribuirono la divisione stessa alla separazione, che l'ingegno sottile dei romani avrebbe tentato di fare, fin d'allora, fra il diritto ed il fatto: cosicchè il magistrato avrebbe decisa la que stione di diritto, mentre il giudice avrebbe poi applicato il diritto al fatto. Una simile distinzione non si cercò mai dai Romani, perché essi professarono sempre, che ex facto oritur ius;ma furono invece i fatti stessi e le condizioni reali, fra cui vennesi formando la città, che condussero naturalmente a questa distinzione. Pongasi infatti un centro di vita pubblica, che stia formandosi fra varie comunanze patriarcali. L'effetto, che dovrà risultare da questo stato di cose, sarà quello di produrre, fra le giurisdizioni, che con tinuano ad appartenere ai capi delle famiglie e delle genti, una giurisdizione di carattere pubblico, che appartenga al capo ed al (1) Cfr. Maynz, op. cit., n. 20, pag. 60, e MOMMSEN, Le droit public romain, I, pag. 187: « Magistri (scrive Festo, po magisterare), non solum doctores artium, sed etiam pagoram, societatum, vicorum, collegiorum, equitum dicuntur, unde et magi stratus (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 341). È da vedersi a questo proposito quanto ebbi ad esporre nel lib. I, Capo V, n ° 88, pag. 109 e nota relativa. (2 ) Fra gli autori, che in questa distinzione videro in certo modo una separazione fra il diritto ed il fatto havvi il Bonjean, Traité des actions chez les Romains, Paris, 1845, vol. I, § 29. Cfr. Carle, De exceptionibus in iure romano, 1873, pag. 11. Di tale distinzione tratta il BuonAMICI, Storia della procedura civile romana, Pisa, 1866, I, $ 5. 297 custode della città. Di qui la conseguenza, che la questione pre liminare, che questo magistrato sarà chiamato a risolvere, ogni qual volta gli sia sottoposta un'accusa od una controversia, consisterà nel decidere, se il fatto, del quale si tratta, sia uno di quelli, che debbono essere lasciati alla giurisdizione domestica, od invece attribuiti alla giurisdizione di carattere pubblico, che a lui appartiene; come pure dovrà cercare, se al fatto, del quale si tratta, siavi qualche lex pu blica, che debba essere applicata. Se quindi, ad esempio, l'Ora zio avrà uccisa la sorella, e sarà trascinato innanzi al re in ius, la questione, che questi è chiamato a decidere, sta in vedere, se il fatto in questione debba essere lasciato alla giurisdizione del padre, che afferma che la sua figlia è stata iure caesam, o se trattisi invece di tal fatto, alla cui repressione provveda una lex publica. Ed è questa appunto la questione, che risolve Tullo Ostilio, il quale, secondo Livio: « concilio populi advocato: duumviros, inquit, qui Horatio perduellionem iudicent, secundum legem fació » (1). Che se in vece di un misfatto si fosse trattato di una controversia di carattere civile, la questione a risolversi sarà pur sempre quella di vedere, se trattisi di un caso contemplato da una legge pubblica, e se perciò si dovrà accordare diritto di agire secondo la legge. Solo allora il magistrato gli dirà di agire secundum legem publicam: oppure più tardi, allorchè vi sarà una speciale magistratura per l'amministrazione della giustizia, questa pubblicherà nel proprio editto quali siano i casi particolari, in cui actionem dabit. Non è perciò da ammettersi il concetto per tanto tempo ricevuto, che, secondo il diritto civile romano, vi fossero dei diritti, che erano senz'azione; ma soltanto si deve dire, che il diritto in Roma si venne lentamente e gradatamente formando, e che toccava al ma gistrato di esaminare e di risolvere la questione, se in quel caso determinato dovesse, o non, essere accordata l'azione. Spettava quindi al magistrato (in iure) di decidere in ogni caso particolare, se il caso stesso fosse stato tale da richiedere, in base alle leggi, l'intervento e l'appoggio del pubblico potere: ma, una volta decisa affermativamente una tale questione, il magistrato aveva compiuto (1 ) Liv., I, 26. Dalle espressioni, che Livio attribuisce a Tullo Ostilio, si ricava, che la questione, che egli si propose di risolvere, consisteva nel decidere, se vi era una legge, e quale fosse la legge, che colpiva il delitto del quale si trattava. Cfr. PANTALEONI, Storia civile e costituzionale di Roma, I, pag. 317. 298 il proprio ufficio, e quindi poteva rimettere il giudizio o ai quae stores parricidii, o ai duumviri perduellionis, se trattavasi di ac cusa penale, od anche ad un iudex e perfino ai recuperatores, se trattavasi di una controversia civile, intorno a cui le parti non si fossero poste d'accordo innanzi al magistrato. Questo è certo, che già nel periodo regio vi furono queste varie maniere di giudici; ed è anzi probabile, che già esistessero i iudices selecti, il cui albo do veva probabilmente ricavarsi dal novero dei padri o senatori; come lo dimostra la testimonianza di Dionisio, ed anche il fatto, che fu così anche dopo, e che in una comunanza, che aveva ancora del patriarcale, era ovvio, che i padri fossero i naturali giudici delle controversie. È certo parimenti, che quando trattavasi di delitti ca pitali, il re doveva essere circondato da un consilium; come ap pare dal fatto, che, secondo Livio, a Tarquinio il Superbo fu mossa l'accusa che « cognitiones capitalium rerum sine consiliis per se ipsum exercebat ». Era poi naturale, che anche questo consilium fosse tratto dall'albo dei patres o senatori, e per tal modo abbiamo anche qui un ricordo del re patriarcale, che, circondato dagli an ziani, amministra la rozza patriarcale giustizia (1). Per quello poi, che si riferisce all'intervento dell'elemento popo lare nell'amministrazione della giustizia civile, sembra che il mede simo debb a attribuirsi soltanto all'epoca serviana, alla quale puo con molta verisimiglianza farsi rimontare l'istituzione del Tribunale dei centumuiri, come si vedrà a suo tempo. 244. Intanto è sempre dal modo, in cui la città si venne formando, e dall'essere essa l'organo e il centroella vita pubblica, che ven gono ad essere determinati i caratteri della procedura, che dovette essere seguita negli esordiidella città, così nei giudizii civili come nei giudizii penali. È infatti nel foro, ossia nella piazza, che deve essere amministrata giustizia, come lo dimostra il fatto, che una delle ac cuse, mossa contro Tarquinio il Superbo, fu quella appunto di essere venuto meno al tradizionale costume, amministrando giustizia nell'in terno della propria casa (2 ). Così pure si comprende come questa (1) Il testo è citato da Livio, I, 49. Abbiamo poi Dionisio, II, 14, che dice parlando del re: « de gravioribus delictis ipse cognosceret; leviora senatoribus committeret; donde si può inferire, che anche il consilium regis dovesse, trattandosi di delitti ca pitali, ricavarsi dal senato. Cfr. Karlowa, Röm. R. G., pag. 54. (2 ) Liv., I, 49. 299 procedura dovesse essere orale, ed ispirarsi al concetto di una assoluta parità di condizione fra i contendenti, come quella che doveva imi tare, cosi nei giudizii civili come nei penali, quella specie di lotta e di certame, che un tempo dovette seguire fra i contendenti. Se si trat terà di un misfatto, sarà il cittadino che accuserà il cittadino e cer cherà egli stesso le prove, sovra cui si appoggia la propria accusa, e se si tratterà invece diazione civile, sarà seguita la procedura solenne dell'actio sacramento, od anche quella della iudicis postulatio. Di queste si è veduto come la prima già si era formata nella stessa tribù patriarcale: mentre un tempo essa era il modo di pro cedere del capo di famiglia contro il capo di famiglia nel seno della tribù, venne poi ad essere trapiantata nella città, unitamente alle formalità, che ricordano l'antica procedura patriarcale, e cominciò cosi ad usarsi dal quirite contro ' il quirite (1 ). La seconda poi, ossia la iudicis postulatio, fu l'effetto necessario di quella separazione del ius dal iudicium, che, come si è dimostrato più sopra, era una con seguenza del formarsi di una giurisdizione pubblica, accanto alle giurisdizioni di carattere domestico e patriarcale, in quanto che, toc cando al magistrato di risolvere la questione se in quel caso dovesse o non ammettersi un cittadino ad agire secundum legem publicam, conveniva di necessità ricorrere a lui, accid delegasse un iudex o un arbiter per la risoluzione della controversia; donde l'antica de nominazione della iudicis arbitrive postulatio (2 ). Questa conget tura ha la sua base in ciò, che all'epoca decemvirale già si trovano stabilite queste due maniere di procedura, senza che si possa deter minare, quando le medesime siano state introdotte. Cotali procedure tuttavia, passando dai rapporti fra capi di famiglia, pressochè indi pendenti e sovrani, ai rapporti fra i cittadini di una medesima città, hanno già cessato di essere semplici actiones, e sono diventate legis actiones, in quanto che sono altrettanti modi riconosciuti dalla legge pubblica per far valere in giudizio le proprie ragioni. 245. Soltanto più ci resta a discorrere di una istituzione, che era (1) Quanto all'origine gentilizia e alla naturale formazione dell'actio sacramento vedasi sopra lib. I, n. 104. (2 ) La iudicis arbitrive postulatio è ricordata da Gaio, come una delle più antiche legis actiones, Comm. IV, § 12, sebbene poi il manoscritto di Verona sia stato il. leggibile nella parte, che vi si riferisce. V. quanto alla medesima il Murhead, Hist. introd., Sect. 35, pag. 197, e il BuonamiCI, Storia della procedura civile romana. I, Cap. VII, pag. 43 a 57. 300 poi chiamata a ricevere una larga applicazione, durante il periodo repubblicano, e che è indicata colla denominazione di provocatio ad populum. Si dubita dagli scrittori, se questa istituzione già potesse esistere fin dal periodo regio, ed alcuni lo negano, perchè ritengono, che in questo periodo le funzioni del popolo si riducessero esclusivamente a quelle, che il re credeva di dovergli affidare. Per parte nostra, di fronte alla testimonianza di Cicerone, che, augure egli stesso, ebbe a dire, che della provocatio ad populum parlavano i libri pontificii e gli augurali, il dubbio non dovrebbe più presentarsi (1 ). Quanto alle considerazioni desunte dagli stretti confini della populi potestas, durante il periodo regio, ed anche dalla narrazione di Livio, che nel caso dell'Orazio parla di una provocatio ad populum, accordata da Tullo « clemente legis interprete », parmi che esse non possano condurre ad escludere un diritto di provocatio ad populum, che in effetto sarebbe stato invocato e fu fatto valere dallo stesso Orazio. Pud darsi, che in quel caso particolare potessero esservi dei motivi per dubitare, se dovesse o non essere ammessa. Ma se l'Orazio vi ricorre, egli lo fa in base ad una consuetudine, le cui origini dovevano rimon tare ad un'epoca anteriore. Si aggiunge, come appare dalle cose premesse, che la costituzione primitiva di Roma dovette essere più liberale negli inizii, quando vi era un populus, tutto composto di padri uguali fra di loro e consapevoli del proprio diritto, che non posteriormente, allorchè il populus cominciò ad essere composto di due classi disuguali fra di loro, cioè del patriziato, che era il populus primitivo, e della plebe; di una classe dirigente e di una classe, che trovavasi in posizione inferiore. In base ad una tale costituzione primitiva, secondo cui la populi potestas era la sorgente di tutti i pubblici poteri ed anche del regis imperium, veniva ad essere naturale e logico, che se il ius dicere apparteneva al re, il con dannato dovesse poter ricorrere in appello al potere supremo che era il popolo, mediante la provocatio. Per verità di questo diritto alla provocatio fa cenno la stessa lex horrendi criminis, i cui termini ci furono conservati da Livio « duumviri perduellionem iudicent: si a duumviris provocarit, provocatione certato ». Era poi naturale, che questa provocatio, al pari dell'azione e del giudizio, venisse a canıbiarsi in quella specie di certame o di combattimento (1) Cic., De Rep., II, 35: « Provocationem etiam a regibus fuisse, declarant pon tificii libri, significant nostri etiam augurales », 301 legale, che viene appunto ad essere descritto da Livio, a proposito del giudizio dell'Orazio, in quanto che ogni procedura patriarcale prende naturalmente questo carattere. I duumviri, che avevano pronunziata la condanna, dovevano essi sostenere l'accusa davanti all'assemblea del populus. Eravi cosi una specie di certamen fra essi e l'accusato, che simboleggiava quel combattimento vivo e reale, che un tempo aveva dovuto effettivamente seguire. Che anzi, già fin d'al lora, il populus, trattandosi di reato di carattere politico, quale era la perduellio, poteva anche passare sopra alla questione puramente giuridica, per giudicare invece ex animi sententia, e assolvere, come avrebbe fatto nel caso speciale dell'Orazio, «admirationemagis virtutis, quam iure causae » (1). Vero è, che posteriormente nel primo anno della repubblica tro viamo una legge Valeria Orazia de provocatione, che riconobbe solennemente al popolo questo suo diritto, il quale fu anzi conside rato come il palladio della libertà del cittadino romano (unicum praesidium libertatis); ma allora le circostanze erano cambiate, perchè il populus non comprendeva solo più i patres e i patricii, ma anche la plebs, e quindi volevasi una legge, che accomunasse e consacrasse una istituzione, forse solo consuetudinaria, a tutto il nuovo populus quiritium, comprendendo in esso anche la plebe (2). 246. Intanto è evidente la influenza, che questa istituzione della provocatio ad populum, solennemente consacrata, doveva esercitare sul futuro svolgimento della giurisdizione criminale, in quanto che essa doveva condurre al risultato di trattenere il magistrato dal pronunziare una condanna, da cui poteva esservi appello al popolo, e trasportare cosi in definitiva la giurisdizione criminale dal magistrato al popolo. Tuttavia anche qui lo svolgimento regolare e graduato ebbe ad essere per qualche tempo interrotto, allorchè i tribuni della plebe presero a portare accuse contro i patrizii avversi alla plebe, e contro i consoli uscenti di ufficio davanti ai concilia plebis. Fu (1) Liv., I, 26. (2) Non potrei quindi ammettere l'opinione del KarlowA, Röm. R. G., pag. 53 e segg., il quale, argomentando da ciò, che le leggi Valeriae Horatiae avrebbero introdotta la provocatio ad populum, vorrebbe inferirne, che questa sotto i re non esistesse che per la perduellio. CICERONE parla di provocatio in genere, e quindi non vi ha motivo di restringerla, ma vuolsi ammetterla in genere per i reati a quella epoca puniti di pena capitale, cioè tanto per la perduellio, quanto per il parricidium. 302 allora, che la legislazione decemvirale ebbe a stabilire il principio che soltanto i comizii centuriati potessero pronunziare una condanna capitale (1 ). Ciò però non impedisce, che i tribuni della plebe conti nuino ancora ad eserc itare il proprio diritto di accusa, sopratutto per i delitti di carattere politico, e per quelli che sono puniti di sole pene pecuniarie. Di qui deriva la conseguenza, che anche quanto alla giurisdizione criminale viene a ripartirsi il compito fra i comizii centuriati, che giudicano dei delitti capitali, e dd i comizii tributi, che giudicano dei delitti, che debbono essere puniti con pene pecuniarie, finchè l'incremento della città ed anche dei delitti perseguiti per legge non renderà necessario di ricorrere alla istituzione delle quaestiones perpetuae, ossia di tribunali speciali per giudicare delle diverse categorie di delitti (2 ). Parmi con ciò di aver abbastanza dimostrato non solo l'unità e la coerenza della primitiva costituzione patrizia; ma di aver provato eziandio, come essa debba essere considerata come il modello e l'esem plare, sovra cui si foggiò tuttoil posteriore svolgimento delle istituzioni politiche diRoma. Essa fu tale dameritarsi il grande elogio diCicerone, allorchè scriveva, che la costituzione politica di Roma formatasi « non unius ingenio, sed multorum, nec una hominis vita, sed aliquot saeculis et aetatibus », era tuttavia riuscita superiore in eccellenza alle costituzioni greche, che erano l'opera meditata dei filosofi e dei sapienti. L'opera collettiva di un popolo, proseguita con logica tenace e coerente, e accomodata ai tempi, riusciva per talmodo superiore all'opera individuale dei più grandi ingegni del l'umanità: nam, dice lo stesso Cicerone, facendo intervenire Sci pione, neque ullum ingenium tantum exstitisse dicebat, ut quem res nulla fugeret quisquam aliquando fuisset; neque cuncta in genia, conlata in unum, tantum posse uno tempore providere, ut omnia complecterentur, sine rerum usu ac vetustate (3). Veniamo ora alle leges regiae. (1) Cic., De leg. 3, 4: « De capite civis nisi per maximum comitiatum ne fe runto », disposizione questa, attribuita alla legislazionedecemvirale, la quale mirava con ciò ad impedire, che le cause capitali contro i patrizii e contro i consoli fossero dai tribuni della plebe recate innanzi ai concilia plebis. (2 ) Cfr. Esmein, Le délit d'adultère à Rome e la loi Iulia, de adulteriis, nei Mélanges d'histoire du droit, Paris, 1886, pag. 71 et suiv. (3 ) Cic., De Rep., II, 1. La legislazione regia durante il periodo esclusivamente patrizio. $ 1. - Del contributo delle varie stirpi italiche alla primitiva legislazione di Roma. 247. Dal momento che a costituire la città patrizia concorsero comunanze, le quali erano di origine diversa, era naturale, che, anche esistendo una certa analogia fra le loro istituzioni, non potesse perd esservi una identità perfetta fra le medesime. È quindi evidente, che col partecipare di diverse stirpi alla medesima città dovette ope rarsi fra di loro una assimilazione lenta e graduata delle loro isti tuzioni giuridiche. Che anzi, a questo proposito, un recente autore, a cui deve assai la ricostruzione del diritto primitivo di Roma, il Muirhead, andrebbe fino a dire, che le varie stirpi, come recarono un diverso contributo alla costituzione politica di Roma, cosi deb bono pure aver portato un contributo diverso alla formazione del diritto privato di Roma; contributo, che egli cercherebbe di riassu mere nei seguenti termini: « La patria potestas spinta fino al ius vitae et necis sulla figliuolanza; la manus ed il potere del marito sulla moglie; il concetto per cui  « maxime sua esse credebant, quae ex hostibus caepissent » (Gaio, IV, 16 ); il diritto del credi tore di porre la mano sul debitore che non paga, di imprigionarlo, e se occorre anche di ridurlo a schiavitù; tutto ciò insomma, che deriva dal concetto, che la forza generi « maxime sua esse credebant, quae ex hostibus caepissent » (Gaio, IV, 16 ); il diritto del credi tore di porre la mano sul debitore che non paga, di imprigionarlo, e se occorre anche di ridurlo a schiavitù; tutto ciò insomma, che deriva dal concetto, che la forza generi « maxime sua esse credebant, quae ex hostibus caepissent » (Gaio, IV, 16 ); il diritto del credi tore di porre la mano sul debitore che non paga, di imprigionarlo, e se occorre anche di ridurlo a schiavitù; tutto ciò insomma, che deriva dal concetto, che la forza generi « maxime sua esse credebant, quae ex hostibus caepissent » (Gaio, IV, 16 ); il diritto del credi tore di porre la mano sul debitore che non paga, di imprigionarlo, e se occorre anche di ridurlo a schiavitù; tutto ciò insomma, che deriva dal concetto, che la forza generi il diritto, sarebbe dovuto all'influenza latina: « Le cerimonie religiose invece, che accom pagnano il matrimonio, il riconoscimento della moglie, quale padrona della casa e partecipe delle cure religiose e domestiche; il consiglio di famiglia dei congiunti, cosi paterni che materni, che circonda il padre nell'esercizio della sua domestica giurisdizione; la pratica del l'adozione, nell'intento di prevenire l'estinzione della famiglia e di non privare cosi i defunti delle preghiere e dei sacrifizii neamiglia dei congiunti, cosi paterni che materni, che circonda il padre nell'esercizio della sua domestica giurisdizione; la pratica del l'adozione, nell'intento di prevenire l'estinzione della famiglia e di non privare cosi i defunti delle preghiere e dei sacrifizii neamiglia dei congiunti, cosi paterni che materni, che circonda il padre nell'esercizio della sua domestica giurisdizione; la pratica del l'adozione, nell'intento di prevenire l'estinzione della famiglia e di non privare cosi i defunti delle preghiere e dei sacrifizii neamiglia dei congiunti, cosi paterni che materni, che circonda il padre nell'esercizio della sua domestica giurisdizione; la pratica del l'adozione, nell'intento di prevenire l'estinzione della famiglia e di non privare cosi i defunti delle preghiere e dei sacrifizii neamiglia dei congiunti, cosi paterni che materni, che circonda il padre nell'esercizio della sua domestica giurisdizione; la pratica del l'adozione, nell'intento di prevenire l'estinzione della famiglia e di non privare cosi i defunti delle preghiere e dei sacrifizii necessarii per il riposo delle loro anime, sarebbero evidentemente uscite da un diverso ordine di idee, e sarebbero perciò a ritenersi di provenienza sabina. - « Quanto all'influenza etrusca non si sarebbe sentita che ad una data più recente;ma dovrebbe probabilmente essere attri 304 buito alla medesima quello stretto riguardo, che deve aversi all'os servanza delle cerimonie e delle parole solenni, nelle più impor tanti transazioni della vita pubblica e privata » (1). Non può certam ma dovrebbe probabilmente essere attri 304 buito alla medesima quello stretto riguardo, che deve aversi all'os servanza delle cerimonie e delle parole solenni, nelle più impor tanti transazioni della vita pubblica e privata » (1). Non può certamma dovrebbe probabilmente essere attri 304 buito alla medesima quello stretto riguardo, che deve aversi all'os servanza delle cerimonie e delle parole solenni, nelle più impor tanti transazioni della vita pubblica e privata » (1). Non può certamente negarsi, che la ricostruzione dell'in signe giureconsulto appare come una verosimile congettura, quale del resto è annunciata dallo stesso autore. Alla sua mente acutanon poteva sfuggire la stretta attinenza, che dovette esservi fra il diritto pubblico e il privato nello svolgimento delle primitive istitu zioni: e ciò lo condusse a questa ripartizione di parti, che pure si appoggia al carattere e alle opere, che la tradizione attribuisce ai re, che provengono dalle varie stirpi. Tuttavia, con tutta la reverenza all'opinione di un insigne, crederei che questa ricostruzione del diritto primitivo di Roma non possa essere accettata, neppure come ipotesi e congettura, perchè è in contraddizione col modo, in cui Roma e il suo diritto si vennero formando, e colle tradizioni, che a noi pervennero. 248. Non credo anzitutto, che la costituzione, anche politica di Roma, possa considerarsi in certo modo come una composizione di elementi diversi recati da questa o da quella stirpe. In proposito ho cercato di dimostrare che l'ossatura della città primitiva fu essen zialmente latina, e che, al pari delle altre città latine, Roma usci da un foedus, ossia dall'accordo di varie tribù per partecipare ad una stessa comunanza civile e politica. Quindi è che gli elementi, che sopravvennero, entrarono tutti nei quadri della città latina, la quale fu anzi concepita sopra un'unità cosi organica e coerente, che non può essere riguardata, come il frutto del contemperamento di ele menti diversi (2 ). Re, senato e popolo esistono fin dagli esordii di Roma, e a misura che nuovi elementi si aggiungono, il re potrà sce (1) MUIRHEAD, Historical introduction to the private law of Rome, Edinburgh. 1886, pag. 4. (2 ) In questa parte divido perfettamente l'idea del MOMMSEN, che condanna l'opi nione di coloro « che han voluto trasformare il popolo, che ha dimostrato nella sua lingua, nella sua politica e nella sua religione uno sviluppo così semplice e naturale, in uno amalgamarsi confuso di orde etrusche, sabine, elleniche e perfino pelasgiche ». A suo avviso sono i Ramnenses, di origine latina, che non solo fondarono e diedero il proprio nome alle città, ma che posero eziandio quelle linee primitive, in cui entra rono poi tutte le istituzioni, che furono assimilate più tardi » Histoire Romaine, I, liv. I, Chap. 4, pag. 54. Questa opinione, fra gli autori recenti, è pur sostenuta dal Pelham, Encyclopedia Britannica, XX, vº Rome (ancient), ove rinviene in Roma tutti i caratteri di una città latina. 305 gliersi da un'altra stirpe, il numero dei senatori e dei cavalieri potrà essere aumentato, e potranno anche accrescersi i coll egi sacerdotali, ma l'ossatura primitiva sarà sempre conservata. Vero è che un re sabino, cioè Numa, secondo la tradizione, fu organizzatore del culto e del collegio dei pontefici, ma auspicii e cerimonie religiose ed au gurali sono già attribuite allo stesso Romolo; nè tutto ciò, che si riferisce all'organizzazione domestica, può ritenersi di origine sabina, dal momento che già una legge, attribuita a Romolo, riguarda il matrimonio per confarreationem (1). Lo stesso è a dirsi del tribunale domestico e della tendenza delle famiglie a perpetuarsi, che il Mui rhead vorrebbe pur ritenere di origine sabina, mentre ne troviamo le traccie in tutti i popoli di origine Aria, e in tutti quelli parimenti, che hanno attraversato lo stadio dell'organizzazione patriarcale (2). Cid pure deve dirsi del cerimoniale esteriore e dell'uso di parole so lenni nei contratti e negli atti, che il Muirhead attribuirebbe alla in fluenza etrusca, poichè, se stiamo alla tradizione, questo cerimoniale esteriore rimonta alla fondazione stessa della città, e quindi sarebbe anteriore all'epoca, in cui, secondo il Muirhead, si sarebbe comin ciata a sentire l'influenza etrusca. Si aggiunge, che le solennità di parole, di atti e di gesti non sono anch'esse un privilegio di questa o di quella stirpe; ma sono comuni a tutti i popoli, che attraver sarono l'organizzazione gentilizia, e trovano anzi, come si è dimo strato, una causa naturale in ciò, che in questa condizione di cose, gli atti ed i contratti, seguendo in certo modo, non fra individui, ma fra capi di gruppo, acquistano una solennità, che ora direbbesi internazionale, la quale si conserva poi eziandio negli inizii della co munanza civile e politica. Infine non pud neppure affermarsi, che quella serie di istituzioni, che mette capo al concetto, che il diritto scaturisce dalla forza, debba considerarsi come di provenienza latina, in quanto che questo concetto deriva piuttosto dall'attitudine emi nentemente guerriera, che prende il populus romanus quiritium (1) Dion. II, 25 (BRUNS, Fontes, pag. 6 ). (2) Che questo sia un carattere comune a tutti i popoli, che trovansi nell'orga nizzazione patriarcale, o che escono dalla medesima, è stato dimostrato dal SUMNER MAINe, nelle varie opere sue, e di recente dal Leist, Graeco-italische Rechtsge schichte. Jena, 1885. Io stesso credo di averne data la prova nell'opera: La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale, lib. I e II, seguendo le migrazioni delle genti Arie, e dimostrando come esse abbiano trapiantato nell'Occidente quelle istituzioni, che avevano preparato nell'Oriente) nelle sue origini, attitudine che è comune a tutte le stirpi, che lo costituiscono; come lo dimostra il fatto, che vi hanno genti di origine sabina (come, ad es., la Claudia ), ed altre di origine etrusca (come la Tarquinia), le quali appariscono non meno amiche della forza, e fino anche della prepotenza, di quelle di origine veramente latina, alle quali appartengono di regola le genti, che come la Valeria, appariscono nelle tradizioni più favorevoli alla plebe, e più disposte ad equi e a miti consigli. 249. Del resto non è un esame delle singole affermazioni del Muirhead, che io qui intendo di fare; ma piuttosto dalle cose pre messe intendo inferire, che, trattandosi di genti, che probabilmente erano tutte di origine Aria, e si trovavano pressochè nel medesimo stadio di organizzazione sociale, le istituzioni fondamentali del di ritto privato, salvo le divergenze nei particolari minuti, dovevano essere essenzialmente comuni alle varie stirpi. Tutte avevano isti tuzioni, in cui prevaleva il carattere religioso; tutte compievano i loro atti con solennità e cerimonie esteriori, che richiamavano un precedente periodo di organizzazione sociale; e tutte possedevano l'organizzazione patriarcale della famiglia, e gli istituti della gente, della clientela e della tribù. Cið tutto si può affermare con certezza, dal momento, che questi caratteri sono comuni al diritto primitivo, quale ebbe a modellarsi nell'Oriente, durante il periodo, chepotrebbe chiamarsi della comunanza del villaggio. La stirpe tuttavia, che diede il primo modello, in cui furono poi fuse le istituzioni analoghe, che erano già possedute dalle varie genti, fu anche, quanto al diritto privato, la stirpe latina, la quale appare come fondatrice della città; il che punto non tolse, che, stante il comporsi dei varii elementi, si allargasse poi il concetto della divinità, patrona comune della città, e si ammettessero man mano anche istituzioniproprie di altre stirpi, ma sempre foggiandole, come Roma fece anche più tardi, sul l'impronta latina. Che anzi credo perfino di dover affermare, che quella potenza di assimilazione, che contraddistingue Roma, appena compare, deve sopratutto ritenersi propria alla stirpe latina, da cui Roma ebbe la sua prima origine. Per verità, anche prima della fondazione di Roma, le popolazioni latine erano quelle, che avevano già mag giormente svolto il concetto di federazione, e che perciò si di mostravano anche meno esclusive, e perfino anche più favorevoli alle plebi, e più disposte a ricevere altri elementi nel proprio seno, - 307 e ad apprendere in conseguenza anche dalle istituzioni degli altri popoli. Ciò è tanto vero, che nella storia primitiva di Roma l'ele mento etrusco fu dapprima tenuto in più basso stato, e più tardi, quando diventò potente ed aspird alla tirannide, ne fu cacciato ed espulso; l'elemento sabino fu quello, che, essendo ancora più tena cemente vincolato nell'organizzazione gentilizia, si dimostrò il più esclusivo e il meno favorevole alle plebi; mentre invece l'elemento latino fu quello che, dopo essere stato il primo a modellare la città, entrò anche dopo in copia maggiore a riempire tanto i quadri della città patrizia, quanto le file di quella plebe operosa e battagliera, che ebbe tanta parte nella grandezza di Roma. Una prova di ciò pud ravvisarsi nel fatto, che Roma, elevandosi gigante fra le altre co munanze italiche, combattè ad oltranza cogli Etruschi, coi Sabellici e coi Sanniti, e non si arrestd finchè ebbe quasi cancellata ogni traccia di loro civiltà; mentre quanto ad Alba, la considerò come sua madre patria, e anzichè estinguerla e soffocarla, dopo averla vinta, pre feri di accoglierne il patriziato e la plebe, e di essere erede della medesima, continuando quel processo nell'organizzazione sociale, che da essa erasi iniziato. Fra Roma da una parte e l'Etruria e la Sabina dall'altra, vi fu pressochè una guerra di sterminio, sopratutto fra le due prime, mentre fra Roma e il Lazio vi fu soltanto una lotta di precedenza; perchè due città foggiate sullo stesso modello, come Roma ed Alba, non potevano coesistere l'una in prossimità dell'altra (1). (1 ) La questione dell'origine di Roma e dell'organizzazione, da cui essa prese le mosse, forma tuttora argomento di discussioni fra gli eruditi. Fra gli altri il PAN TALEONI, Storia civ. e costituz. di Roma, I, nei primiquattro capitoli, e nella 1a appen dice aggiunta in fondo del volume, avrebbe sostenuta l'origine sabellica di Roma e di quella organizzazione patriarcale, di cui essa ritiene ancora le traccie, cosicchè per esso anche i Ramnenses sarebbero Sabellici, mentre la plebe sarebbe da lui ritenuta di ori gine latina, poichè, a suo avviso, le popolazioni latine già erano maggiormente use alla vita della città. Credo di aver abbastanza dimostrato, che Roma primitiva si formò sul modello latino, e che nelle stesse città latine già eravi la distinzione fra patriziato e plebe, e quindi non sembrami che la dottrina certo grande dell'autore possa far preva lere un'opinione,che contraddice a tutte le testimonianze degli storici e alle tradizioni stesse del popolo romano circa le proprie origini. Di recente poi il Casati in una nota letta alla Académie des inscriptions et de belles lettres di Parigi, nell'ottobre del 1886, sostenne che la gens fosse di origine Etrusca. Anche questi nuovi studii mi confermano nella conclusione: che l'organizzazione gentilizia sia stata un tempo comune a queste varie stirpi, e che, all'epoca della formazione di Roma, la stirpe - 308 250. Del resto la causa di questa divergenza col Muirhead ed il motivo, per cui ritenni di dover qui combattere la sua teoria, devono essere cercati in un'altra divergenza ben più grave, che sta nel modo diverso di comprendere e di spiegare la primitiva formazione di Roma. Per il Muirhead (ancorchè, a mio avviso, egli sia fra gli autori re centi uno di quelli, che ha posto meglio in vista il contributo diverso recato alla formazione del diritto Romano, dal patriziato e dalla plebe), la città di Roma continua ancor sempre ad essere il frutto dell'unione di genti appartenenti alle stirpi latina, sabina ed etrusca, ed è ancora questo il concetto, che egli pone a fondamento della sua ricostruzione del diritto primitivo di Roma. Era naturale quindi che, fondendosi ed incorporandosi le varie stirpi, ciascuna dovesse recare il proprio contributo, anche alla formazione di un comune diritto, e che egli cercasse di discernere in questa composizione la parte, che a ciascuna stirpe dovesse essere attribuita. Ben è vero, che alcune volte egli si trova imbarazzato del fatto, che il diritto quiritario primitivo si presenta del tutto insufficiente a governare tutti i rapporti di una comunanza anche primitiva, e lascia senza norma una quantità di relazioni, che dovevano già certamente esi stere: ma intanto il punto suo di partenza gli impedisce pur sempre di spiegare come ciò abbia potutoaccadere (1). Che se invece si ammetta, come ho cercato di dimostrare, che Roma è una città formata sul modello della città latina, e che essa, uscita dalla federazione e dall'accordo, costituisce dapprima un centro di vita pubblica, frammezzo a varie comunanze di villaggio, in allora Sabellica non avesse ancora superata tale organizzazione, ma le avesse dato il mag. giore svolgimento, di cui era capace, come lo dimostrano le genti Claudia e Fabia: che la stirpe Latina fosse invece già p ervenuta al concetto della città federale; e che da ultimo l'Etrusca fosse già pervenuta alla città, che potrebbe chiamarsi corpora tiva. Roma partì dal tipo latino e quindisi costitui fin dapprincipio in un centro di federazione: poi sotto l'influenza etrusca diventò anche una città unificata; ma serbò tuttavia anche in seguito il carattere latino, per guisa che cambiossi in certo modo in un centro di vita pnbblica del mondo allora conosciuto. Tale difficoltà occorre al MUIRHEAD, per esempio, allorchè a pag. 50 parla del. l'opinione di coloro, che sostengono che Roma non conoscesse dapprima che la pro prietà degli immobili, ed anche a pag. 54, ove, parlando dei delitti e delle pene, trova non parlarsi di delitti, che non potevanomancare anche in una città primitiva. Questi fatti invece sono facilmente spiegati, se si ammette la formazione progressiva e gra duata, così della città, come del suo diritto civile e criminale, non che della giuri sdizione spettante ai suoi magistrati. sarà facile il comprendere come, nella formazione del suo diritto pub blico e privato, Roma, dopo aver preso lemosse da quelle istituzioni di origine latina, che potevano già confarsi colla comunanza civile e politica, sia poi venuta lentamente assimilando tutte le istituzioni, che già si erano formate nel periodo gentilizio, anche presso le altre stirpi, quando le medesime potessero conciliarsi coll'impronta primi. tiva, che essa aveva data al suo diritto. Questo è stato certo il me todo, che Roma seguì anche più tardi nella trasformazione del suo diritto privato; nè, conoscendo ormai per prova la sua costanza nei processi seguiti, possiamo averemotivo di dubitare, che essa abbia dovuto esordire nella stessa guisa. § 2. Della esistenza di vere e proprie leggi (leges rogatae) durante il periodo regio.Intanto questo modo di considerare la formazione di Roma e del suo diritto mi conduce ad apprezzare la legislazione primitiva di Roma in guisa diversa da quella, che suole essere generalmente adot tata dalla critica, e ad accostarsi invece a quella, che, ci verrebbe ad essere indicata dalla tradizione. Mentre la critica infatti, dopo aver resi leggendari i re, nega pressochè ogni fede alla legislazione, che suol essere indicata col nome di regia, e la riduce esclusiva mente ad essere opera dei collegi sacerdotali, o a semplice raccolta di consuetudini e di tradizioni anteriori, la tradizione invece ci dipinge il periodo regio, anteriore anche a Servio Tullio, come un periodo di grande attività legislatrice. Or bene, a mio avviso, si deve andare a rilento nel respingere in questa parte il racconto della tradizione. Se la città latina in genere, e Roma sopra tutte le altre, fu dapprima un organo di vita pubblica fra comunanze, in cui continuavasi la vita domestica e patriarcale, viene ad essere evidente, che come la città fu il frutto di una specie di selezione, cosi dovette pur essere del diritto, che governo i primi rapporti fra i membri della mede sima. Le esigenze della vita civile e politica sono diverse da quelle di una vita di carattere patriarcale: quindi se questa poteva som ministrare i concetti religiosi, morali ed anche giuridici, già prima elaborati, questi però non potevano essere trasportati tali e quali, ma dovevano subire un lavoro di scelta e di coordinamento, ed è questo appunto, che dovette compiersi durante il periodo regio. Ne ripugna il credere, che ciò siasi potuto fare, dal momento, che si è 310 abbastanza dimostrato, come le genti, che fondavano la città, erano lungi dall'essere del tutto primitive, ma avevano una suppellettile copiosa di concetti e di tradizioni, che già si erano prima formati. Esse non erano più nello stadio della primitiva formazione del di ritto: ma erano già in quello della elaborazione e dell'adattamento di un diritto già formato alle esigenze della vita cittadina. Ammet tasi, che in parte siano leggendarie le figure dei primi re; ma questo è certo che, leggendarii o no, essi dovettero sottostare alla neces sità di quella convivenza, di cui erano i capi, e quindi dare opera vigorosa a quella selezione ed unificazione legislativa, che era il più urgente bisogno per una città, che risultava di elementi diversi. Conviene aver presente, che la città in genere e sopratutto Roma, (che fra le genti italiche fu forse la prima ad iniziare il processo di accogliere persone di discendenza diversa a partecipare alla stessa vita pubblica ), si presentava come una istituzione novella, destinata ad un grande avvenire. Era mediante la città, che l'uomo o meglio il capo di famiglia cominciava ad essere qualche cosa, anche fuori della propria famiglia o gente, e quindi non è punto a maravigliare, se un senso pubblico energico e potente abbia potuto penetrare re, senato, sacerdoti e popolo. Quelsenso di devozione e di abnegazione, di cui diedero prova più tardi le grandi famiglie plebee, allorchè giunsero finalmente ad essere ammesse come eguali nella città, do vette dapprima essere provato dagli uomini, usciti dalle genti patrizie, allorchè sentirono di costituire un populus, malgrado la loro ori gine diversa: e quindi non è punto probabile, che essi abbiano dovuto mantenersi del tutto estranei alla elaborazione di quel diritto, che doveva governarli, e che tutto lasciassero ai collegi sacerdotali ed al re loro capo. Se essi eleggevano il re e per tale elezione si ra dunavano nei comizii, non si comprende veramente come essi abbiano potuto essere affatto esclusi dall'opera legislativa, che era una con seguenza inevitabile della formazione della città (1). (1) L'opinione, qui combattuta, posta innanzi dal DIRKSEN, Die Quellen des röm misches Rechts, Leipzig, 1823, pag. 234 e segg., in un'epoca, in cui tutta la storia primitiva di Roma erasi convertita in una specie di leggenda, trova ancora oggidi molti seguaci. Basti annoverare, tra i recenti, il PANTALEONI, op. cit., pag. 309; il KARLOWA, Röm. R. G., pag. 52,ed anche il Murrhead, Hist. Introd., pag. 20. L'ar gomento da questi due ultimi invocato consiste sopratutto nella nota espressione di Livio: « vocata ad concilium multitudine, quae coalescere in populi unius corpus, nulla re, praeterquam legibus, poterat, iura dedit ». Essi argomentano dal iura 311 252. A ciò si aggiunge che in una piccola comunanza, formata da persone, che poco prima ancora vivevano patriarcalmente, do vette essere frequente e quotidiano il contatto fra elementi, che ora a noi appariscono grandiosi per l'età remota e per il grande avve nire, che ebbero di poi. È quindi assai probabile, che i rapporti fra re, padri, pontefici, auguri e popolo fossero continui, e che perciò potesse anche formarsi una specie di pubblica opinione in torno a ciò, che potesse esservi di comune interesse per una città, che era uscita dalla volontà comune, e che era la creazione di tutti. Senza voler sostenere che le concioni, da Livio e Dionisio attribuite ai personaggi della loro storia, siano state veramente quelle, non è però inverosimile, che concioni siansi veramente fatte, e che in tutti i casi, in cui trattavasi di qualche pubblico interesse, potesse vera mente accadere, che i padri intervenissero fra il popolo ed anche fra la plebe, e interponessero nei rapporti quotidiani un'autorità di persuasione, non dissimile da quella, che entrò a far parte sostan ziale della costituzione primitiva di Roma, sotto il nome appunto di patrum auctoritas. Se il rispetto, che quegli uomini avevano per l'età, e la loro disciplina domestica spiegano la solennità, con cui essi votavano nei comizii, e il loro limitarsi a rispondere, appro vando o negando; non possono però escludere, che quelle discussioni, che erano inopportune al momento della votazione, potessero anche essere indispensabili e frequenti in seno ad un popolo, che senti con tanta energia la vita pubblica, e l'influenza della medesima. Il popolo romano, fin dalle proprie origini, non fu un popolo nè di asceti, nè di anacoreti, che seguissero una regola conventuale: ma fu un popolo, i cui membri appresero ben presto a dire la verità nella vita pub blica, quantunque i suoi membri continuassero ad essere ligii ed ossequenti all'autorità del padre nella vita domestica. dedit, adoperato invece di iura tulit; ma è facile il notare, che le espressioni di iura dare et accipere sono talvolta sinonime di quelle di iura ferre, come lo dimostra fra gli altri Aulo GELLIO, XV, 28, 4, che deffinisce i plebiscita « quae, tribunis plebis ferentibus, accepta sunt». Si aggiunge che Livio in quello stesso passo insiste sulla necessità di vere leggi per incorporare elementi eterogenei e diversi, e usa quel vo cabolo di legge, che pei Romani significò sempre un provvedimento proposto dal magistrato e accettato dal popolo. Ad ogni modo questa proposizione si riferisce an cora all'epoca anteriore alla confederazione coi Sabini, e quindi, trattandosi ancora del capo patriarcale di una tribu militare, si comprende che egli potesse iura dare; mentre si dovettero richiedere vere leges rogatae, allorchè le varie tribù entrarono a partecipare alla medesima città. La loro caratteristica prevalente non è nè la religiosità, né l'indole guerriera, ma piuttosto quell'equilibrio e contemperamento di facoltà umane, in cui consiste il senso giuridico e politico. La qualità, che prepondera in essi fra le facoltà affettive, è la volontà pertinace, costante, e fra le facoltà intellettuali è una logica, che analizza con un acume senza pari i varii elementi dell'atto umano, e che quando ha afferrato un concetto non lo abbandona, finchè non abbia dato tutto cid, che da esso può ricavarsi; due qualità queste, l'una pratica e l'altra teorica, che si corrispondono perfettamente fra di loro, e che spiegano come la storia giuridica e politica di Roma si riduca all'applicazione costante delmedesimo processo, che inizia tosi con essa, non fu più abbandonato fino alla completa formazione del diritto pubblico e privato di Roma. Di qui la conseguenza, che tanto nella politica, quanto nel diritto,Romanon procedette maiper semplice agglomerazione ed incorporazione, ma per selezione, cosicchè apprese da tutte le genti, ma accettò solo queimateriali, che potevano entrare nei quadri del proprio edificio. Roma nella storia dell'umanità rap presenta, per cosi esprimersi, un crogiuolo, in cui sono gettate tutte le istituzioni anteriori del periodo gentilizio, e quelle che fu rono poi da essa rinvenute presso gli altri popoli conquistati, nel l'intento di isolare dagli altri elementi della vita sociale l'elemento giuridico e politico, e questa selezione e questo isolamento essa cominciò ad operare fin dai proprii esordii. 254. Credo quindi che per comprendere Roma primitiva convenga guardarsi dall'esagerare quella, che suole essere chiamata, la reli giosità del popolo romano. Non è già che possa negarsi ai Romani un sentimento profondamente religioso; ma essi non si trovano punto sotto il dominio di quel terrore superstizioso della divinità, che soffoca l'operosità umana; ma scorgono in essa una potenza, la quale invocata e resa benevola con determinati riti, doveva condurre il popolo romano ad insperata grandezza. Si aggiunge, che questa carattere religioso, finchè Roma fu esclusivamente patrizia, era co mune a tutti i membri del populus, i quali tuttiavevano un culto da perpetuare e tradizioni da conservare. Non era quindi possibile fra essi la formazione di una classe esclusivamente sacerdotale, che con ducesse al risultato, a cui si giunse in Oriente, di fare preponderare per modo l'elemento religioso da soffocare affatto l'elemento politico e il giuridico. Quanto alla differenza, sotto il punto di vista religioso, fra le razze Arie del 313 A questo proposito pertanto è opportuno di tener distinti eziandio due periodi in Roma primitiva: quello cioè di Roma esclusivamente patrizia, in cui ci troviamo di fronte ad un popolo, i cui membri, uscendo dalle genti patrizie, conoscono tutti i riti, gli auspizii e le cerimonie religiose, e se ne servono nell'interesse comune; e quello invece, in cui fu ammessa anche la plebe alla cittadinanza. In questo secondo periodo infatti il populus viene a comprendere due classi: l'una, poco numerosa, ricca di tradizioni, dotta nelle cose reli giose, esperta nelle civili e politiche; e l'altra, che ha per sè il nu mero e la forza, ma che è nuova alla vita civile, priva di tradizioni, e si trova nella necessità di ricevere modellato e formato il proprio diritto dall'ordine patrizio. È solo in questo secondo periodo, che la conoscenza degli auspicia e delius viene a cambiarsi in un ti tolo e in un mezzo di superiorità per il patriziato, il quale se ne vale per tenere in rispetto e in riverenza le masse. È solo allora che il diritto, le cui origini erano già celate nell'oscurità dei tempi, e le cui formalità erano già divenute inesplicabili per la generalità dei cittadini, viene ad essere chiuso negli archivii dei pontefici, che sono in certo modo incaricati della custodia e della elaborazione di esso; mentre quest'arcano e questa segretezza non poterono certo esi stere negli esordii della città, allorchè la conoscenza del diritto e degli auspizii era ancora comune a tutti i capi di famiglia (1). Cid mi induce a credere, che la parte da attribuirsi al populus, nella formazione del diritto primitivo di Roma, sia maggiore di quella, che suole generalmente essergli assegnata; ma per riuscire in qualche modo a determinarla, importa ricercare anzitutto la funzione, a cui furono chiamati i collegii sacerdotali in Roma primitiva, quanto alla formazione del diritto. l'India e quelle trasportatesi nell'Occidente, mirimetto ai concetti svolti nell'opera: « La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale », pag. 92, n ° 33, e agli autori, che ivi sono citati. (1) Vedasi a questo proposito il MACHIAVELLI, Discorsi sulle deche di Tito Livio, Libro I, Cap. XI, XII, XIII e XIV, e il MONTESQUIEU, Dissertation sur la politique des Romains dans la religion. 314 $ 3. – I collegii sacerdotali in Roma e la loro influenza sulla formazione del diritto primitivo.  La caratteristica di Roma è una mirabile coerenza nel pro cesso, che essa ebbe a seguire nei diversi aspetti della propria for mazione. Si può quindi essere certi che come la città fu il frutto di una selezione della cosa pubblica dalla privata, cosi anche la re ligione pubblica di Roma non potè essere il frutto dell'agglomera zione dei culti e delle credenze proprie delle varie genti; ma fu an ch'essa il risultato di una selezione, per cui, mentre le singole genti e tribù continuarono nel proprio culto gentilizio, vennesi formando nella città un culto pubblico, il quale alla sua volta assunse poi una doppia forma, quella cioè di culto pubblico ed ufficiale (sacra pu blica ), e di culto popolare (sacra popularia ). Ciò è dimostrato dal fatto, che fra la quantità degli Dei riconosciuti dai Romani, quelli al cui culto intendono i flamini maggiori sono Marte, Quirino e Giove, di cui il primo, secondo la tradizione, è il padre del fondatore, l'altro il fondatore stesso della città, e l'ultimo infine sembra talvolta con fondersi coll'antica divinità italica di Giano, rivestita alla Greca. Intanto una pubblica religione richiedeva pure un pubblico sacerdozio. Questo concentrasi dapprima nello stesso re, il quale è augure sommo e pontefice massimo; ma poscia il re stesso, pur conservando gli auspicia del magistrato supremo, costituisce intorno a sè dei collegii sacerdotali, i quali hanno un carattere del tutto peculiare, in quanto che essi non hanno un compito esclusivamente religioso,ma anche una vera importanza civile e politica. Cotali sono sopratutto gli auguri, i feziali e i pontefici, i quali,mentre hanno un carattere sacerdotale, che dà un'aureola religiosa al loro ufficio, compiono ad un tempo una funzione importantissima per le genti patrizie, che è quella di essere i custodi e gli interpreti delle tra (1) La triade di Giove, Marte e Quirino si fa dalla tradizione rimontare a Numa, il quale avrebbe già istituiti i tre flamini maggiori, dando però la prevalenza al fila mine di Giove (Liv., I, 20). Fu più tardi però, che la religione si rivestà alla Greca e ciò sopratutto sotto l'influenza etrusca, ossia sotto gli ultimi tre re, in quanto che fu allora che venne costituendosi la triade Capitolina di Giove, Minerva e Giunone. Cfr. Bouché-LECLERCQ, Manuel des instit. romaines, pag. 456 a 562. 315 dizioni,non solo religiose, ma anche giuridiche e politiche, e sopra tutto di quella parte di esse, che era indicata col vocabolo di fas, ed era considerata come l'espressione della volontà divina. Quelle tradizioni, che in Grecia furono lasciate ai poeti, i quali in antico avevano ancor essi un carattere sacerdotale, in Roma invece sono affidate a collegi sacerdotali, i cui membri sono scelti nel novero stesso dei padri, memori dei riti e degli auspicii religiosi, i quali, malgrado il loro carattere sacerdotale, continuano pur sempre a prendere parte alla vita civile e politica, e sono i custodi fedeli del patrimonio tradizionale delle genti patrizie. Cid spiega come le varie tribù primitive, a quella guisa che erano concorse in parti eguali sotto l'aspetto politico e militare, così sembrano pure avere na propria rappresentanza nei varii collegii sacerdotali, come lo dimostrano il numero di tre, poscia di sei, e quindi di nove auguri e pontefici, ed anche il numero di venti, che sembra essere stato quello dei feziali. Intanto se un posto facevasi vacante, il vuoto veniva a riempirsi con quella stessa cooptatio, mediante cui una nuova gente doveva essere accolta nell'ordine patrizio. Cosi es sendo composti i collegii sacerdotali, essi erano in condizione di contemperare e coordinare le tradizioni proprie delle varie tribù, che erano concorse alla formazione della città; e potevano col re, che era il loro capo, contribuire potentemente all'unificazione e al coordinamento legislativo. Quindi è che il culto, di cui essi sono i sacerdoti, non è un culto speciale di questa o di quella tribù, ma un culto ufficiale del popolo romano, come lo dimostrano le appel lazioni di augures publici populi romani quiritium, di fetiales populi romani, non che la qualificazione data ai pontifices di sacerdotes publici populi romani. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alle tradizioni, della cui custodia essi sono incaricati, senza voler pretendere, che in cið potesse esservi uno scopo preordinato, questo è però certo, che si effettud fra essi una ripartizione, la quale corri sponde ai varii aspetti, sotto cui il diritto può essere considerato (1). (1) Non ho creduto qui di dovermi occapare specialmente dei quindecim viri sa cris faciundis, poichè questo collegio, iniziato da Tarquinio Prisco colla nomina di due sacerdoti per la custodia dei libri sibillini, si cambid col tempo nel custode dei culti, che erano di provenienza straniera. Esso quindi non esercitò alcuna diretta influenza sul diritto specialmente privato; sebbene sia una prova evidente del con tinuo studio dei Romani per assimilarsi le istituzioni anche religiose degli altri po poli. È a vedersi, quanto al medesimo, il Bouché- LECLERCQ, op. cit.,pag. 555 a 560, e il Villems, Le droit public romain, pag. 323-24. 316 257. Vengono primi gli auguri, i quali, secondo la tradizione, sem brano costituire il più antico di questi collegii, in quanto che Roma stessa sarebbe stata fondata coll'osservanza delle cerimonie prescritte dall'arte augurale. Essi sono i custodi dei riti, che debbono prece dere e accompagnare tutte le deliberazioni, che possono riferirsi al pubblico interesse, e costituiscono cosi nella religione pubblica della città una imitazione degli stessi augurii privati: come lo dimostra l'at testazione di Cicerone, che l'abitudine di consultare la volontà divina era universale, e che i capi delle famiglie e delle genti non tenevano meno dello Stato ai loro auspizii privati (1). È indubitabile, che essi ebbero dei libri augurales, in cui serbavano le proprie tradizioni e la propria giurisprudenza, e senza voler penetrare nei concetti, a cui poteva ispirarsi l'arte loro, egli è certo, che essa fu una crea zione originale, propria sopratutto alle stirpi latina e sabellica, che dimostra lo spirito religioso e giuridico ad un tempo del primitivo popolo romano. È al collegio degli auguri, che devesi la teoria sot. tile e complicata degli auspicii, che dovevano essere osservati, la distinzione fra quelli, che potevano essere favorevoli o sfavorevoli, e la precedenza che certi segni dovevano avere sopra altri. È ad essi parimenti, che devesi l'orientamento del templum, ossia la delimi tazione di un sito senza ostacoli e in cui potesse spaziare la vista, per modo che gli auspizii potessero essere osservati; delimitazione, che do vette probabilmente anche esercitare influenza sulla scelta e sull'o rientamento dei luoghi, in cui le città dovevano essere edificate (2 ). 258. È però notabile, che se gli auguri sono incaricati dell'osser vanza dei riti e della custodia delle tradizioni e decisioni augurali, è pur sempre il magistrato, che è investito dei publica auspicia, il quale deve giudicare se i medesimi siano o non favorevoli, e può così eser citare una influenza decisiva sulle deliberazioni relative al pubblico interesse (3).Era poinaturale, che gliauguri, i quali, nella città esclu (1 ) Ciò è attestato da Cicer., De div., I, 16, 28. — Cfr. MOMMSEN, Le droit public romain, I, pag. 100 e 101. (2 ) Il vocabolo di arte augurale prendesi talvolta in senso così largo, da com. prendere non solo l'avium inspectio (donde l'auspicium ),ma eziandio l'ispezione delle viscere degli animali, donde l'aruspicium. Questo però è da avere presente, che l'ar spicium era di origine latina, mentre l'aruspicium era di origine etrusca. È da ve dersi in proposito il PANTALEONI, Storia civ. e cost., appendice III, relativa ai Luceres. (3 ) Cfr. MOMMSEN, Op. cit., I, pag. 119. 317 sivamente patrizia, erano i custodi di riti e di tradizioni, che erano noti a tutto il populus, posteriormente, allorchè nel populus entro anche la plebe, finissero per acquistare una grande autorità nelle lotte fra patriziato e plebe, e per recare al primo un potentissimo sussidio mediante riti, la cui significazione era ormai divenuta inesplicabile, anche per persone che uscivano dalle stesse genti patrizie. La loro po tenza ed autorità ci è sopratutto attestata da Cicerone, il quale scrive: « maximum autem et praestantissimum in re publica ius est au gurum cum auctoritate coniunctum », e lo prova dicendo, che essi potevano disciogliere i comizii, rimandarli ad altro giorno, dichiararli viziati, anche dopo che eransi tenuti, mentre intanto niuna delibera zione di pubblico carattere poteva essere presa senza il loro inter vento (1). Però questa loro apparente onnipotenza, di fronte allo Stato, scompare, quando si consideri, che il giudizio relativo agli auspizii favorevoli o non appartiene al magistrato, e che gli auguri emettono il loro avviso sulla osservanza del rito, con cui siansi tenuti i co mizi, solamente quando siano interrogati dal senato o richiesti dal magistrato stesso. 259. Quanto al collegio dei feziali, esso è il custode e il deposi tario del ius foeciale; ma non è certo il creatore del medesimo, come lo dimostra il fatto, che questo erasi già formato durante il periodo gentilizio, ed era comune ad altri popoli, pure di origine la tina e sabellica (2 ). L'istituzione del collegio è dagli antichi attribuita ora a Tullo Ostilio, ed ora ad Anco Marzio, ma tutti fanno rimon tare il ius foeciale ad epoca anteriore, poiché Tullo Ostilio vi sa rebbe ricorso, anche prima che il collegio fosse da lui istituito. Narra. infatti la tradizione, che il fatto di rimettere le sorti della guerra fra Roma ed Alba ad un singolare combattimento fu solennemente sti pulato coi riti proprii del ius foeciale. « I due cittadini eletti a cid, cosi riferisce il Bonghi la tradizione, facendo le veci dei padri dei due popoli, lo sancirono a nome di ciascuno di essi. L'uno e l'altro giurarono, invocando Giove, che l'uno e l'altro popolo l'a vrebbe osservato. Quello dei due popoli, che primo vi fosse ve (1) Cic., De legibus, II, 12. (2 ) Il processo di naturale formazione, durante il periodo gentilizio, di quel ius belli ac pacis, che costituì poi il ius foeciale dei Romani, fu esposto nel Lib. I, Cap. VII, pag. 139 a 166. 318 nuto meno, Giove lo ferisse, come l'uno e l'altro ferivano il porco, che sacrificavano; anzi con tanta più forza, quanto era la forza di lui » (1). Ciò significa che il collegio dei feziali non è stato mai il giudice della giustizia intrinseca della guerra o della opportunità della pace; l'una e l'altra son trattate dal senato e sono deliberate dal popolo; mentre i feziali sono incaricati dell'osservanza dei riti o custodiscono le tradizioni relative al ius pacis ac belli. Anche essi sono messi in azione dagli organi del potere civile e politico, e potranno talora essere chiamati a decidere delle questioni, ma queste non si riferiscono alla giustizia intrinseca, nè almerito delle cause di guerra, ma sono di preferenzaquestioni di rito e di procedura (2). I feziali sono in numero di venti; riempiono i posti vacanti, mediante la cooptatio; non hanno un capo permanente, ma scelgono caso per un pater patratus nel proprio seno; il che è un altro indizio come veramente il pater patratus fosse un cittadino eletto a fare le veci del popolo, e che ricordasse così l'antico patriarca della gente e della tribù. Il ius foeciale pertanto è in ogni sua parte una sopravvivenza del periodo gentilizio; indica lo stadio più pro gredito, a cui erano pervenuti i rapporti anteriori fra le genti e le tribù; dimostra come già allora vi fossero degli esperimenti di amichevole componimento, prima di addivenire alla guerra; ed è una prova di più, che i fondatori della città non erano popolazioni primitive nello stretto senso della parola, ma avevano anche in questa parte un tesoro di antiche tradizioni, le quali, serbate dallo spi rito conservatore dei Romani, furono mantenute fino a che non di ventarono pienamente disadatte e incompatibili colla convivenza civile e politica (3 ). 260. È poi probabile, e l'ho dimostrato a suo tempo, che la distinzione fra foedus e sponsio fu una conseguenza del passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla costituzione politica della città, il (1) Bonghi, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 79. (2) Tale è pure l'opinione sostenuta dal FusiNATO, Dei Feziali e del diritto fe. ziale, Cap. III. (3 ) Il numero dei venti feziali, che non corrisponde a quello degli auguri e dei pontefici, può forse essere un indizio, che il diritto feziale, comune ancora ai Latini e ai Sabini, che erano più vicini ancora all'organizzazione gentilizia, non apparteneva invece agli Etruschi, che, più avanzati nella vita cittadina, già si erano maggior mente discostati da pratiche di carattere eminentemente patriarcale. - - 319 – che rendeva tale distinzione incomprensibile per popoli, che non erano ancora pervenuti a questo punto di svolgimento (1). Così pure è un effetto di tale passaggio la distinzione netta, che viene operandosi fra l'amicitia, l'hospitium,i quali si dividono in pubblici e in privati; ancorchè sia facile di scorgere, che nel primo periodo le amicizie sono ancora curate specialmente dallo stesso re; il qual sistema fu seguito sopratutto dalla politica dei Tarquinii, che intrattenevano relazioni coi capi delle comunanze vicine, e macchinavano proba bilmente un cambiamento nella forma di governo, che doveva es sere generale (2 ). Era poi una conseguenza logica della politica seguita da Roma nella propria formazione, che essa in questo primo periodo non si chiudesse ancora in se medesima, ma venisse in certo modo at traendo a sè le popolazioni vicine. Roma continua in questa parte la politica dell'asilo, dalla tradizione attribuita a Romolo, e in ciò presenta un carattere del tutto opposto alla formazione delle città greche, e a quella della stessa Atene. Giovano a questo intento l'isti tuto dell'hospitium publicum, la concessione della civitas sine suf fragio, l'istituzione del municipium, singolare istituzione, per cui altri, pur restando nella propria terra, e partecipando alle cose amministrative di essa, pud tuttavia prendere parte viva alla gran dezza della patria communis, e recarsi a darvi il prorio voto, allorchè trattisi di quelle deliberazioni, che possono interessare direttamente anche gli abitanti dei municipia. È poi notabile il profitto, che Roma seppe ricavare dall'istituzione, graduando e differenziando le con cessionida essa fatte ai municipii, e svolgendone il concetto in guisa da cominciare colla concessione di una civitas sine suffragio per giungere sino alla concessione di una cittadinanza compiuta, il che pure a dirsi dell'istituto della colonia (3 ). Intanto però anche qui è (1) V., quanto al foedus e alla sponsio, il Lib. I, Cap. VII, nº 118. (2) Cid è attestato da Livio, I, 49, allorchè scrive di Tarquinio il Superbo: « La tinorum maxime sibi gentem conciliabat, ui peregrinis quoque opibus tutior inter cives esset; neque hospitia modo cum primoribus eorum, sed adfinitates quoque iungebat ». (3) Inteso in questa guisa, il sistema municipale per Roma non è che l'applica zione del sistema stesso, che essa aveva seguito nella propria formazione, quello cioè di interessare alle sorti della patria comune tutti i popoli, che da essa dipendevano, facendo sempre più larghe concessioni a quelli, che le erano più vicini, e di cui quindi poteva avere maggiore bisogno. V. sopra, Lib. I, Cap. VII, nº 127. 320 appare, che la politica estera di Roma non appartiene punto ad un collegio di sacerdoti,ma che nel periodo regio appartenne al re, e nel repubblicano al senato, il quale, essendo un consesso permanente ed accogliendo nel proprio se noi magistrati uscenti di ufficio, poteva mantenere quella continuità tradizionale non interrotta, di cui porge un mirabile esempio la storia politica di Roma. Infine si comprende eziandio, come il collegio dei feziali, custode di tradizioni, che si riferivano ai rapporti colle altre genti, non abbia avuta l'influenza effettiva, che appartenne agli auguri e ai pontefici, perchè il nucleo delle tradizionida esso serbate non poteva trovare applicazione nelle lotte fra patriziato e plebe. Tuttavia allorchè i due ordini erano ancora distinti, vi furono patti fra essi, stipulati coi riti del diritto feziale, e accompagnati, a richiesta della plebe, dalla capitis sacratio di colui, che li avesse violati (leges sacratae) (1). 261.Non vi ha poi dubbio, che il collegio sacerdotale più importante nell'organizzazionedella città patrizia è, senza alcun contrasto, quello dei pontefici. È questo collegio che riverbera nel proprio seno le istituzioni primitive di Roma. Esso infatti, a differenza degli altri collegi, ha una costituzione monarchica, ed ancorchè composto di più membri, è presieduto nel periodo regio dal re, e poscia dal pontifex maximus, il quale raffigura il capo religioso del popolo romano, in quanto costituisce una famiglia religiosa. Cid appare da questo, che il pontefice massimo, durante la repubblica, e quindi anche il re,nel periodo anteriore, ha una vera patria potestà sui sa cerdoti e sulle vestali, che da esso dipendono, le quali ultime sono da lui captae in quella stessa guisa, in cui lo sarebbe una figlia dal proprio padre o marito (2). Il collegio dei pontefici poi, al pari del popolo dei quiriti, di cui esso ha la direzione religiosa, ha un potere, che spiegasi in doppia direzione. Da una parte esso costituisce il vero sacerdozio del po polo romano, e quindi prima il re e poscia il pontifex maximus, da cui dipende lo stesso rex sacrorum, compiono i sacrifizii proprii della religione pubblica ed ufficiale del popolo romano. Da un altro (1) Cfr. LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, I, pag. 134, e la sua dissertazione: De sacrosanctae potestatis tribuniciae natura. Lipsiae, 1883. (2) Cfr. Bouché-LECLERCQ, Les Pontifes de l'ancienne Rome. Paris, 1871; Ma nuel des Instit. romaines, pag. 510 a 533. 321 - canto invece il collegio dei ponteficideve eziandio curare, che i culti delle genti e delle famiglie non siano interrotti (sacra privata ): e sotto quest'aspetto raduna le curie in quanto costituiscono una religiosa famiglia nei comitia calata, per mezzo dei proprii cala tores. Quindi è pure col suo intervento, che compiesi la cerimonia solenne della confarreatio, la quale dà origine alle iustae nuptiae delle genti patrizie, e consiste in una cerimonia religiosa, che si compie avanti ai pontefici coll'intervento di dieci testimonii, che rappresentano le dieci curie delle tribù, a cui appartiene quegli, che addiviene alle medesime. È esso parimenti, che presiede a quei co mitia calata delle curie, in cui i membri del popolo primitivo addiven gono all'adrogatio e al testamentum, i quali, durante il periodo della città patrizia, dovettero ottenere un ' approvazione analoga a quella, a cui erano sottoposte le leggi, come lo dimostra la formola conservataci da Aulo Gellio, relativa all'adrogatio, la quale senza dubbio doveva essere analoga a quella del testamentum. Per verità ho già cercato di dimostrare a suo tempo come per le genti patrizie tanto l'uno che l'altro atto dovevano subire la pubblica approvazione, in quanto che i medesimi potevano alterare quell'organizzazione gentilizia, che aveva costituita la forza e la superiorità del patriziato, e che in Roma primitiva volevasi conservare ad ogni costo. Intanto ne veniva, che i Pontefici sotto quest'aspetto potevano anche eser citare un'influenza sulla successione per quella parte, che si rife risce alla trasmissione dell'obbligazione relativa ai sacra. 262. Tuttavia l'importanza maggiore del collegio dei pontefici provenne sopratutto da che questo collegio ebbe l'altissimo ufficio di serbare le tradizioni relative al mos, al fas ed al ius, e proba bilmente dovette anche compiere quella prima elaborazione, me diante cui il diritto, che, erasi formato fra le genti e i loro capi, potè poi essere applicato fra i quiriti, ossia fra i membri che par tecipavano alla medesima comunanza civile e politica (1). Essi dovet (1) Questa funzione, essenzialmente conservatrice degli antichi riti e tradizioni, che sarebbe stata affidata ai pontefici, parmi provata dal seguente passo di Livio, I, 20: « Cetera quoque omnia publica privataque sacra pontificis scitis subiecit: ne quid divini iuris, negligendo patrios ritus, peregrinosque adsciscendo, turbaretur ». Per quello poi, che si riferisce all'adrogatio ed al testamentum, è da vedersi ciò, che si disse per l'epoca gentilizia nel Lib. I, Cap. IV, n ° 65, e per il periodo dei primi re in questo stesso libro, Cap. II, nº. 220. G. Caeli, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 21 322 tero essere in questo periodo i trasformatori dei iura gentium nel pri mitivo ius quiritium, e furono in condizione di poterlo fare, come quelli, che erano probabilmente ricavati dalle varie tribù, ed erano cosi in condizione di coordinare e di richiamare ad unità le istitu zioni, che in qualche particolare potevano essere diverse. Durante il periodo regio non può quindi essere dubbio, che il collegio dei pontefici, presieduto appunto dal re, dovette essere un cooperatore potente di quell'unificazione legislativa, di cui sentivasi urgente bi. sogno, e dovette anche essere il custode e depositario della primitiva legislazione, come lo dimostra la tradizione con attribuire a un pon tefice Papirio la prima collezione della medesima (ius Papirianum ). Ad ogni modo era naturale, trattandosi della legislazione di un popolo, i cui componenti prima quasi non conoscevano altra autorità, che quella del fas, che anche questo primitivo diritto dovesse essere ri vestito di quell'aureola religiosa, che è propria di tutte le istituzioni, durante il periodo gentilizio. Intanto però in questo periodo i pontefici, uscendo ancor essi dal novero delle genti, non avrebbero potuto attri buire al diritto quel carattere di segretezza e di arcano, che potè as sumere più tardi, in quanto che le tradizioni, di cui essi erano i custodi, vivevano ancora fra i capi di famiglia, da cui era costituito il populus primitivo, distribuito per curiae, corporazioni religiose e politiche ad un tempo. 263. Era invece naturale, che col passare dal periodo regio ad una repubblica, il cui populus non era più composto di uomini, ri cavati esclusivamente dalle genti di origine patrizia, le funzioni del collegio dei pontefici dovessero subire una trasformazione profonda. Essi sono sempre i sacerdoti del popolo Romano: ma intanto non escono che da una parte di questo populus, e sono anzi i depositari e i custodi delle tradizioni proprie di questa parte eletta del populus, la quale continua da sola ad avere gli auspicia e ad essere la reggi trice della città. Si aggiunge, che il potere religioso del pontifex ma ximus, che prima apparteneva al re, viene poscia attribuito ad una specie di magistratura sacerdotale, la quale finisce per dar sempre più al diritto un'aureola religiosa; sebbene sia vero che questa se parazione del potere civile dal religioso cooperò a preparare la distin zione del ius sacrum dal ius civile. Intanto però, cosi l'uno come l'altro sono conservati dapprima negli archivii dei pontefici (in pene tralibus pontificum ), sopratutto in quel periodo, che corre fra la cac ciata dei re e la legislazione decemvirale, durante il quale sono i pontefici, che compiono quell'elaborazione giuridica, che sarebbe stata impossibile permagistrati annui, i quali ad un tempo erano chiamati a cure compiutamente diverse. Sipud quindi affermare con certezza, che i primi elaboratori di un ius, comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, fu rono i pontefici; cosa del resto, che è concordemente attestata da Pomponio, da Valerio Massimo, da Cicerone e da altri, e che era una naturale conseguenza dello stato delle cose e dei rapporti, che in tercedevano fra i due ordini, allora in lotta fra di loro (1). Di qui la conseguenza, che la divulgazione del diritto venne in certa guisa a procedere di pari passo col pareggiamento politico delle due classi; ma intanto la prima scuola dei giureconsulti fu certamente il ius pontificium; nè è a credersi, che tutta l'opera loro potesse solo ri ferirsi al diritto sacro; poichè i pontefici di Roma, come si è ve duto, essendo una magistratura sacerdotale, erano i veri rappresen tanti delle genti patrizie, la cui religiosità non escludeva il senso giuridico e politico, e neppure lo spirito militare. Intanto ne de rivava eziandio, che, per essere resi partecipi di questa scienza del diritto, conveniva anche ottenere l'ammessione nel collegio dei pontefici, i cui libri e commentarii contenevano un tesoro di con cetti, molti dei quali passarono certamente nei primi giureconsulti, che furono essi stessi pontefici massimi(2 ). Vero è, che i frammenti, che a noi pervennero del diritto pontificale, sembrano riferirsi esclu sivamente a prescrizioni di diritto sacro; ma ciò proviene da che la parte relativa al ius civile passò nei giureconsulti, ed entrò nel l'organismo vivo della giurisprudenza, mentre quella, che aveva un carattere sacro, fini per ridursi a concetti, che poscia più non furono compresi, e venne cosi ad essere argomento di curiosità per gli ar cheologi e per i grammatici. Un'altra causa di questo fatto deve pur (1) Questa influenza dei Pontefici sul diritto, sopratutto nei primi periodi della Repubblica, è attestata da VALERIO Massimo, II, 5; Livio, IX, 46; Cic., pro Mu rena, 11; De legibus, II, 8, 9; De oratore, III, 33. I passi relativi sono raccolti dal Rivier, Introd. histor., pag. 121 e segg. (2 ) Basta perciò il considerare, che i primi giureconsulti, di cui sia a noi perve nuto il nome, come Papirio (donde il ius Papirianum ), Appio Claudio (il cui segretario Gneo Flavio avrebbe propalato il ius Flavianum ) e Tiberio Coruncanio, che appare come il primo giureconsulto di origine plebea, furono pontefici massimi, o quanto meno aggregati al collegio dei pontefici. Quelli poi, che più non erano tali, presero pur sempre le mosse dal ius pontificium, come appare ad evidenza dalle reliquie degli antichi giureconsulti raccolte dall ' HUSCHKE, Jurisp. anteiustin. quae supersunt. Lipsiae, 1879. 324 - riporsi in questo, che a misura che la scienza del diritto venne a concentrarsi nelle mani dei giureconsulti e del pretore, il diritto pon tificale venne naturalmente restringendosi al ius sacrum, e fu in questa guisa che alla separazione, che già erasi operata nella città patrizia fra il pubblico ed il privato, venne poscia aggiungendosi la distinzione fra il diritto sacro e il diritto civile strettamente inteso. Intanto perd vuolsi avere per fermo, che questo ritirarsi del diritto negli archivi dei pontefici, durante il primo periodo della repubblica, venne ad essere l'effetto dell'ammessione nel populus di un nuovo ele mento, che non possedeva queste tradizioni giuridiche, e che sotto questo aspetto doveva dipendere da un'altra classe: il qual concetto ci conduce a combattere l'opinione, pressochè universalmente accolta, circa quella legislazione, che suol essere compresa col vocabolo di « leges regiae ». § 4. Delle leges regiae e della fede da attribuirsi alle medesime. 264. È abbastanza noto come qualsiasi demolizione ne provochi un'altra; tanto più se trattisi di un edifizio armonico e coerente. Ciò videsi sopratutto della storia primitiva di Roma. Dopo aver resi leg gendarii i re, per guisa che si riuscì a fare la storia, senza pur nominarli; anche la legislazione, che era aimedesimi attribuita dalla tradizione, dovette essere considerata come una invenzione di tempi posteriori. Parve che un popolo, il quale era solo chiamato ad ap provare o a respingere le proposte fattegli, non potesse avere una parte effettiva nella formazione di leggi, di cui alcune avevano un carattere essenzialmente religioso, e che la collezione di leggi regie, accennate dagli scrittori, e attribuite ad un pontefice Papirio, dell'e poca regia, dovesse ritenersi come opera di tempi posteriori (1). (1) Questa opinione, che prevalse col DIRKSEN: Die Quellen des römisches Rechts, Leipzig, 1823, trovò uno strenuo oppositorenel Voigt: Über die leges regiae. Leipzig, 1876, la cui opera è divisa in due parti, nella prima delle quali egli investiga la sostanza e il contenuto delle leges regiae, mentre nella seconda si occupa dell'au tenticità e delle fonti delle medesime. Secondo il FERRINI, Storia delle fonti del diritto romano. Milano, 1885, pag. 3, nota 2, l'opinione del Voigt, se in qualche parte deve temperare le esagerazioni della scuola del NIEBHUR, dall'altra per ade rire troppo alla tradizione, non potrà forse piacere a molti. Cid si capisce, trattan. dosi di persone educate a tutt'altra scuola; ma intanto abbiamo un altro contri buto allo studio veramente positivo della storia primitiva di Roma. 325 Sembrami che in questa parte la critica siasi spinta troppo oltre, in quanto che il processo seguito da Romanella propria formazione ac cadde invece in guisa tale, che se una legislazione regia non fosse ram mentata dagli scrittori, dovrebbe essere pur supposta, perchè era una necessità dei tempi. Il populus primitivo di Roma era composto di persone appartenenti a genti patrizie, memori delle antiche tradi. zioni, e quindi non è punto ripugnante, che il medesimo, alla guisa stessa che eleggeva il re e conferiva l' imperium con una lex cu riata de imperio, cosi fosse pur chiamato a dare approvazione alle leggi, che rappresentavano i patti e gli accordi, in base a cui le varie tribù entravano a formar parte della stessa comunanza civile e politica. Ciò non potè accadere, come narra Pomponio, finchè Romolo fu solo capo della tribù Ramnense, stabilita nella Roma pa latina; ma dovette divenire indispensabile, allorchè la città, la no mina del suo re, la sua religione, il suo diritto cominciarono ad essere il frutto della confederazione e degl'accordi seguiti fra diverse comunanze. La stessa varietà degli elementi, che concorrevano a costituirle, rendeva opportuno, quanto ai provvedimenti, che riguar. davano il comune interesse, di adottare la forma della legge, la quale, elaborata e coordinata dal collegio dei pontefici, proposta dal re, appoggiata dai padri del senato, approvata dalle curie, poteva veramente ritenersi come l'espressione della volontà comune. In questa parte ha tutte le ragioni Livio, allorchè ci dice, che il popolo romano era cosi composto, che « nulla re, nisi legibus, in unius populi corpus coalescere potuisset ». Era solo a questa condizione, che capi di tribù e di genti, fino allora indipendenti e sovrani, potevano sottoporsi all'impero di uno stesso magistrato e di un medesimo diritto. Lo stesso carattere religioso della le gislazione regia non può costituire un argomento in contrario; perchè il primitivo populus diRoma era composto di persone esperte anche nei riti e nelle cerimonie religiose, che ciascun capo di fa miglia compieva nel seno della propria famiglia. Del resto a voler anche ammettere, che quella parte della legislazione regia, la quale ha un carattere esclusivamente sacro, potesse, fin da quella prima epoca, essere lasciata intieramente alla elaborazione del collegio dei pontefici; egli è però certo, che l'altra parte invece, la quale ha un carattere civile, giuridico e politico ad un tempo, dovette essere il frutto del concorso dei varii organi della costituzione primitiva di Roma, e deve perciò aver presa la forma di vere e proprie leges rogatae. Certo possono darsi dei casi, in cui questa procedura regolare 326 non sarà stata effettivamente adempiuta in tutte le sue parti, al modo stesso, che, secondo gli storici, non fu sempre osservata in ogni sua parte la procedura relativa alla nomina dei re: ma in man canza di prove in contrario, di fronte all'attestazione concorde degli autori, che non avevano alcun motivo di alterare le cose, e cono scendo il carattere del popolo, osservatore costante della legalità e facile a commuoversi, quando questa non fosse osservata, non si può essere in diritto di negare l'esistenza di vere e proprie leggi, anche in questo periodo, in quella parte, che si riferisce a cose di pubblico e di privato interesse (1). 265. Pur ammettendo che in questa primitiva condizione di cose, la maggior parte dei rapporti giuridici abbia continuato ad essere lasciata all'impero della consuetudine e del costume, dovevano perd anche esservi quelle parti, in cui le divergenze, esistenti fra le varie comunanze, presupponevano una unificazione ed un coordina mento, che doveva di necessità operarsi, mediante quelle leges, che a ragione si chiamavano publicae, perchè erano la base della comune convivenza civile e politica. Che anzi dovettero esser queste leges, che costituirono il nueleo primitivo di quel ius quiritium, che cominciava a sceverarsi dal fas e dai bonimores. Siccome perd questo ius venne formandosi « rebus ipsis dictan tibus et necessitate exigente »; cosi esso non potè formarsi di un tratto, nè essere fin dapprincipio un organismo coerente, che provvedesse a tutti i rapporti; ma dovette lasciare la maggior parte di questi rap porti alla consuetudine, limitando l'opera sua a concretare quei prov vedimenti, la cui necessità facevasi urgente e palese, a misura che la convivenza civile venivasi svolgendo. Niun dubbio parimenti, che anche i concetti e sopratutto le forme di questa primitiva legislazione dovessero essere tolti dal periodo anteriore: ma il fatto stesso, per cui essi erano trapiantati in terreno diverso, dovette far sì, che essi mutassero  carattere. 266. Se intanto potesse essere lecito anche solo tentare di rico struire il processo, con cui dovette formarsi il primo nucleo delle istituzioni e dei concetti quiritarii, in base alla formazione progres siva della città, crederei di poter rich iamarlo alle seguenti leggi fondamentali: (1) Liv., I, 8. - 327 l• Un primo effetto di questa grande trasformazione, per cui i capi e membri delle varie genti venivano ad essere cittadini della medesima città, dovette esser quello di far trasportare nella città e nei rapporti fra i quiriti quelle istituzioni e quei concetti giuridici, che si erano formati nei rapporti fra le varie genti e specialmente fra i capi delle medesime. Tutti i concetti pertanto, che apparte nevano ai iura gentium, diventarono proprii del ius quiritium; cosicchè il commercium, il connubium, l'actio, da rapporti fra le varie genti e i loro capi, diventarono rapporti fra i quiriti; donde la spiegazione di quelle solennità di carattere gentilizio, che ancora si mantengono nel diritto primitivo diRoma. Processo più naturale di questo non sarebbesi potuto seguire, poichè colla formazione della città i capi di famiglia e delle genti, che prima erano indi pendenti, vennero a cambiarsi in quiriti, e quindi il loro diritto di internazionale ed esterno, quale era prima, doveva cambiarsi in di ritto quiritario ed interno. 2º Una seconda conseguenza poi dovette essere eziandio che questi concetti, così trapiantati dai rapporti fra le genti, nei rapporti fra i quiriti o membri della stessa civitas, i quali prima avevano solo avuto uno svolgimento estensivo, poterono ricevere uno svolgimento inten sido, e cambiarsi in altrettante propaggini, da cui scaturirono le varie forme del ius quiritium. Dal connubium potè uscire il ius connubii con tutte le conseguenze delle iustae nuptiae, che consistono nella manus, nella potestas, nel mancipium, nella successione e nella tutela legittima: le quali naturalmente non poterono in questo periodo ispi rarsi, che ai concetti dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Il commercium parimenti si esplico nel ius commercii, con tutte le sue varie gra dazioni del comprare e del vendere (mancipium ), dell'obbligarsi (nexum ) e del poter ricevere o disporre per testamento (testamenti factio). Così pure l'actio sacramento, che era una procedura fra i capi di famiglia indipendenti, nel seno delle tribù, potè conver tirsi in una procedura fra quiriti, e siccome eravi un magistrato, a cui si apparteneva di pronunziare circa il ius, che si manteneva distinto dall'iudicium, così fu naturale, che accanto all'actio sacra mento si svolgesse eziandio la iudicis postulatio (1). 3º Infine una terza conseguenza di questa trasformazione dovette (1) È da vedersi in proposito quanto si disse nel capitolo precedente nº. 244, pag. 298 e segg. 328 consistere in ciò, che le istituzioni, cosi trapiantate nella città, es sendo staccate dall'ambiente, in cui si erano formate, si trovarono libere dai vincoli, in cui prima erano trattenute, e poterono cosi ricevere tutto lo svolgimento, a cui le portava il proprio concetto informatore. Ciascuna di esse si ridusse in certo modo ad essere una concezione astratta; e potè così essere sottoposta a quegli speciali processi e a quelle analisi, che sono proprii della logica giuridica (iuris ratio ). Per tal guisa venne ad essere un'astrazione il quirite, perchè esso non è più tutto l'uomo, ma è l'uomo considerato sotto l'aspetto speciale dei diritti e delle obbligazioni, che gli incombono come cit tadino; fu un ' astrazione il potere giuridico (manus) attribuito al medesimo, in quanto che esso è concepito senza le limitazioni esi stenti nel costume. Di qui la conseguenza, che egli come capo di famiglia (pater familias) giuridicamente la riassume in sè stesso, e ha il ius vitae et necis sulla moglie, sui figli, sugli schiavi; come proprietario può disporre in qualsiasi guisa delle proprie cose; come creditore può appropriarsi e perfino dividere il corpo del debitore. Per tal guisa tutto il diritto primitivo di Roma è già il frutto di un'astrazione, cioè di una specie di isolamento dell'elemento giuridico dagli altri elementi della vita sociale, per cui ogni istituzione può ricevere quello svolgimento logico e dialettico, che costituisce la ca ratteristica del diritto romano, e ne costituisce la superiorità sopra tutte le altre legislazioni. Il diritto romano infatti, fin dai proprii esordii, è uscito bensi dalla realtà dei fatti, ma fece ben presto astrazione da essi e diede uno svolgimento logico alle proprie istitu zioni, le quali perciò diventarono istituzioni tipiche, e poterono essere portate dapertutto, perchè la logica è di tutti i popoli e di tutti i tempi. Fu mediante questo processo; che i Romani poterono essere per il diritto ciò, che i Greci furono per l'arte, e questo segreto essi già lo possedevano fin dalla prima formazione della propria città, e continuarono sempre ad applicarlo, senza curarsi di darne nelle opere loro una spiegazione, che sarebbe stata inutile, perchè trattasi di un genio originario e nativo, che può essere intuito, ma non insegnato. Tutte queste conseguenze del nuovo stato di cose poterono rica - varsi senza bisogno di apposita legislazione, per opera di una logica istintiva e naturale, sentita universalmente da un popolo, che mi rava diritto al proprio scopo, e che, poste le premesse, sapeva deri varne le conseguenze. 329 267. Intanto però eranvi altri argomenti, intorno a cui potevano esistervi divergenze nelle istituzioni particolari delle varie tribù, ed in questi argomenti appunto, secondo la tradizione, verrebbero ad ap parire le traccie di una legislazione regia, la quale potrà forse non esserci pervenuta nelle sue fattezze genuine: ma che intanto non merita punto di essere senz'altro respinta, come una creazione di tempi posteriori (1). Essa porta in sè un'impronta efficace di verità, in quanto che si presenta con un carattere del tutto consentaneo ad un populus, che esce dall'organizzazione gentilizia, e le cui isti tuzioni sono ancora tutte circondate di un ' aureola religiosa; del che sarà assai facile persuadersi, ricostruendo e componendo insieme i rottami, che ci pervennero di questa legislazione, per la parte, che si riferisce al diritto privato e al diritto penale primitivo di Roma. § 5. – La famiglia e la proprietà secondo la leges regiae. 268. Quanto al diritto privato l'istituzione, che presentasi più ri gorosamente delineata nelle reliquie delle leges regiae, è l'orga nizzazione della famiglia. È evidente, che essa riducesi in sostanza ad un rudere della stessa organizzazione gentilizia, che viene ad essere portato nel seno della città. Ma intanto separata dall'orga nizzazione gentilizia, in cui erasi formata, e dalla quale era tempe rata in qualche parte, presentasi con linee così rigide e precise, da riuscire a noi pressochè incomprensibile, se non riportisi nell'ambiente, in cui dovette formarsi. Dei varii modi, in cui questa famiglia potrà essere fondata, le leggi regie non ne ricordano che un solo, e questo è la cerimonia re ligiosa della confarreatio, la quale già conosciuta probabilmente alle genti delle varie tribù può benissimo essere stata adottatta come la forma solenne e riconosciuta per il matrimonio quiritario. Dio nisio infatti dice, che Romolo avrebbe condotto all'onestà le donne con un'unica legge, con cui avrebbe stabilito: « uxorem, quae nuptiis (1) La vera causa di questa critica, che tutto nega, relativamente alla storia pri mitiva di Roma, sta nel presupposto, che il popolo fondatore della città fosse un popolo del tutto primitivo. Ho cercato di dimostrare il contrario, e quindi non trovo nulla di improbabile, che un popolo, che si presenta con una quantità di tradizioni e di concetti già elaborati, fosse in condizione tale da prendere una parte effettiva, anche nella formazione delle leggi. 330 sacratis (confarreatione ) in manum mariti convenisset, commu nionem cum eo habere omnium bonorum ac sacrorum ». Noi ab biamo qui il matrimonio primitivo, esclusivamente patrizio, accom pagnato da una cerimonia religiosa; esso compiesi coll'intervento dei pontefici e colla testimonianza di dieci testimonii, che rappresentano le dieci curie, in cui è ripartita ciascuna tribù primitiva; produce la comunione delle cose divine ed umane; e intanto riduce in certo modo la moglie in posizione di figlia, rimpetto al marito; il che però non toglie, che essa gli sia compagna nel culto domestico. È al marito, che appartiene la giurisdizione sulla moglie pei delitti, che essa compie; anzi due fra essi, l'adulterio ed il bere vino (per causa che proba bilmente può riferirsi a qualche rito religioso ) possono essere puniti di morte: ma egli deve perciò essere circondato dal tribunale dome stico, il quale è ancora una istituzione eminentemente gentilizia (1). Il vincolo matrimoniale, stretto coll'intervento della religione, è per per sua natura indissolubile, in quanto che non potrebbe compren dersi, che una moglie, che è figlia al marito, possa far divorzio da esso. Di qui una legge, che Dionisio chiama dura, la quale nega alla moglie difar divorzio dal marito;ma intanto questi può ripudiarla,ma solo per cause determinate, quali sarebbero il venefizio commesso a danno della prole, la sottrazione delle chiavi e l'adulterio. Che se il marito abbandoni la moglie per altre cause, dei suoi beni si faranno due parti, di cui una andrà alla moglie, l'altra sarà sacra a Cerere: che se egli la venda, dovrà essere immolato agli dei infernali (2 ). Qui pertanto il potere del marito sulla moglie ha ancora tutti i caratteri del periodo gentilizio; ma le cerimonie religiose, che forse potevano essere diverse presso le varie tribù, già vengono ad essere unificate e son tutte ridotte alla confarreatio; son fissati i casi per il ripudio; e sono anche posti certi confini ai poteri del marito sulla (1) Le disposizioni attribuite alle leges regiae, che sono qui riprodotte, ci furono conservate da Dionisio, II, 25; il loro testo può vedersi nel Bruns, Fontes, pag. 6. (2) Questa legge, attribuita a Romolo relativamente al ripudium, è ricordata da PLUTARCO, Romulus, 22. Gli autori, che studiarono di recente l'argomento, già co minciano ad ammettere la probabilità, che nell'antico matrimonio per confarreatio nem non potesse essere consentito il divortium, nel senso vero della parola; il quale dovette avere origine dal divertere della moglie dalla casa del marito nel matri monio sine manu, e poi si concretò in una istituzione giuridica, che si estese allo stesso matrimonio cum manu. Cfr. Esmein, La manus, la paternité et le divorce, nei Mélanges d'histoire du droit, pag. 3 a 37. 331 moglie. A queste leggi se ne aggiunge una di Numa, che assume un carattere più sacro, la quale è cosi concepita: « paelex aram Iunonis ne tangito; si tanget, Iunoni, crinibus demissis, agnum foeminam caedito »: la qual legge (se si accetta la significazione attribuita al vocabolo di paelex da Festo, secondo cui suonerebbe la donna « quae uxorem habenti nubebat » ), significherebbe, che il matrimonio doveva essere monogamo, e che altra donna non poteva entrare nella casa, ed accostarsi all'altare di Giunone, protettrice appunto delle giuste nozze; in caso contrario doveva sacrificarsi una piacularis hostia (agnum foeminam caedito) (1). 269. Lo stesso è a dirsi della patria potestas, la quale, secondo una legge attribuita a Romolo, duráva tutta la vita e importava il potere di vita e di morte sul figlio, e la facoltà di venderlo fino a tre volte per trarne profitto; alla qual legge se ne aggiunge un'altra di Numa, secondo cui il padre, che abbia consentito alle nozze confar reate del figlio, le quali importano la comunione delle cose divine ed umane, più non è in facoltà di venderlo. Devono poi i padri educare tutta la prole maschile e le figlie primogenite, e non possono mettere a morte niun feto minore di tre anni, se non sia mostruoso o mutilato, nel qual caso deve prima essere mostrato ai vicini, e questi deb bono approvare il suo operato; disposizione questa, che richiama ancora le consuetudini proprie della vita patriarcale del vicus e del pagus, ove i vicini mutansi talvolta in giudici ed in consi glieri (2). Alle leggi relative a quest'ordine di idee può eziandio ri chiamarsi quella, attribuita a Numa, secondo cui se una donna fosse morta in istato di gravidanza, non doveva essere seppellita, se prima non se fosse estratto il feto: alla quale disposizione il Voigt rannode rebbe, con molta verisomiglianza, quel passo di lex regia, conserva toci da Paolo Diacono, secondo cui: Si quisquam aliuta (aliter ) faxit, lovi sacer esto (3). (1) Festo, v ° Paelices (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 350). Tutti i passi relativi possono vedersi raccolti dal Voigt, über die leges regiae. Leipzig, 1876, § 2º, pag. 8. (2 ) Tutte queste leggi regie, relative alla patria potestà, sono ricordate da Dio NISIO, II, 26, 27: II, 15; II, 27. Quella attribuita a Numa è pur ricordata da Plu TARCO, Numa, 17. Il testo delle medesime trovasi nel Bruns, Fontes, pag. 7 e 9. (3) A questa legge accenna il giureconsulto MARCELLO, L. 2, Dig. (11, 8): mentre l'altra parte sarebbe ricavata da Festo, pº aliuta. Il Voigt ritiene doversi combinare i due frammenti in una sola legge, Über die leges regiae, 8 13, pag. 75. 332 Iatanto però tutto quest'ordinamento religioso e politico della fa miglia primitiva è ancora sempre sotto la protezione del fas, in quanto che i figli, i quali maltrattino i genitori, e la nuora, che venga a cattivi trattamenti verso la suocera, mettendo cosi in non cale il rispetto dovuto all'età, incorrono nella capitis sacratio; la quale è pure la pena, in cui incorre il patrono, che faccia frode al proprio cliente, e ogni altro, che venga meno alle disposizioni re lative all'ordinamento della famiglia (1). 270. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alla proprietà, nulla ci fu con servato circa il carattere intimo della medesima; ma dalle disposi zioni, che Dionisio attribuisce a Romolo relativamente alla clientela, e dall'incarico, che secondo Festo sarebbesi da Romolo affidato ai patres o senatori, di fare assegni di terre agli uomini di bassa condizione (tenuioribus), è lecito di inferire, che la proprietà con tinua in parte ad avere un carattere gentilizio, e che in questo periodo ancora si mantengono quelle proprietà o possessioni collet tive, sulle quali si possono fare degli assegni ai clienti (2). Tuttavia nell'interno della città vediamo già comparire netta e decisa l' isti tuzione della proprietà privata. In virtù di una legge attribuita a Numa, quel dio Termine, che un tempo separava i confini fra i ter ritori delle varie genti e delle varie tribù, viene a ripartire e a consacrare la proprietà fra i quiriti, i quali hanno già una proprietà individuale e privata, rappresentata dal proprio heredium. Per tal modo la terminazione, che prima esisteva fra i territorii gentilizii, come lo dimostra l'accenno, che si fa nel ius foeciale alle divinità patrone dei confin., viene a cambiarsi anch'essa in una istituzione quiritaria, e si introduce così la terminazione fra le proprietà private. Tutti quindi son tenuti a porre dei termini al proprio campo, e questi sono consacrati a Giove Termine; colui, pertanto che li ri. muova o li trasporti da un sito all'altro, sarà soggetto alla capitis sacratio (3 ). (1) Così,ad esempio, secondo il Mommsen in Bruns, Fontes, pag. 7, nota 6, una legge, attribuita a Tullo Ostilio, sarebbe così concepita < si parentem puer verberit, ast olle (ille) plorasset, puer divis parentum, sacer estod; si nurus, sacra divis pa rentum estod. » Per i divi parentum si intendono poi i diï manes, Cfr. Voigt, Op. cit., § 7, pag. 41. (2) Dion., II, 9; Cic., De rep., II, 9; Festo, vº Patres (Bruns, pag. 372). (3) Dion., II, 74; Festo, pº Termino. Cfr. Voiat, Op. cit., $ 9, pag. 48. 333 Certo queste son tutte disposizioni di legge, che consacrano isti tuzioni, che vivevano nella consuetudine e nelle tradizioni; ma punto non ripugna, che, trattandosi di genti, le cui istituzioni nei partico lari potevano essere diverse, le medesime abbiano anche potuto fare argomento di disposizioni legislative, elaborate dai pontefici, pro poste dal re, appoggiate dal senato, ed approvate dalle curie. Quanto alla sanzione religiosa, che accompagna ciascuna legge, essa si spiega facilmente, se si tiene conto del carattere religioso del popolo delle curiae, il quale esce allora allora dall'organizzazione gentilizia, in cui tutte le istituzioni erano rivestite di un ' aureola religiosa e sacra. Solo ci resta a vedere quali siano le traccie, che ci pervennero della legislazione penale primitiva di Roma patrizia, alla quale occorre una trattazione speciale per il peculiare svolgimento, che ebbe a ri cevere, e per le molte discussioni, a cui diede occasione. § 6. – Le origini della legislazione criminale in Roma e specialmente del parricidium e della perduellio. 271. Per quanto la legislazione criminale primitiva di Roma sia quella parte del suo diritto, dicui giunsero a noi più scarse reliquie, tuttavia anche queste poche sono tali, che ricomposte possono ad ditarci, come anche in essa siasi effettuato un lento e graduato pas saggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla convivenza civile e politica. Anche il delitto nel periodo regio ritiene ancora quel carattere, che aveva assunto presso le genti patrizie; esso è un'offesa contro gli uomini e contro l'aggregazione gentilizia, a cui essi appartengono, ma è poi sopratutto un'offesa contro la divinità. Chi l'abbia com messo di proposito (dolo sciens), di regola è punito colla capitis sacratio ed anche colla consecratio bonorum; mentre se altri l'abbia compiuto per imprudenza (imprudens) egli e la famiglia di lui sono tenuti ad offerire una piacularis hostia alla famiglia dell'of feso (1). Ciò vuol dire, che il concetto gentilizio del delitto e della (1) La più notabile distinzione fra il reato doloso e colposo, che occorra nella legislazione regia, è quella che si desume dalle due leggi attribuite a Numa, rela tive all'omicidio volontario (parricidium ), e quella relativa all'omicidio involontario, che è ricordata da Servio nei seguenti termini: « In Numae legibus cautum est, 334 pena viene ad essere trapiantato di peso nel seno della città. Sono tuttavia ancora in piccol numero i misfatti, a cui accennano le leges regiae; in quanto che non parlasi nè del furto,nè dell'ingiuria, nè di quegli altri misfatti, che sono più tardi minutamente preveduti dalle XII Tavole. Ciò non significa certamente, che questi misfatti fossero ignoti, nè che i medesimi fossero impuniti: ma soltanto, che le leges publicae (quelle almeno che giunsero fino a noi) non avevano ancora richiamato alla pubblica giurisdizione la repressione di essi; ma avevano continuato a lasciarli alla prosecuzione dell'offeso, che doveva perciò seguire le pratiche tradizionali, formatesi nelle tribù, le quali già avevano ricevuta una consacrazione religiosa (1). 272. Tuttavia fra i fatti criminosi, accennati nelle leges regiae, già può introdursi una distinzione; sonovi dei delitti, che possono essere ritenuti contro l'ordine delle famiglie, comprendendo anche fra questi quello contro la proprietà, consistente nella rimozione dei termini; altri, che sono contro la religione, quale sarebbe l'incesto della Vestale e l'abbandono dei sacra '; e altri infine, che già possono ricevere il nomedi crimina publica, in quanto che, fin dagli inizii della città, sonovi autorità incaricate dalla pubblica pro secuzione di essi. Quanto ai primi mantiensi ancora nella propria integrità l'auto rità e la giurisdizione del capo di famiglia, il quale in certi casi è tenuto a circondarsi del tribunale domestico; come pure sono san cite contro di essi pene di carattere sacro e religioso, comela capitis sacratio e la consecratio bonorum. Quanto ai reati contro la religione, appare invece la giurisdizione dei pontefici; giurisdizione, che alcuni autori, fondandosi sul carattere sa crale del delitto e della pena in questo periodo, avrebbero creduto, che dovesse essere prima estesa in più larghi confini. Il carattere, che ab biamo trovato nella istituzione del collegio dei pontefici, per cui esso appare come depositario e custode delle tradizioni gentilizie, ci impe disce di seguire una tale opinione, in quanto che il carattere sacrale del delitto e della pena in questo periodo non è creazione dei pon ut si quis imprudens occidisset hominem, pro capite occisi, agnatis eius in contione offerret arietem ». Bruns, Fontes, pag. 10. Cfr., per ciò che si riferisce all'omicidio involontario, il Voigt, Op. cit., § 11, pag. 64 a 72. (1) Cfr. MUIRIEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 54 a 55. 335 - tefici, ma è un carattere proprio di tutte le istituzioni gentilizie, che si mantiene ancora nel la città esclusivamente patrizia. Del resto la sola giurisdizione criminale, che gli antichi scrittori attribuiscono ai pontefici, è quella relativa alle Vestali, la quale per giunta sembra essere una conseguenza della patria potestà, di cui essi sono rive stiti riguardo alle medesime. Sono quindi i pontefici, che secondo una legge, che la tradizione attribuisce a Tullo Ostilio, giudicano dell'in costo delle Vestali, il quale è considerato come un delitto, che da una parte contamina i sacra publica, e dall'altra provoca la ven detta di Vesta sopra il popolo. Quindi da una parte sacrificavansi alla dea la Vestale, nei tempi più antichi col gettarla nel fiume e più tardi seppellendola viva, e l'amante, flagellandolo fino alla morte, e dall'altra si facevano sacrifizii di purificazione per la città. Da questo caso in fuori non trovasi traccia di giurisdizione criminale più ampia, che sia mai spettata ai pontefici; nè vi ha motivo di credere, che po tesse essere più estesa, dal momento che presso i romani pareva già enorme questo potere accordato a una magistratura sacerdotale (1). 273. A noi però importa sopratutto di cercare come siasi venuto svolgendo il concetto del pubblico delitto; perchè è con esso, che incomincia l'esercizio del magistero punitivo, per parte dell'autorità sociale. Già ho accennato altrove, che la giurisdizione del magistrato in Roma quanto ai misfatti non presentasi svolta fin dai propri inizii; ma viene invece estendendosi, a misura che la potestà pubblica si viene rafforzando di fronte alla giurisdizione domestica del capo di famiglia. Qualche cosa di analogo accade eziandio nello svolgersi della nozione del pubblico delitto. I due primi misfatti, perseguiti dalla pubblica autorità, compariscono coi nomi di parricidium e di perduellio; e per perseguirli fin dal periodo regio sarebbero istituiti due speciali magistrati, coi nomi di questores parricidii e di duum viri perduellionis; fra i quali intercede perd questa differenza, che mentre i primiappariscono quali magistrati permanenti, i secondi invece sembrano essere nominati, caso per caso (2 ). (1) Cfr. MOMMSEN, Le droit public romain, I, pag. 187. (2 ) Ciò è dimostrato dal racconto di Livio, I, 26, relativo al fatto dell'Orazio, in cui i duumviri perduellionis son nominati per quel caso dal re, mentre dei quae stores parricidii abbiamo una definizione di Festo, pº Quaestores, che parla di essi, come di autorità permanenti, create « ut de delictis capitalibus quaererent ». 336 Son pochi i passi, che si riferiscono all'uno e all'altro misfatto, donde la conseguenza, che non solo gli autori moderni, ma anche gli storici antichi attribuiscono significazione diversa ai due vocaboli. È noto infatti, che mentre Dionisio e Festo ritengono colpevole di parricidium l'Orazio, uccisore della propria sorella, Tito Livio parla invece di perduellio (1). In questa condizione di cose occorre ripren dere in esami e passi di antichi autori, che sono a noi pervenuti; esa minare le opinioni principali emesse dagli autori in una questione, che ha una copiosissima letteratura; e poi cercare di ricomporre i testi che si riferiscono all'argomento per ricavarne il processo logico e storico, che dovette essere seguito nella configurazione di questi primitivi misfatti. 274. Quanto al parricidium, i pochi passi a noi pervenuti indicano in sostanza una certa quale meraviglia, per parte degli au tori, che Romolo, mentre aveva lasciato senza pena e neppur rite nuto possibile il parricidium, nello stretto senso della parola, avesse poi chiamato ogni omicidio col vocabolo di parricidium, il che sa rebbesi pur fatto da Numa, al quale si attribuisce una legge, secondo cui: « si quis hominem liberum,dolo sciens,morti duit, parricidas esto ». Quanto poi alla perduellio si sa con certezza, che questo vocabolo deriva certamente da perduellis, che in antico significava il nemico, con cui erasi in guerra, e che il medesimo comprendeva, tanto il tradimento verso la patria, mediante pratiche tenute col ne mico esterno di essa, tradimento, che suole essere indicato special mente col vocabolo di proditio; quanto eziandio le perturbazioni ed i sovvertimenti contro la cosa pubblica, tentati all'interno, per i quali era specialmente adoperato il vocabolo di perduellio. Circa quest'ultima però abbiamo una descrizione abbastanza completa di un primitivo processo per causa di perduellio in Tito Livio, il quale in questa parte, come ben nota il Bonghi, « sembra dare al proprio racconto un colorito particolare e diverso dal rimanente, in quanto che cerca di mostrarsi espositore preciso delle forme antiche e solenni, con cui sarebbe seguito questo primitivo giu dizio » (2 ). Furono questa scarsità di passi e questa incertezza negli antichi au tori, che provocarono molte indagini per spiegare il fatto, per cui negli (1) Dion., III, 22; Festo, vº Sororium tigillum; Livio, I, 26. (2) Liv., 1, 26; Bongai, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 102 e pag. 129 e segg. 337 inizii col vocabolo ili parricidium sarebbesi indicato ogni omicidio, ed anche le cause, per cui gli antichi autori in un medesimo fatto poterono ora ravvisare il carattere di parricidium, ed ora quello di perduellio (1). Fra le molte congetture fattesi in proposito sono degne di nota sopratutto le seguenti: quella messa prima innanzi del Gebauer, ed ora anche seguita dal Voigt, e pressochè dalla universalità degli au tori tedeschi, secondo la quale a vece di leggere parricidium si dovrebbe leggere paricidium, cosicchè il vocabolo verrebbe a signi ficare l'uccisione di un pari o di un eguale (2 ); quella messa in nanzi dal Rubino e dal Rein, secondo cui il vocabolo parricidium significherebbe fin dagli inizii l'uccisione di un congiunto, ossia un parentis excidium (3 ); quella sostenuta con molta dottrina dal Brüner e poi seguita damolti altri, in base a cui parricidium avrebbe dapprima da molti altri significato soltanto l'uccisione di un pater delle genti patrizie, e sarebbe poi stato esteso a designare l'uccisione di qualsiasi uomo libero (4 ); e da ultimo quella sostenuta, fra gli altri,dalWalter e dal Maynz, secondo cui idue termini di parricidium (1) La questione non è recente, ma fu già trattata dagli antichi criminalisti, e fra gli altri dal Sigoxio, De iudiciis, Cap. XXX, dal Mattei, dall'UBERO e da altri, che possono vedersi citati dal CARRARA, Programma di diritto criminale, Parte speciale, vol. I, pag. 137, $ 1138. (2 ) Il primo, che sostenne « paricidam esse, qui parem occidit fu il GEBAUER, Dissertationes academicae, vol. I, pag. 64, § XI, il quale si fondava sul detto di Ulpiano, che giunse veramente molto più tardi, « omnes homines esse aequales. » L'opinione era nuova, e fu accolta come osserva il CARRARA, op. e loc. cit., pressochè universalmente in Germania. Di recente poi il Voigt aggiunse a questa opinione anche il peso della sua autorità: Über die leges regiae, pag. 11 a 64, e sopratutto a pag.57, nota 130. L'opinione stessa fu seguita fra noi anche dall'ARABIA, Princ. di diritto penale, III, pag. 258. Quanto al CARRARA, egli sostiene, che in questo caso l'espressione « paricidas esto » significasse « capital esto », cioè condannabile a morte; ma tale opinione non trovò seguito (Op. cit., § 1139). (3) Tale fu l'opinione messa innanzi dal Rubino: Untersuchungen über römische Verfassung und Geschichte. Casellae, 1839, pag. 433-466; e dal Rein, Das Crimi nalrecht der Römer. Lipsiae, 1844, pag. 401 e segg. (4 ) L'autore, che a mio avviso sostenne con grande erudizione, e con un senso vero di romanità, quest'opinione è il BRÜNER in una dissertazione col titolo « De parricidii crimine et quaestoribux parricidii », letta il 2 marzo 1857 e riportata negli Acta societatis scientiarum Fennicae, Helsingforsiae, 1858, pag. 519 a 569. Quest'o pinione è anche seguìta dal GORRIUS, in una dissertazione di laurea: « De parricidii notione apud antiquissimos romanos », Bonnae, 1869, notevole per la rassegna, che fa delle opinioni professate daglialtri autori. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 22 338 e di perduellio sarebbero fra loro pareggiati, e significherebbero qualsiasi delitto, che per sua natura sia tale da chiamare la pub blica vendetta, e da eccitare una ripulsione universale (1). 275. Or bene con tutta la riverenza, che deve certo aversi per un autore cosi benemerito degli studii sul diritto primitivo, quale è il Voigt, non ritengo, che possa adottarsi l'opinione da lui seguita, secondo cui parricidium significherebbe il paris excidium. Anzi. tutto è malagevole di trovare negli esordii di Roma l'idea di questa parità e di questa uguaglianza giuridica, in quanto che, se si tol gano i capi di famiglia, non vi sono altre persone, che abbiano un'assoluta parità di diritto. Vi ha di più, ed è che, mettendo il concetto della parità a fondamento della figura criminosa del pa ricidium, ne verrebbe come conseguenza, che allora soltanto vi sa rebbe paricidium, quando un pari uccidesse un altro pari, cioè quando cosi l'uccisore che l'ucciso fossero in condizioni uguali fra di loro; il che certo non può richiedersi. Infine male si comprende, come questa figura primitiva di reato si venga foggiando sopra un con cetto puramente astratto, come è quello della uguaglianza, mentre vediamo, che tutte le altre distinzioni di reati, ed anche le confi gurazioni giuridiche di altra natura, che compariscono nell'antico diritto, vengono piuttosto ad essere determinate da circostanze este riori di fatto, come accade dal furtum manifestum, nec manife stum, conceptum, ed oblatum, ed anche della distinzione della res mancipii e nec mancipii, come pure delle mancipationes, vindi cationes, e simili. Cið anche per il motivo, che nel linguaggio pri mitivo si passa di preferenza da una significazione fisica ad una mo rale, o da una concreta ad un astratta, di quello che non accada il contrario. Quanto al fatto, che il vocabolo parricidium e parricidas in certi antichi codici trovisi scritto paricidium e paricidas, non può avere importanza, quando si consideri, che nelle leggi arcaiche trovansi soventi le lettere semplici, a vece delle doppie, come lo di mostra l'antico Senatusconsulto de bacchanalibus » in cui occor rono le parole esent, velent, bacanal per essent, vellent, baccanal; quest'argomento del resto è anche distrutto da ciò, che son vi pure (1) Questa opinione enunziata prima dal WALTER, Storia del diritto romano. Trad. BOLLATI, 8 766, vol. II, pag. 450, fu di recente anche sostenuta dal Maynz, Introd., $ 18, 1, pag. 55. Essa però fu vigorosamente confutata dal Koestlin: Die perduellio unter der römischen Königen. Tubing, 1841, pag. 10-14. 339 dei codici, in cui occorrono le parole patricidium e patricidas, le quali attestano cosi anche la materiale derivazione dei due vocaboli da patris excidium. Vero è, che anche, fra gli antichi autori, se ne trovano di quelli, che sembrano accennare a questa origine del vocabolo; ma non è punto improbabile, che, allorquando la figura del parricidium aveva già presa altra significazione nella lex Pom peia de parricidiis, siasi anche allora cercato di spiegare nello stesso modo, cioè col ricorrere all'analogia delle parole, il vocabolo primitivo, con cui erasi indicato l'homicidium (1). 276. Non può del pari ammettersi, che il vocabolo parricidium abbia significato dapprima un parentis excidium, ossia l'uccisione di un congiunto in certi limiti di parentela, e che poscia siasi esteso a significare l'uccisione di qualsiasi concittadino, anche per quella specie di parentela, che viene ad esservi fra i cittadini di una me desima città. Per verità, quando così fosse, il vocabolo di parrici dium avrebbe avuto fin dapprincipio una significazione, che non cor risponde alla parola, in quanto che, come nota il Voigt stesso, nella precisione primitiva del linguaggio, per indicare l'uccisione di un congiunto, si sarebbe adoperata piuttosto l'espressione di parentici dium, che non quella di parricidium, in cui compare evidente l'idea dell'uccisione di un padre (2 ). Lo stesso è a dirsi dell'opinione, secondo cui parricidium avrebbe, nelle origini della città, significato l'uccisione di un pater delle genti patrizie, e solo più tardi sarebbesi estesa all'uccisione di ogni uomo libero. Questa opinione, sostenuta con logica ed erudizione dal Brüner, sarebbe di tutte la più probabile, e quella che meglio spiega i passi a noi pervenuti, quando non contrastasse colla testi monianza di Plutarco: singulare est, quod Romulus, cum nullam in parricidas statuerit poenam, omne homicidium appellavit parricidium. Qui infatti si direbbe, che Romolo fin dagli inizii (1) Lo scrittore latino, che sembra far derivare l'antico parricidium dalla parità fra uccisore ed ucciso, sarebbe ISIDORO, De orig., X, 225, il quale scrisse: « parri cidium et homicidium, quocumque modo intelligi possunt, cum sint homines homi. nibus pares »; ma qui è evidente, che l'autore non cerca di dare la vera origine del vocabolo, ma solo di dare una spiegazione, che poteva apparire probabile all'epoca sua. Del resto quest'opinione fu già combattuta dall'OSENBRUEGGEN, Das altrömische parricidium. Kiel, 1841, pag. 59. (2) Cfr. Voigt. Op. cit., § 10, pag. 57, nota 130, in fine. 340 - della città avrebbe chiamato parricidium ogni omicidio, e che quindi non vi sarebbe stato periodo di tempo, in cui, dopo la for mazione della città, la parola fosse stata ristretta a significare l'uccisione di un padre delle genti patrizie (1). 277. Resta ancora l'opinione sostenuta fra gli altri dal Walter e dal Maynz, secondo cui parricidium e perduellio sarebbero due espres sioni, usate promiscuamente, ad indicare i più gravi misfatti, che si potessero commettere nella comunanza. Vero è, che soventi nel lin guaggio primitivo presentansi di questi vocaboli sintetici, e comprensivi, che più tardi vengono in certo modo suddividendosi in guisa da espri mere solo più uno degli atteggiamenti, sotto cui presentasi il concetto primitivo; ma qui la cosa non ha potuto accadere, poichè i due concetti si svolgono in certo modo paralleli l'uno all'altro, ei due crimini sono perseguiti da ufficiali diversi. Se si guarda poi all'ori gine dei due vocaboli, anche questa viene ad essere completamente diversa; poichè, per formare la figura del parricidium, si riguarda alla persona dell'offeso, mentre, per formare invece quella della per duellio, si parte invece da quella dell'offensore, ossia dal vocabolo di perduellis, che nelle origini significava nemico. Nel parricidium si ha un'offesa contro un privato, che è sottratta alla privata per secuzione, ed attribuita alla pubblica autorità; mentre nella per duellio compare già personificata la stessa comunanza collettiva, la quale, trovando nel proprio seno chi cerca di comprometterne la sicu. rezza, scorge in esso una somiglianza coi nemici esterni della città, e perciò lo qualifica col nome stesso, che darebbe al nemico, con cui trovisi in aperta ostilità. 278. Ritengo invece, che anche queste due figure di crimini, che compariscono in Roma primitiva, possano essere spiegate in modo assai più verosimile, quando si tenga conto, che la città risulto dalla confederazione delle tribù, e che percid, colla sua formazione, i con cetti, che già esistevano nelle tribù, vennero a trapiantarsi nella città, colla differenza, che quei concetti, che prima erano intergen tilizii, per cosi esprimersi, diventarono invece concetti interqui ritarii, e ricevettero cosi una significazione diversa, per il diverso punto di vista, sotto cui vennero ad essere considerati. Cid è provato (1) PLUTARCO, Romulus, 22. - - - 341 - da questo che, appena Roma è fondata, già presentansi formati così il concetto del parricidium, che quello della perduellio; poichè il primo è già attribuito a Romolo, e l'altro a Tullo Ostilio, ma durante il regno di questo già esiste formata la lex horrendi criminis, rela tiva alla perduellio. Ciò significa, che queste due figure di reati eransi già delineate nella stessa organizzazione gentilizia, e che il parricidium significava l'uccisione di un padre, ossia del capo di una famiglia o di una gente: la quale uccisione costituiva l'unico misfatto, che non dipendesse dalla giurisdizione domestica, e che dovette per il primo essere punito, perchè era origine diguerre private nelseno stesso della tribù e di guerra fra le genti; e che la perduellio significava la nemicizia e l'ostilità fra gente e gente (1). Fu quindi naturale dal momento, che i capi di famiglia entrarono per confederazione nella medesima città, che il vocabolo parricidium si trovasse natural mente portato a significare l'uccisione di chiunque partecipasso alla comunanza, tanto più che i partecipi di essa dapprima erano veri padri, e che la perduellio, mentre prima significava le ostilità fra le genti, venisse ad indicare l'ostilità, che sorgeva nel seno stesso della città, poichè i capi delle varie genti e famiglie ne erano di ventati i cittadini. Allorchè poi fra i cittadininon furonvi solo più i capi di famiglia, ma anche altri uomini liberi fu naturale e lo gico, che l'uccisione volontaria di qualsiasi uomo libero rientrasse nella figura primitiva del parricidas. Viene cosi ad essere natural mente spiegato ciò, che ci attesta Plutarco: che Romolo, senza indurre pene contro i parricidiin senso stretto, abbia tuttavia chia mato ogni omicidio parricidium: in quanto che quello, che era parri cidio nei rapporti fra le varie famiglie e genti, venne ad essere uccisione di un quirite, allorchè questi padri furono cittadini della medesima città; al modo stesso, che il perduellis fra le varie genti venne ad essere il nemico dell'intiera comunanza, nel seno della città. Solo potrebbe notarsi, che non si deve ammettere una siffatta trasposizione di vocabolo da una significazione ad un'altra: ma è facile il rispondere, che la trasposizione dapprima fu pressochè in sensibile, perchè i primi quiriti erano veramente padri, e che simili trasposizioni sono frequentissime presso i Romani, i quali, ogni qual volta hanno formata una figura giuridica, non temono di traspor tarla da un caso ad un altro; come lo dimostra il ius Latii, che (1) V. Festo, vº Hostis (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 340). 342 trovato pei latini fu poi dai Romani applicato a popoli ed a genti, che non avevano più nulla a fare con essi. Era poi naturale, che quell'estendersi, che aveva luogo nella significazione del parricidium, a misura che la figura del cittadino e quella dell'uomo libero si ve nivano sostituendo a quella del padre, dovesse pure avverarsi quanto ai quaestores parricidii, il cui compito si viene così allargando, finchè più tardi il vocabolo apparisce disadatto, ed in allora sembra siansi sostituiti ai medesimi i tres viri capitales (1). 279. Intanto però nulla potè impedire, che, accanto alparricidium pubblicamente perseguito e che mutasi a poco a poco in homicidium, potesse ancora sussistere la configurazione tradizionale del massimo dei misfatti, che consiste nell'uccisione di un genitore, operata per mano di un figlio o di una figlia. La sua stessa enormità ed infre quenza spiega come negli esordii Romolo, al pari di Solone, non l'abbia contemplato: ma intanto, se per avventura accadeva, veniva ad essere punito con pene tradizionali, che cogli accessorii stessi, da cui erano accompagnate, cercavano di simboleggiare l'enormezza del delitto. Fu soltanto allorchè questo triste misfatto diventò ab bastanza frequente per la corruzione dei costumi, che la punizione di esso, prima conservata nella tradizione e nel costume, penetro anche nella legge, che dovette anche punire il parricidium in senso stretto, dandogli tuttavia una significazione più larga, comprenden dovi cioè qualsiasi uccisione di un parente o di un congiunto in certi confini di parentela, e a tal uopo far rivivere l'antica pena tradizionale. Fu allora, che il vocabolo di parricidium abban donò il semplice omicidio per venire ad indicare l'uccisione di un parente e di un congiunto, il che appunto si fece colla legge Pom (1) Questa trasformazione non è ammessa dal BRÜNER, Dissert. cit., 8 7. Parmi tuttavia, che essa fosse una naturale conseguenza dell'estendersi della competenza dei quaestores parricidië, e del processo seguito dai Romani nello svolgimento delle proprie istituzioni. Essa poi sembrami anche una conseguenza della diffinizione da taci da Festo: « quaestores parricidii, appellantur, qui solebant creari causa rerum capitalium quaerendarum ». Non sarebbe poi qui il caso di entrare nella questione, se i quaestores parricidii del periodo regio, ed i questores aerarii della Repubblica possano avere la medesima origine: ma ritengo, che questa identità di origine non abbia nulla di improbabile, allorchè si tenga conto della primitiva indistinzione delle funzioni, che erano talora affidate allo stesso magistrato. Cfr. al riguardo il Villems, Le droit public romain, pag. 303, nota 3. - 343 peia de parricidiis. Tuttavia, per il vocabolo di parricidium, alla significazione più ristretta, che esso viene ad assumere, sopravvive ancora un'altra significazione, non compiutamente giuridica, ma piut tosto oratoria, per cui parricidas viene ad essere chiamato il tradi tore della patria, l'oltraggiatore dei templi, quegli insomma, che col proprio delitto abbia violato uno di quei doveri, che hanno un ca rattere sacro per l'umanità (1). 280. Solo più resta a spiegare il fatto, per cui un medesimo de litto, quello cioè dell'Orazio, uccisore della propria sorella, abbia po tuto essere qualificato come perduellio da Livio, e invece sia riguar dato qual parricidium da Festo e da Dionisio. A questo propo sito è certo, che il fatto dell'Orazio, quale ci è narrato dalla tradi zione, presentava un carattere molto dubbioso. Da una parte eravi per certo l'uccisione di una persona libera, e quindi occorrevano gli estremi della legge attribuita a Numa; ma dall'altra l'uccisione era stata commessa, allorchè il popolo seguiva in massa l'Orazio vinci tore, e l'uccisione, sempre secondo la tradizione, sarebbe stata da lui inflitta, come pena contro coloro, che piangevano la morte di un nemico della patria. L'Orazio in certo modo, fra gli applausi della vittoria, aveva usurpato un ufficio, che al re, ed al popolo sarebbe spettato, e in quel momento aveva operato, come un perduellis, come una persona, che si era posta al disopra delle patrie leggi. È questo il motivo, per cui il popolo, che plaude il vincitore, trascina tuttavia il ribelle davanti al re, ed è questi, che, in base a quella distin zione fondamentale della primitiva procedura nel ius e nel iudicium, viene ad essere chiamato a giudicare di qual misfatto si tratti. In darno il padre dell'Orazio cerca di richiamare a sè la giurisdizione per trattarsi di un misfatto, che erasi compiuto da un suo figlio contro una sua figlia; qui il re ravvisa prevalere il carattere pubblico del misfatto, e quindi ritiene trattarsi di perduellio e conchiude: « duum viros, qui Horatio perduellionem iudicent, secundum legem facio ». Dura era la legge relativa al perduelle, in quanto che, se condo i termini di essa, il condannato doveva avere avvolto il capo, essere sospeso arbori infelici, e poi essere ucciso a colpi di verghe, (1) Cfr. BRÜNER, Dissert. cit., $ 526. È poi CICERONE, che parla di parricidium patriae, civium, e scrive: « sacrum, sacrove commendatum, qui clepserit rapsitve parricida esto ». Cfr. CARRARA,Op. cit., § 1139. 344 « intra pomoerium vel extra pomoerium ». Il tenore della legge era quindi tale, che i duumviri dovettero condannarlo, e uno di essi già ordinava al littore « colliga manus» quando l'Orazio propone appello al popolo, il quale l'assolve in memoria del fatto compiuto, e sotto l'e sortazione del padre stesso, che viene esclamando fra la folla, che la propria figlia era stata iure caesam. Tuttavia l'Orazio, anche assolto, fu costretto a passare sotto il giogo, donde l'erezione del tigillum sororium, e la sua gente, secondo Dionisio, dovette anche offrire una piacularis hostia in base alla legge di Numa, che prevedeva il caso di un omicidio commesso per imprudenza. Anche in ciò abbiamo un indizio del dubbio, che si era presentato intorno al carattere del misfatto, poichè il passare sotto il giogo era certo la pena, a cui era sottoposto il nemico vinto, e il sacrifizio dell'ariete era imposto alla gente per causa dell'omicidio involontario (1). 281. Tuttavia, a mio avviso, la ragione che rende più verosimile la spiegazione premessa intorno alle origini del diritto criminale in Roma, sta sopratutto in ciò, che in questa parte sarebbesi seguito quel medesimo processo, che abbiamo potuto constatare in tutto il rimanente. I concetti già elaborati nella tribù sono trapiantati dalla città, al modo stesso che più tardi dalla città saranno portati ed estesi a tutto il mondo conquistato, e per tal modo di concetti intergentilizii, diventano concetti quiritarii, al modo stesso che più tardi i concetti quiritarii, ricevendo un nuovo contenuto, di venteranno poi di nuovo universali e comuni a tutte le genti. (1) A questo proposito tolgo dal Bongai, Storia di Roma. I, pag. 132, nota 1, una citazione dello SCHOEMANN, che sembra confermare l'opinione qui sostenuta: « Horatium, quum supplicium de sorore indemnata sumpsisset, eaque caede et ius regis ac populi imminuisset, visum esse adversus ipsam rempublicam adeo deliquisse, ut perduellionis, non modo parricidii, teneretur ». Osserverò poi per mio conto la singolarità del fatto, per cui il perduelle, considerato come nemico interno, viene ad essere assoggettato alla pena stessa del nemico esterno, cioè fatto passare sotto il giogo, quasi in segno di sottomissione forzata alle leggidella patria; altra prova, che non solo si tolse dall'ostilità esterna la figura della perduellio, ma in parte anche la pena, con cui essa era punita. Insomma perduellis significava il nemico nei rap porti fra le varie genti; ma quando i membri delle genti diventarono cittadini della stessa comunanza, diventò il nemico interno della medesima, e il nemico esterno si chiamò hostis. 345 Intanto anche in questa parte il parricidium e la perduellio sono due nozioni, il cui contenuto non è ancora ben determinato, ma al pari di tutti i primitivi concetti quiritarii appariscono come due co struzioni logiche, che si verranno svolgendo col tempo. Di qui con seguita, che il parricidium finirà per allargarsi per modo da com prendere tutte le offese contro il libero cittadino, che giungono a produrre la morte di lui: mentre la perduellio finirà per compren dere tutti i reati contro lo Stato, e quando questo si concentrerà nella persona dell'imperatore si cambierà nel crimen lesae maie statis. È quindi fino da quest'epoca, che comincia ad apparire la di stinzione fra il reato comune e il reato politico; ed è fin d'allora, che si sente l'opportunità di lasciare una parte al popolo nel giu dizio dei reati politici propriamente detti. L'uno e l'altro nel loro comparire sono come la sintesi dei reati pubblici, dopo i quali verranno poi anche ad essere repressi i delitti privati: la qual distin zione, iniziata da Servio Tullio, diventerà poi fondamentale nella legislazione decemvirale. Intanto le cose premesse bastano per dimostrare in qual modo siasi effettuata la formazione di una giurisdizione e di un diritto criminale in Roma primitiva. La giurisdizione criminale fu il risul tato di una sottrazione lenta e graduata, che l'autorità pubblica venne facendo alla giurisdizione domestica e patriarcale; e i primi pubblici delitti furono due figure di misfatti, che già preesistevano nell'organizzazione gentilizia, le quali, sebbene continuino ad essere indicate cogli stessi vocaboli, assumono però una significazione di versa. Di più anche nella primitiva concezione del delitto in Roma occorre quella potenza sintetica, che già abbiamo riscontrata nei concetti fondamentali della costituzione politica, e che apparirà anche più evidente nei concetti primitivi del diritto quiritario. Ciò indica che tanto il diritto pubblico e privato che il diritto penale, allorchè appariscono in Roma, sono già il frutto di una potente selezione ed elaborazione, fatta sui materiali somministrati dall'anteriore orga uizzazione gentilizia. I concetti del diritto primitivo di Roma sono altrettante sintesi potenti, in cui i fondatori della città cercano di scegliere e di con densare ciò, che hanno appreso nel periodo precedente. Ora più non ci resta che ad esaminare le condizioni della plebe cosi in tema di diritto pubblico, che di diritto privato. La condizione dei clienti e della plebe in Roma prima della costituzione Serviana. 282. Le cose premesse dimostrano ad evidenza, che tutta la primitiva costituzione politica di Roma, e quella legislazione, che dalla tradizione è attribuita ai primi cinque re, debbono ritenersi di origine esclusivamente patrizia, in quanto che si riducono in so stanza a concetti già elaborati nel periodo gentilizio, i quali, trapian tati nella città, vengono a ricevere un nuovo atteggiamento, ed a prendere una nuova significazione nella medesima. Solo più rimane a determinarsi quale potesse essere in questo periodo la condizione giuridica delle classi inferiori, al qual pro posito importa di tenere assolutamente distinti i clienti dalla plebe propriamente detta. 283. Per quello, che si riferisce ai clienti, la loro posizione giu ridica, in questo primitivo stadio della città, non viene ancora ad essere modificata, in quanto che essi continuano sempre ad apparte nere più alla gente, che alla città: perciò essi, per quanto si può ricavare da quella enumerazione dei diritti e degli obblighi fra patrono e cliente, che ci fu trasmessa da Dionisio, continuano ad avere gli stessi diritti e le medesime obbligazioni, che loro appar tenevano, durante il periodo gentilizio (1). Essi quindi non hanno ancora una vera proprietà, ma continuano a ricevere dalle genti degli assegni a titolo di precario sugli agri gentilizii; ne pos sono parimenti far valere direttamente le proprie ragioni davanti al magistrato della città, ma perciò debbono valersi della protezione e degli uffici del patrono. Per maggior ragione non può ammettersi, che in questo primo stadio essi possano intervenire nell'assemblea delle curie, comesostiene un gran numero di autori (2 ). Le curie sono (1) Dion., II, 10. Cfr. quanto si espose intorno alla clientela, nel Lib. I, Cap. III, § 3º, pag. 46 a 52. (2) Tale è l'opinione del Willems, Le droit public romain, pag. 46 e seg. e del PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto romano, pag. 48 e seg., nota 2. Il prof. COGLIOLO nella sua nota nº d, pag. 50, non approva intieramente l'opinione del Padelletti. 347 il sito di riunione pei quirites, per i gentiles, per i viri, il cui potere è simboleggiato dalla lancia, e non possono in nessun modo essere state aperte a quelli, che nell'organizzazione gentilizia trovinsi in condizione subordinata, anche per il semplice motivo, che, quando così fosse stato, il numero dei clienti, i quali avrebbero pur essi avuta parità di voto, avrebbe di gran lunga soverchiato quello dei patroni. Pud darsi che in occasione di guerra anche i gentilicii seguano il loro patrono, ma i medesimi dipendono ancora più dal cenno di esso, di quello che dipendano direttamente dallo Stato. Sarebbe in fatti strano ed incomprensibile, che quelli, che non possono ancora stare in giudizio, potessero concorrere direttamente alla elezione del re ed alla votazione delle leggi, e giudicare di coloro, che abbiano interposto appello al popolo. Sarà soltanto la costituzione Serviana, che, ponendo il censo a base della partecipazione ai ca richi civili e militari, obbligherà i padri delle genti a fare conces sioni di terre in proprietà ai propri clienti, per avere cosi un ap poggio nelle votazioni dei comizii centuriati, ed è da quest'epoca che cominciano a sentirsi le lagnanze dei plebei, perchè i padri appoggiati dai loro clienti riescono a dominare le votazioni nei co mizii centuriati (1). In questo senso la costituzione Serviana fu quella, che diede il gran colpo alla clientela, e con essa alla organizzazione gentilizia, perchè da quel momento anche i padri furono tenuti a fare concessioni di terre in proprietà ai proprii clienti, i quali acqui starono così una indipendenza economica dai patroni, che fu anche il principio della loro indipendenza politica; donde la conseguenza chemolti fra essi sono poi venuti ad allargare anche le file della plebe e ad appoggiare le pretensioni di essa. 284. Intanto peró la questione, la cui risoluzione è assolutamente indispensabile per comprendere la storia politica e giuridica di Roma primitiva, è quella relativa alla condizione giuridica della plebe sotto i primi re, così sotto l'aspetto del diritto pubblico, che sotto quello del diritto privato. Il grande avvenire della plebe romana rese per gli storici di Roma assai difficile il comprendere, come quell'elemento, che ai tempi (1) Che le lagnanze dei plebei contro i clienti, per la preponderanza, che essi re cavano al patriziato, si riferiscano ai comizii centuriati, appare dal seguente passo di Livo, II, 64: « irata plebs inesse consularibus comitiis noluit; per patres, clien tesque patrum consules creati sunt Titus Quintius et P. Servilius ». 348 - loro era ormai divenuto il dominatore della piazza e del foro, po tesse, nelle origini, essere affatto escluso dal suffragio. Ond'è che essi, trovando ai loro tempi la plebe ammessa in parte agli stessi comizii curiati, e compresa nel populus, e una parte di essa anche pervenuta alla nobiltà potevano difficilmente riuscire colla mente loro a ricostruire quella primitiva distinzione fra populus e plebes, che ormai era scomparsa. Essi quindi parlarono nel loro racconto deglian tichi comizii curiati, come se essi avessero compreso tutto il populus, quale allora era costituito, cioè inchiudendovi anche la plebs. Tuttavia, malgrado quest'attestazione concorde, dubitarono i critici moderni, e quelli sopratutto, che al pari del Vico e del Niebhur, ave vano penetrato più profondamente l'indole e il carattere primitivo della città patrizia. La loro opinione trovò favorevole accoglimento; ma in questi ultimi tempi, essendosi dal Mommsen trovato, che vi fu un tempo, in cui dei plebei furono elevati alla dignità di curiones maximi, sorse nuovamente il dubbio, che la plebe abbia potuto essere am messa anche alle curie. Che anzi, siccome mancava notizia di una legge, che avesse proclamata quest'ammessione, vi furono anche degli autori, i quali, come il Paddelletti, giunsero a sostenere, che questa ammessione dovesse risalire fino agli inizii della città. Conviene però aggiungere, che gli autori, i quali direcente investigarono sulle fonti le origini della città, come il Voigt, il Karlowa, il Bernöft, il Pantaleoni, il Muirhead, il Gentile, ritornarono di nuovo al concetto di una città esclusivamente patrizia, ed alla esclusione della plebe primitiva dal far parte dell'assemblea delle curie (1). 285. Non è qui il caso di entrare in discussioni erudite sull'argo (1) L'opinione sostenuta dal PADELLETTI è anche seguita dal WILLEMS, Op. cit., pag. 47 e segg.; dal LANDUCCI, Storia del diritto romano, pag. 357, nota nº 2; dal Peluam, Encyclop. Britann., vol. XX, pº Rome (ancient), i quali però non entrano nella discussione degli argomenti in pro e in contro. Quanto al PADELLETTI debbo far notare, che se la sua autorità è grande quanto al periodo storico, non può dirsi altrettanto quanto al periodo delle origini, e ciò perchè l'autore, fin dagli inizii dell'opera, col suo solito fare reciso ed alieno dalle dubbiezze, afferma e che lo studio delle origini può essere interessantissimo ed utile al mitologo ed allo storico, ma è molto sterile per il giurisprudente » (pag. 4 ). Ciò spiega come l'autore, essendosi accinto all'opera sua con un tale concetto dello studio delle origini, sia caduto in gravi equivoci, ogniqualvolta toccò quell'argomento, come può scorgersi quanto alle origini della famiglia, della proprietà, dei delitti e delle pene, ed al sistema delle azioni. Nell'o pera sua il diritto romano compare bello e formato, senza che si sappia, donde pro ceda. Ciò comprese il suo annotatore Cogliolo, che intese a supplirvi colle proprie note. 349 mento; mibasterà il dire, che se si tenga conto del processo, che do minò la formazione della comunanza romana, è del tutto improbabile, che la plebs abbia potuto essere ammessa, fin dagli inizii, alla civitas e quindi anche alle curiae, le quali erano una ripartizione della me desima. I cambiamenti sono troppo lenti nelle organizzazioni primitive, perchè un elemento, che trovavasi in una condizione del tutto infe riore, potesse di un tratto, e fin dal tempo, in cui era ancora debole e privo di qualsiasi organizzazione, essere ammesso a far parte di una nuova consociazione, sovra un piede di uguaglianza, in guisa da entrare a far parte della civitas e della curiae, le quali, oltre al l'essere corporazioni politiche, erano anche corporazioni strette dal vincolo di una religione, chenon era ancora accomunata alla plebe. È affatto improbabile, che quel gentile o patrizio, che è sopratutto altero di poter indicare i suoi antenati, senza che alcuno fra essi fosse mai stato servo nè cliente, potesse diun tratto accettare un voto del tutto eguale con un plebeo, che poteva forse essere stato prima suo cliente o suo servo, e che ad ognimodo era di un'origine diversa dalla sua, e non poteva indicare i propri antenati. Ciò ripugna al modo di pen sare delle genti primitive, che non conoscendo altro vincolo, che quello del sangue, dånno sopratutto importanza alle discendenza ed alla nascita. Sarebbe strano, che quei patrizii, i quali, allorchè più tardi accoglievano nuove genti, le collocavano fra le gentes mi nores, potessero concepire un pareggiamento completo del loro ordine colla moltitudine o folla, da cui si trovavano circondati. Questa pa rità, secondo il modo di pensare dell'epoca, nè poteva essere am messa dal patriziato, nè poteva essere chiesta dalla plebe, la quale trovavasi ancora in condizione troppo umile per potervi aspirare; nè è a credersi, che il patriziato primitivo, fondatore della città, volesse per generosità accordare spontaneamente cid, che era ancora in condizione di negare, e che non concesse, che quando vi fu compiutamente forzato. Ciò è tanto più improbabile, in quanto che la curia, come abbiamo dimostrato a suo tempo, era chiamata eziandio a deliberare sopra una quantità di affari, che si riferivano direttamente all'organizzazione domestica e gentilizia loro esclusivamente propria; poichè il quirite in questo periodo da una parte guarda ancora alla gente, da cui esce, e dall'altra alla città, di cui entra a far parte. 286. Quanto al fatto, che più tardi i plebei, almeno in parte, siano 350 anche stati ammessi alle curie, esso può essere facilmente spie gato. La lunga convivenza nelle stesse mura, e nello stesso esercito ravvicinò i due elementi; anche i plebei vennero imitando l'or ganizzazione del patriziato; e non mancarono anche le famiglie, che, pur essendo di origine plebea, poterono, per importanza politica, eco nomica e per servigii resi alla repubblica, stare a fronte anche delle poche famiglie, originariamente patrizie. Quindi al modo stesso, che più tardi anche i patrizii poterono entrare a far parte dei comisii tributi; cosi non è meraviglia, se anche la plebe, ormai ammessa agli onori, agli auspicii ed ai sacerdozii, abbia potcui esce, e dall'altra alla città, di cui entra a far parte. 286. Quanto al fatto, che più tardi i plebei, almeno in parte, siano 350 anche stati ammessi alle curie, esso può essere facilmente spie gato. La lunga convivenza nelle stesse mura, e nello stesso esercito ravvicinò i due elementi; anche i plebei vennero imitando l'or ganizzazione del patriziato; e non mancarono anche le famiglie, che, pur essendo di origine plebea, poterono, per importanza politica, eco nomica e per servigii resi alla repubblica, stare a fronte anche delle poche famiglie, originariamente patrizie. Quindi al modo stesso, che più tardi anche i patrizii poterono entrare a far parte dei comisii tributi; cosi non è meraviglia, se anche la plebe, ormai ammessa agli onori, agli auspicii ed ai sacerdozii, abbia potuto essere am messa anche alle curie, la cui importanza non era più che religiosa. Un tal fatto venne certo ad essere possibile più tardi; ma l'ammet terlo fin dagli inizii, è uno sconvolgere ed invertire ilmodo di pensare dell'epoca e l'ordine degli avvenimenti. Sarebbe infatti un fare co minciare l'unione del patriziato e della plebe dal partecipare ad una stessa corporazione religiosa; mentre i fatti dimostrano, che questa fu l'ultima parte delle loro tradizioni, che si decisero ad accomunare alla plebe. Se quindi la plebe riuscì a penetrare nella civitas ciò non dovette essere mediante le curiae, che avevano ancora un ca rattere religioso, ed erano formate ex hominum generibus; ma bensi per mezzo delle classi e delle centurie, che avevano piuttosto un carattere militare, e si fondavano sulla proprietà e sul censo. Le cause, che cooperarono più tardi a ravvicinare i due ordini, furono sopratutto i comuni pericoli, che obbligarono la città patrizia ad arruolare nell'esercito i plebei, al modo stesso che dovette arruolare più tardi anche i liberti; come pure vi cooperarono la proprietà, che fu pure acquistata dalla plebe ed i conseguenti commerci, che ne deri varono fra essa e il patriziato; ed è forse questo il motivo, per cui la costituzione Serviana assunse dapprima un carattere militare ed eco nomico ad un tempo. Quanto al fatto allegato dai sostenitori del l'opinione contraria, che il vocabolo populus romanus quiritium abbia più tardi compresa eziandio la plebe, esso può essere facilmente spiegato, in quanto non è questo il solo caso, in cui i Romani, man tenendo la parola, ne mutassero il significato. Del resto il vocabolo populus per Roma era una concezione e forma logica, al pari di tutte le altre concezioni giuridiche e politiche; esso comprendeva l'uni versalità dei cittadini, e quindi, come era naturale, che non com prendesse la plebe, finchè questa non faceva parte della città, cosi doveva comprenderla, allorchè essa, in base al censo, entrò a far parte delle classi e delle centurie Serviane. 351 287. Ferma così la risoluzione delmaggior problema della storia primitiva di Roma, solo resta a ricercare brevemente, quale potesse in questo periodo essere la posizione della plebe in tema di diritto privato; il qual compito ci è reso facile da ciò, che si venne fin qui ragionando. È noto, come il ius quiritium, allorchè giunse al suo completo sviluppo, mentre in tema di diritto pubblico comprendeva il ius suf fragii e il ius honorum, che entrambi, a nostro avviso, furono dapprima negati alla plebe, in tema invece di diritto privato si rias sumeva nel ius connubii e nel ius commercii. Quanto al primo di questi diritti, abbiamo troppi argomenti nella storia per affermare con certezza, che solo più tardi i plebei furono ammessi al ius connubii col patriziato; il che però non significa, che essi non potessero contrarre fra loro delle unionimatrimoniali, ma soltanto che queste unioni non potevano, di fronte al patriziato, produrre gli effetti della iustae nuptiae. L'opinione quindi, che suol essere comunemente accolta, è quella secondo cui la plebe sarebbe in questo periodo stata ammessa al solo ius commercii (1). Così avrei ritenuto ancioni non potevano, di fronte al patriziato, produrre gli effetti della iustae nuptiae. L'opinione quindi, che suol essere comunemente accolta, è quella secondo cui la plebe sarebbe in questo periodo stata ammessa al solo ius commercii (1). Così avrei ritenuto anch'io nell'inizio di questo studio, e può darsi che nel corso del libro cid apparisca in qualche parte; ma ora il processo logico, che domind la formazione del diritto romano, in mancanza di ogni informazione diretta, mi conduce ad affermare, che non dovette essere il ius commercii, che la città patrizia riconobbe alla plebe circostante, ma bensì il ius neximancipiique, il quale, come si è veduto più sopra, è quello stesso diritto, che Roma, dopo es sersi incorporata la primitiva plebe, ebbe ad accordare alle altre popolazioni circostanti, che vengono sotto il nome di forcti ac sa crates. Anche il concetto di commercium, nella larga significazione che ebbe pei Romani, in guisa da comprendere il diritto di comprare e di vendere, di obbligarsi e di fare testamento ex iure quiritium, suppone una certa parità di condizione fra le persone, fra cui in tercede. Siccome quindi le genti patrizie erano per modo organizzate da provedere compiutamente ai loro bisogni: così non poteva dap prima essere il caso, che riconoscessero ad una classe inferiore un ius commercii, sopra un piede di eguaglianza, ma loro dovettero riconoscere soltanto il diritto del mancipium, ossia quello di avere una proprietà, che poteva essere alienata, e il ius nexi, ossia il di (1) Tale è, ad esempio, l'opinione del LANGE, Histoir. intér. de Rome, I, pag. 61. 352 ritto di potersi obbligare, mediante il nexum. Le conseguenze pra: tiche nella sostanza potevano essere le stesse; ma intanto la supe riorità delle genti e il vassallaggio della plebe venivano ad essere riconosciute. Ed è questo il motivo, che allorquando la plebe fu ammessa nella città, il nexum ed il mancipium, come accadde anche in tutto il resto, cessarono di significare dei rapporti fra le genti patrizie e la plebe, che le circondava, per diventare rapporti interni, e costituirono cosi i primi concetti quiritarii, comuni alle due classi. Più tardi però, anche questi vocaboli, che ricordavano una disugua glianza di condizione fra le due classi, apparvero disadatti, e nella successiva elaborazione del diritto quiritario furono sostituiti da altri (1). Non può dirsi pertanto, che in questo periodo siasi già cominciata l'elaborazione di un vero ius civile, ispirato ad un concetto di ugua glianza fra patriziato e plebe, ma continua sempre ad esistere un diritto proprio delle genti patrizie, che parteciparono alla formazione della città, e che costituisce il primitivo ius quiritium; ed un di ritto che governa i rapporti fra la città patrizia e la plebe, che la circonda, il quale si risente ancora delle condizioni disuguali, in cui essi si trovano. È questo il motivo, per cui la plebe nelle proprie tradizioni fece sempre rimontare la sua esistenza giuridica alla costi tuzione Serviana; colla quale lo sviluppo del diritto pubblico e privato di Roma prende un indirizzo del tutto peculiare, che influi potente mente su tutto lo svolgimento, che ebbe ad avverarsi più tardi, e merita perciò di essere particolarmente e profondamente studiato. (1) Non mi trattengo più a lungo su questo punto, perchè ho già dovuto accen narvi nel Lib. I, Cap. X, nº 160, pag. 193 e seg., e perchè la prova delle cose qui enunziate apparirà anche più evidente, quando si tratterà della costituzione Ser viana e della sua influenza sul diritto privato di Roma. Colla venuta dei Tarquinii a Roma, si inizia nella medesima una trasformazione profonda, la quale potè in parte essere travisata dalle tradizioni e dalle leggende, ed anche dissimulata dall'amor patrio degli storici latini, ma i cui principali tratti si possono di scernere nelle serie degli avvenimenti e dei fatti, di cui ci fu con servata memoria. Fino a quell'epoca, delle varie stirpi, che erano concorse a co stituire la città, avevano sempre avuta una incontrastabile prevalenza le latine e le sabine, fra le quali erasi venuto alternando il ma gistrato supremo; mentre i Luceres non avevano somministrato alcun re, nè forse avevano avuto nella formazione dei primitivi sacerdozii. Or bene, regnando Anco Marzio, di origine latina, la gente Tarquinia, di origine etrusca, ricca di capitali e numerosa per clientele, viene a porre la propria sede in Roma, per conseguirvi quello stato, che le era conteso nel luogo nativo (Tarquinia ). Il capo di essa è uomo abile ed intraprendente, e dopo aver consi gliato in vita Anco Marzio, ne guadagna per modo la fiducia, da diventare dopo la sua morte tutore dei figli di lui, o ottiene in breve colle sue ricchezze e collo splendore della propria vita tale un seguito, da essere assunto al trono, mediante il suffragio del G. Carle, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 23 354 popolo e coll'autorità dei padri: « eum, scrive Livio, ingenti con sensu populus romanus regnare iussit » (1). Nè sembra essere il caso di supporre col dottissimo OldofredoMüller, che questa immigrazione di genti etrusche corrisponda alla supre mazia, che la città di Tarquinia avrebbe conquistata su Roma, su premazia, che gli storici latini avrebbero cercato di dissimulare (2 ): poichè le nuove genti appariscono in concordia con tutti gli ordini della città, e il capo di esse, chiamato con tutte le formalità al trono, raccoglie in effetto tutte le sue cure sulla patria novella, e l'arricchisce di pubblici edifizii, che allo splendore delle costruzioni greche ed etrusche sembrano associare quel carattere di grandiosità e di forza, che è proprio delle costruzioni latine. Sembra quindi più verosimile, che alcune fra le città etrusche in quell'epoca fossero pervenute a quel periodo di crisi, che occorre eziandio nelle città greche, durante il quale, sorgendo lotta di superiorità e di predo minio fra i capi delle grandi famiglie, vengono ad esservene di quelle, che sono forzate a cercare altrove miglior sorte e fortuna. Per un tale intento offerivasi opportuna la città di Roma, la quale in quel periodo di tempo era ancora disposta ad accogliere nuove genti nei proprii quadri, e mentre da una parte, per la fortezza già sperimentata dei proprii abitanti, poteva aspirare ad un grande avvenire, dall'altra aveva ancora molto ad apprendere, sia quanto allo splendore dei pubblici edifizii, sia quanto all'ordinamento mi litare e civile. Di più essa già conteneva nel proprio seno delle genti di origine etrusca, cosicchè la nuova immigrazione poteva avervi parentele ed aderenze, che spiegano l'appoggio e il seguito, che vi trovarono in breve la gente Tarquinia e il proprio capo (3). 289. Questo è certo ad ogni modo, che in Roma si manifestano ben tosto i segni di una trasformazione potente. - Infatti, secondo la tradizione, la sua popolazione viene ad essere come raddoppiata, ed il nuovo elemento sembra dare alla città un indirizzo mercantile, come lo dimostra il fatto, che dopo la dominazione dei Tarquinii (1) Liv., 1, 34; Dion., IV, 2. (2 ) Müller O., Die Etrusker. Cfr. PANTALEONI, Storia civile e costituz.di Roma, pag. 134, ove si impugna appunto l'opinione del Müller. (3) L'opinione qui accettata è conforme a quella, che ho cercato didimostrare più sopra, relativamente agli aumenti nel numero dei senatori. Lib. II, cap. II, § 5, nn. 212 e 213, pag. 258 e segg. 355 Roma è già in condizione di conchiudere, anche come rappresen tante del Lazio, un trattato di navigazione con Cartagine (1). Mentre poi fino a quell'epoca Roma aveva ancor sempre conser vato il suo carattere primitivo di federazione fra diverse comunanze, con Tarquinio invece sembra iniziarsi il periodo, che potrebbe chia marsi di incorporazione. Narra infatti Livio, che Tarquinio avrebbe distribuito spazi intorno al foro, accið i privati vi potessero costruire le proprie abitazioni, e che in lui era già sorto il pensiero di cin gere la città di mura, adottando così il tipo delle città etrusche, le quali, essendo dedite ai commerci, solevano chiudersi e fortificarsi nelle proprie mura (2 ). A compir l'opera sarebbesi richiesto, che i quadri della città pri mitiva fossero modificati, e che alle divisioni di carattere gentilizio se ne sostituissero altre di carattere territoriale e locale. Cid secondo la tradizione avrebbe pur tentato Tarquinio, quando non si fosse op posto il patriziato per mezzo dell'augure sabino Atto Nevio, osser vando che la primitiva città erasi fondata mediante gli auspicii, e che perciò i quadri di essa consacrati dalla religione dovevano essere mantenuti (3). Non vi fu quindi altro mezzo che di fare entrare il nuovo elemento nei quadri antichi, il che Tarquinio avrebbe cercato di conseguire: lº aggiungendo alle centurie dei cavalieri, altre centurie, che serbarono il nome antico, ma presero la deno minazione di Ramnenses, Titienses, e Luceres secundi; 2º ac crescendo il senato di cento nuovi senatori, che si chiamarono patres minorum gentium; 3º raddoppiando il numero dei pontefici e degli auguri, e destinando anche alla custodia ed alla interpretazione dei libri sibillini i duoviri sacris faciundis, i quali, portati poscia a dieci e più tardi a quindici, finirono per cambiarsi in un collegio sacerdotale, che sovraintendeva și culti di provenienza straniera (4 ). (1) La memoria di questo trattato di navigazione, conchiuso nel primo anno della Repubblica, ci fu serbata da POLIBIO, III, 22, 24, il quale l'avrebbe tradotto da un latino arcaico, che ai suoi tempi era già diventato difficile a comprendersi. (2) Liv., I, 35, 36, 38. Egli anzi attribuisce a Tarquinio di aver già intrapresa la cinta, che prese poi il nome di Serviana. (3 ) Liv., I, 36; Dion., III, 70, 72. (4 ) Dron., III, 67; IV, 62. L'istituzione dei duoviri sacris faciundis ora è attri buita a Tarquinio Prisco ed ora a Tarquinio il Superbo. Quanto allo svolgimento storico di questo collegio sacerdotale è da vedersi il Bouché-LECLERCQ, Histoire de la divination, Paris, 1882, IV, pagg. 286-317, come pure il Manuel des institu tions romaines, Paris, 1886, pag. 545 e segg. 356 Intanto anche la religione subì l'influenza del nuovo elemento, ma in proposito fu giustamente osservato, che la religione, importata da questa immigrazione etrusca, non ha quel carattere misterioso ed arcano, che vuole essere attribuito ai riti etruschi, ma si risente invece dell'influenza greca, come lo prova la triade capitolina di Giove, Minerva e Giunone (1); il che sembrerebbe confermare, che i Tarquinii, pur venendo da una città etrusca, potessero remotamente provenire da una città greca, che secondo la tradizione sarebbe stata Corinto (2 ). Della plebe quasi non si occupa la tradizione; ma si può affer mare con certezza che come le immigrazioni latine avevano ac cresciuta la plebe rurale, dedita alla coltura delle terre, così quella etrusca dovette trascinare con sè un grande numero di artieri, di commercianti, di uomini esperti nell'arte della costruzione, che con corse ad accrescere la plebe urbana (3). Intanto si accrebbero i mo tivi di ravvicinamento fra patriziato e plebe, poichè la plebe del con tado era divenuta un elemento indispensabile per rafforzare l'esercito, e la cooperazione della plebe urbana era anch'essa necessaria per compiere quelle opere pubbliche grandiose, che sono la caratteri stica di questo periodo della storia di Roma, e che erano natural mente richieste dall'ingrandirsi della città e dal nuovo indirizzo preso dalla medesima. 290. Le cose quindi erano venute a tale, che coll'ampliarsi della città, anche i quadri del populus dovevano essere allargati in guisa da potervi comprendere quella parte della plebe, che ormai per venuta a qualche agiatezza, ed affezionata al suolo da esso col tivato, poteva avere interesse all'incremento e alla difesa della città. Fu questa l'opera, che la tradizione ha attribuito a Servio Tullio; altro re, che appare come trasfigurato dalla leggenda, la quale probabilmente ha finito anche qui per attribuire all'opera di un solo ciò che ha dovuto essere l'effetto del concorso di varii elementi, e delle nuove energie e forze operose, che vennero a (1) Questa osservazione è del PANTALEONI, op. cit., p. 149. (2) È noto che, secondo Livio I, 34, Tarquinio Prisco, pur provenendo diretta mente da Tarquinia, sarebbe tuttavia figlio di un Demarato Corinzio. (3 ) Quanto all'incremento della plebe sotto il regno del primo Tarquinio, è da ve dersi Herzog, Geschichte und System der römischen Staatsverfassung. Leipzig, 1884, I, pag. 32 e segg. 357 scaturire dal nuovo stato di cose e dal nuovo indirizzo, che veniva prendendo la città di Roma. È dubbia la origine di Servio Tullio: mentre la tradizione latina, unitamente al carattere della sua riforma, che appare più una evoluzione che una rivoluzione, lo la scierebbero credere di origine latina, una tradizione invece, che vigeva presso gli Etruschi, e che ci fu conservata dall'imperatore Claudio nel preambolo ad un senatusconsulto, lo direbbe di origine etrusca, e gli attribuirebbe il nome di Mastarna (1). Tutta l'antichità ad ognimodo è concorde nel riconoscere l'impor tanza della sua costituzione, poichè è certo che, debbasi ciò attribuire alla sapienza del principe autore di essa, o alla tenacità del popolo che ebbe a svolgerla, essa corrisponde a un graduato sviluppo e segna comeun nuovo stadio nella formazione della città. Essa chiude il pe riodo esclusivamente patrizio, in cui domina ancora la discendenza e la nascita, ed inizia quello patrizio -plebeo, in cui i due ordini, dopo essere entrati a far parte del medesimo popolo, sulla base del censo, finiscono per avviarsi fra le lotte ed i dissidii al pareggia mento giuridico e politico. Può darsi, che anche altre città abbiano avuta una costituzione analoga, come, ad esempio, Atene per opera di Solone (2 ); ma non ve ne ha certamente un'altra, che per la tenacità e la perseveranza degli ordini, che si trovarono di fronte, abbia saputo ricavarne un più sicuro e graduato sviluppo. Ben è vero, che anche per Roma vi fu un periodo, in cui l'evo luzione è stata interrotta da un tentativo di tirannide; ma nel resi stervi tutti gli ordini furono concordi, e il rimedio fu estremo, quello cioè di cacciare dalla città l'elemento, che ne aveva poste a repen (1) L'oratio, che precede il senatusconsulto Claudiano dell'anno 48 dell'êra vol gare de iure honorum Gallis dando può vedersi nel Bkuns, Fontes, ed. V, p. 177. Ivi l'erudito imperatore, volendo accogliere nel senato anche dei Galli, fa la storia degli elementi, che Roma avrebbe assorbito nei suoi varii stadii, e trova così occa sione di accennare alle due tradizioni relative a Servio Tullio, di cui una lo farebbe nascere da una prigioniera di nome Ocresia, mentre l'altra lo direbbe di origine etrusca. Le diverse opinioni degli eruditi sulla fede, che merita il racconto di Claudio, e la conferma indiretta, che esso avrebbe ricevuto da alcune recenti scoperte archeologiche, sono riportate dal Bonghs, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 201, nota 14. (2) Quanto alle analogie fra la costituzione di Solone e quella Serviana e fra le condizioni storiche, che poterono determinare l'una e l'altra, è sempre a consultarsi il GROTE, Histoire de la Grèce. Trad. De Sadous, Paris, 1865, tome IV, chap. 4me, pag. 137 a 216, come pure l'appendice allo stesso capitolo, in cui discorre della con dizione dei nexi e degli addicti in Roma antica. - 358 al taglio le libere istituzioni, malgrado le difficoltà gravissime, in cui venne allora a trovarsi la città. L'interruzione però non impedì che, superata la crisi, lo svolgimento storico fosse ripreso punto stesso, a cui erasi arrestato, cosicchè lo spirito della costituzione serviana pervade non solo l'elaborazione del diritto pubblico, ma ancora quella del privato. Fu il non averne tenuto conto sufficiente che, a mio avviso, ha impedito di dare una spiegazione plausibile dei più singolari caratteri del diritto primitivo di Roma. § 2. – Il concetto ispiratore della riforma Serviana eimezzi che servirono ad attuarla. 291. Fu abbastanza dimostrato, che la formazione della città pri mitiva non è un'opera di semplice agglomerazione, che piglia i ma teriali quali si presentano e li amalgama confusamente insieme; ma un'opera di selezione, che solo li accetta in quanto entrano nel suo ordinamento simmetrico e coerente; donde la conseguenza, che se un mutamento si introduce in una parte essenziale di essa, questo deve pur riflettersi e riverberarsi nelle altre parti. Ciò apparve nella città patrizia, e appare ugualmente nella costituzione serviana. Il problema era quello di unire due popolazioni, che si trovavano, come si è veduto, in condizioni sociali compiutamente diverse, e di farle entrare a far parte della stessa comunanza civile, politica e militare. Il fonderle insieme era per il momento impossibile, perchè la distanza fra di loro. era ancora troppo grande, e certi istituti, come la religione e i connubii, erano ancora troppo gelosamente custoditi per poter essere accomunati. Le sole istituzioni, comuni ai due ordini, erano la proprietà e la famiglia, e il solo inte resse, che li aveva condotti ad avvicinarsi, era quello di prov vedere insieme alla difesa di sè e delle proprie terre. Queste sol tanto potevano essere le basi della loro partecipazione alla medesima città: quindi è che la costituzione serviana, sebbene allarghi le file del populus, comprendendovi un elemento, che era escluso dalla città patrizia, finisce però per dare una base più ristretta alla par tecipazione dei due ordini alla stessa comunanza civile e politica. Mentre il popolo delle curie aveva comune l'elemento religioso, l'organizzazione gentilizia, e il culto per le antiche tradizioni; il popolo invece, che esce dalla costituzione di Servio, viene ad essere composto di capi di famiglia e di proprietari di terre, che entrano 359 a far parte del medesimo esercito, e più tardi anche della medesima assemblea, in base alla sola considerazione del censo, e nell'intento esclusivo di provvedere alla difesa di quegli interessi, che loro potevano essere comuni. La nuova comunanza pud in certo modo essere paragonata ad una società, in cui ciascuno viene ad aver diritti ed obbligazioni proporzionate al proprio censo, il quale viene così ad essere considerato come una garanzia dell'interesse, che altri può avere all'avvenire e alla grandezza della città (1). Il nuovo popolo pertanto non ha nulla a fare colle curie dei patrizii, ai quali continuano ad essere riservati gli auspizii, i sacerdozii, le magistrature e gli onori; ma viene ad assumere negli inizii una organizzazione di carattere essenzialmente militare, in cui la parte cipazione ai diritti e alle obbligazioni della cittadinanza sotto l'aspetto militare, politico e tributario viene ad essere determinata esclusiva mente dal censo. In apparenza quindi l'organizzazione per curie delle genti patrizie è lasciata integra ed intatta; ma intanto a lato della medesima sorge un nucleo novello, che per essere più numeroso e più forte finirà per richiamare in sè ogni energia civile, politica e militare, lasciando col tempo alle curie la sola custodia delle tradi zioni e dei culti gentilizii. 292. È questo il motivo, per cui la costituzione serviana potè essere apprezzata in guisa compiutamente diversa, anche dagli an tichi scrittori, i quali la descrivono, ora come favorevole al patri ziato o almeno alle classi più elevate, ed ora invece come favorevole alla plebe (2). Essa era tale, che da una parte doveva essere accetta al patriziato, il quale, mentre riteneva ciò, che era esclusivamente suo proprio, trovava poi più forte il proprio esercito, più ricco il proprio erario, più ampia la città, di cui continuava ad avere le magistrature e gli onori; dall'altra doveva anche essere gradita alla plebe, perchè essa, ancorchè sulla base esclusiva del censo, veniva (1) Che questo fosse il concetto informatore della costituzione serviana appare da Aulo Gellio, XVI, cap. 10, n ° 11, il quale dice espressamente che « res pecuniaque « familiaris obsidis vicem pignorisque esse apud rempublicam videbatur, amorisque « in patriam fides quaedam in ea, firmamentumque erat ». Il paragone poi della comunanza quiritaria, in base alla costituzione serviana, ad una società di azionisti già occorre nel NIEBHUR, Histoire romaine, II, p. 193. (2 ) Il diverso apprezzamento,che gli antichi fecero della riforma serviana, apparisce da Cic., De rep., II, 22; Liv., 1, 42, 43; Dion., IV, 20. Cfr. in proposito il Bonghi, op. cit., I, pag. 548 e segg. 360 ad acquistare una posizione giuridica, che prima non aveva, ed è abbastanza noto, che quando trattasi di un'aggregazione sociale, il passo più difficile è quello di potervi penetrare, poichè dopo la forza stessa delle cose condurrà ad avervi una posizione adeguata al pro prio valore. Questo è certo, per quanto appare dalla tradizione, che i due ordini sembrano essere concordi nell'accettare la costituzione di Servio Tullio, per guisa che ad opera compiuta gli riconoscono re golarmente quel potere, che prima aveva esercitato più di fatto, che non di diritto; tantoque consensu, quanto haud quisquam alius ante, rex est declaratus (1). Intanto la nuova costituzione appare informata anche essa ad un unico concetto, che è quello di dare a ciascuno nella città una parte proporzionata all'interesse, che egli può avere per l'incremento della medesima: interesse, che si ritiene dover essere misurato dal censo. Quest' unico concetto poi viene incarnandosi nel fatto con mezzi e con istituzioni diverse, fra i quali sono sopratutto importanti e degni di nota l'ampliamento delle mura, la ripartizione del territorio in tribù o regioni locali, l'istituzione del censo e l'organizzazione del nuovo popolo in classi ed in centurie; istituti questi, che abbozzati negli inizii da mano maestra, dovranno poi ricevere dalla logica tenace del popolo romano tutto lo sviluppo, di cui possono essere capaci. 293. Coll’ampliamento delle mura la città, che prima riducevasi ad un complesso di edifizii, aventi pubblica destinazione e riuniti in un piccolo spazio, a cui mettevano capo le varie comunanze, viene a comprendere nella propria cerchia buona parte di tali comunanze, le loro rispettive fortezze, ed una quantità grande di abitazioni pri vate. Cresce così il nucleo della popolazione urbana di fronte a quella del contado; il contatto fra il patriziato e la plebe diviene più intimo e frequente, e la vita della città concorre così a dissol vere quell'ordinamento per genti e per clientele, che forse sarebbesi mantenuto stazionario o almeno più duraturo in seno alle comunanze di villaggio. La città intanto, chiusa e fortificata nelle proprie mura, difesa da un esercito, il cui contingente viene ad essere più volte moltiplicato, abitata da un popolo pressochè militarmente organizzato, assume anch'essa un carattere più decisamente militare e apparisce (1) Liv., I, 46. 361 paurosa ed imponente alle popolazioni vicine (1). Così pure è da questo momento, che la vita fra le stesse mura conduce a mescolare e a confondere il sangue delle varie stirpi, fino a che per mezzo di re ciproci adattamenti finiranno tutte per concorrere a formare un or ganismo unico e coerente (2). Quasi poi si direbbe, che i fondatori della nuova città abbiano una certa consapevolezza dell'avvenire di essa; poichè il nuovo circuito comprende non solo il Palatino, il Capitolino, il Quirinale, il Celio, il Gianicolo, ma anche l'Esquilino e il Viminale, alcuni fra i quali sono ancora spopolati (3 ); cosicchè il pomoerium della città non dovette più essere ampliato, durante il periodo repubblicano, malgrado gli incrementi, che si verificarono nella popolazione. A questo riguardo vuolsi però osservare, che sebbene la città dal tipo latino sembri far passaggio al tipo etrusco, tuttavia essa au menta bensi il suo nucleo centrale, ma serba ancor sempre i ca ratteri primitivi della città latina. Infatti non tutta la sua popola zione viene ad essere accolta nelle sue mura, ma buona parte di essa continua ad essere dispersa per le campagne e fuori delle mura; cosicchè la città continua sempre ad essere un centro di vita pub blica per popolazioni, che possono avere altrove la propria resi denza. Cosi pure in tutta questa trasformazione punto non parlasi di nuove ripartizioni di terre, se si eccettuano i soliti assegni, che per consuetudine invalsa i re sogliono fare alla plebe; il che si gnifica che le famiglie, le genti e le tribù dovettero continuare a ritenere le proprie terre (4 ). 294. Intanto è evidente, che in una città cosi concepita diveniva necessario, che all'antica distinzione fondata sull'origine e sulla discen (1 ) L'intento eminentemente militare della cinta serviana è dimostrato anche dal fatto, che gli intelligenti delle cose militari ritengono che dall'orientamento di essa si possa perfino argomentare alla situazione delle porte in essa esistenti. V. BARAT TIERI, Sulle fortificazioni di Roma antica, « Nuova Antologia », 1887, fascic. 10. (2 ) Questo concetto trovasi efficacemente espresso da Floro nel passo citato al lib. I, cap. I, nº 10, pag. 10, nota 1. (3) MIDDLETON, Ancient Rome, pag. 59 e segg. « L'ampliamento delle mura, scrive NIEBIUR, fu il pensiero di un genio, che confidava nella eternità e negli alti destini della città, e che aperse la via ai suoi futuri progressi o. Op. cit., II, 123. (4 ) Questi assegni fatti da Servio Tullio alla plebe sono attestati da Livio, I, 46, più chiaramente ancora da Dionisio, IV, 9, allorchè scrive: « agrum publicum di « visit civibus romanis, qui ob rei domesticae difficultates aliis, mercedis causa, ser viebant ». e 362 denza si aggiungesse una nuova ripartizione di carattere locale e ter ritoriale, la quale potesse anche essere di base per constatare la po polazione, che vi avesse la propria residenza, e per fissare il tributo, a cui dovesse essere soggetta (tributum ex censu ). Cid si ottenne col ri partire il territorio in tribù o regioni locali, le quali si suddivisero poi in rustiche ed urbane. Le urbane sono quattro e prendono senz'altro il nome dalle località, e chiamansi così Suburana, Esquilina, Collina e Palatina: mentre le rustiche continuano per la maggior parte a prendere il nome dalle genti patrizie, quali sarebbero l'Emilia, la Cornelia, la Fabia, la Galeria, l'Orazia, la Menenia, Papiria, Pollia, Sergia, Romilia, Voturia, Voltinia, ed altre; solo eccettuata la tribù Crustumina, che sarebbe stata la prima ad essere denominata dalla località. Cid indica che nel contado continud la prevalenza delle genti, che vi tenevano le loro possessioni. Il numero origi nario delle tribù rustiche non è ben noto, ed anzi, secondo alcuni storici, fra i quali Livio, le tribù rustiche comparirebbero solo più tardi. Questo è certo pero, che la ripartizione, anche del ter ritorio rustico, era una conseguenza del concetto informatore della costituzione serviana, e che il numero delle tribù, dopo le guerre a cui diede occasione la cacciata dei Tarquinii, e forse per la diminuzione del territorio, che ne fu la conseguenza, appare ri dotto a quello di venti. La cooptazione della gente Claudia porto le tribù a vent'una, e da quel punto la storia ricorda tutte le date, in cui la conquista di un nuovo territorio conduce alla for mazione di nuove tribù, fino al numero di trentacinque, che poi si mantenne immutabile (1). Non è già con ciò, che Roma non abbia fatte nuove concessioni di cittadinanza, ma i nuovi cittadini si fecero rientrare nelle antiche tribù, le quali, dopo aver avuto una base locale, si mutarono cosi in altrettanti quadri, a cui poterono essere (1) Mentre Livio, I, 43 attribuisce a Servio Tullio soltanto la ripartizione della città nelle quattro tribù urbane, Dionisio, IV, 15, invocando la testimonianza di Fabio, gli attribuisce eziandio la divisione dell'agro in 26 tribù, cosicchè il numero complessivo delle tribù sarebbe stato di 30. Di qui la difficoltà di spiegare comemai queste tribù negli inizii della Repubblica fossero ridotte al numero di 20 soltanto. Anche oggidi la spiegazione più probabile sembra essere quella data dal Niebhur, secondo cui l'ager romanus avrebbe sofferto la diminuzione di varii pagi o tribus, in seguito alla guerra cogli Etruschi guidati da Porsena. Op. cit., II, 154. Quanto all'epoca, in cui si vennero aggiungendo le altre tribù fino al numero, che poi si mantenne, di 35, sono a vedersi il Willems, Le droit public romain, pag. 34 e segg. e il Morlot, Institutions politiques de Rome, Paris, 1886, p. 71 e segg. 363 ascritti tutti i cittadini romani, senza tener conto della effettiva residenza dei medesimi (1). 295. Sopratutto poi il concetto informatore di tutta la costitu zione serviana fu l'istituzione del censo; poichè è in proporzione del censo, che vengono ad essere determinati i diritti e gli obblighi dei cittadini. Vuolsi però aver presente, che nel censo di Servio Tullio non intervengono tutti gli individui, ma solo i capi di fa miglia, quelli cioè, che per non essere soggetti a potestà altrui possono giuridicamente essere considerati come padri di famiglia, ancorchè in realtà non siano tali. La dichiarazione poi del capo di famiglia deve essere duplice, cioè comprendere tanto le persone quanto le cose, che da lui dipendono; donde provenne la conse guenza, che in questo periodo le persone e le cose, dipendenti dalla stessa potestà, si presentarono come un tutto indistinto, che suol essere indicato coi vocaboli di familia o di mancipium. Il padre di famiglia pertanto, o meglio colui, il quale, per non essere sog getto a potestà altrui, ha diritto di contare per uno nel censo, deve dichiarare anzitutto, ex animi sententia, il suo stato civile, cioè il suo nome, il prenome, il nome del padre o del patrono, la tribù a cui trovasi ascritto, l'età, il nome della moglie, il nome e l'età dei figli. Esso deve dichiarare eziandio il patrimonio, che a lui ap partiene in proprio; non quello cioè, che appartenga alla sua gente, ma quello che è collocato in suo capo, che gli appartiene ex iure quiritium, che fa parte del suo mancipium, il quale in significa zione più ristretta comprende appunto il complesso dei beni, che deb (1) È solo in questo modo, che a parer mio si può risolvere la questione tanto agitata fra gli autori se le tribù di Servio fossero divisioni di territorio, oppure di visioni di persone. Non parmi poi che possa ammettersi l'opinione del NIEBHUR, secondo cui le tribù dapprima non avrebbero compreso che i plebei, e solo dopo il decemvirato avrebbero compreso anche i patrizii (Op. cit., IV, 16 ); poichè il loro stesso nome derivato da quello di genti patrizie ed anche lo scopo della ripartizione del territorio in tribù o sezioni dimostrano ad evidenza il contrario. Che anzi, in base alla narrazione di Dionisio, IV, 15, il re Servio non solo avrebbe diviso il ter ritorio in tribù, ma nei siti montani avrebbe costrutto dei pagi, che dovevano ser vire come luogo di rifugio, e avrebbe obbligato tutti quanti gli abitatori (omnes romanos) a consegnarsi nel censo « addito et urbis tribu et agri pago, ubi singuli habitarent »; il che fa credere, che le tribù rustiche serviane fossero un rimaneggia mento dei pagi, che già prima esistevano nel territorio circostante a Roma. Cfr. il Morlot, op. cit., pag. 57 e seg., ove espone le varie opinioni degli autori intorno al carattere locale o personale delle tribù. 364 bono essere valutati nel censo. Sarà poi in base a questo censo, che sarà designata la classe del popolo, a cui deve appartenere, tanto per sè che per i figli, che abbiano raggiunta l'età di diciasette anni, e verranno cosi ad essere determinati i suoi diritti e le sue obbliga zioni sotto l'aspetto politico, militare e tributario ad un tempo (1 ). 296. Basta questa semplice indicazione per comprendere l'im mensa importanza, che dovette, sopratutto negli esordii, esercitare una istituzione di questa natura sopra il popolo forse più tenace che presenti la storia in quella che il Jhering chiamerebbe la lotta per il diritto. Per la città serviana la formazione del censo ha quella stessa importanza, che ha per una società di carattere mercantile la determinazione del contributo, che altri deve arrecare alla for mazione del capitale sociale, il quale contributo dovrà poi servire di base per la ripartizione dei profitti e delle perdite. Essa costrinse a considerare ogni individuo come un caput, il quale tanto vale quanto è il numero dei figli e l'ammontare delle sostanze, in base a cui egli contribuisce alla comunanza. In essa l'uomo non è solo contato, ma in certo modo è anche pesato, e viene ad essere isolato da ogni altro suo rapporto, per essere considerato esclusivamente sotto il punto di vista delle persone e delle sostanze, che in lui vengono ad unificarsi. Vi ha di più, ed è che la proprietà, che conta nel censo serviano, non è la proprietà gentilizia, che apparteneva al solo pa triziato, ma è la proprietà famigliare e privata, che era la sola, che fosse comune al patriziato ed alla plebe. Di qui la conseguenza, che tutte le altre forme di proprietà vengono di un tratto ad essere lasciate in disparte, cosicchè se le genti patrizie vorranno 284 ' e seg (1) Quanto alle operazioni relative al censo cfr. WILLEMS, op. cit., pag. Per me è sopratutto notabile la circostanza, che il capo di famiglia doveva denun ziare persone e cose, che da lui dipendevano, poichè essa serve a spiegare come i due vocaboli di familia e di mancipium potessero talvolta scambiarsi fra di loro, e as sumessero una significazione così larga da comprendere le persone le cose ad un tempo. Cid non accadeva già, perchè si confondessero persone e cose, ma perchè le une e le altre apparivano nel censo come dipendenti dalla stessa persona. Tale doppia consegna è attestata espressamente da Dion.,. IV, 15, verso il fine. Parmi che in questo modo si possano conciliare le due opinioni contrarie del MARQUARDT, Das privat leben der Römer, pag. 2 e quella del Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, II, pagg. 6 e 83-84, quanto alla significazione primitiva dei vocaboli manus, di mancipium e di familia. Cfr. in proposito il Longo, La mancipatio, Firenze, 1887, pag. 5, nota 8, ed il BONFANTE, Res mancipi e nec mancipi, Roma 1888, pag. 100, nota 1. 365 avere nelle classi l'appoggio dei proprii clienti, dovranno dividere fra essi i proprii agri gentilizii, e fare a ciascuno un'assegno di terra in proprietà quiritaria, che valga a farli ammettere in una delle classi. Da questo momento viene solo più ad essere questione di mancipium o di nec mancipium, perchè è solo il primo, che conta nel censo di Servio Tullio, e se il medesimo non giunga ad una certa misura, altri non potrà essere censito, che per il proprio capo (capite census ), o verrà ad essere confinato nei proletarii, senza poter far parte delle classi e delle centurie, in cui si raccoglie l'eletta del popolo romano, ossia coloro (adsidui, locupletes) i quali avendo una terra di loro proprietà esclusiva, si possono ritenere aver interesse alla difesa della patria comune. Si comprende quindi l'affezione tenace, con cui il plebeo, ammesso a questa condizione nella città, si attacca al proprio tugurio e al campicello, che lo circonda, perchè è questo, che gli assicura una posizione giuridica, militare, economica per sè e per i proprii figli, quando siano perve nuti ai diciasette anni; il che spiega eziandio come il plebeo ami meglio di vincolare se stesso e la propria figliuolanza col nexum, che di privarsi della sua piccola terra. 297. Noi stentiamo naturalmente a ricostruire col pensiero tutte le conseguenze, che una istituzione di questa natura può avere pro dotto sovra un popolo, come il romano, in un momento storico, in cui la grande opera, a cui si intendeva, era la formazione della ' città. Quando si pensi tuttavia, che trattavasi di un popolo, il quale una volta ammesso un principio sapeva trarne tutte le conseguenze di cui poteva essere capace, che possedeva una mirabile potenza, che chiamerei di astrazione giuridica, la quale consiste nell'isolare l'ele mento giuridico da tutti gli altri con cui trovasi intrecciato, e che questo popolo fu costretto per secoli a misurare la propria posizione politica, militare e tributaria attraverso il crogiuolo del censo, si pud in qualche modo giungere a comprendere il punto di vista rigido ed esclusivo, a cui esso fu costretto di collocarsi e le con seguenze, che possono esserne derivate nella elaborazione del suo diritto. Ciò spiega intanto l'importanza immensa, che si diede per tutto il periodo dalla repubblica alla istituzione del censo; le cerimonie religiose, da cui esso era preceduto ed accompagnato; le cure, che pose nel medesimo lo stesso Servio, il quale, secondo la tradizione, ebbe a farlo per ben quattro volte; le pene gravissime, cioè la vendita al di là del Tevere, da lui stabilite contro coloro, 366 che non si fossero fatti iscrivere nel censo (incensi); l'opportunità, che si senti più tardi di creare talvolta un dittatore per la sola for mazione del censo, e di affidare poscia la formazione del censo ad una speciale magistratura (censura), a cui potevano esservene delle altre superiori in imperio, manessuna che fosse superiore in dignità. Ciò spiega infine la singolare evoluzione, che venne ad avere in Roma il concetto del censo, il quale negli inizii comincia dall'essere una valutazione, che potrebbe chiamarsi puramente economica dei singoli capi di famiglia, e poi finisce per cambiarsi in una specie di valutazione politica e morale di tutti i cittadini. Cid infatti è comprovato dalla trasformazione, che accade nel censore, che isti tuito dapprima per la materiale formazione del censo, reputata in degna delle cure dei consoli, finisce per acquistare tale un potere, da eleggere senatori, fare la ricognizione dei cavalieri, imprimere note di ignominia su chi venga meno al pubblico o al privato co stume, prendere le persone da una classe per confinarle in un altra, e trasportare a suo beneplacito tutta una classe di popola zione dalle tribù rustiche alle urbane o viceversa, e ad essere cosi l'arbitro sovrano della cooperazione effettiva, che i varii individui e le varie classi recano al benessere delle città. 298. Infine è anche il censo, che serve di base alla classificazione del populus nelle classi e nelle centurie. Non è già, come alcuni credettero, che coloro, i quali non avevano un certo censo, non fossero contati ed iscritti a questa o a quella tribù; ina essi vi erano iscritti solo nel capo (capite censi), oppure nella classe dei proletarii, la quale secondo Aulo Gellio, « honestior aliquanto et re et nomine quam capite censorum fuit ». Gli uni e gli altri non facevano di regola parte dell'esercito, perché né la repubblica avrebbe avuto garanzia dell'interesse, che essi avevano a combattere per essa, nè essi avrebbero avuti i mezzi per far fronte alle spese per il proprio equipaggio. Quelli invece, che giungevano ad un certo censo appartenevano agli adsidui, per l'assiduità appunto a compiere il loro ufficio civile e politico (munus), sia pagando le imposte (ab asse dando), sia ubbidendo alla leva, sia per la sede fissa, ove po tevano essere cercati e dove avevano i loro possessi (locupletes) (1). (1) Il criterio, che servì a distinguere i varii ordini di persone indicati coi voca boli di capite censi, proletarii, adsilui e locupletes, si può ricavare sopratutto da Aulo GELLIO, XVI, 10. È pure lo stesso Gellio, il quale ci attesta che la proprietà 367 I vocaboli di classi e di centurie, ed anche il luogo, ove si riu nirono i comizii centuriati (Campo Marzio ), il modo di convocazione di essi (per cornicinem ), e il vessillo rosso inalberato sul Gianicolo o in arce durante le riunioni di questi comizii, rendono verosimile il concetto stato svolto sopratutto dal Mommsen, che questa riparti zione siasi presentata dapprima con un carattere principalmente militare. Cið poteva anche essere opportuno per ovviare a quella opposizione del patriziato e degli auguri, che aveva incontrato l'an tecessore di Servio; e sembra anche corrispondere all'intento, che si propone la comunanza serviana, che è quella di provvedere so pratutto alla comune difesa. Egli è però certo, che se la costituzione per classi e per centurie è negli inizii organizzata per guisa da presentare l'aspetto di un esercito, essa è però in condizioni tali da cambiarsi facilmente nell'assemblea di un popolo; perchè i suoi quadri possono essere allargati in guisa da non comprendere solo un esercito, ma tutta la popolazione di una città (1). 299. Ad ogni modo nel loro primo presentarsi le classi e le centurie di Servio costituiscono un vero esercito, di cui venne ad allargarsi la base, in quanto che nella sua composizione più non si ha riguardo all'origine ed alla discendenza, ma unicamente al censo. Nelle sue file possono essere compresi tutti i liberi abitanti del ter ritorio di Roma, distribuito per quartieri o regioni, senza riguar tenuta in conto nel censo era quella famigliare e privata, poichè egli parla di res, pecuniaque familiaris, e dice che i proletarii si arrolavano nell'esercito solo in caso di necessità, e che i capite censi vi furono solo arrolati da Mario nella guerra contro i Cimbri o in quella contro 'Giugurta. Tutte queste distinzioni poi fondate sul censo spiegano le espressioni di Livio, I, 42, che dice il censo « rem saluberrimam tanto futuro imperio, e chiama Servio a conditorem omnis in civitatem discriminis ordinumque, quibus inter gradus dignitatis fortunaeque aliquid interlacet ». (1) Pur ammettendo col Mommsen, Hist. rom., I, cap. VI, e col Peluam, v° Rome, « Encych. Britann.., XX, pag. 731 che lo ha seguito, che l'ordinamento per classi e centurie, tanto più se posto a raffronto con quello delle curie, avesse un carattere eminentemente militare, non parmituttavia, che anche nei suoi inizii si possa escludere affatto la sua attitudine alle funzioni civili. Ciò ripugna al carattere delle istitu zioni primitive, le quali di regola hanno del civile e del militare ad un tempo, ed alla circostanza, che mal si saprebbe comprendere comemaiuna base, come quella del censo, non dovesse servire ad altro, che ad indicare il modo con cui le varie classi aves sero ad equipaggiarsi. Del resto questo carattere esclusivamente militare mal potrebbe conciliarsi con ciò che scrive Livio, I, 42: «tum classes centuriasque, et hunc ordinem ex censu descripsit, vel paci decorum, vel bello ». 368 dare se essi entrino o non nelle antiche divisioni, e senza più tenere conto delle formalità e delle cerimonie religiose proprie delle riunioni esclusivamente patrizie. La sua unità è la centuria, che nominalmente dovrebbe comprendere cento uomini; le centurie poi vengono ad essere aggruppate in classi, che sono in numero di cinque, e che alcuni vorrebbero collocate nell'ordine stesso della falange. Le centurie, che vengono prime, sono composte dei più ricchi cittadini, che possono procacciarsi un completo equipaggio indispen sabile per coloro, che primi debbono sostenere l'urto del nemico. Esse in numero di 80 costituiscono la prima classe. Dopo vengono le centurie della seconda e terza classe, in numero di 20 per ogni classe, le quali sono già meno completamente armate, ma costituiscono con quelle della prima classe la fanteria pesante. Ultime vengono le centurie della quarta e della quinta classe, di cui quella composta di 30 e questa di 20 centurie, reclutate fra i cittadini meno ab bienti, e che serviranno come fanteria leggiera. L'intiero corpo degli uomini liberi è poi diviso in due parti eguali, cioè in un numero eguale di centurie di seniores (da 47 ai 60 anni), che costituivano l'esercito di riserva, ed un uguale numero di centurie di iuniores (dai 17 ai 46 anni) per il servizio attivo. Ciascuno di questi corpi viene cosi ad essere composto di 85 centurie (8500 uomini) ossia di due legioni di circa 4200 per ciascuna, che costituiva appunto la forza normale della legione consolare durante la repubblica. In sieme colle legioni, ma non inchiuse con esse, vi erano 2 centurie di fabbri e di legnaiuoli (fabri, tignuarii) e 2 di suonatori di tromba e di corno (tibicines et cornicines ), circa le quali non vi è accordo quanto alle classi a cui erano assegnate. Per quello poi che si riferisce al censo richiesto per ciascuna classe, il medesimo ci pervenne calcolato in assi, ma è probabile che nelle origini dovesse essere valutato in iugeri (1). (1) È abbastanza noto, che il censo per la prima classe era di 100 mila assi, per la seconda di 75 mila, per la terza di 50 mila, e per la quinta classe di 11,000 secondo Livio e di 12,500 secondo Dionisio; ma il difficile sta in determinare, se negli inizii la fortuna dei cittadini non fosse piuttosto valutata in iugera, e in de terminare qual fosse il valore dell'asse. Il MOMMSEN afferma come fuori di ogni dubbio, che l'iscrizione alle varie classi era dapprima determinata dal possesso delle terre, argomentando anche dalle denominazioni di adsidui e locupletes. Hist. rom., chap. VI. Di recente poi il Karlowa ha pur seguìta la stessa opinione e ha rite nuto che il iugerum debba ritenersi rispondere a cinque mila assi, cosicchè il patri monio della prima classe corrisponderebbe a 20 iugeri, quello della seconda a 15, 369 Intanto però in questa organizzazione militare del populus con tinuano a tenere un posto distinto le centurie degli equites. Di queste 6 ritengono ancora i vecchi nomi di Ramnenses, Titienses e Luceres primi et secundi, e sono ancora composte esclusivamente di patrizii. Esse quindi stanno a parte, son determinate dalla na scita, e costituiscono i sex suffragia; poichè è da esse che si trae a sorte la centuria principium, quella cioè, che sarà chiamata a votare per la prima nei comizii centuriati. Ad esse poi furono ag giunte da Servio altre 12 centurie, le quali sono reclutate dai più ricchi ordini di cittadini, sia patrizii che plebei (1 ). Da questi brevi cenni appare che, pur ammettendo il carattere essenzialmente militare di questa organizzazione, basterà però sop primere nella centuria il limite di 100, per togliere alla medesima tutta la sua rigidezza militare, e per fare entrare nei suoi quadri tutta la popolazione della città; trapasso, che non offrirà gravi diffi coltà quando si consideri la facilità, che è propria delle organizzazioni primitive di passare dalle funzioni militari alle civili, e il nessun scrupolo, che si fecero i Romani di mantenere costantemente il vo cabolo antico, facendo anche entrare in esso un contenuto diverso da quello, che sarebbe indicato dal medesimo. Queste sono le istituzioni fondamentali di Servio; ora importa di vedere lo svolgimento storico, che esse ebbero a ricevere e la con seguente influenza che esercitarono sul diritto pubblico e privato di Roma. quello della terza a 10, della quarta a 5 iugeri, e quello della quinta a 2 iugeri incirca, ritenendo con Livio, che il censo della medesima ammontasse a soli 11,000 assi. Röm. R.G., I, pag. 69-70. Sono a vedersi, quanto al valore dell'asse, il WILLEMS, op. cit., pag. 58 e segg., dove son riassunte le diverse opinioni al riguardo, e il Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, I, pag. 16 a 23. (1) Quanto agli equites e ai loro rapporti coi primitivi celeres, richiamo volentieri i due recenti lavori del BERTOLINI, I celeres e i7 tribunus celerum, Roma, 1888, e del TAMAssia, I Celeres, Bologna, 1888. - Par ammettendo col primo che gli equites non siano che uno svolgimento dei primitiviceleres (p. 31) e col secondo che i celeres possano anche essere un ricordo di qualche istituzione, che occorre presso tutti i popoli di origine Aria (p. 19), continuo però a ritenere, che nell'ordinamento simmetrico della primitiva città patrizia vi fosse una rispondenza fra i celeres, che costituivano la corte militare del Re primitivo e il senato, che ne costituiva il consiglio, donde quella correlazione, che per qualche tempo si mantenne fra gli aumenti nel senato e quello degli equites, e la distinzione così del senato come degli equites in decuriae. V. sopra, nº 191, pag. 233 e 234. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 24 - 370 - CAPITOLO II. Influenza della costituzione Serviana sul diritto pubblico di Roma. 300. L'influenza della costituzione Serviana sullo svolgimento, che ebbero le istituzioni politiche di Roma, durante l'epoca repubbli cana, non può essere posta in dubbio, e non mancano i lavori ché la posero in evidenza (1). Ne ebbero consapevolezza anche i Romani, come lo provano le tradizioni, che attribuirono a Servio Tullio di aver voluto abdicare per istituire due consoli annui, e che fanno ricorrere i due primi consoli della repubblica ai commentarii di Servio Tullio, per ricavarne le norme secondo cui dovevano adu narsi i comizii per centurie (2). Le due tradizioni possono anche essere non vere: ma dimostrano ad ogni modo in coloro, che le trovarono e le custodirono, la persuasione, che la costituzione repubblicana metteva capo alle istituzioni serviane, e che, appena superato il peri colo della tirannide, si dovette riprenderne lo svolgimento al punto stesso, a cui era stato interrotto. Ad ogni modo se si tenga dietro alla evoluzione storica, quale si rivela negli avvenimenti, si può affermare con certezza, che le istituzioni politiche di Roma per tutto il periodo repubblicano implicano uno svolgimento continuo e non mai interrotto dei concetti informatori della costituzione patrizia, combinati perd e modificati dalle istituzioni fondamentali della co stituzione serviana. 301. Fra queste modificazioni è fondamentale e determina tutte le altre trasformazioni, che derivarono dalla costituzione serviana, quella, in virtù della quale venne a mutarsi nella sua stessa base il concetto del populus romanus quiritium. Questa espressione (1) NIEBHUR, Histoire romaine, II, pag. 91 a 255; Huscke, Die Verfassung der Königs Servius Tullius, Heidelberg, 1838; Maury, Des événements qui portèrent Servius Tullius au trône. « Mém. de l'Acad. des Inscript. et belles lettres », année 1866, vol. 25, pag. 107 a 223: Herzog, Geschichte und System der römischen Staats verfassung, Leipzig, 1884, I, § 5, pag. 37 a 48; KarlowA, Röm. Rechtsgeschichte, I, SS 11, 12, 13, pag. 64 a 85. (2 ) Liv., Hist., I, 48; I, 60. È però a notarsi, che queste tradizioni non sono con fermate da Dionisio. Cfr. Bonghi, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 242. - 371 infatti, che un tempo aveva indicato esclusivamente il popolo delle curie, venne secondo il metodo romano ad essere trasportata al popolo delle classi e delle centurie, come lo dimostrano la denomi nazione di quirites, che d'allora in poi è applicata appunto a tutti i membri del popolo delle centurie, non che ai testimonii ricavati dal medesimo per gli atti di carattere quiritario (classici testes ), ed è anche adoperata nelle formole di convocazione dei comizii centuriati, stateci conservate da Varrone (1). Quanto ai membri delle curie pri mitive essi, in quanto entrano nelle classi e nelle centurie, sono anche compresinel vocabolo generico di quirites, ma in quanto hanno delle proprie assemblee, in quanto ritengono per sè le magistrature, gli onori, gli auspizii, i sacerdozii, in quanto insomma formano ancora un nucleo separato del populus romanus quiritium, prendono il nome di patres o di patricii, come già si è veduto discorrendo della patrum au ctoritas, della lex curiata de imperio e dell'interrex (2 ). Mentre quindi prima i termini non erano che due, quelli cioè di populus e di plebes; dopo Servio i termini vengono ad essere tre, cioè quello di patres o patricii, che indicano i primitivi fondatori della città, i ritentori degli auspicia e dell'imperium; quello di plebes, che designa l'elemento, stato di recente ammesso nella medesima; e quello infine di populus, che comprende l'uno e l'altro elemento, sopratutto in quanto entra a far parte delle classi e delle cen turie (3 ). In questo senso vuolsi ammettere col Mommsen, che uno dei significati di populus sia stato quello di leva plebeo-patrizia; ma certo non può dirsi, che questa sia stata la significazione primi tiva del vocabolo; poichè nulla vi è di ripugnante al processo ro mano, che la stessa parola abbia indicato prima la riunione degli (1) Le formole di convocazione delle classi, conservateci da VARRONE, De ling. lat., VI, 86 a 95, sono riportate dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 383 e segg. I classici testes sono poi ricordati da Festo, pº classici, come testimoni adoperati nei testa menti; ma è probabile che questo nome si estendesse a tutti i testimonii dell'atto per aes et libram, di cui il testamento non era che un'applicazione, come si vedrà a suo tempo al cap. IV, § 4 di questo libro. (2) V. sopra, lib. II, nº 198, pag. 240 e seg. e le note relative. (3) È questo appunto il concetto di populus, quale appare più tardi anche nei grammatici e nei giureconsulti. Aulo Gellio infatti, Noct. Att., X, 20, attribuisce al giureconsulto Ateio Capitone di aver distinto il popolo dalla plebe, « quoniam « in populo omnis pars civitatis, omnesque eius ordines contineantur: plebes vera, ea < dicitur, in qua gentes civium patriciae non insunt », il qual concetto poi ricompare in GaJo, Comm., I, 3 e ancora nelle stesse Institut. di GIUSTINIANO, I, 2. 372 uomini validi ed armati della tribù gentilizia, poi il populus confe derato della città patrizia, e da ultimo il popolo patrizio - plebeo della città serviana (1). Questo populus intanto perde in gran parte quel carattere reli gioso e patriarcale del popolo delle curie, e assume invece il ca rattere, che è proprio di coloro, che entrano a costituirlo; viene cioè ad essere un popolo di capi di famiglia e di proprietarii di terre, che da una parte sono uomini di arme e dall'altra sono de diti alla coltura delle terre, e i quali si considerano come isolati da tutti quei rapporti gentilizii, in cui possono trovarsi vincolati. I quiriti dell'epoca serviana vengono ad essere considerati come indivi dualità indipendenti e sovrane; hanno l'asta come simbolo del pro prio diritto; ritengono come proprie le cose sopratutto che riescono a togliere al nemico, ed il loro potere appare senza confine cosi rispetto alle persone, che alle cose, che da essi dipendono; donde le caratteristiche peculiari del ius quiritium, che viene formandosi in questo periodo, come cercherò di dimostrare a suo tempo (2). 302. Modificato così il concetto del populus, cioè l'elemento es senziale della costituzione primitiva, da cui escono tutti gli altri, era naturale, che anche questi dovessero lentamente e gradatamente trasformarsi in correlazione col medesimo. E così accade appunto del senato, il quale accompagnando lo svolgimento lento e graduato della costituzione romana, comincia ad accogliere fin dagli inizii della repubblica i principali dell'ordine equestre, i quali per tal modo vengono ad essere conscripti coi patres, donde la formola patres et conscripti, finchè più tardi esso viene a ricevere tutto l'elemento, che siasi reso benemerito della repubblica, sostenendone degnamente le magistrature e gli uffizii, o che abbia così quell'età e quell'esperienza, che valgono ad assicurare la repubblica della au torità del suo consiglio (3 ). Cosi invece non accadde del magistrato, poichè questo continud (1 ) MOMMSEN, Rötnische Forschungen, I, pag. 168. (2 ) V. il cap. seg. in cui si discorre dell'influenza della costituzione serviana sul diritto privato. (3 ) Le trasformazioni introdotte nella composizione del Senato in base alla les Ovinia che deferì ai censori la senatus lectio sono brevemente riassunte dal Lan DUCCI, nel suo scritto sui Senatori Pedarië, Padova 1888, pagg. 7-8, colle note re lative. - 373 ancora per qualche tempo ad essere ricavato esclusivamente dalla classe dei patrizii; donde la conseguenza, che è sopratutto contro l'imperio dei consoli, che spiegansi le prime sedizioni della plebe, le quali più non si arrestano fino a che la plebe non abbia ottenuta, anche nelle magistrature e nei sacerdozii, quella parte, che già aveva conseguita negli altri aspetti della costituzione politica. Cið era na turale, perchè non vi sarebbe stata coerenza in un organismo, in cui il popolo e il senato già potevano essere tolti dai due ordini, che concorrevano a formarlo; mentre il magistrato poteva essere scelto in un ordine soltanto e quindi veniva ad apparire piuttosto come un custode dei privilegii del patriziato, che come un rappresentante imparziale del popolo. Di qui la conseguenza, che anche le lotte, che vennero ad esservi fra patriziato e plebe, possono in gran parte ritenersi determinate dalla costituzione serviana, come meglio sarà dimostrato a suo tempo (1 ). 303. Mentre si avverano queste modificazioni negli organi essen ziali della costituzione politica, e quindi si trasformano a poco a poco le loro principali funzioni, che, come si è veduto, consistono nella formazione delle leggi, nella elezione del magistrato e nella amministrazione della giustizia, tutte le istituzioni serviane, che negli inizii erano soltanto abbozzate, vengono prendendo tutto quello svol gimento, di cui potevano essere capaci. Cid appare quanto al censo, il quale, come già si è accennato, incomincia dal presentarsi come una valutazione economica dei cit tadini, e poi cambiasi a poco a poco in una valutazione politica e morale dei medesimi. Il punto di partenza viene ad essere quello di dare a ciascun cittadino una parte di diritti e di obblighi, che sia proporzionata al suo censo, mentre lo svolgimento posteriore conduce a dare ai singoli individui e ai varii elementi del popolo una parte, che vorrebbe essere proporzionata alla cooperazione, che essi recano al pubblico bene. Abbiamo quindi i magistrati uscenti di ufficio, che somministrano il contingente per la formazione del senato e poscia dell'ordo senatorius; abbiamo gli equites, che perdono il carat tere essenzialmente militare, che avevano nelle proprie origini, e finiscono per formare un ordine distinto di cittadini, che chiamasi ordo equestris, e costituiscono una specie di aristocrazia del censo, (1) V. il cap. IV del presente libro, in cui si tratta appunto delle lotte fra il patriziato e la plebe. 374 da cui esce poi la nuova nobiltà, la quale, dopo aver lottato coll'an tica, finisce per confondersi con essa (1). Di qui la conseguenza, che col tempo quel populus, che erasi formato, mediante la riunione del patriziato e della plebe, finirà un'altra volta per subire un nuovo dualismo, che è quello del partito popolare e del partito degli otti mati. Queste però sono conseguenze remote dell'ordinamento ser viaño, fondato sul censo, mentre è assai più facile tener dietro alle trasformazioni, che subirono le centurie e le tribù introdotte col medesimo. 304. Le centurie infatti, allorchè perdettero il loro carattere es senzialmente militare, finirono per cambiarsi in altrettanti quadri, in cui potè essere compreso tutto il popolo romano, che avesse rag. giunto certi limiti nel censo, il quale, fissato dapprima in iugeri di terra, sembra essersi più tardi calcolato in una somma di denaro. Si formarono così quei comisii centuriati, che ebbero tanta impor tanza sopratutto nei primi secoli della repubblica, e che furono per certo una delle assemblee meglio organizzate, che offra la storia politica dei popoli civili. È tuttavia notabile, che anche in questa parte si conserva sempre mai l'antico modello, per guisa che i con cetti informatori dell'assemblea delle centurie sembrano essere tolti e trasportati da quella più antica delle curie. Anch'essi quindideb bono essere preceduti da cerimonie religiose, ed il magistrato, che li convoca in giorni prestabiliti (dies comitiales), essendo investito degli auspicia, debbe prima investigare se gli dei si dimostrino fa vorevoli alle deliberazioni, che debbono essere prese dai comizii. Anche la precedenza nella votazione deve seguire l'antico costume, e quindi precedono le sei centurie di cavalieri, le uniche cioè che rappresentino ancora il patriziato primitivo, fondatore della città; quindi è fra esse, che chiamansi i sex suffragia, che viene tratta a sorte quella che dovrà essere la centuria principium, il cui voto continua ad essere considerato come un augurio (omen). Dopo aver così attribuita la debita parte alla nascita e ai primi fondatori della città, viene il riguardo all'età, in quanto che i seniores (dai 47 ai 60 anni) hanno in ogni classe un numero di centurie eguale a quello dei iuniores (dai 17 ai 46 ), malgrado il numero certo maggiore di questi ultimi, e le loro centurie negli inizii erano probabilmente le (1) Queste trasformazioni sono accuratamente seguìte dal Madvig, L'État romain, trad. Morel, Paris 1882, tome 1er, pag. 135 e segg. 375 prime chiamate a dare il proprio voto. Viene poscia la considera zione del censo, in quanto che le centurie, che votano per le prime sono, dopo le diciotto centurie degli equites, quelle della prima classe e queste sono in numero tale, che se siano concordi, possono da sole avere la maggioranza, senza che più occorra di passare alla chia mata delle altre classi (1). Intanto perd nel seno di ogni centuria ogni individuo ha il proprio voto, e tutti contano egualmente; ma, come già accadeva nelle assemblee curiate, l'esito definitivo dipende dalla maggioranza delle centurie. Qui parimenti si presentano le distinzioni fra comitia e contiones; come pure dovette introdursi eziandio la distinzione fra comizii propriamente detti e i comizii calati, in cui si compievano pei quiriti i testamenti e le arroga sioni, ma questi non sembrano essere durati lungamente, perchè erano una semplice imitazione dell'antico, senza che avessero lo scopo dei comizii calati delle curie, che era quello di mantenere salda ed integra anche nella città la primitiva organizzazione delle genti patrizie (2). Così pure sopra i nuovi comizii, i padri, antichi fondatori della città, continuano ad esercitare una specie di prote zione e di tutela, sotto il nome di patrum auctoritas, dalla quale i comizii centuriati riescono ad emanciparsi soltanto molto più tardi (3 ). 305. Nella realtà però questa imitazione dell'antico non impe disce che tutte le principali funzioni vengano a concentrarsi nei co mizii centuriati. Sono essi infatti che votano le leggi fondamentali dello stato, come le leggi Valerie-Orazie, la legislazione decemvirale, le leggi Licinie Sestie, e da ultimo la legge Ortensia; sono essi parimenti, che nominano i magistrati maggiori, come i consoli, i pretori, i censori, quei magistrati insomma, il cui potere può essere considerato come una suddivisione di quell'imperium, che trovavasi un tempo con centrato nel re. Da ultimo fu davanti alle centurie, che dovette essere interposta quella provocatio ad populum, che un tempo pro ponevasi dinanzi al popolo delle curie; il che spiega comeun ma (1) Sono queste gradazioni e distinzioni che fecero dire a CICERONE, De leg., III, 19, 44: < descriptus enim populus censu, ordinibus, aetatibus plus adhibet ad suf « fragium consilii, quam populus fuse in tribus convocatus »; concetto che ripete con altre parole nel De rep., II, 22. (2) L'esistenza di comizii calati, proprii delle centurie, è attestata espressamente da Aulo Gellio, XV, 27, 1. (3) V. quanto alla patrum auctoritas ciò che si è detto al nº 198, pag. 240 e segg. 376 gistrato annuo, come il console, abbia finito per rinunziare a poco a poco a pronunziare condanne, da cui poteva esservi appellazione al popolo, il quale venne cosi ad essere direttamente investito della giurisdizione criminale (1). Intanto si comprende eziandio come la lotta fra i due ordini, finchè non furono ancora del tutto pareggiati, abbia dovuto concentrarsi so pratutto nei comizii centuriati, e come quindi il patriziato per assi curarsi una prevalenza nel seno delle centurie, abbia dovuto dividere i proprii agri gentilizii fra i clienti, acciò i medesimi potessero essere collocati nelle classi e possibilmente nella prima di esse, la quale aveva una prevalenza sopra tutte le altre. Per talmodo la disorganizzazione delle genti, che erasi già iniziata colla costituzione di Servio, con tinud necessariamente collo svolgersi delle istituzioni da lui intro dotte; poichè quei clienti, che sotto l'impressione immediata del benefizio ricevuto stavano ancora agli ordini dell'antico patrono, se ne emanciparono ben presto, allorchè il censo loro assicurò una indipendenza, mediante cui poterono talvolta aggregarsi alla stessa plebe. Conviene tuttavia riconoscere, che la plebe negli inizii del l'organizzazione per centurie male poteva riuscire nella lotta contro un patriziato reso forte e numeroso mediante l'appoggio dei proprii clienti. Di qui la conseguenza, che la plebe resa impotente alla lotta nei comizii per centurie, dovette appigliarsi a riunioni che non avessero più la loro base nel censo, ma bensì nel luogo di residenza e nel numero. A tal uopo la plebe, guidata ed organizzata dai proprii tribuni, seppe trarre profitto di un'altra istituzione ser viana, che è quella della tribù locale, ricavando da essa uno svolgi mento, che probabilmente non doveva essere nella intenzione di quegli, che l'aveva istituita. 306. La tribù nella costituzione serviana non era che una ripar tizione locale, fatta in uno scopo essenzialmente amministrativo, cioè per fare il censo, per fare la leva militare e per ripartire i tributi. Essa però aveva il vantaggio su tutte le altre ripartizioni, che mentre le curie non comprendevano dapprima che i patrizii, e le centurie e le classi non accoglievano che i locupletes od adsidui, le tribù invece comprendevano anche i proletari, i capite censi, gli aerarii; quindi in essa esisteva un germeessenzialmente democratico, (1) Cfr. ciò che si è detto più sopra intorno alla provocatio ad populum nel pe riodo regio, n ° 245 e 246, pag. 299 e segg. 377 che non poteva mancare di svolgersi col tempo. Era infatti naturale, che i tribuni della plebe, per radunare la medesima, non potessero indirizzarle il proprio appello, che per tribù (tributim ), e che quindi si facessero già in questa guisa quelle prime riunioni, che appellavansi concilia plebis. Intanto le tribù, che avevano dapprima un carattere essenzialmente locale e comprendevano realmente le persone, che dimoravano in quel determinato quartiere, si cambiarono in effetto in altrettanti quadri, in cui poterono essere compresi tutti i cittadini romani, senza tener conto del sito effettivo, in cuiavessero la propria residenza. Si avverò anche in questo, ciò che è accaduto in molte altre istituzioni di Roma, che cominciano dall'avere una base reale nei fatti, ma col tempo si cambiano in concezioni teoriche ed astratte, e in forme tipiche, in cui può farsi entrare un contenuto, che nella realtà loro non potrebbe appartenere. Per tal guisa la ripartizione delle tribù diventò la più comprensiva di tutte; cesso quasi di essere locale per diventare personale; la indicazione della tribù entrò a far parte della denominazione stessa del cittadino romano, e fu in tal modo, che essa potè riuscire di base alla più democratica delle riunioni, che siasi conosciuta in Roma, che fu quella appunto dei comizii tributi. Questi non hanno più il carattere militare dei co mizii centuriati, ma hanno un'impronta essenzialmente cittadinesca; si tengono perciò nel foro e nei primitempi si riuniscono nei giorni di mercato, in cui la plebe del contado ha occasione di convenire nella città (1 ). 307. Tuttavia anche i comizii per tribù, allorchè entrarono nei quadri regolari della costituzione politica, finirono per modellarsi sulle assemblee precedenti. Essi infatti, quando sono giunti al pieno loro sviluppo, sono anche preceduti dagli auspizii, quando siano convocati da un magistrato, a cui questi appartengano, e sono convocati solennemente dal medesimo, per mezzo degli araldi, in giorni, che non saranno più chiamati comitiales, ma che debbono però essere nel novero dei dies fasti. È analoga parimenti la pro cedura per la votazione, salvo che il voto si dà per tribù, la prima delle quali viene ad essere tratta a sorte, e prende anche il (1) È degno di nota a questo proposito il {passo diMACROBIO, Saturnales, I, 16, $ 34, in cui, riferendosi ad uno scritto del giureconsulto P. Rutilio Rufo, parla dei giorni dimercato, in cui « rustici, intermisso rure, ad mercatum legesque accipiendas Romam venirent ». Husche, Jurisp. antijustin., pag. 11. 378 nome di tribus principium. Nel seno poi di ogni tribù il voto è dato viritim, e l'esito definitivo viene ad essere determinato dalla maggioranza delle tribù. Questi comizii hanno però il vantaggio della più facile convocazione, in quanto che possono essere convocati da magistrati patrizii e da magistrati plebei, come i tribuni, al modo stesso che i provvedimenti, che essi prendono, possono essere o vere leggi o semplici plebisciti, secondo l'autorità che li propone (1); il che spiega come i comizii tributi si siano gradatamente cambiati nell'organo legislativo più operoso nell'ultimo periodo della repub blica. Mentre essi infatti richiamano a sè la sola elezione dei magi strati minori, e la giurisdizione per i reati punibili con sole pene (1) Per lo svolgimento pressochè parallelo dei comizii centuriati e dei comizii tri buti mi rimetto a ciò che ho scritto più sopra al n ° 224, pag. 273 e segg. e per il pareggiamento che venne facendosi fra le leggi ed i plebisciti ai numeri 231, 232 e 233, pag. 281 e seg. Solo mi limito ad aggiungere che negli ultimi tempi dagli stessi comizii tributi potevano emanare vere leggi, allorchè erano convocati da veri magistrati, come consoli e pretori, oppure plebisciti, allorchè erano convocati da tri buni della plebe. Trovo una prova di ciò paragonando le intestazioni di due leggi riportate dal Bruns. L'una è la lex agraria del 643 dalla fondazione di Roma, la cui intestazione è così concepita: « tribuni plebei plebem ioure rogarunt, plebesque ioure scivit », sebbene in tale occasione abbiano preso parte alla votazione anche i patrizii come lo dimostra il fatto, che ivi si aggiunge: « Tribus principium fuit, pro tribu Q. Fabius, Q. filius, primus scivit », il quale Fabio dovette probabilmente essere un patrizio della gens Fabia (Bruns, Fontes, pag., 72). L'altra legge invece è la les Quinctia, de aqueductibus, dell'anno 745 di Roma, che è così intestata: « T. Quinctius Crispinus populum iure rogavit, populusque iure scivit, in foro pro rostris Aedis divi Iulii pridie K. Iulias. Tribus Sergia principium fuit; pro tribut Sex... L. F. Virro primus scivit ». Bruns, Fontes, pag. 112. — Diqui infatti appare ad evidenza, che quando la convocazione parte dal tribuno della plebe parlasi di plebes e di plebiscitum, ancorchè la riunione comprenda anche i patrizii: mentre quando trat tasi di convocazione fatta dal console esso chiama ai comizii tributi il populus e il provvedimento emanato viene così ad essere un populiscitum, ossia una lex nel senso primitivo dato a questo vocabolo. La cosa è pur confermata da quella parte, che ci pervenne della intestazione alla lex Antonia, de Tarmessibus, dell'anno 683 di Roma, in cui la riunione dei comizii tributi, essendo provocata dai tribuni della plebe, ancorchè in base ad un parere dato dal senato (de senatus sententia) parlasi perciò di convocazione della plebes e quindi di plebiscitum (Bruns, Fontes, p. 91). In questo periodo quindi tanto le leges quanto i plebiscita emanano da comizii tributi e la loro differenza deriva dall'essere l'iniziativa presa da un vero magistrato (console, pretore) che convoca il popolo, o da un tribuno della plebe, che convoca invece la plebe, sebbene anche in queste ultime riunioni intervengano anche i patrizii. Viene così ad essere vero ciò che dice Pomponio, che « inter plebiscita et leges species constituendi interesset, potestas autem eadem esset ». L. 2, 8, Dig. 1, 21. pecuniarie, finiscono invece per assorbire tutto il potere legislativo. È a notarsi tuttavia, che mentre la legislazione dei comizii centu riati aveva avuto un carattere specialmente politico e costituzionale, perchè è con essa che si vennero pareggiando gli ordini, quella in vece, che usci dai comizii tributi, ha un carattere eminentemente sociale, e in parte già si riferisce ad argomenti di diritto privato (1). 308. Si può quindi conchiudere, che la costituzione serviana per vade le istituzioni politiche di Roma per tutto il periodo repubblicano. I concetti della medesima cominciano dall'avere una base nella realtà, ma finiscono per cambiarsi in altrettante costruzioni logiche, a cui si dà tutto lo sviluppo, di cui possono essere capaci. In questa guisa il censo di economico divien morale, le centurie di militari si con vertono in politiche, le tribù di ripartizioni locali mutansi in quadri, in cui tutta la cittadinanza può essere compresa, per quanto la me desima dimori eziandio fuori della città. Per tal modo la costitu zione di Servio Tullio, al pari delle mura che ne portano il nome, poté bastare a tutti gli incrementi e a tutte le trasformazioni, che Roma ebbe a subire per parecchi secoli, e per tutto quel tempo, in cui essa tenne ancora in pregio le antiche virtù ed istituzioni. Vero è, che le forme esteriori sembrano sempre essere foggiate su quelle, che erano prima adoperate; ma conviene dire che « spiritus intus alit », e che questo nuovo alito spira per modo entro le forme an tiche, da far loro capire un contenuto ben diverso dal primitivo, e da spezzarle anche, quando siano diventate disadatte, nel qual caso però se ne foggiano delle nuove, ma sempre sul modello delle an tiche. Questo è il magistero, che Roma seguì costantemente nello svol gimento delle proprie istituzioni politiche. Un analogo processo ap pare anche più evidente nella elaborazione più lenta e graduata, che ebbe a ricevere il diritto privato di Roma, sovra il quale la costituzione serviana ha certamente esercitata una influenza di gran lunga maggiore di quella che soglia essergli attribuita, come spero di poter dimostrare nel seguente capitolo. (1) Quanto alla legislazione comiziale e ai caratteridella medesima, cfr. FERRINI, Storia delle fonti del diritto romano, Milano. La costituzione serviana e la sua influenza sull'elaborazione del ius Quiritium. 309. Se fu agevole il mettere in rilievo gli effetti della costitu zione serviana sul diritto pubblico di Roma, non può dirsi altrettanto della influenza tacita, ma non meno importante, che essa esercito sulla elaborazione del diritto privato. A questo proposito poco o nulla ci dicono gli storici, come quelli che naturalmente si arrestarono alle mutazioni più appariscenti, che si erano avverate nelle istituzioni politiche. Solo Dionisio si limita a dire di Servio, che egli pubblico ben cinquanta leggi sui delitti e sui contratti; che egli distinse i giudizii pubblici dai privati; e che prese anche dei provvedimenti a favore dei debitori, senza però ricordare il contenuto preciso dei medesimi (1). La probabilità ed anche la necessità di una legislazione all'epoca serviana non può certo essere negata, non potendo essersi avverata una trasformazione cosi profonda nell'organizzazione civile e politica, senza che si riflettesse eziandio nel diritto privato. Tut tavia è certo, che le mutazioni nel diritto privato non dovettero tanto operarsi per mezzo di leggi, quanto piuttosto mediante quella tacita elaborazione di un diritto comune alle due classi, che era la naturale conseguenza dei nuovi rapporti, in cui esse venivano a trovarsi. È quindi negli scritti dei giureconsulti, che si devono cer care le reliquie delle istituzioni scomparse, e in essi sono sopratutto a cercarsi quelle distinzioni, quei concetti, quegli atti simbolici, che sopravvissero ancora in epoche, in cui più non se ne comprendeva il significato, e che possono in qualche modo rannodarsi al concetto informatore della costituzione serviana. Sono le hastae, le vindictae, i procedimenti simbolici, gli atti per aes et libram, i concetti primi tivi del caput, della manus, del mancipium, la distinzione fra le res mancipii e le res nec mancipii, tutti quei concetti insomma, (1) Dron., IV, 10, 13, 25. Quanto ai debitori Dionisio, IV, 9, 11, attribuisce a Servio di aver perfino pagato del proprio i creditori, e di aver voluto che i beni e non la persona del debitore fossero vincolati al creditore; ma ciò forse non è che un effetto di quella tendenza, che fa riportare a Servio tutti i provvedimenti, che potevano apparire favorevoli alla classe servile ed alla plebe. 381 di cui ignorasi la vera origine e che sono sopravvivenze di un'e poca anteriore, che possono servire come materiali per la ricostru zione del primitivo diritto. Gli è soltanto col ricomporre insieme tutti questi rottami, che spargono talvolta dei vivi sprazzi di luce, quando siansi collocati nel sito, ove debbono trovarsi, e coll'avere presente il carattere del popolo, le sue istituzioni politiche, il suo metodo di serbare i vocaboli, cambiandone anche il contenuto, ed il criterio informatore della riforma serviana, che si pud riuscire a ricostituire il diritto privato, che dovette iniziarsi in questo periodo, se non nei particolari minuti, almeno nelle sue linee generali e nella logica fondamentale, da cui dovette essere percorso. 310. Fu questo paziente lavoro di ricomposizione, che mi mette in condizione di porre innanzi a questo proposito una congettura, la quale a prima giunta potrà apparire ardita, ma che risulterà sempre meglio comprovata, a misura che, procedendo innanzi, tutte le reli quie, che ci pervennero, dell'antico diritto, finiranno per prendere senza sforzo quel posto, che loro compete, e ci porgeranno cosi una spiegazione naturale, logica e verosimile dei caratteri primitivi del medesimo. La congettura sta nell'affermare, che almodo stesso che con Servio Tullio si posero le basi della Roma storica, e si formd quel populus romanus quiritium, che riempi poi la storia del racconto delle proprie gesta, così fu eziandio da quel punto, che dovette iniziarsi la vera e propria elaborazione di quel ius quiritium, che fu ilnucleo primitivo di tutto il diritto privato di Roma, e che quest'ultimo, malgrado il posteriore suo svolgimento, non perdette più mai quella speciale impronta, che ebbe ad assumere sotto l'influenza della costi tuzione serviana. Non si vuole già dire con ciò, che prima non vi fossero i quirites ed un ius quiritium; ma quelli non comprendevano che i membri delle curie, e questo indicava il complesso delle istituzioni di carattere gen tilizio, che erano proprie del popolo delle curie, e che perciò avevano ancora un carattere pressochè feudale e patriarcale (1). Con Servio (1) Cid parmi abbastanza dimostrato dall'analisi, che ho fatta della legislazione attribuita ai Re nel periodo della città esclusivamente patrizia, dalla quale risulta che la famiglia, la proprietà, il delitto e le pede continuavano ancora in parte a conservare quei caratteri, che avevano nel periodo gentilizio. V. sopra lib. II, cap. IV, 88 5 e 6, pag. 329 e segg. 382 Tullio invece incomincia l'elaborazione di un diritto comune ai due ordini, e siccome i medesimi, riuniti nelle classi e nelle centurie, prendono il nome di quirites, così incomincia la formazione di un vero e proprio ius quiritium, in cui i vocaboli e le forme proprie del diritto formatosi nei rapporti fra le genti patrizie e la popo lazione di condizione inferiore, da cui esse erano circondate, ven gono a ricevere una nuova significazione, e ad essere applicati ai rapporti, che erano l'effetto della nuova condizione di cose. Si conservano pertanto ancora i vocaboli di manus per indicare nel loro complesso i poteri, che appartengono al quirite, quale capo di famiglia e come proprietario di terre; quello di nexum per indicare l'obbligazione di carattere quiritario; quello di mancipium per in dicare il complesso delle cose e delle persone, che dipendono dal quirite: ma intanto questi vocaboli, che dapprima designavano il diritto proprio della classe superiore di fronte alle popolazioni vas salle, da cui era circondata, vengono a significare i concetti pri mordiali del vero ius quiritium, comune alle due classi, e si mutano in altrettante concezioni logiche ed astratte, in cui può farsi entrare un nuovo contenuto. A quel modo insomma che colla formazione della città patrizia quei concetti di connubium, di commercium e di actio, che prima si erano spiegati nei rapporti fra le varie genti, vennero invece a governare dei rapporti fra quiriti, e cambiandosi così in concetti quiritarii furono il punto di partenza di altret tante istituzioni proprie dei quiriti (ex iure quiritium ) (1); così quel ius nexi mancipiique, che prima governava i rapporti fra i padri della gente patrizia e la plebe circostante, per l'accoglimento di quest'ultima nel populus romanus quiritium, venne a cam biarsi eziandio in una istituzione di carattere quiritario. Fu in questa guisa, che accanto a quella parte del diritto quiritario, che si ispira ad un'assoluta uguaglianza fra i capi di famiglia, fra i quali intercede, se ne presenta un'altra, che tradisce l'inferiorità di con dizione di una delle classi, che entró a costituire il populus, alla qual parte appartengono appunto i concetti del nexum, del manci pium, della manus iniectio (2). 311. Si aggiunge che il contenuto di questi concetti viene anche (1) Questo è ciò che ho cercato di dimostrare più sopra al nº 266, p. 326 e segg. (2 ) Cfr. a questo proposito ciò, che si è detto intorno alla condizione giuridica della plebe, anteriormente alla sua ammessione nella città, al n ° 287, pag. 351 e seg. 383 a risentirsi delle circostanze sociali, in cui essi vennero a consolidarsi. Siccome quindi il concetto ispiratore di tutta la riforma ser viana consisteva nel censo, quale misura e stregua dei diritti, che appartengono ai quiriti, cosi il censo venne in certo modo ad essere un crogiuolo, che servi ad isolare l'elemento giuridico e politico di questi varii istituti dagli elementi di carattere diverso con cui trovasi confuso. Il diritto perdette cosi alquanto del suo carat tere religioso e venne invece ad esseremodellato in modo rozzo o sintetico sul concetto del mio e del tuo; esso inoltre assunse un'im pronta di rigidezza pressochè militare, quale poteva convenire ad un popolo, che presentavasi nell'atteggiamento di un esercito, i cui membri riguardavano l'asta come simbolo del proprio diritto, e « ma xime sua esse credebant, quae ab hostibus caepissent ». Il censo viene in certo modo a misurare il contributo, che ciascuno reca in questa specie di società, e quindi, mentre esso è la stregua per giudicare dell'interesse, che ciascuno ha nella medesima, serve anche per determinare la parte, per cui ciascuno deve contribuire alla co mune difesa. Il popolo romano venne così a compiere collettivamente quel lavoro, che dovrebbe fare anche oggi il giureconsulto per con siderare le persone sotto il punto di vista esclusivamente giuridico, facendo astrazione da tutti gli altri aspetti, sotto cui esse potreb bero essere considerate. Per tal modo il quirite, come tale, non è più nè patrizio nè plebeo, ma viene ad essere isolato da tutti i suoi rapporti gentilizii; si considera come un caput; conta come uno nel censo, e compare nel medesimo, in quanto unifica in sè le per sone e le cose, che da esso dipendono. Di qui l'immedesimarsi dei diritti di famiglia e di proprietà, che è il carattere più saliente del primitivo ius quiritium, e la significazione comprensiva e sintetica dei vocaboli in esso adoperati, che lo indicano ad un tempo come capo di famiglia e quale proprietario di terre, ed hanno in certo modo l'apparenza di altrettante rubriche, che esprimono disgiuntamente i varii atteggiamenti sotto cui il quirite può essere considerato (1). (1) Ritengo che questo sia il solo modo per spiegare in modo plausibile quel ca rattere peculiare al diritto primitivo di Roma, per cui persone e cose, proprietà e famiglia sembrano confondersi ed immedesimarsi insieme. Non è sostenibile infatti, che i Romani a quest'epoca confondessero il diritto del marito sulla moglie e del padre sui figli con quello del proprietario sopra una cosa; ma siccome persone e cose figuravano nel censo, come dipendenti dal medesimo caput, così esse al punto di vista giuridico comparvero dapprima come se entrassero a far parte del medesimo mancipium o della stessa familia. 384 - 312. Sarebbe naturalmente difficile trovare un autore, che accenni a questa tacita elaborazione, ma la medesima risulta da diverse circostanze, le quali insieme riunite provano che tale ha dovuto essere il processo logico, che domino la formazione del ius quiri tium all'epoca serviana. Così, ad esempio, noi sappiamo dal Momm sen, che una delle significazioni più certe dell'espressione « populus romanus quiritium » è stata quella di indicare la « leva patrizio plebea », leva che ha cominciato appunto ad effettuarsi in quest'e poca (1). Noi sappiamo parimenti, che da quest'epoca cominciarono ad essere lasciate in disparte le espressioni di iura gentium, di iura gentilitatis, di ius gentilicium, che dovevano essere ancora frequenti durante l'epoca patrizia, e che presero invece il sopravvento le espressioni di ius quiritium, e di potestà spettante al cittadino ro mano ex iure quiritium. Cosi pure non vi ha dubbio, che le altre forme di proprietà non vengono più tenute in calcolo, ma si tien conto invece del solo mancipium, che vedremo a suo tempo essere stata il primo nucleo della proprietà ex iure quiritium, quello cioè che doveva essere valutata nel censo per commisurarvi la posizione del cittadino (2). Intanto la espressione di quirites entra nell'uso co mune: come serve per le formole di convocazione delle classi e delle centurie, così serve per indicare i testimonii, che si adoperano negli atti di carattere quiritario (classici testes). È da questo punto pa rimenti, che l'asta viene ad essere l'emblema del diritto quiritario, che il populus assunse un carattere essenzialmente militare, nè può ritenersi inverosimile la congettura, che a quest'epoca rimonti il centumvirale iudicium, tribunale essenzialmente quiritario, la cui competenza era appunto indicata dall'asta, che si infiggeva davanti al medesimo (3). Infine fu certamente una conseguenza di questo (1) MOMMSEN, Röm. Forschungen, I, pag. 168. (2) Quanto allo svolgimento del concetto di mancipium, e alla conseguente distin zione delle res mancipii e nec mancipii mi rimetto al seguente lib. IV, cap. II, S $ 1°, 4º, 5º. (3) L'origine del centumvirale iudicium è una delle questioni più controverse nella storia del diritto primitivo di Roma, nè io pretendo qui di risolverla. Per ora mi limito a notare, che per me ha molta significazione quel passo di Gajo: « festuca « autem utebantur quasi hastae loco, signo quodam iusti dominii, quod maxime sua « esse credebant, quae ab hostibus caepissent; unde in centumviralibus iudiciüs hasta « praeponitur ». Parmi infatti di scorgervi un nesso, se non storico, almeno logico, fra l'epoca in cui il quirite appare come un uomo di guerra, armato di asta,disposto a chiamar suo ciò, che conquisterà sul nemico, e l'istituzione del centumvirale iudi 385 speciale punto di vista, sotto cui i quiriti vennero ad essere con siderati, che fra i diversi negozii giuridici, che potevano essere in uso, venne facendosi la scelta di quelli, che si riferissero direttamente al diritto quiritario. Di qui le espressioni di legis actiones, di actus legitimi, di iudicia imperio continentia, di negozii, che si com pievano secundum legem publicam, espressioni tutte, che noi tro viamo anche più tardi, ma la cui origine dovette rimontare a quel momento storico, in cui il diritto quiritario cominciò a consolidarsi, come diritto comune al patriziato ed alla plebe. Che anzi fu anche in quest'occasione, che dovette modellarsi quell'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che è l'atto per aes et libram, il quale serve in certo modo per attribuire autenticità a tutti gli atti, che possono modifi care in qualche modo la posizione giuridica del cittadino nella comunanza quiritaria. 313. Per verità basta porre l'istituzione del censo, come base di partecipazione alla vita giuridica, e politica e militare di una comu nanza, per comprendere come per l'attuazione di un tale concetto fosse indispensabile: lº di determinare quali fossero le persone, che dovevano contare nel censo (caput); 2° di isolare la parte del pa trimonio, che è tenuta in calcolo nel censo (mancipium ) da tutte le altre (nec mancipium ); 3º di determinare le forme pubbliche cium. Ora se vi ha epoca in cui il quirite assuma decisamente questo carattere di uomo di guerra, questa è certamente l'epoca serviana; e quindi è a quest'epoca che deve rimontare il concetto informatore dell'hasta, della festuca, dell'actio sacra mento, in cui questa si adopera, e del centumvirale iudicium, che deve essere appunto preceduto dall'actio sacramento, e avanti cui trovasi infissa l'asta simbolo del giusto dominio. La grave questione fu di recente presa in esame dal MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 74, il quale sembra rannodarsi all'opinione del Niebhur, II, pag. 168, seguita poi dal KELLER e da molti altri, che riporta all'epoca serviana l'istituzione dei centumviri. Questa opinione invece è ora vigorosamente combattuta dal WLASSAK, Römische Processgessetze, Leipzig, 1888, pag. 131 a 139, il quale verrebbe alla conclusione, che l'istituzione dei centumviri non abbia preceduto di molto la lex Ae butia, la quale secondo lui deve essere assegnata al principio del sesto secolo di Roma. Se con ciò egli intende di sostenere, che non abbiamo una prova diretta, che l'esistenza dei centumviri rimonti ad epoca anteriore, egli è certamente nel vero; ma ciò non basta per escludere, che l'istituzione potesse già esistere prima, senza che a noi ne sia pervenuta notizia. È poi incontrastabile, che essa porta in sè un carattere di antichità remota, e che i simboli, da cui è circondata e la procedura da cui è proceduta, ci riportano a quella concezione essenzialmente militare del popolo romano, che rimonta appunto all'epoca serviana. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 25 386 - e solenni, mediante cui questa proprietà potesse essere trasmessa, e che servissero ad attestare qualsiasi modificazione potesse soprav venire nella condizione giuridica del caput (atto per aes et libram ); 4º di richiedere, che questi atti, i quali influissero sulla posizione del quirite, fossero compiuti coll'intervento di un pubblico ufficiale (libri pens) e colla testimonianza di persone, che appartengano alla stessa comunanza (classici testes); 5 ° E infine di introdurre eziandio una procedura, che debba essere di preferenza seguita nelle controversie di diritto quiritario (actio sacramento ), ed anche un tribunale per manente, composto esso pure di persone tolte dalle classi e dalle centurie, per risolvere le questioni relative al diritto stesso (cen tumvirale iudicium ). Non può certamente sostenersi, che tutte queste istituzioni, che poi si incontrano effettivamente nell'antico diritto romano, possano tutte rimontare alla stessa costituzione serviana; ma si può almeno affermare con certezza, che esse erano una conseguenza logica del concetto informatore della medesima. Spiegasi in questo modo come mainel diritto di Roma trovinsi sen z'altro costituita e formata una quantità di istituzioni, in cui si ac centua il carattere quiritario, e come queste acquistino un carattere prevalente e preponderante, mentre le istituzioni di carattere genti lizio sembrano per il momento essere lasciate in disparte. Spiegasi parimenti come il mancipium siasi distinto dal nec mancipium; come l'espressione pressochè militare di mancipium sia sottentrata a quella gentilizia di heredium; come diversi siano i modi per la trasmissione delle res mancipii, e di quelle che non sono tali; come i diritti del quirite compariscano in certo modo come illimitati e senza confine, poichè egli, essendo isolato dall'ambiente, in cui prima si trovava, viene ad essere riguardato come un'individualità sovrana ed indipendente. Intanto si comprende eziandio come pochi siano i concetti e le istituzioni del diritto quiritario, e come esso non governi dapprima tutti i rapporti giuridici, anche fra i cittadini ro mani; poichè intorno ad esso perdurano sempre le istituzioni gentilizie del patriziato ed anche le consuetudini della plebe. Questo ius quiri tium insomma rappresenta quella parte di quel ricco materiale giu ridico, che era posseduto dalle genti patrizie, fluttuante sotto forma consuetudinaria, che primo riusci a precipitarsi ed a cristallizzarsi, e a diventare comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, in quanto facevano parte del populus romanus quiritium. Siccome poi esso venne a consolidarsi fra due classi, che prima erano in condizioni compiuta 387 > mente diverse, così in questo periodo della sua formazione dovette maggiormente irrigidirsi e prendere le mosse da certi concetti, come quelli del nexum, del mancipium, della manus iniectio, che eransi prima formati nei rapporti della classe superiore con quella inferiore. 314. Le cause intanto, che a parer mio possono aver determinata questa singolare formazione del ius quiritium, che doveva poi eser citare tanta influenza sull'avvenire della giurisprudenza romana, debbono essere cercate nel carattere peculiare della costituzione serviana, e nello svolgimento che seppe dare alla medesima il genio eminentemente giuridico del popolo romano. Prima fra esse è la costituzione serviana, in virtù della quale all'organizzazione essenzialmente patrizia di Roma primitiva sottentra un'organizzazione novella, in cui entrano cosi i patrizii come i plebei nella doppia qualità di capi di famiglia e di proprietarii di terre. Siccome infatti la famiglia e la proprietà privata erano l'uniche istituzioni, che erano comuni alle due classi, così esse solo potevano essere di base alla partecipazione nella stessa comunanza. Quindi un primo effetto logico ed inevitabile di questa speciale condi zione, in cui si trovò collocato il popolo dei quiriti, venne ad es sere questo, che al punto di vista giuridico si fece astrazione da quelle istituzioni intermedie, che si frapponevano fra la famiglia ed il popolo, quali erano le genti e le tribù primitive. Sia pure che queste istituzioni continuino ad esistere nel patriziato; ma in tanto l'elemento gentilizio viene ad essere escluso dal ius quiritium nello stretto senso della parola, in quanto che di fronte al censo più non vi sono che capi di famiglia, riguardati come liberi disposi tori delle proprie cose. Quasi si direbbe, che la vita giuridica si ri tira dalle istituzioni intermedie, e viene invece a riunirsi più potente e concentrata nelle due istituzioni estreme, le quali vengono cosi ad irrigidirsi, come il diritto da esse rappresentato, per guisa che la famiglia e il suo patrimonio si cambia nel mancipium del proprio capo, ed il populus assume un carattere essenzialmente militare. Quella distinzione pertanto fra res publica e res familiaris, che già aveva cominciato a delinearsi fin dapprincipio, ora viene ad accentuarsi in modo più vigoroso e potente; poichè tutti i gruppi intermedii vengono in certa guisa ad essere soppressi al punto di vista della costituzione serviana. Parimenti siccome l'intento di questo associarsi di elementi, fra cui intercedevano così gravi differenze, era quello della comune difesa, e forse anche quello dell'offesa e della conquista dei terri 388 torii vicini, così il nuovo popolo non poteva a meno di assumere un carattere essenzialmente militare, che doveva riflettersi eziandio nel suo diritto privato. Infine tutto ciò che riferivasi al connu bium, al culto gentilizio, agli auspizii, continuava anche dopo la costituzione serviana ad essere esclusivamente proprio del patriziato: quindi i soli atti, che potessero essere comuni ai due ordini, dove vano essere atti di carattere mercantile, quale era appunto l'atto per aes et libram, il quale viene così a ricevere molteplici e sva riate applicazioni, e ad essere la forma fondamentale, intorno a cui si aggirano tutti i negozii di carattere quiritario. A queste considerazioni deve aggiungersi quella del genio emi nentemente giuridico del popolo romano, il quale nella elaborazione del proprio diritto seppe spingere fino alle sue ultime conseguenze lo speciale punto di vista, a cui si era collocata la costituzione serviana. Questo è certo, che per l'elaborazione giuridica presen tavasi mirabilmente atto questo considerare i capi di famiglia come altrettanti capita, ed il complesso dei loro diritti come un manci pium, ossia come una questione di mio e di tuo. Era soltanto in questa guisa, che ai rapporti fra i diversi membri della comunanza poteva essere applicata quella iuris ratio, elaborazione propria del genio romano, mediante cui l'elemento giuridico viene ad isolarsi da tutti gli elementi affini. Fu questo il processo, mediante cui il diritto potè essere sottoposto a quella logica astratta, per cui le per sone perdono in certa guisa ogni personalità concreta e diventano dei capita; le fattispecie si riducono ad una selezione di tutto cid che possa esservi di strettamente giuridico nei fatti umani; e le isti tuzioni giuridiche appariscono come altrettante costruzioni geome triche, i cui elementi possono essere scomposti, e ricevere cosi un proprio svolgimento. Il momento appunto, in cui questa logica si presenta più rigida, più esclusiva, fu certamente l'epoca serviana, perchè in essa i membri della comunanza non potevano considerarsi, che sotto l'aspetto del mio e del tuo, e quindi dovevasi in ogni argomento procedere numero, pondere acmensura e attribuire ad ogni diritto le forme accentuate e prominenti del diritto di proprietà. 315. Si potrà forse osservare, che questa specie di astrazione giu ridica mal si può comprendere in un popolo primitivo, quale sa rebbe il Romano. È però facile il rispondere, che una parte di esso non poteva chiamarsi del tutto primitiva, dal momento che aveva attraversato tutto un lungo periodo di organizzazione sociale, ed aveva 389 fatto tesoro delle tradizioni del medesimo. Ma vi ha di più, ed è che senza un'astrazione di questo genere era impossibile la formazione di una comunanza, come quella dei quiriti. Questi sono certamente uomini reali, ma in quanto entrano nella comunanza sono riguardati soltanto come capi di famiglia e come proprietarii di terre. Il quirite pertanto è esso stesso un'astrazione, come sono astrazioni e costruzioni logiche tutti i diritti, che al medesimo appartengono. Ciò fa sì, che ad esso può applicarsi quella logica geometrica e precisa, che nel suo genere non è meno meravigliosa di quella, che i Greci applica rono ai concetti del vero, del bello e del buono. I Romani procedono bensì in base alla realtà, ma hanno anch'essi una potenza specula tiva e di astrazione, per cui isolano l'elemento giuridico dagli elementi affini, e per tal modo riescono a costruire un edifizio logico e dia lettico in tutte le sue parti, le cui linee son dissimulate nelle parti colari fattispecie, ma che certo esiste nella mente dei giureconsulti. È l'ignorare questa dialettica latente, che ci rende così difficile il ricom porre le dottrine dei giureconsulti classici, e a questo proposito sono altamente persuaso, che questa dialettica non può essere sorpresa che alle origini del diritto quiritario. Posteriormente infatti il numero infinito dei particolari colla sua stessa varietà e ricchezza rende im possibile di comprendere l'ossatura primitiva dell'edifizio, mentre la sintesi primitiva del diritto quiritario, le cause che ne determina rono la formazione, e la logica, che ebbe a governarla, possono facil mente somministrarci la chiave per comprenderne il successivo svi luppo. Lo studio di questa struttura primitiva del diritto quiritario, sarà argomento del seguente libro, e conclusione del presente lavoro. Per ora intanto, onde non essere costretto ad interrompere la esposizione della struttura organica del jus quiritium col racconto degli avvenimenti storici, che contribuirono alla formazione di esso, credo opportuno di porre termine al presente libro con un capitolo, in cui cercherò di riassumere quella lotta per il diritto fra il pa triziato e la plebe, che segui nel periodo, che intercede fra la co stituzione serviana e la legislazione decemvirale. Le divergenze fra gli autori nell'apprezzare gli effetti della costituzione serviana, non impediscono, che tutti siano concordi nel riconoscere, che essa costitui il primo passo al pareggiamento dei due ordini. Con essa infatti la plebe venne ad avere un terreno giuridico e legale, sovra cui potè misurarsi col patriziato, ed una assemblea, in cui potè impegnare la lotta. Da quel momento perciò potè manifestarsi quella legge, che secondo Aristotele determina tutte le rivoluzioni politiche e sociali, secondo cui gli eguali sotto un aspetto, tendono anche a diventarlo sotto tutti gli altri aspetti. Come potevano gli eguali nell'esercito, nei comizii centuriati, nei tributi, continuare ad essere disuguali nei connubii, nelle magistra ture, nei sacerdozii, e nel diritto (1 )? Finchè durd il regno di Servio Tullo, la lotta non ebbe occasione di spiegarsi, perchè, secondo la tradizione, lo stesso Servio si appiglid a tutti i mezzi per favorire quel pareggiamento, che era nello spi rito della costituzione da lui introdotta. Egli quindi rinnovo a più riprese il censo; introdusse nuove leggi relative ai contratti ed ai debiti; concesse la cittadinanza ai servi manomessi, comprenden doli anche nel censo; distinse i giudizii pubblici e privati; institui giudici privati per la decisione delle controversie di minore impor tanza, e probabilmente eziandio la Corte dei centumviri per stioni di diritto quiritario nello stretto senso della parola, e cerco eziandio di migliorare la condizione dei creditori (2). Fu in tal le que (1) ARISTOTELES, Politica, ed. Bekker. Lib. V, pagg. 1301 e 1302. Questo con cetto trovasi mirabilmente espresso da CICERONE, De rep., I, 49, allorchè scrive: « quo iure societas civium teneri potest, cum par non sit conditio civium? Iura « paria esse debent eorum inter se, qui sunt cives in eadem republica ». Di qui egli sembra dedurre, che se fosse continuata la dominazione esclusiva dei padri, la città non avrebbe mai potuto avere uno stabile assetto; « itaque cum patres rerum poti rentur, nunquam constitisse civitatis statum putant ». (2 ) Questi sono i provvedimenti attribuiti a Servio Tullio sopratutto da Dionisio, il cui racconto in questa parte ebbe ad essere accettato dal Niebhur, dal Lange e da altri nella loro ricostruzione della storia primitiva di Roma. È tuttavia da notarsi che Dionisio non parla punto dei centumviri, ma solo dei iudices privati. V. Dion., IV, 22, 4, 10, 13. 391 modo che mentre egli si cattivo l'affetto e la riconoscenza delle plebi, che continuarono sempre a venerarne la memoria e a con siderarlo come l'iniziatore di tutte le riforme ad esse favorevoli, si procurò invece una sorda opposizione nel patriziato, come lo dimostra il fatto, che egli avrebbe dovuto confinarlo ad abitare nel vicus patricius (1). Dopo Servio così il patriziato che la plebe si trovarono di fronte ad un pericolo comune, che fu il tentativo di tirannide di Tar quinio il Superbo, il quale avrebbe tolto di mezzo le leggi ser viane, e mentre da una parte cercò di occupare la plebe con la vori edilizii, si studið dall'altra di comprimere il patriziato, non curandosi di convocare il senato, nè di riempirne i seggi, che re stavano vacanti (2). – Ne consegui una sosta nello svolgimento dei concetti ispiratori della costituzione serviana: sosta forse più appa rente, che reale, poichè se il governo di un tiranno comprime la libertà di tutti, può sotto un certo aspetto esser favorevole allo svolgersi dell'uguaglianza fra le varie classi, rendendo tutti eguali di fronte al dispotismo di un solo. Il tentativo ad ogni modo non potè riuscire, e quando i due or dini dimenticarono le loro gare di fronte al nemico comune, venne ad essere naturale, che l'evoluzione si ripigliasse, ritornando a quelle istituzioni serviane, che per il momento erano ancora le sole, che potessero essere di base ad un accordo del patriziato e della plebe. 317. Narra infatti Livio, che i primi consoli furono nominati in base ai commentarii di Servio Tullo, e Dionisio aggiunge, che essi avrebbero richiamate in vigore le leggi di Servio sui contratti, abrogate da Tarquinio ed accette alla plebe, riattivata l'istituzione del censo, e ristaurati i comizii per l'elezione dei magistrati e per le deliberazioni popolari (3). Tutti gli autori poi, che ricordano il passaggio dal governo regio al repubblicano, sono concordi in rico noscere, che il cambiamento essenziale si ridusse a sostituire al re, magistrato unico ed a vita, il consolato, magistrato duplice ed (1) « Patricius vicus, scrive Festo, dictus eo, quod ibi patricii habitaverunt, iu a bente Servio Tullio, ut, si quid molirentur adversus ipsum, ex locis superioribus opprimerentur ». Bruns, Fontes, ed. V, pag. 351. (2) Dion., IV, 25; Liv., I, 49. Cfr. Bonghi, Storia di Roma, I, pag. 209, ove riassume le tradizioni diverse a noi pervenute intorno a Tarquinio il Superbo. (3 ) Liv., I, 60; Dion., V, 2. 392 annuo (1). Il potere pertanto dei consoli fu una continuazione del potere regio, colla sola differenza che il potere religioso si venne già in parte separando dal civile, in quanto che i poteri, che appar tenevano al re qual sommo sacerdote del popolo romano, furono per imitazione dell'antico affidati a un rex sacrorum, o rex sa crificulus, ma in realtà si vennero concentrando nel pontifex maximus, chiamato a presiedere il collegio dei fpontefici (2 ). Da cid in fuori il potere sovrano non è dapprima ripartito fra i due consoli, ma persiste intero in ciascuno di essi, salvo la reciproca intercessione, che l'uno può opporre agli atti compiuti dall'altro. Che anzi, ad impedire che la continuità dell'imperium possa essere interrotta col passare da un console ad un altro, tocca al magi strato che esce di proporre ai comizii il proprio successore, e nel caso in cui egli non lo faccia, si continua sempre a provvedere coll'istituzione dell'interregnum, conservando il concetto ed il vo cabolo, che erano già in vigore durante il periodo regio (3 ). È poi solo in seguito alle lotte fra patriziato e plebe, e in causa anche dell'accrescersi della dominazione romana, che quell'unico potere (imperium ) che accentravasi dapprima nel re e poscia nei consoli, si viene lentamente e gradatamente suddividendo fra le mol. teplici magistrature del periodo repubblicano; per guisa che le ma gistrature maggiori (consoli, pretori, censori) si dividono in certo modo le funzioni, che un tempo erano comprese nell'imperium regis, (1) Questo concetto, che nel passaggio alla repubblica non siasi sostanzialmente mutato il carattere del potere spettante al magistrato, occorre in Dion., IV, 72-75; in CiceR., De rep., II, 30 e in Livio, II, 1, 17. V. il raffronto che ne fa il Bongai, op. cit., pagg. 562-69. (2 ) Che la dignità del pontifex maximus dati soltanto dalla repubblica, mentre prima era il re stesso, che era il sommo sacerdote del popolo romano, è cosa da tutti ammessa. V. fra gli altri, Bouché-LECLERQ, Les Pontifes de l'ancienne Rome, p. 8 e 9; e il Willems, Le droit public romain, pag. 51 e pag. 318. A parer mio la causa storica del fatto sta in questo, che colla costituzione serviana il populus ro manus quiritium, comprendendo anche la plebe, perdette in parte quel carattere re ligioso, che aveva finchè era ristretto alle genti patrizie, e quindi il magistrato del popolo romano assume un carattere essenzialmente civile e militare, mentre i pon tefici, pur rappresentando il popolo come famiglia religiosa, continuarono ad essere i custodi delle tradizioni religiose e giuridiche di quel patriziato, da cui erano tolti. (3 ) V. quanto all' interrex e alla nomina di esso per parte dei patres o patricii ciò che si è detto ai numeri 237-39, pag. 288 e segg., ove ho cercato di dimostrare che la nomina dell'interrex, la patrum auctoritas e la lex curiata debbono riguar darsi come sopravvivenze della costituzione esclusivamente patrizia. 393 mentre le magistrature minori (questori, edili) sono uno svolgimento di quegli ufficiali subalterni, che dapprima erano nominati dal re e dal console, e che finiscono col tempo per essere anche essi nomi nati direttamente dal popolo (1). È in questo modo che si spiega come mai siasi potuto avverare una trasformazione cosi grande nella forma di governo, senza che si alterassero le basi fondamentali della costi tuzione primitiva di Roma. 318. Intanto finchè durarono i pericoli esterni delle guerre susci tate dagli esuli Tarquinii, si mantenne fra i due ordini un' appa rente concordia (2), come lo dimostra il fatto, che i consoli sogliono essere tolti da famiglie ritenute di tendenze favorevoli alla plebe, e che sono i consoli stessi, che propongono di togliere le scuri dai fasci, allorchè rientrano nelle città, e consacrano con leggi spe ciali il ius provocationis ad populum (3). Ma appena colla morte di Tarquinio si attutiscono i pericoli esterni, si accentuano invece i dissidii interni, ed è allora che si inizia una lotta, che direbbesi un modello nel suo genere, tanta è la tenacità del patriziato nel conservare i suoi privilegii e la perseveranza della plebe nell'ap profittarsi di tutte le opportunità per ottenere concessioni novelle. Egli è durante questa lotta, che già si pud scorgere come nella massa plebea venga distinguendosi la plebe ricca ed agiata, la quale essendo pari in ricchezze aspira alla comunanza dei connubii e degli (1) La specializzazione dell'imperium del magistrato è uno dei processi più degni di nota, che presenti lo svolgimento delle istituzioni repubblicane, poichè l'imperium regis, al pari del potere giuridico del capo di famiglia, parte da un'unità e sintesi potente, a cui succede durante la repubblica una differenzazione, la quale,mentre è determinata dall'incremento della città e dalle lotte fra patriziato e plebe, obbe. disce però sempre alla logica fondamentale del concetto primitivo di imperium. Cfr. MOMMSEN, Le droit public romain, I, pag. 5; Herzog, Op. cit., I, § 32, pag. 580 e segg., e ciò che si disse in proposito al nn. 201-204, pag. 245 e segg. (2) La diversità di trattamento, usata dal patriziato alla plebe, nell'epoca che seguì immediatamente la cacciata dei re e in quella posteriore alla morte di Tarquinio il Superbo è accennata da Liv., II, 21, 6 e da Sallustio, Hist. fragm., I, 9. Nota però giustamente il Bonghi, che i dissidii esistevano già prima, e che quindi venne soltanto meno l'indulgenza, che prima era adoperata. Op. cit., pag. 302. (3) La provocatio ad populum, che Livio chiama « unicum libertatis praesidium ebbe ad essere consacrata negli inizii della repubblica colla lex Valeria, proposta dal console Valerio Pubblicola. La provocatio doveva già preesistere nel periodo regio, ma fu necessaria una espressa consacrazione di essa per il nuovo elemento, che era entrato a far parte del populus. Cfr. ciò che si disse al n ° 245, pag. 300 e 301. >> 394 onori, e la plebe povera e minuta, che sopratutto teme il carcere privato dei creditori patrizii, e aspira a quella ripartizione dell'ager pubblicus, mediante cui può entrare a fare parte della vera ed ef fettiva cittadinanza, accolta nelle classi e nelle centurie (1). Di qui i caratteri peculiari di questa lotta, che ha del pubblico e del pri vato ad un tempo, cosicchè una sommossa provocata dalla legge inumana sulla condizione dei debitori, può condurre alla istituzione del tribunato della plebe, al modo stesso che una mozione per restringere l'arbitrio del magistrato, finisce per riuscire ad una proposta di generale codificazione. Cosi pure è un carattere di questo conflitto, che le proposte dei tribuni sogliono comprendere più provvedimenti ad un tempo, anche di natura diversa, e cid perchè essi mirano a tenere unite la plebe ricca ed agiata e quella povera e minuta (2 ). Di più anche in questa lotta si mantiene quel carattere pressochè contrattuale, che ha governato la formazione della città; poichè i due ceti vengono fra di loro a transazioni e ad accordi, stipulano dei foedera, e cercano persino di dare aime desimi quella consacrazione religiosa, che è propria dei trattati fra i popolidiversi (leges sacratae) (3). Così pure la plebe, quando trova incomportabile la propria coesistenza nella città, minaccia di abban donare la comunanza e di fermare altrove la propria sede, o quanto meno si ricusa alla leva, che è il primo obbligo e diritto del citta dino. Dappertutto infine si palesa il carattere essenzialmente pra tico del popolo romano, in quanto che il conflitto non appare do minato da questo o da quel concetto teorico, ma sembra essere determinato dalle opportunità ed occasioni, che si presentano nella realtà dei fatti. La questione infatti che si agita viene nella so stanza ad essere una sola, cioè quella del pareggiamento giuridico e politico dei due ordini; ma essa prende occasione ora dai mal trattamenti inflitti ai debitori, ora dall'arbitrio del magistrato, ora (1) Questa distinzione della plebe in due parti è acutamente notata da leinio GENTILE, Le elezioni e il broglio nella Rep. Rom., pag. 24. (2) Di qui l'espressione di lex satura o per saturam, la quale secondo Festo si gnificherebbe a lex multis aliis legibus confecta ». Siccome però essa cambiavasi in un mezzo per ottenere favore a provvedimenti, che altrimenti non sarebbero stati approvati, accoppiandoli con altri che erano popolari, così si cercd diporvi riparo colla lex Cecilia Didia del 655 di Roma. Cic., De domo, 20, 53. Festo, vº Satura. Cfr. WILLEMS, op. cit., pag. 184. (3 ) V. quanto alle leges sacratae la dissertazione del LANGE, De sacrosancta tri buniciæ potestatis natura eiusque origine. Leipzig, 1883. 395 dalla ripartizione dell'agro pubblico, ora dall'incertezza del diritto, ed ora infine dal divieto dei connubii fra il patriziato e la plebe, e dall' esclusione di quest'ultima dalle magistrature e dai sacer dozii (1). Per tal modo quella plebe, che memore dapprima della condizione pressochè servile da cui era uscita, si contenta di chie. dere l'istituzione di un magistrato, il quale non abbia altra potestá che quella di venirle di aiuto, finisce col tempo, guidata ed orga nizzata da questo istesso magistrato, per ottenere non solo il pareg giamento giuridico e politico, ma per far entrare nei quadri della costituzione politica di Roma i suoi magistrati (tribuni della plebe), i suoi plebisciti, ed i suoi comizii tributi (2 ). 319. Qui però non può essere il caso di tener dietro alle vicis. situdini diverse dei varii aspetti della questione politica e sociale, che si agito fra il patriziato e la plebe, ma piuttosto di cercare quali fossero le condizioni rispettive dei due ordini per ciò che si riferisce al diritto privato. È questo certamente il maggior problema che presenti questo pe riodo di transizione, poichè se la storia ha serbato qualche traccia delle lotte politiche fra il patriziato e la plebe, noi sappiamo quasi nulla di quello che accadde fra di loro nell'attrito dei quotidiani in teressi. Si aggiunge che le testimonianze, che ci pervennero in proposito, sono del tutto contradditorie. Mentre infatti Dionisio attesta che si rimisero in vigore le leggi intorno ai contratti attri buite a Servio Tullio, Pomponio invece dice senz'altro, che tutte le leggi promulgate dai re furono abolite con una legge tribunizia, e che tutto fu lasciato alla consuetudine come era prima (3). Non vi è quindi altro modo di uscire dalla difficoltà, che di argomentare lo stato del diritto privato dalle condizioni rispettive, in cui si tro vavano le due classi. (1) Un riassunto chiaro ed ordinato degli aspetti essenziali, sotto cui ebbe a svol gersi la lotta, fra patriziato e plebe, nelle parti attinenti al diritto, occorre nel Mui RHEAD, Histor. Introd., part. II, sect. 17, pag. 83-88. Per un racconto più partico lareggiato cfr. il Lange, Histoire intérieure de Rome, livre II, pag. 111 a 217. (2 ) Già ebbi occasione di riassumere questo singolare svolgimento della costitu zione politica di Roma a proposito dei comizië tributi ai numeri 233-34, p. 271 e segg.; dei plebisciti ai numeri 231-32-33, pag. 281 e seg.; e dei tribuni della plebe n ° 249, pag. 292 e seg. (3 ) Dion., V, 2; Pomp., Leg. 2, § 3 (Dig. I, 2). Secondo quest'ultimo l'incertezza del diritto sarebbe durata circa vent'anni; ma è facile il notare, che se essa perdurò fino alle XII Tavole, l'intervallo dovette essere di circa sessant'anni. 396 Ora è certo anzitutto, che in questo periodo quell'attrito delle classi, che appare nel campo politico, dovette avverarsi eziandio nel dominio strettamente giuridico. Anche qui dovettero trovarsi di fronte le tradizioni patrizie e le consuetudini plebee, coll' avver tenza perd che la magistratura esclusivamente patrizia fini per dare una prevalenza alle prime sulle seconde; cosicchè è probabile, che sopratutto la plebe ricca ed agiata, malgrado il divieto dei connubii, cercasse già in qualche modo di imitare l'organizzazione della fa miglia patrizia. Di più siccome eravi fra il patriziato e la plebe co munanza di commercio, ma non ancora quella di connubio, cosi si dovette continuare quell'elaborazione di un jus quiritium, comune alle due classi, che già erasi iniziata colla costituzione serviana, ed il medesimo dovette continuare a modellarsi sotto quelle forme di carattere mercantile, che allora si erano introdotte, ricorrendo sopratutto all'applicazione dell'atto quiritario per eccellenza, ossia dell'atto per aes et libram. Che anzi, quando si voglia ammettere con alcuni autori, che il tribunale de' centumviri, composto dap prima di quiriti tolti dalle varie classi e poscia dalle varie tribù, rimonti all'epoca di Servio Tullio, converrebbe, inferirne che questo Tribunale, in quell'epoca probabilmente presieduto da un ponte fice, dovette cooperare efficacemente alla formazione del jus qui ritium, come quello che anche più tardi appare chiamato a ri solvere questioni di diritto strettamente quiritario (1). Nella sua opera tuttavia la corte dei centumviri dovette più tardi anche es sere aiutata dai decemviri stlitibus iudicandis, i quali pur sareb bero stati istituiti a poca distanza dalla legislazione decemvirale, e dichiarati inviolabili, al pari dei tribuni e degli edili della plebe, sarebbero stati chiamati a decidere le questioni di stato (2 ). Infine è (1) Quanto all'istituzione dei centumviri e alle varie opinioni intorno all'epoca, a cui rimonta vedi il capitolo precedente, nº 312, pag. 384, nota 3. (2) È del tutto incerta anche l'origine dei decemviri stlitibus iudicandis, in quanto che l'unico accenno ai medesimi sarebbe quello, che occorre in Livio, III, 55, il quale parla di iudices decemviri, stati dichiarati inviolabili al pari dei tribuni e degli edili della plebe colla legge Valeria Horatia del 305 di Roma. Di recente poi il WLASSAK, Römische Processgesetze, Leipzig, 1888, pag. 139 a 151, sostiene che i decemviri stlitibus iudicandis non debbono confondersi coi iudices decemviri di Livio ma sono di istituzione posteriore. Noi però sappiamo di essi, che giudicavano delle questioni di libertà e distato. Cic., pro Caec., 33. V. per l'opinione comunemente ricevuta Keller, Il processo civile romano (Traduz. Filomusi, Napoli 1872, pag. 17), il quale anzi li farebbe rimontare sino a Servio Tullio, come giudici per le cause 397 pur probabile, che gli edili della plebe, come ufficiali dipendenti dai tribuni, fossero fin d'allora chiamati a risolvere quelle quistioni fra i plebei, che sorgevano sui mercati e sulle fiere, e che comin ciassero cosi a dare forma e carattere giuridico alle costumanze della plebe. In ogni caso è incontrastabile, che in questo periodo il console, pressochè assorbito dalle cure militari, dovette, per quello che si riferisce alla elaborazione del diritto e all'amministrazione della giustizia, lasciare una larga parte alla influenza del collegio dei pontefici. Questo collegio infatti, che abbiamo visto, fin dal l'epoca di Numa, essere chiamato alla custodia delle tradizioni re ligiose e giuridiche, aveva serbato il proprio ufficio anche dopo la cacciata dei re, e aveva anzi acquistata una indipendenza maggiore, in quanto che era presieduto non più dal re, ma da un pontifex maximus, in cui si unificavano i poteri al medesimo spettanti. Si comprende pertanto la testimonianza pressochè unanime degli scrittori, che ci descrivono il diritto primitivo di Roma, sopratutto negli inizii della Repubblica, come riposto negli archivii de' ponte fici, e parlano di questi ultimi come dei primimaestri in giurispru denza, e del ius pontificium, come di una scuola a cui venne poi formandosi il ius civile (1). Intanto è naturale, che i pontefici, come depositarii delle antiche tradizioni, avessero sopratutto per iscopo di applicare le forme antiche ai rapporti giuridici, che venivano sor gendo collo svolgersi della convivenza civile, e che in questo senso venissero continuando quella elaborazione di un ius quiritium, che erasi iniziata dal tempo, in cui la plebe era entrata a far parte della cittadinanza romana. 320. Insomma la conclusione ultima viene ad essere questa, che in questo periodo dovette avverarsi un continuo attrito fra le isti tuzioni patrizie e le costumanze plebee, e che perciò dovette essere grandissima l'incertezza intorno a quel diritto, che doveva essere applicato nei rapporti fra il patriziato e la plebe. Ne conseguiva che private, il che non sembra da ammettersi, perchè il giudice di queste cause dovette essere piuttosto il iudex unus tratto dai iudices selecti. (1) Per l'influenza dei pontefici sul diritto civile vedi sopra i numeri 262 e 263, pag. 321 e seg. colle note relative. Si occupò molto largamente di questo argomento il KARLOWA, Röm. R. G., 1, $ 43, pag. 219 e seg. Trovasi poi un esattissimo elenco dei libri, annali e commentarii dei pontefici nel TEUFFELS, Geschichte der röm. Literatur, Leipzig, 1882, SS 70-76, pag. 114 a 119. 398 il console, chiamato ad amministrare la giustizia, finiva per non avere alcun confine al proprio arbitrio, il che doveva essere grave alla plebe, anche per trattarsi di magistrato, il quale per essere tratto esclusivamente dall'ordine patrizio, poteva ritenersi favorevole a quest'ultimo. Si comprende cid stante come Terentillo Arsa, nel 292, cominciasse dal chiedere che fosse eletta una commissione, che determinasse per iscritto quale fosse la giurisdizione dei consoli, acciò fosse posto un confine all' arbitraria ed oppressiva ammini strazione di ciò, che essi chiamavano col nome di diritto e di legge (1). Fu solo nell'anno dopo, che d'accordo coi colleghi, per togliere alla sua proposta il carattere di odiosità contro il potere dei consoli, egli chiese che la legge, così pubblica come privata, dovesse essere codificata, e che cosi ogni incertezza venisse per quanto si poteva ad essere rimossa. L'importanza della questione viene ad essere provata dalla lotta di dieci anni, che ebbe ad essere sostenuta in torno alla medesima; poichè solo nel 303 di Roma si ebbe completa la legislazione decemvirale. Qui non può essere il caso di entrare nell'esame minuto della medesima, nè di parlare dei tentativi di rico struzione, che se ne vennero facendo anche in questi ultimi tempi (2): mi basterà invece dir qualche cosa intorno al carattere generale di questo codice, da cui doveva prendere le mosse tutto lo svolgimento posteriore del diritto civile di Roma. A mio avviso la legge decemvirale e la legge Canuleia, che la segui a poca distanza (309 di Roma) ed aboli il divieto de' con nubii fra il patriziato e la plebe, debbono essere considerate, quanto al diritto privato di Roma, come l'avvenimento che chiude il periodo delle origini ed apre quello dello svolgimento storico della giuris prudenza romana. Colle leggi delle XII tavole si chiude in certo modo il periodo del ius non scriptum, di quel diritto cioè, che viveva più nelle consuetudini che nelle leggi, ed incomincia il pe riodo del ius scriptum, poichè da quel momento anche l'interpre tazione cominciò ad avere la sua base nella codificazione (3 ). Con (1) Liv., III, 9. Cfr. MuirŅEAD, op. cit., pag. 87 e 88. (2 ) V. Ferrini, Storia delle fonti del diritto romano, pag. 5 a 9. È poi noto, che i grandi tentativi di ricostruzione delle XII Tavole si riducono a quelli di Jacopo Gottofredo, del Dirksen e a quello recentissimo del Voigt, già più volte citato. (3) Non voglio dire con ciò, che prima non esistessero delle leggi scritte: ho anzi dimostrato che dovettero esservene fin dal periodo regio. Tuttavia è solo colle XII Tavole, che si introdusse tutto un sistema di legislazione scritta, il quale potè servire 399 esso parimenti termina il periodo del ius non aequum, ossia di un diritto disuguale fra patriziato e plebe, e comincia il periodo del ius aequum, ossia la formazione di un diritto eguale per l'uno e per l'altro ceto, il che gli autori esprimono con dire, che le leggi delle XII Tavole erano intese ad aequandum ius e ad aequandam libertatem (1). Con esso infine termina il periodo della indistinzione del fas e del ius, al modo stesso che già si possono scorgere i principii del diverso indirizzo, in cui si pongono il diritto pubblico e il diritto privato; dei quali il primo continua a svolgersi nelle lotte della piazza e del foro, mentre il secondo comincia ad apparire come il frutto della tacita elaborazione prima dei pontefici e poscia dei giureconsulti. 321. Non vi ha poi dubbio che anche la legislazione decemvirale deve essere considerata come un compromesso fra i due ordini e in certo modo come una specie di patto fondamentale della loro coe sistenza nella medesima città (2 ). Di qui la conseguenza, che le XII Tavole nè comprendono un sistema compiuto di legislazione pubblica e privata, nè rinnovano tutte le disposizioni che già erano contenute nelle leggi regie: ma sembrano il più spesso limitarsi ad introdurre sotto forma imperativa quei provvedimenti, che potevano essere stati oggetto di discussione e di lotta, il che è sopratutto evidente quanto alle disposizioni, che si riferiscono al diritto pub come punto di partenza alla iuris interpretatio ed alla disputatio fori, di cui parla Pomponio, L. 2, § 5, dig. 1-2. Quanto ai caratteri particolari di questa interpre tatio dei veteres iures conditores, vedi JHERING, Esprit du droit romain, III, pag. 142 e segg. (1) LIVIO (III, 24 ) fa dire ai decemviri « se quantum decem hominum ingeniis provideri potuerit, omnibus, summis infimisque iura aequasse ». Di quianche l'espres sione, che occorre in Livio ed in Tacito, che le leggi delle XII Tavole fossero il fons omnis aequi iuris, ed anche il finis aequi iuris, perchè esse, a differenza di altre leggi, non furono il frutto di una sorpresa, ma di una vera transazione ed accordo fra i due ordini. Vedi i passi relativi nel RIVIER, Introd. Histor., Bruxelles, 1881, pag. 163 a 167, come pure nel Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, I, pag. 7 e note relative. (2) Questa specie di compromesso appare dalle parole che Livio, III, 31 attribuisce ai tribuni della plebe: « finem tamen certaminum facerent. Si plebeiae leges displi « cerent, at illi communiter legum latores et ex plebe et ex patriciis, qui utrisque « utilia forent, quaeque aequandae libertatis essent, sinerent creari ». Di qui rica vasi anche un argomento per inferire, che la legislazione decemvirale suppone già una specie di fusione del diritto delle genti patrizie con quello della plebe, il che sarà meglio dimostrato più oltre. 400 blico, e per quelle che riguardano l'usura e il trattamento che il creditore può usare contro il debitore (1). Cid spiega anche in parte la sobrietà e la concisione della legislazione decemvirale, la quale, senz'entrare nella descrizione degli istituti ed in disposizioniminute, si limita a porre dei concetti sintetici e comprensivi, pressochè enunziati in forma assiomatica, lasciando poi alla interpretazione di ricavare da essi tutte le conseguenze, di cui potevano essere ca paci (2). Di qui derivano eziandio la venerazione e la riverenza, in cui fu tenuto sempre questo codice primitivo del popolo romano; la differenza che i Romani ravvisarono sempre fra queste leggi fonda mentali, e quelle che si vennero gradatamente aggiungendo alle medesime; ed il fatto incontrastabile, che la legislazione decemvirale, malgrado la pochezza dei proprii dettati, ha finito per essere il punto di partenza di un sistema intiero di legislazione. Tuttavia il carattere più saliente e più importante per la storia del diritto primitivo di Roma, che a mio giudizio vuolsi ravvisare nella legislazione decemvirale, consiste in questo, che siccome le XII Tavole furono il primo codice comune ai due ordini, cosi fra tutti i documenti dell'antico diritto, esse portano le traccie più evi denti dell'origine diversa delle istituzioni, che entrarono a costituire il sistema del primitivo diritto romano. In esse infatti noi troviamo da una parte trasportate di peso certe istituzionidelle genti patrizie, il che si avverò sopratutto quanto all'organizzazione della famiglia e alla successione e tutela legittima degli eredi suoi, degli agnati e dei gentili, istituzioni che i giureconsulti ci dicono appunto essere state introdotte dalla legislazione decemvirale (3 ). In esse parimente (1) Così, ad esempio, la legge secondo cui a de capite civis nisi maximo comi tiatu ne ferunto » mira certamente ad impedire, che le accuse capitali potessero re carsi innanzi ai concilia plebis, come i tribuni della plebe avevano più volte tentato di fare, come lo dimostra, fra gli altri, il processo contro C. Marcio Coriolano. Uno scopo analogo dovette pure avere la legge: privilegia ne inroganto. Cic., de leg., 19, 44. (2) Nota a ragione il Bruns, che nelle XII Tavole già si appalesa il genio giu ridico di Roma, sia perchè esse già comprendono ogni parte del diritto, e sia anche per il carattere obbiettivo e pratico delle singole disposizioni. Vedi HOLTZENDORF's, Rechts Encyclopedie, I, 117. A parer mio esse dimostrano eziandio, che l'elabora zione giuridica era già pervenuta molto innanzi, in quanto che già si dànno come formati i concetti del nexum, del mancipium, del testamentum, senza che occorra di indicarne il contenuto. (3) Se prestiamo fede ai giureconsulti sarebbero state introdotte direttamente dalla legislazione decemvirale le successioni e le tutele legittime e le legis actiones, le quali sarebbero state composte dai pontefici sui termini stessi delle XII Tavole. 401 è evidente lo sforzo dei decemviri di porgere alla plebe un mezzo per uscire dalla posizione di fatto in cui si trovava, e procurarsi invece una posizione di diritto; come lo dimostra fra le altre cose la parte assai larga fatta all'usus auctoritas, che compare qual mezzo per contrarre le giuste nozze, per acquistare le cose mobili ed immobili, e qual modo di acquisto della stessa eredità (1). Infine nella legislazione decemvirale si rinviene eziandio una parte dovuta all'elaborazione di quel rigido ius quiritium, che ebbe a formarsi sotto l'influenza del censo e delle altre istituzioni serviane, i cui concetti fondamentali sono quelli del nexum, del mancipium, del testamentum, dell'atto per aes et libram, nei quali tutti il quirite appare con un potere senza confini, cosicchè la sua parola viene in certo modo a convertirsi in legge: « uti lingua nuncupassit ita ius esto » (2 ). 322. Questi varii elementi di origine diversa, che insieme ad alcune disposizioni particolari imitate dalle legislazioni greche (3) (1) Lo stesso è pure a dirsi del riconoscimento della fiducia, la quale non avendo forma giuridica dovette probabilmente nascere nelle consuetudini della plebe. Vedi in proposito ciò che si disse quanto al contributo della plebe nella formazione del di ritto romano ai numeri 148 a 157, pag. 182 e segg., e sopratutto a pag. 184. Si ritornerà poi sull'argomento nel libro seg., cap. IV, § 3, trattando della mancipatio cum fiducia. (2) V. cap. precedente, relativo all'influenza della costituzione serviana sulla for mazione del ius quiritium. (3) V. Lattes, L'ambasciata dei Romani per le XII Tavole. Milano, 1884. Non può qui essere il caso di trattare a fondo la questione della ambasciata in viata in Grecia e ne quella dell'influenza greca sulle XII Tavole, questione che pud aver bisogno di un nuovo stadio dopo la scoperta delle leggi di Gortyna: ma credo che il seguente libro proverà fino all'evidenza, che le basi fondamentali del primitivo ius quiritium sono desunte dalle istituzioni già esistenti fra le genti italiche, e che furono eminentemente ed esclusivamente romani così il modo in cui furono foggiati gli istituti giuridici, come il processo logico e storico ad un tempo, con cui furono svolti. L'analogia pertanto di certi istituti può anche essere prove nuta o dalla comune origine ariana, o dalle condizioni analoghe, in cui si trova rono le genti italiche e le elleniche nel passaggio dall'organizzazione per genti alla vita cittadina; mentre l'imitazione diretta si limita a disposizioni di poca impor tanza, la cui origine ellenica è sempre di buon animo accennata dagli autori la tini, che non disconobbero mai la sapienza dei Greci, pur affermando la propria superiorità in tema di diritto. Cfr. Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, pag. 10 a 16, dove pare si trovano raccolti i passi degli antichi autori, che si riferiscono all'argomento. Quanto all'influenza greca sulla giurisprudenza romana in genere mi rimetto a ciò che ho scritto nella Vita del diritto, pag. 179 a 194. 1. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma, 26 402 formarono il substratum della legislazione decemvirale, finiscono dopo di essa per svolgersi contemporaneamente e quindi con essa può dirsi aver termine il ius quiritium propriamente detto, e cominciare. invece l'elaborazione di un ius proprium civium romanorum, in cui continuarono però a perdurare le primitive istituzioni del ius quiritium. Ciò ci è dimostrato dall'attestazione di Pomponio, se condo cui tutto quel diritto, che venne a formarsi sulla legislazione decemvirale, mediante la iuris interpretatio, la disputatio fori, e la formazione delle legis actiones, venne appunto ad essere indi cato col vocabolo di ius civile (1). Anche qui pertanto si fa ma nifesto quel singolare magistero, che si rivela poi in tutta la forma zione della giurisprudenza romana, per cui, accanto al diritto già formato e consolidato, havvene una parte, che continua sempre ad essere in via di formazione. Per talmodo accanto al ius quiritium, iniziatosi sopratutto colla costituzione serviana, venne formandosi il ius civile, i cui esordii partono dalla legislazione decemvirale; poi accanto a questo si esplicò il ius honorarium, elaboratosi sopratutto sull'editto del Pretore; infine molto più tardi ancora, secondo qualche autore, accanto al ius ordinarium viene formandosi il cosi detto ius extraordinarium (2 ). Parmi quindi giusto il ritenere, che colla legislazione decemvirale si chiude il periodo delle origini propriamente dette, in cui le varie istituzioni trovansi ancora allo stato embrionale, e comincia il vero svolgimento storico del diritto romano, in cui le varie parti del di ritto pubblico e privato, già procedendo separate le une dalle altre, debbono anche essere studiate separatamente nel proprio sviluppo. È a questo punto pertanto, che può essere opportuno un tentativo di ricostruzione di quel primitivo ius quiritium, che a mio giudizio costituisce l'ossatura primitiva di tutta la giurisprudenza romana, e può darci il segreto di quella dialettica potente, che strinse insieme le varie parti della medesima. Spero che la bellezza e l'im portanza grandissima del tema, e la luce, che può derivarne per la spiegazione del diritto primitivo di Roma, il quale, quanto alle proprie origini, non ha cessato ancora di essere un grandemistero, valgano a farmi perdonare l'audacia del tentativo. (1) KUNTZE, Ius extraordinarium der römischen Kaiserzeit. Leipzig, 1886. (2 ) POMP., Leg. 2, SS 5 e 6, Dig. (1-2). LIBRO IV. Ricostruzione del primitivo ius quiritium (*). CAPITOLO I. La struttura organica del ius quiritium ed il concetto del quirite. 323. E opinione pressochè universalmente adottata, che il primitivo diritto di Roma porti in sè le traccie della violenza e della forza, e debba essere considerato in ogni sua parte come il frutto di una evo luzione lenta e graduata, determinata esclusivamente dalle condizioni economiche e sociali, in cui trovossi il primitivo popolo romano. Lo studio invece della genesi e della formazione del ius quiritium, nel momento in cui per opera della costituzione serviana comincio ad essere comune alle due classi, mi conduce a conclusioni alquanto diverse. Questo ius quiritium, se nei vocaboli può ancora portare le traccie di un periodo anteriore di violenza, nella sostanza invece è già il risultato di una selezione e di un'astrazione potente, intesa da una parte a trascegliere dal periodo gentilizio quelle istituzioni, (*) Ancorchè l'intento di questo libro IV sia di isolare in certo modo quella parte del diritto privato di Roma, che prima riuscì a consolidarsi sotto il nome di ius quiritium, e a costituire così il nucleo centrale di quella elaborazione giuri dica, che doveva poi durare per 14 secoli, mi riservo tuttavia anche qui la libertà di seguire talvolta lo svolgimento logico e storico dei varii istituti giuridici, anche oltre gli stretti confini del ius quiritium. Il motivo è questo, che anche nella clas sica giurisprudenza occorrono certe singolarità, le quali, a parer mio, non potranno mai essere spiegate, quando non siano sorprese alle origini. Siccome infatti la carat teristica del tutto peculiare del diritto romano consiste nell'essere il frutto di una elaborazione, che malgrado la sua lunga durata non abbandono mai intieramente quei metodi e processi, con cui era stata iniziata; così in esso accade ben soventi, che negli ultimi sviluppi occorrano certe apparenti singolarità ed anomalie, le quali non sono che una conseguenza logica di fatti, che si avverarono nel principio della formazione, e dell'indirizzo con cui questa ebbe ad essere iniziata. 404 - che potevano accomodarsi alla vita della città, e dall'altra a sce verare l'elemento giuridico da tutti gli altri punti di vista, sotto cui i fatti sociali ed umani possono essere considerati. Il suo linguaggio rozzo ma efficace; i suoi concetti sintetici e comprensivi; le solennità tipiche, in cui esso si manifesta; la disinvoltura con cui si maneg giano tali solennità e si trasportano da uno ad un altro negozio giuridico; la coerenza organica delle sue varie parti sono già la ma nifestazione di una potente logica giuridica, di cui appare investito il popolo romano fin dai proprii esordii, mediante cui esso riesce a sceverare dalle proprie tradizioni del passato e dalle condizioni so ciali, in cui si trova, tutto ciò che in esse havvi di strettamente e di esclusivamente giuridico, modellandolo in altrettante costruzioni tipiche, che concentrano in sè l'essenza giuridica dei fatti sociali ed umani. Lo stesso nostro linguaggio sembra essere inadeguato ad esprimere una selezione di questo genere, cosicchè ad ogni istante viene ad essere necessario di ricorrere a vocaboli tolti dalle scienze fisiche, chimiche e naturali, perché è soltanto nelle naturali forma zioni che possono essere sorprese delle sintesi e delle analisi, ana loghe a quelle, che occorrono nel primitivo diritto di Roma. In esso dispiegasi una logica giuridica cosi rigida, cosi geometrica, precisa e coerente, che anche un giureconsulto, preparato da una lunga edu cazione giuridica, stenterebbe a giungervi, e la quale può soltanto essere spiegata con dire che ci troviamo di fronte a un popolo, giu rista per eccellenza, il quale, guidato dalle proprie attitudini natu rali, esordisce con un capolavoro di arte giuridica, che può essere considerato come un pegno della perfezione, a cui esso giungerà più tardi nel suo lavoro legislativo. 324. Il diritto quiritario infatti toglie dalla realtà il linguaggio ed i concetti primitivi, di cui esso si vale; ma intanto li isola e li scevera per modo da ogni elemento affine, che i primitivi concetti giuridici del popolo romano, al pari dei suoi concetti politici, si pre sentano come altrettante concezioni logiche, e costruzionigeometriche, che possono poi essere sottoposte a quella logica astratta, che fu del tutto propria dei giureconsulti romani. Che anzi la logica giuridica dei giureconsulti romani non si ma nifestò forse mai in modo più vigoroso e potente, che nel modellare il concetto stesso del quirite e i varii atteggiamenti, sotto cui il medesimo può essere considerato. Io non dubito infatti di affermare, che il concetto stesso del quirite, in quanto si considera come il 405 caput, da cui erompono le varie manifestazioni giuridiche, deve per sè essere considerato come una concezione giuridica nel senso vero della parola. Il quirite infatti non è l'uomo quale in effetto esiste, ma è l'uomo isolato da tutti gli altri suoi rapporti, per essere consi derato sotto l'aspetto esclusivo di capo di famiglia e di proprietario di terre. È come tale soltanto, che egli conta nel censo serviano, ed è come tale eziandio, che esso si presenta nel primitivo ius quiritium. Esso inoltre è anche un'astrazione sotto un altro aspetto, in quanto che la logica giuridica lo isola da tutti i vincoli religiosi e morali, a cui nel fatto possa essere sottoposto, e lo concepisce come fornito di un potere illimitato e senza confini. Essa lo considera come un pater familias, ancorchè in effetto non abbia figliuolanza, e in quanto è tale, gli attribuisce i poteri più illimitati. Egli infatti quale capofa miglia ha il ius vitae et necis sulla moglie, sui figli, sui servi; come proprietario pud usare ed abusare delle proprie cose; come credi tore può anche appropriarsi il proprio debitore, venderlo al di là del Tevere e dividerne il corpo, se concorra con altri creditori; come testatore pud disporre in qualsiasi guisa delle proprie cose per il tempo per cui avrà cessato di vivere. Col tempo questa potestà giuridica illimitata potrà apparire eccessiva, in quanto che si verrà a riconoscere che il quirite potrà anche abusare di essa, come il magistrato del proprio imperium, ed in allora si cercherà di porre dei limiti al suo potere come padre, come proprietario, come credi tore, come testatore, come padrone; ma nel suo erompere primitivo l'uomo, a cui appartiene l'optimum ius quiritium, è una indivi dualità completa, che sotto l'aspetto giuridico non subisce limitazione di sorta. Il quirite poi, in base al censo serviano, riunisce due carat teri: quello cioè di capo di famiglia e di proprietario di terre, e i medesimi si compenetrano per modo, che i due concetti si vengono immedesimando l'uno nell'altro, cosicchè, quale padre di famiglia, esso apparisce come un proprietario, e per essere proprietario deve essere un capo famiglia; donde consegue, che anche i due vocaboli di familia e di mancipium possono sostituirsi l'uno all'altro (1). (1) V. in proposito il Voigt, Die XII Tafeln, II, pag. 10 e 11, note 5 e 6, ove son citati varii passi da cui risulta, che la familia in personas et in res deducitur. Leg. 195, Dig. (50, 15 ). Cid pure accade del mancipium, il quale talvolta è preso in significazione così larga da comprendere non solo le cose, ma anche le persone 406 Nel censo infatti non comparisce che il caput, in quanto unifica in sè medesimo persone e cose, e in quanto egli è libero, cittadino, in dipendente nel seno della famiglia. Esso conta per uno, ma intanto rappresenta molte persone ad un tempo: cosicchè anche la proprietà, che trovasi posta in suo capo, mentre nel costume appartiene alla famiglia, sotto il punto di vista giuridico viene invece ad essere considerata come una proprietà esclusivamente propria del capo di famiglia. Quasi si direbbe che l'imperium del quirite nella propria casa viene ad essere foggiato sulmodello stesso del regis imperium per quello che si riferisce alla città. Esso ha impero sulle cose e sulle persone, al modo stesso che il magistrato ha l'imperium domimi litiaeque, e l'una ed anche l'altra podestà, sotto il punto di vista giuridico e politico, non hanno confine, sebbene nella realtà siano contenute in stretti vincoli dal costume pubblico o privato. Di qui la conseguenza, che mentre questo è il momento storico, in cui ap parisce più senza confini il potere del padrone sugli schiavi, quello del marito sulla moglie, quello del padre sui figli, noi intanto ab biamo tutti gli argomenti per credere, che fu appunto questo il tempo, in cui fu migliore la condizione degli schiavi, volontariamente accettata la subordinazione dei figli e della moglie, e quello in cuiil potere del padre, cosi esorbitante nella sua configurazione giuridica, nella realtà non ebbe a dar luogo a gravi abusi. Fu sopratutto in questo primo periodo, che i figli dei servi erano allevati con quelli del padrone; che le mogli, mentre giuridicamente potevano essere ripudiate, nel fatto non conoscevano il divorzio; che i figli prova vano la severità del padre, non tanto nelle pareti domestiche, quanto piuttosto, allorchè egli investito del pubblico potere giungeva a soffo care gli affetti del sangue per far rispettare l'imperium, di cuitro vavasi insignito (1). dipendentidal capo di famiglia, come lo dimostra l'espressione conservataci da Gellio, secondo cui la mater familias è in manu mancipioque mariti. XVIII, 6, 9. Ciò però non toglie, che il vocabolo familia significasse di preferenza il complesso delle per sone, e quello di mancipium il complesso delle cose, che erano soggette al potere del capo di famiglia. Cid apparirà meglio in questo stesso capitolo, $ 4, in cui si discorrerà appunto del mancipium, e delle sue varie significazioni. (1) La causa di questo contrasto tra l'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia e le condizioni reali della medesima sarà meglio posta in evidenza al cap. 1, § 1°, ove si discorre del ius connubii. Quanto alla figura del padre di famiglia patriarcale durante il periodo gentilizio, vedi sopra il nº 94, pag. 119. 407 326. Se non che è ovvio il chiedersi, in qual modo siasi potuto modellare in modo così vigoroso ed efficace la figura del quirite. Io non dubito di rispondere che questa concezione dell'uomo sotto l'aspetto esclusivamente giuridico, se per una parte fu determinata dalle condizioni economiche e sociali, dall'altra fu anche l'effetto di una potente astrazione giuridica, compiuta da un popolo con un pro cesso mentale non diverso da quello, che seguirebbe un giureconsulto moderno. Gli elementi preesistevano nella organizzazione gentilizia e consistevano nella figura del capo di famiglia, e nel concetto della proprietà, che a lui apparteneva. Mediante un lavoro di astrazione, che è famigliare al giureconsulto, i due concetti di capofamiglia e di proprietario furono staccati dall'ambiente, in cui si erano for mati, furono isolati da tutti gli altri rapporti di carattere gentilizio, riguardati attraverso il crogiuolo del censo, in cui persone e cose dipendevano da un solo caput, e ne eruppe cosi questa figura tipica del quirite, che è soldato ed agricoltore, capo di famiglia e proprietario, individuo e capo gruppo, il quale sotto un aspetto è una realtà e sotto un altro è già una astrazione o concezione giuridica. Lo stesso è a dirsi delle due istituzioni fondamentali della famiglia e delle proprietà, quali vengono a presentarsi nel ius quiritium la cui formazione fu determinata dalla costituzione serviana, An ch'esse sono tratte dalla realtà, e sono due ruderi dell'organizzazione gentilizia, nel senso vero e proprio della parola, salvo che, traspor tate nel seno delle città e cosi isolate dall'ambiente, che le circon dava, fanno su chi le considera un effetto analogo a quello di quei ruderi delle mura serviane, che circondate da un' aiuola si incon trano nella Via Nazionale di Roma moderna. Di qui la conseguenza, che anche la proprietà e la famiglia debbono essere considerate come due costruzioni giuridiche, in quanto che esse non sono la pro prietà e la famiglia, quali effettivamente esistevano, ma sono il frutto di un'elaborazione giuridica, per cui l'una e l'altra sono iso late da quegli elementi, sopratutto religiosi e morali, che nella realtà ne moderavano la rigidezza. Siccome infatti il quirite, come tale, non è più nè il gentile, nè il cliente, né il patrizio, nè il plebeo, ma è un capo famiglia, considerato come padrone assoluto delle cose e delle persone, che da lui dipendono; cosi l'aureola del buon co stume, del consiglio domestico, del consiglio degli anziani, delle tradizioni del villaggio, della religione, di cui il padre antico era il sacerdote, viene a scomparire pressochè intieramente nel diritto 408 quiritario. In questo più non scorgesi, giuridicamente parlando, che un caput, che è proprietario e padre ad un tempo, e il cui potere (manus) sulle persone e sulle cose, che ne dipendono (mancipium o familia ), apparisce senza confini, rendendo cosi possibile l'applicazione di una logica, il cui processo sarebbe stato ad ogni istante interrotto, se si fosse dovuto tener conto degli altri vincoli e rapporti, in cui il quirite effettivamente si trovava. 327. Lo stesso deve pur dirsi di quel carattere, cosi saliente nel di ritto primitivo di Roma, per cui i poteri sulle persone e sulle cose vengono ad immedesimarsi l'uno nell'altro, e possono quindi essere in dicati coimedesimivocaboli, rivendicati nella stessa guisa, e trasmessi col medesimo atto. Anche ciò non deve ritenersi come indizio, che per i Romani la potestà del padre si confondesse colla proprietà: ma è unicamente il frutto di una elaborazione giuridica, in quanto che questi due poteri, dovendo passare per il crogiuolo del censo, venivano in sostanza a ridursi tutti al concetto del mio e del tuo. Ed a questo riguardo credo di non esagerare dicendo, che fu una grande ventura per il diritto romano, che il medesimo fosse cosi costretto a modellare ogni diritto sopra quello di proprietà, in quanto che non eravi certamente altro concetto, che potesse meglio acco modarsi a tutte le applicazioni della logica giuridica. Se questa infatti avesse dovuto applicarsi alle persone, si sarebbe ad ogni istante inceppata in considerazioni di umanità, mentre spiegandosi in certa guisa di fronte alle cose potė spingersi a tutte le deduzioni, di cui poteva essere capace, e per tal modo il diritto potè appa rire in certi casi inumano e crudele, ma la costruzione giuridica venne ad essere più logica e più coerente. Cosi deve pure attribuirsi ad una elaborazione giuridica, resa ne cessaria dalle condizioni, sotto cui patriziato e plebe entravano a far parte della comunanza, quel concetto, per cui quella proprietà, che nel costume ritenevasi appartenere alla famiglia, giuridicamente in vece venne ad essere considerata come spettante ad un individuo, che poteva disporne in qualsiasi guisa. Questo infatti era il solo modo di combinare il concetto della proprietà famigliare, che era proprio del patriziato, con quello della proprietà privata ed individuale, che era la sola, che fosse conosciuta dalla plebe. Fondendosi insieme, le due formedi proprietà diedero origine a quella singolare istituzione della proprietà quiritaria, che nel costume si ritiene della famiglia, e in diritto si considera come esclusivamente propria del padre, per 409 cui tutto ciò, che acquistano gli altri membri della famiglia, a lui solo appartiene (1). 328. Fermo cosi nelle sue linee generali il concetto fondamentale del quirite, quale ebbe ad uscire dal crogiuolo del censo istituito da Servio Tullio, viene ad essere facile il comprendere come i varii atteggiamenti, sotto cui esso può essere considerato, abbiano potuto essere scomposti ed analizzati, e abbiano così data origine ad al trettante concezioni giuridiche foggiate sullo stesso modello. Il quirite infatti costituisce in certo modo la configurazione giu ridica dell'umana persona, quale allora poteva essere concepita, e come tale può essere considerato: – o in quanto sta, ossia nella posizione giuridica (status), che egli tiene nella comunanza quiri tiana: - o in quanto egli si muove ed agisce, ossia in quanto egli entra in rapporti con altri quiriti. In quanto sta, ossia in quanto egli tiene uno status, questo può essere scomposto nei suoi varii elementi, e quindi il quirite viene ad avere un caput, che comprende tutta la sua capacità giuridica come quirite; una manus, che inchiude il complesso dei poteri, che gli appartengono ex iure quiritium; un mancipium, il quale implica parimenti nella sua significazione primitiva così le persone, che le cose, che da lui dipendono per diritto quiritario. È poi degno di nota, che tutti questi vocaboli, in cui viene ad essere racchiusa l'individualità giuridica del quirite, hanno una significazione mate riale e giuridica, concreta ed astratta ad un tempo. Cosi, ad esempio, il vocabolo caput, mentre da una parte indica la parte più nobile ed importante del corpo, dall'altra designa la capacità giuridica poten ziale del quirite che è come la sorgente di tutti i diritti spettanti al medesimo; quello dimanus,mentre esprime l'organo mediante cui si esplica la forza e l'energia fisica dell'uomo, è ad un tempo il sim bolo efficacissimo dell'attività giuridica che si viene estrinsecando in certi determinati poteri; e quello infine di mancipium da ma nucaptum, mentre da una parte significa una cosa, che per essere materialmente afferrata dalla manus, non può sfuggire alla mede sima, dall'altra indica eziandio lo stato di sottomissione giuridica, in cui vengono a trovarsi le persone e le cose che da essa dipendono. (1) Questo carattere speciale della proprietà quiritaria e il modo in cui essa potè formarsi saranno meglio spiegati nel cap. seg., $ 6, ove si discorre dell'origine del dominium ex iure quiritium. 410 Questi varii elementi poi, intrecciandosi fra di loro, costituiscono un tutto organico e coerente; poichè, tanto nel significato mate riale quanto nel giuridico, la manus viene in certo modo ad esser e il termine di mezzo fra il caput che la dirige e il mancipium che dipende dalla medesima. In quanto invece si muove ed agisce, il quirite viene a contatto coi proprii simili, e quindi le sue estrinsecazioni giuridiche possono essere richiamate: al connubium, da cuideriva, si può dire, tutto il diritto, che si riferisce alle persone; al commercium, in cui si com pendiano tutte le manifestazioni giuridiche, che si riferiscono alle cose; all'actio, da cui scaturisce tutto quel complesso di proce dure, con cui egli pud far valere qualsiasi suo diritto: vocaboli anche questi, che hanno pure una significazione materiale e giuridica ad un tempo. Tutti questi elementi poi, mentre concorrono a costituire l'organismo del tutto, sono percorsi da un proprio concetto informa tore, che si viene logicamente svolgendo, e che dà cosi origine a quella dialettica latente della giurisprudenza romana, colla quale sol tanto si possono spiegare certe peculiarità del diritto romano. Intanto è da notarsi, che tutto questo bagaglio del diritto quiri tario è tolto in sostanza dal periodo gentilizio, perchè già in esso eransi formati i concetti del caput per indicare il capo del gruppo famigliare o gentilizio, della manus per indicare il complesso dei suoi poteri, e del mancipium per indicare le cose e le persone che gli erano soggette; come pure in esso, già si erano preparati i concetti di connubium, di commercium e di actio. Vi ha però questa differenza, che mentre questi un tempo indicavano dei rap porti, che intercedevano fra i membri delle varie genti, ora indi cano invece la posizione speciale, che il quirite prende nella co munanza quiritaria, ed i varii aspetti sotto cui dispiegasi l'attività giuridica del quirite nei suoi rapporti cogli altri quiriti (1). Quindi è, che mentre questi concetti un tempo avevano una significazione, che era determinata dall'ambiente, in cui si erano formati; ora invece, essendo staccati dall'ambiente stesso, si cambiano in altrettante forme e concezioni logiche, e come tali diventano capaci di uno svolgi mento logico e storico compiutamente diverso, la cui ricostruzione formerà oggetto dei capitoli seguenti. (1) Il naturale processo, in base a cui venne formandosi un diritto fra le varie genti, fu spiegato più sopra ai nn. 94 e seg., pag. 117, e quello per cui i concetti intergentilizii così formati si cambiarono in concetti quiritarii trovasi descritto al n ° 266. Il quirite nel suo status. § 1. – Il censo serviano e la genesi dei concetti di caput, manus, mancipium. 329. Anche oggidi il più arduo problema, che presentino le ori gini del ius quiritium, consiste nello spiegare come mai il mede simo si trovasse di un tratto isolato da quell'ambiente religioso e gentilizio, in cui erasi formato, e come esso abbia potuto prendere le mosse da concetti così sintetici e comprensivi, quali sono quelli di caput, manus, mancipium. Come mai potè accadere, che quel ius, che presso le genti patrizie era ancora soverchiato dal fas ed ed avviluppato nel mos (1), sia pervenuto pressochè di un tratto ad affermare la propria esistenza e a ricevere uno svolgimento lo gico e storico del tutto distinto da quello della religione e della mo rale? In qual modo parimenti potè accadere, che un diritto, il quale, secondo l'attestazione dei giureconsulti, ebbe a formarsi « necessi tate exigente et rebus ipsis dictantibus », siasi iniziato con sintesi potenti, che inchiudono in germe tutti i suoi ulteriori svolgimenti? Son note in proposito le divergenze degli autori e le congetture innumerabili, che furono poste innanzi, ed è certo assai difficile di giungere ad una risoluzione, che possa rispondere a tutte le ob biezioni. Persuaso tuttavia, che per comprendere le istituzioni di un popolo, sia sopratutto indispensabile di spogliarsi delle idee del tempo, per trasportarsi nell'ambiente e nel pensiero del popolo, fra cui quelle istituzioni giunsero a formarsi, io ritengo che il solo modo per giungere a comprendere questa singolare formazione del ius quiritium e la significazione dei concetti da cui esso parte, sia quello di ricostrurre in base alle condizioni economiche e sociali, in cui si trovavano il patriziato e la plebe, quella comunanza quiritaria, (1) Il carattere eminentemente religioso del diritto primitivo delle genti patrizie fu dimostrato più sopra, lib. I, cap. V, pag. 90 a 104, discorrendo dei rapporti fra il mos, il fas e il ius. Il medesimo poi si mantenne ancora durante il periodo della città esclusivamente patrizia, come lo dimostra l'analisi delle leges regiae fatta ai nn. 268 a 270, pag. 329 e segg. 412 la cui formazione ebbe ad essere determinata dalla costituzione e dal censo di Servio Tullio. 330. Credo di avere dimostrato a suo tempo come il patriziato e la plebe, anteriormente all'epoca serviana, non avessero comuni nè la religione, né i costumi, nè l'organizzazione gentilizia, nè i connubii, che sono il fondamento dell'organizzazione domestica. I soli diritti, che la città patrizia avesse accordati alle plebi circo stanti, non devono neppure essere indicati col nome di ius com mercii, ma bensi con quello di ius nesi mancipiique; il quale consisteva nel diritto dei plebei di potersi obbligare vincolando la propria persona, e di poter disporre di quelle possessioni, che essi tenevano nel territorio romano (1). È quindi evidente che, se era possibile una comunanza fra i due ordini, questa nelle origini non poteva avere nè un carattere religioso e neppure un carattere mo rale, ma poteva solo avere un carattere esclusivamente economico, giuridico e militare. Ne consegui pertanto, che per formare questa comunanza venne ad essere necessario di sceverare affatto il ius, nel senso stretto e rigido della parola, dal fas e dal mos, con cui prima trovavasi implicato nelle istituzioni delle genti patrizie. Questa selezione erasi già in parte iniziata col formarsi della città esclusivamente patrizia, poichè già fin d'allora erasi venuta distin guendo la vita pubblica dalla privata ed erasi già in parte affie volita l'organizzazione gentilizia (2); ma la medesima dovette spin gersi ben più oltre coll'accoglimento nel populus di un elemento, a cui non erasi riconosciuto che il ius neximancipiique. Di qui la rigidezza singolare, che ebbe ad assumere il ius quiritium, allorchè cominciò ad essere comune al patriziato ed alla plebe; poichè da quel momento esso venne ad essere sottratto a quell'au reola religiosa e patriarcale, che dominava il periodo gentilizio, e fu sottoposto all'impero di una logica del tutto sua propria. Se non che, anche in tema di diritto, nel senso stretto della pa rola, non tutte le istituzioni potevano servire di base alla comu (1 ) V., quanto alla condizione della plebe, il lib. I, cap. IX, pag. 180 a 196, e quanto al ius nexi mancipiique, spettante alla medesima, il nº 160, pag. 198 e 199, come pure il nº 287, pag. 351 e 352. (2) Che anche il diritto della città patrizia supponesse una specie di selezione fra le istituzioni delle varie genti, operatasi per opera dei collegi sacerdotali e sotto forma di legislazione regia, fu dimostrato nel libro II, cap. IV, SS 1º, 2º e 3º, pag. 303 a 333. - 413 nanza quiritaria, ma soltanto quelle che in effetto erano comuni ai due ordini, o che erano tali da rendere possibile un ravvicina mento fra di loro. Quindi anche in fatto di diritto convenne fare astrazione da tutti quei rapporti, che per il momento non potevano essere comuni, per fissare lo sguardo su quei rapporti e su quegli interessi, in base a cui essi potevano partecipare alla stessa comu nanza. Siccome quindi l'interesse, che avevano il patriziato e la plebe ad entrare in una stessa comunanza, era sopratutto l'interesse della comune difesa, così la comunanza quiritaria assunse in que st'epoca un carattere più esclusivamente militare, che prima non avesse. Siccome parimenti gli unici rapporti, per cui poteva avve. rarsi un ravvicinamento fra di loro, erano quelli relativi alla fa miglia unificata sotto il proprio capo, e alla proprietà spettante alla famiglia stessa, così il ius quiritium comune ai due ordini cominciò a consolidarsi nella parte relativa alle due istituzioni fondamentali della proprietà e della famiglia. 331. Di cid è facile persuadersi quando si considerino le condi zioni rispettive dei due ordini, che dovevano partecipare alla stessa comunanza. Da una parte eran vi i membri delle gentes patriciae, i quali ancorchè fossero i fondatori della città, continuavano però sempre ad essere organizzati per gruppi, sovrapponentisi gli uni agli altri (famiglie, genti, e tribù gentilizie), come lo dimostra il fatto, che il popolo primitivo era diviso per curiae, le quali erano appunto for mate ex hominum generibus. Il patriziato pertanto non aveva in certo modo il concetto della individualità nello stretto senso della parola, ma solo il concetto dei diversi gruppi e dei capi che rap presentavano imedesimi. Di questi gruppi poi ilmeno esteso e il più strettamente unificato era quello della famiglia, fondata sulla agna zione, e riunita sotto la potestà del padre. - Dall'altra parte in vece eravi la plebe, la quale, essendo una moltitudine di individui rimasti liberi dalla clientela, o immigrati da altre città, o traspor tati da popolazioni conquistate, componevasi invece di individui anche isolati o tutto al più di famiglie, le quali non erano più strette insieme dal vincolo di agnazione, ma piuttosto da quello più naturale dell'affinità e della cognazione (1 ). (1) V.,quanto all'organizzazione gentilizia del patriziato, il lib. I, cap. IV, e quanto alle condizioni della plebe, il lib. I, cap. IX. 414 Queste differenze poi, che esistevano fra di loro quanto alla loro organizzazione, si riflettevano eziandio nelle loro condizioni econo miche. Da una parte infatti continuava a prevalere presso le gentes patriciae la proprietà collettiva dell'ager gentilicius o dell'ager compascuus, il che però non impediva che esse già conoscessero una specie di proprietà famigliare e privata, la quale era designata col vocabolo di heredium. Questo consisteva nell'assegno, che le varie gentes facevano sull'ager gentilicius ad ogni gentile, che passando a matrimonio veniva a fondare una nuova famiglia, ed era a somi glianza di esso, che secondo la tradizione anche Romolo aveva fatto a ciascuno dei suoi seguaci un assegno, il quale pur riteneva il nome di heredium. Il medesimo quindi costituiva in certo modo il patrimonio famigliare, e come tale non poteva essere alienato senza il consenso degli altri capi di famiglia, ma doveva invece trasmettersi dai genitori ai figli, e mantenersi per quanto si poteva indiviso (ercto non cito ); ma intanto, essendo già intestato al capo di famiglia, cominciava ad avvicinarsi alla proprietà individuale e privata. Dall'altra invece la plebe, non avendo l'organizzazione gentilizia, non poteva neppure avere la proprietà collettiva dell'ager gentilicius e dell'ager compascuus. Di qui conseguiva, che i plebei nel fatto si trovavano stabiliti sopra certi spazi di suolo, che essi avevano occupato sul territorio romano, o di cui avevano ottenuto il godimento da qualche gens patricia, o che loro erano stati as segnati dal re sullo stesso ager publicus. È quindi evidente, che questi stanziamenti della plebe, essendo una applicazione del ius mancipii alla medesima accordato, più non potevano essere chia mati col vocabolo di heredia, poichè questo conteneva ancora l'idea di un patrimonio avito da trasmettersi agli eredi, ma potevano in vece più acconciamente indicarsi col vocabolo dimancipia, poichè essi erano state effettivamente manucapti, e perchè fino a quel punto costituivano piuttosto semplici possessi, che non vere proprietà al punto di vista gentilizio (1). 332. In questa diversità di condizioni egli è evidente, che il (1) Quanto al concetto dell'heredium, come forma della proprietà famigliare nel periodo gentilizio, vedi il nº 56, pag. 70; ma devo aggiungere, che dettando quelle pagine non aveva ancora ravvisata la differenza esistente fra l'heredium ed il man cipium, nè aveva cercato di spiegare come perchè all'heredium del periodo genti lizio fosse sottentrato nel ius quiritium il concetto di mancipium. - 415 censo, dovendo comprendere i due ordini, non poteva tener conto che degli elementi, che erano loro comuni. Se il censo quindi avesse dovuto farsi di soli patrizii, si sarebbe dovuto indicare la famiglia, la gente e la tribù gentilizia a cui ap partenevano, e avrebbesi così avuto un censo fondato sulla discen denza, come quello sovra cui dovevano probabilmente essersi for mate le curiae. Se esso invece avesse dovuto comprendere i soli plebei, si sarebbe dovuto procedere per capita; poichè fra essi ve ne erano anche di quelli, che solo avevano il loro caput, e che non avrebbero potuto indicare la loro vera discendenza. Siccome invece il censo, come base della nuova comunanza quiritaria, do veva comprendere gli uni e gli altri; cosi la soluzione fu la più naturale di tutte, quella cioè di dare al censo non più una base genealogica (ex hominum generibus), che avrebbe potuto compren dere solo i patrizii ed alcune famiglie plebee, ma bensì una base territoriale e locale (ex regionibus et locis) (1), che poteva com prendere gli uni e gli altri, e di censire gli abitanti, non per genti e neppure per famiglie, ma per capita, attribuendo perd al voca bolo di caput la doppia significazione di individuo e di capo di quel gruppo famigliare, che era appunto il solo, che fosse comune al patriziato ed alla plebe. Così pure se si fosse trattato di censire le proprietà patrizie, si sarebbe dovuto prendere come base la proprietà collettiva della gens (ager gentilicius), nella quale sarebbero anche rientrati gli heredia delle singole famiglie; ma volendosi anche censire i possessi e gli stanziamenti della plebe, convenne di necessità prendere a base del censimento quella sola forma di proprietà e di possesso, che apparteneva ai patrizii sotto il nome di heredium, e ai plebei sotto quello di mancipium. Tuttavia questa proprietà individuale e famigliare ad un tempo, che era comune ad entrambi gli ordini, non potè più essere indicata acconciamente col vocabolo di here dium, il quale era pur sempre una istituzione di origine gentilizia, ma potè esserlo più acconciamente con quello di mancipium, il quale, oltre al rispondere perfettamente ai concetti di caput e di inanus, aveva anche il vantaggio di significare al tempo stesso la proprietà e il possesso, e di esprimere con potente efficacia quel carattere di proprietà esclusiva ed individuale, che veniva ad assu (1) Gellio, XV, 28, 4. 416 mere quel patrimonio, che nel censo era intestato ad una deter minata persona. La conseguenza intanto fu questa, che nella comunanza quiritaria, formatasi in base alla costituzione ed al censo serviano, mentre il patrizio fu isolato in certo modo dall'ambiente gentilizio, in cui esso prima si trovava, il plebeo ottenne invece il riconoscimento ufficiale del possesso, sovra cui esso era stabilito. L'uno e l'altro comparvero nel censo come quiriti, ossia come capi di famiglia e come proprietarii di terra; ebbero un complesso di diritti comuni, che prese appunto il nome di ius quiritium. Così pure la comunanza quiritaria, avendo una base economica, venne a considerare ogni cosa sotto l'aspetto del mio e del tuo, e assunse eziandio una impronta emi nentemente militare, che spiega quel carattere di forza e di vio lenza che è inerente al ius quiritium e si rivela nei vocaboli e nei simboli da esso adoperati. 333. Pongasi ora, che trattisi di comprendere in certe rubriche, che si adattino per la formazione del censo, l'individualità giuridica di questo quirite, e anche oggidi sarebbe forse difficile di sovrap porre a queste varie rubriche vocaboli più sintetici e compren sivi e al tempo stesso più esatti e precisi di quelli di caput, manus, mancipium. Nella categoria del caput verrà il nome del cittadino, libero e sui iuris, come individuo e come capo di famiglia, e vi saranno le indicazioni del suo nome, della sua età, della tribù locale a cui appartiene, la cui indicazione finirà anzi per formar parte delle denominazioni ufficiali del cittadino romano (1). Nella seconda rubrica invece saranno indicati i poteri, che a lui ap partengono sulle persone, che entrano a costituire il gruppo, di cui egli è capo, sulle persone cioè, che siano in manu, in potestate, in mancipio, e siccome questa enumerazione dovrà naturalmente par tire dalla moglie, che trovasi sotto la manus, così può spiegarsi come tutti questi poteri vengano sotto la intitolazione generica di manus. Nella terza categoria infine comparirà il mancipium, ossia il complesso delle persone e delle cose, che costituivano il vero patri monio del quirite, in quanto egli era un capo di famiglia indipen dente e sovrano. (1) Che il nome della tribù, a cui il cittadino apparteneva, entrasse nelle deno minazioni ufficiali del medesimo, appare da una quantità grandissima di iscrizioni. V. in proposito il MICHEL, Du droit de cité romaine, Paris, 1885. 417 Questo mancipium pertanto non potrà più comprendere nè l'ager gentilicius, come quello che non appartiene al capo di famiglia, ma alla gente; né le mandrie e gli armenti, che pascolano in questo ager gentilicius; né eziandio le possessiones, che si possano avere nell'ager publicus; nè la pecunia circolante, il cui ammontare pud essere variabile e non si presta ad una constatazione esatta e pre cisa, quale è quella richiesta per un censo; ma dovrà invece com prendere soltanto quella proprietà, che costituisse in certo modo il patrimonio normale, costante, e pressochè tipico di un capo di fa miglia agricola, nelle condizioni economiche e sociali in cui trova vasi allora il popolo romano. Egli è probabile infatti, per chi tenga conto della tendenza delle genti italiche a modellare i loro istituti sul medesimo tipo, che quel mancipium, che doveva figurare nel censo, quale patrimonio asso luto ed esclusivo del quirite, tendesse nella generalità dei casi ad essere configurato nella istessa guisa. Per verità se trattavasi dell'heredium ossia dell'assegno fatto ad un capo di famiglia di gente patrizia, il medesimo probabilmente doveva consistere in uno spazio dell'ager gentilicius, che potesse bastare all'abitazione e al sostentamento di lui e della sua famiglia; ed è certo a somiglianza di questi primitivi assegni, che, salve le proporzioni, dovettero es sere configurati gli assegni, che le genti facevano ai clienti, e quelli parimenti che i re facevano alla plebe. Di qui consegui na turalmente che, facendo astrazione dalla quantità maggiore o mi nore di iugera, o dall'ampiezza maggiore o minore della domus in città o del tugurium nel contado, dovette formarsi una configura zione tipica del podere del quirite. Che anzi non è punto impro babile, che nella formazione del censo, dovendosi ridurre a categorie generali le cose essenziali, che entravano a costituire questo man cipium, anche queste fossero raccolte sotto certe denominazioni ti piche, quali sarebbero quelle di praedia, di praediorum instru menta (servi, quadrupedes quae dorso collove domantur), di praediorum servitutes (iter, via, actus, aquaeductus); le quali po terono assai naturalmente essere indicate col vocabolo complessivo di res mancipii, come quelle che effettivamente entravano a costi tuire il mancipium (1). (1) Mi limito qui ad accennare in genere come possa esser nato e siasi svolto l'importantissimo concetto del mancipium, perchè le molteplici questioni al riguardo saranno prese più opportunamente in esame in questo stesso capitolo, § 4º, ove si G. Carle, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 27 - 418 334. Intanto una conseguenza necessaria di questa specie di se lezione del patrimonio, che apparteneva ad ogni singolo capo di fa miglia, veniva ad essere questa, che le res mancipii, come quelle che servivano a determinare la posizione di esso nella comunanza quiritaria, costituissero come una specie di proprietà privilegiata, che doveva ritenersi appartenere in modo assoluto ed esclusivo al quirite, a cui trovavasi intestata. Si vengono così a comprendere le espressioni più antiche di mancipium facere, mancipio dare, mancipio accipere, le quali dapprima dovettero significare la costi tuzione di una cosa nel mancipium, e poi anche l'acquistare e il trasmettere una cosa, che fa parte del mancipium; finchè la fre quenza di questi atti non condusse a creare un vocabolo apposito, che è quello di mancipare, da cui derivò appunto quello della mancipatio, la quale venne cosi ad essere il modo proprio ed esclu sivo per l'alienazione delle res mancipii (1 ). Non conseguiva tuttavia da cid, che non esistessero altri beni, di cui il cittadino avesse l'effettivo godimento: ma questi non con tavano nel determinare la sua posizione di quirite, non entravano a costituire il suo contributo alla comunanza quiritaria, e come tali non erano dapprima oggetto di proprietà assoluta ed esclusiva, nelvero senso della parola: essi formavano piuttosto oggetto di uso e di godimento, ed erano compresi genericamente in una categoria ne gativa, che più tardi fu denominata delle res nec mancipii, le quali perciò potevano essere alienate collasemplice traditio. Può dirsi pertanto, che il mancipium fu in certo modo la prima pro prietà ufficialmente constatata del cittadino romano, fuori della quale poteva esservi uso o godimento, ma non proprietà nel senso vero della parola e al p semplice traditio. Può dirsi pertanto, che il mancipium fu in certo modo la prima pro prietà ufficialmente constatata del cittadino romano, fuori della quale poteva esservi uso o godimento, ma non proprietà nel senso vero della parola e al punto di vista quiritario. È poi questa se parazione, che a causa del censo si venne operando fra l'intesta zione ufficiale della proprietà di una cosa, e l'effettivo godimento di essa, che ci spiega come negli antichi autori si contrappongano tratterà ex professo del mancipium e della distinzione delle res mancipii e nec mancipii. L'idea che la distinzione delle res mancipië e nec mancipii dovesse avere qualche attinenza col censo Serviano ebbe già ad essere enunciata dal PUTTENDORF, dal LANGE, dalWANGERON, dal Kuntze, ed è anche seguìta presso di noi dal SERAFINI, Istituz., Firenze, 1881, § 21. Vedi lo Squitti, Resmancipi e nec mancipi, Napoli, 1885, pag. 51, gli autori ivi citati, e gli argomenti che egli adduce contro questa opinione, quale ebbe ad essere fino ad ora formulata. (1) Cfr. BONFANTE, Res mancipi e nec mancipi, Roma 1888, pag. 90. 9 419 talvolta i concetti dimancipium e quelli di usus fructus (1), e come più tardi abbia potuto accadere, che una persona avesse sopra una cosa il nudum ius quiritium, mentre un'altra invece ne aveva l'ef fettivo godimento (in bonis ). È poi facile a comprendere come questa posizione privilegiata, in cui venne ad essere collocato il mancipium, abbia anche cooperato efficacemente a dissolvere la proprietà collettiva dell'ager gentilicius, e con essa a dissolvere eziandio l'organizzazione gentilizia, la quale venne in certo modo ad essere senza base, allorchè manco del suo fondamento economico. Ogni gens patricia infatti, se volle avere una quantità di suffragii anche nelle centurie, ove fini per concentrarsi la somma del pubblico potere, dovette affrettarsi a fare degli assegni di terra ai proprii membri non solo, ma anche ai proprii clienti e per tal modo gli agri gentilicii vennero spartendosi, ed all '« ercto non cito », che indicava l'indivisione del patrimonio famigliare nel periodo gentilizio, sottentrò il principio già riconosciuto dalle XII Tavole, secondo cui altri non può essere costretto a rimanere in comunione suo malgrado: « si erctum ciet, arbitros tres dato » (2 ). 335. Così spiegato il censo serviano, viene a conseguirne che se vogliasi conoscere la vera posizione del quirite, non come uomo, ma come membro della comunanza quiritaria, sarà nelle tabulae censoriae, che a lui si riferiscono, che dovrà essere cercato il suo vero status. Quindi se trattisi di un cittadino, libero e sui iuris, ma senza potestà famigliare e senza patrimonio, egli sarà bensi un caput, ma, non avendo che quello, sarà un capite census, e sarà (1) Questo contrapposto occorre più volte nelle epistole di CICERONE, e fra le altre volte in una lettera ad Curium, VII, 30, 2 ove scrive: « Cuius (Attici) quando « proprium te esse scribis mancipio et nexo, meum autem usu et fructu, contentus « isto sum. Id enim est cuiusque proprium, quo quisque fruitur atque utitur »; il che significava in sostanza, che egli preferiva al dominio ufficiale su Curio (man. cipium et nexum ), che spettava ad Attico, il godimento effettivo (usus et fructus ) della sua conversazione. Altre volte però questo contrapposto ha una significazione diversa, come nel bel verso di LUCR., III, 969: « vita mancipio nulli datur, omnibus usu », ove mancipium si contrappone ad usus, in quanto significa una cosa, che ci appartiene a discrezione, in guisa da poterne usare ed abusare, ed indica così il potere illimitato ed esclusivo, che competeva sulmancipium. Cfr. BONFANTE, op. cit., pag. 92, nota 2, e pag. 96, nº 2, e gli altri passi ivi citati. (2 ) Secondo la ricostruzione del Voigt, op. cit., I, pag. 712, tale sarebbe stato il tenore della legge 16, della tavola V. 420 solo molto tardi, che la repubblica si contenterà di accettarlo nella formazione del proprio esercito. Che se egli, pur non avendo il patrimonio richiesto per entrare nelle classi e centurie, abbia tut tavia qualche sostanza (1500 assi) ed una prole, che può crescere a benefizio della repubblica e che può interessarlo per essa, egli figu rerà nel censo colla prole stessa e colla manus, che gli appartiene sulla medesima, e sarà cosi nella classe dei proletarii, la quale è già in condizione meno umile, poichè in condizioni difficili potrà far parte, se non del vero esercito, almeno di una specie di milizia raccogli ticcia (militia tumultuaria ), che sarà armata a spese della repub blica (1). Infine se anche per ciò, che si riferisce al mancipium, egli giunga a quella misura, che è necessaria per essere ammesso nelle classi e nelle centurie, egli verrà ad essere adsiduus o locuples, e secondo il valore maggiore o minore del suo mancipium potrà essere collocato in una delle cinque classi, che formano il vero po pulus romanus quiritium. Queste diverse categorie verranno poi ad essere così distinte fra di loro, che ancora nelle XII Tavole per un adsiduus convenuto in giudizio per un debito, dovrà rispon dere un altro adsiduus, mentre per il proletario potrà rispondere chicchessia: « adsiduo vindex adsiduus esto; proletario, iam civi, quis volet vindex esto »; ed è solo più tardi che, secondo l'atte stazione di Gellio, « proletarii et adsidui evanuerunt, omnisque illa XII Tabularum antiquitas consopita est » (2). Tutto ciò intanto spiega come dalle stesse tavole censuarie si po tesse desumere lo status generalis del quirite sia come individuo, che come capo di famiglia e proprietario. Siccome tuttavia, accanto alle qualificazioni generali del capo gruppo, trovavansi pure nel censo le qualificazioni speciali di pater familias, mater familias, di liberi, di servi, di sui iuris, di alieni iuris, così anche queste varie gradazioni dello stato giuridico, senza essere create dal censo, furono tuttavia nel medesimo delineate, e per tal modo esso cooperd eziandio a svolgere e a precisare, accanto al concetto generale del quirite come tale, anche il concetto degli stati speciali, che una persona rappresentava nel gruppo a cui apparteneva. (1) Questa condizione dei capite censi e dei proletarii, riguardo al servizio mili tare, ci è attestata espressamente da GELLIO, XVI, 10, $$ 10 a 15. Egli poi, citando un passo di Sallustio, direbbe che i capite censi non furono arruolati, che da C. Mario nella guerra contro i Cimbri, o in quella contro Giugurta. (2 ) Gellio, XI, 6, 10, 8. Che se alle cose premesse si aggiunga, che il censo all'epoca serviana fu il documento ufficiale dello stato del cittadino, il quale serviva a determinare la sua posizione come contribuente, come cit tadino e come soldato ad un tempo, per guisa che la sola iscrizione nel censo poteva valere per la manomissione di un servo, sarà fa cile il comprendere come esso abbia potuto in parte conferire a determinare il linguaggio sintetico ed astratto, da cui prese le mosse il ius quiritium, ed il processo con cui esso vennesi elaborando. Esso infatti fu uno dei mezzi più potenti, mediante cui l'individualità giuridica del cittadino fu isolata da tutti gli elementi estranei al diritto, ed il quirite fu sottratto all'ambiente gentilizio in cui prima si trovava, ed obbligato a fermare il suo sguardo sovra quei rapporti che comparivano nel censo. Esso parimenti fu una delle cause per cui il ius. quiritium, che venne elaborandosi su questa trama pri mitiva, perdette di un tratto quell'aureola religiosa, che circondava le istituzioni delle genti patrizie, e potè essere svolto con una rigi dezza e con una logica astratta, che sarebbero certo incomprensi bili, quando non si conoscesse la causa, da cui poterono essere de terminate. Con ciò non intendo già affermare, che i concetti, da cui prese le mosse il ius quiritium, siano stati creati dal censo, poichè ho dimostrato invece che essi già preesistevano; ma solo di provare, che il censo servi a dare loro una configurazione esatta e precisa; a separarli nettamente gli uni dagli altri; a fare in guisa che ciascuno avesse un'esistenza propria e distinta, an corchè fra tutti concorressero a costituire una sola individualità giuridica. Fu in questo modo, che al punto di vista quiritario ogni gruppo apparve in certo modo unificato sotto il proprio capo; che tanto il diritto sulle persone che quello sulle cose nel l'elaborazione giuridica si ridusse ad una questione di mio e di tuo; che ciascun gruppo, essendo per dir cosi racchiuso in una cate goria determinata, ebbe un'esistenza cosi distinta da tutti gli altri gruppi, che i membri dell'uno non potevano promettere nè stipu lare per quelli dell'altro; che infine anche le varie membra del quirite si vennero come dislogando le une dalle altre, e poterono ricevere ciascuno un proprio sviluppo, dando così occasione a quel l'automatismo di concetti e di istituti, che è uno dei caratteri più salienti del diritto romano. Intanto questo sguardo generale ai caratteri peculiari della co munanza quiritaria, quale si formò nell'epoca serviana, e al censo che servi di base alla medesima, ci preparerà la via per ricostruire 422 la storia primitiva dei concetti fondamentali di questa, che può a ragione chiamarsi la parte statica del ius quiritium, in quanto fu in parte determinata da una delle prime applicazioni della sta tistica per la constatazione del numero, della forza e della ricchezza di un popolo (1). § 2. – Il concetto del caput e la teoria della capitis diminutio. 337. Chi volesse cercare le prime origini del concetto di caput, dovrebbe forse riportarsi col pensiero a quell'epoca, in cui i fonda tori della città contavano dai capi i proprii greggi ed armenti; nè sarebbe a farne le meraviglie dalmomento, che essi non dubitavano di chiamare ovilia quei recinti, in cui raccoglievansi le centurie e le classi per dare il proprio voto nei comizii. Parmi tuttavia più verosimile, che il vocabolo di caput dovesse, nel periodo gentilizio anteriore alla formazione della città, avere quella significazione, che tuttora conserva presso le popolazioni, che si trovano nelle stesse condizioni sociali, per cui esso indica un capo di gruppo, quella per sona cioè, che avendo preminenza su tutti quelli, che da essa di pendono e che la circondano, pud essere considerata come il rap presentante, in cui si unifica il gruppo stesso. Questo vocabolo poi, trapiantato nel censo serviano, viene ad indicare colui, che conta per uno nel censo, e conserva cosi un'analogia colla significazione anteriore, in quanto che il medesimo, pur essendo un individuo, unifica però in sè stesso le persone e le cose che ne dipendono. Se per tanto altri non abbia che il proprio caput e manchidi una sostanza valutabile nel censo stesso, verrà ad essere un capite census; se invece abbia solo una sostanza, che giunga ai 1500 assi e conti so. pratutto per la prole, che potrà produrre per la repubblica, sarà un proletarius; se infine abbia una sede fissa, e sostanze sufficienti per (1) A scanso di ogni malinteso, devo qui dichiarare che il concetto, che qui ap pare come direttivo nella ricostruzione della parte statica del ius quiritium, non fu un presupposto, dal quale io sia partito, ma fu il risultato ultimo, a cui mi con dussero pazienti e minute elucubrazioni intorno ai singolari caratteri con cui esso si presenta. Questo paragrafo pertanto fu l'ultimo ad essere scritto, ma ho creduto di premetterlo; perchè esso, a mio avviso, agevola al lettore la comprensione di ciò che verrà dopo. Ciò valga anche a farmi perdonare, se per avventura occorra qualche ine vitabile ripetizione. 423 collocarlo nelle classi e per assicurare la città della assiduità di lui a compiere le proprie obbligazioni di cittadino e di soldato ad un tempo, verrà ad essere chiamato adsiduus o locuples (1). In ogni caso, per avere integro il proprio caput e per poter contare per uno nel censo, conviene essere libero, cittadino, e sui iuris nel seno della famiglia; come lo dimostra il fatto, che se altri abbia un figlio, che per aver raggiunta l'età di 17 anni debba già entrare nelle classi e nelle centurie, non sarà esso che conterà per uno, ma sarà invece il padre, che verrà ad essere un duicensus, in quanto che egli viene ad essere censito con un'altra persona, cioè col proprio figlio: « duicensus dicebatur cum altero id est cum filio, census » (2 ). 338. È quindi facile il comprendere comefosse facile il passaggio dalla significazione materiale del caput alla significazione giuridica di esso, chiamando col vocabolo di caput il complesso delle condi zioni richieste per figurare nel censo, ossia lo stato generale della persona. In tal modo il vocabolo di caput cessa di indicare questo o quell'individuo in particolare, per trasformarsi in una concezione logica ed astratta (persona ), la quale, ancorchè ricavata dalla realtà, può servire ad indicare il complesso delle condizioni richieste, accid altri possa avere la capacità giuridica quiritaria. Una volta poi, che il caput venne cosi ad essere cambiato in una concezione astratta, il medesimo potè essere assoggettato ad una specie di analisi o di scomposizione dei varii elementi, che entravano a costituirlo. Tali elementi erano la libertas, la civitas e la qualità di sui iuris nel seno della famiglia (3). Di qui la teoria della capitis diminutio, che non si ricavò esclusivamente dai fatti, ma si svolse sulla concezione logica del caput; come lo dimostra il fatto, che anche l'emancipato, anche l'arrogato, sebbene in sostanza vengano talvolta a migliorare (1) Quanto all'etimologia di questi vocaboli vedi il $ prec., nº 335. (2 ) V. Festo, vº duicensus; Bruns, Fontes, pag. 337. (3) V. quanto al concetto di caput, Herzog, Gesch. und Syst., I, pag. 997; il KRÜGER, Geschichte der capitis diminutio, Breslau, 1887, $ 5 “, pag. 49 a 67, ove prende in esame il concetto di caput nei diversi autori moderni, sopratutto germa nici. Egli poi sembra ritenere, che il concetto di caput siasi venuto formando gra datamente. Ritengo invece, che il diritto romano anche in questo prorompa da una sintesi potente, a cui solo più tardi sottentrò quell'analisi, che diede poi origine alla teoria della capitis diminutio. Il caput quindi dapprima appartenne solo all'uomo libero, cittadino, e sui iuris; e fu solo più tardi, che anche il figlio di famiglia si considerò avere un caput. 424 la propria posizione, finiscono tuttavia per subire una capitis dimi nutio (1 ). Che anzi questa logica giuridica dovrà anche applicarsi al cittadino, che sia fatto prigioniero di guerra, e piuttosto che venir meno alla medesima si cercherà di supplirvi colla finzione di postliminio (2 ) Intanto sono tre gli elementi del caput, e questi vengono l'uno dopo l'altro in base alla loro importanza. Quindi la perdita della libertas costituisce la maxima capitis diminutio, la perdita della civitas la media, e la mutazione di stato nel seno della famiglia la minima. Ciascuno poi di questi elementi dà origine ad una di stinzione che vi corrisponde; donde le distinzioni fra liberi e servi, fra cives e peregrini, fra persone sui iuris e le persone alieni (1) Gaio, Comm., I, 160-64. Secondo il Krüger, op. cit., pag. 5 a 21, ed altri autori germanici da lui citati, la teoria della capitis diminutio avrebbe avuto uno svolgimento storico, nel senso che la prima a delinearsi sarebbe stata la mi nima capitis diminutio, sul cui modello si sarebbe poi foggiata la magna capitis diminutio, che fu poi divisa in maxima e media capitis diminutio. Ritengo anch'io, che questa istituzione dovette avere uno svolgimento storico,ma nel senso che come fu sintetico il concetto primitivo di caput, così la primitiva capitis diminutio dovette comprendere qualsiasi avvenimento, per cui altri cessasse di tare come un caput. Quindi la perdita della libertà, quella della cittadinanza e l'adrogatio per cui altri cessava di essere sui iuris, dovettero costituire la capitis diminutio, che venne poi distinguendosi nelle sue varie specie. Sarà poi sempre un problema il determinare come mai l'emancipatio potesse costituire una capitis diminutio, e si comprende come il Savigny, Traité de droit romain, trad. Guenoux, II, pag. 66, quasi voglia esclu derla dalla vera capitis diminutio; ma questa singolarità potrà essere capita quando si ritenga, che nel censo primitivo ogni famiglia sotto il suo capo costituiva un gruppo, e quindi anche l'emancipazione, facendo uscire quell' individuo dal gruppo, costituiva, come dice Gajo, una « prioris status permutatio », la quale era anche compresa nella significazione larga di capitis diminutio. Del resto l'emancipatio sotto un certo aspetto produceva anche un deterioramento nello status dell' emancipato, poichè nel diritto primitivo questi perdeva ogni diritto di successione di fronte al gruppo, da cui esso era uscito. Intanto ciò serve eziandio a spiegare quella singolarità del diritto romano, in virtù di cui la capitis diminutio fa perdere soltanto i diritti fondati sull'agnazione, e non quelli provenienti dalla cognazione, poichè quella teoria fu una creazione del ius quiritium e del ius civile, e come tale non poteva produrre effetti, che al punto di vista del diritto civile, per la ragione appunto detta da Gajo, Comm., I, 158: « civilis ratio civilia quidem iura corrumpere potest, naturalia vero non potest »; distinzione questa, che nell'epoche primitive non poteva esservi, ma cominciò a formarsi quando comparve il dualismo fra il ius civile ed il ius gentium, a cui sottentrò più tardi il ius naturale. (2) È nota in proposito la finzione della legge Cornelia de iure postliminii. Cfr. Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, pag. 299 e 300. 425 - iuris, le quali vengono ad essere fondamentali e servono di punto di partenza anche ai giureconsulti classici, come lo dimostrano le Isti tuzioni di Gaio. Che anzi, una volta adottato questo metodo, si po terono anche attuare delle posizioni giuridiche intermedie, come quella che è rappresentata dal ius latii, e queste si poterono applicare tanto ai popoli, ai quali non si voleva accordare il completo ius quiritium, quanto eziandio ai servi affrancati, i quali, invece di es sere posti senz'altro nella condizione degli altri cives, erano invece collocati nella condizione di latini iuniani (1). Certo tutta questa teoria non potè svilupparsi di un tratto; ma intanto è con Servio, che si pose il vocabolo ed il concetto infor matore della medesima, e si iniziò così quel processo logico, che de terminò poi l'elaborazione progressiva. Questa poi si spinse fino tale da distinguere fra lo stato generale della persona e le condizioni speciali, in cui essa può trovarsi; donde ne provennero le determina zioni giuridiche speciali del pater familias, del filius familias, della mater familias, che distinguesi dall'uxor. Che anzi ciascuno di questi stati speciali venne eziandio a convertirsi in una conce zione astratta, per modo che una persona poteva essere padre senza aver figli, essere tenuto come figlio, ancorchè effettivamente fosse padre, essere riguardata come figlia, ancorchè in effetto fosse moglie, poichè tutto dipendeva dal punto di vista giuridico, sotto cui la per sona veniva ad essere considerata (2 ). (1) Per tal modo mentre prima non eravi che una specie di libertas se ne ven nero creando varie gradazioni, cioè quella dei libertini, che erano cives romani, quella dei latini, e quella infine dei dediticii; altra prova questa, che il concetto pri mitivo è sempre sintetico, mentre le suddistinzioni compariscono più tardi. V. GAJO, Comm., I, 10. (2 ) Ciò è detto espressamente da ULPIANO, Leg., 195, § 2, dig. (50, 16) ove dice del pater familias: « recteque hoc nomine appellatur, quamvis filium non habeat; non enim solam personam eius, sed et ius demonstramus »; il che vuol dire, che nel qualificarlo come tale, il giureconsulto si poneva al punto di vista giuridico. Era poi nello stesso modo, che la moglie in manu si riteneva figlia del marito, e simili. Ciò mi indurrebbe alquanto a modificare la teoria accettata intorno alla fictiones nell'antico diritto. Tali fictiones dal SUMNER -MAINE, Ancien droit, pag. 25 e dal Juering, Ésprit de droit romain, IV, p. 295, sono in certo modo ritenute come alterazioni della realtà dei fatti, a cui si ricorre per modificare il diritto già esi stente. Se ciò è vero delle finzioni, che poifurono introdotte dal diritto pretorio, non può dirsi delle fictiones del primitivo ius quiritium. Queste, come lo dice la stessa etimologia da fingere nel senso di foggiare, modellare, fanno parte dell' ars iura condendi, e sono un mezzo per completare una costruzione giuridica. 426 339. Quando poi venne ad essere cosi svolta la concezione giu ridica del caput, era naturale che la medesima potesse essere con siderata indipendentemente da colui, al quale essa si riferiva, e che fosse così riguardata come una specie di persona e quasi ma schera giuridica, che poteva essere anche sovrapposta non solo ad uomini realmente esistenti, ma eziandio a quegli enti giuridici, i quali « etiam sine ullo corpore iuris intellectum habent »: donde la co struzione delle persone giuridiche (1). Che anzi si va anche più oltre e per quell'immedesimarsi che è proprio di quest'epoca fra i diritti delle persone e quelli sulle cose, anche la proprietà quiritaria può essere considerata, o in quanto è perfetta e senza limitazione (er optimo iure quiritium ), o in quanto può subire delle diminuzioni, le quali verranno ad essere designate col vocabolo di servitutes, perchè anch'esse, al pari della servitù riguardo alle persone, scemano e di minuiscono quella perfetta posizione giuridica, in cui trovasi la proprietà del fondo, allorchè non abbia subito limitazione di sorta (2 ). Si comprende infine come spinta fino a questo punto l'elabora zione del concetto del caput, la medesima sia una costruzione giu ridica, che può anche stare da sè e svolgersi per conto proprio, secondo che esige la logica informatrice dei varii elementi, che en trano a costituirla. Che anzi questo caput e lo stato giuridico, che ne dipende, potrà anche essere trasportato da una ad un'altra per sona. Quindi è facile a spiegarsi come il caput dapprima non ap partenesse che al capo di famiglia, e poi fosse attribuito ad ogni cittadino, e per ultimo all'uomo libero; nel qual trapasso la logica giuridica non fa che rinunziare successivamente ad uno dei tre ele menti, che costituivano il primitivo stato generale della persona. Essa comincia quindi a rinunziare alla qualità di sui iuris, e viene (1) Tale essendo il processo seguito dalla giurisprudenza romana nella formazione del concetto di persona, la famosa questione intorno all'esistenza della persona giu ridica in diritto romano può essere risolta nel senso che essa deve ritenersi come una fictio iuris, attribuendo però a questo vocabolo la significazione sopra accennata di una costruzione giuridica modellata su quella della persona fisica, ma limitata solo a quella categoria dei diritti della persona fisica, che poteva avere una base nella realtà; donde la conseguenza, che queste persone hanno il diritto ai beni, ma non possono avere i diritti di famiglia. Cfr. Savigny, Traité de droit romain, II, pag. 234 e segg. (2) Questo svolgimento pressochè parallelo del concetto della persona e della pro prietà libera da qualsiasi vincolo sarà posto in maggior luce in questo stesso capi tolo, § 5, discorrendo del dominium ec iure quiritium. 427 ad essere capace di diritto ogni cittadino, ancorchè non sia capo di famiglia; poi rinunzia indirettamente a quella di civis, in quanto che la civitas finisce per essere estesa a tutti i sudditi dell'impero, e viene ad essere persona ogni uomo libero; ma la logica romana non potè ancora fare a meno della libertas per accordare il caput, e quindi solo l'uomo libero fu dalla medesima considerato come capace di diritti e di obbligazioni. Nè è il caso di fargliene colpa, perchè la logica romana si basava sui fatti, e la schiavitù, finchè durò il Romano Impero, fu una istituzione comune a tutte le genti (1). Cid perd non tolse, che il concetto del caput o della persona, quale era stato elaborato dai Romani, potesse più tardi essere trasportato anche all'uomo come tale, perchè esso era una costruzione logica, la quale, foggiata dapprima sulla realtà dei fatti, erasi poi staccata da essi, e poteva così ricevere delle nuove applicazioni. S 3. Il concetto di manus e le sue principali distinzioni. 340. Può darsi benissimo, che l'antichissimo vocabolo dimanus significasse un tempo la forza effettiva dell'uomo, in quanto sottopone a sè stesso uomini e cose, ossia la forza del vincitore, che si impone al vinto, o il potere dell'uomo, che doma e addomestica gli animali. È tuttavia più probabile, che questo vocabolo nel periodo gentilizio significasse già il potere effettivo, di cui ciascun capo poteva disporre, nei conflitti e nelle lotte coi capi delle altre famiglie e genti, della qual primitiva significazione potrebbero ancora trovarsi le traccie nel nostro vocabolo di masnada. La manus invece nelius qui ritium viene già a cambiarsi anch'essa in una concezione giuridica ed astratta, che comprende il complesso dei poteri, che appartengono ad una persona nella sua qualità di quirite. Come il vocabolo di caput indica per cosi esprimersi la capacità potenziale del quirite: cosi l'estrinsecazione effettiva di questa potenza sulle persone e cose (1) Il Bruns, Geschichte und Quellen des röm. Rechts (in HOLTZEND., Encyclop., I, pag. 105 ), ebbe a dire con ragione, che il più alto concepimento del diritto ro mano consiste nell'avere riconosciuto in ogni uomo libero la capacità astratta didiritto. Cid è vero; ma vuolsi aggiungere, che il diritto romano vi pervenne a gradi, e ri conobbe questa piena capacità prima al capo famiglia, poi al civis, e da ultimo all'uomo libero. Cfr. BRUGI, Le cause intrinseche della universalità del diritto ro mano, Prolus., Palermo, 1886, pag. 8. 428 che ne dipendono viene ad essere designata col vocabolo di manus (1). È questo il motivo, per cui la manus viene a comparire in tutte le manifestazioni, che si riferiscono al diritto quiritario. Se essa afferra qualche cosa nell'intento di acquistarvi sopra la proprietà ex iure quiritium viene ad aversi la manu capio; se essa riven dica qualche cosa che spetta al quirite da altri che lo possegga, abbiamo la vindicatio e la manuum consertio: se essa lascia uscire qualche cosa dal proprio potere quiritario, abbiamo la manumissio e la emancipatio; se essa infine afferra il debitore condannato per trascinarlo nel carcere privato abbiamo la manus iniectio. Questa manus simbolica non è però sempre inerme, ma talvolta compare munita della lancia od asta quiritaria, che trovasi simboleggiata nella vindicta, la quale serve come modo tipico per la manomis sione dei servi; nella festuca, il cui uso si mantiene nell’actio sa cramento; nell'hasta, sotto cui si mette all'incanto il bottino fatto in guerra, e che si infigge dinanzi al centumvirale iudicium. Questo potere giuridico, sintetico e comprensivo, subisce poi anche l'influenza del censo serviano, e quindi viene negli inizii ad essere modellato sul concetto del mio e del tuo, per modo che così il potere sulla moglie, che quello sui figli, che quello sui servi e sulle persone quae sunt in causa mancipii appariscono foggiati sul modello della proprietà, sebbene non sia lecito dubitare, che essi nel costume pre (1 ) La generalità degli scrittori è oggi concorde nell'ammettere, che dei varii vo caboli per significare il potere giuridico spettante al quirite il più antico sia quello di manus. Tale è l'opinione del Sumner Maine, del Voigt, del PADELLETTI, ed essa trova anche un fondamento nell'analogia fra la manus dei Romani e il mundium dei Germani. La questione sta piuttosto in vedere se il vocabolo dimanus comprenda solo i poteri sulle persone, compresi anche i servi, oppure anche il potere sulle cose. Egli è certo a questo riguardo, che i giureconsulti classici dànno al vocabolo di manus il significato di potere sulle persone e considerano questo vocabolo come un sinonimo di potestas. Tuttavia io riterrei probabile, che il vocabolo dimanus in una signifi cazione del tutto primitiva potesse anche comprendere il potere sulle cose, e ciò per il semplice motivo, che altrimenti nel diritto antico non vi sarebbe stato vocabolo per significare la proprietà e il dominio. È vero che alcuni dicono, che questo voca bolo primitivo sarebbe quello dimancipium: ma miriservo di dimostrare a suo tempo, che questo vocabolo significò piuttosto le cose soggette al potere, che non il potere una spettante sulle medesime. In ogni caso, se al vocabolo di mancipium si vuol dare etimologia è necessità di darvi quella di manu-captum, e in tal caso la manus comparirebbe ugualmente per significare l'assoggettamento di una cosa al potere della persona. Cfr. Voigt, XII Tafeln, II, $ 79; BONFANTE, Res mancipi e nec mancipi, pag. 100, nota 1; Longo, La mancipatio, Firenze, 1887, pag. 3, nota 4. 429 sentavano delle differenze e dei temperamenti. Così pure, sotto il punto di vista giuridico, nulla hanno di proprio nè la moglie, nè i figli, né i servi, e tutto ciò che essi acquistano va al marito, al padre, al padrone, perchè è lui il vero quirite e quegli che conta nel censo. Sarà poi una conseguenza di questa logica giuridica, che se il dipendente rechi un danno, il capo di famiglia potrà addive nire alla noxae datio; che se alcuno si ribellerà al suo potere, gli spetterà un ius coercendi, che potrà giungere fino al ius vitae ac necis; e se alcuna delle persone, che da esso dipendono, verrà ad essergli sottratta, egli potrà proporre percid quella stessa actio furti od actio exhibendi, che potrebbe da lui essere proposta per una cosa, di cui sia stato derubato. 341. Dalmomento poi che la manus costituisce così una concezione giuridica, si comprende che anche ad essa siasi applicata quella scom posizione, che ebbe già a dispiegarsi quanto al caput. Si spiegano così le iniziali conservateci da Valerio Probo, secondo cui il potere giuridico del quirite verrebbe a suddividersi nella manus, che resta a significare il potere del marito sulla moglie, nella potestas, che significa il potere del padre sui figli, e nel mancipium, che qui sembra indicare il potere sulle persone quae sunt in mancipii causa. Quest'ultimo vocabolo tuttavia, più che un aspetto del potere quiri tario, sembra indicare piuttosto il complesso delle persone e delle cose, che dipendono dal potere spettante al quirite; come lo dimostra la circostanza, che il medesimo dai giureconsulti non è mai adoperato con significazione attiva, ma sempre con significazione passiva (1). (1) Basta per ciò osservare, chementre nei giureconsulti si incontrano le espressioni habere manum, potestatem, dominium, non occorre però mai l'espressione habere mancipium, ma sempre quella habere in mancipio: poichè quest'espressione di man cipium, derivando da manu-captum, significa bensì la cosa soggetta, ma non può si gnificare il potere sulla medesima. Io ritengo, che questa inesatta significazione data al vocabolo mancipium sia stata una causa dei gravi dubbii ed incertezze nell' ar gomento. Così, ad esempio, non potrei accettare l'opinione, che mancipium sia stato il primo vocabolo con cui si indicò il dominium ex iure quiritium; ciò sarebbe come dire che i vocaboli di praedium, fundus significassero il diritto di proprietà, mentre invece indicano la cosa, che ne forma l'oggetto. L'unico passo, che suol essere citato per far significare a mancipium un potere, è quello di GELLIO, XVIII, 6, 9, ove si parla della mater familias in manu, mancipioque mariti, ma anche questo dimostra, che anche la moglie era talora considerata come in mancipio, e conferma così la significazione passiva del vocabolo. Se dovette quindi esservi un vocabolo primitivo, che potè indicare il potere del proprietario, esso fu quello di manus, che ha in 430 Una volta poi, che i poteri, un tempo inchiusi nel vocabolo generico di manus, sono cosi separati l'uno dall'altro, essi possono essere ca paci di una propria elaborazione e venirsi cosi differenziando fra di loro secondo il diverso concetto a cui si ispirano, per modo che cia scuno di essi finirà per ricevere un diverso svolgimento logico e storico ad un tempo, e per essere sottoposto a quelle limitazioni, che verranno ad apparire necessarie nella realtà dei fatti. Negli esordii invece della formazione del ius quiritium non presentasi ancora il dubbio, che il quirite possa in qualche modo abusare della propria manus, e quindi tutti i poteri, che a lui appartengono, giuridicamente considerati, vengono ad apparire senza alcun limite e confine. Che anzi le persone a lai soggette, sotto il punto di vista giuridico acquistano ed operano non per sè,ma per le per sone, di cui trovansi in manu, in potestate, in mancipio. Di qui la conseguenza, che mentre le persone sottoposte al potere del capo di famiglia possono rappresentarlo, questa rappresentazione invece non può essere cosi facilmente ammessa, allorchè trattasi di altre persone, come lo dimostra il principio prevalente nell'antico di ritto, secondo cui una persona non può promettere nè stipulare per un'altra. Il concetto del mancipium e la distinzione delle res mancipii e necmancipii. 342. Che se la manus viene poi ad essere considerata, in quanto abbia assoggettate al suo potere le persone e le cose che da essa dipen dono, formasi il concetto del mancipium. Mentre i concetti di caput e di manus indicano un'energia che si esplica, il vocabolo invece di mancipium indica piuttosto lo stato di soggezione, in cui si trovano sè l'idea della forza e dell'energia, ma non mai quello di mancipium, che allora e sempre significò soltanto la soggezione. Del resto gli stessi giureconsulti ci attestano, che in antico non eravi un vocabolo speciale per significare il dominio, ma dicevasi soltanto meum, tuum. (1) Di qui credo di poter indurre, che anche quel principio del diritto primitivo, secondo cui altri non può essere rappresentato, che dalle persone che da lui dipen dono e niuno può promettere e stipulare per altri, sia una conseguenza del modo, in cui si iniziò la formazione del ius quiritium; in quanto che nell'esercito e nei comizii ciascuno doveva rispondere per sè e non poteva farsi rappresentare da altri. r 431 le persone e le cose che dipendono da essa, e presentasi con una signi ficazione eminentemente passiva. Non vi ha quindi nulla di ripu gnante, che esso nelle origini significasse il manu -captum; e designasse specialmente il vinto che, fatto prigioniero di guerra, veniva ad es sere soggetto alla potestà del vincitore. Questo è certo ad ogni modo, che nel ius quiritium il vocabolo dimancipium, al pari di quello di caput e di manus, ha già assunta una significazione eminentemente giuridica, per cui comprende quel complesso di persone e di cose, che dipendono esclusivamente dal capo di famiglia, e che a lui apparten gono ex iure quiritium, e che nel censo compariscono in certo modo comeposte in suo capo (1). È quindi sopratutto coll'entrare a far parte delmancipium, che i diritti spettanti al capo di famiglia ed al pro prietario ex iure quiritium assumono quel carattere così esclusivo ed individuale, che è del tutto proprio del diritto primitivo di Roma. Con esso infatti il quirite viene ad essere staccato dall'ambiente gen tilizio, di cui fa parte, a compare nel censo con un complesso di persone e di cose, che dipendono da lui in modo assoluto. È quindi in virtù di quest'astrazione, che viene a formarsi il concetto di una potestà senza confini e di una proprietà assoluta ed esclusiva spet tante al capo di famiglia (2 ). Anche nel mancipium, come negli altri (1) Quasi tutti gli autori son concordi in ritenere, che il mancipium abbia avuta una significazione così larga da comprendere così le persone, quanto le cose, in quanto son soggette al potere del capo di famiglia. Solo combatte quest'opinione il MARQUARDT, Das Privatleben der Römer, pag. 2. Ritengo che debba essere seguita la prima opinione, la quale per me ha un appoggio incontrastabile in ciò, che le formole serbateci da Aulo Gellio e VALERIO Probo accennano a persone, che sono in manu, potestate, mancipio; la qual formola troviamo poi adoperata nelle leggi più antiche che a noi pervennero, come nella lex Cincia de donationibus, del 550 di Roma (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 45) e nella lex Acilia repetundarum, del 631 di Roma (pag. 57). Ciò vuol dire, che anche le persone sotto un certo aspetto si considera vano come comprese nel mancipium del capo famiglia, il che poi spiega come ad esse potesse anche applicarsi la mancipatio, l'emancipatio e simili. Ciò però non toglie, che le significazioni tecniche del vocabolo mancipium fossero quelle specialmente di significare il servo, come lo prova l'editto curule de mancipiis vendundis (Bruns, pag. 214 ), o quel complesso di beni, che doveva essere consegnato nel censo. Quanto alle altre significazioni dimancipium, è da vedersi il BONFANTE, op. cit., pag. 79 a 105, col quale tuttavia non concordo in questo, che egli attribuisce al mancipium anche la significazione di una potestà sulla cosa (pag. 100 ), e sembra ritenere, che il mancipium non comprenda mai le persone (pag. 101, in nota). (2) Come il mancipium, fondendosi in certo modo coll'heredium, sia venuto a de signare le cose comprese nel dominio assoluto ed esclusivo del cittadino romano è stato dimostrato più sopra al nº 331, pag. 414. 432 concetti fin qui presi in esame, trovansi dapprima confuse le persone e le cose, che dipendono dalla stessa persona; ma poi anche qui viene operandosi una specie di differenziazione, per cui il vocabolo mancipium finisce per indicare il complesso dei beni, e quello di familia il complesso delle persone, che dipendono dal medesimo capo. Siccome però nel mancipium non si comprende tutto il pa trimonio del quirite, ma solo quella parte di esso, che è portata nel censo e che serve come stregua per determinare la classe, di cui entra a far parte; così ne deriva che il censo serviano deve eziandio essere considerato come il momento storico, in cui cominciò ad accen tuarsi quella distinzione fra il mancipium e il nec mancipium, che diede poi origine a quella importantissima distinzione fra le res mancipii e le res nec mancipii, che deve formare oggetto di par ticolare esame per le molte discussioni, a cui diede argomento. 343. La distinzione fra le res mancipii e le res nec mancipii, è a mio giudizio, un rottame del diritto primitivo, che indecifrabile da solo, può cambiarsi in un documento prezioso, quando si riesca a ricomporlo nell'ambiente in cui ebbe a formarsi (1). L'antichità del concetto, a cui si ispira la distinzione, è dimostrata dal fatto, che i giureconsulti ebbero ad accettare la medesima come già esi stente nel fatto, senza pur cercare di darsi la vera ragione di essa (2 ). La circostanza poi, che questa distinzione ebbe a perdurare per se coli, dimostra che essa non può considerarsi come una semplice biz zarria giuridica, ma deve invece rannodarsi a qualche concetto fon damentale dell'antico diritto, che i giureconsulti classici credettero di dovere accettare e rispettare. Ció del resto può in certi confini anche argomentarsi dal modo singolare, in cui è concepita questa distinzione; in quanto che essa è evidentemente fatta nell'intento (1) L'importanza della questione per lo studio del diritto primitivo di Roma fu in questi ultimi tempi assai sentita in Italia, come lo dimostrano i lavori già ci tati dello Squitti e del BONFANTE sulle res mancipi e nec mancipi e quello del Longo sulla mancipatio. Ritengo tutta via, che questa sia una di quelle questioni, che prima debbono essere studiate nei particolari, ma difficilmente possono poi es sere comprese e spiegate, se non siano coordinate colle altre istituzioni del diritto primitivo, con cui concorrevano a costituire un tutto organico e coerente. (2 ) Non può certamente ritenersi definitiva la ragione data da Gavo, Comm., II, 22, che le res mancipii siano così dette perchè suscettive di mancipatio; poichè si potrebbe sempre chiedere la ragione, per cui le sole res mancipii furono ritenute suscettive della mancipatio. 433 di mettere in una posizione speciale e privilegiata le res mancipii, che costituiscono la parte positiva della distinzione, mentre l'altra parte della distinzione ha un carattere puramente negativo, cioè comprende tutte quelle cose, che non appartengono alla prima ca tegoria. Da questo carattere infatti è lecito indurre, che nello svol gimento storico dovette precedere la formazione delle res mancipii, ossia di un complesso di cose, che erano comprese nel mancipium, e che solo più tardi quelle, che non erano comprese nelmedesimo, vennero ad essere chiamate res nec mancipii, quasi per contrap porle alla categoria già formata dalle res mancipii. Queste considerazioni aggiunte a quella pur importante, che dopo l'ultima lettura del manoscritto di Gaio da lui fatta, lo Studemund avrebbe adottata la lezione di res mancipii e res nec mancipii a vece di quella di res mancipi e nec mancipi, che prima era ge neralmente adottata, mi inducono a ritenere che il caposaldo, a cui deve rannodarsi questa antica distinzione, sia l'antichissimo concetto del mancipium, le cui origini rimontano quanto meno alla costitu zione ed al censo di Servio Tullo (1). 344. Per poter poi spiegare come nell'antico diritto possa essersi cominciato a distinguere il mancipium dal nec mancipium, non sarà inopportuno il notare, che fin dai tempi più antichi noi troviamo degli accenni ad una specie di distinzione, che erasi fatta nel pa trimonio spettante al capo di famiglia. Noi troviamo infatti una specie di dualismo nei vocaboli di heredium e di peculium, e in quelli eziandio di familia pecuniaque, i quali appariscono in certo modo contrapposti fra di loro. Per verità mentre i vocaboli di he (1) Del resto la questione della i doppia o semplice nel vocabolo mancipi o man cipii non ba grande importanza dal momento, che nel latino primitivo solevasi usare l'i semplice a vece della doppia ii. Che anzi sonvi autori, i quali continuano a seguire l'antica scritturazione, appunto perchè veggono in essa un indizio ed una prova dell'antichità della distinzione, sebbene ammettano la parentela delle res man cipiä сol primitivo mancipium. Così il BONFANTE, op. cit., pag. 21. Per parte mia, siccome mi propongo di fare la storia del concetto, anzichè della parola, così trovo più conveniente di adottare quella scritturazione, la quale, esprimendo materialmente l'attinenza fra il mancipium e le res mancipii, impedisce di dare a questa distin zione una significazione diversa da quella, che veramente ha. La grafia mancipi sarà forse la più genuina e la più antica; ma essa condusse alla distinzione fra cose man cipabili e non mancipabili, e a cercare l'origine della distinzione in cose, che non avevano a fare con essa, il che appunto deve essere evitato. G. CARLw, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 28 434 redium e di familia indicano di preferenza quella parte del patri monio, che nel proprio concetto informatore è destinata a passare negli eredi, i concetti invece di peculium e di pecunia sembrano designare di preferenza quella parte di patrimonio, che per sua na tura è destinata allo scambio, alla circolazione ed al soddisfacimento dei quotidiani bisogni. Di quisi può inferire, che una distinzione come questa, che compare indicata con vocaboli diversi, e che si mantiene con una certa costanza, dovette trovare la propria ragione d'essere nelle condizioni economiche e sociali, in cui allora trovavasi il popolo romano, e che perciò la spiegazione di essa debba ricercarsi nell'e poca, in cui vennesi formando il primitivo ius quiritium (1). Parmipoi a questo proposito, che anche oggi, fermando lo sguardo sopra una comunanza di carattere rurale, si possa trovare qualche vestigio di condizioni sociali ed economiche analoghe a quelle, che determinarono questa distinzione nell'antico diritto di Roma. Anche oggi nelle comunanze agricole la famiglia rurale appare in certo modo unificata nella persona del suo capo, e sotto l'aspetto econo mico costituisce come un gruppo di persone e di cose, in cui si comprende il capofamiglia, la moglie, i figli, il bestiame, la terra coltivata, e la cui importanza può essere maggiore o minore, secondo la quantità di terra da esso posseduta, e il numero di braccia, di cui può disporre per la coltura della medesima. È poi facile l'osser vare come in questo patrimonio, che si intitola al padre, ma che nel costume si considera come proprietà comune del gruppo, for misi naturalmente una distinzione congenere a quelle, le cui traccie pur compariscono fra gli antichi romani. Nel patrimonio infatti di una famiglia agricola havvi anzitutto una parte fissa, sostanziale, che comprende tutti quei beni, senza di cui l'azienda agricola non potrebbe percorrere il suo corso regolare. Essa costituisce, per cosi esprimersi, il capitale fisso della famiglia agricola; quella parte cioè della sua sostanza, che sebbene di diritto appartenga al padre, nel costume si ritiene invece come proprietà comune; quella che è dal padre custodita con speciale affetto, e di cui si spoglia a malincuore, ritenendosi come obbligato a trasmetterla intatta alla propria figliuo lanza. Se egli quindi alieni una parte della medesima, la comunanza rurale non può a meno di esserne informata e il suo credito vacilla. Quindi piuttosto di alienare questa parte fissa e trasmessibile dal (1) Già si accenno a questa correlazione, senza tuttavia cercare di spiegarla, al nº 56, pag. 70. 435 proprio patrimonio, il capo di famiglia suole anche oggidi, come già un tempo la plebe romana, appigliarsi al partito di contrarre dei debiti, o di ricorrere a quella vendita con patto di riscatto, che nei nostri villaggi si cambiò nella forma più perfida ed ingannatrice sotto cui si nasconde quell'usura, che chiamasi palliata. Accanto poi a questa parte fissa del patrimonio havvi eziandio la parte, che costituisce in certo modo il capitale circolante della fa miglia rurale. In essa si comprendono i raccolti dell'annata, le somme di danaro che si tengono alla mano, il bestiame minuto, che ogni anno si compra e si vende, e gli altri beni e valori, coi quali il capo famiglia può fare maggiormente a fidanza, perchè la copia o la scarsità di essi potrà rendere più o meno agiata la famiglia, senza però mettere a repentaglio l'esistenza della medesima. È naturale che una distinzione di questa natura abbia dapprima alcunché di vago e di indeterminato, in quanto che possono esservi delle cose, di cui può dubitarsi se debbano essere collocate in questa od in quella parte del patrimonio. Se tuttavia in determinate con dizioni economiche avvenga un avvenimento di carattere ammini strativo, che costringa in certo modo a distinguere le due parti del patrimonio, quale, sarebbe ad esempio, la formazione di un censo o di un catasto per fissarvi sopra una imposta, la conseguenza im mediata di questo fatto sarà, che quella distinzione, che stava for mandosi, perderà il suo carattere vago ed indeterminato e finirà per assumere un significato preciso, il quale, mentre corrisponde allo stato reale delle cose in quel determinato momento, potrà in vece riuscire inesplicabile più tardi, allorchè siansi trasformate le condizioni economiche del popolo, di cui si tratta. 345. Or bene un avvenimento di questa natura ebbe appunto ad avverarsi nella primitiva vita economica e giuridica di Roma. Esso fu il censo di Servio Tullio, il quale, essendo stato posto a base di una nuova composizione del populus romanus quiritium, non potè a meno di lasciare anche delle traccie nello svolgimento posteriore del diritto romano. Si sa infatti, che questo censo comprese non solo le persone, ma anche le sostanze, e che esso sopravvenne dopo che Servio e i re suoi antecessori avevano fatto alla plebe degli assegni di terre, che per essere tutti della stessa natura dovevano aver rice vuta una analoga configurazione. Questi assegni erano stati senza alcun dubbio fatti a somiglianza di quegli heredia, che la gens an tica faceva ai suoi membri, allorché i medesimi fondavano una fa 436 miglia, colla differenza che mentre gli heredia del patriziato erano ricavati dall'ager gentilicius, quelli invece, che si facevano alla plebe, erano fatti direttamente dallo Stato sul suo ager publicus, mediante le così dette adsignationes viritanae. Senza cercare qui se tali assegni fossero di due, di cinque od anche di sette iugeri, questo è certo che essi costituivano una specie di piccolo podere, che com ponevasi di una abitazione rurale (tugurium ), di un orto e di un campo attiguo, naturalmente fornito di quelle servitù rurali di pas saggio e di acquedotto, che erano del tutto indispensabili per la sua coltivazione. Esso quindi veniva in certo modo a costituire la pro prietà tipica del quirite, la quale, dipendendo direttamente dalla sua manus, poteva opportunamente ricevere il nome dimancipium. Che anzi è anche probabile, che questo podere prendesse il nome dal suo primitivo proprietario, come lo dimostra il fatto, che i poderi romani ancora più tardi conservano il nome derivato da quello del primitivo proprietario, che si considera in certo modo come il fon datore del podere, e lo trasmettono successivamente ai proprietarii che vengono dopo (1). Era quindi questo mancipium, che doveva essere consegnato e valutato nel censo, e che costituiva la base, sovra cui si determinavano i diritti e le obbligazioni del quirite; le altre cose invece non gli erano tenute in conto, o perchè non appartenevano al quirite come tale, ma piuttosto alla gente, di cui esso faceva parte, o perchè costituivano una specie di capitale cir colante, di cui non potevasi fissare l'ammontare in questo od in quel determinato momento. Di qui conseguiva, che questo mancipium (1) Questa induzione mi fu suggerita da due notevoli articoli del FUSTEL DE COULANGES, pubblicati sulla « Revue des deux mondes » del 1886 col titolo Le domaine rural chez les Romains, tomo 3º dell'annata. II FUSTEL DE COULANGES non si occupa veramente delle origini del podere ru rale in Roma, stante le incertezze che ancor durano sull'argomento, ma parla piut tosto dei poderi rurali sul finire della Repubblica e durante l'Impero, allorchè i medesimi per le loro proporzioni certo non avevano più che fare col primitivo man cipium. Egli nota tuttavia, che i poderi anche in quest'epoca avevano una denomi nazione ricavata dal nome non del proprietario attuale ma del proprietario primitivo del podere, e chiamavansi così fundus Manlianus, Terentianus, Gallianus, Sempro nianus e simili, il che finiva per dare una personalità al fondo, determinata da colui, che prima l'aveva occupato e posto in coltivazione. Ora non è certo impro babile, che questa singolarità nel podere romano sia stata determinata dal fatto, che nella tabula censoria del quirite, al disotto del nome del caput, era anche descritto il podere a lui spettante, il quale veniva così ad assumere un nome, che i Romani trasmisero poi con quella costanza, che abbiamo riscontrato in molti altri esempi. 437 veniva in certo modo a costituire il vero e proprio patrimonio del quirite, cometale: quello cioè che era posto direttamente in suo capo, che in certo modo ne prendeva il nome, e di cui egli poteva disporre senza limitazione di sorta, purchè lo facesse nei modi solenni, che erano riconosciuti dalla comunanza quiritaria. Anche gli altri beni potevano essere buoni e desiderabili per il quirite; ma quelli, che entravano nel mancipium, avevano per esso una importanza del tutto peculiare, la quale spiega come i plebei preferissero alla loro alienazione l'imprigionamento nelle carceri del creditore, con tutti i mali trattamenti, che potevano conseguirne. 346. Questa spiegazione del modo, in cui si formò ilmancipium, trova poi la sua conferma nella enumerazione, che i giureconsulti Gaio ed Ulpiano ebbero a conservarci delle res mancipii (1). Questa enumerazione infatti serba evidentemente il carattere di una antichità remota, e richiama il pensiero agli assegni rurali aventi una configurazione tipica e determinata, che dovevano essere fatti sull'ager gentilicius ai gentili e ai clienti che entravano a co stituire la gens, e dai re ai plebei sull’ager publicus. Per verità le res mancipii, sebbene siano annoverate come cose singole, co stituiscono però ad evidenza un tutto, che corrisponde alle condi zioni economiche del tempo, ed ai bisogni di una famiglia agricola, la quale debba, per dir cosi, bastare a se stessa. Ciò è dimostrato anche dalla circostanza, che il podere, che forma il nucleo centrale del mancipium, non è già un campo nudo di qualsiasi attrezzo, ma è un praedium instructum considerato cioè cogli istrumenti e colle servitù, che sono necessarie per la sua coltivazione (2). Una casa in città, un tugurio in campagna, circondato da un piccolo podere, coi servi, cogli animali, e colle servitù indispensabili per la coltura del medesimo, dovettero in quell'epoca costituire come la proprietà tipica del quirite; quella proprietà cioè, che lo rendeva adsiduus, perchè ne accertava la residenza, e locuples, perchè assicurava il sostentamento suo e della famiglia. Essa era la prima porzione di (1) Gajo, I, 120; II, 14-17; Ulp., Fragm., XIX, 1. (2 ) Anche questo concetto del fundus instructus sopravvive a lungo presso i Ro mani, come appare dal Fustel De Coulanges, op. cit., pag. 340, che lo trova in pieno vigore durante l'impero. Che anzi i giureconsulti al solito formano una con cezione giuridica dello stesso e instrumentum fundi », ossia di quel complesso di ar nesi, di bestiame e di servi, che può essere necessario per la coltura del fondo. 438 terra, che sottraevasi in certo modo dalla proprietà collettiva della gente (ager gentilicius), o da quella dello stato (ager publicus), per costituire la vera proprietà esclusiva ed individuale. Or bene è appunto un gruppo analogo di cose, che può raccogliersi. dall'enumerazione conservataci da Gaio e da Ulpiano delle res man cipii. L'uno e l'altro infatti son concordi nell'attestare, che queste comprendevano; lº i praedia, così rustici comeurbani, purchè situati nell'ager romanus od anche nel suolo italico, il quale mediante la concessione del ius italicum, poteva anche essere oggetto del do minium ex iure quiritium; 2° le servitù rustiche, che sono il naturale compimento di un podere rurale, quali le servitutes viae, itineris, actus, aquaeductus; 3° i servi, in quell'epoca strumento indispensabile per la coltura; 4º e infine i quadrupedes, quae dorso collove domantur, veluti boves, equi, muli et asini. Invece le altre cose tutte, che esorbitano da questa cerchia, comprendendovi la stessa pecunia, le pecore, i buoi ed i cavalli non domati, sono indicate senz'altro colla espressione di res nec mancipii. 347. Di fronte a questa enumerazione dei giureconsulti si osservo, che riesce difficile a comprendersi come nelmancipium, quale pro prietà tipica del cittadino, non si comprendessero nè le pecore, nè le mandre dei cavalli e dei buoi non domati, né i greggi ed ar menti, cose tutte, che certamente costituirono la parte più notevole della ricchezza dei primitivi romani. È perd anche ovvio il rispondere, che il criterio della riforma serviana non fondavasi sulla ricchezza, quale che essa fosse, ma piuttosto sulla proprietà stabile, esente da qualsiasi vincolo. Era solo questa forma di proprietà, che poteva ren dere i quiriti adsidui e locupletes, e servire così di garanzia alla co munanza dell'interesse, che essi avevano alla comune difesa. Non fu quindi la pecunia, che ebbe ad essere tenuta in conto, perchè questa, anche consistendo in greggi ed in armenti, poteva sempre essere trasportata altrove. Si aggiunga che le mandre, i greggi, e gli ar menti dovevano dapprima non appartenere ai singoli capi di famiglia, macostituire invece la ricchezza delle genti collettivamente conside rate; poichè per il loro pascolo non poteva certo bastare, nè sarebbe stato atto il piccolo podere quiritario, ma occorrevano dei grandi e vasti spazi, che solo potevano trovarsi negli agri gentilicii, o nell'ager compascuus della tribus primitiva, o nell'ager publicus, proprietà dello Stato. Quanto ai capi di piccolo bestiame, che po tevano anche appartenere al proprietario di un piccolo podere, 439 tenuto ex iure quiritium, essi costituivano quel capitale circolante, che formava argomento degli scambii e delle negoziazioni quoti diane, e che perciò non offriva una base salda per essere valutato nel censo. 348. Parmi cið stante di poter conchiudere, che il primitivo man cipium consistette in quel complesso di cose, che costituiva in certo modo la proprietà tipica del quirite, come capo di una famiglia agricola, all'epoca in cui ebbe ad essere introdotta l'istituzione del censo. La selezione di questo mancipium dal resto delle cose, il cui godimento apparteneva ai primitivi romani, erasi preparata len tamente nelle condizioni economiche e sociali ed ebbe poi ad essere determinata in modo esatto e preciso dal censo serviano, il quale per tal modo potè perfino influire nel determinare le varie categorie delle res mancipii (1). È infatti questo mancipium, che nel censo appare intestato ad ogni singolo quirite, e che costituisce il primo nucleo di quella proprietà ex iure quiritium, che ebbe poi a svol gersi coi caratteri di assoluta, di esclusiva e di irrevocabile. Sia (1) Infatti non è punto improbabile, che la distinzione stessa delle res mancipii abbia potuto essere determinata dalle rubriche diverse, in cuidividevasi il mancipium, come già ebbi ad accennare al n ° 332 (in fine). Intanto colla soluzione indicata nel testo credo di aver fatto procedere di pari passo i due aspetti, sotto cui fu discussa l'origine delle res mancipië e nec mancipii. Nota giustamente il Bon FANTE, op. cit., pag. 35, che le teorie diverse, da lui esposte, si possono dividere in razionali e storiche, secondo che cercano di spiegare razionalmente quella distinzione, oppure di rannodarla ad un fatto storico. I due punti di vista, a parer mio, deb bono esser fatti procedere di pari passo; poichè la distinzione non sarebbesi intro dotta presso un popolo pratico e logico come il romano, se non avesse avuto una ragione di essere nelle condizioni economiche e sociali del tempo, ed essa non sareb besi poi perpetuata con tanta tenacità, se non vi fosse stato un avvenimento storico importantissimo, come il censo, il quale, per essersi in certo modo immedesimato colla vita e col modo di pensare del popolo, mantenne allo stato fossile la distinzione, di cui si trattava, anche allorchè non aveva più ragione d'essere. Che anzi in questo modo vengono perfino ad offrire alcunchè di vero anche le opinioni, che vogliono rannodare il concetto di mancipium alla bellica occupatio; poichè questo carattere militare, inerente anche almancipium, è una conseguenza di quell'impronta militare, che sopratutto in quell'epoca assume il populus romanus quiritium; impronta, che rimane inerente a tutti i concetti e alle istituzioni che ebbero origine in quell'occa sione. Tuttavia, siccome trattasi qui di ricostrurre e non di far l'esame critico delle varie opinioni, mi rimetto per l'analisi di queste opinioni, delle quali alcune hanno perfino del singolare, allo Squirti, pag. 38 a 68, al BONFANTE, pag. 35 e 75 e agli altri autori, che di recente esaminarono la vecchia controversia. 440 pure, che più tardi, per l'accrescersi della fortuna dei cittadini ro mani, siansi aggiunte molte cose, che avrebbero pur dovuto essere tenute in conto per valutare il patrimonio del quirite; ma in questa parte, come nel resto, i giureconsulti, allorchè trovarono foggiata questa configurazione giuridica, si guardarono dall'alterarne in qual siasi modo le primitive fattezze. Di qui ne venne, che il concetto del mancipium, come molti altri concetti del primitivo diritto, dopo avere un tempo corrisposto alla realtà dei fatti e aver così com preso quelle cose, che effettivamente costituirono la prima proprietà esclusiva del quirite, fini in certo modo per fossilizzarsi e cambiarsi in una categoria giuridica, in cui si compresero tutte quelle cose, che un tempo dovevan essere consegnate nel censo. Il mancipium si mantenne cosi come un rudere dell'antichità primitiva di Roma, che malgrado l'incremento delle cose romane rimase ad attestare le condizioni economiche dei quiriti, nel tempo in cui Servio Tullio pose il censo come base di partecipazione alla comunanza quiritaria. Ciò tuttavia non impedi, che il potere rurale presso i Romani, salvo le più grandi proporzioni, abbia ancora sempre conservati i tratti del primitivo mancipium, in quanto che esso continud pur sempre a costituire un tutto organico, ad avere un proprio nome, che è quello del primitivo proprietario, e ad essere considerato come fornito delle servitù e del bestiame necessario per la coltivazione di esso (instru mentum fundi). Le cose romane di piccole si fanno grandi, ma continuano sempre ad essere foggiate sul primitivo modello (1). 349. Nè può essere difficile lo spiegarsi come il concetto del man cipium siasi cosi conservato allo stato fossile, malgrado l'ingrandirsi delle cose romane, quando si tenga conto dello spirito conservatore della giurisprudenza romana, e della circostanza, che i giureconsulti (1) La miglior prova di ciò può aversi dagli articoli citati del FUSTEL DE COULANGES, sur le domaine rural chez les Romains. Da questi infatti si scorge che i Romani portarono il loro concetto del podere anche nelle provincie conquistate, e che le varie parti di esso ingrandendosi vennero ad avere talora una esistenza propria e distinta: cosicchè si ebbe il podere coltivato per mezzo di schiavi, quello fatto valere per mezzo di affittavoli, quello lasciato alla coltura dei servi e dei liberti, e quello più tardi coltivato da coloni; ma intanto le fattezze primitive non scomparvero più. Per tal modo anche il podere romano, come tutte le altre istituzioni di quel popolo, è un organismo, che si svolge e si differenzia nelle sue varie parti, ma conserva sempre quei caratteri, che già si potevano ravvisare nell'embrione, da cui è partito; em brione, che, secondo il mio avviso, consisterebbe appunto nel primitivo mancipium. 441 in questa parte trovarono già chiusa e formata la cerchia delle res mancipii, nè ebbero motivo di estenderla o modificarla in un'epoca, in cui già cominciavano a ritenersi gravi e inopportune le forma lità dell'antico diritto. Di qui la conseguenza, che i giureconsulti in tutti i responsi, che si riferiscono alle res mancipii, mantennero inviolata l'antica misura, e solo ammisero qualche allargamento, che corrispondeva al concetto informatore del primitivo mancipium, e che era necessario per rendere applicabile il concetto stesso (1). Così noi troviamo, ad esempio, che i giureconsulti interrogati, se i camelli ed elefanti potessero essere compresi nelle res man cipii, risposero negativamente, sia perchè questi animali non erano conosciuti, quando si fissd il concetto del mancipium, o meglio ancora, perchè essi non si sarebbero potuti riguardare come una pertinenza di quel podere tipico, che costituiva il mancipium (2 ). Indarno parimenti si fece notare, che le servitù urbane avevano la medesima natura delle rustiche; esse malgrado di ciò furono sempre ritenute come res nec mancipii, non tanto perchè non fossero co nosciute a quell'epoca, quanto piuttosto perchè non formavano parte integrante del podere stesso (3). Quando poi si chiese, se i cavalli e i buoi non domati potessero essere ritenuti come res mancipii, l'opinione prevalente fu che non fossero tali, probabilmente perchè essi, finchè non erano domati, non potevano essere strumento indi (1) Parmi perciò da seguirsi,ma con una certa discrezione, l'opinione che l'enumera zione delle res mancipii debba ritenersi tassativa, come quella che in parte fu determi nata da un avvenimento che doveva dargli un carattere esatto e preciso. Ciò però non toglie, che nel concetto comune anche altre cose potessero essere considerate come res mancipii, quali erano, ad esempio, le pietre preziose di Lollia Paolina, di cui ci parla Plinio il Vecchio (Hist. nat. 9, 35, 124 ). Ciò tanto più perchè posteriormente il concetto di mancipium, che erasi sovrapposto a quello di heredium, tornò a riacco starsi almedesimo, e nell'uso non giuridico significò talora i bona paterna avitaque, e specialmente quelli, che nel costume solevano trasmettersi digenerazione in genera zione, quali erano appunto le pietre preziose, che costituivano in certo modo un avitum mancipium. In ciò seguo l'opinione, che il Bonghi ebbe a manifestare nella recensione del lavoro dello SQuitti nella Cultura, anno 1886, 1-15 agosto. Cfr. BONFANTE, op. cit., p. 93. (2) GAJO, Comm., II, 16; ULP., Fragm., XIX, 1. (3 ) GAJO, II, 17; ULPIANO, loc. cit. Che anzi fra le servitù rustiche sono res mancipii quelle soltanto, che hanno una maggior importanza per un podere ru stico, e che formano parte integrante del medesimo, cioè l'iter, actus, via, aquae ductus, e non le altre, come quelle del ius pascendi, calcis coquendae e simili, le quali, essendo particolarità di certi speciali poderi, non potevano dapprima essere tenute in conto. -.442 spensabile per la coltura del fondo, che costituiva il primitivo man cipium (1). Cid intanto può eziandio servire a spiegare come Varrone parli di formole relative alla vendita di animali da tiro, e da soma ed anche di servi, accennando alla semplice traditio e non alla mancipatio; poichè questa doveva solo ritenersi necessaria, allorchè gli animali e i servi, di cui si trattava, dovessero considerarsi come instrumenta fundi (2). Siccome invece le res mancipii, ancorchè singolarmente enumerate, costituiscono però un tutto (cioè il man cipium ), così i giureconsulti rispondono, che alle medesime conside rate come un tutto può essere applicato quello stesso mezzo di alienazione, che è proprio delle singole res mancipii; donde la pos sibilità della mancipatio familiae e del testamentum per aes et libram, di cui si parlerà a suo tempo (3 ). (1 ) La controversia in proposito fra i Proculeiani, che escludevano dalle res man cipii questi animali finchè non fossero giunti a tale età da essere domati, e i Sabi niani, che invece li ammettevano fra le res mancipii, appena fossero nati, è accen nata da GAJO, II, 15, comemolto dubbiosa anche per lui, che era Sabiniano. In ogni caso la stessa esistenza di una simile controversia, ed anche il fatto, che erano res man cipii solo i quadrupedes, quae dorso collove domantur, dimostra abbastanza che la determinazione delle res mancipii aveva stretta attinenza colla coltivazione del fondo. (2) Le formole conservateci da VARRONE intorno all'emptio venditio dei cavalli e dei buoi anche domati (V. Bruns, Fontes, p. 388) condussero il Voigt a ritenere che i cavalli ed i buoi fossero introdotti solo dopo Varrone nel novero delle res man cipië (Ius nat., Leipzig). Veramente non si saprebbe ilmotivo di questa nuova introduzione in una distinzione, che oramai appariva antiquata; ma ad ogni modo la cosa a mio avviso è facile a spiegarsi, quando si ritenga che la qualità di res mancipiä era dapprima attribuita dall'essere questa cosa un « instru mentumt fundi». Quindi non sempre era necessaria la mancipatio per questi animali, come non sempre era necessaria per i servi, come lo attesta lo stesso Varrone. Non credo poi che possa essere il caso di supporre degli errori nella esposizione di Var rone, come vorrebbe il Bonfante, op. cit., pag. 111, non potendosi supporre un er rore di questo genere sopra formole, che vivevano nelle consuetudini ed erano ela. borate dagli stessi giureconsulti. (3) È tuttavia degno di nota, che mentre il mancipium o la familia, intesi nel senso di patrimonio, sono per sè suscettivi di mancipatio, l'hereditas invece è consi derata come una res nec mancipië, e come tale è suscettiva di in iure cessio, ma non di mancipatio (Gajo, Comm., II, 14, 17, 34). La ragione, a parer mio, è questa, che la familia o il mancipium, finchè dipendono dal pater familias, costituiscono un'entità concreta: mentre l'eredità, riguardo a colui che vi ha diritto, costituisce già una cosa incorporale, una res, quae etiam sine ullo corpore iuris intellectum habet, e quindi cade fra le res nec mancipii. Intanto però non parmiaccettabile l'opinione, quale è espressa dallo SQUITTI, op. cit., pag. 12, che la distinzione delle res man cipië e nec mancipii sia solo applicabile alle res singulares, poichè non è certamente una res singularis nè il mancipium, nè la familia. Tuttavia conviene ritenere, che la necessità delle cose con dusse in qualche parte ad allargare i confini del primitivo manci pium. Così, ad esempio, non può esservi dubbio, che nel primitivo mancipium dovevano solo essere compresi i praedia, che fossero si tuati nel primitivo ager romanus, mentre più tardi furono compresi eziandio quelli situati nel restante suolo italico, quando anche questo venne ad essere suscettivo di proprietà quiritaria. Così pure è pro babile, che nelle res mancipii fossero dapprima compresi solo i servi addetti al lavoro del fondo, mentre più tardi siccome i servi della città potevano essere trasportati alla campagna, così i servi in genere furono compresi fra le res mancipii (1). Non potrei invece ammettere col Puctha, che fra le res mancipii fossero anche com prese le persone libere, che fossero in potestate, in manu, o in causa mancipii(2); poichè, come sopra si è notato, qui il vocabolo mancipium è già preso in una significazione più ristretta e si ri ferisce al patrimonio, anzichè alle persone dipendenti dal capo di famiglia, le quali persone si dicono « alieni iuris, quae in manu, potestate,mancipio sunt », ma non sono mai chiamate res mancipii. Vero è, che anche alle persone si applica la mancipatio, ma cid provenne, come si vedrà più tardi, da cid che la mancipatio è una applicazione dell'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che è l'atto per aes et libram, e quindi compare ogniqualvolta trattisi di acquistare o trasmettere la manus, intesa nel senso di potestà giuridica quiritaria. 351. Intanto questa storia primitiva del mancipium ci pone eziandio in caso di risolvere la questione tanto agitata fra gli autori relativa alla precedenza fra la mancipatio e la distinzione fra la res mancipii e nec mancipii. hi seguisse alla lettera i giureconsulti dovrebbe dare la prece denza alla mancipatio, in quanto che, secondo i medesimi, le res mancipii si chiamerebbero tali appunto, perchè si trasferiscono me diante la mancipatio; ma rimarrebbe ancor sempre a cercarsi la ragione, per cui la mancipatio venne ad essere il mezzo proprio per l'alienazione di questa speciale categoria di cose. La cosa invece viene ad essere facilmente spiegata quando si ri (1) Ho già notato più sopra come le formole di VARRONE dimostrino che un servo, allorchè non era un instrumentum fundi, poteva anche essere alienato colla sem plice traditio. (2 ) Puchta, Inst., § 238. Cfr. SQUITTI, op. cit., pag. 15. 444 tenga, che primo a formarsi dovette essere il concetto delmancipium, il concetto cioè di una proprietà tipica del quirite, che compren deva uno spazio di terra e quelle pertinenze di esso, che riputa vansi il patrimonio indispensabile del capo di una famiglia agricola. La formazione di questo mancipium, che già aveva una base nelle condizioni economiche e sociali dei primitivi romani, venne in certo modo a precipitarsi e a consolidarsi sotto l'influenza della costitu zione serviana. Da quel momento l'importanza non solo economica, ma anche politica del mancipium, pose le cose, che erano comprese nel medesimo, in una posizione privilegiata di fronte a tutte le altre cose, che potevano spettare al cittadino romano, e trasformò così il mancipium in una proprietà essenzialmente quiritaria, perchè apparteneva al quirite come tale. Era quindi naturale, che all’alie nazione del mancipium e delle cose comprese nel medesimo si estendesse l'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che era l'atto per aes et libram, mentre per l'alienazione delle altre cose potè bastaré anche la semplice traditio accompagnata dal pagamento del prezzo. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alla distinzione fra le res mancipii e quelle nec mancipii, parmi evidente che essa fu l'ultima ad es. sere introdotta, e non ho difficoltà di ritenere, che essa possa anche essere stata formolata più tardi dai giureconsulti, quando i mede simi già sentivano il bisogno di ridurre ad ordine sistematico le distinzioni molteplici, che eransi introdotte nel diritto. Il censo in fatti per sè poteva condurre alla determinazione delle res mancipii, ed anche alla divisione delle medesime in varie categorie; ma esso non poteva determinare che indirettamente la formazione delle res nec mancipii. È quindi probabile, che i giureconsulti trovando più tardi questo nucleo di cose (mancipium ), per la cui alienazione era richiesta la mancipatio, abbiano formato di queste cose una cate goria speciale (res mancipii), la cui caratteristica consisteva ap punto nel modo di alienazione (mancipatio), mentre tutte le altre furono lasciate nella categoria negativa dalle res nec mancipii (1). (1) Non parmi tuttavia accoglibile l'opinione del Voigt, secondo cui la distinzione sarebbe nata fra il 585 e il 650 di Roma. Essa invece dovette già essere formata all'epoca delle XII Tavole, in cui accanto alla mancipatio, riservata alle res man cipii, era già comparsa l'in iure cessio, che era applicabile eziandio alle res nec man cipii: il che sarebbe anche provato da ciò, che le stesse XII Tavole già ponevano le res mancipii nella condizione speciale di non potere essere usucapite, allorchè fos sero state vendute da una donna senza approvazione del tutore. È evidente infatti 445 Essi insomma fecero qui una distinzione analoga a quella, che si introdurrà più tardi, fra le cose, che appartengono ad una persona ex iure quiritium, e quelle invece che le appartengono solo in bonis; poichè le prime costituiscono una cerchia chiusa e circo scritta, quanto alle cose, che possono essere l'oggetto, quanto ai modi di acquisto, e alle persone cui appartengono, mentre quelle in bonis comprendono tutte le altre. $ 6. La storia primitiva della proprietà ex iure quiritium. 352. L'analogia, che ho sopra notata fra la distinzione delman cipium e del nec mancipium e quella presentatasi più tardi fra il dominium ex iure quiritium e quello in bonis, mi fa tornare un'altra volta sul grave problema dell'origine e dello svolgimento storico della proprietà ex iure quiritium. Fino ad ora si è sola mente dimostrato, come già nel periodo gentilizio vi fosse una forma di proprietà, che intestavasi al capo di famiglia, e che pren deva il nome di heredium. Questa tuttavia non costituiva ancora una proprietà assolutamente individuale ed esclusiva, perchè il capo di famiglia trovavasi in proposito ancora sotto la dipendenza della gens, a cui apparteneva. Accanto a questi heredia dei patricii si erano poi venuti formando gli stanziamenti e i possessi dei plebei, che probabilmente chiamavansi mancipia. Quando poi patriziato e plebe entrarono a far parte dello stesso populus romanus qui ritium, in base alla considerazione del censo, la sola proprietà, che era loro comune era quella che spettava al capo di famiglia, e perciò fu questa, che comparve nel censo intestata ad ogni quirite sui iuris, sotto il vocabolo di mancipium e coi caratteri di una proprietà assolutamente individuale. Il vocabolo mancipium tuttavia non significd per sè il dominium ex iure quiritium, ma piuttosto quel complesso organico di cose, che per il primo formo oggetto del medesimo; come lo dimostra la circostanza, che in questo periodo, secondo l'attestazione dei giureconsulti, si ricorse per indicare il che questa condizione speciale delle res mancipii, accennata da Gajo, I, 192, e da Ul PIANO, Fragm., XI, 27, doveva fin d'allora condurre alla distinzione di cui si tratta. Per un più lungo esame dell'opinione del Voigt, vedi Squitti, op. cit., pag. 73 e seg., e BONFANTE, op. cit., pag. 115 e seg. 146 dominio quiritario all'espressione meam esse: « aio hanc rem iure quiritium ». Ferma cosi la spiegazione del modo in cui sarebbesi formato il primo nucleo del dominium ex iure quiritium, resta ora a ve dere come il suo concetto siasi venuto allargando, e quali siano i varii stadii, che attraverso questa proprietà ex iure quiritium, la quale doveva poi divenire il modello di ogni proprietà esclusiva mente privata ed individuale. 353. A questo riguardo i ricercatori dell'antico diritto si arrestano sorpresi di fronte a questo fatto singolare, che il solo mancipium nei primi tempi sembra aver formato oggetto della proprietà ex iure qui ritium. L'Ortolan, ad esempio, trova assurdo che il quirite non avesse la proprietà delle cose incorporali, se si eccettuano certe servitù rustiche, nè la proprietà delle cose mobili, se si eccettuano i servi e le bestie da tiro e da soma. Così pure il Muirhead stenta a spiegare in qualmodo quei quiriti, che avevano divisi i loro fondi, fossero poi indifferenti alla distinzione del mio e del tuo per molte altre cose; il che lo induce a combattere la proposizione di Gaio, secondo cui il popolo Romano non conosceva un tempo, che la sola proprietà ex iure quiritium: « aut enim ex iure quiritium unusquisque do minus erat, aut non intellegebatur dominus » (1). È certo che la cosa riesce assai strana, quando si voglia ritenere che, al difuori della proprietà ex iure quiritium, non vi fosse pei romani primitivi altra forma di proprietà o di possesso; ma la cosa pud invece essere spiegata quando si abbia presente il modo, in cui si vennero formando il ius quiritium e le istituzioni, che entrarono a costituirlo. Già ho cercato di dimostrare comeil ius quiritium non comprendesse tutto il diritto primitivo di Roma, ma solo quella parte di esso, che prima venne a precipitarsi e a consolidarsi e che di vento cosi comune ai due ordini, che con Servio Tullio entrarono a far parte della stessa comunanza quiritaria. Il patriziato e la plebe continuarono ancor sempre a seguire le proprie tradizioni ed usanze, e non ebbero comune che quella parte di diritto, che essendo stata accettata come base della comunanza quiritaria prese il nome spe ciale di ius quiritium. Questo pertanto non governd dapprima tutti i rapporti giuridici, ma solo quelli che intervenivano fra loro nelle (1) Ortolan, Histoire de la législation romaine, Paris, 1880, p. 606. MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 40.. 447 loro qualità di quiriti, e fu solo col tempo e a misura che facevasi più intima la convivenza dei quiriti, che esso venne arricchendosi di nuove forme, assimilando nuovi istituti, modellando nuovi negozii richiesti dalle esigenze della vita civile in una grande e popolosa città, e si cambiò così nel ius proprium civium romanorum (1). 354. Or bene ciò che accadde nella formazione del ius quiritium si avverò eziandio nell'elaborazione delle varie istituzioni, che en travano a costituirlo, e quindi anche delle proprietà ex iure qui. ritium. Questa non comprende dapprima tutta la fortuna, famigliare o gentilizia dei cittadini, ma comprende solo quella parte di essa, che loro appartiene nella loro qualità di quiriti. Siccome quindi nella comunanza serviana non conta dapprima che il mancipium, che è la sola proprietà intestata nel censo al quirite e in base a cui si determinano i suoi diritti e le sue obbligazioni di quirite, cosi la primitiva proprietà ex iure quiritium non potè comprendere dapprima che il mancipium, e fu solo a questa, che si applicò l'atto quiritario per eccellenza, cioè l'atto per aes et libram, e quella pro cedura quiritaria dell'actio sacramento, in cui i contendenti affer mavano: « hanc rem suam esse ex iure quiritium ». Questa infatti era l'unica proprietà, che poteva essere tenuta in conto al punto di vista quiritario e che doveva perciò avere la tutela del diritto qui ritario. Quindi era giusto il dire, che altri « aut erat dominus ex iure quiritium, aut non intellegebatur dominus »: il che non vuol già dire, che non si potesse avere il possesso od il godimento di altri beni, ma soltanto che le altre forme di proprietà non potevano es sere tenute in calcolo al punto di vista quiritario. Quindi al modo stesso, che il ius quiritium fu il frutto della selezione di certi con cetti e forme solenni, che furono adottate dalla comunanza dei qui riti, cosi la proprietà ex iure quiritium fu anche essa determinata da una specie di selezione. Il suo primo nucleo consistette nel man cipium, il quale costitui in certo modo la proprietà tipica del qui rite, ma più tardi i suoi limiti apparvero troppo circoscritti, e perciò alla cerchia troppo ristretta del mancipium si venne sostituendo un concetto più esteso del dominium ex iure quiritium. Questo infatti (1) Questo carattere particolare del ius quiritium, per cui esso non è tutto il di ritto primitivo di Roma, ma solo quella parte di esso, che vennesi consolidando al lorchè patriziato e plebe entrarono a formar parte della stessa comunanza quiritaria. fu dimostrato sopratutto nel lib. III, cap. 3º. 448 viene già ad essere più esteso: lº quanto alle persone a cui compete, che non sono più i soli capi di famiglia, ma tutti i cittadini ro mani ed anche i latini cui sia accordato il ius quiritium; 2° quanto ai modi, con cui si acquista, che non si riducono più alla sola man cipatio, ma comprendono anche la in iure cessio e la usucapio (1 ); e quanto alle cose, che possono essere l'oggetto, che non sono più le sole res mancipii, ma tutte le cose in commercio, eccetto il solum provinciale. Tuttavia egli è evidente, che anche in questo secondo stadio la proprietà ex iure quiritium costituisce ancora sempre una proprietà privilegiata, quanto alle persone, alle cose, ai modi di acquisto; cosicchè ogni qualvolta manchi una di queste condizioni la cosa ap partiene solo in bonis, ed è solo col tempo e per effetto della pro tezione pretoria, che viene a poco a poco delineandosi una proprietà in bonis, accanto alla proprietà per eccellenza, che era quella ex iure quiritium. Qui pertanto appare evidente quella legge di for mazione del diritto romano, per cui accanto alla parte di esso già formata ne compare un'altra, che trovasi in via di formazione e che cercasi a poco a poco di fare entrare nelle forme di quella, che prima riuscì a consolidarsi. Mentre questo dualismo nel primitivo ius quiritium è rappresentato dal mancipium e dal nec mancipium, il medesimo invece nel ius proprium civium romanorum viene ad essere rappresentato dalla proprietà ex iure quiritium e da quella in bonis; ma intanto la seconda distinzione, pur abbracciando una cerchia più vasta, continua ancora sempre ad essere foggiata sulla prima. 355. Queste considerazioni mi conducono a ritenere, che anche il dominium ex iure quiritium, dopo esser stato modellato sulla realtà dei fatti, abbia finito per convertirsi in una costruzione giuridica non dissimile da quella, che abbiamo ravvisata nei concetti di caput, di manus e di mancipium. Esso è una forma di proprietà, che cor risponde al concetto del quirite, e quindi al modo stesso, che questi nella sua configurazione giuridica era una individualità integra e perfetta, concepita sotto l'aspetto esclusivamente giuridico, ed (1) Non è qui il caso di parlare nè dell'adiudicatio, nè della lex, e dell'adsignatio viritana, che potevano anche attribuire il dominium ex iure quiritium; poichè lo stesso Gajo, Comm., II, 65, parla soltanto della mancipatio, della in iure cessio e dell'usucapio, come costituenti un ius proprium civium romanorum. 449 isolata da tutti gli altri suoi rapporti, cosi anche la sua proprietà ebbe ad essere concepita come assoluta ed esclusiva, e fu modellata in certo modo ad imagine della persona, a cui doveva appartenere. Una prova di ciò l'abbiamo in questo, che allo svolgimento del dominium ex iure quiritium si applicò una logica del tutto ana loga a quella, che erasi applicata allo svolgimento del concetto di caput; cosicchè, per determinare i varii atteggiamenti del dominio, furono adoperati dei criteri analoghi a quelli, che servirono a de terminare lo stato del quirite. Così, ad esempio, al modo istesso, che si ha l'optimum ius quiritium allorchè la capacità del quirite non soffre alcuna limitazione; cosi havvi il dominium optimum maximum, quando il dominium non è soggetto ad alcuna limita zione. Al modo stesso parimenti, che vi ha una diminutio capitis, cosi havvi eziandio una diminutio dominii, la quale è perfino in dicata collo stesso vocabolo di servitus, con cui pure si indica la maxima capitis diminutio. Che anzi a quella guisa, che l'intiero caput non appartiene a tutti gli uomini, cosi non tutte le cose sono suscettive del dominium.ex iure quiritium; il qual concetto spin gesi a tal punto, che può ravvisarsi una specie di correlazione fra la concessione della civitas agli abitanti, e la concessione al suolo da essi abitato di quel ius privilegiato, che lo rende suscettivo di dominio quiritario. Cosi mentre il solum italicum ottenne questa speciale condizione, sotto il nome di ius italicum, il solum provin ciale invece non potè mai essere oggetto di vera proprietà, se non quando scomparve con Giustiniano la distinzione fra la proprietà ex iure quiritium e la proprietà in bonis (1). Vi ha di più ancora, ed è che le trasformazioni storiche, che ac cadono nel concetto di caput, camminano di pari passo con quelle del dominium ex iure quiritium. Così, ad esempio, finchè il vero caput non appartenne che al capo di famiglia, anche questi fu il solo capace di proprietà ex iure quiritium. Quando poi la capacità di diritto dal capo di famiglia passò ad ogni cittadino romano ) (1) In questa guisa si spiega, come i Romani procedessero nell'accordare ad un determinato territorio l'attitudine ad essere oggetto di proprietà quiritaria nel modo stesso, in cui procedevano nell'estendere la cittadinanza romana ai popoli conquistati. Di qui l'analogia fra la formazione del ius latiï e quella del ius italicum: di cui quello si riferisce alle persone, questo invece si riferisce al suolo (Cfr. Baudouin, Étude sur le ius italicum, nella « Nouvelle revue historique de droit français et étranger », annate 1881 e 1882). G. CARLI, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 29 450 bastò essere tale, per essere capace di proprietà ex iure quiritium. Quando infine la capacità giuridica appartenne ad ogni uomo li bero, perchè tutti gli abitanti dell'impero ottennero la cittadinanza, bastò essere uomo libero per essere capace di quella proprietà, che un tempo era stata privilegio dei soli quiriti. La qual trasforma zione avverasi anche, quanto alle cose che ne formano l'oggetto, le quali cominciarono dall'essere quelle soltanto, che figuravanonel censo intestate al capo di famiglia (res mancipii), e finirono per compren dere tutte quelle, che potevano essere in commercio. Il che deve pur dirsideimodi diacquisto, i quali dapprima furono probabilmente circo scritti alla sola mancipatio, mentre dopo compresero l'in iure cessio e l'usucapio, e finirono col tempo per comprendere anche quei modi di acquisto, che dapprima erano proprii soltanto del diritto delle genti; donde la distinzione della classica giurisprudenza fra i modi di acquisto del dominio, civili e naturali, originarii e derivativi (1 ). 356. Era poi naturale, che alla proprietà cosi intesa i giurecon sulti abbiano finito per applicare quella stessa analisi, che già ab biamo riscontrato nel caput. Essi contrapposero il quirite alla cosa che gli apparteneva: gli fecero afferrare materialmente la cosa ed affermare la sua proprietà sulla medesima dicendo, che la cosa era sua ex iure quiritium: immedesimarono in certo modo la persona colla cosa alla medesima spettante, e le attribuirono così un di ritto illimitato di usarne, goderne, e di disporne, anche abusando di essa. In questo diritto del proprietario, che non ha confine, deve quindi ravvisarsi una costruzione giuridica, non dissimile da tante altre, che occorrono nel diritto romano: poichè in effetto l'abuso della proprietà era poi frenato dal costume, e sopratutto dal iudicium de moribus, il quale, dopo essere stato una istituzione gentilizia, fu di nuovo ristabilito dalle XII Tavole, e fu affidato al pretore (2 ). Che anzi ciascuno dei diritti inchiusi nella proprietà (1) Non può ammettersi, come vorrebbero taluni, che nelle origini del diritto ro mano non esistessero modi naturali di acquisto, il che sarebbe contraddetto dall'an tichità della traditio, quanto alle res nec mancipii: ma soltanto che i modi naturali, pur esistendo da epoca forse più antica, furono solo più tardi incorporati nella com pagine del diritto romano, il quale assimilava solamente ciò, che in qualche modo poteva entrare nelle forme prestabilite. (2 ) L'origine gentilizia del iudicium de moribus fu dimostrata al n° 59, p. 74. Del resto tale origine gentilizia è comprovata dalla intitolazione stessa di questo iw dicium demoribus, la quale sembra richiamare qualche antica norma consuetudi 451 fini per ricevere una propria denominazione, e staccato dal ceppo, sovra cui aveva radice, fini per dare origine alle varie configura zioni dei diritti reali, comprendendovi anche il ius possessionis, ciascuno dei quali potė ricevere un vero e proprio sviluppo, pur sempre ritenendo l'impronta reale, che eragli provenuta dalla pro prietà, di cui costituiva un frazionamento. Fu anzi in questa occa sione, che sembra essere venuto in uso il vocabolo di proprietas, il quale in origine appare adoperato, quando si tratta di contrapporre la proprietà ai diritti reali, che erano inchiusi nella medesima (1). 357. Questa ricostruzione intanto del dominium ex iure quiri. tium mi porge occasione di fare un brevissimo cenno dei rapporti, che nel diritto romano intercedono fra la proprietà ed il possesso. A questo proposito il diritto romano presenta questa singolarità, chementre il giureconsulto Paolo, fondandosi sull'autorità di Nerva filius, annunzia come fuori di ogni dubbio, che il dominio dovette cominciare dalla materiale appropriazione delle cose (dominium rerum ex naturali possessione coepisse) (2); noi troviamo invece, che nello svolgimento storico presentasi dapprima integro e com piuto il concetto del dominium ex iure quiritium, ed è solo molto più tardi, che il possesso viene ad essere considerato come una isti tuzione giuridica, protetta cogli interdetti possessori. Di fronte a questo stato di cose sarebbe fuor di luogo il sostenere, che i Romani non distinguessero dapprima fra la materiale detenzione di una cosa, e la padronanza giuridica sovra di essa; ciò sarebbe smentito dal fatto, che essi fin dai primi tempi ebbero il concetto dell'usus e dell'usus auctoritas, ed anche dalla circostanza, che ai plebei, stanziati sul territorio romano, non si riconobbe dapprima una vera naria, ed anche dalla circostanza, che le XII Tavole, affidando al pretore questo po tere, che un tempo apparteneva alla gens, richiamarono di nuovo in vita il primitivo concetto dell'heredium, che era venuto meno nello stretto ius quiritium, e ristabili rono contro il prodigo interdetto la cura degli agnati e dei geniili, la quale è certo una reliquia dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Il testo infatti, secondo la ricostruzione del Voigt, Tav. VI, 10, sarebbe il seguente: « Qui sibi heredium nequitia sua disperdit, liberosque suos ad egestatem perducit, ea re commercioque praetor interdicito. In adgnatum gentiliumque curatione esto ». (1) Che il vocabolo di proprietas abbia cominciato ad adoperarsi, allorchè si trat tava di contrapporre la proprietà in sè ai diritti frazionarii inchiusi nella medesima, può argomentarsi, fra gli altri passi, da quello di GAJO, II, 30, ove la proprietas si contrappone appunto all'ususfructus. (2 ) L. 1, § 1, Dig. (41, 2 ). 452 proprietà, ma una specie di possesso a titolo di precario, che non aveva ancora carattere giuridico (1). La causa invece del fatto deve riporsi in ciò, che anche in questa parte il ius quiritium, essendo già stato il frutto di una vera elaborazione giuridica, prese senz'altro le mosse dal concetto più vasto e comprensivo, a cui si potesse giungere in tema di proprietà. Il concetto infatti del do minium ex iure quiritium ebbe dapprima ad essere modellato sul mancipium, il quale, implicando la sottomissione illimitata di una cosa ad una persona, inchiudeva in una sintesi potente tutti i po teri, che ad una persona possono appartenere sopra una cosa. Il diritto infatti, che al quirite spetta sul proprio mancipium, nella sua sintesi vigorosa, implica la detenzione materiale e la proprietà della cosa: è un fatto ed è un diritto; è una proprietà originaria, ma intanto comprende eziandio la proprietà derivata; esso anzi de signa perfino una proprietà, che ha dell'individuale e del famigliare ad un tempo. Fu soltanto più tardi, che anche in questo concetto venne penetrando l'analisi, la quale cominciò dal distinguere la materiale detenzione di una cosa (naturalis possessio), la quale è un puro e semplice fatto (res facti), dalla padronanza giuridica sovra di essa (dominium ex iure quiritium ), la quale costituisce invece un vero e proprio diritto (res iuris). Col tempo però, siccome fra questi due termini estremiverranno ad esservi delle possessiones, che per speciali considerazioni potranno anche apparire meritevoli diprotezione giuridica, cosi si verrà a poco a poco modellando dal pretore il concetto di una civilis possessio. Questa tuttavia non apparirà più unicamente come una res facti, ma in parte eziandio come una res iuris; non supporrà unicamente la materiale deten zione della cosa (corpus), ma anche l'intenzione di tenere la cosa per sè (animus rem sibi habendi). Questo possesso verrà cosi a pren dere un posto di mezzo fra la semplice detenzione materiale di una cosa, e la proprietà della medesima (2 ); quindi, per la protezione di esso, il pretore, non trovandosi di fronte ad un diritto compiutamente formato, non potrà ius dicere nel vero senso della parola, ma sol tanto interdicere, cioè proibire che venga turbato lo stato di fatto, del quale si tratta (vim fieri veto ), donde la denominazione degli inter. (1) Vedi, quanto alle primitive possessioni della plebe nel territorio romano, il nº 154, pag. 190 e segg. (2) V. in proposito Savigny, Dela possession, Trad. Staedtler, sulla 74 ed. tedesca, Bruxelles 1879, § 5º, pag. 20 a 25. 453 dicta, con cui si protegge il possesso. Siccome poi questo possesso, du rando un determinato spazio di tempo, già poteva, in base all'usuca pione,trasformarsi in un vero diritto; cosi il possesso, oltre al costituire per se stesso una istituzione giuridica, protetta mediante gli inter detti, costituisce pure un mezzo, mediante cui il fatto della deten zione e del godimento di una cosa (usus) può trasformarsi nel di ritto di proprietà (auctoritas) (1). È tuttavia a notarsi, che siccome tanto il dominium ex iure quiritium, quanto la semplice possessio debbono ritenersi come una scomposizione del diritto, che al quirite spettava sul primitivo mancipium, il quale aveva del materiale e del giuridico ad un tempo; così tanto il dominium, che la pos sessio, presso i romani, non poterono mai intieramente spogliarsi di un certo carattere di materialità. Cid è dimostrato dalla circostanza, che da una parte il dominium fini per essere circoscritto alle cose corporali e dovette sempre essere trasferito col mezzo della tra dizione, e dall'altra il possesso non potè parimenti estendersi, che alle cose corporali e ad alcuni dei diritti reali competenti sulle me desime (quasi possessio ) (2). In questo modo possono facilmente spiegarsi le incertezze dei giureconsulti, i quali ora considerano il possesso come una res facti, ed ora come una res iuris, ora scorgono in esso l'estrinsecazione del diritto di proprietà, ed ora dicono invece, che il possesso ha nulla di comune con essa; poichè il medesimo, essendo una istitu zione intermedia fra il fatto ed il diritto, fra la detenzione e la proprietà, poteva presentarsi or sotto l'uno or sotto l'altro aspetto, secondo lo speciale punto di vista, sotto cui era considerato (3 ). Si comprende parimenti, che sebbene ogni dominio abbia dovuto (1) A parer mio è importante nello svolgimento storico del diritto romano di tener distinti i due istituti del possesso ad usucapionem, e del possesso ad inter dicta. Il primo prese le mosse del concetto dell'usus e perciò potò essere applicato così alle res mancipië che alle nec mancipii, così alle cose corporali, che alle incor porali; mentre il secondo fu il frutto dell'analisi del mancipium, e ritenne quindi sempre qualche cosa della materialità inerente a quest'ultimo. L'uno mette capo alla legislazione decemvirale, mentre l'altro ricevette la propria configurazione giu ridica dal diritto pretorio. (2 ) Cfr. Savigny, V. i passi in proposito citati dal Savigny, op. cit., § 5, pag. 21 e segg., nelle note. Sono poi noti i passi di Ulp., 12, § 1, Dig. (41, 2) nihil commune habet proprietas cum possessione», ed altri analoghi, L. 1, $ 2, Dig. (43, 17). Cfr. JHERING, Fondement des interdits possessoires, Trad. Maulenaere, Paris 1882, pag. 42. - 151 prendere le mosse dalla materiale appropriazione di una cosa, il concetto del possesso sia tuttavia di formazione posteriore, e non abbia ricevuto una propria configurazione giuridica, che per opera del pretore, allorchè il medesimo cominciò ad accordare la prote zione giuridica a quelle possessiones nell'ager publicus, che per la propria durata già cominciavano ad assumere il carattere di un vero A proprio diritto (1). Per quello poi, che si riferisce alla questione tanto agitata del fon damento razionale della protezione giuridica accordata al possesso, essa, come al solito, non ebbe ad essere trattata di proposito dai giu reconsulti; ma si può indurre dallo svolgimento storico di esso, che tale fondamento deve riporsi sul principio, sovra cui poggia tutto il diritto romano, secondo cui « ex facto oritur ius », in quanto che ogni fatto, che riunisca in sè certe condizioni di durata e di buona fede, contiene in sé i germi di un diritto e come tale può già meri tare la protezione giuridica e servire ad un tempo di base all'usu capione (2 ). (1) Tale sarebbe l'opinione del Niebaur, Histoire romaine, III, 191 e segg.; e del Savigny, op. cit., § 12 a, pag. 177-185. Essa parmi in ogni caso più verosimile di quella sostenuta dal Pochta, Istit., § 225, secondo cui l'idea del possesso sarebbe provenuta dalla concessione del possesso interinale, che si accordava ad uno dei contendenti nella procedura di vindicazione coll' actio sacramento; poichè questo possesso interinale non ha punto che fare col possesso, in quanto ha una protezione giuridica tutta sua propria, che consiste negli interdetti. Comunque stia la cosa, sembra che l'interdetto più antico sia quello uti possidetis, destinato appunto ad impedire il turbamento di uno stato di fatto. Intanto viene ad essere evidente, che in base all'opinione qui sostenuta, se si voglia collocare il possesso nella solita di stinzione dei diritti in personali e reali, esso dovrà certo esser collocato tra i diritti reali. Cfr. il SavIGNY, op. cit., $ 6, p. 42, il quale sostiene un'opinione in parte diversa. (2 ) Senza voler qui prendere in esame le molte teorie, che furono escogitate in proposito, solo mi limiterò ad osservare, che la questione ebbe ad essere profonda mente discussa in due opere, che vennero ad un risultato compiutamente diverso; di cui una è quella del JHERING, Ueber den Grund des Besitzschutzes, Jena 1869, di cui abbiamo la trad. franc. del Maulenaere, sopra citata, e l'altra è quella del Bruns, Die Besitzklagen des röm. und heutigen Rechts, Weimar 1874, il cui con cetto fu adottato e largamente esposto dal PADELLETTI, Archivio giuridico, XV, pag. 3 e segg. Secondo il primo, la protezione accordata al possesso fondasi su ciò, che il possesso è una estrinsecazione della stessa proprietà, e quindi senza tale pro tezioneanche la proprietà non sarebbe sufficientemente difesa. Secondo l'altro invece, il posseso è tutelato unicamente per se stesso, in base al concetto, enunciato nella L. 2, Dig. (43, 17): qualiscumque possessor, hoc ipso quod possessor est, plus iuris habet, quam qui non possidet ». Parmi che, assegnando a questa protezione il fondamento razionale indicato nel testo, cioè il principio: « ex facto oritur ius », si 455 358. Di fronte a questo svolgimento storico e logico ad un tempo, parminon possa essere difficile la risposta a coloro, i quali chiedono comemai una istituzione, come quella della proprietà ex iure quiri. tium, dopo essere stata esclusivamente propria dei romani, abbia finito per diventare istituzione universale, e per essere adottata anche da quei popoli, i quali non subirono l'influenza diretta della dominazione romana. La causa vera del fatto sta in questo, che la proprietà quiritaria, dopo essere uscita dai fatti, e aver prese le mosse da quel nucleo di cose, che anche nell'organizzazione gentilizia era assegnato ai singoli capi di famiglia, fini per essere isolata dall'ambiente, in cui si era formata, e si cambiò così in una costruzione logica e coerente. Fu in questa guisa, che la medesima, essendo ridotta, per dir cosi, ad un capolavoro di costruzione giuridica, potè cessare di essere l'istitu zione di un popolo, per diventare quella del mondo. Vero è, che tutti i popoli ebbero i loro istituti giuridici, e quindi anche questa o quella forma di proprietà, ma non tutti riescirono ad isolare tali istituti e sopratutto la proprietà dall'ambiente storico, in cui si erano for mati; solo i romani ebbero la potenza di sceverarli da ogni elemento affine, di sottoporli ad un'elaborazione non interrotta, che duro pa recchi secoli, e riuscirono cosi a ridurre allo stato di purezza quella, che potrebbe chiamarsi l'obbiettività giuridica dei singoli istituti. Le loro analisi, le loro fattispecie, le loro costruzioni giuridiche non potranno sempre essere applicabili, ma saranno sempre elaborazioni tipiche nel loro genere, come lo sono in un genere diverso i capo lavori dell'arte greca; ed è questo il motivo dell'eternità e dell'uni versalità del diritto romano. Questa elaborazione poi fu dai romani compiuta sopratutto quanto al concetto della privata proprietà. In questo senso si pud dire col Sumner Maine (1) che essi furono i crea tori della proprietà privata ed individuale;ma è sopratutto notabile abbia il vantaggio di far contribuire alla giustificazione della protezione giuridica accordata al possesso e l'una e l'altra teorica, e quello di dare contemporaneamente una base, così al possesso ad interdicta, come al possesso ad usucapionem. Secondo il Puglia, Studii di storia del diritto romano, Messina 1886, pag. 72: « l'interdetto pos sessorio sarebbe comparso come un mezzo particolare per risolvere una controversia, per la quale non potevasi dal pretore esercitare la iurisdictio »; ma è ovvio il notare che in questa guisa si potrà forse spiegare l'introduzione degli interdetti, ma non maiil fondamento della protezione giuridica accordata al possesso. Cfr. PADELLETTI Cogliolo, Storia del dir. rom., pag. 529 e segg., ove trovasi citata in nota la bi bliografia più recente sull'argomento. (1) SUMNER-MAINE, L'ancien droit, trad. Courcelles Seneuil, Paris, il modo e il perchè essi ed non altri riuscirono in tale creazione. Essi infatti vi pervennero svolgendo prima il concetto della pro prietà individuale, assoluta ed esclusiva, riguardo a quel nucleo di cose, che era compreso nel primitivo mancipium, con cui ogni sin golo quirite compariva nel censo, e poi trasportarono successiva mente il concetto logico, che essi si erano formati di questa pro prietà ex iure quiritium, a tutte le cose corporali, che potevano essere oggetto di commercio. Per tal modo la proprietà quiritaria si staccò da una organizzazione gentilizia e patriarcale, non dissi mile da quella, da cui usci la proprietà privata dei Germani e degli Inglesi nell'evo moderno; ma a differenza di questa, quella fu ben presto isolata dall'ambiente, in cui erasi formata, e si cambid cosi in una proprietà tipica, strettamente individuale, che potè con certi temperamenti essere adottata da tutti i popoli. Appendice. Senza voler qui fare comparazioni, che miporterebbero fuori del tema, non so tuttavia trattenermi dall'accennare ad alcune singolari analogie fra lo svolgi mento della proprietà privata in Roma e presso i popoli Germanici. Ebbi già occasione di accennare, a pag. 62, nota 2, la discussione seguita nell'Accademia Francese, a pro posito della proprietà presso gli antichi Germani. Ora aggiungo, che quella stessa discussione porse argomento ad una nota del prof. Del Giudice, stata letta all'Isti tuto Lombardo, nelle adunanze del 4 e 18 marzo 1886, in cui egli fa un accura tissimo raffronto fra la descrizione di Cesare e quella di Tacito circa le condizioni dei primitivi Germani, e cerca di ridurre nei loro veri confini le mutazioni, che si erano avverate, quanto alla proprietà del suolo, nei 150 anni, che separano i due autori. Tale trasformazione riducevasi in sostanza a ciò, che i possessi erano diventati più stabili, e che dalla proprietà collettiva del villaggio già erasi venuta distin guendo la proprietà della famiglia. Pervenuti così a questo punto della evoluzione della proprietà presso i Germani, analogo a quello, a cui erano pervenute le genti italiche, allorchè fondarono la città di Roma, noi troviamo nel dottissimo lavoro dello SCHUPFER sull'Allodio nei secoli Barbarici, Torino, 1886, la descrizione degli ulteriori stadii, per cui passò l'evoluzione stessa. Noi cominciamo anzitutto dal trovarci di fronte a certi vocaboli e concetti, che ci richiamano le condizioni primi tive delle genti italiche. Cotali sono i communalia, i vicinalia, i vicanalia (SCHUPFER, pag. 26 ) i quali, senz'aver più la configurazione tipica dell'ager compascuus delle tribù italiche, richiamano però il medesimo. Così anche tra i Germani trovasi una forma di proprietà, che, senza essere del tutto individuale, già si accosta alla medesima, ed è notevole, che essa, così fra le genti italiche, come fra i Germani, è indicata con un vocabolo, che richiama l'eredità, il passaggio cioè di un patrimonio dai genitori nei figli. Questo vocabolo presso i Romani, era quello di heredium, e presso i Germani è quello di alodium; il quale eziandio, secondo il Waitz e lo Schupfer, cominciò dapprima dall'indicare l'eredità, e passò poscia ad indicare il patrimonio avito. SCHUPFER, Op. cit., pag. 11 e 12. Or bene, presso l'uno e l'altro popolo, è questo heredium o alodium, che finisce per costituire il primo nucleo della proprietà esclusivamente privata. — È notabile anzi, che, nel periodo della tras 457 formazione, nè i Romani, nè i Germani hanno un vocabolo specifico per indicare la proprietà: poichè mentre i primi esprimono la proprietà coi concetti di meum e di tuum, di heredium, di praedium, di mancipium, i Germani invece la indicano coi vocaboli di Land, Erbe, Eigen, Allod, Sundern (pag. 14 ). Così pure anche presso i Germani occorrono quei consortia, che presso le genti italiche erano indicati coi vocaboli di « ercto non cito ». Questi consortia parimenti esistono sopratutto fra fra telli, e talora anche fra zii e nipoti, che continuano spontaneamente nella comunione (SCHUPFER, pag. 52), e richiamano così la familia omnium agnatorum. — Infine la vera proprietà privata formasi presso i due popoli nella stessa guisa. Al modo stesso, che la prima proprietà privata in Roma fu un assegno sull'ager gentilicius o sull'ager publicus, così anche la proprietà privata, presso i popoli germanici, seguendo sempre la guida sicura del prof. Schupfer, fu anche essa una sors, un lotto, un assegno (pag. 63); accanto al quale però si svolge eziandio il concetto dell'adquisitum la bore suo (pag. 60), il quale, salvo il linguaggio, non presenta poi grande differenza dal manucaptum dei latini. È poi anche degno di nota, che questo nucleo cen trale della proprietà privata presso i Germani, al pari che presso gli antichi Ro mani, è costituito da un podere o da una abitazione rustica, a cui trovasi annessa una certa quantità di terra, che in massima avrebbe dovuto essere invariabile (pag. 63 ). Il medesimo poi è indicato coi nomi dimansus, di hoba, di sedimen, i quali proba bilmente portano eziandio con sè quella idea di residenza, che era indicata anche dai vocaboli di mancipium e di dominium. Che anzi, come già notava lo Schupfer, p. 78, anche l'uomo libero longobardo, che si chiama arimanno, indica la sua libera pro prietà col vocabolo di arimanna, al modo stesso che il quirite addimandava la sua proprietà esclusiva « dominium ex iure quiritium ». Infine questa proprietà si acquista, si trasmette e si rivendica con modi, che ricordano l'usucapio, la manci. patio e l'actio sacramento dei Romani (SCHUPFER, Op. cit., pag. 122, 138 e 160 ). Intanto però, accanto alle analogie, che dimostrano la costanza delle leggi che go vernano l'evoluzione della proprietà, sonvi anche le differenze, che sono determinate dal diverso temperamento dei popoli. Mentre infatti il popolo romano, giunto una volta al concetto della proprietà individuale, ne fa una costruzione tipica, che estende a poco a poco a tutte le cose, che sono in commercio, e che svolge in tutte le sue conseguenze logiche, i popoli germanici invece non giungono a questa concezione tipica; quindi mentre la proprietà romana è una sola, la proprietà germanica, come ben nota lo ScuuPFER, non potrà mai richiamarsi a un solo tipo (pag. 75). Di più mentre i Romani, una volta raggiunta la proprietà quiritaria, la disgiunsero affatto dall'ambiente gentilizio, e si concentrarono esclusivamente nello svolgimento di essa, pressochè lasciando in disparte la proprietà collettiva prima esistente, i popoli ger manici invece, compresi anche gli Anglo-Sassoni, non giunsero mai a districare com piutamente la proprietà privata dall' involucro feudale da cui era uscita, o se lo fecero vi giunsero solo per imitazione della proprietà, quale era stata modellata dai Romani, nè spinsero mai la logica della istituzione a conseguenze così estreme, come i Romani (pag. 82). Ciò è vero sopratutto della proprietà inglese, la quale, uscita dall'organizzazione feudale, continua sempre a serbarne le traccie in quella serie di gradazioni e di distinzioni, che ancor oggi la contraddistinguono. Vedi, quanto alla proprietà inglese, il Williams, Principii del diritto di proprietà reale, trad. Ca negallo, Firenze, 1873 e il POLLOCH, The Land Laws, Edinburgh. Il ius quiritium ed i concetti di commercium, connubium, actio. 359. Fin qui ho cercato di ricomporre il quirite negli elementi essenziali del suo status, e di seguire le trasformazioni, che si vennero introducendo man mano in ciascuno di questi elementi. Ricostruendo cosi il primitivo diritto, fummo condotti ad una con figurazione giuridica del quirite, la quale, ancorchè rigida e com passata, si presenta però organica e coerente in tutte le sue parti. Resta ora la parte più difficile di questa ricostruzione, quella cioè di cercare, come mai una figura cosi automatica potesse entrare in rapporti con altre individualità foggiate sullo stesso modello, e dare cosi origine a quella infinita varietà di negozii, in cui il quirite pud essere chiamato a svolgere la propria attività giuridica. Non è quindi meraviglia, se qui sopratutto apparisca sorprendente il magi stero dei veteres iuris conditores, in quanto che non trattavasi solo più di notomizzare e di scomporre lo status del quirite, ma di mettere il medesimo in movimento ed in azione, valendosi di pochissimi mezzi per dar forma giuridica alla varietà grandissima dei negozii, che si venivano moltiplicando col formarsi e collo svol gersi della convivenza cittadina. Anche qui la supposizione più ovvia intorno al magistero seguito dai modellatori del primitivo diritto, sarebbe che essi, da uomini pratici quali erano, fossero venuti introducendo le istituzioni, a mi sura che se ne presentava il bisogno, e che perciò il diritto privato di Roma, almeno in questa parte, debba essere considerato come il frutto di una evoluzione lenta e graduata, determinata sopratutto dalle condizioni economiche e sociali del popolo romano (1). Lo studio invece delle vestigia, che a noi pervennero dell'antico ius quiritium, mi hanno profondamente convinto, che il medesimo, anche in questa parte, che potrebbe chiamarsi la dinamica del diritto quiritario, sia stato il frutto di una specie di elaborazione e selezione potente, (1) Tale sarebbe l'idea, forse alquanto preconcetta, a cui sembra ispirarsi l'opera del Puglia col titolo: Studii di storia di diritto romano, secondo i risultati della filosofia scientifica, Messina, 1886. 459 che venne operandosi su materiali giuridici preesistenti, la quale ebbe ad essere guidata da una logica e da una tecnica giuridica, non dissimile da quella, che abbiamo riscontrata nella parte statica del diritto quiritario. Vi ha tuttavia questa differenza, che mentre le basi fondamentali dello status del quirite furono fissate, pressochè contemporaneamente, dall'avvenimento importantissimo del censo ser viano; lo svolgimento invece della parte del diritto quiritario, che si riferisce al negozio giuridico, fu l'effetto di una elaborazione più lenta e graduata, la quale si operd man mano, che veniva accomu nandosi il diritto fra il patriziato e la plebe, e che le loro rispettive istituzioni si fondevano insieme nell'attrito della vita cittadina. 360. Che questo sia stato il processo, con cui si formò eziandio la parte dinamica del ius quiritium, risulta da una quantità gran dissima di indizii, fra cui basterà qui di ricordare i più importanti. È indubitabile anzitutto che, anche nella parte relativa al negozio giuridico, il ius quiritium non prende le mosse da questo o da quel fatto particolare, ma parte invece senz'altro da concetti sin tetici e comprensivi, quali sarebbero quelli del commercium, del connubium e dell'actio, i quali tutti hanno una larghissima signi ficazione, e sembrano già preesistere nel periodo gentilizio, anteriore alla fondazione della città. Cosi pure è certo, che il primitivo ius quiritium non viene già creando le forme giuridiche, a misura che si vengono svolgendo i nuovi rapporti giuridici, ma compare invece con certe forme tipiche, efficacemente modellate, nelle quali cerca poi di fare entrare, anche forzatamente, quei nuovi rapporti giuri dici, a cui dà argomento la convivenza civile e politica. È in questa guisa, che un solo atto, quale sarà, ad esempio, l'atto per aes et libram, finirà per servire alle applicazioni più disparate. Che anzi è facile eziandio di scorgere, che il ius quiritium, nelle diverse serie di rapporti giuridici da esso governati, presentasi dapprima con istituzioni tipiche, che costituiscono in certo modo il nucleo centrale, intorno a cui si vengono poi consolidando le istituzioni, che hanno qualche affinità con quelle già formate. Così, ad esenipio, non vi ha dubbio, che il ius quiritium riconosce una forma tipica di matrimonio, che è il matrimonio cum manu; un atto quiritario per eccellenza, che è l'atto per aes et libram; come pure una legis actio essenzialmente quiritaria, che è l'actio sacramento. Convien perciò conchiudere, che anche in questa parte del diritto quiritario non si accettano i materiali giuridici, quali che essi siano; - 460 - ma si viene operando una specie di scelta fra i medesimi, e soltanto si adottano quelli, che possano convenire al concetto fondamentale, che è quello del quirite. È quindi evidente, che per giungere ad una ricostruzione di questa parte del ius quiritium conviene in certo modo assecondare le leggi della sua naturale formazione, cominciando dal cercare: lº quali siano i concetti fondamentali, da cui prende le mosse la formazione di questa parte del ius quiritium; 2 ° la pro venienza di questi concetti e l'elaborazione, che essi subiscono en trando nel diritto quiritario; 3º l'ordine progressivo, con cui questi varii concetti vennero penetrando e consolidandosi nella elabora zione del ius quiritium. 361. Quanto ai concetti fondamentali, da cui prende le mosse la dinamica del diritto quiritario, essi sono senz'alcun dubbio quelli del connubium, del commercium, dell'actio. Cid pud inferirsi anzitutto dalla circostanza, che tutti questi concetti già si erano elaborati nel periodo gentilizio, nei rapporti fra i capi delle famiglie e delle genti, e quindi era naturale, che questi, entrando a far parte della comunanza quiritaria, li applicassero eziandio nei loro rapporti come quiriti, tanto più che il quirite, pur essendo un individuo, continuava ancora ad essere un capo gruppo. A ciò si aggiunge, che questi concetti si adattavano mirabilmente alla concezione tipica del quirite, quale era stata determinata sopratutto dal censo e dalla costituzione serviana. Il quirite infatti presentavasi nella doppia qualità di capo di famiglia e di proprietario di terra, i quali due caratteri, nella sintesi primitiva, sembravano in certo modo immede simarsi fra di loro, come lo dimostrano le concezioni del caput, della manus e del mancipium. Era quindi naturale, che siccome le istitu zioni fondamentali del diritto quiritario si riducevano alla famiglia ed alla proprietà, così le varie manifestazioni dell'attività giuridica del quirite si richiamassero: o al concetto del connubium, da cui di scende appunto l'organizzazione della famiglia; o a quella del com mercium, in cui comprendonsi tutti i negozii, a cui porge occasione la circolazione e lo scambio della proprietà. — Le une e le altre ma nifestazioni poi trovavano la propria difesa nell'actio, che serviva a tutelare il quirite sotto l'uno e sotto l'altro aspetto, non essendovi ancora la distinzione fra i diritti reali e personali. Questi concetti pertanto, trasportati nel ius quiritium, si cambiarono, per così dire, in altrettanti capisaldi, da cui si vennero staccando i varii aspetti, sotto cui pud esplicarsi l'attività giuridica del quirite; co 461 sicchè anche più tardi, per mettere ordine nello svolgimento copioso della giurisprudenza romana, Gaio dovette di necessità ricorrere ad una distinzione, che richiama quella antichissima del connubium, del commercium e dell'actio (1). Tutto il diritto infatti, che si ri ferisce alle persone, considerate sotto il punto di vista esclusiva mente privato, sembra metter capo al concetto del connubium; quello invece, che si riferisce alle cose, non è che uno svolgimento del commercium; e quello infine, che riguarda le azioni, non è che una derivazione da quella legis actio, che costituì la procedura pri mitiva propria dei quiriti. Del resto sono gli stessi giureconsulti romani che, dopo aver distinto i diritti pubblici dai privati, finirono per richiamare questi ultimi ai due diritti fondamentali del con nubium e del commercium, somministrandoci così, almeno questa volta, una chiave di quella dialettica fondamentale, che stringe ed unifica il molteplice svolgimento della giurisprudenza romana (2). 362. Per quello poi, che si riferisce alla provenienza di questi concetti direttivi di questa parte del ius quiritium, non può esservi dubbio, che essa deve essere cercata nel periodo gentilizio, il che credo di avere largamente dimostrato a suo tempo (3). Vuolsi perd aggiungere, che questi concetti, i quali prima avevano governato dei rapporti fra i capi di famiglia e delle genti, allorchè furono tras portati nei rapporti fra quiriti, si trasformarono in altrettante basi del diritto spettante ai quiriti, cosicchè dal connubium derivd il ius connubii ex iure quiritium; dal commercium il ius commercii pure ex iure quiritium; e infine dall’actio il sistema delle legis actiones, che è parimenti proprio della comunanza quiritaria. Questi concetti pertanto cessarono di avere uno svolgimento pura mente estensivo, come era accaduto nei rapporti fra le famiglie e le genti, ma ricevettero eziandio uno svolgimento intensivo; cosicchè (1) Intendo qui parlare della nota distinzione di Gaio, Comm., I, 8: « Omne autem ius, quo utimur, vel ad personas pertinet, vel ad res, vel ad actiones ». Quanto alle obbiezioni che si fecero, sopratutto dal Savigny, al valore di questa distinzione, vedi quanto si è detto al n ° 97, pag. 124, nota 1. (2) È sopratutto Ulpiano, checerca di abbracciare nei due larghissimi concetti di connubium e di commercium tutto l'esplicarsi dell'attività giuridica del qui rite. V. Ulp., Fragm., V, 3, quanto al connubium, e XIX, 5 quanto al commercium. Quanto all'uno e all'altro concetto cfr. il Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, pag. 244 e. 274, coi passi ivi citati, ed il MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 108 e 109. (3 ) V. sopra lib. I, cap. VI, SS 2 e 3, pag. 123 a 138. 402 ciascuno di essi venne ad essere una propaggine di quel diritto pri vilegiato, cui i Romani diedero dapprima il nomedi ius quiritium, e che più tardi chiamarono ius proprium civium romanorum. Cosi, ad esempio, il connubium nel periodo gentilicio, era il di ritto di imparentarsi fra di loro, che esisteva fra i membri delle genti, che appartenevano al medesimo nomen. Trasportato invece nella comunanza quiritaria, esso venne a trasformarsi nel ius con nubii ex iure quiritium. Secondo Ulpiano infatti « connubium est uxoris iure ducendae facultas », ossia il diritto di addive nire alle giuste nozze riconosciute dal ius quiritium, e di godere cosi di tutti i diritti, che in base al medesimo derivavano da queste giuste nozze, cioè: della manus sulla moglie, fino a che il matrimonio cum manu costitui il matrimonio tipico del cittadino romano; della patria potestas sui figli, che anche più tardi i giureconsulti consideravano come istituzione peculiare al popolo romano. Che anzi, siccome anche l'istituto dell'arrogazione e dell'adozione, come pure quello della successione e della tutela le gittima nel diritto romano avevano stretta attinenza coll'organiz zazione domestica e col principio dell'agnazione, che stava a fonda mento della medesima, cosi anche queste istituzioni apparvero nel primitivo ius quiritium, come una dipendenza del connubium, considerato come un ius proprium civium romanorum. 363. Lo stesso è pure a dirsi del commercium. Il medesimo, nei rapporti fra le genti, era il diritto di addivenire ai reciproci scambii « emendi vendendique invicem potestas »; ma allorchè invece venne ad essere trapiantato fra i quiriti, i quali come tali avevano una proprietà speciale e privilegiata, che era la proprietà ex iure quiritium, esso venne a cambiarsi nel ius commercii ex iure qui ritium, ossia nel diritto di addivenire a tutti quei negozii giuridici, di carattere mercantile, che erano stati adottati come proprii dalla comunanza dei quiriti. Questi negozii poi nel primitivo ius qui ritium e ancora nella legislazione decemvirale, si presentano sotto tre forme fondamentali, che sono: lº il facere nexum, che è il diritto di potersi obbligare nella forma e cogli effetti riconosciuti dal diritto quiritario; 2° il facere mancipium, che è il diritto di acquistare e trasmettere la prima proprietà quiritaria, consistente appunto nel mancipium, colle forme riconosciute dal diritto quiritario; 3º e in fine il facere testamentum, che è il diritto di acquistare o di tras mettere un'eredità, mediante il testamento riconosciuto dal diritto 463 quiritario, donde il vocabolo di testamenti factio (1). Che anzi l'unità primordiale di questi varii negozii, in cui si estrinseca il ius commercii ex iure quiritium, viene ad essere messa in evi denza anche da ciò, che tutti questi negozii finiscono per compiersi con una sola forma tipica, che è quella dell'atto per aes et libram, e tutti appariscono foggiati sullo stesso modello. Basta perciò considerare, che il nexum indica un vincolo, che ha del fisico e del giuridico ad un tempo, il mancipium sembra inchiudere ad un tempo il possesso e la proprietà, e infine il testamentum, sotto un aspetto ha tutte le apparenze di un negozio tra vivi, e sotto un altro è già un atto per causa di morte, e non produce i suoi effetti, che per il tempo in cui il testatore avrà cessato di vivere. Così pure l'unità di origine di questi varii negozii e il loro diramarsi dal concetto, che il proprietario ex iure quiritium deve poter liberamente disporre delle proprie cose, viene anche ad essere dimostrata dalla circostanza, che di fronte a tutti questi atti la legislazione decemvirale proclama il principio: « uti lingua nuncupassit », o quello analogo: « uti legassit, ita ius esto ». 364. Da ultimo accade eziandio una trasformazione analoga nel concetto dell'actio. Questa nel periodo gentilizio era la procedura solenne, consacrata dal costume, a cui doveva attenersi il capo di famiglia, il cui diritto fosse disconosciuto e violato, e la medesima poteva anche dar luogo ad una effettiva violenza fra i contendenti, quando essi non avessero potuto venire ad un amichevole compo nimento (2 ). Allorchè invece l'actio compare nel ius quiritium, essa imita bensì ancora la procedura anteriore allo stabilimento della ci vile giustizia, ma intanto già si compie in iure, cioè davanti al magistrato riconosciuto come capo e custode della città. Di più questa actio non può più seguire arbitrariamente questa o quella pratica, introdottasi nel costume, ma deve invece essere accomodata alla legge, ed ai termini di essa. Essa cessa perciò di essere,un'actio qualsiasi, ma diventa una legis actio, e viene così a cam (1) Fra gli autori, che dànno questa larga significazione così al connubium, che al commercium, accennerò il LANGE, Histoire intérieure de Rome, pag. 13, in nota, il quale pur riconosce, che questi concetti dovettero prima aver origine nei rapporti fra le varie genti. (2 ) Quanto alle origini dell'actio nel periodo gentilizio e ai caratteri della mede sima, vedi sopra lib. I, cap. VI, § 3, pag. 130 a 138. 464 biarsi nel diritto di far valere le proprie ragioni davanti al ma gistrato, nella forma che è riconosciuta dal diritto quiritario. Quindi è, che anche la procedura quiritaria sembra prendere le mosse da un'azione tipica, che è l'actio sacramento, la quale può anche essa essere considerata come il nucleo centrale, da cui si verrà poi derivando non solo tutto il sistema delle legis actiones, ma in parte eziandio il sistema delle formulae. È poi quest'origine gentilizia dei concetti fondamentali del diritto quiritario, che spiega eziandio, senza bisogno di ricorrere a quello spirito formalista del popolo romano, che fu ormai abbastanza sfrut tato, le cerimonie solenni, che accompagnano gli atti di carattere quiritario: poichè anche queste solennità dovevano un tempo accom pagnare gli atti, che intervenivano fra i capi delle famiglie e delle genti, in quanto rappresentavano il proprio gruppo, e avevano cosi una importanza, che spiega le formalità, da cui erano circondati (1). 365. Resta ora a determinarsi l'ordine progressivo, con cui si vennero consolidando questi varii aspetti del primitivo ius quiritium. Anche qui ci mancano le testimonianze dirette, perchè i veteres iuris conditores, secondo la testimonianza di Cicerone, non amavano divulgare il segreto dell'arte loro (2); ma abbiamo tuttavia una quantità di fatti, che possono servirci di guida. Così noi sappiamo anzitutto, che la prima parte del diritto, che ebbe ad essere comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, fu certamente quella relativa al commercium, e quindi viene ad esser naturale, che l'elaborazione di un ius quiritium, comune ai due ordini, inco minciasse da quegli atti, che si riferiscono al commercium. Questa circostanza verrebbe poi ad essere eziandio confermata dal fatto, che la parte di antichissima legislazione civile, che sarebbe da Dionisio attribuita a Servio Tullio, si riferirebbe appunto ai con tratti, la cui azione dispiegasi appunto nella parte relativa al com (1) Tralascio qui ogni maggior spiegazione intorno alle origini del formalismo romano, perchè ebbi già ad occuparmene al n ° 94, pag. 117 e segg. e sopratutto nella nota 1a a pag. 118, ove si presero in esame le opinioni, in proposito emesse, dal Sumner-Maine e dal Jhering. (2) Cic., De Orat., I, 42, lagnandosi delle difficoltà, che ai suoi tempi ancora accompagnavano lo studio del diritto, dice espressamente, che una delle cause di queste difficoltà deve essere riposta nella circostanza che « veteres illi, qui buic scientiae praefuerunt, obtinendae atque augendae potentiae suae caussa, pervulgari artem suam noluerunt ». 465 mercium. Cosi pure abbiamo un'altra conferma di questo fatto nella circostanza, che, all'epoca della legislazione decemvirale, già si presentano come compiutamente formati i tre negozii giuridici attinenti al ius commercii, cioè il nexum, il mancipium ed il testa mentum; cosicchè in questa parte viene ad essere evidente, che le leggi delle XII Tavole non fecero che confermare uno stato di cose già preesistente, e si limitarono a dire, che in questa specie di negozii, la volontà del quirite doveva essere sovrana, per modo che la sua parola costituisse legge (1). Infine un argomento indiretto di questa precedenza l'abbiamo anche in questo, che la forma dell'atto commerciale per eccellenza, che è l'atto per aes et libram, ebbe più tardi ad essere applicata eziandio in atti relativi al ius con nubii, come nella coemptio, nell'adoptio e simili: il che significa, che l'atto per aes et libram già doveva essersi formato prima, che si addivenisse alla concessione dei connubii fra patriziato e plebe, la quale segui solo più tardi. Mi pare ciò stante di poter conchiudere, che la parte del ius quiritium, relativa al commercium, fu la prima ad elaborarsi ed a consolidarsi, e che deve attribuirsi a questo motivo, se lo svolgi mento posteriore del diritto romano appare costantemente modellato sul concetto del mio e del tuo. È questo il concetto espresso da Ulpiano, allorchè scrive: omne ius consistit aut in acquirendo, aut in conservando, aut in minuendo; aut enim hoc agitur, quem admodum quis rem vel ius suum conservet, aut quomodo alienet, aut quomodo amittat (2); ma la causa storica, che determinò questo carattere peculiare del diritto romano, deve essere riposta nel fatto, che la parte del ius quiritium, relativa al commercium, fu la prima a consolidarsi, e costitui in certo modo il nucleo centrale della for mazione, cosicchè tutte le parti, che si aggiunsero più tardi, ne ri sentirono l'influenza e ne conservarono l'impronta. Quando si tratto infatti di rendere comune anche la parte relativa al connubium, si trovarono già formati i concetti relativi alla proprietà, e quindi anche il diritto del marito, del padre, del padrone furono model (1) Cid non può lasciar dubbio quanto al nexum ed al mancipium, che già si presentano nelle XII Tavole come istituzioni compiutamente svolte, ed è confermato eziandio, quanto al testamentum, da ULPIANO, il quale dice espressamente, che le suc cessioni testamentarie e i tutori nominati per testamento furono confermati dalle XII Tavole. Fragm., XI, 14. (2) Ulp., L. 41, Dig. (1-4 ). G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 30 - 466 lati su quello di proprietà. Cosi pure quando si tratto di model lare le azioni, tutto si ridusse ad una questione di mio o di tuo, si trattasse di rivendicare una cosa qualsiasi, oppure la moglie od un figlio. Quindi è che la rigidezza, che a questo riguardo presenta il primitivo ius quiritium, non proviene già da una confusione, che si facesse fra i diritti di famiglia ed i diritti di proprietà, ma bensi da ciò, che essendosi nel ius quiritium modellato prima il diritto di proprietà, anche le elaborazioni posteriori ne conservarono l'im pronta. Ciò è anche provato dal fatto, che nelle fonti l'espressione di ius quiritium è sopratutto adoperata relativamente alla proprietà ed al commercio; cosa del resto, che è facile a comprendersi, quando si consideri, che la comunanza quiritaria all'epoca serviana si formo appunto in base alla proprietà ed al censo. 366. Noi possiamo invece affermare con certezza, che fu solo assai più tardi, che il ius connubii entrò a formar parte di quella singolare costruzione giuridica, che porta il nome prima di ius qui ritium e poscia quello di ius proprium civium romanorum; poichè fu soltanto colla legge Canuleia, che si riusci ad abolire il divieto del connubio dei patrizii colla plebe. Malgrado di ciò, si può essere certi, che, anche prima di quest'epoca, la parte più ricca ed agiata della plebe già aveva cercato di accostarsi alla organizzazione della famiglia patrizia. Ciò è abbastanza dimostrato dal fatto, che i de cemviri considerarono la famiglia fondata sull'agnazione, come la famiglia propria dei quiriti, e cercarono anzi di fornire alla plebe un mezzo semplicissimo per addivenire al matrimonio cum manu, mezzo che consiste nella coabitazione di un anno, non interrotta per tre notti di seguito. Allorchè poi colla legge Canuleia furono leciti i connubii fra il patriziato e la plebe, era naturale, che l'atto quiritario per eccellenza venisse ad essere applicato anche in que st'argomento. Probabilmente dovette essere allora, che fra le forme del matrimonio cum manu, di cui una era la confarreatio, propria del patriziato, e l'altra l'usus, propria della plebe, venne svolgendosi. la forma del matrimonio, che può ritenersi come quiritaria per ec cellenza, cioè quella per coemptionem. Intanto questo trapianto del l'organizzazione domestica, propria del patriziato, nel ius quiritium, comune ai due ordini, fece si che la famiglia quiritaria si fondasse esclusivamente sulla patria potestà e sull’agnazione, e che perciò anche la successione e la tutela legittima fossero deferite, in base alla legislazione decemvirale, agli eredi suoi, agli agnati e in loro 407 mancanza ai gentili. Fu sopratutto in questa parte, che l'organiz zazione gentilizia del patriziato riusci a penetrare nel diritto quiri tario; donde la conseguenza, che il ius connubii e la conseguente organizzazione della famiglia finiscono per essere la parte dell'an tico diritto, in cui rivelasi più tenace e persistente lo spirito conser vatore dell'antico patriziato romano (1 ). 367. La parte infine del diritto primitivo, che ultima sarebbe entrata nella compagine del ius quiritium, deve ritenersi essere quella, che si riferisce alle legis actiones. Non è già, che anche in questa parte non vi fossero dei materiali preesistenti: ma, secondo l'attestazione concorde degli stessi giureconsulti, fu soltanto poste riormente alla legislazione decemvirale è in base alle parole stesse della medesima, che sarebbe stato modellato il sistema delle legis actiones. Che anzi si può affermare con certezza, che questa parte del primitivo diritto di Roma fu certamente dovuta alla elaborazione dei pontefici, i quali, come custodi delle tradizioni patrizie, spie garono sopratutto in questa parte la loro tecnica giuridica, e cer tamente seguirono quel processo di costruzione logica, che erasi già adottato nelle altre parti del diritto quiritario. Furono quindi essi, che introdussero, quale azione tipica del diritto quiritario, l'actio sacramento, la quale può essere considerata come il germe di tutto lo svolgimento posteriore della procedura quiritaria: come pure furono essi, che si fecero gli iniziatori di quell'arte meravigliosa di accomodare l'azione alla varietà infinita delle fattispecie, che si potevano presentare, la quale giunse poi a tanta eccellenza per opera del pretore nel sistema per formulas. Non ignoro che l'opinione qui professata, secondo cui le legis actiones sarebbero state le ultime a penetrare nella compagine del ius quiritium o meglio del ius proprium civium romanorum, sebbene appoggiata all'attestazione degli antichi giureconsulti, sembra (1) Le affermazioni, che qui sono semplicemente enunciate, verranno poi ad essere meglio comprovate nel capo V, ove trattasi diproposito del ius connubii. È notabile, quanto al connubium, che l'espressione ad perata nelle fonti non è più quella di ius quiritium, la quale sopratutto si adopera in tema di proprietà, ma è già quella di ius proprium civium romanorum. La causa di questo cambiamento sta in ciò che il connubium venne ad essere comune dopo le XII Tavole, cioè quando al concetto più circoscritto del ius quiritium già cominciava a sovrapporsi il concetto più largo di un ius civile, ossia di un ius proprium civium romanorum. 168 contraddire alla opinione oggidi molto seguita, secondo cui le actiones avrebbero avuta la precedenza su tutte le altre parti del diritto quiritario (1). Credo quindi opportuno di avvertire, che io pure ammetto, che in quella evoluzione lenta dei concetti giuridici, che ebbe ad avverarsi nel periodo gentilizio, il concetto che prima venne a svolgersi, fu certamente quello di actio (2 ): ma così invece più non accadde nell'elaborazione del ius quiritium. Questo infatti è già una costruzione organica e coerente, che prese le mosse dal concetto del quirite, come individualità giuridica integra e perfetta, e che in base al medesimo cominciò dapprima dal modellare la pro prietà, a lui spettante; poscia gli attribui il connubio; da ultimo provvide anche alle azioni, che potevano tutelarlo nei suoi diritti di proprietà e famiglia: donde la conseguenza, che il ius quiritium, essendo già un'opera riflessa, accolse talvolta più tardi istituzioni, che nella realtà dovettero svolgersi per le prime (3 ). Intanto questo sguardo complessivo alla progressiva formazione del ius quiritium ha ' per noi una grandissima importanza, in quanto che mantenendo nella ricostruzione l'ordine stesso, che ebbe ad essere seguito nella naturale formazione del ius quiritium, si potrà giungere a spiegare certi caratteri peculiari del diritto pri mitivo di Roma, che altrimenti riuscirebbero incomprensibili. La materia intanto verrà ad essere naturalmente ripartita in tre capi toli, di cui il primo si occuperà del ius commercii, l'altro del ius connubii, e l'ultimo delle legis actiones. (1) Fra gli altri sembra attribuire questa precedenza all'actio sulle altre parti del diritto civile romano il Cogliolo, Saggi sopra l'evoluzione del diritto privato, Torino, 1885, pag. 105 e segg. (2 ) Ho cercato altrove di spiegare questo carattere delle società primitive, che al punto di vista attuale pud apparire alquanto singolare nella Vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale, Torino, 1880, pag. 40. (3 ) Per una più larga discussione intorno al modo, in cui si formarono le legis actiones, mi rimetto al cap. VI ed ultimo, § 1º, ove trattasi appunto di quest'ar gomento. - 469 CAPITOLO IV. Il ius commercii nel diritto quiritario. $ 1. Il commercium e l'atto per aes et libram. 368. Se havvi parte del ius quiritium, che sia modellata in per fetta correlazione con quella individualità giuridica, integra e com piuta, che era il quirite, è quella certamente, che si riferisce al ius commercii. In questa parte la volontà del quirite apparisce indi pendente e sovrana; la sua parola costituisce una vera legge;" e non trovasi imposto altro limite e confine al suo potere, salvo quello, che deriva dalla osservanza delle forme solenni, che sono ricono sciute ed adottate dal diritto quiritario. Il quirite infatti, quale pro prietario, può disporre delle sue cose fino ad abusarne, e può alienarle nel modo solenne proprio dei quiriti (facere mancipium ); quale debitore può obbligare se stesso fino a vincolare la libertà della propria persona (facere nexum ) per il caso in cui non soddisfi il suo debito, e come creditore può appropriarsi perfino la persona ed il corpo del debitore; come testatore infine può disporre in qual siasi modo del suo patrimonio, dimenticando anche di avere de' figli. Si può quindi affermare, che i tre atti fondamentali, in cui si esplica il ius commercii ex iure quiritium, sono tutti governati dal con cetto, che la volontà del quirite non deve aver limite o confine: concetto, che, quanto al nexum ed al mancipium, viene enun ciato con dire « uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto », e quanto al testamento, colle parole: « uti pater familias super familia tute lave suae rei, legassit, ita ius esto (1) ». E questa la parte, in cui « uti (1) Mentre nella ricostruzione del Dirksen, seguita dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 22 e 2.3, la disposizione: « Cum nexum faciet mancipiumque, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto » sarebbe la legge 1º della Tavola VI; secondo la ricostruzione del Voigt invece, essa viene ad essere la 1° della Tavola V. Così pure la disposizione legassit super pecunia tutelave suae rei, ita ius esto », che nella ricostruzione del Dirksen è la terza della Tavola V, in quella del Voigt viene ad essere la prima della Tavola IV. Ciò dimostra quanto sia grande, anche oggi, l'incertezza intorno all'ordine dei frammenti delle XII Tavole. - 470 domina sovrana la nuncupatio, e quindi si comprende come tanto nelle obbligazioni, quanto nei trasferimenti del dominio, quanto nei testamenti abbia avuto cosi larga parte lo studio delle espressioni adoperate. Queste espressioni infatti nel concetto primitivo costitui vano delle vere leggi, come lo dimostrano ancora le espressioni ado perate di lex mancipii, di lex testamenti, di lex fiduciae e simili, colle quali si comprendevano le varie clausole, che potevano essere apposte ad un trasferimento del dominio, o ad un testamento (1 ). L'unità poi, che domina tutta questa parte del primitivo ius qui ritium, viene anche ad essere provata dal fatto, che un medesimo atto tipico, che può chiamarsi l'atto quiritario per eccellenza, fini per servire quale mezzo per compiere tutti questi negozii giuridici. 369. L'opinione, ora generalmente seguita, intorno all'atto tipico del diritto quiritario, sembra ritenere, che tale atto debba essere riposto nella mancipatio, argomentando dalla larga applicazione, che questa ebbe a ricevere, ogni qualvolta trattavasi di trasferire la manus, intesa nel senso di potestà giuridica sopra una cosa o sopra una persona (2 ). Parmi invece, che le poche vestigia, che a noi pervennero dall'antico diritto, conducano a ritenere, che la forma (1 ) Il vocabolo di lex, come significò la clausola di un contratto o di un testa mento, così indicò eziandio le condizioni pubblicamente prescritte per i luoghidesti nati ad uso pubblico o comune. Vedi Bruns, Fontes, Pars II, Negotia, Caput I, pag. 240. Quanto agli altri significati del vocabolo di lex, nel primitivo diritto ro mano, vedi sopra nº 228, pag. 278. (2) Tra gli autori recenti, che cercarono di ricostruire il primitivo diritto romano, poggiandosi sul concetto di manus, in quanto comprende i poteri sulle cose e sulle persone, e sulla mancipatio, quale mezzo generale per il trasferimento delle manus, deve essere ricordato il Voigt, XII Tafeln, II, pag. 83 a 345. Anche il lavoro del dott. Longo, La mancipatio, Firenze, 1887, è un tentativo in questo senso. Questi verrebbe alla conclusione, che la mancipatio, quale a noi pervenne, sarebbe una reliquia di un atto più antico e più solenne, il quale in origine avrebbe dovuto compiersi in calatis comitiis, e che sarebbesi applicato ad ogni acquisto e trasferi mento della inanus. Di quest'atto primitivo egli troverebbe le traccie nel testamen tum e nell'adrogatio in calatis comitiis. Quest'opinione, a parer mio, non può am mettersi; perchè la mancipatio comparve relativamente tardi, e si riduce in sostanza ad una semplice applicazione dell'atto per aes at libram. Quanto agli atti di diritto privato, in cui abbiamo ancora l'intervento del populus, essi non indicano già, che tutti gli atti relativi alla manus richiedessero un tempo l'assistenza del popolo; ma debbono considerarsi come una sopravvivenza dell'organizzazione gentilizia nel pe riodo della città; come ho cercato appunto didimostrare ai nn. 220 e 221, pag. 256 e segg., discorrendo dei calata comitia, e degli atti che compievansi in essi. 471 tipica del negozio quiritario, debba essere riposto nell'atto per aes et libram; cosicché la nexi datio, la nexi liberatio, la man cipatio, la testamenti factio debbono essere riguardate come altret tante applicazioni di quest'atto primordiale. Cid può essere dedotto anzitutto dal concetto fondamentale del primitivo ius quiritium, in cui tutto si riduceva ad una questione di mio e di tuo; donde la conseguenza, che ogni atto relativo al commercium si riduceva in sostanza a fare in modo, che una cosa di nostra diventasse altrui (quod de meo tuum fit) mediante un corrispettivo, che può consistere o nel prezzo, o nell'obbligazione solenne assunta dal de bitore, o nel corrispettivo di quella finta mancipatio familiae, in cui facevasi consistere lo stesso testamento: trapasso, che trova vasi mirabilmente espresso, mediante l'atto per aes et libram. Ed è questo concetto appunto, che risulta dai passi, che a noi perven nero degli antichi giureconsulti. Questi passi infatti indicano anzi tutto, che il nexum era un'applicazione dell'atto per aes et libram, e dapprima quasi confondevasi con esso, poichè era definito: « omne quod geritur per aes et libram ». Lo stesso è a dirsi del facere mancipium, in quanto che una parte essenziale della mancipatio, quale è descritta da Gaio, consiste senz'alcun dubbio eziandio nel l'atto per aes et libram; il che è pur dimostrato dalla denomina zione stessa del testamento per aes et libram, il quale si introdusse più tardi, e non fu che una nuova applicazione dell'atto per aes et libram. Si aggiunga, che questi passi degli antichi giureconsulti indicano una incertezza intorno alla significazione primitiva del nexum e del mancipium. Vi sono infatti dei giureconsulti, che nel nexum comprendono anche il mancipium, mentre altri già distinguono fra l'uno e l'altro, osservando che dal nexum deriva un obbligazione, mentre col mancipium si opera la traslazione della proprietà. Questa incertezza appare eziandio quanto al testamento per aes et libram, il quale sotto un aspetto appare come una vera vendita o mancipatio familiae, come lo dimostra l'intervento del familiae venditor e del familiae emptor; mentre sotto un altro aspetto non è più una vendita nel vero senso della parola, ma è già un vero atto per causa di morte, poichè il familiae emtor riceve solo in deposito e in custodia il patrimonio del te statore, accið egli possa liberamente disporne « secundum legem publicam » per il tempo in cui avrà cessato di vivere (1). (1) Non sarà inutile riportare qui alcuni dei passi di antichi giureconsulti, che 472 Di qui pertanto si può ricavare, che nella sintesi primitiva del diritto quiritario tutto ciò, che riferivasi al commercium, compievasi per aes et libram, col quale atto esprimevasi lo scambio ed il tra passo, e che solo col tempo in questa sintesi primitiva si vennero differenziando il nexum, il mancipium, il testamentum; i quali col tempo procedettero ciascuno per la propria via, ed informati ad un proprio concetto finirono per dare origine a tre istituzioni fonda mentali. Col tempo infatti dal nexum scaturi la teoria delle obbli gazioni, dal mancipium derivò quella dell'alienazione e trasmissione del dominio e dei diritti reali inchiusi nel medesimo, e dal testa mentum si derivò tutta la teoria della libera disposizione delle proprie cose per causa di morte, la quale non potè mai confondersi ed imparentarsi colla successione legittima, poichè questa nel ius quiritium ebbe un'origine compiutamente diversa, come sarà di mostrato a suo tempo (1 ). È poi notabile, che il primitivo ius quiri tium, nella sua sintesi potente, ebbe a ravvisare uno scambio, ed una trasmissione con corrispettivo, tanto nel contratto, in quanto è fonte di obbligazioni, quanto nel trasferimento delle proprietà, quanto eziandio nel testamento, mediante cui l'erede viene in certo modo a dimostrano come il nexum, il mancipium e il testamentum facere non fossero, che altrettante applicazioni dell'atto per aes et libram. « Nexum Manilius scribit omne, quod per aes et libram geritur, in quo sint mancipia ». Varro, De ling. lat., 7, 5, § 105 (AUSCHKE, Iurispr. antiiustin., pag. 6 ); « Nexum, est ut ait Aelius Gallus, quodcumque per aes et libram geritur, idque necti dicitur; quo in genere sunt haec: testamenti factio, nexi datio, nexi liberatio » (Hoschke, Op. cit., pag. 96 ). Accanto a questa significazione larghissima, in cui il vocabolo di nexum comprende ancora « omne quod geritur per aes et libram », sonvi poi altri passi, che già attribuiscono al nexum una significazione più circoscritta. Così, ad esempio: « Nexum, Mucius scribit, quae per aes et libram fiunt, ut obligentur, praeter quae mancipio dentur », la quale opinione sarebbe prevalsa secondo VARRONE, De ling. lat., VII, 105, il quale aggiunge: « hoc verius esse ipsum verbum ostendit,de quo quaerit, nam id est quod obligatur per libram, neque suum fit, inde nexum dictum » (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 386). Quest'ultima definizione sarebbe pur confermata da Festo, vº Nexum: « Nexum aes apud antiquos dicebatur pecunia, quae per nexum obligatur » (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 346). Sonvi poi eziandio dei passi, in cui la mancipatio sarebbe indi cata perfino colla espressione di traditio alteri nexu, quale sarebbe il seguente di Cic., Top., 5, 28: « Abalienatio est eius rei, quae mancipii est, aut traditio alteri nexu, aut in iure cessio ». Per altri passi vedi il Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, pag. 197, nota 7, e II, 482 e segg. (1) La successione legittima non prende le mosse dal commercium, ma dal con nubium, come sarà dimostrato nel seguente cap. V, $ 5. - 473 continuare la personalità giuridica del proprio autore, e viene perciò ad essere obbligato alla continuazione dei sacra. Di qui la conseguenza, che, per ricostruire in questa parte il ius quiritium, vuolsi ricomporre anzitutto il primitivo atto per aes et libram, cercare l'epoca in cui esso penetrò nel ius quiritium, e se guire da ultimo le progressive applicazioni, che se ne vennero facendo. 370. Più volte ebbe ad essere notato, che nel diritto romano oc corrono le traccie di un processo, che ha del matematico, e che taluni vollero attribuire alla influenza di Pitagora, la cui filosofia, teorica e pratica ad un tempo, poggiava appunto sul numero, come espres sione dell'ordine e dell'armonia (1). Senza entrare in una simile di scussione, questo è certo, che non si può a meno di ravvisare questo carattere di matematica precisione ed esattezza in quel negozio, es senzialmente proprio dei quiriti, che compare sotto la forma del l'atto per aes et libram; poichè in esso noi vediamo comparire la persona di un pubblico pesatore, che tiene la bilancia quasi per de terminare ciò che altri då, e ciò che deve essere ricevuto in con traccambio. Può darsi benissimo, che quest'atto per aes et libram abbia avuto origine dalla necessità, in cui i contraenti erano di pesare l'aes rude, allorchè non erasi ancora introdotto l'aes signa tum: ma intanto si stenta a credere, che i veteres iuris conditores, allorchè introdussero come tipico quest'atto nel ius quiritium, e ne prolungarono la vita ben oltre l'epoca, in cui era veramente neces saria la bilancia, non abbiano ravvisato nel medesimo come una espressione ed un simbolo della esattezza e della precisione, che deveaccompagnare il negozio giuridico, e della uguaglianza, che deve mantenersi fra la cosa ed il prezzo, fra quello che si dà e ciò che si riceve in contraccambio. Questo è certo, che difficilmente sareb besi potuto rinvenire un atto, che potesse meglio simboleggiare quella giustizia, che Aristotele chiamò poi commutativa, e che era quella appunto, che doveva sovraintendere a quegli scambii, che i Romani inchiudevano col vocabolo di commercium (2 ). Ad ogni modo l'esistenza presso i Romani di un atto quiritario « quod geritur per aes et libram » da applicarsi in tutti gli scambii, in tutti i trapassi, in tutte le contrattazioni, che potessero interve (1) V. ZELLER, La philosophie des Grecs, trad. Boutroux, I, Paris, 1877, p. 486 e sopratutto la nota 8, pag. 401. (2 ) Cfr. Carle, La vita del diritto, pag. 132. - 474 nire fra i quiriti, tanto negli atti tra vivi, quanto eziandio negli atti per causa di morte, non pud essere posta in dubbio (1). Vero è, che il medesimo non ci pervenne nelle sue fattezze genuine, ma soltanto nelle applicazioni diverse, che se ne fecero; ma il fatto stesso che l'atto per aes et libram compare nelle obbligazioni, nei trasferimenti e nei testamenti dimostra, che esso in certo modo fra i quiriti compieva quella funzione, che presso di noi ha compiuto, sopratutto in altri tempi, quello che chiamasi l'atto pubblico ed autentico, il quale, al pari dell'antico atto per aes et libram, con tinua in certi confini ancora oggi ad avere la forza e l'efficacia del titolo esecutivo, salvo che esso sia impugnato di falso (2). Dal momento, che erasi venuto formando per la comunanza dei quiriti una forma particolare di diritto, che prese il nome di ius quiritium, era naturale che si modellasse eziandio un atto tipico, che potesse ser vire nei negozii essenzialmente quiritarii. Esso doveva essere pub blico, come tutti gli atti, che si compievano fra i quiriti; doveva es sere fatto colla testimonianza dei quiriti stessi, in quanto che poteva mutare in qualche modo la posizione rispettiva degli uni verso degli altri nella comunanza quiritaria, donde l'intervento nel medesimo dei classici testes, corrispondano o non i medesimi alle cinque classi serviane; doveva esser fatto coll'intervento di un pubblico ufficiale, che era il libripens, il quale poteva anche essere inca ricato di denunziare agli uffizii del censo le mutazioni, che ne derivavano alla condizione dei quiriti; alle quali solennità negli antichi tempi aggiungevasi eziandio la presenza di un antestator, incaricato in certo modo di richiamare l'attenzione delle parti e dei testimoni sulla importanza dell'atto (3). Il medesimo poi, per quanto si può inferire dalle applicazioni (1) Tra gli autori, che sembrano accostarsi all'idea, che l'atto per aes et libram costituisca nell'antico diritto la forma solenne per tutti i negozi relativi al com mercium, parmi di poter annoverare l'HÖLDER, Istituzioni di diritto romano, $ 28, trad. Caporali. Torino, 1887, pag. 82. (2 ) Cod. civ. it., art. 1317. (3) Questi varii caratteri del primitivo atto per aes et libram si possono facil mente ricostruire, ricomponendo insieme la descrizione, che sopratutto Gajo ed Ul PIANO ci serbarono, dei varii negozii, che compievansi per aes et libram, quali la nexi datio, la nexi liberatio, la mancipatio, ed il testamentum per aes et libram, dei quali avremo poi a discorrere partitamente. Quanto all' antestator o antestatus vedi il Longo, La mancipatio, pag. 74 e segg. 475 diverse, che ne furono fatte, ebbe ad essere costituito di due parti, cioè: lº dell'atto per aes et libram, il quale, mentre dava al negozio il carattere di pubblicità e di autenticità, poteva eziandio essere un ricordo effettivo di un'epoca, in cui l'aes rude serviva di istrumento per gli scambii e doveva perciò essere pesato colla bilancia; 2º della nuncupatio, che era un complesso di parole solenni, accomodate alla natura dell'atto, le quali esprimevano con preci sione ed esattezza il negozio giuridico, che veniva operandosi fra i contraenti. Mentre la prima parte era un ricordo del passato e conservavasi « dicis gratia, propter veteris iuris imitationem »; la seconda parte invece serviva a dargli duttilità e pieghevolezza, e a rendere possibili le applicazioni diverse, che si fecero dell'atto per aes et libram, non solo ai negozii giuridici propriamente detti, ma anche agli atti relativi all'ordinamento della famiglia (1). 371. Quanto al tempo, in cui l'atto per aes et libram può essere stato introdotto nel ius quiritium, esso non può e non potrà forse mai essere determinato con certezza, anche per il motivo che il medesimo può essere stato il frutto di una formazione lenta e gra duata. Egli è probabile tuttavia, che l'epoca, in cui esso cominciò a formarsi, dovette essere quella stessa, in cui prese ad elaborarsi un ius quiritium, comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, e quindi le sue origini possono con probabilità essere riportate all'epoca della costi tuzione serviana. Fu allora, che mediante l'istituzione del censo co minciò a delinearsi una proprietà ex iure quiritium, la quale con sisteva nel mancipium; quindi è probabile, che anche allora siasi sentito il bisogno di una forma tipica per compiere i negozii quiri tarii. Questo è certo, che alcuni tratti dell'atto per aes et libram richiamano l' epoca serviana. Cosi, ad esempio, noi sappiamo, che probabilmente in quell'epoca dovette avverarsi una trasformazione nel sistema monetario, poichè presso i primitivi romani il più an tico strumento di scambio non consistette nel rame, ma nei capi di (1) L'esistenza di questo duplice elemento nel primitivo atto per aes et libram è già accennato dalla disposizione delle XII Tavole: « qui nexum faciet, mancipium que, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto », e appare poi dall'analisi di tutti i ne gozii, che si compiono per aes et libram, descrittici sopratutto da Gajo, Comm., II, 104-5 e da Ulp., Fragm., XX, 9. - 476 bestiame, e sopratutto nelle pecore e nei buoi, come lo dimostra la designazione delle multe, che anche più tardi si continuò a fare in questa guisa. Che se per avventura si volesse ritenere, come fino a un certo punto è probabile, che l'atto per aes et libram fosse stato anche adottato per simboleggiare lo scambio, il trapasso, anche questo linguaggio simbolico corrisponderebbe all'epoca serviana, che è quella che ricorre ai simboli dell'hasta, della vindicta, e simili. Cosi pure noi sappiamo, chei testimonii dell'atto per aes et libram chiamavansi quirites, ed è anzi probabile, che fossero ricavati dalle classi ser viane, come lo dimostra la denominazione di classici testes: la quale, sebbene sia solo menzionata per i testimonii nel testamento, può ra gionevolmente essere estesa alle altre applicazioni dell'atto per aes et libram (1). Infine anche l'intervento di un pubblico ufficiale in quest'atto sembra essere stato determinato dalla necessità, in cui si era di conoscere i cambiamenti, che si avveravano nella posizione ri spettiva dei quiriti. Comunque sia, è però sempre probabile, che anche nella formazione di quest'atto siasi seguito il processo, che suole es sere adoperato dai Romani, quello cioè di servirsi di qualche forma già preesistente, attribuendovi il carattere quiritario, e cambiandola cosi in una forma tipica, che potrà poi essere capace di applicazioni diverse. Nulla ripugna pertanto, che l'atto per aes et libram sia stato veramente una realtà nell'epoca, in cui l'aes rude, non potendo essere numerato, doveva invece essere pesato; ma questo è certo, che quando quest'atto compare nel ius quiritium, esso viene già (1) Festo, vº « Classici testes dicebantur, qui signandis testamentis adhibebantur ». La questione se questi classici testes dovessero ritenersi come rappresentanti delle cinque classi, in quanto che essi non potevano essere meno di cinque, fu trattata di recente dal Longo, La mancipatio, pag. 83 e segg., il quale sosterrebbe che i clas sici testes non hanno che fare colla rappresentanza delle classi. Se con cið egli in tende di dire, che i testimoni non avevano nessun incarico di rappresentare le cinque classi serviane, ciò può facilmente essere consentito, poichè, secondo la testimonianza di GaJo, Comm., II, 25, questi testi solevano essere amici dei contraenti e potevano perciò essere presi anche dalla stessa classe: ma intanto non vi ha motivo per ne gare, che essi fossero chiamati classici, appunto perchè dapprima dovevano essere presi dalle classi, ossia dagli adsidui e locupletes. Era infatti nello spirito della costituzione serviana, che nell'atto per aes et libram, con cui si attuavano le muta zioni di proprietà quiritaria, dovessero intervenire dei testimonii tolti dalle classi al modo stesso, che ancora in base alle XII Tavole era stabilito: « adsiduo adsiduus vindex esto ». Tale sembra pur essere l'opinione del MUIRHEAD, Histor. introd., pag.59, il quale trova anzi non improbabile, che i non minus quam quinque testes rappresentassero le cinque classi. 477 ad essere cambiato in un atto tipico, che poteva essere suscettivo di molteplici applicazioni. Si comprende quindi, che Gaio ci parli sempre della mancipatio, come di una imaginaria venditio, senza neppur far cenno di un'epoca, in cui essa poteva costituire una vendita effettiva e reale (1 ). 372. Per quello poi che si riferisce all'ordine progressivo, con cui l'atto per aes et libram sarebbe stato applicato ai principali negozii giuridici deldiritto quiritario, è opinione generalmente ammessa, che esso siasi prima applicato alla mancipatio, poscia al nexum, e più tardi al testamentum per aes et libram (2). Mentre non pud esservi alcun dubbio circa l'applicazione più tarda dell'atto per aes et li bram al testamento, poichè in proposito Gaio ed Ulpiano attestano, che questa forma di testamento ebbe ad essere introdotta posterior mente a quella in calatis comitiis (3), ritengo invece, che sianvi dei forti indizii per credere, che l'applicazione dell'atto per aes et libram al nexum debba essere considerata come la più antica. Un argomento di ciò l'abbiamo anzitutto nel fatto, che nell'antico ius quiritium il diritto sembra spiegarsi prima contro la persona del debitore, che non contro i beni del medesimo, ed è solo assai tardi e sotto l'influenza del diritto pretorio, che si giunge a rite nere vincolati i beni, anzichè il corpo e la persona del debitore. Di più il facere mancipium suppone già un'epoca, in cui anche la plebe era pervenuta alla proprietà, mentre il facere nexum ci ri porta ad un'epoca più antica, in cui la plebe, nei suoi rapporti col patriziato, non potendo offrire alcuna garanzia reale, non poteva ob bligarsi altrimenti, che vincolando la propria persona. A ciò si ag giunge, che l'atto per aes et libram pud essere stata una realtà relativamente al nexum, poichè in un'epoca, in cui l'aes rude serviva come strumento di scambio, era una necessità il pesare la somma, che era data ad imprestito; mentre invece l'applicazione (1) Egli è evidente che i giureconsulti considerarono sempre l'atto per aes et libram come una forma riconosciuta dalla legge (secundum legem publicam ) per compiere i negozii di carattere quiritario; di qui le loro espressioni di imaginaria venditio, e di imaginaria mancipatio, e la disinvoltura con cuinon hanno difficoltà di applicarle a negozii, che più non hanno carattere mercantile, come sarebbe, ad esempio, il matrimonio per coemptionem. (2) Tale sembra, ad esempio, essere l'opinione del Voigt, XII Tafeln; del MUIRHEAD, Op. cit., pag. (3 ) GAJO, Comm., II, 102; ULP., Fragm., XX, 2. 58 e segg. 478 dell'atto per aes et libram, non solo per eseguire il pagamento del prezzo, ma anche per operare il trasferimento della proprietà di una cosa, è già ad evidenza un espediente giuridico, e merita il nome da tole da Gaio di « imaginaria venditio ». Si comprende pertanto, come gli antichi giureconsulti comprendano talvolta il facere mancipium nel concetto più antico del nexum chiamando con questo nome « omne quod geritur per aes et libram », mentre non consta che essi facciano mai rientrare il nexum nel concetto del facere mancipium (1). Infine si può anche aggiungere, che nei passi antichi parlasi di un ius nexi mancipiique, e che le stesse XII Tavole fanno precedere il nexum nel famoso testo: « cum nexum faciet mancipiumque, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto »: argomento questo, chemalgrado la sua tenuità apparente non deve trascurarsi del tutto, quando si consideri l'esattezza e la precisione, anche cronologica, che i ro mani, sopratutto nei tempi più antichi, recavano nel proprio lin guaggio legislativo, facendo di solito precedere il concetto, che prima erasi formato a quello, la cui formazione era posteriore. Che se po steriormente la mancipatio fini per prendere un posto più impor tante, ciò proviene da una causa storica, dal fatto cioè, che la parte del diritto primitivo relativa al nexum fu la prima ad essere abolita, il che accadde per mezzo della lex Paetelia, nel 428 dalla fondazione di Roma; donde la conseguenza, che il nexum cadde pressochè in dimenticanza, mentre la mancipatio apparve come l'atto quiritario per eccellenza presso i classici giureconsulti. Noi possiamo invece affermare, che presso i giureconsulti più antichi dovette essere as solutamente il contrario; perchè noi sappiamo che Manilio nel con cetto del nexum comprendeva ancora il mancipium, e che Elio Gallo vi comprendera perfino la testamenti factio; cosicchè tutto ciò, che compievasi per aes et libram, necti dicebatur, e quindi nel nexum veniva ad essere compreso « omne quod geritur per aes et libram ». La distinzione invece fra il nexum ed il mancipium compare in Quinto Muzio Scevola, il quale dice bensi che il nexum è ancor sempre « quod per aes et libram fit », ma non più nel l'intento di dare la cosa a mancipio, ma bensì in quello di obbli garla soltanto; la quale opinione, secondo Varrone ebbe ad essere seguita, e fu allora che si chiamò nexum, « quod obligatur per libram, neque suum fit». Si pud quindi conchiudere, che il vocabolo di nexum ebbe dapprimauna significazione più larga, per cui tutto (1) V. in proposito i passi di antichi giureconsulti ed autori citati a p. 411, nota 1. -- 479 ciò che compievasi « per aes et libram, necti dicebatur », mentre più tardi fini per significare l'obbligazione assunta per aes et libram; trasformazioni di significato, che occorrono frequenti nel diritto ro mano, come lo dimostrano i vocaboli di imperium, di manus e di mancipium, i quali tutti, mentre hanno una significazione più larga, finiscono per assumere un significato specifico più circoscritto. A queste considerazioni, fondate sui testi, se ne aggiunge un'altra, per me più importante di tutte, ed è che nella formazione del diritto quiritario, che poggia tutto sul concetto fondamentale del quirite, il diritto, quale vinculum societatis humanae, dovette presentarsi dap prima come un nexum, ossia, come un vincolo, che intercede fra due quiriti. Ciò è dimostrato dal fatto, che la procedura primitiva è azione di una persona contro di un'altra, e che la esecuzione pri mitiva va direttamente contro la persona del debitore, e si mani festa quale manus iniectio contro il medesimo (1 ). Quest'indagine intanto è per noi importante anche nel senso, che ci induce a discorrere prima del nexum, poscia della mancipatio, e da ultimo del testamentum per aes et libram. $ 2. Il nexum e la storia primitiva della obbligazione quiritaria. 373. L'origine diquell'obbligazione quiritaria di strettissimo diritto, che contraevasi mediante il nexum, deve essere cercata in quel (1) Non parmi pertanto, che possa essere accettata la teoria ingegnosa, ma non fondata sui fatti, del SumnER-MAINE, L'ancien droit, p. 305 e seg., secondo la quale il nexum avrebbe prima significato il trasferimento della proprietà, e sarebbe poscia venuto a significare l'obbligazione del venditore, che non avesse pagato il prezzo. Cid è assolutamente contrario al concetto romano, secondo cui la consegna della cosa e il pagamento del prezzo seguivano contemporaneamente nella mancipatio. Si può anzi dire che il processo seguito dal diritto romano fu compiutamente inverso. Il primo rapporto, che potè esservi fra il patriziato e la plebe, fu quello del nexum, ossia quella rigida obbligazione, per cui il mancato pagamento dava luogo alla manus iniectio contro la persona; mentre solo più tardi l'atto per aes et libram potè servire per il trasferimento della proprietà. Queste considerazioni mi impedi scono eziandio di aderire allo svolgimento storico, che sarebbe proposto dal CoglioLO nelle note al PadELLETTI, Storia del dir. rom., pag. 250, dove, premesso che il con cetto del diritto reale dovette precedere quello del diritto personale, farebbe anche precedere la formazione della mancipatio a quella del nexum. Cfr. Puglia, Studii di storia del dir. priv., pag. 73 e segg. 480 l'epoca, in cui la plebe, priva ancora di una vera posizione di diritto di fronte al patriziato, non poteva trovar credito presso ilmedesimo che vincolando la propria persona. In virtù del nexum il debitore plebeo, che non pagava a scadenza, poteva essere sottoposto alla manus iniectio, ed essere tradotto nel carcere privato del creditore patrizio (1). Coll'ammessione dei plebei alla comunanza quiritaria, il nexum, questa obbligazione rozza è primitiva, che era surta nei rapporti fra la classe superiore e la classe inferiore, venne ancor essa a con vertirsi nella forma tipica della obbligazione quiritaria, ma dovette perciò sottomettersi a tutte le solennità dell'atto quiritario. Essa quindi dovette essere contratta colle formalità dell'atto per aes et libram, colla assistenza cioè di non meno di cinque testes cives romani, e coll'intervento del libripens e dell'antestator (2). La formola precisa del nexum non ci è pervenuta, ma ci giunse invece, conservataci da Gaio, quella della nexi liberatio, la quale, essendone naturalmente il contrapposto, pud servirci per determinare, se non la formola precisa, almeno gli elementi essenziali, che dove vano concorrere nella nezi datio, per usare una espressione, che occorre nel giureconsulto Elio Gallo (3 ). Da questa formola si può in durre che a costituire il nexum dovettero concorrere due parti, cioè: (1) Senza pretendere qui di citare la ricchissima letteratura sul nexum, ricorderò soltanto l'Huschke, Ueber das nexum, Leipzig, 1846; GIRAUD, Des nexi, ou de la condition des débiteurs chez les Romains, Paris 1847; Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, $$ 63-65; MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd., 152 a 163. Le opinioni degli autori tuttavia sugli effetti del nexum primitivo sono ancora molto discordi. Secondo la dottrina più seguita, il nexum dava origine ad un'obbligazione di strettissimo diritto, la quale, non soddisfatta, autorizzava senz'altro alla manus iniectio. Di recente invece il Voigt sosterrebbe, che l'obbligazione assunta col nexum non avrebbe alcun effetto speciale; la quale opinione sembra pur seguita dal Cogliolo, nelle note al PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto romano, pag. 329. Per mio conto seguo la prima opinione in base sopratutto a quell'origine del nexum, che ho cercato di spiegare più sopra ai nu meri 166-67, pag. 206 a 208, e sulla considerazione, che non si comprenderebbero le grandi lotte sostenute dalla plebe per ottenere l'abolizione di questo ingens vin culum fidei; quando il medesimo avesse prodotto i medesimi effetti dell'obbligazione assunta col mezzo della stipulatio. (2 ) Questa necessità dell'atto per aes et libram, per contrarre il nexum, probabil mente fu quel provvedimento favorevole ai debitori, che da Dionisio è attribuito a Servio Tullio. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. 67. (3 ) La formola della nexi liberatio conservataci da Gajo, Comm., III, 174, sa rebbe la seguente: « Quod ego tibi tot milibus condemnatus sum, me eo nomine a te « solvo liberoque hoc aere aeneaque libra. Hanc tibi libram primam postremamque 481 1° l'atto per aes et libram, non minus quam quinque testes, cives romani, il libripens e forse eziandio l'antestator; 2° e la nuncu patio, che non si sa bene se dovesse essere pronunziata da un solo, ovvero da entrambi i contraenti. Essa però probabilmente dovette comporsi di due parti, l'una pronunziata dal nexum accipiens e l'altra dal nexum dans, e consistette in una specie di damnatio. Il primo conchiudeva damnas esto dare, e l'altro rispondeva damnas sum, il che implicava una specie di condanna, che il debitore pronunziava contro se stesso, al pagamento della somma (1 ). Di qui la conseguenza, che se il medesimo non pagava si poteva proce dere contro di lui, come se il medesimo fosse damnatus al paga mento, e perciò poteva essere soggetto alla manus iniectio, senza che fosse richiesta una speciale condanna del magistrato. I dubbii più gravi, che si riferiscono al nexum, sono quelli re lativi alla natura dell'obbligazione contratta col nexum, ed agli effetti, che derivavano da essa in base al diritto primitivo, le cui vestigia appariscono ancora nella legislazione decemvirale. 374. Per quello che riguarda la natura della obbligazione con tratta col nexum, alcuni antichi scrittori, non giuristi, descrivendo la trista condizione dei debitori, tradotti nel carcere privato del loro & expendo secundum legem publicam ». Essa è per noi molto preziosa: 1° perchè ci dice anzitutto, che il nexum per aes et libram importava una damnatio per parte del debitore, il che fa credere che rendesse contro di lui applicabile senz'altro la manus iniectio, che Gaio ci dice appunto essere ammessa contro i damnati, e contro i iudicati; 2° perchè essa è un argomento per ritenere, che le obbligazioni contratte per aes etlibram dovevano essere risolte con un atto della medesima natura; 3. perchè infine ci attesta, che l'atto per aes et libram era una forma di liberatio secundum legem publicam, e come tale non si applicava soltanto nei casi di obbligazioni con tratte col nexum, ma anche quando trattavasi del pagamento di una somma ex causa iudicati, o del pagamento di un legato per damnationem. Ciò conferma sempre più la congettura posta innanzi, che l'atto per aes et libram era in certo modo la forma quiritaria del negozio giuridico, donde le sue molteplici applicazioni, allorchè si tratta di negozii ex iure quiritium. (1) La nuncupatio del nexum secondo il Voigt, XII Tafeln, pag. 483, si com porrebbe bensì di due parti; ma egli, ricostruendone la formola, respingerebbe l'e spressione damnas esto e damnas sum, in conformità appunto della sua teoria, se condo cui il nexum non avrebbe dato origine ad un'obbligazione di carattere spe ciale. Parmi che quest'ultima parte della sua ricostruzione non possa accettarsi; poichè, così essendo, la formola della nesi datio non corrisponderebbe a quella della nexi liberatio, conservataci da Gaio, la quale è certo ciò, che noi abbiamo di più testuale in proposito. G. Carle, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 31 482 creditore, ebbero a dire, che essi, dopo essere stati spogliati dei beni, avevano poi dovuto rinunziare alla propria libertà (1). Ciò fece ri tenere talvolta, che il nexum attribuisse il diritto di procedere non solo contro la persona, ma anche contro i beni del debitore. Questo concetto sembra ripugnare a quel carattere del primitivo ius qui ritium, secondo cui il medesimo, allorchè giungeva a separare due istituti, quali sarebbero quelli del nexum e del mancipium, lasciava poi che ciascuno procedesse per la propria via, informato ad una propria logica, senza che l'uno più non si confondesse coll'altro. Ora pur riconoscendo che il vocabolo di nexum, nella sua significazione primitiva, designasse in genere il vincolo giuridico, che intercedeva fra un quirite ed un altro, e che potesse anche estendersi ai beni del debitore, questo è certo che non dovette più essere cosi, allorchè si operò la distinzione fra il nexum ed il mancipium, e i due con cetti cominciarono ad avere ciascuno un proprio svolgimento. Ora noi sappiamo, che questa distinzione del nexum dal mancipium già erasi operata anteriormente all'epoca decemvirale, e che da quel momento il quirite come tale ebbe due mezzi per provvedere alle proprie necessità; quello cioè di alienare il proprio mancipium, o quello di vincolarsi col nexum. Con quello egli poteva trasferire i beni e con questo vincolare la sua persona; ma gli effetti dell'uno non potevano più confondersi coll'altro. Fu in seguito a questa di stinzione, che anche più tardi la giurisprudenza romana ebbe a ri tenere, che le obbligazioni ed i contratti, che derivarono dal nexum, non possono mai riuscire al trasferimento della proprietà, il quale con tinuò sempre ad operarsi per mezzo della usucapione e della tradi zione, che erano sottentrate all'anticamancipatio. Parmi pertanto in questa parte di dovere seguire l'opinione, adottata, fra gli altri, anche dall'Hölder, secondo cui il nexum costituisce in certo modo il con trapposto della mancipatio nel senso, che quello è la sottomissione della persona del debitore alla potestà del creditore per il caso di non seguito pagamento, mentre la mancipatio costituisce invece (1) Così, ad esempio Livio, II, 23, attribuisce queste parole a quel nexus, che avrebbe provocata la prima rivolta della plebe per causa della legge sui debiti: e se « aes alienum fecisse; id cumulatum usuris primo se agro paterno avitoque exuisse, a deinde fortunis aliis; postremo, velut tabes, pervenisse ad corpus ». È tuttavia evidente, che quinon si dice punto, che il creditore, in base al nexum, potesse pro cedere sai beni del debitore, ma solo che quest'ultimo aveva dovuto prima spogliarsi del suo patrimonio avito, e poi anche vincolare la sua persona al proprio creditore. 483 il trasferimento di una cosa in potestà altrui. Questa è pure l'opi nione, che fu seguita recentemente dall'Esmein e dal Cuq, i quali ritengono, che la primitiva obbligazione quiritaria, la cui forma tipica fu il nexum, costituisse dapprima un legame del tutto personale e fosse perfino intrasmessibile da una persona ad un'altra (1). Ho insistito sopra questo carattere esclusivamente personale del nexum primitivo; perchè il medesimo, se nori a giustificare, può condurci in qualche modo a spiegare le conseguenze estreme, a cui nel diritto primitivo di Roma potè giungere il diritto del creditore contro il proprio debitore. Parmi tuttavia, che sarà più opportuno discorrere di tali conseguenze, allorchè si tratterà della manus iniectio, ossia della procedura di esecuzione contro il debitore; poichè l'inumanità di questa primitiva procedura non spiegasi soltanto contro i nexi, ma anche contro i iudicati ed i damnati (2 ). 375. È certo ad ogni modo, che il nexum, fra le istituzioni qui ritarie, era quella, che ripugnava maggiormente a quell'uguaglianza, che avrebbe dovuto esistere fra i membri di una stessa comunanza. Esso portava ancora le traccie della soggezione, pressochè servile, a cui un tempo era ridotta la plebe; poichè anche nel periodo sto rico sono sempre i plebei, che appariscono sottoposti al rigore del nexum, mentre il patrizio, anche oberato di debiti, poteva trovar sussidio presso la propria gente. Ne derivò che, durante le lotte fra i due ordini, il nexum si cambið talora in un'arma del patri ziato per assicurare la sua superiorità sopra la plebe, e fu in tal modo che una istituzione di diritto privato si cambiò in un fomite di dissensioni civili. La questione della condizione dei debitori sembra già rimontare all'epoca di Sergio Tullio, il quale, se non pagd del proprio i creditori, come vorrebbe la tradizione, certo impose la solennità dell'atto per aes et libram per potersi obligare col nexum. Sotto la Repubblica poi, è a causa della legge sui debiti, che i plebei si rifiutano prima alla leva, poi abbandonano la città e si ritirano (1) HÖLDER, Istituz., trad. Caporali, pag. 225 e segg. Cfr. eziandio l' Esmein, L'intrasmissibilité première des créances et des dettes, nella « Nouvelle Revue histo rique », 1887, pag. 48, nel quale scritto egli cerca di corroborare la stessa tesi già enunciata dal CuQ, Recherches historiques sur le testament per aes et libram pubblicato nella stessa « Nouvelle Revue », 1886, pag. 536. (2) La questione qui accennata del trattamento contro i debitori sarà trattata nel capitolo VI, § 3º, parlando della procedura esecutiva, mediante la manus iniectio. 484 sul monte Sacro, da cui non ritornano, che dopo aver ottenuto la istituzione del tribunato della plebe. Anche la stessa legislazione decemvirale porta le traccie di questa contesa; come lo dimostrano le disposizioni minute, a cui essa discende nella parte, che si rife risce al trattamento del debitore, ridotto in potestà del creditore. Malgrado di ciò, le dissensioni continuano fino alla legge Petelia del 428 di Roma, la quale non abolisce il nexum, e neppure dà diritto al creditore di procedere contro i beni del debitore, anzichè contro la sua persona, come vorrebbe Livio, ma toglie al creditore il diritto di poter procedere immediatamente alla manus iniectio contro il debitore, senza che neppure occorresse l'intervento del magistrato (). Continuò quindi ancora a sussistere l'atto per aes et libram, qual mezzo di sottomettersi al nexum, come lo dimostra la sopravvivenza delle nesi liberatio, che è ancora ricordata da Gaio; ma intanto il nexum, sprovvisto di quegli effetti immediati contro la persona, che costituivano l'odiosità e la forza di questo ingens vinculum fidei, non ebbe più ragione di sussistere, e venne ad essere sosti tuito da altri modi di obbligarsi, che forse preesistevano nel costume, ma non erano ancora stati accolti nella cerchia circoscritta del primitivo ius quiritium. 376. Accade qui, in tema di obbligazioni, una trasformazione analoga a quella, che abbiamo veduto essersi avverata in tema di proprietà, quanto al concetto del mancipium. Al modo stesso che (1) Le espressioni di Livio, VIII, 28, sono le seguenti: « iussique consules ferre ad « populum, ne quis, nisi qui noxam meruisset, donec poenam lueret, in compedibus < aut in nervo teneretur; poecuniae creditae bona debitoris, non corpus obnoxium « esset. Ita nexi soluti, cautumque in posterum, ne necterentur ». Di qui alcuni autori avrebbero argomentato, che da quel momento fosse stata abolita la procedura contro la persona dei debitori, e introdotta invece quella contro i beni. Cid sarebbe smentito espressamente dalla storia giuridica di Roma, dove la vera procedura fu sempre contro la persona, mentre quella contro i beni fu solo introdotta dal pretore Rutilio nel 647 di Roma, e la stessa cessio bonorum, introdotta dalla legge Giulia, fu ancora considerata come un beneficio fatto al debitore. Le parole quindi di Livio debbono essere intese nel senso, che d'allora in poi il nexum non bastò più per sè ad autorizzare il creditore a tradurre il debitore nel suo carcere privato, e che in tal modo l'obbligazione, contratta con questo mezzo, non ebbe più lo speciale effetto di autorizzare senz'altro la manus iniectio; ma produsse solo gli effetti, che sareb bero derivati da un 'obbligazione assunta mediante la semplice stipulatio. Questa fu probabilmente la causa, per cui il nexum andò gradatamente in disuso, e sottentra rono al medesimo la mutui datio e la stipulatio, come sarà dimostrato più sotto. 485 al mancipium, quale unica forma della primitiva proprietà quiri taria, sottentrò il concetto più largo del dominium ex iure qui ritium; così al nexum, forma primitiva dell'obbligazione quiritaria, sottentrò il concetto più esteso dell'obligatio propria civium roma norum, al vincolo materiale, che stringeva il debitore al creditore sottentrò il vincolo giuridico (vinculum iuris); ma intanto i voca boli di obligatio, di solutio, di liberatio e simili rimasero ancor sempre a ricordare la rozzezza dell'antico concetto, che scorgeva nell' obbligazione un vincolo pressochè materiale, e nel pagamento ravvisava lo scioglimento di questo vincolo (solutio ). Così pure al modo stesso, che col sostituirsi al mancipium un concetto più largo del dominium ex iure quiritium, si vennero accogliendo nuovi modi di acquistare e trasmettere questo dominio; cosi, allorchè al concetto del nexum sottentrò quello dell'obligatio, si vennero accogliendo nel ius proprium civium romanorum nuovi modi di obbligarsi. Il nexum, mentre costituiva ed esprimeva efficacemente un vincolo materiale e giuridico ad un tempo, aveva eziandio questo carattere speciale, che esso teneva in certo modo del reale e del verbale, in quanto che componevasidi dueparti, cioè: dell'atto per aes et libram, mediante cui avveravasi il trapasso dal mio al tuo e si operava la consegna immediata della cosa (tuum de meo fit ): e della nuncupatio, mediante cui fra creditore e debitore si conveniva la condanna ed il pagamento. Queste due parti, collo scomporsi del nexum vennero in certo modo ad acquistare libertà di movimento, e si operò la distinzione fra l'obligatio quae re contrahitur, e quella che con trahitur verbis, a cui venne più tardi ad aggiungersi eziandio l'obligatio quae contrahitur litteris, ossia l'expensilatio. Per tal modo alla sintesi potente del nexum, che era il modo primitivo di obbligarsi ex iure quiritium, sottentrarono varii modi di obbli garsi, che costituirono un ius proprium civium romanorum, quali sono la mutui datio, la sponsio o stipulatio, e la acceptilatio: ciascuno dei quali viene ad essere il germe di quei varii contratti formali, che si vengono poi svolgendo nel diritto civile romano, sotto il nome di contratti reali, verbali e letterali. 377. È evidente anzitutto l'analogia col nexum della mutui datio. Questa infatti continua a produrre un'obligatio stricti iuris; si ap plica dapprima alla credita pecunia, e poi si estende a tutte le cose quae numero, pondere ac mensura constant: e la sua effi 486 cacia obbligatoria consiste nella numeratio pecuniae, oppure con segna della cosa (datio rei ). Non può poi esservi dubbio, che il mutuo fu il modello, sopra cui si foggiarono poi gli altri contratti reali del comodato, del deposito, del pegno (1). Tuttavia il modo di obbligarsi, che prende un più largo sviluppo collo scomparire del nexum, è sopratutto la sponsio o stipulatio. Questa, sotto un certo aspetto, corrisponde a quella nuncupatio, che già preesisteva nel nexum, salvo che essa, liberata di quella forma rigida della damnatio, che era propria del nexum, venne a trasfor marsi in una semplice sponsio o stipulatio, in cui l'obbligazione viene ad essere assunta per mezzo di una interrogazione e di una risposta, congrue e solenni, le quali, per la propria elasticità e pieghevolezza, possono essere veste acconcia per esprimere la varietà infinita delle obbligazioni, a cui può sottoporsi il cittadino romano. Qualunque possa essere stata l'origine della stipulatio, è sopratutto nello svol gimento di essa, che si palesa il genio giuridico dei giureconsulti romani, i quali non credettero indegno del loro ufficio l'attendere a concretare le formole, con cui doveva essere concepita la stipula zione nei varii negozii giuridici (2 ). Anche la stipulatio divenne (1) Per ciò che si riferisce alla mutui datio, è nota la censura, che di regola suol farsi alla etimologia di mutuum data dai giureconsulti, secondo cui questo vocabolo deriverebbe da « quod de meo tuum fit ». Per conto mio, non come etimologo, ma come giurista, ritengo invece assai probabile questa etimologia, tenuto conto di ciò, che nelle formole primitive occorrono ad ogni istante le parole di meum e di tuum, e che l'essenza del mutuum consiste veramente nel far sì, che un oggetto ex meo tuum fit. Queste etimologie, che direi ragionate, diventano tanto più probabili, quando si ri tenga, che il diritto romano fin dai primi tempi fu il frutto di una vera elaborazione, la quale può benissimo avere adattata la parola al concetto, che intendeva di signi ficare. Lo stesso direi delle etimologie di testamentum da mentis testatio, di manci pium da manucaptum, e di altre analoghe; sebbene ve ne siano di molte, le quali, per essere composte post factum, sono evidentemente foggiate per far dire alla parola cid, che è nella mente del giureconsulto nell'epoca, in cui egli analizza il significato della parola. Intanto il fatto stesso, che i giureconsulti cercano sempre di dare alla parola un senso, che corrisponda alla cosa significata, dimostra, che essi dovevano procedere in tal guisa, allorchè il comparire di qualche nuovo negozio li costringeva a foggiare qualche nuovo vocabolo. In cid abbiamo anche una delle ragioni, per cui il linguaggio giuridico di Roma potè diventare pressochè universale, come le sue leggi. (2 ) Sono molte le opinioni intorno all'origine della sponsio o stipulatio nel di ritto romano. Alcuni la ritengono come la parte verbale del nexum, allorchè andò in disuso l'atto per aes et libram nel contrarre le obbligazioni; altri, argomentando dal vocabolo sponsio, la ritengono come una specie di promessa giurata, che facevasi davanti all'antichissima ara di Ercole; altri infine la ritengono di origine greca, donde sarebbe passata in Sicilia e poi nel Lazio. Tale sarebbe, ad es., l'opinione 487 così un modo tipico di obbligarsi; ma il suo carattere non è più artificioso, come quello dell'atto per aes et libram, nè così rigido come quello della damnatio, propria del nexum, ma sembra essere desunto dalla natura stessa delle cose. La parola infatti è riguardata come il vero mezzo di obbligarsi, e ogni negozio, dopo essere stato lungamente discusso, viene colla stipulatio ad essere conchiuso, in guisa da escludere qualsiasi dubbiezza sulla volontà dei contraenti. Tocca pertanto a colui, che stipula un beneficio a suo favore, di interrogare il promettente: « centum dare spondes? », e tocca a colui che promette di rispondergli congruamente: « spondeo » per modo che non possa esservi dubbio circa l'incontrarsi delle due volontà (1 ). Viene poscia nel costume una dextrarum iunctio, poichè, fra le genti primitive, la destra è l'emblema della fede, in base a cui si conclude il negozio. Forse in antico potè eziandio aggiungersi la solennità del giuramento, come lo indicherebbe la significazione in parte religiosa, del vocabolo di sponsio; ma questa, quando è accolta nel diritto civile romano, sembra già aver perduto questo carattere primitivo. Anche qui pertanto vi ha una forma tipica di obbligazione, ma essa non è più quella del nexum, propria del ius quiritium, e modellata probabilmente dal ius pontificium, nell'intento di serbare le tradizioni del passato; bensì è già quella del ius proprium civium romanorum, come lo dimostra il fatto, che anche quando i romani consentirono la stipulatio ai peregrini, riservarono sempre per sè la espressione primitiva: « spondes? spon deo », la quale sembra ancora richiamare quel carattere religioso, che doveva accompagnare simili stipulazioni nel periodo gentilizio. Questo è certo ad ogni modo, che la stipulatio ha vantaggi in del Leist, Graeco-ital. Rechtsgeschichte, pag. 455-470, a cui si associa il MUIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. 228. Per me trovo assai probabile, che anche in Grecia potesse esi stere un modo di obbligarsi così naturale e semplice, come è quello rappresentato dalla stipulatio, al quale trovasi pure qualche cosa di correlativo, anche fra i popoli germanici (SCHUPPER, L'allodio, pag. 47); ma non posso in verità persuadermi, che i Romani dovessero apprenderlo dalla Grecia, dal momento, che senz'alcun dubbio già lo conoscevano nei rapporti fra le varie genti. Essa quindi deve essere ritenuta come una di quelle istituzioni, che vivevano nelle costumanze, e che solo più tardi riuscirono ad entrare nella cerchia rigida del ius quiritium, il che probabilmente dovette accadere, quando cominciò ad andare in disuso il nexum. (1) Questo carattere speciale della stipulatio, per cui essa costituisce il modo più semplice ed acconcio per conchiudere le trattative di un negozio, in quanto che l'in terrogante viene ad essere colui che stipula, e il rispondente colui che promette, fu già acutamente notato dal SUMNER MAINE, L'ancien droit, pag. 311. 488 contrastati sul nexum. Essa è duttile, pieghevole, come la parola umana, e può cosi accomodarsi a qualsiasi uso; è un materiale, che si adatta ad ogni specie di costruzione; è il modo più spiccio e più logico per conchiudere qualsiasi trattativa; può servire per un'obbligazione principale ed anche per un'obbligazione accessoria; sebbene unilaterale per propria natura, si può, raddoppiandola, farla servire per dare origine ad una convenzione bilaterale. Stante la propria esattezza e precisione, la stipulatio è sopratutto atta ad esprimere i negozii stricti iuris. Ma essa, coll'aggiunta di una clau sola semplicissima, che è quella ex fide bona, pud anche adattarsi ai negozii di buona fede. Si comprende pertanto come, in base alla medesima, i giureconsulti romani siano riusciti a svolgere in gran parte la teoria dei contratti, in cui la giurisprudenza romana spiego una duttilità e pieghevolezza, tanto più mirabili, in quanto che non scompagnansi giammai dall'esattezza e dalla precisione. 378. Sembra invece essere alquanto più tardi, che vennero ad essere accolti nella compagine del diritto civile di Roma, quegli altri modi di obbligarsi, che diedero poi origine ai contratti letterali. Anche a questo riguardo non può esservi dubbio, che il diritto civile di Roma non creò di pianta le proprie istituzioni; ma si contento, per dir cosi, di accogliere sotto la sua tutela e di modellare, in base alla propria logica giuridica, le istituzioni, che già esistevano nel l'uso e nel costume. Così dovette accadere senz'alcun dubbio dell'expensilatio, la quale, ancorchè entrata tardi nel diritto civile di Roma, ci richiama in certo modo la figura del primitivo capo di famiglia, il quale dir: gendo una vasta azienda e avendo sotto la sua dipendenza un nu mero grande di persone, deve tenere il conto quotidiano del dare e dell'avere. Ciò che egli scrive nel proprio libro doveva certo far fede dirimpetto ai suoi dipendenti. Questo sistema pero, che era il più ovvio nelle consuetudini patriarcali, presentava invece dei pe ricoli nel diritto, come quello, che fondavasi esclusivamente sulla buona fede. Fu questo il motivo, per cui esso penetrò più tardi nel diritto civile di Roma, il quale cerco poi di ovviare al pericolo inerente al medesimo, aggiungendo al nomen transcripticium una ricognizione scritta del debito, che doveva restare a mani del cre ditore (cautio, chirographum ); al qual proposito viene ad essere probabile, che l'istituzione originariamente italica della expensilatio siasi imparentata con un'istituzione, che il vocabolo farebbe credere - 439 di origine probabilmente g: eca, donde la cautio chirographaria, che pervenne fino a noi (1 ). 379. Queste tre categorie di contratti, che sogliono talvolta es sere indicati col vocabolo di formali, dovettero certamente essere i primi ad entrare nella compagine del diritto civile romano. Esso invece, che stentava a comprendere il consenso senza un fatto esteriore, che servisse a rivelarlo, sembra che solo più tardi e pro babilmente già sotto l'influenza del ius honorarium, sia pervenuto ad adottare e ad attribuire efficacia giuridica all'emptio venditio, e agli altri contratti, che a somiglianza di essa si perfezionano col solo consenso. Ormai non può esservi dubbio, che anche l'emptio venditio già esisteva nel primitivo diritto, poichè la legislazione decemvirale disponeva, che la medesima, per essere perfetta, doveva essere accompagnata dalla tradizione della cosa e dal pagamento del prezzo. Cosi stando le cose, è però evidente, che l'emptio venditio come mezzo per trasferire il dominio, non poteva valere da sola, ma doveva essere accompagnata dalla mancipatio o dalla traditio. Di qui ne venne, che essa, come contratto stante per sè, comparve solo più tardi nel diritto civile di Roma, il quale non ebbe a collocarla nella categoria dei negozii, che valgono a trasferire il dominio, ma bensì in quella dei negozii, che obbligano a dare, facere, praestare; il che deve pur dirsi di tutti gli altri contratti consensuali, cioè della locatio conductio, del mandatum e della societas, che furono fog giati sul modello della compra e vendita (2 ). 380. Intanto si comprende, che la giurisprudenza romana, la quale, nel suo primo consolidarsi, aveva prese le mosse da una unica forma di obbligazione quiritaria, che era quella assunta col nexum, allorchè pervenne a così grande ricchezza di sviluppo, abbia cominciato a sentire il bisogno di richiamare a certe classi i genera obligationum, quae ex contractu nascuntur; ma intanto essa si trovò già di fronte ad una suppellettile così copiosa, che per potervi riuscire ac canto ai contratti fu costretta a creare la figura dei quasi- con (1) Cfr. per ciò che si riferisce all'expensilatio ed all'abitudine del capo di fami glia romano di tenere il Codex accepti et expensi, vedi il PADELLETTI, Storia del diritto romano, cap. XXI, pag. 249 e segg. Quanto all'acceptilatio vedi SCHUPFER, nella « Enciclopedia giuridica italiana », vol. I, pag. 175 a 180, vº acceptilatio. (2) Quanto alle origini di uno di questi contratti consensuali, cioè della societas, vedi l'articolo del Ferrini nell'a Archivio giuridico » diretto dal Serafini, anno 1887. 490 tratti; accanto ai contratti nominati dovette porre quelli non no minati; accanto ai veri e proprii contratti, i patti, che non pro ducono azione, ma una semplice eccezione; e da ultimo accanto ai contratti, che avevano avuto origine nel diritto civile, quelli che avevano avuto origine nel diritto delle genti. Anche qui pertanto è facile lo scorgere come, prima nel ius quiritium e poscia nel ius civile, presentisi costantemente una parte già formata e consoli data, e un'altra, che si viene foggiando e consolidando sựl modello somministrato dalle formazioni anteriori, senza che mai si abbandoni il concetto fondamentale della primitiva obbligazione, da cui il ius quiritium aveva preso le mosse. Ciò tanto è vero, che, anche nel conchiudersi dello svolgimento storico del diritto delle obbligazioni, si riscontra ancora quel con cetto, a cui si informava l'istituzione primitiva del nexum, con cetto, che viene ad essere enunziato da Paolo con dire « obligationum « substantia non in eo consistit, ut aliquod corpus, nostrum, aut « servitutem, nostram faciat, sed ut alium nobis obstringat ad « dandum aliquid, vel faciendum, vel praestandum » (1). Si viene cosi a mantenere una separazione fra la teoria delle obbligazioni e quella del trasferimento della proprietà, non meno radicale e pro fonda, di quella, che negli inizii del ius quiritium esisteva fra il concetto del facere nexum e quello del facere mancipium. È questo il motivo, per cui la genesi dei modi, coi quali nel diritto ro mano si acquistano e si trasferiscono la proprietà e i diritti inchiusi nella medesima, deve essere cercata in un altro istituto del diritto primitivo di Roma, che è quello della mancipatio. $ 3. – La mancipatio e la storia primitiva dei modidi acquistare e di trasferire ildominio quiritario. 381. Mentre il facere nexum costitui senz'alcun dubbio la forma primitiva dell'obbligazione quiritaria, il facere mancipium invece, che prese più tardi il nome di mancipatio, deve considerarsi come la forma primordiale, che ebbe ad assumere l'acquisto ed il trasferi mento della proprietà ex iure quiritium (2). Tanto la nexi datio, (1) Paolo, Leg. 3, Dig. (44, 7). (2) Anche sulla mancipatio abbiamo una ricchissima letteratura. Tra i recenti mi limiterò a ricordare il Leist, Mancipatio und Eigenthums Tradition, Iena, 1865; il MuirHead, Hist. Introd., sect. 30, pag. 131 a 149; il Voigt, XIl Tafeln, II, SS 84 491 quanto la mancipatio, debbono poi essere considerate come due ap plicazioni dell'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che era l'atto per aes et libram, come lo dimostra il fatto, che i più antichi giureconsulti comprendono l'una e l'altra nella categoria di quegli atti, che si compiono per aes et libram (1). Esse vengono soltanto a differire fra di loro nella nuncupatio, ossia in quelle parole solenni, che dovevano accompagnare l'atto per aes et libram, e che potevano attribuire al medesimo una significazione diversa. Mentre la nun cupatio nel nexum doveva consistere in una specie di condanna convenzionale del debitore al pagamento della somma da lui tolta in imprestito; la nuncupatio invece nella mancipatio, quale ebbe ad esserci conservata da Gaio, consiste nella affermazione solenne del mancipio accipiens, che la cosa gli appartiene ex iure qui ritium, per averla egli acquistata con tutte le solennità richieste dal diritto quiritario (hunc ego hominem ex iure quiritium meum esse aio, isque mihi emptus est hoc aere aeneaque libra ). Gaio poi non ci dice, se a questa affermazione solenne del mancipio ac cipiens corrispondesse una congrua risposta del mancipio dans; ma ad ogni modo egli è certo, che questi, essendo presente all'atto, e ricevendo quell'aes rude, con cui si percuoteva la bilancia, a titolo di prezzo, riconosceva con cið la verità dell'affermazione dell'acqui rente (2). È poi anche degno di nota nella mancipatio, che sebbene a 88; il Longo, La mancipatio, Firenze, 1887. Sembra essere opinione comune a questi autori, che nell'antico linguaggio in luogo di mancipatio si dicesse mancipium; donde la conseguenza, che la espressione facere mancipium sarebbe pressochè un sinonimo di facere mancipationem. Noi abbiamo veduto invece, che il vocabolo man cipium ebbe, fra le altre significazioni, anche quella di indicare il primitivo patri. monio del quirite; quello cioè, che doveva da lui essere consegnato nel censo. Quindi per noi le antiche espressioni di facere mancipium, mancipio dare, mancipio acci pere dovettero significare il ricevere una cosa nel proprio mancipium, o il trasferirla nel mancipium altrui. Quanto ai vocaboli di mancipare e di mancipatio, essi si for marono, allorchè l'uso frequente di queste espressioni costrinse a foggiare una parola, che esprimesse più brevemente il concetto. Di qui la conseguenza, che il vocabolo di mancipatio non deriva direttamente da manu capere, ma piuttosto da mancipium facere, mancipio dare e simili. Cfr. BONFANTE, Res mancipi e nec mancipi, Roma, 1888, pag. 90 e 91. (1) « Nexum Manilius scribit omne quod geritur per aes et libram, in quo sine mancipia ». VARRO, De ling. lat., VII, 105. Vedi gli altri passi citati nel § 1° di questo capitolo, nº 369, pag. 471, nota 1. (2 ) Gaio descrive la mancipatio e le formalità, da cui era accompagnata, nei Comm., I, SS 119 a 123. 492 la medesima in effetto servisse per il trasferimento della proprietà quiritaria, aveva perd eziandio tutti i caratteri di un acquisto ori ginario, come lo dimostra il fatto, che era l'acquirente, il quale doveva per il primo affermare la sua proprietà sulla cosa ed affer rare materialmente la cosa stessa; donde anche la conseguenza, che la mancipatio richiedeva la presenza delle cose mobili, e per gli immobili era stata la sola necessità, che aveva condotto all'uso, accen nato da Gaio, secondo cui « immobilia in absentia solent manci. pari » (1). 382. La circostanza intanto, che la mancipatio ebbe dapprima ad essere indicata coll'espressione di facere mancipium, costituisce un forte indizio, che la mancipatio sia comparsa nel diritto quiri tario, in quell'epoca stessa, in cui si formd il concetto del manci pium, e che essa sia stata introdotta quale mezzo peculiare per la formazione e per il trasferimento del mancipium, in quanto il me desimo costituiva il primo nucleo della proprietà quiritaria, quella parte cioè del patrimonio, che doveva essere consegnata e valutata nel censo. Fu l'importanza economica e politica, dal censo attribuita al mancipium, che rese necessario un atto solenne per la trasmis sione delle res mancipii contenute nel medesimo. Quindi l'origine della mancipatio deve rimontare probabilmente alla costituzione serviana, e l'introduzione di essa avere una stretta attinenza col concetto del mancipium; il che è comprovato dal fatto, che anche i classici giureconsulti, memori dell'origine di essa, continuarono sempre a considerare la mancipatio, come un modo di alienazione del tutto proprio delle res mancipii, e sostennero perfino, che queste fossero cosi chiamate, perchè erano suscettive della mancipatio (2). (1) Gaio, Comm., I, 119. Sono da vedersi, quanto alla necessità di adprehendere manu la cosa acquistata, se mobile, i passi citati dal Voigt, op. cit., II, pag. 133, nota 10. Intanto nella necessità di questa materiale apprensione della cosa parmidi scorgere un'altra prova, che il concetto del primitivo mancipium implicava in certo modo la detenzione materiale e la proprietà delle cose, che ne formavano oggetto, al modo stesso che il nexum indicava ad un tempo il vincolo fisico e il vincolo giuri dico, a cui era sottoposto il debitore. Ciò a parer mio rende probabile l'etimologia di mancipium da manucaptum, come lo provano i passi citati dallo stesso Voigt, op. e loc. cit., pag. 134, nota 12. (2 ) Cfr., quanto alle origini della mancipatio, il MUIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. Sono poi Gaio, I, 120 e Ulpiano, Fragm., XIX, 3, i quali attestano che la manci patio era esclusivamente propria delle res mancipii. « Mancipatio, scrive quest'ultimo, propria species alienationis est rerum mancipü ». Ciò però non impedì, che, trattan 57 e segg. 493 - Siccome però fin da quest'epoca, accanto alle cose, che costituivano il nucleo del mancipium, vi erano quelle, che non erano comprese nel medesimo, e a cui perciò non potevasi applicare il facere man cipium, così ne venne che accanto alla mancipatio dovette già essere in vigore la semplice traditio, la quale, accompagnata dal pagamento del prezzo, poté servire per il trasferimento delle cose, che non erano comprese nel mancipium. Mentre quindi la man cipatio veniva ad essere una costruzione giuridica, la cui forma zione fu determinata dal formarsi del mancipium, la traditio in vece era il mezzo naturale ed ovvio per il trasferimento di quelle cose, che erano nec mancipii, e che perciò in questo primo periodo non formavano oggetto di vera proprietà ex iure quiritium (1). 383. Questo stato di cose venne poi a subire una modificazione profonda, sotto l'influenza della legislazione decemvirale. Infatti è colla medesima, che al concetto del mancipium, il quale restringeva di troppo il novero delle cose, che potevano essere oggetto di pro prietà quiritaria, cominciò già a sovrapporsi un concetto più esteso del dominium ex iure quiritium. Da questo momento infatti le res mancipii continuano ancor sempre a costituire il nucleo più importante delle cose, che possono essere oggetto di proprietà qui ritaria, ma questa già può estendersi ad altre cose, che non erano comprese nel primitivo mancipium. Di qui ne derivo, che mentre le XII Tavole serbarono la mancipatio, quale mezzo esclusivamente proprio per la trasmissione delle res mancipii, esse perd introdus sero o confermarono due altri mezzi, per l'acquisto e la trasmis sione del dominium ex iure quiritium, di cui uno è l'in iure cessio, la quale, essendo compiuta davanti almagistrato, potè anche dosi di cose, le quali si ritenevano di grande prezzo e perciò si trasmettevano in fami glia, quali erano ad esempio le pietre preziose, si potesse nella consuetudine appli carvi anche la mancipatio. V. quanto si è detto a pag. 441, nota 1. (1) Ciò è dimostrato da ULP., Fragm., XIX, 3, e 7; il quale, dopo aver premesso che la mancipatio era propria delle res mancipii, soggiunge poi: « traditio aeque propria est alienatio rerum nec mancipii »; nei quali passi è evidente, che la man cipatio e la traditio si contrappongono fra di loro, come il mancipium ed il nec mancipium. Quello cade sotto il diritto civile, e perciò deve essere alienato colle forme del diritto civile, il che pure si accenna da Festo, tº censui, allorchè scrive: « censui censendo agri proprie appellantur, qui et emi et venire iure civili pos sunt » (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 334). Che il contrapposto fra mancipatio e traditio sia stato poi la prima origine della distinzione fra i modi civili e naturali di acqui stare e di trasmettere il dominio appare ad evidenza da Gaio, Comm., II, 65. 494 essere estesa alle res mancipii, e l'altro è l'usus auctoritas, più tardi denominata usucapio, mediante cui l'uso ed il possesso di una cosa, durato per un certo tempo, potė attribuire la proprietà quiritaria della medesima. Colla legislazione decemvirale pertanto vengono ad essere tre i principali mezzi, con cui può essere acqui stata e trasmessa la proprietà quiritaria, e che costituiscono perciò un diritto esclusivamente proprio dei cittadini romani. 384. Di questi mezzi il più importante è sempre la mancipatio, la quale è il vero modo ex iure quiritium per l'acquisto ed il tras ferimento del dominio, ma la medesima, essendo nata col mancipium, continua sempre ad essere un mezzo di alienazione proprio delle res mancipii. Vero è, che in questi ultimi tempi si è dubitato, se la mancipatio non siasi più tardi applicata anche a quelle res nec mancipii, che potevano essere oggetto di proprietà quiritaria: ma questa opinione non sembra potersi accogliere, di fronte alle afferma zioni precise di Gaio e di Ulpiano, i quali parlano sempre della manci. patio, come propria delle res mancipii (1). Ciò tuttavia non impedi, che colla legislazione decemvirale la mancipatio abbia acquistata una elasticità e pieghevolezza, che prima non aveva, il che spiega come essa sia durata così lungo tempo, quale mezzo di trasferimento della proprietà, ed abbia in questa parte esercitata una influenza analoga a quella esercitata dalla stipulatio in materia di obbligazioni. Sembra infatti, che il facere mancipium, negli inizii, fosse uno di quei ne gozii di strettissimo diritto, che producevano l'immediata traslazione della proprietà, e non ammettevano perciò nè termine, nè condi zioni. Le XII Tavole invece introdussero il principio: « qui manci pium faciet, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto », e diedero così libertà ai contraenti di aggiungere al primitivo mancipium, sotto la forma di una nuncupatio, che faceva parte integrante del negozio, tutte le clausole e condizioni, che potessero convenire ai contraenti. Fu in questo modo, che l'antica mancipatio potè accomodarsi alla varietà dei casi e delle esigenze, e che si vennero così formolando, per opera degli stessi pontefici e giureconsulti, quelle clausole diverse, che sogliono essere indicate col vocabolo di leges mancipii. Colle medesime infatti il mancipio dans, pur alienando la cosa, potè riservarsi l'usufrutto della medesima, potè alienarla con patto di (1) GA10, I, 120, Ulp., Fragm., XIX, 3. Vedi tuttavia ciò che in proposito si disse a pag. 441, nota 1. 495 - riscatto, poté restringere la propria garanzia per l'evizione, ed anche limitare l'uso della cosa venduta per parte dell'acquirente. Era pero naturale, che, per aggiungere alla mancipatio tutte queste clausole, più non poteva bastare la semplice affermazione del man cipio accipiens, che la cosa era sua ex iure quiritium; maoccor reva eziandio, che il mancipio dans, con una congrua risposta, apponesse quelle clausole e condizioni, che potessero essere del caso, le quali, entrando a far parte integrante della stessa mancipatio, dovevano fra i contraenti avere la forza di vere leggi (1). 385. Sopratutto, fra queste leges mancipii, viene ad essere impor tantissima quella, che suol essere indicata col vocabolo di lex fidu ciae, od anche semplicemente con quello di fiducia (2). Questa pro babilmente doveva essere nata nelle consuetudini della plebe, la quale, non possedendo le vere forme giuridiche, doveva di necessità nelle proprie convenzioni lasciare una larga parte alla scambievole fiducia (3 ). Anche questa fiducia colla legislazione decemvirale pe netrò nel ius quiritium, dove, combinandosi col rigoroso atto della mancipatio, diede origine a quella singolare istituzione della man cipatio cum fiducia, che doveva poi acquistare un così largo (1) Si può veder raccolta nel Voigt, op. cit., II, $ 85, pag. 146 a 166, una varietà grandissima di queste clausole o leges mancipii, raccolte da passi di antichi autori. Nel Bruns parimenti, Fontes, pag. 251 a 256, sono riportati parecchi moduli di mancipationes, che pervennero fino a noi. (2) Quanto alla mancipatio cum fiducia è a vedersi il Voigt, $ 86, pag. 166 a 187, ove sono raccolte le formole, che vi si riferiscono. È poi degno di nota quel modulo di mancipatio fiduciae causa, che si fa risalire al primo o secondo secolo dell' êra cristiana, riportato dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 251. (3) Le ragioni, per cui le origini della fiducia devono cercarsi nelle costumanze della plebe, furono già esposte al n ° 149, pag. 184. Di recente un giovine e dotto autore, l’Ascoli, ebbe in proposito a scrivere, che la fiducia, come forma di pegno, non dovette essere il prodotto spontaneo delle pratiche necessità del commercio, ma una creazione artificiale, e che l'ipoteca nel suo concetto astratto è più semplice della fiducia (Le origini dell'ipoteca e l'interdetto Salviano, Livorno, 1887, pag. 1). Io credo, che se l'autore si riporti col pensiero ad una plebe ragunaticcia, in parte immigrata e priva ancora di una vera posizione di diritto, di fronte ai patrizii, fon datori della città, comprenderà facilmente come i membri di essa, per trovar cre dito presso coloro, che già vi si trovavano stabiliti, non avessero mezzo più acconcio, che quello di alienare a questi cum fiducia le cose, che loro dovevano servire di pegno. L'ipoteca invece avrebbe già supposto una comunanza di diritto, che ancora non esisteva, e un'analisi del diritto di proprietà, che mal si poteva conciliare colle condizioni di un popolo primitivo. 496 svolgimento nel diritto civile di Roma. Con essa, accanto all'ele mento strettamente giuridico, cominciò a penetrare anche la consi derazione della buona fede, in quanto che non si bado più in modo esclusivo alla osservanza delle forme esteriori del negozio giuridico, ma cominciò anche a tenersi qualche conto dell' intenzione vera ed effettiva dei contraenti. Che anzi questo elemento fiduciario fu introdotto nella formola stessa della mancipatio, cosicchè il man cipio accipiens non affermò più, la sua proprietà assoluta sulla cosa a lui alienata, ma disse invece: « hunc ego hominem fidei fi duciae causa ex iure quiritium meum esse aio »; colla qual formola già si lasciava intendere, che, sebbene egli avesse acquistata la proprietà quiritaria, questa perd era stata affidata al suo onore per l'adempimento di qualche incarico di fiducia (1). Questa fiducia poi, secondo Gaio, poteva farsi o con un amico o con un creditore. Essa accadeva, ad esempio, con un amico nella manci patio familiae cum fiducia, che fu una delle forme più antiche di testamento, mediante cui si mancipava il proprio patrimonio ad un amico (familiae emptor), coll'incarico di disporne nella guisa statagli indicata per il tempo, in cui altri avesse cessato di vivere. La fiducia seguiva invece con un creditore, allorchè a lui si mancipava la cosa, che si voleva lasciargli a titolo di pegno (2 ). È probabile che dap prima questa clausola fiduciaria non avesse efficacia giuridica, ma col tempo essa venne acquistandola. Per tal modo la mancipatio cum fiducia venne cambiandosi in un espediente giuridico, mediante cui la mancipatio non serviva più unicamente al trasferimento della proprietà; ma serviva eziandio per costituire comodati, donazioni mortis causa, doti, e riceveva cosi applicazioni diverse, anche nei rapporti famigliari, nei quali essa si svolse, come vedremo a suo tempo, sotto la forma di coemptio fiduciaria (3). 386. Fu questo il magistero, mediante cui la mancipatio fu dal diritto civile di Roma adattata alle varie contingenze di fatto; ma (1) Cfr. il MUIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. 140 e seg. e il Voigt, op. cit., II, pag. 172. (2) È notevole in proposito il passo di ISIDORO, Orig., 5, 22, 23, 24, riportato dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 406, in cui egli istituisce, sulle vestigia di qualche antico au tore, una specie di raffronto fra il pignus, la fiducia e l'hypotheca. Della fiducia egli scrive: « fiducia est, cum res aliqua, sumendae mutuae pecuniae gratia, vel man cipatur vel in iure ceditur ». (3) Quanto alle svariate applicazioni della fiducia V. Ascoli, op. cit., pag. 3 e seg. 497 siccome la sua applicazione era pur sempre circoscritta alle res mancipii, cosi, accanto alla medesima, si introdussero o si confer marono dalla legislazione decemvirale due altri modi di acquistare e di trasmettere la proprietà, di indole e di origine compiutamente diversa, ancorchè entrambi costituiscano un ius proprium civium romanorum. Essi sono l'in iure cessio e l'usucapio. È ovvio scorgere l'opposizione, che esiste fra questi due mezzi di acquisto della proprietà ' quiritaria. Mentre l'in iure cessio viene talvolta nelle fonti ad essere indicata col vocabolo di legis actio, perchè essa, al pari delle legis actiones, si compie in iure, cioè da vanti al magistrato, ed è in certo modo una rei vindicatio non con traddetta. (1); l'usucapio invece nelle dodici tavole viene ad essere indicata col vocabolo di usus auctoritas. Mentre la prima consiste in una finta rivendicazione, fatta dal compratore o dal cessionario, non contrastata dal venditore o dal cedente della cosa, che forma oggetto di negozio, la quale si compie davanti almagistrato, e a cui sussegue l'aggiudicazione del medesimo; la seconda invece fondasi esclusivamente sull'autorità dell'uso, cosicchè una cosa posseduta per due anni, se trattisi di un fondo, e per un anno, se trattisi di qualsiasi altra cosa, finirà per appartenere ex iure quiritium a colui che ebbe a possederla. Mentre nella in iure cessio noi abbiamo un modo di procedere, eminentemente legale e giuridico, in quanto che essa compiesi coll'intervento del magistrato;, nella usucapio in vece abbiamo un fatto, che trasformasi in diritto, ossia l'uso od il possesso, che trasformansi nella proprietà ex iure quiritium, quando abbiano durato per un certo spazio di tempo. Queste considerazioni mi inducono a ritenere, che, mentre l'in iure cessio è un modo di acquisto, ricavato dal diritto proprio delle genti patrizie, presso le quali tutto già facevasi con formalità so lenni e coll'intervento del magistrato, l'usus auctoritas invece do vette avere origine presso la plebe, la quale, avendo dapprima più una posizione di fatto, che una posizione di diritto, dovette cono scere più l’uso ed il possesso, che non la proprietà nella significa zione, che vi attribuivano i patrizii. L'accoglimento pertanto di questi due modi di acquistare e di trasmettere la proprietà quiri di essa (1) È lo stesso Gaio, Comm., II, 24, che, dopo aver descritta l'in iure cessio, dice idque legis actio vocatur ». A questa descrizione di Gaio poi corrisponde quella brevissima di Ulp., Fragm., XIX, 10 « In iure cedit dominus; vindicat is, cui ceditur; addicit Praetor ». G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 32 498 taria fu in certo modo il frutto di una specie di compromesso fra i due ordini; poichè da una parte si riconosceva la cessio in iure davanti al magistrato, il quale era ricavato dall'ordine patrizio, e dall'altra il patriziato cominciava a riconoscere qualche efficacia giu ridica a quell'usus auctoritas, sulla quale 'soltanto fondavansi i di ritti della plebe (1). (1) Qui cade in acconcio di arrestarci alquanto alla significazione da attribuirsi alla espressione « usus auctoritas », che occorre nelle XII Tavole. La legge relativa dal DIRKSEN collocata al nº 3 della Tavola VI, e fu riportata colle parole stesse di CICERONE, Top., 4: « usus auctoritas fundi biennium est; ceterarum rerum omnium annuus est usus ». Essa invece dal Voigt, op. cit., I, pag. 110, sarebbe collocata al n. 6, della Tavola V, e sarebbe così concepita: « usus, auctoritas biennium, cetera rum rerum annuus esto ». Di qui molte discussioni fra gli studiosi relativamente ai rapporti fra i due termini usus ed auctoritas, al qual proposito l'opinione pre valente sembra essere, che il vocabolo di usus si riferisca all'usucapione e quello di auctoritas alla garanzia del titolo, che incombe al venditore in una mancipazione; cosicchè la legge verrebbe a dire, che tanto l'usus quanto l'auctoritas sarebbero li mitati a due o ad un anno, secondo le cose di cui si tratta. Tale opinione sarebbe stata prima enunciata dal SALMASIO, De usuris, cap. 8, pag. 215; Lugd., Bat. 1638, e troverebbe seguito ancora oggidì, presso il Voigt, il quale avrebbe perciò separato l'usus dall'auctoritas con una virgola. A mio avviso invece sembra alquanto fuor di luogo, che si venga a discorrere di garanzia dall'evizione colà, ove tutti gli antichi autori non ci parlano che dell'usucapione. Parmi poi evidente, che l'espressione effi cacissima di « usus auctoritas » non possa essere che il contrapposto dell'altra espres sione « iuris auctoritas », e che quindi la significazione naturale della medesima consista in dire, che l'uso varrà come titolo, e il possesso equivarrà a proprietà, allorchè essi siano durati un biennio pei fondi, e un anno per tutte le altre cose. Il solo vocabolo di usus, analogo a quello di possessio, non avrebbe potuto da solo indicare l'usucapione, e fu perciò, che dovette dirsi usus auctoritas, la quale espressione appunto occorre in Cic., Top., 4. Sia pure che lo stesso Co., pro Caec., 19, sembri separare le due cose, allorchè scrive: « lex usum et auctoritatem fundi iubet esse biennium »; ma è facile il vedere, che la dizione qui è già alterata dall'uso dell'infinito, e che le due parole indicano pur sempre una cosa sola, cioè l'autorità od il diritto sul fondo provenienti dall'uso. Ogni dubbio poi viene ad essere tolto dal passo di Boezio, in Cic., Top., loc. cit., nel quale trovansi appunto contrapposte l'usus auctoritas e la iuris auctoritas. Egli infatti, dopo aver definita l'usucapio, scrive: « Plurima « rum autem rerum usucapio annua est, ut si quis eis anno continuo fuerit usus, « id firma iuris auctoritate possideat, velut rem mobilem; fundi vero usucapio « biennii temporis spatio continetur. Ait Cicero: ut, quoniam ususauctoritas fundi « biennium est, sit etiam aedium. Hic igitur aedium usus auctoritatem biennio « fieri sentit » (Bruns, Fontes, pag. 400). Che se altrove la legge dice a adversus hostes aeterna auctoritas esto », gli è perchè ivi parlasi tanto della iuris, che del l'usus auctoritas, e quindi non occorreva specificare il concetto, ed anche perchè il vocabolo di auctoritas da solo significa la iuris auctoritas. In ogni caso sarebbe in 499 387. Dei due istituti tuttavia esercito certamente una maggiore influenza sullo svolgimento del diritto romano l'usucapio, che non l'in iure cessio. Di questa infatti dice Gaio, che la medesima, quanto alle res man cipii, non poteva competere colla mancipatio, poichè era naturale che quello, che poteva compiersi dagli stessi contraenti, coll'inter vento di amici, non si compiesse con difficoltà maggiori presso il magistrato (1). Di qui ne venne che, sebbene l'in iure cessio po tesse anche applicarsi alle res mancipii, essa invece fini per restrin gersi al trasferimento di quelle cose, che per essere nec mancipii non erano suscettive di mancipatio. Così, ad esempio, Gaio ci dice, che mediante l'in iure cessio si poteva fare la costituzione delle servitù urbane, le quali erano res nec mancipii, la cessione della eredità, che consideravasi come una cosa incorporale, come pure la costituzione dell'usufrutto. Quanto a quest'ultimo tuttavia, egli os serva, che esso poteva anche costituirsi mediante la mancipatio, al lorchè altri, mancipando la cosa, riservava per sè l'usufrutto della medesima, apponendovi una lex mancipii: mentre invece colui, che voleva conservare la proprietà, non avrebbe potuto staccarne l'usu frutto, che mediante la in iure cessio (2). L'usucapio invece deve essere considerata come una delle istitu zioni, che maggiormente influirono sullo svolgimento del diritto. Essa in certo modo fu il mezzo somministrato alla plebe per passare da una posizione di fatto ad una posizione di diritto, per cambiare cioè la semplice usus auctoritas nella iuris auctoritas. Fu quindi essa, che determinò la formazione della teoria del possesso, accanto a quella della proprietà, e che condusse la giurisprudenza a deter minare le condizioni, mediante cui il possesso può trasformarsi in proprietà. È poi degno di nota, quanto all'usucapio del diritto qui comprensibile, che Gato ed ULPIANO, i quali ebbero più volte ad accennare a questa disposizione delle XII Tavole, avessero sempre solo avuto occasione di parlare della durata dell'usucapio, e non mai della durata dell'obbligo di garanzia per parte del mancipante. Parmi quindi, che la ricostruzione più probabile sia la seguente: « usus auctoritas fundi biennium, ceterarum rerum annus esto »; la quale concorda anche di più colle regole grammaticali. (1) Scrive infatti Garo, Comm., II, 25, discorrendo della iure cessio per le res mancipii: « Plerumque tamen et fere semper mancipationibus utimur; quod enim ipsi per nos, praesentibus amicis, agere possumus, hoc non est necesse cum maiore difficultate apud Praetorem aut Praesidem provinciae agere ». (2) GAIO, II, 33; Ulp., Fragm., XIX, 11 e 12. 500 ritario, che essa, a differenza della prescrizione, che ebbe ad essere introdotta molto più tardi, non presentasi ancora come un mezzo di estinzione dei diritti, ma ha sopratutto il carattere di un mezzo di acquisto, come lo indica il vocabolo stesso di usucapio. Cid pure è confermato dal motivo, che si assegna come fondamento all'usucapio, il quale non consiste nell'intento di punire coloro, che trascurassero di esercitare il proprio diritto, ma bensi in quello di evitare l'in certezza dei dominii: « ne rerum dominia diutius in incerto essent ». 388. Le considerazioni premesse dimostrano, che l'usucapio fu effettivamente adottata dai decemviri per fare in modo che le pos sessioni della plebe potessero in un breve periodo di tempo acqui. stare anch' esse il carattere quiritario, cosicchè tutti i possessori di terre si cambiassero in breve in veri proprietarii ex iure quiritium. Quest'effetto era già stato ottenuto in grande col censo serviano, il quale aveva convertito di un tratto tutti i mancipia, proprii della plebe, in altrettante proprietà ex iure quiritium, facendoli consegnare nel censo; ed il medesimo processo venne ad essere reso continuativo colla disposizione relativa all'usus auctoritas, la quale in breve spazio di tempo attribuiva al sem plice possesso il carattere di un vero e proprio diritto. Ciò appare eziandio dalle applicazioni del tutto diverse di questa usus aucto ritas, la quale compare non solo qual mezzo per acquistare la pro prietà quiritaria delle cose mobili ed immobili, ma anche qual mezzo per far acquistare al marito la manus sulla propria moglie, e quale mezzo infine per far acquistare col possesso di un anno la proprietà quiritaria di un'eredità, come accade nell'usucapio pro herede (1 ). Così pure dapprima non si richiedono condizioni di sorta, perchè l'usucapio possa effettuarsi, ma basta il possesso di uno, op pure di due anni, ed è solo posteriormente, che i giurisprudenti fis (1) Il concetto qui accennato fu già più largamente svolto al nº 154, p. 190 e seg., ove ho dimostrato che l'attribuire carattere giuridico ai possessi della plebe nel ter. ritorio romano era il miglior mezzo per interessarla all'avvenire e alla grandezza della città. Cfr. il MUIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. 48, e l'Es sin, Histoire de l' usucapion nei « Mélanges d'histoire du droit », Paris, 1886, pag. 171 a 217. Dal momento poi, che l'usus auctoritas era per i decemviri un mezzo per cambiare una posizione di fatto in una posizione di diritto, si comprende come essi non abbiano avuto diffi coltà di applicarla all'acquisto della proprietà, all'acquisto della manus, ed anche all'acquisto dell'eredità (usucapio pro herede). 501 sano le condizioni, che debbono concorrere in tale possesso, perchè possa dar luogo all'usucapione (1). Tuttavia fin da principio la legge decemvirale già comincia ad escludere certe cose dall'usucapione, come le cose furtive, le res mancipii appartenenti alla donna, quando siano state vendute e consegnate senza il consenso del tutore (sine tutoris auctoritate) (2 ), mentre è solo più tardi, che la giurisprudenza venne a richiedere la buona fede nell'acquirente. Per tal modo un mezzo, che dapprima servi per mutare una posizione di fatto in una posizione di diritto, fini col tempo per convertirsi eziandio in un rimedio contro il difetto inerente al titolo di acquisto, proveniente o da irregolarità dell'atto di trasferimento o da incapacità dell'ac quirente (3 ). L'usucapione poi, per sua natura, può già applicarsi cosi alle res mancipii, che alle res nec mancipii, ma non pud tuttavia applicarsi al suolo provinciale, come quello, che non poteva essere oggetto di proprietà quiritaria (4 ). Tuttavia anche qui co mincia a svolgersi una istituzione del diritto delle genti, che è quella della prescrizione, la quale, salvo la durata maggiore, ha un carattere analogo a quello della usucapio nel diritto civile: come lo dimostra il fatto, che le due istituzioni finiscono col tempo per fondersi insieme, e dar cosi origine alla praescriptio longi temporis giustinianea (5 ). (1) Questo carattere dell'usucapio primitiva è già accennato dall'Esmein, op. cit., pag. 177, e può inferirsi dalla definizione di Ulpiano, Fragm., XIX, 8: « Usucapio « est dominii adeptio per continuationem possessionis anni, vel biennii »; nella quale non occorre ancora quel carattere della iusta possessio, che compare invece nelle altre definizioni, e fra le altre in quella di Boezio riportata dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 400. Quanto ai rapporti fra il possesso, di cui qui si parla, che sarebbe il pos sesso ad usucapionem, ed il possesso ad interdicta, che costituisce un istituto, avente un proprio scopo, e distinto da quello della proprietà, vedi ciò che si disse più sopra al n. 357, pag. 452, nota 1. A parer mio dovette forınarsi prima il concetto del pos sesso ad usucapionem, e più tardi soltanto quello del possesso ad interdicta. (2 ) Questa condizione speciale delle res mancipii, spettanti alle femmine ed ai pupilli, la quale ha evidentemente lo scopo di impedire l'alienazione delmancipium per conservarlo nella linea agnatizia, è attestata in modo concorde da Gaio, Comm., I, 47, 192 e II, 80, e da ULP., Fragm., XI, 27. (3) È naturale infatti, che l'usucapione in una società, che si forma, sia un modo di acquisto, e che in una società invece, che si è formatn, si converta in un mezzo di difesa; e richieda così un tempo maggiore per servire quale mezzo di acquisto. Le società giovani pensano sopratutto all'acquisto; mentre le società adulte e già for mate pensano sopratutto a conservare l'acquistato. (4 ) GAIO, Comm., II, 46: « item provincialia praedia usucapionem non recipiunt ». (5 ) Mainz, Cours de droit romain, I, SS 111 e 112, pag. 745 e segg. 502 389. Intanto,mentre accade questo svolgimento nei modi di trasfe rimento della proprietà ex iure quiritium, accanto alla medesima viene lentamente consolidandosi un'altra forma di proprietà, che prende il nome di proprietà in bonis. Questa dapprima non è che una proprietà di fatto, ma col tempo ottiene anch'essa in via indi retta e per opera del pretore una protezione di diritto, e viene così a costituire un vero dualismo nel concetto di proprietà, il che ebbe ad esprimere Gaio con dire: « postea divisionem accepit dominium, ut alius possit esse ex iure quiritium dominus, alius in bonis habere (1) ». Il primo nucleo di questa nuova forma di proprietà ebbe ad essere costituito dalle res mancipii, allorchè le medesime erano trasmesse colla semplice traditio; ma poscia essa fini per comprendere tutte le altre cose, che per qualsiasi causa non fossero oggetto della proprietà ex iure quiritium. Che anzi il dualismo andò fino a tale per l'esistenza contemporanea del ius civile e del ius honorarium, che di una stessa cosa potè accadere, che altri fosse il proprietario ex iure quiritium, mentre un altro la teneva in bonis; il che voleva dire in sostanza, che l'uno ne aveva la pro prietà ufficiale, mentre l'altro ne aveva l'effettivo godimento. È tut tavia notabile, che prima della fusione delle due proprietà, quella in bonis già cominciava in certe cose ad avere la prevalenza; come lo dimostra il fatto, che se un servo appartenesse ad una persona ex iure quiritium, e fosse stato in bonis di un altro, gli acquisti, che egli faceva, andavano a profitto di colui, del quale era in bonis (2 ). Diqui una lotta fra le due forme di proprietà, che diede occasione allo svolgersi dei modi naturali di acquisto, accanto a quelli ricono sciuti dal diritto civile; lotta, che Gaio ebbe a riassumere scrivendo: « Ergo ex his, quae dicimus, apparet, quaedam naturali iure alie nari, qualia sunt ea, quae traditione alienantur; quaedam civili, nam mancipationis et in iure cessionis et usucapionis ius pro prium est civium romanorum » (3). Così è pure questa lotta, che porge occasione allo svolgersi della publiciana in rem actio (4 ), ac canto alla rei vindicatio, della prescrizione accanto all'usucapione, (1) Gaio, Comm., II, 40. (2) Gaio, II, 88 e UlP., Fragm., XIX, 20. (3) Id., II, 65. Di qui infatti Gaio prende occasione di discorrere deimodi natu rali di acquisto. (4) Quanto all'actio in rem pubbliciana è da vedersi APPLETON, De l'action pub blicienne nella « Nouvelle Revuehistorique », 1885, pag. 481-526, e 1886, pag. 276-342. - - 503 fino a che le due proprietà finiscono per essere pareggiate fra di loro, ed allora si consegue l'effetto, che quelle caratteristiche della pro prietà quiritaria, che si erano prima applicate a quel nucleo ristretto di cose, che erano comprese nel mancipium, poi si erano estese a tutte le cose, che erano oggetto delle proprietà ex iure quiritium, finiscono per essere estese a tutte le cose, che, per essere in com mercio, possono essere oggetto di proprietà privata. È solo allora che Giustiniano, forse non troppo consapevole dell'ufficio, che un tempo avevano compiuto le distinzioni fra res mancipii e nec man cipii e fra la proprietà ex iure quiritium e la proprietà in bonis, abolisce pressochè ab irato queste distinzioni, le quali a suo giu dizio « nihil ab eniymate discrepant» e dànno solo più origine ad inutili ambiguità ed incertezze (1). 390. Infine anche qui deve essere notato, che tutta questa teoria del trasferimento della proprietà non potè mai trovare applicazione in tema di obbligazioni. Almodo stesso, che più tardi la giurisprudenza romana continua ad affermare che « traditionibus et usucapionibus dominia rerum, non nudis pactis, transferuntur » (2); così essa pur continua a professare, che i modi, i quali servono a trasferire la pro prietà, non possono invece servire per trasferire un'obbligazione da una persona ad un'altra. Scrive infatti Gaio, dopo aver discorso della mancipatio e della in iure cessio, quali modi di trasferimento della proprietà: « obligationes, quoquo modo contractae, nihil eorum recipiunt; nam quod mihi ab aliquo debetur, id si velim tibi de beri, nullo eorum modo, quibus res corporales ad alium transfe runtur, id efficere possum; sed opus est, ut, iubente me, tu ab eo stipuleris » (3 ). Quindi le obbligazioni, che si contraggono colla sti pulatio, devono essere trasmesse e cedute anche colla stipulatio, e non potrebbero esserlo colla mancipatio e colla in iure cessio, che sono circoscritte al trasferimento della proprietà e dei diritti reali. Per tal modo quella distinzione radicale e profonda, che apparve nell'antico ius quiritium, fra il facere mancipium ed il facere nexum, si mantenne per tutto lo svolgimento posteriore del diritto civile romano, nel che abbiamo un'altra prova della dialettica co (1) Giustin., Cod., VII, 25: de nudo iure quiritium tollendo; e VII, 31, $ 4: de usucapione transformanda et de sublata differentia rerum mancipii et nec mancipii (2 ) L.20, Cod., II, 3 (Dioclet. et Maxim.). (3 ) Gaio, Comm., II, 38. 504 stante, con cui i giureconsulti romani tengono dietro ai concetti pri mordiali, da cui presero le mosse nella prima elaborazione del ius quiritium. Ciascun concetto di questo è come un nucleo, che viene attraendo tutto ciò, che può esservi di affine, ma il medesimo non si confonde mai coi concetti, da cui ebbe già a separarsi, nè pud at trarre materie, che siano partite da un concetto primordiale diverso. Chi poi volesse trovare la ragione intima, per cui nel diritto civile romano il semplice contratto può soltanto essere sorgente di obbligazioni, e non potè mai bastare da solo al trasferimento della proprietà, dovrebbe probabilmente ricercarla nel concetto in parte materiale, che il primitivo diritto erasi formato prima del manci pium e poscia anche del dominium ex iure quiritium; avrebbe infatti ripugnato alla logica giuridica, che un dominio, il quale aveva in se qualche cosa di corporale, potesse trasferirsi senza es sere accompagnato da qualche fatto esteriore, che mettesse la cosa acquistata a disposizione dell'acquirente. Veniamo ora al testamento e cerchiamo di spiegare come mai anche un atto di questa natura abbia finito per rivestire la forma dell'atto per aes et libram. $ 4. La testamenti factio e la storia primitiva del testamento quiritario. 391. Degli atti, che rimontano all'antico ius quiritium, il testa mento è certamente quello, di cui ci pervennero in maggior quantità i dati per ricostruirne la storia primitiva, e per seguire le trasfor mazioni, che ebbe a subire nel passaggio dal periodo gentilizio alla vita cittadina. Non può dubitarsi anzitutto, che le origini del testamento rimon tano ad un'epoca anteriore alla fondazione della città, perchè noi sappiamo con certezza, che esso fin dagli inizii della città esclusiva mente patrizia fu uno degli atti, che, al pari dell'adrogatio, della detestatio sacrorum e simili, dovevano essere compiuti coll'inter vento dei pontefici, davanti al popolo delle curie, riunito nei comizii calati. Ciò dimostra, che esso già preesisteva presso le genti patrizie, che concorsero alla fondazione delle città, le quali dovettero ser virsene, comedi un mezzo per perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto. Si è veduto infatti, che nella organizzazione delle genti italiche la famiglia, ancorchè entrasse a far parte di un organismo maggiore, cioè della gente e della tribù, aveva però già una propria esistenza, 505 un proprio culto, e un proprio patrimonio (heredium ). Era quindi naturale, che essa tendesse a perpetuarsi, e che perciò il capo di famiglia riguardasse. come una grande sventura la mancanza di un erede, che continuasse in certo modo la sua personalità, e che adem piesse all'obligo del sacrifizio domestico. Fu quindi per supplire alla mancanza di un erede naturale, che noi troviamo essere in uso presso le genti italiche l'adrogatio ed il testamentum: due istitu zioni, le quali, ancorchè in guisa diversa, mirano in sostanza al medesimo intento, cioè alla perpetuazione della famiglia e del suo culto. Intanto però, siccome l'una e l'altra istituzione toccavano da vicino l'organizzazione gentilizia, cosi egli è certo, che nel periodo gentilizio l'adrogatio e il testamentum non poterono compiersi dal capo di famiglia, di sua privata autorità, ma dovettero invece essere compiuti colla approvazione degli altri capi di famiglia, che appar tenevano alla medesima gente o tribù (1). 392. Allorchè poi le due istituzioni vennero ad essere trapiantate nella città patrizia, esse conservarono dapprima il medesimo carat tere, e perciò apparirono come due negozi, i quali, avendo un carat tere pubblico, non potevano operarsi di privata autorità, ma dovevano essere compiuti nei comizii calati delle curie, convocati dai ponte fici. Che anzi, se abbiamo da argomentare dalla formola dell'adro gatio, che ci fu conservata da Gellio, conviene inferirne, che anche il testamento, in questo periodo, dovette assumnere il carattere di una vera e propria legge (2 ). Intanto però egli è evidente, che questo testamento nei comizii calati delle curie dovette essere esclusivamente proprio delle genti patrizie, e che il medesimo non ebbe certamente lo scopo di porgere al testatore un mezzo di disporre a capriccio delle proprie sostanze; (1) Ho già toccato dell'attinenza strettissima, che intercede fra l'adrogatio ed il testamentum nel periodo gentilizio al nº 63-65, pag. 77 e segg. Cfr. in proposito il SUMNER -MAINE, Ancien droit, pag. 184 e il CoQ, Recherches sur le testament per aes et libram nella « Nouvelle Revue historique », 1886, pag. 536. Qui solo ag. giungerò, che questa attinenza appare anche meglio nel diritto greco, e sopratutto nell'ateniese, nel quale il primitivo testamento compare sotto la forma dell'adozione. Cfr. il Jannet, Les institutions sociales a Sparta. Paris, 1880, pag. 96 e segg.; e il Cocotti, La famiglia nel diritto attico. Torino, 1886, pag. 69. (2) Questo carattere pressochè pubblico dell'adrogatio e del testamentum in Roma non è mai intieramente scomparso, come lo prova il detto di PAPINIANO, L. 4, Dig. (28-1): testamenti factio iuris publici est. Cfr. quanto ho scritto a n ° 221, pag. 268 e seg. 506 - ma lo scopo invece di perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto, e di impedire la divisione immediata del patrimonio, come lo dimostra l'antica espressione romana « ercto non cito »; la quale ha tutti i caratteri di una primitiva clausola testamentaria. Quanto alla plebe, non avendo essa la organizzazione gentilizia, non poteva certamente possedere un simile testamento; quindi è probabile, che il capo di famiglia plebeo, quando rimaneva senza figliuolanza diretta, non avesse altro mezzo di disporre delle proprie cose, che quello di ri correre all'istituto della fiducia, affidando il suo patrimonio ad un amico, che ne disponesse nel modo da lui indicato; modo questo di far testamento, che era una conseguenza naturale delle condizioni economiche e giuridiche, in cui trovavasi la plebe, e che Gaio ci indicherebbe come affatto primitivo, ed anteriore ancora a quella forma di testamento, che a noi pervenne sotto la denominazione di testamento per aes et libram (1 ). Di qui la conseguenza, che fin dagli esordii di Roma dovettero tro varsi di fronte due forme di testamento; un testamento cioè, di origine patrizia, fatto colla formalità di una vera e propria legge, nei comizii calati delle curie, coll'intervento dei pontefici, diretto a perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto e ad impedire la disper sione dei patrimonii; e l'altro, di origine plebea, che compievasi colle forme stesse di quel fedecommesso, che penetrò solo più tardi nel diritto civile romano, il quale non era che una applicazione della fiducia, e aveva l'unico scopo di porgere un mezzo al capo di famiglia per disporre delle proprie cose per il tempo, in cui egli avrebbe cessato di vivere. 393. Fu soltanto allorchè la plebe entro eziandio a far parte del populus, che potè svolgersi una forma di testamento, comune ai due ordini, ed è sopratutto a questo punto, che l'esposizione di Gaio ci può venire in sussidio per ricostruire la storia primitiva del testa mento civile romano (2 ). Gaio ci parla di due forme primitive di testamento, cioè: di un testamento, che compievasi in calatis comitiis, i quali si sarebbero radunati due volte all'anno per la confezione dei testamenti; e del (1) Gaio, Comm., II, 107. Vedi a proposito di questo primitivo testamento della plebe, che era una applicazione della fiducia e corrispondeva in certo modo a quel fedecommesso, che fu accolto più tardi nel diritto romano, cid che ho scritto a n ° 149, pag. 184 e seg. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Histor. Introd. (2 ) GAIO, II, 101 a 108. 507 testamento in procinctu, che facevasi invece davanti all'esercito già preparato alla battaglia. Egli anzi sembra compiacersi nel notare, che queste due forme di testamento corrispondevano a quel carat tere civile e militare ad un tempo, che era proprio del popolo ro mano: « alterum itaque in pace et in otio faciebant, alterum in praelium exituri » (1); ma intanto non dice, se i comizii calati, a cui egli accenna, fossero i comizii delle curie o quelli delle centurie. Sembra tuttavia ovvio l'osservare, che Gaio qui discorre già delle due forme di testamento, comuni cosi al patriziato che alla plebe, allorché i medesimi già erano entrati a far parte dello stesso populus, e che perciò la sua distinzione non si deve riferire al popolo primitivo delle curie, ma bensì al popolo plebeo-patrizio delle centurie; del quale sopratutto si poteva dire a ragione, che mentre in pace co stituiva i comizii, in guerra invece costituiva un esercito. Di qui la conseguenza, che il testamento in calatis comitiis, di cui discorre Gaio, non è più il testamento proprio delle genti patrizie, che fa cevasi nei comizii calati delle curie, coll'intervento dei pontefici: ma bensi un testamento, già comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, che fa cevasi in quei comizii calati, che noi sappiamo da Aulo Gellio essere stati eziandio proprii delle centurie (2 ). Furono probabilmente questi comizii calati delle centurie, che dovevano radunarsi due volte l'anno per la confezione dei testamenti: mentre i comizii calati delle curie potevano convocarsi dai pontefici, ogni qualvolta ne occorresse il bi sogno. Siccome poi in questo tempo il quirite, come tale, appare già prosciolto dai vincoli dell'organizzazione gentilizia, ed è già libero dispositore delle proprie cose, anche per atto di morte, come ebbe a dichiararlo espressamente la legge decemvirale; così si può in durne, che il popolo delle centurie, in questa fase del testamento quiritario, più non intervenisse per approvare il medesimo con una legge, ma soltanto per prestare la propria testimonianza, secondo la (1) GAIO, II, 101. (2 ) Gellio, XV, 27, 1 e 2, parlando dei co:nitia calata, scrive: « eorum alia esse « curiata, alia centuriata. Curiata per lictorem curiatim calari, id est convocari; « centuriata per cornicinem ». Egli dice poi, che in questi comizii si facevano i testa menti, il che fa supporre che si facessero tanto nei comizii calati curiati, che nei centuriati. Lo stesso autore V, 19, 6, parla un'altra ' volta dei comizii calati, a pro posito dell'adrogatio, ma qui sembra alludere soltanto ai comizii calati curiati. Sembra infatti che l'adrogatio, a differenza del testamento, abbia continuato sempre a farsi davanti alle curie, salvo che la medesima finì per compiersi davanti ai trenta littori, che la rappresentavano. Cic., Adv. Rutt., II, 12. Cfr. Cuq, art. cit., p. 539. 508 formola, che poi ricompare più tardi nel testamento per aes et libram: « et vos, quirites, testimonium mihi perhibitote ». Cid è confermato eziandio dalla considerazione, che questi comizii calati non si sarebbero radunati che due volte l'anno per la confezione dei testamenti, il che avrebbe reso pressochè impossibile, che ognuno dei testamenti presentati nei medesimi avesse potuto essere approvato con tutte quelle formalità di una vera e propria legge, che erano richieste nei comizii calati delle curie primitive. 394. Di qui deriva, che se questo testamento nei comizii calati delle centurie imitava ancora nella forma esteriore il testamento pa trizio, che facevasi nei comizii calati delle curie, nella sostanza pero già ne differiva grandemente: poichè nel medesimo questo intervento di tutto il popolo convertivasi in una semplice formalità, in quanto che il popolo non era più chiamato ad approvare il testamento,ma sol tanto ad assistere al medesimo cometestimonio. Si comprende pertanto, che la consuetudine popolare cercasse di sostituirvi qualche mezzo più semplice di fare testamento, e che ricorresse percið alla manci patio familiae cum fiducia, che è appunto la forma ditestamento, che Gaio ci descrive essersi introdotta posteriormente al testamento in calatis comitiis (1). Questo testamento non era in sostanza, che il testamento primitivo di origine plebea, salvo che esso era già sottoposto alla forma quiritaria dell'atto per aes et libram, e ac compagnato dalla fiducia. Era quindi un testamento, che era facile a celebrarsi, ma che, al pari della fiducia iure pignoris, aveva dapprima l'inconveniente di rimettere ogni cosa alla buona fede del familiae emptor, il quale poteva anche abusare della fiducia, che il testatore aveva in lui riposta. Fu allora, che i veteres iuris conditores sentirono la necessità, come dice Gaio, di ordinare altrimenti il testamento per aes et libram, e modellarono così quella forma di testamento, che penetrd con questa denominazione nel ius quiritium o meglio nel ius pro prium civium romanorum, e che fu poi argomento di uno svolgi mento storico non interrotto fino a Giustiniano. Questo testamento (1) Fra gli autori, che distinguono la primitiva mancipatio familiae cum fiducia, che ha quasi del fedecommesso, dal posteriore testamento per aes et libram, quale è descritto da Gaio, II, 102, è da vedersi il MuIRHEAD, op. cit., pag. 66 e 167, e sopratutto il Cuq, Op. e loc. cit., pag. 534 e segg., il quale, dopo aver discorso prima della familiae mancipatio, passa a trattare separatamente del testamento per aes et libram. 509 pertanto compare nel ius quiritium molto più tardi, che non il nerum ed il mancipium, e viene ad essere una artificiosa applica zione dell'atto per aes et libram, nell'intento di porgere al quirite un mezzo per disporre del suo patrimonio per il tempo, in cui avrà cessato di vivere. 395. Questo testamento, secondo la definizione di Gaio e di Ul. piano, componevasi di due parti, cioè della mancipatio familiae e della nuncupatio. La prima consiste in un atto per aes et libram, compiuto, come al solito, davanti a non meno di cinque testimoni, cittadini romani, ed al libripens, in cui si addiviene ad una « ima. ginaria venditio » delle sostanze del testatore (familiae). È però a notarsi, che,mentre nella primitiva mancipatio familiae il negozio seguiva effettivamente fra il testatore e l'erede, di cui quello era il familiae venditor e questo il familiae emptor; nel testamento invece per aes et libram, quale appare modellato in questo secondo stadio, il familiae emptor non è più il vero erede, ma è piuttosto un depositario e custode del patrimonio, accid il testatore possa disporne « secundum legem publicam » (1 ). Cið appare dalla circostanza, che il familiae emptor, dopo aver finto di comprare il patrimonio e di pagarne il prezzo, se ne dichiara perd semplice depositario, ricorrendo alla formola seguente: « familia pecuniaque tua endo mandatelam, custodelamque meam, quo tu iure testamentum facere possis secundum legem publicam, hoc aere esto mihi empta » (2). (1) Trovo alquanto singolare la interpretazione che il Cuq, art. cit., pag. 565, verrebbe a dare a queste parole: « secundum legem publicam ». Egli ritiene, che tutte le parole del testamento dovessero aversi come confermate da quella lex publica, che era andata in disuso; mentre invece è evidente, che le parole della formola: « quo tu iure testamentum facere possis secundum legem publicam », mirano evidentemente a porre il familiae venditor in condizione di poter fare il testamento approvato e riconosciuto dalla legge pubblica. Una prova di cið l'abbiamo nella circo stanza, che questa stessa espressione « secundum legem publicam », compare eziandio nella formola della nexi liberatio, in cui si dice: « hanc tibi libram primam postre mamque tibi expendo secundum legem publicam » (Gaio, III, 174 ), ove la medesima non può certo avere la significazione, che vorrebbe attribuirvi il Cuq. La causa di questa erronea interpretazione sta in ciò, che il Cuq considera il testamento per aes et libram, come una modificazione di quello in calatis comitiis, mentre esso ha un'origine affatto diversa, come ho cercato di dimostrare nel testo. (2) GAIO, Comm., II, 104. Ho ricavato questa formola dall'ultima edizione curata dal MOMMSEN, sull'Apographum Studemundianum, novis curis auctum, Berolini, 1884; la quale presenta qualche notevole differenza dalle anteriori edizioni fatte dal Dubois, dall'HUSCHKE e dal MUIRHEAD. 510 – Fin qui pertanto non havvi che una imaginaria venditio, della quale Gaio dice espressamente, che viene compiuta soltanto « dicis gratia, propter veteris iuris imitationem ». La sostanza invece di questa forma di testamento consiste nella nuncupatio solenne, nella quale il testatore, in presenza dei testimoni, istituisce il proprio erede, il quale viene cosi già a distinguersi dal familiae emptor, ed indica eziandio i legati, che saranno poi a carico dell'erede. Questa nuncupatio dapprima dovette essere compiutamente orale; ma poscia potè essere fatta in doppia guisa, in quanto che il testa tore – o dichiarava espressamente la sua volontà davanti ai testi moni, - o presentava invece ai medesimi le sue tavole testamen tarie, dichiarando solennemente, che queste contenevano la sua ultima volontà: « haec ita, ut in his tabulis cerisve scripta sunt, ita do, ita lego, ita testor: itaque, vos, quirites, testimo nium mihiperhibitote » (1). Di qui prorenne, che già collo stesso testamento per aes et libram comincid a delinearsi la distinzione, che acquistò più tardi grandissima importanza fra il testamento nun cupativo e il testamento scritto. 396. Basta questa semplice descrizione per dimostrare, che il testa mento per aes et libram è già informato ad un concetto ben diverso da quello, a cui si ispirava il primitivo testamento delle genti patrizie. Mentre infatti il testamento primitivo in calatis comitiis mirava a perpetuare il culto domestico e ad impedire la dispersione dei patri monii: quello invece per aes et libram tendeva senz'altro a sommi nistrare al quirite un mezzo per disporre liberamente delle proprie cose. Ciò è dimostrato dalla circostanza indicataci da Cicerone, che questo testamento deve considerarsi come un'applicazione della di. sposizione delle XII Tavole: qui nexum faciet mancipiumque, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto; ed è pur confermato dagli antichi giureconsulti, i quali parlano di questo testamento, come di una va rietà ed applicazione del nexum, o meglio dell'atto per aes et libram (2 ). Così pure, mentre nel testamento primitivo si richiedeva (1) Gaio, loc. cit. e Ulp., Fragm., XX, 2 a 10. Quest'ultimo sopratutto distingue nettamente le due parti, di cui componesi il testamento per aes et libram, allorchè scrive al $ 9: « In testamento, quod per aes et libram fit, duae res aguntur, fa miliae mancipatio et nuncupatio testamenti »; e dopo viene senz'altro a parlare della nuncupatio, come di quella, che veramente importa. (2 ) Cic., De Orat., I, 57, § 245. La stessa esposizione di Gaio, II, 102 e 103, dimostra, che il testamento per aes et libram ebbe origine diversa da quello in - 511. l'intervento dei pontefici, perchè in esso trattavasi di provvedere al mantenimento del culto; il testamento invece per aes et libram viene ad essere considerato come una esplicazione del ius commercii, ossia della facoltà del quirite di disporre liberamente delle proprie cose, e quindi si attua mediante un atto di carattere esclusivamente mercantile, quale era l'atto per aes et libram, lasciando poi al ius pontificium di provvedere, quanto all'adempimento dei sacra (1). Mentre infine nel testamento primitivo la volontà del testatore era sottoposta all'approvazione del popolo; nel testamento invece per aes et libram, la volontà del quirite appare indipendente e sovrana, e non è soggetta a qualsiasi limitazione. Dopo ciò credo di poter conchiudere con fondamento, che anche il testamento per aes et libram, quale compare nel ius quiritium, deve già essere considerato come il frutto di una vera e propria elaborazione giuridica, e comeuna conseguenza logica di quel potere illimitato e senza confine, che appartiene al quirite di disporre delle proprie cose, non solo per atto tra vivi, ma anche per causa di morte. Non potrei quindi ammettere col Sumner Maine, che questa forma di testamento importasse dapprima uno spoglio immediato ed irrevocabile del testatore a favore del proprio erede: tanto più, che questa congettura è in diretta opposizione con tutte le notizie, che a noi pervennero del testamento romano, il quale appare essere stato fin dapprincipio una attestazione solenne « de eo quod quis post mortem tuam fieri vult » (2 ). calatis comitiis, poichè egli non dice già, che il medesimo sia stato surrogato a quello in calatis comitiis, ma dice invece: « accessit deinde tertium genus testamenti ». (1) Cic., De leg., II, 19, 47. Cfr. in proposito il Cuq, art. cit., pag. 555, il quale pure osserva, che la mancipatio familiae, e quindi anche il testamento per aes et libram più non aveva carattere religioso, pag. 553, nota 2. (2) È noto come il SUMNER Maine, Ancien droit, pag. 191, abbia coll'autorità del suo nome resa accetta a molti l'opinione, che il testamento per aes et libram fosse di origine plebea, e che esso importasse negli inizii una spogliazione immediata ed irre vocabile del testatore a favore dei proprii eredi. Tale opinione non può essere ac colta; poichè il testamento per aes et libram, anzichè essere proprio della plebe, fu invece una creazione del ius quiritium, e quindi, al pari di ogni altro negozio qui ritario, rivestà la forma dell'atto per aes et libram. Il motivo poi, per cui esso ri vestì la forma di una mancipatio non sta in ciò, che esso siasi veramente riguar dato come una vendita immediata, ma bensì nella circostanza, che esso imponeva all'erede una quantità di obbligazioni, e fra le altre anche quella di provvedere alla continuazione dei sacra e al pagamento dei legati. A questo motivo si aggiunge una causa storica, ed è che il testamento per aes et libram era un rimaneggia mento della primitiva mancipatio familiae cum fiducia, la quale, essendo un atto di carattere puramente fiduciario, figurava come un vero atto fra vivi. 512 397. Una volta poi che questo testamento entrò a far parte del diritto quiritario, esso ebbe a ricevere uno svolgimento storico e Ingico ad un tempo, non dissimile da quello delle altre istituzioni quiritarie, senza che mai si perdessero i caratteri essenziali, con cui era penetrato nel diritto civile di Roma. Così, ad esempio, il testamento era stato accolto nel diritto quiri tario sotto l'apparenza di un negozio, che seguiva fra il testatore, qual familiae venditor, e l'erede, quale familiae emptor: or bene ancora all'epoca di Giustiniano esso conserva questo carattere, come lo provano l'unità di contesto, che è richiesta nel testamento, e la disposizione per cui quelli, che dipendono dall'erede, non possono servire di testimoni nel medesimo (1). Cosi pure il testamento, nel suo concetto primitivo, aveva per iscopo di perpetuare nell'erede la personalità del testatore, donde la conseguenza, che l'istituzione dell'erede venne ad essere considerata quale « caput et fundamen tum testamenti»; il qual concetto continua pure a mantenersi fino alla più tarda giurisprudenza. Parimenti il testamento, nel suo primo presentarsi, era stato un negozio di carattere nuncupativo, uno di quei negozi cioè, in cui la parola del testatore costituiva legge, e noi troviamo, che in tutto il suo svolgimento posteriore esso continua ad essere uno degli atti solenni, in cui giunge fino agli ultimi confini l'osservanza di un linguaggio esatto e preciso; come lo provano le espressioni solenni e precise, con cui doveva farsi l'istituzione di erede, la diseredazione, l'istituzione di erede cum cretione, e simili. Sopratutto poi questo carattere nuncupativo del testamento si fece palese nel tema dei legati, in quanto che nel diritto civile di Roma le varie specie di legato vennero ad essere determinate dalle diverse espressioni, adoperate dal testatore (2 ). Infine anche quel principio, secondo cui la volontà del testatore costituiva legge, continud a mantenersi anche più tardi; dapprima infatti si cercò con mezzi in diretti, quali sarebbero l'obbligo della diseredazione e la querela di (1) Questo carattere del primitivo testamento per aes et libram, per cui esso si presenta come un negozio fra il familiae emptor ed il familiae venditor, è chiara. mente attestato da Gaio, Comm., II, 105 a 107 e da Ulp., Fragm., XX, 3 a 6. Questo carattere poi non si perdette mai completamente, ed è ancora ricordato da GIUSTINIANO, Instit., II, 10, $ 10. È nota la distinzione fra i legati per vindicationem, per damnationem, sinendi modo, e per praeceptionem: in essi la volontà del testatore appare come una vera legge, e viene ad essere analizzata e studiata come la parola stessa del legislatore. V. Gaio, II, 192 e 222; Ulp., Fragm., XXIV. 513 inofficioso testamento, di impedire che il testatore potesse abusare della libertà, a lui consentita dal primitivo diritto, e fu solo con Giustiniano che si introdusse una limitazione diretta all'arbitrio del testatore, attribuendo a certe persone il diritto ad una porzione legittima (1). 398. Intanto, anche nella materia testamentaria, è facile scorgere come accanto al diritto già formato siavi sempre una parte, che continua ad essere in via di formazione. Quindi anche qui, accanto al testamento civile, si esplica un te stamento pretorio; ma anche questo appare modellato a somiglianza del primo. Per verità nel testamento pretorio più non comparisce l'atto per aes et libram, ma debbono però intervenire due nuovi testimoni, i quali si ritengono corrispondere al libripens ed al fa miliae emptor: donde la necessità di sette testimoni, che dånno au tenticità al testamento, apponendovi col testatore il proprio sigillo. Allorchè poi il testamento pretorio è riuscito anch'esso ad avere una efficacia giuridica, sopravvengono anche in questa parte le co stituzioni imperiali, le quali tendono a fondere insieme le due forme di testamento, finchè si giunge al testamento giustinianeo, il quale è ancor esso un coordinamento delle forme anteriori. Esso infatti, secondo l'attestazione di Giustiniano, viene ad essere costituito da un triplice elemento, cioè: dall'unità di contesto e dalla presenza dei testimoni, che proviene dal diritto civile: dal numero di sette testimoni e dall'apposizione del loro sigillo, che è di origine pre toria: e infine dalla sottoscrizione del testatore e dei testimonii, che deriva dalle costituzioni imperiali. Ciò però non toglie, che anche Giustiniano, per imitazione dell'antico, continui a ritenere il testa mento come un negozio che interviene fra il testatore e l'erede, nel che abbiamo una prova della logica tenace, che è propria della giu risprudenza romana, e del metodo da essa costantemente seguito di venire coordinando nel medesimo istituto gli elementi, che si ven nero successivamente formando (2 ). (1) L'istituzione della legittima ebbe presso i Romani una lunga preparazione prima nello stesso diritto civile, poi nel diritto onorario, la quale non terminò che collo stesso Giustiniano. A mio avviso, il motivo degli espedienti, a cui si appiglid il diritto, prima di venire alla fissazione di una legittima, deve appunto essere riposto in cid, che non volevasi porre una limitazione diretta alla volontà del testatore. Quanto alla storia della legittima, è a consultarsi il Boissonade, De la réserve héréditaire. Chap. IV, Paris, 1888, pag. 61–160. (2 ) Justin., Instit., II, 10, $ S 3 e 10. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 33 - 514 399. A compimento di questa materia non saranno inopportune le seguenti osservazioni intorno allo svolgimento storico del testamento: 1 ° Il testamento in Roma è un atto, in cui il quirite si presenta col suo doppio carattere di uomo di pace e di guerra ad un tempo, come lo dimostra il dualismo fra il testamento civile ed il testamento militare, il quale, dopo essere cominciato colla distinzione fra il te stamento in calatis comitiis ed in procinctu, non solo si mantiene, ma si viene accentuando sempre più fino all'epoca diGiustiniano; 2 ° Nella storia del testamento romano si presenta questo fatto singolare, che si vede ricomparire più tardi sotto nome di fidecom messo, una forma di testamento analoga a quel testamento fiduciario, che era stato il testamento primitivo in uso presso la plebe. Cid significa, che, accanto al testamento quiritario, dovette mantenersi nelle consuetudini la primitiva forma di testamento, la quale non riesci ad ottenere il proprio riconoscimento, che all'epoca di Au gusto. Questi poi, accordando efficacia al fidecommesso, fini per ce dere alla forza della pubblica opinione, e alla nécessità di ovviare agli abusi, a cui dava luogo l'inefficacia giuridica di un testamento, in cui tutto dipendeva dalla buona fede di colui, a cui erasi affi dato il testatore (1). Noi abbiamo così una prova, che alcune delle istituzioni, che penetrarono più tardi nel diritto quiritario, come proprie del diritto delle genti, già preesistevano nella comunanza plebea, salvo che non erano riuscite a penetrare in quella rigida selezione, mediante cui erasi formato il primitivo ius quiritium. Un altro carattere di questo svolgimento storico consisterebbe in cid, che nel diritto civile romano non riescirono mai a mescolarsi insieme la successione testamentaria e la successione legittima; ma questa singolarità potrà essere più facilmente spiegata nel capitolo seguente, dopo aver discorso di quel ius connubii, di cui era una conseguenza la successione legittima, stata accolta dal diritto civile romano (2 ). (1) Che il fedecommesso sia sempre vissuto, se non nel diritto, almeno nelle con suetudini del popolo romano, lo dimostra il fatto, che Augusto si indusse a dargli efficacia giuridica per l'abuso, che taluni avevano fatto della fiducia in essi riposta. Appena accolto poi il fedecommesso apparve così popolare e trovò così favorevole ac coglienza, che si dovette ben presto istituire un pretore apposito (praetor fideicom missarius). V. Justin., Instit., II, 23, ss 1 e 2. (2 ) Rimando l'indagine intorno alle cagioni storiche della massima « nemo pro parte testatus pro parte intestatus decedere potest, al seguente capitolo V, $ 5; perchè la questione non potrebbe essere risolta senza aver prima cercato i rapporti, in cui stavano presso i romani la successione testamentaria e la legittima. Il ius connubii nel primitivo ius quiritium e l'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia romana. $ 1. - Sguardo generale all'argomento. 400. Più volte fu osservato dagli autori, che la famiglia romana nella realtà dei fatti si presenta con caratteri molto diversi da quelli, che si potrebbero argomentare dall'ordinamento giuridico di essa. Mentre, sotto il punto di vista giuridico, la famiglia costituisce come un'aggregazione, retta dispoticamente dal proprio capo, nel quale si vengono ad unificare le persone e le cose, che entrano a costituirla; nella realtà invece essa då origine ad una comunione di tutte le utilità domestiche, in cui trovano campo a svolgersi la pietà, l'os sequio e la reciproca confidenza. Mentre, giuridicamente parlando, havvi un unico padrone nella casa: « pater familias in domu do minium habet »; nella realtà invece anche la moglie e i figli ap pariscono comproprietarii del patrimonio paterno: « vivo quoque parente, quodammodo condomini existimantur ». Mentre infine, in base al diritto, il padre ha perfino il ius vitae ac necis sulle persone tutte, che da lui dipendono, nel costume invece la famiglia è sopratutto governata dal sentimento profondo dei doveri famigliari, dalla religione, dalla morale e dal civile costume (1 ). Di fronte ad una opposizione di questa natura fra la famiglia quale appare nel diritto, e quale si presenta nel fatto, non è certo (1) Ho già accennato a questo contrasto, fra la configurazione giuridica della fa miglia e la realtà dei fatti, al nº 94, pag. 119. Del resto gli autori sembrano essere concordi in rilevare questa speciale caratteristica della famiglia romana. Basterà citare fra gli altri il Savigny, Sistema del diritto romano attuale, I, &$ 54 e 55; il JHERING, L'esprit du droit romain, trad. Meulenaere, tomo II, SS 36 e 37, e specialmente da pag. 190 a 214; il Gide, Étude sur la condition privée de la femme, 2a ed., par Esmein, Paris 1885, cap. IV e V; il Voigt, XII Tafeln, II, $ 92, pag. 241 a 256; il MUIRHEAD, Histor, introd., pag. 24 a 34; il Brixi, Matrimonio e di vorzio, Bologna, 1886, parte 1“, passim, e specialmente ai SS 21 e 22, pag. 87 a 110. Tra le opere poi, che si occupano della famiglia romana in genere, ricorderò lo SCHUPPER, La famiglia secondo il diritto romano, vol. 1°, Padova 1876; e il CE NERI, Lezioni su temi del ius familiae, Bologna, 1881.; 516 il caso di ritenere, che i Romani ci abbiano trasmesso nel proprio diritto una immagine non conforme alla realtà dei fatti; ma piut tosto deve credersi, che essi, anche in questa parte del proprio di ritto, abbiano cercato di isolare l'elemento giuridico da tutti gli elementi affini, con cui trovavasi intrecciato, e siano cosi riusciti ad una costruzione giuridica, che fini per attribuire alla famiglia romana una rigidezza ben maggiore di quella, che esisteva real mente nel costume. Quindi il vero problema, che presentasi al ri guardo, sta nel ricostruire il processo storico e logico ad un tempo, che può aver condotto i romani ad accogliere un ordinamento giu ridico della famiglia, il quale, a giudizio degli stessi giureconsulti, si differenziava grandemente da quello di tutti gli altri popoli. 401. A questo proposito vuolsi anzitutto premettere, che l'ordi namento famigliare dovette certamente essere la parte del diritto primitivo, in cui trovavansi a maggior distanza le istituzioni già elaborate, proprie delle genti patrizie, e le istituzioni appena ab bozzate, proprie della plebe. Ciò è provato da quel divieto dei connubii fra il patriziato e la plebe, che si protrasse fin dopo la legislazione decemvirale; dalle lotte accanite, a cui diede origine l'abolizione di questo divieto per opera della legge Canuleia; ed anche dal disprezzo ostentato dai patrizii per le unioni della plebe, come pure dal culto di una pudicizia propria delle matrone patrizie, a cui si contrappose più tardi una pudicizia plebea. Così stando le cose, era anche naturale, che in questa parte le istituzioni dei due ordini dovessero riuscire più difficilmente a fondersi e a mescolarsi fra di loro. Da una parte eravi la famiglia patriarcale delle genti patrizie, la quale, unificata sotto la patria potestà del padre, e stretta insieme dal vincolo dell'agnazione, era sopratutto intesa a perpetuare la stirpe ed il suo culto, costituiva una vera corporazione religiosa, e conduceva alla comunione delle cose divine ed umane; mentre dall'altra eravi la famiglia della plebe, la quale, costituita dall'unione consensuale di un uomo e di una donna, fatta palese dalla loro coabitazione, unita dai vincoli della affinità e della cognazione, aveva piuttosto per iscopo la procreazione della prole, e di soppor tare insieme i pesi del matrimonio (1). (1) Quanto all'organizzazione domestica delle genti patrizie, vedi libro I, cap. 3', § 2º, pag. 28 a 34; quanto a quella della plebe, lo stesso lib. I, cap. 9, pagina 188 e segg. - 517 Dei due ordinamenti però, il più forte, il più elaborato, il più coerente in tutte le sue parti, era certamente quello delle genti patrizie; quindi non è meraviglia, se essé in questa parte siansi ri fiutate a qualsiasi transazione ed accordo, e siano così riuscite a dare un'assoluta prevalenza alle proprie istituzioni domestiche. La plebe quindi, quanto all'ordinamento della famiglia, dovette cercare in qualche modo di imitare l'organizzazione delle famiglie patrizie; il che dovette riuscire più agevole, allorchè la plebe primitiva venne ad essere accresciuta da un largo contingente di famiglie di origine latina, la cui organizzazione doveva già essere analoga a quella propria delle genti patrizie. 402. Ne consegui pertanto, che l'ordinamento domestico, adottato dalla comunanza quiritaria, fu quello della famiglia patriarcale propria delle genti patrizie, e che anche in questa parte i veteres iuris conditores seguirono quel medesimo processo, a cui si erano attenuti nelle altre parti del diritto quiritario. Essi cioè trapianta rono nella città quell'organizzazione domestica, che già preesisteva nel periodo gentilizio; la isolarono cosi da quell'ambiente patriar cale, in cui erasi formata, il quale serviva a temperarne la rigi dezza; la riguardarono come organizzazione tipica della famiglia quiritaria e presero a svolgerla logicamente in tutte le sue parti. Siccome pertanto i concetti informatori della famiglia, nel periodo gentilizio, si riducevano essenzialmente all'unificazione potente della famiglia nella persona del proprio capo, ed alla tendenza della me desima a perpetuarsi e a conservare il proprio patrimonio; cosi questi concetti vennero in certo modo a costituire il capo saldo, da cui prese le mosse l'elaborazione del diritto quiritario, e spinti a tutte le conseguenze, di cui potevano essere capaci, condussero logi camente a quell'ordinamento della famiglia, che ci fu trasmesso dal diritto civile romano. Fu in questa guisa, che ogni famiglia, nel diritto primitivo di Roma, fini per costituire un gruppo di persone e di cose, ordinato sotto il potere del proprio capo, e disgiunto per modo da ogni altro gruppo, che una persona, uscendo da una famiglia, per entrare in un'altra, cessava di avere qualsiasi rapporto giuridico colla prima. Così pure la forma tipica del matrimonio quiritario dovette essere dapprima il solo matrimonio cum manu; perchè solo la conventio in manu, collocando la moglie in posizione di figlia, poteva con durre alla unificazione della famiglia nella persona del proprio capo. 518 Accolta poi questa unificazione giuridica della famiglia nella per sona del padre, ne derivava eziandio che il vincolo, il quale univa imembri della famiglia, non poteva più essere quello della cogna zione,ma doveva essere quello dell'agnazione; il quale aveva appunto la sua radice nel potere spettante al capo di famiglia, ed era cosi una conseguenza diretta della preponderanza dell'elemento paterno nell'organizzazione della famiglia. Se poi tutti i membri, che costi tuiscono il gruppo, sotto il punto di vista giuridico, appariscono unificati nel proprio capo, viene pure a conseguirne logicamente, che tutto quello, che essi facciano od acquistino, debba in diritto ritenersi fatto od acquistato per il medesimo. Cid infine ci spiega eziandio, come, nel diritto primitivo romano, mentre i figli possono rappresentare il padre, ed i servi il padrone, questa specie di rap presentazione non sia invece ammessa, quando trattasi di persone, che appartengano ad un gruppo diverso. Così pure sarà una con seguenza logica di questo ordinamento giuridico della famiglia, che la persona, la quale, per adozione o per matrimonio, venga ad uscire da un gruppo per entrare in un altro, sotto il punto di vista giuri dico, cessi di esistere per la famiglia, da cui esce, e pigli nella fa miglia, in cui entra, quel posto, che le sarebbe spettato, quando fosse nata nel medesimo (1 ). 403. È poi degno di nota, che quest'organizzazione giuridica della famiglia quiritaria, la cui elaborazione già erasi cominciata nella città esclusivamente patrizia, ebbe occasione di svolgersi, anche più rigidamente, mediante l'istituzione del censo serviano. Con questo infatti la famiglia venne ad essere staccata affatto da quel l'ambiente patriarcale, che in parte aveva ancora potuto mantenersi nel periodo della città patrizia, in quanto che ogni cittadino venne ad essere censito, come capo di famiglia, e dovette come tale denun ziare le persone e le cose, che da lui dipendevano, e ne costituivano in certo modo il mancipium. Fu quindi sopratutto sotto l'influenza del censo serviano, che i diritti del padre sulla moglie, sui figli, sui servi vennero in certo modo ad essere modellati sul concetto rozzo, ma preciso del mio e del tuo, il quale aveva anche il vantaggio di essere, più di qualsiasi altro, suscettivo di una vera e propria ela (1) Il concetto di quest'unità potente della famiglia è uno dei più radicati nella coscienza dei primitivi romani. Si può averne una prova nei passi di antichi autori, citati dal Voigt, Op. cit., II, $ 72, pag. 6 e segg., a proposito della domus fami liaque, considerata come un'unità organica di persone e di cose ad un tempo. -- -- 519 berazione giuridica. L'epoca serviana pertanto dovette essere il mo mento storico, in cui la famiglia quiritaria cominciò ad essere mo dellata esclusivamente sul concetto di proprietà, cosicchè le forme dei negozii, proprie del commercium, poterono essere applicate eziandio per acquistare i diritti derivanti dal connubium. Per tal modo la logica del diritto quiritario potè essere applicata in tutto il suo rigore anche all'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia, e venne così ad uscirne quella struttura giuridica della medesima, in cui tutto sembra ridursi ad una questione di mio e di tuo (1 ). Quando poi si promulgò la legislazione decemvirale, questa con tinud l'opera già iniziata di estendere anche alla plebe l'ordina mento giuridico della famiglia patriarcale. Essa infatti riconobbe la coabitazione, non interrotta per un anno, come un mezzo, che poteva servire alla plebe per attribuire alle proprie unioni il carattere qui ritario, e rese comune eziandio alla plebe quel sistema di succes sione legittima, che era proprio dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Infine allorchè la legge Canuleia tolse il divieto del connubio fra i due or dini, tutto l'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia patriarcale venne ad essere accolto nel ius proprium civium romanorum, salve al cune poche modificazioni, che erano imposte dalle condizioni, in cui si trovavano le infime classi della plebe (2). Fu da questo momento, che la famiglia quiritaria venne a costi tuire una costruzione giuridica, organica e coerente in tutte le sue parti, i cui caratteri non potrebbero essere compresi, quando si di menticasse, che la medesima è un rudere dell'organizzazione genti lizia, trapiantato nella città, e svolto logicamente in tutte le con seguenze, di cui poteva essere capace. È certo che un processo di questa natura doveva finire per at tribuire alla famiglia quiritaria un carattere rigido e pressochè inumano, perchè escludeva dall'ordinamento giuridico di essa ogni traccia di sentimento e di affetto; ma il medesimo ebbe anche il (1) Come il censo serviano abbia contribuito ad isolare la famiglia dall'ambiente gentilizio, e a far considerare ciascuna famiglia, come un gruppo separato e distinto da tutte le altre, fu dimostrato nel libro III, cap. 3 °, e in questo stesso libro, cap. 1 ° e 2°, § 1º. (2) Così, ad esempio, la legge decemvirale, pur cercando di estendere anche alla plebe il matrimonio cum manu, fu tuttavia nella necessità di aprire l'adito fin d'allora al matrimonio sine manu, accordando alla donna di sottrarsi al vincolo della manus, mediante l'usurpatio trinoctii, ossia l'interruzione della coabitazione per tre notti di seguito. 520 vantaggio di isolare ciò, che havvi di giuridico nella famiglia, da ogni elemento estraneo, e di sottoporre così all'elaborazione giari dica una istituzione, in cui le considerazioni religiose e morali avrebbero ad ogni istante impedito l'applicazionedella logica propria del diritto (iuris ratio ). Si aggiunga, che questa apparenza, pressochè inumana, non produsse in realtà alcun inconveniente, poichè essa punto non impedi, che il costume temperasse il rigore della costru zione giuridica; che il iudicium de moribus, dalle XII Tavole affi dato al pretore, impedisse al padre la dilapidazione del patrimonio famigliare; che il censore, vindice della morale, punisse in effetto il padre, che abusasse de' proprii poteri; e che infine il diritto stesso intervenisse a moderare i poteri spettanti al capo di famiglia, al lorchè, per il corrompersi dei costumi, cominciò a sentirsi il pericolo, che egli potesse abusare dei medesimi. 404. Intanto una importante conseguenza di questo svolgimento storico fu anche questa, che, siccome nell'organizzazione gentilizia tutto l'ordinamento famigliare metteva capo al concetto del con nubium, cosi anche tutto l'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia qui ritaria sembra essere derivato da quest'unico concetto. Quel connubium infatti, che nei rapporti fra le varie genti aveva significato quella facoltà di imparentarsi, che di regola era circo scritta ai membri delle genti, che appartenevano allo stesso nomen, trasportato nel diritto quiritario, venne a trasformarsi nel ius con nubii ex iure quiritium, ossia nel diritto di addivenire alle iustae nuptiae, riconosciute dai quiriti, e di dare così origine ad una fa miglia, organizzata ex iure quiritium, con tutte le conseguenze, che potevano derivarne (1). Quindi è, che anche la famiglia ex iure (1) Io parlo ancora qui di una famiglia ex iure quiritium: ma, a scanso di equi voci, devo far notare, che siccome l'organizzazione della famiglia romana non venne ad essere comune ai due ordini del patriziato e della plebe, che dopo la legislazione decemvirale e la legge Canaleia, così l'espressione, solitamente adoperata da Gaio e da Ulpiano relativamente al ius familiae, non è più quella di ius quiritium,ma bensì quella di ius proprium civium romanorum; poichè in quell'epoca il concetto del quirite già si era allargato in quello del civis romanus, e per conseguenza il ius quiritium si era in certo modo travasato nel ius proprium civium romanorum. Di qui consegue che mentre, per quello che si riferisce al ius commercü, i giurecon sulti parlano, ancora sempre del ius quiritium (Gaio, II, 40), trattandosi invece della manus (Id., I, 108 ) e della patria potestas (ID., I, 55 ), parlano invece di un ius proprium civium romanorum. 521 – quiritium, al pari del dominium ex iure quiritium, venne a costituire una famiglia privilegiata, che può giustamente chiamarsi propria civium romanorum, in quanto essa ha certi caratteri, che la contraddistinguono da ogni altra: quali sono la manus delmarito sulla moglie, la patria potestas del padre sui figli, l'agnazione, che stringe i varii membri di essa e che viene a costituire il fonda mento della tutela e della successione legittima. Del resto il concetto, che tutti i diritti di famiglia discendono in sostanza dal connubium, ha eziandio un fondamento nella realtà; perchè è col connubio che viene a costituirsi una nuova famiglia, la quale poi si esplica nella figliuolanza: il qual concetto, trovasi mi rabilmente espresso da Cicerone, allorchè scrive: « prima societas in coniugio, proxima in liberis; deinde una domus, communia omnia » (1). Diqui derivò la conseguenza, che la famiglia quiritaria, pur essendo il frutto di una lunga e lenta elaborazione giuridica, fini in sostanza per modellarsi sulla realtà dei fatti, e per cogliere, per cosi esprimerci, l'essenza giuridica di essi. Essa quindi costi tuisce un tutto organico e coerente in tutte le sue parti, il cui svol. gimento può appunto essere studiato, nei tre momenti essenziali, per cui passa l'organismo famigliare, cioè: lº nella sua origine, ossia nella iustae nuptiae e negli effetti giuridici che derivano da esse; 2 ° nel suo svolgimento, ossia nei rapporti fra il capo di fami glia e le persone che ne dipendono; 3º e da ultimo nel suo disciogliersi per la morte del proprio capo, scioglimento che dà occasione alla successione ed alla tutela legittima, fondate sul vincolo dell’agnazione. 405. Siccome poi in questa parte il diritto delle genti patrizie riuscì a penetrare, pressochè intatto nel diritto civile romano, e ad imporre a tutti i cittadini una organizzazione domestica, che era propria soltanto di una minoranza, e che per giunta era una so pravvivenza di un periodo anteriore di convivenza sociale; cosi, in tema di diritto famigliare, venne a farsi manifesto,meglio che altrove, il conflitto fra le istituzioni, che riuscirono a penetrare nel diritto quiritario, e quelle invece, che continuarono a vivere nel costume. Questo conflitto, che può scorgersi in ogni parte del diritto fami gliare, è sopratutto evidente nella lotta fra il matrimonio cum manu (1) Cic., De officiis, I, 17, 54. 522 e quello sine manu; in quella fra l'agnazione e la cognazione; e in quella fra la successione e tutela legittima e la successione e tutela testamentaria; e più tardi anche nella lotta fra l'hereditas e la bonorum possessio. Sono queste lotte, che danno interesse allo svolgimento storico delle istituzioni famigliari, spiegano le modifica zioni lente e graduate che si introdussero nelle medesime, e dimo strano come anche in questa parte, alla parte del diritto già formato e consolidato, se ne contrapponga costantemente un'altra, che tro vasi in via di formazione, e che tenta di temperare il rigore delle primitive istituzioni quiritarie. § 2. – Le iustae nuptiae e la storia primitiva del matrimonio quiritario. 406. Anche nella parte, che si riferisce al matrimonio romano, gli ultimi studii conducono al risultato, che il medesimo, al pari della proprietà e del negozio giuridico, dovette incominciare da un concetto tipico, che è quello del matrimonio cum manu. Non è già che in Roma primitiva non potessero esistere altre forme più umili di matrimonio, sopratutto nelle costumanze della plebe; ma il ius quiritium non si curò dapprima delle medesime, e non riconobbe gli effetti quiritarii, che al matrimonio cum manu (1). Che anzi vi sono forti indizii per supporre, che l'unica forma solenne, per contrarre il matrimonio quiritario, stata riconosciuta finchè duro la città esclusivamente patrizia, fu quella accompagnata dalla cerimonia re ligiosa della confarreatio, la quale importava fra i coniugi la comunione delle cose divine ed umane. Cid sarebbe in parte (1) Questa è la conseguenza, a cui giunse fra gli altri l'Esmein, nel suo scritto: La manus, la paternité et le divorce dans l'ancien droit romain, nei « Mélanges d'histoire du droit », Paris 1886, pag. 6. Una prova poi di quest'antico diritto l'abbiamo in questo, che la moglie, in questo primo periodo, chiamavasi materfami lias, e tale nell'antico diritto era soltanto la moglie, quae in manu 'convenerat. Sono testuali in proposito le affermazioni di CICERONE, Top. 3, il quale scrive: « genus est enim wor; eius duae formae: una matrumfamilias, earum quae in manum convenerunt, altera earum, quae tantummodo uxores habentur ». La cosa poi è confermata da Gellio, XVIII, 6, 9, ove dice: « matremfamilias appellatam eam solam, quae in maritimanu mancipioque erat », e da Nonio MARCELLO nel passo riportato dal BRUNS, Fontes, pag. 390. Sopratutto è degno di nota, che l'espres sione di materfamilias è pur quella adoperata nella formola dell'adrogatio, conser vataci dallo stesso Gellio, V, 19, 9. Cfr. in proposito KARLOWA, Formen den rö mischen Ehe und manus, pag. 71, e il Brini, Op. cit., pag. 37. 523 comprovato dalla circostanza, che le leggi regie, ogniqualvolta ac cennano al matrimonio, si riferiscono in modo espresso al matri monio per confarreationem. Così, per esempio, Dionisio attribuisce a Romolo di aver richiamato alla pudicizia le donne romane, rico noscendo questa sola forma di matrimonio, e parla anche di una legge attribuita a Numa, con cui sarebbesi stabilito, che il figlio, il quale fosse addivenuto alle nozze confarreate col consenso del ge nitore, non potesse più essere venduto dal medesimo (1). Tutto ciò significa, che le genti patrizie, fondatrici della città, presero senz'altro le mosse da una forma di matrimonio, che pree • sisteva nel periodo gentilizio, e che il loro matrimonio continud nella città a celebrarsi con una certa solennità religiosa e patriarcale; come lo dimostrano l'intervento del pontefice e del flamine di Giove, la cerimonia simbolica per cui i coniugi gustano insieme il pane di farro, ed anche la presenza dei dieci testimonii, in cui si vollero ravvisare i rappresentanti delle curie, in cui dividevasi la tribù, a cui appartenevano gli sposi. Non pud poi esservi dubbio intorno al l'altissimo concetto, che queste genti patrizie avevano del matrimonio, il quale, oltre all'essere strettamente monogamo, importava l'unione perpetua de' coniugi, e la comunione fra essi delle cose divine ed umane (divini et humani iuris comunicatio). Che anzi, a questo proposito, sembra pure essere probabile, che questa forma primitiva di matrimonio non potesse dapprima dar luogo al divortium, ma soltanto al repudium, il quale doveva essere accompagnato dalla cerimonia religiosa della diffarreatio, e poteva solo aver luogo nei casi, che erano determinati dal costume e dalla legge (2). Cosi pure è a questo primitivo concetto del matrimonio presso le genti pa trizie, che deve rannodarsi quel disprezzo per la donna che passi a seconde nozze, di cui trovansi ancora le traccie nel diritto poste riore di Roma (3 ). Ad ogni modo egli è certo, che questa forma di matrimonio, in (1) Dion., II, 25 e 27. V. sopra lib. II, nº 268, pag. 329 e seg. (2) Cid sarebbe attestato da PLUTARCO, nella Vita di Romolo, 22, in un passo, che è riportato dal Bruns, Fontes, pag. 6. Una prova poi, che il matrimonio per confar reationem doveva durare tutta la vita, si rinvien lle attestazioni di Gellio, X, 15, 23, e di Festo, vº Flammeo, dalle quali risulta, che alla moglie del flamine di Giove, le cui nuptiae farreatae erano un ricordo del matrimonio primitivo, non era consentito il divorzio. Cfr. Esmein, Op. cit., pag. 17. (3) È a consultarsi in proposito il dotto lavoro del DELVECCHIO, Le seconde noeze del coniuge superstite, Firenze 1885, pag. 12 a 15. 524 cui apparisce quel carattere eminentemente religioso, che è proprio delle genti patrizie, non poteva appartenere alla plebe. Per questa il matrimonio dovette avere più un'esistenza di fatto, che una con. sacrazione di diritto, e consistere in una unione fondata sul reci proco consenso, fatta manifesta mediante la coabitazione dei coniugi, piuttosto che con cerimonie di carattere giuridico e religioso ad un tempo. 407. Era frammezzo a queste due istituzioni, di carattere compiu tamente diverso, di cui una era forse importata dall'antico Oriente, mentre l'altra si ispirava alle tendenze spontanee dell'umana natura, che dovette formarsi un diritto comune alle due classi. Questo fu il problema, che dovette risolvere la legislazione decemvirale, e la cui difficoltà era tanto più grande, in quanto è probabile, che le classi più infime della plebe stentassero a comprendere un matri monio, come quello cum manu, che costituiva la moglie in condi zione di figlia del proprio marito. Questo potere del marito, il quale, corretto dal patriarcale costume, conduceva all'unificazione della fa miglia patrizia, poteva invece cambiarsi in un dispotismo pericoloso, allorchè fosse esteso a classi sociali, che non vi fossero preparate da una lunga educazione civile. È questa speciale condizione di cose, che spiega i singolari tem peramenti, che a questo proposito furono adottati dalla legislazione decemvirale. In questa infatti i decemviri, mentre da una parte si studiano di fornire alla plebe un facile mezzo per addivenire allo acquisto della manus, e di dar cosi carattere giuridico al proprio matrimonio, collo stabilire che basti perciò la coabitazione di un anno (usus), dall'altra si trovano nella necessità di aprire l'adito ad un matrimonio sine manu, accordando alla donna il mezzo di sottrarsi alla manus, coll'interrompere la coabitazione per tre notti di seguito (trinoctium ) (1). 408. Colla legislazione decemvirale non sembra essersi andato più oltre nella elaborazione di un diritto comune ai due ordini; poiché (1) In base all'attestazione di Gaio, I, 111, l'usus, qual mezzo di acquisto della manus, non fu che un'applicazione della teoria dell'usucapione: la donna poi, che avesse voluto sottrarvisi, doveva ogni anno interrompere la coabitazione per tre notti di seguito. Questa parte della legge sarebbe dal Voigt, XII Tafeln, I, pag. 708, assegnata al n° 1', tav. IV, e ricostrutta nei seguenti termini: « si qua nollet in manu mariti convenire, quotannis trinoctio usum interficito ». - 525 sussisteva ancora il divieto dei connubii fra il patriziato e la plebe. Quando invece il divieto fu tolto dalla legge Canuleia, si dovette sentire la necessità di introdurre un modo essenzialmente quiritario per l'acquisto della manus, che poteva essere comune al patriziato ed alla plebe. Fu allora, che si ebbe ricorso a quell'atto per aes et libram, che era la forma solenne propria del negozio quiritario, e si diede cosi origine alla coemptio, quale modo di acquistare la manus (1). Non potrei quindi ammettere l'opinione, che considera la coemptio, come la forma essenzialmente plebea del matrimonio cum manu, e neppur quella, che ravvisa nella medesima una compra della moglie per parte del marito. La coemptio in Roma non fu che un'applicazione dell'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che era l'atto per aes et libram, e venne cosi ad essere un espediente giuridico per esprimere l'acquisto di quel potere del marito sulla moglie, che nel ius quiritium era indicato col vocabolo generico di manus (2 ). (1) La questione della precedenza dei varii modi riconosciuti dal diritto romano per l'acquisto della manus fu assai discussa in questi ultimi tempi. Secondo il Mac LENNAN, Primitive marriage, 2me édit., 1876, pag. 71,avrebbe preceduto l'usus, poscia sarebbesi introdotta la coemptio, e da ultimo sarebbe venuta la confarreatio. Anche secondo il BERNHÖFT, Staat und Recht der römischen Konigszeit, 1882, pag. 187, l'usus sarebbe più antico della coemptio: mentre invece quest'ultima, secondo il Karlowa, Formen der römischen Ehe und manus, pag. 59, avrebbe avuta la precedenza sull'usus. Per risolvere la questione conviene bene intenderci. O si vuol fare la storia dei modi di contrarre il matrimonio presso le primitive genti italiche, e in allora non ripugna, che anche presso le medesime la moglie sia stata prima rapita e poscia comprata; o si vuol invece determinare l'ordine, in cui queste varie forme penetrarono nel diritto romano, e in allora, pur ammettendo, che i vocaboli del primitivo diritto romano possano ancora richiamare uno stato ante riore di cose, si può però affermare con certezza, che le varie forme di matrimonio, adottate dal diritto romano, sono già il frutto di una vera e propria elaborazione giuridica. Quanto all'ordine cronologico, con cui queste varie forme furono accolte, esso non potè essere che il seguente, cioè dapprima fa accolta nel ius proprium civium romanorum la confarreatio dei patres o patricii; poscia fu riconosciuto l'usus di un anno per dar carattere giuridico alle unioni della plebe; da ultimo, quando si comunicarono i connubii, comparve anche la coemptio, la quale fu comune ai due ordini, e come tale finì per avere la prevalenza su tutti gli altri modi di acquistare la manus. Cfr. ESMEIN, Op. cit., pag. 8 e 9. (2) Non posso quindi accogliere l'opinione sostenuta da molti autori, che la coemptio fosse di origine plebea, e che essa implicasse la compra della moglie per parte del marito. Cfr. SCHUPFER, La famiglia nel diritto romano; Voigt, XII, Tafeln, II, $ 159; BRINI, Matrimonio e divorzio, pag. 50 e segg. La coemptio non fu invece, che una nuova applicazione dell'atto per aes et libram, e perciò deve ritenersi come una creazione del diritto quiritario, nell'intento di attri 526 Essa quindi, al pari di ogni atto quiritario, componevasi di due parti, cioè: lº dell'atto per aes et libram, compiuto colle solite formalità ed inteso ad esprimere l'acquisto della manus per parte del marito; 20 e della nuncupatio solenne, le cui parole non ci sono perve nute, ma la cui sostanza, secondo Servio e Boezio, consisteva in una reciproca interrogazione, con cui lo sposo interrogava la sposa se volesse assumere a suo riguardo la qualità di madre di famiglia, e questa interrogava lo sposo se volesse assumere quella di padre di famiglia. Ciò intanto ci spiega, come la coemptio, sotto un aspetto, abbia potuto essere descritta da Gaio come una compra fittizia della moglie per parte del marito, e sotto un altro invece colla sua stessa denominazione sembri indicare il reciproco consenso degli sposi nel riconoscersi rispettivamente la qualità di padre e di madre di famiglia (invicem se coemebant) (1). È poi probabile, che, come il vocabolo di coemptio è certamente modellato su quello di confarreatio, cosi anche le parole solenni, che accompagnavano la coemptio, fossero una imitazione di quelle, che erano adoperate nella confarreatio, esclusi però i riti religiosi, che accompagnavano quest'ultima. 409. Questo svolgimento storico deimodi, riconosciuti dal diritto quiritario, per contrarre il matrimonio cum manu, lascia abbastanza buire la manus al marito, e di attribuire carattere giuridico al matrimonio romano. In esso quindi è già scomparsa qualsiasi idea di vendita della figlia, sebbene non sia improbabile, che il vocabolo possa ancora ricordare un' epoca anteriore, in cui la moglie fosse effettivamente comprata. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Op. cit., pag. 65, e sopratutto l'appendice sulla coemptio in fine al volume, nota B, pag. 441. (1) Che l'essenza della coemptio fosse per dir così simboleggiata in un reciproco acquisto, che facevano i due sposi, non è solo comprovato dal vocabolo, ma è atte stato da Servio, in Aen., IV, 103 (Bruns, pag.402), allorchè dice: « Mulier atque vir inter se quasi coemptionem faciunt; da Nonio MARCELLO, vº nubentes (Bruns, pag. 370); da Isidoro, Orig., $ 24, 26 (Bruns, pag. 407); e sopratutto da Boazio nei commenti alla Top. di Cic., dove, appoggiandosi all'autorità di Ulpiano, dice che il marito e la moglie « sese in coemendo invicem interrogabant » (BRUNS, pag. 399). Solo farebbe eccezione Gaio, I, 113, il quale dice, che nell'atto per aes et libram « is emit mulierem, cuius in manum convenit »; ma la cosa si comprende, quando si tenga conto che la coemptio componevasi di due parti, e quindi se nel l'atto per aes et libram doveva certo figurare come compratore il marito, che acqui stava la manus, nulla impedisce, che nella nuncupatio gli sposi apparissero uguali, e reciprocamente si interrogassero se volessero assumere rispettivamente fra di loro la qualità di pater e di materfamilias, V. in senso contrario BRINI, Op. cit., pag. 51 e segg. 527 scorgere il contributo diverso, che vi arrecarono il patriziato e la plebe. Non vi ha dubbio anzitutto, che la confarreatio dovette essere di origine patrizia, come lo dimostrano il suo carattere eminente mente religioso, e l'origine di essa, che rimonta ad un'epoca ante riore all'ammessione della plebe alla cittadinanza romana. Che anzi, egli è probabile, che, anche dopo, la confarreatio abbia continuato ad essere usata di preferenza dalle genti originariamente patrizie, come lo dimostra il fatto, che essa continud a sussistere anche sotto gli imperatori, sopratutto per considerazioni di carattere religioso. Noi sappiamo infatti, che i figli nati da tale matrimonio conserva rono più tardi certi privilegii religiosi, che convengono assai bene ai discendenti dell'antico patriziato. Essi soli infatti erano ammessi a certi sacerdozii; soli potevano figurare in certe cerimonie reli giose, ed erano anche indicati coi nomi speciali di patrimi e di matrimi. Così pure il matrimonio per confarreationem era il solo, a cui potessero addivenire i flamini di Giove, di Marte e di Qui rino, i quali negli inizii dovevano appartenere all'ordine patrizio (1). Per contro può affermarsi con una certa probabilità, che l'usus, ossia la coabitazione non interrotta per un anno, qual mezzo per fare acquistare la manus, non potè essere che un mezzo per tras formare i matrimonii di fatto, proprii della plebe, in matrimonii di diritto, che come tali erano produttivi della manus. Ciò spiega come l'usus, quanto aimatrimonii, abbia potuto produrre lo stesso effetto dell'usucapio, quanto all'acquisto della proprietà ex iure quiritium, e come i decemviri abbiano applicato la stessa regola in argomenti, che pur erano cosi compiutamente diversi (2 ). Da ultimo la coemptio vuol essere considerata come il modo di contrarre il matrimonio cum manu, essenzialmente proprio dei quiriti, e come tale dovette essere introdotto, quando già erano permessi i connubii fra patrizii e plebei, cosicchè essa, fin dalle sue origini, dovette essere comune agli uni ed agli altri. Noi troviamo (1) Gaio, I, 112. Nel passo già citato di Boezio, in cui egli parla delle varie forme di matrimonio, fondandosi sull'autorità di Ulpiano (Bruns, pag. 399), si dice espressamente che « confarreatio solis pontificibus conveniebat ». Cfr. Esmein, Op. cit., pag. 7, nota 1. (2) La ragione fu questa, che tanto l'usucapio, applicata alle cose, quanto l'usus, qual mezzo per acquistare la manus, si proposero il medesimo'intento, quello cioè di cambiare una posizione di fatto in una posizione di diritto. 528 infatti, che la coemptio viene ad essere la forma dimatrimonio, che incontra maggior favore presso le varie classi dei cittadini; cosicchè, nei rapporti di famiglia, essa sembra compiere quella funzione stessa, che compie la mancipatio nel trasferimento della proprietà quiritaria. Quindi al modo stesso, che accanto alla mancipatio effettiva abbiamo visto svolgersi la mancipatio cum fiducia, così accanto alla coemptio effettiva, che sottoponeva la moglie alla manus del marito, vediamo pure svolgersi quel singolare istituto della coemptio fiduciaria, la quale serve come espediente per sottrarre la donna alla tutela degli agnati, e per metterla in condizione di poter fare testamento (1). Intanto perd la coemptio dovette avere per effetto di attribuire un carattere essenzialmente civile almatrimonio, che nella confar reatio aveva un carattere eminentemente religioso. Quindi viene ad essere probabile, che colla introduzione di essa anche il matrimonio cum manu abbia cominciato ad essere suscettivo del divorzio, il che non sarebbe consentaneo col carattere religioso della confarreatio. Nella coemptio infatti la manus viene ad essere l'effetto di un con tratto, e perciò può essere risolta nel modo stesso, in cui ebbe ad essere acquistata, cioè mediante la remancipatio (2 ). 410. Intanto il carattere e l'origine diversa dei varii modi per contrarre il matrimonio cum manu, pud anche spiegare le sorti (1) GAIO, I, 114 a 116. (2) GAIO, I, 115 e 137. Se siammette che il matrimonio primitivo per confarreatio nem non consentisse il divorzio, è un grave problema quello di spiegare, come il mede simo abbia potuto essere introdotto anche nel matrimonio cum manu, e persino essere esteso al matrimonio per confarreationem, il quale doveva però ancor sempre essere accompagnato dalla diffarreatio. V. Festus, pº diffarreatio; Bruns, pag. 336. Alcuni ritengono, che il divortium abbia cominciato a svolgersi nel matrimonio sine manu, e poi da questo siasi anche esteso a quello cum manu (Cfr. Esmein, Op. cit., pag. 23 e segg.); ma non parmi probabile un'imitazione di questa natura. Piuttosto il cambiamento venne a farsi, allorchè, accanto al matrimonio religioso per confar reationem, venne a svolgersi il matrimonio civile per coemptionem. Fa in quella occasione, che al rito religioso sottentrò l'idea del contratto, la quale rese applica bile il divortium, anche al matrimonio cum manu. L'applicabilità poi di questo divortium anche al matrimonio cum manu, e precisamente a quello contratto per coemptionem, parmi che non possa essere posta in dubbio di fronte al passo di Gaio,. I, 137, ove, paragonando la moglie ad una figlia di famiglia, dopo aver detto che la figlia non può costringere il padre ad emanciparla, aggiunge quanto alla moglie: « haec autem (virum ), repudio misso, proinde compellere potest, atque si ei nun quam nupta fuisset ». 529 diyerse, che ciascuno di essi ebbe nell'ulteriore svolgimento del diritto civile romano. Noi sappiamo infatti, che l'usus, fra i modi di acquistare la manus, fu il primo a scomparire, poichè secondo Gaio « hoc ius partim legibus sublatum est, partim ipsa desuetudine obliteratum est» (1). Esso infatti era stato un espediente per dar carattere quiritario ai matrimonii della plebe, che prima non l'avevano, e quindi si com prende che le leggi e il costume tendessero ad abolirlo, allorchè, mediante la coemptio, anche la plebe venne ad avere un mezzo di retto per acquistare la manus. La confarreatio invece, colla introduzione della coemptio, venne ad essere più circoscritta nel proprio uso, ma intanto fu quella, che ebbe a perdurare più lungamente; provenisse ciò dalla tenacità con servatrice, che era propria delle genti patrizie, o da considerazioni di carattere religioso. Questo è certo, che Gaio parla della confar reatio, come di cerimonia che era in uso ancora ai suoi tempi; poichè i flamini maggiori e il rex sacrorum dovevano esser nati da nozze confarreate, e non potevano contrarre altrimenti il proprio matrimonio. Noi sappiamo tuttavia da Tacito, che il mantenere questa antica tradizione ebbe talvolta a dar luogo a difficoltà, per trovare le persone, che potessero essere elevate alla dignità di fla mini, il che sarebbe appunto accaduto al tempo di Tiberio, e che le matrone ottennero in quell'occasione dal senato, che il matri monio per confarreationem non dovesse più produrre gli effetti di un tempo, sopratutto quanto ai diritti del marito sui beni della moglie (2 ) Infine la coemptio diventò senz'alcun dubbio il modo più frequente per contrarre il matrimonio cum manu, e non scomparve che cessare di questa forma di matrimonio; cessazione, che venne ope randosi verso il finire dell'epoca repubblicana, più nel costume che per opera di legge, stante la prevalenza sempre maggiore, che venne acquistando il matrimonio sine manu (3 ). (1) Gaio, I, 111. (2 ) GAIO, I, 36; Tacito, Ann. IV, 6. (3 ) La laudatio Thuriae scritta dal marito, Q. Lucrezio Vespillone, console nel 735 di Roma, riportata dal BRUNS, pag. 303 e seg., dimostra che verso il finire della Repubblica il matrimonio sine manu già cominciava a praticarsi anche nelle grandi famiglie. Tuttavia il fare un elogio speciale di Turia per aver fatto a meno della conventio in manu, a differenza della sua sorella, e per avere, malgrado di ciò, lasciato il suo patrimonio all'amministrazione del marito, dimostra che un fatto (Un autore recente, il Bernhöft, ebbe a considerare l'esten dersi e il prevalere del matrimonio sine manu, come un segno di decadenza del primitivo costume di Roma (1 ). A me parrebbe invece, che questa importantissima trasformazione dell'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia romana, debba essere considerata come una conse guenza necessaria dello svolgimento della vita cittadina, che veniva a poco a poco cancellando le vestigia dell'anteriore organizzazione patriarcale. È ovvio infatti lo scorgere, che la manus, mentre era una istituzione confacente all'organizzazione gentilizia, perchè da una parte serviva ad unificare la famiglia, e dall'altra era temperata dal patriarcale costume, trapiantata invece nella città, ove le famiglie vivevano isolate le une dalle altre, poteva essere sorgente di gravi pericoli, sopratutto nelle infime classi della plebe, poichè lasciava la moglie priva di qualsiasi difesa, contro il potere dispotico del proprio marito. Fu questo il motivo, per cui i decemviri, i quali pur miravano, come si è veduto, ad estendere a tutte le classi dei cittadini l'or. ganizzazione patriarcale della famiglia patrizia, si trovarono tuttavia nella necessità di lasciar l'adito aperto ad un matrimonio sine manu, dando alle donne il singolare diritto di interrompere l'usus, collo assentarsi dalla casa maritale per tre notti di seguito. Fu poi una conseguenza di questo provvedimento, che in ogni tempo in Roma, accanto al vero matrimonio ex iure quiritium, venne ad esistere di fatto un matrimonio sine manu, che non producera le conse guenze rigide del matrimonio cum manu. Il diritto civile non si preoccupo dapprima di questa forma più umile di matrimonio, e quindi esso si limitò a svolgersi come un matrimonio di fatto, di fronte al vero matrimonio ex iure quiritium, che era il matri monio cum manu. Giunse però un tempo, in cui lo svolgersi della vita cittadina finì per rendere grave il vincolo della manus, anche per le donne, che appartenevano alle classi sociali più elevate, e fu in allora che il matrimonio sine manu cominciò ad entrare nella pratica comune, e dovette essere preso in considerazione anche dal diritto proprio dei quiriti. Tutto ciò però accadde lentamente e gra datamente, per modo che lo svolgimento del matrimonio sinemanu, simile costituiva ancora a quei tempi una eccezione degna di nota nelle famiglie di condizione elevata. Cfr. De-Rossi, L'elogio funebre di Turia, negli « Studii e do cumenti di storia e diritto ». Roma, 1880, pag. 17. (1) BERNHöft, Op. cit., pag. 179. Cfr. Voigt, XII Tafeln, di fronte a quello cum manu, presenta una singolare analogia collo svolgersi della proprietà in bonis, di fronte alla proprietà ex iure quiritium. Quindi al modo stesso, che la proprietà in bonis:i venne a poco a poco modellando su quella ex iure quiritium, così anche il matrimonio sine manu venne delineandosi lentamente sulmodello del matrimonio cum manu, per modo che esso fini per assorbire ed assimilare in se medesimo il concetto etico, che ispirava il primitivo matrimonio delle genti patrizie, che era il matrimonio cum manu. Quindi è, che nel matrimonio sine manu scompariscono bensì le 80 lennità dirette all'acquisto della manus, ma si mantiene la neces sità della deductio della sposa in domum mariti, quasi ad indicare che essa abbandona la casa del padre per entrare in quella del marito, la quale continua sempre a considerarsi come il domicilium matrimonii. Così pure anche nel matrimonio sinemanu si trasfonde il concetto altissimo del matrimonio cum manu, come lo dimostrano la maritalis affectio, e la perpetua vitae consuetudo, di cui parlano i giureconsulti classici nella definizione del matrimonio, al lorchè era già scomparsa la manus (1). 412. Cid pero non impedisce, che dalla sostituzione delmatrimonio sine manu a quello cum manu, siano derivati degli importantissimi effetti nell'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia romana, che possono essere cosi riassunti: lº Accanto al concetto della materfamilias, che era in certo modo assorbita nella personalità del capo di famiglia, viene a deli nearsi la figura dell'uxor, la quale, senza essere uguale al marito (vir ), comincia però già ad avere una propria personalità giuridica, distinta da quella del marito; 2 ° La pratica del divorzio viene ad essere più facile, poichè, più non essendovi l'acquisto della manus, più non si dovette richie (1) Credo che questa analogia fra il processo seguito dai Romani nello svolgere il diritto di famiglia e quello di proprietà non apparirà come puramente fantastica, quando si tenga conto della correlazione evidente fra il concetto dei matrimonii cum manu e sine manu coi concetti del mancipium e del nec mancipium, e più tardi con quelli del dominium ex iure quiritium e di quello in bonis; fra la fun zione, che compie la mancipatio, in tema di proprietà, e quella che compie la coemptio, in tema dimatrimonio; tra la mancipatio cum fiducia e la coemptio fidu ciae causa; e infine la correlazione anche più singolare fra l'usus auctoritas, appli cato all'acquisto dei fondi, e l'usus, applicato all'acquisto della manus sulla moglie. 532 - dere per il divorzio, nè la diffarreatio, nè la remancipatio, ma poté bastare il reciproco consenso del marito e della moglie; 3° Sopratutto poi ebbe ad avverarsi un grave cambiamento nella posizione economica della moglie di fronte al marito. Senza affermare infatti, che l'istituto della dote sia veramente sorto col matrimonio sine manu, questo è certo, che la dote, qual concorso della moglie a sostenere i pesi del matrimonio, non potè svolgersi che col matrimonio sine manu; poichè un simile concorso non avrebbe potuto avverarsi di fronte a quell'unificazione potente, che veniva ad essere l'effetto della manus. Cid intanto ci spiega, come la dote, anche col matrimonio sine manu, abbia cominciato dal di ventare proprietà del marito, e siansi richieste stipulazioni speciali, perchè esso o i suoi eredi fossero tenuti a restituirla (1). Non potrei invece ammettere, che il matrimonio sine manu debba considerarsi come una causa della decadenza della corruzione del costume romano. Basta perciò osservare, che il matrimonio sine manu, quale ebbe ad esser concepito dai romani, poteva condurre ad un ideale più elevato dello stesso matrimonio cum manu. In questo infatti l'unità della famiglia veniva ad essere imposta dalla legge, mentre nel matrimonio libero la comunione delle cose divine ed umane veniva ad essere il frutto del libero accordo e della con fidenza reciproca (2). Non fu quindi il matrimonio sine manu, che O per (1 ) Sonovi autori, che vorrebbero rannodare l'origine dell'istituto della dote al matrimonio sine manu, V. fra gli altri PADELLETTI, Op. cit., pagg. 172-73, e il Cogliolo, Saggi di evoluzione, pag. 33. A questo proposito conviene intenderci. O per dote si intende cid che la moglie o il padre di lei consegna al marito in occa sione del matrimonio, e la dote in questo senso dovette rimontare anche all'epoca del matrimonio cum manu, come lo dimostra l'esistenza di un'antichissima dotis dictio e di un'actio dictae dotis. Cfr. Voigt, XII Tafeln, II, pag. 486. dote si intende invece l'istituto già svolto, per modo che essa venga ad apparire come il concorso della moglie a sostenere i pesi del matrimonio ed attribuisca alla moglie una personalità distinta da quella del marito, e questa non potè svolgersi col ma trimonio sine manu, perchè in quello cum manu lo svolgimento dell'istituto era impedito dall'unificazione potente della famiglia e del suo patrimonio nella persona del proprio capo. Intanto ciò spiega la necessità di apposite stipulazioni, per la resti tuzione della dote, intorno alle quali è da vedersi GELLIO, IV, 3, il quale dice, che la opportunità di esse avrebbe cominciato a sentirsi dopo il divorzio di Spurio Carvilio Ruga, seguito nel 523 dalla fondazione di Roma. (2 ) Cfr. in proposito quanto scrive il Labbé nell'articolo intitolato: Du mariage romain et de la manus, nella « Nouvelle Revue historique »  corruppe il costume, ma fu piuttosto il costume che abbassò l'altis. simo concetto del matrimonio. $ 3. — Il pater familias e i poteri al medesimo spettanti. 413. Fermo il concetto, che in Roma primitiva la famiglia, sotto il punto di vista giuridico, costituisce un tutto organico, separato da ogni altro ed ordinato sotto il potere del proprio capo, sarà facile il comprendere come la logica quiritaria non scorgesse nella mede sima che un capo, il quale comanda, ed un complesso di persone, le quali debbono obbedire. Da una parte havvi il pater familias, che è l'unica personalità giuridica riconosciuta dal primitivo ius qui ritium: dall'altra sonvi le persone, che dipendono da esso, cioè la moglie, i figli ed i servi, che in antico dovettero tutte essere sot toposte alla medesima manus, e furono perfino indicate col vocabolo generico e comprensivo di familia od anche dimancipium. Il padre è quegli, che è padrone nella casa, che figura nel censo colle persone e cose che da lui dipendono, che risponde di tutti i suoi dipendenti di fronte alla comunanza quiritaria; perciò i diritti, che a lui spet tano sulle persone componenti la famiglia, sono modellati in tutto e per tutto su quelli, che a lui appartengono sul patrimonio della medesima. Ciò tuttavia non deve essere considerato come un indizio, che i romani confondessero il potere sulle persone col potere sulle cose; ma soltanto che essi, nel modellare la costruzione giuridica della famiglia, si collocarono al punto di vista del mio e del tuo, e una volta accolto il medesimo lo spinsero a tutte le conseguenze, di cui poteva essere capace. Intanto se nella concezione primitiva era unico il potere spettante al capo di famiglia sulla moglie, sui figli e sui servi, viene pure ad essere probabile, che questo potere sia stato indicato con un unico vocabolo, il quale con tutta verosimiglianza dovette essere quello di manus, la quale designava in genere la potestà giuridica spet tante al quirite (1). Fu poi nell'elaborazione ulteriore, che in questo (1) L'autore, che ha recato incontestabilmente il maggior numero di prove per dimostrare, che il vocabolo di manus indicò in genere la potestà giuridica, spettante al capo di famiglia, è certamente il Voigt, Op. cit., II, SS 79 e 80. Cid però non toglie che il vocabolo di manus, pur indicando in senso largo la potestà spettante anche sulle cose, designasse in modo più specifico il potere sulle persone, e fosse così pres sochè un sinonimo di potestas. 534 concetto sintetico e comprensivo cominciò ad apparire una prima distinzione, per cui mentre il vocabolo di manus, pur conservando in qualche caso la sua significazione generica, fini per indicare più specialmente il potere del marito sulla moglie, quello invece di po testas indico di preferenza il potere del padre sui figli e sui servi, e venne cosi a distinguersi in patria ed in dominica potestas. Quanto al vocabolo mancipium, esso non scomparve, ma fini per restringersi ad indicare il complesso delle cose spettanti al capo di famiglia, e qualche volta servi ad indicare il complesso dei servi. Infine, siccome anche le persone libere potevano essere date a mancipio, ed essere poste così transitoriamente in condizione di servitù; cosi dovette pure aggiungersi la categoria giuridica delle persone « quae in mancipii causa sunt » e che come tali « servo rum loco habentur.” Allorchè poi questi aspetti diversi di un unico potere si furono differenziati gli uni dagli altri, ciascuno potè obbedire al proprio concetto ispiratore, e ricevere cosi uno svolgimento storico compiutamente diverso. Di questi poteri, quello, che per il primo ebbe a sostenere un rude conflitto colle esigenze della vita cittadina, fu la manus, ossia il potere del marito sulla moglie. Sopravvivenza dell'organizzazione patriarcale, la manus appariva disadatta nella città, ove non era più temperata dal patriarcale costume, e convertivasi in un potere dispotico del marito sulla moglie. Se a ciò si aggiunga, che le donne, le quali avevano da sottomettersi alla manus, dovevano prima consentirvi, e avevano per giunta la protezione dei proprii genitori, sarà facile il comprendere come la conventio in manu, dopo essere stata la regola, sia divenuta l'eccezione, finchè fini per cadere com piutamente in disuso. Con ciò non deve già intendersi, che il marito perdesse ogni autorità sulla propria moglie, ma solo che la moglie non fu più assorbita nella personalità del capo di famiglia, ma (1) Secondo Gaio, I, 52 e 55, il vocabolo di potestas comprenderebbe tanto il potere sui servi, quanto quello sui figli; quello di manus, invece il potere del ma rito sulla moglie (I, 109). Quando esso viene poi a parlare delle personae, quae in mancipio sunt, I, 116 e segg., comincia dal premettere, che anche i figli e la moglie mancipari possunt nel modo stesso, in cui lo possono i servi: il che dimostre rebbe, che il vocabolo di mancipium,nella sua significazione più larga, comprendeva eziandio tutte le persone soggette alla potestà del padre. Quanto alle persone, quae in causa mancipii sunt, vedi lo stesso Gaio, I, 138 e segg. 535 acquistò una certa indipendenza dal proprio marito, sopratutto sotto l'aspetto economico (1). 415. Così invece non accadde della patria potestas. Questa non ha più bisogno di essere volontariamente accettata, come la manus, ma deve invece essere necessariamente subita, e sotto un certo aspetto può anche apparire come una conseguenza del fatto della nascita. Mancò quindi il principale motivo, che contribuì alla abo lizione della manus del marito sulla moglie: donde la conseguenza, che la patria potestà potè più a lungo conservare nel diritto romano le sue fattezze primitive, e fu quindi un'istituzione, in cui la logica quiritaria ebbe campo a spiegarsi in tutto il suo rigore. Il padre dal punto di vista giuridico si appropria tutti gli acquisti, che siano fatti dai figli; pud vendere ed anche uccidere i proprii figli; può rivendicarli, se gli siano sottratti; può dargli a mancipio, se abbiano recato un danno, che egli non voglia risarcire. È però a notarsi, che anche in questa parte la costruzione giuridica non risponde sempre alla realtà dei fatti; poichè in sostanza i figli si ritengono compro prietarii del padre, nè mostrano di lagnarsi di un potere, a cui il costume reca gli opportuni temperamenti, e che loro non impedisce di aspirare e di giungere agli onori e alle magistrature della città (2). Anche qui fu il corrompersi dei costumi, che fece sentire il peri colo di un potere illimitato e senza confine, e fu allora, che il di ritto civile romano, pur serbando integro il concetto della patria potestà, venne attribuendo forma e carattere giuridico a quei tem peramenti della medesima, che prima esistevano soltanto nel costume. Fu in questa guisa, che il diritto romano, senza derogare alla supe riorità del padre, fini per riconoscere una certa personalità giuridica anche al figlio, il quale venne così ad avere un proprio caput, e un proprio status nel seno della famiglia, ed introdusse eziandio dei temperamenti, sia quanto alla durata, che quanto agli effetti della patria potestà. 418. Noi troviamo infatti, che, mentre la patria potestà continud a durare per tutta la vita, venne formandosi l'istituto dell'emancipa zione, in cui si assiste ad una singolare trasformazione, per cui il potere, che al padre appartiene, di vendere il proprio figlio, viene a (1) V. in proposito il precedente $ nella parte relativa al conflitto del matrimonio cum manu e di quello sine manu, nn. 411 e 412, pag. 530 e segg. (2 ) Cfr. Voigt, Op. cit., II, SS 93 e 94. 536 convertirsi in un espediente per liberarlo dalla patria potestà. Anche qui abbiamo una applicazione dell'atto quiritario, ossia dell'atto per aes et libram, salvo che, in base alla letterale interpretazione delle XII Tavole, per l'emancipazione di un figlio si richiedono tre man cipazioni, mentre, trattandosi di figlie o di nipoti, basta una semplice mancipatio (1). Ed è notabile eziandio, che questa emancipazione, pur attribuendo al figlio una libertà ed indipendenza, che prima non aveva, continua pur sempre ad essere considerata come una capitis diminutio; poichè sotto il punto di vista giuridico, l'emancipato cessa di appartenere a quel gruppo famigliare, da cui esce mediante l'emancipazione, e viene cosi a perdere quello status, che a lui ap parteneva rimpetto alla medesima. Che anzi il rigore del diritto primitivo si spinge fino al punto da escludere l'emancipato dalla successione per legge alla morte del padre, e toccherà poi al diritto pretorio il cercare con mezzi indiretti di ovviare a queste conse guenze, le quali, pur essendo conformi alla logica giuridica, ripu gnano però ai naturali sentimenti ed affetti (2 ). Cosi pure, mentre si mantiene sempre il concetto primitivo, che tutti gli acquisti del figlio debbono sotto l'aspetto giuridico essere at tribuiti al padre, si viene a poco a poco attribuendo carattere giu ridico all'istituzione dei peculii. Non può infatti esservi dubbio, che i peculii già dovevano preesistere nel costume, almeno sotto la forma di peculium profecticium, che era quel piccolo patrimonio, di cui il (1) Gaio, I, 135. Si è molto disputato circa la ragione probabile delle tre man cipazioni, che sono richieste per l'emancipazione del figlio. Alcuni vogliono scorgere in ciò un indizio del più forte vincolo, con cui il figlio intendevasi congiunto al proprio padre. A parer mio, sembra invece molto più probabile, che questa triplice mancipazione richiesta per i figli sia stata, come dice Gaio, I, 132, una conseguenza della letterale interpretazione data alla legge delle XII Tavole, secondo cui « si pater ter filium venum duit, filius a patre liber esto ». Per tal modo una disposizione, che era evidentemente introdotta per impedire al padre di abusare della persona del suo figlio,dandolo a mancipio più di tre volte, si cambiò in un mezzo per emanciparlo. Negli altri casi invece, a cui non estendevasi la lettera di questa disposizione, per trattarsi o di una figlia o di un nipote, potè bastare una semplice mancipazione per produrre ilmedesimo effetto. Le singolarità di questo genere si possono facilmente spiegare, quando si tenga conto della lette rale osservanza della legge, che era un carattere della primitiva iuris interpretatio. Questa interpretazione del resto trova un appoggio in Dionisio, II, 27. (2) Vedi quanto all'emancipatio, in quanto costituisce una capitis diminutio, ciò che si disse al nº 338, pag. 424, nota 4. Aggiungerò tuttavia agli autori colà ci tati il Voigt, Op. cit., II, $ 73, presso il quale occorre una raccolta completa dei passi relativi all'argomento, pag. 27 e 28, note 12, 13, 14. 537 padre concedeva una separata amministrazione al figlio;ma ciò punto non impedi, che essi, solo assai tardi e gradatamente,abbiano ottenuto il loro riconoscimento giuridico. Ed è notabile eziandio l'ordine e il processo, con cui vennesi operando tale riconoscimento, poichè si comincið dall' attribuire al figlio i guadagni, che egli avesse fatti servendo nella milizia (peculium castrense ); poi si assomigliarono ai lucri, da lui fatti in guerra, quelli fatti nell'esercizio delle pro fessioni liberali (peculium quasi castrense); da ultimo si presero in considerazione tutti quegli acquisti, che a lui fossero provenuti dagli ascendenti materni o in qualsiasi altra guisa (bona adventicia ). Intanto, mentre si modellavano così le varie specie di peculii, si introduceva ad un tempo una sapiente ed acconcia graduazione per determinare a queste proposito i diritti, che appartenevano al padre ed al figlio (1 ). Questi temperamenti tuttavia non tolgono, che la patria potestà continuasse sempre ad essere il rudere meglio conservato dell'an tica organizzazione della famiglia patriarcale, e quindi non è me raviglia se ad operá compiuta gli stessi giureconsulti fossero colpiti dal carattere particolare della patria potestà del cittadino romano, di fronte alle istituzioni degli altri popoli. 417. L'importanza di questa unificazione della famiglia sotto la patria potestà del padre viene a farsi anche più evidente, quando trattasi di quelle istituzioni, che hanno per iscopo di supplire in qualche modo al difetto di figliuolanza. Esse sono l'adrogatio, con cui si viene a sottoporre alla patria potestà una persona sui iuris, e la semplice adoptio, con cui un figlio ancora sottoposto alla patria potestà di una persona, viene ad essere costituito sotto la patria potestà di un altra. Le origini dell'una e dell'altra rimontano senza alcun dubbio all'organizzazione della famiglia patriarcale, nella quale (1) L'antichità del peculium è dimostrata dalla stessa etimologia della parola (a pecudibus). Del resto è facile a comprendersi, che lo stesso accentramento della famiglia nel proprio capo rendeva indispensabile la concessione di un certo peculio, così ai figli che ai servi. Anche qui pertanto il ius civile non creò già l'istituzione; ma la raccolse dalle costumanze, e diede alla medesima configurazione giuridica. Quanto all'ordine, con cui furono accolte le diverse forme di peculia, cfr. MUIRHEAD, Op. cit., pagg. 344 e 347; il PADELLETTI, Storia del dir. rom., ediz. Cogliolo, pag. 187, nota 4; il SERAFINI, Istituzioni di diritto romano, $ 169. Sono poi degne di nota, quanto all'istituzione dei peculii, le osservazioni del SumnER MAINE, L'ancien droit, pag. 134. 538 si proponevano l'intento importantissimo di perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto. Quella perd fra esse, che produceva più gravi ef fetti, al punto di vista gentilizio, era certamente l'adrogatio, come quella che sopprimeva in certo modo una famiglia ed il suo culto, per rendere possibile la perpetuazione di un'altra (1). Essa quindi, nella comunanza gentilizia, dovette probabilmente essere compiuta coll'approvazione dei capi di famiglia, o degli anziani del villaggio; donde la conseguenza, che quando fu poi trasportata nella città, essa fu uno di quegli atti solenni, che, al pari del testamento, dovevano es sere compiuti in calatis comitiis, coll'intervento dei pontefici, i quali dovevano vegliare al mantenimento dei culti pubblici e privati, e colle forme di una vera e propria legge. L'adoptio invece, riferen dosi a persona, che era ancora soggetta alla patria potestà, suppo neva da una parte la rinunzia del padre al proprio potere, il che facevasi col mezzo della mancipatio, applicando al solito l'atto per aes et libram, e dall'altra la sottomissione del figlio alla patria po testà dell'adottante, il che compievasi davanti al magistrato, me diante quella finta rivendicazione ed aggiudicazione, che costituiva l'in iure cessio. 418. Intanto qui viene ad essere evidente, che, siccome trattavasi di istituzioni di origine esclusivamente patrizia, perchè era sopratutto nella famiglia patrizia, che era viva ed efficace l'aspirazione a per petuare se stessa ed il proprio culto, cosi lo svolgimento storico di queste istituzioninon ritiene le traccie di un contributo diretto, che possa avervi recato la plebe. Le forme infatti, che le accompagnano, o sono di origine patrizia, come quella relativa all'adrogatio, o sono invece una elaborazione giuridica del diritto quiritario, comequelle che circondano l'adoptio, senza che trovinsi le traccie di un modo di adozione, che possa essere di origine plebea. Ciò però non tolse, che anche l'arrogazione e l'adozione abbiano finito per diventare una istituzione comune a tutti gli ordini sociali; ma intanto a misura che ciò accade, esse perdono sempre più il loro carattere gentilizio, finchè finiscono per informarsi ad un con cetto ispiratore compiutamente diverso. Esse infatti col tempo ces (1) Questo effetto dell'adrogatio è efficacemente espresso da PAPIN., Leg. 11, § 2, Dig. (37-11): « dando se in arrogando testator cum capite fortunas quoque suas in familiam et domum alienam transfert ». Quanto alle origini dell'adrogatio nel pe riodo gentilizio, vedi lib. I, n° 25, pag. 31. Le differenze poi fra l'adrogatio e l'a doptio sono sopratutto poste in evidenza da Gellio, V, 19. 539 sano dall'essere un mezzo per perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto; ma si limitano allo scopo di procurare le gioie della figliuolanza a coloro che siano privi della medesima, per guisa che in contrad dizione col diritto primitivo, anche le donne poterono adottare ed essere adottate. Così pure queste istituzioni, che negli inizii stacca vano affatto una persona dalla sua famiglia, per trasportarla in un'altra, finirono per modificarsi in guisa da contemperare i diritti della famiglia naturale con quelli della famiglia adottiva (1). 419. Rimane ora a dire brevemente del potere del padre di fa miglia sui servi. Anche qui non pud esservi dubbio, che la servitù rimonta al periodo gentilizio, e che essa non dovette essere propria delle genti italiche, ma comune a tutte le genti; come lo dimostra il fatto, che i Romani non riguardarono mai la servitù come istitu zione loro propria, ma comeuna istituzione del diritto delle genti (2 ). La medesima sotto un certo aspetto era un compimento necessario della famiglia patriarcale: perchè senza di essa questa non avrebbe potuto costituire un gruppo, che potesse bastare a se stesso. È quindi naturale, che quando il capo di famiglia entrò a parte cipare alla comunanza quiritaria, esso comparisse nella medesima non solo colla moglie e colla figliuolanza, ma anche coi servi, i quali vennero ad essere compresi nel suo mancipium, e costituirono così una parte integrante della famiglia romana (3 ). Per tal modo i servi diventarono in Roma gli strumenti intelligenti del cittadino romano, il quale potè valersi di essi per esercitare qualsiasi ne gozio o commercio, senza derogare alla sua dignità, ed anche per evitare ai proprii figli l'ignominia di una eredità passiva, chia mandoli anche loro malgrado a succedergli, in qualità di heredes necessarii (4). Si comprende quindi, che al punto di vista giuri dico i servi fossero considerati come cose, anzichè come persone, e che il potere del padrone sopra di essi apparisse illimitato e senza confine. Tuttavia, anche qui la famigliarità dei rapporti fra il pa drone ed i servi, l'intimità di vita, che eravi talora tra i figliuoli (1) Quanto all'ultimo stadio del diritto civile romano nello svolgimento dell'ado zione, vedi Justin., Instit. II, XI. (2 ) Fra gli altri Gaio, I, 52, dichiara espressamente, che la potestas sui servi iuris gentium est. (3 ) Come i servi costituissero una parte integrante della famiglia risulta ad evi. denza dai passi raccolti dal Voigt, XII Tafeln, II, pag. 12 e segg., e note relative. (4 ) GAIO, II, 152; ULP., Fragm. XXII, 11 e 24. 540 - dell'uno e quelli degli altri, l'abnegazione frequente dei servi per il loro padrone, e la necessità stessa, in cui fu la legge di porre dei limiti alla facoltà di manomettere i proprii servi, sono circo stanze che dimostrano, come anche la condizione effettiva dei servi, sopratutto nei primi tempi di Roma, non corrisponda in ogni parte alla severità, con cui essa ebbe ad essere governata sotto l'aspetto giuridico (1). 420. In ogni caso è cosa fuori di ogni dubbio, che la condizione dei servi ebbe a subire ancor essa una trasformazione profonda nel pas saggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla città propriamente detta. Giuridicamente parlando, il potere del padrone appare forse più rigido nella città, che non nel periodo gentilizio; ma in essa il servo ha il vantaggio di poter essere fatto libero, e di essere così elevato alla dignità di cittadino. Mentre dapprima il servo manomesso do veva, per la stessa necessità delle cose, cercare protezione e tutela nel gruppo, a cui apparteneva, e quindi col cessare di esser servo doveva trasformarsi in cliente: nella città invece, sopratutto dopo Servio Tullio, a cui si attribuisce di aver attribuita la cittadinanza ai servi affrancati, il servo manomesso venne ad essere sotto la protezione della pubblica autorità, e potè colla libertà acquistare anche la cittadinanza. Colla manomissione pertanto viene a verifi carsi la più profonda trasformazione nello stato giuridico, di cui ci porga esempio il diritto civile romano. Con essa il servo, che era considerato come una cosa, viene a trasformarsi in una persona, e colui, che non aveva nė libertà, nè cittadinanza, nè posizione nella famiglia, viene ad acquistare tutte queste cose ad un tempo. Solo rimangono le traccie dell'antico stato di cose nella istituzione del patronato, la quale deve perciò essere considerata come una soprav vivenza dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Malgrado di ciò, questa impor tantissima trasformazione nello stato di una persona viene dapprima ad essere rimessa intieramente all'arbitrio del quirite, il quale può manomettere i proprii servi vindicta, censu, testamento, ed ha cosi potestà di accrescere indefinitamente il numero dei cittadini romani. (1) Nota giustamente l'HÖLDER, Istituz., $ 42, pag. 117, che il servo, ancorchè sia considerato come una cosa, non perde però la sua qualità d'uomo, poichè gli si ri conoscono le facoltà, che lo distinguevano come uomo, prima dell'altrui dominio. È questo il motivo, per cui il potere sullo schiavo chiamavasi potestas, e gli atti acqui. sitivi da lui compiuti erano stati validi, come se fossero stati compiuti dal suo padrone. 541 Anche qui fu solo più tardi, che l'esercizio illimitato di questa po testà privata sembrò essere in conflitto colle esigenze del pubblico interesse, e allora, mentre da una parte si cercd di assicurare i di ritti del patrono sull'eredità dei liberti, dall'altra si cerco di met tere dei confini alla manomissione dei servi, il che si ottenne in parte coll'introdurre gradazioni diverse nella libertà, che era accor data ai servi (1). Fu in questa guisa, che al concetto di un'unica libertà i giureconsulti, interpretando le leggi Aelia Sentia e Junia Norbana, sostituirono le categorie diverse dei latini, dei latini iu niani, e dei dediticii, la cui libertà può essere migliore o peggiore, secondo che essa lasci più facile l'adito alla cittadinanza romana: « pessima itaque, conchiude Gaio, eorum libertas est, qui dediti ciorum numero sunt, nam ulla lege, aut senatus consulto, aut con stitutione principali aditus illis ad civitatem romanam datur » (2 ). 421. Da ultimo anche le persone libere, quae in causa mancipii erant,dovettero pur esse avere un posto in questa costruzione giuridica della famiglia romana, il che si ottenne collocandole nella posizione di servi (servorum loco habentur), per tutto quel tempo per cui erano date a mancipio. Tuttavia i giureconsulti stessi hanno cura di notare, che la concezione giuridica non deve in questa parte essere confusa colla realtà, come lo prova questa notevole proposizione di Gaio: « admonendi sumus, adversus eos, quos in mancipio ha bemus, nihil nobis contumeliose facere licere; alioquin iniuria rum actione tenebimur: ac ne diu quidem in eo iure detinentur homines, sed plerumque hoc fit dicis gratia, uno mo mento, nisi scilicet ex noxali causa mancipentur » (3 ). Con ciò parmi di aver abbastanza dimostrato, che la rigidezza, con cui fu modellata nel diritto civile di Roma la potestà spettante al capo di famiglia, trova la sua causa in ciò, che i Romani, anche in (1) È notabile a questo riguardo, che il più antico diritto di Roma, come lasciava al cittadino piena libertà dimanomettere i propri servi, così, in omaggio sempre alla libertà del testatore,non aveva tutelato in nessun modo le ragioni del patrono contro il testamento del liberto. Ciò viene attestato da Gaio, III, 40, 41, il quale, dopo aver detto, che « olim licebat liberto patronum suum impune in testamento prae terire » aggiunge poi che il diritto pretorio e poscia la legge Papia Poppea avevano cercato di riparare a questa iuris iniquitas. (2 ) Gaio, 1, 26; Ulp., Fragm., I, 5. (3 ) Gaio, I, 141. 542 questa parte, trasportarono nella città il potere del capo di famiglia patriarcale; lo isolarono dall'ambiente, in cui erasi formato e da ogni elemento estraneo al diritto; e riuscirono così a dare una configu razione prettamente giuridica, ad un potere, che in realtà conti nuava poi a trovare molti temperamenti nel costume e nella morale. Questi caratteri della famiglia romana trovano poi una conferma nel modo, in cui era governata la successione legittima, nel primi tivo diritto di Roma. § 4. – La successione e la tutela legittima nel primitivo ius quiritium. 422. L'ordinamento giuridico della famiglia primitiva in Roma presenta eziandio questa singolarità, che mentre, vivo il padre, tutto sembra unificarsi in lui, mancando invece il medesimo, senza aver disposto delle proprie cose per testamento (si intestato moritur), ricompare una specie di comproprietà famigliare fra le persone, che dipendono dalla sua patria potestà. Queste persone infatti son chia mate a succedergli come heredes sui; non possono respingerne la eredità (heredes sui et necessarii); che anzi, senza bisogno di una vera e propria accettazione, sembrano essere direttamente investite dalla legge stessa di quel patrimonio famigliare, di cui già prima apparivano comproprietarie: « sui quidem heredes, dice Gaio, ideo appellantur, quia domestici heredes sunt et vivo quoque parente quodammodo domini existimantur » (1). Molti autori combatterono il concetto di questa comproprietà fa migliare, dicendola in contraddizione colla unificazione potente della famiglia romana nella persona del proprio capo (2). A nostro avviso invece questa specie di comproprietà, che i giureconsulti pongono a fondamento della successione degli heredes sui, può essere facil mente spiegata e conciliata coll'unità potente della famiglia romana, (1) GAIO, II, 157. (2 ) Fra gli autori, che combattono questa comproprietà famigliare, mi limiterò a citare il PADELLETTI, Op. cit., pag. 201, e il Cogliolo, Saggi di evoluzione nel di ritto privato, pag. 108 e segg.; il quale, a pag. 111, in nota, fa pure un elenco degli autori, che tengono per l'una o per l'altra opinione. Fra quelli, che ammettono questa comproprietà famigliare, vuolsi aggiungere il DUBOIS, La saisine héréditaire en droit romain, Paris, 1880, pag. 63, e il CARPENTIER, Essai sur l'origine et l'étendue de la règle: nemo pro parte testatus, pro parte intestatus decedere potest, nella « Nouvelle Revue historique », 1886, pag. 457 e segg. 513 quando si ritenga che la famiglia quiritaria non è in sostanza, che la stessa famiglia patriarcale, trasportata nella città, ed isolata dal l'ambiente gentilizio, in cui erasi formata. La famiglia patriarcale infatti riuniva appunto due caratteri, pressochè opposti fra di loro; quello cioè di apparire da una parte unificata nella persona del padre, il che la rendeva unita e compatta per la lotta, che doveva sostenere cogli altri gruppi, da cui era circondata; e quello di sup porre dall'altra un'assoluta comunione di tutte le utilità domestiche, il che produceva un'intima solidarietà fra le persone, che entravano a costituirla. In questo senso potevasi dire di essa con Cicerone: « una domus, communia omnia ». Questa solidarietà e compro prietà fra i membri del medesimo gruppo famigliare viene ad essere dimostrata dai seguenti indizii: che il primitivo heredium era di sua natura trasmessibile di padre in figlio; che il padre trovava un ostacolo alla dilapidazione del patrimonio famigliare, nel iudicium de moribus per parte del consiglio degli anziani della gens; che il padre infine non poteva disporre delle proprie cose per testamento, nè scegliersi un figlio adottivo senza l'approvazione degli altri capi di famiglia, che appartenevano alla sua gente o tribù (1). Vero è, che tutti questi temperamenti del potere patriarcale del capo di famiglia sembrano scomparire, quando, col formarsi della città, la famiglia venne ad essere staccata dal gruppo patriarcale, di cui entrava a far parte, e il capo di essa apparve così investito di un potere illimitato e senza confini; ma ciò deve essere considerato come un effetto di quella elaborazione giuridica, che tendeva ad uni ficare la famiglia nella persona del proprio capo. Era quindinatu rale, che, quando questa unificazione non era più possibile per la mancanza del capo, risorgesse la primitiva comproprietà famigliare fra le persone libere, che appartenevano allo stesso gruppo. Che anzi la stessa unificazione potente del gruppo nel proprio capo do veva determinare una specie di comunione fra i membri del gruppo, e condurre così alla conseguenza giuridica, che in questo caso non si avverasse una vera successione, ma il dominio del padre conti nuasse in certo modo nella persona dei figli; conseguenza, che ebbe ad essere mirabilmente espressa dal giureconsulto Paolo: in suis heredibus evidentius apparet continuationem dominii eo rem per ducere, ut nulla videatur hereditas fuisse, quasi olim hi domini (1) Ho cercato di dimostrare questi caratteri della proprietà famigliare nel pe riodo gentilizio nel lib. I, cap. 4, § 3º, sopratutto pag. 70 e segg. 544 essent, qui, vivo etiam patre, quodammodo domini existimantur. Itaque post mortem patris non hereditatem percipere videntur, sed magis liberam bonorum administrationem consequuntur (1). Fu in questa guisa, che la famiglia primitiva potè perpetuarsi nelle generazioni, e cambiarsi in un organismo immortale e perpetuo, poichè i figli apparivano come i continuatori della personalità del padre, e al modo stesso, che dovevano perpetuare il culto domestico, così dovevano raccoglierne, anche loro malgrado, l'eredità. 423. Nè si può ammettere, che questa specie di comproprietà, a cui accennano i giureconsulti, sia un concetto penetrato più tardi nella classica giurisprudenza, per spiegare il passaggio del patrimonio famigliare dal padre nei figli (2 ): poichè questo intimo rapporto fra l'hereditas ed i sacra, è certo un concetto, che rimonta all'an tichissimo diritto, come pure è a questo, che deve farsi risalire quella posizione del tutto speciale, che gli heredes sui assumono di fronte agli altri ordini di eredi. Questa distinzione infatti già doveva esistere nella universale coscienza, all'epoca della legislazione decem virale. In questa infatti non si fa menzione espressa della succes sione dell'heres suus, ma solo vi si accenna come a cosa, che na turalmente accade, e che quasi non abbisogna di speciale menzione; mentre è solo per il caso, in cui non siavi un heres suus, che le XII Tavole determinano l'ordine della successione per legge, chia mando alla medesima prima l’agnatus proximus, e in mancanza del medesimo i gentiles: « si intestato moritur, cui suus heres nec escit, adgnatus proximus familiam habeto; si adgnatus nec escit, gentiles familiam habento » (3). Che anzi a questo proposito parmi di poter con fondamento inol trare la congettura, che in occasione della legislazione decemvirale le genti patrizie cercarono di trasportare nel ius proprium civium (1) PAOLO, Leg. 11, Dig. X (28-2). V. nel CARPENTIER, Op. e loc. cit., una rac colta di testi che confermano questa comproprietà famigliare. (2) Tale sarebbe l'opinione del PADELLETTI, Op. cit., pag. 201. (3 ) Queste due disposizioni delle XII Tavole, secondo il Voigt, Op. cit., I, pag. 704, sarebbero la 2a e la 3a legge della Tav. IV. A questo proposito poi il Voigt, Op. cit., II, pag. 387, sembra ritenere, che esistesse una comproprietà di fatto, ma non di diritto. Convien però ammettere, che tale comproprietà producesse, dopo la morte del padre, delle vere conseguenze di diritto, dal momento che faceva considerare gli heredes sui, come continuatori della personalità del padre, e li metteva anzi nella impossibilità di rinunziarvi. Vedi Gaio, I, 157. - 545 romanorum, e di rendere così comune a tutte le classi quel sistema di successione ab intestato, che doveva già esistere nel loro costume durante il periodo gentilizio. Noi sappiamo infatti dagli stessi giu reconsulti, che colle XII Tavole soltanto ebbe ad essere introdotto il sistema di successione legittima, e ne abbiamo anche una prova nella circostanza, che fu perfino introdotto un ordine di eredi le gittimi, che era quello dei gentiles, il quale non poteva certo appar tenere alla plebe, dal momento che questa non possedeva le gentes. Per tal modo il patriziato, che già aveva trasportata nella comu nanza quiritaria la propria organizzazione domestica, riusci eziandio a farvi penetrare il proprio sistema di successione. Di qui la con seguenza, che anche il sistema successorio dei romani deve essere considerato come una sopravvivenza dell'organizzazione patriarcale della famiglia patrizia; come lo dimostra la circostanza, che esso fondasi esclusivamente sull'agnazione, non tiene alcun conto della cognazione, e si propone come scopo esclusivo di perpetuare il pa trimonio nella famiglia agnatizia, e di farlo ritornare alla gente, al lorchè siasi estinta la famiglia (1). Per tal modo, in base alla legislazione decemvirale, noi veniamo a trovarci di fronte a tre ordini di eredi, che sono: lº gli heredes sui, nei quali si comprendono la moglie, i figli cosi maschi come femmine e gli altri discendenti nella linea maschile, tutte le per sone insomma, che erano soggette alla patria potestà del capo di famiglia; 2 ° gli agnati, cioè tutti coloro, che discendono per la linea maschile da un comune autore, alla cui potestà sarebbero stati sog getti, quando non fosse premorto; 3º e da ultimo i gentiles, ossia tutti coloro, i quali, più non essendo compresi nella familia omnium agnatorum, hanno però comune la discendenza da un medesimo (1) Che la successione e la tutela legittima siano state introdotte dalle XII Ta vole, mentre queste non avrebbero fatto altro, che confermare le successioni testa mentarie, è cosa a più riprese affermata da ULPIANO, Fragm. XI, 3, e XXVII, 5. Di qui ilMuirhead avrebbe perfino indotto, che i decemviri abbiano creato di pianta l'ordine degli agnati, come tutori e successori legittimi (Op. cit., pag. 122 e 172 ). Ho già dimostrato più sopra, pag. 39, nota 1", che questa opinione non può essere accettata, perchè l'ordine degli agnati già esisteva nell'organizzazione gentilizia, ed il concetto dell'agnazione stava a fondamento della medesima; ma intanto questa sua opinione può essere accolta, quando sia intesa nel senso, che i decemviri colle XII Tavole estesero anche alla plebe quel sistema di successione legittima, che le consuetudini avevano già svolta presso le genti patrizie. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 35 546 antenato, e come tali hanno ancora ilmedesimo nome e appartengono alla stessa gente. 424. È poi degno di nota il modo diverso, con cui questi varii ordini di eredi sono chiamati a succedere. Finchè trattavasi di heredes sui, essi, essendo soggetti alla patria potestà della stessa persona, e come tali appartenendo almedesimo gruppo, venivano in certo modo ad essere eredi di se stessi; esclu devano gli emancipati, le figlie passate a matrimonio e cosi entrate in un'altra famiglia, tutti coloro insomma, che erano già usciti dal gruppo; non abbisognavano di vera accettazione dell'eredità, ma suc cedevano anche loro malgrado (heredes sui et necessarii): non potevano essere spogliati dell'eredità mediante l'usucapio pro he rede; infine succedevano per stirpe, ossia per rappresentazione, perchè nella costituzione della famiglia primitiva i figli rappresen tano il padre (1). Quando trattavasi invece di agnati, il patrimonio doveva già uscire da un gruppo per passare ad un altro: quindi la legge, per impedirne la suddivisione soverchia, si limitava a devolverlo allo agnatus proximus, escludendone ogni altro. Questi però non può più essere considerato come un heres suus, ma è già un heres extraneus, perchè più non appartiene al gruppo famigliare nello stretto senso della parola. Egli quindi ha già facoltà di accettare o di respingere l'eredità, e può vedersi usucapita l'eredità da altre per sone. Nella interpretazione dei giureconsulti prevalse poi l'opinione, che nell'ordine degli agnati non dovesse farsi luogo alla successione per stirpi o per rappresentazione, forse perchè nel concetto romano è solo nei limiti della stessa famiglia, che i figli appariscono come i rappresentanti dei loro genitori. Quindi è, che l'agnato prossimo esclude tutti gli altri agnati, e se egli non accetti o non possa ac cettare l'eredità, questa viene ad essere devoluta all'altro ordine, ossia ai gentiles (2 ). (1 ) Gaio, III, 1 a 8; Ulp., Fragm., XXIV, 1 a 3. (2) GAIB, III, 9 a 15, Ulp., Fragm., XXIV, 1. L'enumerazione, che Gaio ed Ulpiano fanno degli agnati, confermano il concetto, che ho svolto nel lib. I, pag. 38 e 39, secondo cui la cerchia degli agnati sarebbe stata determinata da quella in divisione di patrimonio, che, morto il padre, mantenevasi fra i fratelli e i loro di scendenti per la linea maschile. Questo gruppo continuava in certo modo l'unità indivisa della famiglia, e costituiva quella famiglia più grande, che fu chiamata 547 Qui però l'espressione della legge cambia, in quanto che essa dice senz'altro: « si agnatus proximus nec escit, gentiles familiam habento »; il che fa ritenere, che i gentili non fossero chiamati a succedere come individui, ma in quanto costituivano l'ente collet tivo della gens, cosicchè l'eredità sarebbe in certo modo ritornata alla gente considerata nella propria universalità, e sarebbe così ve nuta a ricadere in quell'ager gentilicius, da cui si erano staccati i primitivi heredia delle singole famiglie. Era sopratutto in questa parte, che erasi cercato di mantenere viva nella città l'antica orga nizzazione gentilizia: ma l'istituzione non potè mantenersi a lungo come lo dimostra Gaio, il quale parla di questo ius gentilicium, come di cosa andata da lungo tempo in disuso (1). Non ha poi bisogno di essere dimostrato, che questo sistema di successione per legge, desunto dall'antica organizzazione gentilizia, trovava il proprio compimento nella disposizione, per cui la succes sione del cliente o del liberto, che fosse morto senza testamento o senza eredi suoi, veniva dalla legge ad essere devoluta al patrono, od ai figli di lui, od infine alla gente del patrono: « si cliens in testato moritur, cui suus heres nec escit, pecunia ex eius fa milia in patroni familiam redito » (2). omnium agnatorum. Quando poi venne meno quest' indivisione del patrimonio, si chiamarono agnati tutti coloro, che sarebbero stati soggetti alla patria potestà, quando il padre non fosse premorto. Fra essi ULPIANO, loc. cit., comprende anzitutto quelli, che egli chiama i consanguinei, « id est fratres et sorores ex eodem patre »; poscia, quando questi manchino, gli altri agnati prossimi « id est cognatos virilis sexus, per mares discendentes, eiusdem familiae, (1) Gaio, III, 17; UlP., Fragm., XXIV, 1. Noi abbiamo tuttavia CICERONE, De orat., I, il quale accenna ad una causa di eredità, dibattutasi davanti ai Centum viri fra i Claudii patrizii ed i Marcelli discendenti da un loro liberto, in cui dice che gli oratori delle parti dovettero occuparsi « de toto stirpis ac gentilitatis iure ». Sembra tuttavia, che anche all'epoca di Cicerone fossero già infrequenti le cause di questo genere. (2 ) Ulp., L. 195, § 1, Dig. (50, 16). Nella ricostruzione del Voigt, I, pag. 705, questa legge sarebbe la 4a della Tavola IV. Vedi ciò che dice lo stesso Voigt, II, pag. 392 e 393, quanto alla successione del patrono al liberto. Anche quanto alla successione del liberto si manifesta una specie di antagonismo fra la successione testamentaria e la legittima; poichè,mentre nella prima il liberto poteva nei primi tempi (V. Gaio, III, 40-41) dimenticare impunemente il suo patrono, la seconda invece, introdotta eziandio dalle XII Tavole, tendeva a richiamare il patrimonio del liberto alla famiglia del patrono, quando il primo fosse morto senza eredi suoi. 548 425. Per contro è assai degno di nota, che, unitamente al sistema della successione legittima, dalla legislazione decemvirale fu eziandio introdotto il sistema della tutela legittima. Di cid abbiamo l'espressa attestazione dei giureconsulti (1): ma la prova più convincente vuolsi riporre nella circostanza, che il sistema della tutela legittima, quale ebbe ad essere regolato dalle XII Tavole, é coordinato con quello della successione legittima, ed obbedisce al medesimo concetto ispi ratore. Per giustificare la cosa i giureconsulti più tardi misero in nanzi la considerazione, che l'onere della tutela doveva cadere su coloro, che avevano il vantaggio della successione: « ubi emolu mentum successionis, ibi onus tutelae »; ma la causa storica deveessere cercata nel fatto, che tanto la tutela, che la successione le gittima si informano ancora ai concetti dell'organizzazione genti lizia, da cui furono desunte, e come tali mirano a conservare il patrimonio prima alla famiglia agnatizia e pos cia alla gente. Viene così a comprendersi, come nel sistema primitivo la tutela degli im puberi ed anche la cura dei prodighi e dei furiosi, fosse affidata agli agnati ed ai gentili; come le donne, anche perfectae aetatis, cadessero sotto la tutela degli agnati; come infine le res mancipii, spettanti alle medesime e ai pupilli, non potessero essere usucapite, quando non si fossero alienate col consenso del tutore. Così pure viene a spiegarsi quel singolare carattere della tutela primitiva del l'impubere, la quale mira piuttosto alla conservazione del patrimonio, che non alla educazione della persona, la cui cura soleva essere lasciata alla madre ed agli altri congiunti, i quali si ispiravano di preferenza all'affetto del sangue, che all'interesse gentilizio di ser bare integro il patrimonio famigliare (2). i 426. Chi tuttavia riguardi al posteriore svolgimento del diritto civile romano, può facilmente inferirne, che tanto il sistema della successione, quanto quello della tutela legittima, non trovarono mai favorevole svolgimento nella opinione comune della cittadinanza ro mana. Conformi al modo di pensare di quella minoranza patrizia, che si atteneva strettamente alle tradizioni gentilizie, esse invece ripugnavano al modo di sentire delle altre classi, i cui rapporti di (1) Ulp., Fragm., XI, 3. (2) È da vedersi, quanto alla tutela legittima e ai suoi caratteri peculiari, il Pa DELLETTI, Op. cit., pag. 188 e le note relative. 549 famiglia si ispiravano di preferenza al vincolo naturale del sangue e della cognazione. A misura poi, che le traccie dell'organizzazione gentilizia si venivano dissolvendo sotto l'influenza della vita citta dina, questo sistema di successione e di tutela apparve disadatto a quei magistrati stessi, che dovevano applicarlo. È questo il motivo, per cui Gaio a questo proposito non parla solo di sottigliezze del l'antico diritto, ma di vere iuris iniquitates; alle quali cercò poi di riparare il diritto pretorio, introducendo, accanto alla successione legittima, una successione pretoria, e creando, accanto ai tutores legitimi, i tutores Atiliani o dativi. Fu pur questo il motivo, per cui i giureconsulti mal potevano spiegarsi la tutela perpetua, a cui le donne erano sottoposte nell'antico diritto, e vennero creando essi stessi degli espedienti giuridici, quale fu quello veramente ca ratteristico della coemptio cum fiducia, per liberarle da una tutela, le cui ragioni dovevano forse essere cercate in un periodo anteriore di organizzazione sociale (1). In ogni caso poi una prova di questa generale condanna del si stema di successione e di tutela legittima può scorgersi eziandio nel largo sviluppo che presero in Roma la successione e la tutela testamentaria, e nell'antagonismo che sembra esistervi fra le due maniere di successione. $ 5. – Rapporti fra la successione legittima e la testamentaria nel diritto primitivo di Roma. 427. È noto che in Roma la successione legittima e la testamen taria non poterono mai fondersi insieme, e si mantennero anzi in una specie di antagonismo fra di loro. Ciò è dichiarato espressa mente dal giureconsulto, che scorge nelle due istituzioni un natu (1) Fra i giureconsulti, che non sanno darsi ragione della tutela perpetua, a cui le donne erano sottoposte, abbiamo Gaio, I, 190. È tuttavia a notarsi, che egli, più sotto, I, 192, finisce per indicare la vera ragione, per cui anche le donne erano sot toposte alla tutela dei loro agnati; la quale consiste in ciò, che siccome gli agnati erano chiamati a succedere alle donne, che morissero ab intestato, così essi avevano interesse a che esse, senza il loro consenso, non potessero fare testamento, nè alienare le cose più preziose, che entravano a costituire il patrimonio. Per tal modo la tutela degli agnati ebbe lo scopo stesso della loro successione legittima, quello cioè di conservare il patrimonio nella famiglia agnatizia; il qual concetto è per certo uno di quelli, le cui origini debbono essere cercate nel periodo gentilizio. 550 rale conflitto; è confermato dalla massima: nemo paganus partim testatus, partim intestatus decedere potest; ed è provato eziandio da quella specie di ripugnanza, che avevano i Romani a morire senza testamento: ripugnanza, che si spinse fino a tale da ritenere pressochè disonorato chi morisse senza testamento. Il fatto può quindi essere affermato con certezza; ma è tanto più ardua la spie gazione di esso, come lo dimostra la varietà grandissima di opinioni e di congetture, che furono emesse in proposito (1 ). Credo tuttavia, che anche in questa parte possa condurci a qualche conclusione, forse nuova, lo studio delle origini del ius quiritium. Questo studio infatti ci pone in grado di affermare, che la succes sione legittima ed il testamento hanno avuto una origine e uno svolgimento compiutamente diversi nel primitivo ius quiritium. Mentre la successione e la tutela legittima, le quali soltanto colle XII Tavole entrarono a far parte del diritto comune, sono istitu zioni di origine prettamente gentilizia, ispirate al concetto di ser (1) L'origine storica della massima « nemo paganus, ecc. » è una questione, che è lungi dall'essere risolta, malgrado la ricchissima letteratura, di cui fu argomento. Fra autori, che la esaminarono di recente, citero soltanto il RUGGERI, nei Documenti di storia e di diritto; il CARPENTIER, nella Nouvelle Revue historique, 1886, pag. 449 a 474; il Padel LETTI, La istituzione di erede ex re certa (« Archivio giuridico », vol. IV ). Anche l'ESMEIN, La manus, la paternité, ecc., pag. 4, nota 10. accenno di passaggio ad una spiegazione di questa massima, dicendo che la medesima proveniva da che il patrimonio si trasmetteva come l'accessorio di un culto, e che siccome di un culto non si poteva disporre per una parte soltanto, così non si poteva neppure lasciare un'eredità parte per testamento e parte per legge. Parmi che questa non possa an cora essere la risoluzione definitiva: poichè se un culto poteva dividersi fra più eredi legittimi, non vi può essere ragione, per cui non si potesse anche dividere fra eredi legittimi e testamentarii. Il CARPENTIER poi, nel suo dotto lavoro sopra citato, verrebbe alla conseguenza, che questa massima fosse una conseguenza logica del concetto romano, per cui tanto la successione legittima, quanto la testamentaria, do vevano comprendere l'intiero patrimonio; ma anche qui si potrebbe sempre dire, che quest'universum ius, come poteva dividersi fra gli eredi per legge e testamentarii; così avrebbe potuto dividersi eziandio fra gli uni e gli altri. Secondo il RUGGIERI, Op. cit., il motivo della massima starebbe in ciò, che anche il testamento dapprima era una vera lex, e quindi doveva prevalere o la lex publica o la lex testamenti,ma non potevano concorrere insieme; ma egli è evidente, che questa ragione, se po trebbe valere per il testamentum in calatis comitiis, non può certo applicarsi al testamentum per aes et libram, che non ha più il carattere di una legge. Fu questo il motivo, per cui ho creduto didover cercare la causa prima di questa mas sima nella stessa dialettica fondamentale, a cui si informa il diritto primitivo di Roma. 551 - bare il patrimonio alla famiglia agnatizia ed alla gente; il testamento invece, che prevalse nel ius quiritium, non è più il testamento delle genti patrizie, ma è già un'applicazione dell'atto quiritario per ec cellenza, ossia dell'atto per aes et libram, che si ispira al prin cipo: uti legassit, ita ius esto. In quella prevale ancora lo spirito conservatore dell'antico gruppo patriarcale: mentre in questo già campeggia la fiera individualità del quirite, la cui volontà solenne mente manifestata deve essere legge, anche per il tempo in cui avrà cessato di vivere (1). A cið si aggiunge, che la successione legittima e la testamentaria, nella struttura organica del ius quiritium, muovono da un con cetto fondamentale compiutamente diverso. Mentre infatti la suc cessione legittima prende le mosse dal ius connubii, ed è quindi una conseguenza dell'organizzazione giuridica della famiglia romana, il testamento invece, che prevalse nel diritto quiritario, fu un'ap plicazione del principio: « qui nexum faciet mancipiumque, uti lingua nuncupassit, ita ius esto »; come tale, esso prese le mosse dal ius commercii, e fu considerato come un mezzo di disporre libe ramente delle proprie cose (2 ). Fu sopratutto questa circostanza del l'essere le due istituzioni partite nella loro elaborazione giuridica da un concetto fondamentale diverso, che impedì alle medesime di con fondersi e di compenetrarsi insieme; poichè è un carattere della dialet tica quiritaria, che gli istituti giuridici, una volta separati, obbediscano ciascuno al proprio concetto ispiratore, nè sogliano mai confondersi con un altro, che si informi ad un concetto compiutamente diverso. Tale sembra appunto essere la significazione della celebre regola del giureconsulto Paolo: « ius nostrum non patitur eundem in paganis et testato et intestato decessisse, earumque rerum natu raliter inter se pugna est, testatus et intestatus » (3 ). Per verità (1) Quanto al carattere diverso di queste due successioni vedi il cap. III, § 4, in cui si discorre della successione testamentaria, ed il $ precedente relativo alla successione legittima. (2) Questo carattere speciale del testamento per aes et libram è attestato, ancorchè solo di passaggio, da Cic., De orat., I, 57, § 245; ma è poi dimostrato all'evidenza da ciò, che questo testamento ebbe ad essere ritenuto come un negozio, che compie vasi fra testatore ed erede, e in cui la volontà del testatore dominava sovrana. (3) Paolo, Leg. 7, Dig. (50-17). Secondo il PadELLETTI, Storia del dir. rom., pag. 201, questa massima sarebbe invece una conseguenza della superiorità esclusiva della successione testamentaria sulla legittima; ma questo non è ancora un motivo adeguato per impedire che le due eredità si confondessero fra di loro. 552 sarebbe stato illogico, che quel diritto, il quale in tutto il suo svi luppo tenne sempre mai distinte fra di loro le obbligazioni e i trasferimenti di proprietà, di cui quelle erano partite dal concetto primitivo del nexum e questi da quello del mancipium, avesse pui consentito, che concorressero insieme due istituzioni, le quali muove vano da concetti fondamentali anche più distanti fra di loro. Questo quindi fu uno dei casi in cui la logica quiritaria non volle piegarsi alle nuove esigenze, e si limitò ad introdurre una eccezione a fa vore del testamento dei soldati. 428. Qui intanto cade in acconcio di esaminare brevemente un'altra gravissima questione, quella cioè della precedenza, che nel diritto primitivo di Roma abbia avuto la successione legittima o la successione testamentaria. Sull'autorità del Sumner Maine, suole essere generalmente seguita l'opinione, che nella evoluzione storica del diritto romano dovette precedere la successione ab intestato, poichè la possibilità del testa mento, anche nel diritto romano, avrebbe cominciato dall'essere am messa soltanto in quei casi, in cui non vi fosse figliuolanza, e poi sarebbe stata estesa anche agli altri casi (1). Mentre ritengo, che questa opinione possa essere conforme al vero, per quanto si rife risce al periodo gentilizio, nel quale il testamento non dovette essere, che un mezzo per perpetuare la famiglia ed il suo culto, per il caso in cui non vi fossero dei figli, crederei invece, che essa non sia con forme all'evoluzione storica, che ebbe ad avverarsi nel ius quiritium. Sonvi infatti degli indizii, che ci inducono ad affermare, che nel ius quiritium penetrd dapprima il testamento, mentre la successione legittima vi fu solo introdotta più tardi, e che il testamento ebbe fin dal principio una prevalenza incontrastata sulla successione le gittima. È noto infatti, che Ulpiano dice espressamente, che la suc cessione legittima fu introdotta dalle XII Tavole, mentre queste invece avrebbero confermata la successione testamentaria; il che indica appunto, che il testamento era già comune ai due ordini, e aveva già subito l'elaborazione del ius quiritium, mentre la suc cessione legittima non sarebbe penetrata nel diritto comune, che colla legislazione decemvirale. Anteriormente a quest'epoca la suc cessione legittima, per ciò che si riferisce agli agnati ed ai gentili, (1) SUMNER MAINE, L'ancien droit, pag. 186. 553 doveva probabilmente essere esclusivamente propria delle genti pa trizie, le cui consuetudini in quest'argomento erano certo diverse dalle semplici costumanze della plebe (1). Appare poi fino all'evidenza dalle espressioni stesse delle XII Tavole, che la successione testamentaria ha una prevalenza indiscutibile sulla successione legittima, in quanto che quest'ultima non può verificarsi, che quando manchi il testa mento (si intestato moritur); il qual concetto perdurò poi per tutto lo svolgimento storico del diritto civile romano (2 ). In cid abbiamo un'altra prova, che il ius quiritium non deve essere considerato unicamente, come il frutto di un'evoluzione lenta e graduata delle istituzioni giuridiche, a misura che ne occorra il bisogno, ma piuttosto come il frutto di una selezione su materiali giuridici preesistenti. In esso infatti istituzioni più antiche penetra rono talvolta più tardi di altre, la cui formazione nella realtà dei fatti doveva essere più recente. Così, ad esempio, la successione le gittima, che fu certo la prima a svolgersi nell'ordine dei fatti, fu l'ul tima a penetrare nel ius quiritium, mentre il testamento, che era stato ultimo a comparire, fu il primo ad esservi accolto, come quello che meglio rispondeva a quella potente individualità giuridica, che era il quirite. — Cid apparirà anche più evidente trattando del si stema delle actiones, le quali, mentre furono le prime a formarsi nell'ordine dei fatti, furono invece le ultime ad essere elaborate nel primitivo ius quiritium. (1 ) ULP., Fragm., XI, 3; XXVII, 5; L. 130, Dig. (50-16 ). (2) La prevalenza della successione testamentaria sulla legittima nel diritto civile romano è provata da una quantità grande di passi di giureconsulti, fra i quali mi limito a citaro i seguenti: « quamdiu possit valere testamentum, tamdiu legitimus non admittitur » (Paolo, L. 89, dig. 50, 17); « quamdiu potest ex testamento adiri hereditas, ab intestato non defertur » (Ulp., L. 39, dig. 29, 2). 554 CAPITOLO VI. Le legis actiones e la storia primitiva della procedura civile romana. $ 1.- Le origini della procedura ex iure quiritium. 429. Quella tecnica giuridica, di cui già si riscontrarono le traccie nelle varie parti del ius quiritium, appare anche più rigida e se vera nella parte, che si riferisce alla procedura delle legis actiones. È qui sopratutto, ove l'elemento giuridico del fatto umano compare del tutto isolato e disgiunto da ogni elemento estraneo, e ove l'ela borazione giuridica dell'antico diritto ebbe a spingersi a tal punto di tecnicismo da rendere difficile alle nostre menti il comprenderne i concetti direttivi, e la logica inesorabile, a cui obbedi nella pro pria formazione. Alla difficoltà intrinseca dell'argomento si aggiun sero poi altre cause, che contribuirono a mantenere in questa parte una quantità di dubbii e di incertezze, la quale non potè del tutto essere dileguata dalla scoperta delle istituzioni di Gaio, dalla ricchissima letteratura, che in seguito alla medesima ebbe a svolgersi sull'argomento (1). È noto infatti, in base alle attestazioni concordi degli antichi au tori, che la parte dell'antico diritto, relativa alla procedura delle legis actiones, ebbe ad essere custodita ed elaborata dal collegio dei pontefici, anche dopo le XII Tavole, e continuò cosi ancora a co e (1) Anche qui non mi propongo di dare una bibliografia completa: ma piuttosto di indicare le opere, di cui ho potuto giovarmi per il punto speciale di vista, a cui mi collocai in questo lavoro. Fra esse citerò lo ZIMMERN, Traité des actions, trail. Etienne, Paris 1843; BONJEAN, Traité des actions chez les Romains, Paris 1845; il KELLER, Il processo civile romano e le azioni, trad. Filomusi-Guelfi, Napoli 1872; BETHMANN-HOLLWEGG, Der röm. Civilprocess in seiner geschichtl. Entwichelung, 3 vol., Bonn 1864-66, e sopratutto il primo, che tratta delle legis actiones; BEKKER, Die Aktionen d. röm. Privatrechts, 2 vol., e sopratutto il vol. I, pag. 18-74; KAR LOWA, Der röm. Civilprocess zur Zeit d. Legisactionen, Berlin 1872; BUONAMICI, La storia della procedura civile romana, Pisa 1886, e sopratutto il 1°, da pag. 15 a 86; JHERING, L'esprit du droit romain, tome 36, pag. 312 a 343; MuiraEAD, Histor. Introd., pag. 181 a 235; Zocco-Rosa, Le palingenesi della procedura civile romana, Roma 1887; WLASSAK, Römische Processgesetze, Leipzig 1888. 555 stituire per qualche tempo un segreto di professione e di casta. Pomponio infatti attribuisce ai pontefici di aver modellate le legis actiones, in base alla legislazione decemvirale; egli anzi dice con Gaio, che di qui sarebbe provenuta la denominazione di legis actio nes, le quali poi per la prima volta sarebbero state rese di pubblica ragione da Gneo Flavio, segretario di Appio Claudio (1). La notizia poi, che ci pervenne di queste legis actiones, è molto imperfetta; poichè lo stesso Gaio, che è forse il solo che ebbe a discorrerne di proposito, ci descrive il sistema delle legis actiones nell'ultimo stadio del suo svolgimento, e quindi si limita alla enu merazione ed alla descrizione dei varii modi o genera agendi, al lorchè questi furono definitivamente formati, senza farci assistere alla progressiva formazione di essi, salvo quel poco, che egli ci dice, circa la introduzione della legis actio per condictionem. A ciò si aggiunge, che Gaio, discorrendo di un sistema di procedura già andato in disuso ai suoi tempi, si limita a cenni assai generali, i quali per giunta ci pervennero anche con gravissime lacune, quali quelle relative alla iudicis postulatio, ed alla condictio (2 ). 430. Da questa notizia, per quanto imperfetta, si possono tuttavia ricavare alcune illazioni, che, per quanto generali, sono perd impor tantissime per la ricostruzione della prima procedura quiritaria, che fu senz'alcun dubbio quella delle legis actiones. È certo anzitutto, che anche in questa parte il primitivo ius qui ritium non venne creando speciali procedure, per i varii casi, che si presentavano; ma parti invece da certe forme tipiche di proce dura, che i pontefici od il magistrato venivano poi accomodando ai casi particolari, per guisa che le primitive legis actiones costitui scono, secondo l'esatta espressione di Gaio, altrettanti modi o genera agendi, di cui ciascuno poteva comprendere una varietà di azioni particolari (3 ). Noi sappiamo in secondo luogo, che il sistema delle legis actiones è decisamente informato al concetto, secondo cui la procedura per ogni controversia, che percorresse tutti i suoi stadii, viene a divi dersi in due parti essenziali, di cui una compievasi in iure, cioè (1) Pomp., Leg. 2, § 6, Dig. (1, 2 ); Gaio, IV, 11. (2) V. Gaio, IV, 17, ove manca il foglio, in cui egli doveva trattare dell'actio per iudicis postulationem, e passare poi a discorrere della legis actio per condictionem. (3) Gaio, IV, 12, scrive:, lege agebatur modis quinque etc. 556 davanti al magistrato, e l'altra invece seguiva davanti al giudice singolo od al corpo collegiale dei giudici, al quale le parti potevano essere rimesse dal magistrato. Mentre in iure si decideva, se in quel determinato caso si potesse far luogo all'applicazione della legis actio, e si dava alla fattispecie la configurazione giuridica delle me desima; in iudicio invece giudicavasi della ragione e del torto fra le parti contendenti, in base alla configurazione giuridica, che la controversia aveva assunto davanti al magistrato (1). Ci consta infine, che le legis actiones si dividevano in due ca tegorie, ispirate ad un concetto compiutamente diverso, in quanto che vi erano quelle, che miravano a fissare il punto in questione e ad ottenere la decisione del medesimo, e costituivano così la pro cedura, che potrebbe chiamarsi processuale o contenziosa; e quelle invece, che miravano all'esecuzione del giudicato, e costituivano così la procedura esecutiva. Nella prima categoria noi troviamo la legis actio sacramento e la iudicis postulatio, alle quali venne ad ag giungersi più tardi la legis actio per condictionem; mentre nella seconda la vera procedura di esecuzione è costituita dalla manus iniectio, che è diretta contro la persona del debitore condannato o confesso, poichè solo in pochi casi, determinati dalla legge o dal costume, è accordata la pignoris capio (2). (1) Ho già accennato altrove n ° 243, pag. 296 e seg., come la distinzione fra il ius ed il iudicium debba considerarsi come una conseguenza necessaria di ciò, che la pubblica giurisdizione del magistrato non estendevasi dapprima a tutte le con troversie civili e penali, ma comprendeva soltanto quelle, che eransi sottratte alla giurisdizione domestica e gentilizia, per essere deferite alla giurisdizione del magi strato. Di qui la conseguenza, che ogni controversia civile ed ogni accusa penale davano anzitutto luogo ad una questione preliminare, da decidersi in iure, in cui trattavasi di vedere, se la controversia, o se il delitto, di cui si trattava, potessero dare argomento ad un iudicium. Di qui le espressioni di actionem dare, iudicium dare. Questa distinzione pertanto, fra il ius ed il iudicium, non ha nulla che fare colla separazione tra il fatto ed il diritto: ma mira in certo modo a sceverare le questioni, che debbono essere lasciate alla giurisdizione domestica ed agli arbitra menti privati, da quelle, che debbono essere giudicate a secundum legem publicam ». (2) Questa distinzione fra la procedura contenziosa e la procedura di esecuzione non è espressamente indicata in Gaio, il quale si limita a dare come caratteristica delle legis actiones, che esse, ad eccezione della pignoris capio, si compievano in iure, cioè davanti al magistrato; ma tale distinzione è comunemente accettata e può dedursi dalla circostanza, che Gaio comincia in effetto a discorrere delle azioni, che si potrebbero chiamare processuali, e poi viene a parlare delle procedure esecu. tive, ancorchè queste fossero certo più antiche della legis actio per condictionem. In questo stato di cose, la questione fondamentale, che pre sentasi all'investigatore delle origini della procedura quiritaria, sta in cercare, se il sistema delle legis actiones debba ritenersi creato di pianta dopo la legislazione decemvirale ed in base alla medesima, o se invece debba ritenersi costruito e modellato con materiali giu ridici già preesistenti (1). A questo proposito ho cercato di dimostrare a suo tempo, che già fin dal periodo regio, cosi nei giudizii penali come nei civili, si possono trovare le traccie di quella separazione fra il ius ed il iudicium, che venne poi ad essere fondamentale nel sistema delle legis actiones, e che dovettero fin d'allora già esistervi delle pro cedure consuetudinarie, certamente analoghe a quelle, che compa riscono più tardi col nome di legis actiones. Che anzi abbiam visto eziandio essere probabile, che sopratutto all'epoca serviana, in cui si cominciò ad elaborare un ius quiritium, comune al patriziato ed alla plebe, e si modello l'atto quiritario per eccellenza, che era l'atto per aes et libram, siasi pure iniziata la formazione di una procedura propria per le questioni di carattere quiritario. Le prime origini di tale procedura sembrano accennate dalla tradizione, che at tribuisce appunto a Servio Tullio, di aver distinto i giudizii pubblici dai privati, e di aver ritenuto per sè la cognizione delle contro versie di maggior importanza, mentre avrebbe affidato a giudici scelti nell'ordine dei senatori, la risoluzione delle controversie di minor importanza. È infatti questa tradizione, che unita alla considerazione del grande movimento legislativo, che dovette ve rificarsi in quell'epoca, rende assai verosimile l'opinione di co loro, che farebbero rimontare a Servio Tullo l'origine del tribu che egli ci dice essere stata introdotta per l'ultima. Cfr. BUONAMICI, Op. cit., pag. 19 e 20. (1) È questa la questione, che fu di recente presa in esame dallo Zocco-Rosa, Palingenesi della procedura civile romanı, Roma 1887. Egli ridurrebbe le teorie in proposito enunciate a tre, cioè: 1) a quella che vuol fare uscire la primitiva procedura dal seno stesso della religione e del ius sacrum; 2) alla teoria, che egli chiama della preesistenza delle legis actiones alle XII Tavole; 3 ) e alla teoria della discendenza delle medesime dalle XII Tavole. Egli viene alla conclusione ammessa dalla generalità degli autori, che prima delle XII Tavole moribus agebatur, mentre posteriormente lege agebatur. Passa poi a cercare le origini della primitiva proce dura consuetudinaria presso i popoli di origine Aria, e questa sarebbe ricerca di grande interesse; ma forse per ora non si hanno ancora materiali sufficienti per giungere ad una conclusione definitiva)  nale quiritario dei centumviri, quella dei iudices selecti, ed anche la prima distinzione fra l'actio sacramento e la iudicis postulatio; di cui quella avrebbe aperto l’adito al centumvirale iudicium, e questa invece alla nomina di arbitri o di giudici, scelti dal novero dei iudices selecti. Questi indizii tuttavia, che accennano alla for mazione di una procedura quiritaria, anteriore alle XII Tavole, non impediscono punto, che la medesima abbia dovuto subire un rima neggiamento in tutte le sue parti, di fronte ad un avvenimento cosi importante per il diritto privato di Roma, quale fu quello della le gislazione decemvirale. Non parmi quindi, che possano essere respinte le attestazioni con cordi degli antichi autori, secondo cui la procedura civile, se non creata, dovette almeno essere rimaneggiata, in base alla legislazione decemvirale, per opera del collegio dei pontefici, e che in quell'oc casione appunto le actiones, essendo state accomodate alla legge, abbiano assunta la denominazione caratteristica di legis actiones. Che anzi da questo fatto parmi si possa indurre con fondamento, che la parte del ius quiritium, relativa alle legis actiones, dovette essere l'ultima ad essere elaborata dai veteres iuris conditores, al lorchè già erasi formato un vero ius quiritium, e che, ciò stante, questa parte, per essere sopraggiunta più tardi, quando le altre già erano formate, non potè ridursi ad una semplice incorporazione di consuetudini processuali già preesistenti, ma dovette già essere il frutto di una selezione e di una elaborazione, a cui le medesime furono sottoposte. Nė può ritenersi improbabile, che questa elabo razione abbia potuto essere l'opera degli stessi pontefici, quando si ritenga, che essi da una parte erano i custodi delle tradizioni delle genti patrizie e personificavano in certo modo lo spirito conserva tore delle medesime, e dall'altra furono senz'alcun dubbio i creatori della tecnica giuridica, e i primi maestri alla cui scuola si forma rono i grandi giureconsulti della Repubblica e dei primi secoli del l'Impero. Parmi anzi, che questa elaborazione dei pontefici, giure consulti e patrizii ad un tempo, valga a spiegare quel doppio carattere dell'antica procedura romana, la quale nelle proprie forme e nei proprii vocaboli richiama ancora l'organizzazione patriarcale, mentre sotto un altro aspetto è già un capolavoro di tecnica giuridica, che corrisponde mirabilmente alle altre parti del diritto privato romano e al concetto del quirite, ispiratore del medesimo. A quel modo in somma, che i veteres iuris conditores, trascegliendo fra le forme di matrimonio e di negozii già preesistenti nelle consuetudini delle - 559 genti italiche, riuscirono a sceverarne un connubium ed un com mercium ex iure quiritium, e a richiamare l'uno e l'altro a certe forme tipiche e solenni, che costituirono il diritto esclusivamente proprio della comunanza quiritaria: cosi essi, operando una scelta fra i modi di procedere, che già potevano essersi formati nei rap porti fra i capi di famiglia, e in quelli fra essi ed i loro dipendenti, riuscirono a ricavarne una procedura tipica, che potè essere consi derata come propria della comunanza quiritaria. Anche qui pertanto i materiali certo erano preesistenti; ma il primitivo diritto romano non li accetto senz'altro, quali esistevano, il che avrebbe dato ori gine ad una varietà di procedure, analoga a quella che occorre presso gli altri popoli primitivi; ma li sottopose invece ad una se lezione, riducendoli a quelle forme tipiche, in cui tanto si compia ceva il genio giuridico romano, come lo dimostra il modo, in cui fu rono modellate tutte le loro istituzioni giuridiche. Fu in questa guisa, che si riuscì ad una procedura, la quale, mentre è adatta ad un popolo agricolo e militare ad un tempo, quale era il popolo romano, porta perd le traccie evidenti dell'organizzazione patriarcale, da cui usciva, e contiene cosi un ricordo prezioso delle varie fasi, per cui passo lo stabilimento della civile giustizia (1). 432. Noi abbiamo infatti veduto a suo tempo, come già nella stessa organizzazione gentilizia, e sopratutto, allorchè al disopra della gens venne a svolgersi la tribus, e colla riunione dei vici si formò il pagus, già potessero sorgere controversie di carattere giu ridico fra i varii capi di famiglia, ed anche fra essi ed i loro di pendenti, e come il bisogno di venire alla risoluzione di tali con (1) Questa spiegazione intorno all'origine delle legis actiones ha il vantaggio di mettere d'accordo fra di loro i passi di antichi autori, relativi a quest'argomento, che pervennero fino a noi. Con essa infatti può conciliarsi la vetustissimi iuris ob servantia, a cui accenna Pomponio, coll'attestazione concorde dello stesso Pomponio e di Gaio, secondo cui le legis actiones furono composte ed accomodate sulle parole stesse delle XII Tavole. Questi due caratteri, pressochè in opposizione fra di loro, possono conciliarsi fra di loro, quando si accetti la teoria, svolta più sotto, di distin guere nella legis actio, come già nell'atto per aes et libram due parti, cioè la parte mimica, e la verborum conceptio. È la prima, che costituisce una vetustissimi iuris observantia, ed è un ricordo delle varie fasi attraversate nello stabilimento della civile giustizia; ed è la seconda, che potè invece essere accomodata e composta sulle parole stesse della legge. GAIO, IV, 11; POMP., Leg. 2, 8 6 e 24, Dig. (1,2). 560 troversie, abbia potuto dare origine a certimodi di procedura, che col tempo dovettero acquistare una vera autorità consuetudinaria (1). Da una parte si dovette formare una procedura fra i capi di fa miglia, uguali fra di loro, che nella loro fiera indipendenza non accettavano altro giudice, che quello che erasi fra loro concordato, il quale, anzichè giudice diretto della controversia, lo era invece della scommessa, con cui cercavano di rafforzare l'affermazione so lenne della propria ragione. Questa è quella procedura, che presso i romani fu ridotta ad una forma tipica, e denominata actio sacra mento, le cui traccie trovansi non solo fra le genti italiche, ma anche fra le elleniche, e presso i popoli Arii dell'India (3). L'altra invece fu una procedura, la quale ricorda ancora uno stato di privata violenza, e che probabilmente dovette svolgersi nei rapporti fra i vincitori ed i vinti, e più tardi nei rapporti fra la classe superiore dei padri, dei patroni, dei patrizii, e quella infe riore dei servi, dei clienti e dei plebei. Essa nelle proprie origini dovette essere una effettiva manus iniectio, ma poscia fu richiamata ad una significazione giuridica, e significò l'esercizio anche violento della potestà giuridica spettante a una persona, come lo dimostra il fatto, che essa continuò anche più tardi ad essere adoperata dal padrone sul servo, dal padre sul figlio, ed anche dal patrono sul liberto (3 ). Or bene entrambe queste forme di procedere, che certo ricordano un periodo anteriore di organizzazione sociale, entrarono nella com pagine del ius quiritium, e vi furono modellate per modo da cor rispondere alle altre parti di esso. La prima fu adottata come azione tipica, allorchè trattasi di istituire un giudizio fra quiriti: come tale essa mira a serbare la più scrupolosa imparzialità ed ugua glianza fra i contendenti, non sapendosi ancora chi possa essere il vincitore e chi il soccombente. La seconda invece fu adottata come azione tipica, allorchè trattasi di procedere all'esecuzione contro chi abbia subita una condanna, o confessato il proprio debito. (1) Quanto alla primitiva formazione delle actiones, nei rapporti fra i capi di fa miglia della stessa tribù e in quelli fra i capi famiglia e i loro dipendenti, vedi ciò, che si è detto nel lib. I, cap. V, § 3º, pag. 130 e segg. (2 ) V. in proposito lib. I, nº 104, pag. 135, nota 14. Cfr. il SUMNER MAINE, Early history of institutions, Lect. IX; e lo Zocco- Rosa, Op. cit., pag. 209 e seg. (3 ) V., quanto alle prime origini della manus iniectio, lib. I, nº 106, pag. 137. Cfr. CAPUANO, Storia del diritto romano, Napoli 1878; Cugino, Trattato storico della procedura civile romana, pag. 116; BuonamiCI, Op. cit., pag. 58. - 561 433. Di qui provennero i caratteri compiutamente diversi del l'actio sacramento e della manus iniectio. Nella prima abbiamo una procedura fra eguali; quindi i con tendenti sono in certo modo attori e convenuti ad un tempo: sono le persone, fra cui si discute, che recansi dinanzi al magistrato. Esse fingono un combattimento fra di loro; affermano con identiche parole il proprio diritto; fanno le medesime scommesse di 50 o di 500 assi, secondo il valore della controversia; sono ugualmente obbligati a dare garanzia (vindicias dare) se siano ammessi al possesso della cosa, che forma oggetto della controversia. Lo scru polo nel mantenere l'uguaglianza non potrebbe spingersi più oltre, ed è uguale anche il pericolo per l'uno e per l'altro dei contendenti; poichè la somma scommessa si perde dal soccombente, e mentre nell'epoca gentilizia era forse consacrata ad usi religiosi, nel periodo storico deve andare invece a benefizio del pubblico erario (1). L'altra procedura invece, rozza, violenta suppone una assoluta disuguaglianza fra i contendenti. Quella stessa legge, che procedeva titubante e quasi diffidente per il timore dioffendere l'indipendenza dei contendenti, non teme invece di accordare diritti illimitati e pres sochè senza confine al creditore contro il iudicatus ed il confessus. Essa non si preoccupa dei beni di quest'ultimo, ma dà diritto al creditore di procedere contro la persona del debitore, di imporre sopra di lui la sua manus, e di trascinarlo avanti al magistrato per farsi aggiudicare la persona del debitore stesso. Questi invece non ha diritto di reagire contro la violenza del creditore (a se de pellere manum ) né di agere pro se lege; ma solo di nominare un altro, che faccia valere le sue ragioni (vindicem dare) (2 ). Mentre l'actio sacramento è come una rappresentazione simbolica (vis festucaria) di quel combattimento effettivo (vis realis), a cui poteva dar luogo una privata controversia fra capi di famiglia indipendenti e sovrani, dell'interporsi fra essi di un vir pietate gravis, dell'affermazione scambievole della propria ragione, fatta dai contendenti e rafforzata da una scommessa, della quale deve esser giudice quegli a cui le parti si sono rimesse; la manus in (1) Tutti questi caratteri della legis actio sacramento si possono ricavare dalla descrizione di quest'azione fatta da Gaio, IV, 13 a 17, per quanto la medesima presenti molte lacune, sia quanto all' actio sacramento in personam, che quanto all'actio sacramento relativa agli immobili. (2 ) Gaio, Comm., IV, 21 a 26. G. CARLE, Le origini del diritto di Roma. 36 562 iectio invece è la procedura del vincitore contro il vinto, di colui, che ha il diritto, contro colui, il quale ne è privo, di quegli, che può dettare la legge, contro colui, che deve subirla. Anche la controversia è una lotta: quindi se durante la me desima deve essere serbata l'uguaglianza, allorchè invece essa è finita, il vincitore può stendere la propria mano sul vinto e questi è forzato ad arrendersi. Era poi naturale, che la procedura di un popolo agricolo e militare ad un tempo, per cui l'asta era il sim bolo del giusto dominio, venisse eziandio ad essere simboleggiata in una specie di lotta e di conflitto. 434. È tuttavia degno di nota, che i pontefici, nell'accogliere e nel modellare queste forme di procedura, si attennero ad un processo del tutto analogo a quello, che abbiam visto essersi seguito nel fog giare le forme dei negozii giuridici del diritto quiritario. Al modo stesso, che nell'atto quiritario per aes et libram può ravvisarsi una parte, che compievasi « dicis gratia, propter veteris iuris imitationem » e che costituiva cosi un ricordo del passato, ed una parte veramente viva, che era la nuncupatio, mediante cui un medesimo atto poteva accomodarsi ad una varietà grandissima di negozii, anche di carattere compiutamente diverso; cosi anche nella procedura primitiva, miri essa ad istituire un giudizio od alla esecuzione di un giudicato, possono facilmente distinguersi due parti, che compiono una funzione compiutamente diversa. Havvi anzitutto una parte, che potrebbe chiamarsi mimica, che si presenta sempre uniforme ed uguale, la quale è mantenuta evidentemente più come un ricordo del passato, che per l'utilità effettiva, che si possa ricavarne; come lo dimostra la disinvoltura, con cui si accettano gli espedienti, che mirano a semplificarla. Questa parte nell'actio sacramento è rappresentata dal recarsi sul luogo, ove trovasi l'oggetto in contestazione, se trattisi di immobile; dal portare davanti al magistrato la cosa mobile o una particella di essa; dal simbolo della festuca, che adoperavasi hastae loco; dalla finta manuum consertio, dalla mutua provocatio, e dal sacra mentum. Nella manus iniectio invece essa è rappresentata dal fatto di adprehendere manu qualche parte del corpo del proprio debitore. È questa parte mimica, la quale, costituendo in certomodo una soprav vivenza, col tempo divento pressochè incomprensibile, e potè talvolta essere posta in derisione, anche da autori antichi e fra gli altri da Cicerone. E tuttavia a notarsi, che lo stesso Cicerone, allorchè scrisse 563 nell'interesse del vero e non in quello del cliente, non dubito di dichiarare, che era di grande diletto questa impronta di vetusta, inerente alle legis actiones, e di affermare che: « actionum ge nera quaedam maiorum consuetudinem vitamque declarant» (1). Queste formalità infatti, conservateci da un popolo, che, più di qualsiasi altro, seppe sceverare l'essenzialità del fatto umano dalle circostanze accidentali del medesimo, sono anche oggidi un impor tantissimo documento del modo di pensare e di agire. che era proprio delle primitive genti italiche. Intanto perd, accanto a questa parte, il cui mantenimento era l'effetto dello spirito conservatore del popolo romano, eravi eziandio la parte veramente viva ed attuosa, e questa consisteva in quelle concezioni verbali, solenni e precise (conceptiones verborum, verba concepta, certa verba ), che servivano a dare una configurazione giuridica alle varie fattispecie e a farle entrare nella veste rigida delle legis actiones (2). Era in questo modo, che, malgrado la va rietà infinita delle fattispecie, si riusciva ad isolare l'obbiettività giuridica delle medesime e a richiamarle tutte a pochissimi genera agendi. Questo era l'ufficio, a cui attesero dapprima i pontefici, poi il pretore, e da ultimo i giureconsulti, e fu con questo magistero che la sola actio sacramento fini per essere accomodata a tutte le controversie di carattere quiritario, e la sola manus iniectio poté bastare a qualsiasi procedura esecutiva. Vuolsi quindi conchiudere, che queste due legis actiones costi tuiscono in certo modo il nucleo centrale della procedura quiritaria. Esse sono quelle, in cui si può leggere il modo di pensare e di agire del primitivo quirite, fiero, indipendente, geloso del proprio (1) Co., Pro Murena, vol. 2, scherza spiritosamente sull'actio sacramento, relativa alla proprietà di un fondo, dimostrando come le forme primitive avessero complicata una procedura, che avrebbe potuto essere semplice e pronta. Egli però nel De orat., I, riconosce eziandio quanto possa essere di dilettevole e di utile in questo studio dell'antico, allorchè scrive: « Nam si quem aliena studia delectant, plurima est in omni iure civili, et in pontificum libris, et in XII Tabulis antiquitatis effigies, quod et verborum prisca vetustas cognoscitur, et actionum genera quaedam maiorum con suetudinem vitamque declarant. (2) A mio avviso, la conceptio verborum nella legis actio tiene il posto stesso della nuncupatio nell'atto per aes et libram. Ciò sarà meglio dimostrato più sotto, nº 449, ed apparirà così la costanza e la coerenza dei processi, a cui suole atte nersi il primitivo diritto romano. 564 diritto, finchè la sentenza non sia pronunziata; umile, sottomesso, pronto ad abbandonare se stesso al proprio creditore, allorchè sia stato soccombente nella lotta giudiziaria. Intanto però, accanto a queste due procedure fondamentali, se ne vennero svolgendo delle altre, che sembrano sussidiarne l'azione, e quindi importa di ri cercare lo svolgimento storico, così della procedura contenziosa, che della procedura esecutiva. § 2. – Lo svolgimento storico della procedura contenziosa nel primitivo diritto. 485. Se l'actio sacramento costituisce il nucleo centrale della procedura contenziosa nel sistema delle legis actiones, noi sappiamo però, che attorno ad essa fin dai primi tempi si vennero svolgendo la iudicis postulatio fra i cittadini, e la recuperatio fra cittadini e stranieri, e che alle medesime più tardi venne ancora ad aggiun gersi la legis actio per condictionem. Importa quindi di determinare la funzione, che questi vari genera agendi esercitarono sulla pri mitiva procedura, e di ricercare eziandio l'ordine progressivo della loro formazione. Delle antiche legis actiones, quella, intorno a cui ci pervennero maggiori notizie, è certo l'actio sacramento. Noi sappiamo della medesima, che generalis erat, in quanto che poteva essere adoperata per tutte le controversie, per cui non fosse stata introdotta altra speciale procedura, si trattasse di agere in rem, od anche di agere in personam. Essa quindi sembra riportarci ad un'epoca, in cui non doveva esistere ancora la distin zione fra l'azione in rem e l'azione in personam; il che però non impedisce, che essa presentasse delle differenze nelle solennità e nelle espressioni adoperate, secondo che trattavasi di agere in rem o di agere in personam. Cosi pure in essa non vi è ancora la distin zione netta e precisa fra l'attore ed il convenuto, ma i contendenti sono attori e convenuti ad un tempo, come lo dimostra l'identità delle espressioni da essi adoperate. Infine essa non conduce alla ri soluzione diretta della controversia, ma piuttosto a giudicare quale dei due contendenti abbia affermato il vero e quale il falso, e quale perciò debba essere soccombente nella scommessa fra i medesimi intervenuta (utrius sacramentuin iustum, utrius sacramentum in iustum sit); cosicchè in essa il soccombente, oltre al perdere in 565 - direttamente la lite, corre anche il rischio di perdere la scom messa (1). Noi sappiamo poi, quanto alle controversie che dovevano rivestire la forma di questa legis actio, che essa costituiva un preliminare indispensabile per tutte le cause di carattere veramente quiritario, le quali erano sottoposte al centumvirale iudicium, ed anche per quelle relative alla verità ed allo stato delle persone (caussae liberales), quanto alle quali noi sappiamo, che il sacramentum era solo di cinquanta assi (quinquagenarium ), e che esse erano devolute ai decemviri stlitibus iudicandis (2 ). Tutti questi caratteri imprimono un suggello di vetustà all'actio sacramento, e ci richiamano a quella potente sintesi, che è carat teristica del primitivo ius quiritium, in cui non distinguesi ancora fra diritto personale e reale, fra attore e convenuto, fra la provo. catio e la litis contestatio. Si comprende quindi, che la mimica, che la precede, sia come un ricordo dei varii stadii, per cui passò lo stabilimento della civile giustizia, fra i capi di famiglia, e che essa, trapiantata dall'organizzazione gentilizia nella città, sia stata rico nosciuta come l'azione tipica del diritto quiritario. Ciò spiega eziandio come essa, mentre è certamente la più antica, sia stata anche la più duratura delle legis actiones; poichè, quando le altre furono abolite, continud pur sempre ad essere mantenuta qual preliminare al centumuirale iudicium, cioè davanti a quel tribunale dei cen tumviri, che può essere considerato come il tribunale essenzial mente quiritario, sia per il modo, in cui era composto, sia per le controversie, che gli erano sottoposte, che erano appunto quelle, che riguardavano la posizione di ciascun cittadino nel censo, e quindi anche nello Stato (3). (1) GAIO, IV, 13 a 17: Cic., Pro Caecina, 33, ove dice, che in una causa da lui trattata per la libertà di una certa Aretina fu deciso, che il suo sacramentum era iustum. Di qui le espressioni: iusto sacramento contendere, iniustis sacramentis petere. (2) La necessità della legis actio sacramento, per una causa da istituirsi davanti al centumvirale iudicium, è dimostrata dal fatto che, secondo Gaio, IV, 31, anche dopo l'abolizione delle legis actiones, fu ancora permesso di agire in questa guisa: a domini infecti nomine, et si centumvirale iudicium futurum sit ». È poi lo stesso Gaio, IV, 14, il quale ci attesta, che le cause di stato erano precedute dall'actio sacramento, in quanto che egli afferma, che in base alle XII Tavole il sacramentum per una questione di libertà era solo di cinquanta assi. L'uso del sacramentum nelle caussae liberales è poi anche confermato da Cic., Pro Caec. 33. (3) La competenza del centumvirale iudicium, per le cause di carattere eminente. - 566 436. È invece ben poca cosa quello, che ci pervenne intorno alla legis actio per iudicis postulationem. Dal palimpsesto di Verona non si potè ritrarne, che il titolo, mentre da Valerio Probo si ricavo la formola, che dovette adoperarsi per ottenere la nomina di un giudice o di un arbitro: iudicem arbitrumve postulo uti des. Nelle XII tavole poi sono indicati varii casi, in cui trattandosi di controversie di carattere indeterminato, che suppongono una certa libertà di apprezzamento, e che talvolta sono anche designate col vocabolo di iurgia, piuttosto che con quello di lites, si propone la nomina di uno o più arbitri (1). Bastano tuttavia questi pochiindizii per dimostrare le molte e gravi differenze, che la contraddistinguono dall'actio sacramento. Essa in fatti già suppone la persona dell'attore distinta da quella del conve nuto; suppone una amministrazione della giustizia già organizzata, in cuiil magistrato procede alla designazione del giudice; conduce alla risoluzione diretta della controversia; non trae più con sè, per quanto almeno noi possiamo saperne, il pericolo di perdere una scommessa. Essa parimenti, come lo indica la sua denominazione, non conduce più alla rimessione dei contendenti avanti ad un tribunale collegiale, come quello dei centumviri e dei decemviri; ma dà origine ad un iudicium privatum, nel vero senso della parola, in cui il giudice o l'arbitro, secondo un antichissimo costume ro mano, dovevano essere concordati fra le parti (2 ). Essa infine differisce eziandio dall'actio sacramento per il ca rattere di indeterminatezza delle controversie, che ne formavano oggetto, le quali supponevano una certa libertà di apprezzamento 1 mente quiritario, è attestata dall'enumerazione fatta di tali cause da Cic., De orat., I, 38. (1) I casi, in cui la legge decemvirale parla di nomine di arbitri, sono quelli relativi al regolamento di confini: « si iurgant de finibus, tres arbitros dato »; alla divisione dell'eredità fra i coeredi (actio familiae erciscundae); all'apprezzamento del danno dato dall'acqua piovana (arbiter aquae pluviae arcendae) e qualche altro caso analogo. Vedi KELLER, Il processo civile romano, $ 7, pag. 25; ORTOLAN, Expli cation historique des Institutes de Iustinien, Paris 1883, III, pag. 494. (2 ) Sebbene non si possa dire, che il centumvirale iudicium si contrapponga in senso stretto al iudicium privatum, tuttavia occorrono passi di autori, in cui i centumviri sono contrapposti al privatus iudex, come in Cic., De or., I, 38, 39; in Quint., Instit. or., 10, n ° 115, ove scrive: « alia apud centumviros, alia apud iudicem privatum in iisdem quaestionibus ratio ». Cfr. ZIMMERN, Traité des actions, pag. 36, nota 3 e 4. 567 - — nel giudice o nell'arbitro chiamato a risolverlo; cosicchè, di fronte al iudicium directum, asperum, simplex, che era istituito col l'actio sacramento, essa iniziava di preferenza un iudicium od un arbitrium moderatum, mite, in cui cominciava ad essere lasciata qualche parte a quell'equità e buona fede, che erano escluse dalle forme rigide e precise del primitivo ius quiritium. Al qual pro posito vuolsi eziandio notare, che quando si confronti la denomi nazione attribuita da Gaio a questa legis actio, che è quella di iudicis postulatio, colla formola serbataci da Valerio Probo, secondo la quale si domanda un giudice od un arbitro, è lecito di inferirne, che in essa dovette avverarsi uno svolgimento storico. Essa dapprima infatti dovette implicare soltanto la nomina di un iudex, sotto il quale vocabolo si comprendeva anche l'arbiter. Più tardi invece, e probabilmente in seguito alla legislazione decemvirale, la quale am metteva per certe questioni anche la nomina di arbitri, essa dovette porgere occasione a quella distinzione fra iudicium ed arbitrium, la quale presentava ancora tante incertezze all'epoca di Cicerone. Questi caratteri presi insieme mi condurrebbero alla conclusione, che la iudicis postulatio non presenti più quell'impronta di vetustà, che è propria dell'actio sacramento, e non possa perciò considerarsi come una procedura di carattere patriarcale, trasportata a Roma. Essa invece dove già formarsi sotto l'influenza della vita cittadina, e dove probabilmente essere una conseguenza della stessa formazione del ius quiritium. Siccome infatti, secondo appare dalle leggi, che ne governarono la formazione, il ius quiritium non costitui mai tutto il diritto di Roma, ma solo quella parte di esso che corrisponde al concetto del quirite, e che primo era riuscito a consolidarsi mediante il riconoscimento di una lex publica. Cosi ne consegui necessariamente, che anche le controversie, che potevano sorgere fra i cittadini, si divi [Cic., Pro Mur.,osserva, scherzando, che i giuristi non si sono ancora potuti accordare circa l'uso delle parole di iudex o di arbiter. La difficoltà di allora non è ancora scomparsa oggidì; poichè la distinzione fra iudicium e arbitrium, fra il ius strictum e l'aequitas, fra la lis e il iurgium, è una di quelle questioni di limiti, che non saranno mai definitivamente risolte. Cfr. KELLER. Quanto alla differenza fra iudicium strictum e arbitrium, mi rimetto al “De exceptionibus in iure romano” (Torino)] dessero naturalmente in due categorie. Vi erano da una parte le controversie di carattere eminentemente quiritario, relative al caput, alla manus, al mancipium, all'atto per aes et libram, ai negozii rivestiti della forma del medesimo (nexum, mancipium, testamentum ), all'eredità e alla tutela legittima; le quali, per poggiare sopra una legge o sopra un atto od un negozio di carattere quiritario, potevano ridursi in certo modo ad una affermazione o ad una negazione, ed accomodarsi così alle forme rigide dell'actio sacramento. Vi erano invece dall'altra parte quelle controversie, le quali, o per l'indeterminatezza del loro oggetto, o per supporre una certa latitudine di apprezzamento in chi era chiamato a giudicarle, o per dipendere più dalla consuetudine, che da una vera legge, abbisogna vano in certo modo più di un arbitro, che non di un giudice, nel significato ristretto, che ebbe ad assumere più tardi questo vocabolo. Quest'ultime pertanto richiedevano una procedura più semplice, non accompagnata dai pericoli dell’actio sacramento, in quanto che le parti contendenti possono anche in parte essere nella ragione ed in parte essere nel torto. Quindi è probabile, che siano state appunto queste controversie, le quali, al punto di vista quiritario, hanno minor importanza, che Servio Tullio comincia a deferire al iudex privatus, introducendo appunto per esse la iudicis postulatio. Così pure non è punto improbabile, che nella precisione ed esattezza del linguaggio le prime controversie di carattere quiritario si indicassero col vocabolo di vere lites, mentre le altre fossero designate piuttosto col vocabolo di iurgia. Siccome poi col tempo, una parte di quel diritto, che in certo modo esiste allo stato fluttuante intorno al nucleo centrale del ius quiritium, fini per essere attratto dal medesimo, e per entrare eziandio nelle forme rigide e precise del diritto quiritario. Cosi si può comprendere, come col tempo la iudicis postulatio, che dapprima ha un carattere sussidiario, puo entrare anch'essa a far parte del sistema delle legis actiones. Ciò anzi dovette avvenire naturalmente, allorchè la legislazione decemvirale accolge la iudicis arbitrive postulatio, come lo dimostrano le controversie, [L'opinione qui svolta, circa i rapporti fra l'actio sacramento e le iudicis postulatio, si avvicina a quella enunziata da KARLOWA (“Der röm. Civilprozess”) per cui essa prescrisse al magistrato di addivenire alla nomina di un giudice, o di uno o più arbitri. Da quel punto la iudicis postulatio entra a far parte del sistema della procedura civile romana. Costitui ancor essa una legis actio; che anzi, per il minor pericolo che offriva ai contendenti, dovette acquistare un largo svolgimento, come lo dimostra Voigt, il quale attribuisce un maggior numero di azioni alla iudicis postulatio, che alla stessa actio sacramento. Questo svolgimento poi fu sopratutto favorito dalla distinzione, che si opera nella stessa iudicis postulatio, fra il iudicium e l'arbitrium, il quale ultimo, accompagnato dalla clausola “ex fide bona”, fini, secondo l'attestazione di Cicerone, per essere applicato, dopo la scomparsa delle legis actiones, in tutti quei negozii, in cui domina la buona fede, quali sarebbero la società, la fiducia, il mandato, la vendita, la locazione, e simili. Questi negozii infatti, negli inizii, sono ancora esclusi dalla cerchia del ius quiritium, e come tali non potevano formar tema dell'actio sacramento, ma solo della iudicis postulatio, alla quale probabilmente dovette appartenere la clausola conservataci dallo stesso Cicerone – “uti ne propter te fi demve tuam captus fraudatusve siem.” Pervenuto a questo punto nella storia della primitiva procedura romana, parmi opportuno di arrestarmi alquanto all'esame di un istituto, il quale, malgrado le sue modeste apparenze, dovette tuttavia esercitare una potente influenza sullo svolgimento della medesima. Esso è quell'antichissimo istituto, che è indicato col vocabolo di “reciperatio”, ed al quale si rannoda senz'alcun dubbio quella categoria di giudici, o di arbitri, che vengono sotto il nome di recuperatores. Si è veduto in proposito, che nelle consuetudini delle genti italiche era indicata col vocabolo di “reciperatio” quella clausola, che soleva aggiungersi aitrattati di amicitia e di hospitium fra le varie genti o tribù, con cui stipulavasi fra esse un diritto di reciproca actio, cosicchè i cittadini di un popolo potevano chiedere ed ottenere ragione nel territorio e presso il magistrato di un altro. Era con [Voigt (“XII Tafeln”) assegna alla iudicis arbitrive postulatio ben XXXV azioni, di cui IX apparterrebbero agl’arbitria, e il rimanente ai iudicia propriamente detti. Cfr. MUIRHEAD, Histor. introd., -- Cic., De offic.] questa clausola, che la protezione giuridica, in base ad un trattato (foedus), comincia ad oltrepassare la cerchia degli abitanti di un territorio per estendersi a quelli di un altro, con cui si fosse in amichevoli rapporti. Essa poi aveva questo di particolare, che pone in certo modo di riscontro i diritti dei due popoli, e rendeva anche necessario il ministero di più recuperatores, tolti anche da popoli diversi, in quanto che i medesimi doveno rappresentare l'elemento cittadino e lo straniero ad un tempo. Quando poi si ritenga, che Roma usci essa stessa dalla confederazione di genti di origine diversa, e fin dalle proprie origini cerco di accrescere le proprie forze colle amicizie e colle alleanze coi po poli vicini, sarà facile a comprendersi, come in essa la “reciperatio” sia venuta a cambiarsi in una istituzione permanente, e ha col tempo assunto il carattere di una procedura regolare, da applicarsi nei rapporti fra i cives ed i peregrini. Cio è dimostrato dal fatto, che gl’antichi autori indicano talvolta la “recuperatio” col vocabolo caratteristico di actio, e che in Roma i recuperatores, dopo essere stati giudici fra i cives ed i peregrini, si cambiarono in una categoria di giudici, che potevano essere nominati anche per le controversie inter cives, e sopratutto dal bisogno sentito più tardi di creare un “praetor peregrinus” “qui inter peregrinos ius diceret.” La reciperatio s’applica anche al ius pacis, nei rapporti fra le varie genti. Se fosse lecito di paragonare istituti, che si svolsero a distanza di migliaia di anni,direi che la reciperatio, nel passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia alla città nel mondo an tico, corrispose a quella istituzione, che pure ebbe a svolgersi nel periodo di forma zione degli Stati moderni, e che si esplicò col nome analogo di reciprocanza di diritto, la quale consisteva nell'accordare agli stranieri quella stessa protezione di diritto, che fosse accordata ai nostri concittadini nello stato, a cui gli stranieri ap partenevano. In quei tempi antichissimi la “reciperatio”, come nei tempi moderni la reciprocanza, concorsero alla formazione dell'idea di una comunanza di diritto fra i diversi popoli, che presso i romani prenderà il nome di ius gentium, e che nell'età moderna e dal Savigny indicata col nome di comunanza di diritto, la quale, secondo il grande fondatore della scuola storica, dove essere posta a fondamento del diritto internazionale. V. Savigny, “Traité de droit romain,” trad. Guenoux. Quanto ai rapporti poi, che intercedono fra il concetto dell'antico ius gentium, e questa comunanza di diritto fra gli stati moderni, mi rimetto ad altro mio lavoro col titolo, “La dottrina giuridica del fallimento nel diritto internazionale private” (Napoli) come pure all'opera, “La vita del diritto nei suoi rapporti colla vita sociale” (Torino). Quanto all'influenza, che esercitarono in Roma la recuperatio ed i recupera [Queste circostanze intanto rendono probabile la congettura, che in Roma, fin dai più antichi tempi, dovettero trovarsi di fronte due forme di procedura. L'una, propria dei quiriti, e perciò adatta al rigore del diritto quiritario; l'altra invece, applicabile ai rapporti fra cittadini e stranieri, e percid più semplice e spedita. Siccome pero uno stesso magistrato sovraintendeva dapprima all'una e all'altra, cosi esso veniva ad essere posto nella posizione singolare di proseguire da una parte l'elaborazione del ius quiritium e di sentire dall'altra l'influenza del diritto degli altri popoli, e di potere cosi giudicare dell'opportunità e del bisogno di trasportare nella procedura romana certe semplificazioni, che sono invece proprie della reciperatio. Di qui una scambievole influenza di queste due forme di procedura, la quale continua ancora, allorchè l'accrescersi delle controversie condusse a dividere la iurisdictio fra due pretori, che nella loro stessa denominazione di “praetor urbanus” e di “praetor peregrinus” portano le traccie del dualismo, che essi rappresentano. E questo il motivo per cui, a quelmodo stesso, che i recuperatores finirono per essere accolti nelle categorie dei giudici fra i cittadini, così certe procedure, che prima dovettero essere seguite nei rapporti fra i cives e i peregrini, finirono, come più semplici e spedite, per essere accolte eziandio nel diritto civile di Roma. Che anzi la coesistenza di queste due procedure dovette, a mio tores, i quali diventarono col tempo una istituzione romana e sono i modesti preparatori della maggior opera, che doveva poi compiere il praetor peregrinus, istituito probabilimente nell'anno 512 dalla fondazione di Roma (KELLER, “Il processo civile romano”, ZIMMERN, “Traité des actions,” JHERING, “L'esprit du droit romain”, KarLOWA, “Röm. Civil prozess,” Bouché-LECLERQ, “Instit. rom.,” MUIRHEAD, Histor. introd., quanto all'applicazione della recuperatio inter cives. Keller nota a ragione che il riguardare la legis actio come propria soltanto dei cittadini romani, è una asserzione più volte prodotta, ma non pienamente giustificata. Noi sappiamo anzi da Gaio, che coll'actio sacramento poteva procedersi, anche davanti al praetor peregrinus, al modo stesso che il praetor urbanus nomina dei recuperatores, anche per cause inter cives; ma ciò venne appunto ad essere l'effetto di questa esistenza contemporanea delle due procedure, la quale condusse ad uno scambio fra di esse. Intanto qui non può esservi dubbio, che negli inizii le cause relative allo stretto diritto quiritario, quali erano quelle, che si recano davanti al centumvirale iudicium, non potevano essere che assolutamente proprie dei cives romani o dei latini, o dei peregrini, a cui fosse stato esteso il ius quiritium.] avviso, servire a preparare lentamente certi effetti, chenegli avvenimenti posteriori appariscono pressochè repentini. Cosi, ad esempio, essa dovette essere una delle principali cause, per cui, accanto al concetto rigido del ius civile, si dovette venir gradatamente delineando nella mente del pretore e dei giureconsulti, che lo circondavano, il concetto più largo di un ius gentium, il quale, una volta formato, doveva poi recare cosi profonde trasformazioni nel primo. Cosi pure egli è probabile, che il pretore in questa procedura, non essendo vincolato ai terminidi una legge, dovette avere una maggior libertà nel formolare giuridicamente la controversia, il che lo pose in condizione di poter lentamente preparare, fin da quel tempo, in cui fra i cittadini duravano ancora le legis actiones, quel sistema delle formulae, il quale col tempo dove poi essere accolto dal ius civile. Infine, per non spingere troppo oltre le induzioni, parmi eziandio probabile, che quella “egis actio per condictionem,” che ultima comparve nel sistema delle legis actiones, siasi modellata sulla condictio, che certo già esisteva nella procedura della recuperatio. Noi sappiamo infatti, che questa era appunto iniziata, mediante una condictio, in quanto che i contendenti condicebant diem, ossia fis savano di comparire fra XXX giorni, avanti il magistrato, per ot tenere la nomina dei recuperatores; come lo dimostrano le espres sioni, che occorrono nelle XII Tavole, di « status, condictus dies cum hoste », il quale doveva essere sacro per modo da essere un legittimo impedimento a comparire in un giudizio fra cittadini. Sembra tuttavia, che vi fosse una differenza fra la condictio nella procedura inter peregrinos, e la condictio come legis actio inter cives; poichè, mentre nella prima era in certo modo concordato il giorno di comparire avanti al magistrato, nella seconda invece, secondo la descri zione di Gaio, era l'attore, che intimava al convenuto (actor adver sario denuntiabat) di comparire fra trenta giorni avanti almagistrato ad iudicem capiendum (2 ). (1) Quanto all' influenza del praetor peregrinus nel preparare il sistema delle formole e dell'editto provinciale nell'estendere il concetto del ius gentium è da ve dersi il Glasson (“Étude sur Gajus,” Paris). Cfr. Carle, “L'evoluzione storica del diritto romano” (Torino). Secondo Voigt, XII Tafeln, la legge II, Tav. II, fra le altre cause di legittimo impedimento a comparire avanti il magistrato, accenna appunto lo status, condictus dies cum hoste. Cfr. quanto alla “condictio cum hoste,” il MuruEAD]. Anche intorno alla legis actio per condictionem ci per vennero notizie molto scarse, in quanto che il manoscritto di Gaio si presenta manchevole in quella parte, in cui egli, accingendosi a parlare della legis actio per condictionem, sembrava accennare alle origini di essa. Da quel poco tuttavia, che egli ne dice, si può ricavare: lº che la sostanza di questa legis actio consisteva nella condictio, o meglio nella denuntiatio, che l'attore faceva al conve nuto di comparire fra XXX giorni ad iudicem capiendum; 2º che nella medesima quella scommessa, che occorreva nel sacramentum, appare surrogata dalla sponsio et restipulatio tertiae partis, per cui il soccombente, oltre l'importo della controversia, deve corrispondere al vincitore il terzo della medesima a titolo di pena; 3º che infine essa fu introdotta prima da una lex Silia per le obbligazioni di una certa pecunia e poi estesa dalla lex Calpurnia alle obbligazioni di una certa res: leggi, che sogliono essere assegnate approssima tivamente al principio del sesto secolo di Roma (anni 510 a 520 U. C.). Quanto alla causa, per cui la condictio ha ad essere intro dotta, essa forma oggetto di discussione fra i giureconsulti, i quali ha ad osservare, che per le controversie di questa natura possono servire le anteriori legis actiones. Ricomponendo tuttavia questi pochi indizii col resto, che sappiamo delle legis actiones, si possono ricavare alcune importanti illazioni. È certo anzitutto, che la condictio non e del tutto nuova, nè quanto al nome, nè quanto alla sostanza, e non è punto improbabile, che fosse una imitazione della condictio, propria della procedura inter cives et peregrinos. Essa poi e accolta nel sistema delle legis actiones per le controversie, che volgevano o intorno ad una certa pecunia o intorno ad una certa res. Quindi, riguardando obbligazioni relative ad un certum, essa dovette restringere il dominio della [Gaio.  Quanto alla stipulatio et restipulatio tertiae partis essa non è accennata nel testo mutilato di Gaio, relativo alla legis actio per condictionem. Ma noi possiamo indurne la esistenza da ciò, che egli dice altrove, che questa stipulatio et restipulatio tertiae partis fa parte dell’actio certae creditae pecuniae propter sponsionem. Ora l' “actio certae creditae pecuniae”, nel sistema formolario, succedette alla legis actio per condictionem. Quindi se essa ritiene questo carattere, che certamente sa di antico, e richiama sott'altra forma la scommessa del “sacramentum”, dove certo ereditarlo dalla medesima. È poi lo stesso Gaio accenna ai dubbi fra i giureconsulti circa il motivo, per cui fu introdotta questa nuova legis action] actio sacramento, anzichè quello della iudicis postulatio, la quale e propria delle controversie di carattere indeterminato. Per tal modo, la condictio si presenta come una semplificazione dell'actio sacramentu. Abolisce tutta la parte mimica del sacramentum. Sostituisce, quanto alle obbligazioni aventi per oggetto un certum, il giudice singolo al tribunale popolare dei centumuiri. Infine surroga alla scommessa, che anda a beneficio dell'erario, la sponsio et restipulatio tertiae partis, che va invece a benefizio del vincitore delle lite. Quanto alla causa storica, che può aver determinata questa semplificazione nella procedura relativa alle obbligazioni di un certum, essa deve certamente essere cercata in qualche importantissima tra sformazione, che dovette avverarsi nell'epoca della Lex Silia e Calpurnia, quanto alle obbligazioni di carattere quiritario. Qui per tanto viene ad aprirsi un largo campo alle congetture. Ma è possibile di giungere a qualche risultato probabile, se si tenga dietro al processo storico del ius quiritium nella parte relativa alle obbligazioni. A questo proposito si è dimostrato a suo tempo, che la forma primitiva dell'obbligazione ex iure quiritium e quella del l'atto per aes et libram, che piglia il nome di nexum. Colla medesima il debitore sottoponeva senz'altro la sua persona a tutti i rigori della manus iniectio, per il caso che non avesse soddisfatto il suo debito a scadenza. In questa parte però il ius quiritium subi una trasformazione profonda, allorchè la Lex Poetelia tolse di mezzo gl’effetti speciali del nexum, negando al medesimo l'efficacia di un'esecuzione immediata contro la persona del debitore. Da quel momento il nexum cessa di costituire quell'ingens vinculum fidei che prima e, e comincia a cadere in disuse. Ma sottentrarono in suo luogo e vece altri modi, esclusivamente proprii dei cittadini romani, per assumere l'obbligazione di una certa pecunia, o di una certa res, quali furono ad esempio la “sponsio” o “stipulatio”, la expensi latio o litteris obligatio, o infine la mutui datio, di cui formano oggetto quelle cose “quae numero, pondere acmensura constant.” Per tutte queste obbligazioni di un certum, non essendo più consentita la immediata manus iniectio, che un tempo era con- [Cfr. in Keller e il Buonamici, “Proc. civ. rom.”] -sentita per il nexum, non puo più esservi altra procedura, che quella dell'actio sacramento, la quale, per il pericolo, che vi e inerente, non puo a meno di riuscire grave per i creditori di una somma o cosa certa, il cui credito risulta in modo solenne da atti riconosciuti dal diritto civile. Si comprende pertanto, che prima la lex Silia, per una certa pecunia, e poi la lex Calpurnia, per ogni certa res, abbiano sostituita all’actio sacramento la legis actio per condictionem, in cui evvi ancora un vestigio dell'antica scommessa nella sponsio et restipulatio tertiae partis, la quale tuttavia non va più a benefizio dell'erario, ma è un compenso e come un indennizzo per il vincitore ed una pena per il soccombente. Siccome poi nel diritto romano ogni istituto, che riesce a pene trare nella compagine di esso, ben presto si rivendica il posto, che gli compete, e riceve tutto lo sviluppo, di cui può essere capace; così la condictio, appena fu ammessa come legis actio, essendo più semplice, più spedita, meno pericolosa dell'actio sacramento, fini per richiamare a sè stessa tutte le controversie relative all'obbligazione di un certum, mentre l'actio sacramento si circoscrive a tutte quelle controversie, che hanno il carattere di una vindicatio, intesa in largo senso. Di qui consegui col tempo, che il vocabolo di “condictio”, nel linguaggio giuridico, divenne pressochè sinonimo di “actio in personam”, mentre l'actio sacramento finì per significare di preferenza l'actio in rem o la vindicatio. Ha quindi tutte le ragioni Gaio di accusare di improprietà l'uso, che facevasi ai suoi tempi, del vocabolo di “condictio” per indicare l' “actio in personam”, poiché l'essenza della primitiva condictio non consiste tanto nel dari oportere, quanto piuttosto nella denuntiatio diei. Ma ciò punto non toglie, che di fatto, in virtù di un lungo processo storico, verificatosi nel sistema delle legis actiones, l'actio sacramento si riduce alle sole vindicationes, mentre la condictio e in sostanza divenuta la forma, sotto cui facevansi valere tutte le actiones in [(1) Cf. il nexum -- ove trattasi appunto del comparire della mutui datio e della stipulatio, in surrogazione del nexum primitivo, che anda in disuso. Anche il MUIRHEAD stiene un'opinione analoga a quella proposta nel testo, come lo dimostra il fatto, che egli tratta contemporaneamente della introduzione della stipulatio e della legis actio per condictionem. Ho però già notato, come quest'autore ritenga col Leist la stipulatio come importata dalla Grecia, opinione che non credo da ammettersi.] personam, e quindi realmente veniva ad essere come un sinonimo dell'actio in personam. Intanto dalle cose premesse può esser ricavato il seguente svolgimento storico della procedura contenziosa nel sistema delle legis actiones. Le due procedure più antiche, le quali rimontano probabilmente ad epoca anteriore alla fondazione stessa di Roma, sono l'actio sacramento e la reciperatio. Quella è la procedura, che e accolta come esclusivamente propria dei quiriti, per le questioni di carattere quiritario, e quindi negli inizii dove essere la legis actio fondamentale del ius quiritium, nello stretto senso della parola. Questa invece si applica nei rapporti inter peregrinos ed anche in quelli inter cives et peregrinos. Siccome però a Roma e continuo l'attrito fra i cives ed i peregrini, e l'una e l'altra procedura segue davanti allo stesso magistrato, così ne venne, che le due procedure finirono per esercitare scambievole influenza l'una sull'altra. Cosicchè col tempo le forme più semplici e spedite della procedura inter cives et peregrinos finirono talvolta per essere trasportate ed accomodate alle esigenze del diritto civile romano. Così, ad esempio, allorchè fra i cittadini, accanto alle vere lites di carattere quiritario, che per la precisione ed esattezza di questo diritto, potevano risolversi affermando o negando, si svolsero delle questioni di carattere più indeterminato, che chiamavansi piuttosto iurgia, accanto all’actio sacramento, che continua ad essere l'a zione tipica del ius quiritium, comincia a svolgersi la iudicis postulatio, la quale fini colla legislazione decemvirale per entrare eziandio nel novero delle legis actiones. Per tal guise, le controversie, che hanno per oggetto un certum, si trattano coll'actio sacramento. Quelle invece, che riguardano un incertum, danno argomento alla iudicis postulatio. Ognuna poi di queste due legis actiones fini- [Gaio, dopo aver detto, che l'essenza dell'antica legis actio per condictionem consiste nella denuntiatio diei, aggiunge: « nunc vero non proprie condictionem dicimus actionem in personam, qua intendimus dari oportere; nulla enim hoc tempore eo nomine denuntiatio fit.” Gaio ha ragione dal suo punto di vista, perchè l'essenza dell'actio in personam ai suoi tempi sta non più nella denuntiatio diei, ma nel dari oportere. Ma storicamente lo scambio della parola si era operato, perchè nel sistema delle legis actiones la condictio era divenuta la forma, sotto cui si proponevano tutte le actiones in personam aventi per oggetto un certum.] per subire una suddistinzione. Quando infatti, accanto all'actio sacramento, penetra la condictio, la prima fini per restringersi alle vindicationes, e questa invece attire a sè tutte le actiones in personam, che avessero per oggetto un certum, e divenne quasi si nonimo di actio in personam. Cosi pure, allorchè nel diritto civile romano penetra in parte la considerazione dell'aequitas e della bona fides, nel seno della iudicis postulatio si opera pure una distinzione; poichè essa puo dar luogo o alla nomina di un giudice o a quella soltanto di un arbitro, secondo la larghezza maggiore o minore dei poteri, che era loro affidata nell'apprezzamento della causa e nel tener conto delle considerazioni di equità. Intanto però, mentre si ha questo svolgimento storico, è probabile, che tanto la iudicis postulatio quanto la condictio, almeno in parte, imitano delle procedure, che già si applicano nei rapporti inter cives et peregrinos. Fu in questa guisa, che, già sotto la veste ferrea delle legis actiones, si vennero preparando tutte quelle distinzioni di actiones, che poterono poi acquistare un libero svolgimento col sistema delle formulae. Tali sono le distinzioni fra la vindicatio e la condictio; fra l'actio in rem e l'actio in personam; fra le actiones stricti iuris e bonae fidei; fra le actiones certae e le incertae; fra l'actio nesin ius conceptae e le actiones in factum. Si può quindi conchiudere che, anche in tema di procedura, tutte le varietà e distinzioni delle azioni sembrano procedere da un'unica forma tipica, che è quella dell’ “actio sacramento”, la quale fu il nucleo centrale, intorno a cui si svolge la procedura contenziosa del diritto; ma che accanto alla medesima fin dai primi tempi fuvvi la reciperatio per le controversie inter cives et peregrinos, dalla quale dovettero essere mutuate certe procedure più semplici, come quella della “condictio”. E poi eziandio in questa procedura, che dove essere applicata dal praetor peregrinus, che comincia a prepararsi quel concetto del ius gentium, e quel sistema delle formulae, che esercitarono poi tanta influenza sul diritto civile romano. Mentre nella procedura contenziosa il diritto cerca di mantenere la più rigorosa IMPARZIALITA fra i contendenti, esso invece apre l'adito ad una procedura ben più decisiva, allorchè la lotta fra i contendenti giunse al suo termine, e trattisi di procedere all'esecuzione contro il soccombente. Anche il linguaggio giuridico sembra allora richiamare un'epoca di violenza. Ciascuno e vindice del proprio diritto. Noi veniamo cosi a trovarci di fronte alla manus iniectio e alla pignoris capio, di cui quella sembra avere il carattere di una esecuzione contro la persona del debitore, e questa invece il carattere di una pignorazione contro i beni del medesimo. È tuttavia facile lo scorgere, che nella procedura quiritaria si preferisce nell'esecuzione di procedere contro la persona del debitore, anzichè contro i beni del medesimo. Infatti nel diritto il modo generale di esecuzione per le obbligazioni viene ad essere la manus iniectio, che è diretta appunto contro la persona. Mentre la pignoris capio riveste in certo modo il carattere di un privilegium, e viene così ad essere ristretta a pochissimi casi, che furono specificamente introdotti o dalla legge o dal costume, e determinati dalla natura del credito. Intanto nell'una e nell'altra procedura già apparisce evidente, che se i vocaboli richiamano ancora l'uso della forza, questa pero viene già ad essere regolata dall'impero della legge; poichè è questa che determina i varii casi, in cui può ricorrersi all'uno od all'altro modo di esecuzione. Incominciando dalla manus iniectio, noi troviamo che la medesima, nel ius quiritium, compare sotto forme diverse, che vogliono essere tenute ben distinte fra di loro. Una prima forma di essa era la manus iniectio, a cui puo appigliarsi il padrone col servo, che avesse cercato di sottrarsi al suo potere, e questa era una conseguenza della podestà del padrone sul servo, di cui rimasero le traccie nella “vindicatio in servitutem”. Un'altra forma era quella invece, a cui dava origine l'obbligazione solenne del “nexum”, in base a cui il debitore, che non paga a scadenza, poteva, anche senza l'intervento del magistrato, essere trascinato nella casa del debitore, e quivi essere ridotto a condizione pressochè servile, fino a che non avesse soddisfatto il proprio debito. Vuolsi qui aggiungere, che Gaio accenna perfino al dubbio surto fra i giureconsulti, relativamente alla natura della pignoris capio, che alcuni ritenevano non essere una legis actio, in quanto che la medesima, sebbene si compiesse certis verbis, a differenza tuttavia delle altre legis actiones, extra ius peragebatur, e poteva perfino compiersi *in giorno nefasto*. Questa manus iniectio rimonta certamente ad epoca anteriore alla legislazione decemvirale, ed era una conseguenza del rigore dell’obbligazione quiritaria, contratta colle formedell'atto per aes et libram. Questa e quella manus iniectio, la quale, applicata sopratutto nei rapporti coi debitori plebei, da origine a quelle dissensioni civili, a proposito dei nexi, a cui cercò di porre termine la Lex Poetelia nel 428 di Roma. La Lex Poetelia però non e ancora una vera legis actio, in quanto che non fondavasi sulla legge, ma derivava direttamente dal rigore dell'obbligazione quiritaria, assunta colle forme del nexum, nella quale la volontà manifestata dalle parti costituiva legge, ed implica la condanna del debitore. Havvi infine quella manus iniectio, che occorre nella legislazione decemvirale e che costituisce un modo generale di esecuzione contro coloro, che avessero confessato il proprio debito (aeris confessi), o che avessero subita una condanna giudiziale per il pagamento di una determinata somma (iudicati vel damnati). A mio avviso, è solo a quest'ultima, che Gaio attribuisce il carattere di una vera legis actio, e che egli indica col nome di manus iniectio iudicati, sive damnati. La severità inumana, a cui poteva giungere la procedura della [Gaio. L'opinione espressa nel testo fondasi sulla considerazione, che Gaio restringe evidentemente la legis actio per manus iniectionem ai casi « de quibus, ut ita ageretur, lege aliqua cautum est », e si limita a fare una rassegna storica delle varie leggi, le quali, incominciando da Le XII Tavole, avrebbero consentito questo mezzo di esecuzione. Nella sua esposizione pertanto non si accenna più a quella rigorosa procedura, di origine pressochè contrattuale, a cui dava origine il primitivo nexum; tanto più che la medesima era andata in disuso fin dal tempo, in cui la Lex Poetelia ha tolte di mezzo le conseguenze speciali del nexum. Non mi sembra quindi il caso di voler forzare le espressioni di Gaio per far entrare i nexi nella espressione dei iudicati o dei damnati, adoperata da Gaio. Piuttosto i nexi dell'antico diritto possono ritenersi compresi negli aeris confessi di Le XII Tavole, dei quali non era più il caso che Gaio si occupasse. Poichè, se con quel vocabolo si intendevano gli obbligati col nexum, le disposizioni di Le XII Tavole sono state abrogate, e se si intendevano gli in iure confessi, non era il caso di farne una categoria speciale di fronte al principio – “in iure confessus pro iudicato habetur.” Questa opinione intanto si differenzia da quella di coloro, che vorrebbero comprendere i nexi nei damnati, di cui parla Gaio, fra i quali il MUIRHEAD, e da quella eziandio di coloro, che appoggiati al testo di Gajo, il quale non parla dei nexi, vorrebbero escludere gli obbligati col nexum dalla procedura della manus iniectio, e porre imedesimi nella condizione di tutti gli altri debitori, come Voigt e Cogliolo, nelle note al PADELLETTI, “Storia del dir. rom.,” il quale pure ha adottato l'opinione del Voigt.] manus iniectio, e probabilmente una delle cause, per cui la medesima col tempo diventa oggetto di investigazione curiosa per gli stessi autori latini, i quali hanno cosi occasione di tramandarci le espressioni testuali di Le XII Tavole a questo riguardo. Allorchè altri aveva subito condanna per un proprio debito, gli era prima consentita una specie di tregua (velut quoddam iustitium ), che durava XXX giorni, in cui doveva avvisare almodo di pagare il debito (conquirendae pecuniae causa ). Trascorsi i medesimi senza che egli pagasse, il creditore puo porre sopra di lui la sua manus, condurlo davanti al magistrato, e quivi pronunziare la formola solenne della manus iniectio. Né al debitore era lecito di depellere manum a se, né di agere lege pro se, ma solo poteva nominare un vindex, che fa valere le sue ragioni, dando sicurtà per il processo e per l'eventuale pagamento del doppio nel caso in cui vincesse l'attore. Intanto il creditore puo condurre il debitore nel suo carcere, e quivi metterlo in catene, con scelta al debitore di alimentarsi del suo o di lasciarsi alimentare dal creditore. Questo arresto durava LX giorni, e negli ultimi III giorni di mercato, compresi in questo spazio di tempo, il creditore dove condurlo di nuovo davanti al magistrato, e far pubblica la somma da lui dovuta accid qualcuno potesse pagare per lui. Che se anche allora non si fosse fatto il pagamento, il creditore poteva *ucciderlo* o venderlo al di là del Tevere (“capite poenas dabat, aut trans Tiberim venum ibat”). Ed anzi, se più fossero i creditori, venivano le famose espressioni conservateci da Gellio – “partis se canto: si plus minusve secuerunt, se fraude esto.” L'autore, che ci ha serbata più particolare notizia della procedura esecutiva nel diritto, conservandoci perfino le parole testuali della legge, è Gellio, Noc. Att., -- dove introduce il giureconsulto Sesto Cecilio Africano e il filosofo Favorino, a discutere intorno ad alcune singolari disposizioni del diritto. Interessante discussione, poichè da una parte abbiamo il giureconsulto, che, riportandosi alle opportunità dei tempi, cerca di scusare il vigore del diritto. Dall'altra abbiamo il filosofo, il quale, a nome della ragione, viene combattendone quelle disposizioni, che il tempo aveva fatto apparire o irragionevoli od inumane. Intanto, a questa discussione poi dobbiamo la maggior parte di quelle testuali disposizioni di Le XII Tavole, che a noi siano pervenute, le quali composte insieme colle informazioni dateci da Gaio, ci porgono le fattezze primitive della manus iniectio. Si comprende come l'enormezza del potere, che la legge qui accorda al creditore,  lascia increduli gli antichi ed anche i moderni. Di qui il tentativo recente di Voigt di interpretare la legge nel senso, che il capite poenas dabat significasse la riduzione in schiavitù del debitore, e che il partis secanto si riferisse alla ripartizione del prezzo ricavato dalla vendita, per il caso in cui fossero più i coeredi del creditore. Certo è, che se noi avessimo soltanto il testo della legge, questo potrebbe forse consentire questa interpretazione, punto non ripugnando che la legge attribuisse a quei vocaboli una significazione giuridica, anzichè letterale. Ma noi, oltre al testo della legge, abbiamo anche il commento, che vi diedero gli antichi. E questo è tale da escludere qualsiasi interpretazione più benigna. Noi troviamo infatti presso Gellio, che il giureconsulto Sesto Cecilio, pur tentando di spiegare il rigore della legge, punto non accenna alla possibilità di tale interpretazione. Sesto Cecilio dice invece, che il legislatore, nell'intento di tutelare la fede nei negozii,  introduce una pena, che, per la propria immanità, non puo essere applicata, come in effetto non lo era mai stata. Voigt, “XII Tafeln”. Egli, ciò stante, nella ricostruzione della legge VIII della Tav. III, aggiungerebbe alle parole serbateci da Gellio. “Tertiis nundinis, partis secant” -- le parole “si coheredes sunt” -- il che vorrebbe dire, che se il debitore era domum ductus da uno dei suoi creditori, egli non poteva più essere soggetto alla manus iniectio degli altri; ma intanto se fossero stati più i co-eredi del creditore, che l'aveva domum ductus, i medesimi potevano, in base alle XII Tavole, procedere contro di lui soltanto per la quota loro spettante di credito, e perciò dovevano chiedere il riparto della somma loro dovuta. Questa supposizione è ingegnosa. Ma è difficile di persuadersi, che una espressione larghissima, quale e quella di Gellio, puo restringersi ad un caso abbastanza speciale, qual e quello posto innanzi dal Voigt. Questa interpretazione letterale della legge, di cui si tratta, non e  solo attribuita alla medesima da Gellio ma eziandio da Quintiliano e da TERTULLIANO -- ma con parole alquanto vaghe, e coll'ag giunta,pur fatta da Gellio,  che la storia non ricorda alcun caso di “sectio corporis”. “Dissectum esse antiquitus neminem equidem neque legi, neque audiri.” Parmi poi, che un argomento per questa letterale interpretazione siavi eziandio in quell'altra disposizione delle XII Tavole. “Si membrum rupit, ni cum eo pacit, talio esto” -- ove compare in certo modo la stessa tendenza di accordare a colui che ha subìto un danno per colpa di un altro, una potestà corrispondente sul corpo di lui. Questa letterale interpretazione ha pure ad essere sostenuta, col sussidio della giurisprudenza comparata, dal Kohler (“Das Recht als Culturerscheinung”, Vürzburg) il cui brano relativo è riportato dal MUIRHEAD. Non può quindi essere il caso di dare alla legge una significazione diversa da quella, che vi attribuirono gl’antichi, ma piuttosto di cercare, come mai i decemviri possono giungere ad una disposizione di questa natura. Tale spiegazione non deve essere cercata tanto nella rozzezza dei costumi romani, quanto piut tosto in quella logica inesorabile, di cui già sonosi trovate le traccie nelle varie parti del “ius quiritium”, e sopratutto nel rigoroso concetto, che questo diritto ha a formarsi dell'obbligazione personale. Al modo stesso che il diritto quiritario, nella sua logica rude, trattandosi del dominio, immedesimò in certo modo la cosa, oggetto della proprietà, colla persona a cui essa appartiene. Così pure esso, nel concepire il diritto di obbligazione, vide nel medesimo un vincolo strettamente personale, che stringe pressochè materialmente il debitore al suo creditore (nexum), senza punto preoccuparsi dei beni, che appartenessero a quest'ultimo. Se quindi il debitore condannato non soddisfi il debito, la logica del diritto non si appiglie all'espediente di ripiegarsi sovra i beni del debitore. Procede diritta per la sua via, e verrà così aggravando i mezzi di co-azione contro il debitore che non paga, nell'intento di forzarlo ad eseguire il pagamento. Che se le co-azioni di carattere giudiziale od estra-giudiziale non bastano, questa logica, fissa nel carattere esclusivamente personale dell'obbligazione, puo anche giungere fino al l'estremo di accordare al creditore il diritto di vendere o di *uccidere* il debitore, al modo stesso, che attribuisce al proprietario la facoltà di distruggere la cosa, che gl’appartiene (ius abutendi). È tuttavia evidente, che il diritto, accordando simili diritti al creditore contro il debitore condannato, non intende tanto di accordargli un diritto reale ed effettivo, quanto piuttosto di attribuirgli efficaci e potenti mezzi di co-azione. Ciò è dimostrato da tutta la procedura. Lo stesso Kohler già erasi occupato della questione nel “Shakespeare vor dem Forum der Jurisprudenz” (Vürzburg), di cui può vedersi un largo resoconto del GIRARD nella “Nouvelle revue historique.” A compimento di questa notizia ricordo anche l’interessante saggio di ESMEIN, “Débiteur privé de sépulture, nei « Mélanges d'histoire de droit” -- ove il diritto del creditore prende un altro singolare svolgimento, quello cioè di porre un sequestro sul cadavere del debitore, e di rifiutare al medesimo il riposo della tomba, finchè i congiunti o gl’amici non ne abbiano pagato il debito. Qui la co-azione adoperata s'appoggia sull'opinione popolare che l’ANIMA del debitore non trova riposo, finchè il suo CORPO non riposa nella tomba.] della manus iniectio, dalla necessità nei varii stadii della medesima della presenza del magistrato, dall'obbligo imposto al creditore di far pubblico il suo credito e di esporre sul mercato la persona del debitore. Ed è questo il concetto, che ebbe ad esprimere, presso Gellio, il giureconsulto Sesto Cecilio dicendo che i decemviri. “eam capitis poenam, sanciendae fidei gratia, horrificam atrocitatis ostentu, novisque terroribus metuendam reddiderunt.” Che anzi, prendendo alla lettera l'espressione di Le XII Tavole, nella parte, che si riferisce alla spartizione del corpo del debitore, appare perfino di impossibile attuazione, poichè vien dichiarato in frode il creditore, che tolga dal corpo del debitore una parte maggiore o minore diquella che gli sia dovuta, il che conferma eziandio l'altra espressione dello stesso giureconsulto, secondo cui – “eo consilio tanta immanitas poenae denuntiata est, ne ad eam perveniretur.” Del resto non è questo il solo esempio di questa logica astratta, propria del diritto, che talora si spinge fino a tale da non essere quasi più applicabile nel fatto. Il diritto infatti del creditore sul corpo del debitore trova un riscontro nel diritto al talione, spettante a colui, di cui fosse stato rotto un membro -- talione che, secondo l'osservazione da Gellio attrituita al filosofo Favorino,  non puo essere più facilmente eseguito che la spartizione del corpo del creditore in proporzione dei crediti. Cosi pure esso ha un altro riscontro nel ius vitae et necis, che giuridicamente parlando spetta al padre sui figli, al marito sulla moglie, al padrone sullo schiavo, ancorchè in questa parte sia certo, che il rigore del diritto trova dei temperamenti nel pubblico costume. Non è quindi il caso di inferire da queste disposizioni l'esistenza di costumi antropofagi presso i romani. Ma soltanto di scorgere in ciò una nuova prova, che il loro “ius quiritium”, essendo il frutto di una elaborazione giuridica, la quale mira ad isolare l'elemento giuridico da ogni elemento estraneo, fini per essere governato da una logica inesorabile, che tal volta appare non solo inumana, ma perfino inapplicabile nel fatto. Dice infatti Favorino presso Gellio: “Praeter enim ulciscendi acerbitatem ne procedere quoque executio iustae talionis potest; nam, cui membrum ab alio ruptum est, si ipsi itidem rumpere per talionem velit, quaero, an efficere possit rampendi pariter membri aequilibrium? in qua re primum ea difficultas est inexplicabilis”. KOHLER dice scherzevolmente, che alla lista delle ipotesi escogitate per spiegare questa disposizione, ne manca una sola, quella cioè che i romani sono degli antropofagi. Dal momento poi che il primitivo ius quiritium, nella sua procedura di esecuzione, ha preso di mira piuttosto la persona del debitore, che non i beni, che ne costituivano il patrimonio, si comprende, che esso, nella sua perseveranza tenace, stenta più tardi ad abbandonare la via, che prima segue. Noi troviamo infatti, che nel posteriore svolgimento della procedura esecutiva in Roma, mentre il diritto civile nello stretto senso della parola continua sempre a dirigersi contro la persona, anzichè contro i beni del debitore, e invece il ius honorarium, il quale soltanto molto più tardi riusci ad organizzare una procedura esecutiva contro i beni, che costituivano il patrimonio del debitore. L'una e l'altra circostanza è abbastanza comprovata dalle atte stazioni di Gaio. Questi infatti, parlando delle legis actiones, ci fa assistere allo svolgimento storico della manus iniectio nel diritto civile di Roma, dimostrando, come, sul modello della manus iniectio iudicati, altre leggi abbiano introdotto una manus iniectio pro iu dicato, ed altre abbiano poi dato occasione ad una manus iniectio pura, la quale, a differenza delle altre due, non impede che il debitore potesse “manum a se depellere et lege agere pro se”, senza ricorrere all'opera di un vindex. Posteriormente poi, la legge Vallia ristrenge di nuovo i casi, in cui non potevasi manum de pellere e pro se lege agere, a quei due, che primierano stati introdotti, in cui si agiva o in base a un giudicato, o contro una persona per cui altri aveva dovuto pagare qual sicurtà. Di questo, secondo Gaio, rimane una traccia anche dopo l'abolizione delle legis actiones in ciò, che anche ai suoi tempi colui, col quale si agisce in base a un giudicato o per aver pagato per esso, «”iudicatum solvi satisdare cogitur.” Lo stesso Gaio poi, sebbene alla sfuggita, dice altrove, che l'introduzione della bonorum venditio sole essere attribuita a Publio Rutilio, il quale dovette essere praetor nel 647 di Roma, e noi sappiamo, che è appunto con questa bonorum venditio, che si introdusse in Roma un concorso fra i creditori, non dissimile da quello, che ora ha luogo nella procedura per fallimento. E solo più tardi, che anche il diritto civile, per mezzo della lex Iulia de [Gaio. È notabile infatti come Gaio in tutta la sua esposizione della procedura esecutiva non accenni mai alla esecuzione sui beni del debitore. Gaio, IV, 35. Quanto a questa procedura contro i beni, vedi KELLER, “Il processo civ. rom.” e quanto alle analogie, che questo con corso dei creditori presenta col fallimento, cfr. Montluc, “La faillite chez les Romains” – ] -cessione bonorum, accordo al debitore il mezzo di evitare l'esecuzione personale, ricorrendo alla cessio bonorum. Ma anche allora questa cessio bonorum dove essere consentita dallo stesso debitore, e costitui in certo modo un benefizio, che gli venne accordato per cansare la esecuzione personale e per evitare anche l'infamia, da cui questa era accompagnata. Quindi neppur questa legge aboli intieramente l'esecuzione contro la persona, ma piuttosto fece in guisa, che essa cadesse in disuso, essendosi introdotto un mezzo per liberarsi da essa. Parmi poi, che questa preferenza indiscutibile del ius quiritium per la esecuzione contro la persona del debitore, anzichè contro i beni spettanti al medesimo, sia stata eziandio la ragione, per cui si mantenne in così ristretti confini l'applicazione della pignoris capio. Essa infatti si ridusse ad essere un privilegio per crediti di origine militare (aes militare, hordearium, equestre), e per crediti di origine religiosa (il prezzo di un hostia e il nolo di giumento allo scopo di un sacrificio, in dapem). Un solo caso di pignoris capio lascia traccie durature nella storia delle istituzioni giuridiche, e fu quello introdotto da una lex praediatoria o censoria, a favore degl’appaltatori delle imposte, sui fondi che sono gravati dalle medesime: privilegio di carattere fiscale, che ha un'analogia incontrastabile col privilegio generale sugl’immobili, che ancora oggidi spetta al fisco per le imposte dirette. Intanto però sta sempre il concetto, che nel diritto di Roma è la persona, che risponde direttamente delle proprie obligazioni, e che la missio in bona deve ritenersi soltanto introdotta dal pretore. Che anzi è degno di nota, che anche questa procedura sembra negl’inizii essersi forse introdotta fuori di Roma, come lo dimostra il fatto, che noi la troviamo descritta dapprima nella “Lex Rubria” de Gallia Cisalpina. Una ragione di questa preferenza [Quanto all'origine pretoria dell'esecuzione contro i beni, vedi eziandio LENEL, “Das Edictum perpetuum”, La lex Rubria, Bruns, Fontes, attribuisce la facoltà di accordare questa missio in bona al solo pretore della città di Roma, come lo dimostrano le seguenti parole della legge “Praetor” – “isve qui de eis rebus Romae iure dicundo praeerit, in eum et in heredem eius de « eius rebus omnibus ius deiicito, decernito, eosque dari bona eorum, possideri, « proscribique venire iubeto, etc. » Cfr. WLASSAK, “Röm. Processegesetze”] dell'antico diritto per la persona, anzichè per i beni del debitore, non potrebbe essa trovarsi nella considerazione, che tutto il primitivo ius quiritium ha ad essere modellato sul concetto fondamentale del “quirites”, in quanto era considerato come una individualità integra e completa sotto l'aspetto giuridico, la cui parola dava origine al “nexum”, e la cui volontà costituiva una legge, cosi nei negozii tra vivi come nel testamento? Non abbiamo anche in questo una conseguenza dal punto speciale di vista, a cui eransi collocati i modellatori del diritto? Basta ora ricomporre insieme queste varie parti della procedura romana e metterle in movimento ed in azione, per comprendere come il sistema della “legis actio”, anzichè essere, come vorrebbero taluni, un complesso di solennità, escogitate dallo spirito sottile e formalista dei romani, sia stato invece il mezzo più potente ed efficace,mediante cui venne preparandosi l'elaborazione del diritto civile romano. La “legis actio” e per cosi esprimerci, il crogiuolo mediante cui l'obbiettività giuridica del fatto umano puo essere isolata da tutti gl’elementi estranei, ed essere ridotta cosi a quello stato di purezza, che solo si rinviene negli scritti dei giureconsulti romani. Siccome infatti ogni diritto, per poter affermarsi in giudizio, dove passare per lo strettoio della “legis actio”: cosi ne venne, che con questo sistema prima il pontefice, nel modellare la “legis actio”, poscia le parti nell'adattare alle medesime la loro controversia. Quindi il magistrato nel determinare i termini, in cui tale controversia dove essere giuridicamente concepita. Infine i giudici, che doveno di necessità restringere la loro decisione al punto di questione che e loro sottoposto, attendeno tutti ad un medesimo lavoro, che e quello di spogliare una fattispecie da ogni elemento etico (morale) o religioso, con cui si trovasse implicata, per ridurla ad una configurazione e ad una formola ESCLUSIVAMENTE LEGALE O GIURIDICA. Siccome poi, il giudice della controversia, o e tolto dalle varie classi o tribù, come i centumviri e forse anche i decemviri, o scelto nel l'ordine dei senatori, come i iudices selecti, o convenuto fra le parti, come gl’arbitri, od anche scelto in parte fra i peregrini, come i recuperatores. Cosi ne veniva, che l'elaborazione del diritto in Roma e un'opera collettiva, a cui concorrevano tutti gl’ordini e le V classi, e che puo perfino sentire l'influenza del diritto e della procedura, che applicasi dei rapporti fra i cittadini e gli stranieri. Siccome parimenti tutto questo lavoro e unificato e coordinato per opera del magistrato, che sovraintende all'amministrazione della giustizia, ed e poi assecondato dall'opera dei giureconsulti, che venivano racchiudendo in formole la varietà grandissima dei negozii giuridici. Cosi ne venne, che in Roma fin dai suoi inizii si trova sapientemente organizzato un sistema di mezzi, il quale mira ad isolare l'elemento giuridico del fatto umano dagl’elementi estranei, a consolidare le consuetudini fluttuanti in una forma determinata e precisa, a richiamare le varietà dei fatti umani a certe forme tipiche e generali. E in questo modo, che puossono scomparire i contendenti e si sostituirono ai medesimi dei nomi convenzionali -- Aulus Agerius e Numerius Negidius nella formola processuale, Titius, Caius, Sempronius, etc. in quella contrattuale --; che una controversia PARTICOLARE e richiamata a certa forma GENERALE; e che intanto i concetti primordiali, da cui ha preso le mosse il diritto di Roma, poterono con una logica perseverante e tenace essere spinti a tutte le conseguenze, di cui erano capaci. E quindi sopratutto in Roma, che il diritto potè essere l'espressione della coscienza giuridica di tutto un popolo, un elemento organico della vita sociale, il frutto di un'elaborazione unica e varia ad un tempo, la quale obbedisce costantemente a quei processi, i quali, applicati prima dal pontifice, passarono poscia al praetor ed al giureconsulto, e non furono neppure abbandonati sotto gli stessi principi. Per tal modo, quel lavoro di selezione, che erasi in Roma iniziato mediante la legge, le quali, trascegliendo fra le istituzioni delle varie genti, ne hanno ricavato un diritto tipico, esclusivamente proprio del quirites, e perciò chiamato “ius quiritium”, venne ad essere eziandio proseguito nella interpretazione della legge e nell'amministrazione della giustizia, le quali si sforzarono dapprima di fare entrare nelle forme determinate dalla legge la varietà sempre crescente dei rap porti giuridici, a cui dava occasione la convivenza cittadina, e vennero poi gradatamente ampliando e differenziando le forme stesse, allorchè esse cominciavano ad essere inadeguate ai bisogni, a cui trattavasi di provvedere. Per tal modo il “ius quiritium” si allarga ed amplia nel “ius proprium civium romanorum”; poscia accanto a questo venne svolgendosi il “ius honorarium”, il quale pur derogando al ius civile ed assimilando nuovi elementi, li forza tuttavia ad entrare in forme analoghe a quelle già preparate dal ius civile. È in questa guisa, che il diritto romano, dopo essere stato la selezione più rigida dell'ELEMENTO ESCLUSIVAMENTE GIURDIICO E NON ETICO, che presenti la storia, ed essere stato una produzione esclusivamente propria del popolo romano, viene a poco a poco attirando nella propria cerchia le considerazioni di equità e di buona fede, assimilando quelle istituzioni delle altre genti, che potevano ricevere l'impronta del genio giuridico di Roma, finchè non diventa tale da poter essere comune a tutte le genti, che avevano somministrato i materiali, sovra cui erasi venuto elaborando. Può darsi ed è anzi probabile, che i principii di questa grande opera di selezione sono dapprima inconsapevoli, come gl’inizii di tutte le opere umane, e fossero determinati dal modo di formazione di Roma, e dal genio eminentemente giuridico dei fondatori di essa. Ma egli è certo eziandio, che essa non tarda a cambiarsi ben presto in un'opera consapevolmente voluta e proseguita con una perseveranza tenace, di cui non potrebbesi trovare paragone. Così, ad esempio, dell'importanza della “legis actio” già dovette aver consapevolezza il patriziato romano, allorchè, dopo avere in parte reso comune alla plebe il proprio diritto, continua tuttavia a riservare al collegio dei suoi pontefici la formazione della “legis actio”, e la cambia in un segreto di professione e di casta; come pure dovette averne coscienza anche la stessa plebe romana, come lo dimostra la sua riconoscenza a Gneo Flavio, il quale, secondo la tradizione, ha resa di pubblica ragione la piu primitiva “legis actio”. Questa influenza poi del sistema delle azioni venne ad essere anche maggiore, allorchè l'abolizione della “legis actio” e l'intro duzione del sistema delle formole attribui da una parte al magistrato libertà maggiore nella concezione giuridica delle varie fattispecie, e dall'altra gli porse eziandio il modo di introdurre nuove azioni, accanto a quelle, che si fondano direttamente sui termini della legge. Fu in quest'epoca, che il medesimo, oltre al ius dicere, si [(Pomp., Leg. 2, § 7, Dig. (1, 2 ); Liv. IX, 46. Secondo la tradizione, Gneo Flavio e dalla riconoscenza della plebe elevato alla dignità di *tribune* della plebe, di senatore e di edile curule.] trova eziandio nella necessità di edicere, ossia di pubblicare, entrando in ufficio, la norma, che avrebbe applicate nell'amministrazione della giustizia; che accanto ai iudicia legitima si svolgeno quelli imperio continentia; che, accanto alle “actiones legitimae”, quae ipso iure competunt, se ne formarono eziandio di quelle, “actiones quae a praetore dantur.”Da quel momento il “praetor” puo essere considerato come una “lex loquens”, e venne in certo modo ad essere arbitro sovrano nell'amministrazione della giustizia. Tuttavia l'abolizione della “legis action” e la sostituzione del sistema delle formulae devono essere intese alla romana, il che vuol dire, che l'abolizione è soltanto parziale e non impedisce la sopravvivenza dell' “actio sacramento”, come preliminare del “centum. virale iudicium” e di quello “damni infecti nominee”, al modo stesso che l'introduzione delle formulae, anzichè una rivoluzione, è piut tosto il riconoscimento e l'adozione fatta per legge di una pratica, che dove già essersi prima introdotta nel fatto. È infatti probabile che il sistema delle formulae già puo esser applicato nella “procedura inter cives et peregrinos”, nella quale non potevano essere applicate la “legis actio”, e che in tal guisa una procedura propria della “recuperatio” sia penetrata nel “ius proprium civium romanorum”, almodo stesso, che più tardi l'”actio sacramento” puo eziandio essere proposta davanti al “praetor peregrinus”. Il sistema delle formole e in certa guisa già contenuto in germe nel sistema della “legis actio”. A quel modo, che la “stipulatio” riducesi in sostanza alla parte nuncupativa del “nexum”, la quale, liberata dalla solennità del l'atto “per aes et libram”, puo essere adattata alla varietà dei negozii [Gaio dice espressamente, che, negl’esordii di questo sistema di procedura, “edicta praetorum nondum in usu habebantur”. Era quindi naturale, che quando questi sono introdotti, accanto a quella parte di diritto, che fondasi direttamente sulla legge, e che perciò da origine alle denominazioni di “actus legitimus”, “actio legitima”, “iudicium legitimum”, si svolgesse un diritto, che fondasi in certo modo sull'autorità del magistrato, e che, come tale, “imperio continebatur”, il quale finì poi per essere compreso sotto il concetto di “ius honorarium”. È poi Cic., pro Cluentio, il quale ha a dire, che siccome la legge e al disopra del magistrato, e questo è al disopra del popolo, “vere dici potest magistratum legem esse loquentem -- legem mutum magistratum.” Quanto ai concetti di “actio legitima” e di “iudicium legitimum”, vedi WLASSAK. Sull'influenza del “praetor peregrinus” e dell'edictum provinciale sul sistema delle formulae, v. Glasson, “Étude sur Gajus”] giuridici. Così, la formola consiste essenzialmente in quei “concepta verba”, che già occorrevano nella “legis actio”, salvo che questa “verborum conceptio”, liberata dalla parte mimica, da cui era accompagnata, e da quel rigore di termini (“certis verbis”), che era propria della “legis actio”, puo acquistare una duttilità e pieghevolezza, che la prima non ha. Noi trovammo infatti, che già sotto la veste ferrea della “legis actio”, ogni modus agendi finisce per abbracciare diverse azioni particolari. Queste azioni già cominciano a distinguersi nelle “actiones in rem” in “actiones in personam”, in quelle, che hanno per oggetto un certum od un incertum, e in quelle, che dano origine ad un iudicium o ad un arbitrium. Or bene tutti questi materiali, che ancora erano riuniti nella sintesi potente della legis actio, si trovano in certo modo abbandonati a se stessi, e si cambiarono in altrettante azioni, autonome ed indipendenti, aventi un nome specifico, una propria formola ed un proprio contenuto, e diedero cosi origine a quello splendido ed opulento sviluppo, che ebbe ad avverarsi col sistema delle formole. Quella libertà della formola, che sarebbe stata pericolosa negl’inizii della elaborazione giuridica, venne invece ad es sere opportuna, quando questa era già iniziata ed abbastanza progredita. Le prime formole, essendo state preparate sotto la rigida disciplina della “legis actio” e del “ius pontificium”, indicano abbastanza la via, in cui dove mettersi il magistrato per continuare l'opera già incominciata. È questa la ragione, per cui il “praetor”, malgrado la libertà apparente, che lo appartiene, sia di introdurre nuove azioni, sia di modificare le formole già ricevute, procede in cio molto a rilento, ed ama piuttosto di ricorrere a finzioni e di forzare cosi fatti ad entrare nelle forme riconosciute dal diritto, che non di alterare la forma che già e accolta. Per tal modo, il nuovo trova sempre un addentellato nell'antico, anche allorchè mira ad introdurre una modificazione al medesimo, e intanto ciò non impedisce, che una parte del diritto, che vive fluttuante pelle consuetudini, accanto al vero ius civile, si venisse ancor esso consolidando sotto forma di un ius honorarium, che è pur sempre modellato sul primo. Così pure, nella opera progressiva del praetor succedentisi l’uno all’altro, puo manifestarsi uno spirito di continuità, per cui le azioni ed eccezioni introdotte opportunamente da alcuno di essi finirono per costituire un ius translaticium, che passa al praetor successore, e serve cosi a preparare i materiali, che raccolti e coordinati costituirono poi l'editto perpetuo di Salvio Giuliano. In questa condizione di cose appare ad evidenza l'importanza del sistema delle azioni, poichè ogni progresso pratico della giurisprudenza romana viene ad esser introdotto, o per mezzo di una nuova azione, che tuteli un diritto prima non riconosciuto, o per mezzo di una eccezione, che neutralizzi l'effetto di un'azione già riconosciuta dal diritto civile. Allorchè poi un'azione è accolta od un'eccezione è ammessa, essa viene ad essere come un centro, intorno a cui si moltiplicano le formole per abbracciare l'infinita varietà delle fattispecie, finchè si giunge a quella ricchezza di formole, a cui accenna Cicerone, allorchè dice: -- “sunt formulae de omnibus rebus constitutae, ne quis aut in genere iniuriae aut in ratione actionis errare possit: expressae sunt enim, ex uniuscuiusque damno, dolore, incommodo, calamitate, iniuria, publicae a praetore formulae, ad quas privata lis accomodatur.” Le formole pertanto servirono anch'esse ad ampliare e a compiere quel lavoro di selezione, iniziato sotto l'impero della “legis actio”. Esse si accomodano alle varie fattispecie. Isolano l'elemento giuridico da ogni elemento estraneo, gl’elementi essenziali del fatto umano dalle circostanze accidentali: accolgeno quelle aggiunte, che sono rese necessarie dalla maggiore varietà dei negozii; riassunggeno le varie fasi della controversia in guisa da presentare come uno specchio ed un compendio dell'intiero giudizio. Queste formole poi non furono qualche cosa di esclusivo alla procedura. All'epoca stessa, in cui penetrarono in questa, si vennero eziandio esplicando nel contratto, nei testamento, nei legato, e in ogni altra parte del diritto civile romano, e vi portarono cosi dappertutto l’ESATTEZZA E LA PRECISIONE DELLA LOGICA DEI CONCETTI GIURIDICHI, non disgiunta da elasticità e pieghevolezza alla varietà infinita dei negozii. È quindi facile il comprendere come il pontefice, il pretore e il giureconsulto, non credeno indegno del loro ufficio l'attendere alla composizione delle formole, e come bene spesso l'invenzione di una formola ha reso celebre e tramandato fino a noi il nome di un pretore o di un giureconsulto. Basta perciò aver presente l'importanza grandissima e la larghissima applicazione, che [Cic, Pro Roscio -- Cfr. WLASSAK. Occorrono delle notevoli osservazioni sulla importanza delle formole nel diritto civile romano presso LABBÉ-ORTOLAN, “Explication historique des Institutes de Justinien” (Paris)] ricevettero le clausole “ex fide bona” “quando aequiusmelius” e “propter te fidemve tuam fraudatus siem” -- le formole aquiliane de dolo malo ed altre, che sarebbe lungo ricordare; le quali serveno a far penetrare nel diritto la considerazione dell'equità e della buona fede, e a dare forma concreta e pratica applicazione alle lente mutazioni, che si venivano operando nella coscienza giuridica del popolo romano. E infatti per mezzo di una piccola aggiunta in una formola contrattuale e giudiziaria, che le aspirazioni latenti della coscienza giuridica popolare ricevevano applicazione pratica, e che il diritto fluttuante nelle consuetudini venne ad ottenere la tutela e la sanzione dell'autorità giudiziaria. Questa considerazione  mi porge opportunità di conchiudere questo saggio, spiegando un carattere del tutto peculiare della giurisprudenza romana. Nostro tentativo di “ri-costruzione” del primitivo ius quiritium quanto meno dimostra che il diritto civile romano, anzichè essere il frutto di una incorporazione qualsiasi di consuetudini preesistenti, operatasi a caso e lasciata in balia delle cir costanze, fu invece governato, fin dai proprii inizii, da una logica fondamentale, che non venne mai meno a se stessa. Esso può es sere paragonato ad un lavoro lento di cristallizzazione, in virtù di cui gli elementi affini, fluttuanti in un liquido, cominciano dal precipitarsi a poco a poco, e poi si compongono insieme, atteggiandosi costantemente a quelle forme tipiche, che sono imposte dalla legge, che ne governa la formazione. Se ciò è fuori di ogni dubbio, vuolsi però anche ammettere, che questa dialettica fondamentale, la quale regge tutta la formazione del diritto civile romano, sembra in certo modo essere dissimulata nelle opere anche dei grandi giureconsulti. In tali opere, per quel poco che a noi ne pervenne, i singoli istituti appariscono come autonomi ed indipendenti gli uni dagli altri, go [Questa importanza delle formole appare sopratutto nelle formole processuali, poichè ogni progresso nell'amministrazione della giustizia lascia in certo modo le traccie nella composizione della formola giudiziaria. Questo concetto ha ad esprimere, molti anni or sono, in “De exceptionibus in iure romano” (Torino) -- colle seguenti parole. “Neque vereor dicere, omnia quae in  iudiciorum ordine, progressione temporum et seculorum elaboratione, invecta fuerunt ad corrigendam, producendam, emendandam et adiuvandam antiquissimi iuris « formulam quodammodo adhibita fuisse.”] --vernati ciascuno da una propria logica, senza che più si scorgano le commettiture, che possono stringere un istituto cogli altri. Vero è, che considerando attentamente il formarsi di ogni singolo istituto, facilmente si riconosce la mano di artefici, educati tutti alla medesima scuola, cosicchè i varii istituti si possono paragonare ad altrettanti cristalli foggiati sulla stessa forma. Ma intanto più non si scorgono le traccie della legge, che ne governa la formazione. Era questo disordine apparente dei giureconsulti, che torna grave alla mente FILOSOFICA ed ordinata di Cicerone, il quale perciò giunse fino a dire, che i primi grandi maestri cercano di dissimulare la propria arte. Ma se questo potè forse esser vero, finchè la scienza del diritto – come la filosofia, dopo -- e un monopolio della gente patrizia, o meglio del pontefice massimo, custode delle loro tradizioni, non può più ammettersi per il tempo, in cui la casa del giureconsulto e aperta a tutti coloro, che volevano consultarlo. Anche i plebei furono ammessi a questo collegio dei pontefici e a professare giurisprudenza. Non è quindi in una causa alquanto puerile e di carattere transitorio, che vuolsi cercare il motivo di questa specie di contraddizione, che presenta l'elaborazione della giurisprudenza romana. Ma questo e piuttosto il modo, in cui venne in Roma operandosi l'elaborazione stessa. A questo riguardo vuolsi aver presente, che i modellatori del primitivo diritto di Roma – “veteres iuris conditores” – non hanno mai in animo di insegnare una scienza, ma piuttosto di professare un'arte (“iuris prudentia”), che forma solo più tardi argomento di scienza. Essi quindi non intesero punto di soddisfare alle esigenze didattiche, nè di introdurre quell'ordine sistematico, che è proprio della scienza. Si proposero sopratutto di soddisfare alle esigenze pratiche. Sono i casi, che si venneno presentando, che loro offrivano occasione di applicare l'arte loro. Siccome per tanto nella pratica era l' “actio”, che predomina, poichè era con l’ “actio”, che il diritto sperimenta se stesso. Così ne venne, che dapprima sono la “legis actio” che costitue il punto di richiamo dell'elaborazione giuridica, e determina l'ordine, a cui la medesima venne obbedendo. Quando poi la sintesi potente della “legis actio” venne ad essere disciolta, e pullularono così azioni e formole, molteplici e svariate, aventi ciascuna una propria vita ed una propria funzione nella formazione dei negozii e nell'amministrazione della giustizia, sono eziandio le actiones, l’”interdictum.” -- Cic., De orat., I. la “exceptio” e simili, che costituirono il punto centrale, intorno a cui dovette appuntarsi l'arte dei giureconsulti. Quindi è, che essi, per quanto ubbidissero ad una dialettica fondamentale, trascurarono naturalmente di far scorgere i fili, che componevano la trama. Cosicchè la girusprudenza apparisce come a frammenti, e ravvicinano istituti, che non hanno attinenza, disgiungendone altri, che sono in vece strettamente affini fra di loro. Di qui la conseguenza, che la costruzione giuridica romana non segue il processo dei concetti fondamentali, da cui parte, ma venne seguendo invece l'ordine, prima, di Le XII Tavole, e, poscia, dell'Editto. Nè questo disordine apparente puo recare imbarazzo agl’esperti, perchè l'arte in essi era viva e feconda. Puo invece riuscire grave agl’altri, i quali, come Cicerone, cercano di inoltrarsi in questo campo con un indirizzo mentale concettuale e filosofico – di ‘re-costruzione logica.’. Fu soltanto, allorchè la ricchezza dei materiali comincia ad ingombrare il campo, che si senti il bisogno di introdurre questa o quella distinzione sistematica, al modo del Liceo per genere e specie, ma anche queste distinzioni non compariscono nelle opere di costruzione giuridica propriamente detta, quali sono quelle dei classici giureconsulti, ma soltanto nell’opere di carattere didattico o tutoriale -- donde la spiegazione dell'ordine diverso, che occorre nelle Istituzioni di Gaio e di Giustiniano e nelle Pandette. Siccome poi anche l'ordine sistematico, introdotto nelle Istituzioni, ha naturalmente lo scopo pratico di coordinare la giurisprudenza romana nello stato in cui si trova, anzichè di fare assistere alla formazione progressiva di essa; cosi ne viene, che anche le distinzioni, che occorrono in Gaio ed in Giustiniano, danno talvolta come contemporanei degl’istituti, che possono avere avuto origine in epoca compiutamente diversa. Ne consegue, che la giurisprudenza romana, quale a noi pervenne, colle sue proporzioni armoniche e colla coerenza delle sue varie parti, cela in certo modo la trasformazione lenta e graduata, che venne operandosi in essa, e la dialettica, che ne governa la for [Ciò appare sopratutto nelle “Receptae sententiae” di Paolo Diacono. Questo apparente disordine invece è alquanto minore nei cosidetti “Fragmenta” di Ulpiano, in quanto che questo lavoro di Ulpiano segue già passo passo l'ordine dei “Commentarii” di Gajo, abbreviandoli in qualche parte, e facendovi altrove qualche aggiunta, che altera talvolta le armoniche proporzioni dei “Commentarii” di Gajo. Questi ultimi poi, a parte l'originalità maggiore o minore del giureconsulto, sono il nostro modello di ordinamento sistematico, fatto in un intento didattico o tutorial per l’elite diriggente. Cfr. Huschke, Jurisp. antijustin., ed i proemii da lui preposti alle opere sopra citate dei giureconsulti] –mazione. Ma ciò punto non impedisce, che, penetrando sotto la scorza di essa, tosto si incontrino le traccie di materiali e di ruderi, che appartengono a sorgenti e ad epoche diverse, e rivelano cosi al l'investigatore i diversi periodi e momenti, per cui passa la lenta e graduata formazione della legislazione romana. Giunto al termine di questo faticoso lavoro di ricostruzione, ritengo opportuno di riassumere a grandi linee quelli fra i risultati a cui sono pervenuto, che possono cambiare in qualche parte il modo comunemente seguito di spiegare la storia primitiva di Roma, nel l'intento sopratutto di porre in evidenza quella mirabile coerenza organica, che sempre si mantenne nello svolgimento storico delle istituzioni di Roma. Allorchè le genti italiche si sovrapposero alle popolazioni già prima stanziate sopra quel suolo, che più tardi e denominato “italic”, dove avverarsi un periodo di forza e di violenza, non dissimile da quello, che si avvero più tardi all'epoca delle invasioni barbariche, ed il maggior bisogno, che dove sentirsi allora dai vincitori e dai vinti, e quello di uscire da quello stato di privata violenza. E allora, che le genti sopravvenute, memori forse delle tradizioni, che portavano dall'antico oriente, irrigidirono la propria organizzazione gentilizia, cercando di attirare nella medesima anche le popolazioni dei vinti, e costituirono così l'aristocrazia territoriale dei patres, dei patroni, dei patricii, mentre i vinti sono organizzati nella classe inferiore dei servi, dei clienti, e infine dei plebei. Questa organizzazione, malgrado le differenze nei particolari, assunge pressochè dapertutto un carattere uniforme, non dissimile da quello dell'organizzazione feudale nel Medio Evo. Essa organizzazione venne cosi ad essere composta di familiae, di gentes e di tribus, strette in sieme dal vincolo di discendenza reale o fittizia da un medesimo antenato, le quali risiedevano rispettivamente nella domus, nel vicus e nel pagus, mentre il territorio da esse occupato era ripartito in heredia, in agri gentilicii, e in compascua. Fu a questo stadio del proprio svolgimento, che le genti italiche presero tutte a travagliarsi intorno alla grande opera del passaggio dall'organizzazione gentilizia a Roma. Questa organizzazione ha sopratutto lo scopo di assicurare la comune difesa e di fortificarsi nelle lotte pres sochè quotidiane fra i varii gruppi. Roma comincia dall'essere un sito fortificato (“arx”, “oppidum”, “capitolium” ) per servire di rifugio in caso di pericolo. Poi diventa un sito per il mercato (“forum”) e un luogo di riunione dei capi di famiglia delle varie comunanze confederate per la trattazione degli affari comuni (“conciliabulum”, “comitium”). E posta sotto la protezione di un divino – “dius,” “dius-piter” -- , comune patrono. Finchè da ultimo sotto la protezione della comune fortezza cominciano eziandio a costruirsi le abitazioni private. Non tutte le stirpi però sono pervenute al medesimo stadio di svolgimento, nè tutte hanno seguito il medesimo indirizzo nella formazione di Roma. Mentre gl’umbro-sabelli adereno ancora strettamente alla organizzazione gentilizia, e gl’etruschi sono già pervenuti alla città chiusa e fortificata, i Latini invece si trovano in uno stato intermedio. I latini sono pervenuti a Roma di carattere federale, considerata come un centro della vita pubblica per varie comunanze di villagio. È al buon seme latino, che s’attribuie l'origine del nome di Roma. Roma comincia dall'essere lo stabilimento fortificato di un nucleo di uomini forti ed armati – “vir”, “quirites”), staccatisi d’Alba per cercare altrove sorti migliori, secondo una consuetudine comune delle genti primitive, fidenti sopratutto nella forza del proprio braccio, ma non immemori delle tradizioni proprie della stirpe, a cui appartenno. Le lotte di questo nucleo di uomini di arme, stabilitosi sul Palatino, i quali, senza essere ancora veri capi di famiglia, tendeno a diventarlo, colle comunanze di villagio stabilite sulle alture circostanti dell'antico septimontium, lo conducenno prima alla comunanza dei connubii e in seguito alla confederazione colle medesime. Percorse due periodi compiutamente distinti -- cioè: il periodo della città federale, in cui Roma è una città esclusivamente patrizia, ed è un centro di vita pubblica fra varie comunanze gentilizie. Il secondo, quello in cui Roma, esclusivamente patrizia associasi anche la plebe circostante delle periferii, già pervenuta ad una certa agiatezza, nell'intento sopra tutto di provvedere alla comune difesa, e chiude nelle proprie mura le primitive comunanze di villagio, che entrano a costituirla.  Nel primo periodo, i cittadini di Roma sono i capi famiglia delle genti patrizie, confederati in uno scopo di comune difesa, e la loro città, posta nel centro delle varie comunanze di villaggio, rispecchia in se medesima le istituzioni dell'organizzazione gentilizia, a quella guisa che un lago limpido rispecchia le abitazioni e i villaggi, collocati sulle alture, che lo circondano. Essi infatti trapiantano a Roma, centro della loro vita pubblica, le proprie istituzioni gentilizie, salvo che le medesime, assumendo un intento essenzialmente civile, politico e militare, cominciano a perdere alquanto il proprio carattere patriarcale, e ricevono cosi uno svolgimento compiutamente diverso. Roma esce cosi dalla confederazione e dal l'accordo dei capi di famiglia (patres) e dei loro discendenti (patricii). Ma intanto assume un carattere religioso, politico e militare ad un tempo, come le genti che concorsero alla sua formazione. Sono i pontefici, che ne serbano le tradizioni giuridiche e religiose ad un tempo. Gli auguri modellano gli auspicia publica sugli auspicia, a cui già ricorrevano i capi di famiglia o delle genti. I feziali serbano le tradizioni relative ai rapporti fra le varie genti. In questo periodo la città serve ad operare la selezione della vita pubblica, che comincia a spiegarsi nella città, dalla vita domestica e patriarcale, che continua a svolgersi nelle varie comunanze di villaggio. L'urbs infatti designa l'orbita sacra, in cui trovansi riuniti gli edifizii aventi pubblica destinazione, ed ha nel proprio contro il tempio di Vesta e la domus regia. La civitas non comprende ancora quelli rapporti soltanto che si riferiscono alla vita civile, politica e militare. Il populus non comprende tutta la popolazione, ma quella parte eletta della medesima che puo giovare alla res publica col braccio (“iunior”) o col consiglio (“senior”). Per tal modo il grande intento della città in questo periodo e quello di sceverare la vita pubblica dalla privata – “publica privatis secernere” -- , di modellare il concetto della “res publica”, in quanto essa ha un'esistenza distinta dalla “res familiaris”, e di architettarne la costituzione politica, la quale venne cosi ad uscire dal concorso di tutti gli elementi, che entravano a costituirla. La sorgente della pubblica potestà risiede quindi nel “populus.” Ma in tanto la parte dovuta all'età e all'esperienza nel provvedere all'interesse comune viene ad essere rappresentata dal “senatus”, che è già elettivo ed è nominato dal “rex”; il quale alla sua volta è l'eletto del “populus” e unifica in se medesimo l'”imperium”, che il medesimo gli conferisce. Tutto cio, che riguarda l'interesse comune, si delibera col concorso di tutti questi elementi, cioè essere proposto dal re, appoggiato dal senato, votato dal popolo. Cosicchè, la legge assume la forma di una pubblica stipulazione – “communis reipublicae sponsion”. Per quello invece, che si riferisce alla vita domestica e privata – “res familiaris” --, essa continua a svolgersi nel seno della “domus”, del “vicus”, del “pagus”, sotto la potestà dei capi di famiglia o delle genti. Queste continuano a possedere le proprie terre sotto la forma collettiva di “agri gentilicii” e di compascua, soli eccettuati gli heredia, assegnati dalla gens od anche dal re, i quali appariscono intestati ai singoli capi di famiglia. Anche la repressione dei delitti continua ad essere lasciata al potere domestico e patriarcale, e le pene conservano quel carattere religioso, che hanno nel periodo gentilizio. Solo assumono carattere di delitti *pubblici*, e sono sotto posti alla giurisdizione del re, temperata dalla provocatio ad populum, il parricidium e la perduellio, di cui quello è come il germe del reato comune e questa il germe del reato politico. Ma il diritto private continua in gran parte ad essere governato dal costume (“mos”), il quale appare ancora circondato da un ' aureola religiosa (“fas”). Cio tuttavia non impedisce, che fra le consuetudini e le tradizioni preesistenti già ve ne sono di quelle, che sono sanzionate dala “lex publica”, la quale è preparata dal pontefice, proposta dal re, e votata dal popolo; donde la formazione della “lex regia”, nelle quali tuttavia le istituzioni giuridiche serbano ancora quel carattere religioso, che era proprio delle istituzioni delle genti patrizie. Nel frattempo quell'elemento plebeo, la cui formazione già erasi iniziata nelle stesse comunanze di villaggio, prende un grandissimo incremento collo svolgersi della città. Poichè, esso trovasi accresciuto dalle popolazioni conquistate e da coloro che, spostati nell'organizzazione gentilizia, vengono a stanziarsi nel territorio circostante alla città. Questa moltitudine, che per essere composta di elementi di provenienza diversa e per difetto di organizzazione chiamasi “plebes”, non entra ancora a formare il “populus”, nè è ammessa alle curiae della città patrizia, ma abita nelle circostanze di essa, e tiene cosi una posizione più di *fatto* che di diritto. Ai plebei, che la compongono, solo dovette essere accordato, negli ultimi tempi della città esclusivamente patrizia, il “ius nexi”, ossia il diritto di contrarre dei prestiti, vincolando direttamente la propria persona, e il “ius mancipii”, ossia il diritto di ritenere quello spazio di terra, sovra cui essi erano stanziati colle proprie famiglie. È sotto l'influenza etrusca, che Roma comincia a prepararsi ad un secondo stadio, a quello cioè di città chiusa e fortificata nelle proprie mura, il che però non toglie, che essa continui ancor sempre ad essere un centro di vita pubblica per le comunanze e le famiglie, che trovansi stanziate nell'ager romanus, ma fuori del pomoerium della città. La trasformazione, iniziata da Tarquinio Prisco, si compie, allorchè con Servio Tullio Roma viene a comprendere nella propria cerchia non solo gli edifizii pubblici, ma anche le abitazioni private, e in base alla sua costituzione viene a formarsi accanto ai patres o patricii, un nuovo populus, composto di patrizii e di plebei, ripartito in V classi ed in centurie, di carattere essenzialmente militare, i cui membri hanno i loro diritti ed obblighi civili, politici e militari determinati sulla base del CENSO. Da questo momento quel dualismo, che esiste negl’elementi, che entra vano a partecipare alla medesima Roma, penetra eziandio nelle istituzioni politiche. Per tal modo accanto ai veri magistrati del popolo, comparvero il “tribune” della plebe. Accanto ai comizii delle curie e delle centurie si formar il “concilium plebis”, il quale col tempo si trasforma in comizio tribute. Da ultimo, accanto alla “lex” si svolge il “plebiscitum.” Di qui lotte, che condussero a svolgere e in parte anche a modificare i concetti fondamentali, che servivano di base alla costituzione primitiva di Roma. Intanto Roma si è ingrandita. Nelle suemura non si esplica più soltanto la vita pubblica, ma anche la vita domestica e private. Quindi la grande opera, che si inizia in questo periodo, viene ad essere la formazione di un diritto privato, comune ai due ordini, e la creazione di quell'arte, in cui i romani dovevano essere maestri al mondo, cioè dell'”ars iura condendi.” Gl’elementi, che dovevano convivere sotto la protezione di un comune diritto, sono due, cioè: il patriziato, onusto di tradizioni religiose, giuridiche e politiche, e la plebe la quale e un agglomeramento di elementi diversi, nuovo ancora alla vita civile e politica. Quello ha l'organizzazione gentilizia fondata sul vincolo civile dell'agnazione, e questa non conosce che la famiglia, stretta insieme dal vincolo naturale della cognazione. Quella ha tante forme di proprietà, quante sono le gradazioni dell'organizzazione gentilizia. Questa non ha in certo modo che il possesso delle terre, sovra cui era stanziata (“mancipium”). Qello ha il “fas”, il “ius”, l' “imperium”, l’ “auspicium”, il “mos veterum”. Questa non conosce che l'”usus auctoritas”.  Fu la distanza stessa, a cui trovavansi collocati i due elementi, e il loro modo di sentire e di pensare compiutamente diverso, in fatto di religione e di morale, che resero necessaria la elaborazione di un DIRITTO, comune ai due ordini, il quale FA COMPIUTAMANTE ASTRAZIONE DALLA MORALE E DALL RELIGIONE. Cosi pure è questa distanza, che spiega la lentezza di questa elaborazione e la ricchezza dei risultati a cui essa pervenne. Questa dove prendere le mosse dalle istituzioni più elementari, comuni ai due ordini, e poi estendersi a poco a poco a tutti i rapporti della vita civile. Per qualche tempo ciascun elemento continua ad attenersi alle proprie consuetudini e costumanze. La convivenza dei due ordini, pero, nelle stesse mura e l'attrito dei quotidiani interessi finirono per determinare una specie di precipitazione del materiale giuridico, fluttuante sotto la forma di tradizioni patrizie (“mos veterum”), o di costumanze della plebe (“usus”). Si inizia così la più mirabile selezione dell'elemento giuridico dagl’elementi affini, con cui trovasi implicato, che siasi mai avverata nella storia dell'umanità; selezione, che da una parte obbedisce alla legge naturali di formazione, e dall'altra è già l'opera di una elaborazione, per parte sopratutto del pontefice, i quali, essendo i custodi delle tradizioni delle genti patrizie, già sono in possesso di una vera tecnica giuridica. Il nucleo centrale di questa formazione venne ad essere il concetto del “quirites”, ossia dell'uomo, isolato da tutti gli altri suoi rapporti, per essere riguardato esclusivamente come capo di famiglia e proprietario di terre, quale appunto compariva nel censo. Il “quirites” viene cosi ad essere una realtà ed una astrazione, un individuo e un capo gruppo, un soldato ed un agricoltore ad un tempo. Ed il punto di vista, sotto cui si riguardano il “quirites” nel reciproco rapporto, essendo determinato dal censo, viene ad essere quello del mio e del tuo – “il nostro” --. Di qui consegue, che per essi ogni negozio riducesi ad un trapasso dal MIO al TUO – il nostro -- , simboleggiato nell'atto “per aes et libram”, e ogni procedura viene ad essere simboleggiata in una specie di combattimento e di reciproca scommessa. Questo diritto, costituendo un privilegio dei “quiriti”, viene ad essere denominato “ius quiritium”. I suoi concetti fondamentali sono quelli vasti e comprensivi di caput, manus, mancipium, commercium, connubium ed actio. Esso costituisce in certo modo l'ossatura rigida di tutta la giurisprudenza romana. Siccome pero, attorno a questo primo nucleo, che si vien precipitando e consolidando, si mantengono ancora sempre, allo stato fluttuante, tanto le consuetudini e le tradizioni dei patres, quanto gli usi della plebe; così il primitivo “ius quiritium” viene in certo modo attraendo ed assimilando quelle istituzioni preesistenti, che potevano avere qualche analogia col diritto già formato. Per tal guisa il medesimo, arricchendosi di nuove forme, si viene gradatamente allargando nel “ius pro prium civium Romanorum”, il quale può essere considerato come un proseguimento di quella selezione, che erasi già incominciata col “ius quiritium”. Sono Le XII Tavole, che danno forma scritta alle basi fondamentali di questo ius civile. Quindi nelle medesime si possono scorgere le commettiture dei varii elementi, che entrano a costituirlo. Infatti in qualsiasi istituzione di quel ius, che i giureconsulti chiamano “proprium civium Romanorum”, può scorgersi una formazione centrale, che è dovuta al “ius quiritium”, e due laterali, di cui una suole essere di origine patrizia, e l'altra di origine plebea. Così, ad esempio, fra le forme del matrimonio havvi da una parte la “confarreatio,” di origine patrizia e dall'altra l'”usus” di origine plebea. La “coemption” sta nel mezzo, ed è la forma essenzialmente quiritaria. Fra le forme del testamento, le più antiche sono il testamento “in calatis comitiis”, propria del patriziato, e la “mancipatio familiae cum fiducia”, propria della plebe, le quali poi, pressochè componendosi insieme, dànno origine al vero testamento quiritario, che è quello “per aes et libram.” Infine, fra i modi di acquistare e trasmettere il dominio, il primo a formarsi è quello essenzialmente quiritario della “mancipatio”, attorno a cui si vengono poi accogliendo l'”in iure cessio” e l'”usucapion”. Intanto pero questa selezione non si arresta ancora colla formazione di un “ius civile”, e quindi, accanto al medesimo, si esplica il “ius honorarium”, il quale, pur derogando al primo, assimila nuovi elementi, facendoli pero entrare in forme modellate a somiglianza di quelle già adottate dal “ius civile”. È con questo meraviglioso processo che il diritto di Roma, dopo aver cominciato dall'essere la *selezione* più rigida dell'elemento giuridico, che ricordi la storia, ed una produzione esclusivamente romana, venne a poco a poco attraendo nella propria orbita anche le considerazioni di equità e di buona fede, ed assimilando quelle istituzioni delle altre genti, che si acconciavano alla logica fondamentale, da cui era governato, finchè divenne poi tale da essere considerato come un diritto universale, e da poter essere accomunato a tutte le genti, da cui aveva tolti i materiali, sovra cui erasi venuto elaborando. Il diritto romano riusci cosi ad essere una costruzione eminentemente dialettica, la quale riunisce da sè gli opposti ed i contrarii. Il diritto romano è antico nei materiali, che lo compongono, nuovo per le applicazioni che se ne ricavano. Sotto un aspetto il diritto romano è sempre fisso e fermo nei proprii concetti, sotto un altro è sempre in via di formazione. Il diritto romano obbedisce ad una logica fondamentale, e intanto lascia che ogni istituto proceda per proprio conto e segna un proprio concetto ispiratore. Mentre il diritto romano è una produzione del tutto propria del genio romano, assimila in se stesso le istituzioni di tutte le genti; è un'arte ed una scienza ad un tempo. Esso infine, mentre obbedisce e si piega alle esigenze pratiche, appare informato, come ben dice il giureconsulto, ad una vera e propria FILOSOFIA, la quale non si abbandona alle speculazioni ideali, mamedita sui fatti sociali ed umani, ne scevera l'essenza giuridica, la modella in concezioni tipiche, e svolge le medesime in tutte le conseguenze, di cui possono essere capaci. È questo il motivo, per cui le costruzioni giuridiche dei giureconsulti romani sono sempre dei modelli, che difficilmente potranno essere superati, poichè nella divisione di lavoro, che si opera fra i popoli moderni, non ve ne ha certamente alcuno, che possegga in questa parte le attitudini veramente meravigliose dell'ingegno romano per l'elaborazione dell'elemento giuridico, e nessuno parimenti, che possa aver l'occasione, il modo e il campo, che esso ebbe, per applicare la sua giurisprudenza alla immensa varietà dei fatti sociali ed umani. Singolare destino quello di Roma. Come le sue mura furono costrutte coi massi più solidi dell'epoca gentilizia; così i concetti, che le servirono di base, furono la sintesi potente di tutto un periodo di umanità, le cui vestigia si vengono ora discoprendo nelle necropoli delle più antiche città italiche e nelle civiltà fossili dell'antico oriente. Da questi ruderi di un periodo che può chiamarsi pre-istorico, essa seppe ricavare uno svolgimento storico e logico ad un tempo, che basta ad organizzare il mondo per tutto un grande periodo di civiltà. Senza essere ricca di concetti proprii, essa ebbe però tanta forza ed energia assimilatrice da fare entrare nei medesimi il lavoro di tutte le genti, con cui denne a trovarsi a con tatto. Senza abbandonarsi a speculazioni ideali, essa riusci ad isolare l'essenza giuridica dei fatti sociali ed umani, e a svolgerla in tutte le sue conseguenze con una logica inesorabile e tenace. Quando poi i concetti, che stano a base della sua grandezza, sono anch'essi esauriti, dalle loro macerie usce ancora la grande idea della umanità civile, e la sua legge puo servire come punto di partenza ad un nuovo periodo di cose sociali ed umane, Soltanto Roma, fra le città dell'universo, puo personificare in se stessa quella legge di continuità, che unifica la storia del genere umano. Le sue radici si perdono nella preistoria, e le nazionalità moderne sono  preparate da essa. Essa e l'erede e la raccoglitrice paziente delle tradizioni del periodo gentilizio, e intanto pose le basi, da cui presero le mosse, gli stati e le nazioni moderne. Inchiniamoci a Roma. Quando si pretende di cambiarla in sede esclusiva del potere spirituale, essa sa di nuovo rivivere alla vita civile. Quando si crede di riguardarla come una specie di museo del mondo civile, colle sole sue memorie essa coopera a ridestare a vita una giovine nazione. I dualismi, che ora esistono in Roma, non ci debbono impaurire. Roma e sempre la città dei dualismi. Punto non ripugna, che Roma e la sede del governo civile. Già altra volta essa apprese l'arte di separare il potere religioso dal civile – “sacra profanis secernere.” Non ripugna parimenti, che Roma continua ad essere la città dei dotti e degl’eruditi, e che intanto sia la capitale di un giovine stato. Roma ha tal copia di monumenti del passato da ricavarne la più splendida passeggiata archeologica, e ha spazio che basta per fondare nuovi quartieri, che possano corrispondere alle nuove esigenze ed ai nuovi bisogni. Ormai er tempo, che essa un'altra volta arricchisse il nucleo ristretto della sua popolazione, accordando nuovamente la sua cittadinanza alle popolazioni, che vi concorsero da ogni parte dell'Italia. Lo stato federale non cerca di far rivivere la tradizione civile e politica di Roma. Lasciamo ad altri di combattere l'influenza della romanità. Noi, studiando fra i ruderi di Roma antica, abbiamo nella grandezza del suo passato uno stimolo ed un incitamento per l'avvenire; nè e inutile, che il giovine regno cerchi di educare il suo senso politico e legislativo, studiando l'opera dei più grandi politici e legislatori del mondo. La storia civile e politica di Roma e quella del suo diritto non deve in Italia essere privilegio di dotti e di eruditi. Deve essere parte dell'istruzione e dell'educazione civile e politica del popolo italiano. È solo in questo modo, che si spiega la falange di giovani studiosi, che si precipito sopra questo patrimonio, che deve essere nostro, allorchè lo studio della storia del diritto romano e opportunamente chiamato a far parte dell'insegnamento giuridico nell’università italiane. Credo infatti di poter affermare, senza timore di essere contraddetto, che nessun nuovo insegnamento provoca nel nostro paese cosi largo movimento di studii, come lo dimostrano le pubblicazioni fattesi sull'argomento, gli istituti per lo studio del diritto romano, che ora vengono sorgendo, e l'entusiasmo stesso, con cui non solo l'Italia, ma tutta l’Europa partecipa alla commemorazione solenne di quell'epoca, in cui l'iniziarsi degli studi sul diritto ro mano pone le fondamenta dell'illustre ateneo di Bologna. L'importanza dogmatica del diritto romano potrà forse diminuire colla pubblicazione del codice civile germanico, il quale fa si che il diritto romano cessi di essere il diritto comune di un grande Popolo. Ma la sua importanza storica venne per cio stesso ad essere accresciuta, perchè si tratta pur sempre di determinare la parte, che nelle moderne legislazioni deve essere attribuita alla grande in fluenza del diritto romano. Ne è da farsi illusione, che questo gepere di studii possa ugualmente mantenersi fuori della cerchia dell’università. Poichè, tanto in Italia che in Germania, la scienza è nata e si è svolta nell’università, ed è in esse, che deve essere tenuto vivo il focolare della medesima. È soltanto nell’università, che la storia del diritto antico può cessare di occuparsi esclusivamente di minute ricerche archeologiche, per cambiarsi in un sistema di concetti, che possa essere succo e sangue per la giovine generazione. Giuseppe Carle. Diritto romano. Keywords: implicatura, diritto romano, legge romana, concetto di legge romana, natura romana Roman law often invoked nature to justify a legal ius – the principle of individual ownership: JOINT position of a single object  is said to be contra naturam. CONTRA NATVRAM QVIPPE EST VT CVM ALIQVID TENEAM TV QVOQVE ID TENERE VIDARIS. SERVITVS EST CONSTITVTIO IVRIS GENTIVM QVA QVIS DOMINIO ALIENO CONTRA NATVRAM SVBICITVR. Orazio. Sat, Roma – filosofia antica – Luigi Speranza. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carle” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Carlini: l’implicatura conversazionale della filosofia fascista – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Napoli). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Carlini, and Speranza loves him even more,  but then he is Italian! My favourite is his “A brief history of philosophy,” especially the subtitle: “Da Talete di Mileto a Talete di Mileto, con una postfazione di Talete di Mileto – “Nel principio era l’acqua”!” – “Il primo filossofo – che cadde in un pozzo.” Si laurea a Bologna (“l’unica universita italiana”) sotto Acri. Insegna a Iesi, Foggia, Cesena, Trani, e Parma. E chiamato presso Pisa per sostituire Gentile, trasferitosi a Roma, come titolare della cattedra di filosofia teoretica. Membro dell’Accademia d'Italia. Inizia a farsi conoscere assumendo la direzione di una collana edita da Laterza che inizialmente venne lanciata sotto il nome di “Testi di filosofia ad uso dei licei”. Ad introdurlo nella Laterza è GENTILE, conosciuto qualche anno prima, e CROCE, all'epoca ancora in rapporti col filosofo di Castelvetrano. “Testi di filosofia ad uso dei licei” ha un scopo divulgativo, ma divenne presto celebre per l'alto livello degli autori che collaborarono in vario modo al suo interno, fra cui, oltre al C., anche Saitta e lo stesso Gentile. Oltre al lavoro di direzione e coordinamento in qualità di direttore responsabile, pubblica due saggi su Aristotele (in realtà raccolte aristoteliche da lui curate, commentate e tradotte) cui fa seguito uno studio su BOVIO che desta l'interesse di non pochi studiosi e l'approvazione di GENTILE, considerato da C. suo tutore indiscusso. Pubblica due corposi volumi che gli assicurarono un posto di assoluto rilievo nell’ambiente filosofico: un esaustivo studio sul sense e l’esperienza, e soprattutto “Lo spirito”.  In “Lo spirito” si inizia infatti chiaramente a delineare il proprio pensiero: adesione alla dottrina idealista, vista come sintesi fra il pensiero immanentista gentiliano (GENTILE è, fino alla propria scomparsa, suo amico, oltre che tutore) e quello crociano. Il soggetto attraversa un costante irto di dubbi ed angosce e un dialogo che riusciamo ad instaurare con noi stessi, in un percorso critico dialettico, una conquista realizzabile solo attraverso gli strumenti di una metafisica critica. La centralità della teoria della conoscenza e sviluppata in “Lineamenti di una concezione realistica dello spirito umano” e “Alla ricerca di noi stessi”, “alla ricerca di tu”. Comprensibile appare pertanto l'interesse che nutre per l'esistenzialismo, che però si espresse con una singolare preferenza verso Heidegger, nelle cui speculazioni trovarono ben poco posto le istanze metafisiche, piuttosto che nei confronti di Jaspers che su quelle stesse istanze aveva strutturato la propria filosofofia. Commenta il pensiero logico di Heidegger, e Che cos'è la metafisica? (“La nulla anihila”). Rende un commosso omaggio a Gentile con i suoi Studi gentiliani, raccolta di scritti in massima parte già pubblicati precedentemente, tesi a ricordarne la figura e le affinità intellettuali che un tempo lo avevano legato al grande filosofo siciliano. “Bovio” (Bari, Laterza); “Senso ed esperienza” (Firenze, Vallecchi); “Lo spirito” (Firenze, Vallecchi); “Note a la metafisica d’Aristotele” (Bari, Laterza); “Filosofia” (Roma, Quaderni dell'Ist. Naz. di Cultura); “Il mito del realism” (Firenze, Sansoni); “Lo spirito” (Roma, Perrella); Filosofia (Roma, Ist. Naz. di Cultura); Il problema di Cartesio, Bari, Laterza); Storia della filosofia, Firenze, Sansoni); “La Fondazione Giovanni Gentile per gli Studi filosofici” (Firenze, Sansoni); Le ragioni della fede, Brescia, Morcelliana); Michelino e la sua eresia” (Bologna, Nicola Zanichelli). Dizionario biografico degli italiani. l'architrave 4    ala I ai Mi L. LL  a cura di  alberto schiavo Gy  giovanni volpe editore  FUTURISMO E FASCISMO. Una fotografia inedita di Marinetti mentre si esercita  al poligona di tiro di Gorizia nel 1915. Marinetti e Russolo si erano  arruolati volontari nel « Battaglione Lombardo Volontari Ciclisti » il  3 agosto 1914 per poi combattere da alpini sul Monte Altissimo. In  seguito Marinetti verrà assegnato ad un reparto di autoblindate e poi  servirà nei bombardieri. Sarà tre volte ferito e tre volte decorato  al valore.   Tutti i diritti riservati. Giovanni Volpe Editore  in Roma, Via Michele Mercati. FUTURISMO E FASCISMO a cure di ALBERTO SCHIAVO GIOVANNI VOLPE EDITORE    FUTURISMO CON E SENZA FASCISMO    «A Giacinto Menotti Serrati allora direitore del-  l’Avanti, che si era recato in Russia per respirare  aria comunista. Lenin affermò: “Voi socialisti non  siete dei rivoluzionari. In Italia ci sono soltanto tre  uomini che possono fare la rivoluzione: Mussolini,  Annunzio, Marinetti”. Il povero Menotti, inotridito, ritornò a Milano precipitosamente. E. quando, paco dapo, un capo scarico con un  magistrale colpo di forbice gli tagliò di netto, per  beffario, Ia veneranda barba, reagì in questo modo:  facendo proclamare nella grande città lombarda lo  sciopero generale. I milanesi orripilarono, è il caso  di dirlo, perché si sentirono da quel giorno appesi  ai peli del direttore dell'Avarti »  EmiLio SErTIMELLI, Mille giudizi di statisti, scrit-  tori, giornalisti, scienziati, industriali di Cinquanta  Stati sulla personalità e misstone di Mussolini, Erre, Milano). Quale futurismo? Il futurismo è ormai un fatto d’esportazione: italiano  d'origine pur se si è cercato di farlo passare per francese  e russo poi di acquisizione e di affermazione, è ormai  alla ribalta dell’esperimentazione artistica americana. Segno questo che il fenomeno è vitale e ancora carico di  prospettive, nonostante la « storicizzazione » di un avvenimento che fu d'avanguardia. Ma quale avvenimento?  Il manitesto del futurismo fu pubblicato sul parigino Le Figaro. Si tratta di un manifesto letterario di rinnovamento e di rivoluzione, se vogliamo, della tradizione classicista e « passatista » {secondo un termine caro ai futuristi) dominante.  Gli aspetti politici non furono tuttavia estranei alla sua volontà di rivolgimento letterario ed artistico. Ci  sembra quindi giusto prenderli in considerazione, eftet tuarne un esame. Anzi, è proprio di questi che ci vogliamo occupare, del loro svolgersi, articolarsi 0, comun-  que, manifestarsi nel corso del tempo e della vita del futurismo. Che, in fondo, ancora oggi è accettato o respinta,  condiviso o negletto, « approvato » o denigrato a seconda  delle posizioni o degli intendimenti politici del momento.  Ma anche è ticonsiderato, tivisto e « rivisitato » nel suo  complesso, da tutte le parti, vicine e lontane, amiche ed  avverse, per la carica vitale e rinnovatrice che lo anima,  suscitatrice di nuovi spiriti e ancòra, in fondo, moderna.   « La letteratura esaltò fino ad oggi l'immobilità pen-  sosa, l'estasi e il sonno », scriveva Marinetti in quel Mani  festo di settanta e più anni fa. « Noi vogliamo esaltare il  movimento aggressivo, l'insonnia febbrile, il passo di cor-  sa, il salto mortale, lo schiaffo ed il pugno». E non è  già atteggiamento letterario « aggressivo », ma anche di  rinnovamento, questo? Non è, come si suol dire ancora,  « fare politica »? Al settimo punto del Manifesto, Marinetti così continuava: «Non c'è più bellezza, se non  nella lotta. Nessuna opera che non abbia un carattere ag-  gressivo può essere un capolavoro. La poesia deve essere  concepita come un violento assalto contro le forze ignote,  per ridurle a prostrarsi davanti all’uomo ». Per conclu-  dere poi con l'undicesimo: « Noi canteremo le grandi folle agitate dal lavoro, dal piacere o dalla sommossa; can-  teremo le maree multicolori e polifoniche delle rivolu-  zioni nelle capitali moderne; canteremo il vibrante fer-  vore notturno degli arsenali e dei cantieri incendiati da  violente lune elettriche; le stazioni ingorde, divoratrici  di serpi che fumano; le officine appese alle nuvole. E tutto questo cantava e diffondeva da Parigi, da uno  dei più gloriosi quotidiani della capitale francese; ma cio-  nonostante « ...è dall'Italia, che noi lanciamo pel mondo  questo nostro manifesto di violenza travolgente e incen-  diaria, col quale fondiamo oggi il “Futurismo”, perché  vogliamo liberare questo paese dalla sua fetida cancrena  di professori, d’archeologi, di ciceroni e di antiquari. Un grido così coinvolgente e totale non può, in fon-  do, non trascinare ancora gli osservatori della cultura,    A       non invitarli almeno a prendere posizione, poco importa  se favorevole o contraria. Non si può rimanere indiffe-  renti ancora negli Anni Ottanta, non sentirlo tutt'ora pre-  sente nei suoi contenuti « prospettici » e attuali. Ecco  perché tutti lo hanno ripreso, riconsiderato o « riabilita-  to» alla loro dimensione storica: liberali e comunisti,  socialisti e conservatori, cattolici e radicali, fino alla nuova destra. Anche noi, vorremmo quindi riesaminarlo a  distanza non però per riappropriarcene, ma solo per ve-  dere la sua origine, il muoversi storico e la collocazione  politica nel corso della sua esistenza, che in fondo, è ancora incerta e anche, in parte, controversa.    Si è parlato d’irrazionalismo filosofico, di decadenti-  smo o di romanticismo letterario, di surrealismo con evi-  dente errore di collocazione, di nietschianesimo natural  mente, o di bergsonismo ecc. ecc. Ma non sta a noi que-  sto compito, perché siamo convinti che rutto si potrebbe  dite, o comunque tutto si potrebbe adattare in buona  combinazione di purpurie filosofica, o di pensiero. E in-  vece è il futurismo che vorremmo considerare nella sua  realtà storica, nella sua entità e valenza « politica », di  fianco o a distanza di quel fascismo con cui bene o male  si è accompagnato. Anche se ciò non basta certamente  per avere un'idea chiara e precisa della sua effettiva por-  tata e del suo valore « storico ». Perché il futurismo va  visto sì nel suo tempo, che non è poi tanto passato, pur  se non è più momento dell’oggi; ma va visto anche nella  sua prosecuzione e nella sua proiezione al tempo presen-  te, sia pure per quel che riguarda la « dimensione d’arte ».   Il futurismo oggi non è più un fatto politico, ma è  tuttora fatto culturale, e diverse manifestazioni e pubbli  cazioni lo dimostrano ancora. Quando nacque, fu espres-  sione rivoluzionaria di un paese giovane e « nuovo » mos-  so dalla felice conclusione dei fermenti unitari, i quali  — è ovvio — comportano sempre semi di sconvolgimen-  to e di rinnovazione. L’« Italia di Vittorio Veneto » sancità definitivamente  ed epicamente il ciclo dell’unità e segnerà così anche, nel  l'immediato dopoguetra, il momento di temperatura massima del « futurismo politico », che vedremo poi ricadere  in seguito completamente a zero.   Oggi, in tempi di riflusso dopo una guerra perduta  anche se ormai lontana, il futurismo risulta meno com-  prensibile e meno « attuale » alla nostra capacità d'in-  tendimento storico. Ma a ben osservare possiamo ancora  intravvederlo, per intendere poi anche meglio il futurismo  artistico e letterario, che del tutto estraneo a quello « po-  litico » proprio non è.   La cultura è un fatto del presente, ma anche dell’av-  venire. Come tale è o dovrebbe essere giovane, perché  vissuta, voluta, « creduta » e quindi guardata in prospet-  tiva nella visione dell’oltre, nell'ottica di uno sguardo lon-  tano. Il futurismo si pone in questo «taglio » di visuale  sull'inizio del secolo, e si focalizza in tale dimensione.  Vuole aprire una nuova strada e vuole porgere un'indi-  cazione, una proposta.   Erano i tempi del progresso, dello sviluppo della scien-  za e dell'industria, del nascere della velocità dei nuovi  suoni e dei nuovi rumori, quelli delle scoperte e delle  invenzioni, del cinema e dell'aviazione. Marinetti percepì  tutto questo e lo espresse. E fondò il futurismo, pose  le sue basi e cantò la sua prima voce. Nessuno forse  s’aspettava o s'immaginava che potesse riuscire a trovare  ascolto. Marinetti però viveva a Parigi a quel tempo, e  seppe approfittare dei contatti che aveva con la cultura  rancese per lanciare il Manifesto: fu un'occasione, e fu  anche un lancio sicuro.    2. Futurismo e « passatismo »    Esiste ancora oggi il « passatismo », quello di mari-  nettiana memoria. E se è pet questo c'è ancora il futu-  rismo. Proprio per tale suo aspetto, dunque, il futurismo  è ancora attuale: la decadenza della cultura o il suo in-  vecchiamento, e la sua inadeguatezza ai tempi; il preva-  lere per contro dell'accademia, della pedanteria, del vec-  chiume cattedratico sono sempre all'ordine del giorno.    ®    Il futurismo, quindi, non ha esaurito il suo compito, ov-  vero non è riuscito nel suo intento. E allora dovremo dire  che non è morto ed è tuttora attuale. Ma prima di aprire  un'ipotesi di «nuovo futurismo », dovremmo esaminare  quello passato, fattosi movimento d'avanguardia, e ormai  da ridefinirsi vera e propria avanguardia storica, solo ed  esclusivamente.   Il « passatismo » può essere oggi solo un « fatto di  ritorno », o esser rientrato ad occupare il suo campo d'’ori-  gine, ma il futurismo settanta anni fa aveva già conosciu-  to quello di allora, tanto da indicarlo e da definirlo, con  una sua caratteristica espressione: passatismo, appunto.  E non si trattava anche allora di una cultura ripetitiva  e monocorde, puntualizzatrice e pedante, noiosa e inat-  tuale? Allora come oggi: una cultura fuori dal tempo,  sterile e ferma. E il futurismo aveva voluto muoversi a  rinnovarla, a darle nuova spinta vitale. Ecco allora le  sue invettive contro l’accademismo o il professorume, i  suoi appelli alla distruzione di musei, archivi, biblioteche.   Si trattava di appelli squisitamente letterari, ma sono  stati presi il più delle volte alla lettera o in senso lette-  rale, per farne atto d'accusa al futurismo e alla sua anti-  cultura. Leggendo al di là delle righe, invece, dovremmo  capire la portata o la dimensione del messaggio, rivolto  agli uomini più che ai musei e alle accademie, o almeno  a certi uomini capaci di rappresentare solo ed esclusiva-  mente cultura da museo.   Sulla spinta di questo stimolo « ideologico », era fatale  che il movimento trovasse più facili accoglienze 0 acco-  stamenti con le parti politiche d’azione, quelle dell'inter  vento prima della Grande Guerra, e dell’arditismo prima  durante e dopo il conflitto. La guerra veniva ormai intesa  sola ed unica «igiene del mondo », ed era logico che i  futuristi si accostassero a lei, come ad una forza capace  di debellare ed estirpare il tanto inviso « passatismo ».  I futuristi quindi furono interventisti accanto ai naziona-  listi (D'Annunzio) ed ai socialisti di Corridoni e di Mus-  solini. La ineluttabilità della storia accosta spesso e vo-  lentieri i « differenti ». Furono vicini nei comizi, nelle  manifestazioni, nella propaganda per l’intervento.  E poi partirono, praticamente tutti 1 futuristi, volontari per il fronte di una guerta che avevano inteso e visto  aggressiva, purificatrice e moderna. Una guerra al passo  coi tempi, si direbbe oggi, una guerra insomma « futu-  rista ». Partì Martinetti e partì Boccioni, partirono Funi  e Sitoni, partì Sant'Elia, che lasciò i suoi 23 anni in trin-  cea sulle colline del Carso. Erano entrati tutti e cinque  « compatti » in quel glorioso battaglione ciclisti, che tan-  to fece patlare di sé, e che Funi rittasse in un famoso  quadro. Anche Boccioni morirà in ospedale a Verona.  La vita fu forse la massima offerta all’« igiene » di una  guetra tanto desiderata.    Il futurismo in quanto fermento rinnovatore di una  lotta nazionale che concluse il Risorgimento, potrebbe es-  sere inteso come un epigono del Romanticismo. Fu in-  vece di più e di meglio, visto in altra dimensione o in  altro significato. Perché fu avanguardia, anzi il primo ve-  to e proprio movimento d’avanguardia culturale del nuo-  vo secolo. E l'avvento del fascismo in senso politico, di-  mostra in fondo che lo sbocco di tutto quel rivolgimento  innovativo 0 avanguardistico che tutti sentivano e « avevano  nel sangue », era diventato una ineluttabile necessità del  momento.    L’irreggimentazione del fascismo è un fatto successiva,  indipendente dal futurismo. Il fascismo-regime, per dirla  con De Felice, è un'esito autonomo e « solitario » di Mus-  solini e del potere. Il fascismo-movimento invece, sempre  per dirla alla De Felice, no. I) fascismo-movimento è una  realtà più complessa, articolata e multiforme, più sentita e  partecipata. Ed in essa entra il futurismo, che « vive » il fa-  scismo ma anche lo anima, che Jo vuole in parte, ma anche  lo informa.    Il « passatismo » doveva essere stroncato: e in un  primo momento, con l'avvento di Mussolini, languì. La  cultura subì uno svecchiamento non indifferente ed il fer-  mento del nuovo portò sulla scena uomini « giovani » ac-  cantonando | « vecchioni » dell'accademia libera!socialista.  Balla, Carrà, Soffici, Funi, Sironi, Prampolini si afferma-  rono col vento futurista che stava soffiando. Ed ebbero spazio nelle mostre, almeno in un primo momento, aper-  tura nei musei, apprezzamento all’estero, dove vennero  accolti, ammirati, imitati. Il futurismo ebbe una grande  forza vitale sua, autonoma e individuale. Senza per que-  sto imporsi e schiacciare la « concorrenza », anzi. I fu-  turisti accettatono nuove esperienze ed accolsero scambi  con avanguardie straniere (come l'astrattismo), che vol.  lero mutuare in reciprocità l’influenze. Il fascismo fu l’avan-  guatdia collaterale politica del futurismo, che tuttavia que-  st'ultimo cronologicamente precedette e « ideologicamente »,  almeno in parte, ispirò. La lotta al « passatismo » diven-  ne così quasi simbolo del fascismo, che si fece portaban-  diera del rinnovamento e della nuova rivoluzione nazio-  nale.   I « professori », non avendo messaggi originali da con-  trapporre, rimasero in disparte. Marinetti divenne acca-  demico d’Italia a fascismo avanzato e, forse, suo malgra-  do. Tuttavia « usò » l'Accademia per promuovere ed ap-  poggiare i « suoi » futuristi, per dar loro spazio nelle di-  verse manifestazioni d’arte e di cultura. Il filosofo Croce,  « professore ad honorem », era stato proposto alla presi-  denza dell’Accademia, ed era stato proposto da parte fa-  scista, quando ancora da Napoli applaudiva a Mussolini:  ebbe invece più consensi la presidenza Marconi, lo scien-  ziato, e Croce si ritirò nell’antifascismo, forse mi litante,  della sua incensurata e liberissima Critica. Croce fu « pas-  satista », 0 tortò ad essere tale dopo una parentesi {od  un tentativo di rivolgimento innovativo), che non lo sot-  trasse tuttavia dalle « carte » della sua più o meno im-  mobile filosofia.    3. Futurismo e politica    La comparsa « politica » del futurismo fu praticamente  contemporanea alla sua nascita «artistica: infatti avvenne  in occasione delle elezioni del 1909, quando Marinetti  lanciò il suo Primo Manifesto Politico, che così si rivol-  ge agli « Elettori Futuristi »: « Noi Futuristi invochiamo da tutti i giovani ingegni d’Italia una lotta ad oltranza  contro i candidati che patteggiano coi vecchi e coi preti ».  Posizione confermata nel marzo dello stesso anno in un  famoso Discorso ai Triestini tenuto al Politeama Rosset-  ti, della città giuliana, dove così sottolinea: « In politica,  stamo tanto lontani da] socialismo internazionalista e an-  tipatriottico — ignobile esaltazione dei diritti del ven-  tre — quanto dal conservatorismo pauroso e clericale,  simboleggiato dalle pantofole e dallo scaldaletto ». Sono  le premesse del famoso anticlericalismo marinettiano, che  sfocerà poco dopo nello « svaticanamento » tanto predi-  cato per la salvezza nazionale.    Nel 1910, dopo la nascita del futurismo politico, vie-  ne fondato il Partito Nazionalista Italiano, antidemocra-  tico ed antiborghese. Nel 1913 nasce Lacerba, cui diede-  ro vita a Firenze Soffici e Papini, la rivista che in pra-  tica divenne ben presto organo ufficiale del futurismo /ato  sensu. Sempre nel 1913 sorgeva a Napoli un’altra rivista  futurista, diretta da Ferdinando Russo e intitolata Vele  Latina, che si ergeva in un primo tempo a voce di pa-  sizioni morigerate e tranquille, e poi dal 1915 più spinte  nella mischia dell'intervento.   Ancora del ’13, e dell'11 ottobre per l'esattezza, è  la pubblicazione del Programma politico futurista a firma  di Marinetti, Boccioni, Carrà e Russolo, per le elezioni  dello stesso anno. « Questo programma vincerà », s'in-  dica al margine inferiore del foglio, «il programma cle-  rico-moderato-liberale » e «il programma democratico-re-  pubblicana-socialista ». Cosa che poi in realtà non avvenne.    Il 12 dicembre dello stesso anno Marinetti pronun-  ciava un discorso al Teatro Verdi di Firenze, dove sao-  stiene la volontà di appoggiare l'impresa libica ed il suo  felice compimento. Il discorso viene immediatamente ri-  preso e pubblicato da Lacerba, nel numero del 15 dicem-  bre (n. 24, anno I): « Si convincano i socialisti che noi  rappresentanti della nuova gioventù artistica italiana com-  batteremo con tutti i mezzi e senza tregua i loto vigliac-  chissimi tentativi... » iniziava il discorso; e così concludeva, a rafforzamento delle sue inconciliabili posizioni:  « Noi siamo dei nazionalisti futuristi e perciò ferocemen-  te avversi all’altro grande pericolo imminente: il clerica-  lismo con tutte le sue propaggini di moralismo reaziona-  sio, di repressione poliziesca, di professoralismo archeo-  logico e di quetismo rammollito o affatismo di partito ».  Ormai la collocazione del movimento è quanto mai chia-  ra e inequivocabile.    4. Futuristi e « fiorentini. Che i futuristi fossero « milanesi » è problema tutto  da vedere, anche se è vero che Marinetti abitava a Mi-  lano e che dopo la fondazione del movimento a Parigi  fu a Milano il suo centro di spinta e di irradiazione.  Ma i legami con Firenze furono ben presto agganciati,  e determinanti. Scrive Luciano De Matia: « Fsiste un fu-  turismo milanese (con Marinetti e Boccioni in simbio-  si); esiste un primo futurismo fiorentino lacerbiano, che  assimila, elabora in modo nuovo, creativo, le istanze mi-  lanesi; esiste un secondo futurismo fiorentino (la « pattu-  glia azzurra »; i giovani de L'Italia futurista) psicologico,  occultista, predadaista e presurrealista. E potremmo con-  tinuate nelle differenziazioni »”.   Ma non è tanto per questo tipo di differenziazioni che  ci interessa il futurismo fiorentino, quanto per la dimen-  sione « politica » dei personaggi che vi aderirono, diversa  da quella di Marinetti e degli altri futuristi milanesi o  degli altri politici che a Milano operavano e si muove-  vano (Boccioni, Sant'Elia, Balla; più tardi poi, Vecchi  e Mussolini). Milano era già città d'avanguardia e alla  guida dell’industrializzazione settentrionale: questo non va  dimenticato.   Firenze era ancora « passatista », accademica e salot-  tiera; legata comunque ad una cultura d’indagine e di    ! Tuciano De Maria, Palazzeschi e l'avanguardia, Mondadori,  Milano, 1968, pag. 31. riesumazione di un passato ricco e glorioso, ma ormai ri-  petitivo e sclerotizzato. Firenze tuttavia era anche la terra  feconda del primo Novecento, delle nuove riviste, dei  tentativi di rivisitazione di una cultura pur sempre na-  zionale, e di lancio dell'avanguardia sullo scorcio del nuo-  vo secolo, che andava creato e costituito, Il Leonardo apre  le sue tirature il 4 gennaio 1903, per chiuderle poi nel-  l'agosto del 1907. Era stato Papini a fondarlo, ma c’era  già anche presente Prezzolini (Giuliano il Sofista). Che  poi mise in piedi La voce nel 1908: uno dei migliori ten-  tativi di collegamento delle forze intellettuali e di fon-  dazione di un minimo denominatore comune, letterario e  politica {idealismo e sindacalismo socialistico di tipo so-  reliano). Papini continuò la « collaborazione ». Ma vi fu-  rono anche, sulle pagine de La Voce, Amendola e Sal  vemini, Soffici e De Robertis, oltre che il futuro fonda-  tore de Il Popolo d’Italia e del Fascismo.    La Voce chiudeva però i battenti nel 1912 senza ec-  cessiva eco politica immediata. Papini non aveva condi-  viso certe alleanze del suo amico Giuliano il Sofista, come  non condivideva l'intento didascalico e divulgativo della  Voce su qualsiasi argomento artistico e sociale, come an-  che « idealistico ». Si unì a Soffici di cui condivideva gli  atteggiamenti, ed insieme fondarono Lacerba (il 1° gen-  naio del 1913, sempre a Firenze). « Non si volge chi  a stella è fisso! », portava come motto il Leonardo sotto  la testata. Volendo dare tono battagliero a Lacerbae, Pa-  pini forse ancora seguiva le prospettive d’arte e di cul-  tura del Leonardo. Anche se in una dimensione « attiva »  che già i « leonardiani » avevano inteso fondare nell’uti-  lizzazione del pragmatismo come « strumento di poten-  za ». (« In quegli anni tutti vollero sapere che cosa fosse  il pragmatismo »).  Lacerba riprende l’impostazione di  battaglia, tipica di Papini, e ritotna all’orientamento spe-  cifico dell’arte.       ? Vedi anche Giovanni Papini, Pragmatismo, Firenze, Vallec-  chi, 1927.    14    In questo contesto è evidente che non poteva man-  care l’incontro col futurismo.   La scazzottatura dei futuristi con Soffici e i vociani  nel 1911° non poteva aver contribuito all'incontro? Potrebbe darsi, anche se Papini non vi aveva partecipato,  come Marinetti stesso asserisce in una sua lettera a Pra-  tella. Sta di fatto che col 15 marzo del 1913, cioè col  suo sesto numero, Lacerba diventa futurista. Con un articolo proprio di Papini dal titolo Contro il futurismo che  dal famosa attacco iniziava così: « Il futurismo italiano ha  fatto ridere, urlare e sputare. Vediamo se potesse far pen-  sare». Segue un passo di Boccioni sul «fondamento plastico  della scultura e pittura futurista». Proprio Boccioni che ave-  va investito Soffici col suo celebre pugno, poco più di  un anno prima a Firenze. E che continuerà a pubblicare  articoli sul numero del 1° di aprile e su quello del 1° di  agosto e poi sul primo numero del 1914, ecc. Per non  parlare di Carrà, Marinetti, Russolo, Sant'Elia, Auro d'Al-  ba, ecc., che porteranno continuamente i loro contributi.   Il 15 ottobre del ’13 Lacerba pubblicherà addirittura  il citato Programma politico futurista in occasione delle  elezioni generali. Il manifesto politico compare in prima  pagina con tutti i crismi d'appoggio o di affiancamento  della rivista. Papini ne dà un commento più che « sod-  disfacente ». E lo stesso Papini il 1° dicembre dello stes-  so anno uscirà poi con un lungo articolo intitolato Perché  son futurista. Sarà l’atto di accettazione definitiva del fu-  turismo, od il suo accoglimento più completo, e « globale ».    1 Su La Voce Soffici pubblica la sua Ri-  cetta di Ribi Buffone. Vi si elencano gli ingredienti del neonato  futurismo: « Un chilo di Verhaeren, 200 gr. di Alfred Jarry, cento  di Laforgue, trenta di Laurent Tailhade, cinque di Viélé Griffin, un  pugno di Morasso..., una presa di Pascoli », aggiungendovi poi « una  pila di undici automobili, sette aetoplani, quattro treni, due carghi,  due biciclette, diverse batterie elettriche e qualche candela arden-  te». Sempre su La Voce Soffici pubblicherà poi nel ‘10 e nell’11  dei rendiconti negativi sulle opere futuriste esposte a Venezia e a  Milano, per cui sarà decisa la spedizione punitiva a Firenze da par-  te dei fuiuristi,   Non molti giorni dopo, il 12 dicembre (lo ab-  biamo già visto), si tenne al Teatro Verdi a Firenze  una « grande serata futurista », di cui riporta il « reso-  conto sintetico » il numero 24 della rivista (del 15 di-  cembre 1913).   Non molto tempo dopo, però, il 15 febbraio del ’14,  appare sul quarto numeto del nuovo anno I! cerchio si  chiude, che avvia inesorabilmente al declino della colla-  borazione. Autore ne è ancora una volta Giovanni Papini,  che chiuderà definitivamente il « colloquio » sull'ultimo  numero dell’anno insieme a Soffici, cofirmatario de Il Fu-  turismo e Lacerba. E’ l'atto di chiusura di un « perio-  do »: quello, appunto, del futurismo lacerbiano. Rispon-  derà Boccioni il 1° di marzo sul numero 5 con Il cerchio  non si chiude; ma sono solo sussulti, e anche sugli ultimi  numeri dell'anno della rivista compariranno solamente i  cosidetti « canti del cigno ».   Il cerchio era ormai già chiuso. E non molto dopo  chiudeva anche Lacerba, nonostante i suoi ultimi tenta-  tivi interventisti di rivivificazione (1915) e le sue discri-  minazioni tta futurismo c marinettismo, che ne sarebbe  stata la versione deteriore‘. 1l marinettismo sarebbe pra  ticamente già morto secondo «i fiorentini », mentre il  futurismo avrebbe potuto tendere a mete migliori. Dopo  pochi mesi in realtà morirà definitivamente anche Lacerba.    5. Il futurismo e la guerra    Nel 1929 Marinetti ricordava così l’inizio della sua  « carriera interventista »: « Nel settembre 1914 dutante  la battaglia della Marna e in piena neutralità italiana, noi  futuristi organizzammo le due prime dimostrazioni contro  l’Austria e per l'intervento. Bruciammo il 15 settembre  nel Teatro Dal Verme e il 16 settembre in Piazza del       4 Cfr. Palazzeschi, Papini, Soffici, Futurismo e Marmnettismo, in  Lacerba, anno III, n. 7, 14 febbraio 1915, pp. 49-50. Duomo e in Galleria undici bandiere austriache ». Poco  prima di quegli avvenimenti, Mussolini aveva fondato il  suo nuovo quotidiano, I{ Popolo d’Italia. Contemporanea-  mente, sotto l'auspicio e il favore di Corridoni, i gruppi  rivoluzionari di sinistra, già pronunciatisi a favore della  guerra, si stavano organizzando per sostenere anch’essi  l'intervento. Come ricorda De Felice, «il 5 ottobre il  Fascio Rivoluzionario d'Azione Internazionalista avreb-  be lanciato il suo primo appello ai lavoratori italiani in  questo senso » * L'incontro tra futuristi e rivoluzionari  di estrema sinistra si stava verificando e « stringendo »,  anche se già confortato da reciproche simpatie per le uni.  voche posizioni anticlericali ed antiborghesi.  Mussolini scriveva dalla direzione de Il Fopolo d'Italia una lettera a Buzzi, che  riportiamo interamente: « Caro Buzzi, Boccioni vi avrà  detto — se mai vi avrà parlato di me — che tutte le  mie simpatie sono — anche nel dominio dell’arte — per  i novatori e i demolitori: per i “futuristi”. Inattesa, e  perciò gradita, mi giunge la vostra lettera riboccante di  simpatia. E’ questo uno dei momenti più amari della mia  vita. Ma vincerò. Vincerò. Lo sento. F' necessario. Ho  messo nel gioco tutta me stesso. Credetemi. Vostro Mus-  solini ».   L’amarezza gli è data probabilmente dall’espulsione  dal Partito socialista proprio per la posizione da lui assun-  ta a favore dell'intervento. La conoscenza da parte di  Mussolini, di Boccioni e del movimento d’arte d’avanguar-  dia di Marinetti, risultava sino a poco tempo fa inesistente.  La lettera, unica del genere, conferma la precedenza del  futurismo politico rispetto al fascismo ancora da sorgere,  che poi mutuerà da esso idee, elementi e programmi.   Le simpatie si manifestano per il dominio dell'arte,  al dire di Mussolini, ma non solo; c'è un « anche », che  indica chiaramente dell'altro e un'apertura, forse politi  ca, possibile nei confronti degli innovatori e dei « demo-    Renzo De Felice, Mussolini il Rivoluzionario, Einaudi, Tori. litori », vale a dire per i futuristi. Che ancora il 9  dicembre di quell’anno organizzano le prime manifesta-  zioni interventiste all’Università di Roma, sotto la guida  di Marinetti, Balla, Cangiullo e Depero. Qualche mese  dopo, nel ’15, le autorità di governo fermano Marinetti,  Cangiullo, Balla e Depero che avevano indetto una manifestazione interventista un’altra volta a Roma, in Piazza  Venezia. E' il primo « fermo politico » di Marinetti. Sia-  mo quasi alla vigilia della guerra.    Il 12 aprile 1915 si mette in piedi la « terza grande  dimostrazione interventista » davanti alla Camera dei De-  putati. E' presente anche Mussolini e si verifica uno dei  maggiori « momenti d’incontro » tra futuristi e Mussolini  sul terreno dell’intervento. Balla, Corra, Settimelli, Ma-  rinetti e lo stesso Mussolini vengono attestati. Tutti gli  sforzi ormai, tutte le volontà e tutte le energie sono con-  centrate verso un'unica e suprema meta: quella della guer-  ra. A Messina esce il nuovo periodico La Balze, e Ma-  rinetti pubblica il manifesto Guerra sole igiene del mon-  do, mentre il poeta futurista Auro d'Alba « lancia » a Mi-  lano per le Edizioni Futuriste di « Poesia » (« sostenute »  da Marinetti) il volume Baionette.    Con l’entrata in guerra nel maggio, a Fitenze Lacerba  interrompe — come si è visto — le pubblicazioni. Una  guerra che avevano tutti quanti, in un certo senso, pre-  parato con interventi, discorsi, giornali, manifestazioni e  pubblicazioni. Fra questi non va dimenticato il manifesto  del Teatro futurista sintetico, firmato da Martinetti, Corra  e Settimelli, nel quale, fra l’altro, così si legge: « Aspettan-  do la nostra grande guerra tanto invocata noi Futuristi al-  terniamo la nostra violentissima azione artistica sulla sen-  sibilità italiana, che vogliamo preparate alla grande ora  del massimo pericolo ». E più avanti: « Perché I’Italia  impari a decidersi fulmineamente a slanciarsi, a sostenere  ogni sforzo e ogni possibile sventura non occorrono libri  e riviste... La guerta, futurismo intensificato, ci impone  di marciare e di non marcire nelle biblioteche e nelle sale  di lettura. No: crediamo dunque che non si possa oggi  influenzare guerrescamente l'anima italiana, se non median-    18    te il teatro ». E in effetti, a partire dal gennaio del '15,  i futuristi avevano iniziato una serie di « Tournées di tea-  tro futurista interventista » per sostenere la necessità del-  l’intervento con un mezzo di comunicazione ben più po-  polare e « circolante » della letteratura.   Anche la «serata futurista », per esempio, è un al  tro canale o strumento di « incoraggiamento » dell'inter-  vento. Si tratta di una sorta di riunione o ritrovo di arti-  sti futuristi, uno dei quali sollecita gli intervenuti (pubbli-  co) danda uno spunto, e proponendo un tema, o aggre-  dendo qualche aspetto dell'arte del passato, da cui nasce  lo stimolo alla creazione e alla lotta del nuovo 0 del futu-  ro, e anche lo stimolo alla guerra che lo conduce sino alle  ultime conseguenze. Ma sentiamo Marinetti come la defi-  nisce quando si rivolge agli studenti in un altro manifesto,  di poco precedente a quello « teatrale », intitolato Im que-  st'anno futurista, rivelto agli « studenti italiani » e datato  29 novembre 1914. Laddove si esortano i giovani alla  guerra così si afferma: «... il futurismo segnò appunto  l’irrompere della guerra nell’arte, col creare quel fenome-  no che è la Serata futurista (efficacissima propaganda di  coraggio). Il futurismo fu la militarizzazione degli artisti  novatori ».   E la guerra arrivò, come A biamo visto, e per molti  versi fu vera e propria « guerra futurista ». In luglio par-  tiva il gruppo più consistente di « volontari »: Marinetti,  Boccioni, Russolo, Sant'Elia, Bucci, Carlo Erba e Funi.  Ma ci saranno al fronte anche Carrà e Sironi, fattosi futu-  rista nello stesso anno, e Piatti e Fortunato Depero.   Alla fine dello stesso anno Boccioni, Russolo, Sant’E-  lia, Sironi e Piatti, sempre sotto l'egida di Marinetti, firmano un altro manifesto futurista, quello dell’Orgoglio  italiano, con cui si promettono pugni, schiaffi e fucilate  a quelli degli italiani che avessero manifestato in sé «la  più piccola traccia del vecchio pessimismo imbecille, deni-  gratore e straccione che ha caratterizzato la vecchia Italia  di mediocristi antimilitaristi (tipo Giolitti), di professori  pacifisti (tipo Benedetto Croce, Claudio Treves, Enrico  Ferri, Filippo Turati), di archeologi, di eruditi, di poeti  nostalgici. Sant'Elia muore al fronte, e Boccioni, una settimana dopo, per una caduta da cavallo durante un'esercitazione militare a Orte. Nasce a Firenze la  nuova rivista L'Italia futurista. Prampolini fonda con Fol-  gore il foglio d'avanguardia Awvenscoperta. Nel ’17 nasce  il periodico Deda, che tanto dovrà nell’ispirazione al no-  stro futurismo. I) 18 è ormai l'anno della vittoria. Depe-  ro realizza i suoi nuovi «balli plastici ». Bruno Corra  pubblica a Milano con i tipi dello Studio Editoriale Lom-  bardo Per l'arte della nuova Italia. Siamo infatti nell’Ita-  lia della vittoria.    6. Il Partito politico futurista    Nella nuova realtà del dopoguerra il futurismo cerca  una sua nuova collocazione politica più « pacifista », se  il termine non è nella fattispecie una contraddizione. Ai  fasti dell'intervento e della militarizzazione, succede un  nuovo intento programmatico di realizzazione. La prima  espressione di questa volontà è ancora una volta dovuta a  Marinetti che pubblica nel febbraio del ’18 un Manifesto  del Partito politico futurista, l'adesione al quale era libera  ed aperta a tutti coloro che avessero accettato i principî  del suo programma, indipendentemente dalle concezioni  dell’arte o dal consenso all’« estetica futurista ». E questo  indica una presa di posizione più ponderata e meno « di  rottura », almeno in senso sociale.   Il documento esprime, negli intenti, il desiderio di  rinnovamento di quelle fasce del combattentismo inter.  ventista, comprese fra i mussoliniani, i sindacalisti tivo-  luzionari, i socialisti e i repubblicani di sinistra, che avreb-  bero poi dato vita alla formazione dei Fasci di Combatti-  mento, quelli cui futuristi ed arditi avrebbero infuso la  prima linfa vitale. Si possono considerare punti essenziali  del nuovo programma l'estensione del suffragio universa-  le, comprendente anche le donne, la socializzazione della  terra con assegnazione ai reduci, la tassazione progressi-  va, l'abolizione dell'esercito e la sua professionalizzazione  (volontariato), la giustizia gratuita, la libertà di sciopero  e stampa, le otto ore lavorative e Î contratti collettivi di  lavoro, l'assistenza e la previdenza sociale, la « tecnicizzazione » clel parlamento e l’introduzione del divorzio. A  diffondere le idee del nuovo partito era destinato il perio-  dico Roma futurista, fondato a Roma da Marinetti, Mario  Carli ed Emilio Settimelli, che vedeva la luce il 20 set-  tembre 1918 e portava come sottotitolo « Giornale del  Partito politico futurista ». .   « Roma futurista », racconta Marinetti nel suo libro  Futurismo e Fascismo (1924) « nacque un mese e mezzo  prima dell’armistizio, cioè il 20 settembre 1918, e porta-  va nel suo primo numero tre scritti importantissimi dei  suoi tre direttori: Mario Carli, Marinetti, Settimelli. Scri-  veva Settimelli: “Il Futurismo che fino ad oggi esplicò  un programma specialmente artistico, si propone una inte-  grale azione politica per collaborare a risolvere gli urgen-  ti problemi nazionali. Coloro che ci accusarono di squili-  brio dovranno ricredersi. I] preconcetto di serietà pedan-  tesca e quietista imposto alla vecchia Italia dai profes-  sori rammolliti, dai preti anti-italiani e dagli affaristi gio-  littiani, cercò di svalutare la nostra genialità di giovani  audaci e novatori. Ma la vera Italia non può rimanere e  non rimarrà neppure parzialmente nelle loro mani inca-  paci. La guerra ha rivelato le vere forze italiane. Sono for-  ze giovani, violente, antitradizionali e ultra-italiane” ».   Il primo numero di Roma futurista (decadario, poi  settimanale) pubblicava il programma del giornale mede-  simo ed anche il manifesto di quel Partito Politico Futu-  rista che si doveva ancora fondare. Partito che, nell’inten-  dimento di Settimelli, doveva essere « più che altro una  tendenza psicologica », una « fusione di realtà e di scon-  (inamento, di praticità e di lirismo », che avrebbe contri-  buito a creare un nuovo tipo d'italiano. Ma ecco ancora  come si esprime «la volontà» di fondazione del movimento:  « Il Partito politico futurista che noi fondiamo e che or-  xanizzeremo dopo la guerra, sarà nettamente distinto dal  movimento artistico futurista. Questo continuerà nella  sua opera di svecchiamento e rafforzamento del genio creatore italiano... Potranno aderire al partito politico futu-  rista tutti gli Italiani, uomini e donne d’ogni classe e di  ogni età... Questo programma politico segna la nascita  del partito politico futurista invocato da tutti gli italiani,  che si battono oggi per una più giovane Italia, liberata  dal peso del passato... ». La firma è di Roma futurista,  cioè, come si presume, del direttore, o anzi di tutti i tre  direttori.    Ecco alcuni punti del manifesto-programma del par-  tito: « 4) Trasformazione del Parlamento mediante un'equa  partecipazione di industriali, di agricoltori, di ingegneri e  di commetcianti al Governo del Paese. Il limite minimo  di età per la deputazione sarà ridotfò a 22 anni. Un mi-  nimo di deputati avvocati {sempre opportunisti) e un mi-  nimo di deputati professori (sempre retrogradi)... Aboli-  zione del Senato... Unica religione, l'Italia di domani...  10) ...Svalutazione della pericolosa e aleatoria industria  del forestiero... Difesa dei consumatori... Svalutazione dei  diplomi accademici e incoraggiamento con premi della  iniziativa commerciale e industriale... ».    Le adesioni all'iniziativa si fecero subito sentire da  diverse parti: ci furono vecchi futuristi come Auro d'Alba,  Rosai e Rocca, reduci dalla guerra come Bolzon e Bottai  (che avrebbe poi rivestito un ruolo di primo piano nel-  l'ambito del nuovo regime fascista) e Massimo Bontempel-  li, secondo il quale il programma fondamentale del futu-  rismo politico sarebbe stato quello di sostituire «la gio-  vinezza alla vecchiaia nelle funzioni direttive ». E non  sarebbe stato poco. Sarebbe stato uno dei tentativi, anche  se non del tutto riuscito, dell’insorgente fascismo.    Nel dicembre dello stesso anno 1918, quasi ad esito  naturale della formazione del nuovo partito, poco orga-  nizzato e poco «costituito », s'istituirono invece i « Fasci  politici futuristi », più attivi e vitali particolarmente in  diverse città dell'Italia centrale e settentrionale, la prima  ossatura su cui si sarebbero appoggiati e sarebbero cre-  sciuti i muovi « Fasci di combattimento », voluti e pro-  mossi da Mussolini quattro mesi dopo. Nel febbraio del  '19 i Fasci futuristi erano già una ventina, tra quelli di Roma (Balla, Carli, Bottai, d'Alba e Chiti), Milano (Mari-  netti, Buzzi, Somenzi e Bontempelli), Firenze (Settimel-  li, Rosai, Marasco), Perugia (Dottori), Genova (Depero),  Torino (Azari), e poi ancora Bologna, Palermo, Napoli,  Fiume, Messina, Ferrara, Piacenza, Venezia, Taranto, Mo-  dena, Stradella, ecc. I futuristi avevano quindi accolto  con entusiasmo l'iniziativa e vi si erano immersi fino a  determinare una prima ossatura: l’organizzazione. E Mus-  solini a sua volta aveva visto di buon occhio e seguìto  la formazione dei Fasci politici futuristi, sino a « scopri  re » in essi un punto d'appoggio per la sua campagna  combattentistica ed antisocialista che si concretizzerà nei  suoi Fasci di combattimento (quelli di Piazza San Sepolcro).  Carli, come condirettore di Rowza futurista e  dietro spinta di Marinetti stesso, caldeggiava da tempo,  anche dalle colonne del suo nuovo periodico, l’avvicen-  damento e l'annessione degli arditi al partito politico, di  cui sul primo numero del giornale si pubblicava il rivolu-  zionario programma: era il 20 settembre 1918.    Dieci giorni dopo, il 30 settembre 1918, le proposte  politiche si fanno più tecniche, più « specializzate », più  particolari. Volt firmerà un testo « dinamico » per dichia-  rare: « Sostituiremo il Parlamento con le tappresentan-  ze dei sindacati agricolo-industriali ed operai. La rappre-  sentenza sindacale sarà la base dello “Stato tecnico” futu-  rista ». Ma allora di quale rappresentanza sindacale si ttat-  rerà e quale sarà riconosciuta dallo Stato nella sua veste  di personalità giuridica? Sono tutti problemi che già Volt  si pone e così, a suo modo, « risolve », e continua: «To  credo non si debba tener conto del numero degli iscritti  al sindacato, ma della importanza della funzione economica  che esso esercita nel Paese ». Ed ancora, prosegue ad in-  terrogatsi: « Quali saranno i limiti posti all'esercizio del  potere dell'assemblea eletta mediante la rappresentanza  sindacale? La competenza dell'assemblea dovrà essere li-  mitata alle questioni prevalentemente economiche, che so-  no del resto le più importanti in politica. Le questioni  di famiglia, di politica estera, ecc. dovranno esser risolte    II! 'EUE vu SS it: _gLZffkfkzstllEaAaz:F:=+”sx«x:®(  '81‘daoiaaiA'.°’°à0‘@e ra —-    in parte mediante il referendum popolare diretto ed in  parte attribuito alla competenza del potere esecutivo ».   Gli arditi venivano poi sciolti nel gennaio del ’19  dai loro reparti di ufficiali, sottufficiali e truppa, perché  considerati provocatori di disordini e di incidenti nella  vita civile. L'iniziativa era stata ovviamente criticata dai  diretti interessati come manovta socialista-giolittiana atta  a disconoscere i loro meriti di guerra. Ed anche Marinetti  aveva appoggiato dalle colonne di Roma futurista 1’« uni-  ficazione » (ira futuristi ed arditi),   Alla fine di novembre del ’18 Mario Carli fondava,  a conclusione di questa « campagna », l’« Associazione fra  gli Arditi d’Italia », che fu un po’ l’altra faccia del Partito  politico futurista. In breve, l'associazione atrivò a racco-  gliere circa diecimila iscritti, la maggior parte, forse, degli  ex «reparti militarizzati ». Futurismo e arditismo    Ormai anche gli arditi, nonostante lo scioglimento del-  la loro organizzazione paramilitare, hanno una consistenza  civile ed in certo modo un loro peso politico. Tanto da  poter fondare un loro organo di stampa che prende a  uscire a Milano dall’11 di maggio 1919: il settimanale  L’Ardito, edito dall’Associazione nazionale, e condiretto  da Ferruccio Vecchi e, non a caso, da Mario Carli. Nello  stesso periodo altre furono le voci di stampa allineate su  analoghe posizioni: Armando Mazza, per esempio, fondò  a Milano I remici d'Italia, settimanale « antibolscevico »;  il più importante di questi giornali « minori » fu però  L’Assalto, pubblicato a Bologna come voce dell’arditismo,  e diretto da Nanni Leone Castelli. Marinetti ed i futuri-  sti non potevano a questo punto non vedere negli arditi  dei nuovi futuristi politici, così come Mussolini non po-  teva non vedere in loro dei potenziali simpatizzanti e allea-  ti. La pronta adesione di molti di essi ai Fasci di combat-  timento lo dimostrerà definitivamente.   Arditismo e futurismo furono dunque componenti es-    dd    senziali del nuovo insorgente fascismo. Almeno dal punto  di vista ideologico, o formativo del suo nascere. Mussoli-  ni aveva, per così dire, « abiuraro » il suo vecchio socia-  lismo e aveva bisogno di una forza nuova, una forza idea-  le o di pensiero che gli permettesse il suo «slancio in  avanti ». Il futurismo gliela porgeva già bell'e pronta, o  quasi, mentre il precedente socialismo gli alimentava certi  spunti sociali, in parte, almeno, già presenti nel futurismo.  L'arditismo, ancora, gli comunicava una spinta, una forza  di aggressività e di « assalto », che forse gli sarebbe man-  cata, o non sarebbe stata, senza di esso, tanto irruente.    L'11 gennaio il futuro « duce » partecipava a Milano  ad una « serata futurista » contro Bissolati, alla Scala, con-  tribuendo in parte al suo « siluramento ». C'era anche  Marinetti e, forse, non fu un caso, e si trattò di un incon-  tro importante.    II 23 marzo dello stesso anno in una riunione milanese  a Piazza San Sepolcro, presieduta da Ferruccio Vecchi, Ma-  rinetti tenne un discorso alla presenza di Dessy e di altri  arditi e futuristi, per la fondazione dei Fasci di combatti-  mento, decisa da Mussolini. Questi propose come pro-  gramma ai nuovi raggruppamenti l'abolizione del Senato,  il suffragio universale, il sindacalismo nazionale, ricona-  scendo «le rivendicazioni d'ordine materiale e morale »  agli ex-combattenti e rimproverando al partito socialista  di essere stato « nettamente reazionario, assolutamente  conservatore », col negargli così qualsiasi possibilità di  « mettersi alla testa di un'azione di rinnovamento e di  ricostruzione ». La conclusione del discorso, antimassima-  lista ed antitotalitaria, era in fondo quanto mai « futu-  rista ». Così terminava il Mussolini:  « Noi conosciamo  soltanto la dittatura della volontà e dell’intelligenza ». Al  termine della riunione si nominava un comitato centrale  dei Fasci di combattimento di cui facevano parte anche  Vecchi e Marinetti.   Il 1° di aprile Marinetti venne nominato insieme a  Mussolini membro della commissione di lavoro nazionale  per Ia propaganda e la stampa. Ancora in aprile a Milano  nuclei di futuristi, arditi e « principianti » fascisti assali-    tu    rono la sede del quotidiano socialista Avanti! Il giorno  dopo i « fattacci » del 15 aprile, visto il mancato inter  vento delle forze dell’ordine nel prender provvedimenti  contro i promotori dell'azione, Vecchi e Marinetti emise-  ro un « proclama agli italiani » a nome dei futuristi, degli  arditi e dei fasci: « Nella giornata del 15 aprile avevamo  assolutamente deciso, con Mussolini, di non fare alcuna  controdimostrazione perché prevedevamo il conflitto e ab-  biamo orrore di versare sangue italiano. La nostra con-  trodimostrazione si formò, spontanea, per invincibile vo-  lontà popolare. Fummo costretti a reagire contro la pro-  vocazione premeditata degli imboscati. Col nostro inter-  vento intendiamo di affermare il diritto assoluto dei quat-  tro milioni di combattenti vittoriosi, che soli devono diri-  gere e dirigeranno ad ogni costo la nuova Italia ». La  « controdimostrazione » si riferisce ad una manifestazione  socialista all'Arena, cui seguì la « battaglia di Via Mer-  canti », dove furono chiari, secondo i reduci, alcuni mo-  menti di provocazione nei confronti del combattentismo  {da qui, l'assalto all’Avanti!).   Sempre nell'aprile del *19 esce a Milano per i tipi del-  l’Editore Facchi un volume politico di Marinetti, forse il  suo più importante: si tratta di Democrazia futurista, che  porta come sottotitolo « dinamismo politico ». E' una rac-  colta di articoli apparsi su Roma futurista e che appari  ranno sul nuovo giornale di Vecchi, L’Ardito, generoso  sempre di spazio per Marinetti. Questi definisce il suo  « concetto democratico » in un altro articolo edito in apri-  le sempre dall’Ardito: « Vogliamo dunque creare una vera  democrazia cosciente e audace che sia la valutazione e  l'esaltazione del numero poiché avrà il maggior numero  di individui geniali. L'Italia rappresenta nel mondo una  specie di minoranza genialissima tutta costituita di indivi-  dui superiori alla media umana per forza creatrice, inno-  vatrice, improvvisatrice. Questa democrazia entrerà natu-  ralmente in competizione con la maggioranza formata dal-  le altre Nazioni, per le quali il numero significa invece  massa più o meno cieca, cioè democrazia incosciente ».  Certo, si tratta di una nuova cancezione di democrazia,    26    che con quella tradizionale, anche attuale, non ha niente  a che vedere. E' una lotta di democtazie, o una demo-  crazia di lotta, il che alla fin fine non è poi molto diverso.  E’ una vera e propria concezione dinamica. Che, tanto  per tener conto del suo opposto si mette a confronto, a  dire di Marinetti, così: « Arturo Labriola definisce la de-  mocrazia "come sentimento dei diritti concreti della mas-  sa sullo Stato e sulla Economia“... Noi intendiamo la de-  mocrazia italiana come massa di individui geniali, divenu-  ta petciò facilmente cosciente del suo diritto e natural  mente plasmatrice del suo divenire statale. La sua forza  è fatta di questo diritto acquisito, moltiplicata dalla sua  quantità valore, meno il peso delle cellule morte (tradi.  zione), meno il peso delle cellule malate (incoscienti, anal-  fabeti). La democtazia italiana è per noi un corpo umano  che bisogna liberare, scatenare, alleggerire per accelerar-  ne la velocità e centuplicarne il rendimento... ». Come  potrebbe essere più futurista e avanzata questa nuova con-  cezione democratica « progressiva »? Che così, giustamen-  te, si conclude e si definisce: «La democrazia futurista  è ormai pronta ad agire, poiché sente vibrare tutte le sue  cellule vive ».   E’ il punto d'arrivo, logico e conseguenziale, di una  concezione « d’assalto ». E per la definizione ulteriore del-  le posizioni e dei concetti, il 27 aprile 1919 ancora, sulle  pagine di Roma futurista, un testo di Mario Carli (Non  chiamatela reazione) afferma: «Non è per l’ordine, non  è in difesa dell’autorità costituita o della borghesia vile,  non è in appoggio alla così detta “benemerita” che noi ci  siamo battuti a Milano, e ci batteremo altrove, se se ne  presenterà l’occasione. Ma è per un'idea, per un princi-  pio: è per l’idea di patria, è per il principio di progresso,  che noi crediamo realizzabile con mezzi e con metodi op-  posti a muelli dei rivoluzionari russi ».   Ciò nonostante Gramsci e Lunaciarsky, al TI Congres-  so dell'Internazionale comunista, difendono i futuristi ita-  liani e li considerano veri e propri « rivoluzionari ». E  Lenin medesimo dità a Giacinto Menotti Serrati, che, co-    DI    A       me direttore dell’Avanti!, si era recato a Mosca a respi-  rare il nuovo comunismo: «In Italia ci sono soltanto  tre uomini che possono fare la rivoluzione: Mussolini,  D'Annunzio e Marinetti ». Mentre a proposito di questo  ultimo, cioè di Marinetti e del suo movimento futurista,  Gramsci così annotava in un suo articolo pubblicato su  Ordine nuovo nel 1921: « Distruggere, in questo campo,  non ha lo stesso significato che nel campo economico...  significa non avere paura della vanità e delle audacie, non  avere paura dei mostri, non credere che il mondo caschi  se un operaio fa errori di grammatica, se una poesia  zoppica, se un quadro assomiglia a un cartellone... I futu-  risti hanno svolto questo compito nel campo della cultura  borghese... hanno avuto cioè una concezione nettamente  rivoluzionaria ». E continuava a migliore definizione del  concetto: « ...Quando i socialisti si sarebbero spaventati  al pensiero che bisognava spezzare la macchina del potere  borghese nello Stato e nella fabbrica, i futuristi, nel loro  campo, nel campo della cultura, sono rivoluzionari: in que-  sto campo, come opera creativa, è probabile che la classe  operaia non riuscirà per molto tempo a far di più di quan-  to hanno fatto i futuristi! »    L'11 luglio del '19 Marinetti otteneva un biglietto d'’in-  vito alla Tribuna di Montecitorio. Andò con Ferruccio  Vecchi, gran capitano, ad aspettare un momento opportu-  no per l’« intervento ». L'occasione fu data alla fine del  discorso di un deputato socialista (Lucci). Martinetti si  sporse e, rivolto a Nitti, gridò: « A nome dei Fasci di  Combattimento, dei futuristi, e degli intellettuali, prote-  sto per la vostra politica e vi urlo: Abbasso Nitti! Morte  al Giolittismo! Dichiaro che non può sussistere il Mini-  stero dei sabotatori della Vittoria, degli schiaffeggiatori de-  gli ufficiali, un ministero che si difende coi carabinieri e  coi poliziotti!.. Vergognatevi! La gioventù italiana, per  bocca mia, vi urla: Fate schifo! Fate schifo! ». Vecchi an-  cora inveisce a voce alta contro Nitti, mentre Marinetti  lotta con usceri e carabinieri, come descrive egli stesso nel  suo Futurismo e Fascismo di cinque anni dopo. L’indoma-  ni avrebbe ricevuto da D'Annunzio la presente missiva:    2R    « Mio caro Marinetti, bravo per il grido di ieri, coraggioso  come ogni vostro atto. Vorrei vedervi. Se potete, venite.  Il vostro Gabriele D'Annunzio ».    In settembre Mario Carli, con Mino Somenzi ed altri  futuristi, partecipano con D'Annunzio alla presa di Fiume  (11 del mese): vi si recheranno anche Vecchi e Marinetti  a tenere discorsi ai legionari. Anzi, i due personaggi sembra  fossero considerati, a dire di De Felice « facinorosi sovver-  sivi » o addirittura in qualche caso « bolscevici », per il  loro atteggiamento intransigente ed estremistico.° Tanto  che si era detto fossero stati espulsi da Fiume, mentre  erano stati solo richiamati da Paselia, segretario politico  dei Fasci, che aveva bisogno di loro per l'organizzazione,  forse, del primo congresso fascista. All'inizio di ottobre,  infatti, Marinetti partecipa a Firenze al I Congresso dei  Fasci di Combattimento dove, dopo l'intervento di Mus-  soltni, parla a futuristi, arditi e fascisti sostenendo la ne-  cessità dello « svaticanamento »: « Noi dobbiamo doman-  dare. volere, imporre », dice fra l’altro il capo del futu-  rismo, « l’espulsione del papato, o meglio ancora, per usa-  re un'espressione più precisa, lo “svaticanamento” ».    Nel novembre le elezioni generali vengono condotte a  Milano all'insegna del « blocco fascista » con lista autono-  ma di Mussolini, Marinetti (secondo), Toscanini, Podrec-  ca e Bolzon. Comizi elettorali si tennero a Milano in Piaz-  za Belgioioso (10 novembre) e in Piazza S. Alessandro e  a Monza, dove parlarono sempre « accoppiati » Marinetti  e Mussolini. Dopo il 16 novembre, giorno delle votazioni,  in seguito ad incidenti coi socialisti, Marinetti, Vecchi e  Mussolini furono atrestati sotto l'accusa di attentato alla  sicurezza dello Stato ed organizzazione di bande armate,  come afferma ancora il De Felice.    Breton e Aragon, direttori della rivista Littersture, or-  ganizzano a Parisi una manifestazione di solidarietà a Ma-  tinetti: sono i momenti di affermazione del dadaismo e del  muoversi, lento, verso il surrealismo.    Renzo De Felice, Mussolini i! Rivoluzionario, Gli incontri e gli scontri, oltre che gli incidenti, tra  socialisti e futuristi non etano cosa nuova. E la « battaglia  di Via Mercanti » del 15 aprile fu solamente il punto di  arrivo di una vecchia e lunga polemica.   Già negli anni prebellici il futurismo si era scontrato  col socialismo neutralista (Turati), che non poteva andar  d’accordo con un movimento intrinsecamente interventista.  Lacerba, per esempio, entrava nella polemica affiancandosi  al futurismo e pubblicando, il 15 ottobre del ’13, quel  famoso Programma politico futurista, esaminato in pre-  cedenza. La postilla di Giovanni Papini non fa altro che  convalidare, sia pure con riserva, la sostanza del pro-  gramma.   A proposito di socialismo interviene poi nel '14 sempre  sv Lacerba, Ardengo Soffici, affermando nel suo articolo  Per la guerra che « l’idea che i socialisti si fanno del mon-  do è questa: un capitalista borghese e sfruttatore alle prese  con un magro popolano sfruttato. La cultura, le scienze, le  arti, la bellezza, i sentimenti, gli amori, le passioni —  tutto ciò insomma che fa la vita così terribilmente com-  plessa, così colorita, così varia, multiforme, incoetcibile —  non è nulla per loro. Tutto è grigio, e l'universo intero una  specie di ragnatela squallida senza confini né orizzonti,  eterna, in mezzo alla quale un ragno cetca di succhiare  una mosca alla quale Karl Marx ha insegnato che non  deve lasciarsi succhiare ». Sicché, conclude Soffici, i socia-  listi nemmeno capiscono che si combatte una guerra per  difendere anche, magari, le loro stesse idee, o il mondo  dove l’idea socialista è nata e cresciuta, contro i nemici  medesimi del socialismo e dei socialisti: i tedeschi. Ma  questo non ha nessuna importanza, « giacché, ed eccoci  alla mentalità di codesto partito, ogni buon socialista non  vede nella guerra, qualunque essa sia, se non una lotta di  capitalisti e banchieri contro capitalisti e banchieri i quali  si servono del proletariato per liquidare le loro partite ».    La polemica continua com'è logico, dopo la guerra.  Il primo ad accenderla è Mario Carli su Roma futurista  con un articolo del 13 luglio 1919, che ha un titolo signi-  ficativo: Partiti d'avanguardia: se tentassimo di collabora-  re? Laddove si considera « partito d'avanguardia », ovvia-  mente, anche quello socialista, che tanta parte ha esercita-  to nella storia d'Italia. « Ho esaminato seriamente l'ipo-  tesi », esordisce Carli, « di una collaborazione fra noi {futu-  risti, arditi, fascisti, combattenti, ecc.) e i Partiti cosiddetti  d'avanguardia: socialisti ufficiali, riformisti, sindacalisti, re-  pubblicani... Il terreno comune c’è... E' la lotta contro le  attuali classi dirigenti, grette, incapaci e disoneste, si chia.  mino borghesia e plutoctazia o pescecanismo o parlamen.-  tarismo... sono una casta che deve cadere e cadrà », E cad-  de infatti, come sappiamo, però non certo per merito di  quei socialisti con cui Carli stava cercando di trovate un  punto di contatto, sia pur rendendosi conto che la collabo-  razione sarebbe stata difficile per non dire impossibile o,  peggio, inutile.   Ciò nonostante Giuseppe Bottai farà eco alla sua tesi  con un paio di lunghi articoli: uno del 9 novembre e l'al.  tro del 21 dicembre 1919 entrambi col titolo Futurismo  contro socialismo, il cui succo riesce già evidente. « Noi  siamo contro il socialismo », afferma Bottai, « perché astra-  zione filosofica senza possibilità di contatti vitali. Simbolo  che si agifa nel mondo da secoli, e di cui mai si è trovato,  e mai si troverà la formula di traduzione in positivi sviluppi  di masse sociali... Noi siamo contro l’idea socialista perché  sosteniamo la necessità della diseguaglianza... Siamo con-  tro il socialismo perché idea generatrice di vigliaccheria ».   Ii 14 dicembre sempre del 1919, tuttavia, certo Man-  narese, avversario, pubblica un articolo per espotre l’impos-  sibile intesa fra le due avanguardie, o l'impossibilità di ac-  cordo in unione d’intenti e di lavoro. Il Mannarese sotto-  linea l'identità di socialismo e masse proletarie con loro  relative e legittime aspirazioni. Romza futurista non gli ne.  sa spazio, ospitandolo apertamente e liberamente.   Ci pensa Bottai a rispondere e confutare Mannarese  col suo secondo articolo preciso ed aggressivo. Il titolo:  Insisto: futurismo contro socialismo; la data, 21 dicembre  dello stesso anno. La posizione polemica si specifica e si    SAI       puntualizza: « Prima caratteristica del futurismo è questa,  libera, sciolta sfrenata spregiudicatezza: e se il salumaio ci  crede oggi difensore dei suoi salami, delle sue salsicce, poco  male! ciò potrà darci la prova della sua minchioneria, non  già infirmare l'esattezza del grido “futurismo contro socialismo” ».   L’intonazione antibotghese è evidente e forse si spo-  sa, per così dire, con quella antisocialista, essendo l'una  complementare all'altra, e viceversa. Non si può essere  antisocialisti senza essere antiborghesi, e viceversa non si  può essere antiborghesi senza essere antisocialisti, sembra  quasi che dica Giuseppe Bottai, e l’invettiva contro il sa-  lumaio non ha nient'altro che questo sapote...    L'equazione « socialismo-proletariato », sostenuta dal  Mannarese, è vacua e falsa, dice Bottai, e bisogna distin-  guere, perché va da sé, afferma, che «il socialismo è uno  dei tanti sistemi, i quali, da che il mondo è mondo, si  accaniscono sulla disparità di condizioni delle classi ». Lo  esempio dato poi, del fenomeno dell’arditismo, è quanto  meno sufficiente e significativo a smentire una tesi tanto  inutile. Infatti, « in parecchi mesi di convivenza con le  fiamme nere mi son trovato attorno solo contadini, ope-  rai, lavoratori-proletari! »; e gli arditi non erano certo so-  cialisti, anzi. Tuttavia l’autore è ben consapevole della  « portata economica » del socialismo e nello stesso tempo  delle esigenze dei ceti umili o dei proletari, e degli scompen-  si derivanti da queste esigenze anche per la loro « cattura »  da parte di un socialismo ignorante e incapace.   L'individuazione dell'errore di dimensione del sociali  smo è evidente, nonostante i successi già conseguiti. Tanto  che, concludeva il Botrai, nel cogliere le possibilità della  formazione di un letale assolutismo, con la postulazione del-  la differenziazione futuristica da esso, intesa nella diffusione  di programmi e di rimedi economici: « Noi siamo per la  elevazione del popolo, e non per l'assolutismo di esso ».  Dove « il nai », è evidente, si riferisce ai futuristi ed al  loro movimento.    « Tirando le somme », alla fine, si postula petsino un  programma, quasi, nei rapporti col socialismo, di cui i    32    punti più interessanti sono il secondo ed il quarto, cioè  l'ultimo. Il secondo postilla una « possibile comunanza di  vedute economiche: il che non implica nessuna fusione »;  l'ultimo sostiene e ribadisce, sottolineandolo tutto in maiu-  scolo: « CONTRO IL SOCIALISMO NON VUOLE DI-  RE CONTRO IL PROLETARIATO ».   La miopia del socialismo nella considerazione dei futu-  risti appare evidente e inequivocabile. E si parla del so-  cialismo dei primi del secolo, quello storicamente più « ca-  pace » di quanto non lo sia l'attuale, e consono ad una  realtà « epocale » ad esso, tutto sommato, più favorevole.  L’esito del socialismo italiano, confluito in massima parte  nel fascismo, non fa che confermare l'opinione o l’ipotesi  dei futuristi, che avevano saputo vedere la sua « minima  portata » da inserire, eventualmente, nel panorama di una  prospettiva ben più vasta e diversificata. A Fiume Gabriele D'Annunzio dà alla luce la sua  « Carta del Carnaro ». Siamo agli inizi del ’20 e la nuova  proclamazione statutaria sarà base fondamentale per la suc-  cessiva politica sindacale fascista (si veda la Carta del La-  voro ad esempio). Sempre a Fiume Mario Carli dirige il  nuovo foglio di vita istriama La Testa di Ferro, sulle cui  colonne (la seconda, per l'esattezza, della prima pagina) ;l  12 settembre esce un riquadro firmato da Marinetti. Che  così commenta la Prima vittoria della quindicesima batta-  glia, come dice il titolo della pagina: « Nell’applaudite oggi  D'Annunzio, liberatore di Fiume, penso che questo mera-  viglioso genio riassuntivo della nostra razza, uscito dalle  alcove del Pizcere... dopo aver esplorato le profondità del  la lussuria... ha logicamente... strappato Fiume all’imperia-  lismo europeo e americano, ed ora deve, seguendo la linea  della sua fortuna inesauribile, logicamente, con genio sem-  pre più rivoluzionario e futurista, liberare Roma dal Pa-  pato e dalla Monarchia, e creare la grande Repubblica Ita-  liana ». Siamo di fronte aul'« ittedentismo integrale » che i futnristi sostenevano contro l’« irredentismo mutilato » di  Bissolati, favorevole al Patto di Londra. Di cui il movimento  per contro chiedeva un’« estensione », oltre che una modi-  ficazione del Patto di Roma in modo che si potesse favo-  rire l’inserimento italiano sulla costa dalmata e garantire  all'Italia l'egemonia sull’Adriatico. Il Trattato di Rapallo,  poco dopo, dichiarerà Fiume «città libera » ed assegnerà  Zara all'Italia.    11 24 e 25 maggio dello stesso anno si tiene a Milano  il IX Congresso dei Fasci di Combattimento, che segna una  svolta del movimento o anche — si potrebbe dire — una  sua conversione in senso « conservatore ». Si assiste ad un  parziale ma consistente ricambio del nucleo dirigente fa-  scista. Solo 10 membri su 19 del comitato centrale eletto a  Fitenze vengono riconfermati: tra essi Marinetti e Ferruc-  cio Vecchi.    Mussolini sostiene un nuovo indirizzo: l'accordo fra  proletariato e borghesia produttiva, tipico di quel fascismo  « provinciale » che stava prendendo il sopravvento. Mari-  netti reagisce confermando la sua intransigenza antimonar-  chica ed antipontificia. I Fasci di Combattimento, come  riporta ancora il De Felice, avrebbero dovuto, secondo  Marinetti, iniziare « una politica decisa in difesa delle ri-  vendicazioni proletarie, appoggiando e scioperi e agitazio-  ni che siano fondati o formulati su un principio di giu-  stizia ». Mussolini aveva cercato di replicare che i Fasci  « hanno anzi aiutato gli scioperi che avevano un chiaro  contenuto economico », ma aveva sottolineato di non po-  ter accettare la pregiudiziale antimonarchica e: « Quanto  al Papato, bisogna intendersi: il Vaticano rappresenta 400  milioni di uomini sparsi... Io sono, oggi, completamente  al di fuori di ogni religione, ma i problemi politici sono  problemi politici. Racconta lo stesso capo del  futurismo nel suo volume Futurismo e Fascismo pubbli  cato quattro anni dopo, « Marinetti e alcuni capi futuri-  sti escono dai Fasci di Combattimento, non avendo potuto imporre alla maggioranza fascista la loro tendenza  antimonarchica e anticlericale ». Gli altri «capi futuristi» sono Mario Carli e Neri Nannetti, appena eletto a  Milano come membro del comitato centrale per Firenze.  Ferruccio Vecchi si allontanò dai Fasci poco dopo, anche  per la crisi interna che stava attanagliando l’« Associa-  zione fra gli Arditi d’Italia ».   La spaccatura risulta evidente all'uscita dell’opuscalo  Al di là del comunismo, pubblicato in agosto da Marinetti,  per giustificazione alle sue dimissioni ed in risposta allo  svuotamento della portata rivoluzionaria, o futurista, dei  Fasci di Combattimento. Al di lè del Comunismo sarà  la sua seconda opeta politica (dopo Democrazia futurista,  del ’19), quella più ricca di spunti e di idee: quella, in-  somma, sua fondamentale.   L'opera è dedicata sul colophox « Ai futuristi francesi,  inglesi, spagnoli, russi, ungheresi, rumeni, giapponesi »:  it che esprime già tutto un programma. Fra le sue tesi,  dd esempio queste: « Noi futuristi abbiamo stroncato tut-  te le ideologie imponendo dovunque la nostra nuova con-  cezione della vita, le nostre formule d’igiene spirituale,  il nostto dinamismo estetico, sociale, espressione sincera  dei nostri temperamenti d’italiani creatori e rivoluzionari...  L'umanità cammina verso l'individualismo anarchico, me-  ta e sogno di ogni spirito forte. Il Comunismo invece è  una vecchia formula mediocrista, che la stanchezza e la  paura della guerra riverniciano oggi e trasformano in mo-  da spirituale... La storia, la vita e la terra appartengono  agli improvvisatori. Odiamo la caserma militarista quanto  la caserma comunista. Il genio anarchico deride e spacca  il catcere comunista ».    Fu questo passo a provocare la reazione dell’Ardito?  Che ben presto si fece sentire, a più riprese, per deni-  grare il volumetto marinettiano, mentre al contrario La  Testa di Ferro ad opera di un gruppo di futuristi fiumani  (e di Mario Carli, ardito a sua volta) elogiava pubblica-  mente ed ardentemente il nuovo testo. Bottai, già futu-  tista, interverrà ben presto (sul n. 35 dell’Ardito) con  una «lettera aperta a F.T. Marinetti » per mettere in ri-  salto la sua posizione critica all’atteggiamento anarchicheg-  piante dello scritto, inconciliabile con qualunque espressione di potere, sia pur di tipo « tecnico », come quello  a suo tempo proposto dallo stesso « padre » del futuri  smo. L'attacco di Bottai è senz'altro il più autorevole e  i] più significativo.   L'ideologia del fascismo-regime (da parte di un mini  stro in pectore come Bottai) cominciava già a farsi sen-  tire. E si chiudeva, ovviamente, almeno sul terreno sto-  rico della prassi politica, l'ideologia del fascismo-movi-  mento, quello dell’intransigenza e del fervore mistico, del  libertarismo e dell'avanguardia, dell'anarchismo e dell’an-  tiautoritarismo verso la monarchia ed il papato. Il pos-  sibilismo politico e il realismo tattico per la conquista  del potere subentrano e il fascismo-regime si muove or-  mai, anche se lentamente, sotto la guida del suo abile e  « compromesso condottiero ».   A Marinetti non restano che le dimissioni, e dopo il  suo « canto del cigno » politico (Al di là del comunismo),  il ritorno alla letteratura.    10. La dimensione futurista    Nel 1921 esce a Piacenza per i tipi dell'Editore Porta  il volume di Francesco Flora Dal Romanticismo al Fu-  turismo. Il giudizio più interessante è senz’altro quello  di Luigi Russo, che così si esprime al proposito: «Il  Flora, mentre vi grida il superamento sillogistico dell’ar-  te decadente, la guarigione del suo spirito dal generale  futurismo, passa poi egli stesso a fare troppo rumorosa  e compiaciuta mescolanza con quell'arte e con quel futu-  rismo ». Pirandello pubblica nello stesso anno I sei per-  sonaggi in cerca d'autore. Marinetti sostiene che sono  ispirati al futurismo e al suo spirito creatore. Il con-  gresso socialista di Livorno si spacca, e dalla scissione  si forma il neonato partito comunista. A Catania vede  la luce la nuova rivista futurista Heschisch.   Nel 1922 il fascismo salirà definitivamente al potete.  Marinetti fonda una nuova rivista, I{ Futurismo, che di-  rige in prima persona. A Berlino sarà poi tradotta in edizione tedesca (Der Futurismus), a cura di Ruggero Va-  sari. Bragaglia fonda a Roma il Teatro Sperimentale de-  gli Indipendenti, primo teatro stabile italiano, da Ivi di  retto fino al ’36: metterà in scena duecento opere d'’avan-  guardia fra quelle di autori italiani e stranieri. A_ Monza  si crea l’Istituto Superiore delle Arti decorative, trasfor-  mato poi in Biennale e dal ’30 definitivamente in Trien-  nale, con sede nel palazzo di Milano (al parco, arch. Mu-  zio). Mussolini, dopo la marcia su Roma del 28 ottobre,  forma il governo con radicali e liberali, e istituisce il Gran  Consiglio del Fascismo.    Giuseppe Prezzolini, come sempre lucidamente, poco  prima del « grande ritorno » del futurismo al fascismo,  metteva ancora una volta in risalto «come possa l'arte  futurista andare d'accordo con il Fascismo italiano, non  si vede. C'è un equivoco, nato da una vicinanza di per.  sone, da un’accidentalità d’incontri, da un ribollire di  forze, che ha portato Marinetti accanto a Mussolini. Ciò  andava bene durante il periodo della rivoluzione. Ciò  stona in un periodo di governo. Il Fascismo italiano  non può accettare il programma distruttivo del Futuri  smo, anzi, deve, per la sua logica italiana, restaurare |  valori che contrastano al Futurismo. La disciplina e la  gerarchia politica sono gerarchia e disciplina anche lette-  raria. Le parole vanno all’aria quando vanno all'aria le  gerarchie politiche. Il Fascismo, se vuole veramente vin-  cere la sua battaglia, deve ormai considerare come as-  sotbito il Futurismo in quello che il Futurismo poteva  avere di eccitante, e di reprimerlo in tutto quello che  esso consetva ancora di rivoluzionario, di anticlassico, di  indisciplinato dal punto di vista dell’arte » (da I/ Secolo,  3 luglio 1923).   Nel marzo dello stesso 1923 s'inaugura alla Galleria  Pesaro di Milano una mostra dell'« Arte del Novecento ».  Si trattava di un gruppo formatosi alla fine del ’22 in-  torno alla medesima galleria milanese, che affiancava la  nuova tendenza del regime in senso conservatote, già san-  cita dal 2° Congresso Fascista (Milano, maggio 1920).  L'animatrice del nuovo movimento « Arte del Novecen-    37    to» era Margherita Sarfatti. Il gruppo fu accolto, nean-  che due anni dopo dalla sua costituzione, alla Biennale  veneziana del ’24, e si affermò definitivamente attraverso  due ulteriori mostre: una del '26 al Palazzo della Perma-  nente a Milano, e l'altra del ’29 alla Galleria Pesaro,  sempre a Milano. I futuristi invece, rimasti esterni al  regime e aderenti ancora, in fondo, all'avanguardia, fu-  rono ammessi alla Biennale solo nel ’26, e fuori dal pa-  diglione italiano additittura. All'inaugurazione della Biennale, Marinetti  si rivolge al Re, a Venezia in visita ufficiale, e gli de-  nuncia gridando «l’incapacità senile e antitaliana della  Direzione, che massacra i giovani artisti italiani ». L’in-  tervento di Marinetti suscita scandalo. Tuttavia nello stes-  so anno 1924 si verifica anche un cetto riavvicinamen-  to tra futurismo e fascismo, e forse anche tra Marinetti  e Mussolini. L’occasione viene data dall’edizione della  terza ed ultima opera politica del capo futurista, che, co-  me già detto, s'intitola Futurismo e Fascismo, ed esce  a Foligno per i tipi dell'Editore Campitelli.    Ancora nello stesso anno escono diverse altre signifi-  cative testate, futuriste ma anche fasciste. Mino Maccari  fonda I! Selvaggio (organo del fascismo strapaesano) ed  Enzo Benedetto a Reggio Calabria pubblica il foglio fu-  turista Originalità, da lui stesso direrto: compaiono fra  i suoi collaboratori Marinetti, Jannelli, Nicastro e Sanzin,  Quest'ultimo scrive un saggio su Marinetti e il futurismo.  Gerardo Dottori, altra collaboratore di Originalità, crea  le prime aeropitture, che si affermeranno in seguito come  espressioni del « secondo futurismo ».    A Milano si tiene il Primo congresso futurista e So-  menzi vi organizza le onoranze nazionali a Marinetti.  Siamo al 23 di novembre 1924, ore 10, al Teatro Dal  Verme di Milano. Mino Somenzi legge il telegramma di  Mussolini: « Considerami presente adunata futurista che  sintetizza 20 anni di grandi battaglie artistiche politiche  spesso consacrate col sangue. Congresso deve essere punto  di partenza, non punto di arrivo. Credi mia cordiale ami-  cizia e ammirazione ». Alle 16 parla Marinetti, che conclude i lavori del congresso, così rivolgendosi all’indirizzo  del « duce »: «I futuristi italiani, primi fra i primi in-  terventisti nelle piazze e sui campi di battaglia, e primi  fra i primi diciannovisti più che mai devoti alle idee ed  all'arte, lontani dal politicantismo, dicono al loro vecchio  compagno Benito Mussolini: Con un gesto di forza ormai  indispensabile liberati dal parlamento. Restituisci al Fa-  scismo ed all'Italia Ia meravigliosa anima diciannovista,  disinteressata, ardita, antisocialista, anticlericale, antimo.  narchica. Concedi alla Monarchia soltanto la sua provvi-  sotia funzione unitaria, rifiutale quella di soffcare o mor.  finizzare la più grande, la più geniale e la più giusta Italia  di domani. Non imitare l’inimitabile Giolitti, imita il  Grande Mussolini del diciannove. Pensa sempre all’Italia  immortale ed al Carso divino. Schiaccia l'opposizione cle.  ricale antitaliana di Don Sturzo, l'opposizione socialista  antitaliana di Turati e l'opposizione mediocrista di A’  bertini con una ferrea dinamica aristocrazia di pensiero  armato che soppianti l’attuale demagogia d’armi senza  pensiero. Tu puoi e devi fare ciò, noi dobbiamo volerlo  e lo vogliamo ». Lo vollero, ma non lo realizzarono. La  volontà può essere bella, ardita, ispira ai più alti sensi  di giustizia, anche se non sempre la realizzazione le tiene  dietro. Come in questo caso.   Mussolini telegrafa ancora il 1° marzo del ’25 ad un  banchetto « romano » offerto da Carli e Settimelli a Ma:  rinetti: « Sono dolente di non poter intervenire al ban:  chetto ofterto a F.T. Marinetti. Ma desidero che vi giun-  ga la mia fervida adesione che non è espressione formale  ma vivo segno di grandissima simpatia per l’infaticabile  e geniale assertore di Italianità, per il poeta innovatore  che mi ha dato la sensazione dell'oceano e della macchi-  na, per il mio caro vecchio amico delle prime battaglie  fasciste, per il saldato intrepido che ha offerto alla Pa  tria una passione indomita consacrata dal sangue ». Ma.  rinetti si era già trasferito a Roma con Benedetta. La  capitale diveniva così anche centro del futurismo. In que.  sta stessa occasione Marinetti dichiarava, un'altra volta  inascoltato: « Vi sono in Italia forze che osteggiano la nostra idea imperiale, combattiamole, non dimenticando  però fra queste la più segreta e la più antitaliana: il  Vaticano! ».   Un discorso di Mussolini alla Camera (3 gennaio 1925)  dà inizio al vero fascismo-regime. A Tortino si tiene a  Palazzo Madama un'esposizione nazionale futurista. La  tendenza al riavvicinamento ira i due movimenti è già  indicata nella dedica di Futurismo e Fascismo: « Al mio  caro e grande amico Benito Mussolini ». Il che dimostra,  in fondo, una certa volontà di non troncare i contatti: ma  anche gli scritti raccolti, gli articoli e le tesi sostenute  sono di tipo più che altro conciliativo. Mussolini vi è  definito « meraviglioso temperamento futurista »: e non  risuoni però ad adulazione, perché il tentativo di recu-  pero del futurismo in senso artistico e letterario (o cul  turale in senso lato) è evidente, nonostante l'occasionale  « dimensione » del movimento nell'attività e nell'impegno  politico. Non senza motivo, il volume prende inizio con  queste parole: «Il Futurismo è un grande movimento  antiflosofico e anticulturale di idee, intuiti, istinti, pu-  gni... ». E subito dopo: « Fra le tante definizioni io predi-  ligo quella data dai teosofi: “I futuristi sono i mistici  dell’azione”. Infatti i futuristi hanno combattuto e com-  battono il passatismo... ». Il nuovo regime e la portata  storica di realizzazione di quello che si considera il patri-  monio del futurismo è così giudicato: « Vittorio Ve-  neto e l'avvento del Fascismo al potere costituirono la  realizzazione del programma minimo futurista ». Dove si  dimostra in fondo la connessione inscindibile tra futuri.  smo e fascismo, ma nello stesso tempo il distacco, in  questa realizzazione « minimale »; comunque la mancanza  di coincidenza totale delle entità ideali dei due blocchi.    « Questo programma minimo », specifica ancora Ma-  rinetti, « propugnava l'orgoglio italiano... la distruzione  dell'impero austro-ungarico, l’eroismo quotidiano, l'amore  del pericolo... ». Ma, alla fine, quello che più conta è  che «il Futurismo italiano, tipicamente patriottico, che  ha generato innumerevoli futurismi esteri, non ha nulla  a che fare coi loro atteggiamenti politici, come quello bolscevico del Futurismo russo, divenuto arte di Stato ».  Il futurismo italiano fu sempre italiano, non mai italiano  di Stato.   « Il futurismo », afferma ancora il nostro, «è un mo-  vimento artistico e ideologico. Interviene nelle lotte po-  litiche soltanto nelle ore di grave pericolo per la Nazio-  ne », E un'altra volta a migliore definizione della posi-  zione concettuale o della sua immagine: « Il Fascismo  nato dall'interventismo e dal Futurismo si nutrì di prin-  cipî futuristi... Il Fascismo opera politicamente... Il Fu-  turismo opera invece nei domini infiniti della pura fan-  tasia, può dunque e deve osare osare osare sempre più  temerariamente. Avanguardia della sensibilità artistica ita-  liana, è necessariamente sempre in anticipo sulla lenta  sensibilità delle masse ».    La consapevolezza della difficoltà del consenso è più  che sentita, ed è convinzione al tempo stesso che il fa-  scismo sia più capace di farsi accogliere o di comunicare  certe necessità, e certi principî. E la convinzione implica  la coscienza che sia il fascismo ad aver raccolto © mutuato  idee e « posizioni » dal futurismo, solo ed esclusivamente.  Senza che mai sia avvenuto il contrario. Ed appare evi-  dente, perché non viene mai fatto cenno a questa secon-  da ipotesi: che cioè sia stato il futurismo ad attingere  al fascismo. Anche se affiora l’« autocritica », l’interroga-  zione, il domandarsi sotterraneo della coscienza...    « Il lettore domanderà: “Ci sono idee futuriste su-  perate o da scartarsi, oggi?” Nulla da scartare. Le idee  vittoriose tengano fermamente le posizioni conquistate.  Per esempio questo principio: “Noi vogliamo glorificare  la guerra, sola igiene del mondo... le belle idee per cui  si muore e il disprezzo della donna”, fu una pietrata fe-  roce ma necessaria nel pantano letterario di sentimenta-  lismo dannunziano sulle cui rive singhiozzavano i gio-  vani malati di luna e di donne fatali ».   La condanna della decadenza di un romanticismo fiac-  co e sdolcinato che ha irretito la realtà della Penisola è  quanto mai chiara ed evidente. E la volontà di scuoterla  per una necessità di spirito, per una volontà di resurrezione, per una coscienza ancora viva di grandezza e di  capacità creativa e rinnovatrice, porta inevitabilmente allo  scontro e alla conflagrazione, quella della guerra, che è  guerra di sentimento e di volontà, prima ancora che di  occasione politica.    « Oggi », continua Marinetti, « l'Italia è piena di gio-  vani forti e sportivi. Ma molti purtroppo sacrificano ad  una donna la loro volontà di conquista e l'avventura...  Dopo Vittorio Veneto io predicai la necessità per ogni  combattente di diventare un cittadino eroico... Oggi esi-  ste uno Stato fascista che tutela il diritto individuale.  Ma bisogna alimentare ancora lo spirito del cittadino eroi-  co, amico del pericolo e capace di lotta, poiché occorretà  improvvisare domani gli indispensabili volontari della nuo-  va guerra. Questa, lo ripeto, è certa, forse vicina. Perciò  è sempre vivo il grido futurista: glorifichiamo la guerra  sola igiene del mondo! Il Futurismo interprete delle for-  ze telluriche, il Futurismo, manometro della nostra pe-  nisola (caldaia bollente!), odia i macchinisti incapaci. Si  palesano tali i culturali d’Italia che verniciati di patriot-  tismo parlano oggi d’Impero, con un'anima pacifista pron-  ti ad imboscarsi al minimo pericolo. Essi ignorano che  Impero significa guerra. Votrebbeto conquistarlo con una  lezione sulla Roma Imperiale! ». Ecco, ancora, la coscien-  za di cui parlavamo prima: quella della curiosità anti-  quaria di una cultura d’accatto non più in grado di te-  nere il passo della storia e di muovere lo spirito della  giovinezza vittoriosa. Marinetti lo coglie e lo esptime in  una testimonianza, ancora una volta, di vita e di speran-  za, che è vita perché è speranza del futuro.    « Noi futuristi parliamo d’Impero convinti e lieti di  batterci domani... Parliamo d’Impero perché è venuto per  l’Italia il momento di prendere le tetre indispensabili...  IÎ programma politico futurista lanciato l’11 ottobre 1913  che propugnava una politica estera cinica astuta e aggres-  siva è più che mai di attualità. Le idee vittoriose tengano  fermamente le posizioni conquistate. Le nuove idee si  slancino all'assalto. Marciare non matcite! ». Firmato: F.T.  Marinetti.    42    Il futurismo ha dimostrato di voler procedere sulla  strada del nuovo: il fascismo lo ha accolto ed ha accon-  disceso, almeno fino a un certo punto, al suo messaggio.  Oltre è stato frenato, forse, non solo dal « borghesismo »,  ma anche da quel socialismo, che avanti non è mai stato  capace di andare e che di nuovo ha portato solamente  vuote formule e fantasmi. Non così il futurismo, ben ade-  rente al reale, e capace di ritirarvisi anche, nel caso di  inadempienza (o di mancanza di corrispondenza) della  realtà ai suoi messaggi.   Marinetti docet, proprio con quel fascino che aveva  voluto, o con cui aveva marciato, e in cui aveva creduto  senza marcire mai, nemmeno nell’auge del regime, quan-  do avrebbe potuto sedersi sulle comode poltrone di un  otmai «arrivato » futurismo di «destra ». Ma il futuri-  smo per Marinetti era e rimaneva comunque movimento  d'avanguardia artistica e culturale, nonostante gli agganci  più 0 meno politici, più o meno di regime, e nonostante  l'amicizia con Mussolini, che poteva anche essere un « fu-  turista », ma era e doveva essere prima di tutto il capo  dello Stato e il « duce del Fascismo ». E il fascismo ave-  va preso e doveva tenete ormai una certa linea, molte  volte non gradita, o valida, per il futurismo, ed anzi pro-  prio al contrario.   La gloria di Roma rievocata nel monumentalismo  classicheggiante, il novecentismo ricalcante vuoti modelli  di un fasullo rinnovamento filotradizionale, la riesumazio-  ne del mito della storia come copia di grandezza e no-  vella misura di falsa gloria, erano tutti temi aborriti da  Marinetti proprio perché segni ed indici di « passatismo »,  messaggi sterili di una mentalità ferma e statica, incapace  di dare alcunché di vitale all'Italia in movimento. Ma-  rinetti era invece, e rimaneva, anche nel fascismo e no-  nostante il fascismo, « futurista », come lui amava defi-  nirsi, e come lo rimanevano anche altri, non tutti però,  anzi forse troppo pochi. Marinetti, quindi, futurista, e futurista nonostante tut-  to, fu forse fascista solo ed esclusivamente per quel che  il futurismo poteva consentirgli di essere. Ma fu anche  grande oratore Marinetti, e fu oratore d’arte, oratore di  genio letterario e improvvisatore della parola, più 0 me-  no libera o in libertà che fosse.   Mussolini fu oratore politico e parlava, anche, nella  ricerca del consenso. Marinetti invece fu poeta, e parlava  per stimolare la curiosità, per muovere l'incanto  del-  l'espressione. La sua oratoria fu essenzialmente artistica,  il suo discorso fu culturale e poetico. Mussolini forse  in parte la imitò, sempre attenendosi all’oratoria politica  e trasformando il messaggio letterario in presenza ideo-  logica e in colloquio « popolare ». Forse qui sta inoltre  la differenza fra i due movimenti: il futurismo avanguar-  dia di rottura e il fascismo sistema di potere. Anche se  il primo l’aveva spinto e sorretto nella sua azione di con-  quista. Il fascismo è allora per un suo aspetto futurista,  e non invece il contrario. E' la realizzazione di quel « pio-  gramma minimo futurista » che abbiamo già esaminato.  E Mussolini si può dire fosse stato anche futurista, o  comunque molto vicino al movimento di Marinetti. E  gli era stato anche amico, o c’era stata una reciproca  comunanza di sentimenti, che non esula dall’amicizia.   Ma Mussolini era stato anche socialista, anzi lo era sta-  to davvero e « fino in fondo ». Che fosse anche per que-  sto che i futuristi non potevano essere completamente  fascisti? O non si potevano identificare completamente  nel regime? Almeno i futuristi autentici, quelli più « idea-  listi ».   Il futurismo era stato sempre e comunque antisocia-  lista, in modo integrale, totale come si è visto. E lo era  stato dall’inizio antisocialista, per la sua posizione cultu-  rale, per il suo intendimento antimilitaristico ed antiegua-  litario, per il suo slancio antipassatista di svecchiamento.    Lo schiaffo ed il pugno, la velocità e l’aggressione,  la lotta e la vittoria erano tutti temi o motivi antisocia    44       listi. Il fascismo, nonostante tutto, era meno antisocia-  lista. In primo luogo per le origini del suo capo, per la  sua formazione-estrazione, per i suoi intendimenti di  visuale che non si erano spenti del tutto, ma si erano  solo attenuati e modificati: e si erano travasati, anche,  nella novità del futurismo.    Comunque, e malgrado questo, il fascismo rimase e  resta agli atti della storia un «movimento di massa »,  una « realtà sociale », un fenomeno popolare, un sistema  del numero in scala comunitaria e nazionale: questo è  acquisito, ed è incontestabile. E non può essere confutato  dagli storici seri. Mussolini lo volle e lo promosse que.  sto « popolarismo » e, se vogliamo anche, riuscì lenta.  mente e gradatamente ad «imporlo ». Ma non volle mai  l'uguaglianza o il livellamento, e cercò sempre di favo.  rire la distinzione dell’individualismo. Lo stimolo stesso  alla competizione nel campo dell’arte e l’amicizia con  l’amico-nemico Marinetti ne sono garanti. L’amicizia fra  i due personaggi non fu esclusivamente un fatto episo-  dico o della prima ora; fu un fatto profondo e vitale,  forse inalienabile ed « assoluto ». E durò, a controprova  del vero, fino alla morte.    Quando Marinetti, reduce dalla guerra di Russia per  cui si era arruolato volontario (malgrado i suoi 64 anni),  aderiva alla Repubblica Sociale Italiana dopo i tragici fatti  dell’armistizio, dimostrava sino all'ultimo fede ad un’ami-  cizia e ad un'idea, comunque e nonostante tutto. Mari-  netti era partito per la Russia all’insegna della coerenza,  non potendo contraddire il suo messaggio della guerra  « sola igiene del mondo ». Messaggio che anche il « duce »  aveva sentito, forse tragicamente e forse fuori tempo. Ma  lo aveva comunque sentito, e l’amicizia con Marinetti e  la sua nomina ad Accademico d'Italia lo dimostra. Quan-  do avrebbe benissimo potuto « bruciarlo ». E aveva an-  che sentito che il nuovo secolo richiedeva un cambiamen-  to, che si doveva in qualche modo maturare.    Volle promuoverlo e accelerarlo (da « futurista »?), in-  tervenite e spingere l'avanzata fino all'assurdo. Ne rimase  coinvolto e definitivamente « inghiottito ».  Marinetti si era salvato, e con se stesso aveva salvato  la poesia.    La guerra (leggi: politica) non poteva averla distrutta.  In età avanzata era rientrato a vivere brevemente, a lot-  tare fino all’ultimo per consegnare a Venezia un messag-  gio, quello vitale e ineliminabile « verso il futuro ». I suoi  discepoli lo accolsero come un testamento e qualcuno lo  trasmette ancora per testimonianza. Nonostante la trasmu-  tazione dei tempi e le difficoltà del presente. Lo docu-  menta ancora per la verità storica e per la risonanza del-  l'oggi. E, forse, per un nuovo futuro di domani.    12. Sindacalismo futurista    II fascismo aveva creato la « Carta del Lavoro », che  ricalcava a sua volta quella ptima espressione originale  di emissione statutaria d’impronta sociale, che era stata  la dannunziana « Carta del Carnaro ». Ma già prima i  futuristi avevano inteso una «loro » sindacalizzazione in  senso artistico, ed avevano ancora una volta concepito un  manifesto. Si tratta del manifesto al governo fascista del  1° maggio 1923 intitolato I diritti ertistici propugnati  dat futuristi italiani.   I diritti rimasero in gran parte sulla carta, ma l’in-  tenzione era evidente: quella di creare una specie di « car-  ta sindacale » per la costituzione dei « sindacati artistici  futuristi », atti alla difesa ed all'assistenza degli artisti  eventualmente bisognosi. Oggi quel poco che offre il sin-  dacalismo dell’arte è dovuto per lo più al sindacalismo  futurista e, in parte, a quello fascista. Ma l'idea del mu-  tuo soccorso e della solidarietà del lavoro era già pre-  sente nella mentalità futurista, orientata sempre verso  giustizia (in questo caso, giustizia dell’arte). Il proleta-  riato delle rappresentanze artistiche è fatto ben noto, e  non da oggi: non ne furono esenti i futuristi, che anche  in questo senso furono rivoluzionari veri e propri, e cercatono comunque il rinnovamento. E vollero un’istituzio-  ne che li garantisse dalla loro precarietà, dalle loro dif-  ficoltà e dalla loro miseria.   La «Banca di Credito» per artisti fu iniziativa di  Marinetti, in seguito approvata e patrocinata dal « duce ».  Che così rispose per l’occasione all'amico futurista: « Mio  caro Marinetti, approvo cordialmente la tua iniziativa per  la costituzione di una Banca di Credito specialmente per  gli Artisti. Credo che saprai sormontare gli eventuali osta-  coli dei soliti misoneisti. Ad ogni modo questa lettera  può servirti di viatico. Ciao, con amicizia. Mussolini ».   Si trattava di una vera € propria forma di « assicu-  razione del denaro » che doveva favorire gli artisti, o sod-  disfare le loro necessità. Ma non solo Îa costituzione della  Banca di Credito chiedeva il manifesto del ’23, firmato  da Martinetti « per la direzione del movimento-futurista e  per tutti i gruppi futuristi italiani ». Si volevano anche  realizzare: 1) Difesa dei giovani artisti italiani novatori  in tutte le manifestazioni artistiche promosse dallo Stato,  dai Comuni e private... 2) Istituti di credito artistico ad  esclusivo beneficio degli artisti creatori italiani [dove si  propone l’apertura d’istituti di credito per la sovvenzio-  ne di artisti, manifestazioni artistiche ed Istituti d'arte.  Tali istituti si manterrebbero con la buona volontà degli  aderenti, se privati, o con imposte sui redditi di guerra,  pet esempio, se statali. Le opere d'arte depositate co-  stituirebbero valorizzazione fruttifera per l’artista medesi-  mo, ecc., n.d.r.]... 8) Agevolazioni agli artisti [tramite  il riconoscimento legale dei diritti d’autore, la riduzione  del 75% della tariffa per i viaggi degli artisti e il tra-  sporto delle loto opere, l'abolizione delle tasse doganali  nell’importazione ed esportazione delle opere d’atte, il  catico sull’assicuratore delle spese per lettere di cambio  o assicurazioni delle opere d’arte, ecc..., n.d.r.]. Come  si vede i futuristi guardavano sì al futuro, ma stavano  ben calati nel presente e cercavano di opetare e di agire  di; presente pet migliorare e per rendete più giusto il  uturo. Col « ritorno all’ordine », come si definisce dagli sto-  rici l'affermazione del fascismo e la sua lenta istituziona-  lizzazione in regime, si parla anche di modifica del futu-  rismo 0 di suo adeguamento ad una nuova realtà siste-  matica e organizzativa, conseguita al periodo rivoluziona-  rio; e si chiacchiera ancora di «secondo futurismo ».  Anche se il futurismo, primo o secondo che fosse, non  ha mai avuto a che fare con l'istituzionalizzazione del  l'arte nell’« ordine fascista ». Dice il critico Enrico Cri-  spolti in un suo saggio, e lo asserisce in modo catego-  rico e definitivo: « In questo senso è politicamente inam-  missibile e culturalmente scorretta una liquidazione del  Secondo Futurismo in quanto collusivo out court con  il fascismo »’.   Ma come si atriva a questa seconda definizione del  movimento? E poi eventualmente alla sua « demonizzazio-  ne » 0 « fascistizzazione » in senso politico?   Avevamo già visto nel ’24 Gerardo Dottori « prova-  re» le sue prime aeropitture. Nel frattempo i futuristi  continuano a scambiarsi esperienze ed a lavorare intensa-  mente. È ad esporre spesso e volentieri, anzi velocemen-  te e freneticamente, « alla futurista ». Nel 1926 vengono  invitati diversi futuristi italiani alla International Exhibi-  tion of Modern Art di New York. Nello stesso anno  alla IX Biennale d'Arte di Reggio Calabria espongono  Depero, Tato, Benedetto, Rizzo, Fillia e Dottori. A_Mi-  lano intanto al Palazzo della Permanente si allestisce la  seconda mostra, che abbiamo già visto, del Novecento,  ormai in auge e prossimo ad assurgere ai fasti della glo.  ria del potere. C'è anche la dichiarazione ufficiale del neo-  costituito « Gruppo 7» di architettura, composto da Ter-  ragni, Libera, Frette, Figini, Pollini, Rava e Larco.   Nel 1928 i futuristi partecipano finalmente alla XVI  Biennale di Venezia. A Torino, all'Esposizione Nazionale,       ? Enrico Crispolti, Appunti riguardanti i rapporti fra futurismo  e fascismo, in Arte e Fascismo in Italia e Gertania, Feltrinelli, Mi-  lano 1974, pag. 54. si allestisce un padiglione di architettura futurista, con  opere di Sant'Elia, Sartoris, Balla, Fillia, Prampolini e  Chiattone.   Nel 1929, 33 futuristi espongono ancora alla « Pesa:  ro » di Milano (Balla, Farfa, Benedetto, Lepore, Dottori,  Marasco, Tato e Prampolini). Azari pubblica il suo Primo  dizionario aereo; Balla, Fillia, Depero, Marinetti, Tato,  Somenzi, Benedetto, Rosso, Prampolini e Dottori lancia-  no il famoso Manifesto dell’Aeropittura. Terragni termi.  na 2 Como la costruzione di Novocomum, nuovo edificio  residenziale periferico. Marinetti è ‘accolto il 18 matzo  nell'Accademia d’Italia, insieme a Fermi e Pirandello, su  istanza personale di Mussolini.    Esce per le Edizioni di Augustea, Roma-Milano, il  volume Marinetti e il Futurismo, quarta ed ultima espres-  sione di letteratura politica del capo futurista. L’opera  ricalea in termini ancor più encomiastici e «di suppor-  to» il già « conciliante » Futuriszzo e fascismo (1924).  Il volume esce ancora dedicato « Al grande e caro Benito  Mussolini », definito questa volta già nella prima pagina  « temperamento esuberante, strapotente, veloce. Non è  un ideologo. Se fosse un ideologo, sarebbe incatenato  dalle idee che sono spesso lente, e dai libri che sono  sempre morti. Egli è invece libero, scatenatissimo. Fu  socialista e internazionalista, ma soltanto in teoria. Rivolu-  zionario sì, ma pacifista mai ». Il che equivale a dire  « futurista ».   Del socialismo di Mussolini abbiamo già parlato, e  della sua portata teorica, a questo punto effettivamente  e « praticamente » confermata. Del futurismo « fascista »  di Marinetti si sono scritti fiumi d’inchiostro e sproloqui  di parole. La dimostrazione più lampante della sua parte-  cipazione estetna al fascismo e della sua continua difesa  del futurismo e delle avanguardie è data dal rifiuto di  onorari e prebende: unica « accettazione » per  contto,  quella dell'Accademia d’Italia, che gli servì poi per di-  fendere il fututismo e per «lanciarlo » meglio in Italia  ed all’estero.    Nel 1930 Terragni realizza un monumento a Como su un disegno di Sant'Elia (che era stato totalmente rie-  laborato da Prampolini) in occasione delle « Onoranze  Nazionali all'architetto futurista Sant'Elia », che viene  commentato anche alla « Pesaro » di Milano. Marinetti  pubblica Futurismo e Novecentismo. Molti futuristi par-  tecipano alla IV Mostra delle Arti Decorative di Monza  ed alla XVII Biennale di Venezia. Nello stesso anno Ma.  rinetti pubblica a Torino sulla Gazzetta del Popolo i) Ma-  nifesto dell’Aeropoesia, che fa eco a quello dell'Aeropit-  tura del *29. E’ il « momento» dello sviluppo aereo e  dell’aeronautica: è giusto che il futurismo si muova nella  direzione del progresso e senta, ritragga e proietti la nuo-  va dimensione aerea dello spazio verso il futuro.    Nel 1931 esce a Roma il nuovo quotidiano L’'Impe-  to. Nel 1932 la Galleria « Pesaro » allestisce una mostra  vera e proptia, ed esclusiva, di « aeropittura ». Fortunato  Depero ottiene che gli venga concessa una sala « perso-  nale » alla XVII Biennale veneziana. Prampolini erige un  plastico a ricordo di Marconi a Roma per la Mostra della  Rivoluzione Fascista. La partecipazione futurista è segno  della nuova collaborazione politica. Ciò non toglie che  le realizzazioni esprimano intenti d'avanguardia. L’Istitu-  io Editoriale Italiano pubblica per la prima volta i Ma-  nifesti del Futurismo, in quattro volumi.    Fillia fa uscire il periodico Le Città Nuova e Sartoris  il volume sugli Elementi dell’Architettura funzionale;  Terragni comincia la costruzione della Casa del Fascio di  Como. Mino Somenzi fonda il nuovo periodico Futurismo,  definito «settimanale dell’artecrazia italiana ». Cambierà  poi titolo in Atfecrazia.    Nel 1933 Hitler sale al potere e sconfessa l’arte mo-  derna (l'espressionismo, nella fattispecie). Vasari organiz-  za con Marinetti una mostra futurista a Berlino nel ten-  tativo di promuovere, e di far recepire le avanguardie al  nuovo regime. Nel settembre dello stesso anno il Congres-  so nazista di Norimberga condannerà « al rogo » l’« arte  degenerata ». Esce la rivista Diamo futurista, diretta da  Depero; il periodico di architettura Casebella è invece di-  retto da Pagano, mentre Bardi e Bontempelli pubblicano  Quadrante. Prampolini progetta una stazione per aero-  porto civile al padiglione futurista della V Triennale di  Milano, mentre al Castello Sforzesco si organizzano le  onoranze nazionali a Boccioni, con la presenza di Paul  Klee, Piet Mondrian, Pablo Picasso, Vassily Kandinsky  ed Ezra Pound.    Nel 1934 Depero lancia un nuovo manifesto dell’Aero-  plastica, sempre sulla falsariga di quello dell’Aeropittu-  ra. Fillia e Prampolini pubblicano a Torino la nuova ri-  vista Stile futurista, dalle cui colonne Prampolini attacca  Hitler per le posizioni naziste sull’arte espresse a Norim-  berga. I futuristi partecipano ancora alla XIX Biennale  di Venezia. Ad Amburgo Ruggero Vasari e Marinetti di-  fendono l'avanguardia in occasione della mostra « Aero-  pittura futurista italiana », organizzata appositamente in  polemica alle censure naziste. A Lipsia ancora Vasari pub-  blica Aeropittura, arte moderna e reazione, che dimostra  la voce della nuova avanguatdia italiama improntata ai  progressi aeronautici ed in polemica contro i soliti passa-  tisti « censoti ».    Marinetti nel ’35 parte volontario per la guerra di  Etiopia. A Parigi viene organizzata una mostra futurista.  A Roma i futuristi partecipano alla II Quadriennale. Ma-  rinetti pubblica l’Aeropoema del Golfo della Spezia, che  ispirerà poi ancora molti aeropittori. Nel 1936 Prampalini realizza un salone da riunioni per municipio alla VI  Triennale di Milano. I futuristi partecipano alla XX  Biennale di Venezia. Muore Fillia esponente del « primo  futurismo ». Mussolini proclama l’Impero.    Nel giugno 1937 la mostra di Monaco attacca e de-  nuncia l’« arte degenerata » con esemplificazioni e « di-  mostrazioni ». Viene messa in luce per contro, o in risal-  to, l'arte « sana » nazista. Cominciano le polemiche e le  divisioni di fronti. Il fascismo ufficiale e « d'ordine » at-  tacca, e nuove violente polemiche scuotono l'avanguardia.  Il Popolo d'Italia e IL Perseo, diretto da A.F. Della Porta,  muovono guerra al futurismo. Quest'ultima rivista aveva  già polemizzato, insieme a Il regime fascista di Farinacci,  con l’architettura razionalista di Bardi e Terragni: « Noi siamo dell’opinione », si legge su Il Perseo del 15 giugno  1937, « che il Fascismo ha tutto da perdere da un’allean-  za col Futurismo e sia pure da una semplice connivenza ».  Risponde il periodico Artecrazia di Somenzi che contrattac-  ca in prima persona a sostenere l'avanguardia e il futu-  rismo. Difendo il Futurismo è la raccolta dei testi di So-  menzi pubblicati sulla rivista. Editi nel '37, sono l’opera  più coraggiosa e significativa della polemica per la lotta  dell’avanguardia.    14. Futurismo di destra e futurismo di sinistra    L’avanguardia, del resto, è sempre eterogenea e sfac-  cettata. Ecco perché si parla di « destra » e di « sinistra »  all'interno del futurismo nella fase della « maturità » (il  cosiddetto « secondo futurismo »). Destra e sinistra sono  termini abusati e « inflazionati », buoni per tutto. Se ne  fa spesso uso eccessivo ed improprio, semplicistico e gra-  tuito. D'altra parte, poiché avviene ancora e soprattutto  oggi, non si vede perché non dovesse avvenire allora,  quando anche si parlava, al tempo, di fascismo di « de-  stra » e di fascismo di « sinistra ».   Il « centro », almeno nelle avanguardie, non ha ten-  denze, o ne ha molto pache e solo per qualche momento.  Il « centro» ha poche tensioni, pochi impulsi vitali, di  rinnovamento. Il « centro », quindi, risulterebbe amorfo,  inutile, privo di idee 0 spirito di catatterizzazione. L’avan-  guardia allora sta a « destra » 0 a « sinistra »: non è mai  al « centro », o almeno è difficile che lo sia. Il futurismo  fu forse un’avanguardia di « destra » se intendiamo per  « destra » una certa qual spinta ideale d'impronta bergso-  niana o nietzschiana: poteva però essere anche di « sini-  stra » per le sue istanze sociali. O poteva essere al di  là della « destra » e della «sinistra », per ricalcare una  espressione del pensatore tedesco.   Sta di fatto che il futurismo non fu mai di « centro ».  Ma se si vuole dar credito a quello che comunemente si  intende otmai per « destra », si deve anche accogliere un    52    futurismo di « destra », o rivolto verso « destra »: se  è vero che a «destra » sta la conservazione, lo spirito  borghese, il richiamo all’ordine ecc. ecc. E se è vero per  contro che a « sinistra » sta la spontaneità o lo spontanei-  smo, la sincerità, la schiettezza, l'onestà e quindi anche  la miseria e la « rivoluzione »: ecco, allora, esiste anche  il futurismo di « sinistra ». Com'è possibile?    La polemica, anche se non sembra vero, fu proprio  di quegli anni. Comincia Bruno Corra con un « fondo »  di prima pagina su Futurismo, diretto dal Somenzi, n. 27  del 12 marzo del 1932, anno I e X dell’« Era Fascista ».  Il titolo è già sintomatico: No: futuristi di destra. Anche se  Corra aveva usato il termine « destra » con le attenua-  zioni del caso, affermava che «l'essenza del Futurismo è  e non può non essere rivoluzionaria ». E ancora, a spe-  cificare meglio il concetto: « ... Bisogna dire che nel no-  stro movimento i termini di sinistra e destra non si op-  pongono, perdono cioè il loto significato convenzionale.  La mentalità futurista supera il contrasto fra il sovvetti-  mento e la conservazione, in quanto si libera di continuo  in uno slancio creativo », tanto per la precisione dei ter-  mini e la puntualizzazione del linguaggio. E siccome il  linguaggio ci investe di una « sua » moralità, ecco che è  bene tenerne conto quando ancora il Corra così sottoli  nea: « Mi pare che qui si tratti, prima di tutto, di una  questione di moralità. Dare al Fututismo quel che al Fu-  tutismo appartiene: e non truccare il proprio ingegno con  un'etichetta di convenienza. Chi si dichiara avanguardi-  sta ma non futurista, sputa nel piatto dove ha man-  giato ». E fin qui è tutto chiaro e conseguenziale. Ma ve-  diamo come ancora il Corra continua: « Poi, lo stabilirci  questo principio; che il privilegio di poter restare nella  sfera magnetica del Futurismo pure affermando, nella pro-  pria opera un temperamento realizzatore di destra, debba  accordarsi soltanto a coloro che han dimostrato di sapere  essere — integralmente — futuristi. E reclamerei il diritto  di sedermi a destra, per mio conto, in nome della mia  effettiva collaborazione al Futurismo più rivoluzionario... ».  Insomma, essere stati di « sinistra » per poter essere poi di « destra », o aver fatto i rivoluzionari in gioventù,  per poter pai sedere tranquillamente sugli « scanni » del  concreto o nella comodità del reale (di quando, cioè,    x    si è « arrivati »).    Può darsi sia vero, pur se non proprio giusto 0 cor-  retto il ragionamento, ma concreto sì ed anche, che ci  piaccia o meno, realistico. La polemica inizia ed. è un  susseguirsi di botte e risposte. Fra tutte vediamo come  « replica » Paolo Buzzi su un altro «fondo» di prima  pagina dello stesso Futuriswo n. 30, anno II, del 2 aprile  1933. Il titolo è anche questa volta emblematico,  Estrema sinistra, puntualizzato poi meglio nell’« occhiello »:  Non c'è che un futurismo: quello di estrema sinistra. Dove  si sancisce la necessità dell'avanguardia a « sinistra », e  la «sinistra » del futurismo, l’unica possibile. « Questo,  e non altro, è il vero futurismo. Perché dovrei sedermi a  destra, proprio io? Mi sembrerebbe di tradire la causa di  Aeroplani, di Ellisse e la Spirale, di Cavalcata delle verti.  gini... ». E ancora: « Questo è futurismo: e di ultra estre-  ma sinistra. Le mie autonomie sintetiche di anime e di  sensi, le mie aeropitture di tipi e di paesaggi, i miei co-  smopolitismi spaziali e i miei intimismi votticosi, stanno  per una intransigenza etico-estetica che costituisce, or-  mai, la gioia (ed, un pochino, anche la gloria) della mia  lunga carriera di vomo che ha sempre fatto dell'Arte come  il sacerdote celebra messa. Aviatore sempre, adunque: fan-  te o stradino, non mai ». E conclude poi, con patole un  po’ altisonanti e troppo, forse, di effetto: «I giovani,  quelli veramente degni di questo nome primaverile, sanno  che al di fuori e al di sopra d'ogni inevitabile chiasso  letterario, la parola “futurismo” risponde alla sola unica  vera “idea forza” che oggi esista nella sfera ideale del  mondo: e che è in grazia di essa, unicamente di essa, se  oggi la Poesia della miracolosa Italia fascista vive e vi-  vrà ». Dove si dimostta ancota una volta, come se non ba-  stasse, il collegamento tra futurismo e fascismo, almeno  nella loro spinta « spontaneistica » e rivoluzionaria.    Dobbiamo comunque tenere conto del tempo della  pubblicazione di questi articoli, nel °32 e '33, in pieno ed affermato regime. Ecco, quindi, anche, il senso di una  « destra » e di una «sinistra », di un futurismo ancora  giovane ed esuberante, e di un altro futurismo per contro  già assiso sugli allori della gloria o sul comodo giaciglio  della meta raggiunta e della calma del riposo. Quando  cioè il fascismo, movimento politico rivoluzionario, eta di-  ventato « regime », ed aveva, per così dire, assunto le sue  caratteristiche sembianze (almeno fino a un certo punto).  Perché il futurismo, così come era sotto, in fondo si era  voluto mantenere. AI di là dei tentativi di conglobamento  o di «cattura » della sua entità esercitati dal regime o  da singole personalità fasciste, alcune delle quali, magari,  erano state futuriste o vicine al futurismo. Tuttavia era  e restava, il futurismo, in fondo, quello di sempre: solo  ed esclusivamente un movimento d'avanguardia.    15. Futurismo ed ebraismo    « Innumerevoli differenze separano il popolo russo dal  popolo italiano, oltre a quella tipica che distingue un po-  polo vinto e un popolo vincitore. I loro bisogni sono di-  vetsi e opposti. Un popolo vinto sente morire in sé il  suo patriottismo, si rovescia rivoluzionariamente e plagia  la rivoluzione del popolo vicino. Un popolo vincitore co-  me il nostro vuol fare la sua rivoluzione, come un aera-  nauta getta la zavorra per salire più in alto... Non esiste  in Italia antisemitismo. Non abbiamo dunque ebrei da re-  dimere, valutare o seguire », sosteneva Marinetti nel 1920:  e lo diceva nella sua opera già esaminata A! di là del Co-  munismo. Lo riportiamo non tanto per rilevare le diffe  renze fra rivoluzione futurista e rivoluzione bolscevica 0  spirito comunista, quanto per far rilevare quale era la  posizione di Marinetti nei confronti degli ebrei già nel  1920. Gli ebrei da « redimere, valutare o seguire » sono  evidenti: Marx ed Engels. Il problema invece si affaccia,  come tutti sappiamo, sul volgere del '38 e all'alba del  °39. Il Manifesto del Razzismo italiano, quello degli scien-  ziati del 14 luglio ’38, e la Carta della Razza del 6-7 ottabre dello stesso anno, cui fanno seguito le leggi razziali  del novembre sulla falsariga dell’antisemitismo tedesco,  danno buon gioco alla cultura dell’« ordine », quella più  direttamente sostenitrice o affiancatrice del regime.    Secondo Crispolti «il tentativo della cultura legata  alla destra reazionaria fascista di profittare della campa-  gna antisemita per promuovere un'edizione italiana della  operazione nazista dell’“arte degenerata” è un aspetto no-  tevole dell’azione pubblicistica che precedette e accompa-  gnò quei provvedimenti » ®. L'azione pubblicistica era con-  dotta da Telesio Interlandi in prima persona, che attacca-  va spesso e volentieri Marinetti, il futurismo e le avan-  guardie attraverso il suo periodico: dal Quadrivio, setti  manale romano ad impronta razzista, al quotidiano roma-  no Il Tevere, a La difesa della razza. Oltre a Interlandi  si distinguevano Giovanni Preziosi con il mensile La wite  italiana, e Roberto Farinacci con Il regimze fascista, quoti-  diano di Cremona.    « L'arte moderna è un tumore che deve essere tagliato  non che si debba esibire come una gloria nazionale sol  perché piace a Marinetti », aveva affermato I/ Tevere  del 24-25 novembre 1938, pubblicando un’antologia di  esempi d’« arte degenerata » italiana. Quadrivio aveva a  sua volta proposto un referendum contro l'arte moderna  considerata in blocco « bolscevizzante e giudaica », ma  senza alcun successo.    Marinetti rispondeva con una manifestazione indetta  il 3 dicembre 1938 da lui e Somenzi al Teatro delle Atti  di Roma. E Somenzi stesso lo accompagnava con un « fon-  do » polemico su Arfecrazia, n. 117 del 3 dicembre, dal  titolo Razzismo. Ad esso facevano seguito sul n. 118 del-  l'11 gennaio 1939 due articoli (Arte e... razzia, e Italianità  dell’arte moderna), ancora in posizione di attacco, aspro  e violento. Quest'ultimo, firmato « Artecrazia »  pottò a  determinare la chiusura stessa del giornale. Non è escluso       * Enrico Crispolti, Appunti riguardanti 1 rapporti fra futurismo  e fascismo, cit., pag. 58.    56    che lo avesse scritto proprio lo stesso Marinetti (con Somen-  zi). Il pretesto di voler colpire con l’antigiudaismo l’arte  moderna era messo all'indice dell'accusa. Si dimostra così  ancora una volta lo spirito d'avanguardia con cui il futu-  rismo e i futuristi operavano, sia pur sotto le bandiere del  regime, ma in fondo in opposizione a una cultura d’or-  dine e di conservazione, priva di spunti nuovi e originali,  o addirittura chiusa ai contatti e alle avanguardie europei  sotto il pretesto dell'antigiudaismo, che non poteva certo  essere aperto a nuove esperienze.   Nel 1940 entta in guerra l’Italia. Marinetti parla « Per  l’italianità dell’arte » e tiene un discorso al Teatro delle  Arti a Roma sulla « bellezza aeropoetica della guerra mec-  canizzata ». Intervengono Radice e Terragni a difendere  l’arte moderna. Declatmano Marinetti, Farfa, Scrivo, Mo-  nachesi e Berardi. La rivista Autori e Scrittori pubblica  il manifesto Nuova estetica della guerra. A Genova Mari.  netti parla su «La poesia e la guerra » nel Salone dei  Professionisti e degli Artisti, dove si declamano poesie  di Mazzotti e Balestreri.   Nel 1941 Renato Di Bosso lancia il nuovo Manifesto  dell’Aerosilografia. Nel 1942 Marinetti pubblica  Carto  eroi e macchine della guerra mussoliniana. Poi parte vo-  lontario a raggiungere le truppe italiane in Russia. Rien-  trerà nel ’43 malato, e già intaccato nella salute. Mussolini  cade il 25 luglio e Marinetti si trasferisce a Venezia, dopo  l'8 settembre. Il fascismo è finito, ma il futurismo an-  cora continua.    16. Il futurismo tra ieri e oggi    Dopo la morte di Terragni a Como (1943) per ma-  lattia contratta sul fronte russo, Marinetti aderisce nel  44 alla neo-costituita Repubblica Sociale Italiana. A_Ve-  nezia riceverà gli ultimi futuristi, rimastigli fedeli nono-  stante il « declino »: Crali (ancora vivente) e Andreoni  (recentemente scomparso). A loro vorrà consegnare il fu-  turismo perché non muoia con lui. Si trasferisce poi a  Cadenabbia sul lago di Como e muore a Bellagio nella  notte fra il 2 e il 3 di dicembre, per crisi cardiaca (i fu-  nerali di Stato porteranno le spoglie a Milano, al Cimitero  Monumentale). Postuma a lui e alla fine del fascismo  (repubblicano) si pubblicherà la sua ultima opera, che  così inizia: « Salite in autocarro aeropoeti... » Si tratta  del Quarto d'ora di poesia della X Mas, in cui l’invoca-  zione all'avanguardia alita uno strano ed inevitabile sen-  so di morte, violento ed inesorabile.   Ma l'avanguardia è, pare, ineliminabile, tant'è che il  futurismo continua come espressione artistica almeno, an-  che se ormai non più politica. I suoi epigoni lo sosten-  gono ancora, «con le parole e con le opere». Crali  Primo Conti a Milano e a Firenze, Sartoris a Losanna, Di  Bosso ed Anselmi a Verona, Enzo Benedetto a Roma  portano ancora avanti il suo programma d'avanguardia. Con  parole e con scritti, con opere e con progetti, col messag-  gio dell’arte sempre e comunque. I seguaci di Marinetti  si rifanno a lui e sostengono con vivacità e con brio la  vitalità di una prospettiva che si vuole sempre rinnovare.    Questo è ancora, malgrado tutto, il valore attuale del  futurismo. Quello di un'avanguardia italiana aperta alle  avanguardie europee, ma avanguardia comunque e  valo-  rizzatrice in ogni caso dell'arte. Che dev'essere libera e  moderna, nuova ed attuale, viva e presente ai suoi tempi.  Per questo deve ancora schiacciare le pastoie dei vecchiu-  mi « passatisti », deve smuovere il conservativo e assa-  lire i fantasmi di prolungamento di polverosi e sclerotici  retaggi. Deve insomma comunque essere avanguardia. Il  messaggio futurista, in questo senso, è ancora attuale. Ce  lo dicono Crali e Benedetto, fra gli altri, con le loto  testimonianze. Che ci aiutano a tivedere la « dimensio-  ne » del futurismo: una dimensione « presente » in tanta  odierna penuria di originalità nel moderno, presente al-  meno come forza dinamica nella prospettiva di migliori,  più aperti, e più geniali futuri.   ALBERTO SCHIAVO    58    SOFFICI, MARINETTI, BOCCIONI, RUSSOLO  SANT'ELIA, SIRONI, PIATTI    FUTURISMO E  « GUERRA SOLA IGIENE DEL MONDO. Ben presto si manifesta l'interesse dei futuristi per  la politica. Nel 1911 Marinetti pubblica giò un mani  festo « politica », che sarà la sua prima espressione di  intervento nelle cose pubbliche. «Tyripoli Italiana »  vuol dire presenza dell’Italia e primato dell’Italia;  vuol dire guerra ed espansione, allargamento del vita-  lismo italiano, e vittoria. Il « panitalianismo » si espri-  me e si dichiara apertamente, per la prima volta.  L'avanguardia politica deve accompagnare  l'avanguar-  dia artistica. E il primato italiano in arte st deve ma-  nifestare anche in politica, nella forza dell'espansione  del genio (al tempo, di arbizione coloniale).   Poco dopo la Libia, è la volta dell'Austria. L’amo-  re della guerra non può che portare a voler V'inter-  vento. Ci sembra significativa la penna di Soffici su  Lacerba del ‘14, dove si osa dire la verità e mettere  in luce la finzione del moderatismo neutralista (cat-  tolico o socialista che sia).    Il manifesto della fine del 1915, dedicato all'« or-  goglio italiano », è già un manifesto di guerra. Per  questo lo riportiamo interamente, a dimostrazione del-  la fiducia e dell’ottimismo degli artisti combattenti,  la loro convinzione della forza attiva e dello funzione  battagliera dell’arte    PER LA GUERRA    Valvola    Essere italiano (mi piace ripeter qui che adoro il  popolo italiano) non è in generale gran fatto entusia-  smante, in questa nostra epoca. Ìn questi ultimissimi tem-  pi, confesserò che per conto mio mi vergogno un poco  di portar questo nome. E’ un sentimento che si è andato  sviluppando leggendo i giornali, e posso anche ammettere  che una tale causa non meriterebbe di produrre un tale ef-  fetto; ma i giornali son tutta la nostra vita ormai e pur-  troppo. E. dai giornali italiani si alza e si propaga un tal  lezzo d'abbiezione e d’imbecillità che chi ha un po' di  cuore e di spirito non può fare a meno di sentirsene sof.  focato. E' una gara in cui corrispondenti, redattori ordina-  nati e straordinari, politicanti e governo fanno del loro  meglio per sorpassarsi a vicenda. Non che siano espliciti  nei loro articoli e nei loro comunicati, ma la bassezza tra  spare e offende. Sono reticenze abbiette, raccomandazioni  infami, voltafaccia vergognosi, silenzi più vergognosi anco:  ra. Si sente che il calcolo idiota comanda e regola tutti  questi spiriti subalterni. La guerra? Le mani in mano?  Questo enimma terribile non è affrontato a viso aperto,  ma una battaglia vinta o persa lontano detta il tono ed il  catattere (anche tipografico) della notizia, del commento  o della nota ufficiosa. Dà il là all’elucubrazione insulsa del  machiavello rimbastardito. La stampa italiana è opgi come  oggi l’indizio della più ripugnante psicologia e mentalità  che possa avere una nazione. Davanti al mondo che com-    Tralasciamo i paragrafi: Toccami il naso, Grandezzate, e Subli-  mità, che ci sembrano poco significativi dal punto di vista politico,  per riprendere con Socialismo, molta più denso e pregnante.    61    batte e soffre, accanto a una civiltà che difende le sue  — le nostre — ricchezze dal sacrilegio di un'orda senza  stotia, noi siamo il leguleio diseredato di viscere, solle-  cito della sua trippa mediocre che occhieggia le fortune  dei popoli, e risponde di sbieco o tace aspettando dietro  lo schermo della sua neutralità. Non hanno il coraggio  questi figuri di dirla una buona volta ta verità. Ditelo che  siete i più ignobili rappresentanti di un paese che è mise-  rabile perché non vi calpesta come cimici. Ditelo che vi  mancano il cuore e i testicoli. Ditelo che avete paura. O  confessate almeno che dietro la vostta prudenza c'è la  vostra impotenza, la verità che ci buttano in faccia i nostri  alleati quando fra una batosta e l'altra voglion levarsi il  gusto di pigliarci per il bavero. Che cioè l’Italia non ha  quattrini, non ha armi, non ha munizioni e che i suci  magazzini son vuoti come la badia di Spazzavento. E ci sono infine i socialisti. Io non ho un'esagerata  antipatia pet i socialisti. Trovo che la loro cravatta rossa,  il loro sol dell’avvenir, i loro discorsi in piazza, e gene-  ralmente tutto ciò che li caratterizza, così a occhio e  croce, sono un tantino ridicoli; ma le case popolari, l'au-  mento delle mercedi operaie e tutto ciò che il proleta-  riato deve loro di miglioramenti per la vita di tutti i  giorni sono cose ottime e sante. Ciò non toglie che una  cosa mi stupisce straordinariamente ogni volta l'intravedo  e mi stupirà in eterno: la loro mentalità. Si rivela spes-  sissimo in questi giorni, e sempre a proposito della neutra-  lità italiana. I socialisti l'’ammettono, non solo, ma la vo-  gliono perpetua. « Io sono e resto un fautore ogni giorno  più convinto della neutralità per la pace » ha dichiarato  in un referendum uno di loro. E voleva forse dire (giac-  ché è difficile immaginare una neutralità per la guerra)  che lui e il suo partito sono per la pace a ogni costo.  Giacché, ed eccoci alla mentalità di codesto partito, ogni  buon socialista non vede nella guerra, qualunque essa sia,    62    se non una lotta di capitalisti e banchieri contro capita-  listi e banchieri i quali si servono del proletariato per li-  quidare le loro partite. Ammettiamo che in ogni guerra ci  sia un sostrato d'interessi; ma non c'è altro? Per i so-  cialisti non c'è altro. L'idea che i socialisti si fanno del  mondo è questa: un capitalista borghese e sfruttatore alle  prese con un magro popolano sfruttato. La cultura, le  scienze, le arti, le delicatezze, l’eleganze, i raffinamenti,  le filosofie, la bellezza, i sentimenti, gli amori, le passioni  -— tutto ciò insomma che fa la vita così terribilmente com-  plessa, così colorita, così varia, multiforme, incoercibile non  è nulla per loro. Tutto è grigio, e l’universo intero una  specie di ragnatela squallida senza confini né orizzonti,  eterna, in mezzo alla quale un ragno cerca di succhiare  una mosca alla quale Karl Marx ha insegnato che non  deve lasciarsi succhiare.   Così, nella guerra presente, che cosa importa se intere  nazioni difendono una civiltà che è la nostra, le libertà  conquistate — le idee stesse dei socialisti — contro i nemici  che sono gli stessi nemici dei socialisti? Per i compagni  di Filippo Turati non si tratta che della solita altalena dei  capitali sulle povere spalle del popolano e bisogna aste-  nersi. E parlo espressamente degli « ufficiali » ex cattedra,  giacché agli altri, a quelli del colloquio coll’emissario tede-  sco, dobbiamo l’atto forse più nobile e generoso che si sia  compiuto in Italia in quest'ora di straordinaria bassezza.    Il trionfo della merda    La cieca incoscienza dei socialisti ufficiali e l’untuosa  malafede dei cattolici alla Meda (ecco un uomo cui manca  indicibilmente l’erre!) si possono anche capire in un mo-  mento come questo, chi consideri la speciale mentalità  di codesti gruppi e la messa in giuoco violenta dei prin-  cipî e degli interessi di tutti.   I primi, i socialisti, non d'altro solleciti che di vuote  teoriche malamente idealistiche, non possono vedere nella  guerra se non un fatto inquietante, uno di quei fatti che afferrando tutto l’uomo ne mettono in mato ogni energia  vitale il che è sempre a scapito certo delle ideologie uni-  laterali, e credono l’'opporvisi con tutte le loro energie  una coerente difesa dell’« idea » mentre non si tratta in  fondo che di un semplice istinto di conservazione. I se-  condi, i cattolici, sanno benissimo che un nostro interven-  to nel conflitto attuale favorendo il trionfo di popoli tut-  t'altro che asserviti alla secolare imbecillaggine papale, si-  gnificherebbe un indebolimento considerevole della loro  compagine, e maschetano di prudenza pattiottica il loro  desiderio di vedere ancora l’Italia ribadir con la sua neu-  tralità incondizionata i vincoli che la fanno setva e com-  plice del bigottismo e dell’inciviltà eutopea.    Contro gli uni e gli altri, se si può usar del disprezzo,  non sarebbe dunque logico indignarsi. Ma c’è una massa  dei nostri connazionali che nessuna collera, nessuna abo-  minazione potrà mai bollate con l’infamia che merita la  sua straordinaria abbiezione. E' Ja massa oscura, anemica  informe degli irresponsabili, dei disamorati, degli abulici:  dei parassiti della società e della vita. Non vedendo nulla  più di là della lora piccola tranquillità presente, del loro  affare meschino, del loro affetto senza energia; rincantuc-  ciati nel loro buco momentaneo al sicuro dalla burrasca  che gli sgomenta soltanto a intravederla nelle corrispon-  denze del loro mediocre giornale, essi credono che nulla  possa essere più profittevole del prolungare, sia pure a co-  sto di ogni mortificazione, questo stato d’incolumità rumi-  nativa nell'ombra e in margine alla storia. Chè se domani  la preponderanza in Europa di una razza di pachidermi  violenti, chiusi a ogni luce di vera intelligenza, conculcherà  ogni espressione geniale di vita; se i popoli cui si lega una  comunanza di cultura, di ricordi e di tradizioni, saranno  mortificati e asserviti a un’etica da ingegnere belligero e  spia; se le nostre stesse fortune intellettuali, morali e ma-  teriali saranno manomesse e asservite, che cosa importa  a questi miopi sdraiati nella loro flaccidezza quietoviven-  te? A costoro importa che l’oggi sia senza strepiti e senza  pericoli, che il tran tran dell’esistenza seguiti: felici se l'Ita-  lia potrà uscire dal rotto della cuffia — e sia magari verso    64    l'abisso. Così nessuno si affida con più sicurezza di loro  alle decisioni del nostro governo. Il govetno italiano che  fino ad oggi s'è dimostrato come la quintessenza di questa  materia fiscale, perché non d -*ebbe divenirne anche la  stella fatale? L’ospizio degl lidi della Consulta è il  faro naturale di questa marea ».ercoraria che monta. Poi  ché essa monta, trionfando. Ogni giorno che passa nella  passività, ogni occasione perduta, ogni ambizione abdi-  cata, ogni nuova difficoltà creata servono ottimamente al  suo incremento e alla sua propagazione. Siamo già a  buon punto. Dopo aver impedito con tutto il suo peso ri-  pugnante ogni movimento, questa massa pestifera ha già  una voce per dire che muoversi ora è troppo tardi. An-  cora poche settimane e sarà forse vero, e tutti saremo  sommersi per sempre.   Amici! Noi abbiamo parlato e scritto: abbiamo propu-  gnato tutto il calore delle nostre anime per oppotci alla  vigliaccheria inaudita di una bella parte dei nostri con-  cittadini. Credo che il momento di una lotta più diretta e  dura stia per giungere. Le armi della mente e del cuore  stanno per esaurirsi. Bisognerà ricorrere alle altre, se non  vogliamo che l’Italia piombi al livello della più vergognosa  fra le nazioni. Un paese che abbia per scrittori dei Pao-  lieri e la Nazione come giornale ufficiale.    Arvenco SOFFICI  [da: Lacerba, n. 18, 15, settembre 1914; e n. 19, 1° ottobre 1914]    L'ORGOGLIO ITALIANO    Il 13 Ottobre, nella prima perlustrazione fatta da me  agli ordini del capitano Monticelli e del sergente Visconti  in terreno nemico, a 6 Km. dalle nostre trincee, fra le  alte roccie a picco, nelle boscaglie e nelle pietraie dell'A]  tissimo, dopo esserci incontrati con una pattuglia austria    65    ca che ci voltò le spalle e fuggì, constatammo con gioia  la superiorità enorme della nostra artiglieria, i cui tiri  meravigliosi, passando su di noi e sul lago, sostenevano la  nostra avanzata in Val di Ledro. Nella seconda perlustrazione fatta da  me, dai miei amici futuristi Boccioni e Sant'Elia e dal  pittot  Recci, esplorando e occupando la trincea delle Tre  Piante, constatammo con quale gioconda disinvoltura dei  giovani pittori e poeti italiani possano trasformarsi in  audaci, rudi, instacabili alpini.   Durante l'avanzata, l'assalto e la presa di Dosso Ca-  sina, compiuta dai Volontari ciclisti lombardi e da un  battaglione di alpini, vedemmo le truppe austriache sgo-  minate dalla baldanza di pochi italiani diciassettenni e  cinquantenni, non allenati alla guerra in montagna. Dopo  aver matciato per 7 giorni in un foltissimo nebbione, con  vestiti quasi estivi malgrado la temperatura di 15 gradi  sotto zero, i Volontari ciclisti pernacchiavano allegramen-  te alle migliaia di sbrapne!s prodigati loro da 5 forti austria-  ci. I nuovi raccoglitori di bossoli e di schegge micidiali  facevano finalmente dimenticare gli stupidissimi e senti-  mentali raccoglitori di edelweiss.   Constatammo che degl'italiani, già operai, impiegati o  borghesi sedentarii, sapevano vincere in astuzia qualsiasi  pattuglia di Kazserjigers. Constatammo che un corpo di  300 valontati ciclisti improvvisati alpini sapeva strategi-  camente manovrare su per montagne ignote, con tale abi  lità che il nemico si credette accerchiato da migliaia d’uo-  mini. Constatammo che uno studente italiano, trasforma-  to in ufficiale, può comandare tutta l'artiglieria d'una zona  e sfondare coi suoi tiri 6 o 7 forti austriaci, scientificamen-  te preparati alla difesa in 20 o 30 anni. Constatammo  come il popolo italiano, sotto la direzione geniale di Ca-  dorna, abbia saputo improvvisare in pochi mesi la prima  artiglieria dei mondo e vincere di continuo nella più spa-  ventosa e difficile guerra che sia mai stata combattuta.  Singhiozzammo di gioia all’udire dalla viva voce di 20 o 30  giornalisti esteri, quali Jean Carrère e Serge Basset, che l'esercito capace di vincere e di avanzare sul Carso è si-  curamente il primo esercito del mondo.   Dopo aver visto il popolo italiano, « il più mobile di  tutti i popoli », liberarsi futuristicamente, con una scrol-  lata di spalle, dalla lurida vecchia camicia di forza giolit-  tiana, vediamo ora nelle vie milanesi fervide di lavoro,  come il popolo italiano, che sembrava avvelenato di paci-  fismo, sa guardare con fierezza questa nobile, utile e igie-  nica profusione di sangue italiano.   Tutto questo ci conferma una volta di più che nessun  popolo può uguagliare:   1. - il genio creatore del popolo italiano;   2. - l'elasticità improvvisatrice di cui sempre danno  prova gl’italiani;   3. - la forza, l’agilità e la resistenza fisica degl'’italiani;   4. - l'impeto, la violenza e l’accanimento con cui gli  italiani sanno combattere:   la pazienza, il metodo e il calcolo degl'italiani nel  fare una guetra;    6. - il firismo e la nobiltà morale della nazione italiana  nel nutrirla di sangue o denaro. ITALIANI! Voi dovete costruire l'Orgoglio italiano  sulla indiscutibile superiorità del popolo italiano în tutto.  Questo orgoglio fu uno dei principii essenziali dei nostri  manifesti futuristi dall’origine del nostto Movimento, cioè  da 6 anni fa, quando primi e soli (mentre l’irredentismo  agonizzava e il partito Nazionalista non era ancora nato)  invocammo violentemente, nei teatri e sulle piazze, la guer-  ra come unica igiene, unica morale educatrice, unico velo-  ce motore di progresso.   Eravamo allora sicuri di vincere l’Austria e di centu-  plicare il nostro valote e il nostro prestigio vincendola.  Eravamo soli convinti della prossima conflagrazione gene-  rale, che tutti giudicavano impossibile in nome di due  pseudo-fatalità: lo sciopero delle Banche e lo sciopero dei  proletariati. Eravamo convinti che coll’Inghilterra, la Fran-  cia, la Russia, noi dovevamo utilizzare le nostre inesauribili  forze di razza e il nostro genio improvvisatare, collabo-    67    rando allo strangolamento del teutonismo, fatto di balor-  daggine medioevale, di preparazione meticolosa e d’ogni  pedanteria professorale.   Apparve allora il mio Monoplan du Pape, visione pro-  fetica della nostra vittoriosa guerra contro l’Austria. Infat-  ti noi soli fummo profetici ed ispirati, perché, più giovani  di tutti, più poeti, più imprudenti, più lontani dalla poli-  tica opporttunistica e quietista, traemmo la visione del fu-  turo dal nostro temperamento formidabile, e pur consta-  tando intorno a noi la vecchia mediocrità italiana, credem-  mo fermamente nell’avvenite grande dell’Italia, semplice-  mente perché noi futuristi eravamo Italiani.    ITALIANI! Voi dovete manifestare dovunque questo  orgoglio italiano e imporlo in Italia e all'estero colla pa-  rola e colla violenza, come facemmo noi in Francia, nel  Belgio, in Russia, nelle nostre numerose conferenze bat-  tagliere.   Merita schiaffi, pugni e fucilate nella schiena l'italiano  che non si manifesta spavaldamente orgoglioso d’essere  italiano e convinto che l'Italia è destinata a dominare il  mondo col genio creatore della sua arte e la potenza del  suo esercito impareggiabile.   Merita schiaffi, pugni e fucilate nella schiena l'italiano  che manifesta in sé la più piccola traccia del vecchio pes-  simismo imbecille, denigratore e straccione che bha carat-  terizzata la vecchia Italia ormai sepolta, la vecchia Italia  di mediocristi antimilitari (tipo Giolitti), di professori pa-  cifisti (tipa Benedetto Croce, Claudio Treves, Entico Ferti,  Filippo Turati), di archeologhi, di eruditi, di poeti nostal-  gici, di conservatori di musei, di albergatori, di topi di  biblioteche e di città morte, tutti neutralisti e vigliacchi,  che noi, primi e soli in Italia, abbiamo denunciati, vilipesi  come nemici della patria, e veramente frustati con abbon-  danti e continue doccie di sputi.    Merita schiaffi, calci e fucilate nella schiena l’artista  o il pensatore italiano che si nasconde sotto il suo inge-  gno come fa lo struzzo sotto le sue penne di lusso e non  sa identificare il proprio cotgoglio coll’orgoglio militare  della sua razza. Merita schiaffi, calci e fucilate nella schiena l’artista o il pensatore italiano che vernicia di scuse la  sua viltà, dimenticando che creazione artistica è sinonimo  di eroismo morale e fisico. Merita schiaffi, calci e fucila-  re nella schiena l'artista o il pensatore italiano che, fisica-  mente valido, dimostrando la più assoluta assenza di va-  lore umano, si chiude nell’arte come in un sanatorio o in  un lazzaretto di colerosi e non offre la sua vita per ingi-  gantire l’Orgoglio italiano.   Mentre altri futuristi fanno il loro dovere nell’esercito  regolate, noi futuristi volontari del Battaglione lombardo,  dopo essere stati semplici soldati in 6 mesi di guerra, ed  aver preso cogli alpini la posizione austriaca di Dosso  Casina, aspettiamo ansiosamente il piacere di ritornare al  fuoco in altri corpi, poiché siamo più che mai convinti che  alle brevi parole devono subito seguire i pronti, fulminei  e decisivi fatti. La sensibilità e l'acume politico « d'avanguardia »  dei futuristi non potevano rimanere indifferenti di fron-  te ai loro avversari 0 alla «controparte » dell'avanguar-  dia, quella socialista. La reciprocità dell'opposizione al  potere liberalborghese, a « passatista» per dirla alla  Marinetti, era motivo di accostamento, forse, 0 per lo  meno di attenzione da ambo le parti. E sappiamo dal  De Felice che molti « proletari » o esponenti dei ceti  umili osservavano con attenzione e seguivano il movi  mento di Martinetti con calore di simpatia.    Marîo Carli, fra i più sensibili esponenti certo del  futurismo «d'assalto », si accorge della presenza di ele-  menti comuni nelle avanguardie, e lancia un appello da  Roma futurista # 13 /uglio del ’19 nel tentativo forse  di un avvicinamento. L'avvertimento della necessità di  rovesciare la classe dirigente corrotta e impreparata of-  fre una base comune all'intento di collaborazione per  il sostegno del proletariato, operaio od ex combattente  che sia. La polemica continua sulla stessa testata, nel  numero del 92 novembre dello stesso anno con un arti  colo di Giuseppe Bottai dal titolo Futurismo contro  Socialismo. L'immpossibilità di collaborazione è già vista  dal Bottai con tutta la sua evidenza, ed è vista per  ragioni squisitamente ideologiche, rifacentesi gi presup-  posti filosofici del socialismo e del socialismo italiano,  in particolare. Il 14 dicembre ancora del ’19, entra  nella polemica un socialista, certo Moannarese, cui ven-  gono aperte le colonne di Roma futurista @ fargli so-  stenere più o meno la stessa tesi di Bottai, anche se  vista da angolazione marxista, dogmatica e inequivoca  bile. L’impossibilità della collaborazione è data dalla  ostrattezza del futurismo secondo Manmarese, e dal suo  scarso od insufficientemente risaltante contenuto sociale,  che esula dall'unico e imprescindibile metodo possibile:  quello della lotta di classe. L'ultima battuta è ancora  del Bottai ed esce la settimana dopo, sul numero del  21 dicembre ‘19 dello stesso periodico. La puntualizza  zione degli argomenti e la precisazione dei temi e delle  tesi di pensiero son lutte protese a dimostrare lo sin-  cerità filo-popolare del futurismo e la falsità democra-  tica del socialismo per cui è quasi necessario essere  contro il socialismo, ed indispensabile, se si ama il po-  polo italiano, quello dei proletari arditi con cui anche  Bottai aveva combattuto nelle trincee al fronte della  prima guerra. « Noi siamo per l'elevazione del popolo,  e non per l'assolutismo demagogico di esto», sottoli  neava l'autore, concludendo a grandi caratteri « Contro  il socialismo non vuol dire contro il proletariato ». Ho esaminato seriamente l'ipotesi di una collaborazione  fra noi (futuristi, arditi, fascisti, combattenti, ecc.) e i  Partiti cosiddetti d'avanguardia: socialisti ufficiali, rifor-  misti, sindacalisti, repubblicani.   A parte il fatto che, in realtà, essi siano assai meno  precursori ed audaci di quanto a parale vogliano far cre-  dere, io mi sono preoccupato esclusivamente di cercare  il terreno comune nel quale si possa, noi e loro, associa-  re gli sforzi e marciare d'intesa verso lo stesso obiettivo.   Il terreno comune c'è. Ed è quanto di più nobile e  attraente possa offrirsi a degli spiriti sinceramente aman-  ti del progresso e della libertà. E' la lotta contro le at-  tuali classi dirigenti, grette, incapaci e disoneste, si chia-  mino borghesia o plutocrazia o pescecanismo o parlamen-  tarismo. Non è possibile lasciar loro più oltre la potenza  del denaro e il potere governativo e amministrativo; sono  una casta che deve cadere e cadrà. E’ questa caduta che  noi dobbiamo affrettare, con tutti i mezzi e con tutte le  fotze disponibili.   Or ora, l'esperimento del « caro-viveri » in tante città  d’Italia, ci ammonisce che di fronte a problemi gravi e  pressanti, non c’è odio di parte né antipatia sentimentale  che tenga. Noi possiamo ben dare (e l'abbiamo data) una  valida mano ai pussisti per impedire che il popolo sia  affamato. Non pottebbero i socialisti vedere nel nostro  gesto disinteressato e leale una prova della nostra sim-  patia per il popolo, si chiami combattente o si chiami  operaio, e riconoscere che la nostra azione tende, quanto  e più forse della loro, ad equiparare le classi sociali?   Esiste un Marifesto del Partito Futurista, ed un libro  di Marinetti dal titolo « Democrazia futurista », dove è  condensato quanto di più moderno, di più progredito,  di più spregiudicato, di più audace e rivoluzionario si  può oggi pensare nel campo politico. Ma i partiti pseudo-    75    avanguardisti e pseudo-rivoluzionari ostentano di ignora.  re e manifesto e libro, né mai hanno fatto il più timido  gesto di simpatia o d'interesse verso idee o remperamenti  ai quali dovrebbero sentirsi attratti per istinto! Perché?  Eppure noi siamo libertari quanto gli anarchici, demo-  cratici quanto i socialisti, repubblicani quanto i repubbli-  cani più accesi.   Si tratta dunque di mala fede? Pare di sì, perché, se  non fossero in mala fede, costoro dovrebbero inginoc-  chiarsi davanti a noi e chiamarci come loro capi. Se la  loro lotta politica fosse sincera e convinta (parlo special  mente dei pussisti), dovrebbero ammirate senza riserve  il nostro spirito rivoluzionario che, dopo aver schiantato  quella fetida cancrena del passatismo europeo che si chia-  mava Impero d’Asburgo e contribuito a umiliare il tra-  cotante militarismo tedesco, vuole oggi demolire a colpi  di bomba i vecchi sistemi, i regimi decrepiti, i focolai di  putredine che costituiscono la grande cloaca politica ita-  liana.   Se fossero in buona fede, dovrebbero riconoscere che  noi soli, uomini di guerra che non ignoriamo il piombo  e l’acciaio laceratore di carni, sapremo, a tempo debito,  scatenare e condurre una rivoluzione, non già dal Quartier  Generale di una qualsiasi Camera del Lavoro, ma alla  testa delle moltitudini in marcia.   Se fossero in buona fede, sapete che cosa dovrebbero  dire questi organizzatori di masse a scopi elettorali? Ci  direbbero — Venite qua, futuristi, arditi, fascisti, com-  battenti tutti: voi che siete più rivoluzionati di noi, più  audaci di noi, più liberi di noi, voi che amate il popolo  più sinceramente di noi! Venite qua, uomini d'azione e  di comando: a voi il guidare le masse verso la libertà e  la ricchezza! a voi il rovesciare i vecchi sistemi, i vecchi  dogmi e le vecchie tirannidi! noi ci ritiriamo nei ranghi.    Perché non lo fanno?    Perché questi falsi socialisti che scrivono in giornali  luridamente borghesi come Il! Tempo e La Stampa, per  ché pagano bene, si sfiatano a chiamarci reazionari della  borghesia, carabinieri più dei carabinieri, a diffamarci imbecillescamente? Perché hanno respirato di soddisfazione al-  l'avvento del reazionarissimo gabinetto Nitti e complici?   Perché hanno lanciato dalle colonne dell’Avanti pochi  giorni fa, un grido d'amote alla censura che se n’andava,  promettendole di richiamarla con tutti gli onori non ap-  pena il socialismo ufficiale fosse salito al potere?   Perché tentano di far credere ai soldati che gli uf-  ficiali combattenti costituiscono una « casta » borghese,  quando i soldati ricordano ancora il loro tenentino che  in trincea si adagiava nello stessa fango, mangiava nella  stessa gavetta, correva gli stessi rischi, buscava le stesse  ferite, come ciascuno di loto?   Perché non si decidono a riconoscere che la guerra  ha liberato il mondo dall'incubo dell'imperialismo germa-  nico e ha impresso alle conquiste ideali e materiali dei  popoli un ritmo di fantastica velocità, che, senza di essa,  non si sarebbe neppure sognato?   Perché seguitano a confondere guerra rivoluzionaria  con militarismo, socialismo con bolscevismo, popolo con  pagliacci tesserati?   Perché combattono gli Arditi, che pure sono usciti  dal popolo, e del popolo rappresentano la parte più vi-  gorosa e combattiva?   Perché si ostinano a ripetere con tediosa monotonia  che la guerra è stata voluta dalla borghesia, attribuendo  dunque a questa classe un vanto che certo non le spetta?   Ho lanciato l’invito.   Ho mostrato ai nostti avversari il terreno sul quale  potremmo intenderci, e le pregiudiziali antipatiche che  c’'impediscono un avvicinamento.   Sapranno essi spogliarsi di queste pregiudiziali che  sono altrettanti errori gravissimi?   Sapranno a loro volta dirci una patola onesta e schiet-  ta di simpatia disinteressata? Se capiranno che è assurdo  e bestiale continuare una campagna diffamatoria contro  una guerra che si è chiusa vittoriosamente e che, malgrado  tutto, ha giovato enormemente al proletariato, se capi-  ranno che noi pur amando fieramente l'Italia, non abbia-  mo nulla a che fare con i nazionalisti reazionari, codini    Fb)       e clericali, essi ci tenderanno la mano e ci aiuteranno a  spezzare tutte le schiavitù che ancora ci sovrastano.  Dopo, potremo tornare a divorarci, se sarà necessario.    Marro CARLI  {da: Roma futurista, 13 luglio 1919)  Bisogno, ad ogni sosta, di guardare attorno. Vedere  un po' come va la vita, la cui visione precisa, a volte,  si perde nel martellamento sanguigno della lotta. Misu-  rare i compagni e gli avversari. Riprendere le distanze.   Ci teniamo molto, via via che più si ingarbuglia il  fascio di forze e di tendenze del mondo politico italiano,  a rittovare i nostri contorni. Pulirli. Indurirli sì che si  rimbalzi sopra qualunque tentativo di penetrazione im-  pura.   La lotta di partiti, nel suo svolgimento poco netto,  si traduce rispetto a noi futuristi, assertori del predomi.  nio della genialità italiana, in un lavoro di isolamento.  Le scorie cadono. La marcia viene schizzata via dalle  contrazioni atletiche della nostra carne sana.   Solitudine splendida.   Nella costituzione organica dei vari aggregati di parte  noi siamo il cetvello possente che domina, e comanda  alle tre membra funzioni del tutto subordinate. In questa  immagine somatica, il partito socialista ufficiale rappre-  senta, rispetto a noi, l'intestino retto, maceratore e scari-  catore d'ogni feccia.   Un compito troppo importante, come bene ha detto  l’amico Settimelli, per poterlo disprezzare. Ci vuole.   Solamente è bene che non si dimentichi mai la sua  posizione assolutamente accessoria.   La nostra antipatia per il socialismo in genere, pet    76       il socialismo italiano in particolare, ha delle ragioni pro-  fonde balzanti dall'istinto della nostra razza di cui noi  siamo i rappresentanti più interiori, con tutti i suoi di-  fetti se si vuole, ma anche con tutte, t44te, le sue doti  di energia, di intelligenza, di ardimento. E distinguiamo  ciò che sempre si può giustificare nel quadro infinito della  vita, l'idea, da ciò che, appunto perché nella vita, si ha  il dovere di discutere e di espellere, quando ne arresti  il libero svolgimento.   Idee e uomini.   Socialismo e socialisti italiani.   Noi siamo contro il socialismo perché astrazione fi-  losofica senza possibilità di contatti vitali. Simbolo che  si agita nel mondo da secoli, e di cui mai si è trovata,  e mai si troverà la formula di traduzione in positivi svi-  luppi di masse sociali. Meditazioni di uomini respinti  dalla vita calda e vibrante, per un ingranaggio disgraziato  della loro mente incapace di aderire alla bellezza appas  sionante del mondo.   La riforma che l'idee socialiste propugnano, non na-  sce da noi, dalla nostra maniera di essere, dalla nostra  natura di uomini, dal nostro modo di riunirci e dividerci.  Cala dall'alto, da cieli metafisici. Ha l’impotenza caratte-  ristica di tutte le religioni meditate, ragionate, logiche,  e non create dallo slancio lirico di un'anima d'uomo.   Marx ed Engels hanno costituito delle sopra realtà  gigantesche che tutti hanno dichiarato magnifiche, ma  che nessuno ha avuto il coraggio di criticare, appunto  perché la critica umana non si può esercitare su delle con-  cezioni prive di umanità.   Boris d’Ysckull, uno di quei mistici slavi capaci di  bere ogni miscela più insipida, ha confessato di non aver  mai compreso quasi niente di simili esposizioni domma-  tiche, e di essere stato attirato solo per la loro oscurità  affascinante. Chi, italiano, può così rinunziare alla vulca-  nica e solate natura da itrigidirsi in questi mondi sen-  z'aria, non può che trovarsi nell’identica posizione del-  l’illustre imbecille  surricordato. Le prime utopie della  Città, mantenentesi allo studio di immaginose e dilettose    15;       invenzioni nei primitivi — Platone, Tommaso Moro  Campanella — passando a peggior vita nelle scatole cra.  niche dei tedeschi, si sono meccanizzate in modo da di  venire delle cose perfettamente anti-geniali, anti-latine e,  soprattutto anti-italiane.   Noi fututisti, che abbiamo violentato il vuoto e so-  gnante torpore italiano riempiendolo di idealità fatte di  vita, intessute di nervi sensibili, calde di sangue rossis-  simo, vogliamo una penetrazione a fondo nel blocco psi-  cologico della nazione: ivi è la direttiva unica delle tra-  sformazioni che il nostro destino esige.   Noi siamo contro l’idea socialista perché sosteniamo  la necessità della diseduguaglianza. Diseduguaglianza di  valori, che bisogna esaltate, lievitare, mantenere ad ogni  costo. Un piano uguale di esistenza, una distribuzione ar-  monica dei beni, una soppressione assoluta di privilegi  — ma su questo livellamento di condizioni materiali  l’esplicarsi diverso, individualissimo delle singole capacità.   II socialismo, pretendendo distruggere la molteplicità  innata di un popolo non può, in via logica, che discen-  dere dalla nazione alla città alla famiglia, dalla famiglia  all'individuo, e quindi alla creazione di tanti individui  identici, a stampo, senza differenze di tipi. Il comunismo,  ch'è la forma più in voga, non può tradursi, a meno di  negatsi, che in un monismo esasperante, monotono e inerte.   La Russia ce ne dà la prova: la massa oppone al ten-  tativo di numerazione, che offre appena una pallida idea,  per il carattere più pacato e passivo di quel popolo, di  ciò che avverrebbe da noi.   L'Italia è tutta un magnifico inno di incoerenza, dal  l'Alpi alla Sicilia. Follemente varia. Ogni provincia un  mondo. Popolazioni dolci come le sue pianure, laboriose  come i suoi fiumi, divampanti come i suoi vulcani.   Noi non possiamo pensare che tutto ciò si riduca a  un uniforme impasto. Noi futuristi opponiamo la neces-  sità assoluta di un decentramento che mantenga, esalti,  vivifichi fino al culmine ogni caratteristica, ogni genialità,  ogni attitudine delle singole regioni: l’unità italiana sarà  allora una valorizzazione completa di sufta i'Ttalia.    78    Siamo contto il socialismo perché idea generatrice di  vigliaccheria. Della gente che riuscisse davvero ad attuare  la distribuzione economica dello Stato socialista, dovreb-  be basarsi su un concetto di mutualità cooperativistica.   Cooperativa a mutuo soccorso vuol dire la sicurezza  matematica di non rimaner mai al verde quindi abolita  ogni situazione di Jotta, reso campletamente inutile lo  sviluppo e il gusto del rischio. Spatizione di coraggio.   Se ciò è immaginabile su piccola scala, perché gli ef-  fetti malefici sarebbero ridotti così al minimo da essere  cancellati dai vantaggi, non si può pensare cosa sarebbe  mai una nazione sottoposta a tale regime, soppressa ogni  difficoltà di cartiera, butocratizzata Ja conquista della vita,  scomparso ogni pericolo, ogni ansia, ogni tensione.   Non trovando nulla di vario nei suoi sirzili, non tro-  vando nulla di divertente nella sua esistenza logica, a ore,  a mansioni fisse, l'uomo socialista finirebbe col rientrare  in sé stesso. Cercare in sé l'interesse che il mondo non  gli offre. Alla forza di diffusione dei popoli geniali, si  sostituirebbe quella di egoismo egocentrico dei popoli cal  colatori.   Da simili mondi la generosità fugge taccapricciata, non  può distribuire i suoi insegnamenti di grandezza: è come  andare a vendere ombrelli in un paese dove non piove  mai — a che serve esser generosi con della gente che è  tutto misurato, tutto il necessario?...   La morale che tali ambienti possono produtre è ma-  rale di egoismo e di vigliaccheria.   Noi opponiamo la morale della generosità, lucidamen-  te affermata da Balilla Pratella, quotidianamente da noi  vissuta in una dedizione senza calcolo, in una aderenza  spontanea e intellipente alle tramutanti necessità della  Patria.    Queste le tre ragioni fondamentali che ci dividono  dal socialismo — idea —: la astrazione filosofica e inu-  mana della formula, la sua azione di parificazione moni-  stica, la derivazione logica di antigenerosità = vigliac-  cheria, egoismo. Altre ragioni particolari ci sono, che ci porterebbero  ad una disanima troppo lunga — ragioni, del resto, che  non sono specifiche della nostra differenza dal socialismo,  ma che possono essere anche di altri partiti. Esempi:  l'assurdità della soppressione dello Stato come potere cen-  trale, la sciocca concezione di una pace eterna, ecc. ecc.    * o *    I socialisti italiani.   Sono, indubbiamente, dei buoni socialisti perché han-  no già, in pieno regime borghese lo stadio mentale senza  calore e senza colore del socialista di domani. Non sen-  tiamo il bisogno di spenderci molte parole, né di pas-  sarli in rivista uno ad uno.    Dirigenti: dittatura di vomini che hanno la mira pre-  cisa di diventare qualche cosa, un'autorità, una persona  importante. Non c'è tra loro neppure un mistico esaltato  che interessi. Calcolatori. Cinici.    Seguaci: massa la cuì concezione più alta è questa:  bisogna distruggere il caroviveri. Gente che cerca di met-  tersi a posto. Invidia il horghese, quindi ha desiderio di  divenire il borghese.   Le loto qualità principali sono:    inintelligenza: non hanno ancora capito che il sociali  smo è diverso da popolo a popolo: commerciale  nel-  l'America del Nord, conservatore in Inghilterra, filosofico  in Germania, mistico in Russia. Non hanno capito che il  socialismo in Italia può, caso mai, balzare dalle nostre  istituzioni rurali;   inattualità: sano coerenti in una maniera fantastica,  tant'è vero che le idee invecchiano e loto seguitano ad  usarle. Credono d’essere all'avanguardia, e lo sono come  il gambero, il cui traguardo è sempre alle spalle, dietro:   vigliaccheria: oltre la vigliaccheria propria della idea  hanno una viltà tutta propria, personalissima, originale:  inutile parlarne: chi interviene ai comizi elettorali ne sa  qualcosa.    Il futurismo è il mondo più lontano dal socialismo.    80    Il futurismo è veramente il senso di una religione  nuova, che si dirige alle anime, agli spiriti, ai cervelli,  e non si interessa del corpo che per fortificarne i muscoli,  farne strumento di agilità audacissime e di voluttà sane.   Generato dal cervello di un attista ha tutta l'umanità  di una idea italiana, sempre profumata di buona terra fer-  tile anche quando si esalti fino ai più puri orizzonti.   Attività poliedrica, il futurismo è lo sfruttamento com-  pleto di tutte le penialità italiane, manuali e cerebrali.  Ridarà all'Italia i suoi magnifici artieri, maestri d'ogni  sotta di lavoro, come lo à dato e lo darà ai suoi artisti  più grandi. I suoi vomini non hanno deficienza: danno  la loro vita in una proteiforme attività prodigiosa. Poeti  e soldati, sogno e vigilanza, idea e azione.   Non c’è possibilità di contatto tra la nostra morale  e quella socialista, tra i nostri uomini e i loro.   E’ assurdo ogni pensiero di collaborazione.   FUTURISMO CONTRO SOCIALISMO. SEMPRE A  QUALUNQUE COSTO!   GiusePPE BOTTAI  {[da: Roma futurista.Noi e i borghesi    Non una polemica, ma una discussione calma e pa-  cata. Polemica no, per non arrivare fino a quella anima-  zione un po’ acre e impetuosa, che annebbia le idee e  deforma la realtà.   Ci tengo, a questa dichiarazione preliminare, perché  l'amico Mannarese, nel suo lucido articolo, pur mante-  nendosi in una linea di cortese serenità, devia in punta-  tine ironiche, che non èànno ragione di essere, se vera-    81       mente egli ci vuole aiutare, nella demarcazione esatta della  nostra individualità politica.   Trovo ad esempio molto strano, per un futurista, l'os-  servarsi che la mia formula (adopto la parola formula,  per attenermi alla dizione dell'amico, per quanto essa ab-  bia un senso storico, che mi ripugna) abbia potuto rin-  galluzzir di saverchio, con la sua violenza: “futurismo con-  tro sociglismo, sempre, a qualungue costo” qualche buon  borghesetto. Questo non mi preoccupa, e direi, anzi non  ci preoccupa. Noi esprimiamo liberamente le nostre idee,  le gettiamo nel mondo, tta la gente; e i casi sono due,  come sempre: o la gente non le capisce e allora non c’è  nulla da fare: o le capisce, le approva, ci si interessa, c  le apprezza nel giusto valore, e allora poco ci importa  che tale gente sia proletaria o borghese, destra o sinistra,  e, anche, ambidestra.   Noi non sosterremo mai, com'un certo avvocatino di  nostra conoscenza fece in una recente seduta del Fascio  di Combattimento romano, che la guerra ha distrutto agni  distinzione tra destra e sinistra; ma non vogliamo di tali  logiche e necessarie e salutari differenziazioni (?) fare il  nostro spaventacchio. Chè, pet questa via, si giunge alla  grossolana affermazione di Adriano Tilgher (Tempo, 7  dic., pag. 3, Piccoli borghesi al bivio): essere il furore  antisocialista degli atditi originato dall’appartenere costo-  ro, quasi tutti alle classi medie; e pensare che in parec-  chi mesi di convivenza con le fiamme nere mi son trovati  attorno solo contadini, operai, lavoratori-proletari!   Prima caratteristica del futurismo, è questa, libera,  sciolta sfrenata spregiudicatezza: e se il salumaio ci crede  oggi difensori dei suoi salami, delle sue salsicce, poco ma-  le! ciò potrà darci la prova della sua minchioneria, non  già infirmate l’esattezza del grido « futurismo contro so-  cialismo ».    Socialismo non è proletariato    L’amico Mannarese fa un’identificazione  pericolosissi-  ma, e non rispondente alla realtà positiva dei fatti. Egli    82       pone sullo stesso piano socialismo e proletariato, stabili-  sce senz'altro questa identità matematica: socialismo = pro-  letariato.   Ciò spiega perché tanto si accanisca contto la finale  del mio articolo. Alle parole « contro socialismo, sempre  a qualunque costo » è dato il valore di un'affermazione di  questo genere: « contro le aspirazioni del popolo, contro  i diritti dei poveri, ecc., ecc... ».   Orta, mi ribello assolutamente. Non in nome mio sol  tanto, ma di tutti i futnristi, e anche, di tutti i nostri  amici fascisti.   Distinguere bisogna.   Una cosa è quello che l'amico chiama: «/o sforzo vio-  lento, l’oscura irresistibile aspirazione della massa verso  un regime di maggior giustizia economica » e un'altra cosa  è il socialismo. Le aspirazioni proletatie sono fatto imma-  nente, istintivo, fatale, non pensato ma sorto da sé, il so-  cialismo è uno dei tanti sistemi, i quali, da che il mondo  è mondo, si accaniscono sulla disparità di condizioni delle  classi.   Se io mi pongo contro il socialismo o contro i socia-  listi, mi dichiaro contrario ad un sistema filosofico, giu-  ridico, economico, morale ed ai suoi sostenitori (filosofi,  demagoghi e procaccianti che siano), ma non è detto ch’io  voglia attaccare l’oggetto di tale sistema che è il prole-  tariato.   Non debbo, quindi, rettificare in nulla la mia incri-  minata frase, ch'era un grido, un appello conclusivo del  mio articolo, limitatosi ad una valutazione di idee, e non  aveva la pretesa d’essere un caposaldo, un domma, un  punto cardinale, ed altri simili paroloni che noi lasciamo  agli oratori da comizio.   L'affermazione: « Noi non siamo contro il socialismo,  ma contro gli uomini, i metodi e la filosofia socialista »  del Mannarese è un non-senso, perché appunto: socialismo  è flosofia sostenuta da wormini con determinati metodi.   Quella che il Mannarese chiama sostanza (eh! queste  parole che otribili titi giuocavano, a volte) ossia: «la  guerra per l'indipendenza economica dei poveri contro i    R3       ricchi » non è privativa assoluta del socialismo, è solo  l'obiettivo dei suoi studi, dei suoi tentativi, come essa  fu obbietto della favola di Menenio Agrippa, e delle  teorie di Fenelon, e della scuola di Saint Simon, e del  sistema di Grace Baboeuf e Roberto Qwen, e così pure  della filosofia di Marx ed Engels. Anche il nazionalismo,  anche il partito popolare, tutti anno affermazioni solenni:  « qui è l'unico infallibile specifico per il dolore del po-  palo » e io posso essere contro questi modi da cerratani  senza mai essere né contro il popolo né contro le sue  sacre e legittime aspirazioni economiche    I programmi economici    All'amico Mannarese è forse sfuggito nel mio articolo  questo periodo: « Un piano eguale di esistenza, una di-  stribuzione armonica di beni, una soppressione assoluta di  privilegi ma su questo livellamento di condizioni mate-  viali l’esplicarsi diverso, individualissimo delle singole ca-  pacità ».   Qui, evidentemente, si dice:  « noi passiamo essere  d'accordo nelle finalità economiche del socialismo ». Quelle  tre proposizioni del programma politico futurista di Ma-  tinetti, Carli e Sertimelli, che il Mannarese dice troppo  generiche, anno il merito di poter domani assorbire in sé,  senza contrasto, qualunque ardimento consono allo spi-  rito dei tempi.   Hanno un’intenzione pragmatista, che non deve sfug-  gite.   Il programma di riforme economiche, lanciato ai po-  poli come panacèa, è cosa vecchia di tutti i tempi e di  tutte le genti. Ogni scuola politica è per prima cosa inal-  berata questa insegna molto attraente. Tutti i programmi  ben definiti, schematizzati, rigidi, anno sempre atteso,  con grande pazienza, che le cose del mando si incanalas-  sero ne’ fossati, canali e zenelle da loro tracciati, ma le  cose del mondo anno dimostrato, a lume di storia, di  procedere per via di approssimazioni successive, le quali  avvengono non già pet magnetizzazione esetcitata cai suddetti programmi, ma per madificazioni addotte, nel blocco  fisiopsicologico di una collettività, dal sistema di educa-  zione, dalle idee di morale circolanti, dalla rinnovatasi  coscienza giuridico-sociale.   Se oggi, per ragioni ovvie, il problema economico è  venuto in primo piano, non bisogna dimenticare che la  parte veramente essenziale di un sistema politico non è  già il disegno di un futura assestamento economico, ma  è il metodo con cui saprà, attraverso uno studio positivo  dello stato presente e dei caratteri permanenti della so-  cietà in genere (meglio ancora di una data parte di so-  cietà) creare tutt'un’atmosfera spirituale intellettuale psi-  cologica, che renda possibile l’attuazione di quel dato or-  dinamento economico, che nel momento è bene limitarsi  a definire desiderabile.   I socialisti italiani sanno che il popolo italiano non  à neppure iniziata l'evoluzione sociale che permetta l’av-  vento, ad esempio, del comunismo. Ora essi, scavalcando  completamente ogni lavoro di educazione, sventagliano i  loro proclami di rivendicazioni economiche. Il popolo  risponde, è naturale: è Bengodi con i suoi meravigliosi  panorami. Ma ciò non significa aver creata una società  comunista, come non è fare un signore aristocratico d'un  villanzone qualsiasi il riempirgli le tasche di denaro.   Sotto il punto di vista della potenzialità vera di un  partito il valore di tali programmi è nullo. Hanno un  valore pratico di specchietto per gli allocchi, e se l'amico  Mannarese ci avesse detto che, abbondando gli allocchi,  è bene ch’anche noi abbiamo il nostro specchietto, gli  avremmo dato piena ragione.    Il nuovo imperialismo    Non ci deve, quindi, affligere di soverchio, la man-  canza di formulazioni teoriche, di programmi economici.  Noi futuristi non siamo mai stati assenti quando questio-  ni positive siano in tal senso nate. Né il trionfo socialista  deve farci perder la resta così da correr subito ai ripari.  No. La nostra posizione è netta, e possiamo guardarci    85    tranquillamente intorno: il germe della morte del socia-  lismo è appunto localizzato nel suo sistema di rivendica-  zioni economiche, aggravato dal fatto di essete così iso-  lato da ogni altra considerazione d'ordine superiore da  divenire il segno folle di un nuovo imperialismo.    Non è possibile nessun contatto tra due sistemi così  opposti come sono quello socialista e quello futurista.   E’ l’anima differente.   E' il cervello diverso.    Se anche noi potessimo conglobare per intero nel no-  stro ordine di idee ogni aspirazione economica del socia-  lismo, rimarrebbe la differenza profonda, incancellabile di  indole, di origine e di finalità.   Noi siamo per l'elevazione del popolo, e non pet l’as-  solutismo demagogico di essa.    Tirando le somme    E riassumiamo, perché la discussione non rimanga uno  sterile battibecco. L'amico Mannarese m’à offerto il modo  di delineare meglio la nostra situazione innanzi al socia.  lismo:    1) posizione di ostilità per indole spirituale diversa;    2) possibile comunanza di vedute economiche: il che  non implica nessuna fusione;    3) condivisione di alcune idee (come ad esempio il  divorzio ecc. ecc.) che non sono prerogativa socialista, €  che non possono, quindi, render omogenee due sostanze  diverse. CONTRO IL SOCIALISMO NON VUOL DIRE  CONTRO IL PROLETARIATO.   GiusePPE BOTTAI   [da: Roma futurista, 21 dicembre 1919]   La lentezza delle democrazie, le pastoie burocrati  che dei procedimenti parlamentari. il vecchiume paro-  laio dei barbuti senatori non possono essere ben visti  dai futuristi. La velocità, il dinamismo, la lotta, la  competizione, l’azione mal si addicono agli organismi  pingui e sclerotici delle democrazie, quella italiana in  particolare. Già nel 1910 Marinetti lo mette in rilie-  vo ed indica nel suo manifesto «Contro l'amore e 3  parlamentarismo », sintomo ed espressione di questa  sua antipatia e di guesta sua avversione Persino l'amo-  re e le donne in senso romantico sono indici e stru  menti di « rallentamento », e come tali da evitare tran-  ne che per una loro ben precisa ed organica funzione  vitale. Le donne andrebbero invece bene pei parlamen  ti, dove dovrebbero entrare con le loro chiacchiere e  la loro prodigiosa e altisonante facoltà di falsificazione.   Ma non è solo Marinetti a inveire contro il parla  mentarismo: c'è Tavolato che uddirittura « bestemmia  contro la democrazia » in un suo articolo apparso con  questo titolo su Lacerba del 1° febbraio 1914, ricco di  espressione e carico di colore linguistico e letterario.  I 30 dicembre dello stesso anno un altro futurista,  Volt, tuona dalle colonne di Roma fututista: Abolia-  mo il parlamento! In sua sostituzione si propongonna le  rappresentanze dei sindacati per la formazione dello  «Stato tecnico » futurista. E si entra nel merito della  personalità giuridica dei sindacati e della loro forza rap-  presentativa in base all'importanza della loro funzione  economica. Non in base numerica, per cui si rientrereb-  be nella concezione democratico-parlamentare. Non più  onorevoli quindi sulle assise delle due camere, ma la-  voratori. E sono tutti concetti che ritroveremo nella  concezione corporativa fascista e nella suu Carta del  Lavoro   Dopo la guerra Marinetti intervtene su Roma futu-  rista mel maggio del '19 per ribadire la sua.« concezione  futurista della democrazia », come s'intitola il suo scrit-  to, che era già apparso um mese prima, più 0 mena  analogo, su L'Ardito. Vi si sostiene la democrazia tipi  camente italiana dei geni: una sorta di minoranze di  individui superiori alla media, destinati a entrare. in  competizione con le altre, definite democrazie incoscien-  li, come prodotta numerico « d’inetti e di sconclusiona-  ti». La forza della nuova democrazia dovrà essere na-  turdimente violentissima data l'accelerazione e il ren  dimento degli individui geniali. La sua « conclusione »  sarà logica e conseguenziale: « La democrazia futurista  è ormai pronta ad agire, poiché sente vibrare tutte le  sue cellule vive ». L'azione sarà condotta da Mussolini,    ma il presupposto è già comunque e totalmente presente.    BESTEMMIA CONTRO LA DEMOCRAZIA    Tre spanne sotto il cervello io nutto un odio, un  odio contro la presunzione del lavoro, un odio contro il  puzzo cosciente, un odio contro l’imbecillita evoluta. Tre  spanne sotto il cervello si spenge ogni polemica. I de-  mocretini rinunzino alla discussione. I democretini s’ada-  gino sopra i loro luoghi comuni, perché il mio piede pos-  sa calpestarli.   Via, batbe comiziesche che mi nascondete il sole. Via,  mani a ventola e cravatte a bandiera. Fermati, passo de-  mocratico sotto cui trema la terra offesa. Arrestatevi, la-  mentele filamentose, voci incristianare, zuccherose o  pe-  pate. Via, spade di legno, trombe sfiatate, via, inesistenti  barricate. Smontate, uomini di paglia, uomini di stoppa  uomini di cartastraccia. Nascondetevi, ceffi di cera, ma-  scheratevi, faccie rinfisecchite, sparite, ghigne insolenti.  Sgonfiate, protobischeri pastori di popolo. Aria ci vuole,  e luce e calore e solidità, o anima mia. Abbasso la de-  mocrazia! Fumano d'orgoglio, le gran fave. Fumano, questi strac-  cioni e stronzoni, questi mangiasputi e fiutarutti, questi  tinconi, questi turabuchi, questi scotticapidocchi, questi  merdaioli, questi caconi, questi galoppini, questi pagnot-  tisti, questi biasciconi, questi lumaconi, questi minchioni,  questi balordi gonzi e gralli, questi coglioni appuzzoni e  cittulli, questi sussurroni caccoloni, questi satraponi vir-  tuosoni. Già tutto il paese fuma, smerdata com'è da que-  ste pecore matte. Pulizia, pulizia, pulizia! Abbasso la de-  mocrazia!    Bischeri sollevatissimi, bischeri smargiassi, bischeri  ventosi, bischeri girandoloni, bischeri soppiattoni, bische-  ri politicanti, bischeri economicizzanti, bischeri vani, bi-  scheri solenni, bischeri tronfi, bischeri crespi, bischeri cal.  losi, bischeri pensosi, bischeti pacifisti, bischeri leghisti, bischeri classisti, bischeri marxisti, bischeti riformisti, bi-  scheri collettivisti, bischeri revisionisti, bischeti comunisti,  bischeri credenti, bischeri fetenti, bischeri ufficiali, bische-  ri legali, bischeri di cartapecora, bischeri del braccio, bi-  scheri del cervello, bischeri antilibici, bischeri internazio-  nalisti, bischeri democratici — BISCHERI DI TUTTO  IL MONDO UNITEVI! La vostra individualità non ha  importanza. Unitevi! Amalgamatevi! Confondetevi in mel-  ma! Anche la melma dei bischeri, come ogni melma, s'in-  crosterà. E sotto le croste ci sarà il gelo della morte.  Così sia. Abbasso la democrazia!    Accidenti alla democrazia, impero delle bestie da so-  ma, regno degli schiavi, padronanza dei servi, supremazia  degli impiegati! Democrazia, sostegno degli sfiaccolati,  trionfo dei cimiciosi, glotia dei piattolosi, arma dei bro-  dolosi; democrazia, orchestra di miasmi, concerto di sputi,  convegno di sudori, sistema di muffe; democrazia, vitto-  ria dei muscoli e disfatta dei nervi, esautorazione dell’arte  e imposizione del mestiere, vita del debole e agonia del  forte; lurida, sudicia, tetra democrazia, cloaca dove affo-  gano fantasia, ingegno, energia, e tutte le soavità; pro-  terva asineria, fessa stivaletia: abbasso la democrazia!   E rovini Ia mediocrità!   Fuoco al tugurio dei democretini!   I democretini è la lanterne!    La libertà soltanto a chi sa cosa farsene, a chi sa vi-  verla.    Agli altri il giogo, la sferza e la schiavitù.    EVVIVA LA FORCA, o amici, per la libertà vostra  e per la libertà mia!    ABBASSO LA DEMOCRAZIA. TAVOLATO  [da: Lacerba,Firenze]   Aboliamo pure il Parlamento — si domandano mol-  îi — ma cosa metteremo al suo posto?    La risposta è pronta. Soszituiremo til Parlamento con  le rappresentanze dei sindacati agricoli industriali ed ope-    rai. La rappresentanza sindacale sarà la base dello « Stato  tecnico » futurista.    AI « collegio » elettorale, circoscrizione fittizia ed ar-  bitraria, entità che sembra creata apposta per l'esercizio  del broglio, sostituiremo il sindacato, espressione organica  delle forze economiche che danno effettivamente forma  alla società. AI posto dell’« onorevole » deputato, dema-  gogo costretto all’accattonaggio sistematico del voto e feu-  datario di una nuova feudalità peggiore dell'antica, man-  deremo a governare il paese ingegneri, commercianti ed  operai, gente che sa il suo mestiere e conosce i bisogni  reali della propria classe. Invece di un’Assemblea di in-  ttiganti, di chiacchieroni e di incompetenti, avremo un  corpo tecnico adatto allo scopo di dirigere, con conoscen-  za di causa, la grande azienda dello Stato.    In pratica l'idea della rappresentanza sindacale si tro-  va di fronte a difficoltà serie ma non insopportabili.    Vati problemi ci si presentano.    1) A quali sindacati concederà lo Stato la personalità  politica? Si tratterà di determinare le categorie di pto-  duttori che avranno diritto a una rappresentanza nel corpo  legislativo.  L'iscrizione ai sindacati sarà obbligatoria per tutti  i cittadini? A me sembta che sia più logico lasciare che  esercitino i diritti politici coloro che ne hanno la volontà  e coscienza.    Coloro che resteranno volontariamente fuori dei sin.  dacati cortisponderanno in parte alle masse degli astenuti  nelle odierne elezioni a suffragio universale. In base a quale criterio si misurerà il numero di voti da attribuirsi a ciascuna categoria di sindacati? E’ la  questione più scottante. Il criterio più semplice è quello  numerico. Ma così si ricade nell'atomismo individualistico  del suffragio universale.    Io credo che non si debba tener conto del numero  degli iscritti al sindacato, ma della importanza della fun-  zione economica che esso esercita nel Paese. Quindi un  sindacato di industriali metallurgici avrà una rappresen-  tanza eguale a quella di un sindacato di lavoratori del  ferro benché questi ultimi siano molto più numerosi.    E ciò perché l’importanza delle due funzioni si con-  trobilancerà nell'economia nazionale.    L'amico Settimelli dirà che questo è un criterio poco  democratico. Me ne infischio.    4) Quali saranno i limiti posti all'esercizio del potere  dell'assemblea eletta mediante la rappresentanza sindacale?  La competenza dell'assemblea dovrà essere limitata alle  questioni prevalentemente economiche, che sono del resto  le più importanti in politica.   Le questioni di famiglia, di politica estera ecc. dovran-  no esser risolte in parte mediante il « referendum »  popo-  lare diretto ed in parte attribuite alla competenza del po-  rere esecutivo.    Non ho fatro che accennare le principali questioni. In-  vito tutti i giovani futuristi ad inviarmi le loro soluzioni  ai quattro problemi che ho posta, senza avere la pretesa  di risolverli definitivamente. Ma mi sembra che la que-  stione sia matura per lo studio. E poi per noi futuristi  « studio » deve significare già un principio di esecuzione.  E’ l’ora di finirla col Parlamento. Abbiamo fatto la guerra  senza bisogno del Parlamento. Senza il Parlamento sapre-  mo fare la pace. E' ora di sbarazzare l’Italia dalle 508  incompetenze che spadroneggiano a Montecitorio.    VOLT  [da: Roma futurista, DEMOCRAZIA FUTURISTA    L’orgoglio italiano non deve essere, non è imperialismo  che spera imporre industrie, accaparrare commerci, inon-  dare di prodotti agricoli. Nai difettiamo di materie prime,  e siamo una potenza di ricchezza agricola mediocre.   Il nostro orgoglio italiano è basato sulla superiorità  nostta come quantità enorme di individui geniali. Voglia-  mo dunque creare una vera democrazia cosciente e audace  che sia la valutazione e Ja esaltazione del numero poiché  avrà il maggior numero di individui geniali. L’Italia rappresenta nel mondo una specie di minoran-  za genialissima tutta costruita di individui superioti alla  media umana per forza creatrice innovatrice improvvisatri-  ce. Questa democrazia entrerà naturalmente in competizio-  ne con la maggioranza formata dalle altre nazioni, per le  quali il numero significa invece massa più o meno cieca,  cioè democrazia incosciente.   Su 1000 slavi vi sono due o tre individui.    L'ultima fulminea nostra vittoria ha dimostrato che non  vi è gruppo di italiani (20, 30 o 40) che non contenga al-  meno 10 o 15 individui capaci di iniziativa e di direttiva  personale    Abbiamo ancora da sgombrare e da bonificare le zone  morte dell’analfabetismo. Questo compito molto arduo con un nemico minaccio-  so alle porte è oggi compito facile e senza pericoli per la  unità e indipendenza nazionale.    Nazione ricca di individui geniali, democrazia intelli-  gentissima. Quantità di personalità tipiche, massa di tipi  unici, democrazia che non vuole imporsi bancariamente,  industrialmente, colonialmente, ma può e deve dominare  il mondo e dirigerlo con la sua maggiore potenzialità ed  altezza di luce.    Noi crediamo che l'ora è venuta di tentare tutte le ri-  voluzioni per liberare il popolo italiano da tutti i pesi  morti e da tutti i ceppi (matrimonio e famiglia Cattolica soffocatrice, pedantismo professorale, elettoralismo, menta-  lità pessimistica, provinciale mediocrista e quietista).    Liberata dal giogo della vecchia famiglia tradizionale,  dal dogma dell'anzianità, l'Italia manifesterà finalmente la  sua potenza di 40 milioni d’individui italiani tutti intelli-  genti e capaci di autonomia.    Concezione assolutamente apposta alla cretinissima concezione germanofila che voleva svalutare i 40 milioni di  individui italiani per organizzarli meccanicamente.    Su] palcoscenico della razza italiana dobbiamo mette-  re in luce 40 milioni di ruoli diversi perché in questa luce  possa perfettamente svolgersi il valore tipico d'ognuno.(Censura) Noi non abbiamo la nevrastenica pigrizia, la neghittosi-  tà, il misticismo, il boiantismo ideologico, l’ossessione teo-  rificatrice della Russia. Siamo pieni di senso pratico, di  tenacia costruttrice, di ingeniosità inesauribile, di eroismo  bene impiegato. Possiamo dunque dare tutti i diritti di fare  c disfare al numero, alla quantità, alla massa poiché da noi  numero quantità e massa non saranno mai come in Germa-  nia e in Russia numero quantità o massa d’inetti e di sconclu-  sionati,   Arturo Labriola definisce la democrazia « come senti.  mento dei diritti concreti della massa sullo Stato e sulla  Economia ».    Noi futuristi consideriamo la democrazia non in astrat-  to ma bensì la « democrazia italiana ».   Parlare di democrazia in astratto è fare della retorica.  Vi sono numerose democrazie, ogni razza ha la sua de-  mocrazia, come ogni razza ba il suo femminismo.   Noi intendiamo la democrazia italiana come massa di  individui geniali, divenuta perciò facilmente cosciente del  suo diritto e naturalmente plasmatrice del suo divenire  statale.La sua forza è fatta di questo diritto acquisito, molti-  plicata dalla sua quantità valore, meno il peso delle cellule  malate (incoscienti, analfabeti). La democrazia italiana è per noi un corpo umano che  bisognerà liberare, scatenare, alleggerire, per accelerarne  la velocità e centuplicarne il rendimento.    La democrazia italiana si trova oggi nell'ambiente più  favorevole al suo sviluppo. Ambiente di rivoluzione-guerra  nel quale è costretta a risolvere tutti i suoi casi-problemi  insoluti, le cui soluzioni possono esercitare una influenza  sul suo avvenire. Necessità igienica di continua ginnastica  trasformattice, improvvisatrice.    Il governo si allarma oggi nel vedere formarsi innume-  revoli associazioni di combattenti. Se non fosse un governo  di miopi reazionari tremanti di paura accaglierebbe favo.  revolmente questo nuovo ritorno di vitalità italiana.    La guerra ha semplicemente svegliate le coscienze di 4  o 5 milioni di italiani che tornano oggi dalla guerra, atric-  chiti di una personalità politica.   E’ la prima volta nella storia che più di quattro mi.  ltoni di cittadini di una nazione hanno Ja fortuna di subire  in soli 4 anni un'educazione intensiva e completa con le-  zioni di fuoco, di eroismo e di morte.   Spettacolo meraviglioso di tutto un esercito partito per    la guetra quasi incosciente e ritornato politico e degno di  governare.    La democrazia futurista è ormai pronta ad agire, poiché  sente vibrare tutte le sue cellule vive.   Naturalmente ha un bisogno urgente di spalancare le  porte e di uscire all’aperto. I) governo si allarma, reprime  e trema, come la nonna leggendaria teme che il nipotino  pigli un raffreddore.   Fuori l’aria è frizzante e salubre. Il sole, spalancato, be-  ve il mare di liquido quasi solido saporito azzurro, tutto  spumante di raggi, tutto da bere fino all'ultimo sotso.    F.T. MARINETTI  fda: Roma futurista, un    EMILIO SETTIMELLI  F. T. MARINETTI    FUTURISMO E PRIMO FASCISMO    Emilio Settimelli commenta il Congresso di Firenze  su 1 nemici d'Italia (« settimanale antibolscevico diret  to da Armando Mazza ») del 10 ottobre del 1919. I  discorso di Meorinetti al congresso apparirà su L'Ardito  del 26 ottobre dello stesso anno, ma era già apparso  tre giorni prima su I nemici d’Italia (23 ottobre). Del  discorso e della «necessità dello svaticanamento »  ab-  biamo già parlato. Ma si postula anche l'ipotesi di un  eccilatorio di giovanissimi capaci di sostituire il semato  dei vecchi, ormai da abolire. Al suo posto un «consi  glio tecnico » andrebbe sollecitato e stimolato da gio  vani sotto i trent'anni, a moto continuo    Si parla poi di un proletariato dei geniali, quello  degli artisti d’Italia, più o meno a nascosti od esclusi »,  che andrebbero favoriti o promossi da iniziative pub.  bliche atte all'aiuto della loro espressione. L'origine  della proposta da parte di una «mente d'artista » ri.  sulta evidente. Marinetti è definito, al caso, « ardito  della poesia». La definizione è sempre di Settimeth,  che sostiene inoltre Marinetti sia «uscito » dal Con  gresso in «trinonmio» con Mussolini e D'Annunzio.  quello del « dopo Fiume »: un'alleanza politica mei fino  ad allora verificatasi.    Ed è ancora Settimelli, a questo proposito, a inneg-  giare ai due personaggi (Marinetti e Mussolini) in un  suo scritto, già pubblicato su I nemici d'Italia # 4 set  tembre 1919. Lo riportiamo perché ci sembra significa  tivo di un legame e di un rapporto. Non è vero che  l'arte debba essere estranea alla politica, vi si sostiene.  Anzi, è proprio l'artista a darle una sua interpretazione  od un suo connotato, un suo «travestimento », od usa  sua immagine fanto più nuova, quanto più ardimentose  ed « ardita». Mussolini è stato capace di recepirlo, e  il fascismo è un fenomeno nuovo praprin per questo,  e d'avanguardia.    La tesi di Settimelli è tipica del «futurismo delle  origini » o classica di un momento rivoluzionario, 0 di  rinnovamento. Ma anche Armando Mazza pubblica un  «fondo » il 30 Ottobre dello stesso anno sulla mede-  sima testata (I nemici d'Italia). L'articolo non è fir-  mato, ma è inserito sotto il titolo a quattro colonne:  Fascisti, a noi!, con un commento alle prospettive elet-  torali, un trafiletto in commemorazione della vittoria  nella’ ricorrenza annuale, e una colonna intestata: Ciò  che ci divide. Vi si spiegano 1 motivi di disaccordo e  distacco da tutte le altre forze politiche, quelle ew-neu  traliste e quelle del passatisma    MUSSOLINI E IL FASCISMO    Pensare col proprio cervello originale, liberare comple-  tamente il proprio temperamento, essere gli annunciatori  e i fondatori di una nuova mentalità: sofferenza di tutti i  momenti.   Mantenere la provria posizione di avanguardia, è cosa  da giganti.   Parteciparvi per qualche tempo è da tutti.   À un certo momento rimani quasi solo: la gran parte  degli amici si arrende, brutta e spregevole nella sua viltà  mascherata di scetticismo, oppure non crede più, sopraf-  fatta dalla vecchia e comoda mentalità. Disertano, perdono  ogni ritegno, ti attaccano. Si vendicano di averli resi —  sia pure per un anno — intelligenti, credono di poter me-  nomare la saldezza del tuo accizio, ti fanno recedere con i  loro atteggiamenti di commendatoria superiorità: cafoni ad-  domesticati, provinciali inguaribili.   Vivi in un ambiente pericoloso e stancante perché sen-  ti che è creato per l’« altra gente »1 mediocre, podagrosa.   Ti urti della continua ostilità.   Ti trovi dinanzi ad un avversario senza spirito, mono-  tono, insistente.   Un avversario indegno che ha la bruttezza goffa del  rinoceronte e il rompiscatolismo della zanzara.   Hai delle donne. Tentano di tutto per convincerle a  rinsavire e ti denigrano in mille modi cercando di portarle  a qualche mediocre ronzino o a qualche nobilissimo eunuco  lucroso 0 decorativo.   Lavori. Il tuo lavoro ba sempre qualche parte che  esorbita. Mai delle amicizie, ti seguono fino ad nn certo  punto. Non possono capirti a fondo.   Sei fatto per un mondo di eroismo, di forza, di bellez-  za, di temerità. Le tue grandi ali t’impediscono di cammi-  nare come il gabbiano di Baudelaire.    (eTe)    Tutto questo è atroce, ma di colpo una vittoria ti ripaga  di tutto.   Aver avuto ragione, aver visto lontano, aver costruito  un nuovo pezzo della vita, sia pure un piccolo pezzo, avere  anche per un attimo e per un millimetro contribuito allo  allargamento del mondo ti fa vibrare per la gioia dei ver-  tici.    Oggi ho questa gioia e la divido con quei pochi che  da dieci anni lavorano con me alla formazione di un am-  biente intellettuale italiano libero dai professori, dai tradi.  zionali, dai gottosi (non alludo ai seguaci del romanziere  Salvator!).   E Ia nostra gioia diviene frenetica quando constatiamo  che da un'altra parte, dalla politica ci veniva incontro un  uomo formidabile, nuovo come noi, libero come noi. E'  la gioia dei minatori che s'incontrano finalmente dopo aver  forata la montagna. Un «evviva », una manata di terra  sulle facce ebbre, sopra i sudori riganti e una stretia di  mano che è una prova del cuore e dei garretti.   Mentre con Marinetti e con gli altri amici lavoravamo  il campo artistico, dall'altro si muoveva Mussolini lavo-  rando il campo politico. Ci dovevamo incontrare. Un gi-  gante questo magnifico Mussolini! Con la forza ma anche  col peso di un grande ingegno, di un'anima vasta, di un  temperamento spaccafore, figlio di un fabbro ferraio si tira  su a suon di muscoli, di ingegno e di fegato. Supera la  più massacrante battaglia: quella contro la miseria, quella  che non potrà mai esser capita da chi non l’ha provata.  Chi è nato ricco non potrà mai essere completamente den-  tro la realtà e non avrà mai il collaudo delle sue energie.  Domina le folle, organizza, sbaraglia Turati, Treves, Rai-  mondo. Galvanizza il partito socialista. Scoppia la guerra,  capisce che la neutralità sarebbe contro il socialismo € per  il medioevo autocratico. Tenta di persuadere. I mediocri  ne approfittano per liberarsi della sua grandezza. Si forma  la imbecillocrazia dell’Avanzi! Mussolini lascia il partito che  rimane acefalo e si divincola in movimenti balordi e vili.  Intanto i piedi ridono soddisfatti per essersi liberati della    100    testa. Nasce così il Popolo d'Italia. Il primo quotidiano  veramente moderno e veramente italiano. Un ritrovo di  energie vive, spregiudicate, temerarie. Il lievito di questo  buon pane italiano nato dalla guerra. In esso tutti i vivi  si incontrano: Futurismo, Arditismo, D'Annunzio. E' una  punta sensibile e perforante, è l'effervescenza della grande  coppia italica, è il primo nucleo per una Italia nuova.   Ma il quotidiano non basta a Mussolini. Uomo d'azio-  ne ha bisogno di concretare, vuol raccogliere ciò che semi-  na giornalmente. Nasce il fascismo. Fenomeno degno della  più grande ammirazione e del più appassionante esame. Più  che un partito è una mentalità. Non si basa sulla promessa  di un certo paradiso futuro, si muove problematicamente  passo per passo alternando transigenza a intransigenza,  idealismo a realtà, arte a pratica concreta. Gli avversari del  Fascismo sono le vecchie anime che marciano solo dietro  promesse iperboliche e utopistiche, che scambiano incoe-  renza con duttilità, che non vivono dentro la vita vera e  vibrante, ma fra gli schemi arrugginiti di una mentalità  libera.   TI Fascismo raccoglie gli italiani più intelligenti e più  moderni con la sua ferrea ossatura di concretamento fa-  sciato da una atmosfera di sensibilità, di cordialità idea-  listica, di eleganza e di colore. Rende possibile la politica  anche per i temperamenti più contrari ad essa. Per esem-  pio gli artisti e gli ironici. L'Italia abbonda di artisti e di  ironici, anzi essi formano la sua parte migliore, intellettual.  mente.   Mussolini ha avuto il grande pregio di creare un’atmo-  sfera politica che non ripugna a questi scelti, a questi « mi.  gliori ».   L'intelligenza disinteressata si allontana dalla politica  quando essa s'imperna sulla falsa promessa di un paradiso  certo, sul settarismo, sulla gretteria animale.   Si sta preparando in Italia quella rinascita totale, ba-  sata sull’arte che tra le più feroci ironie e gli scetticismi  più assoluti amnnunciai nella « Inchiesta sulla vita italiana ».    SETTIMELLI  (da: 1 nemici d'Italia, Milano, SOGNO UN GOVERNO DI TECNICI,  ECCITATO DA UN'ASSEMBLEA »    Cari Fascisti! Cari Arditi!    V'invito ad acclamare un valoroso fascista assente, che  sarebbe qui con noi se il Governo anti-italiano di Nitti  non l’avesse condannato a tre mesi di fortezza    Mario Carli,  (Grida unanimi di: Viva Mario Carli! e applausi).    Il futurista Mario Carli è sfuggito alla polizia di Al-  bricci e gode l'atmosfera igienica di Fiume italiana. Ha  brillato così una volta di più l'elasticità veramente futu-  rista di questo poeta che sa tutti i viaggi più pericolosi  dello spirito, le esplorazioni più sottili della psicologia, i  razzi più colorati ed anche la strategia delle strade in  tumulto e il governo delle assemblee popolari. A Mario  Carli, poeta delle Notti filtrate, si deve la fondazione del  Fascio di combattimento romano, e, insieme con Setti-  melli, del Partito politico futurista, e del giornale Rome  futurista. Egli capeggiò tutte le dimostrazioni violente per  Fiume italiana, per la Dalmazia italiana e per la difesa  della vittoria, contro il bolscevismo rosso e nero, rinun-  ciatario e nittiano. V'invito a gridare ancora: Viva il fu-  turista Mario Carli! (Quazione, applausi).    Lo «svaticanamento ».    Io approvo incondizionatamente, in nome del futuri  smo e dei futuristi italiani, tutto il programma dei Fasci  di combattimento, che vi è stato esposto dal mio amico  Fabbri. Trovo però in questo programma delle lacune  gravi, sulle quali richiamo tutta la vostra attenzione.   Fascisti! Non c'è maggior pericolo, per l’Italia, del pe-  ricolo nero. Il popolo italiano, che ha saputo osare, vo-  lere e compiere l’immane sforzo eroico e vittorioso della    102    grande guerra, decidendo, con la sua vittoria, la vittoria  del futurismo elastico, geniale, sul passatismo teutonico,  cubico e professorale, fallirebbe alla sua missione se non  sapesse energicamente liberare la bella penisola, agile e  palpitante di vita, dalla lue mortale del papato. Noi dob-  biamo domandare, volere, imporre, l'espulsione del papato,  o meglio ancora, per usare una espressione più precisa, lo  « svaticanamento ». (Applausi, ovazione)    L'« Eccitatorio ».    Continuando nell'analisi del Programma dei Fasci di  combattimento, trovo l'abolizione del Senato, al quale si  sostituirebbe un Consiglio nazionale tecnico. Ebbene: io  vi dichiaro che il concetto di tecnicità è importantissimo,  ma non basta. Il Senato rappresenta nella storia dei po-  poli un costante ossequio alla saggezza dei vecchi, chiama-  ti intorno al potere per frenarlo, maturarne i propositi,  dirigerne le decisioni. La concezione del Senato, simile  a quella del coro nella tragedia greca, ha singolarmente  appesantito, imbrogliato, buroctatizzato e ritardato il pro-  gresso spirituale e materiale delle razze.    I legislatori hanno sempre sognato di frenare il pote-  re del Governo. Essi ignoravano dunque che potere si-  gnifica frenare. Essi ignaravano che un Governo è sem-  pre più o meno un carabiniere. Nulla di più assurdo che  il porre un carabiniere a sorvegliarne un altro. Mettiamo:  gli al fianco, piuttosto, un sovversivo, un rivoltoso, un  eccitante. Ed ecco nata la concezione dell’Eccitatorio, or-  gano animatore, semplificatore e acceleratore, che in una  razza come la nostta, piena di precoci geniali, sarà Ja mi-  glior difesa della gioventù e la migliore garanzia del pro-  gresso e di alta spiritualità. Io sogno in Italia un Gover-  no di tecnici eccitato da un’assemblea di giovanissimi, al  posto dell’attuale Parlamento di oratori incompetenti €  di dotti invalidi, che si fa moderare da un Senato di mo-  ribondi.   Il Consiglio tecnico che rimpiazzerà il Senato dovrà  dunque essere composto di giovanissimi, non ancora tren.    103    tenni. Insisto su ciò, poiché in Italia si usa invitare i gio-  vani al potere e si considera poi virile e giovanissimo un  uomo di 55 anni. Salandra grida: Avanti i giovani! Ma  tutti con lui temono i giovani, mettono in quarantena un  quarantenne come un coleroso, un cinquantenne come un  dinamitardo, e considerano un sessantenne come un au-  dace quasi maturo per il governo d’Italia!..   Occorre un Eccitatorio di giovanissimi, per evitare un  Consiglio tecnico di vecchi, che dopo aver tenuto inuti-  lizzato per molto rempo il loro ingegno tecnico non san-  no più che tecnicamente morire.   La vita italiana si riduce ancora ad una convivenza  cretina di quadri d'antenati senza autorità e senza presti-  gio, che spandono intorno, in una penombra tediosa, pes-  simisino, pedantismo, austerità professorale, verbalismo pa-  triottico e polvere di Roma antica, e in mezzo ai quali si  aggira sporca, taccagna, provinciale, brindellona, la ser-  vaccia che fa tutto male, tiene malissimo la casa, non  vuo! migliorare nulla, perde la giornata a verificare i con-  ti di cucina, ha sempre paura di spendere e di rovinarsi,  ed è tronfia perché sa fare una minestra non troppo sa-  lata che costa poco.   T quadri d’antenati si chiamano Boselli e Salandra: la  servaccia si chiama Giolitti o Nitti. (Quazione)   Contro i quadri d'antenati e la servaccia, poi propo  siamo un eccitatorio di studenti e di Arditi futuristi.    Arditismo. — Scuole di coraggio fisico e patriottismo.    Una terza lacuna io trovo nel programma dei Fasci  di combattimento, e riguarda la scuola. L'amico futuri  sta Fabbri ha precisato genialmente la grande e necessa  ria riforma completa della scuola.   To credo petò che tutto si potrebbe ottenere, e forse  anche un al di là meraviglioso che superi il tutto sogna.  ta, mediante un'imposizione assolutamente ferrea, dirò  meglio feroce, della ginnastica nelle scuole.   Si deve giungere anche presto, oltre che a tutte le for-  me d'insegnamento pratico e tecnico, nelle officine e nei    104    campi, alle scuole viaggianti, 0, per meglio dire, viaggi  d'istruzione, e a dei veri corsi o scuole di coraggio fisico  e di patriottismo.   Bisogna ogni giorno, nella giocondità di una vita al-  l'aria aperta, con un predominio assoluto del giuoco sul-  la lettura, parlare dell'Italia divina ai ragazzi italiani, in-  segnare loro, accanitamente, il coraggio fisico e il disprez-  zo del pericolo, e premiare dovunque l'audacia temeraria  e l'eroismo.   Le scuole di coraggio fisico e di patriottismo devono  rimpiazzare nelle scuole gli oramai preistorici e troglodi.  tici corsi di greco e di latino.   Noi futuristi siamo convinti di preparare così quel  tipo di cittadino eroico che saprà difendersi da sè, vera-  mente capace di libero pensiero e di libero cazzotto, e  che renderà assolutamente inutile l'esistenza delle polizie,  delle questure. dei carabinieri e dei preti.    Ferruccio Vecchi.    Il mio amico futurista Mario Carli, capitano degli Ar-  diti, e il capitano Vecchi, capi dell'Associazione degli Ar-  diti, hanno sentito come me, nascere dal futurismo e dal-  la guerra, l'Arditiswo, nuova sensibilità di patriottismo e-  roico e rivoluzionario. ]l giornale L'Ardito, diretto dal  capitano Vecchi, il celebre sfasciatore dell’Avanti! è un  forte giornale che si deve consigliare ai giovani italiani.  {Qvazioni)   Verrà forse un giorno in cui avremo in Italia quelle  scuole di pericoli che io proponevo dieci anni fa nei pri-  mi manifesti futuristi e che furopo realizzate durante la  guerra nelle esercitazioni quotidiane degli Arditi (avanza-  ta carponi sotto un tiro radente di mitragliatrici; aspetta-  re senza chiudere gli occhi il passaggio radente di una  trave sospesa sulla testa, ecc.). Il proletariato der geniali    Ed ora voglio colmare un'altra lacuna dei program-  ma, parlandovi del solo proletariato veramente dimenticato ed oppresso: l'importantissimo proletariato dei ge-  niali.   E’ indiscutibile che Ia nostra razza supera tutte Je raz-  ze per il numero stragrande di geniali che produce. Nel  più piccolo nucleo italiano, nel più piccolo villaggio, vi  sono sempre sette, otto giovani ventenni che, fremono  d’ansia creatrice, pieni di un orgoglio ambizioso che si  manifesta in volumi inediti di versi e in scoppi di elo-  quenza sulle piazze, nei comizi politici. Alcuni sono dei  veri illusi, ma sono pochi. Non potrebbero giungere al  vero ingegno. Sono però sempre dei temperamenti a fon-  do geniale, cioè suscettibili di sviluppo e utilizzabili per  accrescere l’intellettualità geniale di un paese.    Il movimento artistico futurista, da noi iniziato 11  anni fa, aveva precisamente per scopo di svecchiare bru-  talmente l'ambiente artistico-letterario, esautorarne e di-  struggerne la gerontocrazia, svalutare i criteri e i profes-  sori pedanti, incoraggiare tutti gli slanci temerari dell’in-  gegno giovanile, per preparare una atmosfera veramente  ossigenata di salute, incoraggiamento ed aiuto a tutti i  giovani geniali d'Italia. Incoraggiarli tutti, centuplicarne  l'orgoglio, aprire davanti a loro tutti i varchi, diminuire  al più presto, così, il numero dei geniali italiani falliti  e stroncati.    Il futurismo radunò molti di questi giovani geniali.  Fra di loro, nella vampa futurista, ingigantirono e brilla  rono: Boccioni, Russolo, Buzzi, Balla, Mazza, Sant'Elia,  Pratella, Folgore, Cangiullo, Mario Carli, Funi, Sironi,  Chiti, Jannelli, Nannetti, Cantarelli, Rosai, Baldassari, Gal-  li, Depero, Dudreville, Primo Conti, i geniali creatori del  Teatro Sintetico: Bruno Corra e Settimelli, e i valorosi  scrittori futuristi di Roma futurista, Rocca, Bottai, Fede-  rico Pinna, Volt e Rolzon, altissima bandiera d'’italianità  in America.   Con meravigliosa elasticità passando dall'arte all’azio-  ne politica, questi giovani furono con me dovunque nelle nostre primissime dimostrazioni contro l’Austria durante  la battaglia della Marna, in prigione per interventismo e  sui campi di battaglia.    Propongo che in ogni città siano costtuiti dei palazzi  che avranno una denominazione sul genere di questa:  Mostra libera dell'ingegno creatore. Tn tali palazzi:    1° Verrà esposta per un mese un’opera di pittura,  scultura, plastica in genere, disegni di architettura, dise-  gni di macchine, progetti di invenzioni. Verrà eseguita un’opera musicale, piccola o gran-  de, orchestrale o pianistica di qualsiasi genere, di qual:  siasi forma, di qualsiasi dimensione.    3" Verranno letti, esposti, declamati poemi, prose,  scritti di scienza di ogni genere, d'ogni forma, d'ogni di-  mensione.   4° Tutti i cittadini avranno diritto di esporre gratui-  tamente.  Le opere di qualsiasi genere o valore apparente  anche se apparentemente giudicate assurde, cretine, pazze,  immorali, saranno esposte o lette senza giuria.   Con queste mostre libere e gratuite del genio creatore,  noi futuristi ci opponiamo a un pericolo gravissimo: quel  lo di vedere nella marea delle ideologie che rissano intor-  ne alle formole del comunismo e della dittatura del pro-  lerariato, il naufragio dello spirito.    Difendiamo il cervello!    Vi sono fenomeni dovuti alla stanchezza prodotta dal  la guerra, alla manîa plagiaria, alla miopia provinciale,  alla verbosità giornalistica e alla vigliaccheria conservatrice.  Si tenta dovunque di divinizzare il lavoratore manuale e  d'innalzarlo al di sopra del lavoratore intellettuale,    No, italiani: il futurismo politico si opporrà accanita.  mente ad ogni volontà di livellamento. Tutto, tutto sia    107    concesso al proletariato manuale, salvo il sacrificio dello  spirito, del genio, della gran luce che guida. Alle classi  oppresse, ai lavoratori che stentano, sia sacrificata tutta  la plutocrazia parassitaria del mondo.    Voi fascisti interventisti sapete che la nostra grande  guerra rivoluzionaria è stata osata, voluta, imposta e te-  nacemente portata alla vittoria finale da una minoranza  di intellettuali. Erano i migliori, i meno tradizionali, i  più futuristi. Mentre tutto il popolo era ancora immerso  nella quiete pacifista, essi videro la necessità di guerra,  si separarono brutalmente da altri intellettuali, da quelli  che dello spirito altro non hanno che le qualità negative,  pedantesche, culturali, reazionatie, quietiste. Contro e so:  pra il piombo del vecchio intelletrualismo professorale e  vigliacco dei Benedetto Croce e dei Barzellotti, contro l’in-  tellettualismo cavilloso e avvocatesco dei Treves e dei Tu-  rati, si scagliarono gli spiriti veramente puri, lirici e crea-  tori, per segnare la via da seguire.   Fra questi, Gabriele D'Annunzio, che volò su Vienna  e regalò Fiume all'Italia. Fra questi Benito Mussolini, il  grande Fututista italiano, che impavido nel campo trince-  rato del suo Popolo d’Italia ha difeso alle spalle noi com-  battenti al fronte contro le ondate dei nemici interni, por-  tando le città italiane dal lurido episodio di Caporetto  alla storia ideale di Vittorio Veneto (Applausi).    Gli artisti faranno finalmente del governo un’arie di-  sinteressata, al posto di quello che è ora, cioè una pedan-  tesca scienza del furto e della vigliaccheria.    eri    Io credo che le istituzioni parlamentari siano fatalmen-  re destinate a perire. Credo anche che la politica italiana  sia destinata a un inevitabile fallimento, se non si nutrirà  di questa forza viva: gl’ingegneri creatori d’Italia, sbaraz-  zandosi di queste due malattie italiane: l'avvocato e il  professore.    Genio creatore, elasticità artistica, praticità sintetica,  velocità improvvisatrice ed entusiasmo fulmineo: ecco le  belle forze che spiegano la vittoria del 15 giugno sul Pia-  ve e quella di Vittorio Veneto (Applausi).    Artisticamente improvvisando tutto, e con genio crea-  tore, la mia bella autoblindata dell'ottava Squadriglia al  comando del capitano Raby guadava come una torpedi-  niera i torrenti gontiati. Poi si slanciava giù dalle monta.  gne carniche col tuffo frenetico fulmineo di un pugnale  d'Ardito nella smisurata pancia idropica dell'esercito au-  striaco disfatto, e schizzava fuori dalla schiera contro  Vienna.   Artisticamente, il genio creatore di D'Annunzio con-  quistò Fiume italiana.   In Fiume italiana, io provai recentemente il più acu-  to spasimo di guida della mia vita, nel gualcire un pacco  di corone austriache deprezzate a pochi centesimi dalla no-  stra vittoria.   Gioia forsennata di stritolare così finalmente il cuore  finanziario, militare, passatista del nemico ereditario, fra  le mie mani ancora frementi della vibrazione della mia  mitragliatrice di Vittorio Veneto! (Ovazione).  MARINETTI  [da: L’Ardito, MARINETTI  MARIO CARLI  MINO SOMENZI    « SECONDO FUTURISMO »  E FASCISMO-REGIME    ll 1923 è un po' l'anno di apertura del futurismo  — dopo la ritirata e il distacco dal fascismo del II  Congresso di Milano — al nascente fascismo-regime (se-  condo la definizione di De Felice), quello dell’assesta-  mento o dell'e ordine» (che si consoliderà il 3 gen  naio 1925). Marinetti si accosta in un certo senso al  nuovo governo con una richiesta in forma di « mani  festo al Governo Fascista» del 1° maggio 1923.   Col manifesto e con l'affermazione di un certo qual  futurismo «mussoliniano », 0 nel sottolineare la rea-  lizzazione di un « programma minimo » futurista da par-    te del fascismo, Marinetti cerca di porsi in buona luce  e di far accettare le sue proposte al governo fascista.  ll programma fu in linea di massima approvato da  Mussolini. Quel Mussolini che comincerà a venir illu-  strato e celebrato anche dai futuristi, forse molte volte  in buona fede per l'effettiva sua vicinanza alle tesi ed  al dinamismo tipico di Marinetti e delle sue teorie.  Tuttavia Mario Carli nel '26 pubblica nel suo li  bro Fascisma intransigente wn articolo a suo tempo se  questrato e che risuona echi di « sinistri miraggi ». S'in-  titola Natale senza luce e si riferisce probabilmente al  Natale del ‘21, dopo l'impresa di Fiume cui Carli aveva  ben ardentemente partecipato: si augurava inutilmente  il Carli che l'impresa di Mussolini (la marcia su Roma)  continuasse quella breve esplosione innovatrice della  nuova Italia della Vittoria (la marcia su Ronchi). Ma  le «vecchie pance» e le «vecchie barbe» tengono invece  «il canzpo della vita nazionale » e «la manovra parla  mentare domina ancora tutto il congegno di governo ».  Marinetti sul numero 9 del 2-11-1932 del « nuo-  vo » Futurismo, esprime aminirazione ed esalta lo spirito  rivoluzionario della Mostra nel decennale della Rivolu-  zione (svoltasi a Roma). Intitola Varticolo Stile futuri-  sta e vuole commemorare in certo senso uno stile degli  anni d'oro dello spirito interventista e rivaluzionario da  cui è nato il fascismo, quello così detta « antemarcia ».  Nel 1934 al 1° di febbraio, sul terzo numero di  SunWElia, che è secondo titolo di Futurismo, generoso  tuttavia di perticolare spazio cd attenzione at problemi  dell'architettura, Mino Somenzi intitola un suo pezzo  a IT Duce e il futurismo, e vi sostiene la necessità di  Mussolini, come capo del governo, di non essere né  futurista né passatista. Per il superiore equilibrio sulle  parti che la sua posizione richiede. Tuttavia le simpatie  di Mussolini non possono non andare ai futuristi, dice  Somenzi, quali novatori e sostenitori dell'arte d'avan-  guardia italiana. In questo sensa i futuristi non possono  non guardure a lui come ad un appoggio e ad un so-  stegno, come del resto egli medesima più volte si è di-  mostrato. E qui forse, in questa tesi, vediamo tutta la  posizione ed il carattere del « secondo futurismo ».  Ancora sulla stessa testata del 4 aprile ’34, n. 64.  un grande intervento centrale di prima pagina su Ven-  titre marzo futurfascista, mette in rilievo i caratteri co-  muni di futurismo e fascismo, anche quelli per cui  molti fascisti non st identificano con i futuristi ed anzi  simmedesimano nel loro contrario essendo dei « rimor-  chiati » che non hanno assorbito lo spirito diciannovi  sta e rivoluzionario delle « origini ». I DIRITTI ARTISTICI PROPUGNATI  DAI FUTURISTI ITALIANI    Manifesto al governo fascista    Mio caro Marinetti, approvo cordialmente la tuu  iniziativa per la costituzione di una Banca di Credito  specialmente per gli Artisti. Credo che saprai sor-  montare gli eventuali ostacoli dei soliti misoneisti.   Ad ogni modo questa lettera può servirti di via-  tico.   Ciao, con amicizia,    MUSSOLINI    Vittorio Veneto e l’avvento del Fascismo al potere co-  stituiscono la realizzazione del programma minimo futuri-  sta lanciato (con un programma massimo non ancora rag-  giunto) 14 anni or sono da un gruppo di giovani audaci  che si opposero con argomenti persuasivi all'intera Nazione  avvilita da un senilismo e da un mediocrismo paurosi dello  straniero.   Questo programma minimo propugnava l’orgoglio ita-  liano, la fiducia illimitata nell’avvenire degli italiani, la di-  struzione dell'impero austroungarico, l’eroismo quotidiano,  l’amore del pericolo, la violenza riabilitata come argomento  decisivo, la glorificazione della guerra sola igiene del mon-  do, la religione della velocità, della novità, dell’ottimismo e  dell’originalità, l'avvento dei giovani al potere contro lo spi-  rito parlamentare, burocratico, accademico e pessimista.   La nostra influenza in Italia e nel mondo è stata ed è  enorme. Il Futurismo italiano, tipicamente patriottico, che  ha generato innumerevoli futurismi esteri, non ha nulla a  che fare coi loro atteggiamenti politici, come quello bolsce-  vico del Futurismo russo divenuto arte di Stato.   Il Futurismo è un movimento schiettamente artistico e  ideologico. Interviene nelle lotte politiche soltanto nelle  ore di grave pericolo per la Nazione.   Fummo primi fra i primi interventisti; in carcere per interventismo a Milano durante la Battaglia della Marna;  in carcere con Mussolini nel 1919 a Milano per attentato  fascista alla sicurezza dello Stato e organizzazione di bande  armate.   Abbiamo creato le prime associazioni degli Arditi e  molti tra i primi Fasci di combattimento.   Divinatori e lontani preparatori della grande Italia di  oggi.   Noi futuristi siamo lieti di salutare nel non ancora qua-  rantenne Presidente del Consiglio un meraviglioso rempera-  mento futurista.   Da futurista, Mussolini ha parlato così ai giornalisti  esteri:    « Noi siamo un popolo giovane che vuole e deve crea  re e rifiuta d'essere un Sindacato di albergatori e di quar-  diani di museo. Il nostro passato artistico è ammirevole.  Ma, quanto a me, sarò entrato tutt'al più due volte in un  MIUSCO ».    Recentemente Mussolini ha pronunciato questo discor-  so tipicamente futurista:    « Il Governo che ho l'onore di presiedere è Governo  di velocità, nel senso che noi abbreviamo tutto ciò che  significa ristagno nella vita nazionale. Una volta la buro-  crazia si addormentava sulle pratiche emarginate. Oggi tut-  to deve procedere con la massima rapidità. Se tutti proce-  deremo con questo ritmo di forza e di volontà e di alle-  grezza, supereremo la crisi, la quale, del resto, è già in  parte superata. lo sono lieto di vedere il risveglio anche  di questa Roma che offre lo spettacolo di officine come  questa. lo atfermo che Roma può diventare centro indu-  striale. 1 romani devono essere i primi a disdegnare di  vivere soltanto sulle loro memorie. Il Colosseo, il Foro  romano sono glorie del passato: ma noi dobbiamo costrui-  re le glorie del presente e del domani Noi siamo la gene-  razione dei costruttori che col lavoro e con la disciplina  del braccio e intellettuale vogliono raggiungere il punto  estremo, la meta agognata della grandezza della Nazione  di domani, la quale sarà la Nazione di tutti i produttori  e non dei parassiti ». Con Mussolini il Fascismo ha ringiovanito l'Italia.   Spetta a Lui l'aiutarci nel rinnovamento dell’ambiente  artistico ove permangono uomini e cose nefaste.   La rivoluzione politica deve sostenere la rivoluzione  artistica, cioè il futurismo e tutte le avanguardie.    DOMANDIAMO:    1° DIFESA DEI GIOVANI ARTISTI ITALIANI  NOVATORI in tutte le manifestazioni artistiche promos-  se dallo Stato, dai Comuni e private. Esempi:    a) Alla Biennale di Venezia furono invitati avanguar-  disti e futuristi stranieri {Archipenko, Kokoschka, Campen-  donk), mentre non furono mai invitati i futuristi italiani  (creatori di tutti i futurismi). Bisogna sradicare questa igno-  bile antitalianità sistematica!    c) Al Teatro della Scala {che ha la funzione di rive-  lare, glorificandoli, i nuovi musicisti italiani) si danno ogni  anno due opere di Wagner e nessuna (o quasi nessuna)  di giovani italiani. Si preferiscono cantanti stranieri infe-  riori ai nostri, Bisogna sradicare questa ignobile antitalia-  nità sistematica!    d) Il Teatro di Siracusa non può essere riservato alla  gloria dei classici greci! Domandiamo che, alternativamente  alle rappresentazioni delle opere classiche, si svolga un con-  corso per un dramma moderno pittoresco adatto all'aria  aperta di un giovane siciliano da premiarsi e incoronarsi so-  lennemente nel teatro stesso. (Proposte Marinetti, Prampo-  lini, Jannelli, Nicastro, Carrozza, Russolo, Mario Carli, De-  pero, Cangiullo, Giuseppe Steiner, Volt, Somenzi, Azari,  Matasco, Dottori, Pannaggi, Tato, Caviglioni, Paladini Ra-  citi, Mario Shrapnel, Raimondi, G. Etna, Sportino-Bona,  Cimino, Soggetti, Rognoni, Masnata, Mortari, Piero Illari,  Rizzo, Soldi, Leskovic, Buzzi, Casavola, Clerici, Caprile, Scirocco),  ISTITUTI DI CREDITO ARTISTICO ad esclu-  sivo beneficio degli artisti creatori italiani.   Come si aprono delle Banche di credito a favore delia  industria e del commercio, similmente si dovranno creare    115    appositi Istituti che sovvenzionino manifestazioni artistiche  o Istituti d'arte industriale o anticipino denaro agli artisti  per il loro lavoro (manoscritti, quadri, statue, ecc.) i loto  viaggi di isttuzione o di propaganda.   Tali Istituti di credito potranno avere carattere pri-  vato (Società anonime per azioni) o governativo (enti e  fondazioni). Nel primo caso la nascita di tale Istituto è  legata alla maggiore o minore buona volontà e mumero  degli aderenti. Nel secondo caso il capitale necessario sa-  tebbe sicuramente e prontamente realizzabile solo che lo  Stato decretasse un'imposta od una ritenuta anche minima,  ma estesissima, sui redditi di guerra, sui patrimoni, ecc.,  o mediante una sottoscrizione nazionale ad iniziativa sta-  tale.   L'Istituto agirebbe poi come una Banca per gli artisti,  accetterebbe depositi di opere d'arte, e in base alla valuta-  zione reale darebbe sovvenzioni od aprirebbe crediti.   L’opera d’arte giacente costituirebbe un deposito frut-  tifero per il depositante e per l’Istituto stesso che promuo-  verebbe iniziative artistiche, vendite, ecc. Così l'artista e  l'opera d’arte sarebbero valorizzati.   Questi Istituti potrebbero intraprendere concessioni di  mutui a favore d’'industrie artistiche e ottenere l’uso di  palazzi per adibirli ad abitazioni di artisti, d’istituzioni arti-  stiche od aprirvi periodiche mostre. (Proposta Prampolini,  Marinetti, Russolo, Cangiullo, Depero, Settimelli, Mario  Carli, Buzzi, Matasco). DIFESA DELL’ITALIANITA'.  Italianizzazione obbligatoria immediata degli alberghi (tutte le diciture, insegne, liste delle vivande, conti, ecc.,  in lingua italiana), dei negozi e della corrispondenza commerciale. Mezzi automatici per propagare la lingua italiana  senza spese. (Proposta Marinetti, Russolo, Buzzi, Folgore,  Mario Carli, Settimelli, Depero, Cangiullo, Somenzi, Mara-  sco, Rognoni).    B) Italianizzazione della nuova architettura contro l'uso  sistematico di plagiare le architetture straniere. Cominciare  questa italianizzazione in tutti gli edifici statali, specialmen-  te nei paesi redenti. (Proposte Virgilio Marchi, Depeto,    116    Russolo, Buzzi, Somenzi, Azari, Marasco, Prampolini, Fol-  gore, Volt).    C) Italianizzazione obbligatoria delle edizioni e dei ca-  ratteri tipografici. (Proposta Frassinelli, Rampa-Rossi).  ABOLIZIONE DELLE ACCADEMIE (Istituti di    Atte e Scuole professionali).    Gli attuali sistemi d'insegnamento nan corrispondono al-  le esigenze estetiche dell'evoluzione dell’arte attraverso i  tempi. L'arte non si insegna. Gli attuali diplomati non sono  né tecnici competenti né artisti.    Abolizione delle Accademie di Belle Arti e Professio-  nali senz’altre sostituzioni. (Proposta Marasco).  PROPAGANDA ARTISTICA ITALIANA ALL'ESTERO mediante un Istituto Nazionale di propaganda ar-  tistica all’estero che tuteli glì interessi artistici ed econo-  mici degli artisti italiani.   Questo Istituto dovrà essere diretto da giovani artisti  stimati all’estero e che propugnino con italianità il genio  novatore italiano Avrà commissioni permanenti riguarda  ti le varie arti e uffici di corrispondenza nei principali  centri artistici esteri. Agirà mediante conferenze, concerti,  esposizioni e pubblicazioni periodiche di propaganda. (Pro-  posta Prampolini, Russolo, Buzzi, Volt, Marasco). CONCORSI LIBERI D'ARTE.    Utilizzare una parte del denaro che lo Stato spende  attualmente per l'arte in concorsi di poesia, plastica, ar-  chitettura, musica, riservati ai giovani non ancora venti-  cinquenni, da premiarsi mediante un referendum popo-  lare. (Proposta Balla, Marinetti, Marasco).  AFFIDARE L'ORGANIZZAZIONE DELLE FE.  STE NAZIONALI E COMUNALI (cortei, gare sportive,  ecc.) ai gruppi d’artisti d'avanguardia italiani, i quali han-  no ormai provato in modo incontestabile la loro genialità  innovatrice, fonte di quell’ottimismo che è indispensabi-  le alla salute della Patria. (Proposta Depero, Azari, Mari-  netti, Marasco).  AGEVOLAZIONI AGLI ARTISTI. Riconoscimento legale da parte del Governo dei  diritti d'autore per gli artisti delle arti plastiche, sul mag-  gior prezzo raggiunto dalle opere loro, attraverso le ven-  dite successive, mediante una istituzione simile alla « So-  cietà degli Autori ».    d) Abolizione delle tariffe doganali internazionali sia  riguardo le importazioni che le esportazioni delle opere  d’arte moderna. (Proposta Prampolini, Depero, Azari, Ma-  rasco, Marinetti, Volt).    9° CONSIGLI TECNICI CONSULTIVI formati da  artisti ed eletti fra artisti con una rappresentanza propor-  zionale delle tendenze d'avanguardia. Questi Consigli Tec-  nici consultivi avranno lo scopo di tutelare gl’interessi de-  gli artisti nei rapporti con le istituzioni statali, comunali,  private e gli artisti stessi. {Proposta Prampolini, Mara-  sco, Marinetti, Volt)  RAPPRESENTANZA PROPORZIONALE.    Le avanguardie artistiche italiane dovranno essere in-  vitate a partecipare con una rappresentanza proporzionale  a tutte le manifestazioni e cariche artistiche statali, co-  munali e private. (Proposta Prampolini, Marasco, Marinet-  ti, Volt). CONSORZIO INTERNAZIONALE per la tute.  la degli interessi artistici ed economici degli artisti d'avan-  guardia. Questo Consorzio dovrebbe proporsi l’accentra-  mento delle migliori istituzioni artistiche di avanguardia,  per la solidarietà, la difesa e la propaganda artistica ed  economica. (Proposta Prampolini, Marasco, Marinetti,  Volt).   Per la Direzione del Movimento Futurista  e per tutti i Gruppi Futuristi ltaliani   MARINETTI   NATALE SENZA LUCE  sequestrato).    Chi fu legionario di Fiume non potrà mai dimenti-  care le rosse giornate natalizie di quattro anni fa, con  le quali si conchiudeva tragicamente e desolatamente una  breve ma non ingloriosa epopea. Il ricordo ha poi un  valore particolare per chi lo avvicini al pensiero della  situazione politica odierna, che ha qualche vaga analogia  con quella che segnò la fine di un generoso sforzo della  nuova Italia.   Il sangue fraterno di quelle Cinque Giornate non è  stato ben vendicato. Pareva a molti di noi che la Marcia  su Roma dovesse continuare quella di Ronchi per dare  alla nostra grande Patria una nuova fisionomia di po-  tenza e per vivificarla di un nuovo afflusso di giovi-  nezza. Ma la spinta rinnovatrice della generazione di Vit-  torio Veneto si è, ahimé, fiaccata nel labirinto delle vec-  chie pance e vecchie barbe che tengono tuttora il campo  della vita nazionale. E sul tempo d’arresto che oggi fa  segnare il passo alle orgogliose avanguardie d'impero, la  sagoma «immortale » del cavalier Giolitti si profila —  come quattro anni fa — a rassicurare il mondo che l’Ita-  lia è ancora quella mediocre, umile nazioncella di molte  chiacchiere innacue ma di pochi fatti pericolosi, e che  agni tentativo di virilizzarsi e impennarsi in alati eroismi,  è destinato al più pietaso insuccesso.   Sembra — a ben considerare i più recenti avvenimen-  ti — che il sogno di una politica più alta, più rettilinea,  più forte, sia una morbosa fantasia di cervelli malati; e  che una sola specie di politica sia possibile: quella che  ha nome Giolitti. Vale a dire: quella basata sull’intrigo,  sul compromesso, sulla pattuizione, sull’arte di farsi ricat-  tare.   La manovra parlamentare domina ancora tutto il con-  gegno di governo. E’ pacifico che non si governa coi  parlamenti, poiché essi sono l’antigoverno per  eccellenza: ma è altrettanto pacifico che questo popolo italiano    119    rabbiosamente ingovernabile non vuol rinunciare al suo  bravo Parlamento, fonte di ogni male, serbatoio di ogni  decadenza.    Contro questa massima cloaca nazionale (parlo, s’in-  tende, dell'Istituto, non degli uomini) il Fascismo è an-  dato a impantanarsi pazzescamente. Il Fascismo ha com-  messo questo gravissimo errote iniziale: di non saltare  a pié pari il Parlamento. Viceversa vi si è sentito attratto,  ha voluto saggiarne le delizie, ha voluto conquistare que-  sta quota a colpi di scheda — mortificando la sua anima  guerriera — quando avrebbe dovuto farla saltare a colpi  di bomba. E certi errori sono troppo gravi perché non  si debbano scontare.    Tuttavia, non si potrà negare a noi irriducibili anti-  parlamentari, a noi rimasti fuori dell'aula per volontà pre-  meditata, e quindi immuni da interessi e da schiavitù  elettorali, it diritto di tener fede ai principi per quali s'ini-  ziò la battaglia, e soprattutto alla nostra accesa spiritua-  lità di italiani #4ovi: nuovi nella mente, nel tempera-  mento, nell’educazione, nella passione. Anche se tutto  crollasse attorno a noi, e il nostro sogno trilustre, perse-  guita con appassionata tensione di nervi e di cervello, do-  vesse ridursi in polvere di macerie, noi non rinunzierem-  mo ad essere quelli che fummo e che siamo: cittadini di  una Patria più grande, più eroica, più possente, più do-  minatrice.   Mai non rinunceremo — lo sappiano bene i nostri  nemici — alla nostra sete d’impero, alla nostra fiamma  di grandezza, che odia la vita democratica, l’egualitarismo  ipocrita, il pietismo umanitario, l’eunuco calamento di bra-  che. A noi conviene la formula maschia di Silla, che  per disciplinare la repubblica in dissoluzione e prepararla  all'impero, chiedeva tutti i poteri, il controllo sui tribu-  nali civili e militari, la giurisdizione eccezionale, la legi-  siazione di gabinetto da sovrapporre a tutte le leggi ante-  riori, il diritto di battere moneta, di convocare il popolo,  di sospendere e punire i funzionari dello Stato, e infine,  di mettere fuori della legge i cattivi cittadini. A noi piace  infinitamente Ja salutare ferocia di questo Dittatore-mo    120    dello, che, mentre il Senato discute se conferirgli o no  la potestà dittatoria, fa giungere nell'aula il fiero ululato  dei seimila prigionieri di Porta Collina, sgozzati al suo  segnale, e che incide sulla tabella i nomi dei Senatori  vetanti contro di lui, per ricordarsene a tempo e luogo.   Il Fascismo è venuto al potere più attraverso la spa  da di Silla che l’oratoria di Cicerone. Perché dimenti-  carsene? II Fascismo non ha nulla da sperare da una  sua politica di debolezza conciliatrice. I suoi nemici lo  vogliono polverizzato e disperso, e tale lo avranno se si  continuerà a ceder loro in ogni occasione. Dal 10 giugno  in poi, si può dire che l’Italia è stata governata dall'om-  bra dell’Aventino. Tutto questo è contro natura, contro  storia, contro giustizia. Non sono le ombre che possano  aver diritto al comando, bensì le energie luminose. Quan-  do ci scrolleremo di dosso tutte le ombre importune che  ci soffocano come ali di corvacci e di vampiri?    Mario CARLI  [da: Fascismo intransigente, Bemporad, Firenze 1926, pag. 253-256]   Con la Mostra della Rivoluzione si risolve finalmente,  e in modo favorevole, il grave problema della militariz-  zazione della fantasia creatrice mediante temi fissi da im-  porre agli artisti.   Molti fra i pittori, scultori e architetti, invitati a rea-  lizzare questa Mostra grandiosa, furono indubbiamente  turbati dal prestigio di queste gloriose parole che domi-  nano ormai nella nuova storia d’Italia: interventismo, Vit-  torio Veneto, Mussolini, e Popolo d'Italia, Diciannove,  battaglia di via Mercanti e incendio dell’Avanti!, covo di  via Paolo da Cannobio, Casa Rossa, Lodi, Palazzo Accur-  sio, Marcia su Roma. Legati tradizionalmente ai noti motivi idilliaci cittadi-  nì o rurali, tramonti melanconici e ritratti statici, que-  sti artisti sentirono subito la necessità di capovolgere il  loro spirito per disegnare nell'aria un tuffo perfetto nel  mare della novità.   Da tempo il Futurismo italiano, con il suo seguito di  avanguardie estere più o meno originali, gridava per in-  segnare l'invenzione a ogni costo. Quattro mesi fa il Du-  ce, con la sua bella parola imperiosa e veloce, ordinò che  si evitasse il passatismo della palandrana di Giolitti.   Suggestionati poi dal dinamismo aggressivo colorato e  tragico della Rivoluzione, essi abbandonarono la loro sta-  ticità e la classicità placida. Gli architetti incaricati di dare  una faccia nuova al vecchio e brutto Palazzo dell’Esposi-  zione, sentirono l’assurdità di qualsiasi decorativismo sim-  bolico, floreale, mitologico o grazioso.   Le loro prime linee gettate sulla carta, rizzandosi ascen-  sionalmente, presero lo slancio aggressivo, guerriero e mi-  naccioso di altissime torri di acciaio o ciminiere naviganti.   A me ricordano simpaticamente i geniali fasci di ascen-  sori dell'architettura di Antonio Sant'Elia, il grande e com-  pianto padre futurista dell’architettura moderna.    Logicamente andò determinandosi lo stile della Mostra  per virtù della Rivoluzione e del suo ritmo mobile ag-  gressivo. Si ricorda l’intero profilo d’uno squadrista. Un  dettaglio basta. Di quell’autocarro schiacciato dal peso  dei fascisti come un tino stracarico di giganteschi grappo-  li neri io ricordo soltanto il mosto rosso a terra e l’acu-  tissimo odore di benzina. Quindi sintesi, dinamismo e in-  tersecazioni di piani. Visibilità aggressività giocondità.  Questa Mostra della Rivoluzione, che tutti gli squadristi  augurano non effimera ma duratura, stabilisce la gloria  del Fascismo con uno stile rivoluzionario italiano che ha  avuto pet primi maestri Sant'Elia e Boccioni. E’, secondo  le parole di Edmondo Rossoni dettemi questa mattina, il  trionfo dell’arte futurista.   F.T MARINETTI  [du: Fuiuriszo, Nel fervore della polemica pro e contro il Futurismo  molti si chiedono: come la pensa il Duce? A questo in  terrogativo i nostri avversari rispondono arbitrariamente  come saremmo ugualmente arbitrari noi volendo asserire  l'opposto di ciò che loro affermano. Per la verità il Duce  non può essere dall’una o dall’altra parte (passatismo ©  futurismo) ma nella sua specifica qualità di Capo della  Nazione non può essere passatista e futurista nello stesso  tempo. Che Egli prediliga come certuni pretendono cor-  renti intermedie lo esclude il suo temperamento nemico  di tutti gli oscillamenti e di ogni mezzo termine. Prefe-  risce le posizioni diritte anche le più azzardate e non è  detto quindi che si compiaccia trattenersi ad ammirare le  varie denominazioni che si dànno alla strada nel corso  di così lungo e complicato cammino com'è quello dell'arte.  Egli tende alla meta: L’arte fine a se stessa. Passatismo  e Futurismo: due colossi che se non esistessero Musso-  lini li avrebbe creati apposta non fosse altro, per }a gioia  patriottica di vedere scaturire dal cozzo di queste mentalità  opposte, nuove faville di luminosa genialità italiana. I  piccoli mondi che rotolano ai margini di questa battaglia  sono frammenti o scorie staccatesi, nell’urto, dal corpo  dei titani: hanno una vita effimera e quelli che precipitan-  do come valanghe trascinano nella loro scia deboli detriti  superficiali, se sopravvivono, sono sempre alimentati dal-  l'atmosfera incandescente generosa che emana il corpo che  li ha creati. Passatismo e Futurismo rimangono inamo-  vibili l'uno di fronte all'altro: impossibile conciliare il  concetto conservatore tradizionale del primo col principio  rivoluzionario rinnovatore del secondo. Chi sia il più forte  non è facile stabilite: dipende da determinate condizioni  intellettuali e spirituali di tempo. Oggi però — in que-  sto secolo fascista — più che le biblioteche e i musei si  moltiplicano scuole avanguardiste, impressioniste, raziona-  liste, novecentisie, moderniste in genere, tutte volenti o  nolenti generate dal futurismo. Volenti o nolenti: non ha    123    valore il fatto che molti sconfessano la loto origine. E'  fatale; anzi vorremmo dire storico. Probabilmente tra cin-  quant’anni il mondo fascistizzato considererà Mussolini un  utopista e ogni nazione vanterà il merito di avere instau-  rato per prima il nuovo regime politico. Di queste infa-  mie la storia è... maestra; solo dopo qualche secolo si  rende giustizia alla verità. Tornando al nostro argomento,  è fuori dubbio che Mussolini, valotizzatore delle gloriose  conquiste del passato, sprona i capaci a superarle sul tra-  guardo del più fulgido domani. Quindi il futurismo rap-  presenta infatti quell’eroica generosa pattuglia d’assalto  che trascina l’esercito degli artisti alla conquista del nuo-  vo. Questo fatto in sé eloquente e inconfondibile, unico  nella storia dell’arte, ha rapporti precisi in campo poli-  tico con la gloriosa epopea mussoliniana. L'inesauribile  ottimismo futurista si identifica così con il concetto gene-  roso originale ardito del fascismo vittorioso. Senza citare  fatti e particolari di cui sono ricchi i nostri ricordi per-  sonali, in tema « Mussolini e il futurismo » basterà ri-  cordare giacché l'occasione è opportuna queste tre date  significative: Boccioni vi  avrà detto che tutte le mie simpatie sono, anche nel  dominio dell’arte, per i novatori e i distruttori e per i  futuristi... » Mussolini. 1924: «... presente adunata futu-  rista che sintetizza vent'anni di grandi battaglie artistiche  politiche spesso consacrate col sangue. Congresso deve  essere punto di partenza non punto d'artivo... » Mussolini. ...Dopo di avere concesso il suo alto patronato per le onoranze nazionali al futurista  Boccioni, Mussolini offre il PRIMO generoso contributo ma-  teriale per il trionfo della grande rassegna dell’arte futu-  rista italiana.   A questo punto, dopo quanto abbiamo detto, ulteriori  considerazioni sono superflue come sarebbe superfluo ri-  cordare ancora una volta l'influenza patriottica esercitata  dal futurismo sulla gioventù italiana prima durante e dopo  la guerra e il fattivo isolato contributo dei futuristi al  fascismo nel 1919 (...).   Mino SOMENZ2I  (da: Sant'Elia, n. 3, anno II, 1° febbraio 1934]  Allorché quindici anni or sono, nel palazzo di Piazza  San Sepolcro, Mussolini gettò le fondamenta di quello  edificio colossale che doveva essere il Fascismo, se nel  manipolo degli intervenuti individuò degli artisti, questi  erano soltanto ed esclusivamente artisti futuristi.   Appena creati i Fasci di combattimento, i primi gruppi  che cotseto ad ingrossare le schiere che cominciavano a  formarsi furono i gruppi politici futuristi, prima, e gli  arditi di guerra e i legionari fiumani, poi, sempre per me-  rito esclusivo dei futuristi.   Il nostro Movimento diede quindi al Fascismo un  apporto qualitativo e un apporto quantitativo: inoltre die-  de alla creazione mussoliniana un conttibuto gigantesco  di fede cieca, di entusiasmo eroico.    Vogliamo indagare il perché di questa spontanea sim-  patia, di questo irresistibile trasporto del Futurismo verso  il Fascismo; il perché della meravigliosa, totalitaria cor-  rispondenza fra una cemcezione eminentemente politica ed  una concezione eminentemente artistica?    Prima di tutto, troviamo che il Fascismo e il Futu-  rismo hanno alla loro origine dei germi comuni: l’amore  disperato alla propria terra, la necessità di moto e di  azione. Dell’intervento nella grande guerra uno fece il  punto di partenza per la sognata rivalorizzazione della  patria; l’altro, lo sbocco conclusivo di quei fatti e di quel-  le idee che possono riassumersi nei tre principii futuristi:  « Tutti 1 diritti, meno quello di esser vigliacchi ». « La  parola Italia deve prevalere sulla parola libertà ». « La  puerta, sola igiene del mondo »,   Dalle piazze affollate d'Italia si passò alle trincee in-  sanguinate d'Italia: interventisti intervenuti: identico en-  tusiasmo: identici sacrifici: identica volontà di far ger-  mogliare il bene della Patria dal martirio e dalla morte  dei suoi figli.   E questa è già molto per dimostrare la straordinaria    125    affinità sentimentale, di origine e di scopi esistente tra  Fascismo e Futurismo.   Ma v'è di più. Infatti, passando dal campo delle con-  cezioni teoretiche a quello delle espressioni pratiche, noi  vediamo il Fascismo disdegnoso di adagiarsi nei ricordi  del passato, ansioso di sciogliersi dai vincoli del presente,  protesa con gli spuardi e con tutte le energie alla conqui-  sta del domani. Avanti, avanti sempre, incita il Duce;  raggiunta una mèta, mille altre se ne profilano: occorre  raggiungere anche queste: ogni sosta è un tradimento:  ogni indugio è un delitto.   Non sona questi i principii stessi cui s’informa il  Futurismo?   E il Futurismo è tutto azione e vita: nelle sue schie-  re accoglie la più bella e sana gioventù d'Italia: gioven-  tù d'anni, ma anche di spiriti.   I suoi artisti creano con la stessa generosità, con lo  stesso dispregio di ogni premio e di ogni riconoscimento,  con i quali ! nostri soldati scattavano all’assalto: loro uni-  co orgoglio, lora unica aspirazione è di poter contribuire  a che il nome d’Italia sempre più alto e sonoro e sempre  niù in estensione squilli nel mondo.   E non è Fascismo, questa?   Ma non è soltanto ciò quello che ci spiega come, fatto  mai verificatosi nella storia dell'umanità, una concezione  esclusivamente morale ed artistica abbia potuto così bene  assorbire ed assorbirsi in una concezione esclusivamente  politica e sociale   Il fatto straordinario che oggi non può non riempirci  di legittima se pur meravigliata soddisfazione, è questo:  un colosso della politica che pensa, agisce, crea, con la  ispirazione e la chiaroveggenza luminosa di un poeta: un  poeta che vive la sua arte come una battaglia politica per  la gloria della Patria sua. Né le due espressioni, fino ad  oggi antitetiche, politica e arte, s'urtano o si contrastano:  anzi si può ben dire che esse hanno così informato di sé  medesime le due personalità che concepirle in diversi at-  teggiamenti spirituali ci sarebbe impossibile.    Come spiegare questo fatto così nuovo e così fuori    126    del comune, se non riferendoci ad una forza incoerci-  bile, misteriosa, ma che tuttavia sussiste, a quella for-  za cioè che crea in alcuni privilegiati quegli speciali stati  d'animo per cui il Genio, attraverso l'adamantina lumi-  nosità di un pensiero superiore, giganteggia e s’infutura?   E’ indubbiamente questa forza contro la quale noi  nulla possiamo che fa di Mussolini un futurista della  stessa tempra di Marinetti e di Marinetti un fascista, de-  gno seguace di Mussolini.   E' sempre questa forza che avvicinando i due crea-  tori, avvicina conseguentemente le loro due creature: è  perciò che come non potrebbe comprendersi un futurismo  non fascista così non si potrebbe concepire un fascismo  conservatore e passatista.   E’ perciò ancora che i futuristi e i fascisti, se veri  ambedue, s’intende, non possono distinguersi: l’italiano  nuovo è un miscuglio — nel valore che la chimica dì  a questa parola — di fascismo e di futurismo: essi costi-  tuiscono i due elementi inscindibili e insostituibili di un  tutto organico.   Chi ha detto ai nostri giovani di chiamarsi /uturfasci-  sti? Nessuno: eppure essi, generalmente, così amano de-  finirsi. Inconscio, spontaneo riconoscimento di una gran-  de verità che non può discutersi e non si distrugge.   Come altrettanto vero è che i fascisti autentici sono  ottimi futuristi. e non potrebbe essere diversamente data  l'essenza dinamica, generosa, novatrice, ottimista nella  quale il Duce vuole plasmati i nuovi italiani.   Ma come avviene, allora, che anche tra i fascisti sono  molti i contrati al Futurismo?   Perché molti sono i rimrorchiati che pur vestendo in  camicia nera e ostentando il distintivo, parlando (e pur-  troppo parlando solo) fascisticamente e mettendosi sem-  pre in prima fila nei cortei, han tuttavia conservato l’ani-  ma italiana di anteguerra, pavida, gretta, piccina.   Molti altri poi, pur sentendo nel loro intimo tutto  ciò che di bello e di buono ha il Futurismo, per un sen-  so invincibile di borghesisma, per timore di essere ridicolizzati e per desiderio di essere tenuti e rispettati quali  persone serie, dicono e non dicono, ammettono e smen-  tiscono, concedono e negano, opportunisti rammolliti, bor-  ghesi, vigliacchi.   Ma ciò che prima o poi capiterà a costoro, che noi  sentiamo di odiare profondamente, molta ma molto di  più dei nemici nostri aperti e leali, che almeno rispet-  tiamo, lo ha detto chiaramente il Duce nel suo recente  magnifico discorso all'Assemblea quinquennale. Per essi  non si tratta né di Fascismo né di Futurismo: si tratta di  vigliaccheria, e basta. Non han diritto neppure a chiamarsi  italiani.   Né escludiamo da questa ignominiosa schiera quei gio-  vani d'anni che han conservato intatta l’anima dei bisa-  voli: che gridano doversi l’arte rinnovare e si impuntano  come muli riottosi dinanzi al futurismo: che accettano e  sì prosternano ad ogni novità che ci proviene d'oltre  confine, anche se figlia di genitori futuristi italiani, e  fanno i disdegnosi, gl’incontentabili, i superuomini verso  il nostro movimento che gli stranieri stessi ammirano co-  me un’altra delle tante glorie italiane.    Anche questi così detti giovani non possono e non po-  tranno mai essere fascisti sul serio, giacché essi non  hanno del Fascismo né compreso né assimilato quelle ca-  ratteristiche di spiccato futurismo che sono il rinnovamen-  to, la velocità, il dinamismo, il continuo superarsi, la mat  cia ininterrotta verso la perenne conquista.    E lo stesso diciamo di quei critici che si fermano a  vivisezionare un'opera d’arte, isolandola dal vasto am-  biente donde essa ttae la sua ragione di vita; che fanno  l'anatomia di un nostro artista senza riflettere che esso è  soltanto un membro di un corpo gigantesco. Essi dimo-  strano di aver perduto o di non aver mai posseduto quella  somma virtù latina, fascista e futurista insieme, che è la  virtù della sintesi soffocata in loro dalla fredda pesantez-  za anglo-sassone dell’analisi. Ma costoro sono i compri-  matii, le comparse della nostra vita e abbiamo di già  concesso loro troppo onore di discussione.    Su tutto e su tutti restano le idee: nel campo politi    128    co-sociale, l'idea fascista; nel campo artistico-spirituale.  l’idea futurista.   Ambedue han detto al loro mondo una parola non an-  corta udita; ambedue hanno tracciato, ognuna nei propri  confini, la via nuova da seguire per giungere alla salvezza:  tanto l’una che l’altra si sono dimostrate possenti dina-  mo, generatrici di forza, di fiducia in noi stessi, dì ottimi-  smo. di passione, di entusiasmo.   L'una, nel campo politico, ha raccolto infiniti proseliti  ovunque, e ciò in relazione ai numerosi problemi d’indole  contingente di cui ha trovato o propone le soluzioni; l'al-  tra, nel campo più ristretto dell'arte, ha egualmente susci-  tato energie, ridestato gli addormentati, incitato i pigri,  rincuorato i pavidi, persuaso i dubbiosi.   Se qui dovesse attestarsi l’opera vitale sia dell'una  che dell'altra idea, già tutti i diritti esse avrebbero acqui-  stati per l'imperitura riconoscenza della civiltà.   Ma ambedue continuano nella loro marcia ascensio-  nale: e i critici che affermano essere il Futurismo supe-  rato ci fan lo stesso effetto di quei pochi e sparuti anti.  fascisti che affermano aver il Fascismo esaurito il suo  compito.   Idee come queste nostre non possono né sostare, né  esaurirsi, né esser superate: la loro essenza stessa di con-  tinua marcia, di continua ascesa, di continua conquista  non lo permette.   Un uomo, a idea, una opera potranno esser supe-  rati: ma non l'Uomo, non l’idea, non l’opera.   Ed ora che conclusione trarremo dalla dimostrata iden-  tica struttura spirituale del Fascismo e del Futurismo, dal-  la dimostrata perfetta corresponsione fra loro di scopi e  d’intenti?   La conclusione è la solita: ripetiamo ancora una volta  e confermiamo che il solo artista capace di riprodurre in  tutta la sua ampiezza, in tutta la sua luce e in tutta la  sua gloria la vita nuova dell’Italia di Mussolini è l'artista  futurista e che il Futurismo è la sola espressione d'arte  degna e capace di tramandare ai posteti la vitalità, la po-  tenza, la dinamicità dell’éra fascista. Questo diritto che noi accampiamo ci proviene da quel-  l'identità di spirito, di tendenze, di sensibilità che fa del  Fascismo e del Futurismo un unico, perfetto blocco e che  nessuna scuola, nessuna tendenza, nessun'altra forma di  arte può vantare   E noi teniama al riconoscimento di questo nostro di-  ritto: non perché ci spingano meschini interessi o poco  nobili ambizioni ma perché, forti di un infinito amore per  la patria nostra e di una dedizione cosciente e completa  di tutta la nostra spiritualità alla sovrumana potenza di  un'idea, al fascino gigantesco di un Genio universale, vo.  gliamo che non abbia soste il cammino trionfale che l’Ita-  lia rinnovata sta compiendo verso le sue più alte mète,  sotto il comando romano di Benito Mussolini.    FuTURISMO  [da Sant'Elia, n 64, anna III 4 aprile 1934]  La polemica accesasi negli Anni Trenta tra futuristi  rivoluzionari e futuristi sostanziali o di destra, è già  espressione di quel «secondo futurismo», che abbia  mo visto e detto essere momento collaterale del fa-  scismo-regime. O tentativo piuttosto di conservare la  avanguardia nell'ambito di un sistema che come tale  era più propenso ad un suo ordine intrinseco e im-  prescindibile da mantenere 0 da continuare. In questo  senso il futurismo «di destra», come lo definisce il  sansepolcrista Bruno Corra nel marzo del ‘32 su Fu-  turismo, vorrebbe un po’ essere quello degli « arri.  vati », di chi si asside sulle comode poltrone della  fine della carriera, pur cercando di mantenere uno  Spirito 4 precedente », giovanile e innovatore, che non  può essere venuto meno in chi ha giù combattuto e  si è esposto per una causa di rinnovamento. Gli fa  eco Corrado Gawvoni riprendendo il discorso e pun-  tualizzando il concetto stesso di futurismo, senza che  gli si debba o gli si voglia nulla rubare, come è staio  fatto da tutte le parti, e a riconoscergli invece la sua  portata e i suoi risultati.   Solo una settimana dopo ribatte Paolo Buzzi sul  numero del 26 marzo sempre di Futurismo con un  violento attacco ai «futuristi di destra » e il sostegno  4 un ritorno alle estrema sinistra », come già dice nel  titolo. L'’avanguardia, in quanto avanguardia e se vuol  rimanere avanguardia, non può che esercitare una  funzione di vottura per il rinnovamento ed il rivolgi-  meuto del vecchio e del passato. Come tale l'aver  guardia non può che essere e rimanere di « estrema  sinistra », sC il futurisito si ritiene ancora uvangaar  dia 0 vuole mantenersi e vivere. Resta però forse una  voce isolata quella del Buzzi, rincalzato ancora il 2  aprile, sul numero della settimana dopo, da Remo  Chiti che postula un futurismo sostanziale in cui tutto  si annulla, destra e sinistra, nel momento stesso in  cuni tt futurismo diviene ercativo e vu libera dvi con-  formismi e delle convenzioni.   Ancora «all'Avanguardia » dedicava un quinto ed  ultimo articolo Luciano Folgore, sempre su Futurismo  dello stesso anno (1933). Il futurismo di destra e  quello di sinistra st superano oramai nell'avanguardia  che ancora continua e sì muove nell'avanzata dell'en-  tusiasnio. E l'ottintismo continua in effetti fino al’ul-  timo, anche con la fine del fascismo, anche con la  morte di Marinetti, anche con la sconfitta nella guerra  « sola igiene del mondo », continua ancora nelle ulti  me gencrazioni e nel messaggio dell'ultimo manifesto,  quello del «futurismo-oggi », che vive e crea nel pre  sente.    NOI FUTURISTI DI DESTRA    Quando si riunirà in Roma il primo grande congresso  dei futuristi di tutto il mondo, io andrò a sedermi —  vicino a Buzzi, a Notari, a Folgore, a Govoni — ad un  banco dell’estrema destra. Ma esiste dunque, può esiste-  te un Futurismo di destra? I due termini non fanno a  pugni? Un movimento rivoluzionario può contenere in sé  tendenze conservative? E, infine, l’espressione « futuri-  sta di destra» non val quanto « futurista annacquato e  prudente » non s'identifica con l’ambigua parola « nove-  centista »?   Mi pare che qui si tratti, prima di tutto, di una que-  stione di moralità. Dare al Futurismo quel che al Futuri  smo appartiene: e non truccare il proprio ingegno con una  etichetta di convenienza. Chi si dichiara avanguardista ma  non futurista, sputa nel piatto dove ha mangiato. Poi, io  stabilirei questo principio: che il privilegio di poter restare  nella sfera magnetica del Futurismo pure affermando, nel-  la propria opera matura un remperamento realizzatore di  destra debba accordarsi soltanto a coloro che han dimo-  strato di saper essere « integralmente » futuristi. E recla-  merei il diritto di sedermi a destra, per mio conto, in no-  me della mia effettiva collaborazione al Futurismo più ri-  voluzionario: Teatro Sintetico; Cinema futurista; e due  opete di audacissima narrazione fututista (La donna ce  duta dal cieln — Sam Dunn è morto).   In realtà, fermo restando che l’essenza del Futurismo  è e non può non essere rivoluzionaria, bisogna dire che  nel nostro movimento i termini sinistra e destra non si  oppongono, perdono ciaè il loro significato convenzionale.  La mentalità futurista supera il contrasto fra il sovverti-  mento e la conservazione, in quanto si libera di continuo  in uno slancio creativa. Perciò un eventuale Congresso fu-  turista dovrebbe assumere una configurazione non oriz-  zontale ma verticale: fututisti di cima e futuristi di base,    133    aviazione e fanteria. E soltanto per ragioni di comodo, io  qui mi son servito della parola destra.   Ma diciamo pure i fanti, i pontieri, i costruttori di stra-  de del Futurismo, e avremo indicato il carattere e spiega-  to la necessità di questo settore nel nostro movimento:  l'aderenza al terreno pratico. Come l'architettura, come la  decorazione, l’arte narrativa adempie a una funzione in  gran parte pratica: da ciò l'obbligo per essa di equili-  brarsi tra il dovere del rinnovamento artistico e l’impe-  rativo degli scopi vitali ai quali la sua natura la destina.  Un romanzo illeggibile equivale a una casa senza finestre  per vederci o a una stazione dove i treni non possono cir-  colare. Ora il Futurismo vanta la proptia aderenza al tem-  po attuale anche nel senso della praticità. Le case futuriste  vogliono essere le più comode: la struttura delle città futu-  riste mira ad assicurare i massimi vantaggi alle moltitudi-  ni che devono abitarle. Allo stesso modo il narratore fu-  turista ambisce di garbare alle folle dei giovani, traendone  e in esse trasfondendo gli ideali tipici del nostro tempo,  per via di una tecnica intonata alla sensibilità moderna,  tutta nitidezza brevità sintetismo. Va da sé che il buon  narratore futurista dovrà ogni tanto lasciare la sua bisogna  terrestre, per collaudare ed eccitare nell’ebbrezza di un  volo lirico la propria tempra di novatore. Questa nota velo-  ce non intende di risolvere l'importante problema al qua-  le si riferisce: ma soltanto di proporre lo studio ai came-  rati futuristi.   Bruno CorRrA  Sansepolcrista  [da: Futurismo -- Con il suo articolo « Noi futuristi di destra » uscito  nell'ultimo numero di Futurismo, Bruno Corra ha oppor-  tunamente aperto una tempestiva discussione intorno al  movimento futurista che, secondo me, va allargata e approfondita da una serie di perentorie domande — argo-  menti che, investendone in pieno la vita e la vitalità, ri-  chiedono altrettante risposte urgenti e risolutive,   Quali sono le origini e le funzioni del movimento fu-  turista in Italia.   Quanti e quali sono i movimenti artistici e letterari  succedntisi in questi ultimi venti anni in Europa, che  accusano sinceramente una netta derivazione dal Futu-  rismo.   Individuazione dei movimenti artistici e letterari che  rappresentano una deviazione e una contraffazione del  Futurismo e dei movimenti che, o fingendo d’ignorarlo,  o ammettendolo furbescamente solo attraverso la propria  attenuazione, continuano a pompargli generoso sangue e  a servirsene di veicolo sull’allegro esempio della comoda  simbiosi di Bernardo l’Eremita.   Quali sono Je vere umane ragioni per cui elementi  di primissimo ordine si dispersero e si distaccarono dal  movimento futurista dopo averne fatto parte, o. dopo aver-  ne attraversata l’esperienza (cito alcuni nomi: Palazzeschi  e Carrà; Soffici e Papini).   In che cosa consista e came vada intesa il cosidetto  « contenuto polemico » che, seconda certa critica nostra-  na, costituirebbe il peso morto e il punto d'arresto del  Fututismo.   Quale fondamento abbia l'accusa spesso rivolta al Fu-  tutismo di essere un movimento difettoso e caduco per-  ché nato senza una dottrina estetica che lo giustifichi.   Espansione influenza e fortune del Futurismo in tut-  to il mondo e suo riconoscimento in Italia.   Sono tutte domande che hanno bisogno per una con-  veniente risposta, di lunghe e minuziose trattazioni.   Ed è più che naturale e logica la irresistibile tendenza  dei nostri connazionali a sbarazzarsene con una sola pa-  rola.   Questa parola la conosciamo troppo bene: Marinetti!   Ma conosciamo troppo bene anche il grossolano  trucco,    Si accarezza Marinetti (fino ad un certo punto, e il più nascostamente che sia possibile: è bene non compro-  mettersi troppo!), per negare poi il Futurismo e massacra-  re i futuristi.   Da troppo tempo si pratica ormai l'iniquo inganno  per non sperare che abbia finalmente a fruttare un ri-  sultato vittorioso e definitivo!   E’ il trucco indegno tentato dagli antifascisti contro  il fascismo quando si cercava di mettere in mora il fa-  scismo proclamando il Mussolinisma, nell’assurda cana-  gliesca mira di dividerli, per batterli poi con più comada  separatamente.   Mussolini anche a quei tempi era trappo Duce per  non avvertire la subdola insidia e sventarla.   Marinetti! Chi più di noi l’ha più fedelmente amato  ed ammirato?   Per conoscere quali prodigiosi tesori di amore e di  energia egli possieda, bisogna vederlo all'estero. Bisogna  sentire allora con che fuoco egli è capace di affrontare  i pubblici più paurosi per numero e distinzione, più ostili  ad ogni cosa che abbia la nostra impronta di quanto non  st creda, e per mentalità, per gelosia e furore d'inferiorità;  bisogna sentirlo dominare a poco a poco col suo impeto  irresistibile gli spiriti o avversi o diffidenti, e, mentre  fa giganteggiare nelle assemblee stipate l’ombra magnani-  ma del Duce, vederlo a trascinarle all’'entusiasmo e co-  stringerle a riconoscere la poesia italiana come una cosa  caduta dal cielo: bisogna, dico, vedere quest'Uomo straor-  dinario all’estero, per capire che instancabile affascinante  ambasciatore d'italianità nel mondo noi abbiamo in lui.   Se l’attività di Marinetti presenta una debolezza, que-  sto avviene proprio in casa nostra. E' una debolezza che  è forse il suo più alto titolo di gloria. E ritorneremo sul-  l'argomento.   Ma approfitrarsene come troppi fanno, è un mostruo-  so delitto.   Che cosa volete allora?, ci domanderà qualche impru-  dente con un sorriso allusivo.   No, no, non invidiamo il puzzo di benzina, state tran-  quilli: a questo volevate alludere. Ma troppe volte ricevia-    136    mo in faccia la cenciata dell'insolente puzzo di benzina  per non sentirci offesi e disgustati nella nostra rassegnata  povertà.   La ragione del nostro malcontento è che da troppo  tempo noi andiamo seminando e falciando per quelli che  ci seguono e allegramente raccolgono senza nemmeno ri-  volgerci un pensiero di ringraziamento.   Amici cari, se ci fermassimo un po’, se ci voltassimo  un pochino indietro anche noi? Se pensassimo anche noi  di raccogliere un pugno di quelle spighe, da portarcele a  casa se non altro per ricordo e testimonianza della lunga  fatica compiuta?   Ma se lasciamo ancora correre un poco, ho paura che  ci negheranno anche questo piccolo premio di consolazio-  ne; e se ci destineranno un posto {bontà loro!), questo  non sarà che per il museo, tra le mummie di coloro che  st prodigarono e sactificarono per una fede e un ideale  e che Alfredo Panzini già propose di raggruppate in una  sola classifica con la denominazione di collezione di fessi...    CorRrADO GovonI  [da: Futwrismo,  ESTREMA SINISTRA    E non vorrei altro aggiungere. Le distinzioni, «i pun-  ti fermi», Îe categorie anagrafiche non contano. Si sa  che, per taluni, l'età del « destino » futurista è passata da  un pezzo. Pure, quando la febbre della creazione non è  discesa e, soprattutto, quando il traguardo tremendamente  astrale della proptia Opera non è raggiunto, ci si sente,  ogni mattina, l'età — magari — di Vittoria, di Ala e di  Luce Marinetti...! Questo, e non altro, è il vero futurismo.  Perché dovrei sedermi a destra, proprio io? Mi sembre-  rebbe di tradire la causa di « Aeroplani », di « Ellisse €  la Spirale », di « Cavalcata delle vertigini », di « Popolo  canta così! » di « Dannazioni » e di tutto il mio Teatro  inedito, ma ultra violetto, che ha forse, a suo tempo, spa-  ventato anche i genii scenici sovversivi di Petrolini e di  Bragaglia.   Soprattutto, mi sembrerebbe di tradite le mie Opere  fantasticamente audaci di domani: « Beatitudini »  (affret-  tati mio caro Campitelli: perché l'aeroplano-razzo deve  partire per le stelle!). « Canto quotidiano », dove vedrete  il Poema attimistico del 1932 (la « Prora », lo sta stam-  pando); e «Nostra Signora degli Abissi »: dove, fina]  mente, la Motte sarà vinta e le onde cosmiche impaste-  ranno da pari loro la nuova genesi delle radiazioni inter-  planetari.    Questo è futurismo: e di ultra estrema sinistra.    Le mie anatomie sintetiche di anime e di sensi, le mie  aeropitture di tipi e di paesaggi, i miei cosmapolitismi spa-  ziali e i miei intimismi vorticosi stanno per una intransi-  genza etico estetica che costituisce, ormai, la gioia (ed, un  pochino, anche la gloria) della mia lunga carriera di uomo  che ha sempre fatto dell'Arte come il sacerdote celebra  messa. Aviatore sempre, adunque: fante e stradino, non  mai. Lo so che i miei romanzi (appunto perché sempre ed  esclusivamente poemi) non hanno trovato che editori san-  ti, martiri ed eroi. Ma anche questo è un segno nobile del-  le cose e degli uomini e degli eventi. In quanto alle mie  opere di Poesia pura, ho avuto la soddisfazione recente di  trovarmele analizzate e comprese e discusse ed evidente-  mente — quindi — amate da una Rivista di giovanissime  menti e di ardentissimi cuori: dico, la « Penna dei Ragaz-  zi » diretta da Vittorio Mussolini, edita in Roma.   I giovani, quelli veramente degni di questo nome pri-  maverile, sanno che, al di fuori e al di sopra d’ogni inevi-  tabile chiasso letterario, la parola « futurismo » risponde  alla solo unica vera «idea forza» che oggi esista nella  sfera ideale del Mondo: e che è in grazia di essa, unica-  mente di essa, se oggi la Poesia della miracolosa Italia  fascista vive e vivrà.   Naturalmente io dico ai giovani, anche e specie se    138    coronati dal casco d'alluminio in pieno cielo: « lavorate »  non accontentatevi di quattro parole intonate all’onoma-  topea del motore: la Poesia italiana ha ben altri diritti ed  impone ben altri doveri! guardate dalle finestre di Palazzo  Venezia, la Via dell'Impero! e cantate i nuovi « Carmi de-  gli Augusti e dei Consolari », se ne siete capaci! Il Duce  vi premierà.  PaoLo BUZZI  [da: Futurismo,  FUTURISMO SOSTANZIALE    « Non c’è che un futurismo: quello di estrema si-  nistra », ha affermato Paolo Buzzi. Ma questa generosa  intransigenza che parrebbe volere ammettere un unico  modo di manifestarsi — contro la premessa di Bruno Cor-  ra circa il riconoscimento o meno d'un futurismo di destra  « aderente al terreno pratico » — rimane una questione  poetica e individuale di fronte agli argomenti che le ter-  ranno dappresso:    1) Il futurismo non è formalista; non si crea né  si lascia creare barriere dalle definizioni; pago della pro-  pria influenza, lontano da ripulse d’ortodossia vendicati-  va, riconosce per suo anche quello che è tale sull’altro  name.   Del resto Corra aveva scritto: « fermo restando che  l’essenza del futurismo è e non può non essere rivolu-  zionaria, bisogna dire che nel nostro Movimento i termi-  ni sinistra e destra non sì oppongono, perdono cioè il loro  significato convenzionale. La mentalità futurista supera  il contrasto fra il sovvertimento e la conservazione, in  quanto si libera di continuo in uno slancio creativo ». Le centinaia di migliaia di aderenti al Movimen-  to non si compongono di un solo tipo di futurista. La convinzione può essere unica; ma l'ispirazione e i tem-  peramenti saranno naturalmente diversi. Così uno stesso  tema, di sentimento futurista, verrà espresso in stili di-  versi.   Si dovrebbe scartare i meno intensi? Fino a quel pun-  to? E come negarne la sostanza futurista?    3) La varietà di tipi, che documenta l’importanza  sociale del fenomeno futurista, è assoluta; e va dai poeti  ai militari, dai pittori agli industriali, ecc.   Bisogna presupporne quindi una gradazione di realiz.  zatori; gradazione intimamente connessa alle diverse si.  tuazioni ambientali o tecniche in cui i tipi si trovano. Non  si tratta qui di temperamento o di mentalità più o meno  ardenti. Si tratta di concezione e di azione che devono  spesso basarsi sul comune « campo pratico » dove s'in-  contrano il numero o la psicologia, cioè i mezzi materiali  negli scambi del pensiero e del lavoro (p. e, i giornalisti,  gl'ingegneri).   Io penso che Marinetti, quando parla nei convegni e  alle inaugurazioni, faccia — con istintiva attenuazione del-  la sua anima inquieta — del futurismo di destra. Perché  allora è sul terreno « pratico ».   E buon testimone potrebbe esserci Mino Somenzi stes-  so, uomo ardito, pittore d'incendi, cervello intransigente,  che pure fu l'organizzatore, modesto e alacre del I. Con-  gresso futurista a Milano, 1924, riuscendo con l'intelli-  gente accoglienza a dare alla manifestazione una luce  di concordia, rara nelle ancor più rare grandi adunate di  artisti e di caratteri spiccatissimi; Somenzi stesso che fon-  dò questo giornale indispensabile alle rivendicazioni di con-  quiste artistiche e ideali misconosciute ed alla continua-  zione della tenace opera di ringiovanimento, ed accolse  dopo, con larghezza d'intenti, l'ingegno d'ogni età e d'ogni  fama purché attratto da poli positivi.   Dunque, se si dovesse affermare l'essenza d’un solo  futurismo bisognerebbe dire: « futurismo sostanziale », che  è poi quello del 1909, di oggi e dell'avvenire: umano, illi-  mitato, ascendente.   Le idee vitali sono al disopra degli stessi uomini che le divinano e le dettano. Esse formano il « tempo », mi.  racolosamente, quasi contro tutte le volontà.    Corrado Govoni, a seguito della discussione aperta da  Bruno Corra, proponeva di riesaminare la posizione del  tuturismo fra le correnti nostrane ed estere. Dei sette que-  siti presentati, una richiamava l’attenzione su l'accusa mos-  sa dal culturalismo circa una pretesa assenza di dottrina  giustificante l'estetica futurista.    Anche il Fascismo fu accusato di assenza di dottrina: -  e non dai soli avversari.    Quale dottrina, quando la critica ufficiale vede attra-  verso la cultura, divenuta una seconda natura?    Remo CHITI  (da: Faturismo, n. 30, anno II, 2 aprile 1933] Mi ricordo che Umberto Boccioni propendeva per un  movimento chiuso e voleva che i giovani artisti, i quali  si dichiatavano futuristi e aspitavano ad entrare nel nostro  gruppo, subissero un lungo periodo di quarantena.   Secondo Boccioni non bastava proclamarsi novatore  per esserlo, in realtà; non era sufficiente una adesione più  o meno entusiastica per avere ingresso libero in un mo-  vimento che si proponeva di attuare nell'arte e nella vita  un nuovo ordine di cose.    Dal suo punto di vista, puramente artistico, il crea-  tore del « dinamismo plastico » non aveva torto. Il dono  della originalità non è largito che a pochi. Per superare  il già fatto, mettersi in armonia coi propri tempi e pre-  vedere i lineamenti estetici del futuro occorre un’intelli-  genza ardita, geniale e di largo respiro.    Ma contro l’esclusivismo boccioniano insorgeva la vi    141    brante liberalità di Marinetti, che più futurista di ogni  altro intuiva la necessità di creare un clima, di generaliz-  zare una tendenza, di suscitare una vasta atmosfera spiri-  tuale in cui si dovessero respirare continuamente il senso  e il desiderio della novità.   Ecco la ragione profonda del suo proselitismo, della  sua accettazione, quasi incondizionata nel movimento, di  tutti quei giovani e giovanissimi che avessero fede nel  futurismo.   Tale generosità non fu e non sarà mai faciloneria.   Nel fervore del diciottenne c'è sempre qualcosa di vivo  e di sacro che è impossibile trascurare. Ognuno di noi  sa per esperienza che è la primavera, anche con le sue  intemperanze, la stagione che prepara i germi e i frutti di  domani. E non bisogna aver paura che gli entusiasmi sbol-  liscano presto. Basta che la fiaccola timanga accesa e che  trascorra di mano in mano agitata e sollevata continua-  mente da qualcuno che ha fiducia nell’eterna giovinezza  della nostra arte e della nostra vita.   Futurismo di destra? Futurismo di sinistra? Non cre-  do che sia il caso di parlarne. In quanto alle benemerenze  e al sacrifici, talvolta eroici, dei primi banditori del futu-  tismo essi appartengono ormai alla storia.   L'amico Govoni vorrebbe che i futuristi della vigilia  fossero promossi al grado di santoni e avessero quel tribu-  to di applausi e di ricompense che essi giustamente meri-  tano. Ma ciò equivarrebbe a una giubilazione e noi ri-  schieremmo di diventare dei sopravvissuti.   Il piedistallo e l’altare non sono il nostro posto di  combattimento.   In prima linea sempre e all'avanguardia ad ogni co-  sto! Anche a costo di essere eternamente in contrasto con  il gusto del pubblico che è per sua natura ritardatario e  accetta soltanto il futurismo di seconda mano, addomesti-  cato dagli abili profittatori del nostro movimento.   Questo disprezzo del rendiconto e del caso personale,  questa ferma volontà di essere più giovani dei giovani è  un segno di vitalità e quindi di ottimismo. Di quell’otti-  mismo che molti pseudo-avanguardisti aborrono perché so-    142    no nati con la barba nel cervello, non hanno avuto mai  vent'anni e non arrivano a comprendere che soltanto nel-  l'entusiasmo assoluto e nella fede cosciente ma senza mez-  zi termini c'è il lievito di ogni grandezza futura e d’ogni  poesia nuova. Chi ha il torcicollo nostalgico non può guar-  dare dititto innanzi a sé e andare oltre speditamente.   Chi nega l'ottimismo nega lo slancio vitale che si per-  petua nel tempo e nello spazio perché ricco di speranze  istintive e fornito da madre natura del vero e genvino  senso dell'immortalità.   Avanti dunque coi giovani e giovanissimi. Il clima fu-  turista dev’essere sopratttuto un clima primaverile e  acerbo.   Luciano FOLGORE  [da: Futurismo, -- Abbiamo raccolto quattro testimonianze futuriste, è  sul futurismo. Una è di Alberto Sartoris, architetto,  una di Tullio Crali, pittore, una di Curto Belloli, eri-  tico d'arte, e una di Enzo Benedetto, pittore e giorna-  lista. Tre furono e sono futuristi: il quarto (Carlo Bel.  loli) è un esperto, studioso ed interprete del futurismo.  Ci sono sembrati interventi significativi e ittdispensa-  bili alla puntualizzazione dell'argomento, visto che si  tratta di personaggi viventi, che hanno partecipato al  futurismo e che ancora oggi lo sostengono e cercano  di dargli alito o di vivere futuristicamente a tutt'oggi  in un mondo, forse, ricaduto nel « passatismo ». Crali  con l'aeropittura e la sassintesi ha continuato l'avan-  guardia, cui aveva aderito col futurismo che sempre  l'aveva sostenuta, al di qua e al di là del fascismo.  Benedetto con un manifesto {Futurismo oggi) e poi    con un foglio periodico «operativo », capace di pro  porci il futurismo di ieri e anche quello di oggi. Sar  toris con un'ottività artistica professionale volta 4 con-  timuare, anche se in oltre direzioni n con altri strumen-  ti di vicerca, la prima avanguardia cui aveva aderito  entusiasta. Belloli puntualizza e sancisce criticamente  con la profondità dell’evperto certi. rapporti e certe  « colleganze », troppo spesso volutamente dimenticate 0  accantonate. La critica deve essere seria e intellettual.  mente, n «ideologicamente », corretta. E° quello che  abbiamo cercato di fare. Anche con la pubblicazione  di questo testimonianze    Carlo Belloli, critico, poeza « visuale » di sperimen  tazione futurista, e docente nelle università svizzere di  estetica {Basilca) e storia della critica d'arte (Strasbur-  go) Nato nel 1922, vive a Milano e Basilea. E' colla  boratore de La Martinella di Milano, già del Roma di  Napoli, e della rivista Les Arts di Parigi Organizza  come consulente le mostre di numerose gallerie d'arte    di Milano.    Enzo Benedetto, pittore e scrittore, futurista « da  sempre » (1923). E' nato a Reggio Calabria nel 1905,  vive a Roma, dove ha lo studio e pubblica Futurismo  aggi, che esce dal ‘69, bimestralmente, con saggi e ri  produzioni di opere futuriste. Fu anche autore del  l'omonimo manifesto nel dopoguerra (1967).    ‘Tullio Crali, pittore futurista e aeropittore. E' nato  nel 1910 a Igalo, in Dalmazia. Vive a Milano dove ha  lo studio e il più importante archivio del futurismo  attualmente esistente. Futurista dal '29 e creatore della  camicia anticravatta e della giacca antibavero (nel '33),  é firmatario nel ‘58 del manifesto futurista sulla « Sas-  sintesi ». Sarà uno degli ultimi a vedere Marinetti nel  ‘4d, prima della morte, a Venezia e e concordare can  lui la continuità del futurismo dapo la guerra    Alberto Sartoris, architeito e professore dll'Univer  sità di Losanna. Futurista e amico di Terragm e di Le  Corbusier, E' nato a Torino nel 1901. Vive a Cossonay  Ville, vicino a Losanna, Aderì al futurismo nel 1920 e  nel ‘28 sarà con Prampolini e Fillia nel gruppo torinese.  Nel ’36 fonda il gruppo degli astrattisti a Como, dove  collabora con Terragni nel progetto della città operaia  di Rebbio. ('39-40). Sua opera fondamentale è il li  bro Gli elementi dell’architettura funzionale (1932),  pilastro teorico del razionalismo architettonico italiano  (introdotto da Le Corbusier)    FUTURISMO-FASCISMO:  OSMOSI DI DUE MOVIMENTI DELL'ITALIA  CONTEMPORANEA    Dal futurismo confluirono al fascismo, o viceversa, al-  cuni letterati e pittori, qualche pensatore, di singolare auto-  nomia espressiva.   E' il caso di Mario Carli, Emilio Settimelli ed Arman-  do Mazza letterati e giornalisti di non trascurabile inci-  denza che dalla originaria militanza futurista estrassero  dialettica, argomentazioni autonome e maturazione spiri-  tuale, per assumere nel giornalismo fascista più avanzato  ruoli protagonisti.   Mario Carli, ufficiale degli Arditi nella prima guerra  mondiale e poi legionario fiumano, fondò con F.T. Ma-  rinetti l'Associazione degli Arditi d’Italia e il periodico  Roma Futurista dalle cui colonne trovarono sistematica  divulgazione il teatro sintetico, le pratiche parolibere dei  poeti futuristi e le prime prove versoliberiste di Giuseppe  Bottai che ne fu redattore.   In quel 1919 anche il generale Luigi Capello si avvi-  cinerà ai futuristi per esporre alcune tavole parolibere di  accertata ingegnosità, alla « Grande Esposizione Naziona-  le Futurista » nella galleria centrale d'arte di Palazzo Co-  va a Milano, mostra successivamente presentata a Firenze  e a Genova.   Mario Carli con la raccolta di versi liberi e parole  in libertà Caproni, pubblicata a Milano nel 1925, precorse  l’aeropoesia futurista degli Anni Trenta.    Alla prosa poetica, Carli, aveva dedicato Le notti fil-  trate, singolare repertorio lirico pubblicato nel 1918 e ri-  stampato a Roma, nel 1923 per i tipi di Giorgio Berlutti  che dirigerà quella Libreria del Littorio, editrice di mo:  numenti e documenti dell'era fascista. Il suo debutto di  prosatore era avvenuto nel 1909 con un seguito di novel-  le, Seduzioni, cui seguirà, nel 1915, il suo primo romanzo, Retroscena. All’attività letteraria e giornalistica Mario  Carli alternerà quella politica e diplomatica.    Nel 1926 pubblicherà a Firenze Fascismo Intransigente,  con prefazione di Roberto Farinacci, che inaugurerà la ten-  denza più oltranzista del fascismo.   Nel 1925 Carli era stato nominato Console d’Italia  in Brasile, per essere in seguito trasferito a Porto Alegre  nel 1927, anno in cui Bernardo Attolico assumerà la reg-  genza dell'Ambasciata d’Italia a Rio de Janeiro.   La tournée brasiliana del fondatore del futurismo a  Rio de Janeiro, Porto Alegre, San Paolo e Santos, nel  maggio del 1926, troverà Mario Carli a fianco di Mari-  netti per arginare le polemiche causate in Brasile dalla  aperta posizione fascista dell’inventore delle parole in li  bertà.   Dalla ribalta dei teatri brasiliani Carli prenderà la  parola con Marinetti ricordando che il fascismo dei-futu-  risti non aveva impedito di condurre ricerche nuove nelle  arti e nell'estetica alle quali la poetica futurista aveva  aperto liberi orizzonti precisamente influenzando il « mo-  dernismo » sudamericano.   Emilio Settimelli, poeta, scrittore di teatro e giorna-  lista, aveva debuttato nel gruppo futurista toscano nel  1915 e con F.T. Marinetti e Bruno Corra aveva curato  la prima antologia del Teatro Sintetico Futurista, edita da  Umberto Notati, a Milano in quel medesimo anno, nella  collezione dei « Breviari Intellettuali » del suo Istituto  Editoriale Italiano.   Nel 1917 Settimelli pubblicherà a Firenze Maschera-  te e, nel 1918, I capricci della Duchessa Pallore, edito a  Milano dalle Messaggerie Italiane. Settimelli risulta pre-  cursote di un periodare scarno e telegrafico, serrato e dia-  lettico, inttoducendo la pratica di neologismi sociopolitici  che avranno fortuna nel linguaggio governativo e giorna-  listico italiano degli Anni Venti e Trenta. Il teatro sin-  tetico di Settimelli si differenzia da quello degli altri auto-  ri futuristi per lucida imprevedibilità di azioni-stati d’ani-  mo simultanei. Nel fascismo anche Settimelli appartenne  alla corrente più revisionista e le sue Sassate, pubblicate    148    a Roma-Firenze nel 1926 dalla Casa Editrice Italiana, col:  piranno più di un gerarca in posizione moderata e con-  formista.   Filippo Tommaso Marinetti redigerà nel 1921 con Emi-  lio Settimelli e Mario Carli il manifesto Che cos'è il Futu-  rismo | Nozioni elementari, dove vengono considerati « fu-  turisti nella politica » coloro che amano il progresso del-  l'Italia più di loro stessi, quelli che vorranno liberare  l'Italia dal papato, dalla monarchia, dal senato, dal parla-  mento, dal matrimonio, precorrendo molti, successivi, pro-  positi del fascismo.   Così la volontà di perseguire un governo tecnico di  giovani, senza parlamento, « vivificato da un consiglio ec-  citatorio di giovanissimi », la determinazione di « espro-  priare gradualmente tutte le terre incolte e malcoltivate,  preparando la distribuzione della terra ai suoi lavoratori »  e l'abolizione di ogni forma di parassitisma burocratico,  industriale e capitalistico, diventeranno tipicamente na-  zionalfasciste e fasciorepubblicane.   Il manifesto considera, poi, « futurista nella vita » chi  « sa dare a tempo un cazzotto e uno schiaffo decisivo »,  chi « agisce con energia pronta e non esita per vigliacche-  ria », come chi « fra due decisioni da prendere preferisce  la più generosa e la più audace, sempre che sia legata al  maggiore perfezionamento e sviluppo dell'individuo e del-  la razza... »: medesima l'etica fascista di alcuni anni dopo.   Nel 1922 Emilio Settimelli aveva dedicato un saggio  critico all'opera di Marinetti, edito a Milano con | tipi  di Gaetano Facchi, che può essere considerato il primo ten-  tativo di analizzare la letteratura marinettiana al di sopra  del clamore scandalistico e della propaganda futurista.   Nel 1927 Settimelli pubblicherà a Roma, nelle Edizioni  d'Arte e di Critica, Come combatto che raccoglie i suoi  più polemici scritti apparsi sul quotidiano romano L’Irm-  pero, diretto con Mario Carli.   Verso la fine degli Anni Trenta, Settimelli, subirà al.  cuni anni di confino di polizia causati dalla sua intransi-  genza critica verso alcuni personaggi-chiave del regime.   Di Armando Mazza, che ci fu dato di personalmente    149    conoscere e frequentare, il futurismo si avvaleva per pre-  sentare le prime, contestate, serate propagandistiche nei  teatri della Penisola.   Eccellente declamatore di versi, tonante dicitore di  manifesti tecnici futuristi, Mazza possedeva un fisico atle-  tico di lottatore greco-romano. Marinetti affidava, quindi,  a Mazza la protezione della ribalta dagli attacchi passatisti,  mentre Îa sua voce tonante sovrastava i fischi e il vociare  degli oppositori.   Singolare poeta parolibero, Mazza, sarà il primo ad  organizzate un movimento anticomunista, fondando nel  1919 a Milano, il settimanale politico I wmemzici d'Italia,  organo antimarxista, nazionalista e prefascista. Nel 1918  Mazza aveva pubblicato dall'editore Gaetano Facchi di  Milano 10 Liriche d'Amore, seguito di altrettanti poemi  in versi liberi stampati come cartoline postali raccolte in  contenitore di carta crespata. Queste cartoline poetiche so-  no il primo esempio rilevabile e significativo di quella che  negli Anni Settanta verrà definita Ma:l Art, « Arte po-  stale », assegnando alla comunicazione poetica il canale  inabituale della spedizione a domicilio del messaggio este-  tico. Già nel 1917, Armando Mazza, aveva introdotto l’uso  delle « Cartoline Postali di Guerra », edite dallo Stabi-  limento Tipografico Taveggia di Milano, di cui Vedetta  (cm. 13,7 x 19) resta la più curiosa ed esteticamente de-  terminante. Ai poemi postali faranno seguito Due morti.  liriche pubblicate nel 1919.    Nel 1920 Mazza pubblica Firmamento / con una spie  gazione di F.T. Marinetti sulle Parole in Libertà, edito a  Milana dalle Edizioni Futuriste di Poesia. Si tratta di  una pregevole sequenza di parole in libertà dove la com-  ponente tipovisuale dialettizza le scelte semantiche, tal-  volta enfatiche ed irruenti con frequenti ricorsi ad ana-  logie non sempre depurate. Poi Mazza verrà totalmente  assorbito dal giornalismo e dall’attività politica    Sarà direttore di importanti periodici come La grande  Italia e di quotidiani: L'Arena di Verona, I! Giornale di  Genova, Il Resto del Carlino di Bologna.    Ricordiamo i grandi occhi azzurri di Armando Mazza    150    farsi ancora più liquidi e trasparenti quando ci parlava del  Manifesto dell’Antitradizione Futurista dalle righe del qua-  le Apollinaire gli inviava, nel 1913, fiori, « rose », riser-  vando « merde » ai conservatori e ai romantici. Mazza  aveva frequentato Guglielmo Apollinaire a Parigi e Grasa  Aranba a Rio de Janeiro, Benedetto Croce a Napoli, ai  tempi de La Diana e Giovanni Gentile a Milano, proprio  mentre il filosofo stava orientandosi verso il fascismo.  Amicissimo di Umberto Boccioni, che aveva aiutato nei  primi anni del soggiorno milanese, Mazza, era stato di-  pinto dal maestro futurista in un esemplare pastello di  rara fattura e di deflagrante cromaticità, che pubblicam-  mo nel 1977 fra le opere inedite di Boccioni.    Sarà Mazza a favorire l'attitudine di Boccioni per la  critica d'arte, presentandolo ad Umberto Notari, editore  del quotidiano, poi settimanale, Gli Avvenimenti dove il  pittore reggerà per qualche tempo la rubrica d'arte. Il  fascismo di Armando Mazza restò sempre moderato e la  sua coerenza politica gli causerà nel dopoguerra 1940-1945  il più completo ostracismo, impedendogli di continuare la  attività giornalistica di cui ebbe profonda nostalgia sino  agli ultimi giorni di vita.   Il forzoso silenzio pubblicistico ricondusse Mazza alla  poesia alla quale apporterà non trascurabili contributi in  versi liberi pubblicati, fra il 1948 e il 1959, presso editori  inadeguati. Fra i più importanti poeti del futurismo con-  fluiranno al fascismo, assumendovi incarichi di alta re-  sponsabilità, anche Auro d'Alba (Umberto Bottone) che,  a Roma, diventerà capo dell'ufficio stampa della M.V.S.N.  (Milizia Volontaria per la Sicurezza Nazionale) e Paolo  Buzzi che, a Milano, assumerà la carica di Segretario Ge-  nerale della Deputazione Provinciale. Altri futuristi di  minore rilievo, come il poeta Federico Pinna-Berchet, au-  tore delle Liriche d’Assalto, pubblicate a Roma nel 1930,  il poeta parolibero giuliano Bruno Sambo e Ferruccio  Vecchi, prosatore e capitano degli Arditi, aderiranno al  fascismo svolgendovi ruoli anche decisivi. Sambo diventerà  federale di Addis Abeba, mentre Pinna-Berchet e Vecchi  ricopriranno alte cariche corporative. Così il genovese Bolzon, poeta-pittore futurista dal 1919 e battagliero  giornalista, sarà Sottosegretario alle Colonie nel 1928, poi  Consigliere di Stato e autore, fra il 1920 e il 1930, di  saggi di critica sociale e di teoria fascista pubblicati dalle  edizioni Alpes di Milano.   Anche il grande invalido di guerra Giuseppe Steiner,  piacentino, poeta parolibero e autore di quei fondamentali  Stati d'Animo disegnati, editi nel 1923, che precorsero la  « poesia grafica » di Pino Masnata e la « poesia visiva »  dei giovani fiorentini negli Anni Sessanta, sarà nominato  Consigliere Nazionale fascista. Dal futurismo si oriente-  ranno verso il fascismo anche il poeta-aviatore Guido Kel-  ler, legionario fiumano e autore del lancio aereo di un  pitale su Montecitorio a monito di Francesco Saverio Nitti,  il « cagoia » del « Natale di sangue » fiumano; e la Me-  daglia d'Oro ferrarese Olao Gaggioli, poeta parolibero fu-  turista e pluridecorato ufficiale del XXIII Battaglione di  Assalto dei Bersaglieri sul Podgora.    Nan va, infine, dimenticato il giornalista Ernesto Da-  quanno, poeta parolibero e cofondatore a Milano del pe-  riodico I Principe, organo fascista difensore della « Mo-  narchia integrale ». Daquanno, che nel 1925 aveva pub-  blicato Now c'è poesia, saggi sul risveglio dell’artigianato  italiano, diventerà nel 1927 capo ufficio stampa della  Federazione Fascista delle Comunità Artigiane.    Un riferimento, poi, al poeta parolibero e autore di  teatro sintetico Guglielmo Jannelli, messinese, che dai «Fa-  sci Futuristi », di cui era stato promotore nel 1918 con  Marinetti, passerà ai « Fasci di Combattimento Siciliani »  assumendovi compiti determinanti. Nel 1924 Jannelli pub-  blichetà a Messina, per i tipi delle Edizioni della Balza  Futurista un polemico saggio dedicato a La crisi del Fa-  scismo in Sicilia, dedicato in frontespizio « A Emilio Set-  timelli e Mario Carli, miei fratelli nella avanguardia arti-  stica e politica della nuova Italia e anime capaci di ren-  dere pienamente la sincerità che mi ha mosso a compiere  queste franche pagine obbiettive ».    Questo scritto di Jannelli conferma l’esistenza di una  autocritica nell’ambito del fascismo, di una volontà revt-   con 1acusaro adagio. «.., oDbDedienza pronta, cieca, aSS0-  luta... ». Così Jannelli vede il fascismo nel 1924: «... il  fascismo si è rotto in due pezzi: molta della parte più  buona è rimasta bloccata, impedita di agire; e l’altra par-  te trionfa esteriormente unita ma intimamente diversa, po-  co moderna, niente affatto veloce e qualche volta insi-    gnificante... ».    Anche Corrado Pavolini, poeta, autore teatrale, regi-  sta, critico d’arte e letterario, che si era avvicinato al mo-  vimento di Marinetti attraverso l’opera del pittore futuri-  sta fiorentino Primo Conti e aveva dedicato nel 1924 un  saggio monografico al fondatore del futurismo pet, infine,  pubblicare nel 1927, a Bologna per i tipi dello Zanichelli,  quel fondamentale Cubismo Futurismo Impressionisnio, ade-  rirà al fascismo assumendo importanti incarichi nel diret.  torio del partito e al Ministero della Cultura Popolare.  Dal fascismo perverrà, invece, al futurismo il filosofo Fran-  cesco Orestano, Accademico d’Italia, che negli Anni Tren-  ta dedica al movimento di Marinetti saggi di teoria este-  tica e di critica letteraria. Orestano aveva pubblicato nel  1907 quegli importanti Valori Umani la cui struttura teo-  retica aveva particolarmente influenzato il giovane Ma-  rinetti.”   Anche Paolo Orano, scrittore, storico della filosofia  e sindacalista sorelliano, che fu Deputato fascista per la  Sardegna alla XXVI legislatura e per la Toscana alla XXVII  e al quale venne affidata nel 1926 la prima cattedra di  storia del giornalismo nella facoltà di Scienze Politiche  dell’Università di Perugia, si orienterà verso il futurismo.  Nella raccolta di saggi critici I Contemporanei, pubblicata  a Milano da Mondadori nel 1928, Orano riserverà a Ma-  rinetti una esegesi determinante, del tutta favorevole al  futurismo considerato estetica nuova di apertura inter-  nazionale. Dalla pittura futurista si muove, invece, verso  il fascismo Antonio Marasco, senz'altro il più impegnato  e coerente politico fra tutti gli operatori plastici del futu-  rismo. Calabrese di nascita, Marasco, ebbe parte rilevante nelle squadre d'azione fasciste di Firenze dove si era tra-  sferito prima ancora di arruolarsi volontario per la guerra  1915-1918, in cui verrà gravemente colpito da gas di ipri-  te sul Piave e dopo essere stato promotore con Marinetti  dei « Fasci Futuristi ».    Nel 1914 Marasco aveva accompagnato Marinetti nel  suo secondo viaggio in Russia, a Mosca e a Pietroburgo,  dove avrà modo di conoscere Velimir Klebnikow e Wla-  dimir Mavakowsky e di dedicare fisiosintesi di estrema  inventività grafica al  medico-pittore Nicolaj Kulbin, al  pittore Nikolaj Burliuk, alla poetessa Elena Guro, al poe-  ta-aviatore Kamensky, al poeta-scrittore B. Livshits, al mu-  sicista A. V. Lurié e al regista Tairow. La pittura di Ma.  rasco presenterà sempre componenti sperimentali, non con-  dizionata da temi fascisti o da enfasi dell'aviazione mili-  tare e civile che, purtroppo, sviliranno molta parte della  neropittura futurista degli Anni Trenta. Antonia Matasco  precorre il cosiddetto « astrattismo » delineatosi nell’am-  bito della milanese Galleria del Milione dei fratelli Ghi-  ringhelli e può essere considerato uno dei pionieri del  costruttivismo e del concretismo internazionali.    Particolarmente affezionati a Marasco avevamo avuto  modo, negli Anni Sessanta, di presentare la sua prima  mostra personale a Milano, di carattere antologico, attra-  verso la quale il più vasto pubblico riuscì a scoprire le  sue ricerche preastratte e protoconcretiste realizzate a Fi-  renze fra il 1923 e il 1930    Marasco restò sempre legato al futurismo e il suo fa-  scismo ebbe coerenza di adesione alla Repubblica Sociale  Italiana dove ricoprì importanti incarichi nella rinnovata  Direzione Generale delle Belle Arti e dei Beni Culturali  del Ministero della Cultura Popolare. Questo magistrale  pittore svolse anche attività di scrittore e di critico d’arte  e un suo libro, pubblicato a Firenze nel 1935, Parrorami  allo Zenit, risulta anticipatore dell’attuale science-fiction.   Nell'ambito del movimento futurista, Marasco, pro-  mosse i « Gruppi Futuristi Indipendenti », attivi a Firen-  ze fra il 1925 e il 1958, che rivelarono personaggi della  importanza di Cesare Augusto Poggi, architetto razionalista, tecnologo del cemento armato e ideatore di singolari  costruzioni civili per la difesa bellica. Quando, nella se-  conda metà degli Anni Trenta, s'inasprirà la campagna fa-  scista contro il futurismo, accusato di difendere l'arte  « astratta » considerata « giudea e massonica », Matasco  sarà a fianco di Marinetti per chiarire i termini di indi-  pendenza dell’« astrattismo » plastico da ogni motivazio-  ne di razza, da qualsivoglia matrice israelitica o mura-  toria. Se disponessimo di maggiore spazio per analizzare  compiutamente questo pericoloso momento dei rapporti fu-  turismo-fascismo ne risulterebbe la conferma di una pre-  cisa interdipendenza di propositi e di azione fra i due  movimenti. Il futurismo non condizionò mai le proprie  libertà espressive, i propositi di rinnovamento, di costan-  te evoluzione spirituale, alle esigenze agiografiche del fa-  scismo che, del resto, non considerò il futurismo come  arte di Stato, riservando questo pericoloso privilegio al  movimento del Novecento, celebrarore di miti romanistici  e imperiali, istigarore del ritorno al neoclassicismo, pur  mascherato da un malcompreso funzionalismo.   Antonio Marasco morirà a Firenze, nel 1975, alla so-  glia degli ottant'anni.   Dopo un Jungo soggiorno romano aveva dipinto, sino  all'ultimo, cromostrutture dinamiche e inoggettive di auto-  noma soluzione cinevisuale. Puntualmente ci inviava let-  tere di accorata italianità, preziosi appunti di teoria pla-  stica che, un giorno, dovremo pur raccogliere e pubblicare  come contributi fondamentali alla storia del costruttivismo  e del concretismo internazionali. Noi giovanissimi non era-  vamo disposti ad anteporre la dogmatica della mistica fa-  scista alle libertà espressive promosse e favorite dal futu-  rismo, né ci si potrà accusare di aver posto le nostre pri-  me ricerche futuriste al servizio dell'apologia di regime.   Così le nostre Parole per la Guerra, pubblicate nel mar-  zo del 1944 dalle edizioni dî Futuristi in Armi, sovven-  zionate e dirette da F.T. Marinetti, non rinviano ai canoni  conformisti dell'aeropoesia futurista di guerra di quegli an-  ni ma anticipano, piuttosto, modalità di poesia concreta e visuale, come è stato ampiamente rilevato dalla critica  internazionale più obiettiva e attenta.    Il nostro poema Bimba / bomba, del 1943, può essere,  infatti, considerato il primo esempio esistente di poesia  concreta a struttura semantica reversibile e a susseguenza  ottica alternata, dove l'uso della parola-chiave è già seria-  listico.    Il nostro fascismo eta quindi disarticolato dalle pra-  tiche dell’estetica futurista, proprio come si era verificato  per gli iniziatori del futurismo: F.T. Marinetti, Paolo Buz-  zi, Armando Mazza, Auro d’Alba, Luciano Folgore. In-  fatti anche i nostri Testi-Poemzi Murali, pubblicati nel 1944  dalle Edizioni Etre (Repubblica) con un «collaudo » di  Martinetti, piuttosto di risolversi nell'abituale apologia  guetresca di quel periodo, introducono un modo nuovo di  poetare inaugurando le problematiche di quella « poesia  visuale » che, solo negli Anni Cinquanta, troverà consensi  internazionali sino a farsi scuola di poesia avanzata. L’ideo-  logia politica di Marinetti, le teorie del suo particolare na-  zionalismo « prefascista » sono raccolte in due volumi pub-  blicati in tempi diversi. Democrazia Futurista, edita a Mi-  lano nel 1919 da Gaetano Facchi, è la sintesi delle posi-  zioni politiche assunte da Marinetti nell'immediato dopo-  guerra 1915-1918.    Vi si ripercorre l'atmosfera in cui nel 1918, dopo Ca-  poretto, Marinetti fonda i « Fasci Politici Fututisti » con  Giuseppe Bottai, Emilio Settimelli, Mario Carli, Gugliel-  mo Jannelli, Antonio Marasco, i pittori Gino Galli, Gia-  como Balla, Ottone Rosai, Fattunato Depero, il poeta-pit-  tore cremonese Enzo Mainardi, lo scrittore Remo Chiti,  il poeta Luciano Nicastro, Massimo Bontempelli, il chirur-  go Giovanni Masnata, poi Senatore del Regno, padre del  poeta parolibero stradellino Pino Masnata, ai quali aderi-  Sta settanta intellettuali e uomini di varia estrazione cul-  turale.    I «Fasci Politici Futuristi » si trasformeranno, poi,  gradualmente in « Fasci di Combattimento » confluendo nel.  lo squadrismo fascista. Così, quando i fascisti partecipe-  ranno per Ja prima volta alle elezioni politiche del 1919,    156    rinetti, Piero Bolzon, il poeta-aviatore Giacomo Macchi,  Baseggio e Podrecca.   Futurismo e Fascismo, pubblicato da Franco Campi.  telli, editore in Foligno, nel 1924, indica, invece, la per-  sonale interpretazione della dottrina fascista praticata da  Marinetti e da molti artisti futuristi, come dai numerosi  affiancatori e propagandisti del movimento futurista. Con  il manifesto L'Impero Italiano / A Benito Mussolini - Ca-  po della Nuova Italia redatto nel 1922 da F.T. Marinetti,  Mario Carli ed Emilio Settimelli, il futurismo, già in que-  gli anni, istigherà il fascismo alla fondazione dell'Impero,  precorrendo una realtà che, negli Anni Trenta si concluderà  con la conquista dell'Etiopia.   Marinetti scriverà nel 1924: «... il Fascismo, naro  dall’interventismo e dal futurismo si nutrì di principi fu.  turisti... »   Una storia parallela dei due movimenti, ancora da scri-  vere, dovrà tener conto della mai rinunciata indipendenza  futurista che non condizionò le esigenze di libera ricerca  espressiva alla necessità della politica dominante. Innanzi tutto confesso che sono nato alla vita sociale  prima come fascista e dopo come futurista.   Avevo sedici anni quando nel 1921, proprio in corti.  spondenza del mio compleanno, sottoscrissi una domanda  di ammissione ai « Fasci di Combattimento ». La doman-  da fu avvallata da due miei amici di maggiore età, come  soci presentatori, i quali compirono coscientemente un pic-  colo falso alterando di due anni la mia data di nascita al fine di consentire la mia ammissione come socio ad ogni  effetto. Così diventai a pieno titolo uno dei pochi iscritti  della Sezione di Reggio Calabria dei « Fasci di Combat-  timento », che aveva allora sede in una baracchetta per i  bagni di mare, in disuso.   Perché questo sedicenne studente del Liceo aveva  ascoltato e risposto ad un richiamo politico certamente  pericoloso? A mio avviso, furono determinanti, l’amore  per la Patria, nato dentro durante fa guerra sull’esempio  di un avo materno che ne aveva avuto, forse, di troppo;  l'entusiasmo per la vittoria e la conseguente indignazione  per quanto accadde subito dopo con l’attività dei cosid-  detti progressisti del momento, ostili ai reduci, in con-  trasto con la spavalderia ed intraprendenza di questi ul-  timi.   Il mio apptoccio con il Futurismo avvenne, invece,  due anni dopo, con la scoperta di Zang iumb tuumm e  l’incontro con F.T. Marinetti    Questo essere prima fascista e poi futurista, mi sem-  brò una particolarità personale e la confessai un giotno —  dopo tantissimi anni -— a Mario Dessy, e lui mi disse che  gli era accaduto lo stesso benché avesse cinque anni più  di me. Comunque è chiaro che nel periodo fra il 1919 ed  il 1922 vi fu un rapporto di identità ideale fra queste  due forze, anche se vi furono dissensi spesso di carattere  costruttivo, E’ difficile — infatti — che possano andare  in tandem per lungo tempo movimenti di carattere poli-  tico e movimenti di carattere intellettuale o culturale. Le  ragioni mi sembrano evidenti: un movimento culturale,  anche se basa la propria forza nelle realtà della vita (come  il futurismo), ha il suo fulcro nella idea-base che difende  con ortodossia e non è disponibile per transazioni ideolo-  giche. Il movimento politico, invece, pet propria natura,  specie quando atrivi alla gestione del potere, diviene dut-  tile e transigente al fine di mantenere è consolidare la  proptia forza concreta, allargando la base dei consensi.    Il Futurismo prima della guerra mondiale si caratteriz-  za artisticamente con l'invenzione dei grandi temi di rin-  novamento nei settori di tutte le arti e, in veste politico-sociale, nell’esaltazione dell’Italia, fantasticando per que-  sta, una nuova organizzazione anti-demo-liberale ed anti-  clericale. Un nuovo mado di vivere. Uno Stato industriale  ed agricolo tecnicamente progredito, che si progettava  astrattamente, certamente irrealizzabile. Qui i tentativi di  un’azione politica che non aveva, però, un valido autonoma  sviluppo organizzativo. Come pretenderlo da poeti ed ar-  tisti?   Nel tempo in cui Marinetti iniziò il « Movimento »,  le forze che affermavano di voler realizzare un nuovo svi-  luppo sociale al fine di un miglioramento della situazione  economica delle classi più disagiate e trascurate, trovava-  no una sede formalmente appropriata nelle spinte del sa-  cialismo deamicisiano; ma tale situazione ebbe durata bre-  ve perché questo socialismo si sviluppò in senso interna-  zionalista apatriottico collettivista antindividualista e fu  sconfitto dagli eventi della prima guetra mondiale. Tanto  è vero che dal suo seno, a guerra conclusa, prosperarono  il comunismo ed altre scissioni e nacque il fascismo.    Sono noti e possono essere facilmente consultati i do-  cumenti delle manifestazioni spiccatamente politiche del  movimento futurista che precedettero la Fondazione dei  « Fasci di Combattimento ». Intendo rifetirmi al « Pro-  gramma Politico Futurista » dell'11 ottobre 1913, firma-  to da Marinetti Boccioni Carrà Russolo, all'azione politi-  ca svolta da La Balza Futurista fondata da Di Giacomo  Jannelli e Nicastro del 1915, e dei «Fasci Interventisti  Siciliani », di Roma Futurista e dei relativi gruppi, nati  nel 1917-18, del Partito Politico Futurista sempre del 1918  che concretizzava un suo programma nel libro Democrazia  Futurista di Marinetti, eccetera eccetera. Tutte queste for-  ze si concentrarono nel movimento fascista nel 1919, sia  aderendo direttamente all'assemblea di fondazione di Piaz-  za San Sepolcro in Milano, sia successivamente anche per  forza d'inerzia.   Il fatto è che — di solito — quando si parla di par-  tecipazione politica dei futuristi, ci si richiama soltanto  al ricordo dell’attività degli artisti che militarono con la  qualificazione di « futuristi ». Vale a dire dei poeti, scrittori, pittori, limitandosi ovviamente ad esaminare il con-  tributo di coloro che hanno raggiunto maggiore notorietà,  trascurando i « minori ». Ma questi ultimi erano in nu-  mero stragrande e molto attivi. Senza tenere inoltre conto  che i maggiori spesso presi del tutto da altre attività, non  erano altrettanto validi e disponibili in campo politico. In  verità, il « Futurismo » di quel tempo è stato un movi-  mento a larga partecipazione di giovani, di tantissimi gio-  vani. Non tutti poterono — ovviamente militare nel  campo dell'Arte e maturare tanta notorietà da essere ri-  cordati anche oggi. Ma tutti furono politicamente attivi e  furono a migliaia i militanti di futurismo che partecipa-  rono ad episodi fascisti negli anni precedenti, o appena suc-  cessivi, alla marcia su Roma.    Non credo di sbagliare se affermo che nelle cosiddet-  te schiere dello « squadrismo » molte furono le partecipa-  zioni futuriste. Azione lotta e coraggio erano proposizioni  futuriste. Basta ricordare la prima azione di Marinetti e  Ferruccio Vecchi nel 1919 (16 aprile: Piazza Mercanti Mi-  lano) e ricordare i tanti nomi dei militanti futuristi che  ebbero più spicco in campo politico che in quello dell’arte.    Alla fondazione dei Fasci, confluirono nel fiume che  diventò principale, molteplici rivoli di pensiero (come ho  già accennato) movimenti di ogni genere che avevano un  minimo comune denominatore nella volontà di rinnovare  in qualche modo l’Italia che, pur vittoriosa nella guerra,  si dimenava in serie difficoltà ed era incapace ad affron-  tare la svolta storica che la vittoria aveva aperto. Anche  i Fasci Interventisti Futuristi Siciliani, che avevano preso  forza dalla volontà di Jannelli e Nicastro (il prima con  capacità ed intendimenti politici ed il secondo come lette-  rato e poeta), ma dei quali non si è ancora scritta la  storia, né accertato la reale efficienza, vi aderirono. Come  aderì Marinetti con tanti altri futuristi che risultano elen-  cati nella schiera dei cosiddetti « sansepolcristi ».    In seguito, quando il fascismo andò al potere, ai futu-  risti sembrò che finalmente sarebbero stati realizzati nel-  l’arte gran parte dei propositi del futurismo. In questa  illusione fummo cullati da alcuni elementi: la impostazio-       160    ne altamente patriottica dei propositi, la valorizzazione del  combattentismo e del volontarismo, l'amore per il nuovo  ed il rischio, il pragmatismo attivo dimostrato immedia-  tamente con i primi atti di governo, eccetera. Va anche  rammentato ai giovani di oggi, frastornati da affermazioni  non rispondenti alla realtà di allora, che la personalità  di Mussolini era molto al di sopra non solo di quella dei  suoi collaboratori politici, ma sovrastava la media dei cer-  velli politici di quel periodo. Tanto è vero che furono ap-  punto gli avversari a votargli subito i « pieni poteri » che  gli consentirono l'avvio della prima gestione governativa.  Questo fatto rilevante, gli consentì di attrarre dapprima  le simpatie collettive ed — in seguito — a conquistare  una enorme fiducia, non solo da parte dei suoi sostenitori  di un tempo, ma anche da parte di ex avversari e simpa.  tizzanti e — nei periodi più floridi — perfino dai nemici  del sistema politico che egli cercava di sviluppare.   Quando il fascismo s’insediò al governo per realizzare  la rivoluzione {a dire dei fascisti), o perché chiamato dalla  debole monarchia (come dicono gli altri), subì dapprima  una sosta di aggiornamento dovuta alla urgenza de) pro-  blemi immediati dalla cui soluzione dipendeva il recupe-  ro dell'ordine econamico e politico. Per questo, Mussolini  non si sbarazzò immediatamente degli avversari che erano  troppi e in gran parte si erano dichiarati disponibili a  collaborare per il meglio, pur costituendo nello stessa  tempo zone di resistenza alle innovazioni    Così anche nei fatti dell’Arte ovviamente meno pres-  santi, ove non comparvero personalità « nuove » che aves-  sero seri propositi di rinnovamento e disponibili a rivolu-  zionare tutto, come i futuristi. I quali con a capo Mari.  netti e nella quasi totalità si convinsero che la « rivolu-  zione » potesse realizzarsi per pradi anche in Arte. Che  la forza del nuovo potesse penetrare per gradi nelle isti-  tuzioni d’Arte e trasfarmarle. Pura illusione. Illusione giu-  stificata sul momento non solo dal fascino personale di  Mussolini al quale ho già accennato, ma anche da certe  sue caratteristiche gestuali (come la particolare sintetica  e precisa oratotia che andava direttamente allo scopo in    161    modo esplicito) che lo presentavano come un congeniale  capo futurista. Se si aggiunge inoltre l'amicizia personale  fra Mussolini e Marinetti, vicini anche in altre precedenti  azioni politiche, si comprende come il movimento rivolu-  zionario rappresentato in arte dal Futurismo, rimase a fian-  co del Fascismo (esso stesso ancora tivoluzionario alla ba-  sel, anche se in via di adattamento, questo, alle esigenze  immediate dell'esercizio del potere su una nazione che di  rivoluzionari di qualsiasi tipo ne ha avuto — per la veri-  tà — sempre pochi, anche se gonfiati ad oltranza quando  occorre, in tutti i testi di storia antica e recente.   I futuristi costituirono una avanguardia nelle fila del  fascismo e vi rimasero nella quasi totalità. Basta citare i]  messaggio che concluse il Congresso futurista di Milano  (L'Impero, 27 novembre 1924):    « L'ultima riunione del congresso futurista è stata de-  dicata all'esame dell'attuale momento politico. Marinetti  espose alla numerosa assemblea una dichiarazione prece-  dentemente elaborata in accordo con i maggiori futuristi  politici, la lettura della dichiarazione fu entusiasticamente  approvata ed acclamata in ogni suo punto. Ecco Ja dichia  razione:    «“I futuristi italiani, primi fra i primi interventisti nella  piazza e sui campi di battaglia e primi fra i primi dician-  novisti più che mai devoti alle idee ed all'arte lontani dal  politicantismo, dicono al loro vecchio compagno Benito  Mussolini: Primo: con un gesto di forza ormai indispen-  sabile liberati del parlamento. Secondo: restituisci al fa-  scismo ed all'Italia la meravigliosa anima diciannovista di-  sinteressata ardita antisocialista anticlericale  antimonar-  chica. Tetzo: Concedi alla monarchia soltanto la sua prov-  visoria funzione unitaria, rifiutale quella di soffocare e  morfinizzare la più grande, più geniale, più giusta Italia  di domani. Quarto:- non imitare l’inimitabile Giolitti, imi-  ta il grande Mussolini del ’19. Quinto: Pensa sempre al-  l'Italia immortale ed al Carso divino. Sesto: Schiaccia la  opposizione socialista antitaliana di Turati e l'opposizione  mediocrista di Albertini con una ferrea dinamica aristocra-  zia di pensiero.«“Tu puoi e devi far ciò. Noi dobbiamo volerlo e lo vo-  gliamo. F.T. Marinetti - Capo del Movimento Futurista  Italiano”».   Sono inoltre innumerevoli le manifestazioni dei futu-  risti in tanie occasioni, con opere scritti ed anche con  la partecipazione concreta alle guerre di quel periodo. Vo-  glio ricordare, però, un solo scritto di Fillia (morto nel  1930 e che adesso cercano di passare per antifascista) il  quale nel 19527 in occasione della Quadriennale di Tori-  no, così scriveva sulla sua rivista Vetrina Futurista:    «... Bisogna, però, giungere a “convincere” il grosso  pubblico, ingannato a nostro riguardo dalle false inter  pretazioni. Perché il favore organizzativo che oggi ci cir-  conda, non basta: è assurdo riconoscere il futurismo come  manifestazione d'Arte ed ammettere contemporaneamente  le antiche manifestazioni. La vita può avere individual  mente, diverse interpretazioni, ma tutte devono essere in-  quadrate in una sola atmsofera sensibile, corrispondente  alla vita stessa. Non voglio con questo negare il diritto di  esistenza a intere categorie di pittori rimasti spititualmen-  te arretrati: ma è necessario preparare il pubblico alla loro  graduale eliminazione dalla vita artistica ufficiale, fino al  riconoscimento del Futurismo “arte di Stato” massimo ri-  conascimento che lo caratterizzerà nella sua importanza... ».   Purtroppo però le autorità artistiche avevano il so-  pravvento favorendo a vele spiegate l’architettura di Pia-  centini e gli enormi pupazzi della scultura e pittura no-  vecentista, effettivamente arte del regime. E noi futuristi  interpretavamo le isianze di rinnovamento dell’arte senza  alcun riconoscimento dal Regime che ritrovava sé stesso  nelle manifestazioni novecentiste.   Questo, non mi stanco di ripeterlo, negli Anni Venti.  E poi?   Poi nulla. Le vicende, le difficoltà personali, gli entu-  siasmi e le depressioni, gli alti e i bassi, il lavoro e la mag-  giore maturità. Ma non creda di sbagliare se affermo che  noi futuristi vivemmo quel tempo con spirito indipendente  e piena libertà fiduciosi che in fondo avremmo avuto ragione. Anche se spesso sopportati e negletti dalle autorità  artistiche e subiti obiorto collo quando necessario.   Poi andammo all'ultima guerra, che fu sconvolgente per  tutti. To ne vissi scrupolosamente la mia parte con coeren-  za. Fui costretto fuori a lungo. Pet un anno di guerra, ne  subii sei di prigionia e non conosco nei particolari ciò che  è avvenuto qui mentre ho già scritto delle mie esperienze.   AI ritorno, nel Natale del 1946, mi sembrò di sbarcare  in un altro mondo al quale non mi sono ancora completa-  mente assuefatto. Ma ripresi a vivere da zero e nell’aprile  del ‘47 cominciai la mia nuova personale battaglia per il  futurismo con la mostra alla « Galleria di Roma » inaugu-  rata da Benedetta c dedicata a F.T. Marinetti.   Continuai ancora e vado avanti con i futuristi soprav-  vissuti e con l'appoggio dei giovani che comprendono e non  disdegnano l’idea del futurismo che continua e si rinnova  attraverso le spiccate personalità dei suoi artisti. Crali, lei è pittore ed è futurista Uno dei pochis.  simi, oggi. Crede che il futurismo sia ancora attuale?  SÌ, ma non per merito dei futuristi. Ma ha una sua  attualità perché si è espresso, si è mosso, e ci parla ancora.  Ma non certo per chi ci ha mangiato sopra, per chi non è  mai stato futurista, ed ha espresso solamente « necrofilia »,  vera e propria « necrofilia ».Il futurismo di prima, quello per cui lei aderì  al movimento, o vi st convertì, come la investì per così  dire, o come la ispirò?    R. — Non mi sono affatto « convertito », perché non  c'era niente da convertite. Mi sono trovato di fronte al    164    futurismo come un’anima candida, che non sa e non è con-  sapevole di nulla. Mi sono ritrovato una simpatia incon-  scia per alcuni quadri riprodotti su Il Mazzino illustrato di  Napoli. Mi sono piaciuti, mentre ad un amico mio, che  la pensava diversamente da me, non piacevano. Cominciam-  mo a litigare, e per litigare ad approfondite l’argomenta  ecc. ecc. Così ho cominciato ad essere interessata al futu-  rismo. E sono partito senza avere una preparazione di me-  stiere. Ho fatto rutto da solo, senza imparare a dipingere  o disegnare, anche se poi una specie di grillo della coscienza  mi ha suggerito che dovevo imparare a dipingere, sia pure  da solo (anatomia, prospettive, ecc ). L’astratto e il figu-  rativo erano | temi o le prospettive dominanti. Ho cercato  una « terza via », che fosse tutta mia, tutta personale: una  ia di mezzo fra il figurativo e l'astratto. Poi ho lasciato il  figurativo per la mia pittura futurista. Credevo di dover  dire ciò che altri non avevano detto. Così mi sono accostata  a Marinetti nel '29, quando gli scrissi per aderire al movi.  mento. L'aeroplano era una macchina nuova, un congegno  del futuro, o, per allora, del « futuribile ». E fu una delle  realtà che mi diedero più spunti, più ispirazione (l'Idrovo-  lante italiano, D’'Annunzia e il volo su Vienna, e il campo  di atterraggio vicino a Zara, dove io sono nato, ecc.). Così  sono diventato acropittore. E lo sono rimasto, ancora oggi.  Marinetti, invece, per quello che lo frequentò  o poté essergli vicino, come lo considera? Forse l’unico vero  futurista, © forse solo un grande « maestro »?    R. — No, non lo considero un maestra, perché non ha  mai voluto essere un « maestro ». Ci ha sempre stimolato  e spinto a lare, senza mai dire però come dovevamo fare  Era contrario ad ogni gerarchia nel movimento del futuri.  smo. E si opponeva sempre a Boccioni e Prampolini, che  volevano imporre la loro pittura. Voleva che ognuno di  noi fosse libero e indipendente. Prampolini invece voleva  fare il caposcuola. Marinetti voleva solo che ognuno fosse  se stesso e non ha creato nessuna scuola. Amava la sua  libertà e la sua indipendenza a tal punto che non poteva  imporre insegnamenti. Fotse D'Annunzio lo aveva influen-  zato in questo senso, nella vita mandana libera, giovane e spregiudicata. Io lo ricordo e lo ricorderò sempre con rico-  noscenza. Quasi come un padre. O come un fratello map-  giore. E come l’unico vero futurista, come ho sempre de!  resto pensato. Gli altri hanno tutti « mollato ». Lui è an-  dato avanti fino all'ultimo. L'unico che può personificare  il futurismo è fui, l’unico che non ha rivestito patine di cul:  turame intellettvalistico, come hanno fatto invece molti al-  tri (Soffici, Conti, Palazzeschi, Papini, ecc.). Amava essere  futurista sempre e comunque, anche nel gusto del contra-  sto. Amava la luna, e scrisse un manifesto « contro il chia-  ro di Juna ». « Uccidiamo il chiaro di luna », vi si diceva,  forse contro i poeti. Ma non era poeta? Predicava la guer-  ra, anche se non avrebbe fatto male a nessuno. Amava la  madre e la donna in assoluto, e ciecamente. Ma combatté  la donna sul piano ideologico. In questo è veramente futu-  rista. E lo è solo lui. Gli altri non lo sono mai stati.  Il futurismo di Marinetti che accento o che an-  golazione aveva particolarmente: letteraria, artistica, filoso-  fica 0 piuttosto politica?    R. — Politica no, assolutamente e mai. Filosofica nean-  che, se non forse in senso attivo, ma allora « senza pen-  siero ». « Il futurismo entra in politica soltanto quando la  patria entra in pericolo », aveva detto Marinetti in un  momento cruciale della nostra storia nazionale. Il manifesto  politico del fuuttismo è conseguenza del fatto che esso sta  movimento d'arte e di vita, e come tale anche di vita poli-  tica, tout court. Il manifesto politico è del ’13. Dopo Ja  fine della guerra l'accostamento agli arditi o al fenomeno  dell’« arditismo » era inevitabile, e Marinetti si unisce in  vincolo d'amicizia, anche politica, con Mario Carli per esem-  pio (ardito) e con Mussolini. All’avvento del fascismo e allo  accostamento di Mussolini alla monarchia e alla chiesa Ma-  rinetti si stacca. Abbandona il partito e si ritrova pressoché  in miseria, con moglie e figli. Aveva grande ammirazione  ed amicizia per Mussolini, che non credo fosse ricambiata  per una certa forma di invidia-gelosia mussoliniana nei con-  fronti di Marinetti. Il regime gli offriva incarichi 0 preben-  de, che continuò a rifiutare. Mussolini arrivò ad offrirgli la  presidenza dell’Associazione dei grandi alberghi italiani, pro-    166    prio a lui che disprezzava l’industria del forestiero. Accer-  tò solamente, e sollecitato, la segreteria dell'Associazione  Italiana Autori ed Editori, altrimenti forse destinata al  solito « arraffone » di turno. Tuttavia si tenne sempre in  disparte e non fece mai politica attiva, non partecipò mai  direttamente al regime, che anzi forse osservava contrariato,  a parte solo qualche onesta e sincera manifestazione di sim-  patia per Mussolini.   Nel ’35 si oppose alla presa di posizione politica di Hit-  ler contro l’arte moderna e d'avanguardia, che si manifestò  e sfociò nella censura e nella repressione dell'arte. E nella  stesso momento organizzò a Berlino una mostra di aero-  pittura futurista che creò non pochi problemi e suscitò non  poche difficoltà anche diplomatiche fra i due governi ira  liano e tedesco. Oltre che produrre una situazione difficile  e imbarazzante per le posizioni o i movimenti artistici e in-  tellettuali della Germania dell’epoca. In Italia fu l’unico  in questa occasione a prendere posizione ed esprimersi con-  tra l’ingerenza politica e l'intervento del regime di Hitler  nella cultura e nell'arte.   Nel ‘43 ero da Marinetti a Roma: arrivava Marinotui  (presidente della Snia Viscosa) che era stato da Mussolini  insieme ad altri « consiglieri regionali » del regime. Ma-  rinotti si era accinto a raccontate a Marinetti che tutti i  consiglieri avevano « relazionato » Mussolini e che nessu-  no aveva avuto il coraggio di dirgli che le cose andavano  male, tranne uno, il consigliere sardo, che aveva sostenuto  la stanchezza della gente, la maldicenza, il tradimento...  Marinetti osservava che non era possibile che non si sa-  pesse... È Marinotti ribatté che lo si sapeva, ma che non  era possibile dirlo a Mussolini... Il giorno dopo ritornai da  lui e mi comunicò che il consigliere sardo era stato nomi-  nato da Mussolini ispettore generale per tutta l'Italia.   Nel ‘44 poi si mosse da Venezia e risalì verso la Lam-  bardia, perché non se la sentiva di starsene in disparte a  « far l’antifascista »... L'ultimo suo poemetto in versi, l'ul-  tima sua espressione letteraria s'intitola appunto: Musica  di sentimenti per la X Mas. E vi si dice: « Io sono fato    167    di aeropoesia fuori tempo e spazio ». E' già definizione  sintomatica e totale dell'opera.    D. — Ailora, Marinetti fu fascista? E se lo fu, lo fu  fino a che punto? O non lo fu, e fino a che punto non lo  fu per essere futurista?  Marinetti è stato sempre e comunque e saprattutto futurista. Questa è la mia impressione. Perché ha se-  guito la sua natura e la sua volontà. E nel suo essere futu-  rista non è mai entrata la faziosità di un genere che « entra  in politica ». Non fu mai fazioso. Una volta eravamo a  casa sua, in un gruppo di amici, a parlar di Majakowski  e di futurismo russo. Qualcuno obiettò: « Ma Majakowski  è un comunista ». Ed egli allora ribatté immediatamente:  « Non ha nessuna importanza. Perché Majakowski è prima  di tutto un grande poeta ». Nei suoi rapporti cal fasci-  smo si può considerare forse il fatto che fosse nato al  l’estero, che fosse educato in Egitto alla cultura francese,  spesso pesantemente sprezzante verso l'Italia. Sentì quindi  una specie di aspirazione all’Italia 0, più ancora, di nostal-  gia della patria. Poi, volle rivendicare il futurismo come  fatto classicamente e squisitamente italiano. Così s'inimicò  tutta la cricca culturale parigina, ma volle sprovincializzare  e dare un certo orgoglio e una certa autonomia alla cultu-  ra italiana. E pensò o vide che Mussolini potesse essere  l'uomo adatto per rifarla, l’Italia, e per darle una sua nuo-  va base, culturale ed artistica. Senza sapere, alle origini o  senza conoscere, quando era all’estero, ed anche a Parigi,  la furbizia, anche culturale degli Italiani. Lui fu in buona  fede. Dal fascismo ebbe l’Accademia d’Italia (con appan-  naggio onorario in un momento in cui era anche in disagi  economici), ed ebbe la Biennale di Venezia {come « una  riserva indiana »). Il suo è un fascismo di speranza o di  desiderio, nella speranza di poter vedere realizzato il suo  futurismo. E' contrario al « Novecento » e al classicismo  « romano » alla Piacentini, che Mussolini invece appoggia-  va. Forse tutti i regimi, quando si affermano, cercano di  eliminare le avanguardie. Il fascismo non le appoggiò, men-  tre il nazismo e il comunismo le stroncarono. Sta di fatto  che Marinetti appoggiava Terragni a Como, e non appoggiò mai Piacentini. Alla Biennale, a Venezia, il futurismo  è stato accettato sì, ma mon con la considerazione che  Marinetti si sarebbe aspettato, e che sarebbe davuta spet-  tare all'unico movimento d'avanguardia esistente allora in  Italia. E invece è stato accolto sì il futurismo, ma quasi  messo in disparte.    Nel ’26, all'inaugurazione della mostra, durante il di-  scorso di presentazione, Marinetti si alzò ed intervenne ad  alta voce, presente il Ministro dell'Educazione Nazionale,  lamentando l'ingiustizia per l'esclusione dell'unico  movi-  mento d'avanguardia dell'arte italiana. L'anno dopo Mus-  solini stesso gli concesse un padiglione di riserva, che do-  veva rimanere, ogni anno, a disposizione dei futuristi (la  « riserva indiana », già summenzionata).    D. — Mussolini invece, secondo lei, fu futurista?    R. — E' stato un politico ed ha appoggiato Marinetti  per avere il futurismo dalla sua parte. Anche se il futu-  rismo aveva contribuito, pure, alla sua formazione. Che  avesse jspirato un regime al ritorno verso l'antica Roma  nei suoi simboli e nei suoi modelli, vuol dire tuttavia che  era rimasto fuori dal futurismo.    D.— E allora il fascismo di Mussolini ed il futurismo  di Marinetti non hanno nessun punto in comune? O si  possono, secondo lei, mettere in relazione o in collega  mento, e fino a che punto ciò è possibile? Per Mussolini il fascismo è politica, per Mari-  netti il futurismo è poesia. Sono due posizioni completa-  mente diverse.    D. — Non si può quindi parlare di futurismo fascista,  nemmeno del primo, quello delle origini?    R. — Finché un movimento politico è in fase rivo-  luzionaria, le posizioni della « rivoluzione » culturale con  quelle politiche coincidono; poi però quando il movimento  politico diventa regime si burocratizza, e allora non può  non scontrarsi con la cultura che rimane sempre rivoluzio-  naria e che non può assimilare come tale le esigenze politi-  che di un «partito». Ecco perché esistono punti di contatro    169    o momenti di simbiosi tra affermazioni marinettiane e fa-  scismo politico dei primi anni, poi rallentati o rilasciati  quando si afferma l’« ordine romano », utile al regime, ma  speculare di un passatismo senza mezzi termini, e totale.  Marinetti tollera questa esigenza politica di Mussolini, ma  non la condivide od ammette in campo artistico e cultu-  rale. Tuttavia Marinetti era uomo che non confondeva ami-  cizia ed ideologia: poteva combattere con un amico per  principi ideologici, anche violentemente, senza però in-  taccare l'amicizia, che rimaneva sempre e comunque.    D. — Resta oggi il futurismo? E resta come realtà  artistica solamente, o anche politica, nella sua dimensione  d’espressione artistica? Senza fascismo, che è finito ovvia-  mente, e da tempo. Forse resta il futurismo, come ten-  sione di rinnovamento?    R. — Sì, il futurismo resta, credo, nella sua posizione  di rinnovamento, o di indicazione nella creazione di nuove  forme, e di nuove idee, o di valori nuovi. Oggi si contesta  per distruggere senza dire quello che si vuole proporre in  sostituzione. Il futurismo aveva invece dato i suoi mani-  festi. Volle distruggere, ma propose ciò che voleva rico-  struire. Anche oggi, per quel che resta, il futurismo cerca  un suo rinnovamento che si superi continuamente. Oggi  c'è molta saggistica, ma si vede poca poesia. Forse manca  l’entusiasmo, nonostante la grinta. Penso che esista an-  cora futurismo oggi, perché esiste ancora temperamento di  novità, e di rinnovamento. Perché esiste ancora una spinta  vitale di « ossigeno ». E l'opera deve avere un suo sangue,  se si tratta d’opera d’arte. Un sangue di cui deve vivere,  o un sangue per cui possa vivere. É l’ossigeno è un valore  assoluto che resta, non si toglie, perché è ineliminabile.  Anche in bottiglia, nella plastica, rarefatto 0 alla luce del  sole. Il futurismo è un po’ come l'ossigeno, o l'anima  o lo spirito del lavoro e dell’opera, o della vita: è un po'  il suo « entusiasmo ».  [Intervista u cura di Alberto Schiavo]    Per quanto riguarda lo svisceramento dei collegamenti  fra Je correnti del futurismo indipendente come movimen-  ro artistico e culturale ed il fascismo come movimento po-  litico e sociale, particolarmente per quel che si riferisce  al carattere autonomo del futurismo torinese e al fascismo  delle origini, è ovvio che i tapporti intercotsi fra di loro  furono lungi dall’essere quelli di un matrimonio d'amore.  Consistettero specificamente in taciti e necessari accordi  immaginati per pater dare vita a creazioni autentiche che  abbisognavano di un ambiente rispettoso dei motivi di una  vera rivoluzione (quella artistica e spirituale scatenata dal  futurismo), in un clima fascista che di rivoluzionario non  ebbe in seguito che la sola etichetta.   Il futurismo torinese, nel tentativo di operare in pie-  na italianità, condivise nelia sua giusta misura taluni prin  cipî che il primo fascismo stabili quando provò a inte-  grarsi nel campo difficile della moderna civiltà europea.  Alla stessa stregua e per raggiungere gli stessi fini il futu-  rismo piemontese trattò anche con l’anarchismo e il co-  munismo idealitario di Gramsci, sui quali ebbe una consi-  derevole influenza negli sviluppi dell’architettura.   Il senso altamente novatore di Fillia e la sua molte.  plice attività (stupefacente in una esistenza così breve) per:  sonificano le forme coerenti e concrete dei concetti più  originali e più saldi delle imprese del futurismo torinese.   Figura rappresentativa dell’essere istantaneo, Fillia non  temporeggiava mai, viveva come una ruota, partiva come  una freccia. Propugnatore di quel futurismo mistico che  per ordinarie ragioni razionali ed estetiche militava in  margine della Chiesa cattolica apostolica e romana di quel  l'epoca, egli affermava con rigare di logica e con argomen-  tazioni arditissime che la religione ha relazione di somi-  glianza con la geometria interna dell’arte. Misteri dottri.  nali da ricrearsi plastiicamente per dare forma concreta ai  nuovi concetti della pittura sacra erano per lui la Trinità,    171    la Redenzione e la Vergine. L’apostolato di Fillia s'imme-  desimava con quello del futurismo in cui si cercava una  forza di liberazione, e la trovava in quel movimento, cie-  camente.    Originati da una geometria astratta superiore, i suoi  dipinti possiedono quella qualità rara di non essere visà,  e perciò non ricavati dal vero, ma di sorgere senza sha-  vatura alcuna dal proprio io, e come se l'artista non vi  fosse per nulla, per cui aspettavamo ogni sua scoperta con  un senso di impazienza, di ansietà, perché Fillia non ces-  sava di inventare e di portare sempre più avanti i perfe-  zionamenti pittorici del futurismo. Tuttavia, una continui-  tà è discernibile nella sua arte che è, innanzitutto, di una  grande purezza, di una grande acconcezza, di una grande  serenità.    T colori si oppongono l'uno all'altro e si sovrappon-  gono con curve e frangie di corallo, macchie di cielo, fan-  tasticherie metafisiche, sogni astrusi. Opera di contempla-  tivo che accomuna sempre iutto e sempre con estrema  dolcezza, e dalla quale si spande una pace angelica che  sembra invalidare, apparentemente, taluni assiomi violen-  ti della dottrina futurista. Ma è invece la prova Iampante  che il dinamismo di questa scuola italiana non esclude  quello stato di grazia dove i conflitti diventano preghiere.  Si tratta di fermare il nemico per ritrovare Ja quiete, di  combattere ferocemente per amare di un più grande amo-  re. Tale atteggiamento è proprio l’antitesi del sentimenta-  lismo romantico, dell’ebetismo della debolezza: esso con-  voglia l’arte verso quell'alta sfera mitica e visionaria che  invade la mistica futurista.    Gli errori di pensiero che possono insinuarsi nella men-  te di un poeta come Fillia, che non può sempre ridurre  tutto al controllo della logica, non vanno interpretati nel  lo stretto senso letterale. Il movimento è irrefrenabile,  talvolta irresistibile, porta oltre la matura e si perde in  un mondo di realtà fantasmagoriche.    Nessuna amarezza, nessuna amarezza siatene cetti si  nascondeva in questa libertà concettuale e della riflessione:  vi era troppa gentilezza in questo cuore di pittore e di poeta, troppa felicità per i suoi amici, perché si possa at-  tribuire un significato ironico alle sue composizioni sacre  come non hanno mancato di fare borghesi indirozzabili e  bolsi dalle maniche troppo lunghe, dalla mente inceppata.   Ho buona speranza per Fillia, per questo artista pen-  satore che fu anche un provetto artigiano; non mi rat-  trista la sua morte prematura. Un suo misterioso paesag-  gio dell'ex raccolta Ferrari di Ginevra mi scopre un ci-  mitero e la scala rossa che lo vincolò in eterno con gli  eroi: quello stesso cimitero e quella stessa scala di Sant'E-  lia. Distinguo la luna bianca della sua grande dolcezza, e le  cose della terra non reggono, sono rovesciate su loro stesse.   Le pitture religiose di Fillia sono un richiamo allo  spirituale puro, degli abbozzi di Paradiso. S’intende che  un tentativo di tal fatta non deve giungere al disprezzo  della cosa creata, dell’Incarmazione: ma non è il caso di  Fillia le cui forme della sua arte si disegnano, si creano e  si distaccano dalla loro causa prima.   Tutto il lavoro dell’opera si riporta ad una giornata  ben definita della creazione dove gli uomini non sono  ancora che allo stato di abbozzo, ma dove la macchina  respira già, dove i fantasmi girano secondo una traietto-  ria circolare, dove l'arcobaleno annuncia la riconciliazione.   Una siffatta pittura è infinitamente rispettosa, il suo  pudore è un perpetuo tremita davanti alla bellezza; essa  sprigiona cdelicatezze insospettate, scrupoli inauditi e non-  dimeno una audacia che le viene soffiata dallo spirito.   Nonostante il suo atto di fede nella macchina, Fillia è  certamente un pittore spirituale. La bellezza intrinseca del.  le macchine corrispande ad un suo bisogno di esattezza  sovrumana, di perfezione nelle linee e negli spazi. E’ una  dimostrazione pratica che consente all'uomo di disinca-  gliare la vera vita, di ricercare quegli elementi universali  dell’arte che scaturiscono nei momenti fecondi ed imperiali  delle Nazioni e ne rendono lo spirito eierno.   Per non spappolarsi nella struttura, per non sgreto-  larsi alla radice, il futurismo è lui stesso alla ricerca del-  l'eterno. E’ ben vero che questa eternità non è sotto i  nostri passi, non è dietro di noi, ma davanti a noi, In  questo senso tutti i cristiani dovrebbero essere futuristi,  diceva Fillia, perché meno legati degli altri uomini al  passato e al presente, e più ferventi dell'avvenire. Questo  richiamo ad una tradizione spirituale, questo allenamento  {secondo la felice definizione di Marinetti) non ha nulla  di necroforo, non intralcia lo sviluppo dell'arte ma stimo-  la, spinge in avanti, crea. Non si dimentichi perciò il con-  tributo molto importante di quella autentica tradizione che  serve a ristabilire l'equilibrio normale. Infatti, all’inizio Je  forze novattici distruggono talvolta, svelano uno sprezzo  irragionevole del passato e di ciò che la vera tradizione  conserva pertanto di eternamente vivo. Un rifiuto non  controllato potrebbe anche andare a scapito del progresso  stesso e insabbiare per sempre l'incitamento che motiva  nuove conquiste. Non si negano gli elementi universali  dell’arte passata perché non si possono negare quelli del-  l’arte nuova.    L’opera di Fillia rivela una tendenza perpetua verso  il progresso nel senso più alto della definizione. Trasfor-  mandosi da una pitiura all’altra svolge senza contraddi-  zioni la sua sincerità primitiva. Un futurista non può  dunque negare la storia della sua opeta e tanto meno quel  la del suo movimento: egli porta il peso di un passato  inventato che non può rinnegare senza distruggersi.    Questo passato inventato risale certamente al di là  del futurismo — che costituisce una specie di dialettica  dello spirito — e affre l’unica possibilità capace di abbat-  tere gli ostacoli. Il fiume precipita giù dalla cascata come  se vi prendesse nascita; in realtà la sorgente è al ghiacciaio.  Il futurismo ha radici italiane ed europee: il tempo aiuta  a farle scoprire senza remissione.    Fillia è l'uomo intuitivo di una nuova era. Dalla sua  opera e dai suoi tentativi, come da quelli di Balla, di  Boccioni, di Prampolini, di Diulgheroff e di Benedetto,  si stacca un’arte pubblica universale che l'architettura fun-  zionale rivela, contribuendo efficacemente alla diffusione  delle idee futuriste di Antonio Sant'Elia e degli slanci del  purismo di Le Corbusier.   Nell’intento di realizzare ad ogni costo, Fillia si ap-  poggiò al Regime attraverso gli interventi efficaci di Ma-  rinetti. Però, non ho mai visto Fillia in camicia nera,  ne lo sentii mai parlare di politica nostrana. Parlava sol-  ranto dell’Italia che amava. Le due idee rispecchiano gli  scopi e i metodi creativi di quel movimento indipendente  di buona lega che fu il futurismo torinese.  SARTORIS   per conto dell'Editore Volpe   dalle Arti Grafiche Pedanesi Roma, Via Fontanesi, Luciano De Maria e Mauro Pedroni, Aggiornamenti bibliografici sul  futurismo, in Il Verri,  Maria Drudi Gambillo e Teresa Fiori, Archivi del futurismo, De Lu-  ca, Roma 1959-1962, due volumi.   Enrico Falqui, Bibliografia e iconografia del futurismo, Sansoni, Firenze,Futurismo, a cura di Umbro Apollonio, Mazzotta, Milano, I futuristi, a cura di Giuseppe Ravegnani, Nuova Accademia, Mi.  lano  I manifesti del futurismo, Edizioni di « Lacerha », Firenze.  I manifesti del futurismo, Istituto Editoriale Italiano, Milano s.d.  {1919), quattro volumi.   I nuovi poeti futuristi, Edizioni Futuriste di « Poesia », Roma  I poeti futuristi, Edizioni Futuriste di « Poesia », Milano Noi futuristi, Riccardo Quinteri Editore, Milano Per conoscere Marinetti e il futurismo, a cura di Luciano De Matia,  Oscar Mondadori, Milano 1973.   Piccola antologia di poeti futuristi, a cura di Vanni Scheiwiller, Al-  l'Insegna del Pesce d'Oro, Milano Poesia futurista italiana, a cura di Ruggero Jacobbi, Guarda, Parma  Sintesi del futurismo: storia e documsenti, a cura di Luigi Scrivo,  Bulzoni, Roma 1968,   Teatro italiano d'avanguardia: drammi e sintesi futuriste, a cura di  Mario Verdone, Officina Edizioni, Roma 1970.  L'arte nella società. Il futurismo, Fabbri, Milano ARIA Le avanguardie letterarie in Europa, Feltrinelli, Milano Lucini e il futurismo, in Il Verri, Milano Alfieri e Luigi Freddi, Catalogo della Mostra della Rivoluzione  Fascista, P.N.F., Roma Anceschi, Le poetiche del Novecento in Italia, Marzorati,  Milano Belli, Kx, All'Insegna del Pesce d'Oro, Milano Fortune Bellonzi, Saggio sulla poesia di Marinetti, Argalia, Urbino  Bertolucci, I/ gesto futurista, Bulzoni, Roma Birolli, Enrico Crispolti, Bernhard Heinz, Arte e fascismo in  Italia e Germania, Feltrinelli, Milano Bo, La rivoluzione mancata del futurismo, in AA. VV., Staria  della letteratura italiana, Garzanti, Milano 1969, vol. IX.  Massimo Bontempelli, L'avventura novecentista, Vallecchi, Firenze  Brenner, La politica culturale del nazismo, Laterza, Bari Briosi, Marinetti, La Nuova Italia, Firenze Calvesi, Le due avanguardie, Lerici, Milano Il futuristio, Fabbri, Milano Fabrizio Carli, Architettura e fascismo, Volpe, Roma 1980.   Raffaele Carrieri, Il futurismo, Il Milione, Milano Castelfranco, Il futurismo, De Luca, Roma Casucci, Il fascismo. Antologia di scritti critici, Il Mulino, Bo-  logna Crispolti, Il mito della macchina e altri temi del futurismo,  Celebes, Trapani Cuomo, Alberto Sartoris e l'architettura italiana tra tragedia  e forme, Edizioni Kappa, Roma Felice, Mussolini il rivolazionario, Einaudi, Torino Mussolini il fascista, Einaudi, Torino Intervista sul fascismo, Laterza, Bati Noce, Il problema storico del fascismo, Vallecchi, Fi-  renze Maria, Marinetti e il futurismo letterario, in Evento, Palazzeschi e l'avanguardia, Mondadori, Milano  Introduzione a Teoria e invenzione futurista di F.T. Marinetti,  Mondadori, Milano  Le chiavi e i simboli di Re Baldoria, in ll Dramma Micheli, Le avanguardie critiche del Novecento, Feltrinelli,  Milano. Cesare G. De Michelis, Il futurismo italiano in Russia, De Donato,  Bari Erra, L'interpretazione del fascismo nel problema storico ita-  liana, Volpe, Roma Eruli, Preistoria francese del futurismo, in Rivista di letterature moderne e comparate EVOLA Arte Astratta, « Collection Dada », Maglione & Strini,  Roma Quaderno n. 3 della Fondazione Julius  Evola, Roma Falqui, Futuristzo e Novecentismmo, Edizioni Radio Italiana,    Torino 1La poesia futurista, in Un po' di poesia, Vallecchi, Firenze Ferrari, Poesia futurista e naarxismo, Editoriale Contra, Milano Flota, Dal romanticismo al futurismo, Parta, Piacenza Gentile, Le origini dell'ideologia del fascismo, Laterza, Bari    Giovanni Gentile, Origini e dottrina del fascismo, Sansoni. Firenze  Gregor, Il fascismo. Interpretazioni e giudizi, Volpe, Roma  Isnenghi, I{ mito della grande guerra da Marinetti a Mala  parte, Laterza, Bari Leeden, D'Annunzio a Fiume, Laterza, Bari Lista, Marinetti et Tzara, in Les Lettres Nouvelles, Maltese, Storia dell’arte in Italia Einaudi, Torino Marangoni, L'interventismo nella cultura. Intellettuali e rivi  ste del fascismo, Laterza, Bari  Mariani, Il primo Marinetti, Le Monnier, Firenze Martin, Fuzurist Art and Theory, Clarendon Press,    Oxford Ojetti, In Italia, Parte ha da essere italiana?, Mondadori, Milano Pavolini, Cubismo, futurisma, espressionismo, Zanichelli, Bo-  logna Pinottini, L'estetica del futurismo. Revisioni storiografiche,  Bulzoni, Roma Paggioli, Teoria dell’arte d'avanguardia, 11 Mulino, Bologna,  Prezzolini, Amici, Vallecchi, Firenze Sanguinetti, Introduzione a Poesia del Novecento, Einaudi,  TorinoLa guerra futurista, in Ideologia e linguaggio, Feltrinelli, Milano Romani, Del simbolismo al futurismo, Sandron, Firenze Sapori, I) fascismo e l’arte, Mondadori, Milano Scalia, Introduzione a La cultura del Novecento attraversa  le riviste, Eniaudi, Torino Siciliano, La tradizione futurista, in Autobiografia letteraria,    Garzanti, Milano Silva, Ideologia e arte del fascismo, Mazzotta, Milano Spagnoletti, Dal « Leonardo » al futurismo, in Ulisse, feb-  braio Poalazzeschi, Longanesi, Milano Tallarico, Verifica del futurismo, Volpe, Roma Le «cento anime» di F.T. Marinetti, Cartia, Roma  Per una ideologia del futuristzo, Volpe, Roma Avanguardia e tradizione, Volpe, Roma Tempesti, L'arte dell'Italia fascista, Feltrinelli, Milano Claough. Futuris:, Philosophical Library, New York  Artemisia Zimei, Marinetti, Ed. Le Stanze del Libro, Roma Vaccari, Vita e tumulti di Marinetti, Editrice Omnia, Milano  Verdone, Cinema e letteratura del futurismo, Edizioni di Bian-  co e nero, Roma Teatro del tempo futurista, Lerici, Roma Che cosa è il futurismo, Astrolabio-Ubaldini, Roma Acquaviva, Le colonne d'Ercole della modernità. Futurismo, Gastaldi, Milano Altomare, Incontri con Marinetti e il futurismo, Corso, Roma  Apollinaire, Lettere a Marinetti, All'Insegna del Pesce d'Oro, Milano Benedetto, Futzrismo 100 x 100, Edizioni Arte Viva, Roma  Buccafusca, Studenti fascisti cantano così, Casella, Napoli    Paolo Buzzi, n e la Spirale, Edizioni fututiste di « Poesia »,  Ilano. Francesco Cangiullo, Le serate futuriste, Ceschina, Milano, Carli, Fascismo intransigente, Edizioni dell'Impero, Roma Corra, Sar; Dunn è morto, Einaudi, Torino 1970.   Fillia (Luigi Colombo), Il futurismo: ideologie, realizzazioni e polemiche del Movimento Futurista Ttaliano, Sonzogno, Milano Marinetti, Mafarka il futurista, Milano 1910.   — Uccidiamo il chiaro di luna, Milano  La Battaglia di Tripoli, vissuta e cantata, Milano Ll’aeroplano del papa, Milano. Guerra, sola igiene del mondo, Milano. Otto anime in una bomba, Milano Democrazia futurista, Milano Al di lè del comunitmo, Milano Lussuria velocità, Milano N tamburo di fuoco, Milano. Gli indomabili, Piacenza. Futurismo e fascismo, Foligno  Primo dizionario aereo, Milano Marinetti e il futurismo, Roma Spagna veloce e toro futurista, Milano Il paesaggio e Vestetica futurista della macchina, Firenze. Poemi simultanei futuristi, La Spezia. L'aeropoema del golfo della Spezia, Milano. Il poema africano della Divisione «28 ottobre », Milano. Mario Carli, proflo, Milano  Il poema di Torre Viscosa, Milano Patriottismo insetticida, Milano. ll poema non umano dei tecnicismi, Roma L'esercito italiano, Roma. Cento uomini e macchine della querra mussoliniana, Roma Quario d'ora di poesia della X Mas, Milano  Teoria e invenzione futurista, Milano. La grande Milano tradizionale e futurista, Milano. Lettere ruggenti a F. Balilla Pratella, Milano. Poesie a Beny, Torino. Gir RA l'esperienza futurista Vallecchi, Firen-  ze,Sanzin, fo e il futurismo, Istituto di Propaganda Libraria,  Milano 1976.   Emilio Settimelli, Come combatto, Edizioni d'arte e critica, Roma    Ardengo Soffici, Primi principi di un'estetica futurista, Vallecchi, Firenze Somenzi, Difendo il futurismo, Edizioni A.R.T.E., Roma Tato raccontato da Tato, Zucchi, Milano. Futurismo con e senza fascismo (A. Schiavo) 5  Soffici, Marinetti, Boccioni, Russolo, Sant'Elia, Si-  roni, Piatti, Futurismo e «guerra sola igiene del  mondo » 59  Carli, Bottai, Futurismo e socialismo 71  Tavolato, Volt, Marinetti, Futurismo e democrazia 87  Settimelli, Marinetti, Futurismo e primo fascismo 97  Marinetti, Carli, Somenzi, « Secondo futurismo » e fa-  scismo-regime ili  Corra, Govoni, Buzzi, Chiti, Folgore, Futurismo di  destra e di sinistra 131  Belloli, Benedetto, Crali, Sartoris, Testizzonianze 145    Bibliografia 177 Armando Carlini. Keywords: filosofia fascista, Bovio, Locke, senso, esperienza, il mito del realismo, la categoria dello spirito, animus e spiritus, filosofia italiana, storia della filosofia romana, l’ambasciata di Carneade a Roma, la antichissima sapienza degl’italici, la scuola di pitagora, sicilia e la magna grecia, geist, ghost, spirito, animo, spirito oggetivo, Bosanquet, testi di filosofia ad uso dei licei, aristotele, il principio logico, Cartesio, il problema di cartesio, senso ed esperienza, storia della filosofia, avvivamento alla filosofia, i grandi filosofi – mondatori – the great and the minor -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carlini” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Carmando – Roma – filosofia italiana (Roma). Charmander -- According to Seneca, Carmando wrote a book on comets.

 

Grice e Caro: l’implicatura conversazionale dell’interpretare -- interpretante, interpretato -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “Caro likes ‘interpretant,’ I spent various tutorials going through Aquino’s Commentarium’ on the ‘peri hermeneias’ – my tutees were fascinated by the fact that while the Grecian hermeneias is figurative – after Hermes, some say – ‘inter-pretatio’ is not!” -- “I love Caro – he has philosophised on Davidson’s philosophising, notably Davidson’s idea of the interpretant, an idea Davidson borrowed – but never returned – from Peirce!” Insegna a Roma.  Si occupa di filosofia morale, di libero arbitrio, teoria dell'azione e storia della scienza. Ha difeso la teoria detta " naturalismo liberale", già oggetto di discussione nelle letteratura specialistica sull’argomento. È membro dei comitati scientifici delle riviste Rivista di Estetica  e Filosofia e questioni pubbliche. Collabora con Il Sole 24 Ore, e ha scritto per The Times, La Repubblica, La Stampa e il manifesto. Presidente della Società Italiana di Filosofia Analitica (SIFA) dal  al. È vicepresidente della Consulta Nazionale di Filosofia. Ha condotto ZettelFilosofia in movimento, programma televisivo RAI dedicato alla filosofia.  L'asteroide 5329 Decaro è chiamato così in suo onore; “Dal punto di vista dell'interprete. La filosofia di Davidson, Roma, Carocci); Il libero arbitrio, Roma-Bari, Laterza); Azione, Bologna, Il Mulino); La logica della libertà, Roma, Meltemi); Normatività, Fatti, Valori” (Macerata, Quodlibet); Scetticismo. Storia di una vicenda filosofica” (Roma, Carocci). Siamo davvero liberi? Le neuroscienze e il mistero del libero arbitrio (Torino, Codice). La filosofia analitica e le altre tradizioni (Roma, Carocci).  Bentornata Realtà: Il nuovo realismo (Torino, Einaudi,. Quanto siamo responsabili? Filosofia, neuroscienze e società” (Torino, Codice,. Biografie convergenti: venti ircocervi filosofici, disegni di Guido Scarabottolo, Milano-Udine, Mimesis).  Cos’è il nuovo realismo [“What is the new realism”], Mimesis, Milano, forthcoming.2)    Azione [“Action”] , Il Mulino, Bologna,  Il libero arbitrio. Un ’  introduzione [ “ Free Will. An Introduction ” ], Laterza, Roma-Bari); Dal punto di vista de ll’int  erprete. Il pensiero di Donald Davidson [ “ From theInterpreter  s  Point of View. Donald Davidson  s Thoug ht”],  Carocci, Roma  Interpretazioni e cause [“Interpretations and Causes”] , Doctoral dissertation, Università diRoma. Editor (with M. Mori - E. Spinelli) of  La libertà umana: storia di un’id  ea, Carocci,Roma, forthcoming.2)   Editor (with Lavazza  –  Sartori) of Quanto siamo responsabili? Filosofia,neuroscienze e società,  Codice, Torino Marraffa) of  La filosofia di Martino, special issue of  Paradigmi, Editor (with L. Illetterati) of a special issue of Verifiche  on “ Classical German Philosophy. New Research Perspectives between Analytic Philosophy and the Pragmatist Tradition”)   Editor (with S. Gozzano) of a special issue of  Rivista di filosofia   on “The philosophy ofconsciousness, ”  Editor (with M. Ferraris) of  Bentornata realtà. Il nuovo realismo in discussione, Einaudi,Torino)   Editor (with S. Poggi),  La filosofia analitica e le altre tradizioni, Carocci, Roma)   Guest editor,  Naturalismo, special issue of  Rivista di Estetica, 44, 2010 (with C. Barberoand A. Voltolini)   Editor of The Architecture of Reason. Epistemology, Agency, and Science, Carocci,Roma 2 (with Egidi)   Editor of Siamo davvero liberi? Le neuroscienze e il mistero del libero arbitrio,Codice, Torino) (with Lavazza and Sartori).11)   Guest editor of  E’ naturale essere naturalisti?, special issue of  Etica e politica, (with C. Barbero - A. Voltolini).12)   Editor of Scetticismo. Storia di una vicenda filosofia, Carocci, Roma  ( Spinelli)   Editor of  La mente e la natura, Fazi, Roma  (Italian version of  Naturalismin Question ) (with D. Macarthur)   Editor of the Italian version of H. Putnam, The Fact/Value Dicothomy, Fazi, Roma)   Editor of  Normatività, fatti, valori, Quodlibet, Macerata, 2003 (essays by G.H. vonWright, J. Hornsby, R. Fogelin, et alii ) (with Rosaria Egidi and Massimo De ll‟ Utri).16)   Editor of  Logica della libertà [ “ The Logic of Free dom”],  Meltemi, Roma) -- contains the Italian translation of essays by A. Ayer, R. Chisholm, P.F. Strawson, P. vanInwagen, H. Frankfurt)   Guest editor of “ Libertà e Deter  minismo”  [ “ Freedom and Determinism ” ], specialissue of  Paradigmi, Presentazione” del numero speciale di  Paradigmi  (25, 2013) dedicato a  La filosofia di Ernesto De Martino,  “Machiavelli e Lucrezio ”,  postface to A. Brown,  Machiavelli e Lucrezio. Fortuna elibertà nella Firenze del Rinascimento, Carocci, Roma, 2  “Metafisica e naturalism o: una entente cordiale? ”, Sistemi intelligenti, “Galileo e il platonismo fisico - matematico”, in R. Chiaradonna (ed),  Il platonismo e le scienze, Carocci, Roma “Introduzione” (with R. Chiaradonna) to R. Chiaradonna (ed.),  Il platonismo e le scienze,Carocci, Roma Naturalismo nel mirino: ma quale intendiamo? ”, Vita e pensiero, Autonomia della filosofia e neuroscienze,”  Rivista di Filosofia, “ Libero arbitrio e neuroscienze,” in A. Lavazza, G. Sartori (a cura di),  Neuroetica,Il Mulino, Bologna “ Filosofia della mente,”  in  Dizionario della mente Treccani, Istituto de ll EnciclopediaItaliana Italiana, Roma “Ne uro-mania e natura lismo”  (commento, su invito, a ll articolo target di CristianoCastelfranchi e Fabio Paglieri) (con A. Lavazza), Giornale italiano di psicologia, “ Il migliore dei naturalismi possibili  Etica & Politica / Ethics & Politics, (with A. Voltolini).14)   “ Psicologia, intenzionalità, scopi: un punto di vista filosofic o,”  (invited commentary to atarget article by C. Castelfranchi and F. Paglieri), Giornale italiano di psicologia, “ Libertà e responsabilità mora le,”  in  Enciclopedia del Terzo Millenio, Istitutode ll Enciclopedia Italiana, Roma   “ Le neuroscienze cognitive e l'enigma del libero a rbitrio,”  in M. Di Francesco  –   M.Marraffa (a cura di),  Il soggetto. Scienze della mente e natura dell  ’  io, Bruno Mondadori, Milano “  Neuroetica e libero a rbitrio,”  in S. Bacin (a cura di),  Etiche antiche e moderne, Il Mulino,Bologna Introduction to the Italian translation of John Dupré,  Human Nature and the Limits ofScience, Laterza, Roma-Bari, 2007 (with Telmo Pievani).12   ) “ Temi scotistici nella discussione contemporanea sul libero a rbitrio,”   Quaestio “ Gazzaniga, Hauser e la fallacia dei cromosomi mora li,”  Micromega  (“ Almanacco di scienz e” ) “ Filosofia, musica e asc olto,”    Rivista di storia della filosofia, “ Il ritorno dello scientismo,”  in M. Failla (a cura di) “B ene navigavi ”. Studi in onore di Franco Bianco, Quodlibet, Macerata “ Il naturalismo scientifico contemporaneo: caratteri e pr  oblemi,”  in P. Costa - F. Michelini(eds.),  Natura senza fine, EDB, Bologna  Causazione mentale e plura lismo,”    Iride, (with MassimoMarraffa).18   ) “ Due concetti di libero arbitr  io,”  in R. Calcaterra (ed.),  Le ragioni del conoscere ede ll’agire. Scritti in onore di Rosaria Egidi, Franco Angeli, Milano “ Scienza e libertà: due comuni fraintendimenti, SISSA NEWS,  Quattro tesi su filosofia e scienza,”   Sistemi intelligenti, “ Frankfurt, Harry Gor  don”  “ Teoria de ll az ione”  “ Scetticismo moderno e contemporane o” (vol. 10, pp. 10115- 10119), in  Enciclopedia filosofica di Gallarate, Bompiani, Milano Nozick, Strawson e lillusione  della libertà,”  in G. Pellegrino - I. Salvatore (eds.),  Nozick .  Identità personale, libertà e realismo morale, LUISS University Press, Roma  “ Questioni metafisiche: Dio e la libertà,”  in A. Coliva (ed.),  Filosofia analitica. Temi e problemi, Carocci, Roma with G. De Anna).24   ) “ Davidson sulla libertà umana,”  Iride, “ L'inscindibilità di fatti e valori in etica, in economia e nelle scienze natura li,” in troductionto  Fatto valore. Fine di una dicotomia (Italian translation of H. Putnam, The Fact/Value Dicothomy ), Fazi, Roma “  Naturalismo e scetticismo: il caso del libero a rbitrio,”  in R. Lanfredini (ed.),  Il problemamente-corpo, Guerini, Milano, “ Responsabilità e sce tticismo” in Egidi - De ll Utri - De Caro (eds.),  Normatività, fatti, valori, Quodlibet, Macerata “ Olismo e interpretazione radica le,”  in M. De ll Utri (a cura di), Olismo, Quodlibet,Macerata 2002, pp. 17-36.29   ) “ Il naturalismo fisicalistico: un dogma filosofico?,” in P. Parrini (ed.), Conoscenzae cognizione, Guerini, Milano “ Teorie de l’int erpretazione e criteri di correttezza,”  in C. Montaleone (ed.),  Parole fuorilegge.  L’idiotismo  linguistico tra filosofia e letteratura, Cortina, Milano  “ Liber  tà,”    Paradigmi, 58, 2002, pp. 67-84.32   ) “ Forme dello scetticismo e interpre tazione,”    Fenomenologia e società,  “ Contro la centralità delle regole: l esternalismo di Donald Da vidson,”  in  Atti della Società Italiana di Filosofia del Linguaggio, Novecento, Palermo, Sui presupposti sociali della responsabilità, «Filosofia e questioni pubbliche, “ Per un connessionismo non eliminazionista, ”   Sistemi Intelligenti, “ Varianti de llolismo. Aspetti della teoria analitica della traduz ione,”   Colloquium Philosophicum, “ Libertà metafisica e responsabilità mora le,”    Paradigmi, “ Prese ntazione,”    Paradigmi,  “ Determinismo e filosofia della mente contemporanea,”  in M. Cini (ed.), Caso, necessità, libertà, Cuen, Napoli “ Monismo anomalo ed epife nomenismo,”    Il Cannocchiale, “ Il lungo viaggio di Hilary Putnam,”    Lingua e Stile, XXXI, “ Epistemologia e interpretazione: l esternalismo di Donald Da vidson,”    Rivista di filosofia, “ Il platonismo di Ga lileo,”  Rivista di filosofia, “ La discriminazione tra la scienza e l'arte: un problema per il relativismo epistemic o,”    Paradigmi, Review of S. Nannini,  Naturalismo cognitivo. Per una teoria materialistica della mente,in  Iride, Review of L. Fonnesu, Storia dell'etica contemporanea. Da Kant alla filosofia analitica,in  Iride, Review of A. Massarenti,  Il lancio del nano e altri esercizi di filosofia minima, in  Bollettino della Società filosofica italiana, Review of M. De ll Utri,  L’inganno  assurdo, in  Epistemologia, Review of Carlo Montaleone,  Don Chisciotte o la logica della follia, in  Bollettino della Società filosofica italiana, Review of Mario Ricciardi - Corrado Del B o (a  cura di),  Pluralismo e libertà fondamentali, in  Iride, Review of Giacomo Marramao,  Minima temporalia,  Iride, in  Iride Review of Donald Davidson, Subjective, Intersubjective, Objective, in  Iride, Review of Massimo Marraffa,  Filosofia e psicologia, in  Epistemologia, Review of Nicla Vassallo, Teoria della conoscenza, in  Epistemologia “ Wittgenstein su mente e linguagg io”  [Review of R. Egidi (ed.) Wittgenstein: Mind and Language ], in  Rivista di filosofia, Review of Mark Pickering (ed.), Science as Practice and Culture, in  Archives Internationale  s d’   Histoire Des Sciences, Review of Marc De Mey, The Cognitive Paradigm. An Integrated Understanding ofScientific Development, in  Archives Internationales d  ’   Histoire Des Sciences, 1Review of M. De ll Utri,  Le vie del realismo. Verità, linguaggio e conoscenza in Hilary Putnam, in  Physis, Review of “ Il naturalismo filosofico di Willard Van Orman Quine ”  [review of: W.V.O.Quine,  La scienza e i dati di senso, Roma  Tempo presente, Review of “ Scienza e relativismo: un ossimoro? ”  [review of: R. Egidi (ed.),  La svoltarelativistica nell'epistemologia contemporanea, Milano Tempo presente, Review of “ E' ancora possibile una storiografia dell'arte? ”  [review of: H. Belting,  La fine della storia dell'arte o la libertà dell'arte, Torino Tempo presente,: Università della Calabria, Conference of Italian Association of Philosophy ofMind. Commentator of the main speaker, Tim Crane.May 16, 2006: participant in the debate on “ Semiotics and Phenomenology of the Se lf,” Roma, Società Italiana di Filosofia.May 10, 2006: University of L  Aquila. Lecture on “ Free Will and Causal Determinism ”. Ravenna Scienza, “  Neurobiology of Free Will: Is Our Will Free? ”.Invited speaker. Paper: “ The Philosophical Mystery of Free W ill”.  Roma, Auditorium “ Parco della Musica,”  Festival of Science. Lecture on: “ Gödel Theorems and Free will”  (with Rebecca Goldstein).: Reggio Emilia, Istituto Banfi. Conference “  Nature and Free dom”; invited spekaer for the section “ The naturalization of free dom” (commentators A. Benini eS.F. Magni). Nature and Free dom”.  December 2, 2005: University “ Ca   Fosca ri,”  Venice. International Conference, “ DonaldDavidson: Language - Meaning - Mind - Action ”; invited speaker. Paper: “F reedom andInference to the Best Explanation ”.Sassari, Sassari Association of Philosophy and Science. Lecture on “ Freedom and Scien ce”.  Vita  –   Salute “ San Raffae le”  University, Cesano Maderno (Milano),  First Meeting of the Italian Association of Philosophy of Mind ; organizer and chairperson. University of Genoa, International conference, “ Mental Processes ”;relatore invitato per la sezione “ Action and Rationality ”   Hornsby).September 29-30, 2005: SISSA, Trieste. Conference “  Neurophysiology and Free W ill”;  invited speaker. Paper: “ Etica e libero arbitrio ”. University of Trento, International Conference, “ Agency and Causation in theHuman Sciences ”. Invited speaker (paper: “F reedom and the Social Sciences ” ).June 1, 2005: “ Vita e Salute - San Raffae le”  University, Milano. International Conference, “ ADay for Freedom? An International Conference on Free W ill”. Discussant di Hughes.May 12, 2005: University of Florence, International Conference “ Philosophy, Neurophysiology and Free will”  On the compatibility of philosophy and scienc e”.Istituto di studi americani, Roma, International Conference, “ Pragmatismand Analytic Philosophy: Differences and Interac tions”  (invited speaker). Paper: “B eyondScientific Natura lism”.  University of Piemonte orientale, Department of HumanisticStudies. Three lectures on  Freedom and Nature.   November 26, 2004: University of Florence - Department of Philosophy. Lecture on TheConcept of Naturalism. November 16, 2005: University of Pavia  –   Giason del Maino College. Lecture on TheContemporary Debate on Free Will . University "Vita e Salute  –   San Raffae le,”  Milano. Lecture on  Freedomand Nature. University of Piemonte Orientale, Vercelli, Department ofHumanistic Studies, conference on “ Scientists and Philosophers and the Study ofComplex Sy stems”.  September 23-25: Genova, VI International Conference of the Italian Society of AnalyticPhilosophy (member of the scientific committee).   Rome. International Symposium "Questions on Naturalism"  Rome. “ Davidson on Human Free dom”.  Conference on DonaldDavidson, Department of Philosophy, Università Roma Tre (Rome. Discussant of Akeel Bilgrami. Workshop at LUISS University.September 29, 2003, Florence. Paper: “ Metaphysical Libertarianism ”. Conference on Robert Nozick   s philosophy, Department at the University of Florence (speaker).September 15, 2003, Sassari. Lecture on “ Logica e retorica ”  [Logic and Rhetoric].Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, University of Sassari (invited lecturer). May7, 2003, Siena. Paper on “  Naturalism and Free dom”.  Workshop on The Free   Will problem. Department of Philosophy, Università di Siena Sassari. Workshop on Skepticism and the Reemergence and the Self ,” Department of Philoosophy, Università di Sassari, (discussant).October 12, 2002, Messina. Paper on “  Naturalism and Intentionality ”. Annual Meeting of theItalian Society of Philosophy of Language (speaker).May 14, 2002, Cosenza. Lecture:  Memoria e identità [Memory and Identity].Department of Philosophy, Università di Cosenza.May 6, 2002, Florence. Paper: “ Freedom and Moral Responsibility: Mysteries orIllusions? ”. Florence Rome. Lecture  La teoria della conoscenza nel Novecento [TheTheory of Knowledge in the Twentieth Century]. Italian Society of Philosophy (invitedspeaker)February 5, 2002, Rome. Paper on  Il fondamento filosofico dei diritti umani [ThePhilosophical Foundation of Human Rights]. Conference “ The Question of HumanRights Today,”  Università di Roma “ La Sapienza ” (sp eaker).January 16, 2002, Pavia. Lecture on  Responsabilità e causalità: critiche a Strawson e Frankfurt [ “ Responsability and Causality: Some Criticisms of Strawson and Frankfur  t”]. Department of Philosophy, Università di Pavia (invited speaker). Cosenza. Lecture on “ Ragioni e ca use”  [ “ Reasons and causes ” Calabria ( Padua. Lecture on “  Freedom and Naturalism,”  Department of Philosophy,Università di Padova (invited speaker).May 8, 2001, Milan. Paper on “ Interpretations and Criteria of Correctness ”.Conference:  Interpretation and Correcteness, Università Statale di Milano (Bologna. Paper on Causality and Naturalism. Annual Meeting of the ItalianSociety of Analytic Philosophy, Università di Bologna (invited speaker).April 10, 2001, Rome. Paper on  Forms of Causation. Annual Meeting of the Italian Societyof Philosophy, Università Roma Tre  Siena. What P.F. Strawson Hasn’ t Proved . Annual Conference ofthe Italian Society of Analytic Philosophy (Rome. Paper on “ Freedom and the Self  ”. Conference: The Nature of theSelf, between Philosophy and Psychology, Università Roma Tre Rome. Paper on “ Van Inwagen  s Consequence Argument ”.Workshop:  Freedom and Necessity, Università Roma Tre Florence. Paper on “ What we should mean with the Word Person”   (with Maffettone). Conference  Le ragioni del corpo [The Reasons of the Body]. Istituto Gramsci Rome. Paper on “ Davidson on the Conceptual Schemes ”.Workshop: Talking with Donald Davidson, Università Roma Tre (organizer and speaker).December 20, 1999, Rome. Speaker with D. Donald Davidson at the presentation of the book M. De Caro (ed.),  Interpretations and Causes. New Perspectives on Donald Dav idson’s Philosophy, Università Roma Tre Rome. Paper on “ Against an Alleged Refutation of Kripke  sSkeptical Argument ”. Conference:  Facts and Norms, IV National Conference of theItalian Society of Analitic Philosophy, Università Roma Tre Palermo. Paper on “ Davidson on Following a Rule ”.Conference: The Linguistic Rule. Conference of the Italian Society of Philosophy ofLanguage Rome. Paper on  Is Libertarianism About Free Will Scientifically Acceptable?. Conference:  Determinism and Freedom, Università Roma Tre(organizer and speaker), Bologna. Paper on “ The Roots of Epistemic Skepticism ”.Conference: Science, Philosophy, and Common Sense, III National Conference of theItalian Society of Analitic Philosophy, Bologna (Rome. Lecture on  Freedom and Necessity. Seminar of theInterdipartimental Reasearch Center on Scientific Methodology (invited speaker).October 17-19, 1996, Rome. Paper on “ G.H. von Wright on the Mind-Body Proble m”.  Conference The Study of Mankind in George Henrik von Wright , Università RomaTre Rome. Paper on “ Davidson on Holism and SemanticExterna lism”. Conference:  Perspectives on Holism, CNR Roma (organizer andspeaker). Rome. Paper on “ Galileo  s method ”. Conference:  Philosophies of Nature from the Renaissance to the Twentieth Century, Università Roma “ LaSapienza ” Rome. Paper on “ Davidson on skepticism”.   Davidson’s   philosophy, Università di Roma “ La Sapienza ” Lucca. Paper on  Logic and Philosophy of Science: Problems and Perspectives. Triennal Meeting of Italian Society of Logic and Philosophy ofScience (speaker). November 30, 1991, Rome. Paper on “ Perspectives of Rea lism”. Lecture at the Departmentof Philosophy, Università di Roma “ La Sapienza ”Rome. Paper on “W ittgenstein and the Philosophy of Mind ”.Conference: Wittgenstein on Mind and Language, Università Roma Tre (speaker). Grice: “When we taught De Interpretation with Austin, a tutee would ask ‘hermeneias’? Austin thought that Heidegger’s attempt to link hermeneia (to interpret) with Hermes was far fetched, so we left it at that!” Mario De Caro. Caro. Keywords: interpretare, Davidson, Putnam, “derivative Old-World philosopher focusing on New-World philosophers like Putnam or Davidson!”, interpretatione, peri hermeneias, Davidson on Grice – Grice on Putnam on Grice ‘too forma’ – Davidson on Grice – ‘a nice derangement of epitaphs’ Grice on Davidson on intending: conversational implicature theory too social to be true: ‘intending’ ENTAILS belief, does not IMPLICATE it! Pears, D. F. Pears. – P. F. Strawson and H. P. Grice on ‘free’ – Actions and Events --.-  Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Caro” – The Swimming-Pool Library.  

 

Grice e Caronda: all’isola -- Roma – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Catania). Filosofo italiano. According to Giamblico di Calcide, a Pythagorean, one of those who studied with Pythagoras himself. He achieved a repulation as a legislator. It is said that when he found out he had accidentally broken one of his own laws, he committed suicide. Whether he was ever a Pythagorean at all is now widely questioned. Substantial portions of a work on laws attributed to him survive.

 

Grice e Carravetta: l’implicatura conversazionale -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Lappano). Filosofo italiano. Moved to the New World. Note  Peter Carravetta, Del postmoderno., by Alessandro Carrera  iawa-West welcomes Peter Carravetta and Marisa Frasca on Saturday, February 14,  at Sidewalk Cafe NYC  IAWA’s Open Reading Series Featuring Peter Carravetta & Marisa Frasca February 14,  Filosofia Letteratura  Letteratura Filosofo del XX secoloFilosofi italiani del XXI secolo Poeti italiani del XX secolo Poeti italiani del XXI secoloTraduttori italiani 1951 10 maggio. Grice: “Carravetta has been stealing the Italian voice of Italian philosophers, or rather silencing it!” -- Pietro Carravetta. Keywords. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carravetta” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Tractatus semeiotico-philosophicus – the opus magnum, almost, of Grice – or Speranza. – The Swimming-Pool Library. Caravetta.

 

Grice e Carulli: l’implicatura conversazionale di GIANO -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Bari). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Carulli – he philosophises on things we do not philosophy at Oxford, such as menstruation – or piegaturi, as Speranza prefers, since this is plural – ‘delle mestruazioni’.” Grice: “But Carulli has also philosophised on some anti-Griceian themes: my ‘fiducia’ becomes his ‘sfiducia;’ my ‘ragione’ becomes his ‘sragione’! Delightful!” – Grice: “When I philosophised on “Not,” or “Not I!” alla Beckett – I wouldn’t realise these are negative implicatures – ‘negative implicatures of ‘not’ – Carulli speaks of ‘negative reflections on unaffirmation’!” “Genius!” – Grice: “Carulli can play with word: ‘il ‘mito’ della inatualitta ‘ di X’ – is this equivalent or, as I prefer, a mere vehicle for the cancellable implicature: ‘la attualita’ di X’?!” – Grice: “Carulli knows how to subtitle: his ‘sfiducia e sragione’ is not just that but a Spinozian double treatise, like Witters’s abhandlung – cfr. Speranza’s “Tractatus semeiotico-philosophicus”. Studia a Bari, una città tradizionalmente soggetta allo storiografismo, all'impegno cattolico e al marxismo. Produce una filosofia aliena ai grandi inganni e refrattaria alla celebrazione dei suoi miti -- la democrazia, i diritti, la socialità, il debolismo -- con un'inconsueta attenzione alla forma, seguendo la scuola della cosiddetta critica della cultura, da Nietzsche in poi, unendo gli epigoni di quello ai moralisti. Partito da posizioni di anti-storicismo puro, culminato in un Benjamin schiacciato sulla im-politicità di ritorno della sua filosofia in “Oggettività dell'impolitico: riflessioni negative a partire da Benjamin” (Genova, Il Melangolo). Così come da un'analisi eterodossa dell'ultimo Schelling, De contemptu, Dello Schelling tardo (Genova, Il Melangelo) è giunto ad esiti originali con “Metafisica delle mestruazioni” (Genova, Il Melangolo), dove si sottrae il fenomeno femminile alle analisi socio-antropologiche per riconsegnarlo alla sua radice metafisica. Il discorso sul cristianesimo ritorna in “Sfiducia e sragione. Trattato teologico-politico” (Napoli, La Scuola di Pitagora), dove si riprende inoltre la critica della democrazia. Il cristianesimo è visto come una forma culturale stanca e abitudinaria, ma in grado di reggere con la sua apatia allo scontro con l'Islam. Si affaccia la verità ontologica del “ente” in diminuzione che non giungono mai all'annullamento definitivo; una verità che lo distanzia dall'eternità dell’ “essente” come pure dai cultori dell'annientamento.  La sua filosofia, centrata ossessivamente sugli stessi temi, può essere idealmente divisa secondo un'altra direttrice, volta alla ri-costruzione critica pionieristica di su amico Sgalambro. In quest'ambito pubblica “Caro misantropo. Saggi e testimonianze per Sgalambro” (Napoli, La Scuola di Pitagora); Introduzione a Sgalambro” (Genova, Il Melangolo), e “La piccola verità. Quattro saggi su Sgalambro” (Milano, Mimesis). Altre opere:“Lettera in La felicità? Prove didattiche di studenti “tieffini” in formazione, Chiara Gemma, Barletta, Cafagna. Gianluca Veneziani, Storia, verità e politica. Perché Benjamin non è un marxista, in Libero, De contemptu, su alessiocantarella. Davide D'Alessandro, Alighieri, Harry Potter e le mestruazioni: l'idea bellicosa di editoria di Regazzoni, su il foglio Alessio Cantarella, Sfiducia e sragione, su alessiocantarella, Davide D'Alessandro, Ratzinger, Bergoglio e l'Abitudine al Cristianesimo, su il foglio. Pier Francesco Corvino,  Religio Medici. Andrea Comincini, Per una interpretazione di Dio e del Contemporaneo, su scena illustrata.com. alessio cantarella. Sgalambro, un metafisico distruttore,  in La Sicilia. Corriere del Mezzogiorno, Sgalambro, “impiegato di filosofia” contro i luoghi comuni, in Il Mattino, Sgalambro, filosofo pessimista che sape come godersi la vita, in Libero, Luca Farruggio, Una preziosa “Introduzione a Sgalambro” -- Davide D'Alessandro, Cara “Italian Theory”, ricordati di Sgalambro, su il foglio, Introduzione a Sgalambro su rai playradio. Alessio Cantarella, su alessiocantarella. Alessandro, Uno Sgalambro non isolato, tra Cacciari e Severino, su il foglio, convenzionali.wordpress.com, Sgalambro e le piccole verità, su lgiornale. Sgalambro, l’esistenza e il peso di dio, su scena illustrata.com. Sgalambro, il filosofo che ama la canzone, in La Gazzetta del Mezzogiorno.  Giano (latino: Ianus) è il dio degli inizi, materiali e immateriali, ed è una delle divinità più antiche e più importanti della religione romana, latina e italica. Solitamente è raffigurato con due volti (il cosiddetto Giano Bifronte), poiché il dio può guardare il futuro e il passato. Nel caso del Giano quadrifronte, le quattro facce sono rivolte ai quattro punti cardinali.   Busto di Giano conservato presso i Musei Vaticani. Caratteristiche della divinità Modifica Etimologia Modifica  Quadrigato romano recante l'effigie di Giano. Circa 220 a.C. Già gli antichi mettevano il nome del dio in relazione al movimento: Macrobio e Cicerone lo facevano derivare dal verbo ire "andare", perché secondo Macrobio il mondo va sempre, muovendosi in cerchio e partendo da sé stesso a sé stesso ritorna[1]. Gli studiosi moderni hanno confermato questa relazione stabilendo una derivazione dal termine ianua, "porta"[2], ma è con Georges Dumézil che il senso si precisa: il nome Ianus deriverebbe dalla radice indoeuropea *ei-, ampliata in *y-aa- con il significato di "passaggio" che, attraverso una forma *yaa-tu, ha prodotto anche l'irlandese ath, "guado"[3]. In passato non sono mancate tuttavia ipotesi alternative, come quella che voleva il nome derivato da una più antica forma *Dianus, da mettere in relazione con la dea Diana e quindi derivato anch'esso dalla stessa radice del termine latino dies, "giorno"[4]. Dumezil nota anche l'appellativo di 'mattutino' con cui Orazio si rivolge al dio in modo semiserio (Serm.). Tale appellativo tuttavia deporrebbe indifferentemente a favore di entrambe le ipotesi etimologiche esposte. Il suo nome in greco è Ιανός (Ianós).  È il primo a portare il naso con profilo romano (il classico naso a becco d'uccello). La figura del Dio Giano, come appena accennato, è prettamente romana e la sua origine non si può far risalire alla mitologia greca. Nella mitologia etrusca la divinità più prossima a Ianus è Culsans[5], dio delle porte e dei passaggi[6][7], anch’esso bifronte, con un nome simile ("ianua" significa porta in latino, come "culs" in etrusco) e legato al concetto di passato e futuro, ma con caratteristiche non del tutto sovrapponibili. Essendo pochissime le informazioni in nostro possesso sui culti dell'Italia preromana non possiamo far risalire con certezza Giano a qualche divinità italica.  Una possibilità da tenere in considerazione è che la figura di Giano sia stata ispirata da quella di Ušmu, un dio sumero a due facce, altrimenti chiamato Isimud o, in piena età babilonese, Ansar.  Epiteti Modifica  Asse con l'effigie di Giano e la prora di una nave. Circa 240-225 a.C. Come tutte le divinità romane, Giano era chiamato con diversi epiteti, che testimoniano la sua particolare rilevanza all'interno del pantheon:  Divum Deus (Dio degli Dei) Divum Claviger (Dio Clavigero) Divum Pater (Padre degli Dei) Ianus Bifrons (Giano bifronte) Ianus Cerus (Giano creatore) Ianus Consivius (Giano procreatore) Ianus Pater (Giano padre) Pater matutinae (Padre del mattino) Ianus Vicilinus (Giano Vigilante) Natura del dio Modifica Giano è una divinità esclusivamente romano-italica, la più antica tra gli Dei nazionali, gli Di indigetes, invocata spesso insieme a Iuppiter. Fu, insieme a Quirino, l'unico dio romano a non essere assimilato a divinità ellenistiche.  Il suo culto è probabilmente antichissimo e risale ad un'epoca arcaica, in cui i culti dei popoli italici erano in gran parte ancora legati ai cicli naturali della raccolta e della semina. È stato sottolineato da più autori, fin dal secolo XIX (Vedi Il ramo d'oro), come Giano fosse probabilmente la divinità principale del pantheon romano in epoca arcaica ed anche Sant'Agostino nel suo De Civitate Dei (VII, 9) ricorda che “ad Ianum pertinent initia factorum” e come perciò al Dio competa “omnium initiorum potestatem”. In particolare rimarrebbe traccia di questo fatto nell'appellativo Ianus Pater che permase anche in epoca classica.  Giano nell'epoca arcaica era semplicemente il dio legato ai cicli naturali, poi con il passare del tempo il suo mito divenne sempre più complesso.  Nei frammenti superstiti del Carmen Saliare Giano è salutato con particolare enfasi come padre e dio degli dei stessi:  «divum +empta+ cante, divum deo supplicate»  (IT)  «cantate lui, il padre degli dei, supplicate il dio degli dei»  (fragmentum 1) Tale dato è confermato dal fatto che per i romani Giano non era figlio di alcun'altra divinità (ad esempio Giove è figlio di Saturno), ma, proprio per la sua qualità di pater divorum, egli era sempre stato, immanente, fin dall'origine di ogni cosa. Così è che Giano, come lo stesso ci racconta per bocca di Ovidione i Fasti (I, 103 e s.s.), era presente allorché i quattro elementi si separarono tra di loro dando forma ad ogni cosa.  A tal proposito Varrone riporta nel carmen anche l'epiteto di Cerus cioè "creatore", perché come iniziatore del mondo Giano è il creatore per eccellenza[8]. Il console e augure Marco Valerio Messalla Rufo scrive nel libro sugli Auspici che Giano è colui che plasma e governa ogni cosa e unì, circondandole con il cielo, l'essenza dell'acqua e della terra, pesante e tendente a scendere in basso, e quella del fuoco e dell'aria, leggera e tendente a sfuggire verso l'alto, e che fu l'immane forza del cielo a tenere legate le due forze contrastanti[9]. Settimio Sereno lo chiama "principio degli dèi e acuto seminatore di cose".  Giano presiede infatti a tutti gli inizi e i passaggi e le soglie, materiali e immateriali, come le soglie delle case, le porte, i passaggi coperti e quelli sovrastati da un arco, ma anche l'inizio di una nuova impresa, della vita umana, della vita economica, del tempo storico e di quello mitico, della religione, degli dèi stessi, del mondo, dell'umanità (viene infatti chiamato Consivio, cioè propagatore del genere umano, che viene seminato per opera sua[10]), della civiltà, delle istituzioni.  Nella sua riforma del calendario romano, Numa Pompilio dedicò a Giano il primo mese successivo al solstizio d'inverno, gennaio, che con la riforma giulianadel 46 a.C. passò ad essere il primo dell'anno.  Una delle caratteristiche più singolari di Giano sta nella sua rappresentazione come di un dio bicefalo, da cui l'appellativodi Giano bifronte. Questa particolarità era connessa all'area di influenza divina che Giano assunse in maniera specifica in epoca classica, dopo l'ascesa degli dei romani "canonici": Giano era preposto alle porte (ianuae), ai passaggi (iani) e ai ponti: ne custodiva l'entrata e l'uscita e portava in mano, come i portinai, gli ianitores, una chiave e un bastone, mentre le due facce vegliavano nelle due direzioni, a custodire entrata e uscita.  Anche in quest'epoca, comunque, Giano continuò a rappresentare il custode di ogni forma di passaggio e mutamento, protettore di tutto ciò che riguardava un inizio ed una fine.  Miti Modifica  Paolo Farinati, Giano bifronte con una ninfa, 1590 circa, affresco, Villa Nichesola-Conforti, Ponton di Sant'Ambrogio di Valpolicella (Verona). Nel mito Giano avrebbe regnato come primo Re del Latium, fondando una città sul monte Gianicolo e donando la civiltà agli Aborigeni, suoi originari abitanti. Con la ninfa Camese avrebbe generato inoltre numerosi figli, tra i quali il dio Tiberino, signore del Tevere. È lui ad accogliere il dio dell'agricolturaSaturno, spodestato dal figlio Giove, condividendo con lui la regalità e consentendogli di portare l'età dell'oro. Per l'ospitalità ricevuta, Giano ricevette dal dio Saturno il dono di vedere sia il passato che il futuro, all'origine della sua rappresentazione bifronte.  Numerose sono le ninfe indicate come mogli o compagne di Giano:  Camese, dalla quale il dio ebbe tre figli: Tiberino, il dio del Tevere; Camasena, Clistene; Venilia, citata da Ovidio, dalla quale avrebbe generato: Canente; Carna, dalla quale avrebbe ricevuto il potere sulle porte; Giuturna, dalla quale sarebbe nato: Fons, dio delle sorgenti, venerato ai piedi del Gianicolo. Culto Modifica Al culto di Giano, a differenza delle altre divinità maggiori, non era preposto uno specifico flamen. Le cerimonie a lui dedicate venivano invece amministrate dallo stesso Rex e, in età repubblicana dal particolare sacerdote che suppliva alle antiche prerogative regie, il Rex Sacrorum. Egli apriva dunque per primo le processioni e le cerimonie religiose, antecedendo anche lo stesso flamen Dialis, sacerdote di Giove.  Nel suo tempio si sacrificava spesso per avere vaticinisulla riuscita delle imprese militari.  Santuari Modifica  Arco di Giano o Ianus Quadrifrons. A Roma i principali luoghi consacrati a Giano erano:  lo Ianus geminus, un passaggio coperto consacrato secondo la tradizione da Numa Pompilio nel Foro e precisamente nella parte più bassa dell'Argileto secondo Tito Livio, o ai piedi del Viminale secondo Macrobio, e che veniva aperto in occasione di guerre e chiuso in tempo di pace[11]; lo Ianus quadrifrons, un arco a quattro aperture situato nel Foro Boario; il Tempio di Giano situato nel Foro Olitorio e consacrato da Gaio Duilio nel 260 a.C. dopo la vittoria di Milazzo. Giano come simbolo di città Modifica  Scultura lignea di Giano ad Avezzano Secondo la leggenda, Giano fondò la città di Gianicola, e fu proprio lui ad accogliere Saturno nel Lazio. Esisteva una frazione della città di Roma denominata Gianicolo e secondo alcuni mitologi Giano sarebbe il fondatore di uno dei villaggi di Roma. Da notare che il Gianicolo affaccia su un lato del Tevere ove è presente un guado naturale, quindi un passaggio.  Giano viene assunto dal Medioevo a simbolo di Genova, in relazione al suo nome antico di Ianua[12]. Come tale viene spesso accostato al Grifone, altro simbolo di questa città. Troviamo effigi di Giano bifronte nel pozzo sacro di piazza Sarzano (l'ermabifronte sulla cupoletta, proveniente da una fontana cinquecentesca opera della bottega in Genova di Giacomo e Guglielmo della Porta); rappresentazioni dei grifoni come ornamento dei pinnacoli delle volte vetrate di Galleria Mazzini e nei lampadari ottocenteschi della stessa. Una rappresentazione indubbiamente più moderna ed essenziale la troviamo nel palazzo azzurro sito in Fiumara. Bisogna considerare Giano come dio adatto a sostituire i riti celtici dediti alla venerazione del torrente, considerato come luogo ove convergono le acque da affluenti che stanno a destra e a sinistra dello stesso corso d'acqua, in quanto Giano aveva due facce ed era il dio dei passaggi, oltre ad avere rapporti con le divinità delle acque.  Oltre a Genova, Giano è il simbolo di Tiggiano(provincia di Lecce), Subbiano (provincia di Arezzo), Selvazzano Dentro (provincia di Padova) e Centro Giano (provincia di Roma), San Giovanni Rotondo(Provincia di Foggia). L'immagine di Giano è presente nel gonfalone di Tiggiano (provincia di Lecce)[13]perché secondo un'etimologia popolare il nome del paese potrebbe derivare dal nome del dio Giano[14] (in realtà il toponimo è un prediale costruito sul gentilizioromano Tidius[15].).  In Basilicata, presso Muro Lucano (PZ) è presente il toponimo Capo di Giano e Varaggiano, mentre presso Melfi c'è Foggiano. A Pescopagano, in una nicchia sotto l'arco di Porta Sibilla vi è una statuetta raffigurante Giano bifronte.  L'immagine di Giano è presente nel gonfalone di Subbiano (provincia di Arezzo)[16] perché secondo un'etimologia popolare il nome del paese deriverebbe dal latino Sub Janum condita ("fondata sotto [il segno di] Giano")[17], ma in realtà il toponimo è un predialecostruito sul gentilizio romano Sevius[18].  Il nome della città di Avezzano in Abruzzo stando ad un'ipotesi giudicata inverosimile da storici ed archeologi deriverebbe da "Ave Jane", un'invocazione posta sul portale di un tempio consacrato al dio Giano. Secondo la leggenda attorno al tempio ebbe origine la borgata formata dai primi agricoltori stanziati nell'area che originariamente circondava il lago del Fucino[19].  Il monte Giano nell'Appennino centrale è situato nel comune di Antrodoco, in provincia di Rieti.  Il toponimo di Selvazzano Dentro di origine romana parrebbe riportare alla presenza di un boschetto sacro al dio Giano (selva di Giano), l'attuale stemma comunale riporta infatti un altare dedicato al dio.  Secondo delle supposizioni i toponimi di Vezzano, come Vezzano Ligure in provincia della Spezia, deriverebbero dalla divinità romana.  Il nome del dio è invece all'origine dei due toponimi Giano dell'Umbria e Giano Vetusto, non direttamente ma attraverso un nome di persona latino Ianus (al quale sarà originariamente appartenuto il fondo sul quale è sorto il centro abitato)[20].  A Reggio Emilia c'è un Giano su uno spigolo di Palazzo Magnani in Corso Garibaldi. Nel comune di Maddaloni, in Provincia di Caserta, esattamente dinanzi l'ospedale cittadino, sono ancora visibili i resti di un tempio con l'iscrizione "Iano Pacifero".  A Trieste vi è una fontana con il volto bifronte del dio, posta all'inizio del Viale XX Settembre. In quanto alla scelta del sito, va notato che nei primi anni dell'Ottocento in quel punto si trovava un recinto con cancello, che segnava l'uscita dalla città.[21].  Il toponimo di Camposano, in provincia di Napoli, tra le tante interpretazioni, parrebbe derivare da un tempio dedicato al dio Giano denominato Campus Iani.  Nel pesarese, a pochi chilometri dalla città di Fano, vi è la frazione di Monte Giano.  Nei pressi del comune di Montieri, tra Siena e Volterra, Alta Maremma, si trova una località chiamata Prategiano, tradizionalmente legata alla divinità. Qui oggi si trova un prato collinare, circondato da boschi. Vi ha sede un centro ippico di rilievo, dal quale partono escursioni per numerose località naturali e storiche. La zona è ricca di vestigia, tra le quali la Rotonda di Montesiepi, con la Spada nella Roccia, ivi conficcata dal misterioso San Galgano nel XII secolo, oggi ancora visibile sotto la cupola della rotonda.  Note Modifica ^ Macrobio, Saturnalia, I, 9, 11 ^ ad esempio Herbert Jennings Rose in Dizionario di antichità classiche, s.v. Giano. Milano, Edizioni San Paolo, Dumézil, La religione romana arcaica,  Milano, Rizzoli, Ferrari, Dizionario di mitologia greca e latina, s.v. Giano. Torino, UTET, Simon "Culsu, Culsans e Ianus" in: Atti Secondo congresso internazionale - Tomo III - 1985 pag. 1271-81. ^ de Grummond, N.T. & Simon, E. (eds.) (2006). The Religion of the Etruscans. University of Texas, Austin.. ^ Daniele F.Maras, Monografie - La Religione Etrusca p.22, in Archeo Monografie, 27 ottobre/novembre 2018. ^ Marco Terenzio Varrone, Della lingua latina, VII, 26-27 ^ Macrobio, Saturnalia, I, 9, 14 ^ Macrobio, Saturnalia, I, 9, 16 ^ Tito Livio, Storia di Roma, I, 19, 2 ^ Teofilo Ossian De Negri. Storia di Genova. Firenze, Giunti, 2Stemma Comune di Tiggiano, su comuni-italiani.it. Notizie generali sul Comune di Tiggiano, su japigia.com. URL consultato Marcato. Tiggiano, in AA. VV. Dizionario di toponomastica. Torino, UTET, Subbiano (Tuscany, Italy), su crwflags Subbiano in breve, su comune.subbiano.Marcato. Subbiano, in AA.VV. Dizionario di toponomastica. ^ Giovanni Pagani, Il nome Avezzano, su avezzano.terremarsicane.it, Terre Marsicane. Marcato. Giano dell'Umbria e Giano Vetusto, in AA. VV. Dizionario di toponomastica. ^ In Viale una fontana con due mascheroni - Cronaca - Il Piccolo, in Il Piccolo, 19 novembre Enciclopedia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc. Portale Mitologia: accedi alle voci di Wikipedia che trattano di mitologia. Falacer Saturno (divinità) divinità romanaell'agricoltura  Carna Wikipedia Il contenutoAntonio Carulli. Keywords: Giano, critica della cultura, Nietzsche, De Contemptu, Schelling, impolitico, Benjamin, menstruazione, Aligheri sulla mestruazione, ente, essente. Giano, e la religione, paganesimo. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carulli” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Carulli.

 

 

Grice e Casalegno: l’implicatura conversazionale -- il concetto d’implicatura nella filosofia linguistica del Novecento – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Torino). Filosofo italiano Grice: “I like, indeed love, Casalegno; but then, he loves me! Translating Griice, or me, is tricky – as Mommsen says of Garet translating Cassiodoro,, “more than a translation, he provided a correction – and he tried to prove that Cassiodoro was a Benedictine monk.’” Grice: “Casalegno does not try to ‘translate’ Grice – let THAT to the technicians! As a philosopher, he tries to ‘re-interpret’ Grice, if a re-interpretation is needed!”  Si laurea a Pisa sotto Sainati con “Aspetti della logica modernista”. Insegna a Milano, chiamato da Bonomi. Approfondizza diversi temi all'interno della filosofia analitica, quali il concetto di verità, la teoria degli insiemi, l'epistemologia della testimonianza, la teoria della ricorsività. Altre opere: “Alle origini della semantica formale,” Cuem; “Filosofia del linguaggio: un'introduzione,” Carocci, “Teoria degli insiemi, un'introduzione, Carocci); “Brevissima introduzione alla filosofia del linguaggio, Carocci,  Verità e significato. Scritti di filosofia del linguaggio, Carocci,  (P. Frascolla, D. Marconi ed E. Paganini). Il puzzle di Kripke, in Teoria, Sulla logica dei plurali, in Teoria; Tre osservazioni su verità e riferimento, in Iride; Come interpretare l'argomento antirealista di Dummett?, in Lingua e stile; Le proprietà modali della verità: problemi e punti di vista, in Logica e teologia (Pisa, ETS). Un problema concernente le condizioni di asseribilità, in Modi dell'oggettività, Milano, Bompiani, Normatività e riferimento, in  Politeia. Chomsky sul riferimento, Monza, Polimetrica. Casalegno, il maestro della filosofia del linguaggio, di Franco Manzoni, Corriere della Sera, Archivio storico. Grice Logica e conversazione. In P. Casalegno, P. Frascolla, A. Iacona, E. Paganini, M. Santambrogio (a cura di). Filosofia del linguaggio, Milano, Raffaello Cortina. Il libro che vi presento oggi appartiene alla collana “Bibliotheca” della casa editrice Raffaello Cortina. Il titolo è Filosofia del linguaggio (come spesso accade tra i libri di cui ho parlato in questo blog) e si tratta di una interessante e utile antologia di testi, appartenenti alla tradizione novecentesca della filosofia analitica del linguaggio.  I curatori sono importanti docenti italiani, tra cui Paolo Casalegno, Pasquale Frascolla, Andrea Iacona, Elisa Paganini e Marco Santambrogio.  I testi antologizzati consentono al lettore di farsi un’idea (e non poco approfondita) sulle principali questioni e problematiche inerenti al linguaggio umano, su cui si è dibattuto negli ultimi decenni in ambito analitico. Ogni testo è preceduto da una introduzione dei curatori, in cui è presentato il pensiero dell’autore, il contesto culturale e i concetti chiave che emergono dalla sua opera.  Apre il classico Senso e significato di Frege (di cui avevo già parlato qui), seguono quindi  Le descrizioni di Bertrand Russell (testo che tratta delle descrizioni definite), Significato, uso, comprensione di Ludwig Wittgenstein (tratto dalle sue Ricerche filosofiche), Due dogmi dell’empirismo e Relatività ontologica di Quine, Nomi e riferimento di Kripke, Significato, riferimento e stereotipi di Putnam, Interpretazione radicale di Davidson, “Logica e conversazione” di Grice, Dispute metafisiche intorno al realismo, di Michael Dummett, e si conclude con l’interessante Linguaggio e natura, di Noam Chomsky. versazione – afferma Grice - è un ' attività cooperativa alla quale i partecipanti devono contribuire in maniera appropriata. A tale fine, bisogna che ciascuno si attenga a quattro “ massime ” che possono. Introduzione alla filosofia del linguaggio  Paolo Casalegno. Significato e condizioni di verità. Prendiamo in considerazione un’idea del primo Wittgenstein:  “Comprendere una proposizione vuole dire sapere che accada se essa è vera” (Tractatus). Poiché comprendere una proposizione equivale a conoscerne il significato, molti hanno concluso che alla base di una teoria del significato si deve porre la nozione di verità. Come sostenere la tesi wittgensteiniana?  Un  modo  può  essere  questo:  usiamo  il  linguaggio  per  descrivere  la  realtà.  Una proposizione singola fornisce una descrizione appropriata, anche se parziale, della realtà se le cose stanno in un certo modo, una descrizione inappropriata altrimenti. Per comprendere una proposi-zione dobbiamo sapere quali sono le circostante in cui la descrizione della realtà che essa offre è ap-propriata, dobbiamo sapere come deve essere fatto il mondo affinché essa sia vera. Possiamo anche esprimerci così: per comprendere una proposizione dobbiamo conoscere le sue ‘condizioni di veri-tà’.  Evitiamo di fraintendere. Conoscere le condizioni di verità di una proposizione è molto diverso dal sapere se essa sia, di fatto, vera o falsa, e non bisogna dunque confondere le due cose. Inoltre, non bisogna assumere  che  il conoscere  le condizioni di  verità di  una  proposizione equivalga  a  sapere come si fa, in pratica, per stabilire se essa è vera.  La tesi wittgensteiniana sembra essere ragionevole, e così anche la sua conseguenza più immediata: una teoria del significato, ammesso che la si possa elaborare, deve essere imperniata sulla nozione di verità. Le obiezioni che si possono però muovere a un siffatto modo di vedere le cose sono moltepli-ci, concentriamoci su alcune di queste.  Le obiezioni possono essere, principalmente, di due tipi. Da un lato si può concedere che compren-dere una proposizione equivalga a conoscerne le condizioni di verità, ma respingere l’idea che la nozione di verità sia la nozione centrale di una teoria del significato (ci sono espressioni per le quali parlare di condizioni di verità sembra essere assurdo). Dall’altro lato, si può più radicalmente soste-nere che il significato delle proposizioni non può essere ridotto a un insieme determinato di condi-zioni di verità.  Al termine ‘proposizione’ preferiamo contrapporre un gergo leggermente più tecnico, facciamo quindi uso del termine ‘enunciato’; ciò per riferirci a quelle che talvolta si chia-mano ‘frasi dichiarative’: le frasi per mezzo delle quali si può fare un’asserzione e delle quali ha sen-so chiedersi se siano vere o false. La prima obiezione  si basa sull’ovvia  constatazione che esistono  espressione le quali, pur essendo dotate di significato, non sono enunciati, e alle quali, di conseguenza, non sono sensatamente attribuibili condizioni  di  verità.  Ci  sono  espressioni  sintatticamente  ben  formate  che  non  sono  frasi complete, parole singole  o espressioni come  ‘valigia  pesante’. Che  queste  espressioni abbiano  un significato è indubbio, ma che si possa parlare di condizioni di verità sembra essere un’evidente for-zatura. In  secondo luogo,  ci sono frasi  complete come  le interrogative  e le  imperative. Inevitabil-mente, una teoria che voglia analizzare il significato di queste due sorte di espressioni deve ricorre a nozioni  diverse  da quella di verità.  Sembra  dunque  impossibile  che  proprio  su  questa  nozione  si fondi tutta quanta una teoria del significato. Cosa si può rispondere a quest’obiezione? Si può voler dire che la nozione di verità, sebbene non possa essere considerata l’unica nozione di una teoria del significato, rimane in ogni caso la nozione centrale. Si può sostenere che anche il significato delle espressioni che non sono enunciati ha a che fare con la verità.  Consideriamo il caso delle parole singole: queste servono a costruire frasi complete, è di queste in-fatti che ci serviamo per parlare, non di parole isolate (a meno che le parole singole non fungano esse stesse da frasi complete). Ci interessa che le parole abbiano un significato perché ci interessa che abbiano un significato le frasi complete in cui esse figurano. Conoscere il significato di una pa- 1 rola, comprenderla, equivale in definitiva a sapere qual è il suo contributo al significato delle frasi: in particolare alle condizioni di verità degli enunciati. Non è possibile spiegare in che cosa consista per una parola essere nome di qualcosa — e, più in generale, che cosa sia il significato di una parola qualsiasi — se non presupponendo la nozione di verità. Una teoria del significato deve fare appello alla nozione di verità anche nell’analisi delle parole singole (questo vale anche per frasi più complesse che tuttavia non sono frasi complete) (MAH). Vediamo ora il caso delle frasi complete che non sono enunciati. Se ci si riflette un po’ su, ci si rende conto che la nostra capacità di capire e di usare correttamente frasi interrogative e imperative dipende dalla nostra capacità di usare il linguaggio per descrivere il mondo, il che comporta che si sappia quando una descrizione è appropriata e quando non lo è, il che ci riporta, ancora una volta, alle condizioni di verità. Nel caso di domande molto semplici, domande che esigono come risposta un ‘Sì’ o un ‘No’, ciò è evidente: queste domande (come ‘E partito il treno per Udine’) corrispondono in modo ovvio a un enunciato, ora è ovvio che ciò che vuole sapere chi formula la domanda è sapere se questo enunciato sia vero o falso. É anche chiaro che il rispondere ‘Sì’ alla domanda equivale al dire che è vero, e rispondere ‘No’ al dire che è falso. A conclusioni analoghe si perviene riflettendo sui casi delle interrogative che non richiedono una risposta nei termini di una negazione o un’affermazione,  e  delle  frasi  imperative.  La  centralità  della  nozione  di  verità  sembra  così  essere confermata.  Della  seconda  obiezioni  esistono  più  varianti,  potremmo  perciò  formularla  come  segue.  Concentrando l’attenzione sulle condizioni di verità, si privilegia solo uno degli scopi cui il linguaggio può essere adibito: la descrizione della realtà, la trasmissione di informazioni su come è fatto il mondo. E questa è una mossa evidentemente arbitraria. Se si decide di ignorare la straordinaria varietà degli usi cui gli enunciati possono essere adibiti nelle circostanze concrete delle vita per concentrarsi in modo esclusivo sul  loro ruolo di  veicoli di informazione, ci si condanna ad offrire del linguaggio un’immagine desolantemente impoverita. Del resto anche se si è interessati al linguaggio come mez-zo per descrivere la realtà, bisogna convincersi che anche da questo punto di vista le cose sono assai più complicate. In primo luogo, il fornire informazione non può mai ridursi al proferire enunciati in modo casuale e sconnesso: parlando dobbiamo sempre tener conto della situazione in cui ci tro-viamo,  delle  informazioni  di  cui  i  nostri  interlocutori  già  dispongono,  delle  loro  aspettative  ecc.; inoltre, ci sono regole precise di costruzione del discorso, violando le quali ciò che diciamo potreb-be non esser compreso o risultare folle. Per tutto questo le condizioni di verità non bastano. In se-condo luogo, le condizioni di verità degli enunciati sono concepite di solito come qualcosa di relati-vamente fisso e stabile. Di conseguenza, se il contenuto informativo degli enunciati dipendesse per intero dalle loro condizioni di verità, dovrebbe essere a sua volta stabile. Ma solo fintanto che si con-templano gli enunciati prescindendo da ogni loro impiego effettivo si può avere l’impressione che sia così. Ciò  che si può comunicare con un dato  enunciato varia enormemente con il variare dei contesti. La risposta abituale a questa obiezione consiste nell’evocare la distinzione tra semantica e pragmati-ca, una distinzione che risale a un saggio di Morris, secondo il quale lo studio di una lingua, o di un qualsiasi altro sistema di segni, si compone di tre parti: sintassi, semantica e pragmatica. La sintassi si occuperebbe dei segni in quanto tali, prescindendo dalla loro interpretazione e dal loro uso, la semantica del significato dei segni, e la pragmatica di ciò che con i segni si può fare, dei loro impieghi concreti. Un’obiezione come sopra, si può dire, confonde semantica e pragmatica.  Qualcuno potrebbe però voler dire che questa risposta si riduce, nei fatti, ad una mera stipulazione definitoria. Il problema è se un tale modo di circoscrivere la semantica disgiungendola dalla prag-matica sia giustificato o meno: se cioè la decisione di isolare le condizioni di verità da altre dimen-sione del linguaggio rispecchi un’articolazione intrinseca della nostra competenza di parlanti, iden-tifichi un livello realmente fondamentale, e possa costituir una scelta metodica feconda.  Due punti: né il filosofo del linguaggio né il linguista sono tenuti a rendere conto di tutti gli usi pos-sibili del linguaggio. Si è tenuti a rendere conto solo di quelli che potremmo chiamare gli usi “lin-guistici” del linguaggio (MAH). Se focalizziamo la nostra attenzione su questi usi, possiamo convin-cerci che l’idea di partenza mantiene la propria plausibilità: sembra che la conoscenza delle condi-zioni di  verità degli enunciati  svolga un  ruolo essenziale anche  quando sono  coinvolti fattori  che non sono riducibili alle condizioni di verità pure e semplici. Non solo è legittimo distinguere seman-tica e pragmatica nel modo che si è detto, ma la pragmatica presuppone la semantica (MAH). Ad esempio si è rilevato come gli enunciati siano usati spesso per trasmettere un contenuto informativo  2 Questa pagina non è visibile nell’anteprima Non perderti parti importanti! Questa pagina non è visibile nell’anteprima Non perderti parti importanti! stato di cose che l’immagine rappresenta. Tuttavia va notato che la nozione di forma è quanto mai elusiva, come testimonia il gran numero di interpretazioni che ha subito da parte di studiosi.  Vi è poi una seconda complicazione. Una proposizione rappresenta uno stato di cose solo attraverso la mediazione di un “pensiero”. Il pensiero è esso stesso un’immagine: un’immagine mentale i cui elementi  sono  “costituenti  psichici”.  Usando  le  parole  di  Wittgenstein  si  può  continuare  a  dire, come faceva Frege, che ogni proposizione esprime un pensiero, ma non si può più dire che il pen-siero espresso è il senso della proposizione: il senso della proposizione è lo stato di cose di cui è il pensiero è immagine e che la proposizione stessa, tramite il pensiero, rappresenta (?).  Nel caso del linguaggio ordinario, il rapporto fra una proposizione e il pensiero che essa esprime è molto intricato. Il motivo è che il linguaggio ordinario è logicamente imperfetto: “Il linguaggio trave-ste i pensieri. E precisamente così che dalla forma esteriore dell’abito non si può concludere alla forma del pensiero rivestito; perché la forma esteriore dell’abito è formata per ben altri scopi che quello di far conoscere la forma del corpo” (Cfr. Ricerche filosofiche). É ben difficile che la strutture di una proposizione elementare del lin-guaggio ordinario rispecchi fedelmente la struttura del pensiero e dello stato di cose corrispondenti. Quindi, fintanto che ciò cui ci si riferisce è il linguaggio ordinario, dire che le proposizione elemen-tari sono immagini significa dire qualcosa che è corretto solo approssimativamente. Una proposizio-ne del linguaggio ordinario è un’immagine solo in via derivata, in quanto associata a quell’immagi-ne vera e propria che è il pensiero. Il pensiero è collegato da un lato allo stato di cose che rappre-senta in virtù della sua natura di immagine, dall’altro alla proposizione attraverso una “legge di pro-iezione” circa la quale il Tractatus non ci fornisce ulteriori notizie.  Una proposizione che rispecchi fedelmente  la struttura del  pensiero espresso è  detta da Wittgen-stein “completamente analizzata”. Se si vuole evitare ogni travestimento del pensiero, bisogna ricor-rere per forza ad un linguaggio artificiale costruito in modo da essere esente da fallacie logiche. La convinzione che il linguaggio ordinario sia logicamente imperfetto è alla base della concezione della filosofia che emerge dal Tractatus. Per un verso, “il più delle questioni e delle proposizioni che sono state scritte su cose filosofiche è non falso, ma insensato”, perché “si fonda sul fatto che noi non comprendiamo la nostra logica del linguaggio”, che ci lasciamo sviare dal modo ingannevole in cui il linguaggio ordi-nario esprime i pensieri; per un altro verso, “scopo della filosofia è la chiarificazione logica dei pensieri. La filosofia è non una dottrina, ma un’attività. […] Risultato della filosofia non sono “proposizioni filosofiche”, ma il chiarirsi di proposizioni”. Wittgenstein rinnegherà il Tractatus per intero, ma questa concezione della filosofia resterà per lo più immutata.  I nomi che figurano in una proposizione completamente analizzata devono denominare oggetti di tipo molto speciale: oggetti non identificabili con le entità che popolano l’ontologia del senso comune (?) e quindi diversi dagli oggetti associati ai nomi del linguaggio ordinario. Ciò che contraddi-stingue gli oggetti nominati in una proposizione completamente analizzata dagli oggetti del senso comune  è il requisito  della  semplicità.  L’oggetto  deve  essere  semplice,  ma  di questa semplicità  il Tractatus non da’ neanche un esempio. Leggendo i Quaderni che documentano in parte la genesi del Tractatus,  si scopre che una preoccupazione ricorrente di  Wittgenstein era proprio quella di non riuscire a fornire degli oggetti semplici una caratterizzazione esplicita e diretta. Ne postulava l’esi-stenza non perché  ne avesse in mente esempi specifici, bensì  sulla base di considerazioni logiche astratte e generali.  In effetti un’argomentazione vera e propria Wittgenstein non la produce mai. Nel Tractatus si in-contrano soltanto qua e là affermazioni piuttosto enigmatiche: “Gli oggetti formano la sostanza del mon-do, perciò non possono essere composti”; “Se il mondo non avesse una sostanza, l’avere una proposizione senso dipenderebbe dall’essere un’altra proposizione vera”; “Sarebbe allora impossibile progettare un’immagine del mon-do (vera o falsa)”. Possiamo presumere che il ragionamento di Wittgenstein vada ricostruito come se-gue. (I) Anzitutto, affinché una proposizione abbia senso, bisogna che a ogni nome che figura in essa corrisponda un oggetto. Questo, come si è osservato sopra, segue dall’idea che le proposizione elementari siano immagini. Se ai nomi potessero corrispondere entità complesse, non ci sarebbe a priori nessuna garanzia che ad un  dato nome corrisponda davvero  qualcosa. Un’entità complessa  consta di entità più semplici correlate in un certo modo; ora, che sussista una tale correlazione è un fatto contingente.  5 stato di cose che l’immagine rappresenta. Tuttavia va notato che la nozione di forma è quanto mai elusiva, come testimonia il gran numero di interpretazioni che ha subito da parte di studiosi. Vi è poi una seconda complicazione. Una proposizione rappresenta uno stato di cose solo attraverso la mediazione di un “pensiero”. Il pensiero è esso stesso un’immagine: un’immagine mentale i cui elementi sono “costituenti  psichici”. Usando  le  parole  di  Wittgenstein  si  può  continuare  a  dire, come faceva Frege, che ogni proposizione esprime un pensiero, ma non si può più dire che il pen-siero espresso è il senso della proposizione: il senso della proposizione è lo stato di cose di cui è il pensiero è immagine e che la proposizione stessa, tramite il pensiero, rappresenta (?).  Nel caso del linguaggio ordinario, il rapporto fra una proposizione e il pensiero che essa esprime è molto intricato. Il motivo è che il linguaggio ordinario è logicamente imperfetto: “Il linguaggio traveste i pensieri. E precisamente così che dalla forma esteriore dell’abito non si può concludere alla forma del pensiero rivestito; perché la forma esteriore dell’abito è formata per ben altri scopi che quello di far conoscere la forma del corpo” (Cfr. Ricerche filosofiche). É ben difficile che la strutture di una proposizione elementare del lin-guaggio ordinario rispecchi fedelmente la struttura del pensiero e dello stato di cose corrispondenti. Quindi, fintanto che ciò cui ci si riferisce è il linguaggio ordinario, dire che le proposizione elemen-tari sono immagini significa dire qualcosa che è corretto solo approssimativamente. Una proposizio-ne del linguaggio ordinario è un’immagine solo in via derivata, in quanto associata a quell’immagine vera e propria che è il pensiero. Il pensiero è collegato da un lato allo stato di cose che rappre-senta in virtù della sua natura di immagine, dall’altro alla proposizione attraverso una “legge di pro-iezione” circa la quale il Tractatus non ci fornisce ulteriori notizie.  Una proposizione che rispecchi fedelmente  la struttura del  pensiero espresso è  detta da Wittgen-stein “completamente analizzata”. Se si vuole evitare ogni travestimento del pensiero, bisogna ricor-rere per forza ad un linguaggio artificiale costruito in modo da essere esente da fallacie logiche. La convinzione che il linguaggio ordinario sia logicamente imperfetto è alla base della concezione della filosofia che emerge dal Tractatus. Per un verso, “il più delle questioni e delle proposizioni che sono state scritte su cose filosofiche è non falso, ma insensato”, perché “si fonda sul fatto che noi non comprendiamo la nostra logica del linguaggio”, che ci lasciamo sviare dal modo ingannevole in cui il linguaggio ordi-nario esprime i pensieri; per un altro verso, “scopo della filosofia è la chiarificazione logica dei pensieri. La filosofia è non una dottrina, ma un’attività. […] Risultato della filosofia non sono “proposizioni filosofiche”, ma il chiarirsi di proposizioni”. Wittgenstein rinnegherà il Tractatus per intero, ma questa concezione della filosofia resterà per lo più immutata.  I nomi che figurano in una proposizione completamente analizzata devono denominare oggetti di tipo molto speciale: oggetti non identificabili con le entità che popolano l’ontologia del senso co-mune (?) e quindi diversi dagli oggetti associati ai nomi del linguaggio ordinario. Ciò che contraddi-stingue gli oggetti nominati in una proposizione completamente analizzata dagli oggetti del senso comune  è il requisito  della  semplicità.  L’oggetto  deve  essere  semplice,  ma  di questa semplicità  il Tractatus non da’ neanche un esempio. Leggendo i Quaderni che documentano in parte la genesi del Tractatus,  si scopre che una preoccupazione ricorrente di  Wittgenstein era proprio quella di non riuscire a fornire degli oggetti semplici una caratterizzazione esplicita e diretta. Ne postulava l’esi-stenza non perché  ne avesse in mente esempi specifici, bensì  sulla base di considerazioni logiche astratte e generali.  In effetti un’argomentazione vera e propria Wittgenstein non la produce mai. Nel Tractatus si in-contrano soltanto qua e là affermazioni piuttosto enigmatiche: “Gli oggetti formano la sostanza del mon-do, perciò non possono essere composti”; “Se il mondo non avesse una sostanza, l’avere una proposizione senso dipenderebbe dall’essere un’altra proposizione vera”; “Sarebbe allora impossibile progettare un’immagine del mon-do (vera o falsa)”. Possiamo presumere che il ragionamento di Wittgenstein vada ricostruito come se-gue. (I) Anzitutto, affinché una proposizione abbia senso, bisogna che a ogni nome che figura in essa corrisponda un oggetto. Questo, come si è osservato sopra, segue dall’idea che le proposizione elementari siano immagini.  (II) Se ai nomi potessero corrispondere entità complesse, non ci sarebbe a priori nessuna garanzia che ad un  dato nome corrisponda davvero  qualcosa. Un’entità complessa  consta di entità più semplici correlate in un certo modo; ora, che sussista una tale correlazione è un fatto contingente. Pertanto, se ai nomi potessero corrispondere entità complesse, non ci sarebbe a priori nessuna garanzia che una data proposizione abbia un senso. Supponiamo che nella proposizione P figuri il nome N: se a N potesse corrispondere un’entità complessa C, saremmo sicuri che a N corri-sponde davvero qualcosa,  e quindi che P  ha senso, solo se fossimo sicuri che  C esiste: in altri termini, solo se sapessimo già che è vera la proposizione P’ la quale asserisce che gli elementi costituitivi di C sono correlati in quel certo modo. Come dice Wittgenstein, “l’avere una proposi-zione senso dipenderebbe dall’essere un’altra proposizione vera”. (IV) Ma questo sarebbe assurdo. Se una proposizione abbia senso oppure no deve essere chiaro a priori. É inconcepibile che la sensatezza o l’insensatezza di una proposizione possa essere “sco-perta”. Se, per essere sicuri che una proposizione è sensata, dovessimo sempre aver stabilito pri-ma la verità di un’altra proposizione, si genererebbe un regresso all’infinito, e noi non potrem-mo mai sapere se, parlando, stiamo dicendo alcunché di determinato. Non saremmo mai in gra-do di “progettare un’immagine del mondo vera o falsa”.  Devono esserci oggetti semplici e sono gli oggetti semplici che devono corrispon-dere ai nomi del nostro linguaggio.  NB. In questo ragionamento, la corrispondenza tra entità complesse e oggetti semplici viene fatta coincidere con quella tra entità la cui esistenza è un fatto contingente ed entità la cui esistenza è in-vece necessaria e nota a priori. “É manifesto che un mondo, per quanto diverso sia pensato da quello reale, pure deve avere in comune con il mondo reale qualcosa — una forma —”; “Questa forma fissa consta appunto degli oggetti”.  La proposizione (I) non è dunque un’immagine vera e propria: la sua struttura non rispecchia la struttura di uno stato di cose perché i costituenti ultimi di uno stato di cose sono sempre oggetti semplici, mentre Piero e Marco sono entità complesse. I termini ‘Piero’ e ‘Marco’ non sono nomi del tipo che a Wittgenstein interessa. Questo però non implica che (I) sia priva di senso. Grazie alla mediazione del pensiero un senso ce l’ha (?), ma per esplicitarlo adeguatamente bisognerebbe ri-correre a proposizioni con una struttura del tutto diversa: a proposizioni completamente analizzate.  Si può finalmente comprendere perché ai nomi non si possa attribuire, a suo avviso, un senso di tipo descrittivo come quello cui pensava Frege. Identificare un oggetto attraverso una descrizione vuole dire identificarlo riferendosi ad uno stato di cose di cui esso fa parte. Ma il sussistere di uno stato di cose è sempre un fatto contingente, mentre la correlazione di un nome con l’oggetto che ne costi-tuisce il significato deve essere garantita a priori. Pertanto, ciò che istituisce la correlazione nome/oggetto non può essere una descrizione dell’oggetto stesso.  Vediamo  ora cosa Wittgenstein  sostiene  riguardo  le  proposizioni complesse. La  sua  idea  è  che  le proposizioni  complesse  siano  funzioni  di  verità  delle  proposizioni  elementari  che  figurano  come loro costituenti. Supponiamo che le proposizioni elementari che figurano nella proposizione com-plessa P siano P1, …, Pn. Allora dire che P è una funzione di verità di P1, …, Pn equivale a dire che il valore di verità di P dipende esclusivamente dai valori di verità di P1, …, Pn (negazione, congiun-zione, disgiunzione, condizionale…).  Per visualizzare il modo in cui il valore di verità di una proposizione costruita per mezzo di un dato connettivo dipende dai valori di verità delle proposizioni costituenti, Wittgenstein propone un artificio grafico: le cosiddette ‘tavole di verità’. Tavola di verità della negazione:  P¬ PT (1)F (0)F (0)T (1). Tavola di verità della congiunzione: Tavola di verità della disgiunzione (inclusiva):  Wittgenstein osserva che le tavole di verità, così come sono, potrebbero addirittura fungere da pro-posizioni complesse di un linguaggio artificiale: ad esempio, le tre tavole di verità sopra riportate potrebbero essere usate in luogo di ¬ P,(P ^ Q),(P Q). Se si seguisse questo suggerimento si di-sporrebbe di un simbolismo autoesplicativo ma anche enormemente ingombrante. Notiamo ora una grossa differenza tra Frege e Wittgenstein nel modo di concepire i connettivi logici. Per Frege ogni connettivo denota una certa funzione che associa valori di verità a valori di verità (dove i valori di verità vanno pensati come oggetti). Frege avrebbe dunque interpretato la tavola di verità per un connettivo come un modo per descrivere la funzione da esso denotata. Per Wittgenstein, invece, i connettivi non denotano nulla. Tutto quel che c’è da dire circa un connettivo è che esso consente di costruire proposizioni complesse il cui essere vere o false dipende, secondo certe modalità determinate, dall’essere vere o false le proposizioni costituenti. Chiedersi che cosa denoti un connettivo è, per Wittgenstein, come chiedersi che cosa denotino le parentesi.  A queste considerazioni circa le proposizioni complesse è strettamente collegata la concezione wittgensteiniana della logica.  Né Frege né Russell avevano saputo spiegare  che cosa contraddistingue una proposizione logica da una proposizione di altro tipo, e questo era proprio uno degli obbiettivi di Wittgenstein nella stesura del Tractatus. Se si pensa ancora una volta al valore di verità di una pro-posizione  complessa  come  determinato  dai valori di verità dei  suoi  costituenti  elementari,  si  può constare che ci sono due casi limite: quello in cui una proposizione complessa risulta vera, e quello in cui una proposizione complessa risulta essere falsa, per tutte le possibili combinazioni di verità dei costituenti elementari. Una proposizione del primo tipo Wittgenstein la chiama ‘tautologia’, una del secondo tipo ‘contraddizione’.  Ciò che Wittgenstein sostiene circa la natura della logica è che essa consta per intero di tautologie. É l’essere una tautologia ciò che contraddistingue una proposizione logica da qualsiasi altra. Una pro-posizione logica non è tale per via del suo contenuto ma, piuttosto, perché non ha contenuto, per-ché non dice nulla. Le tautologie non possono fornirci alcuna informazione sulla realtà. Il loro inte-ressa sta nel fatto che, essendo vere in virtù delle sole regole del linguaggio, esse ci mostrano come questo funzioni.  Avevamo detto che il senso di una proposizione elementare è lo stato di cose che la proposizione rappresenta. Alle  proposizioni complesse questa nozione di  senso non  può essere  applicata senza modifiche. Il motivo è che, se P è una proposizione complessa, non c’è uno stato di cose di cui si possa ragionevolmente dire che è rappresentato da P. Tuttavia, se Wittgenstein ha ragione nel dire che tutte le proposizioni complesse sono funzioni di  verità dei loro costituenti proposizionali ele-mentari, l’essere P vera o falsa dipende pur sempre dal sussistere o non sussistere di certi stati di cose. Ciò che Wittgenstein dunque propone è di identificare il senso di P con quelle combinazioni del sussistere e non sussistere degli stati di cose S1, …, Sn per le quali P risulta vero. “Il senso della PQP ^ QTTTTFFFTFFFFPQP QTTTTFTFTTFFF 7  Questa pagina non è visibile nell’anteprima Non perderti parti importanti!  Questa pagina non è visibile nell’anteprima Non perderti parti importanti! è un'attività cooperativa alla quale i partecipanti devono contribuire in maniera appropriata. A tale fine bisogna che ciascuno si attenga a quattro “massime”: CASALEGNO “FILOSOFIA DEL LINGUAGGIO”:1.SIGNIFICATO E CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’:-“TRATTATO LOGICO-FILOSOFICO” di Wittgenstein: CAPIRE UNA PROPOSIZIONE SIGNIFICA SAPERE COSA ACCADE SE ESSA E’VERA(alla base deve esserci la nozione di verità)-LINGUAGGIO: usato x descrivere la realtà, attraverso la PROPORZIONE che fornisce una descrizione della realtà= X COMPRENDERLA DOBBIAMO SAPERE QUALI SONO LE CIRCOSTANZE IN CUI LA PROPORZIONE E’ APPROPIATA,DOBBIAMO CONOSCERE LE SUE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’(circostanze in cui essa è vera) FRA INTENDIMENTI POSSIBILI: CONOSCERE LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ DI UNA PROPOSIZIONE E’ DIVERSO DAL SAPERE SE E’ V O F Es: l’uomo + alto del mondo è bruno = NON SO SE E’ VERA MA CONOSCO LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ES: Napoleon was defeated by Nelson = E’ VERA,MA NON CONOSCO L’INGLESE E NON CONOSCO LE SUE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ CONOSCERE LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ DI UNA PROPOSIZIONE EQUIVALE A SAPERE COME SI FA X STABILIRE SE ESSA E’ VERAEs: La luna ha un diametro superiore ai tremila km= CONOSCO BENE LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’,MA NON CONOSCO IL METRO X VALUTARE IL DIAMETRO DELLA LUNA XCIO’ NON SO COME SI FA A STABILIRE SE ESSA E’ VERA- PROPOSIZIONE=FRASE DICHIARATIVA(x mezzo della quale si può fare un asserzione e ha senso chiedersi se è v o f) = ENUNCIATO*tesi è plausibile ma può essere soggetta a critiche,2 obiezioni:1.ESPRESSIONI DOTATE DI SIGNIFICATO,MA NON ENUNCIATI ALLE QUALI NON HA SENSO ATTRIBUIRE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’: espressioni sintatticamente ben formate che non sono frasi complete-PAROLE SINGOLE, ESPRESSIONI COME “VALIGIA PESANTE”, FRASI INTERROGATIVE ESCLAMATIVE(Dov’è l’ombrello?, Mi porti il conto!*LA NOZIONE DI VERITA’ NON E’ L’UNICA MA E’ CENTRALE NELLA TEORIA DEL SIGNIFICATO: anche nell’analisi delle PAROLE SINGOLE,ESPRESSIONI COMPLESSE E FRASI COMPLETE CHE NON SONO ENUNCIATI, LA NOZIONE DI CONDIZIONE DI VERITA’ NON E’ SUFFICIENTE X UN’ANALISI ADEGUATA DEL SIGNIFICATO DEGLI ENUNCIATI - concentrando l’attenzione sulle condizioni di verità si privilegia la descrizione della realtà, ma questo atteggiamento è arbitrario: UN INDIVIDUO PUO’ PROFERIRE ENUNCIATI X + FINI E IN TUTTI I CASI  NON HA MOLTA IMP SE GLI ENUNCIATI SONO V O F parlando dobbiamo tenere conto della situazione in cui ci troviamo, delle info che possiedono i nostri interlocutori, delle loro aspettative e delle regole della costruzione del discorso -GLI ENUNCIATI HANNO CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ CORRISPONDENTI  AL LORO “SIGNIFICATO LETTERALE”, MA E’INSUFFICIENTE X CAPIRE CIO’ CHE QUELL’ENUNCIATO PUO’ VOLER DIRE UN PARLANTE IN UN CONTESTO CONCRETO. Morri s= lo studio della lingua si divide in 3 parti: SINTASSI: studia segni in quanto tali. SEMANTICA: STUDIO DEGLI ASPETTI DI SIGNIFICATO CHE HANNO ACHE FARE CON LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA PRAGMATICA: si occupa di ciò che con i segni si può fare,dei loro impegni concreti*GRICE:  - conversazione = ATTIVITA’ COOPERATIVA ALLE QUALE I PARTECIPANTI DEVONO CONTRIBUIRE IN MANIERA APPROPRIATA, dobbiamo rifarci a 4 massime:1.QUANTITA’ = giusta via di mezzo   2. QUALITA’= non dire cs false    3. RELAZIONE = cose pertinenti   4. MODO= parlare in modo chiaro e ordinato*massime violate x comunicare qualcosa che va al di là del significato letterale= IMPLICATURA CONVERSAZIONALE. FREGE:primo filosofo analitico-contribuisce alla nascita della logica moderna  -inventa IDEOGRAFIA: linguaggio formale *Ritiene che alla base della filosofia ci sia la teoria del significato-è diffidente verso il linguaggio ordinario, è strumento inaffidabile= x questo crea l’ideografia-LA FILOSOFIA DEVE LIBERARE IL PENSIERO DAI VINCOLI DELLA PAROLA-TEORIA SEMANTICA: riguardo alla natura del significato linguistico generale 1. SINN: senso (OGGETTIVO,NOZIONE LOGICA)2.BEDETUNG:significato= riferimentoEs: Aristotole= SIGNIFICATO è l’individuo Aristotele. La montagna + alta al mondo = SIGNIFICATO è il Monte Everest TERMINI SINGOLARI nomi propri E’ ABBREVIAZIONE DI UNA DESCRIZIONE  D. es: Totò, Grazia, New York descrizioni definite= ARTICOLO DET SING + NOME SINGOLARE  es: IL marito di Luisa- UN NOME HA SENSI DIVERSI, x diversità di parlanti e tempi differenti=difetto del linguaggio naturale -le espressioni hanno un significato in virtù del loro senso senso diverso da rappresentazione =  E’ SOGGETTIVA,PRIVATA, NOZIONE PSICOLOGICA:IMMAGINI,SENSAZIONI,STATI D’ANIMO CHE EVOCANO PAROLE -GLI ENUNCIATI HANNO CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’ CORRISPONDENTI  AL LORO “SIGNIFICATO LETTERALE”, MA E’INSUFFICIENTE X CAPIRE CIO’ CHE QUELL’ENUNCIATO PUO’ VOLER DIRE UN PARLANTE IN UN CONTESTO CONCRETO. Morris= lo studio della lingua si divide in 3 parti:1.SINTASSI: studia segni in quanto tali2.SEMANTICA: STUDIO DEGLI ASPETTI DI SIGNIFICATO CHE HANNO ACHE FARE CON LE CONDIZIONI DI VERITA’3.PRAGMATICA: si occupa di ciò che con i segni si può fare,dei loro impegni concreti*GRICE:  -conversazione = ATTIVITA’ COOPERATIVA ALLE QUALE I PARTECIPANTI DEVONO CONTRIBUIRE IN MANIERA APPROPRIATA, dobbiamo rifarci a 4 massime. QUANTITA’=giusta via di mezzo   QUALITA’= non dire cs false    3. RELAZIONE = cose pertinenti    .MODO = parlare in modo chiaro e ordinato*massime violate x comunicare qualcosa che va al di là del significato letterale= IMPLICATURA CONVERSAZIONALE 2. FREGE: primo filosofo analitico-contribuisce alla nascita della logica moderna  -inventa IDEOGRAFIA: linguaggio formale *Ritiene che alla base della filosofia ci sia la teoria del significato-è diffidente verso il linguaggio ordinario, è strumento inaffidabile= x questo crea l’ideografia- LA FILOSOFIA DEVE LIBERARE IL PENSIERO DAI VINCOLI DELLA PAROLA-TEORIA SEMANTICA: riguardo alla natura del significato linguistico generale1.SINN: senso (OGGETTIVO,NOZIONE LOGICA) BEDETUNG: significato = riferimento Es: Aristotole = SIGNIFICATO è l’individuo Aristotele. La montagna + alta al mondo= SIGNIFICATO è il Monte Everest-TERMINI SINGOLARI: * nomi propri = E’ ABBREVIAZIONE DI UNA DESCRIZIONE D. es: Totò,Grazia,New York  *descrizioni definite= ARTICOLO DET SING+NOME SINGOLARE  es: IL marito di Luisa-UN NOME HA SENSI DIVERSI, x diversità di parlanti e tempi differenti=difetto del linguaggio naturale-le espressioni hanno un significato in virtù del loro senso-senso diverso da rappresentazione=  E’ SOGGETTIVA,PRIVATA, NOZIONE PSICOLOGICA:IMMAGINI,SENSAZIONI,STATI D’ANIMO CHE EVOCANO PAROLE Questa pagina non è visibile nell’anteprima Non perderti parti importanti!  FILOSOFIA DEL LINGUAGGIO – PAOLO CASALEGNO + DISPENSE.INTRODUZIONEPlatone, Socrate, Medioevo PREMESSA PARADIGMA CLASSICOFrege Russell Wittgenstein Tarski Quine Putnam FREGE, “SENSO E SIGNIFICATO”; ENUNCIATI DI IDENTITÀ (A=A/A=B) TERMINI SINGOLARI (NOMI PROPRI e DESCRIZIONI DEFINITE) ENUNCIATIPREDICATIPRINCIPI (del CONTESTO, di COMPOSIZIONALITÀ e di SOSTITUIBILITÀ) QUANTIFICATORI RUSSELLLE DESCRIZIONIDESCRIZIONI INDEFINITEWITTGENSTEINSTATI DI COSEIMMAGINEFATTORAFFIGURAZIONEFUNZIONI DI VERITÀCONNETTIVI PROPOSIZIONALI TAUTOLOGIE CONTRADDIZIONI TAVOLE DI VERITÀ LA NOZIONE DI VERITÀ IN LOGICA. TARSKI LINGUAGGIO OGGETTO e METALINGUAGGIO DEFINIRE LA VERITÀ CONVENZIONE V COSTANTI (INDIVIDUALI, PREDICATIVE e LOGICHE) SIMBOLI AUSILIARI SODDISFACIMENTO PARADOSSI VERITÀ RELATIVA AD UN MODELLO CARNAP DESCRIZIONI DI STATO ESTENSIONE e INTENSIONE POSSIBILITÀ e NECESSITÀ LOGICHE KRIPKE VERITÀ LOGICA MODELLO K VERBI DI CREDENZA DEISSI (o INDICALI) QUINE DUE DOGMI DELL’EMPIRISMOANALITICO / SINTETICO RIDUZIONISMO REGOLE SEMANTICHE TEORIA DELLA VERIFICAZIONE. il significato non può essere ridotto ad un insieme di CDV. OBIEZIONE. Essa si basa sulla constatazione ovvia che esistono espressioni che, pur avendo significato, non sono enunciati e quindi non gli si possono attribuire CDV. Tra di esse troviamo:- espressioni ben formate che non sono complete, come ad ex. “Ogni student che hanno superato la prova”- frasi complete come le INTERROGATIVE e le IMPERATIVE, come ad ex. “Dov’è l’ombrello?” o “Mi porti il conto!”Cosa si può rispondere a questa obiezione???Che la NDV di una teoria del significato ne resta comunque la nozione centrale, poiché anche il significato delle espressioni che non sono enunciatti ha a che fare con la verità. Inoltre, non è possibile spiegare in cosa consista per una parola essere nome di qualcosa se non presupponendo la NDV. Ancora, la teoria del significato deve fare in ogni caso appello alla NDV nell’analisi delle parole singole.Questa linea argomentativa risale a Frege e si può applicare anche alle espressioni complesse. Riflettedoci, ci si può convincere che la nostra capacità di capire ed usare frasi interrogative ed imperative dipende dalla nostra capacità di usare il linguaggio per descrivere il mondo. E ciò comporta sapere quando una descrizione è appropriata o meno. OBIEZIONE #2.Essa consiste nel sostenere che la nozione di CDV non è sufficiente per un’analisi adeguata del significato degli enunciati. Concentrando l’attenzione sulle CDV si privilegia uno solo degli scopi del linguaggio. Per cui, se si decide di ignorare i vari usi cui gli enunciati possono essere adibiti per concentrarsi sul loro ruolo di veicoli di informazione, il linguaggio appare impoverito. Poi, però, bisogna convincersi che anche da questo punto di vista le cose sono molto più complicate, per due motivi:- parlando, dobbiamo sempre tener conto della situazione in cui ci troviamo. Ci sono regole precise di costruzione del discorso e per sapere questo, conoscere le CDV non basta. - le CDV sono considerate di solito come qualcosa di fisso e stabile. Se il contenuto informativo degli enunciati dipendesse dalle CDV dovrebbe essere a sua volta stabile. In realtà, varia col variare dei contesto. Restano aperte solo due opzioni:- respingere la nozione di CDV- ammettere che gli enunciate abbiano CDV che corrispondono al loro SIGNIFICATO LETTERALERISPOSTA = evocate la distinzione tra SEMANTICA e PRAGMATICA che risale a MORRIS.Secondo Morris, lo studio di una lingua si compone di:SINTASSI che riguarda i segni in quanto tali;SEMANTICA che riguarda il significato dei segni;PRAGMATICA che riguarda gli impieghi concreti dei segni. L’obiezione, dunque, sembra confondere SEMANTICA e PRAGMATICA. Siamo nella direzione giusta, ma serve qualche integrazione. Qualcuno potrebbe ribattre che tutto ciò si riduce ad una mera definizione. Il problema è se questo modo di circoscrivere la semantica sia giustificato. Sottolineiamo due punti. Non si è tenuti a rendere conto di tutti gli usi possibili del linguaggio - il significato non può essere ridotto ad un insieme di CDV.OBIEZIONE #1.Essa si basa sulla constatazione ovvia che esistono espressioni che, pur avendo significato, non sono enunciate  quindi non gli si possono attrbuire CDV. Tra di esse troviamo:- espressioni ben formate che non sono complete, come ad ex. “Ogni student che hanno superato la prova”- frasi complete come le INTERROGATIVE e le IMPERATIVE, come ad ex. “Dov’è l’ombrello?” o “Mi porti l conto!”Cosa si può rispondere a questa obiezione???Che la NDV di una teoria del significato ne resta comunque la nozione centrale, poiché anche il significato delle espressioni che non sono enunciatti ha a che fare con la verità. Inoltre, non è possibile spiegare in cosa consista per una parola essere nome di qualcosa se non presupponendo la NDV. Ancora, la teoria del significato deve fare in ogni caso appello alla NDV nell’analisi delle parole singole.Questa linea argomenativa risale a Frege e si può applicare anche alle espressioni complesse. Riflettendoci, ci si può convincere che la nostra capacità di capire ed usare frasi interrogative ed imperative dipende dalla nostra capacità di usare il linguaggio per descrivere il mondo. E ciò comporta sapere quando una descrizione è appropriata o meno. OBIEZIONE #2. Essa consiste nel sostenere che la nozione di CDV non è sufficiente per un’analisi adeguata del significato degli enunciate. Concentrando l’attenzione sulle CDV si privilegia uno solo degli scopi del linguaggio. Per cui, se si decide di ignorare i vari usi cui gli enunciati ossono essere adibiti per concentrarsi sul loro ruolo di veicoli di informazione, il linguaggio appare impoverito. Poi, però, bisogna convincersi che anche da questo punto di vista le cose sono molto più complicate, per due motivi. Parlando, dobbiamo sempre tener conto della situazione in cui ci troviamo. Ci sono regole precise di costruzione del discorso e per sapere questo, conoscere le CDV non basta. - le CDV sono considerate di solito come qualcosa di fisso e stabile. Se il contenuto informativo degli enunciatti dipendesse dalle CDV dovrebbe essere a sua volta stabile. In realtà, varia col variare dei contesto. Restano aperte solo due opzioni:- respingere la nozione di CDV- ammettere che gli enunciate abiano CDV che corrispondono al loro SIGNIFICATO LETTERALE RISPOSTA = evocate la distinzione tra SEMANTICA e PRAGMATICA che risale a MORRIS. Secondo Morris, lo studio di una lingua si compone di: SINTASSI che riguarda i segni in quanto tali; SEMANTICA che riguarda il significato dei segni; PRAGMATICA che riguarda gli impieghi concreti dei segni. L’obiezione, dunque, sembra confondere SEMANTICA e PRAGMATICA. Siamo nella direzione giusta, ma serve qualche integrazione. Qualcuno potrebbe ribattere che tutto ciò si riduce ad una mera definizione. Il problema è se questo modo di circoscrivere la semantica sia giustificato. Sottolineiamo due punti. Non si è tenuti a rendere conto di tutti gli usi possibili del linguaggio è legittima la distinzione tra semantica e pragmatica e, anzi, la pragmatica presuppone la semantica, Questo secondo punto è messo bene in luce dalla TEORIA DELLE IMPLICATURE CONVERSAZIONALI di GRICE, secondo cui una conversazione è un’attività cooperativa alla quale i partecipanti devono contribuire in modo appropriato; per questo è necessario che ciascuno si avvnga a massime sotto quattro categorie conversazionali (alla funzioni di Kant): CATEGORIA CONVERSAZIONALE DELLA QUANTITÀ: fornire informazioni né minori né maggiori di quanto richiesto al momento. FUNZIONE CONVERSAZIONALE DELLA QUALITÀ: non dire cose che credi false o per cui non ci sono prove adeguate. FUNZIONE CONVERSAZIONALE DELLA RELAZIONE: dire cose perttnenti. FUNZIONE CONVERSAZIONALE DEL MODO: essere perspicuo -- parlare in modo chiaro ed ordinato, evitando oscurità ed ambiguità - è legittima la distinzione tra semantica e pragmatica e, anzi, la pragmatica presuppone la semantica. Questo secondo punto è messo bene in luce dalla TEORIA DELLE IMPLICATURE CONVERSAZIONALI di GRICE, secondo cui una conversazione è un’attività cooperativa alla quale i partecipanti devono contribuire in modo appropriato; per questo è necessario che ciascuno si attenga a 4 massime. CATEGORIA CONVERSAZIONALE DELLA QUANTITÀ: fornire informazioni né minori né maggiori di quanto richiesto al momento. QUALITÀ: non dire cose che credi false o per cui non ci sono prove adeguate3- RELAZIONI: dire cose pertinenti. FUNZIONE CONVERSAZIONALE DEL MODO: essere perspicuo. parlare in modo chiaro ed ordinato, evitando oscurità ed ambiguità. Paolo Stefano Casalegno. Paolo Casalegno. Keywords: filosofia linguistica. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Casalegno” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Casanova: l’implicatura conversazionale del desiderio omoerotico – filosofia veneziana – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Venezia). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “It is fascinating to analyse what Casanova calls ‘piegadura’, or ‘piegadure,’ in the plural – bendings – my implicatura is a bit like his piegadura, only less acute!” -- Grice: “I would hardly call Casanova a philosopher, but my wife hardly would not!” -- Giacomo Casanova ritratto dal fratello Francesco Giacomo Girolamo Casanova (Venezia) avventuriero, scrittore, poeta, alchimista, esoterista, diplomatico, finanziere, scienziato, filosofo e agente segreto della Serenissima italiano, cittadino della Repubblica di Venezia.  Benché di lui resti una produzione letterariatra trattati e testi saggistici d'argomento vario (s'occupò, nell'ampia gamma dei suoi interessi, perfino di matematica) e opere letterarie in prosa come in versivastissima, viene a tutt'oggi ricordato principalmente come un avventuriero e, per via della sua vita amorosa a dir poco movimentata, come colui che fece del proprio nome l'antonomasia del soave e raffinato seduttore e libertino. A tutt'oggi un playboy viene spesso chiamato "casanova".  A questa sua fama di grande conquistatore di donne contribuì verosimilmente la sua opera più importante e celebre: Histoire de ma vie (Storia della mia vita), in cui l'autore descrive, con la massima franchezza (pur non per questo privandosi d'anedotti romanzeschi e alcuni abbellimenti), le sue avventure, i suoi viaggi e, soprattutto, i suoi innumerevolissimi incontri galanti. L'Histoire è scritta in francese: tale scelta linguistica fu dettata principalmente da motivi di diffusione dell'opera, in quanto all'epoca il francese era la lingua più conosciuta e parlata dalle élite d'Europa.  Fra corti e salotti vari, si ritrovò a vivere, quasi senza rendersene conto, un momento di svolta epocale della storia, non comprendendo affatto lo spirito di fortissimo rinnovamento che avrebbe fatto virare la storia in direzioni mai percorse prima; rimase infatti ancorato fino alla fine dei propri giorni ai valori, precetti e credenze dell'ancien régime e della sua rispettiva classe dominante, l'aristocrazia, alla quale era stato escluso per nascita e della quale cercò disperatamente di far parte, anche quando essa era ormai irrimediabilmente avviata al crepuscolo, per tutta la propria vita. Tra le personalità eccelse dell'epoca che ebbe modo di conoscere personalmente, e di cui ci ha lasciato testimonianza diretta, si possono citare Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Voltaire, Madame de Pompadour, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Benjamin Franklin, Caterina II di Russia e Federico II di Prussia. Dalla nascita alla fuga dai Piombi. Venezia, Calle della Commedia (ora Malipiero) Giacomo Girolamo Casanova nacque a Venezia, in Calle della Commedia (ora Calle Malipiero), nei pressi della chiesa di San Samuele, dove fu anche battezzato, il 2 aprile del 1725. Molte  opere enciclopediche o letterarie recano erroneamente i nomi di battesimo Giovanni Giacomo, la cui origine è sicuramente da ricercarsi nella pubblicazione dell'opera del 1835 Biografia degli italiani illustri nelle scienze, lettere ed arti del secolo XVIII e de' contemporanei, Emilio De Tipaldo, in cui l'autore della voce relativa al Casanova, Bartolomeo Gamba, intestò erroneamente la voce a un certo Giovanni Giacomo Casanova. Successivamente, l'errore fu ripetuto nel 1931 nella voce su C. dell'Enciclopedia Treccani e da allora è spesso riapparso.  Si può leggere il nome corretto nel documento relativo al battesimo del Casanova.  «Addì 5 aprile 1725  Giacomo Girolamo fig.o di D. Gaietano Giuseppe C. del q.(uondam) Giac.o Parmegiano comico, et di Giovanna Maria, giogali, nato il 2 corr. battezzato daGio. Batta Tosello sacerd. di chiesa de licentiaComp. il signor Angelo Filosi q.(uondam) Bartolomeo stà a S. Salvador. Lev. Regina Salvi.»  (Storia della mia vita, Mondadori) Il padre, Gaetano Casanova, era un attore e ballerino parmigiano di remote origini spagnole (almeno stando alla dubbia genealogia tracciata dal Casanova all'inizio dell'Histoire, gli avi paterni sarebbero stati originari di Saragozza, nell'Aragona[E 3]), mentre la madre, Zanetta Farussi, era un'attrice veneziana che, nella sua professione, ebbe di gran lunga maggior successo del marito, dato che la troviamo menzionata persino da Carlo Goldoni nelle sue Memorie, ove la definì: "...una vedova bellissima e assai valente". La voce popolare lo considerava frutto di una relazione adulterina della madre con il patrizio veneziano Michele Grimani[E 4] e Casanova stesso affermò, seppur in maniera criptica nel suo libello Né amori né donne, di essere figlio naturale del patrizio. Ma ulteriori indizi a suffragio della tesi potrebbero derivare dal fatto che, dopo la morte del padre, i Grimani si presero cura di lui con un'assiduità che appare andasse oltre i normali rapporti di protezione e liberalità che le famiglie patrizie veneziane praticavano nei confronti delle persone che, a qualche titolo, avevano servito la casata. Il che troverebbe conferma anche nel fatto che la giustizia della Repubblica, solitamente piuttosto severa, non infierì mai particolarmente nei suoi confronti. Dopo la sua nascita, la coppia ebbe altri cinque figli: Francesco, Giovanni Battista, Faustina Maddalena, Maria Maddalena Antonia Stella e Gaetano Alvise.   Chiesa di San Samuele, Venezia Rimasto orfano di padre a soli otto anni d'età ed essendo la madre costantemente in viaggio a causa della sua professione, Giacomo fu allevato dalla nonna materna Marzia Baldissera in Farussi. Da piccolo era di salute cagionevole e per questo motivo la nonna lo condusse da una fattucchiera che, eseguendo un complicato rituale, riuscì a guarirlo dai disturbi da cui era affetto. Dopo quell'esperienza infantile, l'interesse per le pratiche magiche lo accompagnerà per tutta la vita, ma lui stesso era il primo a ridere della credulità che tanti manifestavano nei confronti dell'esoterismo.  All'età di nove anni fu mandato a Padova, dove rimase fino al termine degli studi; nel 1737 s'iscrisse all'università dove, come ricorda nelle Memorie, si sarebbe laureato in diritto; la questione dell'effettivo conseguimento del titolo accademico è molto controversa: infatti Casanova descrive nelle Memorie gli anni passati all'Padova, sostenendo di essersi laureato. Analoga affermazione risulta anche dalla dedica dell'opera del 1797 a Leonard Snetlage, il cui frontespizio reca scritto A Leonard Snetlage, Docteur en droit de l'Université de Gottingue, Jacques Casanova, docteur en droit de l'Universitè de Padoue. Inoltre da documenti risulta che il Casanova abbia lavorato nello studio dell'avvocato Marco Da Lezze, dal che si era presunto che, compiuti gli studi e conseguita la laurea, fosse andato a compiere il praticantato presso il Da Lezze. Nonostante queste fonti, il primo a dubitare del titolo conseguito dal Casanova fu Pompeo Molmenti, ma ben presto gli studi del Brunelli, il quale aveva reperito documenti che dimostravano in modo certo l'avvenuta immatricolazione al primo anno e le successive iscrizioni, convinsero tutti gli autori dell'effettivo conseguimento del titolo accademico; in tal senso, tra i tanti, anche James Rives Childs (Casanova). Successivamente Enzo Grossato pose nuovamente in dubbio il conseguimento del titolo rifacendosi ai registri di laurea, i quali non menzionano il nome del veneziano. Dello stesso avviso Piero Del Negro, il quale rilevò che, oltre ai registri consultati dal Grossato, anche un ulteriore codice, il Registro dottorati 1737 usque ad 1747, non riportava il nome del Casanova; inoltre egli constatò che il Casanova non aveva mai parlato del titolo se non in epoca tarda, quando ormai ricostruire la circostanza sarebbe stato difficile per chiunque.  Terminati gli studi, Giacomo Casanova viaggiò a Corfù e a Costantinopoli, per poi rientrare a Venezia nel 1742. Nella sua città natale ottenne un impiego presso lo studio dell'avvocato Marco da Lezze. La nonna Marzia Baldissera morì. Con la morte della nonna, alla quale era legatissimo, si chiuse un capitolo importante della sua vita: la madre decise di lasciare la bella e costosa casa in Calle della Commedia[E 7] e di sistemare i figli in modo economicamente più sostenibile. Questo evento segnò profondamente Giacomo, togliendogli un importante punto di riferimento. Nello stesso anno fu rinchiuso, a causa della sua condotta piuttosto turbolenta, nel Forte di Sant'Andrea dalla fine di marzo alla fine di luglio. Più che l'applicazione di una pena, fu un avvertimento tendente a cercare di correggerne il carattere.  Messo in libertà, partì, grazie ai buoni uffici materni, per la Calabria, al seguito del vescovo di Martirano che si recava ad assumere la diocesi. Una volta giunto a destinazione, spaventato per le condizioni di povertà del luogo, chiese e ottenne congedo. Viaggiò a Napoli e a Roma, dove nel 1744 prese servizio presso il cardinal Acquaviva, ambasciatore della Spagna presso la Santa Sede. L'esperienza si concluse presto, a causa della sua condotta imprudente: infatti aveva nascosto nel Palazzo di Spagna, residenza ufficiale del cardinale, una ragazza fuggita di casa.   Targa commemorativa su Palazzo Malipiero Nel febbraio del 1744 arrivò ad Ancona, dove era già stato sette mesi prima. Durante il primo soggiorno nella città era stato costretto a passare la quarantena nel lazzaretto, dove aveva intessuto una relazione con una schiava greca, alloggiata nella camera superiore alla sua.[E 9]  Fu però durante il suo secondo soggiorno ad Ancona che C. ebbe una delle sue più strane avventure: si innamorò di un seducente cantante castrato, Bellino, convinto che si trattasse in realtà di una donna. Fu solo dopo una corte serrata che Casanova riuscì a scoprire ciò che sperava: il castrato era in realtà una ragazza, Teresa (con cui avrà il figlio illegittimo Cesarino Lanti), che, per sopravvivere dopo essere rimasta orfana, si faceva passare per un castrato in modo da poter cantare nei teatri dello Stato della Chiesa, dove era vietata la presenza di donne sul palcoscenico. Il nome di Teresa ricorre spesso nel testo dell'Histoire, a testimonianza dei molti incontri avvenuti, negli anni, nelle capitali europee dove Teresa mieteva successi con le sue interpretazioni. Ritornò quindi a Venezia e, per un certo periodo, si guadagnò da vivere suonando il violino nel teatro di San Samuele, di proprietà dei nobili Grimani che, alla morte del padre, avvenuta prematuramente, avevano assunto ufficialmente la tutela del ragazzo, avvalorando la voce popolare secondo la quale uno dei Grimani, Michele, fosse il vero padre di Giacomo.  Nel 1746 avvenne l'incontro con il patrizio veneziano Matteo Bragadin, che avrebbe migliorato sostanzialmente le sue condizioni. Colpito da un malore, il nobiluomo fu soccorso da Casanova e si convinse che, grazie a quel tempestivo intervento, aveva potuto salvarsi la vita. Di conseguenza prese a considerarlo quasi come un figlio, contribuendo, finché visse, al suo mantenimento. Nelle ore concitate in cui assisteva Bragadin, Casanova venne in contatto con i due più fraterni amici del senatore, Marco Barbaro[E 11] e Marco Dandolo; anch'essi gli si affezionarono profondamente e, finché vissero, lo tennero sotto la loro protezione. La frequentazione con i nobili attirò l'interesse degli Inquisitori di Stato e Casanova, su consiglio di Bragadin, lasciò Venezia in attesa di tempi migliori.  Nel 1749 incontrò Henriette, che sarebbe stata forse il più grande amore della sua vita. Lo pseudonimo nascondeva probabilmente l'identità di una nobildonna di Aix-en-Provence, forse Adelaide de Gueidan. Su questa e su altre identificazioni, i "casanovisti" si sono accapigliati per decenni. In linea di massima, come è stato sostenuto da molti studiosi, i personaggi citati nelle Memorie sono reali. Al più, l'autore potrebbe essersi cautelato con qualche piccola accortezza: spesso, trattandosi di donne sposate, alcune sono citate con le iniziali o con nomi di fantasia, talvolta l'età viene un po' modificata per galanteria o per vanità dell'autore che non amava riferire di avventure con donne considerate, con i criteri di allora, in età matura, ma in generale le persone sono identificabili e anche i fatti riferiti sono risultati corretti e riscontrabili. Innumerevoli identificazioni e notizie documentali hanno confermato il racconto.  Se qualche errore c'è stato, lo si deve anche al fatto che, all'epoca in cui furono scritte le Memorie (dal 1789 in poi), erano passati molti anni dai fatti e, per quanto l'autore si possa essere aiutato con diari o appunti, non era facile incasellare cronologicamente gli eventi. Ogni tanto l'autore si faceva però trascinare dalla sua visione teatrale delle cose e non rinunciava a qualche "colpo di teatro", il che peraltro contribuisce a rendere la lettura più piacevole. Il problema dell'attendibilità del racconto casanoviano è tuttavia molto complesso: ciò che è difficile o, in molti casi, impossibile da valutare è se i rapporti che Casanova riferisce di aver intrattenuto con i personaggi siano rispondenti alla realtà dei fatti. Taluni studiosi hanno ritenuto che nel corpus delle Memorie siano stati inseriti dei passaggi totalmente romanzati e di pura invenzione, basati comunque su personaggi storicamente esistiti ed effettivamente presenti nel luogo e nel tempo della descrizione.  Il caso più clamoroso è quello che riguarda la relazione di Casanova con suor M.M.e i conseguenti rapporti con l'ambasciatore di Francia De Bernis. Si tratta di una delle parti più valide dell'opera dal punto di vista letterario e stilistico. Il ritmo del racconto è serratissimo e la tensione emotiva dei personaggi di straordinario realismo. Secondo alcuni studiosi il racconto è assolutamente veritiero e si è ripetutamente tentata l'identificazione della donna, secondo altri il racconto è di pura fantasia e basato sulle confidenze del cuoco dell'ambasciatore (tale Rosier), che effettivamente Casanova conosceva molto bene. La diatriba tra le varie tesi continuerà ma, comunque stiano le cose, il valore dell'opera non cambia, perché ciò che perde il Casanova memorialista lo guadagna il Casanova romanziere. Rientrato a Venezia nella primavera del 1750, nel giugno successivo decise di partire per Parigi. A Milano si incontrò con l'amico Antonio Stefano Balletti, figlio della celebre attrice Silvia, e con lui proseguì alla volta della capitale francese. Durante il viaggio, a Lione, Casanova aderì alla Massoneria.[E 17] Non sembra che la decisione fosse ascrivibile a inclinazioni ideologiche, ma piuttosto alla pratica esigenza di procurarsi utili appoggi.  «Ogni giovane che viaggia, che vuol conoscere il mondo, che non vuol essere inferiore agli altri e escluso dalla compagnia dei suoi coetanei, deve farsi iniziare alla Massoneria, non fosse altro per sapere superficialmente cos'è. Deve tuttavia fare attenzione a scegliere bene la loggia nella quale entrare, perché, anche se nella loggia i cattivi soggetti non possono far nulla, possono tuttavia sempre esserci e l'aspirante deve guardarsi dalle amicizie pericolose.»  (C., Memorie) Ottenne qualche risultato: infatti molti personaggi incontrati nel corso della sua vita, come Mozart[E 18] e Franklin erano massoni e alcune facilitazioni ricevute in varie occasioni sembrerebbero dovute ai benefici derivanti dal far parte di un'organizzazione ben radicata in quasi tutti i paesi europei. Giunti a Parigi, Balletti presentò Casanova alla madre, che lo accolse con familiarità; la generosa ospitalità della famiglia Balletti si protrasse per i due anni in cui visse nella capitale francese. Durante la permanenza si applicò allo studio del francese, che sarebbe divenuto la sua lingua letteraria oltre che, in molti casi, epistolare. Ritornato a Venezia dopo il lungo soggiorno parigino e altri viaggi a Dresda, Praga e Vienna, il 26 luglio 1755, all'alba, fu arrestato e ristretto nei Piombi. Come d'uso all'epoca, al condannato non venne notificato il capo d'accusa, né la durata della detenzione cui era stato condannato. Ciò, come in seguito scrisse, si rivelò dannoso, poiché se avesse saputo che la pena era di durata tutto sommato sopportabile, si sarebbe ben guardato dall'affrontare il rischio mortale dell'evasione e soprattutto il pericolo della possibile successiva eliminazione da parte degli inquisitori, i quali, spesso, arrivavano a operare anche molto lontano dai confini della Repubblica. Questi magistrati erano l'espressione più evidente dell'arbitrarietà del potere oligarchico che governava Venezia. Erano insieme tribunale speciale e centrale di spionaggio.  Sui motivi reali dell'arresto si è discusso parecchio. Certo è che il comportamento di Casanova era tenuto d'occhio dagli inquisitori e rimangono molte riferte (rapporti delle spie al soldo degli Inquisitori) che ne descrivevano minutamente i comportamenti, soprattutto quelli considerati socialmente sconvenienti. In definitiva l'accusa era quella di "libertinaggio" compiuto con donne sposate, di spregio della religione, di circonvenzione di alcuni patrizi e in generale di un comportamento pericoloso per il buon nome e la stabilità del regime aristocratico. Di fatto, Casanova conduceva una vita alquanto disordinata, ma né più né meno di tanti rampolli delle casate illustri: come questi giocava, barava e aveva anche delle idee abbastanza personali in materia di religione e, quel che è peggio, non ne faceva mistero.   L'arresto di Casanova (illustrazione per Storia della mia fuga) Anche la sua adesione alla Massoneria, che era nota agli Inquisitori, non gli giovava, così come la scandalosa relazione intrattenuta con "suor M.M.", certamente appartenente al patriziato, monaca nel convento di S. Maria degli Angeli in Murano e amante dell'ambasciatore di Francia, abate De Bernis. Insomma, l'oligarchia al potere non poteva tollerare oltre che un individuo ritenuto socialmente pericoloso restasse in circolazione.  Tuttavia gli appoggi, di cui certamente poteva disporre nell'ambito del patriziato, lo aiutarono notevolmente, sia nell'ottenere una condanna "leggera" sia durante la reclusione, e forse addirittura ne agevolarono l'evasione. La contraddizione è solo apparente, perché Casanova fu sempre un personaggio ambivalente: per estrazione e mezzi faceva parte di una classe subalterna, anche se contigua alla nobiltà, ma per frequentazioni e protezioni poteva sembrare far parte, a qualche titolo, della classe al potere. A questo riguardo va anche considerato che il suo presunto padre naturale, Michele Grimani, apparteneva a una delle famiglie più illustri dell'aristocrazia veneziana, annoverando ben tre dogi e altrettanti cardinali. Questa paternità fu rivendicata da Casanova stesso nel libello Né amori né donne e sembra che anche la somiglianza di aspetto e di corporatura dei due avvalorasse parecchio la tesi.  Dalla fuga dai Piombi al ritorno a Venezia (17561774)  Presunto ritratto di Giacomo Casanova, attribuito a Francesco Narici, e in passato ad Anton Raphael Mengs o al suo allievo Giovanni Battista Casanova (fratello di Giacomo) Appena riavutosi dallo shock dell'arresto, Casanova cominciò a organizzare la fuga. Un primo tentativo fu vanificato da uno spostamento di cella. Nella notte fra il 31 ottobre e il 1º novembre 1756 mise in atto il suo piano: passando dalla cella alle soffitte, attraverso un foro nel soffitto praticato da un compagno di reclusione, il frate Marino Balbi, uscì sul tetto e successivamente si calò di nuovo all'interno del palazzo da un abbaino. Passò quindi, in compagnia del complice, attraverso varie stanze e fu infine notato da un passante, che pensò fosse un visitatore rimasto chiuso all'interno e chiamò uno degli addetti al palazzo il quale aprì il portone, consentendo ai due di uscire e di allontanarsi fulmineamente con una gondola.  Si diressero velocemente verso nord. Il problema era seminare gli inseguitori: infatti la fuga gettava un'ombra sull'amministrazione della giustizia di Venezia ed era chiaro che gli Inquisitori avrebbero tentato di tutto per riacciuffare gli evasi. Dopo brevi soggiorni a Bolzano (dove i banchieri Menz lo ospitarono e aiutarono economicamente), Monaco di iera (dove Casanova finalmente si liberò della scomoda presenza del frate), Augusta e Strasburgo, il 5 gennaio 1757 arrivò a Parigi, dove nel frattempo il suo amico De Bernis era divenuto ministro e quindi gli appoggi non gli mancavano.   Illustrazione da Storia della mia fuga Rinfrancato e trovata una sistemazione, iniziò a dedicarsi alla sua specialità: brillare in società, frequentando quanto di meglio la capitale potesse offrire. Conobbe tra gli altri la marchesa d'Urfé nobildonna ricchissima e stravagante, con la quale intrattenne una lunga relazione, dilapidando cospicue somme di denaro che lei gli metteva a disposizione, soggiogata dal suo fascino e dal consueto corredo di rituali magici.  Il 28 marzo 1757 assistette, come accompagnatore di alcune dame «incuriosite da quell'orrendo spettacolo» (mentre lui distolse lo sguardo) e di un conte trevigiano, alla cruenta esecuzione (tramite squartamento) di Robert François Damiens, che aveva attentato alla vita di Luigi XV.  Molto fantasioso, come al solito, si fece promotore di una lotteria nazionale, allo scopo di rinsaldare le finanze dello stato. Osservava che questo era l'unico modo di far contribuire di buon grado i cittadini alla finanza pubblica. L'intuizione era talmente valida che ancora adesso il sistema è molto praticato. L'iniziativa venne autorizzata ufficialmente e Casanova venne nominato "Ricevitore" il 27 gennaio 1758. Nel settembre dello stesso anno, De Bernis fu nominato cardinale; un mese dopo Casanova fu incaricato dal governo francese di una missione segreta nei Paesi Bassi.[26]  Al suo ritorno fu coinvolto in un'intricata faccenda riguardante una gravidanza indesiderata di un'amica, la scrittrice veneziana Giustiniana Wynne. Di madre italiana e padre inglese, Giustiniana era stata al centro dell'attenzione per la sua rovente relazione con il patrizio veneziano Andrea Memmo. Questi aveva cercato in tutti i modi di sposarla, ma la ragion di stato (lui era membro di una delle dodici famigliecosiddette apostolichepiù nobili di Venezia) glielo aveva impedito, a causa di alcuni oscuri trascorsi della madre di lei, e, in seguito allo scandalo che ne era sortito, i Wynne avevano lasciato Venezia.[27] Giunta a Parigi, trovandosi in stato interessante e di conseguenza in grosse difficoltà, la ragazza si rivolse per aiuto a Casanova, che aveva conosciuto a Venezia e che era anche ottimo amico del suo amante. La lettera con cui implorava aiuto è stata ritrovata[28] ed è singolare la schiettezza con cui la ragazza si rivolge a Casanova, dimostrando una fiducia totale in quest'ultimo,[29] tenuto conto dell'enorme rischio a cui si esponeva (e lo esponeva) nel caso in cui il messaggio fosse caduto nelle mani sbagliate.  Casanova si prodigò per darle aiuto, ma incorse in una denuncia per concorso in pratiche abortive, presentata dall'ostetrica Reine Demay in combutta con un losco personaggio, Louis Castel-Bajac, per estorcere denaro in cambio di una ritrattazione. Benché l'accusa fosse molto grave, Casanova riuscì a cavarsela con la consueta presenza di spirito e fu prosciolto, mentre la sua accusatrice finì in carcere. L'amica abbandonò l'idea di interrompere la gravidanza e in seguito partorì nel convento in cui si era rifugiata. Ceduti i suoi interessi nella lotteria, Casanova si imbarcò in una fallimentare operazione imprenditoriale, una manifattura di tessuti, che naufragò anche a causa di una forte restrizione delle esportazioni derivante dalla guerra in corso. I debiti che ne derivarono lo condussero per un po' in carcere (agosto 1759). Come al solito, il provvidenziale intervento della ricca e potente marchesa d'Urfé lo tolse dall'incomoda situazione.[30]  Gli anni successivi furono un intenso continuo peregrinare per l'Europa. Si recò nei Paesi Bassi, poi in Svizzera, dove incontrò Voltaire nel castello di Ferney. L'incontro con Voltaire, il maggior intellettuale vivente all'epoca, occupa parecchie pagine dell'Histoire ed è riferito nei minimi particolari; Casanova esordì dicendo che era il giorno più felice della sua vita e che per vent'anni aveva aspettato di incontrarsi con il suo "maestro"; Voltaire gli rispose che sarebbe stato ancora più onorato se, dopo quell'incontro, lo avesse aspettato per altri vent'anni.[31] Un riscontro obiettivo si trova in una lettera di Voltaire a Nicolas-Claude Thieriot, datata 7 luglio 1760, in cui la figura del visitatore viene tratteggiata con ironia. Lo stesso Casanova non era d'accordo con molte idee di Voltaire («Voltaire [...] doveva capire che il popolo per la pace generale della nazione ha bisogno di vivere nell'ignoranza», dirà in seguito), e quindi rimase insoddisfatto, anche se scrisse poi delle parole di stima per il patriarca dell'illuminismo: «Partii assai contento di aver messo quel grande atleta alle corde l'ultimo giorno. Ma di lui mi rimase un brutto ricordo che mi spinse per dieci anni di seguito a criticare tutto ciò che quel grand'uomo dava al pubblico di vecchio o di nuovo. Oggi me ne pento, anche se, quando leggo ciò che pubblicai contro di lui, mi sembra di aver ragionato giustamente nelle mie critiche. Comunque avrei dovuto tacere, rispettarlo e dubitare dei miei giudizi. Dovevo riflettere che senza i sarcasmi che mi dispiacquero il terzo giorno, avrei trovato tutti i suoi scritti sublimi. Questa sola riflessione avrebbe dovuto impormi il silenzio, ma un uomo in collera crede sempre di aver ragione.[31]»  In seguito andò in Italia, a Genova, Firenze e Roma.[33] Qui viveva il fratello Giovanni, pittore, allievo di Mengs. Durante il soggiorno presso il fratello fu ricevuto dal papa Clemente XIII.  Nel 1762 ritornò a Parigi, dove riprese a esercitare pratiche esoteriche insieme alla marchesa d'Urfé, fino a che quest'ultima, resasi conto di essere stata per anni presa in giro con l'illusione di rinascere giovane e bella per mezzo di pratiche magiche, troncò ogni rapporto con l'improvvisato stregone che, dopo poco tempo, lasciò Parigi, dove il clima che si era creato non gli era più favorevole, per Londra, dove fu presentato a corte.[34]  Nella capitale inglese conobbe la funesta Charpillon, con la quale cercò di intessere una relazione. In questa circostanza anche il grande seduttore mostrò il suo lato debole e questa scaltra ragazza lo portò fin sull'orlo del suicidio. Non che fosse un grande amore, ma evidentemente Casanova non poteva accettare di essere trattato con indifferenza da una ragazza qualsiasi. E più lui vi s'intestardiva, più lei lo menava per il naso. Alla fine riuscì a liberarsi di questa assurda situazione e si diresse verso Berlino.[36] Qui incontrò il re Federico il Grande, che gli offrì un modesto posto d'insegnante nella scuola dei cadetti. Rifiutata sdegnosamente la proposta, Casanova si diresse verso la Russia e giunse a San Pietroburgo nel dicembre del 1764.[37]  L'anno successivo si recò a Mosca e in seguito incontrò l'imperatrice Caterina II,[38] anche lei annessa alla straordinaria collezione di personaggi storici incontrati nel corso delle sue infinite peregrinazioni. Merita una riflessione la straordinaria facilità con cui Casanova aveva accesso a personaggi di primissimo piano, che certo non erano usi a incontrarsi con chiunque. Evidentemente la fama lo precedeva regolarmente e, almeno per effetto della curiosità suscitata, gli consentiva di penetrare nei circoli più esclusivi delle capitali.  Un po' la questione si autoalimentava, nel senso che in qualsiasi luogo si trovasse, Casanova si dava sempre un gran da fare per ottenere lettere di presentazione per la destinazione successiva. Evidentemente ci aggiungeva del suo: aveva conversazione brillante, una cultura enciclopedica fuori del comune e, quanto a esperienze di viaggio, ne aveva accumulate infinite, in un'epoca in cui la gente non viaggiava un granché. Insomma Casanova il suo fascino lo aveva, e non lo spendeva solo con le donne.  Nel 1766 in Polonia avvenne un episodio che segnò profondamente Casanova: il duello con il conte Branicki.[39] Questi, durante un litigio a causa della ballerina veneziana Anna Binetti,[40] lo aveva apostrofato chiamandolo poltrone veneziano. Il conte era un personaggio di rilievo alla corte del re Stanislao II Augusto Poniatowski e per uno straniero privo di qualsiasi copertura politica non era molto consigliabile contrastarlo. Quindi, anche se offeso pesantemente dal conte, qualsiasi uomo di normale prudenza si sarebbe ritirato in buon ordine; Casanova, invece, che evidentemente non era solo un amabile conversatore e un abile seduttore, ma anche un uomo di coraggio, lo sfidò in un duello alla pistola. Faccenda assai pericolosa, sia in caso di soccombenza sia in caso di vittoria, in quanto era facile attendersi che gli amici del conte ne avrebbero rapidamente vendicato la morte. Targa commemorativa del soggiorno di Casanova a Madrid Il conte ne uscì ferito in modo gravissimo, ma non abbastanza da impedirgli di pregare onorevolmente i suoi di lasciare andare indenne l'avversario, che si era comportato secondo le regole. Seppur ferito abbastanza seriamente a un braccio, Casanova riuscì a lasciare l'inospitale paese. La buona stella sembrava avergli voltato le spalle. Si diresse a Vienna, da dove fu espulso.Tornò a Parigi, dove, alla fine di ottobre, lo raggiunse la notizia della morte di Bragadin, il quale, più che un protettore, era stato per Casanova un padre adottivo. Pochi giorni dopo (6 novembre 1767) fu colpito da una lettre de cachet del re Luigi XV, con la quale gli veniva intimato di lasciare il paese. Il provvedimento era stato richiesto dai parenti della marchesa d'Urfé, i quali intendevano mettere al riparo da ulteriori rischi le pur cospicue sostanze di famiglia.  Si recò quindi in Spagna, ormai alla disperata ricerca di una qualche occupazione, ma anche qui non andò meglio: fu gettato in prigione con motivi pretestuosi e la faccenda durò più di un mese. Lasciò la Spagna e approdò in Provenza, dove però si ammalò gravemente (gennaio 1769). Fu assistito grazie all'intervento della sua amata Henriette che, nel frattempo sposatasi e rimasta vedova, aveva conservato di lui un ottimo ricordo. Riprese presto il suo peregrinare, recandosi a Roma, Napoli, Bologna, Trieste. In questo periodo si infittirono i contatti con gli Inquisitori veneziani per ottenere l'agognata grazia, che finalmente giunse il 3 settembre 1774.  Dal ritorno a Venezia alla morte. La narrazione delle Memorie casanoviane cessa alla metà di febbraio del 1774. Ritornato a Venezia dopo diciott'anni, Casanova riannodò le vecchie amicizie, peraltro mai sopite grazie a un'intensissima attività epistolare. Per vivere, si propose agli Inquisitori come spia, proprio in favore di coloro che erano stati tanto decisi prima a condannarlo alla reclusione e poi a costringerlo a un lungo esilio. Le riferte di Casanova non furono mai particolarmente interessanti e la collaborazione si trascinò stancamente fino a interrompersi per "scarso rendimento". Probabilmente qualcosa in lui si opponeva a esser causa di persecuzioni che, avendole provate in prima persona, conosceva bene.   L'ultima abitazione veneziana di Casanova Rimasto senza fonti di sostentamento, si dedicò all'attività di scrittore, utilizzando la sua vasta rete di relazioni per procurare sottoscrittori alle sue opere.[49] All'epoca si usava far sottoscrivere un ordinativo di libri prima ancora di aver dato alle stampe o addirittura terminato l'opera, in modo da esser certi di poter sostenere gli elevati costi di stampa. Infatti la composizione avveniva manualmente e le tirature erano bassissime. Nel 1775 pubblicò il primo tomo della traduzione dell'Iliade. La lista di sottoscrittori, cioè di coloro che avevano finanziato l'opera, era davvero notevole e comprendeva oltre duecentotrenta nomi fra quelli più in vista a Venezia, comprese le alte autorità dello stato, sei Procuratori di San Marco in carica[50] due figli del doge Mocenigo, professori dell'Padova e così via. Va rilevato che, per essere un ex carcerato evaso e poi graziato, aveva delle frequentazioni di altissimo livello. Il fatto di far parte della lista non era tenuto segreto, ma in una città piccola, in cui le persone che contavano si conoscevano tutte, era di pubblico dominio; dunque le adesioni dimostravano che, malgrado le sue vicissitudini, Casanova non era affatto un emarginato. Anche qui è opportuna una riflessione sull'ambivalenza del personaggio e sul suo eterno oscillare tra la classe reietta e quella privilegiata.  In questo stesso periodo iniziò una relazione con Francesca Buschini, una ragazza molto semplice e incolta che per anni avrebbe scritto a Casanova, dopo il suo secondo esilio da Venezia, delle lettere (ritrovate a Dux) di un'ingenuità e tenerezza commoventi,[52] utilizzando un lessico molto influenzato dal dialetto veneziano, con evidenti tentativi di italianizzare il più possibile il testo. Questa fu l'ultima relazione importante di Casanova, che rimase molto attaccato alla donna: anche quando ne fu irrimediabilmente lontano, rattristato profondamente dal crepuscolo della sua vita, teneva una fitta corrispondenza con Francesca, oltre a continuare a pagare, per anni, l'affitto della casa in Barbaria delle Tole in cui avevano convissuto, inviandole, quando ne aveva la possibilità, lettere di cambio con discrete somme di denaro.  Il nome della calle deriva dalla presenza, in tempi antichi, di falegnamerie che riducevano in tavole (tole, in dialetto veneziano) i tronchi d'albero. La calle si trova nelle immediate vicinanze del Campo SS. Giovanni e Paolo. L'ultima abitazione veneziana di Giacomo Casanova è sita in Barbarìa delle Tole, al civico 6673 del sestiere di Castello. L'identificazione certa è stata ricavata da una lettera a Casanova di Francesca Buschini, ritrovata a Dux (odierna Duchcov, Repubblica Ceca), datata 13 dicembre 1783.L'appartamento occupato da Casanova e dalla Buschini (di proprietà della nobile famiglia Pesaro di S. Stae), affittato a 96 lire venete a trimestre, corrisponde alle tre finestre del terzo piano situate sotto la soffitta che si vede in alto a sinistra (vedi foto). La lettera in questione, spedita dalla Buschini a Casanova ormai in esilio, faceva riferimento alla casa antistante "È morto la molgie del maestro di spada che mi stà in fasa di me quela casa in mezzo al brusà, giovine e anche bela la era..." (testo originale tratto dall'edizione critica delle lettere di F. Buschini Marco Leeflang, Utrecht, Marie-Françose Luna, Grenoble, Antonio Trampus, Trieste, Lettres de Francesca Buschini à G. Casanova, 1996, cit. in bibl.) Poiché tutti i caseggiati antistanti erano andati distrutti a causa di due successivi incendi, avvenuti nel 1683 e nel 1686, l'area era rimasta praticamente priva di fabbricati e destinata a giardino. L'unico fabbricato ancora esistente era quello dinanzi al 6673[53]. In seguito la situazione non ha subito modifiche di rilievo; l'edificio in questione, antistante al 6673, si trova tra il ramo primo e il ramo secondo "Del brusà" e quindi l'identificazione appare fondata e verificabile[54].  Negli anni successivi pubblicò altre opere e cercò di arrabattarsi come meglio poté. Ma il suo carattere impetuoso gli giocò un brutto scherzo: offeso platealmente in casa Grimani da un certo Carletti, col quale aveva questionato per motivi di denaro, si risentì perché il padrone di casa aveva preso le parti del Carletti. Decise a questo punto di vendicarsi componendo un libello, Né amori né donne, ovvero la stalla ripulita in cui, pur sotto un labile travestimento mitologico, facilmente svelabile, sostenne chiaramente di essere lui stesso il vero figlio di Michele Grimani, mentre Zuan Carlo Grimani sarebbe stato "notoriamente" frutto del tradimento della madre (Pisana Giustinian Lolin) con un altro nobile veneziano, Sebastiano Giustinian.[55]  Probabilmente era tutto vero, anche perché in una città in cui le distanze tra le case si misuravano a spanne, si circolava in gondola e c'erano stuoli di servitori che ovviamente spettegolavano a più non posso, era impensabile poter tenere segreto alcunché. Comunque, anche in questo caso l'aristocrazia fece quadrato e Casanova fu costretto all'ultimo, definitivo, esilio. Tuttavia la questione non passò inosservata, se si ritenne opportuno far circolare un libello anonimo, con cui si replicava allo scritto casanoviano, intitolato "Contrapposto o sia il riffiutto mentito, e vendicato al libercolo intitolato Ne amori ne donne ovvero La stalla ripulita, di Giacomo Casanova".[56]   Ritratto del 1788  Annotazione della morte di Casanova nei registri di Dux Lasciò Venezia nel gennaio 1783 e si diresse verso Vienna. Per un po' fece da segretario all'ambasciatore veneziano Sebastiano Foscarini; poi, alla morte di questi,[57] accettò un posto di bibliotecario nel castello del conte di Waldstein a Dux, in Boemia. Lì trascorse gli ultimi tristissimi anni della sua vita, sbeffeggiato dalla servitù,[58] ormai incompreso, e considerato il relitto di un'epoca tramontata per sempre.  Da Dux, Casanova dovette assistere alla Rivoluzione francese, alla caduta della Repubblica di Venezia, al crollare del suo mondo, o perlomeno di quel mondo a cui aveva sognato di appartenere stabilmente. L'ultimo conforto, oltre alle lettere numerosissime degli amici veneziani che lo tenevano al corrente di quanto accadeva nella sua città, fu la composizione della Histoire de ma vie, l'opera autobiografica che assorbì tutte le sue residue energie, compiuta con furore instancabile quasi per non farsi precedere da una morte che ormai sentiva vicina. Scrivendola, Casanova riviveva una vita assolutamente irripetibile, tanto da entrare nel mito, nell'immaginario collettivo, una vita «opera d'arte». Morì il 4 giugno del 1798, si suppone che la salma fosse stata sepolta nella chiesetta di Santa Barbara, nei pressi del castello. Ma riguardo al problema dell'identificazione corretta del luogo di sepoltura di Giacomo Casanova, le notizie sono comunque piuttosto vaghe, e non ci sono, allo stato, che ipotesi non correttamente documentate. Tradizionalmente si riteneva che fosse stato sepolto nel cimitero della chiesetta attigua al castello Waldstein, ma era una pura ipotesi. Altre opere: “Zoroastro, tragedia tradotta dal Francese, da rappresentarsi nel Regio Elettoral Teatro di Dresda, dalla compagnia de' comici italiani in attuale servizio di Sua Maestà nel carnevale dell'anno MDCCLII. Dresda); La Moluccheide, o sia i gemelli rivali. Dresda 1769Confutazione della Storia del Governo Veneto d'Amelot de la Houssaie, Amsterdam (Lugano). 1772Lana caprina. Epistola di un licantropo. Bologna. 1774Istoria delle turbolenze della Polonia. Gorizia. 1775Dell'Iliade di Omero tradotta in ottava rima. Venezia); Scrutinio del libro "Eloges de M. de Voltaire par différents auteurs". Venezia.  Il duello; Opuscoli miscellaneiIl duelloLettere della nobil donna Silvia Belegno alla nobildonzella Laura Gussoni. Venezia. 1781Le messager de Thalie. Venezia); Di aneddoti viniziani militari ed amorosi del secolo decimoquarto sotto i dogadi di Giovanni Gradenigo e di Giovanni Dolfin. Venezia. 1782Né amori né donne ovvero la stalla ripulita. Venezia. 1784Lettre historico-critique sur un fait connu, dependant d'une cause peu connu... Amburgo (Dessau). Expositionne raisonée du différent, qui subsiste entre le deux Républiques de Venise, et d'Hollande. Vienna. 1785Supplément à l'Exposition raisonnée. Vienna); Esposizione ragionata della contestazione, che susiste trà le due Repubbliche di Venezia, e di Olanda. Venezia. 1785Supplemento alla Esposizione ragionata.... Venezia); Lettre a monsieur Jean et Etienne Luzac.... Vienna); Lettera ai signori Giovanni e Stefano Luzac.... Venezia); Soliloque d'un penseur, Prague chez Jean Ferdinande noble de Shonfeld imprimeur et libraire. 1787 -Histoire de ma fuite des prisons de la République de Venise qu'on appelle les Plombs. Ecrite à Dux en Bohème l'année 1787, Leipzig chez le noble de Shonfeld 1788. Historia della mia fuga dalle prigioni della republica di Venezia dette "li Piombi", prima edizione italiana Salvatore di Giacomo (prefazione e traduzione). Alfieri&Lacroix editori, Milano 1911. 1788Icosameron ou histoire d'Edouard, et d'Elisabeth qui passèrent quatre vingts ans chez les Mégramicres habitante aborigènes du Protocosme dans l'interieur de notre globe, traduite de l'anglois par Jacques Casanova de Seingalt Vénitien Docteur èn lois Bibliothécaire de Monsieur le Comte de Waldstein seigneur de Dux Chambellan de S.M.I.R.A., Prague à l'imprimerie de l'école normale. Praga. (romanzo di fantascienza) 1790Solution du probleme deliaque démontrée par Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, Bibliothécaire de Monsieur le Comte de Waldstein, segneur de Dux en Boheme e c., Dresde, De l'imprimerie de C.C. Meinhold. 1790Corollaire a la duplication de l'Hexaedre donée a Dux en Boheme, par Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, Dresda. 1790Demonstration geometrique de la duplicaton du cube. Corollaire second, Dresda. 1792 Lettres écrites au sieur Faulkircher par son meilleur ami, Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, le 10 Janvier 1792. 1797A Leonard Snetlage, Docteur en droit de l'Université de Gottingue, Jacques Casanova, docteur en droit de l'Universitè de Padoue. Dresda. Edizioni postume: Le Polemoscope, Gustave Kahn, Paris, La Vogue. 1960-1962Histoire de ma vie, F.A. Brockhaus, Wiesbaden e Plon, Parigi. Edizioni italiane basate sul manoscritto originale: Piero Chiara, traduzione Giancarlo BuzziGiacomo Casanova, Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 1965. 7 voll. di cui uno di note, documenti e apparato critico. Piero Chiara e Federico Roncoroni Giacomo Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Milano, Mondadori "I meridiani" 1983. 3 voll. Ultima edizione: Milano, Mondadori "I meridiani", 2001. 1968Saggi libelli e satire di Giacomo Casanova, Piero Chiara, Milano. Longanesi & C. 1969Epistolario (17591798) di Giacomo Casanova, Piero Chiara, Milano. Longanesi & C. Rapporti di Giacomo Casanova con i paesi del Nord. A proposito dell'inedito "Prosopopea Ecaterina II (1773-74)", Enrico Straub. Venezia. Centro tedesco di studi veneziani. 1985Examen des "Etudes de la Nature" et de "Paul et Virginie" de Bernardin de Saint Pierre, Marco Leeflang e Tom Vitelli. Utrecht, Edizione italiana: Analisi degli Studi della natura e di Paolo e Virginia di Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Gianluca Simeoni, Bologna, Pendragon, Pensieri libertini, Federico di Trocchio (sulle opere filosofiche inedite rinvenute a Dux), Milano, Rusconi. 1993Philocalies sur les sottises des mortels, Tom Vitelli. Salt Lake City. 1993Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original, suivi de textes inédits. Édition présentée et établie par Francis Lacassin.  2-221-06520-4. Éditions Robert Laffont. 1997Iliade di Omero in veneziano Tradotta in ottava rima. Canto primo. Riproduzione integrale del manoscritto a fronte, Venezia, Editoria Universitaria. 1998Iliade di Omero in veneziano Tradotta in ottava rima. Canto secondo. Riproduzione integrale del manoscritto a fronte. Venezia, Editoria Universitaria. 1999Storia della mia vita, traduzione Pietro Bartalini Bigi e Maurizio Grasso. Roma, Newton Compton, coll. « I Mammut », Dell'Iliade d'Omero tradotta in veneziano da Giacomo Casanova. Canti otto. Mariano del Friuli, Edizioni della Laguna. 2005Iliade di Omero in veneziano. Tradotta in ottava rima. Riproduzione integrale del manoscritto a fronte. Venezia, Editoria Universitaria,  Dialoghi sul suicidio. Roma, Aracne,  88-548-0312-X 2006Iliade di Omero in idioma toscano'. Riproduzione integrale dell'edizione Modesto Fenzo. Venezia, Editoria Universitaria. Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati et Marie-Françoise Luna avec la collaboration de Furio Luccichenti et Helmut Watzlawick. Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, Gallimard. Parigi.  Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition établie par Jean-Christophe Igalens et Érik Leborgne, Laffont, Bouquins. Parigi.  Histoire de ma vie, tome II. Édition établie par Jean-Christophe Igalens et Érik Leborgne, Laffont, Bouquins. Parigi.  Histoire de ma vie, tome II. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati et Marie-Françoise Luna avec la collaboration de Furio Luccichenti et Helmut Watzlawick. Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade (nº 137), Gallimard. Parigi.  Histoire de ma vie, tome III. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati et Marie-Françoise Luna avec la collaboration de Furio Luccichenti et Helmut Watzlawick. Collection Bibliothèque de la Pléiade (nº 147).Gallimard. Parigi.  Histoire de ma vie, tome III. Édition établie par Jean-Christophe Igalens et Érik Leborgne, Laffont, Bouquins. Parigi.  Icosameron, traduzione di Serafino Balduzzi, Milano, Luni Editrice,,  978-88-7984-611-0 Istoria delle turbolenze della Polonia, Milano, Luni Editrice, Valore letterario e fortuna dell'opera casanoviana  Presunto ritratto di Giacomo Casanova, attribuito ad Alessandro Longhi o, da alcuni[62][63], a Pietro Longhi. Sul valore letterario e la validità storica dell'opera di Giacomo Casanova si è discusso parecchio.[67] Intanto bisogna distinguere tra l'opera autobiografica e il resto della produzione. Malgrado gli sforzi fatti per accreditarsi come letterato, storico, filosofo e addirittura matematico, Casanova non ebbe in vita, e tantomeno da morto, nessuna notorietà e nessun successo.[68] Successo che arrise invece all'opera autobiografica, anche se si manifestò in tempi molto posteriori alla morte dell'autore.   Disegno di un busto di Giacomo Casanova, ubicato in origine a Dux, oggi al Museo delle Arti Decorative di Vienna La sua produzione fu spesso d'occasione, cioè di frequente i suoi scritti furono creati per ottenere qualche beneficio. Principale esempio è la Confutazione della Storia del Governo Veneto d'Amelot de la Houssaye, scritta in gran parte durante la detenzione a Barcellona nel 1768, che avrebbe dovuto servire, e infatti così fu, a ingraziarsi il governo veneziano e a ottenere la tanto sospirata grazia. Lo stesso si può dire per opere scritte nella speranza di ottenere qualche incarico da Caterina II di Russia o da Federico II di Prussia. Altre opere, come l'Icosameron, avrebbero dovuto sancire il successo letterario dell'autore ma così non fu. Il primo vero successo editoriale fu ottenuto dall'Historia della mia fuga dai Piombi che ebbe una diffusione immediata e varie edizioni, sia in italiano sia in francese ma il caso è praticamente unico e di proporzioni limitate a causa delle dimensioni dell'opera costituita dal racconto dell'evasione. Sembra quasi che Casanova tollerasse le sue creature autobiografiche e il loro successo, continuando a inseguire, con opere non autobiografiche, un successo letterario che non arrivò mai. Questo aspetto fu acutamente osservato da un memorialista suo contemporaneo, il principe Charles Joseph de Ligne, il quale scrisse[70] che il fascino di Casanova stava tutto nei suoi racconti autobiografici, sia verbali sia trascritti, cioè sia la narrazione salottiera sia la versione stampata delle sue avventure. Tanto era brillante e trascinante quando parlava della sua vita[71]- osserva de Lignequanto terribilmente noioso, prolisso, banale quando parlava o scriveva su altre materie. Ma sembra che questo, Casanova, non abbia mai voluto accettarlo. E soffriva tremendamente di non avere quel riconoscimento letterario o meglio scientifico a cui ambiva.  Da ciò si può comprendere l'astio nei confronti di Voltaire, che nascondeva una profonda invidia e una sconfinata ammirazione. Quindi anche contro la volontà dell'autore, quasi invidioso dei suoi figli più fortunati ma meno prediletti, le opere autobiografiche avrebbero potuto essere un grande successo editoriale quando egli era ancora in vita. Ma ciò avvenne in misura molto ridotta per vari motivi: principalmente perché questo filone fu iniziato tardi. Si pensi ad esempio che la narrazione della fuga dai Piombi, che costituì per decenni il cavallo di battaglia del Casanova salottiero, fu pubblicata soltanto nel 1787.  Inoltre l'opera "vera", cioè quella in cui aveva trasfuso tutto sé stesso, l'Histoire, fu scritta proprio negli ultimi anni di vita e il motivo è semplice: infatti lui stesso affermò, in una lettera indirizzata a quel Zuan Carlo Grimani, da lui offeso molti anni prima e che era stato la causa del secondo esilio: "... ora che la mia età mi fa credere di aver finito di farla, ho scritto la Storia della mia vita...". Cioè sembra che per mettere su carta tutto in forma definitiva, l'autore dovesse prima ammettere con sé stesso che la storia era terminata e di futuro davanti da vivere non ce n'era più. Ammissione questa sempre dolorosa per chiunque, in particolare per un uomo che aveva creato una vita-capolavoro irripetibile.  Ma un altro aspetto, questo strutturale, ha ritardato la fortuna dell'opera autobiografica: l'Histoire era all'epoca assolutamente impubblicabile. Non è un caso che la prima edizione francese del manoscritto, acquistato[73] dall'editore Friedrich Arnold Brockhaus di Lipsia nel 1821, fu pubblicata, dal 1826 al 1838, però in una versione notevolmente rimaneggiata da Jean Laforgue, il quale non si limitò a "purgare" l'opera, sopprimendo passi ritenuti troppo audaci, ma intervenne a tappeto modificando anche l'ideologia dell'autore, facendone una sorta di giacobino avverso alle oligarchie dominanti. Ciò non corrispondeva affatto alla verità storica, perché di Casanova si può dire che era ribelle e trasgressivo, ma politicamente era un fautore dell'ancien régime, come dimostrano chiaramente il suo epistolario, opere specifiche e la stessa Histoire. In un passo delle Memorie, Casanova esprime chiaramente il suo punto di vista sull'argomento della Rivoluzione: «Ma si vedrà che razza di dispotismo è quello di un popolo sfrenato, feroce, indomabile, che si raduna, impicca, taglia teste e assassina coloro che non appartenendo al popolo osano mostrare come la pensano.[75]»  Per l'edizione definitiva delle memorie si dovette attendere fino a quando la casa Brockhaus decise di pubblicare, insieme all'editore Plon di Parigi, dal 1960 al 1962, il testo originale in sei volumi curato da Angelika Hübscher. Ciò fu dovuto all'impianto generale dell'opera che era, a detta dell'autore e di smaliziati contemporanei come de Ligne, di un cinismo assolutamente impresentabile.[77] Quello che essi chiamarono cinismo sarà considerato, due secoli dopo, modernità e realismo.  Casanova è già uno scrittore di costume "moderno". Non teme di rivelare situazioni, inclinazioni, attività, trame e soprattutto confessioni che erano all'epoca, e tali rimasero ancora più di un secolo, assolutamente irriferibili. Naturalmente il primo problema, ma questo limitato a pochi anni dopo la morte dell'autore, fu quello di aver citato personaggi di primissimo piano, con circostanze molto precise del loro agire. Le memorie sono affollate all'inverosimile dagli attori principali della storia europea del Settecento, sia politica sia culturale. Probabilmente si farebbe prima a dire di chi Casanova non ha scritto, e chi non ha incontrato, tanto vasto è stato il panorama delle sue frequentazioni.[78]  Ma questo, come si è detto, è marginale. L'altro problema, questo insuperabile, fu la sostanziale "immoralità" dell'opera casanoviana. Ma ciò deve intendersi come contrarietà alle abitudini, ai tic, alle ipocrisie della fine del Settecento e, ancor di più, del successivo secolo, ancora più fobico e per certi versi molto meno aperto di quello che l'aveva preceduto. Casanova ha precorso i tempi: era troppo avanti per diventare un autore di successo. E forse se ne rendeva perfettamente conto. Nella lettera a Zuan Carlo Grimani, ricordata in precedenza, Casanova, parlando dell'Histoire, scrive testualmente:... questa Storia, che verrà diffusa fino a sei volumi in ottavo e che sarà forse tradotta in tutte le lingue... E poi, richiede una risposta... perché io possa porla nei codicilli che formeranno il settimo volume postumo della Storia della mia vita. Tutto questo è avvenuto puntualmente.[79]  Riguardo all'uso della lingua francese, Casanova vi fece riferimento nella prefazione:   «J'ai écrit en français, et non pas en italien parce que la langue française est plus répandue que la mienne.[80]» «Ho scritto in francese e non in italiano perché la lingua francese è più diffusa della mia.»  Certo dell'immortalità della sua opera, se non al fine di garantirsela, Casanova preferì utilizzare la lingua che gli avrebbe consentito di raggiungere il maggior numero possibile di potenziali lettori. Molte opere minori, del resto, le scrisse in italiano, forse perché sapeva bene che esse non sarebbero divenute mai un monumento, come avvenne invece per la sua autobiografia. Carlo Goldoni, altro celebre veneziano, coevo al Casanova, scelse allo stesso modo di scrivere la propria autobiografia in francese.  L'autobiografia del Casanova, a parte il valore letterario, è un importante documento per la storia del costume, forse una delle opere letterarie più importanti per conoscere la vita quotidiana in Europa nel Settecento. Si tratta di una rappresentazione che, per le frequentazioni dell'autore e per la limitazione dei possibili lettori, riferisce principalmente delle classi dominanti dell'epoca, nobiltà e borghesia, ma questo non ne limita l'interesse in quanto anche i personaggi di contorno, di qualsiasi estrazione, sono rappresentati in modo vivissimo. Leggere quest'opera è uno strumento importante per conoscere il quotidiano degli uomini e delle donne di allora, per comprendere dal di dentro la vita di ogni giorno.  La fortuna dell'opera casanoviana, presso i protagonisti di vertice della scena letteraria mondiale, è stata ristretta solo all'opera autobiografica ed è stata vastissima. Iniziando da Stendhal, al quale fu attribuita la paternità dell'Histoire, a Foscolo il quale mise addirittura in dubbio l'esistenza storica del Casanova, Balzac, Hofmannstahl, Schnitzler, Hesse, Márai. Molti furono solo lettori e quindi influenzati in modo inconscio, altri scrissero opere ambientate nell'epoca di Casanova e di cui egli era protagonista.  Innumerevoli sono i riferimenti, nella letteratura moderna, a questa figura che ha finito per diventare un'antonomasia. In Italia l'interesse si è manifestato tra la fine dell'Ottocento e i primi del Novecento. La prima edizione italiana della Historia della mia fuga dai Piombi fu curata nel 1911 da Salvatore di Giacomo, il quale studiò anche i ripetuti soggiorni napoletani dell'avventuriero e su questo argomento scrisse un saggio.Seguirono Benedetto Croce[ e via via molti altri fino a Piero Chiara. Un capitolo a parte andrebbe dedicato ai "casanovisti" cioè a tutti quelli che si sono occupati e si occupano, più o meno professionalmente, della vita e dell'opera del Casanova. Proprio a questa legione di sconosciuti si debbono infinite identificazioni di personaggi, revisioni e importantissimi ritrovamenti di documenti. Molto dell'opera casanoviana è ancora inedito, Nell'Archivio di Stato di Praga rimangono circa 10 000 documenti che attendono di essere studiati e pubblicati, oltre un numero imprecisato di lettere che probabilmente giacciono in chissà quanti archivi di famiglia sparsi per l'Europa. La grafomania dell'avventuriero fu veramente impressionante: la sua vita a un certo momento divenne totalmente e ossessivamente dedicata alla scrittura[91]  Riguardo al mito del seduttore, Casanova, insieme a Don Giovanni, ne è stato l'incarnazione. Il paragone è d'obbligo ed è stato tema di numerose opere critiche. Le due figure finirono addirittura per fondersi, benché ritenute antitetiche dai maggiori commentatori: a parte il fatto che il veneziano era un personaggio reale e l'altro romanzesco, i due caratteri sono agli antipodi. Il primo amava le sue conquiste, si prodigava con generosità per renderle felici e cercava sempre di uscire di scena con un certo stile, lasciando dietro di sé una scia di nostalgia; l'altro invece rappresenta il collezionista puro, più mortifero che vitale, assolutamente indifferente all'immagine di sé e soprattutto agli effetti del suo agire, concentrato unicamente sul numero delle vittime della sua seduzione.  L'interpretazione del suo mito sarebbe fornita proprio dal libretto del Don Giovanni di Mozart, scritto da Lorenzo Da Ponte, in cui Leporello, il servo di Don Giovanni, in un'aria notissima recita: Madamina il catalogo è questo, delle belle che amò il padron mio... e prosegue snocciolando le innumerevoli conquiste, diligentemente registrate. Il fatto che alla redazione del libretto sembra abbia partecipato anche Casanovacome è stato sostenuto basandosi su documenti trovati a Dux, sul fatto che Da Ponte e Casanova si frequentassero e che l'avventuriero fosse sicuramente presente la sera in cui a Praga andò in scena la prima dell'opera mozartiana (29 ottobre 1787)è tutto sommato marginale.[senza fonte] La partecipazione, comunque molto limitata, di Casanova alla composizione del libretto di Da Ponte per l'opera mozartiana Don Giovanni, è ritenuta molto probabile da vari commentatori. L'elemento fondamentale è un autografo, rinvenuto a Dux, che contiene una variante del testo che si è ipotizzato facesse parte di una serie di interventi operati in accordo con Da Ponte e forse anche con lo stesso Mozart.[94] Quel che è certo è che Casanova si misurò col mito di don Giovanni e ne costruì uno ancora più grande, certamente più positivo e soprattutto reale.  Mostre 1998 Praga, Palazzo Lobkowicz, "Casanova v Čechách" (Casanova in Boemia). Catalogo: Casanova v Čechách, Praga, Gema Art 1998. 1998 Venezia, Ca' Rezzonico "Il mondo di Giacomo Casanova". Catalogo: Il mondo di Giacomo Casanova, un veneziano in Europa 1725-1798, Venezia, Marsilio, 1998.  88-317-7028-4  Francia "Casanova for ever, 33 expositions Languedoc-Roussillon". Catalogo: Casanova For Ever, Emmanuel Latreille (dir.), Parigi, Editions Dilecta, Parigi, Bibliothèque nationale de France “Casanova, la passion de la liberté” (dal 15 novembre  al 19 febbraio ). Catalogo: Casanova, la passion de la liberté, Parigi, Coédition Bibliothèque nationale de France / Seuil,.  978-2-7177-2496-7 (BnF)  978-2-02-104412-6 (Seuil)  Stati Uniti d'America "Casanova: The seduction of Europe", varie sedi: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; Kimbell Art Museum, Forth Worth; Fine Arts Museums, San Francisco. Catalogo: Casanova The seduction of Europe MFA Pubblications Museum of fine arts, Boston.  978-0-87846-842-3. Filmografia su Casanova Casanova (1918). Regia di Alfréd Deésy Il cuore del Casanova (Germania) Regia di Erik Lund. Soggetto di Enrik Rennspies. Sceneggiatura di Bruno Kastner. Con Bruno Kasner, Ria Jende, Rose Lichtenstein, Karl Platen. Casanovas erste und letzte Liebe (Austria, 1920). Regia di Julius Szoreghi. Casanova (1927). Regia di Alexandre Volkoff Les amours de Casanova (Francia, 1934). Regia di René Barberis L'avventura di Giacomo Casanova (Italia, 1938). Regia di Carlo Bassoli. Le avventure di Casanova (Les Aventures de Casanova) (Francia, 1947). Regia di Jean Boyer. Il cavaliere misterioso (Italia, 1948). Regia di Riccardo Freda. Con Vittorio Gassman, Gianna Maria Canale, María Mercader, Antonio Centa. Le avventure di Giacomo Casanova (Italia). Regia di Steno. Con Gabriele Ferzetti, Corinne Calvet, Marina Vlady, Nadia Gray, Carlo Campanini. Last Rose from Casanova, titolo originale Poslední růže od Kasanovy, (Cecoslovacchia, 1966). Regia di Vaclav Krska. Infanzia, vocazione e prime esperienze di Giacomo Casanova, veneziano (Italia). Regia di Luigi Comencini. Con Leonard Withing, Maria Grazia Buccella, Tina Aumont, Ennio Balbo, Senta Berger, W. Branbell, Clara Colosimo, C. ComenciniDe Clara, Silvia Dionisio, Evi Maltagliati, Raoul Grassilli, Mario Scaccia, Lionel Stander. Cagliostro (Italia, 1975). Regia di Daniele Pettinari. Con Bekim Fehmiu, Curd Jürgens, Rosanna Schiaffino, Robert Alda, Massimo Girotti. (Casanova è uno dei personaggi). Il Casanova di Federico Fellini (Italia, 1976). Regia di Federico Fellini Con Donald Sutherland, Tina Aumont, Olimpia Carlisi, M. Clementi, Carmen Scarpitta, C. Browne, D. M. Berenstein. Il mondo nuovo (Italia, 1982). Regia di Ettore Scola. Con Jean Louis Barrault, Marcello Mastroianni, Hanna Schygulla, Harvey Keitel, Jean-Claude Brialy, Andréa Ferréol, M. Vitold, A. Belle, E. Bergier, Laura Betti. David di Donatello 1983 per la migliore sceneggiatura, scenografia e costumi. Il ritorno di Casanova, titolo originale Le retour de Casanova (Francia, 1992). Regia di Édouard Niermans Con Alain Delon, Fabrice Luchini, E Lunghini. Goodbye Casanova (Stati Uniti, 2000). Regia di Mauro Borrelli. Con G. Scandiuzzi, Y. BleethGidley, C. FilpiGanus, E. Bradley. Il giovane Casanova (Francia, Italia, Germania, 2002). Regia di Giacomo Battiato. Con Stefano Accorsi, Thierry Lhermitte, Cristiana Capotondi, Silvana De Santis, Catherine Flemming, Katja Flint. Casanova (Stati Uniti, 2005). Regia di Lasse Hallström. Con Heath Ledger, Jeremy Irons, Lena Olin, Sienna Miller, Adelmo Togliani. Historia de la meva mort (Spagna/Francia ). Regia di Albert Serra. Con Vicenç Altaió, Lluís Serrat, Eliseu Huertas. Casanova variations (Austria/Germania/Francia/Portogallo ). Regia di Michael Sturminger, con John Malkovich, Fanny Ardant, Veronica Ferres. Zoroastro, Io Casanova (Italia ) Regia di Gianni di Capua, con Galatea Ranzi Dernier Amour (Francia ). Regia di Benoît Jacquot, con Vincent Lindon (Giacomo Casanova), Stacy Martin (Marianne de Charpillon), Valeria Golino, (La Cornelys). Film solo lontanamente ispirati alla figura di Casanova Casanova farebbe così! (Italia 1942). Regia di Carlo Ludovico Bragaglia. Le tre donne di Casanova (Stati Uniti 1944). Regia di Sam Wood. Casanova '70 (Italia 1965). Regia di Mario Monicelli. Film comici La grande notte di Casanova (Stati Uniti 1954) Norman Z. McLeod. Casanova & Company (Austria/Italia/Francia/Rft 1976). Regia di Franz Antel. Tony Curtis, Marisa Berenson, Sylva Koscina, Britt Ekland, Umberto Orsini, Marisa Mell, Hugh Griffith. Telefilm su Casanova Casanova (Regno Unito, 2005). Regia di Sheree Folkson. Con David Tennant, Rose Byrne, Peter O'Toole, Laura Fraser, Nina Sosanya, Shaun Parkes. Onorificenze Cavaliere dello Speron d'oronastrino per uniforme ordinariaCavaliere dello Speron d'oro — Roma, 1760 Riguardo l’onorificenza, Casanova nelle Memorie descrive l'incontro con il pontefice e il successivo conferimento dell'Ordine (cfr. G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Milano, Mondadori 2001,  II pag. 925 cit. in bibl.). Si è dubitato anche in questo caso, come in altri, che il racconto autobiografico risponda a verità. Per chiarire i dubbi sono state compiute approfondite ricerche nell'Archivio segreto vaticano al fine di ritrovare il breve papale di conferimento, sia nel periodo di cui parla Casanova (dicembre 1760-gennaio 1761) sia in periodi precedenti e successivi, senza alcun esito. Il che non significa che l’onorificenza non sia stata effettivamente conferita, in quanto potrebbe essersi verificato un errore burocratico, di trascrizione o altro. Sta di fatto però che intorno allo stesso periodo furono conferite onorificenze ad altri personaggi come Piranesi, Mozart, Cavaceppi e il breve relativo è stato ritrovato. Quindi manca, allo stato, un riscontro oggettivo. Si aggiunga che il cavalierato dello Speron d’Oro era all’epoca già piuttosto inflazionato, al punto da sconsigliare l’esibizione in pubblico della decorazione. Lo stesso Casanova in un passo dell’opera autobiografica Il duello scrive, riferendosi all’onorificenza, "il troppo strapazzato ordine della cavalleria romana" (cfr. Il duello cit. in bibl.).[95]  Note Esplicative   Casanova visse a lungo in Francia e conobbe personalmente molti protagonisti del movimento illuminista tra cui Voltaire e Rousseau. Inoltre, in patria, frequentò membri dell'oligarchia aristocratica dominante appartenenti all'ala progressista, come Andrea Memmo. In più aveva anche aderito alla Massoneria, il che lo pose a contatto con tutta una serie di personaggi portatori di idee progressiste. Malgrado tutto questo egli fu, e si definì sempre, un conservatore, legato a doppio filo con la classe nobiliare cui, pur non appartenendovi formalmente, riteneva d'esservi membro in pectore, reputandosi a torto od a ragione il figlio naturale di Michele Grimani. Allo scoppio della Rivoluzione francese e nel periodo alquanto turbolento che ne seguì, scrisse numerosissime lettere (cfr. Epistolario P.Chiara cit. in ) in cui deprecava in modo reciso l'accaduto e soprattutto non riconobbe mai, negli eventi, la paternità culturale del movimento illuminista. Ad esso aveva assistito come semplice spettatore, non avendone percepito mai la dirompente potenzialità e non condividendone nessuna delle istanze che, ad esempio, Montesquieu espresse nei confronti dell'iniquo sistema già dal 1721 (cfr. Montesquieu, Lettres Persanes) e riteneva che, pur con qualche modifica, il governo della classe nobiliare fosse il migliore possibile. Un esame attento ed approfondito della posizione politica del Casanova è stato compiuto da Feliciano Benvenuti (Casanova politico, atti del convegno: Giacomo Casanova tra Venezia e l'Europa, 16.11.1998, Gilberto Pizzamiglio, fondazione Giorgio Cini, Venezia, ed. Leo S. Olschki, 2001, pag. 1 e seg.)  Il cognome Casanova è attestato appartenere a nobile famiglia vissuta a Cesena, Milano, Parma, Torino-Dronero  Casanova afferma che dalla città spagnola il suo antenato, padre Jacob Casanova, a seguito del rapimento di una monaca, Donna Anna Palafox, sarebbe fuggito, nel 1429, a Roma in cerca di un rifugio dove, dopo aver scontato un anno di carcere, avrebbe ricevuto il perdono e la dispensa dei voti sacerdotali da parte del pontefice in persona, potendo così unirsi in matrimonio con la rapita. A questo riguardo è interessante la tesi di Jean-Cristophe Igalens (G. Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition établie par Jean-Christophe Igalens et Érik Leborgne, Laffont, pag. XL, op. cit. in Opere postume) il quale sostiene che la genealogia inserita dal Casanova all'inizio delle Memorie sia del tutto fantasiosa. Si tratterebbe di una sorta di parodia di ciò che facevano regolarmente i memorialisti aristocratici dell'epoca i quali, all'inizio dell'opera, enunciavano il loro antico lignaggio, quasi a ricercare una legittimazione per il fatto di esporre, in un'opera letteraria, le vicende di cui erano stati protagonisti, almeno quelle pubbliche, poiché le private rientravano nell'ambito dell'autobiografia. La tesi appare fondata se si considera che la ricostruzione genealogica proposta dal C. risale addirittura al 1428, cioè a tre secoli dalla sua nascita ed è relativa a un cognome, praticamente un toponimo, estremamente comune.  A conferma del fatto che la nascita illegittima di Casanova fosse oggetto di chiacchiere, va citato un passaggio de La commediante in fortuna di Pietro Chiari (Venezia 1755) in cui si tratteggia un ritratto precisissimo di Casanova che chiunque era in grado di riconoscere sotto le spoglie di un nome di fantasia, il Signor Vanesio "C'era tra gli altri un certo Signor Vanesio dì sconosciuta e, per quanto dicevasi, non legittima estrazione, ben fatto della persona, di colore olivastro, di affettate maniere e di franchezza indicibile". Evidentemente il riferimento a tratti somatici tipici e riconoscibili fa pensare che le dicerie fossero suffragate da una notevole somiglianza fisica con Michele Grimani. L'identificazione del Signor Vanesio con Casanova è pacifica, tra i tanti autori, concordi sul punto, si veda: E.Vittoria Casanova e gli Inquisitori di Stato cit. in bibl. pag. 25.  (Immatricolazione 29 novembre 1737 col numero 122, iscrizione al secondo anno 26 novembre 1738, fede di terzeria del 20 gennaio, 22 marzo e I maggio 1739. Fonte: Bruno Brunelli, Casanova studente, in “Il Marzocco” 15 aprile 1923, pag 1-2)  Il 2 aprile 1742 firmò un testamento in qualità di testimone.  Sull'ubicazione esatta della casa natale di Casanova e di quella in cui trascorse l'infanzia dal 1728 al 1743, anno della morte della nonna materna Marzia, si è discusso moltissimo. Certo è che al momento del matrimonio Gaetano e Zanetta Casanova non disponevano di un reddito tale da sostenere un spesa come quella affrontata, dal 1728 in poi, di 80 ducati annui. Quindi molto probabilmente, dopo il matrimonio avvenuto il 27 febbraio 1724, i coniugi andarono a vivere a casa della madre di Zanetta, Marzia Baldissera, cheera vedova essendo mortole il marito Girolamo Farussi poche settimane avanti il matrimonio della figlia. E questa con ogni probabilità fu la casa in cui Casanova nacque il 2 aprile 1725 con l'assistenza della levatrice Regina Salvi. L'identificazione esatta della casa natale è assai ardua, ma comunque è stata tentata. Il casanovista Helmuth Watzlawick ha identificato la casa di Marzia Baldissera con l'attuale civico 2993 di Calle delle muneghe. Questa sarebbe dunque la casa natale di Casanova (Fonte: Helmuth Watzlawick, House of childhood, house of birth; a topographical distraction, in Intermédiaire des Casanovistes, Genève Année XVI 1999, pag. 17 e seg.). I coniugi Casanova si trasferirono nella casa di Calle della Commedia al ritorno dalla fortunata tournée londinese quando rientrarono a Venezia col secondogenito Francesco, nato a Londra il primo di giugno 1727. Tale abitazione risulta essere stata di gran rappresentanza, su tre livelli, con un salone al secondo piano che fu usato in occasione di feste. L'affitto di 80 ducati annui era circa il doppio della media che veniva corrisposta nel vicinato per appartamenti evidentemente meno lussuosi. A questo punto sembrerebbe tutto chiaro, si tratta solo di trovare in Calle della commedia un'abitazione che corrisponda alla descrizione: grandezza, salone al secondo piano e camera al terzo, nonché corrispondenza con la proprietà che si sa essere stata con certezza della famiglia Savorgnan. L'unica che potrebbe corrispondere alla descrizione è quella sita nell'attuale Calle Malipiero (già Calle della Commedia) al civico 3082. Ma su questo non tutti gli studiosi concordano, tanto che la lapide apposta in calle Malipiero dice "In una casa di questa calle, già Calle della Commedia, nacque il 2 aprile 1725 Giacomo Casanova" senza alcun altro più specifico elemento. Alcuni sostengono che a causa di rimaneggiamenti interni non è più possibile identificare la struttura originaria. Uno studioso dell'argomento, Federico Montecuccoli degli Erri, ha pubblicato (L'intermédiaire des Casanovistes, Genève Année XX, 2003, pag.3 e seg.) un'analisi molto approfondita basata sulle cosiddette "Condizioni" cioè sulle dichiarazioni dei redditi immobiliari che venivano presentate dai proprietari. All'epoca, per verificare l'esattezza dei dati dichiarati, si procedeva ad un'ispezione diretta casa per casa effettuata, in ogni parrocchia, dal parroco. Egli procedeva con un certo ordine chiedendo a ognuno il titolo di possesso. I proprietari dichiaravano il titolo di proprietà e gli affittuari dovevano o esibire il contratto oppure giurare le condizioni contrattuali. Poiché è stato ritrovato il documento in cui la madre di Zanetta, Marzia, giurava per la figlia, nel frattempo trasferitasi per lavoro a Dresda, che il contratto prevedeva un affitto di 80 ducati annui e che l'immobile era di proprietà Savorgnan, conosciamo con certezza i dati contrattuali e la residenza indicata sull'atto, cioè Calle della Commedia. Purtroppo le modifiche urbanistiche e catastali intervenute non consentono con certezza l'identificazione, anche perché all'epoca non esistevano dati catastali precisi. Secondo lo studioso citato, l'abitazione è da identificarsi con la casa al civico 3089 della Calle degli orbi che all'epoca potrebbe essere stata designata come Calle della Commedia. Corrisponderebbero sia l'aspetto fisico che la proprietà. Comunque tutte queste ipotesi si muovono entro un fazzoletto di spazio di poche centinaia di metri; infatti è certo che i Casanova abitavano, per motivi di lavoro, nei pressi del Teatro San Samuele, di proprietà dei Grimani. Documento: Calle della Commedia 324|casa|Giovanna Casanova comica al presente s'attrova in Dresda, giurò Marzia sua Madre|N.H Zuanne e F.llo Co. Savornian|d.ti 80 (annui) Registro dell'anno 1740 Atti della Parrocchia di S.Samuele.  Non nel noto lazzaretto del Vanvitelli, ma in quello in uso precedentemente.  Si è mantenuta la cronologia quale risulta dal testo delle Memorie. L'autore ha qui, come in altri casi, confuso le date o fuso insieme più viaggi. In realtà la permanenza nel Lazzaretto era durata dal 26 (o 27) ottobre 1743 al 23 (o 24) novembre 1743. Quindi l'intervallo tra i due viaggi è stato di tre mesi, non di sette. Come affermato dall'autore, il soggiorno si svolse nel Lazzaretto "Vecchio", in quanto quello "Nuovo", pur terminato nel febbraio del 1743, iniziò a funzionare solo nel 1748 allorché la Reverenda Camera Apostolica se ne prese carico. Sull'argomento si veda: Furio Luccichenti, Quattro settimane nel Lazzaretto in L'Intermédiaire des Casanovistes Genève, Année XXVIII, anno  pag. 711. In tale studio viene ricostruita la situazione dei lazzaretti di Ancona e confrontato il racconto casanoviano con le risultanze di archivio relative ai progetti e all'iconografia degli edifici adibiti alle quarantene.La cronologia della permanenza è stata stimata dall'autore nel periodo 26.10/23.11.1743. Un'altra cronologia differisce di un giorno soltanto: 27.10/24.11.1743 (J. Casanova, Histoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original, suivi de textes inédits. Editore Robert Laffont,  I, Cronologia, pag. XXX, cit. in bibl.) Il progetto di ristrutturazione del Lazzaretto "Vecchio", datato 1817, si conserva nell'Archivio di Stato di Roma (Collezione Mappe e Piante, Parte I, Cart. 2, n° 87/I, II, III.). Esso consente di verificare lo stato del fabbricato all'epoca della permanenza del Casanova.  Il personaggio di Teresa/Bellino ripropone una tematica ricorrente cioè la questione dell'aderenza alla realtà dei fatti riportati nell'Histoire e il considerare il personaggio descritto come realmente esistito. L'identificazione di Teresa con Angela Calori, nota virtuosa, cioè cantante, di gran successo, si basa su ricerche effettuate già dai casanovisti del passato, come Gustavo Gugitz, il quale però ritenne che il personaggio fosse in realtà una costruzione letteraria. Teresa viene spesso citata nell'Histoire sotto il nome fittizio di Teresa Lanti, maritata con Cirillo Palesi, nome anch'esso fittizio. Ma molte delle notizie, date e fatti riferiti nel racconto casanoviano non quadrano con quelli attribuibili alla Calori. Quest'ultima è anche ricordata direttamente nell'Histoire allorché Casanova riferisce di averla incontrata a Londra e di aver provato, vedendola, le stesse sensazioni avute in occasione di un incontro, a Praga, con Teresa/Bellino, il che ha indotto taluni a considerare questo fatto una prova che la Teresa delle memorie fosse effettivamente la Calori. Molti studiosi (tra gli altri Furio Luccichenti) propendono per l'assemblaggio d'invenzione, cioè pensano che Casanova abbia costruito il personaggio di cui parla con elementi derivanti da più persone diverse, il che non esclude che l'autore possa essersi ispirato, in larga misura, anche alla Calori. Comunque gli studiosi non demordono: Sandro Pasqual (L'intreccio, Casanova a Bologna, 2007, pag. 33 e seguenti, cit. in bibl.) ha ipotizzato trattarsi non della Calori, ma di un'altra famosa cantante bolognese, Vittoria Tesi, nota per il suo fascino androgino e per aver interpretato spesso en travestie parti maschili. La tendenza a romanzare del Casanova sarebbe in questo caso particolarmente stimolata dall'ambiente e dai ruoli dei personaggi descritti. Egli ebbe sempre, infatti, fortissimi legami col mondo teatrale, essendo figlio di attori e avendo frequentato tutta la vita teatri e teatranti. Curiosamente, ogni volta che rappresenta un personaggio femminile che ha a che fare col teatro, sia cantante o ballerina, lo descrive, salvo rarissimi casi, in modo particolarmente negativo; come se, pur attratto da quel mondo, ne disprezzasse profondamente gli interpreti, attribuendo, soprattutto a quelli femminili, le peggiori inclinazioni alla falsità, all'avidità e al calcolo. Teresa/Bellino è una delle eccezioni, il che farebbe propendere per l'idealizzazione, cioè per la non rispondenza alla realtà del personaggio, peraltro nascosto, come si è detto, sotto un nome fittizio. Sul rapporto tra l'Histoire e il mondo del teatro si veda, di Cynthia Craig, Representing anxiety. The figure of the actress in Casanova's Histoire de ma vie. L'intermédiaire des casanovistes, Genève, Année 2003 XX.  Marco Barbaro (19 luglio 1688-25 novembre 1771), patrizio veneziano del ramo Barbaro di San Aponal, figlio di Anzolo Maria, morto senza figli, lasciò a Casanova un legato di sei zecchini al mese. (Fonte: Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original, suivi de textes inédits. Editore Robert Laffont cit. in bibl.  I pag. 997, che rinvia a Salvatore di Giacomo, Historia della mia fuga dai Piombi, Milano)  Marco Dandolo, patrizio veneziano del ramo Dandolo di San Giovanni e Paolo. Documento: Testamento di Marco Dandolo 28 marzo 1779 in Archivio di Stato di Venezia. Legato testamentario "...Raccomando alla loro bontà la persona di Giacomo Casanova, che mi fu in tutta la sua vita attaccato col cuore, e amoroso alla mia persona, e che ha mostrato in ogni tempo la più comendabile gratitudine a' miei pochi benefizj. Dichiaro che a lui appartengono tutti i mobili, che sono nella stanza in cui dorme.......... Al suddetto Giacomo Casanova lascio il mio orologio d'oro e le mie quattro possate d'argento"  (Fonte: L'Histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Michele Mari, cit. in, pag.29 nota 104).  L'identificazione di "Henriette" insieme a quella di "Suor M.M." è stato uno degli argomentipiù dibattuti dai casanovisti. Il motivo di tante accanite ricerche è connesso con la centralità sentimentale di questi due personaggi nella vita di Casanova. Il nome di Henriette ricorre di con tinuo nelle Memorie e la sua identità è stata mascherata accuratamente dall'autore. Tra le identificazioni che si sono susseguite quelle più autorevoli sono da ascrivere a: John Rives Childs  (1960), che sostenne trattarsi di Jeanne-Marie d'Albert de Saint Hyppolite, nata il 22 marzo 1718, sposata a Jean-Baptiste Laurent Boyer de Fonscolombe, nipote di Joseph de Margalet, proprietario del castello di Luynes, che si trova nella zona descritta da Casanova come quella di residenza di Henriette. Helmut Watzlawick (1989), che sostiene trattarsi di Marie d'Albertas, nata a Marsiglia il 10 marzo 1722. Louis Jean André (1996), che avrebbe identificato Henriette in Adelaide de Gueidan (1725-1786). Quest'ultima ricostruzione è sostenuta da un apparato critico impressionante che, attraverso una raccolta minuziosa di elementi (lettere, atti, iconografia, topografia della zona), conduce a una notevole verosimiglianza dell'identificazione. Immagini del castello di Valabre, residenza della famiglia De Gueidan, che secondo André corrisponderebbe perfettamente alla descrizione datane da Casanova senza nominarlo, sono visibili qui. Manca ancora però la prova inoppugnabile, una lettera o un qualsiasi manoscritto del Casanova stesso che consenta l'identificazione certa.  Molti studiosi hanno tentato l'identificazione di suor M.M. Lo studio più completo sull'argomento si deve a Riccardo Selvatico, che la identifica con Marina Morosini (R. Selvatico, Note casanovianeSuor M.M. Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti T. CXLII (1983-84) pag. 235-266.  Sul rapporto tra romanzo e autobiografia nelle Memorie si veda tra gli altri L'Histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova Michele Mari, pag. 237 e seguenti, cit. in.  Balletti era il nipote della Fragoletta, l'attempata attrice amata dal padre di Giacomo, Gaetano, al seguito della quale era arrivato in giovane età a Venezia. (Fonte: Charles Samaran, Jacques Casanova, Vénitien, une vie d'aventurier au XVIII siècle, Pag. 26, note 1,2,3. Cit. in bibl. con rinvio a un passaggio delle Memorie di Goldoni)  Casanova fu iniziato nella loggia Amitié amis choisis, probabilmente su presentazione di Balletti (Fonte: Jean-Didier Vincent, Casanova il contagio del piacere, cit. in bibl. pag. 145, nota 35).  L'affiliazione di Mozart alla Fratellanza Massonica avvenne il 14 dicembre del 1784, nella loggia “Zur Wohltätigkeit” (Alla Beneficenza) di Vienna (Fonte: Lidia Bramani, Mozart massone e rivoluzionario, pag. 56. Bruno Mondadori, 2005).  Nel novembre del 1750, Casanova ricevette i gradi di Compagno e Maestro nella loggia di S. Giovanni di Gerusalemme (cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXIII e LXIV in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.)  Malgrado la diuturna applicazione, il fatto di aver avuto eccellenti maestri come Crebillon e di aver potuto fare ampia pratica durante la permanenza in Francia, il francese di Casanova non fu mai ritenuto sufficientemente perfetto nella forma scritta, soprattutto a causa degli “italianismi” che si riscontrano numerosissimi nelle Memorie. Casanova riferisce con dovizia di particolari il suo incontro con Crebillon e la successiva intensa frequentazione allo scopo di imparare la lingua. Ammette anche i suoi limiti: infatti scrive: Per un anno intero andai da Crebillon tre volte alla settimana ma non riuscii mai a liberarmi dei miei italianismi (Fonte: G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori).  L'imputazione e la sentenza: 21 agosto 1755 Venute a cognizione del Tribunale le molte riflessibili colpe di Giacomo Casanova principalmente in disprezzo publico della Santa Religione, SS. EE. lo fecero arrestare e passar sotto li piombi. Andrea Diedo Inquisitor. Antonio Condulmer Inquisitor. Antonio Da Mula Inquisitor. L'oltrascritto Casanova condannato anni cinque sotto li piombi. Andrea Diedo Inquisitor. Antonio Condulmer Inquisitor. Antonio Da Mula Inquisitor. (VeneziaArchivio di StatoInquisitori di StatoAnnotazioniB. 534245)  Riferte di Giovanni Battista Manuzzi, confidente degli Inquisitori di Stato Incaricata la mia obbedienza dal Venerato Comando di riferire chi sia Giacomo Casanova, generalmente rilevo ch'è figlio di un comico e di una commediante; viene descritto il detto Casanova di un carattere cabalon, che si fa profittare della credulità delle persone come fece col N.H. Ser Zanne Bragadin, per vivere alle spalle di questo o di quello... Giovanni Battista Manuzzi, 22 marzo 1755....Mi sovvenne allora che lo stesso Casanova parlato mi avea ne' giorni passati della Setta de' Muratori, raccontandomi i onori e vantaggi che si hanno ad essere nel numero de' confratelli, che vi aveva dell'inclinazione il N.H. Ser Marco Donado per essere arrolato a detta Setta... Giovanni Battista Manuzzi, 12 luglio 1755.  Secondo il casanovista Pierre Gruet, il motivo fondamentale dell'arresto di Casanova è da ricercare proprio nella relazione con suor M.M. che, se l'identificazione con Marina Morosini è corretta (sul punto si veda R. Selvatico, Note casanovianeSuor M.M. Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti), apparteneva ad una delle più potenti famiglie del patriziato veneziano. I Morosini avrebbero quindi fatto pressioni sugli inquisitori per far cessare la scandalosa situazione. Cfr. Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original,....Ed. Laffont, cit. in bibl. Vol I, pag 1065. Bibliografiche    Giacomo Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, Wiesbaden-Paris, F. A. Brockhaus-Librairie Plon, 1960-62.   Giacomo Casanova, Examen des "Etudes de la Nature" et de "Paul et Virginie" de Bernardin de Saint Pierre, 1788-1789127.  Carlo Goldoni, Memorie, Torino, Einaudi, 1967158.  Fonte: Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LVI in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.  G.Casanova,Storia della mia vita, Mondadori 2001,  I, pag. 502 cit. in bibl.  (Fonte: P.Molmenti, Carteggi casanoviani)  (Fonte E.Grossato, Un bizzarro allievo dello Studio Padovano. Giacomo Casanova, in Padova e la sua provincia)  (Fonte: P.Del Negro, Giacomo Casanova e l'Padova, estratto da Quaderni per la storia dell'Padova n°25, 1992)  Aprile, maggio 1741 secondo la cronologia delle Memorie. Cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LVIII in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.  (Fonte: Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXIII in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.)  Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXIII e LXIV in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.  Fonte: Silvio Calzolari, Vita, Amori, Mistero di un libertino veneziano, cit. in bibl. pag.32: Ma perché fu fermato? Non aveva da scontare alcuna pena. L'arresto fu probabilmente organizzato dal Grimani che voleva dargli una lezione per aver venduto di nascosto i mobili della casa paterna e per aver maltrattato un suo incaricato, Antonio Razzetta, che doveva occuparsi della questione.  Si veda di Furio Luccichenti, La prassi memorialistica di Giacomo Casanova, L'Intermédiaire des casanovistes, XII (1995), pag. 27 e seguenti.  Si veda di Pierre-Yves Beaurepaire, Grand Tour', ‘République des Lettres' e reti massoniche: una cultura della mobilità nell'Europa dei Lumi », in Storia d'Italia, Annali 21, La Massoneria, Gian Mario Cazzaniga, Torino, Giulio Einaudi, 200632-49  cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXIII e LXIV in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.  cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXIII e LXIV in Casanova, Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl,  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, pag. 140 e seguenti, cit. in bibl.  Fonte: Bruno Rosada, Il Settecento veneziano. La letteratura, Venezia, Corbo e Fiore, 2007, pag. 231, cit. in bibl.  Riguardo alla paternità del quadro in questione, la precedente attribuzione a Mengs (risalente a Johann Joachim Winckelmann) è stata praticamente abbandonata dalla critica e, allo stato delle ricerche, il quadro è probabilmente attribuibile a Francesco Narici, pittore di origine genovese attivo a Napoli. La tela fu scoperta nel 1952 a Milano da un restauratore di Bologna: Armando Preziosi, il quale sosteneva di aver trovato tra la cornice, sicuramente coeva, e il quadro, un biglietto manoscritto che recava le parole Jean-Jacques Casanova 1767. Il fatto che il soggetto rappresentato possa effettivamente essere Giacomo Casanova, si basa su una serie di dati che sono: l'osservazione delle fattezze, soprattutto il naso; il fatto che essendo il quadro a grandezza naturale consenta di ipotizzare trattarsi di un uomo della stessa statura di Casanova che è nota; il fatto che i tratti assomiglino in maniera sorprendente all'altro quadro, di mano del fratello Francesco, di sicura attribuzione, sia per l'autore che per il soggetto. Inoltre l'insieme del ritratto: l'amorino, i libri, fanno pensare a una simbologia molto affine al personaggio di Casanova che, pur nello stile di vita brillante e mondano, teneva sempre a porsi come un letterato. Il quadro passò, nel 1993, da Preziosi alla collezione privata del casanovista Giuseppe Bignami di Genova. Per documentarsi sull'argomento si veda: Giuseppe Bignami, Aggiornamenti e proposte sull'iconografia casanoviana, in L'intermédiaire des casanovistes  XI, 1994, pagg. 17-23. Il mondo di Giacomo Casanova.... (catalogo della mostra a Ca' Rezzonico, 1998, cit. in bibl.). Giuseppe Bignami, Casanova tra Genova e Venezia, La Casana, n° 3 luglio-settembre 2008, pag. 25-37. Una summa dell'iconografia casanoviana, che si compone di nove opere di cui soltanto due di sicura attribuzione, è consultabile in Casanova, la passion de la liberté, catalogo della mostra organizzata dalla BNF,, Parigi, Coédition Bibliothèque nationale de France / Seuil, pag.68-71  Marino Balbi (1719-1783), monaco somasco. Era un patrizio veneziano appartenente a una casata barnabota, cioè a una di quelle famiglie patrizie che avevano perso ogni ricchezza e i cui membri erano ridotti a vivere di espedienti. Erano detti barnabotti in quanto gravitavano intorno a Campo San Barnaba (Fonte: L'histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Michele Mari, pag. 22, citato in ).  Si trattava di un certo Andreoli, custode del palazzo, che il Casanova vide approssimarsi, da una fessura del portone, "in parrucca nera e con un mazzo di chiavi in mano". Sul punto, per maggiore approfondimento, si veda il commento di Riccardo Selvatico Cento note per Casanova a Venezia, Furio Luccichenti, ed. Neri Pozza 1997, pag. 316.  Sentenza di condanna a carico di Lorenzo Basadonna, carceriere del Casanova Lorenzo Basadonna era custode delle Prigioni de Piombi, che esisteva nei camerotti per difetti del suo ministero, da quali ne provenne la fuga al primo novembre decorso da Piombi stessi delBalbi somasco, e di Giacomo Casanova, che vi erano condannati, per tenui motivi di contrasto con Giuseppe Ottaviani pur condannato ne' camerotti, ne commise la interfezione. Presi dal Tribunale gl'essami per rilevare l'origine, e i modi del non ordinario avvenimento, risultò infatti per la confessione stessa del reo il caso per proditorio in ogni sua circostanza. Tutto che però meritasse il supplizio maggiore, la clemenza del Tribunale con pieni riflessi di carità e di clemenza è devenuta alla sentenza qui contro estesa''. Alvise Barbarigo Inq.r Lorenzo Grimani Inq.r Bortolo Diedo Inq.r 175710 giugno. Lorenzo Basadonna sia condannato ne' Pozzi per anni dieci. Alvise Barbarigo Inq.r Lorenzo Grimani Inq.r Bortolo Diedo Inq.r Venezia, Archivio di Stato, Inquisitori di Stato, Annotazioni, R. 535 c.83.  Jeanne Camus de Pontcarré marchesa d'Urfé 1705-1775, sposò nel 1724 Louis-Christophe de Lascaris d'Urfé de Larochefoucauld marchese di Langeac, dal quale ebbe tre figli. Rimase vedova nel 1734 (Fonte: G. Casanova Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 2001,  II pag.1634 nota)  G. Casanova, Historie de ma vie, Libro 2, Volume 5, Capitolo 3  Molti commentatori hanno avanzato dubbi sul racconto casanoviano relativo all'istituzione della lotteria, che sarebbe servita a finanziare la costruzione della École militaireprogetto che era sostenuto in modo pressante dalla Pompadoure su particolari, relativi all'architettura dell'operazione ideata dai fratelli Ranieri e Giovanni Calzabigi, così come esposti nell'Histoire. Comunque, vista la rilevanza della documentazione, è indubitabile che Casanova abbia svolto un ruolo chiave, probabilmente mettendo a disposizioni le sue forti entrature politiche. Il che dimostrerebbe anche che il rapporto con de Bernis e il suo entourage era molto solido. Sul punto si veda G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori 2001 cit. in bibl.  II, Pag. 164 nota 1, in cui si puntualizza che la lista dei 28 ricevitori, pubblicata nel febbraio 1758, non riporta il nome di Casanova in relazione alla ricevitoria di Rue Saint Denis, citata nel racconto autobiografico. Secondo Samaran, (Jacques Casanova ecc.. Cit. In bibl.) Casanova avrebbe diretto una ricevitoria dal settembre 1758 a tutto il 1759, ma a Rue Saint Martin. Si veda anche Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie…. Éd. Robert Laffont 1993 cit. in bibl.  II, pag 21 nota 4 (con rinvio a C. Meucci, Casanova Finanziere, cit. in bibl. pag. 66 e seg.), pag. 23 nota 2, (con rinvio a A. Zottoli, Giacomo Casanova) e Jean Leonnet, Les loteries d'état en France aux XVIII e XIX siécles. Imprimerie nationale, 1963, pag 15 e seg. Il decreto di fondazione della lotteria è un arrêt delConsiglio di Stato del re Luigi XV, datato 15 ottobre 1757 (BnF, Departement des Manuscrit Française 26469, fol. 198).  Del viaggio nei Paesi Bassi, come incaricato di una missione diplomatica descritto da Casanova, vi è un riscontro obiettivo: il passaporto, ritrovato a Dux, rilasciatogli il 13 ottobre 1758 da Matthys Lestevenon van Berkenroode (1715-1797), ambasciatore della Repubblica delle Sette Province a Parigi dal 1750 al 1762 (Fonte: G. Casanova Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori). Il documento originale è riprodotto in Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original,.... Ed. Laffont, cit. in bibl. Vol II, Appendice Documents pag. 1193 e seg.  Dopo il naufragio dei progetti matrimoniali di Giustiniana, la madre Anna Gazini (che aveva sposato, dopo la nascita della primogenita, sir Richard Wynne) decise di lasciare Venezia per evitare che i pettegolezzi danneggiassero le altre due figlie, Mary Elizabeth, nata nel 1741, e Teresa Susanna, nata nel 1742. La partenza avvenne il 2 ottobre 1758 (Fonte: Andrea di Robilant, Un amore veneziano, Milano, Mondadori, 2003, pag. 23 e seg. e pag. 120 e seg.).  La lettera autografa di Giustiniana Wynne è andata all'asta all'Hôtel Drouot (Parigi) il 12 ottobre 1999. Il collezionista che l'ha acquistata, e che ha voluto mantenere l'anonimato, ne ha però consentito la pubblicazione integrale (cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, L'Intermédiaire des Casanovistes anno 2003 pag. 25)  «...siete filosofo, siete onesto, avete la mia vita nelle mani, Salvattemi se c'è ancora rimedio, e se potete...»  G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori, Edizione 2001,  II, pag. 394, cit. in bibl.  Histoire, volume 15, capitolo XIX  Nous avons ici une espèce de plaisant qui serait très capable de faire une façon de Secchia Rapita, et de peindre les ennemis de la raison dans tout l'excès de leur impertinence... (Fonte: Œuvres complètes de Voltaire avec des notes... Parigi 1837,  II pag. 91)  Fonte: Frédéric Manfrin in Casanova, la passion de la liberté, Parigi, Coédition Bibliothèque nationale de France / Seuil,, Chronologie, pag. 221.  G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori 2001,  II, pag. 1508 cit. in bibl.  Marie Anne Geneviéve Augspurger, detta La Charpillon, (circa 1746-1778), nota cortigiana londinese (Fonte: G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 2001,  III pag.117 nota).  Un riscontro del soggiorno di Casanova a Berlino deriva da una annotazione nel diario di James Boswell, datata 1º settembre 1764, in cui lo scrittore scozzese accenna all'incontro avvenuto da Rufin, cioè alla locanda Zu den drei Lilien (Ai tre gigli) in Poststraße, dove anche Casanova alloggiava. In particolare scrive: Ho mangiato da Rufin dove Nehaus, un italiano, voleva brillare come grande filosofo e quindi sosteneva di dubitare di tutto, a cominciare dalla sua stessa esistenza. Lo ritenni un perfetto cretino. (A.Pottle, The Yale edition of the Private Papers of James Boswell, London 1953,  IV, pag. 67). Il nome Nehaus è la traduzione di Casanova in tedesco (con un errore di grafia = Neuhaus) e risulta che Casanova abbia usato il suo cognome tradotto, con diverse forme. Ad esempio, in una lettera a lui indirizzata a Wesel, si legge come destinatario comte de Nayhaus de Farussi, Farussi era il cognome della madre del Casanova. (Fonte: Helmut Watzlawick, Casanova and Boswell, nota in L'Intermédiaire des Casanovistes, XXIII 2006, pag 41).  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. Cap. XVII pag. 271. Casanova passò la frontiera russa a Riga sotto il nome di Farussi, cognome della madre (cfr. Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, pag. LXXIV in Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.)  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. Cap. XIX pag. 273, 274. Secondo quanto affermato nelle Memorie, Casanova incontrò varie volte la sovrana, sottoponendole vari progetti, ma senza alcun risultato.  Franciszek Ksawery Branicki, conte di Korczak, (1730–1819). Sul contesto storico in cui si muoveva Branicki, che era un rappresentante della nobiltà filorussa, la cui collusione con la potente nazione vicina rappresentò un vero e proprio tradimento, si può consultare la voce dedicata a Tadeusz Kościuszko, in particolare il paragrafo "Ritorno in Polonia".  Anna Binetti (cognome di nascita Ramon) celebre ballerina, nota in tutta Europa. Sposò nel 1751 il ballerino Georges Binet. Dopo il ritiro dalle scene (circa 1780) si dedicò all'insegnamento della danza a Venezia (Fonte: G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 2001,  III pag.1183 nota)  G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori 2001,  III, pag. 285 e seguenti, cit. in bibl.  La vicenda sollevò un clamore notevole e fu riportata nelle cronache. Una descrizione dei fatti, che ricalca sostanzialmente il racconto casanoviano e ne attesta la veridicità, si trova in una lettera datata 19 marzo 1766, scritta da Giuseppe Antonio Taruffi, segretario del nunzio apostolico Antonio Eugenio Visconti, e spedita da Varsavia a Francesco Albergati Capacelli (Ernesto Masi, Ed. Zanichelli Bologna, 1878. La vita i tempi gli amici di Francesco Albergati pagg. 196 e seg. e nota 1 pag. 203.)  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. Cap. XIX pag. 288.  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. Cap. XIX pag. 293. Cfr. anche, per la data di morte di Bragadin e la data in cui la notizia fu appresa da Casanova (26 ottobre), Helmut Watzlawick, Chronologie, in Histoire de ma vie, tome I. Édition publiée sous la direction de Gérard Lahouati,, cit. in bibl.)  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova. I soggiorni romani di Casanova furono tre: il primo dal 1º settembre 1743 al 23 febbraio 1744; il secondo dal dicembre 1760 al 5 febbraio 1761; il terzo dal 14 maggio 1770 a fine maggio 1771. I personaggi descritti, numerosissimi, sono noti alle cronache del tempo e quindi è possibile ritenere veridico il racconto che consente riscontri obiettivi. Uno dei riscontri è costituito da un documento che certifica la presenza a Roma del Casanova durante la Quaresima del 1771. Documento: Stato delle anime 1771, in Registri parrocchiali di S.Andrea delle Fratte Piazza di SpagnaCasa del Conservatorio di S.Eufemia Francesco Poletti anni 51 M. Angela moglie.anni 40 Margarita figlia zitella anni 16 Tommaso figlio anni 20 Vincenzo figlio anni 14 Anna Proli serva anni 40  Piggionanti  Giovanni Nicolao Fedriani anni 22 Giuseppe fratello anni 18 D. Giacinto Cerreti anni 37 Il signor Giacomo Casanova...anni 46  L'immobile in questione è quello, antistante l'Ambasciata di Spagna, sito nella piazza all'attuale numero civico 32. L'abitazione del Casanova era al secondo piano. (Fonte: A.Valeri Casanova a Roma cit. in bibl.)   Si è a lungo discusso circa l'esistenza di ulteriori capitoli che dovrebbe essere comprovata dal titolo originale dell'opera: Histoire de ma vie jusqu'à l'an 1797, come risulta dalla prima pagina della prefazione. Tuttavia ciò rimane solo un'ipotesi, perché non è stato mai trovato un manoscritto riguardante il periodo successivo al 1774. Va quindi considerato che, fino alla data in questione, la fonte primaria delle vicende di Casanova sono le sue Memorie; dopo il termine temporale delle medesime ci si è basati su epistolari o notizie di altro tipo: scritti di contemporanei, registrazioni amministrative, notizie apparse su gazzette. Alcuni autori hanno tentato una ricostruzione cronologica dei fatti utilizzando i documenti disponibili, tra cui il Brunelli (Bruno Brunelli, Vita di Giacomo Casanova dopo le sue memorie, cit. in bibl.) e il Bartolini (Elio Bartolini, Casanova dalla felicità alla morte 17741798, cit. in bibl.). Evidentemente le notizie riguardanti il periodo compreso temporalmente nelle Memorie sono enormemente più numerose di quelle relative al periodo successivo. Circa l'attendibilità e la precisione delle notizie riportate nelle Memorie, il dibattito è stato amplissimo, ma numerosissimi riscontri ne hanno comprovato la sostanziale veridicità.  Il viaggio da Trieste a Venezia iniziò il 10 settembre 1774; la data è verificabile da una notizia apparsa sulla Gazzetta Goriziana “Sabato 10 corrente è passato per qua il signor Giacomo Casanova di Saint Gall celebre per li diversi famosi incontri da lui avuti, girando l'Europa; come non meno per le opere da lui stampate, fra le quali abbiamo già annunziato in un nostro foglio la Storia delle vicende di Polonia; ha egli inaspettatamente ottenuto il suo perdono e dopo venti anni si è restituito a Venezia sua patria”. (fonte: Rudj Gorian Editoria e informazione a Gorizia nel Settecento: la “Gazzetta goriziana”, Trieste, Deputazione di Storia Patria per la Venezia Giulia, pag. 221-223).  È da osservare che la notorietà del personaggio era grande e che anche della sua attività di scrittore, oltre che di avventuriero, si parlava molto, negli ambienti intellettuali, ancor prima del suo rientro a Venezia. In una lettera datata Venezia Elisabetta Caminer, rivolgendosi a Giuseppe Bencivenni Pelli, scrive "...È dunque costì quel famoso Casanova che ha fatto tante pazzie e alcune cose buone? Io lo conosco assai di nome, e mio padre lo conosce anche di persona. Ditemi, in che le sue maniere sono diverse dalle vostre? Qual tuono è il suo? Voi già sapete la sua prodigiosa fuga da' piombi di Venezia. Stampa egli codesta sua Storia della Polonia? Avete voi letta la sua confutazione dell'opera di Amelot della Houssaye?..." (Fonte: Rita Unfer Lukoschik,  Lettere di Elisabetta Caminer, organizzatrice culturale, Edizioni Think Adv, Conselve, Padova, 2006).  Si tratta di Lorenzo Morosini, Alvise Emo, Pietro Pisani, Nicolò Erizzo, Andrea Tron, Sebastiano Venier.  L'elenco completo dei sottoscrittori è consultabile in: G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 1965, Piero Chiara, vol VII. (pag.293 e seg.)  Delle lettere di Casanova alla Buschini non resta nulla ma, poiché spessissimo la Buschini, nel testo, ripete le notizie inviatele e le richieste di notizie rivoltele, è facile ricavare, almeno in parte, il testo delle lettere ricevute. A Dux sono state reperite da Aldo Ravà 38 lettere di Francesca Buschini che coprono il periodo dal luglio del 1779 all'ottobre del 1787. Di queste, 33 sono state riportate nel volume Lettere di donne a Giacomo Casanova Aldo Ravà, Milano, Treves 1912 cit. in bibl. L'edizione critica più recente delle lettere di Francesca Lettres de Francesca Buschini à G. Casanova, 1996, è stata edita Marco Leeflang, Utrecht, Marie-Françose Luna, Grenoble, Antonio Trampus, Trieste, cit. in bibl. La corrispondenza consente di ricostruire gli anni successivi al secondo esilio di Giacomo Casanova. Attraverso esse si vive il dramma umano della Buschini la quale, col passare degli anni, era sempre più avvolta da una cupa povertà, da dolori familiari causati dal fratello, che praticamente viveva alle sue spalle e dalla madre, che col tempo diveniva sempre più intollerante. Quando Casanova dovette sospendere i suoi aiuti in denaro, essendo ormai nell'impossibilità materiale di inviarne, la Buschini si ritrovò letteralmente in mezzo alla strada, dovendo lasciare l'appartamento di Barbaria delle Tole, non avendo più la possibilità di pagare l'affitto. Nessuna notizia ulteriore ci è giunta, ma la sua testimonianza di lenta emarginazione è oltremodo toccante.  A.Ravà, Lettere di donne a Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. p.176 e nota. Fonte dell'ammontare del canone: A.Ravà,  J. Marsan, Sui passi di Casanova a Venezia. Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, cit. in bibl. pag. 347  Fonte: G. Casanova, Analisi degli studi sulla natura... G. Simeoni. Ed. Pendragon 2003, pag. 9. Il testo del libello è stata oggetto di una pubblicazione a tiratura limitata Furio Luccichenti, ed. Il collezionista 1981. Si è ipotizzato che il Grimani abbia incaricato della redazione della replica Girolamo Molin, tuttavia il libello non fu mai dato alle stampe all'epoca, ma fu fatto circolare in forma manoscritta (Fonte: Bruno Brunelli, Vita di Giacomo Casanova dopo le sue memorie, cit. in bibl. pag.68 nota 9).  Foscarini morì il 23 aprile del 1785.  Il conflitto con la servitù del castello divenne con gli anni sempre più acuto, tanto da far giudicare insostenibile la permanenza al castello del maggiordomo Georg Feldkirchner, che fu infatti rimosso dall'incarico. La diatriba fu poi oggetto dell'opera Lettres écrites au sieur Faulkircher... (vedi in ) nella quale Casanova trasfuse tutto l'astio accumulato per le persecuzionia suo diresubite.  Il concetto è ripreso da un passo di Piero Chiara (cfr. G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, ed. Mondadori 1965, Piero Chiara, vol VII. pag.13, 14)...Ma il Casanova è quello che è, e non vuole essere altro; vero eroe del suo tempo per l'audacia, la sincerità con la quale lo visse, allo sbaraglio, senza temere i colpi di spada o di pistola, il carcere o l'esilio, pur di consumare fino all'ultimo l'avventura della sua esistenza in un'epoca in cui la vita era un'opera d'arte e si poteva farne, con vera gioia, un capolavoro dei sensi.....  Il casanovista Helmut Watzlawick ha pubblicato (cfr. L'intermédiaire des casanovistes, anno XXIII, 2006 pag. 38) una breve nota intitolata Lieu de sepolture de Casanova, in cui riferisce la notizia, comunicatagli da uno studioso tedesco, Hermann Braun, di una testimonianza sull'argomento individuata nell'opera di un memorialista e storico coevo al Casanova: Johann Georg Meusel (1743-1820), professore di storia a Erlangen. Meusel, nella sua opera Archiv für Künstler und Kunst-Freunde (Dresda, 1805  I parte seconda, pag. 172) fa il seguente commento: «L'aîne, Jacques Casanova, Docteur en Droit de Padoue et bibliothécaire de Comtes de Waldstein-Warthemberg, à Dux en Bohème, où il mourût aussi, immortalisé par un monument plein de goût que le Comte lui a fait ériger dans son jardin, où il le faisait aussi enterrer selon son propre désir.» Pare quindi evidente che la sepoltura fosse ubicata all'interno del parco del castello e il conte vi avesse fatto erigere un monumento “pieno di gusto” in memoria del suo bibliotecario. Il conte Waldstein aveva certamente dell'affetto per Casanova, oltre al legame derivante dalla comune appartenenza alla Massoneria, se è vero che gli conferì un incarico formale di bibliotecario ma in pratica, visto lo scarso impegno che comportava, una pensione, che lo mantenne per lunghi anni provvedendo a tutti i suoi bisogni e che spesso dovette far fronte ai suoi debiti, talvolta cospicui, con gli editori. È quindi più che logico che abbia deciso di onorarne la memoria con una sepoltura degna e con un monumento funebre. Inoltre il Meusel è conosciuto come un biografo scrupoloso e non avrebbe avuto motivo per inventare un dettaglio facilmente verificabile da parte dei suoi lettori, tra i quali Francesco Casanova, fratello minore di Giacomo e famoso pittore, al quale Meusel dedicò, nella medesima opera, un contributo biografico e che era ancora in vita al tempo della redazione dell'opera. Come sostiene Watzlawick, per avere la prova certa, bisognerebbe revisionare la contabilità del castello al momento della morte del Casanova, cercando la traccia dei pagamenti effettuati per la sepoltura e l'erezione del monumento.  Edizione in tre tomi basata sul manoscritto conservato presso la BNF, con le varianti di testo relative a passi rimaneggiati dall'autore. Attualmente () è l'edizione critica di riferimento.  Archivio Alinari, su alinariarchives.  Archivio GrangerNew York  Opere di LonghiCasanovaUbication: Firenze  Miti e personaggi della modernità: Dizionario di storia, letteratura, arte, musica e cinema, edizioni Bruno Mondadori,: «Nell'arte. Di Casanova esistono alcuni ritratti, tra cui un dipinto giovanile a opera del fratello, uno di Lon ghi che lo raffigura all'epoca della maturità (Collezione Gritti, Venezia), e un terzo attribuibile a Mengs» (NDR: oggi quest'ultimo è attribuito a Francesco Narici)  Il quadro, conservato un tempo nella collezione Gritti di Venezia, poi a Firenze, e qua riprodotto in bianco e nero in una fotografia o una stampa eseguita forse negli anni '30, sarebbe stato eseguito presumibilmente nel 1774 allorché Casanova rientrò a Venezia dall'esilio. Sembra si trattasse di un lavoro a olio su tavola di dimensioni sconosciute donato dall'artista a un membro della famiglia Gritti. Successivamente passò a Francesco Antonio Gritti di Treviso, zio materno dell'avvocato Ugo Monis di Roma che lo ereditò dalla sorella di Francesco Antonio, Maria Gritti Rizzi. Nel 1934 il quadro faceva ancora parte della collezione di Monis. Molto dubbia l'identificazione del Casanova nel soggetto ritratto che apparentemente non sembra superare la quarantina mentre, all'epoca in cui dovrebbe essere stato eseguito il ritratto, Casanova era vicino ai cinquant'anni. Una summa dell'iconografia casanoviana, che si compone di nove opere di cui soltanto due di sicura attribuzione, è consultabile in Casanova, la passion de la liberté, catalogo della mostra organizzata dalla BNF,, Parigi, Coédition Bibliothèque nationale de France/Seuil, pag.68-71. Su Alessandro Longhi si veda l'amplissimo studio di Paolo Delorenzi (consultabile su Ca' Foscari online). In particolare a pag. 237 vengono riassunte le vicende del ritratto con richiami bibliografici a Ver Heyden De Lancey C., Les portraits de Jacques et de François Casanova, «Gazette des Beaux-Arts», Bernier G., Beau garçon, Casanova?, «L‟OEil», La questione è stata oggetto di un cospicuo dibattito sul quale spesso ha pesato il giudizio moralmente negativo circa la personalità dell'autore. Soprattutto al primo apparire di opere critiche sulla questione, cioè alla fine dell'Ottocento, primi del Novecento, si tendeva a separare la indiscussa validità storica delle Memorie, nel loro complesso, dal giudizio di riprovazione morale nei confronti dell'autore e dei passi delle memorie ritenuti sconvenienti. Posizione questa ad esempio assunta da Benedetto Croce il quale si occupò ripetutamente di personaggi e vicende casanoviane (si veda: Personaggi casanoviani in Aneddoti e profili settecenteschi, ed. Sandron 1914) pur definendo le Memorie "un libro osceno" (B.Croce, Salvatore di Giacomo e il canto del grillo in "la Critica"). Col tempo il valore storico e letterario cominciò ad avere sempre più numerosi sostenitori, come Ettore Bonora il quale scrisse...fissati i loro limiti. i Mémoires restano un libro eccezionale, rappresentativo quant'altri mai del mondo settecentesco, un libro che, per la sua stessa ricchezza di materiali quanto pochi altri, può rivelare a un lettore paziente lo spirito della vecchia società che la Rivoluzione doveva distruggere (E.Bonora Letterati, memorialisti e viaggiatori del Settecento, pag 717, citato in ). Fonte: T. Iermano, Le scritture della modernità, citato in.  Emblematico a questo riguardo è il caso del romanzo utopistico Icosameron (Praga, 1788) che costituì un tale insuccesso editoriale da minare definitivamente la già non florida situazione finanziaria del Casanova. Malgrado gli sforzi dei volenterosi sottoscrittori, si accumulò una perdita di duemila fiorini, secondo una nota autobiografica rinvenuta a Dux, di ottocento zecchini secondo una lettera a Pietro Antonio Zaguri. Cifre comunque di grande rilievo che costrinsero l'incauto scrittore e improvvisato editore a ricorrere a prestiti usurari, dando in pegno i pochissimi beni residui e perfino capi di vestiario (Fonte: Elio Bartolini Vita di Giacomo Casanova, ed. Mondadori 1998, pag. 389 e seg.).  Fonte: Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova. La redazione della Confutazione fu soltanto uno dei tanti elementi della lunga strategia che condusse all'ottenimento del perdono da parte delle autorità della Repubblica e il consenso al ritorno in patria dell'esule, il che avvenne peraltro anni dopo. La pubblicazione dell'opera fu sicuramente appoggiata da Girolamo Zulian il quale, pur privo di parentele influenti, stava compiendo un percorso politico lusinghiero e attraverso il sostegno a Casanova si aspettava di ottenere dai patrizi che lo appoggiavano, alcuni dei quali molto influenti come i Memmo e il procuratore Lorenzo Morosini, di essere aiutato a sua volta nel prosieguo della carriera. Zulian era anche vicino ad ambienti massonici il che spiegava ulteriormente il suo agire. Sul gruppo di patrizi che sosteneva le ragioni di Casanova ed era fautore del perdono si veda Piero Del Negro, Il patriziato veneziano nell'Histoire de ma vie, in L'Histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Michele Mari, cit. in, pag.25, 26 nota 90. Si veda inoltre la lettera di Casanova a Zulian scritta da Lugano nel luglio del 1769, Epistolario  di Giacomo Casanova, Piero Chiara, cit. in bibl. pag. 105,106.  Il brano, un ritratto in prosa, fu intitolato dall'autore Aventuros. De Ligne riuscì a cogliere con straordinaria esattezza e rendere con estrema obiettività gli elementi del carattere del Casanova. Il passo può essere consultato qui (Mémoires et mélanges historiques et littéraires, ed. Ambroise Dupont et C. Parigi 1828).  Su come Casanova esercitasse il suo fascino sull'uditorio, con il racconto delle sue avventure, vi è una testimonianza assai qualificata, per lo spessore del personaggio, che è stata lasciata da Alessandro Verri il quale, in una lettera al fratello Pietro, inviata da Roma nel 1771, scrive:...V'è un certo uomo straordinario per le sue avventure, per nome il signor Casanova, Veneziano: egli è attualmente in Roma. Egli ha molto spirito e vivacità; ha viaggiato tutta l'Europa...Fu posto nei camerotti a Venezia...gli riuscì di fuggire...Egli racconta questa dolorosa anecdota della sua vita, successagli quindici anni or sono, con tanto interesse e forza, come se gli fosse accaduta ieri... Alla risposta del fratello, che avanzava dei dubbi sulla veridicità del racconto, Alessandro replicava:...Ultimamente gliel'ho sentita raccontare da lui stesso. Egli ha tutta l'apparenza di dire la verità: scioglie le obiezioni, ed ha un'eloquenza naturale ed ha una forza di passione che v'interessa infinitamente.. Fonte: Riccardo Selvatico Cento note per Casanova a Venezia, Furio Luccichenti ed. Neri Pozza 1997.  La lettera, datata Dux 8 aprile 1791 è consultabile in: G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita ed. Mondadori 1965, Piero Chiara, vol VII. pag. 340  Alla morte di Casanova, il manoscritto originale dell'Histoire, unitamente a quattro saggi, passò a Carlo Angiolini che nel 1787 aveva sposato Marianna, figlia della sorella di Giacomo, Maria Maddalena. Quest'ultima aveva lasciato Venezia raggiungendo la madre Zanetta a Dresda, dove aveva sposato l'organista di corte Peter August. Il manoscritto e i quattro saggi furono venduti, nel 1821, all'editore Brockhaus. Il 18 febbraio, il ministro francese della cultura, Frédéric Mitterrand, ha annunciato l'acquisto del manoscritto dell'Histoire e degli altri carteggi di proprietà di Hubertus Brockaus, da parte della Bibliothèque nationale de France.  Molti studiosi hanno analizzato, parola per parola, l'adattamento operato da Laforgue giungendo alla conclusione che si è trattato di una vera e propria riscrittura. Un'interessante analisi della questione è quella operata da Philippe Sollers (Il mirabile Casanova). L'autore procede per exempla, indicando il passo com'era stato scritto da Casanova e la versione di Laforgue, mettendo in luce la raffinatezza e la meticolosità con cui era stata operata la trasformazione (o meglio manomissione) dell'intera biografia, al duplice fine di ammorbidire i passaggi ritenuti troppo licenziosi e modificare l'ideologia dell'autore, attenuando o eliminando le affermazioni che mostravano, ad esempio, l'animosità nei confronti del popolo francese e dei crimini (tali Casanova li giudicava) di cui si era reso responsabile durante la rivoluzione, cosa diffusa tra molti intellettuali dell'epoca, anche non espressamente conservatori comunque legati al vecchio mondo, (come Vittorio Alfieri, nella Vita scritta da esso e nel Misogallo).  G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori 2001,  I pag. 733, cit. in bibl.  A questo proposito de Ligne scrive...le sue memorie, il cui cinismo,tra l'altro, pur essendo il loro più grande pregio, difficilmente le renderà pubblicabili. (C.J. de Ligne, Aneddoti e ritratti, pag. 189, cit. in bibl.),  Illuminante, a questo riguardo, il passo di una lettera datata 20 febbraio 1792, inviata da Casanova a Giovanni Ferdinando Opiz in cui lo scrivente dichiara: Per ciò che riguarda le Mie Memorie, più l'opera va avanti più mi convinco che è fatta per essere bruciata. Da questo potete capire che fin quando saranno in mie mani non verranno certo pubblicate. Sono di una tale natura di non far passare la notte al lettore; ma il cinismo che vi ho messo è tanto spinto che passa i limiti posti dalla convenienza all'indiscrezione (Fonte: Epistolari 1759-1798 di Giacomo Casanova, Piero Chiara, ed. Longanesi & C.)  Si veda in Giacomo Casanova tra Venezia e l'Europa, Gilberto Pizzamiglio, Editore Leo O. Olschki 2001, pag. 171, cit. in bibl.  G. Casanova, Storia della mia vita, Mondadori, Piero Chiara/ L'affermazione si legge nella prefazione dell'Histoire (Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Texte intégral du manuscrit original,....Ed. Laffont, cit. in bibl. Vol I, pag 10). Quindi la scelta sarebbe stata orientata soltanto dalla possibilità di maggiore diffusione dell'opera. Ma il pensiero dell'autore viene chiarito, ampliato e approfondito nella cosiddetta “Prefazione rifiutata” (Pensieri libertini, F. Di Trocchio, cit. in bibl. Pag. 55), Casanova dice Ho scritto in francese, perché nel paese dove mi trovo, questa lingua è più conosciuta di quella italiana; perché, non essendo la mia un'opera scientifica, preferisco i lettori francesi a quelli italiani; e perché lo spirito francese è più tollerante di quello italiano, più illuminato nella conoscenza del cuore umano e più rotto alle vicissitudini della vita. Come si vede, la scelta andava ben al di là di un problema di diffusione.  Stendhal fa, nella sua opera, numerosi riferimenti a Casanova e all'Histoire cfr. Promenades dans Rome, Paris, Levy/ Sul punto si veda anche Furio Luccichenti Il casanovismo fra Ottocento e Novecento in L'histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Michele Mari cit. in bibl. pag. 383.  Foscolo, durante il soggiorno londinese, recensiva opere di autori italiani. A proposito dell'Histoire casanoviana scrisse, in due diverse occasioni (sulla Westminster review dell'aprile 1827 e sulla Edinburgh review del giugno dello stesso anno), che il protagonista era di pura fantasia e le vicende narrate completamente inventate.  Balzac si ispirò largamente alle Memorie casanoviane utilizzando personaggi, nomi ed episodi per l'ambientazione veneziana delle sue opere, come nel caso di Facino Cane o per desumere spunti narrativi, come nel caso di Sarrasine. Sul punto si veda Raffaele de Cesare Balzac e Manzoni e altri studi su Balzac e l'Italia, Mondadori. Molte parti del libro, comprese le pagine indicate con relativa note, sono consultabili on line. Sempre sui collegamenti tra l'opera casanoviana e Sarrasine si veda L'histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Michele Mari, cit. in bibl. pag. 95 nota 5 con rimando a J.R. Childs, Casanova. Biographie nouvelle, pag. 64. Ed. Jean-Jacques Pauvert, Paris 1962  Hofmannstahl nel 1898 è a Venezia e scrive al padre:..mi sono comprato le Memorie di Casanova dove spero di trovare un soggetto. Il soggetto fu il Casanova stesso, rappresentato nella commedia L'avventuriero e la cantante (1899) (Fonte: L'avventuriero e la cantante con postfazione di Enrico Groppali, ed. SE).  Schnitzler scrisse varie opere ispirate alla vita dell'avventuriero, tra cui Le sorelle ovvero Casanova a Spa (ed. Einaudi) e Il ritorno di Casanova (ed. Adelphi).  Hesse scrisse il racconto La conversione di Casanova (ed. Guanda 1989) che fu pubblicato nel 1906.  Márai scrisse il romanzo La recita di Bolzano (ed. Adelphi), pubblicato a Budapest, che ha come protagonista l'avventuriero veneziano.  Salvatore di Giacomo "Casanova a Napoli" in Nuova antologia 1922.  Benedetto Croce "Aneddoti di varia letteratura", Napoli 1942. "Di un cantastorie del Settecento e di un luogo delle Memorie di Giacomo Casanova" opera il cui autografo di sei pagine è andato all'asta a Milano il 21.5.92.  Piero Chiara curò per Mondadori (1965) la prima edizione italiana basata sul manoscritto originale delle Memorie, scrisse un saggio Il vero Casanova, Mursia (1977) e molti articoli sull'argomento.  Scrive Casanova in una lettera all'Opiz Scrivo dall'alba alla sera e posso assicurarvi che scrivo anche dormendo, perché sogno sempre di scrivere. (Fonte: Piero Chiara Il vero Casanova, Mursia 1977, pag.209).  Tra le altre si veda Margherita Sarfatti, Casanova contro Don Giovanni, ed. Mondadori (1950), citata in.  La tesi è esposta in modo articolato da Francis Lacassin (Jacques Casanova de SeingaltHistoire de ma vie. Ed. Robert Laffont, I, Préface, pag. X).  Di questo avviso Piermario Vescovo (Il mondo di Giacomo Casanova, pag. 187,, ed. Marsilio 1998, citato in bibl.). Un'analisi particolarmente approfondita si deve ad Andrea Fabiano il quale esamina, in dieci tesi, tutti i motivi che rendono probabile la partecipazione (Giacomo Casanova tra Venezia e l'Europa, G. Pizzamiglio, ed. Leo S. Olschki 2001, pag. 273 e seg.). In sostanza è stato osservato che Da Ponte e Casanova si conoscevano e frequentavano, che Casanova era certamente presente a Praga nei giorni che precedettero la prima, che sia lui che Mozart erano massoni, che una serie d'incidenti aveva procrastinato la rappresentazione, costringendo a varie modifiche del testo per manifesta insoddisfazione di alcuni cantanti, che Casanova era stato sempre molto vicino per gusti e frequentazioni al mondo teatrale e autore egli stesso di opere di teatro quindi perfettamente in grado di apportare le modifiche necessarie. Inoltre sembra assai improbabile che, rientrato a Dux, si mettesse a ipotizzare varianti al testo del libretto per puro passatempo.  Sull’argomento si veda lo studio di Furio Luccichenti, in L'intermédiaire des casanovistes, Genève Année XVII 2000, pag. 21 e seg. In cui vengono minuziosamente riferite le ricerche effettuate, senza esito, nell'Archivio vaticano.   Lettere a G.C. raccolte da Aldo Ravà, Il mondo di Giacomo Casanova, Venezia, Marsilio, Casanova, la passion de la liberté, Parigi, Coédition Bibliothèque nationale de France / Seuil, Robert Abirached, Casanova o la dissipazione, Palermo, Sellerio, Louis Jean André, Memoires de l'Academie des sciences, agriculture, arts & belles lettres d'Aix. Tome 6. Aspects du XVIIIe siecle aixois, Aix-en-Provence, Ed. Académie d'Aix, Maurice Andrieux, Venise au temps de Casanova, Paris, Hachette, 1969. Roberto Archi, I giorni mantovani di Giacomo Casanova, Mantova, Sometti, Luigi Baccolo, Casanova e i suoi amici, Milano, Sugar, Luigi Baccolo, Vita di Casanova, Milano, Rusconi, Orazio Bagnasco, Vetro, Milano, Mondadori, Elio Bartolini, Casanova dalla felicità alla morte (1774/1798), Milano, Mondadori, Elio Bartolini, Vita di Giacomo Casanova, Milano, Mondadori, 1998,  88-04-45064-9.Laurence Bergreen, Casanova, The World of a Seductive Genius, New York, Simon & Schuster, Alberto Boatto, Casanova e Venezia, Bari, Laterza, Virgilio Boccardi, Casanova. La Venezia segreta, Venezia, Filippi editore, Virgilio Boccardi, Casanova. La fine del mio mondo, Treviso, Canova editore,  Ettore Bonora, Letterati memorialisti e viaggiatori del Settecento, Napoli, Riccardo Ricciardi, Annibale Bozzòla, Casanova illuminista, Modena, Editrice modenese, 1956. Giampiero Bozzolato, Casanova: Uno storico alla ventura. Istoria delle turbolenze della Polonia, Padova, Marsilio, 1974. Giampiero Bozzolato, Proposta per una revisione storiografica: Giacomo Casanova, Bari, Dedalo, Giampiero BozzolatoBoranga, Nuovi contributi agli studi casanoviani, Bari, Dedalo, 1968. Bruno Brunelli, Un'amica del Casanova, Palermo, Sandron, Bruno Brunelli, Figurine padovane nelle Memorie di Giacomo Casanova, Padova, Penada, Bruno Brunelli, Vita di Giacomo Casanova dopo le sue memorie (edizione postuma Furio Luccichenti), Roma, Intermédiaire des casanovistes (all. al fascicolo XIV), 1997. Vito Cagli, Giacomo Casanova e la medicina del suo tempo, Roma, Armando Editore,Silvio Calzolari, Casanova. Vita, Amori, Mistero di un libertino veneziano, Milano, Luni Editrice,  Bruno Capaci, Le impressioni delle cose meravigliose. Giacomo Casanova e la redenzione imperfetta della scrittura, Venezia, Marsilio, Bruno Capaci, Gianluca Simeoni, Giacomo Casanova: una biografia intellettuale e romanzesca, Napoli, Liguori, Ugo Carcassi, Casanova, anatomia di un personaggio, Sassari, Carlo Delfino Editore, Lia Celi, Andrea Santangelo, Casanova per giovani italiani, POMBA, Giuseppe Cengiarotti, Gli ultimi anni di Giacomo Casanova in Boemia. Note storich, Firenze, Atheneum, Ivo Cerman, Susan Reynolds, Diego Lucci, Casanova einlightment philosopher, Oxford, Oxford University,  Piero Chiara, Il vero Casanova, Milano, Mursia, 1977. Michele Ciliberto, Biblioteca laica. Il pensiero libero dell'Italia moderna (Giacomo Casanova, pag. 211 e seg.), Bari, Laterza, Giovanni Comisso, Agenti segreti di Venezia, Milano, Bompiani, A. Compigny des Bordes, Casanova et la marquise d'Urfé: la plus curieuse aventure galante du XVIII siècle: d'après les mémoires et des documents d'archives inédits: Paris, Librairie ancienne H. Champion, E. Champion, Dominique Cornez-Joly, La Venise de Casanova: Itinéraires d’aujourd’hui dans la ville d’autrefois, Venezia, Lineadacqua, Stefano Cosma, Il castello di Spessa a Capriva del Friuli, una lunga vacanza di Giacomo Casanova, Mariano del Friuli, Edizioni della Laguna, Benedetto Croce, Personaggi casanoviani in Aneddoti e profili settecenteschi, Palermo, Sandron, Carlo Curiel, Gustavo Gugitz; Aldo Ravà, Patrizi e avventurieri, dame e ballerine in cento lettere inedite o poco note, Milano, Corbaccio, 1930. Carlo Curiel, Trieste settecentesca, Palermo, Sandron, 1922. Marina Cvetaeva, Phoenix, Milano, Archinto, Lorenzo Da Ponte, Memorie, Milano, Garzanti, 1976. Gino Damerini, Casanova a Venezia, Torino, ILTE,Alessandro D'Ancona, Viaggiatori e avventurieri, Firenze, Sansoni, Alessandro D'Ancona, Casanoviana, Roma, Crescenzi Allendorf, Charles Joseph de Ligne, Aneddoti e ritratti, Palermo, Sellerio,  Michel Delon, Album Casanova. Iconographie commentée, Parigi, Gallimard, Michel Delon, Michèle Sajous D'Oria, Casanova à Venise des mots et des images, Venezia, Lineadacqua, Michel Delon, Casanova. Histoire de sa vie, Parigi, Gallimard, Federico Di Trocchio, Romano Forleo, Casanova e le ostetriche, Torino, Centro scientifico, M. A. Fabbri Dall'Oglio, A. Fortis, Il gastronomo errante Giacomo Casanova, Roma, Ricciardi & Associati, Stefano Feroci, Sulle orme di Casanova nel Granducato di Toscana, Signa, Masso delle Fate Edizioni, Stefano Feroci, Dominique Vibrac, Une promenade à Paris avec Giacomo Casanova, Fiesole, Duepi, Giorgio Ficara, Casanova e la malinconia, Torino, Einaudi, Lydia Flem, Casanova. L'uomo che amava le donne, davvero, Roma, Fazi, Louis Furnberg, Mozart e Casanova, Palermo, Sellerio, Roberto Gervaso, Casanova, Milano, Rizzoli, Cinzia Giorgio, Storia Erotica d'Italia, Roma, Newton Compton, Luca Goldoni, Casanova romantica spia, Milano, Rizzoli,  Kathleen Ann González, A Venezia con Casanova (edizione italiana Adriano Contini e Tiziana Businaro), Venezia, Supernova, Herman Hesse, La conversione di Casanova, Milano, Guanda, Gert Hofmann, Casanova e l'attrice, Parma, Guanda, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, L'avventuriero e la cantante, Milano, Toni Iermano, Le scritture della modernità, Napoli, Liguori, Nancy Isenberg, Caro Memmo, mon cher frére, Treviso, Elzeviro,  Joseph Le Gras, Giacomo Casanova, Napoli, S/A Cooperativa Editrice Libraria, Marco Leeflang, Utrecht, Marie-Françoise Luna, Grenoble, Antonio Trampus, Trieste, Lettres de Francesca Buschini à G. Casanova, 1996. Angelo Mainardi, Il demone di Casanova, Roma, Tre editori, Angelo Mainardi, Casanova l'ultimo mistero, Roma, Tre editori, Michele Mari, L'histoire de ma vie di Giacomo Casanova, Dip. di Filologia Moderna, Letteratura italiana. Quaderni di Acme 100, Milano, Cisalpino, Jacques Marsan, Sui passi di Casanova a Venezia, Milano, Idealibri, Achille Mascheroni, Casanova, liturgia della seduzione, Milano, Greco&Greco, Carlo Meucci, Casanova finanziere, Milano, Mondadori, Andrei Miller, Casanova innamorato, Milano, Bompiani, Pompeo Molmenti, Epistolari veneziani del secolo XVIII, Palermo, Sandron, Pompeo Molmenti, Carteggi casanoviani. Vol I, Lettere di G.Casanova e di altri a lui. Palermo, Sandron, Pompeo Molmenti, Carteggi casanoviani. Vol II, Lettere del patrizio Zaguri a G.Casanova. Palermo, Sandron, 1918. Federico Montecuccoli degli ErriCammei casanoviani. Ginevra 2006. Roberto Musì, Francesco Musì, Bernardino de Bernardis, Vescovo calabrese europeo, Cosenza, Luigi Pellegrini, Giacomo Nanni, Casanova: histoire de ma fuite, Parigi, Ed. de l'Olivier, Cornélius, Vittorio Orsenigo  A Giacomo Casanova. Lettere d'amore di Manon BallettiElisa von der Recke, Milano, Archinto, Giuseppe Ortolani, Voci e visioni del Settecento veneziano (TXT), Bologna, Zanichelli, Sandro Pasqual, L'intreccio, Casanova a Bologna, Faenza, Tratti/Mobydick, Maurizio Pincherle, Luoghi ed itinerari sentimentali di Giacomo Casanova, Leipzig, Edito dall'autore, Gilberto Pizzamiglio, Giacomo Casanova tra Venezia e l'Europa, Firenze, Leo S. Olschki, Aldo Ravà, Lettere di donne a G. Casanova, Milano, Fratelli Treves, Emilio Ravel, L'uomo che inventò se stesso, Milano, La Lepre Edizioni, James Rives Childs, Casanova, Milano, AREA, James Rives Childs, Casanoviana. An annotated world bibliography, Vienna, Nebehay, 1956. Giampiero Rorato, Giacomo Casanova, avventuriero, scrittore e agente segreto, Vittorio Veneto, Dario de Bastiani, Bruno Rosada, Casanova e il suo contrario, Dosson di Casier (Treviso), Matteo, Bruno Rosada, Il Settecento veneziano. La letteratura (cap. IX, Giacomo Casanova, Venezia, Corbo e Fiore. Maxime Rovere, Casanova, Parigi, Gallimard, Gino Ruozzi, Quasi scherzando, percorsi nel Settecento letterario da Algarotti a Casanova, Roma, Carocci, Charles Samaran, Jacques Casanova, Vénitien, une vie d'aventurier au XVIII siècle, Parigi, Calmann-Lévy, 1914. Margherita Sarfatti, Casanova contro Don Giovanni, Milano, Mondadori, Scaraffia, Il mantello di Casanova, Palermo, Sellerio, Arthur Schnitzler, Il ritorno di Casanova, Milano, Adelphi, Arthur Schnitzler, Le sorelle ovvero Casanova a Spa, Milano, Einaudi, Riccardo Selvatico, Cento note per Casanova a Venezia, Vicenza, Neri Pozza, Francesca Serra, Casanova autobiografo, Venezia, Saggi Marsilio, Francesco Sgarlata, I pensieri di Casanova. Vademecum del libertino contemporaneo, Mariano del Friuli, Edizioni della Laguna, Philippe Sollers, Il mirabile Casanova, Milano, Il saggiatore, Lorenzo Somma, Casanova. Il seduttore, l'artista, il viaggiatore, Villorba, edizioniAnordest, Antonio Valeri, Casanova a Roma, Roma, Enrico Voghera Editore, 1899. Sebastiano Vassalli, Dux, Casanova in Boemia, Torino, Einaudi, Jean-Didier Vincent, Casanova il contagio del piacere, Venezia, Canal & Stamperia Editrice, Eugenio Vittoria, G. Casanova e gli Inquisitori di Stato, Venezia, EVI, Angelandrea Zottoli, Giacomo Casanova, Roma, Tumminelli, Stefan Zweig, Tre poeti della propria vita: Casanova, Stendhal, Tolstoj, Milano, Sperling & Kupfer,  Muratore, l'uomo dai mille volti, Monteleone editore Vibo Valentia,. Nicola Mangini, CASANOVA, Giacomo, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Roma, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, Consultazione del manoscritto originale dell'Histoire. Il ministro francese della cultura, Frédéric Mitterrand, ha annunciato l'acquisto del manoscritto dell'Histoire e degli altri carteggi di proprietà di Hubertus Brockaus, da parte della Bibliothèque nationale de France. Il manoscritto può essere consultato qui. Riviste di studi casanoviani Casanova Gleanings, John Rives Childs. L'intermédiaire des casanovistes, M. Leeflang (Utrecht), F. Luccichenti (Roma), M.F. Luna (Grenoble), E. Straub (Berlino), A. Trampus (Trieste), T. Vitelli (Salt Lake City), H. Watzlawick (Vernier). Casanoviana. Rivista internazionale di studi casanoviani (), Antonio Trampus, Dipartimento di Studi Linguistici e Culturali Comparati, Università Ca' Foscari Venezia, Ca' Bembo.  Libertino (personaggio) Storia della mia fuga dai Piombi Manon Balletti Silvia Balletti Matteo Bragadin Francesco Casanova Gaetano Casanova Giovanni Battista Casanova François-Joachim de Pierre de Bernis Zanetta Farussi Michele Grimani Charles Joseph de Ligne Andrea Memmo Louise O'Murphy Giustiniana Wynne Pietro Antonio Zaguri TreccaniEnciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana.  Giacomo Casanova, in Enciclopedia Italiana, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana.  Giacomo Casanova, su hls-dhs-dss.ch, Dizionario storico della Svizzera. Giacomo Casanova, su Enciclopedia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc. Giacomo Casanova, su The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction. Giacomo Casanova, su Find a Grave.  Opere di Giacomo Casanova, su Liber Liber.  Opere di Giacomo Casanova, su openMLOL, Horizons Unlimited srl.  Opere di Giacomo Casanova, su Progetto Gutenberg. Audiolibri di Giacomo Casanova, su LibriVox.  di Giacomo Casanova, su Internet Speculative Fiction Database, Al von Ruff. Giacomo Casanova, su Internet Movie Database, IMDb.com.   Manoscritto originale dell'Histoire de ma vie su Gallica, su gallica.bnf.fr.  Sito della BNF con notizie sul manoscritto e iconografia, su expositions.bnf.fr.  Testo dell'Histoire de ma vie edizione 1880, su www-syscom.univ-mlv.fr.Testo dell'Histoire de ma vie edizione integrale in inglese, su hot.ee. Filosofi italiani. Aspetti poco noti della vita di Casanova vengono portati alla luce della recente consultazione dei documenti inediti custodii nell'archivio storico Waldstein a Praga. Emergono cosi' nuove testimonianze che non solo confermano il suo straordinario fascino esercitato sulle donne ma rivelano anche che il libertino veneziano ebbe in incontri sessuali con uomini. Ad esempio si cita i ripetuti rapporti con un uomo in maschera con cui fa un esplicito giocco erotico. Partendo da verifiche sull'opera autobiografica ''Storia della mia vita'', in cui descrive, con la massima franchezza, le sue avventure, i suoi viaggi e i suoi innumerevoli incontri galanti. Si ipotizza che ha rapporti sessuali (o 'conversazioni') con almeno una ventina di uomini. La prima testimonianza di un rapporto sarebbe legata alla sua adolescenza, quando, in seminario, dove studia per diventare prete, fu scoperto a letto con un uomo, cosa che costa a Casanova l'espulsione del seminario. Ma il numero di uomini con cui Casanova e' stato a letto non e' significativo. E' molto piu' importante sottolineare il *modo* in cui Casanova racconta le sue avventure sessuali con un uomo. E' il primo a sottolineare la qualita' del godimento, ad affermare l'idea che la comprensione del sesso e' la chiave per una comprensione di se'. Oggi, dopo oltre un secolo di dottrina psicoanalitica freudiana, cio' puo' apparire normale, ma nel secolo XVIII non lo era affatto. E questo e' un grande merito di Casanova.L’ultimo amore di Casanova: Una grande storia d'amorebooks.google.com › books· Bertolini · FOUND INSIDE ai tempi di Padova e ai giorni delle lezioni dell'abate Gozzi, che l'aveva istruito con amore per avviarlo al sacerdozio, e con un po' più di passione e di attenzione se lo era portato a letto per iniziarlo alla pratica omosessuale che Casanova si... – Grice: “Casanova was what I regard as a philosopher of sex. He fell for Bellino, an alleged castrato. In bed with  him, Bellino tells him that his name was Teresa and that her penis was an artificial phallus. Bellino had died years before but people wanted a castrato, not a girl with a girl’s voice – and she added that working on the side as a harlot, she found that most clients rather she be a ‘he’!” -- Grice: “His first experience was with a Venetian nobleman; his second one cost him the expulsion from the seminary – Altham alleges he (Casanova, not Altham) slept with “at least” twenty males!” – Grice: “Altham’s favourite is the description of the ‘erotical game’ as masked in Venice -- Giacomo Casanova. Keywords. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Casanova: conversazione sessuale, conversazione e conversazione” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Casanova.

 

Grice e Casati: l’implicatura conversazionale d’Eurialo -- ovvero, dell’amicizia – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Casati; he is from Milano, and therefore, as the Italians say, intelligent! – or ‘clever’” – His dissertation is on ‘shadow’ as used by Plato to explain that there’s ‘man,’ and “man” and the idea of “man,” so the thing is the thing, but the idea stands for the thing, and the expression stands for the thing that stands for the thing! But he has also explored ‘amicizia’, as in the case of Oreste’s alter ego, ‘Pilade,’ – also into the philosophy of sports – in sum, a typical Renaissance man of a philosopher, as he should!”  Studia a Milano con Bonomi. Pubblica la raccolta di racconti filosofici Il caso Wassermann e altri incidenti metafisici (Laterza).  Si occupa di fenomenologia dello spazio e degli oggetti. Analizzato la rappresentazione di questi due elementi secondo il senso comune. Buchi e altre superficialità (Garzanti), e Semplicità insormontabili (Laterza).  Buchi e altre superficialità è un tentativo di analizzare i diversi tipi di buco, superando il paradosso di classificare un elemento che evoca l'assenza, il vuoto e il nulla. Utilizza strumenti di filosofia della percezione, geometria, logica e topologia, ma anche linguistica e letteratura. Un esperimento epistemologico che dimostra come l'esperienza e il linguaggio quotidiani si trasformino quando diventano oggetto di un'indagine filosofica e di una formalizzazione scientifica. Un concetto che sembra semplice, di uso quotidiano, diventa sfuggente e ambiguo.  Tra i suoi principali contributi si annoverano la teoria della filosofia come arte del negoziato concettuale; la teoria 'conversazionale' degli artefatti. Tra i contributi alla metafisica analitica: la teoria dei suoni come eventi localizzati,  la regione spaziale immateriale, la struttura parte/intero totto -- -- nel dominio degli oggetti materiali, la teoria del futuro "strizzato"  nella metafisica del tempo (cf. Grice/Myro). Studia il fenomeno percettivo delle ombre e il loro contributo alla ricostruzione delle scene tridimensionali grazie alla scoperta di doppie dissociazioni nella rappresentazione delle ombre (ombre corrette che appaiono sbagliate, ombre sbagliate che appaiono corrette), scoprendo o prevedendo svariate illusioni percettive (l'illusione "copycat", l'illusione di Lippi, l'illusione della doppia ombra, la cattura delle ombre, le ombre delle ombre, il mascheramento delle ombre, le ombre di oggetti non materiali). Una parte della sua ricerca ha riguardato il modo in cui l'ombra è stata rappresentata nella pittura ed è stata usata per il ragionamento geometrico, in particolare in astronomia (La scoperta dell'ombra). Un'altra linea di ricerca riguarda gli artefatti cognitivi. I risultati principali in questo settore sono la prima e finora unica semantica formale per le mappe, una sintassi e una semantica per la notazione musicale standard, la teoria dei "micro crediti" nelle pubblicazioni scientifiche, e una teoria generale dei vantaggi cognitivi degli artefatti rappresentativi. Autore di un progettodenominato Wikilexper l'uso di strumenti wiki nella scrittura normativa, in un contesto di democrazia partecipata.  La sua Prima Lezione di filosofia difende una concezione della filosofia come arte del negoziato concettuale. Da questa tesi discende che la filosofia è molto diffusa nella società e nella scienza anche al di fuori dell'ambito accademico che le è proprio, che non esistono problemi filosofici fuori dal tempo e dalla storia, che non c'è un canone filosofico né un modo canonico di insegnare la filosofia. Altre opere: “L'immagine. Introduzione ai problemi filosofici della rappresentazione, La Nuova Italia); Buchi e altre superficialità, Garzanti); La scoperta dell'ombra, Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, Laterza); Semplicità insormontabili: 39 storie filosofiche (Laterza); Il caso Wassermann e altri incidenti metafisici, Laterza); Il pianeta dove scomparivano le cose. Esercizi di immaginazione filosofica (Einaudi); Prima lezione di filosofia, Laterza); Contro il colonialismo digitale: istruzioni per continuare a leggere, Laterza);  Dov'è il sole di notte? Lezioni atipiche di astronomia, Raffaello Cortina); L'incertezza elettorale, Aracne Editrice); Semplicemente diaboliche. 100 nuove storie filosofiche, Laterza); La lezione del freddo, Einaudi). Isola di Arturo-Elsa Morante. Stramaledettamente logico. ELEMENTI DI UNA TEORIA DELL' IMMAGINE. L'IMMAGINE COME OGGETTO MATERIALE. Paradigma e definizione. Materialità e causalità. Soggettività e realismo. L'OGGETTO DELLA VISTA E L'OGGETTO VISIVO. Le caratteristiche del mondo visivo. L'oggetto visivo. Ombra. Casi limite: trasparenza, riflesso, specchio. Vedere un oggetti materiali: la nozione di aspetto.Vedere una cosa muovendosi. Sguardo. IMMAGINE E PERCEZIONE DELL' IMMAGINE. L'immagini come medio percettivio. Aspetto ed immagine. L'Illusorio, il pre-sentativo, realismo. Le forme del realismo e il problema dello spettatore. Intenzione, convenzione, somiglianza. In favore della teoria della somiglianza   Somiglianza e rappresentazione. Alcuni casi limite. Contro la teoria della somiglianza. La complessità della percezione dell'immagine. Immagine ed im- maginazione. Vedere-come, vedere-in. LO SPAZIO NELL' IMMAGINE. Vivere nell'immagine. Direttrice, orizzonte, visione canonica e scorciatura. La continuità degli spazi. Punti di vista da nessun luogo. QUADRO E SCENA. Patologia dell'immagine: l'immaginazione e la storie percettiva. L'INDICALITÀ E IL PROBLEMA DELL'AUTO-RITRATTO. Dizionario iconografico. Quadro ed eticheta. Indicali. Verso una soluzione: lo specchio nel quadro. Alcuni esempi. Quadro nel quadro. L'IMMAGINE NELL' IMMAGINE. Contesto di interpretazione. Iterazione. Scena e immaginatori. Credenza iterata. Cornice e finestra. Cornice ed aspetto. Relazioni causali. Iterazione ridondante. I CONFINI DELL' IMMAGINE. Il Paradosso del vedere. L'implicatura di Escher e il fondamento della rappresentazione. L'implicatura di Magritte: rappresentare e immaginare. PROBLEMI APERTI. Gerarchia concettuale e gerarchia estetica. IL PRIMATO DELLA RAPPRESENTAZIONE. L'annullamento dell'immagine nella materialità. La geometria dell'espressione. La dissoluzione della rappresentazione. Lo Stilo rappresentativo. Forma e contenuto; tema e mezzi di esplicitazione. L'IMMAGINE E IL SEGNO. La metafora euristica del segno e la comunicazione. Critica. Riferimento e generalità.  La teoria che Grice e Casati propongono può chiamarsi teoria meta-cognitiva dello spunto per la conversazione -- ma ‘conversazione’ è qui un segna-posto per candidati alternativi. La teoria di Grice e C. sostiene che un artefatto (segno artificiale, non-naturale -- 'che p') e un oggetto prodotto con lo scopo precipuo essere ri-conosciuto come emesso in base all’intenzione di profferire una espressione che... – dove si può immaginare vari modi di riempire lo spazio lasciato vuoto dai puntini di sospensione. Un modo di riempire lo spazio vuoto è il seguente. Una emissione conversazionale è un oggetto con lo scopo precipuo di essere riconosciuti come creati in base all’intenzione di creare un oggetto che servisse a suscitare una qualche conversazione sulla loro produzione. Cominciamo con lo sgombrare il campo da possibili equivoci. Un’obiezione semplice è che “molte cose vengono create con lo scopo di suscitare una conversazione, e queste non sono opere d’arte, come per esempio la produzione di gesti che conducono alla disseminazione di pettegolezzi, o affermazioni roboanti sulla stampa”. L’obiezione non coglie nel segno in quanto la teoria metacognitiva dello spunto conversazionale non dice che le opere d’arte vengono create con l’intenzione di suscitare una conversazione. Di fatto la teoria è compatibile con l’ipotesi che le opere d’arte non vengano create con l’intenzione di suscitare una conversazione. L’intenzione pertinente è un’altra: è l’intenzione di creare oggetti che vengano riconosciuti (per esempio, in virtù di certe caratteristiche fisiche) come creati allo scopo di suscitare una conversazione. È irrilevante per la soddisfazione di questa intenzione se vi sia un’intenzione di suscitare una conversazione, o se una conversazione venga poi effettivamente suscitata 4. Vediamo subito anche alcune conseguenze immediate, tenendo presente il fatto che i due competitori diretti della teoria sono la teoria della comunicazione e quella dell’intenzione artistica, laddove la prima compete sull’aspetto sociale, e la seconda in quanto teoria intenzionale. Secondo la teoria metacognitiva dello spunto conversazionale i prodotti artistici non servono per una “comunicazione” semplice tra l’artista e il pubblico – non sono latori di “messaggi” nel senso della teoria della comunicazione. Sono piuttosto oggetti che hanno un legame preciso con l’attenzione, che devono attrarre (quindi, anche se sono oggetti utilitari, devono far coesistere questo fatto con una sovrapposizione di altri elementi che vanno al di là dell’uso), il tutto all’interno di un contesto sociale in cui potrebbero venir usati come oggetto di discussione in quanto sono riconosciuti come tali. Questa ipotesi permette di inquadrare alcuni dei fatti poc’anzi elencati. Va notato che la teoria non dice che l’artista debba creare l’opera sulla base della formulazione di un’intenzione di inserirsi in una conversazione specifica (che è molto probabilmente quella comune nella sua epoca), ma dice piuttosto che l’opera deve essere in grado di esser vista come creata allo scopo di inserirsi in una conversazione qualsiasi. Questo fatto impone dei vincoli importanti sulla struttura delle opere d’arte. Si tratta di oggetti che devono portare dei segni chiari dell’intenzione che li ha animati. La teoria metacognitiva sembra tagliata su misura per performances artistiche come le opere di Duchamp. In realtà se la teoria è vera certe opere d’arte sono particolarmente interessanti proprio perché rendono espliciti gli aspetti impliciti di tutte le opere d’arte. La teoria spiega perché i prodotti artistici riescono a sopravvivere al tempo (se ci si pensa bene, questa sopravvivenza è un fatto molto strano, e comunque poco compatibile con l’idea che i prodotti artistici contengano un messaggio.)5 Passano il test del tempo perché la capacità di essere riconosciuti come creati allo scopo di suscitare una conversazione non dipende dalle contingenze specifiche di questa o quella conversazione, ma dai parametri generici che regolano la nostra capacità di inserirci in una conversazione, di generarla, di mantenerla. Anche quando non è più possibile conoscere i termini della conversazione in cui il prodotto avrebbe inizialmente dovuto inserirsi come stimolo, resta comunque la possibilità di recuperare il prodotto all’interno di una nuova conversazione. In modo simile, le teoria spiega perché le opere d’arte passano il test dello spazio, ovvero possono venir apprezzate da comunità che sono distanti dalla comunità originale del creatore. La teoria spiega perché i prodotti artistici hanno l’aspetto che hanno. I prodotti artistici devono risolvere svariati problemi - massimizzare la novità - attrarre l’attenzione (essere sufficientemente differenti da artefatti utilitari) - essere sufficientemente complessi (per via della loro forma apparente, o per via della storia della loro origine) da massimizzare la possibilità di venir utilizzati come spunti di conversazione in quanto li si è riconosciuti come tali. La teoria spiega le fluttuazioni di valore estetico ed economico dei prodotti artistici. Non basta avere delle buone qualità per essere un buono spunto di conversazione: deve anche esserci una conversazione per cui tale qualità può venir rilevata. La teoria spiega perché i prodotti artistici sopravvivono, sono soggetti a effetti di moda, e muoiono (laddove la maggior parte delle latre teorie impone cesure irriconciliabili tra grande arte e arte demotica). La teoria conversazionale spiega l'origine dell'arte e degli artefatti artistici. L’arte non è stata inventata. Le opere d'arte sono state scoperte, nel senso che si è visto che certi artefatti erano produttori di interazioni sociali e davano al loro autore un credito che questi poteva riutilizzare in altre produzioni. Solo in seguito si è cristallizzata l’intenzione di produrre oggetti che soddisfassero certi requisiti. La teoria spiega perché gli oggetti utilitari possano essere opere d'arte (come nel caso dell'architettura, che alcune estetiche puriste cercano di espungere dal novero dell'arte.) Riprendo nel seguito ed espando alcuni elementi da C. Spiega l'esistenza di gradi di artisticità, e del perché certe cose siano considerate arte da alcuni, non arte da altri (sono predicati estrinseci con un fondamento nel lavoro che l'artista ha profuso per rendere un certo oggetto massimalmente “conversazionabile”). La teoria spiega perché gli artisti amano parlare del loro lavoro e corredarlo di spiegazioni (questo è particolarmente arduo da spiegare in una teoria della comunicazione o dell’espressione). La teoria spiega perché i quadri hanno le etichette e i pezzi di musica dei titoli. La teoria spiega perché le opere d’arte vengono acquistate senza alcun riguardo per l’autore, come inviti alla conversazione scollegati dalla persona dell’autore. La teoria è compatibile con svariate strategie che possono venir messe in atto dagli artisti perché l’intenzioe che è alla base dell’opera vada a buon fine: sospensione delle routines (Bullot), esposizione in spazi privilegiati, ecc. Per finire, dato che la teoria ipotizza che gli artisti producano con un occhio di riguardo alle possibili conversazioni sulla loro opera, questo permette di risolvere, in modo del tutto immediato, il problema dell’unità del genere opera d’arte. Le opere d’arte sono oggetti creati con lo scopo precipuo di rendere possibile una conversazione. La clausola principale è metarappresentazionale: l’autore deve avere un’intenzione appropriata di creare un’opera che sia riconoscibile come... La clausola esclude casi in cui certi artefatti siano di fatto moneta per lo scambio conversazionale, come le teorie matematiche, senza essere opere d’arte. Dove interviene lo studio della cognizione nella teoria conversazionale? Nel fatto che non tutti i soggetti sono riconoscibili come creati allo scopo di fornire spunti per la conversazione. Studiare i vincoli normativi sul successo dell’intenzione meta-conversazionale permetterà di fare interessanti predizioni empiriche sul contentuto e la forma degli artefatti astistici. Un progetto di ricerca, una antropologia della visita museale, potrebbe essere un primo passo in questa direzione. Che cosa dice chi passa davanti a un quadro in un museo? Conclusione La teoria metacognitiva dello spunto conversazionale rappresenta un’ipotesi che cerca di rendere giustizia dell’unità delle nostre intuizioni su che cosa è un’oggetto artistico di fronte all’estrema varietà degli oggetti artistici e all’estrema varietà delle risposte che tali oggetti suscitano. Anche se è una teoria che si situa nella regione della dipendenza della risposta, non non è una teoria della riposta estetica – le risposte estetiche sono un tipo di risposte agli oggetti artistici, e si applicano anche a oggetti non artistici. Non è quindi una teoria del bello, come del resto ci si dovrebbe aspettare di fronte al fatto che i giudizi estetici possono variare a fronte del 19 riconoscimento che quello che alcuni giudicano bello e altri brutto resta un’opera d’arte. Un altro fattore importante di questa teoria è che considera le opere d’arte come oggetti creati con una funzione specifica, e la cui forma dipende da questa funzione; una funzione che richiede un’intuizione di controllo il cui contenuto è sociale e metacognitivo. Anche se la teoria metacognitiva non non è certamente l’ultima parola su che cosa fa di un certo oggetto un’opera d’arte, si tratta di un’ipotesi che mi sembra sufficientemente articolata per fare predizioni empiriche precise (per esempio, riconoscere un oggetto come opera d’arte attiverebbe aree cerebrali deputate alla cognizione sociale). Queste predizioni non sono però al momento inquadrate in un’ipotesi comprensiva dei meccanismi soggiacenti: si potrebbe certo sostenere che esiste uno pseudo-modulo per le intuizioni artistiche che recluta componenti sociali e componenti percettive. Tuttavia la struttura e la natura degli pseudo-moduli richiede una considerazione metodologica a sé stante. Casati, R.,“L'unità del genere opera d'arte. Rivista di Estetica. Formaggio. L'arte come idea e come esperienza. Milano: Mondadori. Zeri, F., intervistato su La repubblica. Rome’s national epic displays a tendency to treat sex and love. The pair of Trojan warriors Nisus and Euryalus are cast in the roles of erastes and eromenos. Virgil’s narrative of the two valorous young Trojans has, of course, various thematic functions and will have resonated in various ways for a roman readiership. Here I focus on only one aspect of the narrative, namely the eroticization of their relationship, in he interests of esplong wha this text might suggest about the pre-conceptions of its Roman readership. See Makowski for an overview of ancient and modern views of the pair, along with arguments for describing them as erastes and eromenos on the Greek model (Makowski finds particular parallels with Plato’s Symposium). For literary discussions of Nisus and Euryalus that take as their starting point the erotic nature of their relationship see Williams, Lyne, and Hardie). Bellincioni, ‘Eurrialo’ in Enciclopedia Virgiliana (Roma), observing that Virgil has added tdhe motif of their friendship to his Homeric models summarses thus: “L’AMORE CHE UNISCE EURIALO E NISO E UN SENTIMENTO INTERMEDIO FRA L’AMCIZIA E LA PASSIONE … PUR NELLA SUA PUREZZA, TENDE ALL’EROS. COMNQUE E PASSIONE CHE SI PONE FINE A SE STESSA E NON SI SUBIRDINA A PRINCIPI MORALI, COME LA SLEALTA SPORTIVA DI NISO NEL 5o CHIARAMENTE DIMOSTRA. Bellincione cites Colant, ‘Le’peisode de Niuses et Euryale ou le poeme de l’amitie, LEC, 19, 89-100. IThe pair of Trojan warriors Nisus and Euryalus are cast in the roles of erastes and eromaneos. Virgil’s narrative of the two valourus young Trojans has, of course, various thematic functions and will have resonated in various ways of a Roman readership. Here I focus on only one aspect of the narrative, namely the eroticiation of their relation Niso ed Eurialo are first introduced in the funeral games in Book 5. ‘Nisus et Euryalus primi, Eurialus forma insignis viridique iuventa, Nisus ammore pio pueri’ (Vir. Aen.). ‘First came Nisus and Euryalus: Euryalus outstanding for his beauty and fresh yourhfulness, Nisus for his deveted love for the boy’. During the ensuing footrace, Nisus indulges ia a questionably bit of gallantry: starting off in first place, he slips and falls in the blook of sacrificed heifers, then deliberately trips the man who was in second place, in order the Euryalus may come up from behind an win first place. Non tamen Euryali, non ille oblitus amorum (Vir. Aen. -- ‘He was not forgetful of his love Euryalus, not he! (The plural AMORES is ordinarily used of one’s sexual partner, one’s LOVE in that sense 0- Liddell Scott ic. Virgil himself uses the word in the plural to refer to a bull’s mate at Georgics. Indeed, Servius, ad Aen. writing in a different cultural climate, was worried by precisely thiat fact, observing that OBLITUS AMORUM AMARE NEC SUPRA DICTIS CONGRUE: AIT ENIM AMORE PIO PUERI, NUNC AMORUM, QUI PLURALITER NON NISI TURPITUDINEM SSIGNIFICANT. Virgil’s phrase, OBLITUS AMORUM contradicts his earlier AMORE PIO PUERI because AMORES in the plural ‘can only SIGNIFY SOMETHING DISGRACEFUL’ Whereas the description of Nisus’s love for the boy as PIUS apparently precludes, for Servius, PHYSICALITY. ‘ The two Trojans reappear in a celebrated episode from Book 9, when they leave the camp at night in an effort to break through enemy lines and reach Aeneas. They succeed in killing a number of Italian warriors, ut eventually are themselves both killed. Euryalus first and then his companion, who, after being morally wounded, flings himself upon Euryalus’s body. The episode beings with this description of the pair. Nisus erat portae custos, acerrimus armis, Hyrtacides, comitem Aenea quem miserat Ida venatrix iaculo celerem levibusque sagittis; et iuxta comes Euryalus, quo pulchrior alter non fuit Aenaedum Troiana neque induit arma, ora puer prima signans intonsa iuventa. His amor unus erat pariterque in bella ruebant. Vir. Aen. Nisus, son of Hyrtacus was the guard of the gate, a most fierce warrior, swift with the javeling and with nimble arrows, sent by Ida the huntress to accompany Aeneas. And next to him was his companion Euryalus. None of Aeneas’s followers, none who had shouldered Trojan weapons, was more beautiful: a boy at the beginning of youth, displaying a face unshaven. These two shared one love, and rushed into the fightin side by side. Virgil’s wording is decorous but the emphaisis on Euryalus’s youthful beauty and particularly the absence of a beard on his fresh young face, as well as the comment that the THWO SHARED ONE LOVE and fought side by side – imagery that is repeated from the scene in Book 5 and is continued throughout the episode in Book 9 – is noteworth  For Euryalus’s youth, cf. 217, 276 (puer) and especially the evocation of his beauty even in death (433-7, language which recalls the erotic imagiery of CATULLUS and Sappho – Lyne,  For their INSEPARABILITY, cf. 203: TECUM TALIA GESSI and 244-5 (VIDIMUS … VENATU ADSIDUO. Note: NEVE HAEC NOSTRIS SPECTENTUSR AB ANNIS QUAE FERIMUS, 235-6, CONSPEXIMUS. 237. how Nisus gallantly presents his plan to the assembled troops NOT AS HIS OWN Bt as his AND EURYALUS’S (235-6:  Likewise the question that Nisus asks Euryalus when he first proposes the plan t o him has suggestive resonances: DINE HUNC ARDOREM MENTIBUS ADDUNT EURYALE, AN SUA CUIQUE DEUS FIT DIRA CUPIDO? Aen 9 184-5. Cf. Makowsky, p. 8 and Hardie, p. 109. For the phrase DIRA CUPIDO, compare DIRA LIBIDO at Lucretius (De natura rerum, concerning men’s desire TO EJACULATE and muta cupido. Euryyalus, is it the gods who put this yearning (ardor) into our minds, or does each person’s grim desire (dira cupido) become a god for him?” In addition to its ostensible subject (a desire to achieve a military eploit), Nisus’s language of yearning and desire could also evoke the dynamis of an erotic relationship. So too the poet’s depiction of Nisus’s reaction to seeing his young companion captured by the enemy is notable for its emotional urgency and its portrayal of Nisus’s intensely protective for for the youth. Tum vero exterritus, amens, conclamat Nisus nec se celare tenebris amplius aut tantum potuit perferre dolorem. Me, me, adsun qui feci, in me convertite ferrum, o Rutuli, mean fraus omnis, nihil iste nec ausus nect potuit, caelum hoc et conscia sidera testor, tantum infeliciem nimium dilet amicum (Vir. Aen 9 424-30. Then, terrified out of his mind, unable to hid himself any longer in the shadows or to endure such great pain, Nisus shouts out: “ME! I am the one who did it! Turn your weapons to me, Rutulians! The deceit was entirely mine, HE was not so bold as to do it; he could not have done it. I swear by the sky above and the stars who know: the only thing he did was to love his unahappy friend too much. There is, in short, good reason to believe that Virgil’s Nisus and Euryalus, whose relationship is described in the circumspect terms befitting epic poetry, would have been UNDERSTOOD by his Roma readers as sharing a SEXUAL bond, much like the soldiers in the so-called SACRED BAND of Thebes constituted of erastai and their eromenoi in fourth-century B. C. Greece. Note also that “meme … figis?” seems to echo Dido’s words to Aeneas at 4.314 (mene fugis?. So too Makowski p. 9-10 and 9.390-3 )Euryale infelix, qua te regione reliqui? Quave sequar? Rurus perplexum iter omne revolves fallacis sylvae simul et VESTIGIA RETRO observata legit dumisque silentisu errat) might recall the scene were Aeneas loses Creusa a t the end of Book 2. Haride p. 26) points to parallels with the story of Orpheus and Euryide in the Georgics, as well as as to that of Aeneas and Crusa in Aeneid 2. For the Sacred Band of Thebes, see Plut, Amat. Pelop, Athen. and the probable allusion at Pl. Smp. When Nisus, mortally wounded, flings himself upon his companion’s lifeless body to join him in death, the narrator breaks forth into a celebrated eulogy. Tum super exanimum sese proiecit amicum confossus, placidaque ibi demum morte quievit. Fortuanati ambo! Si quid mean carmina possunt, nulla dies umquam memori vos eximet aevo, dun domus Aeneae Capitoli immobile saxum accolet imperiumque pater Romanus habebit. (Vir. Aen.). Then he hurdled himself, pierced through and through, upon his lifeless friend, and there at last rested in a peaceful death. Blessed pair! If my poetry has any power, no day shall ever remove you from the remembering ages, as long as he house of Aenea dwells upon the immovable rok of the Capitol, as thlong as the Roman father holds sway. The praise of the two loving warriors joined in death ould hardly be more stirring – cf. Wiliams, 205-7, Lyne, 235, for their ‘elegiac union of LOVERS IN DEATH’ he adduces Pr0.18 – AMBOS UNA FIDES AUFERET, UNA DIES, and Tibull. 1 1 59-62 as parallels. op. 2.2, and the language coulnt NOT BE MORE ROMAN. And Virgil’s words obviously made an impression among those who wished to EXPRESS FEELINGS OF INTIMACY AND DEVOTION IN PUBLIC CONTEXTS, for we find his language echoied in funerary instricptions for a husband and his wife as well as for a woman praised by her male friend. The inscription on a joint tomb of a grandmother and gradauther explicitly likens them to Nisus and Euryalus. CLE 1142 = CIL 6. 25427, lines 25-6, husband and wife: FORTUNATI AMBO – SI QUA EST, EA GLORIA MORTIS QUO IUNGIT TUMULUS, IUNXERAT UT THALAMAS; CLE 491 = CIL 11.654: a woman praised by her male friend: UNUS AMOR MANSIT PAR QUOQUE VIDA FIDELIS. Cf. Aen. 9. 182. HIS AMOR UNUS ERAT PARITERQUE IN BELLA RUEBANT. CLE 1848.5-6 granddaumother and granddaughter: SIC LUMINE VERO, TUNC IACUERE SIMUL NISUS ET EURIALUS.  So too Senece quotes the lines as an illustration of the fact that great writers can immortalize people who otherwise would have no fame: just as Cicero did for Atticus, Epicurus for Idomeneus, and Seneca himself can do for Lucilius (an immodest claim but one that was ultltimately borne out), so ‘our Virgil promised and gave and everlasting memory to the two,’ whom he does not even bother to name, so renowned had the poet’s words evidently become (Senc. Epist. 21.5 VERGILIUS NOSTER DUOBUS MEMORIAM AETERNAM PROMISIT ET PRAESTAT; FORUTATI AMBO SI QUI MEA CARIMA POSSUNT. It is revealing that sometimes Porous boundary in Roman tets between wwhat we might call friendship and eroticism among males – and overlaps I hope to discuss in another context – that Ovid citest Nisus and Euryalus as the ULTIMATE EMBODIMENT OF MALE FRIENDSHIP, putting them in the company of THESEUS AND PIRITUOUS, ORESTES AND PYLADES ACHILESS AND PATROCLUS, Tristia 1.5.19-24, 1.9.27-34 but the relationship between ACHILEES AND PATROCLUS, at least, was openly described as including a sexual element by classical Greek writers (see n. 92), and with characteristic cluntness by Martial (11.43), wh cjites the pair as an illustration of the special pleasures of anal intercourse. The relationships between Cydon and CClytius, Cycnus and Phaethon, and Juupiter and Ganymede (on Eneas’s shield) all demonstrate that pedersastic relationships enjoy a comfortable presence in the world of the Aeneid. Niusus and Euryalus are thus HARDLY ALONE. Some scholars have even detected an EROTIC ELEMNET in Virgil’s depiction of the relationship between Aeneas and Evander’s son Pallas. See e. g. Gillis, Putnam, and Moorton. Erasmo and Lloyd have independently described erotic elements in the relationship between the young Evander and Anchises, a relationship that, they argue, is then replicated in the next generation, with Pallas and Aeneas.  But their relationship is more complex than the rather straightforward attraction of Cydon for beautiful boys, of Cycnus for the well-born young Phaethon, and even of Jupiter for Ganymede. For while those couples conform unproblematically to the Greek pedrerastic model (one partner is older and dominant, the other young and sub-ordinate), Nisus and Eurialus only do so AT FIRST GLANCE. AS the poem progresses they are transformed from a Hellenic coupling of Erastes and eromanos into a pair of ROMAN MEN (VIRI). The valosiging distinctions inherent in the pederstaist paradigm seem to fade with the Roman’s poet remark that the rwo rushed into war side by side (PARITER – PARITERQUE IN BELLA RUEBANT Vir Aen 9. 182), and they certainly DISAPPEAR when the old man Aletes, praising them from their bold plan, addresses the TWO as VIRI (QUAE DIGNA, VIRI, PRO LAUDIBUS ISTIS, PRAEMIA POSSE REAR SOLVI, 252-3, whe  an enemy leader who catches a glimpse of them shoults out, “Halt, men!” (STATE VIRI, 376), and most poignantly, when the sight of the two “MEN’S” severed heads pierced on enemy spears stuns the Trojan soldiers. SIMUL ORA VIRUM PRAEFIXA MOVEBANT NOTA NIMIS MISERIS ATROQUE FLUENTIA TABO 471-2 . In other words, although Euryalus is the junior partner in this relationship, not yet endowed with a full beard and capable of being labeled the PUER, his actions prove him to be, in the end, as much of a VIR, as capalble of displaying VIRTUS – as his older lover Nisus. There is a further complication in our interpretation of the pair, and indeed all the pederstastic relationships in the Aeneid. Virgil’s epic is of course set in the MYTHIC PAST and cannot be taken as direct evidence for the cultural setting of Virgil’s own day. Moreover, the poem is suffused with the influence of Greek poetry. Thus, one might argue that the rather elevated status of pedersastic relationships in the Aeneid is a SIGN merely of the DISTANCES both cultural and temporal between Virgil’s contemporaries and the character s of his epic. Yet, while the influence of Homer is especially strong in these passages of battle poetry (Virgil’s passing reference to Cydon’s erotic adventures echoes the Homeric technique of citing some touching details about a warrior’s past even as he is introduced to the reader and summarily killed off), is is a much-discussed fact that there are no UNAMIBUOUS, diret references in the Homeric epics to pedersastic relationships on the classical model. The relationship between ACHILLES AND PATROCLUS was understood by later Greek writers to have a seual component see e. g. Aesch. F.r. 135-7 Nauck – from the Myrmidons), Pl. Symp. 180a-b, Aeschin. 1.133, 141-50, Lyne, p. 235, n. 49, crediting Griffin, adds Bion 12 Gow. But the test of the Iliad itself, while certainly suggesting a passionate and deeply intense bond between the two, does not represent them in terms of the classical pederastic model. See further, Clarke, Achiles and Patroclus in Love, Hermes, v. 106 p. 381-96, Sergent, 250-8, and Halperin p. 75-87. Virgil might thus be said to ‘out-Greek’ Homer in his description of Cydon. G. Knauer, Die Aeneis und Homer, Gottingen, cites no Homeric parallel for these lines. And yet the pederastic relationships in the Aeneid occur NOT AMONG GREEKS but rather among TROJANS AND ITALIANS, two peoples who are strictly distinguished din the epic from the Greeks, and who,more importantly, together constitute the PROGENTIROS of the roman race. Cf. Turnus’s rhetoric based on sharp distinctions among the Trojans, Greeks, ndnd Italians, and the weighty dialogue between Jupiter and June where it is agreed that Trojans and Italians will become ONE RACE. Virgil’s readers found pederstastic relationships ina n epic on their people’s orgins, and temporal gap or no, this would have been unthinkable in a cultural context in which same-se relationships were universally condemned or deeply problematized. But is it still not the case that, since Nisus and Euryalus are freeborn Trojans, Virus, and perhaps also Aeneas and Pallas. Significalntly, though, the arua of a male-female relationship in the Aeneid, namely the doomed love affair of Aeneas with the would-be univira Dido. In other words, while a MALE-MALE relationship that corresponds to what would among among Romans of Virgin’s own day be considered stuprum is capable of being heroized in the epic, a male-female relationhship that th etet implicitly marks as a kind of stuprum is not. This tywo types of relationships in the brates, even glamorizes, a relationship that in his own day would be labeled as instance sos stuprum? Here the gap between Virgil’s time and the mythis past of his poem has significance. While, due toe o their freeborn status, analogues of to Nisus and Euryalus in Virgil’s OWN DAY could not have found their relationship SO OPENLY CELEBRATED, they did find HEROISED ANCESTORS IN NISUS AND EURYALUS, Cydon, and Clutis. And perhaps also Aeneas and Pallas. Significantly, though, the aura of the mythic past does not extend so far as to conceal the moral problematization of a male-female relationship in the Aeneid, namely the doomed love affair of Aeneas with the would-be univiria Dido. In other words, while a male-male relationship that corresponds to what would among Romans of Virgil’s own day be considered stuprum is capable of being heroized in thee pic, a male-female relationship that the tect implicitly marks as a kind of stuprum is not. The issue is complex. Dido is of course neither Roman nor Trojan, and thus at first glance Aeneas’s relationship with her does not constitute stuprum. But since Dido’s experiences are, in important ways, seen though a Roman filtre, above all, the commitment to her first husband that makes her a prototypical univira, her involvement with Aneas (aculpa 4 19, 172, constitutes an offense within the moral framework poposed by the text in a way that the relationship between Nisus and Euryalus does ot. This distintion revelas something about the relative degrees of problematization of the two types of relationships in the cultural environment of Virgl’s readership. ‘Blessed pair! If my poetry has any power no day shall ever remove you from the remembering ages, as lon as the house of Aeneas dwells upon the immommovable rock of the Capitol, as long as the Romans father holds sway.’ One can hardly imagine such grandiose prise of an adulterous couple ina Roman epic!” Grice: “Niso ed Eurialo are presented as the epitome of friendship along with Achilles and Patroclus, Ercole e Idi, and Oreste e Palade. Luigi Speranza, "Gilbert Proebsch e George Passmore", Luigi Speranza, "Kosuth" -- Luigi Speranza, "Keith Arnatt" -- Luigi Speranza, "Unità etica ed unità emica" -- Luigi Speranza, "Fenomenologia" -- Luigi Speranza, "Concettualismo". Roberto Casati. Keywords: Eurialo e Niso; ovvero, dell’amicizia, “la conversazione come arte del negoziato”; teoria conversazionale dell’artifatto, segno, comunicazione, imagine, intenzione, Grice, Ricominiciamo da capo – logico, stramaledettamente logico – implicatura come stramaledettamente logica --  Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Casati” – The Swimming-Pool Library. 

 

Grice e Casini: l’implicatura conversazionale de naturismo – il concetto di natura a Roma -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Casini – he takes, unlike me, physics seriously! But then so did Thales, according to Aristotle! – At Clifton we did a lot of ‘physical’ rather than ‘metaphysical’ education!” – Linceo. Studia a Roma sotto Nardi, Antoni, e Chabod. Si laurea sotto Spirito (disc. Gregory) con “L'idea di natura”.   I suoi interessi di ricerca in storia della filosofia si sono successivamente estesi all'intreccio tra filosofia e scienze sperimentali nel Settecento, soprattutto attorno alla figura di Isaac Newton e alla diffusione della sintesi newtoniana nella cultura filosofica europea, a proposito di filosofi come D'Alembert, Buffon, Maupertuis, Clairaut, Eulero, non senza tener conto dell'opera divulgativa di Voltaire, fino a collocare in tale contesto Kant.  Insegna a Trieste, Bologna, e Roma.  Le sue ricerche riguardano Diderot e la filosofia dell'illuminismo, i nessi tra rivoluzione scientifica e riflessione filosofica, l'origine e diffusione della fisica di Newton, le vicende del mito pitagorico tra "prisca philosophia" e "antica sapienza italica", le dispute sorte attorno al darwinismo.  Altre opere: “Diderot "philosophe", Laterza); Mecanicismo -- L'universo-macchina: origini della filosofia newtoniana, Laterza); Rousseau, Laterza);  Introduzione all'illuminismo, Laterza -- razionalismo); Newton e la coscienza europea (Il Mulino); “Progresso ed utopia” (Laterza); “L'antica sapienza italica. Cronistoria di un mito” (Il Mulino); “Hypotheses non fingo” (Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura); “Alle origini del Novecento: "Leonardo", rivista filosofica di Firenze (Il Mulino); Il concetto di creazione (Il Mulino).    La lista di autorità e l’accenno alla filosofia nazionale preludono al Platone. --Paolo Casini.   Si tratta di un saggio dedicato all'evoluzione del mito pitagorico nella cultura europea. Senza cadere mai nella rassegna erudita, l'autore segue passo passo le trasformazioni del mito dalla sua prima incarnazione nella cultura romana alla riscoperta operata nel Rinascimento, alle discussioni storico-archeologiche  e alle strumentalizzazioni politiche del Sette-Ottocento.  Giuseppe Bottai o delle ambiguità (Un'erma bifronte - Leader revisionista - Nella babele corporativa - La guerra di Pisa - «Starci con la mia testa» - Apologia – Espiazione) - 2. Ugo Spirito: «scienza» e «incoscienza» (Una teoresi postidealista - Teorico dell'economia corporativa - Il «bolscevico» epurato - «Mutevolezza e instabilità» - «Scienza», «ricerca», «arte» - Guerra e Dopoguerra - Alla ricerca del padre) - 3. Camillo Pellizzi: il fascio di Londra e la sociologia (Genius loci - Tra Roma e Londra - Pax romana in Albione - «Aristòcrate» - Dottrina del fascismo - Il postfascismo e la «rivouzione mancata» - Verso la sociologia) - 4. I doni di Soffici («Si parla» - «Scoperte e massacri» - Sguardi retrospettivi: tragedia e catarsi - Docta ignorantia - «Commesso viaggiatore dell'assoluto» - Genus irritabile vatum - Un dialogo tra sordi - Amici e nemici) - 5. Un autoritratto (A metà ventennio – Riflessi - Tra casa e scuola - Agrari in Toscana - I primi pedagoghi - L'Istituto Massimo sj - Vinceremo! - Il passaggio del fronte – Dopoguerra - Scuola a Firenze - Al Liceo Tasso) - 6. Studium Urbis (Gli anni Cinquanta - Nardi e Chabod - Eredità idealistiche - Ideologie in crisi – Diderot - Roma, gli amici - Savinio, Carocci - La naja – Intermezzi - Olivetti, Ivrea - La "cultura" della RAI – Let Newton Be - Anni di prova) - Indice dei nomi Order   Zoogonia e "Trasformismo" nella fisica epicurea Giornale Critico Della Filosofia Italiana 17 (n/a): 178. 1963. Like Recommend Bookmark L'universo-Macchina Origini Della Filosofia Newtoniana Laterza. 1969. 1 citation of this work Like Recommend Bookmark  10 Zev Bechler, Newton's Physics and the Conceptual Structure of the Scientific Revolution. Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science 127. Dordrecht: Kluwer  (review) British Journal for the History of Science The "Enciclopedia italiana". Fringes of ideology Rivista di Filosofia Political Theory Like Recommend Bookmark Éléments de la philosophie de Newton (review) British Journal for the History of Science Isaac Newton Like Recommend Bookmark  10 Rousseau e l'esercizio della sovranità Rivista di Filosofia Jean-Jacques Rousseau Like Recommend Bookmark  9 Il momento newtoniano in Italia: un post-scriptum Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia 2. 2006. Like Recommend Bookmark  5 Newton in Prussia Rivista di Filosofia Newton 1 citation of this work Like Recommend Bookmark  27 François-Marie Arouet de Voltaire, Éléments de la philosophie de Newton, critical edition by Robert L. Walters and W. H. Barber. The Complete Works of Voltaire, 15. Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, Taylor Institution, British Journal for the History of Science 17th/18th Century French Philosophy Like Recommend Bookmark Lo spettro del materialismo e la "Sacra famiglia" Rivista di Filosofia Lumi e utopie in uno studio di Bronislaw Baczko Rivista di Filosofia The New World and the Intelligent Design Rivista di Filosofia Anti-Darwinist ApproachesDesign Arguments for Theism Like Recommend Bookmark Scienziati italiani del Seicento e del Settecento Rivista di Filosofia Kant e la rivoluzione newtoniana Rivista di Filosofia Kant: Philosophy of Science Like Recommend Bookmark » Ottica, astronomia, relatività: Boscovich a Roma; « Rivista di Filosofia Introduzione All'illuminismo da Newton a Rousseau Laterza;  Like Recommend Bookmark Newton e i suoi biografi Rivista di Filosofia Diderot e Shaftesbury Giornale Critico Della Filosofia Italiana L'iniziazione Pitagorica Di Vico Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia;  Like Recommend Bookmark Per Conoscere Rousseau with Jean-Jacques Rousseau Mondadori. 1976. Jean-Jacques Rousseau Toland e l'attività della materia Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia British Philosophy, Misc L'eclissi della scienza' Rivista di Filosofia Rousseau, il popolo sovrano e la Repubblica di Ginevra Studi Filosofici Il mito pitagorico e la rivoluzione astronomica Rivista di Filosofia Newton, Leibniz e l'analisi: la vera storia Rivista di Filosofia; Like Recommend Bookmark  13 Francesco Bianchini und die europäische gelehrte Welt um 1700 Early Science and Medicine History of Science Like Recommend Bookmark L'antica Sapienza Italica Cronistoria di Un Mito. 1998. Pythagoreans Like Recommend Bookmark  16 Candide, Theodicy and the «Philosophie de l'Histoire» Rivista di Filosofia La filosofia a Roma Rivista di Filosofia Vico's initiation into the study of Pythagoras Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia Pythagoreans Topic   Order   Teoria e storia delle rivoluzioni scientifiche secondo Thomas Kuhn Rivista di Filosofia  Il problema D'Alembert Rivista di Filosofia Semantica dell'Illuminismo Rivista di Filosofia Cheyne e la religione naturale newtoniana Giornale Critico Della Filosofia Italiana  Newton's Physics and the Conceptual Structure of the Scientific Revolution (review) British Journal for the History of Science Isaac Newton Like Recommend Bookmark  1 Diderot and the portrait of eclectic philosophy Revue Internationale de Philosophie Diderot Like Recommend Bookmark  6 "Magis amica veritas": Newton e Descartes Rivista di Filosofia Isaac Newton Like Recommend Bookmark La Natura Isedi. 1975. Like Recommend Bookmark Voltaire, la geometria della visione e la metafisica Rivista di Filosofia Leopardi apprendista: scienza e filosofia Rivista di Filosofia Studi stranieri sulla filosofia dei Lumi in Italia Rivista di Filosofia  Il metodo di Foucault e le origini della rivoluzione francese Rivista di Filosofia Rousseau e Diderot Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia Diderot « philosophe » Revue Philosophique de la France Et de l'Etranger Continental Philosophy 1 citation of this work Like Recommend Bookmark Newton: gli scolii classici Giornale Critico Della Filosofia Italiana La ricerca embriologica in Italia da Malpighi a Spallanzani Rivista di Filosofia  L'empirismo e la vera filosofia: il caso Scinà Rivista di Filosofia 8The Newtonian moment in Italy: A post-scriptum Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia Classical Mechanics Like Recommend Bookmark  6 James, Freud e il determinismo della psiche Rivista di Filosofia Freud Grean: Shaftesbury's philosophy of religion and ethics. A study in enthusiasm (review) Studia Leibnitiana  Herschel, Whewell, Stuart Mill e l'«analogia della natura» Rivista di Filosofia Newton: the classical scholia History of Science; 1 reference in this work 15 citations of this work Diderot et le portrait du philosophe éclectique Revue Internationale de Philosophie Morte e trasfigurazione del testo Rivista di Filosofia L'universo-Macchina Origini Della Filosofia Newtoniana Laterza. Bechler, Newton's Physics and the Conceptual Structure of the Scientific Revolution. Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science 127. Dordrecht: Kluwer (review) British Journal for the History of Science Éléments de la philosophie de Newton (review) British Journal for the History of Science 2Isaac Newton Like Recommend Bookmark  6 The "Enciclopedia italiana". Fringes of ideology Rivista di Filosofia Political Theory Il momento newtoniano in Italia: un post-scriptum Rivista di Storia Della Filosofia Rousseau e l'esercizio della sovranità Rivista di Filosofia  Jean-Jacques Rousseau Topic   Order    5 Newton in Prussia Rivista di Filosofia saac Newton 1 citation of this work Like Recommend Bookmark  27 François-Marie Arouet de Voltaire, Éléments de la philosophie de Newton, critical edition by Robert L. Walters and W. H. Barber. The Complete Works of Voltaire, 15. Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, Taylor Institution,  (review) British Journal for the History of Science 26 (3): 360-361. 1993. 17th/18th Century French Philosophy. Grice: “An assumption generally shared by those who wrote and read the tests surveyed in Latin is that male desire can normally and normatively be directed at either male of female objects. If this configuration is held to be NORMAL or NORMATIVE, we might expect that it would also be represented as NAATURAL, and it is thus worthwhile to consider the role played by the discourse of NATURE in ancient representations of sexual behaviour. This question is both hughe and complex.Important discussions include Boswell, 1Foucault, 1986, 150-7, 189-227, and Winkler, 20-1 36-7 114 8. but one thing is clear: the ancient rhetoric of nature, as it relates to sexual practices, displays significant differenct from more recent discourses. Boswell, for example, observes that while “what is supposed to have been the major contribution of Stoicism to Christian sexual morality – the idea that the sole ‘natural’ and hence moral use of sexuality is procreation, is in fact a common belief of amny philosophies of the day’ at the same time, ‘the term UNNATURAL was applied eto everything from POSTNATAL CHILD SUPPORT to legal contracts between friends (Boswell). ‘The objection that homsosexuality is ‘unnatural’ appears, in short, to be neither scientifically nor morally cogent and probably represents mnothing more than a derogatory epithet of unusual emotiona impact due to a confluence of historically sanctioned prejudiced and ill-formed ideas about ‘nature.’”Thus, as Winkler notes, the contrast between nature and non-nature, when deployed in ancient writings simply ‘does not posess the same valence that it does today’ Winkler, p. 20 Moreover, nearly all of the texts that offer opinions on whether specific secual practice is in accordance with nature are works of philosophy. The guestion does NOT seem to have seriously engaged the writers of texts that directly spoke to and reflected popular moral conceptions (e. g. graffiti, comedies, epigram, love poetry, oratory). For this important distinction between the morallyity espoused by a philosopher and what we might call popular morality, see the introduction and chapter 1.  In short, as Richinlin warns us, the question I ‘something of a red herring, since the concept of nature takes a larger and more ominous form in our Christian culture than it did in AAncient Rome, whetere itw as a matter for philosophers’.Richlin, p. 533. But it may nonetheless be worthwhile to attempt a preliminary exploration of how the rhetoric of NATURE was applied by some ROMAN PHILOSOPHERS to sexual practices, particularly those between males.In other words. I would like to go a step or two beyond that ‘nature’ is generally used by Roman moralists to justify what they approve of’ (Edwards 88 n. 87). always bearing in mind, however, that to the extent that it was mostly taken up by philsoeophers, the question of ‘natural’ sexual practice seems not to have played a significant role in most public discourse among Romans. Nonphilosophical texts sometimes do deploy the rhetoric of NATURE in conjunction with sexual practices, at least insofras they as they offer representations of ANIMAL bheaviour, one possible component in arguments about what is natural.2-6, and Win3, on Philo’s description of crocodiles mating. kler, 2See for example Boswell, 137-43, 15 It will come as no surprise that Roman writers images of animals’ sexual practices are transparetntly influenced by their own cultural traditions. Thus in no Roman text do we find an explicit appeal to animal bhehaviour in order to condemn sexual practices between males as unnatural.Such an argument does occasionally appear in Greek texts, such as Plato, Laws 836c (martua parag Omenos en ton therios phusin kai deiknos pros ta toitauta oux aptomenon arena arrenos dia to me phusei touto einai – and Lucian Amores 36. To Be sure, Musonius Ruffus’s condemnation of sexual practices between males as para phusin might imply a reference to animal practices, and it is possible that in some work now lost to us the Roman Stoic followed in Plato’s footsteps in being explicit on the point. A Juvenalian satire does make reference to animal behaviour in orer to condemn cannibalism (claiming that no animas eat member s of their own species Juv. 15 159-68. And in a passage discussed later in this appendix, Ovid has a character argue that NO FEMALE ANIMAL experiences SEXUAL DESIRE for other females. These claims are as unsupportable as the claim that sexual practices between males do not occur anong nonhuman animals.This is obvious to anyone who has spent time with dogs. With regard to the academic-study of the question, the remarks of Wolfe, Evolution and Female Primate Sexual Behaviour, in Understanding behaviour: what primate studies tell us about human behaviour Oxford, p.are as illuminating as they are depressing. ‘I have taked with several (anonymous at their request) primatologists who have told me that they have observed both male and female homosexual bheaviour during field studies. They seemed reluctant t publish their data,  however, either because THEY FEARED HOMOPHOBIC REEACTIONS (‘my ccolleagues might thank that I am gay’) or because they lack a framework for analysis (‘I don’t know what it means’). On the latter point Wolfe insightfully comments that the same problem affects our attempts to understand ANY sexual interactions among primates. ‘Because the alloprimates do not possess language, it is impossible to inquir into their sexual eroticism. In other words, homosexual and heterosexual behaviours can be observed, recorded, and analysed, but we cannot infer either homoeroticism or heteroeroticism from such behaviours (p. 131). But the fact that we do find animal behaviour cited by Roman authors to CONDEMN such phenomena as cannibalism and same-sec desire among females, but not SAME-SEX desire among males, merely proves the point. These rhetorical strategies reveal more about ROMAN cultural concerns than about actual animal behaviour. A poem in the Appendix Vergiliana introduces us to a lover hhappyly separated from his beloved Lydia. In the throes of his grief he cries out that this miserable fate NEVER BEFALLS ANIMALS: A bull is never without his cor, nor a he-goat without his mate. In fact, sighs, the lover: ET MAS QUACUMEQUE EST ILLA SUA FEMINA IUNCAT INTERPELLATOS SUMPAUQM PLORAVIT AMORES CUR NON ET NOBIS FACILIS NAUTRA FUISTI CUR EGO CRUDELEM PATIOR TAM SAEPE DOLOREM? (Lydia 35-8). The lover is melodramatically weepy and that consideration partially accounts of his ridiculous claim that male animals are never to be seen without their mates. Still, amatory hyperbole aside the verses nicely illustrate the tendency to shape both natura and animal bheaviour into whatever form is convenient for the argument at hand. Thus, Ovid,s suggesting that the best way to appease one’s angry mistress is in bed, portrays sexual behaviour among early human beings and animals s as the primary force that effects RECONCILIATION (Ars 2 461-92. The poet offers a lovely panorama in which animal behaviour is invoked as a POSTIIVE paradigm for specific human practices: unting otherwise scattered groups (2. 473-80) and mollifying an angry lover (2. 481-90). Less than two hundred lines later, the same poet invokes animalas as A NEGATIVE PARADIGM, again in support of a characteristically human concern: discretion in sexual matters. IN MEDIO PASSIMQUE COIT PECUS HOC QUOQUE VISO AVETIT VULTUS NEMPE PUELLA SUOUS CONVENIUNS THALAMI FURTIS ET IANUA NOSTRIS PARSQUE SUB INJIECAT VESTE PUDDAN LATET ET SI NON TENEBRAS AT QUIDDAM NUBIS OPACAE QUAERIMUS ATQUE ALIQUID LUCE PATENTE MINUS (Ovid, Ars, 2 615-20). Drawing his objets lesson to a close, Ovid holds up his own behaviour as a pattern to follow. NOS ETIAM VEROS PARCE PROFITEMUR AMORES TECTAQUE SUNT SOLIDA MYSTIFCA FURTA FIDE 639-40. And we are reminded of the strategies of this pasage’s broader context. If you want to keep your girlfriend happy, do not kiss and tell: that is the argument in service of which animal behaviour is invoked as NEGATIVE paradigm. These to Ovidian passages illustrate the utilyt of arguments from the animal world. Just look ant the animals and see how much we resemble them; just look at the51-5.  animals and see how far we have come.An epigram by theGreek poet Strato gives the later poin an dineresting twist. We huam beings, he writes, are SUPERIOR to animals in that, in addition to vaginal intercourse, we have discovered ANAL INTERCOURSE, thus men who are dominated by women are really no better than mere animals (A P 12 245 PAN ALOGON soon bivei monon oi ligkoi de ton allon zoon tout exkomen to pleon pugizein eurotntes hosoi de guanxi kratountai ton alogon zoon ouden exousi kleon. It all depends on the eye – and rhetorical needs – of the beholder. OS it is that Roman writers show how Roman they are through the picture they paint of sexual practices among animals of the same sex. Ovid himself, in his Metamorphoses, imagines the plight of young girl named Iphis who has fallen in love with another girl. In a torrent of self-pity and self-abuse, she expostulates on her passion, making a simultaneous appeal to NATURA and to the animals that is reminiscent of Ovid’s sweeping review of animal bheaviour in the Ars amatorial just cited. But this time the paradigm is an emphatically negative one. SI DI MIHI PARCERE VELLENT PARCERE DEBUERANT SI NON ET PERDERE VELLENT NAUTRALE MALUM SALTEM ET DE MORE DEDISSENT NEC CACCAM VACCA NEC EQUAS AMOR URIT EQUARUM: URIT OVES ARIES SEQUITUR SUA FEMINA CERVUM SIC ET AVES COEUNT INTERQUE ANIMALIA UNCTA FEMINA FEMINEO ONREPTA CUPIDINE NULLA EST (Ov. Met. 9. 728-34) As with Lydia’s lover, so here we have the melodramatic expostulations of an unah[py lover, and similarly her view of animal behaviour does not correspond to the realities of that behaviour. Still, these arguments are pitched in such a way as to invite a Roman reader’s agreement, and the sexual practices invoked as natural and occurring among the animals demonstrate a SUSPICIOUS SIMILARTY to the sexual practices and desired SEMMED ACCEPTABLE BY ROMAN CULTURE (the female never leaves the male, heterosexual intercourse is a convenient and pleasurable way of unting different social groups, and females never lust after females), or to specifically HUMAN EROTIC STRATEGIES: we do not copulate in public, and we should not kiss and tell if we want our to keep our partners happy. It cannot be coincidental that, whereas Ovid invokes animal behaviour in the context of a girl’s tortured rejection of her own passionalte yearnings for another girl, the mythic compendium in which this natrratie is found is peppered with stories involves passion and sexual relations between males. Both Orfeo (after losing his wife Euridice) and the gods themselves (whether married or not) are represented as ‘giving over their love to TENDER MALES, harvesting the BRIEF springtime and its first flowers before maturaity sets in” Ov. Met. 10. 83-5 ORPHEUS ETIAM THRACUM POPULIS FUIT AUCTOR AMORET IN TENEROS TRANSFERRE MARES CITRAQUE IUVENTAM AETATIS BREVE VER ET PRIMOS CARPERE FLORES. The stories that Orfeo proceeds ts to relate include those of the young CYPARISSUS once loved by Apollo Met 10.106-42 and the tales of Zeus and Ganumede, Apollo and Hyacinth (Met 10 155-219 Consider also the beautiful sixteen yer old Indian boy Athis and his Assyrian lover Lycabas (Met. 5 47-72. A passage which echoes of Virgil’s lines on NISUS AND EURIALO discussed in chapter 2. And the remark that the stunning but haughty young Narcissus, also in his sixteenth year, had many admireers of both sexses (Met 3 351-5.None of Ovid’s characters arever questions the NATURAL status of that kind of erotic experience or invokes the animals in order to reject it. Aulus Gellius preserves for us some anecdotes that further demonstrate the manner in which animal bheaviour could be made to conform to human paradigms. Writing of (IMPLICITLY MALE) dolfns who fell in love with beautiful boys (one oft them even died of a broek heart after losing his beloved) Gellius exclaims that they were acing “in amazing human ways” 606C-D and Plin N H 8 25-8 for this and other tales of male dolphins falling in love with human boys. Gell 6 8 3 NEQUE HI AMAVERUNT QUOD SUNT IPSI GENUS SED PUEROS FORMA LIBERALI IN NAVICULIS FORE AUT IN VADIS LITORUM CONSPECTOS MIRIS ET HUMANIS MODIS ARSERUNS. Cf. Athen 13 Once again, the comment tells us more about ‘human ways’ than about dolphins. The elder Plini, who alo relates this story regarding the dolphin, introduces his encyclopeic discussion of elephants by observing that they are nonly the largest land animals but the ones closest to human beings in their intelligence and sense of morality. In particular, they take pleasure in love and pride (AMORIS ET GLORIAE VOLUPTAS), and by way of illustration of the ‘power of love’ (AMORIS VIS) among elephants he cites two examples: ONE MALE FELL IN LOVE WITH A FEMALE FLOWER_SELLER, another with a young Syractusan man named MENANDER who was in Ptolemy’s army. Likehise he tells of a MALE GOOSE who fell in love with a beautiful young Greek MAN, and of another who loved a female musician whose beauty as such that she alstro attracted the attention of a ram. -4. NEC QUIA DESIT ILLIS AMORIS VIS, NAMQUE TRADITUR UNUS AMASSE QUANDAM IN AEGYPTO COROLLAS VENDENTEM ALLUS MENANDRUM SYRACUSANUM INCIPIENTIS IUVENTAE IN EERCITU PTOLEMACI DESIDERIUM EIUS QUOTIENS NON VIDERET INEDIA TESTATUS 10.51 QUIN EST FAMA AMORS AEGII DILECTA FORMA PUERI NOMINE OLENII AMPHILOCHI, ET GLAUCES PTOLOMAEO REGI CITHARA CANENTIS QUAM EODEM TEMPORE ET ARIES AMASSE PRODITUR. Plin N H 8 1. MAXIMUM EST EPLEPHANS PROXIMUMQUE HUMANIS SENSIBUS QUIPPE INTELLECTUS ILLIS SERMONIS PATRII ET IMPERIORUM OBEDIENTIA, OFFICIOURM QUAE DIDICERE MEMORIA, AMORIS ET GLORIAE VOLUPTAS 8 13Turing to the concept of NATURA as it applied to sexual pracyices by ancient writers, we being with basica basic problem. The very term NATURA has various referents in those texts. Sometimes NATURA seems simply to refer to the way things are or to the INHERENT nature OF something, sometimes to the way things SHOULD be according to the intention ordictates of some transcendent imperative. Thus Foucault speaks of ‘the ‘three axes of nature’ in philosophical discourse. The general order of the world, the orgginal state of mankind, and a behaviour that is reasonably adapted to natural ends.Fouctault, p. 215-6. See also the discussions in Boswell, p. 11-5, where he distinguishes between ‘realistic’ and ‘ideal’ notions of nature, Beagon, and Levy, “Le concept de nature a Rome: la physique, Paris). The first two of these axes are evident in a wife-variety of Roman texts. Departures from what is observably the usual PHYSICAL constitution of various thbeings could be called NONNATURAL or UNNATURAL even by nonphilosophical authors. The Minotuar, centaurs, a snake with feet, a bird with four wings, and a sexual union between a woman (the muthis Pasiphae) and a bull.snAnon De Differentiis 520 23 MONSTRUM EST CONTRA NATURAM UT EST MINOTAURUS. Serv. Aen 6. 286 (centaurs) Suet Prata fr. 176.113-5  snakes with feet, birds with four wings. Serv. Aen. 1. 235.11. Pasiphae and the bull. Te elder Plinty claims that breech births are ‘against nature’ since it is ‘nature’s way’ that we should be born head first.n N H 7 45 -6. IN PEDES PROCIDERE NASCENTEM CONTRA NATURAM EST RITUS NATURAE CAPITE HOMINEM GIGNI MOST EST PEDIBUS EFFERRI. PLiQuintilian argues that to push one’s hair back from the forehead in order to achieve some dramatic effect is to act ‘against nature’.Quint I O 11 3 160 CAPILLOS A FRONTE CONTRA NATURAM RETRO AGERE. and Seneca himself opines that being carried about in a litter is ‘contra natural’a, since nature has gives us feet and we should use them.Sen. Epist 55 ` LABOR EST ENIM ET DIU FERI AC NESCIO AN EO MAIOR QUIA CONTRA NATURAM EST QUAE PEDES DEDIT UT PER NOS AMBULAREMUS. Finally, the belief that physical disabilities and disease are UNNAUTARAL, and thus, implicitly, that a healthy body displaying no marked derivations from the form illustrates what nature designed or intended, surfaces in a number of texts, arnign from Celusus’ mdical treatise to Ciceroo’s philosophical works to declamations attributed to Quintilian, to a moral epistle fo Seneca to the, to the Digest.2 1. 60 pr. MOTUS CORPORIS CONTRA NATURAM QUAM FEBREM APPELLANT. Quint. Decld. Min. 298.12 WEAK AND MALFORMED BODIES ARE IMPLICITLY CCONTRA NATURAM. Celsus Medic 3 21 15. On fluids that are retained in the body contra naturam. Cic Off 3 30 MORBUS EST CONTRA NATURAM. Gell. 4 2 3 Labeo defines morbus asHABITUS CUIUSQUE CORPORIS CONTRA NATURAM QUI USUUM ETIUS FACIT DETERIOREM. Cf. D. 21 1 1 7. D. 4Along the same lines, some ancient writers also suggest that to harm a healthy body with poisons and the like is unnatural.Quint Decl. Min. 246.3 the plaintiff refers to a substance as a venenum QUONIAM MEDICAMENTUM SIT ET EFFICIAT ALIQUID CONTRA NATURAM. Sen Epist 5. 4. To torment one’s body and to eat unhealthy food is CONTRA NATURAM. As for the third of the axes described by Foucault, anthropologists and others have long observed that proclamations concerning practices that are in acoordance with nature often turn out to reflect specific cultural traditions. As Winkler puts it, for nature we may often read culture.Winkler p. 17. In the same way Edwards p. 87-8 discusses a passage from Seneca (Epist 95.20=1) discussed in chapter 5, having to do with women who violate their ‘nature.’ She concludes that ‘Seneca was not reacting to naturally anomalous bheaviour. He was taking part in the reproduction of a a cultural system.’ So too Veyne , p. 26. ‘When an ancient says that something is unnatural, he does not mean that it is disgraceful (monstrueuse) that that it does not conform with the rules of society, or that it is perverted OR ARTIFICIAL”. Roman sources of various types certainly support that contention. Thus, for example, violations of traditional PRINCIPLELS OF LANGUAGE AND RHETORIC which are surely among the most intensely cutlrual of human phenomeno are SOMETIMES SAID TO BE UNNATURAL.Serv. Comm. Art Don. 4 4 4 PLINIUS AUTEM DICIT BARBARISMUM ESSE SERMOVEM UNUM IN QUO VIS SUA EST CONTRA NATURAM – Serv Aen. 4. 427. REVELLI NON REVULSI. NAM VELLI ET REVELLI DICIMUS. VULSUS VERO ET REVULSUS USURPATUM EST TANTUM IN PARTICIPIIS CONTRA NATURAM cf. Sen. Contr. 10, pr. 9 – tof the rhetorician Musa. OMNIA USQUE AD ULTIMUM TUMOREM PERDUCTA UT NON EXTRA SANITATEM SED EXTRA NATURAM ESSENT. One legal writer invokes the rhetoric of NATURA to justify the principle of individual ownership (joint possession of a single object is said to be CONTRA NATURAL.D. 41 2 3 5 CONTRA NATURAM QUIPPE EST UT CUM EGO ALIQUID TENEAM TU QUOTE ID TENERE VIDEARIS. Interestingly, another jurist argues that the principle underlying the institution of slavery – that one person can be owned by another – is actually ‘unnatural’ (D. 1. 5. 4. 1. SERVITUS EST CONSTITUTIO IURIS GENTIUM QUA QUIS DOMINIO ALIENO CONTRA NATURAM SUBICITUR. In a Horatioan satire we read that NATURA sees it that no one is every truly the ‘master’ of the land that he legally owns, and Natura puts a limit on how much one can inherit (Hor. Sat. 2. 2. 129-30, 2.3.178). Sallust describes the violation of the cultural and more specifically philosophical tradition priviliengy the SOUL over the BODY as UNNATRUAL.Sall. Cat. 2. 8. QUIVUS PROFECT CONTRA NATURAM CORPUS VOLUPTATI, ANIMA OVERI FUIT. SALLUST. Likewise, practices violating Roan ideologies of MASCULINITY are represented as INFRACTIONS NOT of cultural tranditions s but of the natural order. Cicero’s philosophical tratise DE FINIBUS includes a discussion of the parts and with some clarity functions of the BODY that illustrates the relation between NATURE and MSASCULINITY with some clarity Our bodily parts, Cicero argues, are PERFECTLY DESIGNED to fulfil their functions, and in doing so they are in conformance with nature. But there are certain bodily movesmesns NOT in accord with nature (NATURAE CONGRUENTES> If a man were to walk on his hand or to walk backwyasds, he would manifestbly be rejecgting his identity as a human and thuswould thus be displayeing a ‘hattred of nature’ (NAUTRAM ODISSE). Cic Fin 5 35. CORPORIS IGITUR NOSTRI PARTES TOTAQUE FIGURA ET FORMA ET STATURA QUAM APTA AD NATURAM SIT APPARET. The claim that walking on one’s hand is unnatural nicely illustrates the gap between ancient and more recent uses of the rhetoric of nature – cfr. Dodgson). The next illustration Cicer o offers of bodily moveents not in accord with natura concerns correctly masculine ways of deporing oneself. QUAMOBREM ETIAM SESSIONES QUAEDAM ET FLEXI FRACTIQUE MOTUS, QQUALES PROTERVORUM HOMINUM AUT MOLLIUM ESSE SOLENT, CONTRA NATURAM SUNT, UT ETIAMSI ANIMI VITIO ID EVENIANT TAMEN IN CORPOMUTRAR MUTARI HOMINIS NATURA VIDEATUR ITAQUE A CONTRARIO MODERATI AEQUABILESQUE HABITUS AFFECTIONS USUSQUE CORPORIS APTI ESSE AD NAUTRAM VIDENTUR (Cic. Fin 5. 35-6. Deemed ‘agaist natture’ are certain ways of carrying oneself that are ‘wanton’ and ‘soft,’ movements lthat, like walking on one’s hand or stepping backwards, clasi the with thvident purporse of the body’s various parts. Implicitly then, nature wills men’s bodies to move and to function in certain ways. Men who violate these principles of masculine comportment are acting BOTH EFFEMINATELY (as we saw in chapter 4, militia is a standard metaphor for effeminacy) AND UNNATURALLLY. Cultural traditions regarding masculinity – here, appropriate bodily gestures – are identified with the natural order.Similar conddemnations of inappropriate bodily comportment, marked as EFFEMINATE, abound: walking daintily, scratching the hair delicately wih onefinger, and so on (see chapter 4 in general and see Gleason for a general discussion of physiognomy and masculinity in antiquity. How, then is the rheotirc of nature applied to same-sex practices? One scholar has recently suggested that the elder Pliny describes men’s desires to be anally penetrated as occurring ‘by crime against nature’ Taylor, p. 325. But that is probably a misinterpretation of Pliny’s language. IN HOMINUM GENERE MARIBUS DEVERTICULA VENERIS EXCOGIGATA OMNIA, SCLERE (or CCCELERE naturae FEMINIS VERO AOBRTUS Plin N H 10 172. The phrase DEVERTICULA VENERIS which one might translate (by-ways of sex’ or ‘sexual deviations’ is vague. There is no reason to think that it refers to specifically, let alone exclusively, to the practice of being anally penetrated. Moreover, the phrase SCELERA NATURA or SCELERE NATURAE, rather than ‘crime against nature,’ is most obviously transated as ‘crime OF NATURE,’ that is, a crime perpetrated BY NATURE.This is indeed the way Plinio uses the phrase elsewhere, noting that we ought to call earthquakes ‘moracles of the eart rather than crimes of nature’ (NH 2 206 – UT TERRAE MIRACULA POTIUS DICAMU QUAM SCLEREA NATURAE. See Beagon, p. 29. In other words (pace Taylor and Rackham Loeb Classical Library translation, I take the genitive NATURAE to be subjective rather than objective. I have not found any parallels for such an objective use of a genitive noun dependent upon scelus. In any case, Pliny is not implying that all sexual desires or practices between males are unnatural: in this same treatise, significantly called the HISTORIA NAUTRALIS or Natural Investigations’ he reports the story of a male elephant who fell passionately in love with a young man from Syractuse as an illustration of the obviously natural power of love of love (amoris vis) among elephants; likewise, he reports the story of a gosse who loved a beautiful young man.Plin N H 8 13-4, 10.51More explicitly referring to those men who take pleasure in being penetrated, the speaker in Juvenal’s second satire riducules menwho have wilfully abandoned their claim on masculine status by weaking makeup, participating in women’s religious festivals, and even taking husbands, and notes with gratitude, that nature does not allow them gto give birth.Juv. 2 139 40. SED MELIUS QUOD NIL ANIMIS IN CORPORI IURIS NATURA INDULGET STERILES MORTUNTUR. For Further discussion see Appendix 2. The orator Labienus decries wealthy men who castrate their male prostitutes (EXOLETI, see chapter 2) in order to render them more suitable for playing the receptice role in intercourse. These men use their rinces in UNNATURAL WAYS (contra natural), and the natural standard they they violate is apparently the principle that mature males both should make use of the PENISES and should be IMPENETRABLE.Sen Contr. 10. 4 17. PRINCIPES VIRI CONTRA NATURAM DIVITIAS SUAS EXERCENT CASTRATORUM GREGES HABENT EXOLETOS SUOS AD LONGIOREM PATIENTIALM IMPUDICITIAE IDONEI SINT AMPUTANT. Firmicus Maternus refers to men’s desires to be penetrated as CONTRA NATURAL (5. 2. 11), and Caelius Aurelianus’s medical wirtings also reveal the assumption that men’s ‘natural’ sexual function is TO PENETRATE and not to be penetrated.9 137. NATURALIA VENERIS OFFICIA. Cael. Aurel. Morb. Chron. 4 In short, nature’s ditactes conveniently accorded with cultural traditions, such as those discouraging men from seeking to be penetrated, or those deterring them from engaging in sexual relations with other men’s wives: in a poem that urges on its male readers the principle that NATURA places a limit of their desires, Horace remocommends, as implicitly being in line with the requirement of nature, that men avoid potentially dangerous affaris with married women and stick to their own slaves, bh male and female.Hor. Sat. 1 2 111. NONNE CUPIDINIBUS STATUAT NATURA MODUM QUEM … Se chapter 1 for further discussion of this poem. Cf. Sat. 1. 4. 113-4: NE SEQUERER MOECHAS CONCESSA CUM VENERE UTI POSEEM. In one of his Episles (122) Seneca provides a lengthy and revealing discussion of ‘unnatural’ behavours that include a reference to sexual practices among males. He beings, however, by despairing of ‘those who have perverted the roles of daytime and nightime, not opening their eyes, weighed down by the preceding day’s hangover, until night begins its approach. Sen Epist 122 2 SUNT QUI OFFICIA LUCIS NOTISQUE PERVERTERINT NEC ANTE DIDUCANT OCULOS HESTERNA GRAVES CRAPULA QUAM ADPETERE NOX COEPIT. These people are objectionably not simply because of their overindulgence in goof and drink but because they do not respect the proper function of night and day.Comparing them to the Antipodes, mythincal beings who live n the opposite side of the globe, he asks. Do you think these people know HOW to live when they don’t even know WHEN to live? 122.3 HOS TU EXISTIMAS SCIRE QUEMADMODUM VIVENDUM SIT QUI NESCIUNT QUANDO?and this pervesion of night and say, is, in the end, ‘unnatural’. INTERROGAS QUOMODO HAEC ANIMAO PRAVITAS FIAT AVERSANDI DIEM ET TOTAM VITAM IN NOCTEM TRANSFERENDI? OMNIA VITA CONTRA NAUTRAM PUGNANT, OMNIA DEBITUM ORDINEM DESERUNT (Sen Epist. 122.5). He then proceeds to tick off a serioes of bheaviour that are similarly CONTRA NATURAM. First, people who drink on an empty stomach ‘live contrary to nature’ Sen. 122 6 NON VIDENTUR TIBI CONTRA NATURAM VIVERE QUI IEIUNI BIBUNT QUI VINUM RECIPIUNT INANIBUS VENIS ET AD CIBUM EBRII TRANSEUNT. Young men nowadsays, Seneca continues, go to the baths before a meal and work up a sewat by drinking heavily; according to them, only hopelessly philistine hicks (patres familiae rustici … et verae volupatigs ignari) save their drinking for after the meal.Sen Epist 122 6. ATQUI FREQUENS HOC ADULESCENTIUM VITIUM EST QUI VIRES EXCOLUNT UT IN IPSO PAENE BALINEI LIMINE INTER NUDOS BIBANT IMMO POTENT ET SUDOREM QUEM MOVERUNT POTIONIBUS CREBRIS AC FERVENTIBUS SUBINDE DESTRINGAT POST PRANDIUM AUT CENAM BIBERE VULGARE ETS HOC PATRIS FAMILIAE RUSTICI FACIUT ET VERA VOLUPTATIS IGNARI. The latter comment, with its contrast between URBAN AND RUSTIC life, austerity and luxyry , is a valuable reminder of us. The standard violated by those who drank betweofre eating was what we would call a cultural norm. But for Seneca they were violating the dicates of NATURE, abandoning the proper order (debitum ordinem) of things. This important point bust be borne in mind as we turn to the next practices that come under Seneca’s fire: NON VIDENTUR TIBI CONTRA NATURAM VIVERE QUI OMMUTANT CUM FEMINIS VESTEM? NON VIVUNT CONTRA NAUTRA QUI SPECTANT UT PUERITIA SPENDEAT TEMPORE ALIENO? QUID FIERI CRUDELIS VEL VISERIOUS POTEST? NUMQUAM VIR ERIT, UT DIU VIRUM PATI POSSIT? ET CUM ILLUM CONTUMELIAE SEXUS ERIPUISSE DEBUERANT NON NE AETAS QUIDEM ERIPIET (Sen. Epist 122. 7). The concept of the proper order is very much in evidence here, and here again the order shows unmistakable signs of cultural influence. Just as those who turn night into day or drink wine before they eat a meal are engaging in unnatural activities, so men who wear women’s clothes live contrary to nature – yet what could be more cultural than the designation of certain kinds of clothing as appropriate only for men and others as appropriate only for women? Moving on to his next point, Senceca continues to focus on extermal appearance. Men who attempt to give the appearance of the boyhood that is in fact no longer theirs also ‘live contrary to nature’. Again the order of things has been disrputed. Boys should be boys, men should be men. But these particular men want to LOOK like boys in order to find older male sexual partners to penetrate them. Such is the thenor of Seneca’s decorous but blunt phrase, ‘so that he may submit to a man for a long time’ (ut diu virum pati possit’). If we filter out Seneca’s moralizing overlay, this detail gives us a fascinating fglimpse oat Roman realities. These MEN scorned by Seneca acted upon the awareness that MEN would be more likely to find them desirable if their bodies seemed like those of BOYS (not men): young, smooth, irless. Moreover, the very fact that these men made the effort suggests that th actual age of the beautiful ‘boys’ we always hear of may not have mattered to their loveers so much as their youthful APPEARANCE.Cf. Boswell, p. 29, 81. All of this is very much a matter of CONVENTION, of CULtURAL traditions concerning the ‘proper order’ of things, but Seneca insistently pays homage to NATURA.Cf. Winkler, p. 21. “Contrary to nature means to Senea not ‘outside the order of the kosmos’ but ‘unwilling to conform to the simplicity of the unadorned life’ and, in the case of sex, ‘going AWOL rom one’s assigned place in the social hierarchy’”. The importance of this order is especially clear in the climactic illustrations of those who live ‘contrary to nature’. These are people who wish to see see roses in winter and employ artificial means to grow lilies in the cold season; who grow orchards at the tops of towers and trees under the roofs of their homes (this latter proving Seneca to a veritable outburst ofm moral indignation)., and those who construct their bathhouses over the waters of the sea Sen. Epist 122 21 NON VIVUNT CONTRA NATURAM QUI FUNDAMENTA THERMARUM IN MARI IACIUNT ET DELICATE NATARE IPSI SIBI NON VIDENTUR NISI CALENTIA STAGNA FLUCT AC TEMPESTATE FERIANTUR.  Finally Seneca returns to the example of unnatural practices that sparked the whole discussion: those who pervert the function of night and day aengage in the ultimate form of unnatural behaviour (Sen Epist 122 9 CUM INSTITUERUNT OMNIA CONTRA NATURAE CONSUETUDINEM VELLE NOVISSIME IN TOTUM AB ILLA DESCISCUNT LUCET SOMNI TEMPUS EST QUIES EST NUNC EXERCEAMUR NUNC GESTEMUR NUNC PRANDEAMUS. That the practice ofs of growing trees indoors, of building bathhouses over the sea, and of sleeping by day and partying by night should be considered unnatural makes some sense in relation to notions of the ‘proper order’ of things. Plants should e outdoors, buldings should be on dray land, and people should sleep at night. But that thes practices should be cited as the most egregious examples of unnatural bheaviour – they constitute the climax of Seneca’s argument – demontrastes just how wide the gap is between ancient moralists and their modern counterparts on the question of what is natural. With regard to mature men who seek to be penetrated by men, the third of Seneca’s examples of unnatural behaviour, Seneca makes in passing a surprising remark. CUM ILLUM CONTUMELIAE SEXUS ERIPUISSE DEBUERAT NON NE AETAS QUIDEM ERIPIET? 122.7. The clear implication is that a nature man certainly ought to be safe from ‘indignity’ (here a moralizing euphemism for penetration), but ultimately the very fact that he is MALE, REGARDLESS OF HIS AGE, ought to protect him. With with one pointed sentence, then, Seneca is suggesting that MALENESS IN ITSELF IS IDEALLY INCOMPATIBLE WITH BEING PENETRATED, and since sexual acts were almost without exception conceptualized as REQUIRING penetration, this amounts to positing the exclusion of sexual practices BETWEEN MALES from the ‘proper order’. This is a fairly radical suggestion FOR A ROAM MAN TO MAKE, and Seneca was no doubt aware of that fact. He slips the comment quietly into his discussion, makes the point rather subtly (it makight ake a second reading even to REALISE IT IS THERE), and then instantly moves on to other, less controversial arguments. FOR as opposed to Seneca’s suggestion that EVERY MALE, even a boy, should somehow be ‘rescued’ from ‘indignity,’ the usual Roman system of protocols governing men’s sexual behaviour required the understanding that A BOY is different from A MAN precisely because they COULD BE penetrated without necessarily forfeiting EVERY CLAIM to masculine or male status (see especially chapter 5 on this last point). But Seneca, waxing Stoic, here voices a dissenting opinion, as does the first century A. D. Stoic philosopher MUSONIUS RUFUS, in one of twhose treatises we find the remark that sexual practices BETWEEN MALES are ‘against nature’ (‘para-physical’) Muson, Ruf. 86. 10 Lutz para phusin. The remark needs to be be put in the context of Musonius’s philosophy of nature. According to Musonious, every  createure has its own TELOS beyond the goal of simply being aalive En a horse would not b e fully living up to its telos if all it did was to eat, drink, and copulate (106.25-7 Lutz)., while the TELOS or goal of a human being is to live the life or arete or VIRTUS. Thus, “each one’s nature (phusis) leads him to his particular virtuous quality (arete), so that it is is a reasonable conclusion that a human being is living in accordance WITH nature NOT when he lives in pleasure, but rather when he lives in virtue” 108.1-3 Lutz). Elsewhere he opines that human nature (phusis – anthropine phusis, natura humana, Hume, Human Nature) is not aimed at pleasure (hedone, 106.21.3 Lutz). Consequently, luxury (truphe) is to be avoided in EVERY way, as being the cause of INJUSTICE (126.30-1 Lutz). By implication, then, eating, drinking, and aopulating are not in themselves evil, but they can easily become sgns of a life of luxury, and if those activities aconstitute the goals of our existence, we are FAILING TO FULFIL OUR POTENTIAL AS A HUMAN BEING, namely, the practice of virtue, or reason, and consequently, not living IN ACCORDANCE WITH NATURE, but against her (paa phusin). Thus, as part of a regime of SELF-CONTROL (MALENESS OR MASCULINITY AS SELF-CONTROL, not addictive behaviour or weakness of the will) Musonius argues that a man should engage in a sexual practice only within the context of marriage for the purpose of begetting children. Any other sexual relation, even within marriage should be avoided. T”Those who do not live licentiously, or who are not evil, must think that only those sexual practices are justified which are consummated within marriage and for the creation of children, since these pratcttices are licit (NOMIMA). But such people must think that those sexual practices which hunt for mere pleasure are unjust and illicit, even if they take place within marriage. Of Other forms of intercourse, those committed in moikheia (I e. a sexual relation with a freeborn woman under another man;s control) are the most illicit. No more moderate than this is the INTERCOURSE OF MALES WITH MALES, since it is a DARING ACT CONTRARY TO NATURE. As for those forms of intercourse with with females apart from moikheia which are not licit (kaTa nomon) all of these are too shameful, because done on account of a lack of self-control. If one utside  to behave temperately (TEMPERANTIA, CONTINENTIA) one would not dare to have relations with a courtesan, nor with a free woman outside of marriage, nor, by Zeus, with one’s own slave woman (Musonius Rufus, 86.4-14 Lutz). As I argued in chapter 1, Musonius’s final remark reveals the extent to which the sexual morality that he is preaching is at odds with mainstream Roman traditions. Nor is his suggestion that men should keep their hans off prostitutes and their own slaves the only surprising statement to be found in the treatises attributed to Musonius. He elsewhere aargues against the obviously widespread practices of giving up for adoption or even exposing unwanted children (96-97 Lutz), of EATING MEANT (here he explicitly contrasts himself with the many hoi polloi who live to eat rather than the other way around (118-18-20 Lutz) or SHAVING THE BEARD (128.4-6 Lutz), of using wet nurses (42.5-9 Lutz), and most appositely, of allowing husbands sexual freedoms not granted to wives (96-8 Lutz). Thus his condemnation of sexual practices between MALES is issued in the context of a condemnation of ALL SEXUAL PRATICES other than those between husband and wife aimed at procreation (strictly speaking, vaginal intercourse when the wife is ovulating) and also in the context of a a suspicion of all luxury oand of pleasures beyond those relating to the bare necessities of life. Thus he condemns sexual relations between males as contrary to nature (the implication being that the two sexes ARE DESIGNED TO UNITE WICH EACH OTHER IN THE CONTEXT OF MARRIAGE), while sexual relations between malesand female outside of marriage are criticized as ‘illicit (para-noma) and as signs of lack of self-control. Here Musonius is obviously manipulating the ancient contrast between law or convention (nomos) and nature (phusis) and interprestingly procreative relations within marriage are ultimately given his seal of approval not because they are more ‘natural’ than tother sexual practices, but because they are ‘licit’ or ‘conventional’ (nomima), just as adulterious relations are most ‘illicit’ of unconventional (paranomotatai). In other words, Musonius invokes the rhetoric of nature only by way of secondary support.. A male-male relation is no more ‘moderate’ than a adulterious relationa dn anyway, he adds, they are ‘unnatural’. But a relation between a man and another man’s wife, while implicitly ‘natural’,is in the end more ‘illicit’ than a male-male relation. Even for the Stoic Musonious, NATURA may NOT be the ultimate arbiter. Interestingly, when he describes sexual practices between males as being against nature, Musonius does not appeal to animal bheaviour as does Plato in his Laws (836c). Indeed, such an argument sould have ill-suited Musonius’s argument elsewhere that humans are different from other animals and should not takem them as a MODEL FOR BHEAVIOUR. Thus he argues that wise men ill not attack in return if attacked – such revenge is the province of MERE ANIMALS – 78.26-7 Lutz) – and that, while among animals an act of copulation suffices to procude offspring, human beings should aim for the lifelong union that is marriage (88.16-17 Lutz). Finally, there is an important distinction to observe between Musonius’s remark concerning sexual practices between males and later Christian fulminations against ‘the unnatural vice’ which came to be a code term for ‘sodomy’. On the one hand, Musonius did not go so far as to condemn such relations as THE unnatural vice. Indeed, if we think about the implications of his words, relations between MALES do not even constitute the ULTIAMTE sexual crime. He declare that ADULTEROUS relations are ‘the most illicit of all’ (paranomotatai) and thus clearly more ‘illicit’ than relations between males which are howevery ‘equally immoderate’. Furthermore Musonius’s approach to the problem of sexual behaviour differs from later Christian moralists in a fundamental respect. As Foucault puts it, according to Musonius, ‘to withdraw pleasure from this form (sc. Of marriage, to detach pleasure from the conjugal relation in order to propoeseother ends for it, is in fact to debase the ESSENTIAL composition of the human being. The defilement is not in the sexual act itself, but in the ‘debauchery’ that would dissociate it from marriage, where it has its natural form and its rational purpose” Foucault p. 170. Cicero ro in a passage from one of this major philosophical works, the Tusculan disputations, approaches the ascetic stance advocated by Seneca and Musonius Rufus, although he nowhere makes an explicit commitment to the extreme suggested by Seneca and preached by Musonius. Speaking in the Tusculan Disputations of the detrimental effects of erotic passion, Cicero observes that the works of Greek poets are filled with images of love. Focusing on those who describe LOVE FOR BOYS (he mentions Alcaeus, Anacreon, and Ibycus), Cicero notes thain an aside that ‘NATURE HAS GRANTED A GREATER PERMISSIVENESS (maiorem liicnetial)” to men’s affairs with women. Cic. Tusc. 4. 71. ATQUE UT MULIEBRIS AMORES OMITTAM QUIVUS MAIOREM LICENTIAL NATURA CONCESSIT QUIS AUT DE GANYMEDI RAPTU DUBITAT QUID POETAE VELINT AUT NON INTELLEGIT QUID APUD EURIPIDEM ET LOQUATUR ET CUPIAT LAIUS. The comparative (MAIOREM LICENTIAL is noteworthy. NATURE has granted ‘greater’, not exclusive license to affais with women than to affairs with BOYS. The Latter are evidently NOT FORBIDDEN BY NATURE. Discouraged perhaps, but not outlawed. This is a BEGRUDGING ADMISSION, in perfect agreement with the tenor of the whole discussion of sexual passion which had opened thus. ET UT TURPES SUNT QUI ECFERUNT SE LAETITIA TUM CUM FRUUNTUR VENERIIS VOLUPTATIBUS SIC FLAGITIOSI QUI EAS INFLAMAMATO ANIMO CONCPISCUNT TOTUS VERO ISTE QUI VOLGO APPELATUR AMOR – NEC HERCULE INVNEIO QUO NOMINE ALIO POSSIT APPELARI  TANTAE LEVITATIS EST UT NIHIL VIDEAM QUOD PUTEM CONFERENDUM. (Cic. Tusc. 4. 68). These words disparage sexual passion as a whole – particularly a hot, inflamed desire (QUI EAST INFLAMMATO ANIMO CONCUSPICUNT) whether indulged in with women or with boys. NATURA, according to Cicero, makes it easier to indulge in this passion with women, so that when  men DO INDULGE IN IT WITH BOYS, they show just who DEEPLY THEY HAVE FALLEN VICTIM TO LOVE – that treacherous and destructive power, ‘te originator of disgraveful behaviour and inconstanty (FLAGITTI ET LEVITATIS AUCTOREM (4. 68), as G. Williams notes. In fact, remarkably enough, Cicero later claims that love itself is not natural. Cic. Tusc. 4 76. If love were natural, everyone would love, they would always love, and would love the same thing: one person would not be deterred from loving by a sense of shame, another by rational thought, another by his satiety – ETENIM SI NAUTRALIS AMOR ESSET ET AMARENT OMNES ET SEMPER AMARENT ET IDEM AMARENT NEQUE ALIUM PUDOR ALIUM COGITATIO ALIUM SATIETAS DETERRERET. Cicero’s remark on NATURA and sexual relations with women is in fact fact little more than a a passing comment. Still, its implications deserve some consideration. In what whays does NATURE grant ‘greater permisiveness’ to a relation with aa woma than with a boy? Why does Seneca suggest that men’s MALENESS ought to preclude them from being PENETRATED, and why does Musonius Rufus condemn ALL SEXUAL PRACTICES BETWEEN MALES as unnatural? These philosophers’ comments seem to rest on certain assumptions about the function of sexual organs. Certainly Seneca emphasixes the notion of the proper order or debitus ordon, according to which men should not drink wine before eating, grow roses in the winter, build buildings over the sea, or PENETRATE MALES. In short, some kind of ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN seems to lruk in the backgrounf of Cicero’s Seneca’s and Musoniu’s claism. The penis is ‘designed’ to PENETRATE a vagina. TA vagina is deigned to be penetrated by a penis. Similarly the passage from Phaedrus Fables 4 16 discussed in chapter 5 implies, whitout actually using the word NATURA, that males who desire to be penetrated (molles mares) and females who desire to penetrate (tribades) have A FLAWED DESIGN. When Prometheus was assuming these people’s bodies from CLAY, he attached the genial organs of the opposite sex in a drunken slip-up. But his more popularizing account only specifies that those males who DESIRE to be penetrated are anomalous. It does not designate those men who seek to penetrate other males as unnatural. On this model, a sexual act in which a master penetrated his UNWILLING MALE slave  is NOT UNNATURAL. By contrast, according the philosophers discussed here (Musonius most expliclty) this act would be unnatural.  But on the whole very few Roman writers seem to have taken this kind of argument to heart. In general, ROMAN MEN’S BEHAVIOURAL codes reflect an AWARENESS that the PENIS IS SUITED for purposes OTHER than penetrating avagina, and that the vagina is NOT the only organ suited for being penetrated. Such is the implication of a witty comment in an epigram of Martial’s addressed to a man who, instead of doing the USUAL WITHIN with his BOY and analyy penetrating him, has been STIMULATING THIS GENITALS. This is objectionable because it will speed up the process of his maturation and thus hasten THE ADVENT OF HIS BEARD (11.22.1-8). Martial tries to talk some sense into his friend and the epigram ends with an APPEAL TO NATURE. DIVISIT NATURA MAREM PARS UNA PUELLIS UNA VIRIS GENITA EST UTERE PARTE TUA Mart 1 22.9-10. The comment is of course a witticigm. Note the logical contradiction that this playful invocation of nature creates. If the penis is designed by nature for girls and the anus for mmen,how can a man use a boy’s anus in the way nature intended (i. e. to be penetrated by men) and at the same time use his own penis in the way nature intended (i. e. by penetrating a girl? See chapters 1 and 5 for further fsucssion of this epigram together with Martial’s humorous invocation of the paradigm of nature with regard to masturbation. but if the humour was to succeed, the notion that a boy’s anus is designed by nature for a man to penetrate cannot have seemed outrageous to Martial’s readership. After all, the rhetorical goal of the epigram is to steer tha man onto the path of right behaviour, the path which Martial’s won persona, dutifully, even proudly, followed. This sort of comment – rather than the passing remarks of such philosophers as Cicero, Seneca and Musonius Rufus, reflects the mainstreat Roman understanding of what constitutes NORMATIVE and NATURAL sexual beavhiour for a boy and for a man. It is significant, moreover, that neither CCicero nor Seneca nor Musonius Rufus nor any other survinving Roman text, philosophical or not, argues that a MAN’s *DESIRE* to penetrate a boy is ‘contrary to nature’. Musonius, for one, speaks ony of the sexual act (SUMPLOKAI). We return to the Epicurean perspective offered by Lucretius cited in chapter i. SIC IGITUR VENERIS QUI TELIS ACCIPIT ICTUS SIVE PUER MEMBRIS MULIEBRIBUS HUNC IACULATUR SEU MULIEUR TOTO IACTANS E CORPORE AMOREM UNDE FERITUR EO TENDIT GESTITQUE COIR ET IACERE UMOREM IN CORPUS DE CORPRE DUCTUM. Lucr. 4. 1052-6. This are lines from a poem dedicated to teaching its Roman readers about ‘the nature of things’ (de rerum natura 1.25). cf. Boswell p. 149 “Lucretius’s De rerum natura dealt with the whole of ‘natura’ but it was the ‘rerum’ of things – which suggested to Latin readers what modern speakers mean by ‘nature’”. Obviously the SUSCEPTIBILITY OF MEN to THE ALLURE of boys and women is a PART OF THE NATURAL ORDER for Lucretius. The beams of atomic particles that EMANATE from the bodies of boys and women and attract men to them are an integral part of the nature of things. It is the mentalitly evident in such diverse textsa Lucretius’s poetic treatise On the nature of Things, Martial’s epigrams, and graffiti scrawled on ancient walls that we need to keep in mind when we evaluate the comments of Musonius Rufus, Seneca, and Cicero. These are the words of three philosophers. Cicero expounding on the danger s of love, Senceca inveighing against the corrputions of the world around him, and Musonius arguing that men should engage only in certain kind of sexual relations and only with their wives, the goal being the production of legitimate offspring and not the pursuit of pleasure. These pronouncements tell u something about the world in which these three philosophers who made them lived, and about what men and women in that world were actually doing. Seneca for example is hardly fulminating about imaginary fices) but they tells us even more about Cicero, Seneca, and Musoiuns, and their own philosophical allegiances We have every reason to believe that comments like their rpersented a minoriy opinion. Indeed, the men AGAINST whom Musonius argues, who believed that A MASTER has absolute power to do ANYTHING HE WANTS to his slave, is precisel that man shoes VOICE dominated the public discourse on sexual practice. Moreover, as Winkler (p. 21) trenchangly observers, Seneca’s condemnation of such ‘unnatural’ behaviour as growing hothouse flowers or throwing nightime parties, ‘though articulated as universal, is OBVIOUSLY DIRECTED AT A VERY SMALL AND WEALTHY ELITE – THOSE WHO CAN AFFORD THE SORT OF LUXURIES Seneca wants ‘ALL MANKIND’ to do without”, It is telling, too, that Cicero himself never makes this kind of APPEAL TO NATURA in the SEXUAL INVECTIVE sscattered throughout the speeches he delivered in the public arenas of the courtroom, Senate, or popular assembly (see chapter 5), and that the argument appears NOWEHERE ELSE IN the considerable corpus of Seneca’s moral treatises. Likewise, it is worth noting that Musonius Rufus’s who makes the most extreme case, not only wrote his treatise in GREEK rather than Latin, as if to underscore its distance from he everyday beliefs and practices of Romans, but as a philosopher omitted to stoicis in a way that Cicero and and Seneca are not. As Haexter reminds us, Cicero proposes manydifferent rhetorical and philosophical positions in his speeches, letters, and dialogues, and Seneca’s epistles to Lucilius offer a tentative and experimental mixture of Stoicism and other philosophical schools (many of his earlier letters end with quotations from Epicurus, for example). In any case, Boswell, cp. 130 citing ancient sources claiming that the very founder of stoicism, Zeno, engaged in sexual practices with males (perhaps even exclusively) tnote that many ancient stoics actually seem to have considered the question of sexual praticess between males to e ETHICALLY NEUTRAL. Finally, It is worth noting that both Seneca and Cicero were thought not to have practiced what they prached. In a discussion of how Seneca’s behaviour often stood in contracition to his own teachings, the historian DIO CASSIUS observes that although he married well, Seneca also “takes pleasure in older lads, and teachers Nero do to the same thing, too”. Dio 61 10 4. Tas te aselgeias has praton gamon te epiphanestaton egme kai meikarious exorois exaire kai tauto kai ton Nerona poietin edidaxe. The historian goes on to insutate that Seneca fellated his partners, speculating on the reason why refused to kiss Nero. One might imagine, Dio notes, that this was  because he was gisuted by Nero’s penchant for oral sex. But that makes no sense given Seneca’s own relations with his boyfriends (61  10 5 o gar toi monon an tis hupopteuseien hoti ouk ethele toiouto stoma philein elegxketai ek ton paidikon autou pseudos on).  The younger Pliny (Epist. 7.4) informs us that Cicero addresses a love poem to his faithful slave and companion Tiro. Of course neither of these pieces of information tells us anything about Cicero’s or Seneca’s actual experiences. Cicero’s poem could have been a literary game and the stories a out Seneca that constituted Dio’s source may well have been unfounded gossip (For Cicero and Tiro, see McDermott and Richlin. P. 223, Canatarella p. 103 assumes that they actually ENJOYED A sexual relationship)). On the other hand, is it not impossible that Cicero actually DID experience DESIRE for Tiro and that Seneca DID enjoy the company of MATURE MALE SEXUAL PARTNERS. And abovre all it is important to recognize that later generations of Romans (the younger Pliny and Dio) were willing to IMAGINE THOSE THINGS HAPPENING. Dio’s gossipy remarks and Pliny’s comments on Cicero remind  us of the cultural context in which a philosopher’s allusion to NATURA must be placed.  ( Paolo Casini. Keywords: naturismo, naturalismo, natura, nazione, patto sociale, la legge naturale, l’uomo, contra natura. “antica sapienza italica” razionalismo, la metafora della lume, illuminismo, Bruno, il patto sociale --  Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Casini” – The Swimming-Pool Library. 

 

Grice e Casotti: l’implicatura conversazionale del volere – filosofia fascista – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like Casotti; of course, he reminds me of my master at Clifton! Casotti is into the teaching of philosophy: did Socrates teach Alcibiade or did Alcibiade learn from Socrate? On top, Casotti tried to systematise WHAT you have to teach: his first volume is telling: ‘l’essere’, which of course reminds me of my explorations on the multiplicity of being in Aristtotle – a human being in an ‘essere,’ but my tutee A. G. N. Flew    would scorn philosophers who use a verb with an article “l’essere” – or a pronoun with an an emphatic word meaning ‘same’ – “the self!” Figlio di Enrico e Virginia Sciello. Studia s Pisa sotto Amendola e Gentile. Con quest'ultimo si laurea con “La concezione idealistica della storia” in cui esprimeva la propria entusiasta adesione alla dottrina gentiliana dell'attualismo.  Dopo aver aderito all'appello Per un Fascio di Educazione Nazionale in vista di un rinnovamento della scuola italiana, indirizza il proprio percorso professionale in direzione della pedagogia, orientata alle teorie idealiste di Gentile, da lui riprese e rielaborate anche nelle prime esperienze a Pisa e Torino. Collabora nella redazione delle riviste Levana e La nuova scuola Italiana.  Motivazioni personali, unite all'esigenza di approccio più realista all'educazione, lo portano il ad allontanarsi in maniera piuttosto repentina dalle posizioni idealistiche precedenti e ad aderire all’aquinismo. Insegna a Milano, sviluppando una filosofia ispirata a Lambruschini, Rosmini, e Bosco, basata sulla “perennis philosophia” dell'aristotelismo aquinista.  Egli avversa da un lato l'attivismo e il naturalismo, recuperando l'importanza della «lezione» e della «disciplina», in una prospettiva di insegnamento rivolta all'«imitazione di un ideale regulativo». Dall'altro reinterpreta il rapporto tutore/tutee nell'ottica di Alcibiade-Socrate. Contesta la pretesa dell'attualismo gentiliano di risolverne il dualismo (tutore-tutee) in unità, concependolo piuttosto come con-divisione di uno stesso cammino di crescita, incentrato su una rivelazione, nel quale la filosofia è vista come un'arte, che consente il passaggio dalla potenza all'atto.  Fonda la rivista Supplemento pedagogico a Scuola italiana moderna, rinominata in Pedagogia e vita. Pubblicò in due volumi una sintesi della sua filosofia, che vede la filosofia contraddistinta, «come arte» e “come disciplina” -- sia da un aspetto etico, finalizzato a un ideale, sia da uno speculativo basato sulla sperimentazione del metodo più oppurtuno da seguire e adattare alle difficoltà del contesto.  Altre opere: “La concezione idealistica della storia” (Firenze, Vallecchi); Introduzione alla pedagogia, Firenze, Vallecchi, La nuova pedagogia e i compiti dell'educazione, Firenze, Vallecchi, Lettere sulla religione, Milano, Vita e Pensiero, La pedagogia di Lambruschini, Milano, Vita e Pensiero); Il moralismo di Rousseau. Studio sulle idee pedagogiche e morali di Rousseau, Milano, Vita e Pensiero, Maestro e scolaro. Saggio di filosofia dell'educazione, Milano, Vita e Pensiero, La pedagogia d'Aquino. Saggi di pedagogia generale, Brescia, La Scuola, Educazione cattolica, Brescia, La Scuola, Scuola attiva, Brescia, La Scuola, La pedagogia di Rosmini e le sue basi filosofiche, Milano, Vita e Pensiero,  Didattica, Brescia, La Scuola, Pedagogia generale, Brescia, La Scuola, Esiste la pedagogia?, Brescia, La Scuola, La pedagogia del Vangelo, Brescia, La Scuola, Educare la volontà, Brescia, La Scuola, Il metodo educativo di Don Bosco, Brescia, La Scuola, L'arte e l'educazione all'arte, Brescia, La Scuola, Memorie e testimonianze Brescia, La Scuola. Franco Cambi, Mario Casotti, su treccani.  Appello per un "Fascio di educazione Nazionale", su «L'educazione nazionale», Franco V. Lombardi, Filosofia e pedagogia nel pensiero di Casotti. Dall'Idealismo alla Neoscolastica,  Ugo Spirito, L'idealismo italiano e i suoi critici, Firenze, Le Monnier, Maria Rossi, La pedagogia italiana contemporanea: il pensiero di Casotti, in «Supplemento pedagogico», Filosofia e pedagogia nel pensiero di Casotti, «Rivista di Filosofia Neo-Scolastica»,  Vita e Pensiero, Un pedagogista troppo presto dimenticato. Casotti e l'arte educativa, «Osservatorio sul mercato del lavoro e sulle professioni»,  Il rapporto maestro-allievo nel confronto tra C. e Gentile, «CQIA rivistaFormazione, lavoro, persona», Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Filosofia e pedagogia nel pensiero di C., «Rivista di Filosofia Neo-Scolastica»,  Vita e Pensiero, Un pedagogista troppo presto dimenticato. Casotti e l'arte educativa, «Osservatorio sul mercato del lavoro e sulle professioni»,  Il rapporto maestro-allievo nel confronto tra Casotti e Gentile, «CQIA rivistaFormazione, lavoro, persona», Dizionario biografico degli italiani. 40 L’Appello per un Fascio di Educazione Nazionale, in « L ' Educazione Nazionale », L ' Idea Nazionale. vedere C., Dopo il Congresso Nazionale, in « La Nostra Scuola », 1920, nn.   1 - È costituito un Fascio di educazione nazionale fra gli insegnanti di ogni ordine e grado e fra i cultori dei problemi concernenti la... Sullo stesso fascicolo rispondeva a Pellizzi Mario Casotti, il quale riconosceva l'opportunità di abbandonare...  Casotti Mario, La nuova pedagogia e i compiti dell'educazione moderna, Vallecchi, Firenze, 1923. Mazzoni Elda, L ' idealismo... GENTILE Il Fascismo al governo della Scuola, Sandron, Palermo, Casotti makes a dramatic break with actualism early in his career. A tutee of Gentile, he nevertheless underwent a conversion in the 1920's and was called to teach pedagogy at Milan in 1924. There he worked with Neo-Thomist scholars and produced works on education with a distinct orientation. He is particularly remembered as the founder and director of the review Pedagogia e vita, a journal that took on new importance in the postwar years. A spiritualist who came out of the idealist tradition, he is considered a pioneer in neospiritualist pedagogy, taught in Pisa and Turin; he underwent a conversion, and was called to the chair of pedagogy a Milan. He produced critiques of idealism from a neoscholastic point of view. Eventually, he began a systematic study of divided into three parts: teleology (the aim or end); anthropology (study of the philosophical tutee); and methodology. In his "anthropological" writings, he defends personalism against idealism and materialism. He was a contributor to and editor of the education journal Scuola italiana moderna. He encouraged systematic child study in a way that later became more widespread among Italian philosophers.  AQUINO Saggi di filosofia generale INDICE Prefazione, La Pedagogia di Aquino, L'educazione naturale, L'anima della pedagogia, Filosofia, Religione e " Filosofie " nelle Scuole Medie, Pedagogia cattolica, L'Insegnamento religioso nelle Scuole elementary. Non c'è nulla al mondo di tanto noioso come un autore che si ripete: pure non osiamo presentare ai benevoli lettori questa raccolta di saggi, senza richiamare, sia pur nella maniera più breve possibile, un concetto fondamentale da noi svolto in altri nostri lavori. Questo: che la filosofia in Italia, e anche in un periodo indubbiamente per lei rigoglioso come fu il secolo XIX, ha sofferto, e soffre tuttavia, per aver lasciato cadere, o non aver saputo riprendere con sufficiente energia il filo di quella grandissima tradizione dottrinale che doveva ricongiungerla alla Scolastica, e, in essa, al più grande maestro: Aquino. Altre volte vi abbiamo accennato, ed ora non ripeteremo le ragioni per cui, mentre i maggiori scolastici moderni non trattavano se non fuggevolmente il problema della filosofia, i filosofi  più noti o non assurgevano a un concetto filosofico della pedagogia, o, in ogni caso, non si mostravano abbastanza agguerriti sul terreno della filosofia scolastica. E' cessato oggi, questo stato di cose? Non pretendiamo dare adesso un frettoloso giudizio. Però, salta, per così dire, agli occhi di qualunque imparziale osservatore, che la pedagogia cattolica italiana contemporanea, non certo povera, come qualcuno ama credere, di nomi e di opere, è lungi tuttavia dall'esser ricca come si desidererebbe, di trattazioni aventi un carattere rigidamente filosofico e speculativo. Inutile stare a discutere e a cercare, più o meno sottilmente, le cause di questo fatto. Trattandosi d'una realtà contemporanea, che si svolge sotto i nostri occhi, piuttosto che discutere, è meglio fare o, almeno, ingegnarsi di fare, è anche più simpatico e toglie a un modesto autore la noiosa responsabilità d'andar criticando e censurando a destra e sinistra. Fare: non certo perché gli altri ci debbano prendere a modello, anzi perché, dissodato alla meglio il campo, con minor fatica e maggior profitto altri lo possano  lavorare dopo di noi. Ecco perché Aquino è il soggetto del primo saggio qui raccolto e, insieme, il titolo del volume, e San Tommaso d'Aquino è ancora - possiamo dirlo - il pensiero dominante che circola per tutti gli altri, e li stringe in una intima unità la quale non può sfuggire allo sguardo dell'attento lettore. La pedagogia di S. Tommaso non è stata studiata da noi con intento, vorremmo dire, archeologico, quasi per scoprire e mettere in mostra un degno monumento d'un passato glorioso, bensì per mostrare i numerosi, attualissimi problemi che un pensiero, eternamente giovane, dell'immortale giovinezza della verità, suscita quando lo si ripensa in relazione ai nuovi bisogni dello spirito moderno. Or non è molto, giudicando il movimento contemporaneo della ècole active, qualche studioso asseriva che i più sani principi onde va tanto orgogliosa l'educazione moderna, si trovano già in San Tommaso. Affermazione verissima, che però va subito completata con quest'altra: ciò che di più vacuo e superficiale v'ha nelle teorie pedagogiche recentissime, quel continuo riempirsi la bocca di parole vane ed imprecise, quel parlare a sproposito di autoeducazione, di libertà, di «creazione», quell’ingenuo ottimismo naturalistico, che fa dell'alunno e del bambino un mezzo Dio (naturalismo denunciato testé nella Enciclica Pontificia sull'educazione) trovano già in San Tommaso il critico più deciso e radicale che si possa desiderare. E la sua critica al concetto stesso, oggi tanto in voga, di «autoeducazione», va meditata, seriamente, se non si vuol correre il rischio, attratti dalla novità, di accettare addirittura, come cattoliche, tutte le teorie della école active! Con ciò mi sembra anche di avere amichevolmente risposto al Lombardo-Radice, o, meglio, all'Educazione Nazionale che in poche e benevole parole dedicate al mio libro Maestro e Scolaro, mi annoverava fra gli «attivisti». Sì, "attivista", se così volete: ma alla maniera d'Aquino, e non a quella del Ferrière. Sì, con voi se acconsentite a mettere il termine «attività» al posto del termine «autoeducazione», e il termine «spontaneità» al posto del termine «creazione», che conviene solo a Dio.Amico vostro finché studiate, in concreto, i mezzi migliori per garantire, nella scuola, l'effettivo lavoro e la gioiosa collaborazione dello scolaro: nemico, cortese, ma fierissimo, quando quello sforzo gioioso ignora, o, peggio, disprezza, la salutare frusta della mortificazione cristiana, e diventa cosi - uso ancora l'espressione della Enciclica Pontificia - «naturalistico», anche se giustificato da teorie più o meno idealistiche. Amico vostro quando vi preoccupate, giustamente, della educazione religiosa; nemico fierissimo quando gabellate il cristianesimo per un tetro «moralismo», e gli volete sostituire un dio fantasma, inafferrabile, che il Ferrière identifica addirittura, o poco ci manca, con l'élan vital bergsoniano. La filosofia d'Aquino! Quando penso alle immancabili smorfie colle quali certi critici accoglieranno questa frase, ch'è tutto un programma di rinnovamento e di risanamento, ho un rimpianto, sì, ma non quello che i suddetti critici s'aspetterebbero. Rimpiango di non essermi, se mai, ispirato abbastanza, in questi saggi che pur vogliono essere un modesto tentativo di pedagogia cristiana, al pensiero del grande Aquinate; rimpiango che il mio discepolato verso un tanto maestro, non abbia potuto riuscire, qua e là, più fedele e generoso. E se qualcosa può consolarmi, è la certezza che la mia fatica non sarà stata vana, se risparmierà agli altri lunghe e faticose ricerche per arrivare solo in fine a ciò che avrebbe dovuto essere il punto di partenza: una conoscenza esatta delle teorie elaborate, intorno all'educazione, dal Dottore Angelico  AQUINO BRESCIA, Editrice “La Scuola”, La Pedagogia di S. Tommaso d'Aquino L'Educazione naturale 93 L'Anima della pedagogia 125 Filosofia, Religione e " Filosofie " nelle Scuole Medie 163 Pedagogia cattolica 195 L'Insegnamento religioso nelle Scuole elementari Non c'è nulla al mondo di tanto noioso come un autore che si ripete: pure non osiamo presentare ai benevoli lettori questa raccolta di saggi, senza richiamare, sia pur nella maniera più breve possibile, un concetto fondamentale da noi svolto in altri nostri lavori. Questo: che la pedagogia cattolica in Italia, e anche in un periodo indubbiamente per lei rigoglioso come fu il secolo XIX, ha sofferto, e soffre tuttavia, per aver lasciato cadere, o non aver saputo riprendere con sufficiente energia il filo di quella grandissima tradizione dottrinale che doveva ricongiungerla alla Scolastica, e, in essa, al più grande maestro: San Tommaso d'Aquino.  Altre volte vi abbiamo accennato, ed ora non ripeteremo le ragioni per cui, mentre i maggiori scolastici moderni non trattavano se non fuggevolmente il problema dell'educazione, i pedagogisti cattolici più noti o non assurgevano a un concetto filosofico della pedagogia, o, in ogni caso, non si mostravano abbastanza agguerriti sul terreno della filosofia scolastica. E' cessato oggi, questo stato di cose? Non pretendiamo dare adesso un frettoloso giudizio. Però, salta, per così dire, agli occhi di qualunque imparziale osservatore, che la pedagogia cattolica italiana contemporanea, non certo povera, come qualcuno ama credere, di nomi e di opere, è lungi tuttavia dall'esser ricca come si desidererebbe, di trattazioni aventi un carattere rigidamente filosofico e speculativo.  Inutile stare a discutere e a cercare, più o meno sottilmente, le cause di questo fatto. Trattandosi d'una realtà contemporanea, che si svolge sotto i nostri occhi, piuttosto che discutere, è meglio fare o, almeno, ingegnarsi di fare, è anche più simpatico e toglie a un modesto autore la noiosa responsabilità d'andar criticando e censurando a destra e sinistra. Fare: non certo perché gli altri ci debbano prendere a modello, anzi perché, dissodato alla meglio il campo, con minor fatica e maggior profitto altri lo possano  lavorare dopo di noi.  Ecco perché San Tommaso d'Aquino è il soggetto del primo saggio qui raccolto e, insieme, il titolo del volume, e San Tommaso d'Aquino è ancora - possiamo dirlo - il pensiero dominante che circola per tutti gli altri, e li stringe in una intima unità la quale non può sfuggire allo sguardo dell'attento lettore. La pedagogia di S. Tommaso non è stata studiata da noi con intento, vorremmo dire, archeologico, quasi per scoprire e mettere in mostra un degno monumento d'un passato glorioso, bensì per mostrare i numerosi, attualissimi problemi che un pensiero, eternamente giovane, dell'immortale giovinezza della verità, suscita quando lo si ripensa in relazione ai nuovi bisogni dello spirito moderno.  Or non è molto, giudicando il movimento contemporaneo della ècole active, qualche studioso asseriva che i più sani principi onde va tanto orgogliosa l'educazione moderna, si trovano già in San Tommaso. Affermazione verissima, che però va subito completata con quest'altra: ciò che di più vacuo e superficiale v'ha nelle teorie pedagogiche recentissime, quel continuo riempirsi la bocca di parole vane ed imprecise, quel parlare a sproposito di autoeducazione, di libertà, di «creazione», quell’ingenuo ottimismo naturalistico, che fa dell'alunno e del bambino un mezzo Dio (naturalismo denunciato testé nella Enciclica Pontificia sull'educazione) trovano già in San Tommaso il critico più deciso e radicale che si possa desiderare. E la sua critica al concetto stesso, oggi tanto in voga, di «autoeducazione», va meditata, seriamente, se non si vuol correre il rischio, attratti dalla novità, di accettare addirittura, come cattoliche, tutte le teorie della école active!  Con ciò mi sembra anche di avere amichevolmente risposto al Lombardo-Radice, o, meglio, all'Educazione Nazionale che in poche e benevole parole dedicate al mio libro Maestro e Scolaro, mi annoverava fra gli «attivisti». Sì, "attivista", se così volete: ma alla maniera di S. Tommaso d'Aquino, e non a quella del Ferrière. Sì, con voi se acconsentite a mettere il termine «attività» al posto del termine «autoeducazione», e il termine «spontaneità» al posto del termine «creazione», che conviene solo a Dio. Amico vostro finché studiate, in concreto, i mezzi migliori per garantire, nella scuola, l'effettivo lavoro e la gioiosa collaborazione dello scolaro: nemico, cortese, ma fierissimo, quando quello sforzo gioioso ignora, o, peggio, disprezza, la salutare frusta della mortificazione cristiana, e diventa cosi - uso ancora l'espressione della Enciclica Pontificia - «naturalistico», anche se giustificato da teorie più o meno idealistiche. Amico vostro quando vi preoccupate, giustamente, della educazione religiosa; nemico fierissimo quando gabellate il cristianesimo per un tetro «moralismo», e gli volete sostituire un dio fantasma, inafferrabile, che il Ferrière identifica addirittura, o poco ci manca, con l'élan vital bergsoniano.  La pedagogia di San Tommaso d'Aquino! Quando penso alle immancabili smorfie colle quali certi critici accoglieranno questa frase, ch'è tutto un programma di rinnovamento e di risanamento, ho un rimpianto, sì, ma non quello che i suddetti critici s'aspetterebbero. Rimpiango di non essermi, se mai, ispirato abbastanza, in questi saggi che pur vogliono essere un modesto tentativo di pedagogia cristiana, al pensiero del grande Aquinate; rimpiango che il mio discepolato verso un tanto maestro, non abbia potuto riuscire, qua e là, più fedele e generoso. E se qualcosa può consolarmi, è la certezza che la mia fatica non sarà stata vana, se risparmierà agli altri lunghe e faticose ricerche per arrivare solo in fine a ciò che avrebbe dovuto essere il punto di partenza: una conoscenza esatta delle teorie elaborate, intorno all'educazione, dal Dottore Angelico. Da  quelle teorie, anche così come le abbiamo prese e tentato di rivivere, emana già una luce che non può essere, come i nostri avversari vorrebbero, la luce scialba d'un crepuscolo che preceda la notte d'un passato morente, ma è la luce vivida dell'alba, che precede il giorno nuovo pieno di speranze e di promesse.  A coloro che nel riprendere il pensiero di S. Tommaso e, in genere, della scolastica, vedono un pericolo per la libertà e l'originalità della ricerca scientifica s'è già risposto, e nel nostro volume Maestro e Scolaro e, qui, nel saggio Religione, filosofia e « filosofie » nelle scuole medie. Ora vogliamo ricordare, per finire, che non certo la pedagogia cattolica si può accusare di scarsa originalità. L'alba del giorno nuovo illumina delle figure che giganteggiano già nella storia della moderna educazione: basta menzionare Don Bosco, la cui grandezza e fecondità, anche come teorico e pedagogista, si comincia appena adesso a scoprire. Le numerose opere della pedagogia cristiana aspettano solo chi le studi, le illustri, le faccia conoscere al pubblico studioso, con quello stesso amore che altri mettono nell'illustrare le più piccole iniziative delle scuole nuove o rinnovate. Anche questa volta i figli del mondo sono stati più abili ed intelligenti dei figli di Dio. Ma non sarà sempre così. Cortemaggiore (Piacenza) Convento di S. Francesco, 4 Gennaio 1931, nella Festa del SS. Nome di Gesù. NOTA. - I saggi che si raccolgono in questo volume furono tutti pubblicati, a vario intervallo di tempo, dal 1925 in poi sulla Rivista Scuola Italiana Moderna. Eccezion fatta pei seguenti: L'Educazione naturale (Relazione presentata alla XVII Settimana Sociale dei cattolici italiani, Firenze 1927, e apparsa negli Atti); L'anima della pedagogia (Rivista di filosofia neoscolastica, 1925) e Pedagogia cattolica (Rivista Levana, Firenze 1923). La Pedagogia di S. Tommaso d'Aquino  Esiste una pedagogia di S. Tommaso d'Aquino? E si può, senza temer di cadere nelle solite esagerazioni che ci fanno attribuire troppo spesso ai grandi uomini del nostro cuore una sapienza sterminata ed estesa un po' a tutto l’universo scibile umano, asserire che il dottore angelico abbia segnato, anche nel campo delle teorie sull' educazione, l'impronta di quell'altissimo ingegno che, stringendo insieme cielo e terra costruiva un edificio di dottrina al quale le età venture avrebbero guardato sempre con commossa riverenza, quasi a testimonianza imperitura di quel che possa la scienza quando si congiunge colla fede? Fortunatamente, la risposta a tale domanda non ammette dubbi di sorta. Ché nella vastissima opera dell'Aquinate non solo la pedagogia c'è, in quanto dappertutto vi si possono cogliere spunti di teorie sull'educazione, in ordine a tutta la concezione dell'uomo e della realtà e al fine della vita, ma c'è anche come problema esplicitamente discusso e risolto con tale rigore scientifico e con tali esigenze critiche che dovranno passare dei secoli, nella storia della pedagogia, prima che sia possibile riprenderlo, quello stesso problema, colle medesime esigenze.  Il problema, infatti, che San Tommaso affronta nel suo De magistro è un problema di per sé così delicato e difficile che solo rare volte, e in periodi di cultura filosofica molto diffusa, i pedagogisti anche più valenti riescono a proporselo con tutta la chiarezza  desiderabile. E questo perché i pedagogisti sono premuti di solito dalla necessità di risolvere altre questioni più particolari e delimitate che loro sembrano e forse, sotto un certo aspetto, anche sono più urgenti, come quelle che riguardano l'organizzazione pratica dell'educazione, i metodi e via dicendo. Tutte questioni che non si possono, certo, risolvere senza far capo a un concetto filosofico dell' educazione, ma che spesso permettono, questo concetto, di sottintenderlo e di presupporlo, o di discuterlo, se mai, solo a proposito di quei particolari problemi pedagogici e didattici che si stanno trattando, piuttosto che di stabilirlo e discuterlo direttamente, per se stesso. Ciò spiega come mai le più celebri opere che la storia della pedagogia ricorda, dalla Didattica magna del Comenius ai Pensieri sull'educazione del Locke, all'Emilio del Rousseau, alla Education Progressive della Necker de Saussure, efficacissime nel descrivere e nell'analizzare in concreto il processo educativo, riescano tutte quanto mai deboli ed inefficaci nello stabilire, con sicuro metodo, una definizione dell'educazione che giunga ad appagarci sotto l'aspetto filosofico. Siamo, quasi, costretti a riconoscere che, se la pedagogia e la didattica sono antichissime, la filosofia dell'educazione è ancora bambina: ed era, forse, necessaria la rude scossa data dall' idealismo italiano contemporaneo col suo paradosso, gravido di verità, della identificazione completa tra filosofia e pedagogia, perché le indagini di filosofia dell'educazione riacquistassero, nella cultura pedagogica odierna, quel posto di prim'ordine che debbono avere.  Questo breve preambolo occorreva per fare intendere che il problema pedagogico, così come San Tommaso lo annette, potremmo dire, alla filosofia scolastica, sotto il classico titolo «De magistro», è appunto il maggior problema della pedagogia, trattato con tutto quel rigore scientifico e filosofico che potrebbe desiderare, oggi, uno studioso.  Non si tratta neppure della domanda: «che cosa è l'educazione?» domanda alla quale, in fondo, è dato rispondere anche restando sul terreno sperimentale, ma dell'altra e ben più difficile domanda: «come è possibile l'educazione?». Che l'educazione avvenga è un fatto che si può analizzare e descrivere sotto i più diversi aspetti, ma poi la filosofia deve sapere che cosa valga questo atto e quali siano le ragioni che lo spiegano e che lo rendono intelligibile. Ora, per arrivare a porre il problema così, bisogna cominciare dal compiere una certa astrazione (non spaventi questa parola oggi tanto malfamata) sui dati del problema educativo quale, a prima vista, ci è offerto dall'esperienza, bisogna, cioè, prescindere per un momento da tutte quelle particolari circostanze che rendono così interessanti e suggestivi, nella pratica, i problemi didattici, e avere il coraggio di ridurre l'educazione stessa alla sua più semplice espressione, a ciò che di veramente essenziale e caratteristico v'ha nel processo educativo, a ciò da cui non è possibile, davvero, prescindere, senza annullare o sfigurare gravemente l'educazione medesima. Il che viene poi ad essere un puro e semplice rapporto fra un soggetto che insegna ed un soggetto che impara, fra un soggetto che possiede determinate cognizioni od attitudini, e un soggetto che da lui riceve queste stesse cognizioni o attitudini che prima non possedeva: fra il maestro, cioè, e lo scolaro. Ebbene, domandare come è possibile l'educazione non significa altro che domandare come è possibile questo rapporto fra due soggetti pensanti, in virtù del quale l'uno può all'altro trasmettere determinate cognizioni ed attitudini. Ed ecco la cerchia entro la quale si svolge la ricerca del De Magistro di San Tommaso: ricerca che, appunto per questa sua rigorosa impostazione critica, sembra come anticipare i risultati delle più moderne e scaltrite filosofie dell'educazione. * * *  Posto così, il problema dell' educazione ha suscitato, si può dire, in ogni tempo, e ogni volta che qualche pensatore l'ha approfondito, alcune serie difficoltà, oggi note a tutti, ma il formulare precisamente le quali è costato alla filosofia dell' educazione uno sforzo non indifferente. Poiché il chiedere soltanto come è possibile che un soggetto (il maestro) comunichi ad un altro soggetto (lo scolaro) determinate cognizioni ed attitudini sembra implicare, se non addirittura una contraddizione, certo una difficoltà quasi insormontabile, dato che il termine «trasmettere» o «comunicare» o qualsiasi altro termine consimile che si adoperi a definire l'azione del maestro sullo scolaro, non sembra possa riflettere, se non in maniera molto imprecisa e grossolana, ciò ch'è veramente caratteristico del processo educativo. Se si trattasse, infatti, di un oggetto materiale, allora parrebbe a tutti chiarissimo ch'esso potesse comunicarsi, trasmettersi o cambiar sede, come una moneta che passa di mano in mano, ma nell'educazione ciò che si trasmette è essenzialmente un valore ideale e immateriale, come la scienza e la virtù. E questi valori tanto poco si lasciano «trasmettere», nel significato materiale della parola (poiché essi hanno la loro base in un atto interno del pensiero e del soggetto pensante), e un atto di tal genere è tanto impossibile trasportarlo da un soggetto ad un altro soggetto, quanto è impossibile che un soggetto trasmetta ad un altro ciò che costituisce la sua intima personalità, sì che Tizio diventi Caio o Socrate si tramuti in Alcibiade. E allora, al pensatore che sperimenta questa difficoltà, si affaccia spontanea una ipotesi che sembra semplificare nel miglior modo l'intricato problema, troncando alla radice ogni obiezione ed incertezza. Dato che la difficoltà prima nasce dall'aver concepito educatore ed educando come due soggetti distinti, perché non togliere addirittura di mezzo la dualità stessa, e concepire l'educazione come lo svolgimento d'un unico soggetto che, invece di ricevere il sapere dall'esterno, lo sviluppa dall'interno? Teoria antica per lo meno quanto la correlativa difficoltà, poiché ad essa si può ridurre già la maieutica socratica, e perché, fra l'altro, con l'intento di stabilirla su salde basi, Platone costruiva la sua celebre teoria della reminiscenza (mentovata, appunto, nel De Magistro tomistico) e lo schiavo ch'egli immaginava interrogato da Socrate nel Menone aveva proprio il compito di servire a dimostrare, indirettamente, la tesi che l'opera del maestro consiste nello stimolare o nell'aiutare la mente del discepolo perché cerchi, e, cercando, cavi fuori la scienza che ha già in sé, non nel pretender di trasmettere al discepolo una scienza bell'e fatta. Che è poi e in Socrate e in Platone e più tardi in tutta la pedagogia moderna, la dottrina che va per la maggiore, la dottrina dell'autodidattica, o, come anche si dice, dell’autoeducazione: dottrina, cioè, che riduce l'educazione ad autoeducazione, qualunque sia poi la concezione filosofica colla quale pensa di confortare tale riduzione. La teoria dell'autodidattica infatti (e questo è appunto uno dei motivi che hanno più contribuito alla sua diffusione) permette una grande varietà e latitudine di giustificazioni filosofiche, dal misticismo, se così si può chiamarlo, che immagina il sapere infuso da Dio direttamente allo spirito umano e da questo via via scoperto e reso esplicito mediante l'opera dell'educazione, al soggettivismo estremo il quale crede che il pensiero nostro crei liberamente la sua scienza nell'atto stesso del pensarla e non possa perciò ricevere dall' insegnamento e dalla scuola, altro che uno stimolo a tale creazione, o per dir meglio, alla chiara consapevolezza di questa creatività, che costituisce la sua essenza, e della quale non può mai spogliarsi. II  Ora, di dottrine che potevano concludere in qualche modo un sistema di autodidattica S. Tommaso ne aveva presenti due. Molto diverse, è vero, per valore e significato, tanto diverse, anzi, quanto può essere diversa una dottrina vera, e vera di una profonda verità, ma incompleta, un errore aperto e tutto contesto di acuti ma inconsistenti sofismi. Basta ricordare che l'uno era la dottrina esposta da Sant'Agostino nel suo De Magistro e l'altro era l'averroismo: quella interpretazione di Aristotele che, movendo dal pensiero del grande stagirita attraverso il commento di Averroè e degli altri commentatori arabi, finiva in un sistema panteistico, mezzo idealista e mezzo naturalista, che sembrava anticipare in pieno medioevo la crisi ideale della quale dovrà poi tanto soffrire il pensiero moderno. Basta, diciamo, ricordare questo per intendere subito il diverso atteggiamento che l'Aquinate doveva prendere verso l'una e verso l'altra delle due dottrine, pur essendo costretto necessariamente a ravvicinarle nel corso di quella discussione dalla quale dovevano limpidamente scaturire i concetti fondamentali della pedagogia tomistica.  Il De Magistro di Agostino è a sua volta, non meno del De Magistro tomistico, tenuto conto, si capisce, d'ogni differenza e di tempo e d'ambiente e di mentalità, un modello nel suo genere. Modello d'una ricerca che non si arresta neppure essa, come non si arresterà poi l'indagine di Tommaso, ai particolari problemi della pedagogia e della didattica, ma ascende subito al problema massimo su cui s'appoggia la filosofia dell' educazione. “Come è l'educazione possibile?” S. Agostino, né più né meno di S. Tommaso, incomincia da questa domanda. “Come è possibile, cioè che un soggetto (il maestro) comunichi ad un altro soggetto (lo scolaro) determinate cognizioni?” L'indagine del De Magistro agostiniano prende in esame il mezzo principale e più appariscente, che sembra appunto garantire tale comunicazione tra il maestro e lo scolaro, non meno che tra gli uomini in genere: il linguaggio. Sembra, infatti, che proprio la parola, parlata o scritta, con tutto il corteggio di altre espressioni grafiche, foniche, mimiche ond'è accompagnata, debba essere per eccellenza il veicolo attraverso il quale, se così può dirsi, la scienza passa dal docente al discente; talché chi mette la mano su questo problema ha, di necessità, la strada aperta ad una esauriente critica delle forme nelle quali si costituisce e si svolge normalmente l'espressione didattica.  Sennonché la vigorosa e geniale ricerca sul linguaggio perseguita nel De Magistro agostiniano, e alla quale non si può rimproverare altro che, talvolta, di indulgere a qualche sottigliezza eccessiva (spiegabile del resto, col carattere stesso dell'opera che, piuttosto che una esposizione compiuta d'una dottrina vuol essere ed è una magnifica realizzazione di metodo socratico) finisce, chi ben guardi, non solo col dichiarare il linguaggio uno strumento inservibile per la trasmissione della scienza dal maestro allo scolaro, ma anche collo svalutare, volta a volta, tutti gli altri mezzi dei quali il magistero umano si serve per rendere più concreta ed efficace la parola stessa. Sembra, è vero, che il maestro possa, per insegnare allo scolaro, servirsi di cose oltre che di parole, come ha sempre creduto la pedagogia, nei suoi sforzi verso un metodo «intuitivo» od «oggettivo», ma in realtà Agostino adduce contro quella pretesa un argomento molto forte, del quale S. Tommaso farà poi gran conto. Il mostrare una cosa non ci dice, per sé, quale sia l'elemento essenziale e quali gli elementi accidentali della cosa stessa: così se io cammino per mostrare ad altri che sia il camminare, gli spettatori potranno forse prendere per essenza della mia deambulazione l'andatura più lenta o più frettolosa ch'io ho tenuto e credere che il camminare sia, per esempio, l'affrettarsi. E se voglio evitare l'equivoco  devo ricorrere alle parole o ad altri segni affini, poiché, effettivamente, anche nel mostrare una cosa debbo servirmi di segni che non sono identici alla cosa stessa, e se, poniamo, per spiegare che cos'è la parete la indico col dito tacendo, il mio dito teso a indicare non è la parete, ma un segno della parete: né più né meno della parola trisillaba «parete» [Cfr. S. agostino: De Magistro Cap. III, 5 e 6].  Segni sensibili: ecco la natura del linguaggio, parlato, scritto, mimico o grafico che sia. Ora, i segni hanno appunto questo inconveniente: che, quando noi li percepiamo, o li conoscevamo già oppure non conoscevamo le cose ch'essi significano. Se le conoscevamo, allora i segni ci servono, ma non inducono in noi nessuna nuova cognizione, se non le conoscevamo, i segni non ci dicono nulla e diventano affatto inutili. La parola latina saraballae, ad esempio, è un segno che non mi significa niente, proprio perché io non so che saraballae erano chiamate certe fogge di copricapi. Bisogna, dunque, che già l'abbia saputo, e l'ho potuto sapere non col mezzo di altre parole, ma perché già sapevo che cosa è il capo e che sono i copricapi, per aver visto l'uno e gli altri. Anzi, nemmeno la parola «capo» la prima volta che la udii mi disse nulla, e fu necessario ch'io la mettessi in relazione con quella cosa già da me conosciuta ch'era la testa mia o d'altri, per intendere il suo significato [Op. cit. Cap. X, 33, 34]. E allora non sono i segni che fanno intender le cose, ma, al contrario, le cose che fanno intendere i segni; e il linguaggio del maestro che è, anch'esso, un sistema di segni, ben lungi dal procurare allo scolaro una scienza ch'egli non possedeva, può significargli qualche cosa solo in ordine alla scienza ch'egli aveva già. Il che vuol dire ottenere un risultato nullo quanto alla sola cosa che ci premeva: la possibilità d'una effettiva comunicazione e trasmissione di scienza dal maestro allo scolaro.  Ed ecco la conclusione. Le parole non possono essere veicolo di scienza dal maestro allo scolaro, perché sono puri segni sensibili, invece la scienza non è un segno o una cosa sensibile, ma un atto interno della mente, alla quale appare la verità o la falsità delle nozioni che le vengono date «Che se per i colori consultiamo la luce, e per le altre cose che sentiamo attraverso il corpo consultiamo gli elementi di questo mondo... per le cose intelligibili noi consultiamo con la ragione la verità interiore». E che cos'è questa verità? «...colui che è consultato insegna: quel Cristo che fu detto abitare nell'uomo interiore, cioè l'immutabile Virtù ed eterna Sapienza di Dio; chi consulta, del resto, ogni anima ragionevole; ma tanto a ciascuno si apre, quanto ciascuno può prenderla secondo la propria o cattiva o buona volontà» [Op. cit. cap. XI, 38 e XII, 39]. Che significa, appunto, concludere a una vera e propria autoeducazione nella quale non il maestro, ma solo Dio infonde direttamente il sapere allo spirito umano, ch'è precisamente, come abbiamo notato altra volta, una delle possibili giustificazioni, in sede filosofica, dell'autodidattica, e si trova, un pò come tutta la filosofia agostiniana, sulla stessa linea del platonismo e, in questo caso, della sua celebre teoria della reminiscenza.  Dio, dunque, è l'unico maestro dell'uomo: l'unico maestro al quale non faccia ostacolo quella tale difficoltà della comunicazione fra soggetto docente e soggetto discente. Affermazione giustissima certo, sotto l'aspetto positivo, in quanto non solo si deve riconoscere che Dio può insegnare imprimendo senz'altro nella mente il lume intellettuale e la verità, ma appare evidente che il magistero divino debba essere la causa prima e il fine ultimo di ogni magistero umano. Ma affermazione insufficiente sotto l'aspetto negativo, poiché, in fondo, arriva a negare addirittura la possibilità dell'educazione e a dichiarare insolubile il problema, dal quale ha preso le mosse, dei rapporti fra maestro e  scolaro. Nonostante gli spunti geniali della sua ricerca, Agostino non riesce che a far sentire più acute e tormentose le difficoltà del problema stesso, cioè, in ultima analisi, a farci desiderare con maggiore intensità una soluzione veramente razionale, che è infatti il grandissimo merito del De Magistro agostiniano. S. Tommaso dovrà precisare, dovrà, talora, rettificare dovrà, soprattutto, procedere oltre; ma la sua pedagogia non potrebbe poggiare così in alto, se l'opera di Agostino non le offrisse già una base sicura: l'impostazione rigorosamente critica del problema, che il De Magistro tomistico riprenderà tale e quale. III  L'altra corrente filosofica alla quale guardava San Tommaso nell'impostare il problema del suo De Magistro è, certo, ben lungi dall'avere la chiarezza o, meglio la molteplicità di documenti e di manifestazioni che oggi permettono a noi di accostarci con tanto profitto al pensiero agostiniano. Poiché, ancora, il Renan nella sua opera su Averroé e l'averroismo era costretto a considerare l'averroismo piuttosto come una tendenza dottrinale da ricostruirsi attraverso le confutazioni che ne avevano fatto gli avversari, che come un insieme di teorie positivamente sostenute negli scritti di determinati autori. Studi più recenti hanno cambiato questo stato di cose: dopo il notissimo saggio del Mandonnet su Sigieri di Brabante, oggi noi conosciamo non soltanto i nomi di alcuni averroisti, ma possediamo alcuni testi di notevole interesse, i quali ci permettono, in ogni caso, di asserire che l'averroismo latino fu, almeno dopo il 1230, qualcosa di ben più reale e concreto che una semplice tendenza. Il che, del resto, appare chiaramente, per non dir altro, dalla differenza che passa già, in questo ordine di idee, fra il trattato di Alberto Magno De unitate intellectus, e l'omonimo trattato di S. Tommaso d'Aquino, scritto quindici anni dopo: dove l'uno è costretto in certo modo a escogitare lui le tesi averroiste fondandosi sugli scritti dei peripatetici, l'altro mostra di polemizzare contro una dottrina avversaria ben costituita ed effettivamente insegnata. In ogni modo, però, la conoscenza che abbiamo oggi dell'averroismo è ancora ben lungi dall'essere soddisfacente, sia pur solo in ordine ai numerosi problemi che fa sorgere in noi l’interpretazione di San Tommaso, ed è certo da augurare e da sperare che nuovi testi averroistici possano essere dati alla luce in un prossimo avvenire. Cosa che permetterebbe di studiare con maggior esattezza la stessa filosofia dell'educazione, esposta da S. Tommaso, e nella questione disputata De Veritate (della quale fa parte il De Magistro) e nella questione 117 della Summa Theologica (Parte Ia). Poiché e nell' una e nell' altra San Tommaso attacca l'averroismo intorno al problema dei rapporti fra maestro e scolaro, e della possibilità che un uomo riceva scienza da un altro uomo. Ora, l'averroismo aveva effettivamente prodotto qualche opera nella quale quel problema fosse, di proposito, esaminato, oppure, come adesso sembra più probabile, si trattava di conseguenze implicite in tutta la dottrina averroistica? Evidentemente, solo i progressi futuri della storiografia filosofica intorno all'averroismo potranno permettere una risposta definitiva a questa domanda.  Comunque, se circa questo problema della possibilità dell’educazione, i precedenti storici del pensiero tomistico in ordine all’averroismo paiono incerti quanto ai particolari, nessun dubbio vi può essere invece circa i due punti che ora c’interessano. È certo, cioè, non solo che nel trattare il problema della educazione S. Tommaso guarda all'averroismo come all'avversario da sconfiggere, ma che, di più, egli suole, benché con intenti nei due  casi molto diversi, trattarlo insieme alla dottrina agostiniana, o platonico-agostiniana, che abbiamo or ora richiamata. L'abbiamo già detto: la tesi agostiniana appare, in massima, vera ma incompleta, dove la tesi averroistica appare manifestamente falsa. Ma appunto da quella incompletezza S. Tommaso doveva pensare essere facile passare a questa falsità, non solo per la ragione generica del pericolo che presentano sempre le teorie incomplete, ma anche per alcune ragioni specifiche e positive che possiamo benissimo rintracciare attraverso le poderose argomentazioni del De Magistro, e che ci vengono subito in mente appena ci troviamo a richiamare i principi fondamentali dell'averroismo.  L'averroismo, infatti, qualunque possa essere lo sviluppo che gli abbia dato in particolare l'uno o l'altro suo fautore, ci si presenta, nelle sue linee generali, abbastanza ben definito, si potrebbe dire, attorno a due tesi fondamentali riguardanti, l'una, la natura dell'anima umana, l'altra i rapporti di Dio col mondo. La prima tesi, riguarda la notissima questione della unità dell'intelletto: e non s'andrebbe lontani dal vero asserendo ch'essa rispondeva, nella mente dei pensatori medioevali, a un ordine di preoccupazioni non molto dissimile da quello cui rispondono, nella mente dei pensatori moderni, le dottrine idealistiche del soggetto unico e dell'io trascendentale. «Quod intellectus omnium hominum est unus et idem numero» [V. MANDONNET Siger de Brabant, Louvain 1911. Vol. 1° pag. 111 n.. - Si cfr. nel vol. II° a pag. 187 fra le proposizioni condannate dallo stesso Arcivescovo nel 1277: «Quod scientia magistri et discipuli est una numero...» Che è proprio una delle affermazioni confutate nel De Magistro, all'Art. 1° (ad sextum)]: ecco come la condanna portata nel 1270 dall'Arcivescovo di Parigi contro l'averroismo definiva la prima proposizione riprovata. Noi non possiamo, ora, addentrarci nelle sottili questioni di interpretazione aristotelica che questa dottrina coinvolge: basti notare, adesso, la soluzione del problema della conoscenza ch'essa richiede. In sostanza, come pure è chiarito sia dalla polemica di San Tommaso sia da un'altra delle proposizioni condannate, qualunque fosse la maniera colla quale interpretava Aristotele, l'averroismo intendeva fondarsi su ragioni speculative, fra l'altro, su questa: che l'atto del pensiero sembra non potersi attribuire in proprio a questo o a quel soggetto pensante particolare, ma doversi attribuire invece a un intelletto unico che si rifrange, sì variamente attraverso le singole anime e i singoli corpi da esse informati, ma che, ciò nonostante, resta unico, come la luce che illumina in diverso modo i vari oggetti, e tuttavia è sempre la stessa luce. Le differenze fra i singoli soggetti, ossia fra l'una e l'altra anima individuale sembravano, cioè, agli averroisti differenze che cadessero, se così ci si può esprimere, su un piano diverso da quello nel quale si svolge la funzione del pensiero vera e propria: differenze riguardanti, insomma, la materia piuttosto che il pensiero [O, al massimo, la sensibilità e l'immaginazione: l'anima sensitiva. V. quanto diciamo a pag. 29], fino a far dell'anima individuale, in quanto forma dell'uomo, qualcosa che si corrompe colla morte, né più né meno del corpo.  Fermiamoci un momento a questa celebre tesi, per la quale l'averroismo ben merita di essere chiamato, pur colle debite differenze d'ambienti e di problemi, l'idealismo del Medio Evo, cosi come, d'altra parte, ben si potrebbe chiamare oggi l'idealismo un averroismo moderno, molto più evoluto e raffinato del suo antico progenitore. Quali conseguenze si possono trarre da questa tesi dell'intelletto unico in ordine al problema dell'educazione? È chiaro: se l'intelletto è uno solo in tutti gli uomini, è uno solo anche nel maestro e nello scolaro, i quali, dunque, non sono più due soggetti, ma un soggetto solo, almeno quanto alla funzione del pensiero. Ma allora ecco risolta quella tal difficoltà  della «comunicazione» fra maestro e scolaro che tanto aveva tormentato Agostino. Il maestro non ha più bisogno di comunicare dall'esterno collo scolaro, per la semplice ragione che l'uno e l'altro già comunicano nella maniera più intima possibile, attraverso lo stesso intelletto, che è unico in ambedue. E perciò l'opera esteriore del maestro si riduce, non già al trasmettere scienza, ma solo a stimolare lo scolaro perché disponga la fantasia e la sensibilità [Si veda S. Tomm. Summa theol. I, 117 art. I (nel corpo)] in modo da attuare convenientemente quella scienza che già possiede - allo stesso titolo del maestro - nell'intelletto unico.  Così la teoria averroistica accresce la sua autorità con tutto il peso degli argomenti fra i quali si era dibattuto il pensiero agostiniano, anzi, ci si presenta come la sola teoria capace di spiegare in maniera rigorosamente scientifica il problema dell'educazione. Né l’avere ammesso, come Agostino, Dio come solo maestro, costituisce un ostacolo: poiché quell'intelletto unico di Averroé e degli averroisti si trova già, filosoficamente, in una posizione equivoca, nella quale non è difficile riconoscergli attributi divini, quali la capacità di creare o, almeno, di infondere immediatamente le forme nella materia. E non basta: la teoria averroistica sembra venire incontro anche a quelle esigenze circa l'autodidattica, che da Socrate e da Platone in poi si erano fatte energicamente sentire, nella storia della pedagogia, poiché lo scolaro non vi riceve scienza dal maestro o, comunque, dal di fuori, ma solo trae da se stesso, o da quell'unico intelletto che pensa in lui, tutta la scienza che gli abbisogna. Sì che, in sostanza, averroismo, autodidattica, Dio unico maestro, finiscono col formare una sola dottrina, che pare rispondere mirabilmente alle difficoltà già sollevate da Agostino circa il problema dell'educazione, e fornirci, anzi, quel completamento e quella rielaborazione critica che la pedagogia agostiniana attendeva. Ricordiamo quello che avevamo detto al principio di questo studio: il difficile problema di intendere come un soggetto pensante (il maestro) possa trasmettere il suo sapere a un altro soggetto pensante (lo scolaro) è risolto appunto col toglier di mezzo la dualità, riducendo l'educazione all'atto di un soggetto unico. Non resta che tracciare una linea ideale attraverso il tempo, la quale congiunga Aristotele e Averroé con Cartesio, Kant ed Hegel, fino all'idealismo contemporaneo, e avremo rintracciato, nel bel mezzo delle dispute medioevali, le origini almeno di una fra le più cospicue correnti della pedagogia moderna.  Ma la teoria dell'intelletto unico prendeva un significato ancor più deciso, quando la si considerava insieme a quell'altro gruppo di tesi cosmologico-metafisiche che si riscontrano non solo in Averroè e negli averroisti, anche in altri commentatori arabi di Aristotele, come Avicenna od Algazele. Le tesi averroistiche condannate nel 1270 affermano, aristotelicamente, il mondo essere eterno, e Dio non conoscere nulla fuori di se stesso e tutto ciò che accade nel mondo, compresi gli atti della volontà umana, essere soggetto non alla Provvidenza divina, ma alla necessità e all'influsso dei corpi celesti. D'altra parte, in tutti i commentatori di Aristotele sopra citati ricorre pertinacemente questa affermazione: che Dio non ha creato direttamente - se pur si può ancora parlare di «creazione» da questo punto di vista - tutti gli esseri, ma solo l'intelligenza prima, o l'intelletto separato, il quale, a sua volta, ha dato la forma a tutti gli esseri, magari attraverso una gerarchia d'intelligenze, le superiori delle quali agiscono sulle inferiori. Così l'importanza e la dignità, se si può dire, metafisica di Dio come causa prima, mentre sembra aumentata riesce, invece, stranamente diminuita. Sembra che sia tolto a Dio ogni contatto diretto colla materia e cogli esseri, inferiori: in realtà questo accade sol perché si  sono dati alle cause seconde degli attributi che dovrebbero spettare solo alla causa prima, ad esempio la facoltà di creare, la facoltà d'imprimere immediatamente le forme nella materia, il dominio sulle intelligenze. La stessa materia e il mondo materiale diventano qualche cosa che sta e si svolge per sé indipendentemente da Dio: onde quella strana cecità e indifferenza di Dio per quanto accade nel mondo. Il che significa ridurre, anziché aumentare, l'importanza della causa prima, tanto da ammettere addirittura, implicitamente o esplicitamente, l'esistenza di parecchie cause prime. C'è insomma, e nei commentatori arabi di Aristotele e nell'averroismo, questa interessante posizione filosofica: un ingenuo materialismo che sta insieme a un non meno ingenuo idealismo, un sistema dell'immanenza che finisce in un vero e proprio naturalismo. Ce ne dovremo ricordare dopo, esaminando il De Magistro di S. Tommaso. IV  Il quale S. Tommaso due volte, nelle due diverse trattazioni che dedica al problema dell'insegnamento, torna a discutere la dottrina averroistica: una volta, prevalentemente, per ciò che riguarda la teoria dell’intelletto unico, un'altra volta per ciò che si riferisce alle teorie metafisico-cosmologiche.  Nella Summa Theologica, I, q. 117, art. 1, l'averroismo è, infatti, esposto e confutato quanto alle sue conseguenze circa i rapporti fra maestro e discepolo che riguardano la teoria della conoscenza. Averroè, dice S. Tommaso, affermò esser unico l'intelletto in tutti gli uomini e perciò ammise che il maestro non può causare allo scolaro una scienza diversa da quella che quest’ultimo ha già, ma solo può spingerlo ad ordinare i fantasmi nella sua immaginazione in modo che siano ben disposti a riflettere la luce dell'unico intelletto e a provocare, perciò, l'apprensione della scienza. “ Et secundum hoc ponit, quod unus homo per doctrinam non causat scientiam in altero aliam ab ea quam ipse habet; sed communicat ei eamdem scientiam quam ipse habet, per hoc quod movet eum ad ordinandum phantasmata in anima sua, ad hoc quod sint disposita convenienter ad intelligibilem apprehensionem”. Dove bisogna tener presente che, secondo l'averroismo, l'anima sensitiva, alla quale appartengono la fantasia e i fantasmi, è forma del corpo, e, quindi, a differenza dell'anima intellettiva, è propria di ciascun singolo soggetto e molteplice secondo la molteplicità dei soggetti. Onde, l'atto del pensare si può attribuire all'uno o all'altro singolo soggetto, al maestro o allo scolaro, non in quanto puro atto del pensare (nel qual senso va attribuito solo all'intelletto unico) ma in quanto pensiero che si riflette e, per così dire, s'incorpora nei fantasmi, i quali appartengono in proprio all'uno o all'altro individuo o soggetto particolare. La differenza fra il maestro e lo scolaro non sta, dunque, nel fatto che l'uno sappia e l'altro non sappia, uno abbia la scienza e l'altro no, dal momento che maestro e scolaro hanno tutti e due, per natura, lo stesso intelletto e, perciò, la stessa scienza. Ma sta, invece, nel fatto che il maestro ha già disposto i fantasmi della sua immaginazione in modo che essi rispecchino e realizzino le forme intellettuali dell'intelletto unico; mentre lo scolaro non li ha ancor disposti così, ma deve tuttavia disporli. Il maestro, quindi, non «comunica» né trasmette scienza nel senso vero e proprio della parola, ma solo stimola con l'insegnamento lo scolaro a formare e ordinare quei fantasmi che permetteranno, se ci si consente l'espressione, alla luce dell'intelletto unico, che pur c'era nella sua anima, ma era come adombrata e annuvolata, di passare a  risplendere in tutta la sua chiarezza.  Teoria, bisogna pur dirlo, simile in modo addirittura impressionante a certe dottrine moderne le quali non hanno su di lei che il vantaggio di non formulare sempre chiaramente le ultime conseguenze cui giungono, ma le quali, viceversa, ammettono un «Io» unico per tutti i soggetti particolari, e debbono poi rinviare alla sensibilità quando vogliono spiegare la differenza, almeno apparente, fra un soggetto e l'altro, proprio come già faceva, a suo modo, la teoria averroistica. Più esperte e scaltrite, le teorie moderne sono pronte a coprire col divenire e la dialettica ogni loro deficienza; più ingenuo e grossolano, l'averroismo si lasciava subito sbarrare il passo da questa formidabile difficoltà. Se l'intelletto è unico, diverso e separato dalle singole anime individuali, come si può poi attribuire a queste singole anime, e ai singoli soggetti, Tizio, Caio e Sempronio, l'atto del pensare, l'atto, cioè, di un soggetto per definizione affatto diverso da loro? Abbiamo visto, è vero, che gli averroisti tentavano di vincere questa difficoltà amalgamando l'intelletto unico con l'anima individuale attraverso il termine medio dei fantasmi e delle forme o specie intelligibili. Ma si tratta di una soluzione che non risolve nulla, poiché tale «continuatio vel unio» come la chiama S. Tommaso non spiega in qual modo l'azione dell'intelletto si possa attribuire a questo o quel soggetto particolare. Il fatto che le specie o forme intelligibili siano nei fantasmi dell'anima individuale non significa punto che siano da essa pensate, così come l'essere il colore in una parete non vuol dire che la parete vegga il colore, o che si debba attribuir alla parete l'azione del vedere. Per avere in sé il colore, la parete non vede, ma è veduta; per avere riflesse nei suoi fantasmi le forme o specie intelligibili, l'individuo, Tizio o Caio, non penserebbe, ma piuttosto, sarebbe pensato, dall'unico intelletto [S. Theol. I, q. 76, art. 1 (in corp.)].  Difficoltà, si noti bene, che non si risolve col far entrare a forza l'intelletto unico dentro i soggetti particolari, o col renderlo, come oggi si preferisce dire, «immanente». Poiché la questione non è di lontananza o vicinanza, di continuità o di contiguità, ma di possibilità o impossibilità logica e metafisica. Si chiede appunto se sia possibile rendere «immanente» un intelletto unico nei singoli soggetti particolari, e proprio qui si trova la difficoltà insolubile. Non è ora il caso di addentrarsi oltre nell'acuta critica che San Tommaso fa alla teoria dell'intelletto unico tutte le volte che gli accade di trattare dell'averroismo sia direttamente che indirettamente; né di enumerare i poderosi argomenti in proposito della quest. 76 (I, art. 1 e 2) ch'egli stesso richiama alla quest. 117. Qui basti ricordare che l'aver criticato quella teoria averroistica porta l'Aquinate a denunciare un equivoco, nel quale altre teorie, ben più moderne e scaltrite dell'averroismo, sarebbero poi cadute. Questo: che, nell'insegnamento, perché si possa garantire la comunicazione fra maestro e scolaro e il loro reciproco intendersi, non occorre che la scienza del maestro sia una di numero [Cfr. supra, pag. 24, nota, la proposizione condannata nel 1277] con quella dello scolaro, quasiché il medesimo sapere dovesse passare da una mente all'altra come un pezzo di legno passa di mano in mano. Ma basta soltanto che la scienza dello scolaro sia eguale o simile a quella del maestro: identica per la identità delle cose conosciute pur attraverso due processi mentali distinti e diversi e non per una materiale coincidenza e sovrapposizione della mente del maestro a quello dello scolaro, «...non si dice che il docente trasfonda la scienza nel discepolo, come se la stessa scienza - numericamente la stessa scienza - che è nel maestro passasse nel discepolo; ma che, mediante l'insegnamento passa nel discepolo una scienza, simile a quella che è nel maestro...» [De Mag. Art. I ad 6.tum «...docens non dicitur transfundere  scientiam in discipulum, quasi illa eadem numero scientia quae est in magistro, in discipulo fiat, sed quia per doctrinam fit in discipulo scientia similis ei quae est in magistero”]. Che significa, in sostanza, dimostrare quanto poco sia fondata l'idea che la teoria dell'intelletto unico possa facilitare o addirittura risolvere il problema della educazione, colla sua materialistica contrazione di tutti i soggetti pensanti in un soggetto solo, quasiché i soggetti fossero oggetti materiali che se non si sbattono gli uni contro gli altri non c'è verso di metterli in rapporto fra loro. V  Nel De Magistro, invece, la teoria averroistica non è considerata per ciò che si riferisce al problema della conoscenza, ma più in generale per ciò che riguarda il problema metafisico e i rapporti fra la causa prima e le cause seconde. Tanto è vero che l'autore esplicitamente citato non è Averroè, come nella quest. 117 della Summa, ma Avicenna: ossia proprio colui che più insiste sul carattere metafisico dell'intelletto separato, considerandolo come l'intelletto primo, il solo prodotto immediatamente da Dio, e, in pari tempo, il datore delle forme a tutti gli esseri. Una specie di idealismo monistico, dunque, secondo il quale, e il problema metafisico e il problema morale e il problema della conoscenza sono risolti con l'ammettere che le forme degli esseri, la virtù e la scienza derivino dall'intelletto unico e da esso fluiscano, per così dire, sia negli oggetti sia nei soggetti individuali.  Accanto a questa dottrina S. Tommaso ne ricorda, per criticarla parimente, un'altra che sembrerebbe quasi una teoria materialistica, se non ci aiutasse il riscontro con la citata questione 117 della Summa. Altri credettero, è detto nel De Magistro, che tutti codesti elementi, forme, scienza, virtù, fossero, anziché in un primo agente, nelle cose stesse, e venissero poi soltanto in luce per opera dell'azione e degli agenti naturali: come se tutte le forme delle cose fossero già immanenti nella materia. «Quidam vero e contrario opinati sunt; scilicet quod omnia ista rebus essent indita, nec ab exteriori causam haberent, sed solummodo quod per exteriorem actionem manifestantur: posuerunt enim quidam, quod omnes formae naturales essent actu in materia latentes» [De Mag. art. I (in corp.)]. Ma nella quest. 117 della Summa è detta opinione dei Platonici "opinio Platonicorum" quella secondo la quale gli agenti naturali preparano soltanto a ricevere le forme che la materia acquista per partecipazione delle Idee. «Sic etiam ponebant, quod agentia naturalia solummodo disponunt ad susceptionem formarum, quas acquirit materia corporalis per participationem specierum separatarum» [S. Theol. I, q. 117, art, 1 (in corp.)]. E il richiamo alla concezione platonica è efficacemente riconfermato dal De Magistro stesso, ove, tra le conseguenze di questa teoria si menziona appunto il concetto che all'anima individuale sia concreata la scienza e che, perciò, l'insegnare e l'imparare in altro non consista se non nel ricordarsi che fa l'anima della scienza già posseduta fin dall'inizio e poi obliata col suo ingresso nel corpo [De Mag. loc. cit]; cioè precisamente la dottrina platonica della anamnesi, che è appunto, come sappiamo, una delle più antiche giustificazioni della autodidattica.  La dottrina platonica, dunque (che è anche, in gran parte, non dimentichiamolo, la dottrina agostiniana) e la dottrina averroistica sono da S. Tommaso non tanto contrapposte, come potrebbe avvenire di una teoria materialistica e di una idealistica, ma anzi poste sulla stessa linea, come due forme diverse di un medesimo idealismo. E,  infatti, quanto all'insegnamento, che differenza ci può essere fra la teoria averroistica che concede al maestro solo di stimolare lo scolaro a disporre i suoi fantasmi in modo che lascino passare la luce dell'unico intelletto la quale già ardeva, ma velata, nella sua anima, e la teoria platonica che vede nell'insegnamento una rimozione degli ostacoli che il corpo e i sensi frappongono, nell'anima stessa, al ricordo della scienza che già possiede, ma ottenebrata e obliata? E che differenza c'è, si potrebbe aggiungere, fra queste antiche dottrine e le teorie dell’idealismo più moderno che nel maestro e nello scolaro vogliono vedere due aspetti o momenti diversi di un Soggetto solo, per cui debbono ammettere che lo scolaro ha la stessa scienza e lo stesso pensiero del maestro, ma solo in un grado di consapevolezza oscuro e involuto e che l'insegnamento avrà per unico compito di render più chiaro ed evoluto? In realtà siamo sempre allo stesso punto: idealismo e autodidattica. Nel combattere la possibile deformazione dell'agostinismo in senso averroistico, S. Tommaso ha effettivamente innanzi a sé già i motivi fondamentali di quella che sarà poi pur con altre forme e altra mentalità, la pedagogia idealistica moderna.  E all'autodidattica e all'idealismo che ne è il fondamento, S. Tommaso si sforza con successo, in questi suoi scritti sul magistero, di togliere proprio quella pericolosa arma che derivava loro dal presentarsi come l'unica soluzione capace di rimuovere sul serio tutte le difficoltà inerenti al problema educativo: prima fra le altre, si capisce, quella riguardante la possibile «comunicazione» fra maestro e scolaro. Se lo scolaro non ha già in sé e nel suo interno la scienza, come potrà riceverla dall'esterno? Abbiamo visto che per S. Agostino un argomento fondamentale contro l'efficacia didattica dei «segni» ond'è intessuto il linguaggio era proprio questo: o lo scolaro già conosce le cose da essi significate, o non le conosce: se le conosce, essi non servono a insegnargliele, se non le conosce, non capirà nemmeno i segni.  A ciò S. Tommaso risponde negando senz'altro il dilemma, col richiamarci uno dei più importanti caratteri della conoscenza, che non è un oggetto o una cosa, la quale o c'è o non c'è, ma un processo che si svolge per gradi e si può considerare sotto diversi aspetti. Ha lo scolaro in sé la scienza, dall'interno, senza che il maestro gl'insegni? In un certo senso, sì, giacché, per poter conoscere, ogni singolo soggetto deve avere in sé non solo l'attività conoscitiva, il lume intellettuale, ma anche alcuni concetti primi, alcune «forme» o «categorie» come più modernamente si direbbero (l'essere, l'uno, la sostanza, la causa ecc.) applicando le quali al materiale offertoci dalla sensibilità e dall'esperienza noi formiamo poi tutti gli altri concetti. E se ne avessimo il tempo, sarebbe, ora, interessantissimo fermarsi su questa teoria tomistica della conoscenza, che non è affatto un «innatismo» simile a quello, poniamo, di Cartesio, ma piuttosto un vero e proprio «apriorismo» capace di richiamarci quello che con molti gravi inconvenienti e con una consapevolezza critica assai minore del tomismo doveva costruire più tardi la filosofia moderna [la quale distruggeva, con Hegel e dopo di lui, quello che aveva costruito, almeno in parte, con Kant; e dopo aver ammesso, con Kant, l'«a priori» nella conoscenza, distruggeva, dopo Hegel, ogni distinzione fra  «a priori» ed «a posteriori»]. Questa teoria, secondo San Tommaso, che riconosce un «a priori» nella conoscenza, sta nel giusto mezzo fra le due teorie estreme sopra ricordate: che vorrebbe tutt'e due nell'anima il possesso completo della scienza (benché, eventualmente, oscurato) sia per concreazione che per partecipazione dell'Intelletto unico. Laddove la scienza c'è, se si vuole, nell'animo nostro, ma solo «in potenza» ed implicitamente. L'attività dell'intelletto nostro ha in sé alcuni germi di scienza «quaedam  scientiarum semina», cioè alcune, virtualità, o disposizioni a formare immediatamente, appena stimolata dall'esperienza sensibile, i principi primi, o le «categorie». Che contengono già, in certo modo, tutta la scienza, ed ogni scienza possibile, passata, presente o futura, appunto perché sono i concetti primi e più universali dell'intelletto, concetti presupposti da ogni altro concetto e senza i quali nessun altro concetto si forma, né si potrebbe formare. Così come, per servirsi di un paragone grossolano, nelle sette note musicali sono contenute, in potenza, tutte le sinfonie che la mente umana abbia escogitato o sia mai per escogitare.  Ma (proprio come, benché nelle sette note musicali sia contenuta tutta la musica in potenza ed implicitamente, esplicitamente non c'è nessuna sinfonia, e l'inesperto benché tocchi quanto vuole i tasti del pianoforte non ne cava nulla) nei primi principi è contenuta tutta la scienza, e tutto lo scibile umano in potenza ed implicitamente; ma in atto ed esplicitamente non v'è in essi nessuna scienza concreta e determinata o, meglio, vi è quella sola scienza che riguarda i primi principi stessi, poniamo il concetto dell'essere, il concetto dell'uno ecc. E dunque lo scolaro sa o non sa, ha o non ha nell'interno del suo animo quella scienza che il maestro gli insegna? Sa e non sa, ha e non ha, nello stesso tempo. Sa ed ha, in potenza ed implicitamente; non sa e non ha in atto ed esplicitamente. Sa, in quanto possiede, nel suo intelletto, i primi principi, nei quali ogni scienza è contenuta; non sa, in quanto dai primi principi non ha ancora ricavato quelle determinate e particolari cognizioni che il maestro gli insegna. L'opera del maestro è, quindi, inutile o superflua? Nemmeno per sogno. Senza di essa lo scolaro sarebbe come l'inesperto musicista che ha innanzi a sé, nella tastiera del pianoforte, tutti i capolavori possibili ma, sciaguratamente, non sa cavarne fuori che, al massimo, una scala.  Giacché proprio questo è, secondo San Tommaso uno dei caratteri fondamentali dell'intelligenza umana: essere una vis collativa o, come più modernamente si direbbe, una «attività sintetica». A differenza del senso che si comporta egualmente rispetto a tutti i suoi oggetti sì che poco importa, ed è una circostanza accidentale che percepisca prima gli uni o gli altri, l'intelletto non si comporta egualmente nel considerare tutti gl'intelligibili; ma subito vede alcune cose, come quelle che sono per sé note, nelle quali sono contenute implicitamente alcune altre che la stessa potenza intellettiva non può intendere se non esplicando per mezzo della ragione le cose che nei principi sono implicitamente contenute [De Mag. Art. I (ad XII. mum) «...non se habet aequaliter ad omnia intelligibilia consideranda; sed statini quaedam videt, ut quae sunt per se nota, in quibus implicite continentur quaedam alia quae intelligere non potest nisi per officium rationis ea quae in principiis implicite continentur explicando »].  L'intelletto, cioè, afferra immediatamente i primi principi, e poi, mediante quelli, conosce tutte le altre cose, compie un atto semplice e immediato pei primi principi, e un processo mediato per tutte le altre cose. Ed è attività unitiva e sintetica appunto perché tutto quello che conosce, nella scienza, come vero, lo conosce in quanto lo può connettere ai primi principi mediante il processo del ragionamento. Tanto che se «si propongono ad alcuno cose non incluse nei principi per sé noti, o che non vi si manifestano incluse, non si produrrà in lui scienza, ma opinione, ovvero fede». VI.  Sia concesso prima di procedere oltre, fare un'osservazione: questa teoria di S.  Tommaso riguardante i primi principi, benché più volte abbia dato origine a delle critiche, non è mai stata, né poteva esserlo, veramente contraddetta neppure dalle più audaci e radicali teorie moderne della conoscenza. Le quali, sebbene abbiano protestato contro l'immediatezza dei primi principi e ci abbiano voluto vedere quasi un segno di umiliante passività dell'intelletto, non hanno, viceversa, poi, mai potuto far a meno, per conto loro, né dei primi principi, né della immediatezza relativa. Sì che tutto si è risolto, in ultima analisi, nel cambiare il nome dei primi principi serbandone, più o meno, immutata la sostanza. Cosi al posto dei principi si sono messe le «categorie» di Kant, l' «io» di Fichte o i momenti e gradi dello spirito degli idealisti moderni. Ma anche nella più estrema ipotesi, anche ridotte, cioè, tutte le categorie ad una sola, quella dell'«io», resta sempre vero che esse così si sono credute di poter ridurre, appunto, in quanto è sembrato che l' «io» solo fosse un principio immediatamente per sé noto, e tale che tutte le altre cose potessero esser note solo in quanto da lui si deducono e a lui si riconducono. Che è precisamente, con molte parole diverse e qualche asserzione assai discutibile per di più, la stessa posizione nella quale si trovano i «principi primi» della teoria tomisticoaristotelica, la quale sotto questo aspetto è dunque tanto «moderna» e critica come qualsiasi altra. Nessun filosofo degno di tal nome potrà mai negare il duplice carattere, mediato quanto alle conclusioni e immediato quanto ai principi, della conoscenza intellettuale.  Appunto per questo l'attività intellettuale ha bisogno di un «motore» (indiget... motore) che la faccia passare dalla potenza all'atto. E ne ha bisogno proprio perché il processo della scienza pel quale dai principi si ricavano le conclusioni, non è un processo che si svolga per una necessità meccanica e fatale, cosicché posti da Dio nella mente umana i primi principi debba conseguirne senz'altro la scienza, così come un grave lasciato a se stesso deve fatalmente cadere. L'intelletto umano d'altra parte non è come l'intelletto angelico che scorge immediatamente nei principi le conclusioni e che con un solo e semplice atto coglie la verità: esso, invece, scorge immediatamente la verità dei primi principi, e quella di tutte le altre cognizioni solo in quanto le può ridurre, mediante il ragionamento, ai primi principi stessi. Ora, proprio in questo processo di riduzione ai principi e deduzione da esso, il discepolo ha bisogno d'aiuto; sia perché può sbagliare, sia perché può non avere la forza e la maturità mentale sufficiente per effettuare certe deduzioni e conclusioni. Inconvenienti ai quali rimedia il maestro in quanto gli mostra l'ordine dei principi e delle conclusioni: « inquantum proponit discipulo ordinem principiorum ad conclusione? qui forte per seipsum non haberet tantam virtutem collativam » [S. Theol. loc. cit].  Ma il soggetto pensante non ha in sé come sola fonte di conoscenze, il lume intellettuale e i primi principi, ha anche un'altra maestra: l'esperienza, o, meglio, la conoscenza sensibile. Già i primi principi, i concetti primi e per sé evidenti, abbiamo visto che sono nel nostro animo, forme a priori, disposizioni o virtualità che passano all'atto solo al primo stimolo della esperienza. Passati all'atto e costituiti che siano essi non producono nuove conoscenze se non in quanto si applicano, daccapo, ai dati che l'esperienza sensibile ci offre. Coi concetti di «uno», di «essere», ecc. (primi principi) io non posso formare i concetti di «animale», di «vegetale», di «uomo» ecc. se l'esperienza sensibile non mi dà la percezione dei singoli uomini, vegetali, animali ecc. dai quali astraendo certe caratteristiche essenziali comuni io formo appunto il concetto di «animale», «vegetale», «uomo » ecc. Processo che S. Tommaso descrive così: «Cum  autem aliquis hujusmodi universalia principia, applicat ad aliqua particularia, quorum memoriam et experimentum per sensum accipit, per inventionem propriam acquirit scientiam eorum quae nesciebat...» Non basta, cioè, che ci siano i primi principi, occorre che ci siano anche le cognizioni particolari da ridurre ad essi; se no il processo che abbiamo descritto prima, col quale la mente umana conosce la verità, non potrebbe aver luogo. Ora, la conoscenza di queste particolari nozioni manca, o meglio, è scarsa ed imperfetta nello scolaro, che ha esplorato la propria esperienza sensibile molto meno e molto peggio del maestro. Ed ecco un altro modo col quale il maestro aiuta il discepolo: presentandogli, appunto, delle nozioni o proposizioni particolari, la verità delle quali egli possa saggiare da sé al lume dei primi principi, ovvero proponendo alla sua osservazione oggetti ed esempi sensibili da cui possa ricavare direttamente le cognizioni stesse [«...cum proponit ei aliquas propositiones minus universales, quas tamen ex praecognitis discipulus dijudicare potest; vel cum proponit ei aliqua sensibilia exempla, vel similia vel opposita, vel aliqua hujusmodi, ex quibus intellectus addiscentis manuducitur in cognitionem veritatis ignotae». S. Theol. loc. cit. (in corp.)]. Far questo, S. Tommaso lo dice, da parte del maestro: procurare allo scolaro «aliqua auxilia vel instrumenta» aiuti e strumenti di lavoro, potremmo dir noi, giacché il loro uso è proprio simile, sotto quest'aspetto, agli strumenti materiali, che facilitano il lavoro pur senza diminuire, anzi accrescendo la attività e la solerzia di chi li adopera.  Che cosa c'è di vero, dunque, nella teoria agostiniana, secondo la quale è Dio che, dall'interno, mostra la verità all'anima umana? Questo: che da Dio appunto viene all'anima nostra la facoltà di conoscere, il lume intellettuale, i primi principi, la sensibilità. Ma poi lo sviluppo di questa facoltà e il suo passaggio dalla potenza all'atto avvengono non già per intervento diretto della Causa Prima, sibbene per intervento di una causa seconda, qual è precisamente il maestro umano. Il che non diminuisce affatto la potenza o la dignità della Causa Prima, la quale ha creato appunto le cause seconde, fra le quali i maestri, non perché ottenessero nell'universo solo un effetto decorativo, ma perché davvero «causassero», cioè producessero qualche cosa «...prima causa ex eminentia bonitatis sua? rebus aliis confert non solum quod sint, sed etiam quod causae sint» [De Mag Art. I (in corp.)]. Dio ha conferito alle cause seconde, non solo l'essere, ma anche il causare, l'esser cause. Onde significherebbe non accrescere, ma diminuire la bontà e la potenza di Dio, supporre ch'Egli avesse fatto delle cause incapaci di causare, quasi sbagliandosi e contraddicendosi nell'opera sua stessa. Ch'è appunto l'inconveniente rimproverato da San Tommaso alle due teorie, averroistica e platonica, le quali volendo riferir tutto, o all'azione dell'Intelletto unico, o all'azione delle forme separate (idee) finiscono col non vedere più, negli agenti naturali e nelle cause seconde, se non qualcosa d'illusorio e irreale. Il che accade alle teorie dell'autodidattica, che ammettono la esistenza del maestro, salvo poi a togliergli ogni possibilità e capacità effettiva d'insegnare. La teoria dell'autodidattica così è colpita proprio al cuore: nelle dottrine filosofiche che ne costituiscono la giustificazione. Ma, e quel tale, difficile problema della «comunicazione» fra maestro e scolaro? E quella tale impossibilità che la scienza si trasmettesse, mediante i puri segni sensibili del linguaggio, dall’uno all'altro soggetto?  Per rispondere a queste domande S. Tommaso tiene a chiarire alcuni equivoci che saranno, in ogni tempo, i più potenti motivi delle teorie pedagogiche tendenti all'autodidattica.  E, in primo luogo, il passaggio della scienza dal maestro allo scolaro è proprio vero che si debba considerare come il passaggio di un oggetto materiale da una mano all'altra? Anzi, è vero che sì possa parlare, in genere, di «passaggio» della scienza dal maestro allo scolaro? Un oggetto materiale passa da una mano all'altra sempre restando lo stesso oggetto, uno e identico. La scienza passa anche lei di mente in mente restando sempre una? Abbiamo già visto che non è così. Lo scolaro non riceve la stessa scienza del maestro, ma se ne forma una simile, la quale benché coincida, e contenga, cioè, le stesse cognizioni, non è numericamente una con quella del maestro. Così, per prendere un esempio volgare, due ciliege sono eguali fra loro come ciliege, ma sono tuttavia due e non una, e due rimarrebbero sempre anche se fossero uguali persino nelle più insignificanti particolarità, come due macchine di una identica serie. E, dunque, chi non accetta l'intelletto unico di Averroé non ha punto l'obbligo di mostrare come una stessa scienza passi, quasi oggetto materiale, dal maestro allo scolaro: basta che dimostri come lo scolaro possa formarsi - con un'attività che resta sua e interna al suo animo - una propria scienza, pur simile, nel contenuto delle nozioni, alla scienza del maestro.  In secondo luogo: pensano alcuni (e lo pensano anche oggi) che siccome nel maestro e nello scolaro si svolge un processo sostanzialmente identico, così cada ogni ragione di distinguerli l'uno dall'altro, almeno nell'atto dell'insegnare e imparare. Che cosa c'è, infatti, nel maestro? Il processo della conoscenza. E nello scolaro? Ancora il processo della conoscenza. Dunque le leggi dell'educazione sono quelle della conoscenza, anzi l'educazione è addirittura la conoscenza, e allora la pedagogia è una scienza senza oggetto proprio, la quale si risolve nella teoria del conoscere e basta. Altro equivoco simile al primo. E’ ben vero che il modo col quale apprendiamo scienza da noi stessi è simile e sottostà alle medesime leggi del modo col quale apprendiamo scienza dal maestro. Ma, al solito, simile non vuol dire uguale e sottostare alle medesime leggi non vuol dire essere identici né uno di numero. VII  Per esempio, nella medicina, il medico guarisce l'ammalato non facendo altro che aiutare e stimolare le forze intrinseche dell'organismo, il quale, rigorosamente parlando, poteva guarire da solo, tanto è vero che qualche volta guarisce di fatto senza bisogno di medici né di medicine. Allo stesso modo il maestro procura scienza allo scolaro non facendo altro che aiutare e stimolare le forze intrinseche dell'organismo intellettuale: l'intelletto, l'esperienza, l'uso dei primi principi. Il medico per guarir l'ammalato si fonda sulla conoscenza delle leggi fisiche e fisiologiche, il maestro per insegnare si fonda sulla conoscenza delle leggi intellettuali. Anche lo scolaro poteva, rigorosamente parlando, imparare da sé, tanto è vero che vi sono sempre stati degli autodidatti. Che cosa significa questo? Soltanto che «...in his autem quae fiunt a natura et arte, eodem modo operatur ars, et per eadem media, quibus et natura» [De Mag. Art. I (in corp.)] il che, come è ovvio, non vuol dire affatto che, dunque, l'arte non esista, o sia identica alla natura.  «Come la natura chi soffrisse per il freddo riscaldandolo lo sanerebbe, così fa anche il medico: onde anche si dice che l'arte imita la natura. Similmente avviene pure  nell'acquisizione della scienza, che, ricercando e ritrovando, il docente conduce altri a sapere cose ignote nello stesso modo in cui alcuno conduce se medesimo a conoscer l'ignoto» [Ibid. Si cfr. la traduzione Guzzo, Vallecchi ed. Firenze].  Dunque, la somiglianza fra natura e l'arte o il fatto che l'arte imiti la natura, nell' insegnamento come nella medicina o in altre cose, non prova punto che l'arte non esista, o si possa considerare come una entità trascurabile. Ma, e quel tal problema della «comunicazione»? Com'è possibile che il maestro, imitando la natura, possa, sia pur non «trasmettere» nel senso materiale della parola, ma anche solo provocare o stimolare nel discepolo, una scienza eguale alla sua?  Ecco, come S. Agostino, ancheS. Tommaso non mette in dubbio che lo strumento principale della comunicazione fra maestro e discepolo sia il linguaggio e siano i «segni» ond'esso è costituito: solo, non si arresta alla difficoltà che S. Agostino aveva creduto insuperabile, di conciliare la materialità e il carattere sensibile dei segni linguistici colla idealità e l'interiorità della scienza. Poiché il «segno» del linguaggio ha, per S. Tommaso, una fisionomia tutta speciale: è «sensibile», sì, ma d'una, se vogliamo così chiamarla, «sensibilità» affatto diversa da quella che possiamo attribuire alle qualità degli oggetti materiali ed alle vere e proprie sensazioni: sensibile della sensibilità che tocca piuttosto all'immaginazione e al suo prodotto, il «fantasma» o l'immagine, che è una sensibilità di un grado più elevato ed immateriale di quello che compete alle sensazioni pure e semplici. Poiché il fantasma linguistico (parola od altro segno che sia), a differenza delle sensazioni o percezioni che ci vengono dagli oggetti materiali suppone già l'esistenza dei concetti nella mente, e, nasce per esprimerli; e sta, perciò, con essi, in una relazione molto più immediata che non sia quella della sensazione coi medesimi concetti.  Facciamo un esempio. Si prende la legge fisica: «il calore dilata i corpi». Che è quella legge? Niente altro che una «forma». Nella natura é la «forma» di quel processo che è, appunto, la dilatazione. Ora una forma, nella natura, può esistere solo come esistono in generale le forme in una materia, come conformazione, cioè, di determinati oggetti o di un determinato accadere. Nella natura la legge della dilatazione dei corpi è, appunto, il dilatarsi dei singoli corpi a, b, c ecc. e la conoscenza che ne abbiamo è appunto la sensazione o percezione dei corpi a, b, c, mentre si dilatano. Potrei, dunque, arrivare a formular la legge della dilatazione partendo dalle sensazioni e percezioni pure e semplici dei corpi? Certo che potrei e posso, in quanto, osservando prima il corpo a, poi il corpo b, poi il corpo c ecc. posso arrivare e arrivo ad estrarre, da queste percezioni particolari, un concetto e una legge universale riguardante la dilatazione. E come posso arrivarci io, posso condurvi lo scolaro, lasciando che osservi a sua volta i corpi a, b, c, e poi ne tragga, se gli riesce, la legge della dilatazione.  Si noti, però, la difficoltà e la lentezza di questo processo. Quanti uomini hanno osservato sensibilmente il dilatarsi dei singoli corpi, eppure non sono riusciti a formulare la legge della dilatazione! Quanti videro i corpi cadere, e non ne seppero trarre la legge della gravitazione universale! E si capisce: quella «forma» che è la legge della dilatazione esiste nei corpi, ma non come forma pura e come concetto, bensì come forma d'una materia. Come forma pura e come concetto non la troviamo bell'e fatta, ma bisogna che la costruiamo noi, con tutte le difficoltà e incertezze che ne seguono.  Ma si prenda, invece, la stessa legge della dilatazione qual è formulata in un trattato di fisica, o dalla voce del maestro, con queste precise parole: «il calore dilata i corpi». Anche qui essa viene espressa con segni sensibili, all'udito o alla vista, le parole. Segni  tanto sensibili quanto lo è appunto la percezione dei corpi a, b, c. Ma con questa differenza. Che per poter dire o scrivere le parole «il calore dilata i corpi» si è già dovuto formare il concetto della dilatazione colla legge relativa. La legge della dilatazione ha dovuto esserci, cioè, non più come forma di quell'accadere materiale ch'è il dilatarsi dei singoli corpi, ma come forma pura nella mente del fisico. E perciò chi legge o ascolta quelle parole non ha bisogno di tutto un complicato e difficile lavoro per cavarne fuori la pura forma della legge scientifica, ma assume direttamente da esse la legge in quanto pura forma o concetto scientifico. Tanto è vero che è possibile vedere mille corpi a dilatarsi e non ricavarne la legge della dilatazione, ma non è possibile udire dal maestro o leggere nel libro di fisica le parole «il calore dilata i corpi» (udire e leggere davvero, s'intende, e non solo far finta) e non ricavarne la legge della dilatazione. Per lo meno: anche se il processo della visione e della sensazione si compie regolarmente senza essere turbato in alcun modo, e cioè anche ammesso ch'io osservi colla massima attenzione i singoli corpi, non è detto che per questo io arrivi ad astrarre la legge della gravitazione o della dilatazione. Mentre se lo leggo od ascolto regolarmente le parole colle quali il fisico si spiega, io dovrò necessariamente intendere la legge della gravitazione o della dilatazione, a meno che qualche ragione, diciamo così, patologica non impedisca alla mia lettura o audizione di svolgersi regolarmente. In quest'ultimo caso, insomma, svolto normalmente il processo, ne ho come necessaria conseguenza l'apprendimento; nell'altro caso, no.  È questa, forse, una delle più originali caratteristiche della pedagogia delineata da S. Tommaso. Per la quale, a differenza di ciò che succede in moltissimi altri sistemi pedagogici, la parola del maestro non è né eguale né, tanto meno, inferiore in valore agli oggetti esterni e, in genere, all'esperienza sensibile dello scolaro, come accadrà poi, tanto spesso, nei vari metodi «intuitivi» od «oggettivi» escogitati dalla pedagogia moderna, da Comenius in poi. Questo non vuol dire certo che S. Tommaso svaluti l'esperienza - abbiamo visto invece che la valuta moltissimo - né che non le attribuisca tutta l'importanza che deve avere. Ma fra gli oggetti sensibili che possono variamente essere offerti allo scolaro e la parola del maestro c'è, per S. Tommaso, una differenza essenziale che c'impedisce di considerare quest'ultima puramente come uno fra gli altri oggetti di possibile esperienza per lo scolaro. Giacché è vero che in un certo senso "le stesse parole dell'insegnante, udite o viste in iscritto, quanto al causare scienza nell'intelletto si portano come le cose che sono fuori dell'anima: perché e dalle une e dalle altre l'intelletto riceve le intenzioni intelligibili". Ma poi la somiglianza cessa qui, poiché le parole dell'insegnante causano scienza "più da vicino" che non i sensibili che esistono fuori dell'anima, in quanto le parole sono segni delle intenzioni intelligibili [De Mag. Art. I (ad XI.nium) "ipsa verba doctoris audita, vel visa in scripta, hoc modo se habent ad causandum scientiam in intellectu sicut res quae sunt extra animam, quia ex utrisque intellectus intentiones intelligibiles accipit; quamvis verba doctoris propinquius se habeant ad causandum scientiam quam sensibilia extra animam existentia, inquantum sunt signa intelligibilium intentionum "]. E sappiamo già che cosa vuol dire quel "più da vicino", (propinquius) che non è punto indice di vicinanza o lontananza materiale, ma solo del fatto che abbiamo visto, dell'essere cioè presenti nel linguaggio le forme pure già astratte dalla materia ed esistenti nella mente: le "specie" o "intenzioni" intelligibili; le quali invece non sono presenti negli oggetti esterni e nelle sensazioni. Talché lo scolaro le può assumere senz'altro dalle parole del maestro; mentre non le potrebbe assumere dalle  cose e dalle sensazioni: non le potrebbe se non mediatamente, attraverso un complesso e delicato procedimento astrattivo il cui risultato finale resta, in ultima analisi, incerto, almeno rispetto a quelle particolari forme e verità che l'insegnante vuol fargli, volta a volta, scoprire. In fondo, è ancora la giusta osservazione di S. Agostino che S. Tommaso accoglie e sviluppa da par suo: nelle cose che facciamo percepire solo sensibilmente allo scolaro, questi non sa, né può sapere, dalla sola percezione, quali siano gli elementi essenziali e quali gli elementi accidentali della cosa, quali gli elementi su cui abbiamo voluto fermare la sua attenzione e quali quelli che può anche trascurare. E da questa incertezza, causa feconda di errori, non si esce se non aggiungendo, alla percezione della cosa, l'insegnamento verbale del maestro, che solo può metterci innanzi le forme già astratte dalla materia e farci subito distinguere l'essenziale dall'accidentale, l'oggetto proposto al nostro pensiero, da altri oggetti reali o possibili. Così il linguaggio del maestro, lungi dal sopprimere l'esperienza dello scolaro, è proprio quello che la spiega, l'ordina, l'organizza e, insomma, le dà un vero significato e valore.  È risolto, così, quel tal problema della «comunicazione» fra maestro e scolaro? Certo, ed è risolto proprio col rispettare ambedue quei dati del problema che a prima vista parevano inconciliabili: il carattere sensibile del linguaggio, o, in genere, dei «segni» fonici, mimici o grafici di cui si serve il maestro per operare ab estrinseco sulla coscienza dello scolaro e, insieme, il carattere affatto intimo e interno che sempre ha la scienza nell'animo dello scolaro medesimo, poiché vera «causa» di scienza allo scolaro - San Tommaso non si stanca di ripeterlo - sono non già i «segni» del maestro, ma il lume intellettuale e i «primi principi» dello scolaro stesso, il quale scopre la verità (o la falsità) di ciò che il maestro gli ha insegnato, non già ricevendo soltanto le forme intelligibili, ma riducendo i concetti così formati, sotto i primi principi, mercé quella attività collativa nella quale consiste il raziocinio, attività, senza nessun dubbio, originale e spontanea, che il maestro può stimolare e aiutare come abbiamo visto, ma in nessun modo sostituire. L'opera del maestro — altro errore che San Tommaso combatte continuamente negli argomenti acclusi al primo articolo del De Magistro — non è già un'opera creativa; come se il maestro dovesse dar lui al discepolo il lume intellettuale e i primi principi. Ma ciò non vuol dire che sia un'opera superflua e inesistente: crederlo, è l'illusione di coloro che scambiano l'attività colla creazione, l’operare col trarre dal nulla; e non potendo riconoscere in un uomo qual è il maestro un'attività creativa propria solo di Dio, finiscono col negargli ogni e qualsiasi attività od operazione.  L'arte dell'insegnamento non crea la natura intellettuale; la presuppone. Ma la natura stessa dell'intelletto umano è così fatta che senza l'insegnamento rimarrebbe una vuota potenza non realizzata, o, almeno, realizzata attraverso un processo assai lento e malsicuro. La dimostrazione esauriente di questa tesi si trova nel secondo articolo del De Magistro, che è una delle critiche più brillanti e spregiudicate che siano mai state fatte all'autodidattica. Articolo paradossale in apparenza, e che suona stranamente agli orecchi di noi moderni abituati ormai da una lunga tradizione a ritenere l'autodidattica non solo un fatto  evidentissimo e una realtà incontrastabile, ma addirittura il centro e il principio vitale di ogni educazione. Può dirsi qualcuno maestro di se stesso? A noi sembra di sì: sembra, anzi, che tutti e non soltanto qualcuno, siano, in certo modo almeno, maestri di se stessi. Ebbene, San Tommaso risponde senz'altro di no; e val la pena che, prima di scandalizzarci o di spaventarci, intendiamo bene il principio sul quale l'Angelico dottore fonda la sua dimostrazione; ch'è poi, in ultima analisi, lo stesso principio sul quale ha fondato la dimostrazione precedente.  E, anzitutto, si faccia bene attenzione alla differenza che c'è fra queste due espressioni, apparentemente simili: «acquistar scienza da sé ed «esser maestro di se stesso». Che cosa vuol dire «acquistar scienza da sé» secondo la dottrina tomistica? Niente altro se non quello che abbiamo già visto. L'uomo possiede il lume intellettuale e i primi principi. Applicando tale sua attività al materiale offertogli dalla esperienza sensibile egli giunge da sé ad astrarre certi concetti, cioè ad accogliere nella sua mente come pure forme intelligibili quelle stesse forme che, nella natura, esistono solo come forme di una materia. Ne abbiamo visto, prima, un esempio a proposito della gravitazione e della dilatazione.  È questa, così ottenuta, scienza vera e propria? Senza dubbio. Anzi, scienza alla cui estensione e complessità non ci è dato mettere un limite a priori. Supposta, da parte del soggetto umano, una continua e indefinita esplorazione della esperienza sensibile e una correlativa astrazione di forme, nulla si oppone a che ne risulti una scienza anch'essa in via d'indefinito accrescimento e a che chiunque si possa costruire, per questa via, un sapere teoricamente illimitato. Tale è l'acquisto della scienza che si ha per opera della natura, quando, cioè, la ragione naturale per se stessa giunge a cognizione delle cose ignorate [De Mag. Art. I (in corp.)]. E questo modo S. Tommaso lo definisce, per evitar confusioni, con un termine suo proprio: trovare, o scoprire: inventio.  Ma se questo processo é, innegabilmente, «acquisto di scienza», è poi anche «insegnamento», o magistero? Qui la cosa cambia aspetto. L'insegnamento è un'operazione che si svolge mediante il linguaggio e che suppone, perciò, l’esistenza delle forme intelligibili come forme pure. Ora, un'esistenza tale noi sappiamo che quelle forme non possono averla nell'esperienza sensibile e nella natura, dove sono soltanto forme d'una materia: debbono averla nella mente. Ma nella mente di chi? Nella mente di colui che impara e ricerca, no di certo, altrimenti egli non imparerebbe e ricercherebbe, ma già saprebbe. Dunque nella mente di un altro, ossia del maestro. E allora l'insegnamento è un processo che lo stesso soggetto non può esercitare su sé medesimo per la contraddizione che ne consegue: perché dovrebbe al tempo stesso avere e non avere nella sua mente le forme intelligibili e i concetti, averle, dico, non in potenza e come possibilità di formarli, ma in atto, già formati e come principi positivamente esistenti e operanti. Per potere insegnare a me stesso, per esempio, la legge della gravitazione universale, io dovrei non soltanto avere la percezione dei corpi che cadono e astrarne poi la legge, il che sarebbe inventio, o scoperta e non insegnamento; ma dovrei già conoscere ed esprimere la legge come pura legge; il che è assurdo, poiché, evidentemente, se già conoscessi la legge non avrei bisogno di cercarla né di impararla.  Sembra un'oziosa questione di parole, e non lo è. Poiché S. Tommaso non chiama con due nomi diversi l'acquistar scienza da sé (inventio) e l'insegnamento (doctrina, disciplina) per il solo gusto di complicare il vocabolario, ma appunto per definire bene due concetti che gli sembrano, e sono, distinti. Abbiamo noi il diritto di estendere a una  vera e propria azione qual è l'insegnamento, ciò che è caratteristico, invece di un processo spontaneo e naturale come la scoperta e l'invenzione? Abbiamo cioè, il diritto di considerare anche il naturale acquisto della scienza che avviene spontaneamente e necessariamente in ciascuno per il solo fatto d'esistere, di pensare, di guardarsi attorno, come una vera e propria completa azione? A San Tommaso sembra di no, e questo è appunto l'argomento sul quale tutta la dimostrazione del secondo articolo si regge. Per potersi parlare di vera e propria «azione» (azione «perfetta») é necessario che l'agente il quale fa da causa, contenga in sé in maniera essenziale e non accidentale ciò che produce poi nell'effetto [De Mag. Art. II (in corp.)]. Così, ad esempio il fuoco è agente di sanità, per colui che soffre di una malattia guaribile col calore, ma agente accidentale (imperfetto) poiché non contiene se non fortuitamente e per accidens ciò che in quel dato caso produce la guarigione. Ma lo stesso fuoco è agente essenziale (perfetto) nell'incendio d'una casa, appunto perché, come fuoco, contiene già in sé tutto ciò ch'è necessario agli effetti della combustione. E dunque se l'insegnamento ha da essere una vera e propria «azione» (azione perfetta) occorre che nell’agente sia già contenuto tutto ciò che sarà poi prodotto dall'azione. Il che accade soltanto se il soggetto maestro è diverso dal soggetto scolaro, ossia ha già in sé in atto, esplicitamente e perfettamente, tutto ciò che per sua opera sarà poi nel discepolo: la scienza. La autodidattica, invece, o, meglio, l'inventio è azione solo imperfetta, cioè non vera e completa azione, poiché in essa la causa, sia l'intelletto e i primi principi, sia l'esperienza sensibile, contiene sì ciò che sarà poi nell'effetto (la scienza, le forme intelligibili come forme pure) ma lo contiene solo implicitamente e potenzialmente, quanto al suo essere di scienza e di forma pura.  E questa non è - si badi bene - un'astratta escogitazione teorica senza nessuna rispondenza alla realtà. Al contrario, S. Tommaso c'invita ad osservare con lui che le cose stanno proprio in tal modo. Noi siamo, è vero, portati a lodare l'autodidatta e, perciò, attribuiamo all'autodidattica un valore superiore, in certo senso, a quello del semplice insegnamento. Ma nel far questo ci lasciamo sviare da un'osservazione che dovrebbe, se ben interpretata, suggerirci proprio la conclusione contraria a quella che abitualmente ne ricaviamo. Perché, infatti, esaltiamo, e giustamente, l'autodidatta? Ma appunto perché fa uno sforzo eccezionale; se no non avremmo ragione di lodarlo. Ora, l'eccezionalità di questo sforzo consiste precisamente nel fatto che l'autodidatta non segue nel costruire la sua cultura, il processo normale dell'insegnamento. Così l'equilibrista cammina sopra un filo, e merita elogio: ma diremo per questo che il migliore, più sicuro e spedito modo di camminare sia quello d'andar su un filo? No certo, anzi, diremo tutti che l'abilità dell'equilibrista consiste, invece, nell'aver scelto, per camminare, uno dei modi peggiori, meno sicuri e meno spediti. E, dunque, anche dell'autodidatta dobbiamo dire che l'autodidattica, lungi dall'essere il modo migliore e più sicuro di apprendere è, anzi, il peggiore e il più malsicuro, e che proprio per aver saputo acconciarsi a questa maggiore difficoltà l'autodidatta merita lode «...sebbene il modo di acquistare scienza mediante la ricerca sia più perfetto riguardo a chi riceve la scienza, in quanto egli si segnala più abile a sapere, pure, rispetto a chi causa la scienza, è più perfetto il modo d'acquistare scienza attraverso l'insegnamento» [De Mag. Art. II (ad 4.tum.) «quanivis modus in acquisitione scientiae per inventionem sit perfectior ex parte recipientis scientiam, inquantum designatur habilior ad sciendum; tamen ex parte scientiam causantis est modus perfectior per doctrinam»].  Né si creda che quel ridurre a scienza «più speditamente», sia solo una sfumatura:  anzi, c'è sotto una questione di principio, così importante che solo chi l'ha afferrata può dirsi abbia inteso veramente la differenza fondamentale che intercede tra la filosofia scolastica e certe filosofie moderne, quali il materialismo positivistico o l'idealismo.  C'è la scienza, prima di essere insegnata? Strana domanda, dirà qualcuno, eppure a questa domanda una corrente, certo rispettabile, e notevolissima della filosofia moderna, risponde addirittura di no. La scienza non c'è ma si fa, s'inventa, o si crea, nell'atto stesso dell'insegnamento. Come, poi, si fa o si crea? Dal pensiero nostro, il quale è, o dovrebbe essere un atto, secondo la filosofia moderna; ma viceversa è un atto che non è mai completamente realizzato, ma sempre deve realizzarsi, perciò diviene e si svolge all'infinito sempre facendosi altro da quello che era prima.  Ora, un atto di questo genere: un atto che non è tutto realizzato, o tutto realizzantesi, un atto che non è, insomma, tutto quel che può e deve essere, ma aspetta di svolgersi e di completarsi sia pure in un processo infinito, un atto di questo genere, la filosofia scolastica non lo chiamerebbe punto atto, bensì potenza. Il pensiero nostro, come abbiamo visto, possiede sì, tutta la scienza passata presente e futura, ma «in potenza» o come pura possibilità di conoscere, non già come atto, o come conoscenza positiva e concreta. Ebbene, una pura potenza può esser causa reale di un atto? Una pura possibilità può dar origine a una realtà? Lo può, ma in quanto presuppone, a sua volta, un atto antecedente, così come il seme può dar origine alla pianta, ma è, a sua volta, derivato da un'altra pianta. Non è la pura «possibilità» di vivere che genera l’uomo, ma l’opera di un altro essere in cui la vita è già in atto: il padre, la madre. E dunque il supporre che la scienza, nello scolaro e nel maestro, derivi solo dal pensiero in quanto è una pura potenza o possibilità di conoscere, è così assurdo come supporre che il figlio nasca, non dal padre e dalla madre, ma dalla «possibilità» di vivere. Perché ci sia la scienza in potenza, ci deve essere già stata, la scienza in atto: perché ci sia il seme, già ci vuol la pianta completa.  Ecco la differenza fra la scolastica e l'idealismo o il materialismo moderni. Secondo questi sistemi, tutta la realtà procede, in fondo, da una pura potenza, da un germe, un X spirituale o materiale che non è nulla al principio, ma tutto si fa o diviene: l'essere, insomma, deriva dal non essere. Secondo la scolastica, la realtà procede da un Atto assolutamente puro, senza mistura di potenza, nel quale sussistono eminentemente e perfettamente realizzati e realizzantisi ab aeterno, tutti quei valori che, nella realtà stessa, la nostra mente poi rintraccia: Dio, principio primo e fine ultimo d'ogni cosa.  Ed ecco, quindi, la diversità fra la doctrina e l'inventio, fra l'insegnamento e l'autodidattica, fra lo «scoprire» e l'imparare. Si capisce che per coloro i quali seguono certe teorie filosofiche moderne, la doctrina presupponga l'inventio: se prima non abbiamo «scoperto» o tratto dal nulla la scienza, che cosa potremo mai insegnare? Ma in realtà, per San Tommaso e la scolastica, è vero il contrario: l’inventio presuppone la doctrina, noi possiamo, cioè, scoprire una scienza solo in quanto essa c'è già, ed è già in atto, se no, che cosa scopriremmo, il vuoto? Le forme stesse realizzate nella materia che ci dà la natura, non potrebbero ivi esistere, se prima non esistessero come pure forme nella mente di Dio, alla quale ogni scienza deve necessariamente risalire come a sua causa prima: sistema di idee, o rationes aeternae, come anche la scolastica le chiama, cioè archetipi e modelli di tutte le cose. Di qui il valore insostituibile della doctrina, cioè del vero e proprio insegnamento, poiché, nella mente del maestro, la scienza ha un'esistenza d'ordine superiore a quello che ha nella natura e nell'esperienza: una esistenza, se così ci si potesse esprimere, più lontana dalla materia e più vicina a quella  delle rationes aeternae nella mente di Dio. Onde il genialissimo concetto tomistico dell'insegnamento, fondato proprio al polo opposto dell'autodidattismo moderno, non sull'imperfezione e sul divenire, ma sulla perfezione intrinseca della scienza che, quasi per sovrabbondanza, sembra irraggiare ed effondere, nel suo atto, dalla mente del maestro alla mente dello scolaro. Andare più oltre vorrebbe dire superare i limiti della presente trattazione, addentrandosi in una esposizione analitica del De Magistro, che, nella abituale densità e concisione del pensiero tomistico, presenta quasi ad ogni passo dovizie di dottrina, il cui adeguato svolgimento produrrebbe tutta una organica teoria della educazione da esporsi in un vero e proprio trattato, e non in un breve saggio [Chi desidera approfondire l'argomento può confrontare il nostro volume Maestro e Scolaro. - Soc. Ed. «Vita e Pensiero», Milano, 1930]. Basti qui ricordare, per concludere, che a questo punto il pensiero di S. Tommaso si ricongiunge a quello di S. Agostino, dando origine a una concezione della scienza e dell'insegnamento che si può considerare caratteristica dell'età in cui il sapere umano s'impose la più rigida e, insieme, la più feconda disciplina intellettuale: vogliamo dire il Medio Evo. La scienza come doctrina piuttosto che come inventio: non perché l'invenzione non possa e non debba avere la sua funzione legittima, ma perché la doctrina è un organo superiore, il mezzo più elevato e sicuro, del quale Dio stesso si è servito per ammaestrare il genere umano, al quale ha dato non solo la sensibilità, il lume intellettuale e i primi principi, abbandonandolo poi a tutte le incertezze d'una ricerca puramente naturale, ma una vera e propria scienza, rivelata dapprima ai Patriarchi e ai Profeti, poi agli Apostoli, ai Padri, ai Dottori e a tutta la Ecclesia docens, il cui perenne magistero si estende attraverso i secoli. I geni di Agostino e di Tommaso si uniscono in questa visione della scienza come procedente da Dio; ma mentre il primo preferisce insistere sull'azione diretta e immediata di Dio nell'anima e sulla operazione dello Spirito che agisce, soprannaturalmente, in ciascuno di noi, l'altro mette in luce, piuttosto, l'azione delle cause seconde e il magistero umano che Iddio medesimo ha voluto stabilire nella Chiesa, come organo della Rivelazione, oltreché nella scuola come strumento della cultura puramente naturale. Ma anche per S. Tommaso, come per S. Agostino, il problema dell'educazione e dell’insegnamento non si vede tutto, se non si considera, oltre che sotto l'aspetto naturale, sotto l'aspetto soprannaturale. Per questa parte il De Magistro tomistico non s'intende, senza ricorrere a quella triplice analisi della scienza qual è nella mente divina, nell'intelligenza angelica e nell'intelligenza umana, che si trova nella Summa Theologica: analisi alla quale si debbono aggiungere gli articoli che trattano della necessità e possibilità d'una Rivelazione. Ch'è poi sempre il grande metodo della Scolastica: stabilire, con la sola ragione, la legittimità e l'esistenza della Rivelazione, ma poi adoperare la rivelazione per estendere, disciplinare, consolidare l'opera della ragione.  Taluno, certo, obietterà che questo metodo e questa concezione della scienza riducono a nulla l'attività e la libertà umana, condannate soltanto ad assoggettarsi, e a ricevere passivamente un sapere già fatto, fuori di loro, onde, si maledirà il Medio Evo, come l'epoca per eccellenza mortificatrice dell'umana originalità. Obiezione tanto impressionante a prima vista, quanto intrinsecamente debole e fondata sull'equivoco.  Poiché la libertà dell'intelletto sta appunto nel conoscere il vero, e non nel conoscere il falso; e, perciò colui che riceve dottrina da un maestro, se questa dottrina è vera, non riceve una violazione, anzi un incremento della propria attività e personalità, così come, viceversa, colui che inventa o scopre, se inventa degli errori, riceve una vera propria violazione e diminuzione della sua attività intellettuale. E, dunque, colui che riceve scienza da un maestro più sapiente di lui, riceve non schiavitù, ma libertà intellettuale, e più ne riceve quanto più il maestro è sapiente e, perciò, la dottrina vera; e il massimo ne riceve quando il maestro è il più sapiente di tutti: Dio, e la dottrina la più vera di tutte: la dottrina rivelata. Schiavo in apparenza, il pensiero medioevale, col suo centro nella sacra teologia, era il pensiero più libero e audace che mai ci sia stato; un pensiero che tutto osava discutere e su tutto argomentava, un insegnamento della cui vastità e organicità le Somme ci sono, anche oggi, testimoni; ben lungi dall'anemica povertà dei criticismi o dei positivismi che hanno voluto liberare le intelligenze coi dubbi e fare la luce con l'oscurità. La pedagogia moderna cadde in un grosso equivoco quando confuse due concetti fra loro tanto diversi come quello di attività o libertà e quello di «autodidattica», quasiché per essere libero o attivo lo scolaro dovesse inventar tutto da sé, e non fosse vero invece il contrario e cioè che tanto più attivo e libero sarebbe riuscito lo scolaro quanto più energicamente gli si fosse data dal maestro una dottrina completa e vitale; e, per converso, tanto meno libero quanto più si fosse lasciato agli errori e alle incertezze delle sue personali invenzioni. Figlia di età indisciplinate e sterilmente irrequiete, la pedagogia moderna ha, così, affaticato gli intelletti giovanili senza nutrirli, e ha dato origine a quei gravi inconvenienti che uomini, pur poco tradizionalisti e niente affatto «medioevalisti», come il Lambruschini e il Capponi, hanno, durante il secolo scorso, con tanta efficacia denunciato.  Tra gli sforzi di questa pedagogia così affaccendata e disorganica, il pensiero di S. Tommaso ci fa, oggi, l'effetto che fa sempre il ritorno all'antico, quando è, come nel nostro caso un antico «più vero» e, perciò, più «moderno» del moderno: l'effetto di una novità addirittura rivoluzionaria. Studiare S. Tommaso vuol dire, in questa come in tante altre questioni, ritrovare noi stessi. Una pedagogia del passato? Diciamo, piuttosto: una pedagogia dell'avvenire. L'Educazione naturale (Relazione presentata alla XVII Settimana Sociale dei cattolici italiani, Firenze, 1927)  In due sensi può parlarsi di educazione naturale o soprannaturale: quanto al contenuto e quanto alla forma. Si dice, cioè, nel primo significato, soprannaturale l'educazione che ha per oggetto nozioni od atti che non si riducono alla natura umana e che non sono una semplice esplicazione di potenze in essa contenute. Si dice, nel secondo significato, soprannaturale l'educazione che, pur nel realizzare nozioni od atti, normalmente impliciti nella natura stessa, li realizza ricorrendo a mezzi i quali sono, essi, affatto irriducibili, ai naturali procedimenti dell'educazione. Per spiegarmi meglio, prenderò due esempi. Ecco un uomo che s'accosta tutti i giorni ai Sacramenti e, così facendo, progredisce via via nelle virtù dell'umiltà, della pazienza, della temperanza, della castità e, viceversa, reprime i vizi dell'orgoglio, dell'ira, dell'intemperanza, della lussuria. Orbene, questa educazione potrà dirsi naturale nel contenuto, ma soprannaturale nella forma. Naturale nel contenuto, giacché l'umiltà, la pazienza, la temperanza, la castità, sono virtù non soltanto possibili in tesi generale alla natura umana, ma tali che, nella maggior parte dei casi, la loro possibilità sarebbe distrutta, se la natura umana fosse diversamente costituita. Soprannaturale nella forma, perché quelle stesse virtù, potenzialmente insite nella natura umana, vengono sviluppate, colla frequenza dei Sacramenti, mediante un'azione che non è l'ordinaria disciplina o l’ammaestramento che un uomo può esercitare, sugli altri o su se stesso, con l'opera o la parola bensì la misteriosa, indefinibile azione d'un Dio che a noi s'assimila attraverso le specie eucaristiche.  Prendiamo, invece, un maestro mentre spiega il catechismo ai suoi alunni, e parla loro di un Dio solo in tre persone distinte: avremo, evidentemente, un caso di educazione naturale per la forma e soprannaturale per il contenuto. Naturale per la forma, poiché nulla v'ha di più consono alle possibilità della natura umana che il leggere un libro e commentarne alcuni passi. Soprannaturale pel contenuto, poiché la nozione del Dio uno e trino nel senso cattolico della parola, è inattingibile alle sole forze della ragione nostra, e può ottenersi solo mediante una rivelazione divina, che la Chiesa ci ha conservato in fedele deposito attraverso i secoli, e alla quale l'umile maestro attinge quando istruisce nella religione i suoi scolari.  Evidentemente, oltre questi due casi in cui nell'educazione l'oggetto è naturale e soprannaturale il metodo e viceversa, v'hanno anche i due casi più semplici, in cui e l'oggetto e il metodo sono entrambi naturali, o entrambi soprannaturali. Appartengono al primo tutti i più consueti esempi di educazione e d'istruzione che siamo soliti considerare nella scuola, nella famiglia e nel collegio, ove nozioni e attitudini naturali all'uomo, come le arti, le scienze, la morale, la filosofia vengono insegnate con quei metodi che la ragione e l'esperienza suggeriscono agli educatori. Appartengono al secondo caso, invece, tutti quei fatti, così numerosi nella storia del cristianesimo, ove una particolare rivelazione o mozione divina è veicolo, per dir così, di nozioni, atteggiamenti od affetti che l'uomo, secondo la pura possibilità della natura propria non avrebbe, nonché raggiunto, neppure sospettato.  Cito un solo, ma tipico esempio: la discesa dello Spirito Santo sugli apostoli. I quali, appunto perché uomini, e quindi abituati a misurare tutto alla stregua della natura umana, avevano fino allora trovato di colore oscuro, benché Cristo medesimo le avesse loro inculcate, tante verità soprannaturali come la preannunziata morte e risurrezione del Salvatore, la redenzione del genere umano attraverso le lacrime e il dolore d'un Dio, la concordanza fra l'antica legge e la nuova, i rapporti fra il Padre ed il Figlio e via discorrendo, verità che, invece, dopo che le lingue di fuoco furono discese sul loro capo, s'impressero così profondamente nel loro animo da permetter poi loro d'insegnarle, con quell'efficacia che sappiamo, a tutto il mondo allora conosciuto.  Io non parlerò adesso - poiché non è mio compito - della educazione in quanto soprannaturale nel contenuto e nella forma, e neppure soltanto nel contenuto. Io non parlerò dell'educazione, cioè, in quanto puramente soprannaturale, e neppure in quanto veicolo di nozioni, o di attitudini soprannaturali. Mi limiterò, dunque, a parlare dell'educazione naturale. II  Sarebbe abbastanza interessante poter esaminare alla luce di queste nozioni oggi molto trascurate, quando non addirittura respinte e derise come assurde dagli studiosi, le più importanti concezioni pedagogiche, nelle quali il pensiero umano si è, attraverso la storia, rispecchiato. Ma, non potendo arrischiarci in un lavoro di così vasta mole, ci limiteremo ad affermare semplicemente che tutte le più importanti teorie dell'educazione sono, in un certo senso, naturalistiche, perché tutte confidano, anche quando non vogliono riconoscerlo, in una immanente capacità della natura umana, che le permette di svolgersi colle sue proprie forze, verso la verità e la moralità. Capacità che, essa stessa, si può coltivare e aiutare con mezzi puramente umani come l'insegnamento, l'esempio, il governo, la disciplina, dei quali è formata, appunto, l'educazione naturalmente e umanamente intesa. Senza questa fiducia, e nelle forze stesse della natura umana e nella possibilità di aiutarle, l'educazione sarebbe un perditempo assurdo. Se l'uomo non fosse fatto per la verità e la moralità, egli non potrebbe conoscere l'una e praticare l'altra, come effettivamente non la conoscono né la praticano gli animali, i minerali o le piante. Se, d'altra parte, in questo suo sforzo verso il vero e il bene, la natura umana non potesse essere aiutata con mezzi e strumenti adatti tanto varrebbe chiudere tutte le scuole, bruciare tutti i libri, abolire tutti i maestri, e lasciare che ognuno se la sbrigasse, alla meglio, da sé. Anzi, non si sarebbe trovato mai nessuno così pazzo da spender tempo e fatiche nell'educare i propri simili; o, se si fosse trovato, la disperata inutilità del tentativo, lo avrebbe, subito, persuaso di smettere; e scuole, collegi, libri, maestri, non sarebbero mai stati. Fin qui, dunque, fino a questa legittima persuasione intorno alla possibilità di educare l'uomo con mezzi naturali, tutte le teorie pedagogiche si debbono trovar concordi: né la pedagogia cristiana stessa, potrebbe fare eccezione. E lo dimostra la storia del cattolicesimo, il quale, nonostante la grandissima importanza da lui attribuita, nell'educazione, all'elemento soprannaturale, ha sempre rifiutato come eretica, la teoria la quale afferma impossibile all'uomo il conseguimento del vero e del bene senza una positiva rivelazione divina e proclamando «errori» la filosofia e «peccato» le virtù dei pagani, volentieri condannerebbe al rogo come futili sciocchezze, ogni scienza, ogni progresso, ogni civiltà. Così, invece di gettar via la scienza del paganesimo, il cristianesimo poté mantenerne viva la fiaccola nei suoi chiostri, nelle sue scuole, nelle sue Università e, ricongiungendo sapientemente il nuovo all'antico, poté serbare intatta quella tradizione della civiltà occidentale che ci fa, oggi, giustamente orgogliosi.  Ma, oltre questo «naturalismo» ch'è, in fondo, una ragionevole fiducia nelle forze della natura umana, la quale, se ha in sé delle tendenze al male e all'errore, ha pure in sé delle tendenze altrettanto spontanee al bene e alla verità; oltre questo saggio naturalismo senza cui non è possibile parlare neppure di educazione, molte dottrine pedagogiche, specie moderne, hanno in sé un altro «naturalismo» niente affatto utile o necessario all'educazione. Tale naturalismo, non si limita a dichiarare che l'uomo ha nella sua propria natura le energie necessarie al suo ordinato svolgimento: afferma che ogni educazione si riduce allo spontaneo svolgimento della natura umana secondo le proprie, immanenti leggi costitutive. E non si limita a riconoscere che l'uomo ha nella sua propria natura una tendenza al vero e al bene, cioè che è fatto, in ultima analisi, per la conoscenza dell'uno e l'attuazione dell'altro, ma afferma che l'uomo solo è a sé stesso il vero e il bene, perché appunto nello svolgimento delle sue umane energie, o per sé prese o nei loro rapporti colla circostante natura, consiste il solo vero e il solo bene possibile. E non si limita, quindi, ad affermare la legittimità d'una educazione naturale dell'uomo, ma  respinge come assurda e satireggia come ridicola pur l'idea d'una educazione soprannaturale, o, comunque, di un elemento soprannaturale nell'educazione. III  Distinguiamo, anzitutto, due cose che si sogliono, per lo più, confondere: la possibilità d'una educazione naturale, e la sua effettiva realtà. Che l'uomo possa essere educato, e, anzi, sia fatto per essere educato al vero e al bene, non c'è dubbio, ma che tutti gli uomini siano, effettivamente, educati al vero e al bene, che tutti gli uomini arrivino, in realtà, alla conoscenza del vero e alla pratica del bene, almeno nella misura necessaria a ciascuno per condurre decorosamente la sua esistenza umana, nessuno vorrebbe certo, affermarlo, fino al giorno in cui tutti i viziosi e gl'ignoranti non saranno eliminati dalla faccia della terra. Si può, è vero, sempre sottilizzare e rispondere che nemmeno l'uomo più rozzo ed ignorante del mondo vive senza accogliere nella mente un barlume di verità, che nemmeno il peggiore delinquente può fare a meno di vagheggiare, in fondo all’animo, qualche sentimento buono, e che, perciò, l'educazione del genere umano, fino a un certo punto, avviene sempre, e non può non avvenire. Ma è facile obiettare che la bontà la quale pure possiamo scoprire nel delinquente, o la verità che regna anche nel cervello dell'ignorante, non sono quella verità e quella bontà di cui si preoccupa l'educazione. Prodotte da una necessità delle cose, e non da una libera adesione dello spirito, inconsapevoli di sé, esse si distruggono e ci danno come risultato l'ignoranza nell'ignorante, e la delinquenza nel delinquente. O vorremo presentare il delinquente e l'ignorante come il tipo dell'uomo «educato»? Una tale ipotesi è così assurda che si confuta da sé. Se ci dovessimo contentare di quel vero e di quel bene che, come lo Spirito di Dio, riempiono il mondo e che, anche negandoli, l'uomo è sforzato in ogni condizione a riconoscere col solo fatto di esistere e di pensare, da lungo tempo l'umanità avrebbe chiuso le scuole e bruciato i libri e ricacciato i fanciulli ad istruirsi nella selva primitiva. Se, invece così non ha fatto, e le scuole e i libri, e i metodi costituiscono ancora la sua preoccupazione dominante, si è perché tutti sanno che il vero e il bene nell' uomo inconsapevole sono come l'oro, che non ha alcun valore finché non sia estratto dal fango col quale si trova mescolato. Torniamo, dunque, alla nostra primitiva affermazione. Benché l'uomo sia, per natura, potenzialmente educabile, questa possibilità non è ancora una realtà; e tutti i laboriosi sforzi fatti dal genere umano per educarsi, sono l'implicito riconoscimento della notevole differenza che intercede fra quella possibilità e la sua realizzazione effettiva.  Riescono, almeno, questi sforzi? L'educazione naturale riesce, almeno, a portare ciascun uomo che apre gli occhi alla luce, alla conoscenza del vero e alla pratica del bene? Non pretendiamo ch'essa formi sempre dei santi, degli scienziati o degli eroi: forma almeno, sempre, onesti uomini, capaci lavoratori, buoni padri di famiglia? Ahimè, questa volta la risposta è troppo facile davvero! Se così fosse, oggi che, nelle nazioni civili l'istruzione è obbligatoria e la scuola tutti accoglie fra le sue mura, non dovrebbero esserci delinquenti, viziosi, vagabondi o inetti, le prigioni dovrebbero chiudersi, gli ospedali diminuire notevolmente; le famiglie, tutte ordine pace e armonia, non conoscerebbero i tristi germi che ne rodono la vita; la corruzione non insudicerebbe più carte ed anime colle sue oscene figure; dappertutto il lavoro innalzerebbe la sua lieta  canzone, e la gioia e la serenità soltanto tesserebbero innanzi ai nostri occhi il loro ordito incantevole. Ahimè! Basta dare uno sguardo alla cronaca dei giornali per vedere questo sogno svanire come nebbia, al tocco della triste realtà. Anche nel più modesto mestiere, sono in maggior numero i capaci o gl'incapaci? i dotti o gl'ignoranti? i laboriosi o i fannulloni? gl'imbroglioni o gli onesti? No, non sarebbero tanto stimata l'onestà, tanto ricercate e pregiate la capacità, la competenza, l'attitudine al lavoro, se fosse possibile trovarle a tutte le cantonate!  Ma poi, badiamo, non si tratta, qui, di più o di meno, di maggioranza o minoranza, che la scienza non si fa come i congressi o le elezioni. Quand'anche l'educazione universalmente diffusa avesse reso tutti onesti, tutti bravi, tutti capaci, tutti intelligenti, e di fronte a questi fortunati mortali un uomo - uno solo - fosse uscito dalle nostre scuole vizioso, fannullone, stupido e caparbio, io dico che quest'uno solo basterebbe colla sua esistenza per dare una solenne smentita a tutti i maestri e i pedagogisti e i metodi e i sistemi di cui si vanta la nostra civiltà. Quand'anche non si potesse citare che un solo uomo - uno solo - circondato da tutte le cure e cresciuto in una famiglia esemplare, e affidato ai migliori maestri, e tirato su fin dall'infanzia nelle più virtuose abitudini, dal quale poi fosse venuto fuori un giorno un bel fior di canaglia - quand'anche non si potesse citare che un solo esempio di questo genere - l'educazione umana, l'educazione naturale, dovrebbe considerarsi incapace di fatto (benché capace di diritto) a realizzare i propri fini: incapace a far diventare realtà concreta, quella potenzialità, quella tendenza al bene e al vero che esiste nella natura umana. E che importa conquistare il mondo, quando si è persa una - una sola - anima? In quell'anima era tutto un mondo: in lei non è stato sconfitto solo un individuo, ma il pensiero e il volere umano, irreparabile sconfitta, poiché quel pensiero e quel volere sono appunto la natura stessa che non solo si supponeva educabile, ma si presumeva di fatto educare coi nostri sottili accorgimenti. E invece tale natura ci si ribella e ci si mostra d'un tratto, in quell'unico individuo, chiusa, avversa, inaccessibile a tutti i mezzi coi quali l'abbiamo lavorata; come preda d'un fato misterioso contro cui ogni nostro potere sembra disarmato. IV  Finora abbiamo parlato in generale. Ma le stesse considerazioni particolari e tecniche di cui è piena la storia della pedagogia, valgono a confermare la nostra tesi. Vediamolo, anzitutto, per il problema dell'istruzione. Che cosa c'è di più facile, in certo senso, dell'istruire? Il maestro parla, il discepolo ascolta. Le idee, mediante quel loro naturale veicolo che è il linguaggio, passano dalla mente dell'uno alla mente dell'altro. Se il discepolo è stato «attento», se i ghiribizzi della sua fantasia non l'hanno distratto, se un po' di pigrizia non lo ha intorpidito, se il maestro ha messo nelle sue spiegazioni l'ordine e la chiarezza necessari, la lezione ha raggiunto il suo scopo, e lo scolaro imparato ciò che doveva imparare. In sostanza si tratta soltanto di assicurarsi che nessuno dei piccoli malanni or ora enumerati abbia intralciato il regolare andamento delle cose, e per fare questa verifica lo stesso strumento che ci ha già servito ci può ancora servire. Il linguaggio, il naturale veicolo delle idee, già usato per la lezione, servirà per l'interrogazione e le ripetizioni, le quali dimostreranno se il discepolo è stato attento e ha compreso, se il maestro è riuscito, nelle sue spiegazioni, chiaro ed efficace. E quando,  sventuratamente, così non fosse stato, chi ha prodotto il male, ci darà anche il rimedio. Il linguaggio è sempre là per correggere, chiarire, spiegare di nuovo, interrogare di nuovo, e dove non bastasse la parola parlata c'è la parola scritta: libri, quaderni, appunti, riassunti e così via.  Ebbene, la storia della pedagogia, specialmente moderna, è, si potrebbe dire, tutta una critica a questo semplicissimo e vetusto fra i metodi, di cui l'umanità si è sempre servita per istruirsi e di cui, con le debite cautele, sempre si dovrà servire. La parola, infatti, e, con essa l’idea, non è un oggetto materiale che si possa trasmettere da una mano all'altra, una moneta che l'alunno riceve dal maestro e chiude nel borsellino. La parola è, prima che suono o segno esterno, atto interno del nostro spirito, e se questo atto non si produce, l'alunno può ripetere il suono o il segno senza aver capito niente della cosa significata, come effettivamente accade tante volte nella scuola. Eppure la ragione di tale spiacevole inconveniente che, spesso, riduce a una vuota accozzaglia di frasi nella mente giovanile l'istruzione impartita con maggior cura, è una ragione chiarissima. La parola è segno dell'idea, e l'idea è, se mi consente il paragone, lo strumento di una superiore e delicata civiltà che l'uomo adulto e già colto si è conquistata col sudor della fronte: è un termine ideale che si è ottenuto astraendolo dai particolari dell'esperienza sensibile. Ma innanzi a questa superiore civiltà l'alunno e, più, il fanciullo, è ancora un «barbaro» che vive in mezzo alle cose sensibili, particolari, e ancora non ha imparato ad astrarne l'idea, o, se lo ha imparato, ancora non sa mantenersi per lungo tempo in tale sfera superiore, né può lavorare sulle idee, e seguire tutta una catena di concetti, di definizioni, di ragionamenti, come la scuola pretende. Ne segue un errore gravissimo, da parte del maestro, il quale crede di aiutare tanto più lo scolaro, quanto più gli presenta la materia in ristretto, ridotta a poche, semplici e chiare idee, e non s'accorge, invece, che tanto più rende l'insegnamento difficile, quanto più presenta idee «semplici», che sono appunto le più universali e le più lontane dall'esperienza sensibile, nella quale il fanciullo vive. E allora questi, non potendo capire l'idea, s'appiglia al partito più facile, e ripete la parola e quanto più il maestro s'affanna a chiarire, spiegare e «semplificare», tanto più diventa impossibile al discepolo ripetere altro che parole.  Per togliere questi inconvenienti, la pedagogia moderna ha proposto un celebre e decisivo rimedio: conformar l'istruzione al procedimento con cui naturalmente si formano in noi le idee astratte. Procedere, cioè, dal particolare all'universale, dal senso all'intelletto, dall'esperienza al concetto. Non presentare mai la parola senza la cosa, l'idea senza l'immagine, la definizione senza l'oggetto definito: procurare, anzi, che l'alunno stesso opportunamente guidato trovi da sé l'idea sotto lo stimolo della cosa e dell'immagine. È il cosiddetto metodo «intuitivo» che innegabilmente, se lo si adopera bene, dà buoni risultati, e al quale è da augurarsi che ci si ispiri sempre più e meglio in quella riforma di tutte le istituzioni scolastiche che le moderne nazioni civili vanno da qualche tempo effettuando. Ma badiamo bene: neppure il metodo intuitivo, pur inteso e applicato nel miglior modo possibile, è sicuro. Giacché, anche l'esperienza sensibile, partendo dalla quale si vuol condurre l'alunno alle idee, non è un oggetto o un processo meccanico, ma un atto dell'anima, che non ha nessun significato senza un esplicito concorso da parte dell'alunno. E' stato detto assai bene; anche per spiegare che due e due fanno quattro, avete un bel prendere il ragazzo, e fargli stendere due dita della destra e due della sinistra, e poi avvicinarle e far contare: se il ragazzo è «disattento», se si rifiuta di far scattare la scintilla ulteriore del pensiero, se «non vuole» ascoltare, nessuna  costrizione, fosse anche la tortura, sarà capace di immettere nella sua testa ribelle quella semplicissima verità. Sicché in ultima analisi, quantunque i buoni metodi abbiano, certo, molta importanza, tutta l'istruzione dipende da circostanze imponderabili e imprevedibili che solo la genialità di un maestro artista può, volta per volta, determinare. Ora, siccome i maestri geniali ed artisti sono, necessariamente, una minoranza, ne viene di conseguenza che i tre quarti dell'umanità, affidati a maestri non geniali e non artisti, ricevono una istruzione difettosa.  Ma non facciamo troppo facile la nostra dimostrazione. Concediamo pure che il metodo «intuitivo» possa, da solo, garantirci per tutti una buona istruzione [Il che evidentemente non è, poiché il metodo intuitivo, se contiene un principio gnoseologico verissimo, troppo spesso ignora o fraintende il valore del linguaggio, ch'è molto superiore a quello dei sensibili esterni. Si cfr. nel saggio precedente la teoria di San Tommaso in proposito]. Supponiamo anche ch'esso sia sempre facile ad applicare dappertutto; anche, mettiamo, alle scienze morali e filosofiche, nelle quali, pure, tutti vedono non esser tanto semplice trovare, quando occorre, una esperienza corrispondente alle singole idee. Io domando: chi vi garantisce che quel metodo possa essere applicato in tutte le scuole? Badate: sono secoli che la pedagogia conosce i difetti del verbalismo scolastico, e i pregi del metodo intuitivo; sono secoli che i migliori studiosi lamentano il deplorevole insuccesso dei sistemi abituali; sono secoli che «sapere scolastico» è sinonimo di sapore falso, freddo, morto, inutile: eppure ancor oggi, in mezzo a tutta la nostra civiltà, una migliore organizzazione dell'istruzione scolastica non s'è potuta ottenere se non incidentalmente, in alcuni istituti-modello, in alcuni ordini e gradi di scuole, in alcuni paesi privilegiati. Nella maggior parte dei casi, la scuola continua ad esser tutta spiegazioni verbali, definizioni astratte, ripetizioni, classificazioni, suoni e parole che gli studenti ingozzano spesso senza intenderne nulla, per ripeterle tal quali agli esami, e dimenticano subito dopo. E se un principio scientifico cosi evidente come quello del metodo intuitivo ha dovuto aspettare per secoli una parziale e incompleta realizzazione, che sarà di altre verità pedagogiche più astruse e complicate, eppure non meno necessarie a un buon andamento dell'istruzione? Quanti altri secoli dovremo attendere perché siano messe in pratica?  Ma supponiamo, ancora, che i metodi secondo cui l'istruzione s'impartisce nelle scuole siano sempre e dappertutto i migliori possibili; supponiamo tutti i maestri buoni e tutti i discepoli volonterosi; supponiamo rimosse le condizioni economiche e sociali che oggi impediscono, o limitano a taluno la frequenza scolastica. Otterremo, per questo, un'umanità sufficientemente istruita in quelle fondamentali verità che importa all'uomo conoscere? Ahimè, non solo il genio, ma anche la comune intelligenza concluderà che non è in poter nostro ottenerla quando vogliamo. Perché un Dante o un Galileo può formarsi nonostante tutti i difetti delle scuole, e, viceversa, i più perfetti metodi del migliore istituto modello debbono confessarsi vinti dalla impenetrabile stupidità di un ragazzetto? Perché uno nasce aquila ed un altro gallina? Perché i procedimenti che riescono bene con un alunno, falliscono con un altro? Domande alle quali non si può dare che la solita risposta: dipendere il successo dell' educazione o dell' istruzione, da circostanze imponderabili le quali variano caso per caso. Il che significa, in fondo, riconoscere l'incertezza, la precarietà e il limitato valore di tutti i sistemi e i metodi dell'educazione umana e naturale, supposta anche nelle più ideali e favorevoli condizioni. V  Questo, per l'istruzione. Che cosa bisognerà dire per l'educazione, intesa come formazione morale e, in genere, formazione della volontà? Se pare tanto difficile la lotta contro l'ignoranza, che sarà della lotta contro la pigrizia, contro la sensualità, contro l'orgoglio, contro l'egoismo, contro tutte le tendenze inferiori della natura umana? Anche qui, la storia della pedagogia è tutta un lamento sulla assoluta insufficienza e di questa educazione in se stessa, e dei metodi usati per conseguirla. Uomini dotti, pur coi difetti dei loro metodi, scuole e collegi e atenei ne producono abbastanza, ma uomini temperati, casti, umili, pronti al sacrificio, generosi verso il prossimo?  E si capisce. Siccome la volontà non può muoversi alla cieca, senza il lume della conoscenza, le difficoltà dell'educazione morale sono in certo modo doppie: sono, per una parte, quelle stesse dell'istruzione, e per l'altra quelle specifiche dell' educazione. È già difficile per le ragioni or ora esaminate, che tutti gli uomini possano ricevere una sufficiente istruzione morale: che, cioè, il «non rubare», «non dire il falso testimonio», «non desiderare la donna d'altri» e simili precetti della morale naturale siano appresi da tutti, non come semplici suoni di parole che si ripetono pensando ad altro, ma come nozioni positive che suscitano una vera, interna convinzione. Ma, anche se questo si potesse garantire, quando ciascun uomo vi sapesse dimostrare con eccellenti ragioni filosofiche tutti i precetti della morale, si sarebbe raggiunto appena per metà lo scopo desiderato. Non basta saperli quei precetti: occorre metterli in pratica; non basta pensarli: bisogna volerli e applicarli; e non basta metterli in pratica una volta sola, bisogna farli diventare abitudine di tutta la vita. Saper che non si deve rubare e, ciò nonostante, appropriarsi, quando si può farlo senza pericolo, la roba altrui, predicar la temperanza ed essere intemperanti, esaltare la castità e darsi al vizio, non significa certo essere educati moralmente. Ora, il difetto che la pedagogia moderna ha più criticato nella educazione morale corrente, si è appunto il vecchio pregiudizio che basti predicare e insegnare e far leggere libri o novellette morali, per produrre la virtù: laddove l'insegnamento e la predica e la buona lettura, sono certo necessari ma concludono poco o nulla se la virtù non è praticata e fatta costantemente praticare attraverso le azioni. Il tirocinio effettivo dell'azione deve costituire per la volontà quella medesima base solida che l'esperienza sensibile è per l'intelletto: le idee morali debbono, per imprimersi, ricevere dalla pratica quel positivo significato che le idee scientifiche ricevono dalla sensazione degli oggetti particolari.  Ma questo tirocinio effettivo, pratico, dell'azione, abbastanza facile ad organizzarsi finche si tratta di azioni materiali e, in certo modo, esterne, tendenti a rinvigorire la volontà come l'esercizio ginnastico rinvigorisce i muscoli, diventa poi difficilissimo quando si tratta d'azioni più specificamente morali, ove la volontà stessa deve ottemperare ad un giudizio della ragione che le indica questo come male e quello come bene. La teoria pedagogica in materia che va per la maggiore è la famosa teoria delle conseguenze naturali: teoria che vorrebbe allontanare dal vizio (e, per converso, avvicinare alla virtù) col lasciare che l'azione malvagia sia esperimentata dall'educando stesso nelle sue conseguenze dolorose. Ma tale teoria, sventuratamente, ha il difetto d'essere inapplicabile proprio in quei casi dove maggiore sarebbe il bisogno. Io posso, cioè, lasciare benissimo che il fanciullo, dopo aver rotto un vetro, sia punito della sua sbadataggine dalla rigida aria invernale che viene a pungerlo attraverso i telai della  finestra; posso lasciargli fare una scorpacciata di dolci perché provi, poi, il mal di ventre e l'amara purga; posso lasciargli prendere un frutto dall'albero del vicino, perché il padrone gl'insegni, colle sue rudi maniere campagnole, il rispetto della proprietà. Ma non posso permettere che quello stesso fanciullo, cresciuto in età, perda ogni suo avere al giuoco per imparare quanto sia dannoso il giuoco, o si sciupi l'anima nelle peggiori compagnie per comprendere quanto sia dannosa la cattiva compagnia, o si dia ai facili amori per provare l'amaro sconforto delle abitudini viziose. Posso seguire Rousseau finché si tratta di rompere un vetro, non posso seguirlo, quando mi chiede di entrare, pel servizio del mio allievo, in un luogo di corruzione. Il rimedio sarebbe peggiore del male.  È vero bensì, che l'esperienza acquistata nelle piccole azioni si riflette nelle grandi e che lo stesso alunno, il quale ha riconosciuto a spese proprie ben fondato il consiglio dell'educatore a proposito di un vetro o di un frutto, avrà una ragione positiva per ritenerlo ben fondato anche quando si tratterà di cose più importanti. Ma appunto in questo passaggio sta il pericolo. Chi ci garantisce che, invece, abituato dall'infanzia a provar tutto da sé, il giovane non trovi strana e irragionevole questa pretesa di frenarlo, proprio sulle soglie della maturità? Chi ci garantisce che egli, fatto ormai quasi uomo non respinga come sciocchi e puerili i consigli dell'educatore e non voglia, una volta di più, esperimentare per conto suo? Badiamo: non è detto che questo secondo caso debba sempre verificarsi, ma non è detto neppure che debba sempre verificarsi il primo. In teoria sono possibili ambedue: e, pur ammettendo che in pratica si dia eguale probabilità d'incontrar l'uno e l'altro, l'efficacia d'una educazione che raggiunge il suo scopo solo in una metà dei casi, diventa molto problematica. In ogni modo, siamo già entrati anche qui nelle circostanze imponderabili che variano volta per volta e che solo la sagacia d'un geniale educatore può, volta per volta, scoprire. Ora, noi sappiamo che gli educatori geniali non si fabbricano a piacere, quando se ne ha bisogno, e neanche dove ci sono riescono sempre, in ogni momento e per ogni educando, egualmente geniali.  Ma l'educazione morale incontra, purtroppo, un altro ostacolo ben più grave di quel che non sia la deficienza dei metodi o l'imperizia degli educatori. Tale ostacolo all'educazione della volontà, se ci si permette il bisticcio, sta proprio nella volontà male educata: nella volontà umana che tende, sì, alla virtù, ma la trova dura, difficile e mortificante; e allora s'ingegna di addolcirla, di mitigarla, di conciliarla cogli interessi e le passioni: di falsificarla, insomma, per proprio uso e consumo. La storia della filosofia ce ne offre a bizzeffe, di queste morali falsificate che esaltano a gran voce l'ideale e il dovere, ma si trincerano in un prudente silenzio quando si tratta, questo ideale e questo dovere, di vederli concretarsi in un positivo sistema di azioni o, peggio, forniscono criteri coi quali l'uomo arriva a giustificare qualsiasi azione. Le dispute, le eterne dispute fra scienziati e fra filosofi non sono mai state così universali come nel campo dell'etica. E chi ci garantisce che quei pochi i quali vedono giusto, riusciranno ad imporre, nella scuola e nell'educazione in genere, la loro morale, contro gli altri, tanto più numerosi, che sbagliano per deliberato proposito, e che hanno a favore delle loro dottrine le fragorose voci dell' interesse, delle passioni, delle inferiori tendenze umane ricalcitranti contro ogni severa disciplina? VI  Da queste considerazioni, e da altre ancora che si potrebbero fare, emerge una conclusione niente affatto confortante per l'educazione naturale. Se gl'inconvenienti che abbiamo notato sussistono, se, per essere bene educato, l'uomo ha bisogno e d'un geniale maestro, e di un buon metodo e di una buona scuola, e di una buona famiglia, e di una infinità di altre circostanze imponderabili che rendono fecondo nell'animo suo il concorso di tutti questi elementi, allora ogni uomo che nasce ha tanta probabilità di essere educato, quanta, poniamo, di essere ricco, o di vincere alla lotteria, o di diventare un grande poeta. Con la differenza però, che mentre ogni uomo può vivere benissimo senza ricchezze, senza vincite alla lotteria e senza essere grande poeta, non può vivere, intendo vivere da uomo e non da bruto, senza essere morale e ragionevole, senza adoperare l'intelletto e la volontà, caratteristiche essenziali della sua natura, per gli scopi pei quali gli furono dati. In questo senso, per poter riuscire nel suo intento, l'educazione avrebbe l'obbligo d'essere più universale, pronta e vigile della stessa carità.  Eppure, nonostante tali scarsissime possibilità di riuscita noi dobbiamo, dopo tutto, meravigliarci non che l'educazione faccia poco, ma che faccia troppo. Invece di produrre, come dovrebbe a rigor di logica, accanto a un'aristocrazia di pochi superuomini, sterminate moltitudini avvolte nella peggiore barbarie, l'educazione mantiene, innegabilmente, nell'umanità un livello intellettuale e morale non disprezzabile. Scuole, istituti, maestri, compiono la loro missione: e tanto la compiono che nei paesi ove queste istituzioni sono sconosciute, la civiltà, e intellettualmente e moralmente, è molto più indietro; tanto la compiono che, a un limite estremo, se noi potessimo pensare un uomo il quale dalla nascita in poi non avesse mai ricevuto alcuna educazione, sia pur difettosa, né dalla madre, né dagli altri suoi simili, dovremmo immaginarlo più che come un selvaggio, come un animale; tanto la compiono che è in gran parte merito loro se un popolano dei nostri tempi ha, in molte materie, più cognizioni che un dotto dell'antichità, e se, dopo secoli e secoli, gli uomini hanno imparato a camminare per le strade senza sbudellarsi a vicenda e a mangiare, bere e dormire senza affogarsi nella sporcizia e nel sudiciume; che di questi progressi medesimi l'uomo possa talvolta abusare, facendosene mezzi di peggioramento anziché di miglioramento, chi lo nega? Ma di che cosa non può mai abusare l'uomo?  In realtà il genere umano quando spende tante fatiche nella propria educazione ha fede in un successo le cui probabilità sono, secondo la logica della ragione naturale, addirittura irrisorie, e che pure si ottiene, non colla regolarità e l'ampiezza che ciascun cuore generoso desidererebbe, ma, tutto considerato, in una misura assai larga. Chi affida un figlio alla scuola sa benissimo di avere soltanto una scarsissima probabilità ch'esso venga educato coi metodi più perfetti e dai maestri più geniali, e con tutto quell'insieme di circostanze interne ed esterne necessario a rendere feconda l'educazione. Pure, ha fede nella buona riuscita, dei suoi e degli altrui sforzi; ha fede, diremmo, in una misteriosa equazione fra possibilità e realtà, fra l'educazione in quanto teoricamente possibile e l'educazione in quanto effettivamente avvenuta, una fede che nessun calcolo potrebbe giustificare, anzi della quale ogni calcolo ci mostrerebbe il tenuissimo fondamento. Ora, che cosa è mai questa fede apparentemente irragionevole? E chi è che realizza quell'equazione misteriosa?  È la forza stessa delle cose, l'evoluzione stessa dell'universo, risponde il positivista. È  la razionalità del reale, lo sviluppo dello spirito, dell'«io» immanente ed onnipresente, risponde l'idealista. Poiché l'uno e l'altro, in fondo, nelle loro pedagogie riconoscono lo scarso potere dell'educazione naturale, delle sue istituzioni, dei suoi procedimenti metodici, e l'uno e l'altro debbono ammettere, nella formazione intellettuale e morale del genere umano, una forza sconosciuta, superiore ad ogni nostro accorgimento; un disegno complessivo della realtà al quale sembra conforme che certe educazioni debbano riuscire nonostante tutti i loro difetti, e certe altre fallire nonostante tutti i loro pregi. Ma per il positivista come per l'idealista questa forza non è superiore alla natura: è la natura stessa, spirito o materia che sia; è l'evoluzione o la storia che forma l'individuo educato più o meno, come il mare forma onde nell'uno o nell'altro modo senza che di tale sua cangiante irrequietezza si possa addurre un motivo. Il fatto non ha altra ragione dal fatto stesso: è così perché è così. Pure, questa stessa, implicita confessione dei nostri avversari è preziosa, poiché, volendo allontanare il mistero lo conferma, e volendo tutto ridurre a principi naturali, riconosce che l'azione stessa di questi principi è, nei suoi effetti e nelle sue forme, imprevedibile secondo la natura e la ragione. «Materia», «spirito», «evoluzione o storia» sono tanti nomi del mistero: tanti nomi i quali esprimono una realtà che trascende ogni nostro singolo raziocinio ed ogni nostra esperienza concreta.  Ma sono nomi oscuri e contorti, che non possono appagare nessuno. Spiegare il fatto col fatto stesso, dire: è così perché è così, significa non spiegare nulla. L'educatore sarebbe come il giocatore che arrischia il suo avere sulla probabilità che i dadi o le carte o la ruota producano una fra le tante possibili combinazioni. L'equazione fra possibilità e realtà si compirebbe a caso. Ora, la fede dell'educatore ha, invece, un significato ben diverso, non riposa su un calcolo di probabilità e nemmeno sull'idea di una vaga razionalità sparsa in giro per l'universo: riposa sull'idea di un potere consapevole ed intelligente che dirige l'umanità nei suoi deboli sforzi per il proprio miglioramento, secondo un preciso disegno di cui a mala pena possiamo, talvolta, intravedere qualche parte. Potere che compie, nonostante tutte le nostre deficienze, l'educazione del genere umano anche là dove parrebbe temerario tentarla. Potere che forma Dante e Galileo nonostante i difetti delle scuole, e al quale si deve se l'ignorante e il delinquente non si moltiplicano in orde barbariche per abbattere la civiltà. Questo potere è il potere di Dio. Dio è l'autore della misteriosa equazione che si compie tutti i giorni, nell'opera educativa, fra possibilità e realtà.  La pedagogia e la filosofia debbono fermarsi qui. Più oltre, bisognerebbe entrare nell'ordine soprannaturale mostrando come il divino Educatore abbia compiuto e compia la Sua missione, sia con una Rivelazione che ha offerto a tutti gli uomini le verità e i precetti morali onde avevano bisogno, senza le incertezze della scienza umana, sia con una assistenza positiva, con la grazia di cui attraverso la vivente azione della Chiesa ciascuno partecipa; sia in quei modi speciali ed imprevisti che alla Sua saggezza sono parsi opportuni. Ma la pedagogia e la filosofia possono garantire, come abbiamo visto, almeno questa importante conclusione. Senza ricorrere a un elemento soprannaturale, l'educazione, anche nell'ordine puramente naturale, rimarrebbe indispensabile e, nello stesso tempo, irraggiungibile al genere umano. Pur non potendolo dire assolutamente necessario, nel senso logico della parola, poiché l'idea d'una educazione naturale e della sua conseguente riuscita non presenta alcuna contraddizione intrinseca, dobbiamo dirlo, l'intervento soprannaturale nell'educazione, necessario di una necessità relativa e morale:  utile nello stesso senso in cui i teologi parlano della «utilità» della rivelazione.  Ecco una sfera lanciata attraverso lo spazio. Nulla v'è d'assurdo all'idea ch'essa debba indefinitamente continuare nel suo moto, anzi, appunto, questo dovrebbe accadere secondo i principi della fisica. Pure la sfera, a un certo punto, arresta il suo cammino e cade; gli attriti e le resistenze hanno assorbito la forza da cui era animata. Lo stesso può dirsi della educazione naturale. La natura umana tende spontaneamente al vero e al bene, è indefinitamente educabile e perfettibile, dovrebbe continuare all'infinito il suo progresso. Pure, gli attriti opposti dalle sue tendenze inferiori, dall'interesse, dalle passioni, dalla sensualità, ben presto la fermano in cammino, e ci vogliono tesori d'accorgimento, di sapienza, di genialità per farla progredire, per dare ad un uomo solo, anche la più modesta educazione, così come ci vogliono macchine complicate e delicate per dare ad un solo oggetto una limitata quantità di moto. Che diremmo di un fisico il quale volesse far marciare tutti i corpi, compresi i pianeti e le stelle, a forza di macchine? Che, perciò, di un pedagogista il quale voglia educare tutto il genere umano colle scuole e i maestri, i collegi ed i libri? L'educazione naturale è, come il moto perpetuo, possibile solamente in teoria. Ma per realizzarla, per realizzarla in modo che tutta l'umanità abbia il suo vero e il suo bene, i suoi giorni laboriosi e i suoi riposi meritati, le sue messi e le sue industrie, il pane del corpo e il pane dello spirito, la sua dignità e la sua fede, è necessario il braccio di Colui che sospese negli spazi, fiammante tappeto ad un trono invisibile, la corona di soli che i nostri occhi intravedono in un lontano luccichio dorato, nella notte. L'Anima della pedagogia.  (Discorso tenuto per l'inaugurazione dell'anno accademico nell'Istituto Superiore di Magistero “ Maria Immacolata » il 17 dicembre 1924. È importante che il lettore tenga presente tale data, poiché alcune critiche contenute in questo studio rispecchiano, necessariamente, le condizioni dell'Italia liberale e democratica, che sono — com'è ovvio — assai diverse da quelle dell'Italia d'oggi.)  Domando scusa se sono costretto a incominciare con l'affermazione di una verità così poco peregrina com'è quella secondo cui la scuola non è fatta dall'edificio ove si tengono le lezioni, dalle aule, dai banchi, dagli orari, dai programmi, e nemmeno, rigorosamente parlando, dalle persone discenti e docenti; sebbene da quell'idea, da quello spirito, da quell'indirizzo animatore che, dimostrandosi capace d'informare di sé tali disjecta membra, le stringa davvero in un organismo vitale. Ma voi sapete pure che le verità, quanto più sono evidenti, tanto più spesso corrono pericolo di esser dimenticate o non avvertite: come l'aria, della quale viviamo senza accorgercene, o come — se mi perdonate il brusco trapasso — la felicità che si va a cercare, talora, in paesi lontani, mentre si avrebbe sotto mano, piena ed intera quanto alla condizione umana è dato raggiungerla, fra le mura di casa propria. In particolare, poi, le verità riguardanti la scuola hanno avuto da noi, in Italia, fino all'altro giorno, la curiosa caratteristica d'esser proclamate a gran voce, con mirabile accordo, da un notevole numero di persone, ma di esser poi, con un accordo ancor più mirabile, dimenticate e violate nella pratica da un numero ancor più notevole di persone fra le quali, sempre, in primissima linea, coloro che avevano qualche potere in materia di politica scolastica. Ad esempio, per restare  nell'ambito di quel che dicevamo poco prima, qual è il cittadino italiano immischiato comunque, per dovere od elezione, nelle cose scolastiche, che non abbia, semprechè l'occasione e la cultura propria glielo permettessero, fatto dei discorsi sull'«anima della scuola», sulla sacrosanta necessità «di educare oltreché istruire», sull' imprescindibile dovere di dare alle nuove generazione un saldo indirizzo ideale, ecc.? Tanto che chi dovesse, sull'unica base di quei discorsi, formarsi un concetto intorno alle condizioni della scuola italiana nell'ultimo trentennio, sarebbe tratto certamente a immaginare che, povera quantitativamente di edifici, di denaro, di persone, di numero, per le ancor scarse disponibilità economiche del paese, essa poi fosse forte e rigogliosa all'interno, tutta pervasa da un unico, ben definito ideale, informante di sé l'umile opera dell'insegnante come la superiore attività legislativa dei ministri e del parlamento. Orbene, in realtà è avvenuto proprio il contrario. Le nostre università sono state numerose più di quelle della dotta Germania o della miliardaria America, eppure noi non siamo ancora riusciti a diffondere nel ceto dei professionisti, degli alti funzionari, degli impiegati cosiddetti — forse per ironia — «di concetto», nemmeno la parvenza di quella cultura decorosa che tali classi hanno persino fra le più modeste nazioni civili moderne. Le nostre scuole medie sono diventate, a lungo andare, talmente pletoriche, da rappresentare infine una specie di piaga nazionale; eppure, gli individui capaci di leggere, gustandolo, un classico, o di interessarsi, per propria soddisfazione, a un qualsiasi ordine di problemi scientifici, si contano sulla punta delle dita. Le nostre scuole elementari sono, non diciamo troppe e neanche tante da bastare, in sé alla funzione che dovrebbero adempire, ma certo non poche in relazione ai magri bilanci dei comuni e degli enti pubblici onde traggono il loro sostentamento; eppure, non solo l'analfabetismo imperversa, ma è accompagnato da quell'altro, ben più pericoloso fenomeno, che è la noncuranza, l'accidia, la pigrizia interiore, la sordità ai valori spirituali, l'«analfabetismo morale» insomma. Né in questo groviglio d'istituzioni scolastiche venute su alla peggio, sotto la pressione dei più svariati casi o interessi, burocraticamente amministrate senza alcun riguardo a finalità ideali e ad esigenze interne, flagellate da una pioggia di decreti, leggi, regolamenti cozzanti fra di loro nel più assoluto caos, si saprebbe comunque scoprire, non dico un'anima, ma solo una certa, anche tutta estrinseca, unità e coerenza d'indirizzo, se indirizzo non si vuol chiamare la proclamazione aperta di non averne alcuno, che tale è appunto la scuola laica neutra onde siamo stati deliziati fino a ieri. Tutto ciò, naturalmente, non vale per il nuovo stato di cose prodotto dalla recentissima legislazione della riforma Gentile: i benefici effetti della quale, giova credere, presto si faranno sentire nel loro lato positivo, giacché per ora, come era del resto naturale e giusto che accadesse, l'esame di stato ed altre misure simili hanno agito piuttosto spazzando via gli ultimi resti della vecchia mentalità liberale che ancora paralizzava il nostro organismo scolastico.  Ma ecco che mi sperdo in un mare di considerazioni poco piacevoli e intanto dimentico l'oggetto primo del mio discorso. Ch'era, semplicemente, di dirvi, in omaggio alla non peregrina eppur troppo spesso dimenticata verità dalla quale avevamo preso le mosse, come la fondazione di questo Istituto Superiore di Magistero, che s'intitola al Nome tanto dolce ad ogni anima cristiana, non possa rimanere solo una di più fra le lodevoli iniziative onde si vanta l'azione cattolica in Italia, che pur trae dalla sola vigile carità dei fedeli mezzi ed opere, quali nessuna sapienza di amministratore saprebbe immaginare e ne fa fede questo stesso Istituto nel volger di pochi mesi creato e provvisto di tutto il necessario con una larghezza veramente signorile di cui bisogna render grazie  alle Suore che l'hanno voluto ospitare. Se una scuola non è formata solo dalle aule e dagli edifici e dal materiale, se, prima di tutto, essa ha da rappresentare uno spirito e un pensiero, allora è nostro dovere domandarci qual è lo spirito e il pensiero che ci sostiene, ch'è poi quanto dire in nome di che cosa e con quali idee direttive i cattolici italiani hanno offerto alla loro patria, già, come notavamo un momento prima, anche troppo gravata dall'eccessivo numero degli istituti universitari esistenti fino a ieri, una nuova scuola universitaria?  Problema difficile certo, e tale da render pensosi quanti si preoccupano delle sorti della cultura cattolica in Italia e del quale io non presumo davvero darvi qui la soluzione, non solo perché non è argomento da sbrigarsi in poche parole, ma anche perché io confido a tale uopo nel vostro futuro concorso, di quando voi stesse avrete superato in certo modo quel duro tirocinio che vi attende, di disimparare al più presto quello che la ingloriosamente defunta scuola normale vi ha insegnato o ha finto d'insegnarvi, per rimparare non dico, che non voglio essere esageratamente pessimista, tutto il contrario, ma almeno con spirito ben diverso, con altre finalità, con un differente senso dello «sforzo gioioso» base d'ogni cultura, i primi rudimenti, ossia gli strumenti del lavoro, d'un vero sapere, non peso morto e oppressione ingombrante dell'anima, ma compito quotidiano da adempiere se anche con sacrificio, colla coscienza di riempire d'un nuovo valore la propria vita. Problema, perciò, del quale io non posso darvi più di un senso e, direi quasi, un sospetto e un presentimento, fondandomi non solo su quel che avrete certo visto e sentito dire sul rivolgimento avvenuto, da un anno a questa parte, in materia scolastica, nel nostro paese ma, soprattutto, sullo spirito che v'ha infuso la vostra comune Madre, la Chiesa, quando accogliendovi nel suo seno come semplici fedeli, o inscrivendo talune nella milizia schierata sotto le bandiere dei diversi ordini religiosi che veggo fra voi rappresentati, ha trasfuso in voi quegl'immutabili principi direttivi del pensare e dell'operare che, per divina promessa, dureranno in eterno, anche quando il cielo e la terra cadranno da sé come vestimenti vuoti.  Che cosa sia in sé un Istituto Superiore di Magistero secondo la nuova legislazione scolastica, voi certo sapete. Formare insegnanti per le scuole medie, migliorare e allargare la cultura dei maestri abilitandoli alle funzioni direttive ed ispettive, sono già compiti veramente nobili, da invogliarci a lavorare con tutta la nostra energia perché: chi sono gl'insegnanti delle scuole medie? Sono coloro che plasmano, in sostanza, le classi dirigenti di domani, le quali appunto in quelle scuole ricevono la prima umana educazione del loro spirito. E chi sono i direttori e gli ispettori? Sono coloro che hanno in mano tutto l'organismo delle scuole elementari e, per conseguenza, l'educazione del popolo. Ora, nessuno può negare che e l'una e l'altra cosa, l'educazione delle classi dirigenti e l'educazione del popolo, siano, da noi, bisognose di urgenti riforme delle quali i cattolici non possono in alcun modo disinteressarsi. E non basta che tali riforme siano ormai sancite da un corpo di leggi del quale l'Italia può oggi andar giustamente orgogliosa, giacché le leggi ci sono, ma occorre chi «ponga mano ad esse», ossia chi le realizzi nella propria intelligente operosità. D'altronde non si guarisce in pochi giorni dalla malattia di oltre un cinquantennio, anzi, a guardar bene, di secoli. Giacché la nostra patria, per ragioni storielle che ora sarebbe troppo lungo indagare, non ha da secoli avuto una «cultura» nel senso di attiva partecipazione delle classi socialmente più elevate ai lavori dello spirito. Ci sono stati, non meno numerosi che altrove, i geni dell'arte o della scienza, ma solitari, inaccessibili, chiusi nello sforzo della creazione, senza un pubblico  che li seguisse, senza un'anima nazionale che si riconoscesse in loro e si assimilasse i risultati della loro opera, fermandola nella stabilità d'una tradizione. Perciò quando l'unità italiana compiuta permise la formazione d'uno Stato moderno, il problema tormentoso si riprodusse: da un lato le grandi personalità solitarie, dall'altro le plebi misere ed ignare, nel mezzo una classe dirigente improvvisata, sfornita di ogni vera consistenza interiore, costretta a vivere giorno per giorno d'una politica di ripieghi. Ed eccoci a quello che dicevamo prima sull'«analfabetismo morale», ben più pericoloso dell'analfabetismo grafico. In altre grandi nazioni civili europee il medico o l’avvocato, l'ingegnere o il funzionario, il banchiere o l'industriale d'una certa levatura non si limitano a compiere, per delicati e difficili che siano, i doveri della propria professione, ma spesso sentono il bisogno di riempire le proprie ore libere con qualche nobile disciplina spirituale. E il funzionario, uscito dall'ufficio, si dedica a studi letterari, e il medico, lasciati gli ammalati, coltiva la filosofia, e l'avvocato, dopo le sue pratiche legali, va acquistando una vera competenza nella storia politica, e l'industriale, chiusa la fabbrica, non vuol più sentir parlare di registri e di conti, ma riempie la casa di quadri e di mobili antichi e si esercita con passione nella critica d'arte. Né è raro il vedere persone già innanzi negli anni intraprendere, poniamo, per la prima volta lo studio della musica, o iniziarsi a qualche difficile ramo di ricerche scientifiche, quasi ad apprestare alla prossima vecchiezza un'occupazione dignitosa che le impedisca d'isterilirsi nell'ozio e di esaurirsi nella malinconica contemplazione dei propri acciacchi. Quel che accadesse, invece, da noi fino a ieri, purtroppo ognuno lo sa [Anche qui si tenga presente quanto s'è già osservato, in altra nota: che si parla, cioè, dell'Italia di... altri tempi! Oggi si potrebbe, forse, dire il contrario: la mentalità democratica, tessuta di atteggiamenti menzogneri e capricciosi, sta facendo perdere alle grandi nazioni europee ogni vera superiorità culturale. E invece, da noi sotto la nuova, severa disciplina «romana», le classi dirigenti si sono trasformate con una rapidità che, in altri tempi, sarebbe parsa incredibile.], dove non solo funzionari e impiegati, avvocati e medici, industriali e finanzieri non conoscevano — salvo pochissime lodevoli eccezioni — altro modo d'impiegare il proprio tempo libero che non fosse il biliardo o il caffè, il giornale e le chiacchiere, il cinematografo e l'operetta, per tacere il peggio, ma persino alcuni professori e maestri accoglievano l'obbligo di studiare e di dimostrare ad ogni occorrenza una cultura larga, soda, frequentemente rinnovata, sancito dalla nuova legislazione scolastica, con una meraviglia così ingenua da far sospettare che, nei loro pedagogici cervelli, fra il mestiere dell'insegnamento e l'obbligo di studiare non fosse mai esistito il sospetto d'una, sia pur lontanissima, relazione. E quando un simile esempio viene dato da quelle che dovrebbero essere, nel miglior senso della parola le classi dirigenti, che cosa può fare il popolo se non disertare la scuola per la bettola e il libro per il mazzo di carte? Il maggior tempo libero e i più alti salari ottenuti al proletariato dalle agitazioni socialiste del '20 e del '21 gli servirono non già ad elevarsi intellettualmente, sebbene a vagabondare, a gozzovigliare, a sfoggiare, con mentalità pescecanesca, stoffe costose e gioielli. Come vedete la questione intellettuale si trascina dietro, inevitabilmente, la questione morale, e direi anche, se voi non interpretaste la parola in cattivo senso, la questione politica. Sì, perché quel professionista, quel funzionario, quell'impiegato che, finito il proprio lavoro, invece di godere le vere libertà del raccoglimento e della meditazione,  «va a divertirsi» in un modo più o meno discutibile, si forma poco a poco le physique o, meglio, le moral du róle, ossia la mentalità adeguata all'ambiente che frequenta: la mentalità del caffè, del cinematografo, dell'operetta, il dilettantismo frivolo, il semplicismo, l'orrore dei problemi seri che implicano fatica e disciplina, l'amore del lusso, l'insofferenza d'una vita tranquilla e modesta. Proprio come l'operaio «moralmente analfabeta» che nei suoi salari che gli hanno permesso il pescecanismo dei polli arrosto o dei vestiti costosi trova l’incentivo più sicuro all'odio e alla rivolta contro i ricchi, i quali, assoggettandolo al suo duro lavoro quotidiano, hanno voluto escluderlo da quella pantagruelica gazzarra in cui gli sembra debba celebrarsi la vera vita. Ora, mentalità simili, oltre all'anarchia che portano necessariamente alla coscienza morale dell'individuo, oltre alla corruzione e al vizio di cui necessariamente debbono pascersi, sono incompatibili colla esistenza politica d'una nazione, che vuol lavoro e disciplina, serietà e sobrietà, capacità di pensare e spirito di sacrificio. Ed ecco, allora, anche la politica uniformarsi ai superiori dettami del caffè e del cinematografo, della pochade e dell'operetta; ecco le chiacchiere con cui ognuno risolve i più complessi problemi, congiunte alla più massiccia ignoranza delle cose più elementari; ecco il fumo negli occhi al volgo gettato dai professionisti politicanti; ecco la corsa alle cariche, agl'impieghi, alle prebende; ecco la incapacità dell'opinione pubblica ad avere qualsiasi serietà e consistenza. Come meravigliarsi che per imporre il principio d'una disciplina in un ambiente simile non ci sia voluto meno del manganello e della rivoltella con tutti gli annessi inconvenienti? Il buon pubblico liberale e democratico, quello dello «stellone», non fu purtroppo accessibile al pacifico lavoro della stampa, alla discussione di problemi dibattuti nelle assemblee, sulle riviste, nei libri: se non aveva il «fattaccio» con morti e feriti, non si scuoteva. Pensate, per esempio, a un altro campo ove si è avuta gran copia di quei metaforici morti e feriti che sono i «bocciati» alla scuola media. Da quanto tempo noi, poveri pedagoghi, non avevamo scongiurato, implorato, supplicato coi pacifici e democratici mezzi dell'articolo, della conferenza, del libro, i padri di famiglia perché degnassero occuparsi delle scuole ove pure i loro figli trascorrevano in gran parte la propria vita? Quante volte non avevamo denunciato a gran voce il vuoto, la nullità, l'inettitudine di quelle pretese fucine del sapere? Quante volte non avevamo avvertito che così non poteva più andare innanzi e che la settimana rossa del '14, Caporetto, le agitazioni socialiste del dopoguerra, fenomeni fra le cui cause doveva certo annoverarsi in primissima linea l'analfabetismo morale alimentato dalle nostre scuole, erano già indizi sicuri di quel che poteva un giorno succedere se non si fosse presto messo un riparo alla degenerazione scolastica da cui eravamo afflitti? Credete voi che i padri di famiglia ne fossero impressionati? Che! era come parlare al muro. C'è voluto il «manganello» dell'esame di Stato colle conseguenti bocciature, perché i signori padri di famiglia, toccati nel punto sensibile della borsa, da una pedagogia ben altrimenti efficace di quella degli articoli e delle conferenze, degnassero finalmente accorgersi della esistenza d'un problema scolastico e finalmente sospettassero che la scuola è stata fatta per altro scopo che non sia quello di fornire diplomi ai loro figli.  La gravità della situazione che vi ho prospettato dice dunque quanto sia importante il compito al quale siete chiamate voi, future direttrici e ispettrici di scuole elementari; voi, future insegnanti di scuole medie. Da anni ed anni noi andiamo sperperando le migliori riserve morali della nostra razza: quelle magnifiche energie del nostro popolo, fino a ieri provvidenzialmente salvaguardato dalla sua stessa incultura, dalle dure necessità del suo  lavoro, dalla primitività rurale delle sue condizioni di vita, contro l'azione disgregatrice del laicismo imperante nelle città: quelle magnifiche energie che ci hanno fatto vincere la guerra e ci permettono ancora di ignorare il terribile problema dello spopolamento incombente su altre nazioni. Se voi poteste soltanto contribuire a cambiare lo stato di cose che vi ho or ora descritto: se voi poteste diffondere davvero una cultura nel più alto e nobile senso della parola e fra le nostre classi dirigenti e nel nostro popolo: se riusciste a sostituire, almeno in parte, il libro alla bettola, l'arte al cinematografo, la scienza alle chiacchiere del circolo, avreste già bene meritato della causa che servite. Avreste ottenuto quello che già ottenete in altri campi: e come nell'assistere ammalati, nel sollevare poveri, nel conquistare alla civiltà le più inospiti regioni del mondo conosciuto, gli ordini religiosi hanno fatto sì che il nome cristiano fosse sempre in prima linea anche in quelle opere socialmente utili di cui il mondo laico si vanta come di propria conquista perché non è dato scorgervi, a primo aspetto, alcun carattere religioso, così voi aprendo, anime, dirozzando intelligenze, opponendo ai «divertimenti» dissipatori il gusto d'un nobile lavoro dello spirito, dimostrereste che, anche nel diffondere la luce del sapere, il Cristianesimo sa essere in prima linea, e che tutte le verità, tutte le conquiste, tutte le vittorie del pensiero, non solo esso le accetta, ma sa farle fruttificare come nessuna scuola laica ha mai saputo. E io credo che ringraziereste anche la pedagogia: quella pedagogia da voi imparata a conoscere nella scuola normale — sia detto con tutto il rispetto dovuto alle zitelle — sotto la veste d'una zitellona dura ed arcigna, se vi aiutasse a raggiungere un fine simile, dandovi una più sicura consapevolezza dei problemi educativi, un più alto senso dell'opera scolastica, un palpito d'amore più puro per questa grande fucina d'anime ch'è la scuola. E io vado ancora innanzi, e vi dico che ambizione dei cattolici italiani dev'essere quella di veder sorgere intorno a questo istituto, vicine o lontane, ma sempre legate ad esso da un'intima comunione d'intenti e d’indirizzo, tutta una rete di scuole veramente nostre. Così noi auspichiamo un liceo-ginnasio nostro e un istituto magistrale nostro e delle scuole elementari nostre, non perché non vi siano in Italia scuole simili valorosamente rette da cattolici, ma perché desideriamo tenerci con esse nel contatto più diretto possibile, dando, non solo insegnamenti, ma anche, secondo la debolezza delle nostre forze, esempi, concretando però in tutto un sistema d'istituzioni scolastiche quelli che ci pare debbano essere i criteri pedagogici direttivi dei cattolici d'oggi: e ciò non per dare degli schemi che tutti debbano pedissequamente copiare, quanto piuttosto per approfittare delle favorevoli condizioni che solo una scuola modello, libera da ogni preoccupazione estranea ai suoi fini didattici, può offrire.  Come vedete, è un programma di lavoro che per cinquant'anni e più può bastare alle giovani generazioni cattoliche. Tuttavia spero di non parervi proprio incontentabile se aggiungo subito che il fine, innegabilmente altissimo, la cui importanza ho cercato ora di farvi, alla meglio, comprendere non può, per vasto che paia, essere abbastanza per voi. E dico per voi, e un momento fa ho fatto appello alla coscienza cristiana e cattolica per cui la Chiesa in diversi gradi vi annovera fra le sue figlie obbedienti, perché se il diffondere la cultura, l'insegnare e l'aprire scuole sono tutte azioni nobilissime, degne delle nostre migliori energie, vano sarebbe credere che con ciò e soltanto con ciò si offrisse adeguato rimedio ai mali ond'è travagliata non solo la coscienza italiana, ma possiamo pur dire tutta la coscienza moderna. Qui comincia il nostro dissidio dai pedagogisti laici coi quali fino a questo punto abbiamo marciato di pari passo, e proprio qui dobbiamo dire, se ne siamo capaci, la parola nuova che si aspetta da noi, che è poi la ragione per cui non c'è  parsa inutile, fra i troppi istituti universitari italiani, la fondazione d'un altro Magistero. Questa parola eccola: noi non crediamo che il problema pedagogico odierno sia risolvibile con un programma esclusivamente culturale, noi non crediamo, cioè, che basti dare alle nuove generazioni una scuola in cui si studia davvero invece d'una scuola in cui non si studiava per poter dire d'averle educate. Anzi noi non crediamo che l'insufficienza della vecchia scuola fosse solo, come tante volte s'è detto, una deficienza tecnica d'uomini e di programmi, a sanar la quale basti preparare un personale insegnante colto e conscio dei suoi doveri, rinvigorire le sanzioni giuridiche dei concorsi e degli esami, amministrare con maggior severità, o restituire ad alcune discipline formative a torto trascurate come il latino e la filosofia la loro funzione di prim'ordine; tutte cose, badiamo bene, bellissime e necessarie, alle quali noi cattolici plaudiamo toto corde, ma che non toccano ancora, secondo noi, il vero fondo della questione. Giacché il Cattolicesimo è vecchio, miei cari, e ha troppo buona memoria per dimenticare le lezioni del passato. Quando gli uomini del Rinascimento ruppero i ponti dell'antica fede e ai Padri e ai Dottori della Chiesa vollero sostituiti i classici, pensavano anch'essi tutti, dal precursore Petrarca all'organizzatore e propagandista Erasmo, che la cultura avrebbe risanato il genere umano e che, fugata l'ignoranza, sarebbe sparita anche la corruzione, e pareva loro che lo studio delle lettere latine e greche sarebbe stato 1'ubi consistam di quella piena, elevata, armonica formazione spirituale ch'essi auspicavano all'umanità redenta dalle tenebre medioevali. Orbene, l'Umanesimo trionfa, riplasma nel proprio spirito le vecchie scuole, ne crea delle nuove ove il classicismo regna incontrastato... Ahimè, non è passato ancora un secolo e già i pedagogisti lamentano nella scuola umanistica i difetti che gli umanisti avevano voluto satireggiare nella scuola medioevale: rozzezza, pedanteria, soffocamento delle migliori energie, disconoscimento brutale delle esigenze intime dello spirito educando. E man mano che il tempo passa, sempre più la nuova pedagogia s'avvede che di tali deformazioni dell'anima giovanile è proprio responsabile questa cultura che agli uomini del Rinascimento pareva principio indispensabile d'ogni umana elevazione: la cultura classica, la preponderanza dell'esercizio letterario come fine a se stesso, il cerebralismo della pura dilettazione estetica, l'immoralismo in quanto divorzio fra il dire e il fare, la vacua retorica. Allora, mentre le critiche all'umanesmo si moltiplicano, un nuovo astro sorge sull'orizzonte e il realismo scientifico s'accampa minaccioso contro l’umanesimo. I pedagogisti del Rinascimento hanno sbagliato: non le lettere classiche, ma gli studi scientifici, l'osservazione della natura, l'esperienza, daranno all’ umanità la formazione spirituale di cui ha bisogno. E da Bacone e Comenio, nei quali il nuovo ideale educativo s'afferma ancora circondato da riserve e cautele critiche, ai pedagogisti della rivoluzione francese, ai positivisti del secolo XIX che annegano la scuola addirittura in un'orgia di scienze positive, il realismo entra poco a poco, come già era entrato l'umanesimo, nella prassi e nella legislazione scolastica di tutte le nazioni civili. E se proprio non riesce a detronizzare il rivale, almeno gli impone, attraverso la filologia che va impregnando di sé gl'insegnamenti delle letterature classiche, il suo spirito ed i suoi metodi. Il problema è dunque risolto? L'umanità ha finalmente trovato quella liberazione attraverso la cultura che andava cercando dal medioevo in poi? Mai più: il realismo scientifico non ha ancora avuto tempo di celebrare i suoi trionfi, che già un nuovo avversario è sorto a denunciare le sue malefatte. La pedagogia idealistica moderna riprende, a sua volta, contro il realismo scientifico, il medesimo atto d'accusa ch'esso aveva portato contro l'umanesimo letterario. Eccoli, secondo l'idealismo, i frutti della scuola razionalistica e scientifica che aveva voluto poggiare il suo insegnamento sulla salda base dei «fatti» e delle «notizie» e bandire tutto il resto come chiacchiera inutile: pedanteria, superficialità, soffocamento delle migliori energie, frivolo scetticismo, oblìo dei valori spirituali, meccanismo burocratico e livellatore. E l'idealismo contemporaneo non è solo. Sia i grandi pedagogisti moderni, un Pestalozzi, un Fròbel, già lo stesso Rousseau, già Locke, tutti più o meno simpatizzanti coi metodi del realismo scientifico, derivano la miglior parte della loro opera piuttosto che da quest’ultimo, da una oscura ribellione contro l'insegnamento “ufficiale” delle scuole che fa loro presagire, se pur non diagnosticare chiaramente, un errore, una stortura, una violazione di non so quali principi, onde tutto il sistema educativo dei loro tempi riesce falsato; né essi sono mai tanto eloquenti come quando inalberano la bandiera della rivolta a rivendicare i diritti dell'anima umana oppressa dalla pedanteria scolastica. E quella rivolta è sì accettata dall'idealismo contemporaneo, ma allo stesso modo con cui il realismo aveva accettato dall'umanesimo le critiche dei migliori umanisti sul “ciceronianismo”: non come indice di un errore infirmante i criteri stessi con cui si è risolto il problema educativo in genere, ma come il segno d'una serie d'errori particolari agevolmente rettificabili. In fondo il realismo aveva consentito con l'umanesimo nell'ammettere che il problema pedagogico fosse sopratutto problema di cultura, d'una maggiore e miglior cultura da diffondere fra gli uomini: soltanto gli era parso che l'umanesimo avesse male risolto questo problema imperniando la cultura sulle lingue classiche. A sua volta il neoumanesimo idealistico riconosce volentieri al realismo il pregio d'aver rivendicato i diritti dell'esperienza, della ragione, della cultura, ma, viceversa, gli ascrive a torto d'essersi esaurito nel proporre quel particolar tipo di cultura che s'impernia sulle discipline e sui metodi naturalistico-positivi. Secondo l'idealismo sarà, sì, la cultura, ma una cultura largamente storico-filosofica che permetterà al maestro moderno di risolvere il problema educativo. C'è da meravigliarsi se il Cattolicesimo, che è così vecchio!, ricorda oggi agli immemori che da cinque secoli la pedagogia laica agita ormai lo stesso programma senza riuscir ad altro che a disfare oggi quello che ha fatto ieri, non portando “a mezzo novembre” ciò che “ha filato di ottobre”? Ed è avventata superficialità il profetare che i medesimi inconvenienti denunciati per il passato nella scuola umanistica e nella scuola realistica, renderanno domani oppressiva, pedantesca, astrattamente verbale, anche la scuola  neoumanistica?  La ragione? Ma la ragione sta nello stesso carattere umanistico di tale scuola, intendendo questa volta per umanesimo non più l’humanitas delle antichità classiche, quanto piuttosto tutta una concezione della realtà, e precisamente la concezione della realtà come “uomo” o come “spirito umano”, che è poi il carattere distintivo di tutti gli ideali pedagogici laici i quali, in un modo o nell'altro, risolvono il problema educativo additando all'educando come meta ultima l'esercizio di un'attività umana non soltanto nell'esplicazione, ma anche nell'oggetto, procedente, cioè, dall'uomo e avente per suo oggetto il mondo umano, in quanto natura, storia, esperienza, ecc., e poco importa se poi questa attività sia la scienza o l'arte, la letteratura o la filosofia. Ora, ciascuna di queste attività umanisticamente intesa è sempre, per forza, finita e limitata: non già nel senso che ciascuno dei suoi singoli risultati non sia superabile all'infinito, ma nel senso che racchiude lo spirito in un determinato punto di vista, cristallizzandolo, per così dire, entro se stesso, vietandogli però di aprirsi ad una vita superiore. Diciamo la vera parola, la cultura umanistica è una cultura “egoista”. Nell'arte e nella scienza, nella filosofia e nella letteratura, lo spirito umano ammira soltanto le cangianti forme di se stesso: Narciso contempla la sua immagine scomporsi e ricomporsi in mille guise attraverso l'acqua leggermente mossa della fontana. E non si risponda che pure per far ciò egli deve sacrificarsi e negarsi, superare la morte e il dolore: che, dunque, la scuola umanistica sa dire anch'essa le salutari parole della sofferenza e della abnegazione? anche l'egoista, tutto dedito ai suoi piaceri, deve affrontare per essi sacrifici e sofferenze? è forse per questo meno egoista?  No, una cultura — è questo il punto in cui noi ci separiamo decisamente da ogni pedagogia “laica” — la quale ignori Dio, o, peggio, lo riduca ad un momento dialettico nel divenire dell'autocoscienza, è sempre una cultura gretta, limitata, mancante di ogni vero stimolo a rinnovarsi, tendente a comprimere con dogmatica rigidezza quanto non rientra nei suoi quadri preformati. E infatti che vuol dire rinnovarsi, se non uscire da sé per mirare a una realtà superiore? Ora, la cultura laica non conosce realtà superiori; anche quando guarda all'avvenire, nelle nuove scoperte che nasceranno all'infinito da lei, essa non può scorgere, ancora e sempre, che l'immagine di sé. Ben diverso è il caso della cultura cristiana la quale, avendo per fine non se stessa, ma Dio, tende necessariamente a elevarsi sopra di sé e reca, quindi, nel suo seno, il più possente stimolo a rinnovarsi che si possa desiderare. L'enciclopedia laica è un circolo chiuso; per vasto che sia il suo giro, esso parte da sé e ritorna in sé: cultura letteraria del vecchio umanesimo, cultura scientifica del realismo, cultura storico-filosofica del neoumanesimo. Ed anche tutt'e tre insieme, saranno, perciò, sempre, violatrici della più caratteristica prerogativa dello spirito umano per cui “navigare necesse est, vivere non est necesse”: quella di ripugnare ad ogni barriera, quella di spezzare ogni limite per tendere sempre più in alto e sempre più oltre. Viceversa l’enciclopedia cristiana è, se ci si consente l'espressione, un circolo che s'apre, colla filosofia e la teologia, al riconoscimento d'una realtà superiore: infinita via su cui le anime dovranno avanzare colle loro forze sostenute dalla grazia divina. Né la materialità di queste immagini v'inganni, quasiché la differenza fra i due tipi di cultura s'iniziasse solo in un ordine soprannaturale. Poiché il tipo e, direi, l'orientamento di una cultura non può non essere visibile anche in ogni sua minima parte. Ogni frammento della cultura laica deve riprodurre in sé il circolo chiuso e ogni frammento della cultura cristiana il circolo aperto. Così i singoli fatti del mondo naturale sono, in fondo, nonostante tutte le proteste in contrario, per la cultura laica, niente altro che la ripetizione di un medesimo spettacolo per cui l'umanista è assalito dal terrore e dalla noia innanzi alla monotona infinità dei cieli, e i fatti della storia gli sembrano esauriti quando li ha sussunti sotto una determinata categoria ideale. Viceversa la scienza cristiana avverte l'infinito che è in ogni fatto e in ogni oggetto, non come la “mala infinità” d'una ricerca da proseguirsi indefinitamente, o d'uno spettacolo multicolore illimitatamente prolungato, ma come la positiva inesauribilità d'una esistenza concreta le cui radici si perdono in Dio, ch’è quanto dire, come uno dei modi, sempre originali e imprevedibili, attraverso cui la potenza creativa di Dio si è manifestata. Ecco perché questa nostra civiltà occidentale nutrita dal Cristianesimo ha avuto la grande fioritura di scienze e d'arti di cui oggi va orgogliosa. Ecco perché la vera cultura, ch'è “spirito di libera ricerca”, alieno dall'oppressione e dalla pedanteria, e “socratica maieutica” alle anime che facciano nascere, nel dolore e nello sforzo, la verità, non può andar mai disgiunta dallo spirito  cristiano. Ed ecco, infine, la ragione dell'insuccesso che, dall'umanesimo al realismo e al neoumanesimo, ha sempre reso e renderà sempre sterili i tentativi di fondare, fuori del Cristianesimo, una scuola veramente liberatrice.  Non basta. Il problema della cultura non è soltanto un problema di qualità o di intensità; è anche, sopratutto, un problema di diffusione. Ora, qui è proprio lo scoglio di tutte le pedagogie laiche che, dato il loro punto di partenza, debbono per forza porre nella ragione naturale la forma più alta d'autocoscienza, e perciò nella “consapevolezza” critica e scientifica l'essenza di ogni cultura. Già il mondo pagano aveva detto che i liberi studi, la ragione, la filosofia erano l'unica via onde l'uomo, elevandosi sulle proprie passioni, celebra veramente in sé l'umanità. E si era trovato innanzi al terribile problema: «che faremo dunque, degli uomini che non hanno, anche volendo, né tempo né modo di studiare? Negheremo loro la qualifica di uomini?» Problema, si noti bene, assai più facile in una società che aveva gli schiavi e che non conosceva ancora le innumerevoli forme d'operosità manuale e materiale ormai indispensabili alla società moderna. Allora, forse, si sarebbe potuto pensare in linea teorica, che poche ore di lavoro manuale imposte a ciascuno bastassero per soddisfare i bisogni della società, garantendo poi a tutti la libertà di rivolgersi ad occupazioni intellettuali. Oggi non è più così. Il nostro operaio attende molte ore del giorno ad un lavoro faticosissimo e spesso tecnicamente difficile: e i mille servizi materiali, di trasporti, di comunicazioni, di cure igieniche, di polizia e via dicendo, di cui ha bisogno una città moderna, lasciano, a un intero esercito di persone, proprio il tempo che basta a rinnovare col riposo le proprie energie. Vorremo educare costoro col latino dell'umanesimo, colle scienze del realismo, o colla filosofia del neoumanesimo? O, non potendo, li lasceremo senza alcuna educazione? È il problema della cultura popolare, insolubile per il razionalismo laico moderno non meno che per il paganesimo antico. D'altronde, se i beni dello studio e della contemplazione sono i veri beni umani, con che diritto ne escluderemo la maggior parte dell'umanità ch'è condannata ai lavori manuali? Che se, viceversa, pare inevitabile quei beni dover toccare in sorte a pochi, con qual criterio gli uni saranno preferiti agli altri? Come evitare il sospetto che tutto il nostro sistema sociale sia fondato su una odiosa ingiustizia? Ed ecco lo spirito di ribellione che getta i lavoratori in braccio al socialismo e all'anarchismo, ecco il moto sotterraneo che mina le basi delle nazioni moderne.  Anche qui la storia ci ammaestra. Il problema che la civiltà pagana non aveva saputo risolvere, fu risolto dal Cristianesimo. Se la santità è superiore alla scienza e la carità alla giustizia, allora i veri valori spirituali non si attuano nel lavoro intellettuale piuttosto che in ogni altra qualsiasi forma di lavoro o di attività umana, sebbene dovunque c'è occasione di accettar dei doveri che rompano la dura scorza del nostro egoismo. Anzi, più l'attività che esercitiamo è socialmente umile e materialmente faticosa, meno da essa possiamo aspettarci ricchezze, beni, onori, più essa è vicina a quella perfezione di sacrificio e di rinunzia che è l'ideale cristiano. “Qui vult post me venire abneget semetipsum”. Non basta rinunciare alle cose proprie, alle comodità, al lusso, alle mollezze, questo lo avevano detto anche i filosofi pagani: occorre rinunciare a se stesso, ossia rinunciare a quell'altro lusso interiore che è la gloria, la fama, l'alto sentire di sé in cui il ”saggio” antico trovava compenso a tutte le privazioni; occorre abnegare semetipsum. Il paganesimo aveva conosciuto comunità di filosofi che si proponevano come fine la più alta attività sociale, la scienza. Il Cristianesimo creerà, ammirevole assurdo per la sapienza mondana, comunità sterminate di religiosi che si proporranno per  fine le attività, socialmente più basse, servili, dispregiate, che non solo accetteranno con entusiasmo il lavoro manuale, ma chiederanno al mendicante di dividere i suoi cenci con loro e cureranno le piaghe del lebbroso. Eccolo risolto, il problema della “cultura popolare”; non inutile tritume di nozioni da distribuire, ma organica concezione della vita da realizzare; concezione della vita, notate bene, non riservata a un piccolo numero di studiosi, ma aperta a tutti, aperta, anzi, con speciale sollecitudine, alle moltitudini doloranti nel più duro lavoro. All'annunzio della «buona novella» queste moltitudini non solo non cercheranno di strappare colla rivolta i beni che sono retaggio esclusivo del ricco e del sapiente (che è un ricco interiore), ma avranno compassione dell'uno e dell'altro, ben sapendo che quegli apparenti privilegiati trovano appunto nei loro beni, interni od esterni, il maggior fomite di attaccamento al mondo e il peggior ostacolo sulla via della perfezione cristiana, giacché è più facile a un cammello passar per la cruna di un ago che a un ricco entrar nel regno dei cieli.  Né questo deve indurci a credere che, come favoleggiano taluni, il Cristianesimo, trascorrendo all'estremo opposto, sia, in odio al razionalismo pagano, divenuto fomite d'ignoranza e “dottrina da schiavi”. Il vigore col quale la Chiesa ha sempre rivendicato, contro le eresie irrazionalistiche e fideistiche, i diritti della ragione; la fermezza colla quale ha tenuto viva la tradizione dell'antica cultura in quegli stessi conventi ch'erano patrimonio dei «poveri» e degli «ignoranti», sono lì per dimostrarlo. Allo stesso modo, pur raccomandando in modo specialissimo la povertà come uno fra i principali consigli evangelici, Essa non ha mai accettato quelle rozze forme di ascetismo che avrebbero voluto distruggere i beni materiali della società riportando l'uomo alla caverna primitiva, così, pur proclamando la donnicciola ignorante pari, nella vita cristiana, quando non addirittura superiore al più dotto filosofo, Essa non ha mai misconosciuto i valori della cultura, rettamente intesa. Se cultura e ricchezza sono pericolose, lo sono soltanto allo stato, direi, naturale e pagano, in quanto forme di un'attività umana che presume di avere in sé il suo fine e che di esse orgogliosamente si compiace. Compenetrate dall'ideale cristiano, perdono il loro aculeo e divengono, anzi, fonte d'elevazione a chi le sa rettamente usare, al servizio del prossimo e di Dio. Ecco perché la Chiesa, nemica della ricchezza non ha mai tralasciato di porgere aiuti affinché le condizioni materiali della vita umana venissero sempre migliorate, e, nemica del razionalismo pagano, non ha mai cessato di combattere per l'elevazione intellettuale e morale di tutti. Possiamo dire, anzi, meglio: siccome nel più ci sta il meno, nel fine soprannaturale che il Cristianesimo propone all'uomo ci dev'essere implicito anche l'adempimento dei suoi fini naturali, e implicito eminenter, nel modo più perfetto possibile. Perciò non è da meravigliarsi che tutte le soluzioni del problema economico-sociale dibattute oggi dalla scienza (razionale limitazione del lavoro, equa distribuzione della ricchezza, severa disciplina della concorrenza) siano state già da secoli implicite nell'operosità sociale cristiana; e non c’è da meravigliarsi che tutti i più sottili accorgimenti didattici per la diffusione della cultura consigliati dai grandi pedagogisti moderni siano sempre stati il presupposto indispensabile d'ogni insegnamento cristiano. L'eccessivo lavoro manuale abbrutisce l'uomo, impedendogli di attendere la propria elevazione intellettuale e morale? Orbene, da quanto tempo la Chiesa non combatte perché cessi quel gravissimo scandalo ch'è la violazione del riposo festivo, stoltissima empietà non meno che — ecco la vera parola — barbara distruzione della libertà umana,  la quale “non vive di solo pane”. Se le grandi feste di precetto del calendario liturgico cristiano fossero tutte scrupolosamente osservate, non avrebbe forse anche il più umile lavoratore un adeguato periodo di tempo da dedicare, al raccoglimento interiore e alla meditazione, in quei giorni che sono «di Dio» appunto perché Dio vuole che allora l'uomo, dimenticato ogni altro interesse, si fermi ad ascoltar la Sua Parola ed a riprender coscienza del proprio posto nella realtà e nella vita? E se il lavoro di tutti i giorni fosse, anziché esasperato fino alla vertiginosa tensione cui lo spingono la brama smodata di ricchezza e il materialismo pratico della moderna vita irreligiosa, contenuto nei limiti che la morale cristiana impone, lascerebbe esso l'uomo così esaurito da spingerlo a cercare un sollievo nei così detti “divertimenti”?  Né solo il tempo libero, ma anche i mezzi più adeguati alla positiva diffusione d'una vera cultura, il Cattolicesimo ha sempre messo, con tutte le sue forze, in opera. Non abbiamo noi sentito vantare come scoperta della pedagogia moderna il “ metodo intuitivo”, cioè la potenza plastica e suggestiva dell'immagine che penetra là dove il nudo raziocinio non potrebbe arrivare? Orbene, di questo”metodo intuitivo” e, quel che più conta, senza i grossolani fraintendimenti del positivismo materialistico, la Chiesa è stata la prima maestra, quando, non contenta di predicare la propria dottrina, ha affidato alle belle arti il compito di realizzarla sotto aspetti architettonici, pittorici e musicali, in un simbolismo che solo gli stolti potrebbero irridere. Eccolo, quel simbolismo, nella costruzione del tempio, dalla sua forma generale di una croce, ai più minuti particolari delle porte e delle colonne su cui i costruttori antichi avevano una dettagliatissima dottrina; eccolo nelle pitture che adornano le pareti, ove si rappresentano i principali misteri della fede che il sacerdote commenta ad uso degli illetterati; eccolo in quell'altra mirabile creazione che è il canto liturgico, nel quale l'emozione lirica dell'arte è veicolo alla esposizione dei più profondi concetti cristiani, e il tutto con una facilità di esecuzione tecnica che rende possibile alle moltitudini più ignoranti di parteciparvi non da spettatrici, ma da attrici. E la liturgia stessa delle sacre funzioni, considerata nel suo aspetto umano e naturale, che altro è se non la partecipazione delle folle a un grandioso dramma ove la poesia, l'architettura, la pittura, la musica si fanno docili strumenti della verità? — Oggi si raccomanda il «metodo attivo», si biasima il verbalismo della nostra cultura, si riscopre il valore educativo del lavoro manuale. Orbene, non sono nate dal Cristianesimo quelle corporazioni medioevali ove il tirocinio e l'esercizio del lavoro manuale si compenetravano del medesimo senso d'arte e di libertà umana che a mala pena e non sempre oggi si ritrova nei grandi lavoratori del pensiero? Ed è stranissimo che i pedagogisti moderni prendano, di solito, come tipo dell'educazione cristiana e cattolica le congregazioni insegnanti della Controriforma e, anche queste, le considerino in una ristretta parte della loro opera e precisamente in quella parte ove esse hanno dovuto agire collateralmente a metodi e sistemi, non posti da loro, ma forzatamente dovuti accettare dalla società in cui si movevano. Non si capisce, ad esempio, perché i Gesuiti debbano esser presi da tutti i manualetti della pedagogia razionalistica, come unici rappresentanti della educazione cristiana e dei suoi pretesi difetti, quasiché la divina Provvidenza avesse loro assegnato il compito di far da capro espiatorio, attirando sulla propria testa tutte le contumelie del laicismo anticlericale. E si capisce ancor meno perché mai, dato anche - e non concesso!- che tutti gl'inconvenienti deplorati dai pedagogisti dei laicismo nella scuola dei Gesuiti ci fossero effettivamente stati, i Gesuiti debbano venir giudicati  esclusivamente in base all'opera dei loro collegi per alunni laici, quasiché essi nulla avessero fatto per l'educazione clericale ed ecclesiastica. Allo stesso nostro Capponi, che pur cita lo spartano e l'ateniese e il romano antico come esempio di educazioni effettivamente riuscite alla costruzione di tipi spirituali indelebili, non è mai caduto in mente che il Gesuita fosse un “tipo” spiritualmente altrettanto originale, ottenuto però con una educazione efficace per lo meno quanto quella da lui vantata negli antichi? E che il benedettino, il francescano, il domenicano e via dicendo, per quanti ordini religiosi - e non sono pochi!- la Chiesa racchiude nel suo seno, fossero altrettanti “tipi” spirituali non meno ben delineati? Di un metodo educativo si può, certo, avere un'idea guardando a qualsiasi sua manifestazione, ma non si può giudicarlo completamente se non là dove esso si è fatto tutte le condizioni occorrenti alla sua piena realizzazione. Sarà benissimo che i risultati ottenuti dalle congregazioni insegnanti della Controriforma non debbano giudicarsi brillantissimi: ma si consideri che quelle congregazioni, in quanto si proponevano d'esplicare una larga azione sulla società laica circostante, dovevano forzatamente accettare sistemi e metodi consacrati dall'opinione pubblica, sia pur per volgerli, in quanto era possibile, ai propri fini. Così i gesuiti trassero tutto quel bene che si poteva trarre, da un punto di vista cristiano, dall'umanesimo letterario e dalla vita moralmente corrotta che nelle classi sociali dirigenti si accompagnava allora all'ideale umanistico. È colpa loro se la scuola umanistica era, per intima costituzione, una scuola oppressiva, e se, in fatto di morale pubblica e privata, il mondo e la famiglia s'incaricavano di erudire l'alunno uscito dai collegi con una serie di lezioni ben altrimenti significative? Ma si guardi il rovescio della medaglia, si prenda l'educazione gesuita nella formazione del gesuita, così come, risalendo nei tempi, si prende l'educazione francescana nella formazione del francescano e l'educazione benedettina nella formazione del benedettino, si prendano, cioè, tutti quei sistemi educativi in quanto hanno la libertà di foggiare interamente l'educando secondo i propri principi informatori. E poi si dica quale educazione laica, in qualsivoglia condizione, saprebbe, non solo plasmare, nella rigorosa unità d'una dottrina ferma come la cattolica, tanta e così varia ricchezza di spiriti quante sono le diverse famiglie religiose; ma, quel che più conta, indurre in una tal moltitudine di persone un dispregio dei propri comodi e dei propri interessi, un amore della sofferenza e del sacrificio, una devozione al dovere, una infaticabile attività non d'altre ricompense sollecita se non al di là della sfera umana, una umiltà che rifiuta persino quelle legittime soddisfazioni per cui l'uomo guarda con compiacenza l'opera propria spesa in servigio di superiori ideali quali sono quelli che oggi la stessa opinione mondana ammira quando la colpiscono nei tipi, più facilmente visibili, della suora di carità o del missionario. Né bisogna poi credere che, anche nelle difficili condizioni presentate dal dover trattare con gente già imbevuta d'idee e d'abitudini anticristiane, qual è appunto il caso della educazione che la Chiesa impartisce a laici, l'educazione cattolica non possa nulla, o possa meno della pedagogia razionalista. E basta, per convincersene, pensare alle anonime folle che, anche nei tempi più difficili per la religione, si stringono intorno alla Chiesa e ne ricevono giornalmente, per bocca d'un umile sacerdote, la parola, il consiglio, l'ammonimento che trasformano anche la disperazione della più sventurata esistenza, nella umana dignità d'un sacrificio offerto a Dio, nella nobiltà d'un dovere adempiuto con serena consapevolezza. Nelle ore torbide della storia, quando la scuola tace, fatta deserta, e la scienza è travolta dal turbine che sradica anche le civiltà più robuste, la Chiesa parla e gli stessi nemici l'ascoltano con deferenza, sia pure per tornare,  quando la burrasca sarà passata, a combatterla: ma che, intanto, l'abbiano dovuta ascoltare, è altamente significativo.  Ma è tempo ormai ch'io concluda questo lungo discorso, specialmente dacché mi è capitata fra le mani una conclusione così bella e confortante per voi, maestre cattoliche, una conclusione che, non ne dubito, anche nella forma troppo pedestre in cui le mie scarsissime forze hanno dovuto presentarvela, voi terrete presente, durante il nostro futuro lavoro comune, perché vi sia d'incitamento a fare sempre più e sempre meglio. E questa conclusione è che, nel prepararvi ad affrontare i maggiori problemi della pedagogia moderna, voi obbedite a una voce che vi richiama là dove da secoli la vostra gran madre, la Chiesa, ha combattuto e, possiamo dire senza tema di smentite, ha vinto, le sue più belle battaglie. Diffondete pure il sapere fra le moltitudini, ma diffondetelo nei modi e con gl'intenti ch'Essa vi ha insegnato, sicure di porgere soccorso, cosi, alle tormentose crisi dell'anima moderna; di soddisfare, così, pienamente alle esigenze della pedagogia più raffinata e scrupolosa. Allora questa scuola dalla quale sarete uscite, potrà veramente affermare d'avere, in mezzo a tutte le altre scuole universitarie, una sua precisa ragion d'essere, potrà veramente, in quanto ciò è dato ai nostri deboli sforzi umani, non demeritare di raccogliersi sotto l'altissimo nome che oggi invochiamo a guida e conforto: sotto l'altissimo nome di Colei che è Vergine Madre, figlia del Suo figlio, umile ed alta più che creatura, termine fisso d'eterno consiglio. Filosofia, religione e "filosofie" nelle scuole medie  L'introduzione dell'insegnamento religioso nelle scuole medie e, più, l'esplicita dichiarazione del Concordato secondo la quale la dottrina cattolica deve essere il necessario fondamento e coronamento di ogni istruzione, hanno fatto nascere, strano a dirsi, nell'animo di molti e insegnanti e studiosi un turbamento la cui eco si è sentita nell'ultimo Congresso nazionale di filosofia (1929), e si sente tuttora negli scritti e nelle private conversazioni di quanti, o per elezione o per ufficio, amano discutere i vivi problemi della scuola. E forse non andrebbe molto lontano dal vero chi dicesse che tale discussione, interessante, senza dubbio, quando riguarda la scuola media in genere, offre poi un interesse specialissimo quando tocca l'Istituto magistrale, dal quale (si noti bene) debbono uscire maestri che hanno l'obbligo d'istruire i loro alunni non solo intorno a questa o quella singola materia, ma precisamente intorno alla religione cattolica; cosa che non potrebbero fare certamente, se già non avessero ricevuto dall'Istituto magistrale una salda istruzione e formazione religiosa.  È bene dirlo subito: intendiamo di deliberato proposito trascurare tutti i problemi pratici e contingenti che possono nascere e nascono nelle odierne condizioni della scuola dalla introduzione dell'insegnamento religioso cattolico. E intendiamo trascurarli, non solo per un legittimo desiderio di circoscrivere il nostro discorso, ma perché siamo persuasi che il turbamento di cui si parlava ora deriva, nella maggior parte dei casi, non tanto dal considerare l'uno o l'altro aspetto pratico della questione, sibbene dal non aver impostato con sufficiente chiarezza o dall'aver male risolto il problema filosofico che  della questione stessa sta al fondo. Per convincersene basta aver la pazienza di formulare solamente la difficoltà quale corre, si può dire, sulle bocche di tutti. — Che significa — si domandano molti — questa dottrina cristiana che deve essere d'ora innanzi il coronamento degli studi? Significa forse che si debbano escludere e bandire severamente dalla scuola tutte quelle dottrine e quegli autori non conciliabili colla ortodossia cattolica? Ammettiamolo pure. Ma allora dove andrà a finire la libertà di coscienza dell'insegnante, anzi, dove andrà a finire quella stessa libertà della ricerca scientifica che si svolge, è vero, e si esplica pienamente solo negli studi superiori e nelle Università, ma che non si può neppure escludere del tutto dalle scuole medie, senza ridurre l'istruzione a una semplice trasmissione meccanica di vuote formule, onde ogni vero senso di intima ricerca è esulato? Vedete qual differenza fra il Cattolicesimo e il pensiero moderno, e non certo a vantaggio del Cattolicesimo! Mentre l'uno esclude assolutamente quella diversità di pareri e di teorie dalla quale nasce la feconda ricerca e la discussione, senza cui non v’è scienza, anzi pretende di ridurre tutti, volenti o nolenti, ad un unico modo di pensare; l'altro ha sì gran braccia che accoglie generosamente, nel suo capace seno, ogni dottrina, poiché in ogni dottrina riconosce un momento e un aspetto necessario della verità. E dunque, mentre, secondo il filosofo moderno, anche il cattolico ha diritto di esprimere il suo parere e di portare nella scuola il suo pensiero, secondo il cattolico, il filosofo moderno, ben lungi dall'avere questo diritto, deve esser cacciato e tenuto fuori dalla scuola come un individuo pericoloso. Ora, ognuno vede da qual parte stia la libertà e la vera tolleranza: mentre il prevalere della filosofia moderna apre alla scuola tutte le conquiste del pensiero, il prevalere del cattolicesimo implicherebbe il ritorno al più gretto e ristretto oscurantismo, segno di remoti e barbari tempi. che la civiltà moderna ha, e vuole avere, per sempre superato.  E, poste queste premesse, ecco che molta brava gente già si sente venire i brividi addosso. Che, già le par di vedere l'Inquisizione e il Sant'Uffizio armarsi del braccio secolare, ed entrar nelle scuole, e buttar sossopra libri e programmi, e, afferrato per il collo con mano ferrea ciascun insegnante, interrogarlo, e voler sapere per filo e per segno che cosa dice e che cosa opina, e che cosa pensa, e come e perché. E poi, al menomo odoraccio di eresia, giù ammonizioni e sospensioni, e rimozioni dall'impiego, e magari, tanto per essere in armonia col color locale, o meglio, storico, una buona dose di tratti di fune applicati sulla pubblica piazza, e un buon rogo, dove se non le persone, che non li usa più, almeno i libri proibiti formassero un bel falò, a consolazione della gente devota che assisterebbe, fra cantici di gioia e inni sacri, all'edificante spettacolo.  Ora, i timori - più o meno irragionevoli - sono timori, e la filosofia è filosofia, e forse non c'è cosa tanto difficile a questo mondo quanto il persuadere certe brave persone che i timori vanno trattati da timori e la filosofia da filosofia; che le questioni filosofiche non si risolvono coi timori, ma cogli argomenti. Accuse di oscurantismo alla religione cattolica se ne sono fatte da che mondo è mondo, e sempre se ne faranno, fino alla fine dei secoli; sarebbe dunque puerile meravigliarsi che se ne facciano anche oggi. Ma giustizia vuole che di queste accuse si esamini spassionatamente il fondamento e il valore, prima di sentenziare. Giacché le affermazioni sono una bellissima cosa, ma finché non vengono dimostrate si riducono ad essere semplicemente parole: segni, o suoni, siano poi i suoni d'arpa eolia coi quali il poeta avvinca a sé i cuori, o gli stonati rulli del tamburo coi quali i saltimbanchi stordiscono, sulle piazze, la moltitudine.  Sia dunque lecito porre, al presente studio, questo fine: domandarsi qual valore abbiano quelle accuse, e su quali argomenti poggino quelle affermazioni, ora riferite, colle quali si vorrebbe sequestrare il cattolicesimo dalla civiltà e dalla scuola moderna, per relegarlo nei musei d'un incerto e torbido passato che si dovrebbe inonoratamente seppellire. Mettiamo da parte i vaghi fantasmi passionali coi quali si cerca di carpire il consenso attraverso la mozione degli affetti e guardiamo, se ci riesce, di non arrenderci che alla forza dell'evidenza e della ragione. Cerchiamo, se è possibile, di ridurre la questione a un tale stato di chiarezza che chiunque ci segue, amico o avversario, possa senza disperati sforzi d'ingegno o di dottrina, comprendere le ragioni sulle quali poggia la nostra tesi, od, occorrendo, scoprire anche il più piccolo errore nel quale ci sia avvenuto d'incappare. I.  Cominciamo con l'osservare subito che la questione che ora c'interessa non riguarda tanto i rapporti, o i conflitti che possono nascere, nella scuola media, fra l'insegnamento religioso in quanto puramente tale, e l'insegnamento della filosofia. Che se il problema fosse questo, molti amerebbero risolverlo, almeno in pratica, con una pacifica e cortese reciproca neutralità: l'insegnante di religione insegni la sua religione; l'insegnante di filosofia insegni la sua filosofia, e tutti pari. Ma il problema riguarda, invece che l'insegnamento della religione e quello della filosofia, due modi diversi di concepire l'insegnamento della filosofia, cioè due diverse concezioni della filosofia, o, meglio, due diverse concezioni della verità, diverse tanto, che non possono convivere pacificamente fra loro, né stare insieme senza distruggersi a vicenda. E se poi anche l'insegnamento della religione finisce con l'essere implicato in questo conflitto, ciò accade pei diversi effetti che quelle due concezioni producono, e non possono fare a meno di produrre, nel modo stesso di concepire la religione.  Ma quali sono queste due diverse concezioni in conflitto? L'abbiamo detto; anzi, lo dicono e lo ripetono a sazietà coloro che formulano, contro la filosofia ispirata al cattolicesimo, quelle obiezioni che or ora abbiamo sentito. Possibile mai che la verità debba essere qualcosa di fisso, di statico, d'immobile, definibile una volta per tutte e racchiusa, per tutti i secoli, entro i ferrei cancelli di una determinata dottrina? Ma la verità è invece, progresso, sviluppo, divenire: e, anzi, lo stesso sviluppo e divenire del pensiero che incessantemente si accresce su sé medesimo, creando sempre nuovi sistemi e nuove dottrine, ognuna delle quali è un momento e un aspetto immortale del vero, ma nessuna delle quali può aspirare ad esaurire in sé la verità tutta quanta.  Ecco dunque le cose singolarmente semplificate. Verità fissa ed immobile da una parte; verità in continuo sviluppo dall'altra; verità trascendente, da una parte, verità immanente, e identica col divenire stesso del pensiero dall'altra; verità oggettiva, che il pensiero filosofico può soltanto scoprire e riconoscere qual è, da una parte; verità soggettiva, eternamente creata dal pensiero, dall'altra. Per rendere, se non più semplice, più chiara questa antitesi, molti amano ricorrere alla storia della filosofia e impersonare in alcuni nomi di filosofi celebri quelle due diverse concezioni. Kant ed Hegel da una parte e San Tommaso dall'altra, quasi due mondi l'un contro l'altro armati, la filosofia moderna contro il medioevo e la filosofia scolastica. Contro, si capisce, per modo di dire poiché,  chi crede tutti i sistemi filosofici veri, non può, senza contraddizione, dar l'ostracismo a San Tommaso e alla scolastica, ma deve considerarli essi stessi come un “momento” della immortale verità. E pure Kant ed Hegel per modo di dire, poiché chi pensa la verità come un continuo sviluppo non può poi, senza darsi la zappa sui piedi, offrirci a modello un sistema filosofico, sia pure il kantiano o l'hegeliano, a preferenza di un altro. Kant ed Hegel sì, ma come li pensiamo e li ricostruiamo noi. Kant ed Hegel con tutti i filosofi venuti dopo, compreso colui che adesso parla o scrive nel loro venerando nome. Comunque, questo appello alla storia della filosofia, se anche non riesce molto a chiarire - e, anzi, vedremo che intorbida - la questione riesce tuttavia ad ottenere un altro effetto di maggior vantaggio immediato. Quello di far apparire manifestamente vera la concezione della verità alla quale si vuol dare il nome di “moderna”, e, per necessaria conseguenza, manifestamente falsa la concezione opposta, quella tomistica, scolastica o “cattolica” che si voglia dire. Secondo tale concezione infatti, una sola filosofia sarebbe vera, quella di san Tommaso; tutte le altre filosofie, da San Tommaso in poi, costituirebbero un cumulo di errori, degni soltanto della più lacrimevole compassione. Per altra parte, al filosofo che si proclamasse oggi scolastico e cattolico, non rimarrebbe altra missione che quella di ripetere alla lettera San Tommaso, e di concentrare tutto l'universo nelle sacre pagine delle due Somme, alfa ed omega d'ogni sapere, o, piuttosto, colonne d'Ercole oltre le quali non è permesso spingere la ricerca, nell'oceano della verità. Di modo che il filosofo cattolico verrebbe a trovarsi in questa imbarazzante condizione: dover torcere inorridito lo sguardo dalla storia della filosofia, diventata per lui un enigma indecifrabile (un catalogo d'errori non è una storia) e di dover, insieme, rinunziare a qualsiasi iniziativa scientifica nel campo della filosofia pura. Viceversa il filosofo “moderno” non ha pregiudizi quanto a storia della filosofia, che può intendere e ricostruire appieno appunto perché può e sa simpatizzare con tutti i sistemi anche più opposti, persuaso di trovarvi sempre un'anima di verità, e in filosofia pura può dar sfogo a tutte le ardite idee e intuizioni geniali, significando liberamente quanto una prepotente ispirazione gli detta dentro e costruendo, se così gli paresse, anche un nuovo sistema al giorno, con immenso vantaggio per le magnifiche e progressive sorti del genere umano. Con questo, gli applausi delle platee sono assicurati al libero filosofo moderno, e i fischi e gl'improperi ricacciano fra le tenebre medioevali colui che avesse lo sconsigliato ardire di voler essere al tempo stesso cattolico e filosofo, o “scolastico”, “tomista” e filosofo.  Ci sia permessa, prima di procedere oltre, una semplice osservazione. Anche a proposito di questo piccolo dramma, o di questa piccola commedia, dove si fanno muovere con tanta disinvoltura i personaggi del filosofo moderno e del filosofo cattolico, occorre ricordare che le parole sono parole e gli argomenti sono argomenti. I termini di “modernità”, di “libera ricerca”, di “ progresso del pensiero” e simili, fanno sempre un grande effetto, anche quando la realtà che essi designano sia per avventura - e ciò accade non poche volte - assai mediocre e meschina. Tutti vogliono essere, in questo mondo, spregiudicati, liberi, moderni e progrediti, e hanno a noia di sentirsi chiamare oscurantisti, arretrati e schiavi, così come tutti vogliono essere intelligenti e civili, e hanno grandemente a noia di sentirsi chiamare stupidi o barbari. È un troppo naturale effetto dell'amor proprio, sia negli uomini che nelle dottrine e nei sistemi da essi escogitati. Ma appunto perché è un naturale effetto dell'amor proprio, bisogna diffidarne; e come a chi ci venisse innanzi affermandoci di esser molto intelligente e civile noi non crederemmo già sulla parola, ma domanderemmo le prove  della sua asserzione, e vorremmo sapere quali fatti e quali opere gli danno il diritto di ambire a quei titoli onorevoli, così ad una dottrina che ci afferma d'esser progredita e libera, moderna e spregiudicata, noi non possiamo credere ciecamente, ma dobbiamo domandare quali prove effettive di libertà, di progresso e di spregiudicatezza, essa sia in condizione d'offrirci. II.  Il procedimento adoperato, di solito, dagli avversari per fare apparire la filosofia dei cattolici, e, sopratutto, la filosofia tomistica e scolastica, come retriva e non all'altezza dei tempi, è un procedimento così artificiale ed artificioso che chiunque si provasse ad usarlo per valutare qualunque altra filosofia non scolastica né cattolica, si attirerebbe certo un coro di vituperi. E se queste parole, di solito adoperate a indicare cosa molto diversa da quella che vogliamo dir noi, non corressero il rischio d'esser fraintese, diremmo che tale procedimento è assai simile a quella “illusione cinematografica” del pensiero per la quale si pensa d'aver afferrato e ricostruito un organismo vivente quando se ne sono raccostate alcune immagini parziali e frammentarie.  E, infatti, tutto l'equivoco si fonda su questo: quando alcuno dice di ritener vera una filosofia, sia essa scolastica o antiscolastica, religiosa o irreligiosa, idealistica o positivistica, dogmatica o scettica e così via, è costretto a dirlo con frasi e parole le quali ci danno, per forza, di essa soltanto un'immagine approssimativa e inadeguata. E tanto più approssimativa ed inadeguata, quanto meno è possibile condensare in una breve formula verbale, qual è quella per cui uno si dichiara scolastico, materialista, idealista o naturalista ecc., ciò che è veramente essenziale nella filosofia: gli argomenti coi quali essa stabilisce e dimostra le proprie tesi. E questo stesso carattere di approssimazione e di inadeguatezza si estende, in un certo senso, a tutte le parole, e a tutte le frasi, e a tutti i libri che sono stati scritti per esporla e svolgerla, ognuno dei quali, per importante che sia, non si può mai dire che esaurisca in sé tutta quella dottrina che pure insegna, o possa considerarsene un equivalente materialmente completo. Tanto è vero che da che mondo è mondo si continua a scriver libri per esporre e difendere le varie dottrine filosofiche, e ancora non s'è finito, né si può finire. Poiché una dottrina filosofica è un insieme di concetti e di ragionamenti: e benché concetti e ragionamenti si esprimano, certo, con parole e con libri, e si possano, magari, riassumere e indicare con brevi formule, pure, non i libri e le parole o le formule, ma i concetti e i ragionamenti costituiscono l'essenza della dottrina. E chi, perciò, la dottrina vuol capire, non deve fermarsi alle parole e alle formule, ma deve, mediante esse, risalire ai concetti e ai ragionamenti, cioè compiere in sé quell'atto dell'intelletto pel quale si costituisce e si dimostra una determinata dottrina: che non è, evidentemente, lo stesso atto col quale si ripete materialmente una formula, o s'impara a memoria un libro.  Segue da ciò che quando un filosofo vi dice “siate idealisti”, “siate scettici”, “siate cattolici” o “siate scolastici”, e vi scrive un libro per dimostrarvelo, o vi indica alcuni classici della filosofia quali Hegel o Sesto Empirico, Aristotele o San Tommaso, come quelli coi quali il suo pensiero meglio si trova d'accordo, non può essere davvero così sciocco ed insensato da volervi indurre solo a ripetere pappagallescamente “siamo  scolastici” o “siamo scettici”, o a ripetere tal quali le sue parole, e ad imparare a memoria i libri di Hegel o di Sesto Empirico, di Aristotele e di San Tommaso. Ma pretende, invece, che i suoi uditori o lettori, da quelle formule e da quei libri risalgano ai ragionamenti in essi contenuti, e, mediante u n positivo lavoro del loro intelletto, li riscontrino veri e se li approprino, facendo così un'opera di ricerca che è certamente originale, benché riesca (nihil sub sole novi!) a conclusioni già scoperte da altri pensatori, siano essi Hegel o Sesto Empirico, Kant o San Tommaso. Né questo riuscire a conclusioni già scoperte da altri menoma in nulla l'originalità e la libertà della ricerca; giacché la libertà del pensiero non consiste punto nel non aver nulla innanzi a sé, ma solo nel non accettare nulla che non sia dimostrato vero. E quando una dottrina è dimostrata vera, la libertà dell'intelletto è garantita, in altro non consistendo tale libertà se non nell'esser fatto l'intelletto per conoscere il vero, e quindi nell'esser libero e attivo sol quando il vero effettivamente conosce.  Ma che cosa fanno, rispetto alla scolastica, e quindi rispetto al cattolicesimo, i critici poco esperti, o male intenzionati? Credono, o mostrano di credere, che i filosofi scolastici siano, essi soli, così insensati da far consistere la loro filosofia, non nel pensiero ma nelle parole, sì che, presso i soli cattolici esser “scolastici” significhi non già compiere quell'effettivo e originale processo di pensiero pel quale ognuno può riscontrare col proprio intelletto la verità della filosofia scolastica, ma solo mandare a memoria e ripetere, senza mutare una virgola, l'una e l'altra Summa di San Tommaso. Onde, la facile accusa agli scolastici d'esser ripetitori pedissequi e di voler, perciò, diseducare il pensiero umano, riducendo ogni ricerca scientifica alla meccanica fatica di ripetere frasi, o libri altrui, con quelle pessime conseguenze per l'educazione e per la scuola che già abbiamo udito deplorare.  Accusa alla quale, evidentemente, non si può rispondere altro che negando l'arbitraria e cervellotica supposizione dalla quale è partita. Nessun filosofo scolastico, infatti, s'è mai sognato di voler indicare col termine “scolastica” soltanto la parola e non la cosa, i libri, e siano pur di San Tommaso, e non la dottrina in essi contenuta, le conclusioni, e non il concreto processo di pensiero col quale ci si arriva. Nessun filosofo scolastico, quando dice agli altri “siate scolastici” vuol loro imporre la irragionevole schiavitù di una dottrina senza dimostrazione e senza ricerca. Nessun filosofo scolastico, infine, ha mai creduto che la sua filosofia fosse altro che un concreto processo di pensiero, nel quale certe tesi si dimostrano vere alla luce della ragione e dell'esperienza e mediante lo sforzo originale di colui che studia. Il quale, poiché si tratta appunto d'una dottrina e non d'un pezzo di legno, non potrà certo afferrarla e mettersela in tasca così com'è, ma dovrà bene arrivarci nell’unico modo possibile, cioè pensando e ripensando, e non smettendo mai di pensare, argomentando, inducendo, deducendo, sillogizzando, dialettizzando e così via; che sono precisamente, se non c'inganniamo, i modi e le forme attraverso le quali il pensiero umano afferma la propria attività e originalità, garantendosi di conoscere il vero, e respingendo da sé il falso. Né si vede in che cosa, sotto questo aspetto, la dottrina scolastica differisca dalle altre dottrine, idealistiche o positivistiche, materialistiche o scettiche. Che se appare diversamente, è sempre per quel tale equivoco fra il pensiero e le parole, sul quale gli avversari della scolastica si compiacciono d'insistere.  Infatti, una dottrina, come or ora s'è visto, la si formula in parole e in libri che, naturalmente, in un primo tempo, e a chi li guardi dall'esterno, debbono per forza apparire un puro dato, esterno anch'esso; esterno, ben inteso, finché colui che esamina la dottrina  proposta non sia in condizione di passare all'interno, cioè di riscontrare vera, mediante la propria ricerca, la dottrina medesima, persuadendosi così anche della bontà ed esattezza di quelle espressioni, di quelle formule, di quei libri che prima gli erano apparsi qualcosa di arbitrario e di indimostrato. Ma questa, se così vogliamo dirla, imperfezione e limitazione del pensiero umano che non può afferrar la verità immediatamente e tutto in una volta, ma è costretto a raggiungerla per gradi, non ricade certo sulla sola filosofia scolastica, bensì appartiene a tutte le dottrine, idealistiche o positivistiche, materialistiche o scettiche che siano. Le quali, debbono pure anch'esse formularsi in parole e in libri che, in un primo tempo appaiono, per forza, un puro e indimostrato dato esterno, finchè colui che le esamina non è in condizione di dimostrar vera la rispettiva teoria idealistica o positivistica, materialistica o scettica.  Il che è ancor più manifesto quando si tratta della scuola e dello scolaro; che, appunto perché scolaro non è ancora in tali condizioni da poter riscontrare da sé e colle sue sole forze la verità della dottrina insegnata e deve, ancora per un pezzo seguitare a imparar libri e definizioni e formule delle quali non scorge, o scorge solo imperfettamente la ragione. Che se in questo fatto cosi semplice si vuol trovare a tutti i costi una oppressione e un vincolo alla libertà del pensiero umano, allora non soltanto la scolastica, ma anche ogni altra dottrina, idealistica o positivistica, materialistica o scettica e, magari, eclettica, si dovrà dire oppressiva e restrittiva per la libertà del pensiero, e perciò, in quanto tale, oscurantista e retriva, di fatto, anche se a parole si dichiara svisceratamente amica della libertà e del progresso. Non si vede infatti perché il proporsi come testo di studio San Tommaso debba esser più oppressivo, o restrittivo che proporsi Kant, Hegel o Ardigò, e perché l'imparare definizioni e formule scolastiche debba esser più avvilente che imparare definizioni o formule positivistiche o idealistiche, vero essendo che in ogni caso ci s'imbatte nel solito dilemma dal quale non è dato trovare una via d'uscita. O il presentare una dottrina restringendola in alcune formule e in alcuni libri ed autori, che in un primo tempo appaiono, necessariamente, allo studioso come puri dati esterni da accettarsi solo sull'autorità altrui (salvo a ottenerne, in un secondo tempo, una compiuta dimostrazione) è ammissibile, oppure non lo è. Se è ammissibile, nulla ci vieta d' insegnare la scolastica, così come altri insegna l'idealismo o il positivismo o di prendere per testo San Tommaso così come altri può prendere Hegel o Spencer. Se non è ammissibile, la scolastica diventa, certo, una dottrina oppressiva, incompatibile con l'attività e la libertà del pensiero umano, ma anche l'idealismo, il positivismo, lo scetticismo e persino l'eclettismo diventano dottrine altrettanto retrive e incompatibili con l’attività e la libertà del pensiero umano.  Ciò è tanto vero, che, in ogni tempo, ci sono stati autori e scrittori più coerenti degli altri, i quali, per essere imparziali e non far danno a nessuno, hanno addirittura dichiarato oppressiva, antiquata e insopportabile la filosofia stessa, a qualsivoglia tendenza o dottrina appartenente, e si sono vantati di condurre liberamente la loro vita intellettuale, fuori dalle ristrette gabbie delle dottrine e dei sistemi. Pretesa assurda certo, poiché, come è noto a tutti, anche il dire di non credere nella filosofia è fare della filosofia, e anche il dire di non avere un sistema è un sistema, come lo scetticismo, l'eclettismo o qualche altro tipo simile. Ma pretesa coerente, anzi coerentissima con l'assurdo medesimo dal quale è partita, poiché se insegnare una qualsiasi dottrina rigorosamente definita e formulata vuol dire opprimere il pensiero, il miglior modo, anzi, l'unico modo di non opprimere il pensiero  sarà addirittura quello di non formulare né insegnare mai nessuna dottrina, né idealistica, né scolastica, né materialistica né di altro indirizzo. Soluzione che sarebbe l'ideale dell'economia e della semplicità per filosofi, scienziati, legislatori, maestri e scolari, se solo non avesse, come or ora s'è chiarito, il difetto d'essere inattuabile. Colla pura e semplice denunzia di un equivoco verbale cadono, dunque gran parte delle irragionevoli e ingiustificate antipatie contro la filosofia scolastica. La quale non è un insieme di frasi o di formule da ripetere meccanicamente, ma è un vivente organismo di pensieri da pensare; così come appunto sono, o vogliono essere, tutti gli altri sistemi filosofici. Una dottrina che, lungi dal pretendere d'imporsi irragionevolmente o arbitrariamente al pensiero umano, non vuole essere accettata altro che mediante argomenti e dimostrazioni. È bene ricordarlo, poiché oggi certe nozioni sono grandemente obliate anche da coloro che per professione ed ufficio avrebbero l'obbligo di meglio conoscerle. La filosofia scolastica pretende di essere accettata unicamente perché vera e dimostrabile tale con argomenti filosofici; e dimostrabile a chiunque, anche a chi non creda punto in una rivelazione religiosa, anzi a chi non sappia neppure se una rivelazione religiosa ci sia o no, sia possibile o meno, tutte questioni che si possono trattare dopo, e non prima che l'indagine filosofica abbia saldamente stabilito e dimostrato vera una certa concezione della realtà. Questo spiega perché sia molto meglio e più conforme alla precisione scientifica parlare di filosofia “scolastica” che di filosofia “cristiana” o “cattolica”, contenendo questi ultimi termini un riferimento alla rivelazione religiosa e alla teologia che non è ancora ammissibile, né dimostrabile, durante la pura ricerca filosofica, laddove il termine “scolastica” ha il vantaggio di definire direttamente la filosofia dal suo stesso contenuto dottrinale o speculativo, senza introdurre altri elementi. Che se, ciò nonostante, è gloria della scolastica aver adoperato e adoperare tuttavia anche l'altro metodo, ed essersi servita della Rivelazione cattolica e della teologia per controllare le sue tesi, l'uso di questo secondo metodo non ha mai infirmato l'uso del primo, che vale durante la ricerca filosofica e prima di aver saputo se c'è ed è possibile una rivelazione religiosa, così come l'altro vale dopo averlo saputo ed essersi persuasi, cogli argomenti e della filosofia e della teologia ”fondamentale” o apologetica, che una rivelazione è possibile, e c'è, ed è proprio la rivelazione cattolica. Risulta, dunque, evidente da quel che si è detto fin qui che per insegnare filosofia scolastica da parte del maestro, come per apprenderla da parte del discepolo occorre precisamente tanto spirito inventivo ed originalità quanta ne occorre per insegnare od apprendere qualunque altro sistema filosofico, e che, perciò il meccanicismo, il mnemonismo, il dogmatismo irragionevole e l'oscurantismo sono da temersi nell'insegnamento della filosofia scolastica appunto quanto sono da temersi nell'insegnamento di ogni altra filosofia, né più, né meno. Questo significa che non c'è un criterio estrinseco col quale si possa decidere su due piedi quali filosofie siano per riuscire, nell'insegnamento, oppressive, e quali liberatrici; ma che un tale criterio è soltanto interno, in altro non consistendo che nella maggiore o minore verità delle  filosofie stesse. Fra le quali, secondo quanto già abbiamo avvertito prima, solo una dottrina vera sarà sul serio liberatrice, e le altre riusciranno sempre e per forza oppressive, dogmatiche e oscurantiste; poiché solo il vero può imporsi all'intelletto dello scolaro con l'intima forza della persuasione, senza ricorrere a minacce, lusinghe, o costrizioni esterne, alle quali, invece, debbono necessariamente ricorrere i sistemi erronei che riescono, dunque, sempre malamente dogmatici e oppressivi, e portano, perciò, nella scuola le cattive conseguenze che si volevano addossare alla scolastica, qualunque sia la loro etichetta di modernità o l'altisonante affermazione di libertà colle quali si presentano al pubblico.  Ma con ciò eccoci ritornati - sembra - al punto donde eravamo partiti. Poiché - si dirà - anche col massimo buon volere, e anche deposto ogni ingiustificato pregiudizio contro la scolastica, è certo che proprio in questa diversa concezione del quando e a quali condizioni debba ritenersi vera una filosofia sta la differenza più notevole fra il sistema scolastico e il sistema moderno, e il conseguente pericolo che la scolastica introdotta nell'insegnamento porti quei frutti di oppressione e di scarso spirito scientifico che si temevano. Infatti, s'era già detto: per la scolastica la verità è qualcosa di già fatto, ed esistente fuori del pensiero che la pensa, dunque: una sola dottrina è vera, e tutte le altre debbono per forza esser false.  Per il pensiero moderno, invece, la verità e la realtà medesima coincidono con l'atto stesso del pensare, perciò cambiano, si svolgono, si accrescono, collo svolgersi del pensiero e, dunque, non una sola dottrina ma tutte le dottrine sono vere, in quanto ognuna di esse è sempre un atto del pensiero che si crea ogni volta la sua verità. E rieccoci, allora, a quelle tali conseguenze tanto deprecate. Poiché, mentre il filosofo scolastico non potrà che insegnare ai suoi discepoli una sola dottrina, la sua, il filosofo moderno potrà non solo insegnare tutte le dottrine che la storia della filosofia abbia mai registrato, ma potrà, anzi, dovrà incitare il discepolo a “crearne” delle nuove.  E va benissimo. Sennonché, a un esame più attento, questo modo di ragionare che sembra correr cosi piano e facile, si rivela almeno tanto superficiale quanto il precedente. Poiché, in primo luogo, esso cela in sé una proposizione non dimostrata né dimostrabile, e cioè che il gran numero dei sistemi filosofici insegnati nella scuola sia un bene; e che coincida colla libertà e col progresso del pensiero. Allo stesso modo, si direbbe scherzando, ragionava quel bravo villico che, convinto che se una pillola faceva bene due avrebbero fatto meglio e tre meglio ancora, pensò di guarir subito col pigliar tutte insieme le pillole che gli aveva ordinato il dottore, ma invece di guarire morì, contrariamente alle sue poco sagge previsioni. I sistemi filosofici - se si preferisce un paragone meno malinconico - non sono già come i polli, le pernici, i poderi o i biglietti da mille, che più se ne ha meglio è. E chi crede che l'insegnamento di molte dottrine filosofiche coincida per lo scolaro con l'originalità, col progresso e colla libertà dello spirito, mostra d'aver confuso due cose fra loro tanto diverse come il “progresso” e il “mutamento”. Pregiudizio, in verità, molto diffuso ai giorni nostri, e che nasce dall'aver inconsapevolmente confuso fra loro due ordini di realtà così diversi come il materiale e l'ideale. Se, infatti, una dottrina filosofica, poniamo la scolastica, fosse un campo o un orto, si avrebbe ragione di dire che chi si rinchiude in essa, rinunzia a tutto lo spazio ch'è al di là dei suoi confini, come il misantropo che se ne sta dietro i cancelli di casa sua e non vuol mettere il naso fuori. Ma una dottrina non è un campo o un orto, bensì un atto  immateriale del pensiero, e in quanto tale non ha altri confini che il suo riuscire o meno a colpir la verità. E se riesce a coglierla, essa non si lascia fuori più niente, né ha bisogno di cercare altrove che in se stessa i motivi d'un infinito progresso e sviluppo: ché essendo la verità per sua natura infinita, non c'è mai un momento nel quale si possa dire d'averne esaurito la conoscenza; ed essendo la filosofia un atto immateriale, non viene mai il momento in cui si possa metter da parte in un cassetto per riprenderla meccanicamente; ma sempre fa d'uopo ripensarla, cioè pensarla davvero, con una attività la cui originalità e spontaneità è inesauribile. Approfondire la verità, questo è il progresso. Per contro, è proprio l'errore che ci presenta una indefinita molteplicità e un continuo cambiamento di sistemi; poiché, dove la mente non può acquietarsi nel tranquillo ritmo progressivo d'una dottrina vera, è costretta a cercare un simulacro di progresso nel mutamento, e a ripagarsi colla illusoria ricchezza dei molti sistemi, della effettiva miseria inerente alla loro falsità. Per cui dal momento che la verità è una e gli errori sono molti, le parti vanno invertite e quei filosofi che si vantano di permettere, anzi, di introdurre nella scuola molte dottrine, o non sanno quel che si dicono, o si vantano d'una cosa assurda com'è insegnare l'errore e mettere al bando la verità. E viceversa, quei filosofi che vogliono nella scuola una sola dottrina, non solo fanno onore alla loro intelligenza di filosofi, ma sono, essi, gli unici fautori d'uno spirito sanamente progressivo e inventivo qual è quello che può aversi dalla conoscenza della verità.  Ma qualcuno può ancora obbiettarci: il vostro ragionamento ha il solito difetto: presuppone arbitrariamente la vostra concezione della verità ed esclude la nostra. Si capisce che se la verità è tale che possa esser colta da una sola dottrina ad esclusione di tutte le altre, voi avete ragione nel voler che quella sola dottrina venga insegnata. Ma, e se la verità non fosse tale che potesse coglierla una sola dottrina, ma si trovasse in tutte le dottrine, come appunto sosteniamo noi? Non avremmo, allora, ragione noi di sostenere che la presenza, nella scuola, di tutti i principali sistemi filosofici, sia utile e necessaria?  La risposta a questa obiezione non può essere che una sola: non esistono due concetti differenti della verità, benché esistano le parole colle quali ci si illude di esprimere un concetto della verità diverso dal nostro. Ma sono vuote parole; e la dimostrazione ce la forniscono gli avversari stessi. Quando essi dicono, infatti, di non creder vera una teoria filosofica ad esclusione delle altre, ma di tener vere tutte le teorie che la storia della filosofia registra, che cosa fanno essi mai se non sostenere e difendere come vera una loro teoria filosofica particolare? Dire che la verità è in tutti i sistemi filosofici, non è forse sostenere una teoria filosofica? È il solito argomento contro lo scetticismo e l'eclettismo: filosofie che proclamano, sia di non creder vera alcuna teoria filosofica, sia di ammetterle tutte, e intanto cominciano, sotto mano, col creder vere se stesse e solo se stesse. Ora, la contraddizione è evidente. Ritener vere tutte le filosofie vorrebbe dire ritener vere anche quelle filosofie che affermano esserci una sola filosofia vera e tutte le altre esser false. Ma ammetter queste filosofie vorrebbe dire distruggere appunto quella nozione della verità alla quale tanto si tiene, e che esclude assolutamente potersi sostenere la verità di una sola filosofia, cioè distruggere lo stesso principio eclettico, o idealistico. Onde, una delle due: o l'idealismo, l'eclettismo e gli altri sistemi dello stesso tipo restano fedeli al loro programma di ammetter vere senza esclusione alcuna tutte le filosofie, e si uccidono colle proprie mani, perché debbono tener vero anche il concetto della verità opposto al loro. Oppure ammettono tutte le filosofie, ma eccettuate quelle che sostengono un concetto della verità opposto al loro, e allora la loro famosa tolleranza e larghezza di  vedute è finita, ed essi sono liquidati come idealismo od eclettismo, avendo dimostrato col fatto che la verità non sta punto in tutti i sistemi filosofici, ma solo in alcuni, e precisamente in quelli che s'accordano con l'idealismo o con l'eclettismo, cioè, in ultima analisi, in un sistema solo.  La libertà, dunque, che la filosofia moderna pensa di garantire in fatto di sistemi, è molto simile alla libertà di certe democrazie, ove ognuno è libero di pensarla a suo modo purché, però, non dissenta in nulla dal pensiero dei governanti. Libero ognuno di scegliersi il sistema filosofico che vuole, purché questo sistema sia l'idealistico, o almeno s'accordi in tutto col criterio fondamentale dell'idealismo: essere la verità in divenire continuo ed essere, perciò, vere tutte le filosofie che lo spirito umano ha escogitato. Ché fuori di questo concetto non v'è salvezza possibile, e le filosofie che non lo ammettono, non sono filosofie, ma aborti del pensiero, non vanno neppure presi in considerazione, anzi, vanno seppelliti sotto l'unanime disprezzo della gente ben pensante. Ora, quando si è stabilito ciò che in un sistema filosofico è più importante, cioè il concetto della verità, tutto il resto ne viene di necessaria conseguenza, e si può ben lasciar libero lo studioso di dedurlo in un modo piuttosto che nell'altro, di fregiarlo con un titolo piuttosto che con l'altro, e di compiacersi, così, della propria intelligenza ed originalità inventiva. Allo stesso modo, per ripigliar l'esempio di prima, poco importa che in quelle tali democrazie la gente voti in un modo o nell'altro ed abbia l'una o l'altra costituzione - tutte cose intorno alle quali, anzi, è bene che ciascuno si diverta a discutere a perdifiato, ricavandone un gran senso della propria dignità e importanza - purché, alla resa dei conti, siano sempre gli stessi uomini politici che detengono effettivamente il potere.  Così la storia della filosofia che i pensatori moderni si vantano d'insegnare con tanta larghezza e liberalità, si risolve in una illusione. Poiché, sotto l’apparenza di tutti i sistemi filosofici che la mente umana ha escogitato, da Talete ai giorni nostri, la dottrina insegnata è sempre una sola: l'idealismo, il concetto della verità come coincidente collo sviluppo stesso del pensiero umano, e come escludente qualsiasi altra realtà che il pensiero umano non sia. Ed è ben vero che si parla di Talete e di Platone, di Aristotele e di S. Tommaso, di Kant e di Hegel, di Stuart Mill e di Spencer, e che ognuno vi può spaziare entro i confini del materialismo e del platonismo, della scolastica e del kantismo, del positivismo e dell'agnosticismo e via dicendo. Ma si tratta di un dramma dove i personaggi si riducono ad uno solo, benché volta a volta variamente travestito, e dove Talete e Platone, Aristotele e San Tommaso, Kant ed Hegel, Stuart Mill e Spencer, sono, volenti o nolenti, costretti a rappresentare un'unica parte, quella del filosofo idealista; ora dell'idealista in germe, più tardi dell'idealista consapevole fino a metà, poi dell'idealista evoluto e progredito, dopo ancora, dell'idealista che nega se stesso, ma prepara così la strada a un nuovo e più moderno idealismo, ma in ogni caso, sempre e soltanto, la parte del filosofo idealista. Poco importano le forme, circa le quali, anzi, si può concedere la massima libertà, purché la sostanza sia sempre quella.  Ma che volete farci? - sembra di sentire rispondere un filosofo idealista - Dal momento che la dottrina idealistica è la vera e che l'intelletto umano non può, per quanti sforzi faccia, appagarsi se non del vero, necessariamente in tutti i sistemi escogitati dalla mente umana per risolvere i nostri problemi si ritroverà, per forza, qualche cosa dell'idealismo, cioè della verità. Noi, non facciamo altro che metterlo in luce. - Ah, dunque eccovi colti colle mani nel sacco! Anche voi credete una dottrina vera, cioè conforme all'intima costituzione della realtà (e sia pur questa realtà la sola storia) e  mediante essa vi assumete il diritto di giudicare tutti gli altri sistemi. Orbene, che cosa farebbe di diverso la più intollerante, tagliente ed autoritaria filosofia scolastica? Che cosa, se non precisamente ritener vera una dottrina e giudicare con essa tutte le altre? Che cosa, se non mostrarci che anche tutte le altre dottrine, in quanto sono davvero pensabili, e, cioè vere, e non si riducono a parole e fantasmi dell'immaginazione in servizio di bisogni sentimentali e pratici, sono, parzialmente o totalmente, implicitamente o esplicitamente, consapevolmente o no, conformi alla scolastica stessa? Che cosa, se non configurare tutta la storia della filosofia, in quanto storia della scienza filosofica, e non delle aberrazioni o dei bisogni fantastici, passionali e pratici dello spirito umano, come preparazione, svolgimento, decadenza, rifioritura ecc. della filosofia scolastica?  Ciò posto, non si vede in che cosa, anche per questa parte, la posizione della scolastica sia inferiore a quella dell'idealismo, o a quella di qualsiasi altro sistema filosofico che si affermi vero e voglia sostenere la propria verità coi mezzi consentiti dalla ragione. Né si vede in che cosa la scolastica meriti più di qualsiasi altro sistema l'accusa d'intolleranza, di dogmatismo o di oscurantismo, dato che una tale accusa, fallitole il concetto d'una verità omnibus, è costretta a poggiarsi su elementi puramente accidentali. Quali sarebbero, ad esempio, il fatto che i sistemi filosofici riconosciuti vicini alla verità sono in maggior numero per l'idealismo che per la scolastica, o che sono nati in epoche cronologicamente diverse, poniamo nel secolo XIII o XIV anziché nel XVIII o nel XIX. Circostanze che non fanno né caldo né freddo, poiché la verità non ha nulla da spartire colla quantità o colla cronologia, né si vede perché debba appartenere al secolo XIX anziché al XIII, o perché debba esser posseduta, in forma scientificamente adeguata, da molti sistemi anziché da pochi o perché un professore tedesco in parrucca e codino debba averla vista meglio d'un frate domenicano colla sua brava tonaca e cintola. E ciò anche a prescindere da apprezzamenti di fatto, i quali ci mostrerebbero che la scolastica ha i suoi rappresentanti nel secolo XIX non meno che nel secolo XIII; e grandi - usiamo espressioni volutamente moderatissime - non meno di qualsiasi altro rappresentante di qualsiasi altra modernissima “novità” filosofica idealistica, materialistica, pragmatistica e così via.  Supponiamo che qualcheduno dicesse: Signori, io vi dimostro che l'arte di G. D'Annunzio, o di F. T. Marinetti è superiore a quella d'Omero e di Pindaro. Infatti quest'ultima è arte antica e quell'altra è arte moderna: ora, dai tempi antichi, dei Greci, ad oggi si sono effettuati innegabilmente dei progressi; dunque, anche l'arte d'oggi deve essere in progresso su quella d'una volta. Un tale ragionamento ci farebbe, certo, assai ridere né vi sarebbe scolaretto che non ne sapesse scoprire l'errore pel quale, dal fatto che un'opera d'arte è venuta dopo un'altra, si vorrebbe dedurre ch'essa è anche migliore dell'altra, e dai progressi dell'umanità, poniamo nelle scienze naturali, nella vita civile e nella produzione economica, si vorrebbero inferire i suoi progressi in un campo del tutto diverso qual è l'artistico. Ora, lo stesso errore che è derisibile applicato alla storia dell'arte, non è meno derisibile se applicato alla storia della filosofia ove il professore X od Y, autore di un novissimo sistema, dovrebbe saperne più di Aristotele o di San Tommaso, sol perché è nato tanti secoli dopo. Si crede di negare tale analogia fra la storia della filosofia e quella dell'arte con l'osservare che l'arte è l'espressione del temperamento individuale dell'artista, che è, appunto come temperamento individuale, non trasmissibile, e perciò esclude il progresso da uomo a uomo e da tempo a tempo, mentre la filosofia è la conoscenza d'una verità universale ed astratta, che può e deve, quindi, essere trasmessa e  progredire. Ma si dimentica che progresso possibile non vuol dire progresso reale, e che anzi il progresso filosofico, il quale sarebbe necessario e ineluttabile se l'uomo fosse solo puro intelletto come gli angeli, ha da fare i conti, nelle attuali condizioni umane, proprio colle attitudini, coi bisogni, colle tendenze, colle passioni, cioè, in una parola, col “temperamento” del filosofo, che è tanto personale, intrasmissibile, e perciò non suscettibile di passare, progredendo, da individuo a individuo, quanto il temperamento dell'artista e che influisce sulla conoscenza della verità in filosofia, quanto il temperamento dell'artista sulla produzione dell'opera d'arte. E con conseguenze assai più gravi, poiché se all'arte basta riuscire sincera espressione d'un temperamento per essere arte, e se anche temperamenti mediocri possono riuscire artisti, senza bisogno d'arrivare all'altezza di Omero o di Dante; alla filosofia non basta essere espressione anche sincera d'un temperamento personale per riuscir vera, anzi, il più delle volte la mediocrità, la povertà, le scarse doti del temperamento individuale d'un filosofo avranno per conseguenza il non fargli trovare la verità e il fargli produrre un sistema sincero e personale sì, ma falso; onde segue che il filosofo, se vuol esser certo di non sbagliare deve sempre batter l'ala vicino alle altezze di Platone, d'Aristotele o di San Tommaso, poiché, nel suo caso la mediocrità è la morte. E la diversità notata sopra tra l'arte e la filosofia vale solo in questo: mentre l'artista deve esser grande lui e non ammette sostituzioni, il filosofo, se non è grande lui, può andare a scuola dai grandi e ricevere da loro quella verità che colle sole sue forze non avrebbe saputo scoprire.  In ogni caso, non c'è da meravigliarsi che i grandi filosofi, come i grandi poeti, siano pochi, e nascano nelle più diverse epoche che la Provvidenza ha stabilito, senza darsi pensiero della successione cronologica né del progresso. E dunque è chiaro che la scolastica può aver le sue buone ragioni nel concedere relativamente a pochi l'ambìto titolo di filosofi, come la storia dell'arte concede a pochi l’ambìto titolo di poeti, e che l'opposto criterio, il quale vorrebbe che ogni momento nascesse un filosofo capace di “creare” una “nuova” filosofia è lungi dal parere soddisfacente. E può essere anche indizio d'un inadeguato e troppo largo concetto della filosofia, così come sarebbe segno d'un insufficiente concetto dell'arte lo scovare i poeti a decine e centinaia per ogni lustro, quando è risaputo che la vera arte e la vera filosofia sono cose difficili e che, perciò, in ogni tempo la grande maggioranza di coloro che si qualificano poeti o filosofi è composta, invece, di pseudo-poeti o di pseudo-filosofi. Possiamo dunque riconfermare, senza tema di smentite, la nostra conclusione. Ogni sistema filosofico, idealistico o scolastico, scettico o materialistico, non può, nonostante ogni sforzo contrario, insegnare mai più di una dottrina e di una verità, la quale necessariamente esclude la verità di altre dottrine diverse od opposte. E il sogno di una dottrina che abbracci e concili in sé tutte le altre dottrine si rivela presto per quello che è, un puro e semplice sogno, sfornito di qualsiasi consistenza scientifica, l'eterno sogno irrealizzabile, perché contraddittorio, dello scetticismo e dell'eclettismo.  La verità di questa proposizione risulta manifesta dallo stesso ingenuo sofisma col quale gli avversari pensano di poter mettere la scolastica e il cattolicesimo al bando dalla scuola moderna. La nostra filosofia ammette e giustifica, tanto la scolastica e il  cattolicesimo quanto il pensiero moderno, la vostra, invece, nega il pensiero moderno, e ammette soltanto la scolastica, dunque voi siete più ristretti ed intolleranti di noi. Sofisma la cui apparente consistenza è data dal duplice significato che s'attribuisce al termine “ammettere” o “giustificare”, che una volta si prende nel senso di “condividere” una dottrina e accettarne la verità, e un'altra volta si prende nel senso di “giustificarla” storicamente, cioè di indagare le condizioni storiche nelle quali nacque, i bisogni ai quali rispose e così via. Poiché, se si tratta di “giustificare” nel primo senso, allora è certo che la scolastica non può ammettere e insegnare come vero l’idealismo, il positivismo o qualsiasi altro sistema del genere, ma è altrettanto certo che neppure l'idealismo, il materialismo o un altro sistema simile possono ammettere e insegnar come vera la scolastica, tanta essendo l'opposizione della scolastica a quegli altri sistemi, quanta è per l'appunto l'opposizione degli altri sistemi alla scolastica. Ma se si tratta di “giustificare” nel secondo senso, allora anche la scolastica si può prendere il gusto di fare una elegante rassegna di tutti i sistemi filosofici che ci sono stati da che mondo è mondo, metterli in bell'ordine, studiarne i corsi e ricorsi, assegnarne le condizioni, enumerare le cause che li hanno fatti nascere e ne hanno garantito il successo, corredando il tutto con un grande apparato di erudizione critica e una sesquipedale bibliografia. Può prendersi il gusto, diciamo, poiché in realtà la scolastica, possedendo un concetto della verità molto più severo ed elevato di quello che mostrano d'avere tanti sistemi moderni, è sollecita più della formazione mentale, che della brillante informazione ed erudizione dei suoi scolari, e teme sempre non accada loro questa disgrazia: «necessaria non norunt, quia superflua didicerunt»: il che la conduce a limitare, nella scuola, più che sia possibile questa parte storico-erudita, nella quale tanto si compiacciono i sistemi moderni, perché tanto bene si accorda col loro intimo scetticismo ed eclettismo. E allora la discussione sarà, non più sulla necessità di tener per veri o meno questi o quei sistemi filosofici, quanto sulla opportunità di fare, nella scuola media, un posto più o meno ampio alla storia della filosofia, e, specialmente, alla sua parte informativa ed erudita. Questione di metodo, della quale adesso non intendiamo occuparci.  Ma l'accusa del pensiero moderno, o del sedicente pensiero moderno, alla scolastica, di essere limitata ed oscurantista, può facilmente essere ritorta. Si scandalizzano, i nostri avversari perché la scolastica accusa di falsità la maggior parte dei sistemi che hanno avuto fortuna nel mondo della cultura filosofica, e domandano indignati: l'umanità ha dunque vissuto sempre nelle tenebre della barbarie? E come allora ha potuto svolgersi e progredire fino a raggiungere una civiltà per tanti rispetti superiore a quella dei tempi antichi? Dimenticano, costoro, nel far questa domanda tendenziosa, di richiamare i reali rapporti che intercedono fra i sistemi filosofici ora ricordati, e lo svolgersi dell'umanità e della civiltà, poiché la filosofia è una scienza difficile e, come tale, aristocratica sì che solo un piccolo gruppo di dotti, che in confronto dell'umanità è una trascurabile minoranza, può in ogni tempo coltivarla e dedicarvisi. Quanti, fra i contemporanei di Spinoza, di Rousseau, di Kant, o di Hegel, poterono effettivamente leggere quei filosofi, formarsi un'adeguata idea del loro sistema, e ad esso ispirare la propria vita? Quanti, oggi, nonostante l'accresciuta cultura e la maggior facilità di studiare, possono far lo stesso coi filosofi recentissimi? Il grosso pubblico dai sistemi filosofici prende, per opera di compiacenti divulgatori, solo qualche idea così vaga e generale che in tale vaghezza e generalità ogni carattere filosofico ha perduto, come sarebbe l'idea che Dio non c'è e che l'uomo è tutto, o che la società è organizzata male e bisogna rifarla, o che ciascuno è  libero di seguire le proprie passioni, ecc. Idee che l'umanità avrebbe certo trovato anche senza i sistemi filosofici, tanto sono comode e larghe. Sì che si può dire, senza tema d'errare, che le varie dottrine filosofiche, in quello che hanno di specificatamente filosofico, passano senza toccare la vita dell'umanità nella sua grandissima maggioranza, onde, nulla v’ha di impossibile a che l'umanità progredisca e costruisca una civiltà anche se i sistemi filosofici dei suoi dotti sono errati, potendo la verità farsi strada da sé ugualmente, benché in forma imperfetta, per altre vie, nell’etica, nei costumi e nelle scienze stesse.  Ben più difficile e ben più intollerante è, invece, la posizione degli avversari, quando, sforzati dalla logica, sono costretti a condannare non solo la scolastica, ma, addirittura il cattolicesimo il quale non soltanto è un sistema che vanta per sé il possesso esclusivo della verità, ma afferma questa verità di averla ricevuta, per rivelazione, da Dio. E il cattolicesimo non è una dottrina filosofica che vada solo per le mani di alcuni dotti, e la cui verità o falsità non interessi la maggior parte del genere umano, ma è una religione, attraverso l'insegnamento della Chiesa, chiaramente conosciuta, seguita e praticata da milioni di uomini, i quali costituiscono certamente la maggioranza del mondo civile; una religione che non ha mai cessato d'avere una azione importantissima su tutti i prodotti dello spirito umano, sull'arte e sulla filosofia non meno che sulla morale e sulla politica, sui costumi non meno che sulle industrie e i commerci, sulle scienze non meno che sull'economia. Il cristianesimo ha agito, perciò, anche sulla formazione del mondo moderno e della civiltà moderna, infinitamente di più che le dottrine di Kant, di Hegel, di Spencer, coi piccoli gruppetti di intellettuali che le hanno conosciute e seguite. Se, dunque, esso è una dottrina falsa, fondata sull'illusoria affermazione di un Dio trascendente, come si spiega la sua vitalità, estensione e fecondità? come si spiega la civiltà moderna stessa che in sì gran parte deriva da lui? È vero che gli avversari rispondono di non aver affatto questa malvagia intenzione, ma di voler anzi, ammettere e spiegare il cristianesimo e il cattolicesimo così come qualunque altra dottrina o sistema. Ma è proprio qui il punto: ammettere il cristianesimo così come qualunque altro sistema filosofico umano significa, in realtà, non ammettere affatto il cristianesimo, bensì sostituirgli una deforme immagine di esso, che prescinde precisamente da ciò che in esso è fondamentale: l'idea di una Rivelazione divina effettuatasi in esso e realizzantesi nella Chiesa. Il cristianesimo che si pensi solo come frutto della ragione umana e dei suoi sforzi filosofici, non è più cristianesimo, esso è, al più, spiritualismo, che già sfuma nell'idealismo. Non è dunque il cristianesimo ma l’idealismo che, pur con diverse parole, gli avversari ammettono e giustificano. Ora, non è questo il cristianesimo vivo ed operante come religione del mondo moderno, la quale tanto poco può allontanarsi dall'idea d'essere una Rivelazione divina, che ove solo attenua e addomestica un po', quell'idea, come ad esempio nel protestantesimo, sparisce come religione cristiana per ridiventare simile a tutte le altre filosofie di “cenacoli” intellettuali, quasi a darci una riprova della costituzionale incapacità del pensiero che pur si dice moderno ad afferrare ed assimilarsi il principio fondamentale del cristianesimo e del cattolicesimo.  E dunque la difficoltà resta, per gli avversari, in tutta la sua estensione. Se il cattolicesimo è falso, come ha potuto crescere per opera sua quella civiltà che pur dite buona e vera, anzi come può continuare ad esistere, dato che anche oggi, nella società, il cattolicesimo ha un'estensione e un'importanza infinitamente maggiore di qualunque sistema filosofico? Condannare il cattolicesimo significa davvero ridurre tutta la storia a  “storia d'errori”, ben più che non lo fosse, o potesse parerlo, per la filosofia scolastica; significa spezzare in due la grande tradizione cristiana della civiltà moderna; significa ammettere, irragionevolmente, che prima di Kant o di Hegel tutti i filosofi bamboleggiassero, e l'umanità giacesse nelle tenebre dell'errore; significa, infine, negare o misconoscere i maggiori bisogni dell'umanità stessa, che ha sempre cercato, prescindendo anche dal cristianesimo, di risolvere i suoi problemi, piuttosto che colla filosofia, soggetta alle discussioni e agli errori di pochi dotti, colle religioni, che tutte si presentano come rivelate da Dio, qualunque poi sia il modo col quale concepiscono tale rivelazione.  Giacché la differenza fra il pensiero della scolastica e il pensiero di quella filosofia che s'arroga il titolo di “moderna” è, si potrebbe dire, tutta qui: nell'ammettere questa e nel non ammettere quella, la possibilità di una religione; nell'ammettere questa e nel non ammettere quella, l'esistenza di un Dio trascendente, e il fatto della sua rivelazione. Spregiudicata e larga come pare a prima vista, la filosofia moderna parte, in realtà, da una esclusione e da una limitazione aprioristica quanto mai settaria e piccina. Tutte le audacie e le libertà sono consentite al pensiero: purché, però, esso non si provi mai ad affermare l'esistenza di Dio e la possibilità della rivelazione: questo è severamente proibito. E non ci si accorge che, con tale gretta esclusione la filosofia ha rinunciato, in sostanza, alla propria, tanto vantata, libertà di critica, e si è rinchiusa entro un circolo ove non è più possibile alcun reale progresso e sviluppo del pensiero. Lo hanno osservato anche filosofi non sospetti davvero di eccessiva simpatia per la scolastica, che il pensiero umano ha in sé una brama irresistibile di infinito che domanda, come suo adeguato oggetto, un Oggetto parimente infinito ed assoluto: Dio. La filosofia moderna gli toglie questo oggetto, e poiché, tolto l'oggetto, la brama dell'Infinito resta egualmente, ad esso sostituisce una falsa immagine, il mutamento indefinito del pensiero medesimo, nella sua irrequietezza e insoddisfazione; e chiama Dio lo sviluppo storico e il divenire di questa insoddisfazione stessa. Senza por mente che l'Assoluto non può consistere in una negazione o in una privazione, e che il semplice mutamento non è progresso o sviluppo. In tal modo il pensiero umano, lungi dal progredire, resta perennemente immobile, nella sua scontentezza, volubilità e insoddisfazione che è sempre identica; un apparente progredire che è, in effetti, un ritornare sempre sulle stesse posizioni, come la storia di certa filosofia malinconicamente c'insegna. Mentre, al contrario, la scolastica, concludendo col riconoscere, sopra di sé, un Dio e una Rivelazione apre all'anima umana i vasti domini di una realtà inesaurita e inesauribile, ove il pensiero può innalzarsi infinitamente su se stesso, senza mai trovare, per quanto si sprofondi negli abissi della essenza e delle operazioni divine, niente altro che nuovi, sconfinati orizzonti, e nuovi stimoli ad elevarsi e progredire: «Estote ergo vos perfecti sicut et pater vester coelestis perfectus est »: ecco l'unico programma - il programma della santità cristiana - che consente anche al pensiero filosofico uno sviluppo e un progresso infinito.  Nonostante ogni dichiarazione in contrario, la filosofia moderna non è affatto disposta ad aprire la scuola a tutte le più diverse e disparate dottrine. Che, anzi, essa persegue tenacemente la realizzazione di un suo ideale, e si propone - né potrebbe non proporsi - di conquistare la scuola alla sua propria fede. Fede intimamente scettica, come abbiamo visto, ma più intollerante ed esclusiva delle altre, perché non sa di essere una fede e una dottrina anch'essa, e con tanta maggiore ostilità, è disposta a perseguitare le altre dottrine quanto più si crede, ingenuamente, essa solo rappresentante autorizzata della verità e  della filosofia. Fede, perciò, oppressiva e soffocante, affatto inconciliabile colla sana libertà della ricerca scientifica, e addirittura contraria ad ogni effettivo progresso e svolgimento dell'anima umana, nella sua educazione e nella scuola. Poiché l'anima del giovane e del fanciullo, ha, se così si potesse dire, più ancora che non l'anima dell'adulto, bisogno dell'Infinito, e la scuola che non può darle Dio, non può darle che vani trastulli e giocattoli intellettuali, destinati ad essere infranti subito dopo che una curiosità irrequieta ne ha scoperto il meccanismo. Pedagogia cattolica  Credo che a parlare di un'opera come questa Rinnovamento dell'Educazione (“Vita e Pensiero”, Milano 1921) di Filippo Crispolti, possa valere quale sufficiente giustificazione non soltanto la ben intesa libertà che va tenuta nell'occuparsi dei libri recenti, bensì anche un fatto di più immediato interesse. E, cioè, che le lettere pedagogiche del Crispolti non hanno finora avuto, nonostante i loro innegabili pregi, il bene d'una discussione, d'una recensione o d'un cenno fra coloro che pur si occupano o dovrebbero occuparsi di problemi educativi. Strani effetti della modestia! Il Crispolti onestamente dichiara nella prefazione di non essere pedagogista e nemmeno professore; anzi, di non avere in vita sua addirittura frequentato mai alcuna scuola fuori dell' Università; rassomiglia il proprio stupore, nell'aver appreso da altri che certi suoi concetti erano pedagogia, a quello del bourgeois-gentilhomme quando lo persuasero che, senza saperlo, aveva fatto della prosa e non invoca per sé altro diritto che l'esperienza della vita. Probabilmente, i pedagogisti di professione hanno preso queste dichiarazioni alla lettera e hanno creduto, quindi di poter condannare il libro del Crispolti alla congiura del silenzio!  Noi, per conto nostro, diciamo subito di non credere a quelle dichiarazioni: o, meglio, di credervi quanto basta per annettere all'opera del Crispolti un pregio anche maggiore.  L'esperienza in materia educativa è certo - chi lo nega?- una bellissima e necessaria cosa; ma quando è vera esperienza, non filtrata attraverso gli schemi di un miope professionalismo, quale purtroppo affligge in educazione assai spesso la gente del mestiere, proclive molto spesso a dimenticare che, se l'opera educativa si celebra e acquista esplicita consapevolezza di sé nella scuola, essa presuppone poi tutte le manifestazioni della vita spirituale nel più largo senso intesa, talché l'esperienza scolastica val meno che nulla quando non sia sorretta da una intensa partecipazione alla vita dello spirito in tutte le sue molteplici forme, dalla quotidiana prassi familiare e sociale alla politica, alla scienza, all'arte, alla religione. Onde accade talvolta che uomini come il Crispolti, ammaestrati appunto da questa intensa partecipazione alla vita, riescano a ricostruire idealmente anche l’esperienza scolastica che loro manca e finiscano col portare nel campo educativo un occhio tanto più acuto e spregiudicato quanto meno è irretito dai pregiudizi professionali e quanto meno si preoccupa di abbracciare tutto un “sistema” pedagogico, per trascorrere, invece, con piena libertà, su quanto un sano senso critico spontaneamente gli scopre. Se così non fosse, l'agricoltore Pestalozzi o il mineralogista Froebel sarebbero riusciti inferiori, non pure al filosofo e pedagogista accademico Herbart, bensì anche ad un qualsiasi mediocre cattedratico autore di manuali pedagogici. Il segreto di quei grandi educatori sta precisamente nella loro “irregolarità”, nel loro irrequieto vagare più o meno attraverso tutti i campi della vita, prima di fermarsi nell'educazione, alla quale portarono così il possente lievito d'una personalità vivissima,  aperta a tutte le voci dello spirito, sensibile a tutti i problemi, pronta a soddisfare tutte le esigenze che maturavano nei nuovi tempi.  Tanto basta, e ne avanza, a giustificare il Crispolti di aver raccolto in una serie di lettere le sue dottrine sull'educazione. Il Crispolti è, del resto, figura così nota, e nel campo cattolico e nel campo degli studiosi, da non aver certo bisogno d'una presentazione. Ed era quasi, direi, in tono col suo cattolicesimo, il quale è manzoniano nel miglior senso della parola, ch'egli dovesse dar questo segno tangibile d'interesse per le questioni educative, ove si pensi che quel sano lievito di modernità ond'è reso così giovane il cattolicesimo manzoniano, risulta proprio dall'aver il Manzoni intensamente vissuto il cattolicesimo stesso, affiatandolo con tutti i problemi della vita e della storia, quali il secolo XIX li impose alla coscienza europea, in una forma in cui il problema morale e il problema - in lato senso - pedagogico tendevano sempre più a penetrare di sé la letteratura. Salutiamo dunque, anzitutto, la bandiera sotto la quale il Crispolti entra nel nuovo agone. Del Manzoni pensatore fu detto che egli, pur riuscendo spesso ragionatore vigoroso, non arriva ad esser compiuto filosofo per una certa sua incapacità a mettere in questione i “primi principi” e per una certa sua continua tendenza a presupporre dimostrata la dottrina religiosa, anche se al fine di far vedere come partendo da essa diventino volta a volta chiare le singole questioni prese in esame. Il che è inesatto certo, se con ciò s'intende negare ogni valore di filosofo a chi proceda con siffatto metodo largamente deduttivo (quale dimostrazione più soddisfacente d'una dottrina che lo spiegare in base ad essa i singoli concreti problemi della storia e della filosofia?) ma è esattissimo come caratteristica del procedimento prediletto in siffatte materie dal Manzoni e - cosa che qui c'importa soprattutto - anche dal Crispolti. Le sue lettere pedagogiche s'ispirano infatti, come egli stesso ci dice, al “programma di far toccare con mano in quale amplissima misura il Cristianesimo debba contribuire alla formazione dell'intero carattere morale e a certe necessità dello sviluppo intellettuale dell'uomo”(p. 205), ma non s'ingegnano prima di dimostrarci perché sia un bene morale e una necessità di ragione che il cristianesimo debba avere un siffatto influsso, o perché non si possa concepire, poniamo, una educazione che dal cristianesimo prescinda interamente o al massimo ne tenga conto solo come uno fra altri fattori, uno fra gli altri prodotti dello spirito umano, alla stessa stregua, p. es., dell'arte, della scienza, della filosofia, delle antichità classiche e via discorrendo. Non siamo, insomma, neanche qui nella sfera dei “primi principi”, delle grandi affermazioni e negazioni: il Crispolti, benché uomo di vasta cultura e non solamente letteraria, non ha affrontato in pieno la tormenta del pensiero filosofico moderno nel suo duplice aspetto immanentistico dell'idealismo e del positivismo. La religione non è quindi per lui qualcosa che abbia bisogno anzitutto d'essere instaurata contro e insieme nella scienza moderna: è, piuttosto, un possesso sicuro da far fruttificare. Onde, il tono fondamentale di tutta la sua indagine, che è rivolta a quelli di casa prima che quelli di fuori, ai cattolici prima che ai “laici”, filosofi o pedagogisti, anche se, nello stesso tempo, tiene l'occhio vigile su tutto il mondo circostante della cultura e della vita.  Si direbbe anzi, più precisamente, che il Crispolti avesse voluto con queste sue lettere parlare a quelli che trascorrono nell'altro estremo, soffrendo d'una malattia opposta al filosofismo laico, a quei cattolici cioè che, per eccessiva sollecitudine di mantener la loro fede, in tutta la sua purezza, salva dalle concessioni snaturatrici alla mondanità, non annettono, nel campo educativo, grande importanza a tutto il complesso delle doti  spirituali che, pur non interessando apparentemente la religione, fanno dell'uomo un uomo colto o rispettabile nel significato mondano della parola, poniamo al coraggio, al senso della responsabilità sociale, alla cultura dell'intelletto. Frutto di siffatta timidezza che, per timore di mal fare si appaga del non fare, è, secondo il Crispolti, un doloroso divorzio fra l'educazione dell'uomo e la religione, di cui non pur l'uomo ma la religione stessa finisce, in ultima analisi, con l'essere vittima nella comune estimazione dei buoni. Ecco degli esempi: quando noi vedremo il probo commerciante tener fede alla sua firma, il coraggioso nuotatore salvare uno che annegava, la brava popolazione d'un villaggio distrutto dall'incendio accingersi con virile rassegnazione a ricostruirlo da sé, noi applaudiremo tutti costoro in quanto coraggiosi, probi, o virilmente rassegnati in faccia alla sventura: non ci verrà mai fatto di applaudirli in quanto cristiani, di attribuire, cioè, lo splendore di queste loro qualità ad una educazione religiosa e, più specificamente, cristiana o cattolica. Altrettanto avviene nella coscienza del cattolico stesso, il quale, pur apprezzando certo in cuor suo quegli atti e quelle doti, non osa farne una conseguenza imprescindibilmente necessaria della propria fede religiosa, ma è disposto con facilità ad ammettere che si possa restar buoni cattolici anche senza lavorare a svilupparle eminentemente in sé, specie poi quando si tratta di doti che, come il coraggio, possono, se coltivate oltre un certo punto, condurre facilmente alla trasgressione di precetti eticoreligiosi cristiani, ad esempio di quelli contro la violenza. Effetto del timore che le virtù umane troppo curate dall'educazione possano ritorcersi contro la fede religiosa o quanto meno finir col reclamare per sé un'assoluta autonomia, non può non essere, a lungo andare, proprio lo stesso male che voleva evitarsi. Giacché così si crea in tutti la persuasione che l'educazione, intesa come sviluppo delle fondamentali attitudini dell'uomo al vivere e al pensare, trovi nel cristianesimo, anziché un aiuto, un ostacolo o, nella migliore ipotesi, né l'uno né l'altro; ch’è quanto dire, pedagogicamente, nulla. Onde si ritorna, dopo un non lungo giro, se non all'irreligione, almeno al neutralismo e al laicismo educativo. Contro i quali al Crispolti sembra aperta come unica via quella che «l'educazione cristiana sia resa così piena, da non esserci nessuna abitudine o inclinazione deplorevole che non debba venir combattuta a titolo religioso; nessuna abitudine o inclinazione lodevole a cui la religione non dia cagione e valore» (p. 14).  Ora, in qual modo realizzare siffatto programma? Il Crispolti, sulle orme del Manzoni e delle Osservazioni sulla morale cattolica rammenta che il Vangelo contiene qualsiasi ideale di perfezione umana e che i sentimenti naturali retti non possono mai essere in contraddizione colla legge di Dio, e tanto gli basta per dimostrare come la religione cattolica abbia l'attitudine a informare di sé qualsiasi magari raffinatissimo ed esigentissimo sistema educativo. Che fu, in sostanza, la grande preoccupazione del romanticismo neocattolico successo all'illuminismo rivoluzionario, da Chateaubriand in poi il cui famosissimo libro vuol essere appunto una descrizione di tutti i vantaggi arrecati in ogni suo campo d'attività allo spirito umano dalla religione cattolica. Ma il Crispolti ha anche una preoccupazione nuova che certo, direttamente o indirettamente, consapevolmente o inconsapevolmente, dev'essergli derivata dall'influsso dell'etica moderna in uno dei suoi fondamentali problemi. “Politica della virtù”, definì or non è molto il Croce il concetto sostituito dalla più recente speculazione al vecchio rigorismo kantiano; “politica”, ossia non impossibile sterminio di tutte le umane passioni  e tendenze sulle cui rovine si erga la legge morale, ma loro sapiente organizzazione a beneficio della moralità stessa. Sarebbe troppo domandare a un cattolico, per cui la legge morale deve sempre rimanere, in ultima analisi, trascendente, né può comunque risolversi nella sintesi delle passioni, il chiedergli di condividere senz'altro questo concetto. Dal punto di vista cattolico vi ha sempre una soluzione superiore del problema, la santità che non ha bisogno d'una politica della virtù poiché «non raggiunge le virtù e la conseguente eliminazione di ciò che loro contrasta, correndo loro dietro una per una e poi tenendole tra loro serrate con un'agitazione scrupolosa e a fatica, ma le coglie tutte insieme, per un ardore che tutte le supera e le fonde» (p. 16). La carità, l'amore di Dio possono, nelle anime educate alla santità ed elaborate dalla grazia divina stessa, essere motivo sufficiente dell'azione virtuosa senza che per ciò si richieda il sussidio di speciali abilità o l'esca di determinate passioni e sentimenti umani. Ma, giustamente ammonisce il Crispolti, la santità eminente non è da tutti. «Molti educatori sentono, sia pure talvolta in confuso, questa complicazione dell'economia della vita cristiana; sanno che l'ardente carità, dalla quale può venirle la maggiore semplificazione pratica, non è dato ad essi d'infonderla negli alunni, poiché è un raro e diretto dono di Dio alle creature chiamate a santità e allora, senza che formulino a sé e agli altri il proprio timore, temono che il voler trarre dal cristianesimo anche l'addestramento alle qualità naturali, belle per sé ma che non sono ancora virtù, come il coraggio, l'amabilità nel convivere, la coltura della mente, e via discorrendo, accresca la difficoltà dell'educazione cristiana, costringendo gli animi ad accogliere tante più cose, quindi a tenerle insieme in un equilibrio sempre minore, e a rischio di più frequenti discordanze» (p. 19). Timore, secondo il Nostro, ingiustificato e pericoloso, poiché in quanto quella carità vittoriosa venga a mancare - e impossibile è all'educatore garantire ch'egli saprà infonderla puntualmente nell'educando - verranno d'un subito a mancare anche tutti gli altri motivi (che non si sono coltivati in lui) d'ordine umano coi quali di solito gli uomini si garantiscono pur imperfettamente dal male. «Eppure ogni metodo di educazione è condannato a prefiggersi di far buoni i mediocri, poiché i sommi oltrepassano per lo più le sue speranze e i suoi poteri» (ibid.) e questi mediocri sono la gran maggioranza degli uomini non chiamati a santità, ma non per questo da abbandonarsi senza difesa ai disordinati impulsi animali. Prendiamo, secondo l'esempio caro al Crispolti, una figura manzoniana, quella di Don Abbondio, che per viltà d'animo si lascia trarre dalle minacce di Don Rodrigo a obliare uno dei più essenziali doveri del sacerdozio. Eccoci nel caso di un uomo al quale manca quella ardente carità che dovrebbe rendergli facile l'adempimento di qualsiasi dovere, ma al quale, di più, mancano gli stimoli umani con cui il “laico” si garantisce dalla paura; manca, cioè, un'adeguata educazione del coraggio materiale. Poniamo «che Don Abbondio fosse stato un ragazzo e che i maestri, prevedendo che potesse diventar parroco in tempi in cui il dovere parrocchiale era esposto a minacce di prepotenti, gli avessero voluto insegnare l'arte di non farsi vincere da quelle minacce»: che cosa avrebbero dovuto fare? Sanamente diffidando della possibilità d'infondergli il calore dell'amor divino, avrebbero dovuto coltivare in lui «una qualità terrena che poteva in certo grado servire all’uopo e che colla persuasione, cogli esercizi convenienti, e occorrendo con l'arma del ridicolo, si riesce ben più facilmente a metter negli animi adolescenti la qualità del non aver paura». E allora Don Abbondio, sia pur per motivi umani, e senza il merito di quei più alti motivi che il cardinale Federigo gli ricordava, non avrebbe piegato innanzi alle minacce di Don  Rodrigo, e non avrebbe gravato la propria coscienza dell'oblio di un dovere così importante per un sacerdote, come quello di esercitare fino in fondo le sue funzioni parrocchiali, nonostante tutti gli ostacoli che potessero da altri venir frapposti. Ed ecco rinascere entro l'educazione cristiana stessa la necessità d'una «politica della virtù». Poiché il Crispolti rammenta certo che «sta scritto: non tentare il Signore Iddio tuo» e che, confidare in un dono direttamente divino per dirigersi nelle difficili vie della virtù, sarebbe pretendere troppo da Dio, onde la illuminata pietà e la saggezza pedagogica non possono su questo punto non andare d'accordo colla ben intesa umiltà cristiana nell'accumulare il maggior numero possibile di difese contro le suggestioni al male. Al chierico non meno che al laico, l'educatore dovrà dire: “Se l'occasione se ne presenti, voi dovete già esser preparati perché non vi trattengano né i disagi né i rischi. La strada regale di questa preparazione sarebbe quella di sentire il valore degli atti meritori, con tanto ardore da sormontare in grazia sua qualunque ostacolo anche improvviso. Ma v'è una strada più modesta, e che ad ogni modo deve esser battuta anche perché a mani educatrici riesce più sicuramente il condurvi in questa che in quella: e consiste nel rendervi familiare la lotta contro quei rischi e quei disagi, seppure lì per lì essa non mostri di servire a nulla” (p. 49-50). La «strada più modesta» è appunto la politica della virtù, sebbene concepita in un senso diverso da quello consentito nell'economia d'un'etica immanentistica come quella del Croce. Poiché qui è successa una inversione per cui ciò che là era fine morale, è diventato mezzo pedagogico nella nuova gradazione di valori richiesta dall'etica religiosa. Per la quale, le virtù nel significato umano della parola, comprendendo fra di esse non pur quelle che sorgono sul vero e proprio terreno praticomorale, come il coraggio o l'abnegazione od altro, ma altresì quelle che sono immanenti in qualsiasi altra funzione dello spirito, come poniamo la genialità estetica o il vigore speculativo, debbono necessariamente avere alcunché di imperfetto, frutto appunto del loro carattere umano: allegarsi, cioè, con una certa dose di orgoglio, compiacenza di sé, soddisfazione, che le rende tutte «più o meno passionali» perché presentano all'uomo, qualunque sia la somma d'ostacoli ch'esse offrono, il loro esercizio sempre come un allargamento e una esaltazione del proprio io. Di contro ad esse sta la vera, perfetta, suprema virtù: la santità, l'unica che non si fondi per sussistere sopra siffatto stimolo, ma sopra una diretta ispirazione di Dio. Talché, appellarsi alle une per rendere possibile o, comunque, preparare, facilitare, supplire l'altra, significa da un punto di vista religioso ricorrere già ad una «politica della virtù»: non perché si sia facilitata la virtù ricorrendo alla dialettica delle passioni come nell'etica immanentistica, ma perché, esorbitando la virtù «pura» dai mezzi di educazione umana, si è ricorso per garantire l'uomo dal male ad un sistema di virtù «umane» e perciò già in sé stesse «passionali».  Conclusione di tutto ciò è dunque per il Crispolti che l'educazione cristiana, ben lungi dal disinteressarsi delle doti umane, deve e può servirsene come di mezzi atti a facilitare potentemente quell'economia delle virtù che solo anime eccezionalmente ispirate da Dio possono raggiungere d'uno slancio. Deve, cioè, in ultima analisi, prendere anch'essa in considerazione il curriculum della consueta pedagogia, evitando due errori egualmente pericolosi come la dissociazione delle attività umane dal fine religioso e, insieme, la incauta persuasione che l'uomo pio sol perché pio riesca eccellente in tutti i campi del pensiero e della vita. Incominciamo dall'educazione fisica, di cui il Nostro si occupa nella lettera su l'educazione cristiana del coraggio materiale per riprendere acutamente, dal proprio punto di vista, quel concetto della pedagogia moderna secondo cui il  rinvigorimento del corpo non è già la formazione del «robusto ed agile animale», bensì quella del robusto ed agile uomo, che ha l'obbligo di preparare il proprio organismo fisico a tutti gli sforzi necessari all'adempimento dei propri doveri di essere spirituale. Al qual proposito bene osserva il Crispolti, parlando delle società cattoliche di educazione fisica, il loro carattere religioso dover consistere, non tanto nel titolo di cattoliche o nel compimento, in esse, di funzioni sacre, quanto nel tener sempre presente alle menti giovanili «lo scopo di far servire le membra fortificate all'adempimento degli obblighi virtuosi e di ciò che nella virtù sopravanza l'obbligo... cosicché imparassero con precisione a tenere dentro i giusti limiti la loro progressiva vigoria» (p. 48). E quindi ai troppo facili satireggiatori della «ginnastica cattolica», il Nostro può con ragione rispondere che, oltre a una ginnastica, ben vi può essere anche una «cucina» cattolica, da quando in alcuni giorni della settimana si preparano nelle case dei cristiani i cibi di magro. E se la Chiesa non sdegnò di porre il suggello religioso su un'operazione umile come il mangiare, perché la pedagogia cristiana sdegnerà di porre la stessa impronta su qualsiasi attività umana? «Non si andrà incontro così ad un pericolo nuovo, che, sviluppando per mezzo della stessa educazione religiosa il pieno valore della persona umana, questa diventi superba?» (p. 72). No certo, se teniamo presente che la pedagogia cristiana ha in mano il più potente dei mezzi, per combattere quella superbia ingiustificata, nella cultura dell'opposto sentimento dell'umiltà; cultura che e insieme, ancora, un dovere religioso ed un ottimo espediente pedagogico. L'opinione che ai giorni nostri si ha dell'umiltà cristiana, ben osserva il Crispolti, è spesso quella ch'essa consista soltanto nell'«ansia costante e smaniosa di stornar gli occhi dal proprio io, per il pericolo di potervi scoprire dei pregi e provarne compiacenza» (p. 74). È un concetto negativo dell'umiltà ben diverso da quel concetto positivo che si ritrova nella tradizione cristiana e medioevale (si ricordi il titolo di donna umile dato a Beatrice), secondo cui invece «l'umiltà è concepita in forma positiva, come un avanzare non come un fuggire, come una confidenza, non come un viluppo di precauzioni » (p. 74) e consiste nel dimenticarsi di sé stesso a tal punto da non aver tempo di starsi a considerare, ma insieme nel sapere che il proprio valore e la propria bellezza accrescono il pregio dell'offerta di sé fatta a Dio. Sentimento che, fatta la solita riserva dell'ardente amor divino il quale assorbe d'un subito in sé la creatura e le rende disgustoso ogni amor proprio, si può raggiungere pedagogicamente in grado meno splendido «col solo riverire la verità, quella verità che ci fa conoscere il nostro nulla verso Iddio e la difficoltà di misurare sia il valore vero dei fratelli, sia la fragilità di qualsiasi maggior pregio che ci elevi sopra di essi» (p. 77). Ogni cosa nel mondo dello spirito è frutto di umiltà, le grandi opere «sorsero sempre in un'ora di umiltà, ossia d'abbandono, di dimenticanza di noi, verso qualche cosa che era fuori di noi. Non sarà stata sempre umiltà verso Iddio; sarà stata umiltà verso la scienza, l'arte, la patria, l'umanità o che so io» (p. 81). La filosofia qui rincalza la religione, nessun filosofo potrebbe rifiutare di sottoscrivere queste parole. Il concetto pagano della immortalità come gloria è tramontato irrevocabilmente appunto dopo il sorgere del concetto cristiano della umiltà.  Questa introduzione dell'umiltà come principio fondamentale nel sistema della pedagogia cristiana, porta alla benefica conseguenza cui già abbiamo accennato, che, cioè, l'educatore religioso non meno del laico acquista il dovere di preoccuparsi della formazione della attività umana in base alle sue immanenti leggi, senza presumere che la fede religiosa basti per se stessa a rendere automaticamente l'uomo eccellente in tutti i  campi della scienza, dell'arte, della vita. Prendiamo ad esempio un altro punto del curriculum pedagogico: la cultura intellettuale. Ecco un caso in cui l'umiltà cristiana sanamente intesa consiglia l'uomo a irrobustire il proprio intelletto e a renderlo erudito e agguerrito in ogni sorta di discipline, perché che razza di fede, sarebbe quella che non comandasse alla creatura di offrire a Dio le primizie della sua intelligenza e, nello stesso tempo, di rendere questa offerta sempre maggiore con l'accrescere, mediante lo studio, il valore della propria intelligenza stessa? La fede del carbonaio è bellissima, ma nel carbonaio. Il dotto ha altri e più complessi doveri verso Dio: e l'uomo in genere, pur non mancando di rispetto verso il carbonaio, ha anche l'altro dovere, implicito della sua natura di essere pensante e razionale, di avvicinarsi quanto più può alla condizione del dotto e non a quella del carbonaio. Non fa nulla che ci fossero dei santi poco dotti e delle cose di Dio e delle discipline umane; al solito, noi non possiamo «tentare Iddio» pretendendo ch'egli estenda a tutti quel dono della sua diretta ispirazione che solo in casi eccezionali sopperì, unico, a tutte le umane deficienze. Talché, tratte le somme, il cattolico non solo ha, come il laico, il dovere di addottrinare l'intelletto nelle discipline umane, bensì, in più, il dovere di rivolgere la sua mente allo studio delle cose divine, e di fornirsi d'una cultura religiosa quanto più estesa può. D'altra parte, osserva col consueto acume il Crispolti, la cultura può anch'essa recare in più modi soccorsi umani alla fede, fra l'altro, associando ad essa le compiacenze della vita intellettuale. «Le quali sono grandissime; innalzano la natura umana, seppure non valgono a salvarla da tutto il male, come si credeva nei tempi recenti in cui fu di moda la formula stolta e subito smentita dai fatti "ogni scuola che si apre è un carcere che si chiude "; ci salvano... dai gusti bassamente viziosi; moltiplicano i nostri rapporti con le cose, ossia il nostro senso del vivere; procurano all'uomo una esplicazione dell'attività ed un interessamento che unico dura oltre la giovinezza e la maturità degli anni » (p. 137). Ch'è, in fondo, lo stesso principio della cultura come disciplina dello spirito su cui si fonda la pedagogia moderna, ma opportunamente ristretto con una osservazione che meriterebbe d'esser discussa da vicino in sede pedagogica. Il sapere è certo un potentissimo esercizio di superamento dei propri impulsi particolari a beneficio d'una legge superiore, ma può esso bastare da solo alla formazione del carattere morale? Il cattolicesimo e la Chiesa hanno da molto tempo risposto di no, e hanno disposto tutto un sistema di pratiche dirette precisamente alla disciplina della volontà, per esempio gli esercizi spirituali di Sant'Ignazio. In ogni modo, chiudendo questa breve parentesi, il Crispolti ha in materia di cultura religiosa le stesse idee dei grandi pedagogisti che, cattolici o no, si travagliarono su questo problema, ad esempio, di Froebel o della Necker de Saussure. Qualunque sia l'importanza d'una elaborazione dottrinale, filosofica della religione, che insegni all'uomo a credere «secondo spirito e verità» è certo ch'essa va preceduta dalla conoscenza immediata della religione stessa in tutto il suo complesso di riti, culti, precetti e loro applicazioni; così come lo studio della filologia non può nascere se non dalla diretta conoscenza e dall'uso delle lingue. La religione deve, per usare un'espressione cara a quei grandi pedagogisti, crescere con l'uomo stesso: essere sentimento, pratica, culto, prima che filosofia o teologia. Argomento sempre importante per quanti, come noi, vogliono nella scuola un insegnamento religioso vero e proprio che cominci col catechismo e credono un assurdo sogno illuministico quello di assicurare l'educazione religiosa a una vaga religiosità circolante un pò dappertutto nella vita spirituale.  Qualcosa di simile al già detto per la cultura intellettuale, ripetasi per la cultura estetica ove il principio dell'umiltà riceve un'altra importante applicazione pedagogica nella lettera su i pericoli della letteratura apologetica nuova. Ove il Crispolti ha avuto sott'occhio i gravi pericoli cui può andare incontro oggi una letteratura o una poesia che dal cattolicesimo voglia trarre, insieme ai propri motivi d'ispirazione, anche una presunzione della propria superiorità su l'altra letteratura o poesia non cattolica. Qual è, insomma, la ragione per cui il cattolicesimo non ha, oggi, poeti suoi da contrapporre, poniamo, a un D'Annunzio o ad un Pascoli? La ragione è sempre la stessa: pretendono gli artisti cattolici «di poter ricevere o tradurre nelle opere le ispirazioni artistiche (della fede), senza nessuno sforzo da parte loro». Tutta la fatica, secondo loro, dovrebbe farla Iddio. Pretendono quindi che ogni opera di soggetto religioso, purché lastricata di buone intenzioni, ottenga il favore della critica a preferenza di opere anche elaboratissime di autori profani od avversi. Quando poi debbono essi stessi confessare che i Canti di Leopardi così lontani dal Cristianesimo, valgono più dei canti loro, non sanno come raccapezzarsi; quasi sembra loro che la fede abbia fatto torto a se stessa. Non si rassegnano a riconoscere di non aver fatto verso la fede tutti gli sforzi di dottrina e di meditazione, necessari a rendersi i degni interpreti di lei. Non si piegano a confessare che non è colpa della luce ma della deficienza o pigrizia loro, se anche questa volta «i figli delle tenebre» sono stati più prudenti dei figli della luce (p. 163). Ciò è quanto dire che, dal punto di vista pedagogico, anche l'attività estetica ha bisogno d'un apposito tirocinio dal quale nessuna fede religiosa può dispensarci. Ma la seconda applicazione dello stesso principio che nel campo estetico fa il Crispolti, viene esplicitamente incontro a quanto il pensiero moderno in sede filosofica e pedagogica ha via via elaborato in materia: ove si pensi che la degenerazione dell'arte in vuota “letteratura” e il conseguente ridurre la cultura estetica a una artificiosa ricerca di parole e di frasi atte a far colpo sul lettore o di esempi di “bello scrivere” contro cui la critica moderna ha tanto combattuto, è sempre frutto, secondo il Crispolti d'un difetto opposto all'umiltà cristiana: della vanità che ai pensieri veri e alle convinzioni sincere, preferisce i pensieri nuovi o i sentimenti mirabolanti. Umili perché casti «parchi e lontani da tutti quegli artifici che, piacendo ad un gusto passeggero, fanno così facilmente il nido alla vanità» gli scrittori classici: umili tutti coloro che non pensarono a scriver bene, ma «presi da alti pensieri, da alti affari o da alti scopi morali, ossia tanto assorbiti dalla gravità del proprio tema che la parola si facesse umile innanzi a quello» (p. 158) riuscirono, perciò solo, necessariamente grandi scrittori. E inversamente, grandi scrittori sono non soltanto quelli che fecero professione di letterati, bensì «uomini in qualunque campo grandi, cioè tali, che a qualche cosa di superiore la loro parola abbia dovuto umilmente ubbidire» (ibid.): talché, per esempio, i Francesi bene hanno fatto a far rientrare fra i classici della loro letteratura anche San Francesco di Sales e Napoleone. Una siffatta riforma della storia letteraria sulle basi dell'estetica moderna quale si è affermata dal Croce in poi avrebbe in più per il Crispolti questo di interessante nel senso cattolico: che giustificherebbe l'introduzione dei grandi santi a maestri d'espressione letteraria oltrechè di vita.  Ma sopratutto interessante in queste osservazioni che il Crispolti viene con tanta finezza facendo intorno a questioni educative, si è ch'egli molto spesso arriva a toccare sul viso i più importanti problemi dibattuti dal pensiero pedagogico e filosofico moderno, pur senza avere di questo pensiero una conoscenza diretta ed approfondita (come si vede ad esempio dalla lettera su Le precauzioni intellettuali contro gli errori religiosi, in cui  nel parlare delle ragioni scientifiche di dubbi intorno alla religione, ricorda il positivismo e lo scientismo, ma non fa cenno dell'idealismo immanentistico postkantiano). Ciò riesce una ottima conferma della bontà di quel procedimento se anche qua e là porta l'autore a qualche inevitabile incertezza. Diamone degli esempi, scegliendo tra i numerosi argomenti trattati in queste lettere pedagogiche. Nella lettera quinta, toccando dei rapporti fra la pedagogia e la morale, il Crispolti afferma che la certezza di quest'ultima la quale determina il fine della vita non può estendersi alla prima, la quale invece determina i mezzi per attuare il fine stesso e va perciò soggetta a un'inevitabile incertezza data dalla infinita varietà dei temperamenti, delle attitudini, delle situazioni spirituali cui quei mezzi debbono applicarsi. Sta bene. In linguaggio più propriamente filosofico si direbbe che la pedagogia è sempre sospesa a una concezione totale della realtà, in base a cui viene determinato quello che il nostro chiama appunto «il fine». Ma ciò non implica soltanto superiorità gerarchica dell'etica o di qualsiasi altra scienza sulla pedagogia. Poiché il legame è reciproco, e se la pedagogia ha da fare i conti con l'etica e con tutto il sistema delle scienze dello spirito, viceversa anche l'etica e la filosofia tutta hanno da fare i conti colla pedagogia, hanno da preoccuparsi, cioè, che il loro concetto della realtà sia tale da rendere possibile la educazione. Ne fa fede il Crispolti stesso, il quale non potrebbe mai accettare, poniamo, un concetto giansenistico o falsamente predestinazionista del cristianesimo, fra altre ragioni perché lo sguardo da lui dato ai problemi pedagogici gliene chiarirebbe l'assurdità, e infatti da quel punto di vista non è concesso, se non per una felice incoerenza, parlare di educazione. È questo proprio il caso in cui una diretta conoscenza delle questioni recentemente dibattute nel campo filosofico sui rapporti della pedagogia colle scienze filosofiche, avrebbe giovato al Nostro. Parimente altrove, nella lettera tredicesima ove, a ragione, combattendo la falsificazione delle idee intorno al fanciullo che una grossolana psicologia ha introdotto nei metodi educativi moderni, egli pone la mano su una questione importantissima, e vi sorvola su senza approfondirla. Si deve sfruttare la capacità intuitiva e immaginativa del fanciullo per introdurlo al più presto nel mondo spirituale degli adulti, oppure val meglio cominciare con l'indugiarsi insieme a lui nel suo mondo fanciullesco? Sia il caso del linguaggio: «voi vedrete — dice il Nostro — che in tutti i luoghi e in tutti i tempi, i genitori, invece di valersi immediatamente di questa disposizione meravigliosa per abituarlo a pronunziare le parole esattamente conversano con lui ripetendogli le parole storpiate ch'egli incomincia a pronunziare» (p. 132). È il principio del “punto di partenza” da trovare nell'animo dell'alunno. Ma il Crispolti, con queste sue parole, viene a dubitare che esatta conseguenza di quel principio sia l'identificazione assoluta del mondo spirituale del fanciullo con quello dell'adulto, come vorrebbe la pedagogia idealistica moderna, per la quale il mezzo più sicuro di educare il fanciullo è quello di imporgli decisamente - sia pur con le debite precauzioni - il mondo spirituale dell'adulto. Il Crispolti giustifica qui, in certa guisa, l'idea di un mondo fanciullesco, d'una letteratura per ragazzi e di altre simili cose respinte da alcune correnti della pedagogia moderna. Valeva la pena che egli approfondisse questo suo dissenso e ne sviscerasse bene le ragioni.  Ma queste piccolezze sono poi un niente, in confronto alla piacevole urbanità con cui il Crispolti profonde il suo ingegno intorno ad una quantità di problemi importanti, che il tirannico spazio ci vieta di discutere, come pur ci piacerebbe, con lui. Ci sia concesso, prima di finire, di esprimere ancora un consenso e un dissenso. Un consenso per quanto egli scrive nella sua lettera ventunesima sulla cultura femminile. La quale, perciò che il  pensiero moderno ha proclamato, dopo il cristianesimo, al di là di tutti i preconcetti naturalistici, l'eguaglianza spirituale dell'uomo e della donna, non per questo ha cessato di essere un problema, per il complesso di funzioni e d'abitudini diverse da quelle maschili che fa della donna un essere, pur pari di natura e di valore all'uomo, ma che si presenta tuttavia fornito d'una sua specifica fisionomia di cui l'educatore non può non tener conto. L'aver dimenticato questo ha portato come effetto nella società moderna una duplice piaga che il Crispolti ben analizza: quella delle donne ignoranti da un lato, e quella delle donne pedantescamente saccenti dall'altro. Il che si deve appunto, secondo il Crispolti stesso, all'aver preteso di istruire, quando si è istruita, la donna, cogli stessi procedimenti scolastici che si erano mostrati efficaci per l'uomo, «come se tra i licei femminili e l'ignoranza non ci fosse nessuna via di mezzo». E invece non si è pensato alla differenza di abitudini mentali per cui l'uomo, presto distratto nella vita da un tumulto di nuovi interessi è più spregiudicato, reagisce con un salutare oblio all'eccessivo pedantismo del sapere scolastico, conservandone solo il nocciolo vitale, mentre la donna, più docile e più rinchiusa nei doveri domestici, si assimila dalla scuola il sapere con tutto l'apparato pedantesco con cui fu impartito. A questo inconveniente c'è, per il nostro un rimedio: dare alla donna nella scuola solo i primi indispensabili elementi, e lasciare all'educazione familiare e sociale la cura di fare il resto. «La più elevata e piacevole erudizione delle donne è quella acquistata involontariamente nella conversazione colla gente eletta. Per un padre colto che desideri le figlie colte non v'è miglior via; farle partecipare in modo insensibile e continuo alle sue alte occupazioni, svegliare in loro non soltanto l'intelligenza delle cose serie, ciò che è agevole; ma l'interesse verso di esse, ciò che è più difficile» (p. 200). Non importa se per questa via la donna non otterrà delle idee precise e collegate sistematicamente fra loro: per chi non debba proprio compiere un lavoro determinato in un certo campo dello scibile come l'uomo, il beneficio della cultura sta non nelle singole idee che dà, ma nella elevazione spirituale che procura all'animo; elevazione per cui la donna «non pretenda di scoprire né di classificare, ma giunga a compiacersi nella visione delle cose alte; non s'affanni a far camminare il mondo, ma possa accompagnarlo nel suo cammino, ad ocelli aperti e con amore» (p. 202). Giacché la difficoltà della cultura femminile è tutta qui, non nel far assimilare alla donna un certo contenuto, cosa di cui essa è tanto capace quanto l'uomo, bensì nel suscitare in essa il senso dell'importanza e del valore di ciò che studia; cosa assai più difficile. Istruire la donna «è una difficoltà non intellettuale ma morale; è una coltivazione non dell'ingegno ma dell'animo» (pp. 200 - 201). Osservazioni tutte giustissime e sulle quali con qualche ben intesa riserva, siamo d'accordo col Crispolti. La riserva, se mai, sarà questa: che vi sono donne nelle quali una eccezionale formazione interiore ha suscitato il bisogno di studi più alti, e alle quali perciò non è possibile rifiutare la stessa cultura dell'uomo, anche se esse siano per far valere in quella interessi tutti propri diversi da quelli dell'uomo e per occupare, nella repubblica delle lettere, un posto a sé. La stessa necessità di collaborare con l'uomo per fondare l'unità spirituale della famiglia, può render talora necessaria alla donna anche una completa cultura scolastica, giacché pur fra gli uomini ci sono in tal senso differenze, e ciò che basta magari alla moglie di un colto professionista avvocato, ingegnere ecc., può non bastare alla moglie d'un grande poeta, d'un celebre filosofo, d'un illustre scienziato, i quali di necessità richiedono alle loro donne una più robusta formazione mentale e una ben più vasta cultura per esserne anche soltanto accompagnati, seguiti, intesi nell'esercizio delle loro attività.  Ed eccoci ora al dissenso. Parlando della cultura e dell' arte pratica della vita, il Crispolti torna a proporsi indirettamente, per conto suo, la vexata quaestio dei rapporti fra teoria e pratica, pensiero e vita. E, naturalmente, vede da par suo la diversa formazione mentale richiesta agli uomini d'azione e agli uomini di pensiero, nonché la diversità di funzioni a cui gli uni e gli altri sono chiamati. Ma appunto questo poi gli suscita un dubbio: non sarebbe, per caso, la troppo intensa cultura intellettuale un grave ostacolo allo sviluppo del senso pratico? «Mi sto domandando se il guardarsi attorno intelligentemente senza posa; l'elevare alle regioni del pensiero tutto ciò che ci ferisce la vista, ossia il menare una vita intellettuale intensa, che debitamente frenata dalla ponderazione può darci frutti copiosi, originali e buoni nelle lettere e nelle scienze, non ci renda più inetti all'alta vita pratica, di quel che facesse la vecchia abitudine degli studi accademici e degli sfoghi retorici, nei quali la mente non osservava e si può dire non pensava, ossia non acquistava nessuna verità intorno al mondo e agli uomini, ma si contentava di baloccarsi colle parole. Probabilmente questa vuotaggine, funestissima alle scienze e alle lettere, lasciando in riposo e come da parte la capacità quasi istintiva di sapersi regolare cogli uomini e di saperli regolare, la conservava intatta» (pp. 191 - 192). E che ciò possa essere e sia, nel fatto, stato, anzi, che tutto ciò rappresenti la soluzione più spiccia del problema della cultura pratica, che nella maggior parte dei casi viene appunto risolto lasciando inaridire nell'uomo le opposte tendenze alla speculazione, va bene. Ma che possa diventare, sia pur a titolo d'ipotesi, un ideale pedagogico, no: le soluzioni più spicce non sono sempre, in educazione, né le più efficaci né le migliori. Il Crispolti qui si è fatto prender la mano, mi sembra, dalla natura stessa degli esempi che arreca a conforto della sua tesi: d'un Cavour, d'un Bismark, d'un Napoleone che, pur forniti di mediocri attitudini alla scienza e d'un mediocre sapere in materia di dottrine politiche, riuscirono più vastamente pratici ed efficaci nel governo degli uomini, di altri magari più di loro valenti nel campo dottrinale, sia pur della cultura politica stessa. Dove giusta è l'osservazione, ma ingiusta la conseguenza pedagogica che il Crispolti sospetta se ne possa trarre. Trascuriamo, anzitutto, di far la vecchissima questione se davvero quegli uomini dovessero dirsi meno colti di altri, o se, invece, la vera cultura politica non fosse proprio da parte loro e da parte degli altri soltanto l'apparenza libresca di esso o la morta erudizione. Limitandoci, invece, solo agli aspetti del problema che possono offrire qualche maggior interesse di novità, il Crispolti aveva qui proprio nel cattolicesimo un criterio per scoprire il punto di vista sotto cui la innegabile grandezza di quegli uomini ci si rivela inadeguata a un ideale educativo. Il secolo XIX infatti (per restringere solo ad esso il discorso) produsse queste grandi personalità tutte assorbite dal fuoco dell' azione: ferocemente chiuse o addirittura diffidenti ed ostili verso ciò che non interessasse la loro opera pratica (si pensi allo spregio di Napoleone verso gli « ideologues »!). E che siffatte personalità dovessero nascere e adempissero una necessaria funzione storica, non è dubbio. Ma, appunto per quella loro unilateralità di cui essi stessi, prima o poi, rimasero vittime, la loro fu una grandezza direi quasi barbarica e pagana consumatasi tutta nell'atto stesso dello sforzo, del dominio, dell'imperio divenuto fine a sé medesimo. Lo sgomento del Manzoni che innanzi alla morte di Napoleone si domanda: «fu vera gloria?» e non sa rispondere se non col rappresentarsi l'interna tragedia di quell'anima arbitra fra due secoli, due volte sbalzata dal trono alla polvere, e pacificata solo in fine, là, «dove è silenzio e tenebre la gloria che passò»: lo sgomento del Manzoni temperamento insieme e cristiano e moderno, è molto significativo ove si pensi che cristianesimo e modernità bene intesa  sono in ultima analisi concordi nel richiedere a chiunque, uomo teoretico o pratico che sia, di ricordarsi anzitutto d'essere uomo; cioè, azione, sì, ma anche pensiero; sforzo e volontà di conquista, sì, ma anche contemplazione delle cose divine e raccoglimento interiore. L'uomo pratico che non frena se stesso con l'esercizio del pensiero, che disavvezza la mente dal considerare sé e le cose sub specie aeternitatis, potrà acquistare sì una intensissima facoltà di dominio su sé e sugli altri, ma finirà fatalmente col perdere ciò che col Crispolti chiamerò il senso dell'umiltà: il senso della necessaria subordinazione del proprio agire ad una realtà superiore, la religiosità, senza cui anche le più grandi opere restano edificate sulla sabbia. Specificazione eccessiva significa sempre unilateralità e unilateralità significa limite: ora, come educare in base a un limite, sia pur ragionevole quanto si voglia? Quell'ideale napoleonico di grandezza è andato, del resto, consumandosi da sé per istrada; e oggi è consueto lamento, innanzi alle situazioni storiche intricate, che ahimè non nasca più un Napoleone per districarle; lamento in cui, pur fatta la dovuta parte all'esagerazione e tenuto presente che ogni secolo ha sempre, prima o poi, i suoi grandi uomini, c'è questo di vero, che la qualità di grandezza politica richiesta nel complicatissimo sistema della vita moderna, è una forma di grandezza più umile, meno appariscente, più cristiana, direi, ma non per questo meno reale. È grandezza più, nel buon senso della parola, democratica, che aspetta meno dalle personalità eroiche e più dal quotidiano eroismo di ciascuno, dalla illuminata dedizione di tutti al proprio dovere. È la necessità per ciascun uomo di scienza di lasciare quando occorra la sua torre d'avorio per sobbarcarsi a compiere quei doveri, maggiori o minori, che la vita pratica gl'impone; è la necessità, per ciascun uomo pratico, di avere delle idee e di fare gli sforzi richiesti a formarsi un chiaro concetto della realtà entro cui bisogna operare. Dopo il lungo, tormentoso esperimento di oscillazione fra la democrazia e l'imperialismo che, dalla rivoluzione francese in poi hanno attraversato le grandi nazioni europee, le virtù puramente “politiche”, la pura e semplice capacità di dominio sugli uomini, hanno perso credito; e, in tempi recentissimi, si è più volte assistito all'istruttivo spettacolo di individui espertissimi nel maneggio pratico degli uomini e delle cose che non hanno più saputo orientarsi in mezzo alla nuova situazione creatasi nello spirito contemporaneo, e hanno dovuto rassegnarsi a clamorosi insuccessi. Dirò al Crispolti, tornando a parlare in termini più strettamente pedagogici, che non è affatto dimostrato che il miglior mezzo per coltivare un'attitudine sia quello di inaridire tutte le altre. E, ad evitare un discorso troppo lungo, gli ricorderò che le attività spirituali si coltivano sì con l'esercizio, ma anche con un opportuno riposo e che, d'altra parte, ogni attività presuppone per il suo normale sviluppo lo sviluppo parimente normale di ogni altra attività, non essendo qui il caso di trasformare in regola le eccezioni per cui grandi personalità poterono colla sola forza del loro intenso volere colmare d'un subito in sé, le deficienze e lacune di tal genere. L'antica abitudine della retorica accademica sembra al Crispolti il modo con cui gl'italiani protessero e lasciarono crescere il loro senso pratico: ed è strano che a questo proposito altri pedagogisti - ad esempio il Gabelli - abbiano attribuito al genio italiano carattere proprio opposto ed abbiano inteso quella stessa retorica come eccessivo sfogo dato alla speculazione e all'immaginazione a scapito delle doti pratiche che si sarebbero cosi inaridite. Ciò dimostra certo come sia difficile raccogliere in una formula generale i caratteri d'un popolo che si sono venuti formando attraverso il multiforme sviluppo di parecchi secoli. Ma ciò dimostra anche, a parer mio, come sia rischioso l'interpretare il fiorir delle grandi personalità italiane, dalle Signorie in poi, a beneficio d'un singolare  incremento dello spirito pratico in Italia. Quelle grandi personalità sono spesso (mi si conceda l'espressione) retoricamente individualiste: la loro attività politica si consuma in sé stessa come un sogno, o come - fu già notato a proposito del Rinascimento - un'opera d'arte che non ha risultati fuori della sua bellezza; raramente si inquadrano nell'armonico insieme d'un sistema che le perpetui e le fecondi. E in quanto esse ci offrono siffatte deficienze, dimostrano appunto che l'abitudine della retorica fu, in ogni campo, teoretico e pratico, un difetto dello spirito europeo e non solo italiano. Giacché v'è una retorica della pratica, consistente appunto nel fatto ch'essa, esaltata per sé sola, finisce col non esser più pura pratica, ma col farsi di sé medesima una religione e una filosofia: filosofia dello sforzo, del dominio dell'eroismo, della Realpolitik, dell'astratto machiavellismo, che noi moderni ben conosciamo sotto tutte le possibili forme e ch'è una concezione unilaterale della realtà in servigio dei puri fini pratici, la quale deforma coi suoi schemi ciò che lo stesso sano istinto pratico (che non è mai praticistico) ispirerebbe. Significa ciò, forse, che bisogna trascurare una cultura specifica delle attitudini pratiche? No certo: significa solamente che l'educazione ha da formar tutto l'uomo, e che attitudini pratiche e attitudini teoretiche possono essere e sono, distinte, ma non è possibile, né desiderabile, che diventino opposte.  Non è ancora spenta l'eco delle discussioni suscitate dal discorso di Giovanni Gentile per la inaugurazione dell'Istituto fascista di cultura napoletano: discussione alla quale organi autorevolissimi (come l'Osservatore Romano e Il Popolo d'Italia) hanno recato il loro contributo. Noi non pretendiamo certo partecipare a un dibattito nel quale è meglio che le competenti autorità politiche e religiose siano lasciate libere di esporre come meglio credono il loro pensiero, al di fuori di ogni altra minore e, necessariamente, più limitata polemica. Ma, posto che «I Diritti della Scuola» hanno creduto opportuno fare qualche osservazione in materia, sia pur contenendola esclusivamente nel campo che può interessare la scuola, e la scuola elementare in special modo, non sarà male che anche noi aggiungiamo, sulla stessa materia, qualche altra osservazione in margine, se così può dirsi, a quelle fatte, - del resto, giova riconoscerlo, con molto garbo e molta cortesia - dalla Rivista romana.  Notano, dunque, «I Diritti della Scuola» che l'insegnamento religioso nella scuola elementare attende ancora la sua definizione precisa. A norma del decreto 1 Ottobre 1923, doveva trattarsi, come pare ovvio, d'un insegnamento impartito secondo la teoria e la prassi della Chiesa Cattolica. Ma i programmi didattici, e la circolare dell'on. Gentile del gennaio 1924 sembrano invece, al redattore de «I Diritti», ispirati a una ben diversa concezione. Non «arido dottrinarismo» o «meccanico formalismo» ma «poesia e quasi canto della fede», doveva essere l'insegnamento religioso; e non più la Chiesa, ma l'opera religiosa del Manzoni e le figure più edificanti del suo romanzo, erano additati come guida a questo nuovo lavoro del maestro. E il significato di quelle espressioni è, sempre secondo i «Diritti della Scuola», molto chiaro. Ci si permetta di riferirne le testuali parole: «La tendenza era dunque sempre più verso una educazione religiosa che parlasse  al cuore del fanciullo, che facesse vibrare la sua anima ingenua dei sentimenti più puri, delle più sante aspirazioni a una vita di bene per sé e per gli altri. Alla Chiesa, se mai, l'insegnare la dottrina cristiana nella sua veste letterale, non sempre accessibile al fanciullo; alla scuola il proiettare la luce e il calore della fede sui fatti umani, sul cammino che il fanciullo dovrà percorrere nella vita. È avvenuto invece l'opposto. A poco a poco l'insegnamento religioso si è irrigidito nella teologia, nella liturgia, nei dogmi e nei misteri; si è schematizzato nell'aridità del dialogo catechistico, anzitutto nelle scuole dove l'ora di religione viene assunta dal sacerdote; e poi via via anche nelle altre, perché il sacerdote rimane sempre il giudice del maestro, accompagnandosi all'ispettore per verificare se e come la religione si impartisce; ed egli non sa, il più delle volte, deflettere (e forse non deve) dalla lettera dei sacri testi».  Noi non vogliamo rivolgere a «I Diritti della Scuola» alcun rimprovero: le stesse cose sono state dette tante altre volte, e con intonazione assai meno cortese, che, quanto alla forma, noi, e con noi i cattolici tutti, non abbiamo nulla da eccepire. Ma è impossibile trattenersi dall'osservare che, pur sotto la loro forma deferente e garbata, quelle parole celano una sostanza ben amara per la religione Cattolica e per i suoi ministri. L'argomentazione de «I Diritti » si basa tutta su un presupposto, pacificamente e...tacitamente ammesso come incontrovertibile verità, della quale nessun uomo, sano di cervello, potrebbe minimamente dubitare. Ecco il presupposto: la «teologia», la «liturgia», i «dogmi» e i «misteri» costituiscono, non già la religione ma un suo «irrigidimento»: il catechismo è, non la formulazione dottrinale precisa della fede cattolica, ma un «arido dialogo», e l'uno e gli altri sono poi assolutamente incompatibili con l'«anima ingenua», le «aspirazioni sante», i «sentimenti puri» del fanciullo e dell'uomo. Il sacerdote e la Chiesa di cui egli è ministro non possono portare nella scuola che «arido dottrinarismo» o «meccanico formalismo»: se volete la «poesia» e il «canto» della fede, dovete rivolgervi altrove. Non c'è, dunque, che prendere o lasciare. Se tenete il decreto Gentile 1 Ottobre 1923, insegnerete la religione secondo la teoria e la prassi della Chiesa Cattolica, cioè con tutto il bagaglio del Catechismo, della Liturgia, della Teologia, ecc. - ma avrete l'«arido dottrinarismo» che si voleva evitare. Se v'appigliate, invece, ai programmi didattici o alla circolare del Gennaio 1924, avrete il canto, la poesia, i sentimenti puri e l'anima ingenua, ma vi converrà gettare a mare la Chiesa, i sacerdoti, la teoria, la prassi e l'insegnamento cattolico. Evidentemente, fra due posizioni così diverse ed avverse, bisogna scegliere. E questo appunto domandano, con molto rispetto ma con molta fermezza, «I Diritti della scuola».  Ripetiamolo ancora: sarebbe ingiusto addossare a «I Diritti» la responsabilità d'un cuore così largamente diffuso; tanto più diffuso quanto più corrisponde a un pregiudizio che, duole il dirlo, si trova talora anche fra gli stessi cattolici. La liturgia, arido formalismo! La liturgia opposta alla poesia ed al canto! La teologia opposta ai sentimenti buoni e alle aspirazioni generose! Ma brava gente - verrebbe voglia di dire - avete mai aperto un messale? Avete mai sfogliato un breviario? Avete mai assistito a una cerimonia religiosa? Intendo, assistito non come vi assistono le panche o i pilastri, ma comprendendone davvero, intimamente, tutte le parole e tutti gli atti? E sapete che il messale è fatto delle sacre scritture, e così pure il breviario? E che quelle sacre scritture sono i libri biblici, i profeti, i salmi, i vangeli, gli atti degli apostoli, le epistole di San Paolo e di altri, gli scritti dei Padri, i più begli inni cristiani e via discorrendo? E non vi pare che come «poesia» e come «canto» ce ne sia abbastanza da scegliere, anche per le  persone di più difficile contentatura? Non sarò certo io a dir male del Manzoni e della sua opera; ciò nonostante, mi sembra che, poniamo, San Paolo, Isaia, o Davide siano a loro modo «poeti» non certo inferiori al grande nostro italiano: il quale, del resto, appunto da quegli o da altri simili autori, nonché dalla sua vasta cultura profondamente cattolica e ortodossa trasse, ad esempio, l'ispirazione dei suoi Inni sacri. Certo, si osserverà, non tutta la poesia delle sacre scritture è accessibile o comprensibile al fanciullo: ma, d'altra parte, è evidente che nemmeno siamo obbligati a spiegargliela tutta o tutta in una volta, o tutta collo stesso grado di profondità. E poi la liturgia non è solo nelle parole: è nella musica, nel canto, nell'azione del celebrante e degli assistenti, nel colore dei paramenti sacri, nella architettura stessa del tempio, elementi organizzati e concatenati da una sapientissima disciplina che riescono quanto mai plastici, sensibili ed «intuitivi» e parlano all'animo anche delle persone più illetterate. E la sapienza colla quale tutti quegli elementi sono proporzionati, volta per volta, alle circostanze e allo stato d'animo cui si riferiscono! Le Messe funebri, colla loro solenne mestizia, quelle della Natività, del periodo Pasquale e, in genere, delle grandi feste, colla loro trionfale esultanza; quelle dell'Avvento e della Quaresima col loro pensoso raccoglimento, quelle del periodo dopo Pentecoste colla loro luminosa serenità costituiscono un vasto poema - il ciclo liturgico - nel quale la natura medesima ha spesso la parola, e le luci e le ombre, i caldi o i geli, le stagioni e le opere, le più varie circostanze della vita e i fondamentali sentimenti dell'anima umana trovano necessariamente un'adeguata espressione. Poiché la Chiesa ha conosciuto molto prima dei pedagogisti il metodo «intuitivo» e colla musica, col canto, colle pitture, con l'architettura dei suoi templi e il suono delle sue campane, ha saputo parlare alle plebi illetterate quando ispettori, maestri, direttori, leggi scolastiche, letterali e poeti erano di là da venire!  Certo, la conoscenza assidua e amorosa della liturgia non è, neppure fra i cattolici, oggi diffusa quanto si potrebbe desiderare. Ma il movimento liturgico, promosso e diretto dall’instancabile zelo e delle autorità ecclesiastiche e di molte organizzazioni cattoliche va facendo ogni giorno progressi. E basti qui ricordare l'opera della Società francese di San Giovanni Evangelista, e, fra noi, quella dell'Abate Emanuele Caronti per la volgarizzazione e la diffusione della liturgia: per tacere dei molti, ottimi testi per le scuole elementari, dove la liturgia ha, molto opportunamente, una parte notevole. Per gli amatori di «curiosità» pedagogiche ricorderemo gli esperimenti fatti in Ispagna, a tal proposito, col metodo Montessori; la partecipazione dei fanciulli all'Offertorio della Messa, mediante un'offerta che risuscitava le più antiche tradizioni della Chiesa: il grano e la vite coltivati, pure dai fanciulli, come materia delle specie sacramentali, e via dicendo. Tutti espedienti, senza dubbio, utili e giovevolissimi, ma che sono ben lungi dal costituire, come forse taluno potrebbe credere, una novità rispetto alla teoria e alla prassi della Chiesa, che ha sempre chiamato i fanciulli al servizio degli altari, come si può vedere persino nelle più remote parrocchie dei più remoti villaggi: anche senza le panchettine, le pilettine, gli inginocchiatoi minuscoli e tutto l'armamentario a scala ridotta del metodo montessoriano.  E passo all'altro, apparentemente più scabroso argomento della «teologia» o del «catechismo», che sarebbe, in fondo, una teologia elementare per fanciulli, come la teologia è un catechismo degli adulti. Ora, la teologia è il pensiero di cui la liturgia è la esterna e multiforme espressione, è l'anima di cui la liturgia è il corpo. Evidentemente, chi ignora l'una non può afferrar bene  l'altra, a meno di non essere un filosofo o uno scienziato così abituato a muoversi fra i concetti puri, da potervisi collocare stabilmente senza bisogno di altri sussidi; e anche allora l'ignoranza della liturgia (cioè la negligenza nell'usare quei mezzi che la Chiesa ha messo a nostra disposizione appunto per comprendere e praticare la sua dottrina) produrrà sempre i suoi effetti funesti, poiché in fine l'uomo, anche scienziato, non è una intelligenza pura, ma un composto di anima e corpo, di senso e intelletto, né può fare a meno in nessun caso di sorreggere il proprio pensiero con stimoli sensibili. Si capisce, dunque, facilmente, che presso coloro i quali non sono né filosofi né scienziati, o comunque hanno trascurato di completare la propria cultura religiosa con una buona cultura liturgica, il catechismo sia spesso una anima senza corpo, dia, cioè, quell'impressione di arido formalismo e di dottrinario schematismo che tanto dispiace, e nella scuola e fuori, e che tanto urta le delicate esigenze dell'anima infantile. Ma ricostituite quella unità che avete spezzato: ricongiungete la teologia alla liturgia, secondo, appunto, la teoria e la prassi della Chiesa Cattolica, e le verità del catechismo, aride in apparenza, si vestiranno dei più smaglianti colori: diverranno verità, non solo, apprese o ripetute a parole, ma vissute, sentite, amate, alle quali neppure l'anima del più rozzo analfabeta saprà rimanere insensibile. È difficile il concetto della transustanziazione? Eppure anche il fanciullo e la donnicciola cantano e sentono il Pange lingua. È difficile l'idea della resurrezione della carne? Eppure nessuno, che non sia un idiota o un deficiente, può ascoltare senza fremere le parole del vangelo giovanneo, dette dal sacerdote: Ego sum resurrectio et vita.  Questo non vuol dire, d'altra parte, che anche il catechismo puro e semplice non possa dì per se stesso costituire la base d'un insegnamento vivo, agile, plastico, "intuitivo" ed "attivo" condotto secondo i migliori criteri pedagogici. Tutto sta nel modo con cui viene insegnato. Accusarlo di aridità perché lo si vede, sulla carta, costituito da tante domande e risposte, sarebbe come accusare di aridità l'aritmetica perché, nel libro, altro non si trova che l'enunciato dei problemi o le definizioni nude e crude. Quelle domande e quelle risposte sono l'oggetto dell'insegnamento, il termine ultimo cui si deve arrivare; non sono il metodo, la via, o il punto di partenza. E sul metodo appunto la didattica catechistica odierna ha una quantità di studi notevolissimi, ove, ad esempio, le questioni inerenti al metodo "intuitivo" e ai suoi sussidi didattici sono state discusse e trattate esaurientemente. Citiamo, per restare fra i nomi italiani, le interessanti ricerche dei Monsignori Pavanelli e Vigna. Il movimento circa la didattica catechistica, da vari anni già, è non meno notevole e non meno confortante del movimento liturgico. Ora, ignorare tutto questo, e continuare a parlare del catechismo come se fosse insegnato a memoria, e magari, a suon di scappellotti, significa precludersi senz'altro la via di discutere con imparzialità e competenza. Che se, qualche volta, nemmeno l'istruzione catechistica impartita coi metodi migliori, dà i risultati che se ne potrebbero attendere, la colpa non è davvero della Chiesa o dei suoi sacri testi. Datemi una società come quella cristiana primitiva, e io vi dispenso dall'osservanza di qualsiasi didattica; sicuro che, per quanto schematiche, le parole del maestro troveranno sempre, nella vita religiosa quotidiana, di che riempirsi in abbondanza anche per il fanciullo più scafato e testardo del mondo; sicuro che le massime, gli esempi, le abitudini d'una società e d'una famiglia troppo spesso indifferenti o ribelli alla parola della Chiesa non mi ridurranno le definizioni catechistiche allo stato d'una pallida larva. Anche qui, dunque, il segreto per avere una cultura religiosa, ricca, calda, piena di pathos e di poesia, e perciò armonica ai  fondamentali bisogni dell'animo infantile, sta non nell’allontanarsi, ma nell'avvicinarsi sempre più all'insegnamento genuino della Chiesa.  Non sapremmo, perciò, vedere alcuna contraddizione fra il decreto Gentile del 1 Ottobre 1923 e la circolare del Gennaio 1924 dello stesso ministro, o i programmi didattici, poiché, seguire la teoria e la prassi della Chiesa Cattolica nell'insegnamento religioso, significa per l'appunto dare al fanciullo la "poesia", il "canto" e tutte le altre belle cose annesse e connesse. Né può lasciar adito a equivoco il nome del Manzoni, il laico così geloso della propria ortodossia, da riuscir più ortodosso di molti sacerdoti suoi contemporanei, quali, poniamo, il Lambruschini o il Gioberti. Che se contraddizione c'è stata fra il decreto e la circolare, o il decreto e i programmi, essa è stata piuttosto nella mente del loro autore che nella realtà delle cose e appartiene, dunque, alla storia della cultura o della filosofia italiana e non a quella della legislazione scolastica. Il cattolicesimo, non è il protestantesimo, e perciò sarà sempre un osso troppo duro pei denti dei filosofi volenterosi che si proveranno a maciullarlo e a convertirlo in poltiglia per uso delle loro costruzioni metafisiche. Sotto questo aspetto, la nota de "I Diritti" è, per noi, molto significativa e confortante: è il sintomo d'un grandioso insuccesso, da parte di chi aveva creduto poter introdurre il cattolicesimo nella scuola, come veste mitologica inferiore d'una verità filosofica che, più tardi, lo avrebbe superato e divorato. Dal 1923 sono passati cinque anni e il cattolicesimo, ben lungi dall'essere “superato” è lì, colla sua teologia e la sua liturgia, i suoi dogmi e i suoi misteri, che minaccia gravemente di "superare" gli altri e di mangiarsi in due bocconi le stesse filosofie più evolute, alle quali sta contendendo energicamente il possesso delle scuole medie e superiori che pure s'erano riservate. Lo scandalo diventa grave: e "I Diritti " hanno tutte le ragioni d'esserne preoccupati, posto che stia loro a cuore davvero, la sorte delle filosofie "evolute": il che, sinceramente, non auguriamo. La Pedagogia di S. Tommaso d'Aquino 65 L'Educazione naturale 93 L'Anima della pedagogia 125 Filosofia, Religione e " Filosofie " nelle Scuole Medie 163 Pedagogia cattolica 195 L'Insegnamento religioso nelle Scuole elementary. Il problema della dialettica oxoniense suscita una difficoltà. Il chiedere soltanto come è possibile che il tutore (Socrate) comunichi al tutee (Alcebiade) una determinate cattitudine psicologica sembra implicare, se non addirittura una contraddizione, certo un paradosso quasi insormontabile, dato che il termine "tra-smettere" o "co-municare" o qualsiasi altro termine consimile che si adoperi a definire l'azione di Socrate su Alcebiade ("conversare") non sembra possa riflettere, se non in maniera molto imprecisa e grossolana, ciò ch'è veramente caratteristico del processo filosofico. Se si trattasse, infatti, di un oggetto materiale o corporale, o fisico, allora parrebbe a tutti chiarissimo ch'esso potesse "co-municar-si", "tras-metter-si" o cambiar sede, come una moneta che passa di mano in mano, ma nella dialettica oxoniense *ciò che* si "tras-mette" è essenzialmente un valore ideale, immateriale, non-fisico, spirituale, come la scienza, la cognoscenza, la virtù, un contenuto proposizionale, un complesso proposizionale non-naturalistico. E questo complesso proposizionale (in parte sensibile) tanto poco si lascia «tras-mettere», nel significato explicito dell'espressione (Latino, mettere trans), poiché il complesso proposizionale ha la sua base percetuale, come Peacocke nota, in un atto interno della mente del soggetto Socrate. E un atto di tal genere è tanto impossibile "tras-portarlo" dall'anima del soggetto Socrate all'anima dell'altro soggetto Alcebiade, quanto è impossibile che il soggetto Socrate trasmetta ad Alcebiade ciò che costituisce la sua intima personalità, sì che Tizio diventi Caio o Socrate si tramuti in Alcibiade!  XI suo soggiorno in Italia*    Terminata la sua opera, Schopenhauer non si decise a tornare nel  Nirvana, come torse si sarebbe potuto credere; al contrario senza nem¬  meno aspettare le prove di stampa, egli partì pel paese più bello e più  ottimista che vi sia sotto il sole, per la. véna terra promessa, per il  paese dei paesi, per la bella Italia, Con ragione si è detto che ! abitu¬  dine di vedere la vita in nero, sparisce e sembra innaturale sotto il cielo  splendido d’im paese meridionale. Dintorni poco graziosi spesso di¬  ventano Ja causa d’un falso pessimismo; ma de v ? esser genuino il pes¬  simismo che persiste anche in un ambiente bello ed incantevole. Il fatto  che Schopenhauer non ismani il suo pessimismo è una prova convin¬  cente, se prova ci vuole, che il suo pessimismo era sincero. Questo  pessimismo era piuttosto comprensibile nel freddo settentrione; ma é  un altro conto ritenerla in mi paese ove tutto sorride, ove la natura  stessa c* invita a prendere con leggerezza resistenza ed a gettare lon¬  tano da noi ogni cura, ove Paria stessa respira la leggerezza di cuore,  ove il dolce far niente è il programma di vita degPindigeni,   T resoconti del suo viaggio in Italia sono tutt ? altro che blandi.  Schopenhauer, più si faceva vecchio, pili si rinchiudeva in se stesso,  e non vi sono nè giornali nè lettere che possano colmare questa lacuna  nella sua biografia. D’ora innanzi era il suo espresso desiderio di sfug¬  gire alla pubblicità. Non voglio che la mia vita privata formi mPesea  « per la curiosità fredda e maliziosa del pubblico », così rispose molti  anni più tardi a coloro che lo esortavano a fornire maggiori informa’  zioni su se stesso ai dizionari biografici. I suoi notiziari presero il posto  del giornale, ma siccome contengono piuttosto riflessioni suggerite  dagli avvenimenti senza raccontare .questi, non spargono sugl 5 incidenti  del suo viaggio che poca luce.   Schopenhauer attraversò le Alpi persuaso d 3 avere scritto una gran¬  d'oliera per Pumanftàp stava ora ad aspettarne il risultato. Non era  tanto indifferente in quanto alla accoglienza della sua opera quanto  voleva far credere.   Il trattato sulla Quadruplice Radice era stato ben accolto dai critiei, -ed. aveva chiamato all 5 autore l’attenzione generale più di quanto  sogliono farlo le dissertazioni universitarie; era giustificabile che spe¬  rasse che la sua opera maggiore dovesse suscitare almeno lo stesso in¬  teresse. Egli corresse le prove di stampa che gii furono mandate ed  a petto k pubblicazione, sfogando intanto i suoi sentimenti in linguag¬  gio poetico.   Unv er schami e Vers e.   A us ] anggehegten, tiefgefuhlten Schmerzen  Wand sich’s einpor aus meinetn innern Herzen,   Es festzuhaHen haMch lang gemngen,   I>och weiss ich, dasz zuletzt es mir gelungen.   Mogi Euch drtim irnrner, wie Ilir wollt, gebar cleri,   Des Werkes Le ben kòimt ihr nìcht gefahrden;   Àufh&ffieii kònnt Ilir's, mirini ermehr vernichterq  Ein Denkrnrj! wird die Nachwelt mir ernchten.   Nel frattempo visitava le principali città <MP Italia settentrionale;  frequentava i musei ed il teatro, continuando a studiare la lingua ita¬  liana die egli già sapeva assai bene. E* in Italia die egli s 5 invaghì cosi  profondamente della musica di Rossini, di cui andava spesso a sentire  le opere. Degli autori italiani egli predilìgeva, -— ed è questo un fatto  abbastanza curioso, — il Petrarca, il poeta di Laura e dell 5 amore.   « Fra tutti gli scrittori italiani, preferisco il mio caro Petrarca.  « Non vi e in tutto il mondo un poeta che lo abbia mai superato nella  « profondità e nell’ardore del sentimento; le sue parole vi vanno dritto  a al cuore. Per' ciò in preferisco i suoi sonetti, i suoi trionfi e le sue can-  a zoili alle follie fantastiche dell 5 Ariosto ed alle orrende contorsioni di  « Dante. Trovo il fiume naturale delle parole, che sgorgano dal cuore,  « molto più opportuno del linguaggio ricercato ed affettato di Dante,  a Petrarca è sempre stato e rimarrà per sempre il poeta del mio cuore.  « Quello che concorre a confermarmi nella mia opinione è il tempo  a presente, a quanto pare, tanto perfetto che osa parlare con disprezzo  a di Petrarca. T T na prova sufficiente sarebbe il confronto di Dante e  « Petrarca nel loro costume intimo e non ricercato, cioè in prosa, eon-  K frontando per esempio i bei libri di Petrarca, ricchi di pensieri e di  « verità, De \ ita solittì-rui, De Coafemptu mundi, De rimediu ufrius-  z que fortume eoe., colla scolastica sterile ed asciutta di Dante ».   Dante coi suoi modi didattici non corrispondeva al gusto rii Scho¬  penhauer che considerava tutto Pinfenio come un’apoteosi della cru¬  deltà. ed il penultimo canto come una glorificazione della mancanza del  sentimento d’onore e di coscienza. Non aveva neppure alcun affetto per  Ariosto e Boccaccio; anzi più volte espresse la sua meraviglia in quanto  alla fama europea di quest’ultimo, il quale dopo tutto non aveva scritto  che Delle ehtonique.s scandaleuse*. Gli piacevano PAlfieri ed il Tasso, ma li considerava come autori tli seeoncVordine; egli non riteneva il  Tasso degno d'essere posto come quarto in una linea coi tre grandi poeti  italiani.   Per quanto riguardava Parte, egli si sentiva maggiormente attirato  dalla scultura e dall'arekitettura che dalla pittura. Ciò non potrebbe  sorprendere e non sarebbe in contraddizione coll 1 indole generale della  sua mente* se la sua intimità con Goethe non lo avesse fatto entrare  nello studio dei colori.   Schopenhauer non volle mai ammettere che i due anni possati in  Italia fossero stati per lui due anni felici, sosteneva, che mentre gli altri  viaggiavano per divertimento, egli lo faceva per raccogliere nuovi ma¬  teriali in appoggio del suo sistema, e nel suo notiziario scrisse has-  stoma di Aristotile :   6 TQ aAuTCtfO orò TU fiSìl.   Però ricordava con piacere questi due anni, dico con piacere e s'in¬  tende fin dove Schopenhauer ammetteva il piacere; negli ultimi giorni  della sua vita non poteva mai menzionare Venezia senza che la sua voce  tremasse, il che prova che Pamore che ivi lo tenne stretto, non era inte¬  ramente dimenticato, sebbene fosse morto. Senza dubbio, la seguente  nota scritta a Bologna in data del 19 novembre 1818 tradisce qualche  contentezza.   « Appunto perchè ogni felicità è negativa, accade che non ce ne  « avvertiamo affatto, quando ci troviamo in uno stato di benessere; la¬  ti sciamo tutto passare dinanzi a noi liscio, e con dolcezza fino a che  tf questo stato è passato. La perdita soltanto* che ci si fa sentire con  « chiarezza, pone in rilievo la felicità, svanita; è allora soltanto che ci  a accorgiamo di ciò che abbiamo trascurato di assicurarci, ed il rimorso  « si aggiunge alla privazione, b   Schopenhauer fece il soggiorno piu lungo a Venezia- In quel tempo vi  era anche Byron, ritenuto esso pure da vezzi femminili. E J strano che essi  non s'incontrarono mai. Schopenhauer nutriva pel genio di Byron la  più grande ammirazione ed intelletti al mente entrambi sarebbero an¬  dati d f accordo. Egli non incontrò neppure Schelley, nè Leopardi. Un  dialogo secondo il modo di Leopardi in nni egli ed il giovane conte era¬  no confrontati, fu pubblicato nella rivista contemporanea del 1858, e  Schopenhauer non si diede pace prima che non sì fosse assicurato di  averne una copia. Gli procurò una vivissima soddisf azione il trovarsi asso¬  ciato col giovane che egli ammirava così profondamente (ed a cui, dicia¬  molo tra parentesi, Io scrittore De Sanctis, non ha reso giustizia); gran  parte della sua soddisfazione, proveniva vinche dal fatto die egli vedeva  elio la sua filosofia si era fatto strada fino in Italia. Non avveniva spes¬  so che egli fosse contento di quanto sì scriveva sulle sue opere, non tro¬  vava mai che lo avessero letto con sufficiente attenzione; ma quest 1 uo¬  mo, così diceva, lo aveva assorbito in sucóurn et tangm nem .Quando -Schopenhauer arrivò a Venezia per la prima Tolta, e pii  scrisse : « chiunque si trova repenti nani ente trasferito in un contrada  « totalmente straniera, ove prevale un modo di vivere e di parlare dif-  « ferente da quello a cui e pii è abituato, ha il sentimento di chi ina-  « spettata mente ha messo il piede nel F acqua fredda. Egli avverte su-  « bito la differenza di tempera tura, sente una forte influenza che agi-  « sce dal di fuori e che lo rende infelice; egli si trova in un elemento  « estraneo in cui non sa muoversi comodamente, A questo si aggiunga  « che egli si accorge come ogni cosa attira la sua attenzione e che teme  « di essere a ne Ir e gl i osservato da tutti. Ma dal momento che si è eal-  « maio, che ha incominciato ad assorbire la. nuova temperatura e ad  « abituarsi al nuovo ambiente, egli si trova bene come difatti si trova  « un uomo nell* a equa fresca. Egli si è assimilato a!1 J elemento, ed averir  « do perciò cessato di occuparsi della propria persona, rivolge la sua  a attenzione esclusivamente a ciò che lo circonda: ed ora, appunto per-  « che lo contempla con oggettività neutrale, egli si sente superiore al  « suo ambiente come prima se ne sentiva schiacciato,   « Viaggiando le impressioni dlogni genere abbondano, ed il nutria  s mento intellettuale ci viene in tale quantità che non ci rimane tempo  c per la digestione. Ci rincresce che le impressioni le quali si succedono  a rapidamente non possano lasciare una impronta permanente. In real-  tà però avviene qui quello che ci accade quando leggiamo. Quante  «* volte ci lamentiamo di non essere capaci di ritenere la millesima par-  «te di quanto abbiamo letto! W confortante però in ognuno dei due  « casi il sapere che ciò che abbiamo visto e letto, ha fatto sulla nostra  « mente un'impressione, prima d'essere dimenticato, impressione che  « concorre a formare e nutrire la mente, mentre ciò che riteniamo a  « memoria serve soltanto a riempire i vuoti della testa con materie che  « ci rimangono sempre estranee, perchè non le abbiamo mai assorbite;  « il recipiente dunque potrebbe anche essere rimasto vuoto come prima. »   Schopenhauer era d’opinione elle, viaggiando, possiamo riconosce-  re quanto areno radicate le opinioni pubbliche e nazionali., e quanto  sia difficile di cambiare il modo di pensare d T un popolo,   « Mentre cerchiamo d'evitare uno scoglio, ne incontriamo un altro;  « mentre fuggiamo i pensieri nazionali di un paese, in un secondo ne  « troviamo degli altri, ma non dei migliori. Il cielo ci liberi da questa  « valle di miseria!   « \ i a gg ian do veci i a m o 1 a v ita u ma n a s ot t o ni olle fori n e dive rs e :  « ed è questo appunto che rende i viaggi così interessanti. Ma, ving-  « g i a n d o, non v e d i a m o c he il lato esteriore del la v if a u ni a n a ; cioè ne  « scorgiamo soltanto quello che se ne vede generalmente. D'altra parte  « non vediamo mai la vita interiore del popolo, il suo cuore ed il suo  « centro, cioè il campo in cui Vazione del popolo si svolge, in cui il  «suo carattere si manifesta,,., quindi,, viaggiando, vediamo il mondo a come un paesaggio dipinto con un orizzonte vasto che abbraccia molte  <i cose, ma che non li a personaggi spiccati. Di lì, nasce pure la stan¬  tìi ehezza del viaggio. »   Schopenhauer studiò profondamente gl’Italiani, i loro costumi e  la loro religione. Di quest’ultima dice:   La religione cattolica è un ordine per ottenere il cielo mendicando,  giacche sarebbe troppo disturbo doverlo guadagnare. I preti sono i me¬  diatori di questa transazione.   « Ogni religione positiva dopo tutto non fa che usurpare il trono  « che per diritto spetta alla filosofia ; i filosofi quindi la coniti attera uno  a sempre, anche se dovessero considerarla come un male neccessario ed  « inevitabile, un appoggio per la debolezza morbosa della maggior pur-  « te degli uomini.   a La nuda verità non ha la forza di frenare le menti rozze e di co¬  te stringerle ad astenersi dal male e dalla crudeltà giacche esse non san¬  ti no afferrare queste verità. Di lì il bisogno di storne, di parabole e di  « dottrine positive. «   In dicembre ièlS la sua grande opera vide la luce per la prima  volta. Schopenhauer ne mandò una copia a Goethe. Poi nella prima¬  vera del 1819, egli si trasferì a Napoli; Goethe accusò ricevuta del do¬  no per mezzo di Adele Schopenhauer, una delle predilette del vecchio  poeta.   « Goethe ha ricevuto il tuo libro con grande piacere, scrive Adele,  a Egli immediata mente divise V opera voluminosa in due parti e cornili-  « ciò a leggerla. Un’ora dopo egli mi mandò il biglietto qui unito, di-  « eendomi che egli ti ringraziava molto e credeva che tutto il libro .do-  « vesso esser buono, giacche aveva sempre la fortuna di aprire i libri  « nei posti più notevoli; così egli mi disse d'avere letto le pagine indi-  « caie (pag. 22 e pag. 340 della prima edizione,) ed egli spera di po-  « ferii scrivere quanto prima la sua opinione completa. Intanto egli  « desiderava che io ti dicessi questo. Alcuni giorni dopo Ottilia mi dis-  « se che il di lei padre leggeva il tuo libro con un interesse che lessa  « fino allora non aveva mai osservato in lui. Egli le Ka detto che ora ave-  « va. un divertimento per tutto ranno, giacché intendeva leggere il tuo  libro da capo in fondo e credeva che ciò lo avrebbe occupato per un  « anno. Disse a me ch’egli si sentiva proprio felice di saperti sempre  « a lui devoto, nonostante il vostro disaccordo sulla teoria dei colori.  « Disse pure che nel tuo libro gli piaceva sopra tutto la chiarezza della  « rappresentazione e del linguaggio, sebbene la tua lingua differisce  da quella degli altri e che occorresse prima avvezzarsi a chiamare le  « cose come tu lo vuoi.   « ila, continuò, quando una volta si é pervenuto a queste, allora  « la lettura procede con facilità e comodo. Anche la disposizione della  « materia gli piaceva ; solfante la forma immaneggiabile del libro non  a gli dava pace, e si convinse che F opera dovesse consìstere di due vo-  a fumi* Spero di rivederlo solo ed allora egli mi dirà iorse qualche cosa  « di più soddisfacente ; ad ogni mudo tu sei il solo autore che Goethe  « legga in questo modo e con tanta serietà* »   Nondimeno Schopenhauer ritenne F opinione che Goethe non lo  legasse con sufficiente attenzione ; che il poeta avesse già speso il po~  co interesse che aveva per le questioni filosofiche*   A Napoli Schopenhauer fu principalmente in rapporto con giovani  inglesi. L’elemento inglese aveva per lui, durante tutta la sua vita, un  fascino speciale; credeva che gl"Inglesi erano quasi giunti ad esse)e  il più gran popolo del mondo, e che soltanto alcuni loro pregiudizi si  opponevano, acciocché infatti lo fossero. La sua cognizione della loro  lingua ed il suo accento erano tanto perfetti che anche gl T Inglesi stessi  per- qualche tempo lo prendevano per un loro cOmpatriftta, un errore  die sempre lo esaltava*   Tutto quanto vide, concorse a confermare ed a sviluppare il suo  sistema filosofico * Rimase specialmente colpito dal quadro di un gio¬  vane artista veneziano, Hayez, esposto a Capo di Monte ; di questo quadro  illustrava la sua dottrina per quanto riguarda le lagrime che, secondo  il nostro filosofo, si spargono sempre per compassione di sé stesso* Il  quadro rappresentava, il passo dell 1 Odissea, ove Ulisse piange alla Cor¬  te di re Alcinoo, il feaco, sentendo cantare le proprie sventure, « Questa  « è Fespressione più alta idi e possa avere la compassione di se stesso. »  Schopenhauer aveva oramai raggiunto la piena maturità e forza  dell’uomo. Secondò lui il genio dell’uomo non dura più della bellezza  delle donne, cioè quindici anni, dal ventesimo al trentesimo quinto*  & La ventina e la prima parte della trentina sono per Fintelletto quello  « che è il 'uose di maggio per gii alberi, questi durante la stagione prh  <t maverile emettono soltanto dei bottoni che poi diventano frutti* »  L’esteriore, di Schopenhauer doveva essere caratteristico, ma la sua bel¬  lezza stava nell 9 animo e non nella faccia; i suoi occhi vivaci, ed ardenti  anche nella vecchiaia, nella gioventù rischiaravano quella testa poten¬  te col loro sguardo acuto e limpido. Verso quel tempo un vecchio si¬  gnore* a lui perfettamente estraneo, gli si accosto in istrada per dirgli  che egli, Schopenhauer, sarebbe stato un giorno un grand’uomo* An¬  che un Italiano, che pure non lo conosceva, venne da lui e gli disse:  € Signore, lei deve aver fatto qualche grande opera; non so cosa sia,  a ma lo vedo nel suo viso* » Un Francese che alla tal)le cVhote, gli sede¬  va dirimpetto, ad un tratto esclamò: « Je ooudrais savori- ce qu il penr-  « se de nous autres j nous devom par altre hien ■ petit s à ses yeiux ! ?> Un  giovane Inglese rifiutò assolutamente di cambiare posto con le parole:  « Yoglio stare qui, perchè mi piace vedere la sua faccia intelligente. »  Nel riposo egli rassomiglia va a Beethoven; entrambi avevano la  stessa testa quadrata, ma il cranio di Schopenhauer dev’essere stato piu grande come lo prova la misura elle ne fu presa dopo la sua morie  e che recai un’idea delle prò pozioni straordinarie eli questa testa, E no¬  tevole la distanza che correva tra un occhio e V altro; egli non poteva  portare occhiali ordinari. Era di statura media, tarchiata e muscolosa ,  aveva le spalle larghe ; In sua bella testa era portata da un collo troppo  breve per esser bello* Capelli biondi e ricci Liti circondavano la sua fron¬  te e cadevano sulle sue spalle; quando era giovane, mustacchi biondi  coprivano la sua bocca ben formata, che coll'accrescersi degli anni  perdette la sua bellezza a misura che perdeva i denti. Il suo naso era  di bellezza speciale e cosi pure le sue piccole mani* Egli stesso faceva  una distinzione fra la fisionomia, intelletuale e morale à- un uomo; cer¬  cava la prima nelPocchio e nella fronte, la seconda nelle forme della  bocca e del mento. Era soddisfatto della sua fisionomia intellettuale,  ma non della sua fisionomia morale* Vestiva sempre bene e con elegan¬  za, il.suo contegno era aristocratico e leggermente altero. Portava Seni¬  li re V abito, cravatta bianca e scarpe; i suoi abiti erano sempre dello  stesso taglio senza riguardo alla moda, eppure egli non pareva mai stra¬  no, talmente aveva adattato il vestito alla persona. He il popolo in istra¬  da spesso lo seguiva collo sguardo, ne era causa il suo esteriore animato  dal fuoco dei genio, e non il suo vestito. Più tardi fu fatto il suo ri¬  tratto con la fotografia e colla pittura; la tradizione soltanto ci parla  dèi suo esteriore, quando era nel fiore degli anni virili.   Velia biografia, del laborioso antiquario e storico I. E. Bolline! tro¬  viamo runica menzione fatta del viaggio di Schopenhauer a Roma.  Allora era un'epoca di misticismo per Parte e per la religione della  Germania, epoca che produsse nella storia un Biniseli, nell’arte un  Cornelius ed un Qverbeck. I giovani artisti tedeschi, chiamati dal loro  console ad ornare la di lui villa sul monte Pine io, avevano l'abitudine  di riunirsi quotidianamente con certi poeti e giornalisti nel caffè Greco,  diventato il punto d'incontro per tutti i Tedeschi di Bontà. Il poeta  Ruekert ed il novelliere L, Schefer, ottimisti per professione, frequentavano allora quella casa. Molti degli uomini più importanti della Ger¬  mania allora viventi, si trovavano nella eterna città. Schopenhauer,  come gli altri, frequentava il caffè Greco, ma pare che il suo spirito  mefistofelico fosse un elemento disturbatore per i visitatori ordinari  che desideravano che egli si allontanasse* Un giorno egli annunciò alla  società che la nazione tedesca era la più stupida di tutte, ma che era  in un punto a tutte superiore, cioè che era arrivata al pùnto di poter  fare a meno della religione. Questa osservazione suscitò una tempesta  ili disapprovazioni, ed alcune voci gridarono: fuori! alla porta met¬  tetelo fuori ! Dà quel giorno in poi il filosofo evitò il caffè Greco, ina  le sue opinioni sui Tedeschi rimasero inalterate. « La patria tedesca  * in me non si è allevato un patriota », disse un giorno ; e spesso anda dicendo ai suoi compatì lotti a francesi ed a inglesi che egli si vergoigmva di essere tedesco, piaceli è questo popolo era tanto stupido, a Se  « io pensassi così della mia nazione », rispose un Francese, « almeno  « non lo direi. »   « Questo Schopenhauer è un sala miste) (N&rr) insopportabile »,  scrive Bòhmer. « Questi filosofi antitedeschi ed irreligiosi, dovrebbero  « essere tutti quanti rinchiusi pei bene comune, »   Schopenhauer non menava una vita santa ed ascetica, uè pretese  die gli altri lo credessero. Egli sprezzava le donne; considerava ibi more  sessuale come una delle manifestazioni più caratteristiche della volon¬  tà; tuttavia non era dissoluto. Sospirava con Byron : «Più che vedo  « gli uomini meno mi piacciono; tutto sarebbe bene se potessi dire lo  « stesso delle donne. » Egli differiva dagli uomini ordinari, parlando  di ciò che gli altri sopprimono. I suoi discepoli troppo zelanti die cre¬  devano vedere qualcosa di divino in tutte le sue azioni, trassero alla  luce del giorno anche questi suoi discorsi e quindi attirarono sul maestro un’imputazione che egli non ha mai meritata. Le idee di Schopenhaner coincidevano con questa osservazione di Buddha ; « Non v ? è pas-  « sione più potente di quella dei sessi : di fronte a. questa nessun’ultra  «merita d’essere menzionata; se ve ne fosse un'altra di questa forza,  « per la carne non vi sarebbe più salute! » E di lì nacque senza dubbio il timore di Sdì operili auer « di non poter raggiungere il Nirvana »,  come egli disse con rincrescimento al dottor Grwinner.   In mezzo a questi trastulli leggeri colla bellezza femminile gli  giunse ad un tratto la notizia che V antica ditta di Danzi e a, in cui era  implicata gran parte della sua sostanza e tutta quella di sua madre, era  minacciata di bancarotta. Senza indugio si trasferì in Germania; ia  perdita del suo avere era il male che Schopenhauer temeva maggior-  mente., il male che egli sapeva di poter sopportare più difficilmente,  tenuto calcolo del suo temperamento. Egli non era adatto a guada'  gnarsi il. pane; la sua intelligenza non era di quelle che si possono dare  in affitto. L’indipendenza materiale che egli aveva ereditata gli parve  sempre uno dei più grandi beni della sua vita, dacché s ! era tutto dedicato a suoi studi. Nei Par erga, sotto il titolo V on (lem was Einer hai , egli scrive : Non. istimo indegno della mia penna di raccomandare hi cura  « della fortuna che si è acquistata per lavoro o per eredità. E 5 un van-  « faggio inapprezzabile il possedere fin da principio quanto occorre per  « vivere, sia anche solo e senza famiglia, comodamente ed in vera im.1L  « pendenza, c 1 o è se iiz a 1 avocar e ; quèsto stato rende huomn esente ed  « immune dalla privazione e quindi dalla servitù universale, sorte caie ninne dei mortali. Colui soltanto che dal destino fu favorito in questo  « modo è veramente nato uomo libero, giacché soltanto egli è vwr j.arix,  « padrone del suo tempo e delle sue facoltà e può dire ogni mattina ; il  « giorno è mio. Per questa ragione la differenza tra colui che hn mille ai    a scudi d’entrata e colui clie ne La centomila- è molto minore di quella  « che corre tra il primo e colui che non La nulla. La fortuna ereditari si  « acquista un sommo valore, quando cade in mano ad un uomo il quale,   « dotato di capacità intellettuali d’ordine elevato, segue tendenze in-  « compatibili col lavoro pel pane quotidiano. Tale uomo ricevette da!   « destino un doppio corredo e può vivere pel suo genio; ma egli coni¬  ti pensa cento volte il debito contratto verso- V umanità, effettuando cosa  « che nessun altro potrebbe effettuare, e producendo qualcosa pel bene  « ed anzi per V onore comuni, TTn altro in questa condizione privile-  « gìata con tendenze filantropi eh e saprà meritarsi la gratitudine d elee l’umanità. D’altra parte sarà un pigro spregevole colui che si tro¬  te va in possesso d’ una fortuna ereditaria e non cerca in nessun modo,   « neppure acquistando a fondo qualche scienza, di rendersi utile all’umanità, »   a Questo ora- è riservato al più alto grado di perfezione iute Ilei-  ft tuale che noi al solito chiamiamo genio; il genio solo si occupa escili-  sivamente dell’esistenza e della natura delle cose, per poi esprimere  a i suoi concetti profondi, secondo la propria inclinazione, per mezzo  <* dell’arte, della poesia e della filosofia. Pei uno spirito di questo ge-  « nere il commercio non interrotto con sé stesso, co’ suoi pensieri e colle  « sue opere è un bisogno urgente. Ad esso è cara la. solitudine, e l’ozio è il suo bene maggiore; il resto non gli è indispensabile, anzi talvolta gli è gravoso. Di tal uomo soltanto possiamo dire con ragione che  « abbia in sé stesso il suo punto di gravità. Cosi si spiega perchè queste  « persone tanto rare, anche se hanno il miglior carattere del mondo,  « non mostrano per gli amici, per la famiglia e pel bene comune quella  a -simpatia ardente ed illimitata, di cui dispongono tanti altri; giacche  « dopo tutto possono consolarsi d’ogin cosa finché hanno sé stessi* In  « loro vive un elemento d'isolazione tanto più attivo quanto meno gli  «altri possano dar loro soddisfazione; questi altri uomini, essi non li  « considerano interamente come loro pan; e dal momento che corniti-  « ciano a vedere che tutto a loro è eterogeneo, prendono l’abitudine di  « camminare in mezzo agli nomi ni, come se questi fossero esseri da loro  « diversi; nei loro pensieri ne parlano come di terze persone, dicendo:  « essi, loro , e mai noi. « Tln uomo munito di questa ricchezza interiore non chiede al mondo esterno nulla, all* infuori d'un dono negativo, cioè la libertà di svilappare e di migliorare le sue facoltà intellettuali, di godere la sua  « ricchezza interiore, vale a dire di essere interamente a sé in ogni gioì « no. in ogni ora e durante tutta la sua vita. Quando un uomo è desti-  « nato a lasciare l’impronta del suo intelletto all’intera razza umana,  « egli non può conoscere che una sola gioia, cioè quella di vedere le  « sue facolt-a riconosciute e di trovarsi in grado di compiere l’opera  e sua; oppure un rammarico e cioè d J esserne impedito. Ogni altra, cosa  « è insignificante ; e intatti troviamo clic in tutti i tempi le menti più  *; elevate abbiano pregiato sopra ogni altra cosa E ozio, ed il valore di  « quest'ozio equivale appunto al valore deli-uomo stesso. Volentieri Schopenhauer cita questa massima di Mienstone: la  libertà è un cordiale più fortificante del Tokay,   Pieno dei più cupi presentimenti egli si portò con fretta in  Germania, (tra zi e alla sua energia e alla siili diffidenza d ogni prò Fessio-  nej riuscì a salvare la maggior parte della propria sostanza. Sua in mire  non volle prendere consiglio,, e quando venne la catastrofe finale essa  ed Adele rimasero quasi senza un centesimo,   Questo incidente dimostra die Schopenhauer non era filosofo (/truche  e poco pratico; egli certamente non avrebbe inciampalo, guardando cri  ammirando le stelle ; al genio egli univa il senso pratico, una combina¬  zione molto rara, la cui origine egli faceva risalire a suo padre nego¬  ziante. Ed è questa qualità che fa di Schopenhauer il vero filosofo pei  bisogni d’ogrii giorno, lasciando da parte il -suo pessimismo. Egli aveva  vissuto nel mondo e non era uno di quegli studiosi che vivono rinchiusi nel loro studio ; egli conosceva i bisogni e le richieste del mondo i  suoi aforismi ed assiomi non sono troppo elevati per essere messi in  pratica s oltreché sono esposti in linguaggio chiaro ed intelligibile ed  esprimono spesso le percezioni d’ogni mente che pensa.   Though man a tlilnkmg being is ci e fine d,   Few use thè great prerogative oi minti;   How few thiiik jusUy oì thè tliiriking few;   II ow manv n e ver inmk, who think they do.   Sfortunata incute il loro numero è infinito ed a loro non occorre  nè filosofo, nè poeta, uè artista; ginstinti sono per loro nella vita una  guida sufficiente. Mario Casotti. Keywords: volere, sì che Socrate si tramuti in Alcibiade! Grice: “And perhaps Socrates *becomes* Alcibiades!” die welt as will –volere – filosofia fascista  -- la volonta di potere, un invento della sorella di Nietzsche che piaceva a Hitler ---- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Casotti” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Castelli   

 

 

Grice e Castrucci: l’implicatura conversazionale del guerriero indo-germanico -- sul conferimento di valore – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Monterosso al Mare). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “Castrucci is wrong.” Frequenta il liceo classico di La Spezia, iscrivendosi quindi all'Firenze, dove si è formato negli studi filosofico-giuridici e storico-giuridici alla scuola di Vallauri e di Grossi, laureandosi in giurisprudenza. Ha ricoperto in quell'ateneo il ruolo di ricercatore universitario di filosofia del diritto. A Firenze è entrato in contatto per un breve periodo, pur senza aderirvi, con l'area di Autonomia Operaia espressa all'epoca da Negri, con la cui consulenza ha scritto la sua tesi di laurea (Tra Stato di diritto e pianificazione, Firenze). Insegna a Genova e Siena.  I suoi studi riguardano principalmente la filosofia politica e la storia delle idee giuridiche, avendo come oggetto alcuni aspetti costitutivi della dimensione contemporanea, tra i quali si possono ricordare: i presupposti antropologici del politico; i fondamenti dello jus publicum europaeum, la critica dell’ideologia dei diritti dell'uomo. La sua ricerca riguarda inoltre le origini e le forme del pensiero giuridico europeo moderno, la ricostruzione delle linee fondamentali della teoria dello Stato tedesca del primo XX secolo, le radici giuridiche e teologiche della tradizione culturale dell'Occidente. C. ne ha sviluppato autonomamente la concezione del manierismo politico nei propri scritti sulla filosofia politica convenzionalista del XVII secolo. Nel corso della sua ricerca  ha approfondito in particolar modo filoni di pensiero riconducibili alla rivoluzione conservatrice europea, contribuendo inoltre alla diffusione nella giurisprudenza italiana del nomos della terra, con cura editoriale dello storico della filosofia di Volpi e di Legge e giudizio. Uno studio sul problema della prassi giudiziale. “Convenzione”, “forma”, “potenza” sono i concetti chiave della riflessione filosofico-politica europea di cui, nel suo analisi si ritrova tracciato lo sviluppo storico-genealogico e vengono indagate le implicazioni teoriche. La convenzione, o per meglio dire l’ordine giuridico convenzionale, è il concetto che corrisponde al modo in cui la razionalità giuridica affronta il problema di un ordine giuridico tecnico, artificiale, positivista, svincolato da quelle premesse di valore di tipo teologico o metafisico o naturale che avevano caratterizzato il diritto romano. Delinea in questo senso la storia e la teoria di un ordine convenzionale (o artificiale e non naturale) nel quadro della modernità matura, che dal Seicento barocco procede fino alla crisi della cultura del primo Novecento.  Accade in questo quadro che il primato classico dell'idea filosofica di forma venga sostituito da quello, tipicamente moderno, dell'idea di decisione. La decisione si contrappone così alla forma. Confrontandosi con i campi diversi della filosofia politica, dell'etica e della letteratura, l'analisi incontra figure significative di filosofi e scrittori come Benjamin, Musil, Valéry. Il complesso apparentemente discorde delle loro voci, che C. analizza, porta all'idea di una forma elaborata su basi rinnovate rispetto all'impostazione “formalista” e “normativista” di ascendenza kantiana, a lungo prevalente nel campo dell'estetica e della teoria del diritto.  Nello sviluppo storico e genealogico dell'idea metafisica di potenza si possono infine riconoscere, secondo C., le linee di un'antropologia politica fondata su basi individualistiche (potenza come acquisizione di spazio, ossia affermazione individuale nella spazialità: Selbstbehauptung), che però non trascura il serio problemaposto nel corso del Novecento dalla migliore dottrina costituzionale tedescadel radicamento materiale e simbolico del singolo individuo nella comunità politica di appartenenza (potenza come stabilizzazione, ossia radicamento individuale e comunitario nella spazialità). Risulta evidente in tutto ciò il riferimento all'idea schmittiana di Ortung, ossia localizzazione o radicamento, elaborata da Schmitt, ma anche secondo quanto sostiene Castrucci all'idea di potenza già rinvenibile nell'antropologia filosofica di Spinoza e di Nietzsche.  L'analisi di Castrucci muove più in generale dal proposito di riconsiderare, seguendo il modello della lotta delle idee proprio della critica della cultura, una serie di concreti problemi teorici su cui la cultura europea aveva concentrato l'attenzione in un passato non troppo lontano, per poi distoglierla "nell'inseguimento di una discutibile attualità". Tra questi problemi particolare rilievo tematico acquistano, nel discorso filosofico di C., la ricerca di un'etica fondata su basi epistemologiche convenzionaliste, l'approfondimento delle implicazioni politiche presenti nel pensiero di autori classici della filosofia tedesca come Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Heidegger e Cassirer, la critica radicale delle tesi di autori più recenti come Habermas, nonché infine la questione cruciale delle linee virtuali di costruzione di un mito politico nell'età del nichilismo compiuto.  Hanno suscitato polemiche alcuni suoi tweet, a partire da uno col quale si riferiva a figure storiche naziste come Hitler ritratto col il cane Blondi e il commento di C. "Vi hanno detto che sono stato un mostro per non farvi sapere che ho combattuto contro i veri mostri che oggi vi governano dominando il mondo" e Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, fondatore della Guardia di Ferro; dopo la diffusione di questo tweet, ne sono stati portati in evidenza altri, ritenuti di matrice filonazista, razzista e antisemita,nonché presunti insulti nei riguardi del Presidente della Repubblica Sergio Mattarella e dell'ex Presidente della Camera Laura Boldrini. Replica affermando di aver semplicemente espresso un giudizio storico personale avvalendosi, al di fuori della sua attività didattica, del principio di libertà di pensiero e successivamente, in una memoria difensiva dei suoi avvocati, di non aver mai aderito ad alcuna ideologia nazista, ma di essere un libero pensatore, sottolineando inoltre come la propria critica, volutamente provocatoria e paradossale, andasse piuttosto intesa come indirizzata contro la grande speculazione finanziaria, con esplicito riferimento alla lotta contro la finanza speculativa, l'usura e il signoraggio bancario di Pound. Il suo account è stato chiuso. Il 2 dicembre il rettore dell'Università degli Studi di Siena Francesco Frati ha preso le distanze da C., annunciando di aver "dato mandato agli uffici di attivare i provvedimenti conseguenti alla gravità del caso" e, successivamente, di aver presentato un esposto in procura dopo aver ravvisato "un profilo di illegalità" nelle parole del docente, ipotizzando il reato di odio razziale con l'aggravante di negazionismo. Dopo la sospensione, C. non si è presentato alla Commissione disciplinare dell'ateneo dichiarandola non legittimata a giudicare sul suo caso, mentre l'iter procedurale che avrebbe potuto condurre al licenziamento è stato bloccato in seguito alla richiesta di pensionamento presentata dal professore stesso. L'inchiesta penale è stata affidata per motivi di competenza alla procura di La Spezia. Ordine convenzionale e pensiero decisionista, Milano, Giuffrè); Tra organicismo e "Rechtsidee". Il pensiero giuridico di Erich Kaufmann, Milano, Giuffrè Editore); La forma e la decisione, Milano, Giuffrè); Considerazioni epistemologiche sul conferimento di valore, Firenze, S. Gallo); Introduzione alla filosofia del diritto pubblico di Schmitt, Torino, Giappichelli); Hume e la proprietà, Siena, Università degli Studi di Siena. Dipartimento di scienze storiche, giuridiche, politiche e sociali, Convenzione, forma, potenza. Scritti di storia delle idee e di filosofia giuridico-politica, Milano, Giuffre); Schopenhauer filosofo del diritto, Siena, Università degli Studi di Siena. Dipartimento di scienze storiche, giuridiche, politiche e sociali); Ricognizioni. Quattro studi di critica della cultura, Firenze, S. Gallo); Lezioni di filosofia del diritto, Roma, Aracne Editrice); Per una critica del potere giudiziario. Sugli articoli 101 e 104/1 della Costituzione, Firenze); Profilo di storia del pensiero giuridico, Firenze); Per una critica dell'ideologia dei diritti dell'uomo, Firenze); Nomos e guerra, Napoli, La Scuola di Pitagora); Il regime giuridico delle situazioni d'eccezione, Firenze); Le radici antropologiche del politico, Soveria Mannelli, Rubbettino Editore); La teoria indoeuropea delle tre funzioni in Dumézil e altri saggi, Milano, Giuffrè Francis Lefebvre); La forma giuridica: Concetto e contesti. Tre studi di filosofia del diritto, Napoli, La scuola di Pitagora); Individualismo e assolutismo. Aspetti della teoria politica europea prima di Thomas Hobbes, C., Milano, Giuffrè Editore); Carl Schmitt, Il nomos della terra, Franco Volpi, traduzione di Emanuele Castrucci, Milano, Adelphi); Il nomos della terra, Franco Volpi; Milano, Adelphi); Legge e giudizio. Uno studio sul problema della prassi giudiziale, C., Milano, Giuffre). Le radici antropologiche del 'politico' (Soveria Mannelli, Rubbettino); La ricerca del Nomos, in Il Nomos della terra nel diritto internazionale dello “jus publicum europaeum”, Adelphi, Milano); Retorica dell'universale: Una critica a Habermas, in Filosofia politica, Mulino); Dai diritti individuali ai diritti umani: un totalitarismo in costruzione. Alcuni spunti in margine ad un recente scritto di Castrucci, in Il Politico, Università degli studi di Pavia; Itinerari della forma giuridica. Studi sulla dottrina dello Stato tedesca del primo Novecento, Milano, Giuffrè);  Ordine convenzionale e pensiero decisionista. Saggio sui presupposti intellettuali dello Stato moderno nel Seicento francese, Milano, Giuffre); La forma e la decisione” (Milano, Giuffrè); Ordine convenzionale e pensiero decisionista. Saggio sui presupposti intellettuali dello Stato moderno; La forma e la decisione; Convenzione, forma, potenza: storia delle idee e di filosofia giuridico-politica, Milano, Giuffrè).  HOMO ABSCONDITUS  L’IDEOLOGIA TRI PARTITA  DEGLI INDOEUROPEI  il Cerchio   Iniziative editoriali L'IDEOLOGIA TRIPARTITA DEGLI  INDOEUROPEI costituisce una sintesi completa ed accessibile degli studi  di Dumézil. che hanno rivoluzionato la nostra conosceza delle anti¬  che civiltà euro-asiatiche.   La struttura fondamentale del pensiero religioso e sociale delle popolazioni  uscite dalla comune radice indoeuro¬  pea. dallTrlanda allTndia, la tripartizione sociale in Sacerdoti. Guerrieri e  Contadini che è presente nelle origini  di Roma così come nei miti iranici,  germanici e celti, si rivela essere lo  specchio di un'armonia divina, in cui  gli stessi dèi sono così suddivisi, clas¬  sificati e diversamente adorati.   È la dimostrazione di come, nelle ci¬  viltà tradizionali, anche l'aspetto sociale e politico dipenda radicalmente  dalla dimensione mitico-religiosa. e il  mondo del divino diviene l’archetipo  che dà forma a tutta la società degli    uomini.  DUMÉZIL è  una figura fondamentale nel panorama  culturale europeo.   Filologo e storico, nel ‘900 ha riav¬  viato gli studi attorno alla civiltà indoeuropea nelle grandi civiltà precristiane: Roma. l'India. l'Iran, la Grecia,  le popolazioni celtiche e germaniche.  Ha lasciato una bibliografia sterminata,  solo parzialmente tradotta in italiano, fra  cui ricordiamo almeno La religione ro¬  mana arcaica, Gli Dèi dei Germani,  Mito ed Epopea e Gli Dèi sovrani degli Indoeuropei.  HOMO ABSCONDITUS  Dumézil   L’ideologia tripartita  degli Indoeuropei   Con un saggio introduttivo di  RlES il Cerchio Iniziative editoriali  L'idéologie tripartie des Indo-Européens, Bruxelles Sigillo del re ittita Tarkummuwa, re di Mera.  Walters Art Museum, Baltimora.  II Cerchio Srl La riscoperta del pensiero religioso indoeuropeo  L’opera magistrale di Dumézil. Calmette rinvenne i primi due  Li bri dei Veda, u n documento coni p letamente sco nosciuto i n occidente, e i preziosi manoscritti giunsero nella Biblioteca Reale di Parigi. Davanti all’Asiatic Society of Bengala, Jones pronuncia un dotto discorso in cui dimostrò l’esistenza  di una lingua comune, madre del sanscrito e del greco. Eccoci alle soglie della riscoperta del pensiero indoeuropeo.  Il primo dossier indoeuropeo   Il XIX secolo riprese i lavori di questi pionieri e cercò di com¬  piere nuove scoperte sul pensiero asiatico. Ricercando i documenti  dell’antica mitologia germanica caduti nell’oblio dopo la conversione  dei Germani al Cristianesimo, gli storici tedeschi tentarono di tornare  alle origini spingendosi nei dominii dell’India e dell’Iran. Particolar¬  mente due pubblicazioni provocarono grande risonanza: la prima è la  celebre opera di  Creuzer Simbolik undMvlhologie  der altea Vòfker , tradotto in francese nel 1825; infine nel 1810 J.J.  Gòrres pubblicò il suo Mythengeschichle der asiatischen Welt, in cui questo precursore del romanticismo religioso cercò di d imostrare che i  miti dell’India, dell’Iran e della Grecia veicolavano una dottrina comune su Dio, l’Anima e l’immortalità.   Sulla scia dei loro maestri i mitografi romantici si lanciarono  alla ricerca delle prime idee religiose dell’infanzia umana. Oltre a ciò  questa corrente si occupò dell’espressione e delle modalità di trasmis¬  sione del messaggio religioso sin dalle origini dell’umanità.   A questa corrente romantica si oppose la ricerca storica e filologica, rappresentata da Miiller, da Bopp, da Chézy e da tutta la linea degli specialisti in filologia comparata che studiarono scientificamente i testi  dei Veda e dell’Avesta per familiarizzarsi col pensiero dell’India e  dell’Iran antichi. Tra questi ricercatori Miiller occupa un posto di primaria importanza. Specializzatosi in sanscrito, in  grammatica comparata ed in filosofia del mito ad Oxford, istituì una  Cattedra divenuta celebre: egli credette che la filologia comparata fos se la chiave che avrebbe permesso di aprire le porte della storia delle  religioni. Ai suoi occhi la lingua è un testimone autentico del pensiero.  Miiller sostenne che in origine l’uomo ha agito, e per descrivere i suoi  atti inventò il linguaggio. Da allora i miti non sono altro che la personi¬  ficazione degli oggetti e delle azioni che 1 ’uomo ha dovuto esprimere e  descrivere.   Continuando le sue ricerche in direzione delle origini, Miiller  tradusse i Veda, testo in cui credeva di trovare il primo pensiero indo-europeo e la chiave della religione degli antichi Ariani. Così secon¬  do il nostro Autore i poemi vedici sarebbero la fonte del pensiero religioso dei Persiani, dei Greci e dei Romani. La gemma tra le ricerche di  Miiller è rappresentata dalla pubblicazione dei Sacred Books of thè  Easl (che potè terminare prima della propria morte, la¬  sciando così agli studiosi occidentali una vera summa dei libri sacri  dell’antica Asia.  Il dossier indoeuropeo del XIX secolo è già abbastanza ricco:  scoperta della corrispondenze all’interno del vocabolario delle lingue  indoeuropee; presentimento dell’esistenza di una cultura arcaica ariana come pure di una civiltà comune alle diverse popolazioni. Frazer tentò d’intraprendere un vasto studio comparato at¬  torno al mito romano della morte rituale ed al mito nordico del dio  Balder. Tutta la sua opera, The Golden Bough cerca di delineare una sintesi di questa mitologia, ma le sue conclusio¬  ni sono deludenti.   Dopo una prima esplorazione, condotta secondo il metodo frazeriano, Dumézil abbandonò questa via della regalità sacra per volgersi verso la linguistica e la filologia comparata. Le sue guide furono A.  Meillet e J. Vendryes. In un articolo intitolato Les correspondances de  vocabulaire enlre l ’indo-iranien et Titalo-celtique (in «Mémoires de  la Société Linguistique»), Vendryes ha sottoli¬  neato le corrispondenze esistenti tra parole indo-iraniche da una parte  ed italo-celtiche dall’altra. Si tratta di termini relativi al culto, al sacrificio ed alla religione, c vi sono anche parole mistiche relative all’effi¬  cacia degli atti sacri, alla purezza rituale, all’esattezza dei riti, all’of¬  ferta fatta agli dèi, all’accettazione di questa da patte degli dèi, alla  protezione divina ed alla santità. Questa scoperta fu molto importante,  poiché dimostra l’esistenza di una comunanza di termini religiosi  presso i popoli che in seguito sarebbero divenuti gli Indiani, gli Iranici,  gli Italici ed i Celti. La permanenza di questo vocabolario religioso  alle due estremità del mondo indoeuropeo, in India ed in Iran, nella  Gallia ed in Italia, è un dato molto significativo, benché la scomparsa  di questo vocabolario presso popoli come i Germani e gli Scandinavi  non abbia mancato di incuriosire Vendryes. Riflettendo, egli ha consta¬  tato che questi termini religiosi si sono mantenuti presso quei popoli clic  disponevano di collegi sacerdotali influenti: i brahmani, i sacerdoti avestici, i druidi, il Pontìfex romano. E dunque il sacerdozio a conservare e  trasmettere questo vocabolario grazie ai rituali ed alla liturgia, ai testi  sacri ed alle preghiere. Siamo in presenza di una testimonianza preziosa  c di una fonte importante clic ci conduce ad una conclusione decisiva: il  mondo indoeuropeo arcaico disponeva di concetti religiosi identici clic  veicolava grazie ad un linguaggio comune.   3. La scoperta dell’eredità indoeuropea   Alla luce delle ricerche dì Vendryes, Dumézil ha compreso  quale orientamento imprimere ai propri lavori. Al termine di vent’anni di studio egli doveva trovare la chiave che gli permise di penetrare  gli arcani del pensiero religioso indoeuropeo arcaico. La pubblicazio¬  ne de L'idéologie tripartie des Indo-Européens è il compimento di una lunga marcia ed il punto di partenza per tutte le scoperte  .successive. L’esame del problema flamen-brahman c dei flamini  maggiori a Roma condusse Dumézil ad una conclusione decisiva:   «/ più antichi Romani, gli Umbri, avevano portato con toro in  Italia la stessa concezione conosciuta dagli Indo-Iranici e su cui noto¬  riamente gli Indiani avevano fondato il loro ordine sociale »'   Era la scoperta e la messa a fuoco di un’eredità indoeuropea, di  una ideologia funzionale e gerarchizzata, alla sommità della quale si  trova la sovranità religiosa c giuridica, seguita dalla forza fisica che  s’incama nella guerra, mentre al terzo livello si situa la fecondi-  tà-fertil ità, sottomessa alla sovranità ed alla forza ma indispensabile al  loro mantenimento c sviluppo. Munito di questa griglia di lettura lo  studioso francese si c avventurato nello studio di tutta la documenta¬  zione disponibile. Si tratta di uno studio comparativo il cui oggetto c il  dato indoeuropeo.   Durante il III c II millennio a.C. delle bande di conquistatori si  spostarono verso l’Atlantico, il Mediterraneo c l’Asia. Le loro parlate  erano fatte di diversi dialetti provenienti da una lingua comune, il che  suppone un fondo intellettuale e morale identico, ed un minimo di civiltà comune. Popoli senza scrittura, gli Indoeuropei hanno lasciato  pochi documenti. Solo gli Hittiti, stabilitisi in Anatolia all’inizio del II  millennio a.C., hanno adottato una scrittura cuneiforme che consentì  loro di conservare degli archivi. Ma ciò che c notevole c la persistenza  del vocabolario religioso legato all’organizzazione sociale, alle prati¬  che cultuali ed ai comportamenti religiosi. Parecchi fatti presuppon¬  gono l’esistenza di una religione che rappresenta una dottrina coerente, una spiegazione del cosmo, una concezione dell’origine, del  presente c del futuro. DUMÉZIL, Mythe et epopèe I. L 'idéologie des troisfunctions dans les  épopees despeuple indo-européens, Gallimard, Paris 1968, p. 15 (Trad.  italiana, Einaudi, Torino 1982 - NdT)   Volendo spiegare quest’eredità e la sua struttura, Dumézil ha  elaborato il proprio metodo comparativo, che lui stesso chiama «genetico)}. La prima fase del lavoro consiste nel mettere in evidenza delle  corrispondenze precise e sistematiche, che permettano di tracciare  uno schema del rituale: miti, riti, significati logici ed articolazioni essenziali. Questo schema viene proiettato nella preistoria, al fine di  comprendere la curva dell’evoluzione religiosa. Possedendo delle  corrispondenze precise, sistematiche e numerose, lo storico delle civiltà e lo storico delle religioni procedono per induzione in direzione  delle origini. Utilizzando i dati dell’archeologia, della mitologia, della  filologia, della sociologia, della liturgia e della teologia arcaica, lo storico giunge a comprendere le grandi linee del pensiero di questi popoli  e la loro evoluzione, sino alle soglie della storia. Grazie a questo lavoro lungo ed arduo si è riusciti a stabilire un’archeologia del comporta¬  mento e delle rappresentazioni.   Dumézil non ha preteso di resuscitare la religione degli  Indoeuropei come venne vissuta nei tempi preistorici. Si è accontentato  piuttosto di delineare lo schema concettuale delle società collegate tra  loro nello sviluppo della storia, e si è servito di questi schemi per giun¬  gere a spiegare i testi ed i fatti che resistevano ad ogni spiegazione.   Nelle civiltà indoeuropee il nostro autore trova una struttura sociale articolata in tre funzioni. Sono queste i tre varna dell’India: i  brdhmana, sacerdoti incaricati del sacrificio e custodi della scienza  sacra; gli ksatriya, guerrieri incaricati della protezione del popolo; i  vaisya, produttori dei beni materiali, del nutrimento. Secondo il  Rg-Vecla (Vili, 35) queste tre «caste» sono molto antiche. In Iran  l 'Avesta menziona tre gruppi di uomini: sacerdoti o àQaitrvan; guer¬  rieri, i radaci.star montatori di carri; gli agricoltori-allevatori, chiamati vàstryò.fsuycmt. Una struttura identica ha lasciato tracce presso gli  Sciti ed i loro discendenti, gli Osseti del Caucaso, e presso i Celti ed i  loro druidi, la loro aristocrazia militare ed i loro boairig, gli allevatori  DUMÉZIL, L ’heritage des indo-curopéens à Rome, Gallimard, Paris  di buoi. L’analisi delle origini di Roma condotta da Dumézil si è riveata particolarmente illuminante.   Queste tre funzioni sono attività fondamentali e indispensabili  per la vita normale della comunità. La prima funzione, quella del sa¬  cro, regola i rapporti degli uomini fra loro e sotto la garanzia degli dèi,  determina il potere del re e traccia i limiti della scienza, inseparabile  dalla manipolazione delle cose sacre. La seconda funzione, quella re¬  lativa alla forza fisica, interviene nella conquista, nell’organizzazione  della società e nella sua difesa. La terza ricopre un vasto ambito, quel¬  lo della sussistenza degli uomini e della conservazione della società:  fecondità animale ed umana, nutrimento, ricchezza e salute. Dumézil  ha dimostrato che la società indoeuropea era governata in profondità  grazie ad una mentalità fondata su una struttura trifunzionale.  La teologia si trova al centro del mondo indoeuropeo. Una delle  grandi prove di ciò è la lista degli dèi ariani di Mitanni trovata su una  tavoletta a Bogazkòy, l’antica Hattusa, capitale dell’impero hittita.  Scoperta nel 1907, questa tavoletta contiene il testo di un trattato concluso nel 1380 a.C. tra il re hittita Supilulliuma ed il redi Mitanni chia¬ mato Matiwaza. Come garanti della loro alleanza ognuno dei re invo¬  ca i propri dèi: il re di Mitanni invoca gli dèi considerati i protettori  della società ariana: Mithra-Varuna, India e i Nasatya. Sono gli dèi  delle tre funzioni che ritroviamo in India ed in Iran. In quest’ultimo  paese è la riforma di Zarathustra e la formulazione delle sei entità divi¬  ne - gli Immortali Benefici - che illustra in maniera illuminante questa  teologia strutturata su tre piani ed articolata in tre funzioni.   Dai Mitanni, dall’India e dall’Iran Dumézil è pervenuto all’Ita¬  lia ove ha rilevato la triade Jun-Lart-Vofiono a Iguvium (Gubbio) in  Umbria ed a Roma la triade precapitolina Juppiter-Mars-Quirinus.   Questi dati indicano chiaramente che l’ideologia è correlata ad  una teologia delle tre funzioni. Nell’India vedica ciò comporta  un’associazione di tre coppie di dèi stabiliti su tre livelli: gli dèi Mitra  e Varuna, signori del primo livello, si dividono la sovranità di questo  mondo e dell’altro: Indra, scortato dai Marut, un battaglione di giova¬  ni guerrieri, proclama l’esuberanza e la vittoria; i NàsaLya o Asvin  sono distributori di salute, fecondità, abbondanza in uomini ed armen¬  ti; si tratta dunque di una teologia tripartita.   Il documento di Hattusadel 1380 a.C. ci mostra che questa teo¬  logia è anteriore alla redazione dei Veda e che fa parte della tradizione  ariana arcaica; d’altra parte, la presenza dello schema trifunzionale  nella teologia di Zarathustra ed il suo riflesso sugli «Arcangeli» raggruppati intomo al dio supremo Ahura Mazda conferma l’attacca¬  mento ad una struttura di pensiero ariano sia presso i sacerdoti che i  popoli dell’Iran antico. La stessa eredità teologica si rinviene anche in  Italia, presso i Celti, i Germani e gli Scandinavi.   Conclusioni   E stato necessario tutto il XIX secolo per costituire il dossier indoeuropeo. Il merito di Georges Dumézil c stato quello di aver consa¬  crato un 'intera vita all’interpretazione di questa documentazione. Egli  ha iniziato il suo cammino sulla scia di Max Miillcr c di James Frazer:  una ricerca di equazioni nell’onomastica relativa al dominio del culto  e delle divinità. Le corrispondenze all’interno del vocabolario del sa¬  cro, dei popoli indo-iranici da una parte c di quelli italo-ccltici dall’al¬  tra, hanno fornito allo studioso l’idea di studiare più a fondo i paralleli  attorno alle divinità ed ai sacerdoti, poiché questi popoli sono i soli tra  gli indoeuropei ad aver conservato per molti secoli i loro collegi sacerdotali.   Questa nuova via fu illuminante, poiché ha condotto alla sco¬  perta di un’eredità indoeuropea ancora visibile agli inizi della storia  dei popoli italici, celtici, iranici cd indiani. L’assenza di vestigia ar¬  cheologiche concrete ha costretto Dumézil a mettere a punto un meto¬  do comparativo genetico fondato sull’archeologia delle rappresenta¬  zioni c del comportamento: servendosi dei miti, dei riti, delle tracce  dell’organizzazione sociale, delle vestigia del sacro c del sacerdozio  egli ha potuto individuare i meccanismi - c gli equilibri costitutivi -  della società e della religione indoeuropea: una teologia trifunzionale  che divide il mondo divino in dèi della sovranità, dèi della forza e dei  della fecondità. A questa teologia corrisponde la tripartizione sociale:  classe sacerdotale, guerrieri, agricoltori-allevatori.     Mezzo secolo di ricerche hanno permesso di delineare questa  visione nuova del mondo ariano arcaico, di realizzare una sintesi delle  vestigia della civiltà e della religione indoeuropea e di far indietreg¬  giare di più d’un millennio i lempora ignota.   Julien Ries  Università di Louvaìn-la-Neuve  Nelle pagine che seguono non una sola volta si farà menzione  de\V habitat degli Indoeuropei, delle vie delle loro migrazioni, della  loro civiltà materiale. Su questi punti così dibattuti il metodo qui im¬  piegato non ha presa e d’altra parte la loro soluzione non interessa  molto i problemi qui posti. La «civiltà indoeuropea» che noi conside¬  reremo è quella dello spirito.   Al pari degli Indiani vedici, come ci vengono presentati dai loro  inni, gli Indoeuropei non furono uomini senza riflessione e senza im¬  maginazione, tutt’altro. Esattamente da vent’anni ormai la comparazione delle più antiche tradizioni, dei diversi popoli parlanti lingue in¬  doeuropee, ha rivelato un fondo considerevole di elementi comuni,  elementi non isolati ma organizzati in strutture complesse delle quali  non ci è offerto un equivalente in altri popoli del mondo antico.  L'esposizione, che ci si appresta a leggere, è consacrata alla più importante di queste strutture.   L’obiettivo essenziale è quello di guidare lo studente, tramite  una serie di riassunti ordinati e consequenziali, attraverso una mole di  argomenti poco agevoli a causa della loro eterogeneità e del loro frazionamento.   Nello stesso tempo si vorrebbe fornire ai lettori già informati  una prima e provvisoria sintesi, si vorrebbe dare non solo un ordine ma  una messa a fuoco alla correlazione generale che solo uno sguardo  d’insieme può imporre ai risultati parziali.   Un problema che per anni è stato capitale e in primo piano - penso al valore trifunzionale delle tre tribù romane primitive - si trova qui  limitato in un secondo livello; al contrario, le numerose applicazioni ideologiche delle tre funzioni, le cui segnalazioni si trovano disperse  nelle pubblicazioni più svariate, acquisteranno ora, io spero, potenza  grazie ad un parallelismo che farà risaltare il loro semplice riavvicina¬  mento.   Questo doppio disegno non prevederànote a piè di pagina: si è  preferito costruire una sorta di commentario bibliografico distribuito  secondo i paragrafi del libro, indicando i testi affinché ognuno riepilo¬  ghi o perfezioni a proprio piacimento; oppure segnando c datando su  ogni punto importante i progressi o le svolte della ricerca; o ancora,  rinviando ad altri paragrafi per segnalare correlazioni che non avrebbero potuto ingombrare l’esposizione discorsiva iniziale.   Non si è tenuto conto che dell’opera principale dell’autore e di  un certo numero di colleghi francesi e stranieri che, pur senza voler  formare una scuola, si dedicano da più o meno tempo alle stesse mate¬  rie con metodi simili e che si tengono costantemente in contatto tra  loro.   Altre visioni sul pensiero degli indoeuropei, incompatibili con  questa, non saranno qui esaminate, non per disprezzo ma perché le di¬  mensioni del presente libro sono ristrette e l’intento è costruttivo e non  critico.   Tuttavia, nelle note finali si troveranno riferimenti a numerose  discussioni.   Il mio caro collega Renard mi ha permesso di presentare  nella collezione Latomus, poco tempo dopo Les Déesses latines, que¬  sta nuova esposizione in cui il popolo romano non interviene che prò  virili parte. Egli ha così voluto confermare, sensibilmente ai nostri  studi, cd io lo ringrazio, la necessaria alleanza tra studi classici e indoeuropei, tra metodi filologici e comparativi, che ho sempre invocato  con augurio.   Uppsala. Parigi. Le tre funzioni sociali e cosmiche    1. Le classi sociali in India   Uno dei tratti più sorprendenti delle società indiane post-rgve-  diche è la loro divisione sistematica in quattro «classi», dette in san¬  scrito i quattro «colori», varna, le prime tre delle quali benché diverse  sono pure perché propriamente arya, mentre la quarta, formala indub¬  biamente dai vinti della conquista arya, è sottomessa alle altre tre ed è  quindi irrimediabilmente impura. Di quesl’ultima classe eterogenea  non si Lralterà qui ulteriormente.   I doveri di ognuna delle tre classi arya servono per definirle: i  brdhmana, sacerdoti, studiano ed insegnano la scienza sacra e cele¬  brano i sacrifici; gli ksatriya (o rdjanya), i guerrieri, proteggono il po¬  polo con la loro forza e con le loro armi; ai vaisya è affidato l’alle¬  vamento e l’aratura, il commercio e più in generale la produzione dei  beni materiali.   Si costituisce così una società completa e armonica presieduta  da un personaggio a parte, il re, rdjan, generalmente nato e qualitativa¬  mente estratto dal secondo livello.   Questi gruppi funzionali e gerarchizzati sono conchiusi tutti su  loro stessi in base all’ereditarietà, all’endogamia e a un codice rigoro¬  so d’interdizioni. Sotto questa forma classica non vi è dubbio che il sistema non sia una creazione propriamente indiana posteriore alla maggior parte del Riveda-, i nomi delle classi non sono menzionati  chiaramente che nell’inno del sacrificio deH’Uomo Primordiale, nel X  libro della raccolta, così differente da tutti gli altri. Ma una tale crea¬  zione non è nata dal nulla, bensì da un irrigidimento di una dottrina e di  una pratica sociale preesistente. Nel 1940 uno studioso indiano, V.M.  Apte, fece una collezione dimostrativa dei lesti dei primi nove libri del  Riveda (principalmente Vili, 35, 16-18) che provano come sin dai  tempi della redazione di questi inni la società fosse pensata composta  da sacerdoti, guerrieri e allevatori e che se questi gruppi non erano an¬  cora designati dai nomi di brdhmunu, di ksatriya o di vaisya (sostanti¬  vi astratti, nomi di nozioni di cui i nomi di questi uomini non sono che i  derivati) erano già composti in un sistema gerarchico che definiva di¬  stributivamente i principi delle tre attività. Brc'ihmun (al neutro)  «scienza e utilizzazione delle correlazioni mistiche tra le parti del rea¬  le visibile o invisibile», kyatrei «potenza», vis «contadinanza» o «habi¬  tat organizzalo» (la parola c apparentala al latino vTcus e al greco  (w)oùco<;), al plurale visuh «insieme del popolo nel suo raggruppa¬  mento sociale e locale».   È impossibile determinare in quale misura la pratica si confor¬  masse a questa struttura teorica: vi era forse una parte più o meno con¬  siderevole della società che indifferenziata o altrimenti classificata  sfuggiva a QUESTA TRIPARTIZIONE? L’ereditarietà all’interno di ciascuna  classe non era forse corretta nei suoi effetti da un regime matrimoniale  più flessibile c con delle possibilità di promozione? Sfortunatamente  ci è accessibile solo la teoria.   2. Le classi sociali avestiche   Da un quarto di secolo, confermando le osservazioni di F. Spie-  gel, di E. Benvenisle e di me stesso, abbiamo sostenuto che almeno  nella sua forma ideologica la tripartizione sociale era una concezione  già acquisita prima della divisione degli «Indo-Iranici» in Indiani da  una parte ed Iranici dall’altra.   In diversi passaggi VA vesta menziona i componenti della socie¬  tà come gruppi di uomini o di classi (designate da una parola che si ri¬  ferisce al colore, pistra): i sacerdoti, àBuurvan o uBravun (cf. uno dei  sacerdoti vedici, Vdtharvan), i guerrieri, luBciè.star («guidatori di carri», cf. il vedico rathe-sthà epiteto del dio guerriero Indra) e gli agri¬  coltori-allevatori, vàstryó.fsuyant.   Un solo passaggio avestico e più notoriamente i testi palliavi,  pongono come quarto termine alla base di questa gerarchia, gli artigia¬  ni, huiti, altri indizi (come il fatto che raggruppamenti triplici di nozio¬  ni sono talvolta messi maldestramente in rapporto con le quattro clas¬  si, cf. SBE, V, p. 357) ci portano a considerarla una aggiunta a un  antico sistema ternario.   Nel X secolo della nostra èra il poeta persiano Ferdusi, fedele  testimone della tradizione, racconta come il favoloso re Jamsed (lo  Yima Xsaéla dell’A vesta) istituì gerarchicamente queste classi: se¬  parò inizialmente dal resto del popolo gli *asravctn «assegnando loro  le montagne per celebrarvi il loro culto, per consacrarsi al servizio di¬  vino e restare nella luminosa dimora »; gli *artesfar, posti dall’altra  parte, «combattono come dei leoni, brillano alla testa delle armate e  delle province, grazie a loro il trono regale è protetto e la gloria del  valore è mantenuta »; quanto ai *vùstryós, la terza classe, « loro stessi  arano, piantano e raccolgono; di ciò che mangiano nessuno li rimpro¬  vera, non sono servi benché vestiti di stracci e il loro orecchio è sordo  alla calunnia».   A differenza dell’India le società iraniche non hanno irrigidito  questa concezione in un regime castale: esso sembra essere rimasto un  modello, un ideale e un comodo mezzo per analizzare ed enunciare  l’essenzialità dell’argomento sociale. Dal punto di vista della ideolo¬  gia in cui noi ci poniamo, questo è sufficiente. Un ramo aberrante della famiglia iranica, molto importante poi¬  ché si è sviluppato non in Iran ma a nord del Mar Nero, fuori dalla mor¬  sa degli imperi, iranici o altri, che si sono succeduti nel Vicino Orien¬  te, testimonianello stesso senso: sono gli Sciti - i cui costumi insieme a  molte leggende ci sono noli grazie ad Erodoto e a qualche altro autore  antico - la cui lingua e tradizione si è mantenuta sino ai nostri giorni  grazie a un piccolo popolo del Caucaso centrale, originale e pieno di  vitalità, gli Osseti.   Secondo Erodoto (IV, 5-6) ecco come gli Sciti raccontano  l’origine della loro nazione:    17     «Il primo uomo che comparve nel loro paese, prima di allora  deserto, si chiamava Targitaos, che si diceva figlio di Zeus e di una fi¬  glia del fiume Boriysthene (il Dniepr attuale)... Lui stesso ebbe tre fi¬  gli, Lipoxais (variante Nitoxais), Arpoxais e in ultimo Kolaxais.  Quando erano in vita caddero dal cielo sulla terra Scizia degli oggetti  d’oro: un carro, un giogo, un’ascia e una coppa (apoxpóv xe mi  t/uyòv mi cràyapiv mi (piàÀT|v). A questa vista il più anziano si af¬  frettò a prenderli ma quando arrivò l ’oro si mise a bruciare. Così si ri¬  tirò e il secondo si fece avanti ma senza migliore successo. Avendo i  primi due rinunciato all 'oro bruciante, sopraggiunse il terzo e l ’oro si  spense. Lo prese con sé e i suoi due fratelli, davanti a questo segno,  abbandonarono la regalità interamente all'ultimogenito. Da Lipoxa¬  is sono nati quegli Sciti che sono chiamati la tribù (yévoq) degli Aukh-  atai; da Arpoxais quelle dette Katiaroi e Traspies (variante: Trapies,  Trapioi) e in ultimo, dal re, quelle dette Paralatai; ma tutte insieme si  chiamano Skolotoi, dal nome del loro re »   Mi sembra certo che bisogna, al pari di E. Benveniste, rendere  yévoq con «tribù». Gli Sciti contano quattro tribù, una delle quali è la  tribù capo. Ma tutte hanno realmente o idealmente la stessa struttura: è  chiaro infatti che questi quattro oggetti si riferiscono alle tre attività  sociali degli Indiani e degli «Iranici deH’Iran»; il carro e il giogo (E.  Benveniste ha analizzato un composto avestico che associa queste due  parti della meccanica dell’aratura) evocano l’agricoltura; l’ascia era  con l’arco l’arma nazionale degli Sciti; altre tradizioni scitiche conser¬  vate da Erodoto, come pure l’analogia coi dati indo-iranici conosciuti,  incoraggiano a vedere nella coppa lo strumento e il simbolo delle of¬  ferte cultuali e delle bevande sacre.   La forma ben distinta che Quinto Curzio (VII, 8, 18-19) dà alla  tradizione, conferma questa esegesi funzionale; egli fa dire agli amba¬  sciatori degli Sciti che cercavano di convincere Alessandro Magno a  non attaccarli:   «Sappi che abbiamo ricevuto dei doni: un giogo per buoi, un  carro, una lancia, una freccia e una coppa (iugum bovum, aratrum,  hasta, sagitta et patera). Ce ne serviamo con i nostri amici e contro i  nostri nemici. Ai nostri amici doniamo i frutti della terra che ci procu-    18     ra il lavoro dei buoi; con essi offriamo agli dèi libagioni di vino; quan¬  to ai nostri nemici, li attacchiamo da lontano con la freccia e da vicino  con la lancia».   4. La famiglia degli eroi Narti   È interessante vedere sopravvivere questa struttura ideologica  della società nell’epopea popolare dei moderni Osseti, che ci è nota i n  frammenti ma in numerose varianti da circa un secolo e che una gran¬  de impresa folklorica russo-osseta, da circa quindici anni, ha sistema¬  ticamente raccolto. Gli Osseti sanno che i loro eroi dei tempi antichi, i  Narti, erano divisi essenzialmente in tre famiglie.   «/ Boriatee - dice una tradizione pubblicata da S. Tuganov nel  1925 - erano ricchi in armenti; gli Alcegatce erano forti per intelligen¬  za; gli /Exscertcegkatce si distinguevano per eroismo e vigore ed erano  forti per i loro uomini».   I dettagli del racconto che giustappongono od oppongono a due  a due queste famiglie, soprattutto nella grande collezione degli anni  ’40, confermano pienamente queste definizioni.   II carattere «intellettuale» degli Alaegatae riveste una forma ar¬  caica, non appaiono che in circostanze uniche ma frequenti: c nella  loro casa che hanno luogo le solenni bevute dei Narti in cui si produco¬  no le meraviglie di una Coppa magica detta la «Rivelatrice dei Narti».   Quanto agli vExsscrtaegkata;, grandi smargiassi ad effetto, è ri¬  marchevole che il loro nome sia un derivato del sostantivo cexsur(t)  «bravura», che è, con le alterazioni fonetiche previste nelle parlate sci¬  tiche, la stessa parola del sanscrito ksatrà, nome tecnico, come abbia¬  mo visto, del fondamento della classe guerriera.   I Boriala; e il principale tra essi, Burafscrnyg, sono costante-  mente e caricaturalmente i ricchi, con tutti i rischi e i difetti della ric¬  chezza e in più, in opposizione ai poco numerosi vExsaertaegkatae, sono  una moltitudine di uomini.   5. Gli Indoeuropei e la tripartizione sociale   Riconosciuta così come retaggio comune indo-iranico, questa  dottrina tripartita della vita sociale è stata il punto di partenza di  un'inchiesta che prosegue da più di vent’anni e che ha portato a due risultati complementari che possono riassumersi in questi termini: 1) al  di fuori degli Indo-Iranici i popoli indoeuropei conosciuti in età antica  o praticavano realmente una divisione di questo tipo oppure, nelle leg¬  gende in cui spiegano le proprie origini, ripartivano i loro cosiddetti  «componenti» iniziali fra le tre categorie di questa stessa divisione: 2)  nel mondo antico, dal paese dei Seres alle Colonne d’Èrcole, dalla Li¬  bia e dall’Arabia agli Iper borei, nessun popolo non indoeuropeo ha  esplicitato praticamente o idealmente una tale struttura o se l’ha fatto è  stalo dopo un contatto preciso, localizzabile c databile, che ha avuto  con un popolo indoeuropeo. Ecco qualche esempio a sostegno di que¬  sta proposizione. Il caso più completo è quello dei più occidentali tra gli Indoeu¬  ropei, i Celti e gli Italici, il che non è sorprendente una volta che si c  prestata attenzione (J. Vendryes, 1918) alle numerose corrispondenze  che esistono nel vocabolario della religione, dell’amministrazione e  del diritto, tra le lingue indo-iraniche da una parte e quelle ilalo-celli-  che dall’altra.   Se si ordinano i documenti che descrivono lo stato sociale della  Gallia pagana decadente conquistala da Cesare, insieme ai testi che ci  informano sull’Irlanda pocoprima della sua conversione al cristiane¬  simo, ci appare sotto il *rig (l’esalto equivalente fonetico del sanscrito  rcij- o del latino réf*-), un tipo di società così costituita:   1) Al di sopra di tulli c forte oltre ogni limile, quasi super-nazio¬  nale come la classe dei brahmani, vi c la classe dei clruicli (*dru-uid),  cioè dei sapienti, sacerdoti, giuristi, depositari della tradizione.   2) Segue poi l’aristocrazia militare, unica proprietaria del suo¬  lo, \a flciith irlandese (cf. il gallico vlata- c il tedesco Gewcdt), propria¬  mente la «potenza», esatto equivalente semantico del sanscrito ksatrà,  essenza della funzione guerriera.   3) Infine, gli allevatori, i bóairig irlandesi, uomini liberi ( ciirif.;)  che si definiscono solamente come possessori di vacche ( bó). Non è  sicuro ne probabile, come c stalo proposto, (A. Mcillet c R. Thurney-  scn hanno preferito un’etimologia puramente irlandese) che questa ul¬  tima parola, aire (genitivo ctirech, plurale airig) che designa lutti i  membri dell’insieme degli uomini liberi (che sono protetti dalla legge, concorrono all’elezione del re, partecipano alle assemblee - airecht - e  ai grandi banchetti stagionali) sia un derivato in -k di una parola impa¬  rentata con l’indo-iranico * city a (sanscrito city a, àrya\ antico-persiano  ariya, avestico airya; osseto Iceg «uomo», da *arya-ka-). Ma poco im¬  porta: il quadro tripartito celtico ricopre esattamente lo schema reale o  ideale delle società indo-iraniche. La Roma storica, benché risalga ad epoca remota, non ha divisioni funzionali: l’opposizione tra patrizi e plebei è di un altro tipo. Senza dubbio è l’effetto di un’evoluzione precoce e la divisione in tre tribù - anteriore agl’etruschi benché rivestila di nomi d’origine apparentemente etnisca come Ramnes, Luceres, Titienses - e ancora in  qualche modo del tipo che studiamo: è ciò che ci suggerisce chiaramente la leggenda delle origini. Secondo la variante più diffusa, Roma si e costituita da  tre elementi etnici: i compagni latini di Romolo e Remo, gli alleati  etruschi condotti a Romolo da Lucumone e i nemici sabini di Romolo  comandati da Tito Tazio. I primi avrebbero dato nascita a la TRIBU I -- Ramnes, i  secondi alla TRIBU II – i Luceres c i terzi alla TRIBU III – i Titienses. Ora, la tradizione annalistica colora costantemente ognuno di questi componenti etnici di tratti funzionali. LA TRIBU III: I Sabini di Tazio sono essenzialmente ricchi di armenti. LA TRIBU II. Lucumone c la sua banda sono i primi  specialisti dell’arte militare arruolati come tali da Romolo. LA TRIBU I: Romolo è  il semi-dio, il rex-augur beneficiario della promessa iniziale di Jupiter, il creatore <le\Y urbs e il fondatore istituzionale della respublica. Talvolta la componente etnisca è eliminala, ma l’analisi «tri-funzionale» non viene meno poiché Romolo c i suoi Latini accumulano su loro stessi la doppia specificazione di capi sacri e di guerrieri  esemplari ed hanno in loro stessi, come dice Tito Livio (1,9; 2-4), “deos  et virtutem” e non gli mancano temporaneamente che opes (e le donne)  che saranno loro fornite dai Sabini (cf. Floro, 1,1) i Sabini riconciliati  che si trasferiscono a Roma c cum generis suis a vitas opes prò dote socicint.   Eliminando così gli’etruschi, il dio Marte in persona, nei “Fasti” di Ovidio mette a nudo il movente ideologico dell’impresa che ha portalo all’unione dei Romani con i Sabini: « La  ricca vicinanza – “viciniadives” -- non voleva questi generi senza ricchezza – “inopes” -- e non aveva riguardo del fatto che io ero (un dio) la fonte  del loro sangue – “sanguinis auctor”. Io ho risentito di questa pena e ho  messo nel tuo cuore, Romolo, una disposizione conforme alla natura  di tuo padre -- “patriam mentem”, cioè marziale -- Io ti dico, tregua di sollecitazione, ciò che domandi, saranno le armi a donartelo – “arma dabunt”.   Dionigi di Alicarnasso che segue la tradizione delle tre razze,  ripartisce tra quelli gli stessi tre vantaggi: le città vicine, sabine o altre,  sollecitate da Romolo per mezzo di matrimoni, rifiutano (II, 30) di  unirsi a questi nuovi venuti « Che non sono da considerarsi neper ricchezza (xpTipaoi) né per altre imprese (taupnpòv Èpyov)». A Romolo, relegato così alla sua qualità di figlio di dio e di depositario dei primi auspici, non resta che affidarsi (II, 37) ai militari di professione  come l’etrusco Lucumone di Solone, «Uomo di azione e illustre in  materia di guerra» (xà rcoX.é|iia 8ux<pavnq).   8. Properzio iv, i, 9-32   Ma è Properzio, nella prima elegia romana che da a  questa dottrina delle origini, e nella forma delle tre razze, l’espressione più complete. Nel momento in cui nomina, con Romolo, le tre tribù primitive mettendo in risalto le loro etimologie tramite le correlazioni tradizionali coi nomi dei loro eponimi, comincia ad esprimere i  caratteri funzionali distintivi, 1’«essenza», potremmo dire, della materia prima di ogni tribù. TRIBU I: i compagni di Remo e di suo fratello (il nome  di Romolo è riservato per coprire la sintesi finale); TRIBU II: Lygmon (Lucu-  mo); TRIBU III. Tito Tazio.   Il testo di Properzio merita di essere esaminato più da vicino. L’intenzione di Properzio all’inizio di questa elegia è di opporre (c un  luogo comune dell’epoca) l’umiltà delle origini all’opulenza della  Roma d’Ottaviano. Dopo qualche verso che introduce il tema applicandolo al luogo, ecco gl’abitanti, presentati in tre parti ineguali, seguite da una conclusione:   -- sul pendio dove si elevava un tempo la povera casa di REMO. I due fratelli avevano un solo focolare, immenso reame.  La Curia, il cui splendore copre oggi un'assemblea di toghe preteste,  non conteneva che senatori vestiti di pelle e dalle anime rustiche.  Era la tromba che convoca, per i colloqui, gli antichi cittadini; cento uomini in un prato, tale era spesso il loro senato. Nessuna tela ondulante sulle profondità di un teatro, nessuna scena che esalasse l'odore solenne dello zafferano. Nessuno si cura di andare a cercare dèi stranieri. La folla trema, attaccata al  culto ancestrale. E, ogni anno, le feste di Pale non sono celebrate che con  fuochi di fieno i quali valevano bene te lustrazioni che si fanno oggi  giorno grazie a un cavallo mutilato.   Vesta era povera e trovava il suo piacere in asinelli coronati di  Fiori. Delle vacche scarnite portavano in processione degli oggetti  senza valore.  Dei maiali ingrassati bastavano per purificare gli stretti crocicchi e il pastore, al suono della cennamella, offre in sacrificio le  interiora di una pecora.  Vestito di pelli, l'agricoltore brandiva delle correggie villose: è allora che tengono i loro riti i Fabii, Luperci scatenati. Ancora primitivo, il soldato non sfavillava sotto delle armi terribili. Ci si batteva nudi con dei pali induriti dal fuoco. Il primo campo  e stabilito (pretorio: quartiere del campo intorno alla tenda del generale) da un comandante con un berretto di pelle, LYGMON.  E la ricchezza di TATIUS era essenzialmente nelle sue pecore: è da là che si formarono i T1TIES, i RAMNES e i LU CERES, originari di Solonio; è da là che Romolo Lancia la sua quadriga di cavalli  Bianchi. Il percorso di questo sviluppo è ben chiaro. Cme una favola verso la sua breve morale, tende verso l’ultimo distico che prima di  menzionare il «radunatore» Romolo, nell’apparato dei suoi trionfi,  enumera sotto i loro nomi le tre tribù riunite. Al verso 31, hinc indica che queste tre tribù provengono da uomini che sono stati precedentemente descritti e in effetti, in accordo con la tradizione erudita, Properzio mette i Tities (v. 31) in correlazione con il Tatius del verso 30 e i  Luceres (v. 31) con Lygmon-Lucumo (v. 29). Quanto ai Ramnes (v.    23, e 31), conformemente all’uso dovrebbero essere annunciati simmetricamente alla menzione di Romolo, ma a Romolo è qui riservato il posto di comando di questa società composita (v. 31 e 32) ed è RIMPIAZZATO DA REMUS al verso 9, o insieme a lui in frotres al verso 10.  In altre parole, prima di mostrarli trasformati (hinc...) sotto Romolo, nei tre terzi della città unificata, Properzio comincia col presentare successivamente, sotto i loro eponimi e nella loro esistenza ancora  separata, le tre componenti della futura Roma, nell’ordine. TRIBU I: Le genti di  Remo e di suo fratello. TRIBU II. L’etrusco Lucumone e – TRIBU III: il sabinoTazio. Si spiega  così come le feste dei versi 15-26, appartenenti ai futuri Ramnes, siano  quelle che la tradizione considera anteriori al sinecismo e praticate già, nel loro isolamento, dai due fratelli. Ma non è tutto. Non è meno lampante che le tre successive presentazioni delle future tribù siano caratterizzate secondo tre funzioni. Dal verso 9 («Remo») al verso 26, Properzio non evoca che il carattere primitivo di un’AMMINISTRAZIONE POLITICA (v. 9-14;  semplicità dei «re», di ciò che rappresentava allora il senato e  l’assemblea popolare) e di un CULTO (v. 15-26; mancanza di solennità e di dèi stranieri; nell 'ordine del calendario mstico - da aprile a febbraio - dei Parilia, Vestalia, Compitalia e Lupercalia, senza alcuno  sfarzo).  TRIBU II: Dal verso 27 al verso 29 (« Lygmon») il poeta evoca le forme  primitive della GUERRA che rimangono elementari («un berretto di  pelle») anche col primo tecnico militare.   TRIBU III: Nel solo verso 30 (« Tatius ») Properzio evoca la forma puramente pastorale della RICCHEZZA primitiva.   La nettezza delle articolazioni del testo e, in conseguenza, delle  intenzioni classificatorie di Properzio, il confronto nel distico 29-30 di  Lucumo come generale e di Tazio come ricco proprietario di armenti,  mettono in risalto il fatto che, benché concepite come componenti etniche, le tre tribù nel pensiero degli eruditi di epoca d’Ottaviano sono caratterizzate funzionalmente.  TRIBU I: I Ramnes, raggruppati intorno ai «fratelli», dediti soprattutto al  governo e al culto. TRIBU II: Lucumoneei Luceres come guerrieri. TRIBU III: Tito Tazio e  i Tities (più spesso Titienses) come ricchi allevatori.  Le divisioni degli Ioni   Fra i Greci, almeno gli Ioni e i più antichi ateniesi erano stati ini¬  zialmente divisi in quattro tribù definite dal ruolo nell’organizzazione  sociale. I nomi tradizionali delle tribù non sono molto chiari, al pari  della ripartizione dei nomi nelle quattro funzioni o, come dice Plutar¬  co, nei quattro |3ioi «(tipi di) vite», ma questi tipi sono molto probabil¬  mente sacerdoti o funzionari religiosi, guerrieri o «guardiani», agricol¬  tori, artigiani (Strabone Vili, 7, 1; cf. Platone, Timeo, 24 A). Plutarco  0 Solone 23), per una falsa etimologia del nome ordinario ricollegato ai  sacerdoti, omette i sacerdoti e sdoppia agricoltori e pastori.   È probabile che le tre classi della Repubblica ideale di Platone -  filosofi che governano, guerrieri che difendono e il terzo stato che pro¬  duce ricchezza - con ogni loro armonizzazione morale o filosofica,  così prossima talvolta alle speculazioni indiane, siano state ispirate in  parte dalle tradizioni ioniche, in parte da ciò che si sapeva allora in  GreciadelledottrinedeH’Iraneinpartedaquegli insegnamenti dei pi¬  tagorici che risalgono senza dubbio al remoto passato ellenico o pre¬  ellenico.   10. La tripartizione sociale nel mondo antico   A questi schemi concordanti si è cercata invano una replica in¬  dipendente nella pratica o nelle tradizioni delle società ugrofinniche o  siberiane, presso i Cinesi o gli Ebrei biblici, in Fenicia o nella Mesopo-  tamia sumerica o accadica, o nelle vaste zone continentali adiacenti  agli Indoeuropei o penetrate da essi. Ciò che salta agli occhi sono delle  organizzazioni indifferenziate di nomadi in cui ognuno è sia combat¬  tente che pastore; delle organizzazioni teocratiche di sedentari in cui  un re-sacerdote o un imperatore divino è contrapposto ad una massa  spezzettata aH’infinito ma omogenea nella sua umiltà; oppure ancora  delle società in cui lo stregone non è che uno specialista fra tanti altri  senza preminenza, malgrado il timore che la sua competenza suscita.   Niente di tutto questo ricorda né da vicino né da lontano la strut¬  tura delle tre classi funzionali gerarchizzate e non vi sono delle eccezioni.   Quando un popolo non indoeuropeo del mondo antico, ad  esempio del Vicino Oriente, sembra conformarsi a questa struttura è perché l’ha acquisita sotto l’influenza di uno nuovo arrivato vicino a  lui, da una di quelle pericolose bande di Indoeuropei - Luviti, Hittiti,  Arya - che nel secondo millennio si sono arditamente sparse lungo diversi percorsi.   E il caso ad esempio dell’Egitto «castale» in cui i Greci del V  secolo credevano di aver trovato il prototipo, l’origine delle più vec¬  chie classi funzionali ateniesi che sono state menzionate poco fa. In re¬  altà questa struttura si è formata sul Nilo grazie al contatto con gli  Indoeuropei, che apparendo in Asia Minore e in Siria nella metà del  secondo millennio prima della nostra èra, rivelarono agli Egiziani il  cavallo e tutti i suoi usi.   Solamente dopo questa data il vecchio impero dei Faraoni si  riorganizza per poter sopravvivere, formandosi ciò che non aveva mai  avuto: un’armata permanente e una classe militare. Il più antico testo  «multifunzionale» del tipo di quello che sarà conosciuto da Erodoto  (Timeo) o da Diodoro, è l’iscrizione in cui Thaneni si vanta di aver fat¬  to un vasto censimento per conto dei suo Faraone Thutmosis IV (J.H.  Breasted, Ancient Records ofEgypt, II, thè XVIlIth Dynasty, 1906, p.  165):   «M uste ring ofthe whole land before his Majesty making an in-  spection ofevery body, knowing thè soldiers, priests, royal serfs and  all thè craftsmen ofthe whole land, all thè cattle, fo wl and small cattle,  by thè military scribe, beloved of his lord Thaneni »   Ora, Thutmosis IV (1415-1405) è giusto il primo Faraone che  abbia mai sposato una principessa arya dei Mitanni, la figlia di un re  dal nome caratteristico di Artatama. Sembra che la differenziazione di  una classe di guerrieri col suo statuto «morale» particolare, unito ad  una sorta di alleanza flessibile a una classe ugualmente differenziata  di sacerdoti, sia stata la novità degli Indoeuropei e il cavallo e il carro  la ragione e il mezzo della loro espansione. Le iscrizioni geroglifiche e  cuneiformi ci hanno trasmesso il ricordo del terrore che causarono alle  vecchie civiltà questi specialisti della guerra, così arditi e impietosi  come quei conquistadores che tremila anni più tardi nel Nuovo Mon¬  do comparvero ai capi e ai popoli degli imperi che schiacciarono.   Essi li designavano con un nome - marianni - che in effetti gli  Indoeuropei usavano: i mdriya, incuiStig Wikander seppe riconosce-    26     re nel 1938 i membri dei «Mcitinerblinde» dello stesso tipo studiato da  Otto Hofler presso i Germani.   11. Teoria e pratica   La comparazione dei più antichi documenti indoiranici, celtici,  italici e greci, se da una parte permette di affermare che gli Indoeuro¬  pei avevano una concezione della struttura sociale fondata sulla di¬  stinzione e sulla gerarchizzazione delle tre funzioni, dall’altra parte  non può insegnare grandi cose sulla forma concreta - o sulle diverse  forme - in cui si sarebbero realizzate queste concezioni. Bisogna ora  generalizzare ciò che è stato detto più sopra a proposito degli Arya ve¬  dici.   È possibile che la società sia stata interamente ed esausti vamen-  te ripartita tra sacerdoti, guerrieri e pastori. Si può anche pensare che la  distinzione avesse solamente portato a mettere in risalto qualche clan  o qualche famiglia «specializzata», depositaria nell’un caso dei segreti efficaci del culto, nel secondo delle iniziazioni e delle tecniche guer¬  riere e nell’ultimo, infine, dei rimedi e delle magie deH’allevamento,  mentre il grosso della società, indifferenziata o meno differenziata, si  affidava alla direzione degli uni o degli altri, secondo le necessità o le  occasioni.   Si è infine liberi di immaginare moltissime forme intermedie,  ma queste non saranno che punti di vista dello spirito.   Certi raffronti di cifre sembrano tuttavia rivelare la sopravvi¬  venza di formule molto precise: così, nel Rgveda i «33 dèi» riassumo¬  no una società divina concepita ad immagine della società aryae sono  talvolta scomposti in 3 gruppi di 10, completati da 3 supplementari;  oppure, a Roma, le 33 comparse dei comitia curiata dei quali 30 (cioè  3 per 10) riassumono le 3 tribù primitive funzionali dei Ramnes, Luce-  res e Titienses, completate da 3 àuguri.   12. Le tre funzioni fondamentali   Così, non è il dettaglio autentico e storico dell’organizzazione  sociale tripartita degli Indoeuropei che interessa di più il comparatista,  ma il principio di classificazione, il tipo di ideologia che essa ha susci¬  tato, realizzato o formulato, e di cui non sembra essere più rimasta che  un’espressione tra tante altre. Diverse volte nell’esposizione che si è letta è stata incontrata  una parola importante: quella di funzione, di tre funzioni, e bisogna  così intendere certamente le tre attività fondamentali assicurate da  gruppi di uomini - sacerdoti, guerrieri, produttori - per il sostentamen¬  to e la prosperità della collettività.   Ma il dominio delle «funzioni» non si limita a questa prospetti¬  va sociale. Alla riflessione filosofica degli Indoeuropei esse avevano  già fornito - come sostantivi astratti, bnihman, ksutrù, vis, principi  delle tre classi nella riflessione filosofica degli Indiani vedici e  posl-vedici - ciò che può essere considerato, secondo il punto di vista,  come un mezzo per esplorare la realtà materiale e morale o come un  mezzo per mettere ordine nel patrimonio delle nozioni ammesse dalla  società.   L’inventario di queste applicazioni non propriamente sociali  della struttura trifunzionale, è stato intrapreso e continuato, dal 1938,  da E. Benveniste e da me stesso. Ora, è facile porre sulla prima e sulla  seconda «funzione» un’etichetta che copra tutte le sfumature: da una  parte il sacro e i rapporti dell 'uomo col sacro (culto, magia) c degli uo¬  mini tra di loro, sotto lo sguardo c la garanzia degli dèi (diritto, ammi¬  nistrazione), e così pure il potere sovrano esercitato dal re o dai suoi  delegati in conformità con la volontà o il favore divino e infine, più ge¬  neralmente, la scienza c l’intelligenza, allora inseparabili dalla medi¬  tazione e dalla manipolazione delle cose sacre; dall’altra parte la forza  fisica brutale e l’impiego della forza, uso principalmente ma non uni¬  camente guerriero.   È meno facile delincare in poche parole l’essenza della terza  funzione, che ricopre delle province numerose fra le quali intercorro¬  no dei legami evidenti ma la cui unità non comporta un centro ben de¬  finito: fecondità umana, animale e vegetale, ma, nello stesso tempo,  nutrimento e ricchezza, santità e pace (con le gioie c i vantaggi della  pace) e anche voluttà, bellezza c l’importante idea del «gran numero»,  applicata non solo ai beni (abbondanza) ma anche agli uomini che  compongono il corpo sociale (massa). Non sono queste delle defini¬  zioni a priori ma insegnamenti convergenti di molte applicazioni  dell’ideologia tripartita.   Gli indologi hanno familiarità con questo uso straripante della  classificazione tripartita sin dai tempi vedici: per un impulso che ricorda, nel suo vigore e nei suoi effetti, la tendenza classificatoria del  pensiero cinese - che ha distribuito tra lo yang e lo yin sia coppie di no¬  zioni solidali che antitetiche -1’India ha messo le tre classi della socie¬  tà, coi loro principi, in rapporto con numerose triadi di nozioni preesi¬  stenti o create per la circostanza. Queste armonie, queste correlazioni  importanti per l’azione simpatetica a cui tende il culto, hanno talvolta  un senso molto profondo, talvolta artificiale e altre volte puerile.   Così, ad esempio, le tre «funzioni» sono distributivamente con¬  nesse ai tre guna (propriamente, «figli») o «qualità» - Bontà, Passione,  Oscurità - delle quali la filosofia sùrìikhyu dice che gli intrecci variabili  formano la trama di tutto ciò che esiste; o ancora, nei tre stadi superiori  dell’universo, le si vede non meno imperiosamente collegate ai diver¬  si metri e melodie dei Veda o ai diversi tipi di bestiame o a comandare  minuziosamente la scelta dei diversi tipi di legno con cui saranno fatte  le scodelle o i bastoni.   Senza arrivare a questi eccessi di sistematizzazione, la maggior  parte degli altri popoli della famiglia presentano aspetti di questo ge¬  nere che, ritrovandosi molto simili su diverse altre parti del globo,  hanno la fortuna di risalire ad antenati comuni, agli Indoeuropei. Non  si potrà presentare in questa sede che qualche inventario.   13. Triadi di calamità f.triadi di delitti   Da circa vent’anni E. Benveniste ha individualo presso gli Ira¬  nici c gli Indiani delle formule molto simili in cui un dio è pregalo di  allontanare, da una collettività o da un individuo, tre flagelli, ognuno  dei quali si riconnettc a una delle tre funzioni.   Per esempio, in una iscrizione di Pcrscpoli (Persep. d 3) Dario  domanda ad Ahuramazdà di proteggere il suo impero «r/a// ’esercito  nemico, dal cattivo anno e dall'inganno» (quest’ultima parola, drau-  ga, nel vocabolario del Gran Re designava sopralutto la ribellione po¬  litica, il misconoscimento dei suoi diritti sovrani; ma si riferiva anche  al peccalo maggiore delle religioni iraniche, la menzogna). Parallela¬  mente, al momento delle cerimonie vcdichc del plenilunio c del novi¬  lunio, una preghiera è dedicala ad Agni, con delle formule che, diver¬  samente allungate dagli autori dei vari libri liturgici (per esempio  Tditt.Sariìh., I, 1, 13, 3; Sut.Bràhm., I, 9, 2, 20) hanno questo nucleo  comune:  «Conservami dalla soggezione, conservami dal cattivo sacrifi¬  cio, conservami dal cattivo nutrimento».   L’enunciato indiano è parallelo a quello iranico, con la riserva  che, al primo livello, il re achemenide parla di inganno e il ritualista  vedico di sacrificio malfatto: questo scarto nei timori corrisponde ad  evoluzioni divergenti - da una parte più moraliste e dall’altra più for-  maliste - delle religioni delle due società.   Mi è stato possibile dimostrare in seguito che i più occidentali  tra gli Indoeuropei, i Celti, i cui usi sono talvolta così sorprendente¬  mente simili a quelli vedici, utilizzavano la stessa classificazione tri¬  partita delle maggiori calamità.   La principale compilazione giuridica dell’Irlanda, il Senchus  Mór, comincia con questa dichiarazione ( Ancient Laws oflreland, IV  1873, p. 12): « Vi sono tre tempi in cui si produce il deperimento del  mondo: il periodo della morte degli uomini (morte per epidemia o per  carestia, precisa la glossa), la produzione accresciuta di guerra e la  dissoluzione dei contratti verbali». I malanni sono così ripartiti fra le  tre zone della salute o del nutrimento, della forza violenta e del diritto.   I Galli non hanno inserito nei loro libri giuridici delle tali for¬  mulazioni astratte, ma un testo che parrebbe essere la trasposizione ro¬  manzesca di un vecchio mito, il Cyvranc Lludd a Llevelis è consacrato  all’esposizione delle tre «oppressioni» dell’isola di Bretagna e al  modo in cui il re Lludd vi mise fine.   Queste calamità sono: 1) una razza di uomini «saggi» il cui «sa¬  pere» è tale che essi intendono per tutta l’isola ogni conversazione,  fosse anche a bassa voce, e interferiscono così nel governo e nei rap¬  porti umani; 2) ogni primo maggio ha luogo un terribile duello tra due  draghi, il drago dell’isola e il drago straniero che viene a «battersi» col  primo, cercando di «vincerlo», e le urla del drago dell’isola sono tali da  paralizzare e sterilizzare ogni essere vivente; 3) ogni volta che il re ac¬  cumula in uno dei suoi palazzi una «provvista di cibarie e di vivande»,  fosse anche per un anno, u n mago ladro giunge la notte seguente e porta  via tutto il suo paniere. Si osserva ancora una volta come le tre oppres¬  sioni si sviluppino qui negli ambiti della vita intellettuale, dell’ammi¬  nistrazione della forza e infine del nutrimento; in più, considerate in    30     base ai loro agenti e non in base alle vittime, esse definiscono tre delit¬  ti: abuso di un sapere magico, aggressione violenta e furto di beni.   Sembra che il più antico diritto romano ugualmente consideras¬  se i delitti privati come incantesimi maligni ( malum Carmen, occentu-  tio), violenza fisica ( membrum ruptum e osfractum, iniuriu) e in furto  {furtum)\ Platone utilizzava, in un contesto inerente alla tripartizione  C Repubblica, 413b-414a) e in un modo evidentemente artificiale,  prendendolo in prestito senza dubbio da qualche poeta tragico, una di¬  stinzione sistematica ed esauriente dei delitti molto simile, in «furto,  violenza fisica e incantesimo» (kXotcti, pila, yor|TEÌa). Benveniste ha raffrontato la classificazione avestica dei me¬  dicamenti ( Vidèvdàt , VII, 44: medicine del coltello, delle piante e del¬  le formule d’incantesimo) con l’analisi che fa un inno del Riveda sui  poteri medici degli dei Nàsatya-Asvin (X, 39, 3) «.guaritori di chi è  cieco (male misterioso, magico), di chi è smagrito (male alimentare) e  di chi ha una frattura (violenza)».   È lo stesso procedimento che nella III Pythica di Pindaro il cen¬  tauro Chirone insegna ad Asclepio per guarire « le dolorose malattie  degli uomini» (versi 40-55: incantesimi, pozioni o droghe, incisioni)  ed è stato sospettato che dietro questi fatti paralleli si celi l’esistenza di  una «dottrina medica» tripartita ereditata dagli Indoeuropei. Se i vec¬  chi testi germanici non applicano questo schema classificatorio ai ma¬  lanni, ai delitti o ai rimedi, è vero che l’utilizzano in altre circostanze:  il Canto di Skirnir nell 'Edda è un piccolo dramma in cui il servitore  del dio Freyr costringe, malgrado la sua volontà, la gigantessa Gerdr a  cedere ai desideri amorosi del suo maestro.   Inizialmente tenta invano di comprare ( kaupu ) il suo amore con  dei regali d’oro (strofe 19-22); poi, non meno inutilmente, minaccia di  decapitarla (str. 23-25) con la sua spada {ma.’.ki)\ infine al suo terzo ten¬  tativo non gli rimane che minacciarla con gli strumenti della sua ma¬  gia, bacchette ( gambantein ) c rune (str. 26-37).   15. Elogi tripartiti   Quando un poeta indiano vuole fare brevemente l’elogio totale  di un re, passa in rassegna le tre funzioni in tre parole: così, all’inizio del Raghuvamsa (I, 24) il re Dilàpa merita di essere chiamato padre  dei suoi sudditi « perché assicura loro buona condotta, li protegge e li  nutre». Con delle formule generalmente meno concise, l’epopea irlan¬  dese procede allo stesso modo. In un bel lesto, il Paese dei Viventi,  cioè l’altro mondo, la dimora dei morti divenuti immortali, è caratte¬  rizzalo dall’assenza di morte in base ai tre aspetti seguenti: «.non vi è  né peccato né errore...] vi si mangiano pasti eterni senza servizio; l'in¬  tesa regna senza lotte ».   L’originalità del paese meraviglioso consiste nel fatto che tutto  è buono e facile, ma questa idea si analizza e si esprime nel pensiero  dell’autore soprattutto secondo le tre funzioni (virtù, guerra, abbon¬  danza alimentare); la seconda funzione, di tipo violento, considerata  come un male c rifiutata, mentre le altre due sono sviluppale al massi¬  mo grado (J. POKÒRNY, «Conio’s abcnteucrliche Fahrt» ZCP XVII,  1928, p. 195).   In un a simile analisi, per fare 1 ’ elogio del re Conchobar, u n lesto  del ciclo degli Ulati dice che sotto il suo regno vi erano «pace e tran¬  quillità, saluti cordiali», «ghiande, grasso e prodotti del mare», «con¬  trollo, diritto e buona regalità» (K. MEYER, «Milleil. aus irischen  Handschriflen» ZCP, III, 1901, p. 229): cioè il contrario della guerra,  della carestia c dell’anarchia, il contrario dei tre flagelli contro i quali  il re Dario a Persepoli domanda al gran dio di conservare il suo impero.   16. Le tre funzioni e la «natura delle cose»   Si può obiettare talvolta che queste formule non siano troppo  naturali, così troppo ben modellale sull’uniforme e inevitabile dispo¬  sizione delle cose perché il loro accumulo e la loro somiglianza provi¬  no un’origine comune c resistenza di una dottrina caratteristica degli  Indoeuropei.   Una riflessione anche elementare sulla condizione umana e sul¬  le risorse della vita collettiva non dovrebbe forse mettere in evidenza,  in ogni tempo c in ogni luogo, tre necessità, cioè una religione che ga¬  rantisse un’amministrazione, un diritto c una morale stabile, una forza  protettrice c conquistatrice, infine dei mezzi di produzione, di alimen¬  tazione e di gioia? E quando l’uomo riflette sui pericoli che incontrac  sulle vie che si aprono alla sua azione, non è ancora a una qualche va¬  rietà di questo schema che si riporta? Basta uscire dal mondo indoeuropeo, in cui queste formule sono così numerose, per constatare che,  malgrado il carattere necessario e universale dei tre bisogni ai quali si  riferiscono, esse non hanno la generalità o la spontaneità chesi suppo¬  ne: al pari della di visione sociale corrispondente, non le si ritrova in al¬  cun testo egizio, sumerico, accadico, fenicio e biblico, né nella lettera¬  tura dei popoli siberiani, nè presso i pensatori confuciani o taoisti così  inventivi ed esperti di classificazioni.   La ragione è semplice ed elimina l’obiezione: per una civiltà,  sentire vivamente e soddisfare dei bisogni impellenti è una cosa; por¬  tarli alla chiarezza della coscienza e riflettere su di essi, farne una  struttura intellettuale e uno schema di pensiero è tutta un’altra. Nel  mondo antico solo gli Indoeuropei hanno fatto questo cammino filo¬  sofico e così si percepisce nelle speculazioni e nelle produzioni lette¬  rarie di tanti popoli di questa famiglia, che la spiegazione più econo¬  mica, come per la divisione sociale propriamente detta, è ammettere  che il percorso non è stato fatto e rifatto indipendentemente in ogni  provincia indoeuropea dopo la dispersione, ma che è anteriore alla di¬  visione ed è opera di pensatori dei quali i brahmani, i druidi e i collegi  sacerdotali romani sono in parte i diretti eredi.   17. Meccanismi giuridici triplici   Una delle applicazioni più interessanti ma più delicate è quella  che in riferimento alla concezione indoeuropea chiarifica presso i di¬  versi popoli (India, Roma, Lacedemoni) i quadri e le regole giuridi¬  che. Lucien Gerschel, ricordando il diritto romano, ha dimostrato che  questo, così originale nei suoi fondamenti e nel suo spirito, conserva  nelle sue forme un gran numero di procedure in tre varianti a effetti  equivalenti (che si spiegano solitamente, ma senza prove, come crea¬  zioni successive dell’ uso e del pretore) che almeno qualcuna di queste  sorprendenti «tripartita» si modella sul sistema delle tre funzioni qui  considerate. Citerò unodei migliori esempi: un testamento può essere  fatto con lo stesso valore sia nell’assemblea strettamente religiosa dei  Comitia Curiata, presieduti dal gran pontefice; sia sul fronte di una  battaglia davanti ai soldati; sia tramite una vendita fittizia a un «emp-  torfamiliae» (Aulo-Gellio, XV, 27; Gaius, II; Ulpiano, Reg. XX, 1).  Gerschel non pretende che sia esistito a Roma un «diritto sacerdota¬  le», un «diritto guerriero» e un «diritto economico», o che i tre tipi di testamento abbiano avuto delle assisi sociali o degli effetti differenti,  non più dei tre tipi di affrancamento o delle altre tricotomie giuridiche  che si possono interpretare in questo senso.   Questo quadro così incredibilmente frequente, questa triade di  possibilità a effetti equivalenti e l’omologia delle distinzioni che si di¬  stribuiscono, sembrerebbe attestare, dice Gerschel, che «i creatori del  diritto romano hanno da molto tempo pensato i grandi atti della vita  collettiva secondo l’ideologia delle tre funzioni e giustapposto volen¬  tieri tre processi, tre decorsi o tre casi di applicazione provenienti cia¬  scuno dal principio (religioso; attualmente o potenzialmente milita¬  re; economico) di una delle tre funzioni ».   18. Le tre funzioni e la psicologia   La stessa psicologia non sfugge a questo schema. I sistemi filo¬  sofici indiani dosano nelle anime, come nella società, dei principi  come la legge morale, la passione, l’interesse economico (dharma,  kCimu, artha) \ Platone attribuisce alle tre classi della sua Repubblica  ideale - filosofi governanti, guerrieri, produttori di ricchezze - delle  formule di virtù che distribuiscono e combinano la Saggezza, il Co¬  raggio e la Temperanza; in un’espressione apparentemente tradizio¬  nale e legala all’intronizzazione dei Re Supremi di Irlanda, la mitica  regina Medb, depositaria e donatrice della Sovranità, pone come tripli¬  ce condizione a chiunque vuole diventare suo marito, cioè re, di «essere  senza gelosia, senza paura, senza avarizia» (Tdin Bó Cualnge ed. Win-  disch, 1905, pp. 6-7); infine, anche lo zoroastrismo, nei testi brillante-  mente interpretati da K. Barr, spiega che la nascila dell’uomo per eccel¬  lenza, Zoroastro, è stata accuratamente preparata con la combinazione  di tre principi, l’uno regale, l’altro guerriero e il terzo carnale.   Si tratta forse di un’applicazione mitica di una credenza anti¬  chissima; nei trattati rituali domestici dell’India ( Sànkh. G. S, I, 17, 9;  Pdrask. G. S, 1,9, 5) si consiglia infatti alla donna che vuole concepire  un bambino maschio di rivolgersi a Mitra, a Varuna, agli Asvin e a  Indra (quest’ultimo accompagnato da Agni o Sùrya, secondo le va¬  rianti) e a nessun altro, cioè, come sarà dimostrato nel capitolo seguen¬  te, alla lista arcaica indo-iranica degli dèi che incarnano e patrocinano  la prima, la terza e la seconda funzione. Un’altra via di sviluppo per il pensiero trifunzionale è stata  quella del simbolismo: tanto i tre gruppi sociali quanto i loro tre princi¬  pi sono stati legati figurativamente e solidalmente a degli oggetti ma¬  teriali semplici, il cui raggruppamento li evocava e li rappresentava.  Sembra che dai tempi indoeuropei questa via abbia principalmente  portato a due insiemi: una collezione di oggetti talismani e un venta¬  glio di colori.   Ci si ricordi della leggenda tramite cui gli Sciti, secondo Erodo¬  to, spiegavano le loro origini: gli oggetti d’oro caduti dal cielo - carro e  giogo per l’agricoltore, ascia (o lancia o arco) come arma guerriera,  coppa cultuale - hanno dei valori nettamente classificatori secondo le  tre funzioni.   Ora, questi oggetti non erano solamente mitici: erano conserva¬  ti lutti insieme dal re e ogni anno venivano solennemente portati attra¬  verso le terre scitiche. Anche la leggenda irlandese attribuisce alla pe¬  nultima razza che avrebbe occupato l’isola, e che in realtà è costituita  dagli antichi dèi della mitologia (i Tuatha dé Danann, «Le tribù della  dea Dana»), un gruppo di oggetti talismani: il «calderone di Dagda»  che conteneva e donava un nutrimento meraviglioso; due armi terribi¬  li, la lancia di Lug che rendeva il suo possessore invincibile e la spada  di Nuada, al cui colpo niente sopravviveva; la pietra di Fai infine, sede  della sovranità, il cui grido rivelava quale dei candidati doveva essere  scelto come re (V. HULL«Thefourjewels oftheT.D.D» ZCP, XVIII,  1930, pp. 73-89). Le mitologie vediche e scandinave collegano allo  stesso modo dei gruppi di tre oggetti caratteristici a degli dèi che ve¬  dremo ben presto e che sono distribuiti secondo le tre funzioni.   20. Colori simbolici delle funzioni presso gli Indo-Iranici   Quanto ai colori simbolici, l’importanza e l’antichità sono già  segnalate, per il mondo indo-iranico, dal fatto che i tre (o quattro)  gruppi sociali funzionali sono designati in base alla parola sanscrita  varna e alla parola avestica pìstra (cf. il greco 7touciXoq «screziato»,  russo pisat' «scrivere»), che con sfumature diverse designano il colo¬  re. Di fallo è un insegnamento costante nell’India che brdhmunu,  ksatriya, vaisya e sùclru siano rispettivamente caratterizzati (e le spie¬  gazioni non mancano) dal bianco, il rosso, il giallo e il nero.    35     Di certo che vi è stata un’alterazione in seguilo alla creazione  delle caste inferiori ed eterogenee degli sùdra, di un antico sistema di  cui rimangono tracce nei rituali (Gobh. G. S., IV, 7, 5-7; Khucl. G. S.  IV, 2, 6) e senza dubbio anche uno nel Riveda («nero, bianco e rosso è  il suo cammino » dice X, 20,9 di Agni, il più triplice e trifunzionale de¬  gli dèi), sistema formato semplicemente da tre colori senza il giallo e  dove vi era il nero (o blu scuro) a caratterizzare i vaisya, gli allevato¬  ri-agricoltori.   In effetti anche l’Iran ha mantenuto questa ripartizione: una tra¬  dizione «mazdeo-zurvanita» che è stata progressivamente stabilita e  interpretata da H. S. Nybcrg (1929), G. Widengren, S. Wikan-  der (1938) c R. C. Zaehner (1938, 1955) descrive nella cosmogonia  l’uniforme dei sacerdoti come bianca, quella dei guerrieri come rossa  o variopinta e quella degli agricoltori-allevatori come blu scura. Altri  Indoeuropei praticavano lo stesso simbolismo. V. Basanoff ha intelli¬  gentemente i nterpretato in questo senso un rituale hiltita di evocatio in  cui i diversi dèi della città nemica assediata sono pregali di lasciarla e  di giungere presso gli assedianti attraverso tre cammini - il che suppo¬  ne tre diverse categorie di dèi - avvolti uno in una stoffa bianca, il se¬  condo in una stoffa rossa e il terzo in una stoffa blu ( Keilischrifturk aus  Bof’azkbi, VII, 60; FRIEDERICK, Deralte Orient, XXV, 2,1925, pp.  22-23).   21. Colori simbolici delle funzioni presso Celti e Romani   Tra i Celti della Gallia e dellTrlanda il bianco è il colore dei dm-  idi e il rosso, nell’epopea irlandese, è quello dei guerrieri; a Roma un  Albogalerus caratterizza il più sacerdote tra i sacerdoti, il flamen diu-  lis, mentre il paludumentum militare è rosso come il drappo sulla testa  del generale o come la trabea dei cavalieri o dei sacerdoti armati che  sono i Salii.   Un sistema completo a tre termini del simbolismo coloralo  s’incontra due volte nelle istituzioni romane. Il caso più interessante è  quello dei colori delle fazioni del circo che assunsero grande impor¬  tanza sotto l’impero e nella nuova Roma del Bosforo, ma che sono si¬  curamente anteriori all’impero c che gli studiosi di antichità romane  ricollegano del resto alle origini stesse di Romolo.    36     Le speculazioni esplicative di questi antichisti sono molteplici  e intrise di pseudo-filosol'ia e di astrologia, ma una di queste, conser¬  vata da Giovanni il Lido, De mens. IV, 30, si riferisce a delle realtà ro¬  mane e afferma che questi colori, che sono quattro, in epoca storica  erano inizialmente tre ( albati , russati, viricles) in rapporto non solo  con le divinità Jupiler, Mars e Venus (quest’ultima solo apparente¬  mente sostituita a Flora) i cui valori funzionali sono evidenti (sovrani¬  tà, guerra, fecondità), ma anche con le tre tribù primitive dei Ramnes,  Lucercs e Titienses.   A proposito di questi ultimi si è ricordalo più sopra che erano,  nella leggenda delle origini, sia componenti etnici (Latini, Etruschi,  Sabini) che funzionali (derivati da uomini sacri c governanti, da guer¬  rieri professionisti e da ricchi pastori) e che in un altro passaggio {De  magistrut. 1, 47) Giovanni il Lido interpreta come paralleli alle tribù  funzionali degli Egiziani e degli antichi Ateniesi.   Nel 1942 Jan de Vries raccolse un gran numero di esempi anti¬  chi e moderni (religiosi, l'olklorici c letterari) di questa triade di colori:  quasi lutti provenivano dall’area di espansione indoeuropea o dai suoi  confini, o dalle regioni che furono esposte all'influenza degli Indoeu¬  ropei e alcuni hanno chiaramente un valore classificatorio del tipo qui  considerato.   22. Le scelti- dei tigli di Feridùn   Infine, dei racconti epici, delle leggende o delle narrazioni mol¬  to diverse utilizzano ugualmente il quadro trifunzionale. Eccone qual¬  che esempio. La leggenda scitica dei tre figli di Targilaos, il cui ulti¬  mogenito raccoglie insieme alla regalità i meravigliosi oggetti d’oro  simboli delle tre Finzioni, è stata paragonala da M. Molé a una tradi¬  zione dell’Iran propriamente detto, relativa ai figli del l’eroe che V Ave¬  sta chiama ©hraétaona, i testi pahlavi Frètòn e i testi persiani Feridùn.  Eccola nella traduzione data da M. Molé a un passaggio dell 'Àyàtkar i  JàmcispTk:   «Da Frètòn nacquero tre figli; Salm, Tòz ed Eric erano i loro  nomi. Egli li convocò tutti e tre per dire ad ognuno di essi: «Io sto per  dividere il mondo tra di voi, che ciascuno di voi mi dica ciò che gli  sembra bello affinché io glielo doni». Salm chiese grandi ricchezze, Toz il valore ed Eric, su cui era la gloria dei Kavi (cioè il segno mira¬  coloso che distingue il sovrano scelto da Dio) la legge e la religione.  Frètón disse: «Che a ciascuno di voi giunga ciò che ha chiesto». Ed  egli donò infatti la terra di Rum a Salm, il Turkestan e il deserto a Toz  e l’Iran e la sovranità sui suoi fratelli a Eric».   Un’interessante variante di Ferdusi giustifica la stessa divisio¬  ne geografica con un altro criterio, anche se col medesimo senso.  Esposti a titolo di prova a uno stesso pericolo (un dragone minaccio¬  so), ognuno dei tre fratelli si rivela in accordo con la propria natura e  col proprio «livello funzionale»: Salm fugge, Tòz si precipita cieca¬  mente all’assalto e Iraj evita il pericolo senza combattere, con  l’intelligenza e il nobile sentimento che ha della dignità regale della  sua famiglia.   23. La scelta del pastore Paride   È un tema simile, presente fra i Greci d’Asia Minore e forse in¬  fluenzato dagli Indoeuropei di Frigia, che ha fornito la materia del  «giudizio di Paride», piacevole racconto dalle pesanti conseguenze  poiché è destinato a spiegare come, malgrado la sua ricchezza e il suo  valore, Troia finisca per soccombere ai Greci.   Paride, il bel principe pastore, vede giungere presso di sé tre dee  (che simboleggiano le tre funzioni) che gli chiedono un giudizio emi¬  nente; secondo un tipo di variante (Euripide, Iphig. Aul, V. 1300-  1307) ognuna si presenta nel l’aspetto del proprio rango e della propria  attività: Era, « fiera del letto regale del sovrano Zeus », Atena con  l’elmo sul capo e la lancia in mano, Afrodite senza altre armi che la  «potenza del desiderio». Secondo un’altra variante (Euripide, Troia¬  ne, v. 925-931) ogni dea tenta di accattivarsi il giudizio promettendo  un dono: Era promette la sovranità sull’Asia e l’Europa, Atene la vit¬  toria e Afrodite la donna più bella.   Paride sceglie male e assegna il premio ad Afrodite, scelta che  causerà ben presto il rapimento dell’incomparabile Elena e, malgrado  dieci anni di combattimento, la fine di Troia, distrutta da una coalizio¬  ne di uomini e divinità tra le quali Era ed Atena non saranno le meno  accanite.    38     Questo tipo di racconto ha prosperato sino ai tempi moderni. L.  Gerschel ha studiato delle tradizioni svizzere, tedesche ed austriache  raccolte nell 'ultimo secolo, evidentemente indipendenti dalla leggen¬  da greca, che presentano un giovane uomo che deve scegliere (ma ge¬  neralmente «bene») fra tre offerte nettamente funzionali; oppure tre  fratelli che si spartiscono tre doni funzionali dei quali solo uno, quello  della «prima funzione» assicura a chi lo possiede un destino piena¬  mente «buono». Ecco per esempio la forma originale rigorosamente  ricostruita da Gerschel, delle leggende tedesche sull’origine dello  «Jodeln» (Johlen).   «Res, il vaccaro di Bahilsalp, trova una notte nella capanna tre  esseri sovrannaturali in procinto di fare il formaggio: a un certo pun¬  to il latticello è versato in tre secchi e nel primo è rosso, nel secondo  secchio è verde e nel terzo è bianco. Res apprende che deve scegliere  un secchio e berne il latticello; allora uno dei vaccari fantasmi ag¬  giunge: «Se scegli il rosso sarai talmente forte che nessuno potrà  combattere con te». Il secondo vaccaro disse a sua volta: «Se tu bevi il  latticello di colore verde possiederai molto oro e sarai ricchissimo».  Il terzo infine spiegò: «Bevi il latticello bianco e tu sarai Jodeln mera¬  vigliosamente». Res rifiutò i due primi doni e si decise per il latticello  bianco, diventando un perfetto Jodler ».   Gerschel rileva che questa tecnica vocale ha nelle diverse va¬  rianti un effetto magico (tutte le bestie vengono incontro allo jodler e.  l'accompagnano; tavole e panche danzano nella sua capanna: le vac¬  che si alzano sulle loro zampe posteriori e danzano; la vacca più selva¬  tica si addolcisce e si lascia mungere facilmente, etc.).   24. Talismani di Roma e di Cartagine   Verso la fine delle guerre puniche Roma ha senza dubbio orga¬  nizzato su un tale tipo di schema la garanzia della sua vittoria finale:  una testa di bue, poi una testa di cavallo (trovate dagli scavatori di Di-  done sul sito in cui si ergeva, con Cartagine, il tempio della «sua» Giu¬  none) avevano, a detta di loro, garantito alla città africana l’ opulenza e  la gloria militare. Ma in virtù della testa d’uomo che gli spalatori di  Tarquinio avevano un tempo trovato sul Campidoglio, nel sito del fu-    39     turo tempio di Jupiter O. M, è Roma che detiene la più alta promessa,  quella della sovranità. L. Gerschel, a cui si deve ancora questa sor¬  prendente interpretazione, ha ricordato che presso gli Indiani vedici  uomo, cavallo e bue sono teoricamente i tre tipi superiori delle vittime  ammesse per il sacrificio, quelli le cui teste (assieme alle teste delle  due vittime inferiori, montone e capro) devono, almeno in apparenza,  essere interrate nel luogo in cui si vuole elevare l’importante altare del  fuoco, in mancanza del santuario permanente che non esiste i n India. Come ultimo esempio, riallacciando all’ambito epico la tripar¬  tizione dei flagelli e dei delitti ricordati più sopra, citerò un tema di  grande estensione letteraria che è stato diversamente spiegato in India,  in Scandinavia, in Grecia e in Iran: quello dei peccati di un dio o di un  uomo, generalmente (per delle ragioni che analizzeremo nel III capi¬  tolo) un personaggio della «seconda funzione», un guerriero.   Indra, il dio guerriero dell’India vedica, è un peccatore. Nei  Brahmano e nelle epopee la lista dei suoi errori e dei suoi eccessi è lun¬  ga e varia. Ma il quinto canto del Màrkandeya Purànu li ha ridotti allo  schema delle tre funzioni: Indra uccide prima il mostro Tricefalo,  morte necessaria poiché il Tricefalo c un flagello che minaccia il mon¬  do, ma tuttavia morte sacrilega poiché il Tricefalo ha il rango di brah¬  mano e non vi è crimine peggiore del brahmanicidio e di conseguenza  Indra perde la sua maestà, la sua forza spirituale, tejas (1-2). Poi, es¬  sendo stato generato il mostro Vrtra per vendicare il Tricefalo, Indra  s’impaurisce e contravvenendo alla vocazione propria del guerriero  conclude con Vrtra un patto infido che viola, sostituendo alla forza  l’inganno; di conseguenza perde il suo vigore fisico, baia (3-11). Infi¬  ne, tramite un’astuzia vergognosa, assumendo la forma del marito,  adesca una donna onesta in adulterio e perde così la sua bellezza, rùpa  (12-13).   L’epopea nordica - Saxo Grammalicus è l’unico a rintracciarne  la storia completa, ma lo fa secondo fonti perdute in lingua scandinava  - conosce un eroe di tipo molto particolare, Starkadr (Starcatherus),  guerriero modello in ogni punto, servitore fedele e devoto ai re che  1’accolgono, salvo che in tre circostanze. Egli è infatti stato dotato di tre vite successive, cioè di una vita  prolungata sino alla misura di tre vite normali, a condizione che in  ognuna di esse egli commetta una penalità.   Ora, il quadro di queste tre penalità si distribuisce chiaramente  secondo le tre funzioni. Essendo al servizio di un re norvegese l’eroe  aiuta criminalmente il dio Othinus (Ódinn) a uccidere il suo signore in  un sacrifìcio umano (VII, V, 1-2).   Trovandosi poi al servizio di un re svedese /ugge vergognosa¬  mente dal campo di battaglia dopo la morte del suo signore abbando¬  nandosi, in quest’unica occasione delle sue tre vite, alla paura panica  (Vili, V). Servendo infine un re danese, assassina il suo signore procu¬  randosi per mediazione centoventi libbre d’oro, cedendo eccezional¬  mente per qualche ora all’appetito di questa ricchezza di cui fece altro¬  ve, in atti e discorsi, professione di disprezzo (VII, VI, 14).   Essendosi così estinta 1 a sua triplice carriera non gli rimane che  cercare la morte ed è ciò che compie in uno scenario grandioso (Vili,  Vili). Il carattere e le gesta di Starkadr ricordano in molti punti quelle  di Eracle. Nelle esposizioni sistematiche che sono fatte - relativamen¬  te tarde ma non inventate - la vita intera dell’eroe greco (concepito da  Zeus e Alcmene durante tre notti) è scandita da tre mancanze che han¬  no un effetto grave sull 'essere dell’ eroe e ognuna di questecomporta il  ricorso all’oracolo di Delfi (Diodoro, IV, 10-38). 1) Euristeo re di  Argo comanda ad Eracle di compiere dei lavori e ne ha il diritto in virtù  di una promessa imprudente di Zeus e di un’astuzia di Era: Eracle  commette tuttavia l’errore di rifiutare, malgrado l’invito formale di  Zeus e l’ordine dell’oracolo. Approfittando di questo stato di disubbi¬  dienza agli dèi, Era lo colpisce nel suo spirito: egli è così preso dalla  demenza ed uccide i suoi bambini, dopo di che ritorna penosamente  alla ragione, si sottomette e compie così le Dodici Fatiche, aggravate  da altre fatiche (cap. 10-30). 2) Volendosi vendicare di Erito, Eracle  attira suo figlio Iphitos in un tranello e lo uccide non in duello ma con  l 'inganno (Sofocle nelle Trachinie 269-280 sottolinea il carattere for¬  temente antieroico di questo sbaglio). Eracle, punito, cade in una ma¬  lattia psichica da cui non si libera: viene così informato dall’oracolo  che deve vendersi come schiavo e rimettere ai figli di Iphitos il prezzo  di questa vendetta (cap. 31). 3) Benché infine legittimamente sposato  aDeianira, Eracle cerca di sposare un’altra principessa, poi ne rapisce una terza e la preferisce alla sua donna, dal che ne deriva il terribile di¬  sprezzo di Deianira, la tunica avvelenata dal sangue di Nesso e i terri¬  bili e irrimediabili dolori dai quali l’eroe non può liberarsi, dietro un  terzo ordine di Apollo, che con la propria apoteosi, col rogo (cap.  37-38).   Oltraggio a Zeus e disobbedienza agli dèi; morte vile e perfida di  un nemico senz’ armi; concupiscenza sessuale e oblio della propria don¬  na: i tre errori fatali di questa gloriosa carriera si distribuiscono sulle tre  zone funzionali esattamente come i tre peccali di Indra e con la stessa  specificazione (concupiscenza sessuale) della terza, alterando l’essere  stesso dell’eroe. Ma queste alterazioni, progressive e cumulative nel  caso di Indra, sono invece successive nel caso di Eracle: le prime due  possono essere riparate mentre la terza trascina alla morte.   In una tradizione avestica, senza dubbio ripensala e ri-orientata  dallo zoroastrismo, un eroe di tufi’altro tipo, Yima, è punito per un  unico grande peccalo (menzogna o, più lardi, orgoglio c rivolta contro  Dio e usurpazione degli onori divini) e viene privato in tre tempi dello  x' arvnah , di quel segno visibile e miracoloso della sovranità che Ahu-  ra Mazda pone sul capo di coloro destinati ad essere re. I tre terzi di  questo x v arvnah successivamente sfuggono per collocarsi nei tre per¬  sonaggi corrispondenti ai tre tipi sociali dell’ agricoltore-guaritore,  del guerriero e d c\V intelligente ministro di un sovrano (Dènkart , VII,  1, 25-32-36; molto più soddisfacente dello Yasl XIX, 34-38).   26. Il problema del re   Questo rapido excursus è sufficiente per mostrare le direzioni e  i diversi ambili in cui l’immaginazione dei popoli indoeuropei ha uti¬  lizzato la struttura tripartita; ancora una volta dobbiamo ora volgerci,  come per le altre applicazioni di questa struttura, verso i popoli non  indoeuropei del mondo antico per ricercare se intorno a un eroe si è  prodotto un tema epico o leggendario, la messa in scena di una lezione  morale o politica, la giustificazione colorita immaginifica di una prati¬  ca o di uno stato di fatto.   Al momento i risultali dell’inchiesta sono negativi. Da Gilga-  mesh a Sansone, dai grandi Faraoni agli imperatori favolosi della  Cina, dalla saggezza araba agli apologhi confuciani, nessun personag¬  gio storico o mitico ha rivestito in alcun modo l’uniforme trifunzionale in cui si trovano al contrario molte figure degli Indoeuropei. È dun¬  que probabile che questa divisa sia solo indoeuropea e che solo in  questa vasta partedel mondo, e prima della loro dislocazione, gli Indo¬  europei abbiano intellettualmente scandagliato, meditato e applicato  all’analisi e all’interpretazione della loro esperienza, e infine utilizza¬  to nei quadri della loro letteratura, nobile o popolare, le tre necessità  fondamentali e solidali che gli altri popoli si accontentavano di soddi¬  sfare.   Terminando quest’esposizione molto generale vorrei sottoline¬  are ancora che il riconoscimento di questo fatto così importante non ci  fornisce il mezzo per rappresentare lo stato sociale effetti voo le istitu¬  zioni (senza dubbio variabili da provincia a provincia) degli «Indoeu¬  ropei comuni».   Noi non possediamo che un principio, uno dei princìpi e dei  quadri essenziali. Una delle questioni più oscure rimane ad esempio il  rapporto fra le tre funzioni e il «re», del quale ci è assicurala l'esistenza  antichissima nella parte senza dubbio più conservatrice degli Indoeu¬  ropei, cioè presso gli indiani vedici (/•«/-), i latini (/ <?#-) c i celti (n#-).   Questi rapporti sono diversi sui tre domini c su ognuno vi è stata  una variazione nei luoghi e nei tempi. Risulta così qualche fluttuazio¬  ne nella rappresentazione e definizione delle tre funzioni c notoria¬  mente della prima: o il re è superiore, o per lo meno esterno alla strut¬  tura trifunzionale, e allora la prima funzione è centrala sulla pura  amministrazione del sacro, sul sacerdote piuttosto che sul potere, sul  sovrano e i suoi ministri; oppure il re (re-sacerdote più che governato¬  re) è al contrario il più eminente rappresentante di queste funzioni.   Oppure si presenta una mescolanza variabile di clementi presi  dalle tre funzioni e in special modo dalla seconda, dalla funzione e dal¬  la classe guerriera da cui solitamente proviene: il nome differenziale  dei guerrieri indiani, ksutriyu, non ha forse per sinonimo quello di  ràjanya, derivato dalla parola ràjanl   Queste difficoltà, insieme ad altre, potranno essere meglio for¬  mulale, se non risolte, quando avremo indirizzato lo studio su ciò che  fu l’armatura più solida del pensiero di questa società arcaiche: il siste¬  ma divino, la teologia e i suoi prolungamenti mitologici ed epici. § 1. V.M. AFTE, «Were castes formulateci in thè age of thè Rig Veda?»,  Bull, of thè Decenti College Research Institute, II, pp. 34-36. Per brahman  vedi L. RENOU, «Sur la nolion de bràhman», JA, CCXXXVII, 1949, pp.  1 -46. Questa interpretazione, facile da conciliare con i fatti iranici segnalali  da W.B. HENNTNG,' «Brahman», TPS, 1944, pp. 108-118, rende caduco il  senso ammesso nel mio Flamen-Brahmnti (1935). Il «Brahman» di P. THIE-  ME, ZDMG, 102, 1952, non ha fatto avanzare l’analisi e non altera il risultato  dello studio di Renou. Circa i rapporti del brahman e del flamen, vedi la mia  discussione con J. GONDA ( Notes on Brahman, 1950) in RHR, CXXXVIII,  1950, pp. 255-258 eCXXXIX 1951,pp. 122-127; riprenderò prossimamente  la questione di questi rapporti. Come xsaQra in avestico, ksatrd è ambiguo in  vedico e appartiene per certi impieghi al vocabolario del «primo livello»; ma  la concordanza dell’uso classificatorio del sanscrito ksatriya per designare  l’uomo del secondo livello, di X5a0ra come nome dell’arcangelo sostituito  nello zoroastrismo a Indra, dio del secondo livello (vedi qui sotto II § 8) e infi¬  ne di /Exscert-ieg come nome della famiglia degli uomini differenzialmente  “forti” nell’epopea degli Osseli (vedi sotto, 4), garantisce che fin dai tempi  indo-iranici questo termine fosse una designazione tecnica dell’essenza del  secondo livello.   § 2. DUMÉZIL, «La préhistoire indo-iranienne des castes», JA, CCXVI,  1930, pp. 109-130. B ENVENISTE, «Les classes sociales dans la tradilion ave-  stique», JA, CCXXI, 1932, pp. 117-134; «Les mages dans l’ancien Iran»,  Pubi, ile la Soc. cles Étuiles Iraniennes, n. 15,1938, pp. 6-13; «Tradilions in-  do-iraniennes su les classes sociales», JA, CCXXX, 1938, pp. 529-550; H.S.  NYBERG, Die Religione/} cles alteri Iran, 1938, pp. 89-91; DUMÉZIL, JMQ,  pp. 41-68 (= JMQ it. pp. 24-45).   § 3. L’interpretazione è stata progressivamente costituita negli articoli e  nei libri citati al § 2, partendo da una suggestione di A. CHRISTENSEN, Le pre¬  mier homme... I, 1918, pp. 137-140.   § 4. JMQ, pp. 55-56 (= JMQ il., p. 35). Sulle tradizioni degli Osseti vedi il  mio Légemis sur les Nartes, 1930, c il risultato delle grandi inchieste degli  anni ‘40 pubblicale in Osetinskije Nartskije Skazanija (Dzauzikau), 1948 (in  osseto: Narty kailcliitce ibid. 1946). Il testo citalo di Turganov è nell’articolo  «Klo takie Narty?»,/zv. Oset. histit. Kraeveilenija, I (Vladikavzak), 1925, p.  373.   § 5. Vedi la mia Lezione Inaugurale al Collège de Franco (1949), pp.  15-19 e BGDSL, 78, 1956, p. 175-178.   § 6. JMQ, pp. 110-123 (=JMQ il. pp. 77-87). Sette anni più tardi, dopo la  guerra, T.G.E. POWELL ha ripreso la mia dimostrazione, «Ccltic Origins; a  Stage in thè Hnquiry», J. ofthe R. Anthropol. Institute, 78, 1948, pp. 71-79:   « Of greatest interest is thè recognition of a three folci clivision o f society    44     among thepeoples concerned [Indiani, Italici, Celti ],providing in thehighest  rank a class oflearned and sacred men, in tlie second warriors, and in thè lo-  west thè ordinary people » etc. Circa il nome di aire apparentato ad aiya, io  credo che bisogna rinunciare all’etimologia che accosta il nome dell’eroe ir¬  landese Eremon al dio indo-iranico Aryaman (vedi sotto III § 6) e in conse¬  guenza sopprimere l’ultimo capitolo del mio Troisième Souverain, 1949.   § 7-8. Questa analisi è stata fatta progressivamente in JMQ, pp. 129-1 54  (= JMQ it., pp. 90-107); NR, pp. 86-127 (= JMQ it. pp. 230-263); JMQ IV,  pp. I 13-134. In parte qui riproduco il riassuntode L'heritage... pp. 127-130 e  190-209. Gli Umbri distinguevano nella società i rappresentanti delle tre fun¬  zioni: «Ner - et uiro - dans les sociétés italiques», REL, XXXI, 1953, pp.  183-189.   § 8. Delle obiezioni a questa analisi sono state lungamente esaminate in  NR, cap. II (= JMQ it. pp. 230-262), riassunto in L’heritage... pp. 196-201 e  229-23 1. Ho anche fatto notare che se Ranmes è utilizzato - «superbum  Rhamnetem» -come nomeproprioda Virgilio (Aen., IX. 327) è perdesignare  un re jce un augur ; che Lucer- sembrerebbe essere all’origine del nome della  gens Lucretia, una delle più militari delle leggende dei primi tempi della Re¬  pubblica (e proprietaria del cognome Tricipitinus, che senza dubbio allude a  un mito del Tricefalo); che il radicale di Titienses (F. BUCHELER, Kl. Sdir.,  Ili, 1930, pp. 75-80) si trova in altre parole in rapporti diversi ma convergenti  con la fecondità, l’amore, la voluttà: questo conferma l’orientamento diffe¬  renziale di ognuna delle tribù verso una delle tre funzioni. Ho infine ricercato  delle allusioni letterarie alle «tre funzioni» e ai loro rappresentanti, come  componenti di Roma o di altre società concepite a sua immagine: JMQ IV,  pp. 121-136; REL, XXIX, 1951, pp. 3 18-329; ma i testi degli storici e quello  di Properzio sono sufficienti. La questione dell’autenticità della fusione dei  Latini e dei Sabini alle origini di Roma è connessa a questa ma differente,  vedi sotto, II i? 17, nota.   § 9. JMQ, pp. 252-253 (=JMQ it., pp. 269-270); in compenso le classi do¬  riche sono di un altro tipo, malgrado JMQ, pp. 254-257 (soppresso in JMQ  it.). Un recente studio di MARTIN P. NlLSSON sulle Phylae ioniche ( Cults,  myths, oracles andpolitics in ancient Greece, 1951, pp. 143-149) presenta  delle difficoltà che esaminerò altrove. L.R. PALMER ha brillantemente pro¬  posto di riconoscere la tripartizione sociale indoeuropea nei testi micenei:  TPS, 1954, pp. 18-53; Acliaeans and Indoeuropeans, an Inaugurai Lecture,  Oxford 1954, pp. 1 -22. Quanto ai «tre stati» della Repubblica di Platone, vedi  JMQ, pp. 257-261 (= JMQ it. pp. 170-171 ): « Se le più antiche tradizioni degli  Ioni conservano il ricordo di una divisione funzionale quadripartita della so¬  cietà (sacerdoti, guerrieri, agricoltori, artigiani), la città ideale di Platone  non potrebbe forse essere, nel senso più stretto, una reminiscenza indoeuro¬  pea? Essa è costituita dalla concatenazione armoniosa di tre funzioni, tò  (pu7.CXKlKÓV O (3oi)A.EV>TlKÓV, TÒ ÈKlKO'UpiKÓV, TÒ XpimOtTlCTTUCÓV «CUStO-    45     dum genus, uuxiliarii, questuarti», come traduce Marsilio Ficino, cioè i filo¬  sofi che governano, i guerrieri che combattono e il terzo-stato, agricoltori e  artigiani riuniti, che crea la ricchezza. La solidarietà dei primi due gruppi al  di sopra del terzo è fortemente marcata, ma soprattutto l’originalità di ciascuno: ogni stato agisce conformemente alla sua definizione, oìtceiojtpa/yia,  evita la confusione , 7toA.U7cpaynpoa'ùvE, e la Giustizia, fine ultimo della vita  politica, è assicurata. A ognuno degli stati corrisponde infine una «formula  di virtù» particolare: il terzo stato deve essere temperante, acótppcov; alla  temperanza i guerrieri devono aggiungere il coraggio, àvSpeia; i «guardia¬  ni» saranno inoltre saggi, aotpoi. Tutto questo fa immaginare, per quel po ’  che li si è praticati, i trattati politico-religiosi dell’India: stessa definizione  dei tre stati sociali; stessa solidarietà dei primi due, ubhe vlrye; stesso anate¬  ma contro la confusione, varnanàm samkaram,- stessa esortazione ad atte¬  nersi al modo di azione a cui si appartiene, stessa distribuzione dei doveri e  delle virtù dello stato. I legislatori indiani e la Repubblica si fanno eco: none  forse perché essi recitano la medesima canzone ancestrale?... Che si pensi a  tutte le vie per le quali questa «filosofia indoeuropea» tripartita ha potuto di¬  scendere fino a Platone: non solo le tradizioni sulle origini degli Ioni, ma i  contatti molteplici con quel conservatore di dottrine, non ariane, ma anche  ariane, che fu l'impero degli Ac he me nidi; l'orfismo, in cui deiframmenti del¬  la scienza dei sacerdoti traci e frigi si sono depositati e in cui non mancavano  le triadi; il pitagorismo, su cui Henri Hubert ci invitava, vent’anni or sono, a  non trascurare le componenti «iperboree»; infine il folklore...» Cf. qui sotto  § 18, per le applicazioni psicologiche della divisione tripartita nell’India e in  Platone.   § 10. Cf. i riferimenti al § 5. Sui marianni (egiziano ma-ra-ya-na\ cunei¬  forme mar-ya-an-nu ; forse come l’ha proposto Albrighl, dall’accusativo plu¬  rale arya mdrycin + la terminazione hurrita -ni), vedi R.T. O’CALLAGHAN,  «New light on thè Maryannu as chariot-warrior», Jb. f kleinas. Forschung,  1951, pp. 308-324. I libri fondamentali quelli di S. WtKANDER, Der arische  Mannerbund, 1938 e H. LOMMEL, Der arische Kriegsgott, 1939, da confron¬  tare con O. HÒFLER, Kultische Geheimbùnde der Germanen, I, 1934. Una  delle grosse differenze tra il «Mannerbund» degli Indiani e quello dei Germa¬  ni consiste nel fatto che il primo appartiene a Indra (non a Varuna), mentre il  secondo a Ódinn (e non a Pórr): effetto dell’evoluzione della «funzione guer¬  riera» presso i Germani (cf. II § 22); vedi MDG, p. 92, n. 1 e più specificata-  mente, J. De VRIES, Altgerman. Rei. - Gesch., II, 1957, §§ 405-412.   § 11. Un’interpretazione delle corrispondenze del tipo «33» fra Roma e  l’India vedica è proposta in JMQ IV, pp. 156-170 (= JMQ it., pp. 389-405),  L'heritage..., pp. 213-227.1 «33 dèi» vedici sono ripartiti frai tre piani del  mondo (JMQ IV, pp. 30-33; riassunto in DIE, pp. 7-9) essi stessi in rapporto  con le tre funzioni (JMQ, p. 65 = JMQ it. pp. 42-43 ). Il carattere indo-iranico  dei «33 dèi» è garantito dalla concezione avestica dei «33 ratu» (spiriti pro-    46     tettori o prototipi delle diverse specie di esseri): JMQIV, pp. 158-159(=JMQ  it., pp. 294-395), secondo J. Darmesteter e S. Wikander.   § 12. È nel suo articolo «Traditions indo-iraniennes sur les classes socia -  les», JA, CCXXX, 1938, pp. 529-549, che E. BENVENISTE ha per la prima  volta mostrato, al di fuori dell’India vera e propria in cui il fatto era ben cono¬  sciuto, che l’ideologia tripartita supera largamente l’organizzazione sociale  che finalmente non appare più se non come un’applicazione particolare.  Come disse all’inizio di un altro articolo, per riassumere l’insegnamento di  questo («Symbolisme social dans les cultes gréco-italiques» RHR,  CXXXIX, 1945, p. 5): «La elivisione della societe'i in tre classi, sacerdoti,  guerrieri, agricoltori, è un principio di cui gli Indo-Iranici avevano piena co¬  scienza e che presentava ai loro occhi l’autorità e la necessità di un fatto na¬  turale. Questa classificazione regge così profondamente l’universo  indo-iranico che il suo dominio reale supera largamente le enunciazioni  esplìcite degli inni e dei rituali. Si è potuto dimostrare [JA, 1938, p. 529 e  segg.] che varie rappresentazioni sono state con formate e che sono fuori dal¬  la sfera propria del sociale, al punto che ogni de finizione di una totalità con¬  cettuale tende inconsciamente a riflettere il quadro tripartito che organizza  la società degli uomini. Da parte sua, G. Dumézil, in una serie di brillanti stu¬  di ha riportato sino alla comunità indoeuropea l’origine di questa classifica¬  zione, scoprendola nei miti e nelle leggende dell ’Europa occidentale antica e  principalmente -è l'oggetto del suo libro Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus - nella reli¬  gione romana». Le posizioni variabili della «tecnica» in rapporto alla tripar¬  tizione sociale sono esaminate in «Les métiers et les classes fonclionnelles  chez divers peuples indoeuropéens» che sarà pubblicato quest’anno in Anna-  les. Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations.   § 13. BENVENISTE, «Traditions indo-iran. sur les classes sociales», JA  CCXXX, 1938, pp. 543-545; DUMÉZIL, «Triades de calamités et triades de  délits à valeur trifonclionnelle chez divers peuples indoeuropéens», Ltito-  mus, XIV, 1955, pp. 173-185.   § 14. BENVENISTE, «La doctrine médical des Indo-Européens», RHR,  CXXX, 1945, pp. 5-12; Dumézil, art. cit. al paragrafo precedente, p. 184, n.2.   § 15. JMQ, pp. 114-115 (= JMQ it., p. 80)   § 17. «Les trois fonctions et le droit romain selon L. Gerschel», frammenti  di una memoria inedita di L. G., pubblicata in appendice a JMQ IV, pp.  170-176.   § 18. Per Platone e l’India vedi JMQ, pp. 259-260 (=JMQ it., pp. 171 -172)   «Dopo aver scoperto la formula tripartita della società, Platone si volge  sull’individuo, sull'«Uno umano» e in questo microcosmo ritrova gli stessi  elementi in una stessa gerarchia, le stesse condizioni di armonia comandano  le medesime virtù. L'uomo giusto, dal punto di vista della giustizia, non diffe¬  risce in niente dallo Stato giusto; ha in sé l'equivalente dei saggi, dei guerrie¬  ri, degli uomini ricchi: questi sono i principi della conoscenza, della  flussione e dell ’appetito , xò à.oyi0xixóv, xò 0upoEi6éq, xò È7U0'ujìtixikóv,-  che effli subordina in modo tale che il secondo aiuti il primo, in modo che i  due primi dominino insieme questo temibile terzo che è in ogni uomo la parte  più considerevole dell’anima e che è per natura insaziabile di ricchezze; poi¬  ché apre alla saggezza, al coraggio e alta temperanza gli spazi spirituali che  convengono a loro; egli sarà ciò che deve essere. Allo stesso modo l’India,  con l’instabilità delle rappresentazioni e delle formulazioni che le è propria,  compone l’anima o meglio l'involucro dell’anima, di tre guna al pari della  società e dell'universo: queste qualità, che furono inizialmente luce, crepu¬  scolo e tenebra, sattva, rajas e tamas, sia perla loro presenza isolata che per  la loro combinazione, costituiscono gli individui e lo Stato: talvolta il senso  della legge morale, della passione e dell’interesse, dharma, kama e artha, si  uniscono in una triade equivalente a quella dei guna e il loro equilibrio lode¬  vole o biasimevole definisce i tipi umani; talvolta, seguendo uno schema  prettamente indiano, è la conoscenza serena, l’attività inquieta o l’ignoran¬  za fonte di errori, che si disputano il nostro effimero edificio e questa sempli¬  ce enumerazione disegna una terapeutica...» Per l’Irlanda e la regina Medb  vedi JMQ, pp. 115 -116 (= JMQ it., pp. 80-82); è la stessa Medb che commen¬  ta chiaramente la sua seconda e terza esigenza: il suo sposo dovrà essere valo¬  roso in guerra e anche generoso di beni quanto lei; circa la prima si spiega in  questi termini; non bisogna che mio marito sia geloso poiché «non sono mai  stata senza un uomo nell’ombra di un altro » - allusione alle costanti competi¬  zioni intorno alla regalità irlandese che Medb incarna e conferisce. Nella lon¬  tana posterità di Platone, Claudiano, De quarto consul. Hon., espone  magnificamente la teoria della tre parti dell’ anima (o delle tre anime) c ritro¬  va, v. 259, una formula analoga alle tre esigenze di Medb (ma col «timore» al  primo livello: si metuis, sipraua cupis, si duceris ira; seruitiipaliere iugum...   - Per «Zoroastro tripartito» vedi K. Barr, «Irans profet som xéXeioq  avOptonoq», Festkr. tilL.L. Hammerich, 1952, pp. 26-36.   § 19. Perii talismano dei Tualha De Danann, vedi JMQ, cap. VII (soppri¬  mendo le pagine 241-245). Per gli oggetti vedici (la Vacca magica per il  dio-cappellano Brhaspati, due cavalli bai pcrlndra, ilearro a tre ruote che ser¬  ve agli Aévin per portare la loro benevolenza al mondo: p. es. RV, I, 161, 6) e  scandinavi (P anello magico per Odinn, il martello per Pórr, il cinghiale dalle  setole d’oro per Freyr) vedi Tarpeia, IV («Mamurius Veturius»), pp.  205-246.   § 20. Nei rituali vedici vi sono tracce di un’antica assegnazione del nero ai  vaiéya: per costruire la sua casa un indiano sceglie un suolo diversamente co¬  lorato, bianco per un brahmano, rosso per uno ksatrya e per un vaiéya, giallo  secondo certi trattati ( Àsvalàyana G.S., II, 8, 8) e nero secondo altri ( Gobhila  G.S., 7, 7; Khàdira G.S., IV, 2, 12). Per la tradizione iranica vedi in ultimo  luogo ZaEHNER, Zurvan, 1955, pp. 118-125 (testo del Grande Bundahisn c  del Denkart, pp. 321-336 e 374-378). Per il rituale hittita vedi BasaNOFF,  Euocatio, 1947, pp. 141-150.    48     § 21. DUMÉZIL, Rituels cap. Ili («Albati, russati, virides») e IV («Ve-  xillum caeruleum»); J. DE VRIES, «Rood, wit, zwart», Volkskimde, II, 1942,   pp. 1-10.   § 22. MOLE, «Le partage du monde dans la tradition des Iraniens», JA,  CCXL, 1952, pp. 456-458.   § 23. DUMÉZIL, «Les trois fonctions dans quelques traditions grecques»  Eventail de l'histoire vivante (= Mèi. L. Febvre ), I, 1954, pp. 25-32, dove  sono studiate in questo senso il «Kroisos-Logos» di Erodoto e certe forme  dell’apologo di Mida e del Sileno; L. GERSCHEL, «Sur un schème trifon-  ctionnel dans une famille de légendes germaniques», RHR, CL, 1956, pp.  55-92, in cui sono esaminati due tipi imparentati di leggende, una che com¬  porta l’opzione proposta a un individuo fra tre «offerte funzionali» (es.  l’origine di «Jodeln» citata nel testo) e l’altra che presenta tre fratelli che si  spartiscono tre doni funzionali il cui valore si rivela disuguale a vantaggio del  dono della prima funzione (es. il gruppo di leggende di cui Ch. PRÉVOT  D’ARLINCOURT, Le Pélerin, III, 1842, pp. 268-291 ha pubblicato un buon  esempio).   § 24. L. GERSCHEL, «Structures augurales et tripartition fonctionnelle  dans la pensée del’ancienneRome», JP, 1952, pp. 47-77. L’estrema antichità  e il carattere indoeuropeo di certe concezioni e pratiche augurali di Roma (la  parola augur è indoeuropea) sono state stabilite in diversi articoli:  «L’inscription archaique du Forum et Cicéron, De divin., Il, 36», RSR,  XXXIX-XL ( =Mél. J. Lebreton. I), 1951, pp. 17-29, prolungata da «Le iuges  auspicium et les incongruités du taureau attelé de Mugdala», NC, V, 1953,  pp. 249-266; Rituels..., cap. II («Aedes rotunda Vestae»); «Les trois premiè-  res regiones caeli de Martianus Capei la», Coll. Latomus, XXIII ( =Homm. A  M. Niedermamì), 1956, pp. 102-107. Sulla parola augur e la sua preistoria in¬  doeuropea, vedi «Remarques sur augur, augustus», REL, XXXV, 1957, pp.  126-151.   § 25. Aspects..., p. 63-101 («Les trois péchésdu guerrier»). Citiamo anco¬  ra L. GERSCHEL, «Coriolan», Eventail de l’Histoire vivante (=Mél. L. Feb¬  vre), II, 1954, pp. 33-40: Coriolano, accampatosi davanti a Roma, resiste alle  ambasciate dei suoi compagni d’arme, poi a quella di tutto il corpo sacerdo¬  tale rivestito delle sue insegne sacre e con gli strumenti di culto, ma cede alla  terza, a quella di tutte le donne di Roma che portano i loro bambini - la «parte  germinativa» di Roma - condotte dalla sua propria madre e da sua moglie.   § 26. Sulla diversità delle posizioni del re in rapporto alle tre funzioni,  vedi la mia comunicazione al Vili Congresso Internazionale di Storia delle  Religioni (Roma 1956), «Le rex et les flamines maiores», riassunta negli  Atti..., 1956, pp. 118-120. Sul re germanico nella prospettiva trifunzionale  vedi J. DE VRIES, «Das Kònigtum bei den Germanen», Saeculum, VII, 1956,  pp. 289-309.    49      Capitolo secondo    Le teologie tripartite    1. Espressione teologica dell’ideologia delle tre funzioni   Le teologie dei diversi popoli indoeuropei non sono essenzial¬  mente degli accumuli incoerenti di dèi stratificati dai flussi e riflussi  fortuiti della storia. In ogni luogo su cui siamo sufficientemente infor¬  mati è facile riconoscere un gruppo centrale di divinità solidali che si  definiscono le une con le altre e che si spartiscono le province del sa¬  cro, secondo il piano spiegato nel capitolo precedente. Questi gruppi  sono stati per lungo tempo, a seconda dei casi, trascurati, negati o mal  compresi.   Il loro riconoscimento - e notoriamente quello del gruppo itali¬  co e mitanno di cui si discusse inizialmente (1938, ma soprattutto a  partire dal 1945)-èall’origine dei principali progressi dei nostri studi;  all’origine anche di numerose discussioni spesso gradevoli, talvolta  penose, ma generalmente utili, tra il comparatista e lo specialista dei  diversi ambiti.   2. Gli dèi caratteristici delle tre funzioni negli inni e nei   RITUALI VEDICI   I sacerdoti dell’India vedica, in un certo numero di circostanze  rituali importanti, associano (per delle invocazioni, delle offerte o del¬  le enumerazioni classificatorie) i due sovrani dell’universo, Mitra e Varuna, il dio guerriero per eccellenza, lnd(a)ra, c i due gemelli, quasi  sempre designati al duale con un nome collettivo, i Ncisatya o Asvin,  guaritori, datori di discendenza e di ogni sorta di bene. Talvolta al se¬  condo livello, evidentemente per analogia col raggruppamento bina¬  rio del primo e terzo livello, Indra compare associato a un altro dio,  spesso variabile (Vàyu, Agni, Surya, Visnu). Abbiamo già visto (I §  18) questo insieme divino (Mitra-Varuna, i due ASvin, Indra con Agni  o Sùrya), invocati per ottenere la formazione di un feto maschio, obiet¬  tivo più importante in questi tempi arcaici che non oggi.   L’ordine di numerazione mette gli ASvin al secondo posto, pri¬  ma di Indra poiché si tratladi una nascita, cioè di un avvenimento che è  propriamente del loro ambilo. Con un’alterazione differente dell’ordi¬  ne che mette più in evidenza Indra, questo raggruppamento costituisce  la lista dei principali «dèi in coppia» invocali al momento culminante  della spremitura mattutina del soma (il sacrificio tipico); sono  Indra-Vàyu, Mitra-Varuna c i due ASvin (vedi il Sat. Bruhm., IV, 1,  3-5) ed è lui che comanda il piano di un certo numero di inni del Rive¬  da ispirati da questo rituale.   Il contesto di questi inni è sovente istruttivo, garantisce e illu¬  stra il valore funzionale di ogni livello divino: per esempio in I, 139  Indra-Vàyu sono caratterizzati dalla presenza, vicino a loro c nella  stessa strofa ( 1), della parola sàrdhas, termine tecnico che designa il  battaglione dei giovani guerrieri divini: la strofa di Mitra-Varuna (2) è  riempita dalla nozione di rtù c dnrta, cioè dell’Ordine cosmico e mo¬  rale e dal suo contrario; gli ASvin (3) sono invece presentati come i si¬  gnori delle due varietà di «vitalità», srlyah e prksah.   Nei due inni complementari (I, 2 e 3), Indra-Vàyu sono qualifi¬  cati come nani, «Mànner, eroi» (2, slr. 6); di Mitra-Varuna (2, str. 8) è  detto che «con l'Ordine, curando l'ordine, hanno raggiunto  un’elevata efficienza »; quanto agli Asvin, « donano gioia a molti» (3,  slr. 1).    3. Lis ti-: ascendenti e discenden ti   Più spesso l’ordine canonico sia ascendente che discendente è  rispettato. Ecco inizialmente due casi molto «puri» in cui Indra è solo  al suo livello.    52      Nel rituale arcaico e minuzioso d’erezione dell’importante alta¬  re del fuoco, al momento in cui si tracciano i sacri solchi che devono li¬  mitare l’area, viene fatta un’invocazione alla vacca mitica, Kàmadhuk  («quella che quando la si munge dona ciò che si desidera»).  L’invocazione contiene la sequenza divina che ci riguarda, nel senso  discendente, con un prolungamento che ne garantisce i valori funzio¬  nali: «Produci come latte ciò che desiderano, a Mitra e Varuna, a  Indra, ai due Asvin, a Pùsan (dio del bestiame e talvolta dei sfidra),  alle creature, alle piante!» (cf. Éat. Brdhm., VII, 2, 2, 12). In una tale  numerazione ordinata, al di sopra delle piante, degli animali ed even¬  tualmente degli uomini non-arya, Milra-Varuna, Indra e gli Asvin non  possono patrocinare che tre varietà di uomini arya, quelli che corri¬  spondono rispettivamente e gerarchicamente alle loro tre nature.   In un sacrificio offerto per ottenere certe prosperità, gli stessi  dèi sono invocati nell’ordine ascendente con un complimento colletti¬  vo ed esauriente (Taittir. Sarnh. , II, 3, 10, 1 b): «tu sei il soffio degli dèi  Asvin... tu sei il soffio di Indra... tu sei il soffio di Mitra-Varuna... tusei  il soffio di Tutti gli Dèi!».   Con Agni associato ad Indra, nell’ordine discendente, si osser¬  va la stessa sequenza all’inizio di un lesto speculativo molto interes¬  sante ( RV , X, 125 = A V, IV, 30 con una leggera variante nell’ordine  delle strofe): è il famoso inno panteista, messo nella bocca di un perso¬  naggio che è senza dubbio Vàc, la Parola, c che in ogni caso si presenta  come il supporto e l’essenza comune di tutto ciò che esiste.   La prima strofa è questa: «Io vado con i Rudra, con i Vasu, con  gli Àditya e con Tutti gli Dèi! Sono io che sostengo tutti e due Mi¬  tra-Varuna; sono io che sostengo Indra-Agni, io che sostengo i due  Asvin!». È degno di nota che nelle strofe seguenti, analizzando la pro¬  pria polivalenza o, come ella dice, i « diversi luoghi » c «soggiorni» in  cui «glidèi l’hanno introdotta » (RV, str. 3 =A Vslr. 2), Vàc metta in ri¬  salto, come parti della sua opera in rapporto agli uomini (RV str. 4, 5, 6  =AV str. 4, 3, 5) il nutrimento e la vita, poi la parola «assaporata dagli  dèi e dagli uomini» e il bene che concede ai personaggi sacri (bruh-  man, rsi), infine l’arco «la freccia che uccide il nemico del brahmàn» c  il combattimento.   È chiaro che, qualunque sia l’intenzione dottrinale (si è parlato  in quest’occasione di Logos ncoplalonico), questo poema utilizza nelle sue espressioni il più antico sistema concettuale degli Arya: con la  sua esposizione di nozioni parallele (dèi, azioni) conferma che la se¬  quenza Mitra-Varuna, Indra (solo o accompagnato) e i due Asvin riu¬  nisce i patroni e le espressioni teologiche delle tre funzioni.   4. Gli dei arya dei Mitanni   Talvolta leggermente ritoccata, secondo preoccupazioni che è  spesso possibile comprendere, questa stessa sequenza si ritrova in di¬  versi testi dell’India arcaica, ma ora voglio giungere senza indugio a  un documento molto importante.   È risaputo che tra gli Indo-Iranici un ramo parlante sia il futuro  «indiano-vedico», che un dialetto molto vicino a quelli che si possono  chiamare «para-indiani», invece di emigrare verso Est, verso l’Indo e  il Panjab, deviò verso Ovest, presso l’Eufrate e fino alla Palestina, in¬  correndo in un destino brillante ma effimero e lasciando sue tracce in  molti scritti cuneiformi.   Mentrei loro fratelli orientali, autori degli inni vedici, sfuggono  alla storia, questi, circondali da popoli archivisti e armati di una scrit¬  tura, sono localizzabili e databili con una grande precisione. Sono loro  che hanno fatto tremare e talvolta crollare antichi reami del Vicino  Oriente con le loro bande di guerrieri specialisti, di cui si c parlato più  sopra, quelli che i testi babilonesi ed egiziani chiamano marianni.   Il gruppo più interessante di questi «Para-Indiani» è quello che,  inquadrando e dirigendo un popolo di altra origine, ha fondato nella  metà del secondo millennio, sulle bocche deH’Eufrate, l’impero hurri-  ta dei Mitanni, che per un certo tempo Hittiti ed Egiziani hanno dovuto  trattare da pari a pari.   Nel 1907, a Bogazkòy, negli archivi di un re hittita, gli scavi  hanno scoperto in diversi esemplari il testo di un trattato concluso da  questo principe, verso il 1380, col suo vicino dei Mitanni, il re Mati-  waza. Restaurato sul suo trono dall 'Hittita che gli aveva inoltre donato  sua figlia, il Mitan no stabilì un’alleanza col suo benefattore nella debi¬  ta forma.   Il testo enumera le maledizioni celesti in cui egli accetta di in¬  correre se mancherà alla parola. Secondo l’uso, i due contraenti con¬  vocano come garanti tutti gli dèi che i loro due imperi riconoscono.  Fra gli dèi mitanni, vicino a un gran numero di dei sconosciuti e di altri riconoscibili come divinità locali o babilonesi, s’incontra una sequen¬  za che è stata immediatamente identificata dagli indianisti e su cui i fi¬  lologi hanno lungamente lavorato, esaminando le particolarità grafi¬  che e grammaticali del testo. Oggi renumerazione si può rendere con  sicurezza nel modo seguente:   «Gli dèi Mitra-(V)aruna [variante Uruvcma] in coppia, il dio  Indura [var. Inclar], i due dèi Nàsatyu ...».   Per più di trentanni, senza aver preso in visione i documenti ve¬  dici principali citati, si sono proposte per questa riunione di dèi delle  spiegazioni strane (W. Schulz, 1916-17) o insufficienti (S. Konow,  1921 ). Il danese A. Christensen ( 1926) con un’analisi serrata si è avvi¬  cinato alla verità, riconoscendo che Mitra-Varuna, Indra e i Nàsalya  non compaiono a Bogazkòy come tecnici di atti diplomatici, né come  interessali di questa o quella clausola particolare, ad esempio matri¬  moniale, del trattalo, ma poiché erano «dèi principali» della società  arya. Sfortunatamente egli ha «pensato» questo stato maggiore solo  nel quadro dualista dell’opposizione *asura-daiva preminente nell’I¬  ran, reale ma meno importante nell’India vedica, c l’ha ripartito artifi¬  cialmente, contrariamente alle indicazioni del testo, in due gruppi,  Mitra-Varuna da una parte e Indra-Nàsatya dall'altra.   E solo nel 1940, grazie a un dossierve dico delle tre funzioni e ai  testi vedici che associano gli stessi dèi presenti nel trattalo di Bogaz¬  kòy, che è apparsa l’interpretazione più semplice che io ho riassunto in  questi termini nel 1945:   «A Boguzkòy, sotto Mitra-Varuna, dèi della sovranità che pa¬  trocinano ciò che è sacro e ciò che è giusto, dèi della regalità coi suoi  necessari ausiliari, sacerdoti e giuristi, Indura e i Nàsatyu, rappre¬  sentanti duplici di uno stesso tipo di dèi, non sono sullo stesso piano: a  un secondo livello vi è Indura, dio della funzione guerriera e dell’ari¬  stocrazia militare dei marianni; poi, a un livello ancora inferiore vi  sono i patroni del terzo-stato, i Nàsatyu. Nominando questi dèi insie¬  me e in quest’ordine, il re fa due operazioni precise: vincola con se  stesso tutta la società del suo reame, presentata nella sua forma rego¬  lare, ed evoca le tre grandi province del destino e della provvidenza.  Questo corrisponde del resto alla stesura delle maledizioni che accettu di attirarsi in caso eli spergiuro: tutto passa ampiamente dalla sua  persona al suo popolo e alla sua terra-sterilità, espulsione e oblio,  odio generale da parte degli dèi ».   5. Connotati degli dèi caratteristici delle tre funzioni   NELLA RELIGIONE VEDICA   Non sarà inutile, per agevolare il lettore nelle analisi particolari  che seguiranno, precisare ora in qualche parola, nella prospettiva delle  tre funzioni, gli orientamenti e i limiti di questi diversi dèi che gli ar¬  chivi di Bogazkòy, confermando le formule degli inni e dei rituali in¬  diani, comprovano essere un raggruppamento formulare pre-vedico.  Ecco come questi valori sono stati riassunti nel mio piccolo libro Les  dieux des Indo-Européens (1952).   «Non è un caso se il primo livello è spesso rappresentato da due  dèi: nella sovranità che questi antichi indiani concepivano vi erano  due facce, due metà antitetiche ma complementari e ugualmente ne¬  cessarie, incarnate e patrocinate da due «re», Mitra e Varuna. Se dal  punto di vista dell'uomo Varuna è un signore inquietante, terribile,  possessore della màyà, cioè della magia creatrice delle forme, armato  di nodi e di reti, che opera cioè avvinghiameli immediati e  irresistibili, Mitra, il cui nome significa Contratto, e anche Amico, è  rassicurante e benevolo, protettore degli atti e dei rapporti onesti e  stabiliti, estraneo alla violenza. L'uno, Varuna, dice un testo celebre,  è l’altro mondo; questo mondo è invece Mitra. Varuna è più despota,  più dio stesso se così si può dire; Mitra è quasi un sacerdote divino.  Più che della prima funzione, Varuna sembra avere maggiori affinità  con la seconda, violenta e guerriera; Mitra, per la tranquilla prospe¬  rità che dischiude grazie, alla terza. L'opposizione è così netta che da  tempo si sono potuti sottolineare i tratti quasi demoniaci di Varuna:  non è forse l’àsura per eccellenza ? E nelle forme post-vediche della  religione, come già in molte strofe del Rgveda, gli usura non sono for¬  se dei misteriosi demoni? In Ind(a)ra si riassumono tutte altre cose: i  movimenti, i seni zi, le necessità della forza brutale che applicate alla  battaglia producono vittoria, bottino e potenza. Questo campione vo¬  race, armato di folgore, uccide i demoni e salva l’universo, per com¬  piere le sue imprese si inebria di soma che dona vigore e furore. Egli è il danzatore, nrtti; il suo splendido e ardente seguito è formato dai  Marut, trasposizione atmosferica del battaglione dei giovani guerrie¬  ri, màrya. Per lui e per essi si esprime una morale dell'exploit e  dell'esuberanza che si oppone all'onnipotenza immediata e rigorosa,  come alla benevolente moderazione che si riunisce nel primo livello.  Gli dèi canonici dell'ultimo livello, i Ndsatya o Asvin, non esprimono  che una parte del dominio complesso tipico della terz.a funzione. Sono  soprattutto datori di salute, giovinezza e fecondità, dèi taumaturghi  soccorritori degli infermi, degli amanti, dei figli senza fidanzata o del  bestiame sterile. Ma la terza funzione è molto più di tutto questo, non  solo salute e giovinezza ma nutrimento, abbondanza in uomini e in beni,  cioè massa sociale e ricchezza economica, attaccamento al suolo, a  questa gioia tranquilla e stabile dei beni, che si esprime in sanscrito  con l'importante radice ksi Anche gli Asvin sono spesso rinforzati al  loro livello dagli dèi e dalle dee che garantiscono altri aspetti della  terza funzione, come la vita animale, l’opulenza, la maternità ( Pùsan,  Puramdhi, Dravinodà, il «Signore dei Campi», SarusvatT ed altre dee  madri) o ancora, che presiedono al carattere plurale, collettivo, tota¬  le («Tutti-gli-Dèi», paradossalmente concepiti come una classe parti¬  colare di dei) espresso dal plurale virali, i clan che Rgveda Vili, 35  oppone come etichetta della terza funzione ai singolari neutri bràh-  man e ksatrà, caratteristici delle due funzioni supreme».   Abbiamo qui un buon esempio di struttura, una teologia artico¬  lata difficile da pensare come formata da un assemblaggio di pezzi e  frammenti: l’insieme c il piano condizionano i dettagli; ogni tipo divi¬  no nel suo orientamento proprio esige la presenza di tutti gli altri e non  si definisce che per rapporto agli altri, con la vivacità che solo  l’antitesi produce. Il riconoscimento di questa sequenza divina e del  suo carattere prc-vcdico ha permesso di compiere, nel 1945, un passo  decisivo nell'interpretazione delle religioni iraniche c di rendere con¬  to di un tratto importante della teologia aveslica da tempo osservalo.   6. Gli dèi indo-iranici delle tre funzioni nella riforma   ZOROASTRIANA   Sotto il nome di Zoroastro si è avuta una profonda riforma che  ha notevolmente alteralo il paganesimo ancestrale, somma di una serie  di riforme progressive nello stesso senso. Tuttavia, considerando il ri¬  sultato storicamente attestato di questo processo riformatoree il punto  di partenza preistorico, determinabile poiché era sicuramente vicino  allo schema vedico e pre-vedico oggi riconosciuto, certe linee direttri¬  ci del movimento appaiono immediatamente.   Nell’Ave.vra nongàthico, dove è mitigato l’intransigente mono¬  teismo delle Gùthà e dove, sotto il gran dio Ahura Mazda - senza dub¬  bio anche lui sublimazione dell’Asura supremo, quello che l’India  chiama Varuna, - ricompaiono delle figure mitiche di alto rango che  portano i nomi dei principali dèi della lista di Bogazkòy (MiGra, Indra,  Nàr|ai0ya). È degno di nota che Mi0ra resti un dio, mentre Indra (al  pari di un altro dio, Saurva, il vedico Sarva, che è in rapporto differen¬  te, ma certo, con la forza e la violenza) e Nàr]ai0ya - enunciati ancora  sempre in quest’ordine come nelle formule indiane in cui i Nàsatya se¬  guono Indra - sono i nomi dei grandi demoni: segno di una riforma che  (operata da sacerdoti, uomini della prima funzione, e destinata a im¬  porre uniformemente a tutta la società mazdaica la morale elevata del  primo livello purificalo) ha rigettato, anatemizzato, demonizzato i pa¬  troni divini che tradizionalmente rappresentavano e giustificavano al¬  tri comportamenti come lo scatenamento guerriero c l’orgia, meno  sanguinante ma certo non meno libera, dei culti della fecondità.   7. Le Entità zoroastriane   Quanto alla nuova teologia monoteista allo stato puro, quella  delle Gùthà, essa riposa, in un’altra maniera, sullo stesso schema. Il  tratto saliente è 1’esistenza di un gruppo di Entità astratte associate al  Gran Dio unico. Queste Entità non hanno ancora un nome collettivo,  ma sono quelle che si vedranno in seguilo costantemente raggruppate  in un ordine fisso, sotto il nome di Amasa Spanta, gli Immortali Bene¬  fìci (o Efficaci). Si è discusso a lungo per sapere se nelle Gùthà queste  Entità siano già delle creature o delle emanazioni separate da Dio - una  sorta di arcangeli - o semplicemente degli aspetti di Dio, ma questo  non cambia niente quanto al problema delle loro origini che qui ci inte¬  ressa. La lingua e lo stile delle Gùthà sono molto oscuri, di un’oscurità  volontaria e raffinata, ma fortunatamente per orientarsi si dispone di  talune considerazioni che non dipendono dalle incertezze di parola per  parola. 1) Il senso e la struttura grammaticale dei nomi che designano  le Entità forniscono qualche insegnamento. 2) Le strofe che contengo¬  no quasi tutti i nomi di una o più Entità sono assai numerose per per¬  mettere delle osservazioni statistiche - frequenza relativa di ogni Enti¬  tà, frequenza delle loro associazioni diverse - che rivelano dei tratti  molto importanti del sistema. Per esempio, se l’intenzione, la forma e  lo stile di questi inni lirici non costringono il poeta a presentare le Enti¬  tà in lista nel loro ordine razionale, come faranno più tardi i testi rituali  in prosa, tuttavia la tavola delle frequenze di menzione delle Entità,  prese separatamente e in conseguenza delle importanze relative che i  poeti le attribuiscono, riproduce esattamente l’ordine gerarchico che  esse avranno in seguito sotto il nome di Amaste Spanta: questa gerar¬  chia dunque esisteva già. 3) Un altro elemento d’interpretazione è for¬  nito dalla lista degli «elementi materiali» che la tradizione associerà,  parola per parola, alla lista delle Entità, gemellaggio a cui gli inni stes¬  si fanno allusioni certe e precise. 4) Infine, nell’À vesta non gàthico, ad  ognuna delle Entità è opposto un arcidemone che in molti casi le chia¬  rifica. Il quadro è il seguente:   Entità astratte Elementi materiali arcidemoni opposti   PATROCINATI   1) VohuManah bue   (Il Buon Pensiero)   2) Asa (l’Ordine) fuoco   3) XsaGra (la Potenza) metallo   4) Àrmaiti (il Pensiero terra   Pio)   5) Haurvatà( acque   (l’Integrità, la Salute)   6) AmarstàJ (la piante   Non-Morte,  l’Immortalità)   8. Gli dèi indo-iranici delle tre funzioni, trasposti nelle   ENTITÀ   Arcangeli o aspetti di Dio, in qualunque modo si interpretino le  Entità, questo quadro suscita delle domande: perché questi gli eletti e    Il Cattivo Pensiero   Indra   Saurva   NàqaiOya   La Sete   La Fame   non altri che sarebbero più facilmente concepibili? Perché, non dispo¬  nendo che di così poco posto, gli autori del sistema ne hanno in qual¬  che modo sprecato una alla fine, raddoppiando la Salute con  rimmortalità, che quasi senza eccezioni è nominata insieme ad essa?  Perché questi posti precisi - 2, 3, 4 - conferiti ai tre arcidemoni che  sono antichi dèi funzionali condannati dalla riforma?   Un confronto delle Entità zoroastrianc con la lista vedica e mi¬  tannica degli dèi funzionali, mostra dove bisogna cercare la soluzione  d’insieme.   1 ) Le ultime due, fra i cui nomi vi è assonanza e che sono presso  a poco inseparabili, ricordano per le nozioni così simili che esprimo¬  no, per gli elementi materiali associali c per il loro posto gerarchico, i  gemelli Nàsatya, indissociabili, donatori di salute e di vita, ringiovani-  tori dei vecchi, tecnici delle virtù medicali contenute nelle acque c nel¬  le piante.   2) Prima di queste, la terza Entità è la Terra in quanto madre, nu¬  trice e modello della padrona di casa iranica: ricorda così la dea varia¬  bile (Sarasvatl, notoriamente) che si vede talvolta unita ai Nàsatya nel¬  le enumerazioni vedichc che segnalano la terza l’unzione. Così il  dominio delle tre ultime Entità zoroastrianc, designate tutte da sostan¬  tivi femminili, mentre quelle superiori sono nominale da neutri (cf. in  vcdico vis, femminile, contro brahman c ksutriì, neutri), è quello della  terza l’unzione. In più, nella persona di Àrmaili, è a una Entità della ter¬  za funzione che il sistema oppone il cattivo Nàqai0ya, demonizzazio¬  ne (ridotta a un unico personaggio) delle due divinità canoniche della  stessa funzione, i Nàsatya.   3) Al di sopra, la terza Entità si chiama XsaOra, cioè la stessa pa¬  rola di ksatni da cui deriverà il nome indiano degli ksatriya c che lin da  Riveda Vili, 35 caratterizza differenzialmente la seconda l'unzione,  come nell’epopea narta degli Osscli la forma a‘xsctrta , }> fornisce diffe¬  renzialmente il nome della famiglia degli croi forti. Il «metallo» che  gli è associato è il metallo in tulle le sue valenze, ma dei lesti espliciti  lo precisano come il metallo delle armi; l’arcidemonc a lui opposto,  Saurva, porla il nome vedico di Sarva, varietà di Rudra, personaggio  complesso che non può qui essere esaminato, ma che nella sua qualità  di arciere c di padre dei Marut è vicino a lui nella seconda funzione.   4) Le due prime Entità, le più frequentemente pregate o men¬  zionale, le più vicine a Dio c spesso associate, portano dei nomi signi-    60     ficativi: ASa è la parola avestica (cf. antico-persiano aria-) che corri¬  sponde al vedico ria, l’Ordine cosmico, rituale, sociale, morale,  patrocinato dagli dei sovrani ma principalmente (e negli epiteti che gli  sono propri) dall’inflessibile e terribile Varuna. Vohu Manah, il  «Buon Pensiero», in una serie di passaggi gàthici e in tutta la letteratu¬  ra non gàlhica, è presentato, al contrario, come vicino all’ uomo, al pari  del benevolo e amichevole Mitra, vicino all’uomo e a «questo mon¬  do», in opposizione a Varuna che è «l’altro mondo».   Yasna XLIV contiene a questo proposito due strofe rivelatrici,  le strofe 3 e 4, in cui si divide il cosmo lontano e il nostro scenario più  vicino, tra A3a e Vohu Manah, in modo così netto come fa Rgveda IV,  3,5 tra Varuna e Mitra (ognuno con degli ausiliari di cui si parlerà nel  capitolo seguente). L’elemento materiale associalo a Vohu Manah c il  bue: ora, fin dall’epoca indo-iranica, si c da tempo riconosciuto (A.  Christensen) che il bue era sotto la protezione particolare del sovrano  Mitra. Infine, la coppia dell’Entità ASa e dell’arcidemone Indra ricor¬  da che molti inni del Rgveda inscenano delle tenzoni tra i 1 sovrano Va¬  runa e il guerriero Indra, depositari di due morali, la cui divergenza  sfocia facilmente in un conflitto.   9. Intenzione di questa riforma zoroastriana   Altri particolari dello stesso genere arricchiscono e sfumano il  confronto, ma questi sono sufficienti per fondare la soluzione del pro¬  blema delle origini degli Amasa Spanta che io ho estesamente svilup¬  pato nel 1945 nel mio libro Naissance d’Archanges: la lista delle sei  Entità dello zoroastrismo monoteista c stata ricalcala, copiata, dalla li¬  sta degli dei delle tre funzioni del politeismo indo-iranico; più esatta¬  mente, da una variante di questa lista, come si trova in India, che ai cin¬  que dèi maschi nominati, per esempio, a Bogazkby, aggiungeva nella  terza funzione, vicino ai Nàsatya, una dea madre. Perché questa copia¬  tura? Perché Zoroastro o i riformatori assunti sotto questo nome non  hanno semplicemente e puramente soppresso questi «falsi dèi»?   Senza dubbio perché, sacerdoti c filosofi, erano attaccati a quel¬  la struttura trifunzionale del loro sapere c ne riconoscevano l’efficacia  come mezzo di analisi c come quadro di riflessione sulla vita; senza  dubbio perché gli uomini, gli Arya verso i quali si indirizzava la loro  predicazione e che volevano persuadere o costringere, erano essi stcssi attaccati a questa forma di pensiero e bisognava dunque fornire un  sostituto esatto di ciò che si toglieva loro. Infine, senza dubbio perché  così presentata la lezione era più eloquente: uno degli oggetti pratici  della riforma, come si è visto, era distruggere la morale particolare dei  gruppi di guerrieri e allevatori, a vantaggio di una morale ripensata e  purificata dalle funzioni sacerdotali.   Elevando, ad esempio, al posto in cui infieriva sino allora l’au¬  tonomo Indra, l’esemplare figura di una «Potenza», XSaGra, devota  alla santa religione, si portava ai sostenitori dell’antico sistema un col¬  po più rude della semplice negazione del dio pagano o della semplice  soppressione di questa provincia della teologia. In un certo senso si  può dire che la riforma zoroaslriana, nel riguardo delle Entità, sia con¬  sistita nella sostituzione di ogni divinità della lista trifunzionale con  una equivalente, che conservava il suo rango ma che essenzialmente  era privata della propria natura e animalo da un nuovo spirito, dallo  spirilo conforme alla volontà e alle rivelazioni del Dio unico.   Si spiega così l’impressione di sconforto che provano gli stu¬  diosi al primo contatto con le Gcithà: malgrado i loro diversi nomi,  questa Entità che si muovono sembrano equivalenti, intercambiabili.  Si spiega così come lutti gli Amasu Spanta, qualunque sia il livello e il  dio funzionale a partire dal quale ognuno è stato sublimalo, portino  uniformemente a pensare, circa il loro comportamento, al gruppo in¬  diano dei due primi livelli, agli dèi sovrani, gli Àditya, fra i quali Mitra  e Varuna sono i principali.   Questa analogia, che è un fatto incontestabile e che B. Geiger e  K. Barr hanno avuto ragione di mettere in risalto ampiamente, non ha  comunque risolto il problema delle origini delle Entità: esse non sono  gli equivalenti normali e antichi degli dèi sovrani vedici, ma gli equi¬  valenti degli dèi vedici dei tre livelli, dei tre livelli energicamente ri¬  portati al tipo unico di una «santità» esigente: dèi sovrani certo, ma an¬  che, sotto i sovrani, un dio violento e degli dèi vivificanti che li  completano.   10. Gli dèi indo-iranici delle tre eunzioni e le spiegazioni   CRONOLOGICHE   Questa spiegazione degli Amasa Spanta, immediatamente am¬  messa da molti iranisti, ha ricevuto in seguilo degli ampiamenti e alcuni li ritroveremo al capitolo seguente (III, § 8). Devo qui limitarmi e  sottolineare la principale conseguenza del punto di vista comparativo.  Riportando ai tempi indo-iranici la lista canonica mitannica e vedica  degli dèi delle tre funzioni con la loro gerarchia, ci è precluso ogni ten¬  tativo di spiegare questa lista e questa gerarchia con avvenimenti sto¬  rici o della preistoria recente dei tempi vedici.   Indra non è, non può più essere considerato come un «gran dio»  che, ad esempio, le condizioni sociali e morali di un’epoca di conqui¬  sta sarebbero «in procinto» di sostituire a un più antico «gran dio» Va¬  runa che in seguito avrebbe sviluppato il suo prestigio alle spalle di un  più vecchio dio Mitra.   Se così fosse, come comprendere che questa situazione, effime¬  ra per natura, questi rapporti instabili di dèi in crescita e di dèi che re¬  trocedono si siano fissati e cristallizzati allo stesso stadio di evoluzio¬  ne, disegnando lo stesso quadro d’insieme (arrestando per secoli allo  stesso massimo il progresso di uno dei termini e allo stesso minimo la  soppressione dell’altro),pressoi Para-Indiani dei Mitanni, negli inni e  nei rituali propriamente vedici e ancora, nel politeismo iranico che si  lascia leggere in filigrana sotto la teologia di Zoroastro?   La «storia» non può essere stata in questo punto tre volte identi¬  ca, aver avuto degli effetti intellettuali così simili in queste tre società  precocemente separate.   La sola interpretazione plausibile è che egli Indo-Iranici ancora  indivisi, qualunque fosse il loro punto di partenza, erano arrivati ai li¬  miti delle loro Terre Promesse in possesso di una teologia in cui i rap¬  porti di *Varuna con *Mitra e di *Indracon *Varuna erano già come li  ritroviamo negli inni e, inconseguenza, questi rapporti e il raggruppa¬  mento degli dèi che sostengono, lungi dall’essere il risultato fortuito di  avvenimenti, erano un dato concettuale, filosofico, un’analisi e una  sintesi in cui ogni termine presuppone gli altri, così fortemente come  la «destra» presuppone e chiama la «sinistra», in breve, presuppone  una struttura di pensiero. Le testimonianze che talvolta si è pensato di  ritrovare, negli inni vedici, di un indietreggiamento di Varuna rispetto  a Indra, si spiegherebbero dunque altrimenti: gli inni in cui questi dèi  si sfidanoe in cui oppongono le loro vanterie, l’inno stesso in cui Indra  si glorifica di aver eliminato Varuna, non sono che messe in scena del¬  la tensione che esiste tra 1’«aspetto Varuna» della funzione sovrana e la funzione di Indra, e devono esistere affinché la società ne risenta  pienamente i benefici.   I miti collegati ai signori divini delle funzioni devono, almeno  in parte, illustrare con chiarezza la divergenza delle funzioni e devono  farlo senza i riguardi e i compromessi che la pratica sociale impone: è  chiaro, ad esempio, che se la sovranità magica assoluta e la pura forza  guerriera fossero portate agli estremi sfocerebbero in dei conflitti e di  fatto in certi momenti della vita della società a causa di tali conflitti si  producono usurpazioni, anarchia o tirannia. Ed è quello che esprime la  teologia dei rapporti tra Varuna e Indra che risalta dagli inni: nella  grande maggioranza dei casi essi collaborano, ma in qualche testo dia¬  logato i poeti sono portati a questo estremo, che i politici evitano sag¬  giamente e per meglio definirli, per «vederli» e «farli vedere», li han¬  no opposti come rivali. Stando così le cose, si tratta di un esercizio  retorico sicuramente antico, poiché come si è visto lo zoroastrismo ha  scelto Indra scomunicato, demonizzato, per farne l’avversario parti-  col are di Asa, cioè dell’Entità in cui, purificato, sopravvive *Varuna.   11. Comunicazione tra gli dèi delle tre funzioni   Questa osservazione deve essere completata da un’altra inver¬  sa. La definizione funzionale dei tre livelli divini è statisticamente ri¬  gorosa (la letteratura vedica è assai abbondante perché la statistica vi  possa trovare un appiglio certo), precisa non solo nei testi dove tali  funzioni sono intenzionalmente classificate o perlomeno raggruppate,  ma anchenella maggior parte dei testi in cui un poeta considerao invo¬  ca gli dèi di un solo livello senza pensare agli altri. Ma in ogni religio¬  ne le effusioni della pietà, della speranza e della confidenza talvolta  debordano dal quadro teorico del catechismo e questo è soprattutto  vero per l’India, in cui gli sforzi del pensiero, nel corso dei tempi stori¬  camente osservabili (e questa tendenza è già sensibile negli inni), han¬  no così spesso portato a riconoscere l’identità profonda dell’essere  sotto la diversità delle apparenze o delle nozioni e, per esprimere con¬  cretamente questo dogma dei dogmi, a conferire agli uni gli attributi  degli altri.   In più, nella pratica, ciò che interessa l’uomo pio è sicuramente  la diversità dei soccorsi che può ricevere e delle porte mistiche a cui può bussare, ma è anche e soprattutto la solidarietà e la collaborazione  di tutti gli dèi che gli rispondono.   Infine, nelle opere stesse per le quali gli uomini chiamano gli  dèi, capita che la totalità o più parti deH’insiemc funzionale si trovino  interpellati da degli specialisti che gli sono estranei. L’esempio mag¬  giore è quello della pioggia che gonfia le acque del suolo, che fornisce  direttamente o indirettamente il tipo di ricchezza pastorale e agricola,  la salute stessa, di cui si occupano gli dèi della terza funzione; ma essa  c ottenuta grazie alla battaglia celeste, strappata sotto forma di fiume o  di vacche celesti agli avari demoni della siccità, e questo è il compito,  il gran compito di Indra c dei suoi aiutanti, 1 ’ orda guerriera dei Marut.   Congiungere il cielo e la terra e assicurare la sopravvivenza del  mondo è anche l’interesse degli dèi sovrani c l’operazione tecnica si  svolge infine grazie allo specialista Parjanya.   Ma perché mai il poeta si assoggetterebbe a lare sempre questa  giusta c rigorosa distribuzione dei meriti? L’opera c comune c quindi  la lode è unitaria c non ci si stupirà che il grande guerriero Indra sia  così spesso celebrato, nel risultalo come nella forma della sua azione,  in quanto donatore di fecondità e di ricchezza.   Ma il lettore preoccupalo di teologia non dovrà mai dimenticare  il modo violento che Indra esercita per procurarsi gli armenti o per li¬  berare le acque: egli non c una Sarasvall al maschile c non è nella cer¬  chia dei Pfisan o dei Dravinodà. Se una tale équipe divina c così sicuramente esistita tra gli  Indo-Iranici prima della loro divisione, come l’ideologia tripartita,  l’abbiamo visto nel primo capitolo, essa è più antica ancora c deve es¬  sere riportata ai tempi indoeuropei: c allora legittimo c necessario ri¬  cercare nella teologia degli altri popoli indoeuropei antichi, c suffi¬  cientemente conosciuti, se delle équipes analoghe sono attestate dagli  usi rituali o da formulari.   Questa ricerca, intrapresa fin dal 1938, ha immediatamente  portalo a risultati nei domini italici e germanici. Ma allo stesso tempo,  in questi domini in cui gli specialisti, nella loro autonomia, avevano da  lungo tempo costruito delle maestose c dotte spiegazioni di ogni cosa.la nuova interpretazione ha dovuto rimettere i n questione molti pseu¬  do-fatti, dimostrando la fragilità di molte pseudo-dimostrazioni, in  modo tale che spesso non è stata considerata la benvenuta.   In sintesi, le opposizioni sono soprattutto nate dal fatto che le  «filologie separate», sia scandinava che latina, si erano abituate a pen¬  sare cronologicamente - secondo una cronologia ipotetica e soggettiva  - la preistoria, la «formazione» dei quadri teologici complessi, presen¬  tati dai documenti antichi, mentre questi quadri, guardati in base alla  prospettiva comparativa che a grandi linee viene qui ricordata,  s’interpretano immediatamente, per l’essenziale, come strutture con¬  cettuali che esprimono la distinzione e la collaborazione delle tre fun¬  zioni esplicitate dagli Indoeuropei.   13. Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus e Juu-,Mart-, VOFION(O)-   Le due società italiche di Iguvium e Roma - l’una umbra e  l’altra latina - sulle quali dei testi ben articolati ci informano, presenta¬  no due varianti di una triade in cui i due primi termini sono identici:  Juu-, Mart-, Vofìon(o)- a Iguvium; Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus nella più  antica Roma pre-capitolina. Questo parallelismo incoraggia a non cer¬  care per la triade romana, com’è d’uso, una spiegazione fondata sul  caso, sugli apporti successivi o sui compromessi di una storia locale:  com’è possibile infatti che due serie di avvenimenti indipendenti pos¬  sano suscitare due gerarchie divine e due teologie così simili?   14. La triade precapitolina   L’esistenza della triade romana, che si è anche voluto contesta¬  re ma che non è dubbia, è messa in evidenza dal fatto che questi dèi  sono rimasti, lungo tutta la storia romana, serviti da tre sacerdoti senza  omologhi, rigorosamente gerarchizzati ( ordo sacerdotum: Festo, p.   198, Lindsay) che sono, al di sotto del rex sacro rum, erede ridotto e sa¬  cerdotale degli antichi re, gli alti sacerdoti dello stato: i trej7 amines  maiores, cioè il dialis, il martialist il quirinalis. Questa triade capito¬  lina, vero fossile nell’epoca storica, respinto dall’attualità di una tria¬  de differente formata da Jupiter O.M, Juno Regina e Minerva, è rima¬  sta legata a molti rituali e a rappresentazioni evidentemente arcaiche.    66     Una volta all’anno, in una cerimonia la cui fondazione era attri¬  buita a Numa (Tito Livio I, 21, 4), i treflciminesMciiores attraversava¬  no solennemente la città in uno stesso carro e facevano congiuntamen¬  te un sacrificio alla dea Fides. I sacerdoti Salii che conservavano tra i  dodici ancilici indiscernibili il talismano caduto dal cielo cui era stata  attribuita la fortuna di Roma, erano in tutela Jovis, Martis et Quirini  (Servio, ad Aen., Vili, 663).   Il tragico rituale della devotio, con il quale il generale romano,  per salvare il proprio esercito, si immolava agli dèi sotterranei  contemporaneamente all’esercito nemico, era introdotto da una for¬  mula, da un’enumerazione di dèi che Tito Livio (Vili, 9, 6) ha di certo  trascritto esattamente e che dopo Janus, dio di ogni inizio, nominava  innanzitutto l’antica triade: Giano, Jupiter, Mars Pater , Quirinus, poi  Bellona, i Lari etc. etc. Dopo la conclusione di un trattato, secondo Po¬  libio (III, 25, 6), i sacerdoti feziali prendevano come testimoni prima  Jupiter, poi Mars e infine Quirinus.   Il carattere comune di queste circostanze, in cui la triade preca¬  pitolina è presentata come tale, è che il corpo sociale di Roma è inte¬  ressato nel suo insieme e nella sua forma normale: mantenimento del¬  la fides pubblica, senza cui la coesione sociale è impossibile;  protezione continua o urgente; impegno diplomatico. Il sacrificio a Fides è particolarmente rivelatore poiché è la sola  circostanza conosciuta in cui i tre flamines maiores agiscono insieme;  ma lo fanno in maniera ostentata e l’unità del carro, l’unità  dell’operazione sacra, provano che si tratta di mettere sotto la garanzia  di Fides l’unità delle tre «cose» che Jupiter, Mars e Quirinus patroci¬  nano distributivamente; tre «cose» la cui sintesi o aggiustamento sono  essenziali per la vita di Roma. Quali sono queste «cose»?   15. Valore di Jupiter e di Mars nella triade precapitolina   La risposta non necessita di grandi sforzi, sempre che si preferi¬  sca il sentimento dichiarato dai Romani stessi contro le ricostruzioni  ardite, fatte da tre quarti di secolo dagli epigoni di W. Mannhardt o da  archeologi poco coscienti dei limiti della loro arte; sempre che non si  dimentichi che questi dèi sono stati associati e gerarchizzati a Iguvium  e a Roma poiché rendevano dei servizi differenziati e complementari;  e infine, a condizione che si attribuisca un valore particolare, trattandosi di divinità dei tre flamines maìores, a ciò che insegna l’ufficio di  questi sacerdoti. Se si osserva questa regola, e queste precauzioni, si  riconoscerà in primo luogo che Jupiter, e nello stesso tempo il Dius  (nel capitolo seguente si mostrerà il senso di questa sfumatura), onora¬  to dagli atti del flamen dialis , e dal suo comportamento pieno di innu¬  merevoli precetti positivi e negativi, è il dio che dall’alto del cielo pre¬  siede all’ordine e all ’osservazione più esigente del sacro, garante della  vita, della continuità e della potenza romana.   Quanto a Marte, imperturbabilmente docile secondo l’insegna¬  mento dei migliori testi epigrafici e letterari, si vedrà in lui il dio com¬  battente di Roma, patrono della forza fisica, di quella forza che può, al  pari del vedico Indra, essere orientata in tre o quattro circostanze (non  di più) dal contadino romano, a profitto dei suoi buoi che hanno biso¬  gno di essere forti, o dei suoi raccolti che tanti geni maligni, visibili o  invisibili, possono minacciare.   Questa forza è sempre rimasta la forza che dona la vittoria, sin  dai tempi favolosi delle origini e fino al declino dell’impero, nella  schiacciante maggioranza degli impieghi conosciuti.   16. QuiRINUS   Per Quirino, l’unico «invecchiato» fra i tre dèi in epoca storica,  gli eruditi antichi hanno generosamente costruito, su dei pressapochi-  smi etimologici allora correnti, delle teorie contraddittorie che com¬  plicano il lavoro; ma fortunatamente disponiamo degli uffici adem¬  piuti dal suo flamen e di molti altri fatti cultuali, del suo nome e di  qualche indicazione oggettiva degli antichi.   Queste diverse fonti informative forniscono un quadro com¬  plesso ma coerente.   I ) Siamo a conoscenza di tre circostanze in cui officia il flamen  quirinalis. Ai Robigalia del 25 aprile sacrifica un cane in un campo nei  pressi di Roma e allontana così (verso le armi da guerra, aggiunge  Ovidio) la ruggine che minaccia le spighe. Ai Consualia del 21 agosto  sacrifica sull’altare sotterraneo di Consus, dio del grano messo in  provvista ( condere ); il 23 dicembre sacrifica sulla «tomba» di Laren-  tia, la cortigiana che incarna in una celebre storia la voluttà, la ricchez¬  za e la generosità e che ha meritato di ricevere un culto, legando la sua  fortuna a quella del popolo romano. La festa propria di Quirino, i Quirinatici del 17 febbraio, coincide con (e probabilmente è) l’ultimo atto  dei Fornacalia, cioè delle feste curiali della torrefazione del grano.   Nelle altre due circostanze rituali in cui appare, Quirino è asso¬  ciato alla dea Ops, cioè all’Abbondanza rurale personificata: una iscri¬  zione ci insegna che il 23 agosto, ai Volcanalia, Quirino e Ops figura¬  no tra le divinità onorate senza dubbio contro gli incendi (C/L I 2 , p.  326). La leggenda che giustifica l’esistenzadei Salii di Quirino, dimo¬  stra che il voto fondante questo collegio è stato fatto per la stessa ra¬  gione del voto che istituiva la festa di Ops e di Saturno.   Tutti questi dati, che costituiscono l’intero dossier cultuale del  dio, attestano che la sua attività è uniformemente e unicamente in rap¬  porto con le sementi (tre feste, tra cui la sua), con le divinità agricole  Consus e Ops, con la ricchezza e il sottosuolo. Nello stesso senso si  spiega il fatto che nel 390, all 'avvicinarsi dei Galli, quando bisognava  seppellire gli oggetti sacri di Roma, questo compito non spettasse al  rex o al flamen dialis, primi sacerdoti dello stato, come ci si sarebbe  aspettato, ma al flamen quirinalis.   2) Il nome di Quirino è sicuramente inseparabile da quello dei  Quirites, cioè dall’insieme dei Romani considerati nelle loro attività  civili in opposizione totale a ciò che essi sono in quanto milites (un  aneddoto ben noto di Cesare lo prova).   P. Kretschmer aveva proposto di spiegare Quirites con curia  (volscio couehriu), come «gli uomini riuniti nei loro quadri sociali»,  essendo QuTrinus (cf. dominus da domus) il patrono di questa entità  della «massa sociale organizzata» ( *co-uir-io/a -). L’etimologia, in sé e  prsé soddisfacente, è stata resa molto probabile da V. Pisani ( 1939) e in¬  dipendentemente da E. Benveniste ( 1945), che hanno dimostrato come  il nome dell’omologo di Quirinus nella triade umbra di «Jupiter, Mars,  Vofionus» possa essere il compimento fonetico rigoroso di un *Le-  udh-yo-no «patrono della massa» (cf. il tedesco Leute, latino liberi,  «massa di uomini liberi, bambino di nascita libera» etc.), esatto paralle¬  lo e sinonimo dal latino *Co-uirI-no. Massa sociale e pace sono, al pari  della coltivazione del suolo, aspetti considerati dalla terza funzione.   3) Ma lo stile di questa pace è marcato dall’impronta romana e  contribuisce al sorprendente meccanismo che in qualche secolo ha  conquistato e romanizzato l’Italia, il Mediterraneo e il mondo antico e  stabilisce il pesante beneficio della pax romana. Per i Romani non si è mai trattato di una pace gioiosa e cieca ma vigile, in cui le armi erano  deposte ma conservate; in cui i civili Quirites erano anche mobilitabi¬  li, i milites del domani; in cui i comitia legiferanti non erano che  l’ exercitus urbanus senza il suo equipaggiamento, ma pronto nei suoi  quadri: una pace, infine, in cui si pensava molto alla guerra.   È questo regime, questo stato di spirito che Quirino governa e  che esprime eccellentemente un tratto del suo statuto: uno dei flamines  minores, il Portunalis - senza dubbio connesso al dio delle porte ( por¬  tele ) delle città, prima di essere quello dei porti (j)ortus ) - ha l’incarico  di ungere le «.armidi Quirino» (Festo s .v.persillum, p. 238, Lindsay),  cioè di compiere il gesto di ogni mobilitazione alle armi: le quali pos¬  sono anche non essere utilizzate, al momento, ma verso le quali può  sopraggiungere improvvisamente l’esigenza di ricorrervi.   Questa ambivalenza Quirites-milites dei Romani, questa con¬  cezione militare della pax romana , spiegano sufficientemente come  Quirino possa essere stato considerato una varietà di Marte e come i  Greci, che concepivano altrimenti l’eipf|VTi, abbiano scelto per tradur¬  re il suo nome quello di un vecchio dio guerriero, differente da Ares,  ’EvuàA-ioq. E non sarà troppo inutile meditare in questo contesto su  due note del commentatore di Virgilio, Servio, giudicate un tempo  «assurde», ma alle quali la nuova prospettiva «trifunzionale» ha con¬  ferito pieno valore (ad Aen. I, 292; VI, 859):   «... Marte è detto Gradivus quando è in furore (Cum saevit)  quando è pacifico (cum tranquillus est), Quirino. A Roma possiede  due templi: uno all’interno della città, in qualità di Quirino, cioè di  guardiano e di dio tranquillo (quasi custodis et tranquilli),' l'altro sul¬  la via Appia, fuori dalla città, vicino alle porte, in quanto dio guerrie¬  ro o Gradivus (quasi bellatores vel Gradivi)... Quirino è il Marte che  presiede alla pace (qui praeest paci) e ha il suo culto dentro Roma  mentre il Marte della guerra (belli Mars) aveva il suo tempio fuori  Roma ».   17. Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus e i componenti leggendari di  Roma   Questa rapida esposizione, spogliata dalle innumerevoli di¬  scussioni che è stato necessario sostenere su quasi tutti i punti, basterà a dimostrare qual è, nell’unità armoniosa della triade precapitolina,  l’orientamento proprio e l’equilibrio interno di ogni termine. Cielo ed  essenza stessa della religione come supporto di Roma; forza fisica e  guerra; agricoltura, sottosuolo, massa sociale e pace vigilante: queste  etichette definiscono tre ambiti complementari che disegnano una  struttura sicuramente anteriore a Roma e a Iguvium, dunque italica, e  quindi così vicina alla struttura indo-iranica da dirsi risalente ai tempi  indoeuropei.   Non sarà inutile ricordare qui i valori funzionali di cui appaiono  rivestite, nei racconti sulle origini di Roma, le tre componenti etniche,  base leggendaria delle tre tribù: Romolo - rex et augur - e i suoi com¬  pagni sono i depositari del potere sovrano e degli auspici; i suoi alleati  etruschi, sotto il comando di Lucumone, sono gli specialisti dell’arte  militare; i suoi nemici, Tito Tazio e i Sabini, sono provvisti di donne,  ricchi in bestiame e in più detestano la guerra e fanno di tutto per evi¬  tarla. Una variante frequentemente attestata (l’abbiamo ricordata in I §  7) minimizza la componente etrusca e concentra le due prime caratte¬  ristiche su Romolo e i suoi compagni.   Sotto questa forma la triade precapitolina si divide molto ade¬  guatamente tra i due gruppi di avversari e futuri associati: Romolo è  costantemente il protetto di Jupiter (gli auspici iniziali; Jupiter Fere-  trius e Jupiter Stator in battaglia) ma è figlio di Mars e trova riuniti in  sé i favori dei due primi dèi della triade; Quirino (in questo insieme  leggendario soltanto) è considerato come un dio sabino, il «Marte sa¬  bino» portato in dote da Tito Tazio a Roma nella riconciliazione fina¬  le, allo stesso modo del nome collettivo dei «Quirites» (ma questa pse-  udo-sabinità dei Qui riti e di Quirino, benché conf orme al carattere dei  Sabini della leggenda, portatori della terza funzione, si spiega col gio¬  co di parole, popolare tra gli eruditi di Roma, «Quirites-Cures»),   Si sa che un’altra forma della leggenda, incompatibile con que¬  sta, fa di Quirino il nome postumo di Romolo, riunendo così sul solo  fondatore i tre termini della triade divina in base agli auspici, alla filia¬  zione e all’apoteosi.   18. Varianti della triade Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus   Della leggenda delle origini, Varrone (De ling. lat., V, 74) e  Dionigi di Alicarnasso (II, 50) ci hanno conservato un aspetto importante: all’epoca della riconciliazione di Romolo con Tito Tazio e  dell’entrata dei Sabini di Tito Tazio nella comunità, ormai completa e  in via di sviluppo, ognuno dei due re istituisce dei culti e mentre Ro¬  molo fonda solo il culto di Jupiter, Tito Tazio instaura Quirinus e un  gran numero di dèi e dee che hanno rapporto con la vita rurale, la fe¬  condità e il mondo sotterraneo.   Questa tradizione è molto interessante perché sottolinea ciò che  è stato già segnalato a proposito dell’India (II, § 5); la molteplicità de¬  gli aspetti, l’inevitabile frazionamento di questa «terza funzione» che  Tito Tazio incarna, ma soprattutto perché tra gli «dèi di Tito Tazio»  (che non sono certamente sabini ma romani, a dispetto della colorazio¬  ne etnica della leggenda) molti f igurano in terza posizione, nelle triadi  che non sono altro che varianti della triade canonica «Jupiter, Mars,  Quirinus», come Ops (abbiamo già segnalato i suoi rapporti con Quiri¬  no) o Flora.   1 tre gruppi di culto della Regia, della «casa del re», che corri¬  spondono senza dubbio alle tre camere che ancora si trovano giustap¬  poste nelle rovine, sono: 1 ) culti assicurati dai personaggi sacri del più  alto rango, il rex (a Giano) la regina (a Giunone) e la moglie del flamen  dialis (a Jupiter stesso); 2) culti guerrieri del sacrarium Marti.?, 3) cul¬  ti del sacrarium Opis Consivae, la dea dell’abbondanza.   Questa collocazione dei tre livelli funzionali manifestava sensi¬  bilmente che la stessa forma di religione che si analizzava e che si dis¬  sociava nelle persone dei tre grandi flamines, creava al contrario una  sua sintesi quando passava nelle mani del rex, quando era il rex che  l’amministrava, non più in quanto incarnazione ma, nel nome di Ro¬  ma, come gestore delle forze sacre.   Quanto alla triade «Jupiter, Mars, Flora» (rimpiazzata più tardi  da Venere) sembra essere stata lei a patrocinare i tre carri delle corse  primitive (in relazione con le tre tribù funzionali e i tre colori bianco,  rosso, verde; vedi sopra I, § 21 ). Flora meritava due e tre volte questo  posto, per il suo potere sulla vegetazione, per la leggendache faceva di  lei un doppione della cortigiana Larentia e perché era assimilata a  Roma stessa, senza dubbio più alla massa romana che all’entità politi¬  ca patrocinata da Quirino.   Un’altra variante della triade - «Jupiter, Mars, Romulus, Re-  mus» - presenta Romolo sotto tutt’un altro aspetto (sino alla fondazione di Roma: gemelli, pastori etc.) e ricorda che la lista canonica in¬  do-iranica affidava a due dèi gemelli la rappresentazione e la  protezione del terzo livello.   19. Gli dèi delle tre funzioni in Scandinavia   Nel paganesimo scandinavo è conosciuta una triade dello stes¬  so tipo, quel la formata da Ódinn, Pórr, Freyr (o solidalmente, come ul¬  timo termine, Njòrdr e Freyr). Anche questa triade, al pari di quella  precapitolina romana, è stata spiegata - in modo molto variabile - se¬  condo schemi di evoluzione, come il risultato di compromessi e sin¬  cretismi tra culti successivamente comparsi.   Lacritica a questo tipo di spiegazioni facili e seducenti, che cre¬  dono di basarsi logicamente sui dati archeologici, ma che vi si sovrap¬  pongono arlifi cial mente, è stata fatta a più riprese e dovrà ancora esse¬  re fatta poiché l’esperienza dimostra che non vi si rinuncia volentieri.  Nel piano ridotto del presente libro dovremo semplicemente prescin¬  derne ma dichi arare che da H. Petersen (1876) a K. Helm (1925,1946,  1953), da E. Wessén ( 1924) a E. A. Philippson (1953), i numerosi ten¬  tativi fatti per dimostrare che la promozione di *Wof3anaz è cosa re¬  cente (sostituito a *Tiuz) o che in Scandinavia il più antico «gran dio»  è Pórr (sempre che non sia Freyr), non potevano riuscire a dispetto  dell’intelligenza, dell’erudizione e del talento dei loro autori.   Ci limiteremo dunque ai fatti e quindi all’esistenza stessa della  triade in quanto tale. E questa triade di Ódinn, Pórr e Freyr che Adamo  di Brema ha vi sto regnare nel tempio di Uppsala e di cui fornisce la de¬  scrizione del meccanismo trifunzionale (Gesta Hammaburgensis  eccl. Pontificium, IV, 26-27); è lei che appare dalle formule di maledi¬  zione come dai poemi eddici o dagli scaldi (Ódinn, Pórr, Freyr,  Njòrdr: Egilssaga, 56); è lei che si sprigiona dal racconto della batta¬  glia escatologica ( Vòluspà , 53-56) in cui ognuno dei tre dèi lotta con¬  tro uno dei maggiori avversari che soccombe sotto i suoi colpi; è lei  che si spartisce i gioielli divini (Skaldskaparmal, cap. 44) ed è lei che  rappresenta l’intera mitologia in cui le altre divinità - salvo la dea  Freyja, strettamente associata a Freyr e Njòrdr e che li completa - sono  come comparse che circondano questi «primi ruoli» e che si definisco¬  no in rapporto ad essi. Ci si ricorderà che nella leggenda delle sue origini Roma si è ri¬  dotta spesso a due componenti, benché comprendesse tre tribù che  rappresentavano tre funzioni: il rex-augur Romolo c i suoi compagni,  detentori di cleos et virtutem, la potenza del sacro e i talenti guerrieri, il  dominio di Jupiter e Mars, mentre Tito Tazio e i suoi Sabini erano  quelli che apportavano delle specialità loro connesse, cioè le donne e  le ricchezze, opes.   Il quadro scandinavo della formazione della società divina  completa è dello stesso tipo: i componenti riuniti per una riconcilia¬  zione ed una fusione conseguente a una guerra terribile, sono due, gli  Asi e i Vani: tra gli Asi Ódinn è il capo, mentre Pórr è il più eccelso  dopo di lui; trai Vani sono invece Njòrdr, FreyreFreyjaipiù eminenti  e i soli nominati individualmente.   La distinzione funzionale degli Asi c dei Vani è chiara e costan¬  te. I Vani, specialmente i due dèi e la dea che ne incarnano al massimo  la tipologia, anche se capita loro di essere o di fare altre cose, sono in¬  nanzitutto dei ricchi (Njòrdr, Freyr, Freyja), donatori di ricchezze e  patroni del piacere (Freyr, Freyja), della lascivilà stessa, della fecon¬  dità e della pace (Nerlhus, Freyr-Fródi) csono legati spazialmente ed  economicamente al suolo che produce i raccolti (Njòrdr, Freyr) o al  mare in quanto luogo della navigazione e della pesca (Njòrdr).   A questi tratti dominanti si oppongono quelli dei principali Asi.  Né Ódinn né Pórr certamente si disinteressano delle ricchezze del su¬  olo, ecc., ma da quando la mitologia scandinava ci è conosciuta i loro  centri sono altrove: l’uno è un mago potente, signore delle rune, capo  della società divina; l’altro è il dio col martello, nemico dei giganti ai  quali peraltro assomiglia (si pensi al suo «furore»); è il dio tuonante  (nel suo stesso nome) che accudisce il contadino e gli dona la pioggia e  anche nel folklore moderno è come un solloprodollo della sua bellico¬  sità in maniera atmosferica e violenta, non terrena c progressiva.   Il senso da attribuire a questa distinzione tra Asi e Vani è il pro¬  blema centrale che domina tutte le interpretazioni delle religioni scan¬  dinave c di quelle germaniche, anche laddove le spiegazioni cronolo¬  giche c storiche (di storia immaginaria) affrontano con vivacità le  spiegazioni strutturali e concettuali. I fatti riuniti dall’inizio di questo libro apportano un grande so¬  stegno agli strutturalisti: il parallelismo delle teologie indo-iraniche e  italiche ci fa precisamente attendere, presso i popoli imparentati, una  teologiaed unamitologiadel tipo presentato dagli Scandinavi, che op¬  pone per meglio definirli e che ricompone per creare un insieme vitale:  1 ) delle figure divine che patrocinano ciò che è sotto il magistero degli  Asi, Ódinn e Pórr, l’alta magia e la sovranità da una parte, e la forza  brutale dall’altra; 2) delle figure divine del tutto differenti che patroci¬  nano ciò che è sotto il magistero dei tre grandi Vani, la fecondità, la  ricchezza, il piacere, la pace, etc. etc.   21. La guerra degli Asi e dei Vani e la guerra dei  Protoromani e dei Sabine formazione di una società   TRIFUNZIONALE COMPLETA   La frattura iniziale, che separa i rappresentanti delle due prime  funzioni e quelli della terza, è un dato indoeuropeo comune: lo stesso  sviluppo mitico (separazione iniziale, guerra e poi indissolubile unio¬  ne nella struttura tripartita gerarchizzata) si ritrova non solo a Roma,  sul piano umanoenei racconto delle origini dell’Urbe(guerrasabinae  sinecismo), ma in India, dove è detto che gli dèi canonici del terzo li¬  vello, gli Asvin, non erano inizialmente degli dèi, ma entrarono nella  società divina come terzo termine al di sotto delle «due forze» (ubhe  virye) solamente in seguito a un conflitto violento conclusosi con una  riconciliazione e un’alleanza.   Come si potrà prevedere, i dettagli di queste leggende sono stati  scelti e raggruppati in modo tale da mettere in rilievo le «funzioni» ri¬  spettive delle diverse componenti della società e i procedimenti speci¬  fici che queste «funzioni» attribuiscono ai loro rappresentanti. L’ana¬  lisi comparata della leggenda romana sulla guerra iniziale tra Romani  e Sabini e della leggenda scandinava sulla «prima guerra nel mondo»  degli Asi e dei Vani (a cui bisogna fare risalire, contro E. Mogk, le  strofe 21-24 della Vòluspà), ha rivelato un interessante parallelismo e  conferito un senso sia all’una che all’altra.   Ambedue sono formate da un dittico, da due scene in cui ciascu¬  no dei due campi nemici ha il vantaggio (vantaggio limitato e provvi¬  sorio poiché è necessario che il conflitto finisca senza vittoria e con un patto liberamente consentito) ed è debitore di questo vantaggio alla  sua specificità funzionale. Da una parte i ricchi e voluttuosi Vani che  corrompono daH’interno la società (le donne!) degli Asi, inviando  loro la donna chiamata «Ebbrezza dell’Oro»; dall’altra parte Ódinn  che lancia il suo famoso giavellotto di cui è noto l’irresistibile effetto  magico e di panico.   Allo stesso modo i ricchi Sabini, da una parte, ottengono quasi  la vittoria occupando la posizione-chiave dell’avversario, non col  combattimento, ma acquistando con l’oro Tarpeia (in una variante,  grazie all’amore cieco di Tarpeia per il capo sabino); dall’altra parte  Romolo, grazie a un’invocazione a Jupiter (Stator) ottiene dal dio che  l’armata nemica vittoriosa venga improvvisamente, e senza motivo,  invasa dal panico.   22. Sviluppo della funzione guerriera presso gli antichi  Germani   Bisogna comunque segnalare un fatto di enormi conseguenze  che ha determinato ben presto, e non solamente presso gli Scandinavi  ma fra tutti i Germani, una deformazione della struttura delle tre fun¬  zioni e della teologia corrispondente.   Da nessuna parte, certamente né a Roma né in India, gli dèi del  primo livello, Varuna e Jupiter, si disinteressavano della guerra: se è  vero che non combattono propriamente come Indra o Marte è anche  vero che mettono le loro magie al servizio della parte che favoriscono  e sono loro, in definitiva, che attribuiscono la vittoria, la quale, se è in  effetti conquistata con la Forza, interessa soprattutto l’Ordine per le  sue conseguenze.   Non ci si sorprende quindi di vedere Ódinn intervenire nelle  battaglie, senza combattere molto, ma gettando sull’armata che ha  condannato un panico paralizzante, il «legame dell’esercito» herfjò-  \)urr (cf. i lacci di cui è armato Varuna). Ma è certo che la parte della  «guerra» nella sua definizione è di gran lunga piu considerevole che  nella definizione dei suoi omologhi vedici o romani: in lui - e anche  nell’omologo germanico di Mitra che esamineremo nel prossimo ca¬  pitolo e che è interpretato da Tacito come Marte - si constata più di una  osmosi, un vero e proprio ribaltamento e straripamento della guerra  nell’ideologia del primo livello. All’epoca in cui si sono formate le loro epopee, gli «eroi odinici» - Sigurdr, Helgi e Haraldr Den-  te-da-Combattimento - sono prima di tutto dei guerrieri; e nell’aldilà  sono i guerrieri morti, in un’eternità di giochi e di gioie guerriere, che  Ódinn accoglie nel proprio Valhòll. In compenso, almeno in certi luo¬  ghi, è Pórr, il nemico dei giganti, il combattente solitario, ad averperso  il contatto con la guerra (almeno quella combattuta dagli uomini) ed è  sopratutto il felice risultato dei suoi duelli atmosferici contro i giganti  e i flagelli, la pioggia benefica per le messi, che ha giustificato e popo¬  lari zzato il suo culto e che talvolta ha spodestato Freyr dal la parte agri¬  cola della sua provincia. Questa doppia evoluzione sembra essere sta¬  ta spinta all’estremo tra gli Scandinavi più orientali, presso i quali così  Adamo da Brema (IV, 26-27) definiva i tre dèi della triade di Uppsala.   «Thor presici et in aere, qui tonitrus et fulmina, ventos ymbre-  sque, serena et fruges gubernat. Alter Woclan, id est furor, bella gerit  hominique ministrai virtutem contro inimicos. Tercius est Fritto  (cioè Freyr), pacem voluptatemque largiens mortalibus...   Sipestis etfames imminet, Thorydolo lybatur, sibellum, Woda-  ni, si nuptiae celebrandae sunt, Fricconi».   Anche se si ammette che la teologia di ognuno di questi tre dèi  di Uppsala fosse più ricca, e più variegata di quanto non appaia nelle  brevi osservazioni di Adamo da Brema (che ha preso Pórr come dio  principale poiché figura nel mezzo, al secondo posto, ed è armalo di un  martello che ha scambiato per uno scettro e perché, tuonante, lo ha as-  similato a Giove), non vi è ragione di rifiutare la sua testimonianza: lo  scivolamento della guerra nel dominio di «Wodan» e lo scivolamento  inverso di «Thor» al servizio dei contadini sono dei fatti. Ma se ne  comprende l’origine (come su altri punti relativi alla Scandinavia) e  dove lo stesso fenomeno si osserva, i valori dei tre dèi restano essen¬  zialmente vicini a quelli dei loro omologhi indiani e romani.  Stato del problema presso i Celti, i Greci e gli Slavi   Sulle altre parti del dominio indoeuropeo, a causa di diverse ra¬  gioni - cronologia troppo recente, imprestiti massicci da sistemi reli¬  giosi non indoeuropei - è difficile constatare immediatamente le strut¬  ture teologiche corrispondenti alle tre funzioni: sono necessari quindi dei ragionamenti e di conseguenza I ’ arbitrio è in agguato. Questo stato  di cose è particolarmente spiacevole nell’ambito greco o celtico in cui  l’informazione è tuttavia molto abbondante: bisogna rassegnarsi.   In Grecia, dove la religione non è essenzialmente indoeuropea,  il raggruppamento delle dee nella leggenda del pastore Paride resta ad  esempio un gioco letterario e non forma evidentemente un’autentica  combinazione religiosa.   In Gallia, dove la classificazione degli dèi riportata da Cesare (e  confermata dai testi irlandesi sui Tuatha Dé Danann) ricorda per molti  versi la struttura delle tre funzioni, quest’analogia con la filiazione, e i  ritocchi che suggerisce, suscitano più problemi invece che risolverli.  Quanto al paganesimo degli Slavi, questi sono così poco conosciuti  perché i tentativi di spiegazione tripartitapossano essere altra cosa che  brillanti ipotesi.   Ma la concordanza delle testimonianze sui tre domini, in¬  do-iranico, italico e germanico, in cui le antiche religioni sono state de¬  scritte in maniera sistematica dai loro stessi rappresentanti, è sufficiente  a garantire che sin dai tempi indoeuropei l’ideologia tripartita aveva  dato luogo a una teologia della stessa forma; a un gruppo di divinità ge-  rarchizzate che esprimevano i tre livelli; e ad una «mitologia eziologi¬  ca» che giustificava la differenza e la collaborazione di queste divinità.   24. Divinità che sintetizzano le tre funzioni   Ci limiteremo a segnalare nella teologia un altro utilizzo fre¬  quente della struttura tripartita, non analitico ma sintetico. Vi sono in¬  fatti divinità che sia i saggi che i fedeli tengono a definire, in opposi¬  zione agli dèi specialisti delle tre funzioni, come onnivalenti,  domiciliate ed efficienti sui tre livelli. Questo tipo di espressione si è  prodotta indipendentemente in diversi luoghi, per esempio nelle civil¬  tà mediterranee, quando una divinità patrona o eponima di una città ha  assunto un’importanza a svantaggio di altri dèi o di équipes divine:  così, presso gli Ioni di Atene, dove sembra che una teologia tripartita  (Zeus, Athena, Poseidone, Efesto) concernesse innanzitutto le quattro  tribù funzionali (sacerdoti, guerrieri, agricoltori, artigiani), è Atena  che in epoca storica domina la religione.   Così, seguendo la felice osservazione di F. Vian, durante le pic¬  cole Panatenee, ella riceveva successivamente degli omaggi divini in quanto Hygieiu, Polias e Niké, vocaboli che evocano le funzioni di sa¬  lute, sovranità politica e vittoria. Allo stesso modo, nello zoroastrismo  si è prodotta la tripla titolatura Buone, Forti, Sunte dei geni tutelari, le  FravaSi, che sono in effetti trivalenti.   25. Dee trivalenti   Tuttavia, tra queste figure sembra che bisogni far risalire alla  comunità indoeuropea un tipo di dea la cui trivalenza è così messa in  evidenza e che è intenzionalmente congiunta agli dèi funzionali: que¬  sta dea, che per il suo stesso sesso e per il suo punto d’inserimento nel¬  le liste è connessa alla terza funzione, è tuttavia attiva in tutti e tre i li¬  velli e sembra che la sua presenza nelle liste esprima il teologhema di  una multi valenza femminile che raddoppia la molteplicità degli spe¬  cialisti mascolini.   Abbiamo ricordato più sopra che talvolta, nelle liste trifunzio¬  nali vediche, la dea-fiume SarasvatTè associata agli ASvin: ora, gli epi¬  teti di SarasvatT, benché non raggruppati in formule, la definiscono  chiaramente come pura, eroica, materna. Indipendentemente l’uno  dall’altro, sia io (1947) che H. Lommel (1953) abbiamo proposto di  interpretare come un’omologa di SarasvatT e come l’erede della stessa  dea indo-iranica, la più importante delle dee del \'Avestu non-gàthico,  anch’essa dea-fiume, Anàhità; ora, il nome completo e triplice di  Anàhità, fa evidentemente riferimento alle tre funzioni: «l’umida, la  forte, l’immacolata», AradvT, Suri, Anàhità. Ed è ancora per sublima¬  zione dello stesso prototipo che io penso che lo zoroastrismo puro ab¬  bia creato la sua quarta Entità, Àrmaiti, che seppur ordinariamente al  terzo livello (dopo XsaSra, «Potenza» e prima di Haurvatà(-Amar,?là(,  «Salute» e «Immortalità») e benché non in possesso di una tripla tito¬  latura, porta un nome che significa «Pensiero-Pio», aiuta Dio nella sua  lolla contro il Male ed ha come elemento materiale la terra nutrice dif¬  ferenzialmente associata.   Nel Lazio, a Lanuvium, Giunone era onorata sotto il triplice  epiteto di Seispes Mater Regina, i due ultimi epiteti riportano alla teo¬  logia della Giunone romana (Lucina, etc.; Regina) patrona della fe¬  condità regolata c dea sovrana; ma a Roma la specificazione guerriera  manca, mentre era in evidenza nella figura di Giunone lanuvia e certa¬  mente era espressa dal primo epiteto, l’oscuro Seispet- (rom. sospit-,  da *sue-spit-? cf. Indra svà-ksatra, svu-pati, eie.).  Infine, nel mondo germanico, considerando i Germani conti¬  nentali, sembra che una dea unica e polivalente (se non onnivalente),  *Friyyò fosse congiunta ai multipli dèi funzionali di cui abbiamo par¬  lato più sopra; se la specificazione guerriera non è attestata, il poco che  si sa di essa la mostra sovrana (Frea, nelle leggende che spiegano il  nome dei Lombardi) e «Venus» ( *Friyya-dcigaz , «Freitag»), Presso  gli Scandinavi questa multi valenza è esplosa: la dea si è raddoppiata in  Frigg (esito regolare di *Friyyó in nordico), sposa sovrana del signore  magico Ódinn, e in Freyja (nome rifatto su Freyr), dea tipicamente  Vani, ricca e voluttuosa.   In Irlanda un’eroina, Macha, senza dubbio un’antica dea epo¬  nima del luogo più importante fra tutti, Emain Macha, capitale dei re  pagani del 1 ’ Ulster con 1 a piana che la circonda, dovette avere pri miti-  vamente questo carattere sintetico, analizzato in base alle tre funzioni,  poiché è sfociata in tre personaggi, in un «trio di Macha» ordinato nei  tempi. Una Veggente, sposa di un uomo dei primi tempi chiamato Ne-  med, «il Sacro», che muore per un’emozione profonda in seguito a una  visione; poi una Guerriera-Campionessa che fa del proprio marito il  suo generalissimo e che muore uccisa; infine una Madre che accresce  meravigliosamente la fortuna del proprio marito, un ricco contadino, e  che muore durante l’orribile parto di due gemelli. Ma non è più possi¬  bile determinare quali rapporti avesse nella religione con gli dèi ma¬  schi della stessa funzione.   26. Le teologie tripartite e i loro elementi   Dopo aver preso una visione globale dei sistemi teologici in¬  do-iranici, italici e germanici che esprimono l’ideologia delle tre fun¬  zioni, abbiamo riconosciuto che sono abbastanza paralleli per giustifi¬  carne la spiegazione nei termini di un’eredità indoeuropea comune.  Non è che l’inizio: senza perdere di vista la struttura d’insieme,  l’esplorazione dovrà concentrarsi successivamente su ognuno dei tre  termini; esaminando la funzione della sovranità religiosa in se stessa,  poi quella del la forza e della fecondità e infine, tram ite la comparazio¬  ne tra i dati indiani, iranici, latini etc., cercare di determinare come gli  Indoeuropei concepivano, suddividevano e utilizzavano ciascuna di  esse.    80     Note ai paragrafi   § 1. Sulla necessità, per lo storico delle religioni, di non perdere mai di vi¬  sta e di riconoscere le strutture teologiche di cui studia i frammenti, vedi prin¬  cipalmente L’heritage..., cap. I («Matièrc, objet et moyens de étude») - al  quale rimando una volta per tutte circa le questioni di metodo - e DIE, cap. II  («Structure et cronologie»),   § 2-3. Il riconoscimento del raggruppamento arcaico «Milra-Varuna  Indra e i Nàsatya», l’inventario delle circostanze in cui appaiono, sono state  fatte progressivamente in: JMQ, pp. 59-60 (= JMQ it, pp. 38-39); NA pp.  41-52; Tarpeia, 1947, pp. 45-56 (dove sono studiati in dettaglio sei inni del  Riveda fondali su questa struttura); «Mitra-Varuna, Indra et le Nàsatya, com-  me palrons des trois fonclions cosmiqucs et sociales», Studia Linguistica, II,  1948 pp. 121-129; JMQ IV, pp. 13 - 35 ( «Les dieux palrons des trois f onctions  dans le Rg Veda et dans le AlharvaVeda»); in queste due ultime esposizioni  la divisione degli dèi in tre gruppi «Aditya, Rudra, Vasu», è interpretata nello  stesso senso (cf. DIE pp.7-9).   § 4. La discussione delle spiegazioni anteriori e l’interpretazione nuova  formano il primo capitolo di NA, pp. 15-55 («les dieux Arya de Mitani»), Il  carattere indiano degli Arya di Mitani è reso probabile dalla forma del nume¬  ro «uno» (aika: sanscrito eka, contro l’iranico comune *aiva ); P.E. DUMONT  ha interpretato senza difficoltà tutti nomi d’uomini conosciuti grazie al vcdi-  co (JAOS, 67, 1947, pp: 251-253). In seguilo G. Widengren ha sottolineato in  questi nomi propri c nella variante u -ru- wa - na del nome di Varuna (nel  trattato di Bogazkoy), qualche fatto fonetico che rinforza questo parlare di  iranico: Numen, II, 1955, pp. 80-81 e note 167, 170.   § 5. DIE.pp. 11-14. Un gruppo di raffigurazioni su una faretra cassila c  stata interpretata come rappresentante in alto Mitra c Varuna, nel mezzo  Indra (o Vàyu) e in basso i gemelli Nàsatya in una scena di medicazione mira¬  colosa conosciuta dal Rg Veda : «Dieux cassiles et dieux vediques, à propos  d’un bronze du Lourislan» RHA, 52, 1950, pp. 18-37. Riprenderò prossima¬  mente il problema a partire da una migliore fotografia (la scena c le insegne di  «Mitra e Varuna» devono essere spiegate altrimenti: non vi sono degli altari  ma un vaso raffigurante una lesta di leone) e con degli altri documenti sui  «gemelli»   § 6-9. La spiegazione degli Amai a Spanta costituisce la materia di NA,  cap. II-V; la quarta Entità, Àrmaiti, che sembrava creare allora difficoltà, è  stala spiegata in seguito in Tarpeia , cap. I (=JMQ il.pp. 305-313). Questa in¬  terpretazione è stata accettala e sviluppata da J. De MENASCE, «Une legende  indo-iranienne dans l’angelologie judéo-musulmane: à propos de  Hàrut-Màrut», Études Asiatiques (svizzeri) I, 1947, pp. 10-18; J. DUCHE-  SNE-GUILLEMIN, Zoroastre, 1948 pp. 47-80; Onnazd et Ah rimati, 1953, p.  23; The Western Response to Zoroaster, 1958 pp. 38-51 (vedi specialmente  pp. 45-46 contro I. Gcrshevilch e W. Lcntz); S. WlKANDER (vedi sotto, nota    81     al III cap. § 13); J.C. TAVADIA «From Aryan Mythology to Zoroastrian The-  ology, aReviewofDumézil’sResearches», ZDMG, 103, 1953, pp. 344-353;  K. Barr, Avesta, 1954, pp. 52-59 e 197; G. WlDENGREN , «Stand und Aufga-  ben deriranischenReligionsgeschichte», Numen, I, 1954, pp. 22-26; S. Har-  TMAN in molti articoli specialmente «Ladisposition de l’Avesta», Orientatili  Suecana, V, 1956, pp. 30-78; e inoltre da altri importanti iranisti. È stata inve¬  ce rigettata senza discussione da I. Gerschevitch e W. Lentz e non è menzio¬  nala nei libri di W.B. Henning e R.C. Zaehner.   § 10. Questo tipo di spiegazione è stata estesa alle Entità già gathiche  come SraoSa e ASi (considerale come sublimazioni degli dèi prezoroastriani  equivalenti agli dèi vedici Aryaman e Bhaga): vedi qui sotto, III, § 8; poi al  non gathico Rasnu e alla Fravasi (considerate come figure purificate corri¬  spondenti a Visnu e ai Maj'ut): «Visnu et les Marut à travers la réforme zoroa-  striennc», JA, CCXLII, 1953, pp. 1-25; infine a Busyastà (considerata come  una demonizzazione della dea Aurora): Déesses latines et mythes vécliques,  1956, pp. 34-37.   § 11. DIE, pp. 22-23.   § 12. Gli attacchi più vivi sono venuti dai latinisti della scuola primitivi-  sta; vedi a proposito di H.J. ROSE, RHR, CXXXIII, 1948, pp. 241-243 e D鬠 esses latines..., 1956, pp. 118-123. I germanisti ostili hanno in generale  preferito “ignorare”; tuttavia ho recentemente avuto una gradevole discus¬  sione - la prima - con K. HELM, BGDSL, 77, 1955, pp. 347- 365; 78, 1956,  pp. 173- 180. Un grande numero di «risposte alle obiezioni» si trovano dis¬  seminate nelle prefazioni, note e appendici dei miei libri. Le ultime in ordine  di tempo che hanno un valore generale sono; «Examen de criliques réccnles;  John Brough, Angelo Brelich», RHR, CLII, 1957, pp. 8-30.   § 13.1 latinisti che dissertarono su Quirino dimenticano solitamente Vo-  fionus che riduce di troppo la loro libertà d’ipotesi. Perla triade umbra vedi  «Remarques sur les dieux Grabovio - d’Iguvium», RP, XXVIII, 1954, pp.  225-234 e «Notes sur le début du riluel d’Iguvium», RHR, CXLVII, 1955,  pp. 265-267. La triade romana è comparsa proprio a fornire il titolo comune  degli studi sulle tecnologie trifunzionali indoeuropee, pubblicati dal 1941 al  1948.   § 14. L’interpretazione è stata presentata per la prima volta in un articolo  che conteneva in potenza tutto il lavoro ulteriore: «La préhisloirc des flami-  nes majeurs», RHR, CXVIII, 1938, pp. 188-200. Sono comparsi in seguito  JMQ, cap. II c III, poi lutto NR; riassunto in L'hèritage... pp. 72-101.   § 15. Contro il «Marte agrario» vedi NR, pp. 38-71 (=JMQ it., pp.  191-217) e Rituels... pp. 78-80. Su Jupiter sovrano vedi NR., pp. 71-76 (=  JMQ it. pp. 218-222); è importante non vedere in Giano (dio dei prima, di tut¬  ti i prima) un «predecessore» né un doppio di Jupiter (dio dei summit): DIE,  pp. 91-102 e«Jupiler-Mars-Quirinus et Janus», RHR, CXXXVIII, 1951, pp.  209-210; sugli «dèi dei prima» indo-iranici, Tarpeia, pp. 66-96.    82     § 16. La spiegazione del complesso Quirino è stata formata in tre tempi:  1) JMQ, pp. 72-77, 84-94, 143-148, 182-187 (=JMQ it„ pp. 49-53, 58-66,  101-104); 2°), NR, pp. 194-221 (=JMQ it., pp. 264-285) e Tarpeia, pp.  176-179; 3°) JMQ, pp. 155-170 (specialmente pp. 167, 169 e n. 2, 170). Vedi  anche L. GERSCHEL, «Saliens de Mars et Saliens de Quirinus», RHR,  CXXXVIII, 1950, p. 145-151. Ho sostenuto numerose discussioni, special-  mente: «La triade Jupiter-Mars-Janus?», RHR, CXXXII, 1946, pp. 115-123  (con V. Basanoff); REL, XXXI 1953, pp. 189-190 (con C. Koch);«A propos  de Quirinus», REL, XXXIII, 1955, pp. 105-108 (con J. Paoli); «Remarques  sur les armes des dieux de troisième fonction», SMSR, XXVIII, 1957, pp.  1-10 (con A. Brelich). Generalmente ogni nuovo avversario non tiene alcun  conto delle risposte fatte ai precedenti; è ancora il caso di J. BAYET, Histoire  psychotogique et historique de la religìon roinaine, 1958, p. 118 (che tratta  anche della triade romana JMQ senza considerare la triade umbra di Jupiter  Mars Vofionus). Per l’assimilazione di Romolo a Quirino, le considerazioni  nuove riportate qui sotto incoraggiano a dargli un senso più profondo e una  data più antica di quanto non si facesse generalmente (vedi «La bataille de  Sentinum, remarques sur la fabrication de l’histoire romaine» Annales, Eco¬  nomie, Sociétés, Civilisations.VU, 1952, pp. 145-154). Sulle etimologie pro¬  poste per Vofionus, vedi RP, XXVIII, 1954, p. 225, n. 4 e p. 226, n. 1; la  spiegazione con *leudhyono- sitrova in Pisani «Mytho-etymologica», Rev.  desEtudes Indo-Européennes (Bucarest), I; 1938, p. 230-233 e in BENVENI-  STE, «Symbolisme social dans les cultes gréco-italiques», RHR, CXXIX,  1945, pp. 7-9.   § 17. Una questione connessa è quella della realtà o della non realtà di una  componente sabina alle origini di Roma. Questa è secondaria rispetto al no¬  stro punto di vista, che è quello dell’ideologia e non dei fatti storici, e in più,  una risposta affermativa non genererebbe affatto l’interpretazione funzionale  delle leggende sulle origini, di cui bisognerebbe solamente ammettere (la  qual cosa è ordinaria) che presentano l’avvenimento «ripensato» in un qua¬  dro ideologico ed epico preesistente, tradizionale; ma è anche chiaro che que¬  sta interpretazione strutturale e unitaria che noi formiamo non rinforza la tesi  dell’autenticità storica del sinecismo originale che incontra diverse difficol¬  tà. In L’heritage .... pp. 179-181, si troverà riassunta la lunga discussione del  capitolo III di NR («Latins et Sabins, histoire et myhte» non tradotta in JMQ  it.: vedi p. 263), condotta principalmente in funzione della tesi di A. PlGA-  NIOL, Essai surlesorigines de Romei 1915) che dominava allora gli studi. Da  quattordici anni che questa discussione è stata pubblicata ho letto molte affer¬  mazioni calorose, arroganti e irritate sulla presenza sabina lontana dalla fon¬  dazione di Roma, ma non ho visto segnalare alcun fatto archeologico che non  fosse già stato prima esaminato e che facesse pendere decisamente la bilan¬  cia; cf. JMQ IV, p. 182 (sugli argomenti che si sono voluti demandare alla  strana disciplina della «geopolitica») e RE XXXIII, 1955, pp. 105-107 (su un  curioso argomento che J. Paoli ha creduto di poter ricavare dalla triade um¬  bra). Quanto a me, continuo a trovare soddisfacente nel suo principio la spie-    83     gazione data nel 1886 della leggenda del sinecismo latino-sabino da T.  MOMMSEN, «Die Tatiuslegende», ripreso in Gemmiti. Schr. IV, pp. 22-35. In  una memoria intitolata «Céramiques des premiers siècles de Rome, VIII-V  siècles», manoscritto che si trova analizzato nei Comptes Renclus de  l’Académie des Inscriptions , 1950, p. 287-295, F. Villard si è pronuncialo per  l’omogeneità della popolazione romana dell'ottavo secolo.   § 18. Sullo Jupiter di Romolo e gli dèi di Tito Tazio, vedi JMQ, pp.  144-146 (= JMQ it., pp. 101-012) (dove bisogna correggere nella citazione di  Varronc Vedici Ioni in Vedi otti) e La saga de Hadingus, 1953, pp. 109-110.   Per la triade «Jupiter, Mars, Ops» vedi «Lcs cultes de la Regia, les trois  fonclions et la triade JMQ», Latomus, XIII, 1954, pp. 129-139. Per la triade  «Jupiter, Mars, Flora (o Vcnus)», vedi Rituels..., p. 54 e p. 60, note 37-40. Per  Romolo-Remo come corrispondenti dei Nàsatya vedici, vedi qui sotto III, §  24. Inoltre l’utilizzazione delle tre funzioni c della triade «JMQ» da parte di  Martianus Capella è stata esaminala in «Remarques sur Ics trois premières re¬  gione s erteli de Mart. Cap.», Coll. Latomus XXIII ( =Honim. à M. Nieder-  memn) 1956, pp. 102-107.   § 19-20. Jan de Vrics è stalo condotto dalle sue ricerche a una visione  strutturale delle religioni germaniche. Quando è uscito MDG, 1939, egli av¬  vertì la parentela della mia concezione e della sua e la complementarietà dei  nostri argomenti. Da allora, benché divisi su qualche dettaglio, siamo  d’accordo, credo, su tutte le maggiori questioni: che ci si riporti alle sue chia¬  re, obiettive c generose esposizioni del suo Altgermanische Relìgionsge¬  stiti cht e. 2“ cd., I c II, 1956-1957 c ai suoi articoli: «Dcr heutige Stand der  gcrmanischen Rcligionsforschung», Gemi. - Roman. Monatsschrift , N.F., II,   1951, pp. 1-11 ; e «L’élat acluel dcséludes sur la rcligion germanique», Dio¬  gene, 18, aprile 1957, pp. 1-16; altri articoli che toccano le questioni qui trat¬  tale: «La valeur religicuse du mot irmin», Cahiers du Sud, n. 314, 1952, pp.  18-27; «Die Gotlcrwohnungen in den Grlmmismàl», Atta Philol. Stand.,   1952, pp. 172-180; «La loponymiect l’hisloire des religions»,RHR, CXLVI,  1954, pp. 207-230; «Uber das Wort Jarl und seine Vcrwandlen», NC, VI,  1954, pp. 461-469. Nell’opera collettiva Deutsche Philologie ini Aufriss,  Miinchen, 1957, la sezione «Die altgermanische Religion» (col. 2467-2556),  redaltada Werner Bentz, dà del paganesimo germanico, e specialmente scan¬  dinavo, un’eccellente interpretazione, originale c ripensata, nel quadro che io  ho proposto. E. POLOMÉha lavorato in questo stesso schema: «L’élymologic  du terme germanique *ansuz, dieu souverain», Études Germuniques, 1953,  pp. 36-44 e «La religion germanique primitive, rcflccl d’une slruclurc socia¬  le», Le Flamheau, 1954,4, pp. 437-463.1 miei MDG, oggi felicemente esau¬  riti, hanno sofferto di essere stali pubblicati agli esordi delle ricerche sulla  tripartizione indoeuropea: non era che una prima vista d’insieme e un pro¬  gramma carico d'ipotesi di lavoro, alcune delle quali si sono verificate c altre  no; presto pubblicherò una seconda edizione interamente rimaneggiata. Non  ho qui ancora il posto per esaminare la teologia dei Germani continentali  (specialmente Tacito, Germania, 9, in cui i tre livelli sono chiari: Mercurio c    84     Marte, Ercole, «Iside»): vedi DIE, pp. 23-26. PerÓdinn bisogna aggiungere  l’importante confronto col polivalente Rudra dell’India (R. Otto, 1932): vedi  J. De Vries, op. cit., II, § 405.   § 21. Sulla guerra degli Asi e dei Vani paragonala a quella dei Latini di  Romolo e dei Sabini, vedi JMQ, cap. V e Tarpeia, pp. 247-291 (= JMQ it.,pp.  108-164) in cui si trova ampiamente rifiutala l’interpretazione in «giganto-  machia» della Voluspà, 21-24 avanzata da E. MOGK, FFC, 5 8, 1924, e la pre¬  sentazione generale in L’heritane..., pp. 125-142.   § 23. Perii giudizio di Paride vedi soprai § 23. PerglidèigallidiCesaree  i loro corrispondenti irlandesi nei loro rapporti (in ogni caso molto alterati)  con la tripartizione, vedi MDG, p. 9, NR, pp. 22-27 eP.-M. DuvaL, Lesdieux  de la Gaule, 1957, pp. 4, 19-21, 31-33, 94. R. JAKOBSON ha tentato di inter¬  pretare nel quadro delle tre funzioni il poco che si conosce degli dèi slavi: art.  «Slavic Mythology» in Funk and Wagnalls StandardDictionary pfFolklore,  II, 1950, pp. 1025-1028. Sembra che il paganesimo dei Baiti possa essere un  giorno favorevole alla nostra inchiesta.   § 24. Sulla tripla titolatura di Alena alle Panaatenec, vedi F. VlAN, La  guerre dea géants, le mytheavant l’époque hellenistique, 1952pp. 257-258.   § 25. Su SarasvatT-Anàhilà-Àrmaiti e sul nome triplo di Anàhità, vedi Tar¬  peia, pp. 55-66; H. Lommel ha trovato indipendemente la corrispondenza Sa-  rasvatl-Anàhità c l’ha pubblicata in Festschr. F. Weller, 1954, pp. 405-413.  Per i dati latini, irlandesi e germanici vedi «Iuno, S.M.R.», Eranos, LII, 1954,  pp. 105-119 e «Le trio des Macha» RHR. L’esplorazione di ognuno dei tre livelli funzionali nel mondo  indoeuropeo implica tre compiti molto considerevoli, a tult’oggi pro¬  grediti in maniera assai discontinua. Non è stalo possibile giungere ra¬  pidamente a risultati sistematici che al primo livello. Se importanti  aspetti del secondo e del terzo sono stati determinati in breve tempo,  essi non sono tuttavia che un insieme strutturalo ancora in fase di ap¬  profondimento. Non si è potuto dunque fare altro che dare per essi de¬  gli orientamenti generali e, sopratutto, delle indicazioni sui metodi di  lavoro.   Varuna e Mitra, ASa e Vohu Manah   Il principio fondamentale intorno a cui si organizzavapresso gli  Indo-Iranici la teologia della prima funzione è già stato segnalato; nel  trattalo di Bogazkoy e nelle formule vediche che sono state confronta¬  te, non si tratta di un dio ma di due, Mitra e Varuna, che la rappresenta¬  no, ed c ancora questa coppia che presuppone la coesistenza di due figure, il «Buon Pensiero» e 1’«Ordine», che gli corrispondono in testa  alla lista delle entità sostituite da Zoroastro agli dèi funzionali.   Questa dualità è stata spiegata in molte maniere dai commenta¬  tori indiani e dalle diverse scuole mitologiche degli ultimi cento anni.  Attualmente è stata fatta luce su ciò che in parte si può dedurre dai loro  stessi nomi: se la parola Veruna, apparentata o no al greco oùpavóq,  wpavoq, resta oscura (la si è interpretata con radici che significano  «coprire», «legare», «dichiarare»), al contrario, Mitra è sicuramente,  come ha spiegato Meillet in un celebre articolo (1907), per la sua eti¬  mologia, il Contratto personificato. Nella grande maggioranza dei  casi, tra questi dèi i cui nomi appaiono spesso al duale doppio, cioè con  una forma grammaticale che esprime il più stretto legame, i poeti non  fanno differenza: li vedono come due consoli celesti, depositari soli¬  dali del più grande potere, e quando non nominano che uno dei due,  non si fanno scrupoli di concentrare su di lui tutti gli aspetti e gli attri¬  buti di questo potere. E questo è naturale poiché l’unità e l’armonia  della funzione sovrana, in rapporto a lutto ciò che le è subordinato, co¬  stituisce per gli uomini il beneessenziale che bisogna mettere in primo  piano nella credenza e nell’espressione. Ma capita spesso felicemente,  anche nel lirismo degli inni ma soprattutto nei libri rituali, che il poeta  o il liturgista travalichi questo primo piano e voglia distinguere i due  dèi per meglio spiegare o utilizzare la loro solidarietà.   In tale caso le diverse immagini che appaiono sono tutte dello  stesso senso: Mitra e Varuna sono i due termini di un gran numero di  coppie concettuali e di antitesi, la cui sovrapposizione definisce due  piani, ogni punto del piano potremmo dire, richiamando sull’altro un  punto omologo; e queste coppie tanto diverse possiedono tuttavia  un’aria di parentela così netta che di ogni nuova coppia assegnata al¬  l’insieme si può provare a colpo sicuro quale sarà il termine «mitria-  co» e quello «varunjco».   Fra le specificazioni così diverse dell’antitesi sarà difficile  estrarne una da cui il resto può essere derivato e senza dubbio questo  tentativo, una volta fatto, non avrebbe gran senso. Sarà molto meglio  procedere a un breve inventario, osservando e definendo l’antitesi in  rapporto alle principali categorie dell’essere divino (cf. II § 5). Quanto  ai loro domini nel cosmo, Mitra s’interessa piuttosto a ciò che è vicino  all’uomo, mentre Varuna all’immenso insieme (distinzione che si ri-    88     trova nettamente fra le Entità zoroastriane corrispondenti: cf. II § 8,4°);  passando al limile, dei testi affermano che Mitra è questo mondo mentre  Varuna Valtro mondo, come è certo che ben presto Mitra rappresentò il  giorno e Varuna la notte. Mitra è assimilato alle forme visibili e usuali  del soma e del fuoco, mentre Varuna alle loro forme invisibili e mitiche.   Nelle modalità d'azione, se Mitra è propriamente il «contratto»  e stabilisce tra gli uomini i trattati e le alleanze, Varuna è un grande  mago, signore della màyà, la magia creatrice delle forme, e in posses¬  so dei «nodi» con cui «afferra» i colpevoli con una presa irresistibile.   Nondimeno essi si oppongono per il foro carattere : l’ami¬  chevole Mitra è benevolo, dolce, rassicurante, stimolante; il dio Varuna  è impietoso, violento, a volte un po’ demoniaco. Innumerevoli applica¬  zioni illustrano questo teologhema generale: a Mitra appartiene ciò che  è cotto a vapore, a Varuna ciò che è arrostito; a Mitra il latte, a Varuna il  soma inebriante; a Mitra l’intelligenza, a Varuna la volontà; a Mitra ciò  che è ben sacrificato, a Varuna ciò che è mal sacrificato etc..   Tra le funzioni diverse da quelle che gli sono proprie, Mitra ha  più affinità per la prosperità, la fecondità e la pace, Varuna per la guer¬  ra e la conquista, tra le province stesse della sovranità, Mitra è piutto¬  sto - come diceva con qualche anacronismo A. K. Coomaraswamy - il  potere spirituale, mentre Varuna è il potere temporale, in lutti i casi ri¬  spettivamente il brdhman e lo ksatrd. L. Renou ( Études vèd. et pànin.  II, 1956, p. 110) ha anche scoperto nel Riveda un’affinità differente,  di Varuna per l'élite e di Mitra per la massa, il popolo comune. I sovra¬  ni Mitra e Varuna, di diritto e di fatto, sono uguali ed è attuale sia l’uno  che l’altro. Se gli inni pronunciano più spesso il nome di Varuna, ciò  non avviene perché egli è «in procinto» di prendere un’importanza  maggiore rispetto a un «più vecchio» dio Mitra, ma perché, semplice¬  mente, la specificazione magica e inquietante della sua azione solleci¬  ta all’uomo più preoccupazioni cultuali del rassicurante e chiaro do¬  minio del giurista Mitra. Bisogna sottolineare ugualmente che non vi c  mai conflitto tra questi due esseri antitetici, ma al contrario vi è una co¬  stante collaborazione. Questo schema indiano, e prima ancora indo-iranico, ha fornito  la chiave per qualche difficoltà o enigma delle mitologie occidentali.  A Roma, dove tutto il pensiero è concreto e patriottico, in cui il cosmo  e le sue diverse parti richiedono attenzione e riflessione solo nella misura in cui possono essere utili o nocive all’ Urbe, non ci si può aspettare di osservare la bipartizione nelle sue generalità. La lontananza del cielo, l’ordine dell’universo, cose di Varuna, lasciano i Romani totalmente indifferenti. Ridotta soltanto a qualcuna delle sue specificazioni, la bipartizione tuttavia sussiste. Se nella Roma storica “dius”, “dius fidius” -- il dio luminoso e garante della fides, della lealtà e dei giuramenti -- non è più che un  aspetto di Jupiter, è vero che sembra esservi stata tutt’altra situazione  nei primordi. Certo, i due dèi erano strettamente associati e il nome del primo flamine e più vicino a “dius” che a “jupiter”. Ma il dominio strettamente giuridico che “dius” si accolla, nella sovranità, porta a considerare il resto – gl’auspici su cui Roma vive, la direzione mistica della politica romana, i miracoli salvifici della storia romana -- come più  propriamente caratteristici del suo grande socio. Allo stesso modo,  nella teoria dei lampi “dius fidius” ha una specificazione nettamente  mitriaca. Sono i lampi del giorno che gli appartengono, mentre  quelli della notte rivelano una varietà oscura e varunica di “jupiter”,  “summanus”.   È probabile che questa teologia complessa abbia risentito, prima dei nostri testi più antichi, della promozione e, nello stesso tempo,  della riforma teologica di “jupiter” che ha coinciso con la creazione del  suo culto capitolino e con la sostituzione di una triade «Jupiter O.M,  Giunone Regina, Minerva» all’antica triade «Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus». Lo “jupiter” del Campidoglio sembra essere stato quasi subito imperialista, fagocitando “dius” e concentrando in sé tutta la sovranità; ma  forse i due piani tradizionali complementari sono ancora segnalati nella strana doppia titolatura del dio: “ottimo” --  cioè il molto servizievole -- e “massimo” -- cioè il più alto, posto nell’infinita classificazione delle mciiestcìtes. Sono questi, in rapporto all 'uomo, i due poli che corrispondono nell’ideologia vedica a Mitra e Varuna. ÓdINN E   Tyr   Ma è nel mondo germanico che l’analogia indiana è particolar¬  mente illuminante. Né «Mercurio» (cioè *Wópanaz ) nella Germania    90     di Tacito, né Ódinn nei testi nordici sono soli nei loro livelli: vicino a  loro vi è quello che Tacito, per delle ragioni comprensibili e interes¬  santi, chiama Marte (cioè *Tiuz ) e gli Scandinavi chiamano Tyr. Que¬  sto dio, omonimo del vedico Dyauh e del greco Zeus, e che al pari di  questi due o del Dius Fidius latino evoca l’idea del cielo luminoso, è  generalmente considerato nei suoi rapporti con *Wópanaz come un  dio «più antico», impallidito di fronte a un nuovo venuto. Benché sia  strano che, a otto o dieci secoli di distanza, Tacito da una parte e i poeti  scandinavi dall’altra abbiano conosciuto e registrato, proprio allo  stesso stadio, l’avanzamento di uno e l’arretramento dell’altro, le con¬  siderazioni comparative ci incoraggiano a dare un senso strutturale a  questa associazione; dove *Tiuz si è senza dubbio eclissato a causa  dell 'inquietante *'WdJ)anaz, per la stessa ragione per cui Mitra, teori¬  camente pari a Varuna, riceve meno attenzione da parte dei poeti e  come lui Dius Fidius è meno importante di Jupiter: gli uomini hanno  più attenzione per la sovranità magica che per quella giuridica.   La grande originalità del mondo germanico è quella segnalata  da Tacito con la sua interpretatio romana di *Tiuz in Marte. Essa per¬  viene a delle considerazioni sviluppate nel precedente capitolo, in cui  abbiamo visto il mago Ódinn annettersi una parte della funzione guer¬  riera. La stessa cosa accade per il giurista Tyr; ecco come Snorri lo de¬  finisce (Gylfaginning cap. 25).   «Vi è ancora un Asi che si chiama Tyr. È molto intrepido e co¬  raggioso, ha un grande potere sulla vittoria in battaglia. Perciò è  bene che i guerrieri valorosi lo invochino. Di alcuni, che sono più co¬  raggiosi degli altri e che non hanno paura di niente, si dice prover¬  bialmente che sono figli di Tyr »   Questa «marzializzazione» del sovrano giurista dei Germani  non è senza analogia con quella che a Roma ha fatto di Quirino, dio ca¬  nonico della terza funzione, patrono dei Romani nella pace e nelle  opere di pace, una varietà di Marte. Nei due casi l’evoluzione sociale  ha reagito sugli dèi: dal giorno in cui - forse con la riforma di Servio - i  Quiriti hanno coinciso coi milites e sono diventati «i militi in congedo  tra due appelli», era naturale che Quirino si volgesse verso il Mars  tranquillus, il Mars qui praeest paci aspettando di saevire.    91     In altre condizioni, meno formali e più violente, le società ger¬  maniche antiche hanno esteso all’amministrazione dei tempi di pace i  quadri della guerra e l’hanno riempita dei costumi e dello spirito guer¬  riero. A Roma 1 ’exercitus urbanus che costituiva l’assemblea legisla¬  tiva, si riuniva al Campo di Marte ma senza armi. Che si rileggano, al  contrario, i passi coloriti in cui Tacito (Germania , 11 -13) descrive il  Pingdei Germani: l’arrivo dei capi con le loro bande, le armi brandite  o battute in segno di voto, le forme tutte militari del prestigio e  deH’-autorevolezza. Ed è in questo Ping che si formulava il diritto e si  regolavano i processi. Qualche secolo più tardi l’antichità scandinava  non ci mostra un diverso spettacolo: anche là ci si riunisce in armi, si  approva alzando la spada o l’ascia o battendo la spada sullo scudo.  Non è dunque sorprendente che il dio al centro di queste riunioni giuri-  dico-gueiTiere, erede del dio giurista indoeuropeo, rivestisse l’uni¬  forme dei suoi ministri e li accompagnasse nel loro passaggio, facile e  costante, dalla giustizia alla battaglia e che gli osservatori romani lo  avessero considerato come un Marte. Alcune dediche trovate in Frisia  sono rivolte a un Mars Thincsus che compie l’esatto legame tra lo stato  indoeuropeo probabile e il risultato scandinavo, tra Mitra e Tyr, quel  Tyr di cui è stato notato che il nome segnala, nella toponimia, gli anti¬  chi luoghi del Ping.   Sembra inoltreche, meno ipocriti di altri popol i, gli antichi Ger¬  mani abbiano così riconosciuto, a parte ogni questione dell’apparalo  guerriero, l’analogia profonda tra la procedura del diritto - con le sue  manovre e le sue astuzie, con le sue ingiustizie senza appello - e il  combattimento armato. Ben utilizzato, il diritto è un mezzo per essere  il più forte e per ottenere vittorie che spesso eliminano l’avversario  così radicalmente come in un duello. Quando si dice che Tyr, in segui¬  to a un’astuzia giuridica, per aver rischiato la sua mano destra come  pegno di un’affermazione utile ma falsa, « è divenuto monco e non è  chiamato pacificatore di uomini», non si tratta che della controparte,  del completamento morale di un fatto materiale: la riunione del Ping in  armi, con intenzioni di potenza (più che di equità) che vede la guerra in  ogni luogo.   Queste indicazioni molto generali aiuteranno a comprendere  come un  Tiuz-Mars abbia potuto formarsi a partire da un dio indoeu-    92     ropeo il cui dominio specifico era il diritto e il cui carattere si è purifi¬  cato e moralizzato, aiutato dalla civilizzazione progressiva.   5. Gli dèi sovrani minori nel Rgveda: Aryaman e Bhaga  vicino a Mitra   Ma negli inni del Rgveda il giurista Mitra e il magico Varuna,  benché sembrino dividersi equamente il dominio della sovranità, non  sono isolati. Essi non sono che quelli più frequentemente nominati dal  gruppo degli Àditya, o figli della dea Aditi, la Non-Legata, cioè la Li¬  bera, l’Indeterminata. La consi derazione dei nomi e delle funzioni de¬  gli Àditya in tutti i contesti, lo studio delle frequenze di menzione di  ognuno, frequenze dei loro diversi raggruppamenti parziali e del loro  legame con altri dèi, hanno permesso di interpretare la struttura che di¬  segnano.   Non è qui possibile beninteso riassumere molto brevemente  queste analisi e questi calcoli, i cui dettagli sono stati pubblicati in due  tempi, nel 1949 e nel 1952. Fin dalla letteratura epica è conservato il  ricordo che gli Àditya sono dèi che, come i due principali tra loro, van¬  no a coppie e in seguito arriveranno sino a dodici. Nel Rgveda sembra  che vi sia già stata un’oscillazione tra un’antica cifra di seie una prima  estensione a otto, per addizione di due dèi eterogenei.   Di questi sei, Mitra e Varuna formano la prima coppia; di ognu¬  na delle altre due coppie è facile vedere che un termine agisce sul pia¬  no e secondo lo spirito di Mitra, mentre 1 ’ altro, simmetricamente, agi¬  sce sul piano e secondo lo spirito di Varuna, di modo che è legittimo e  comodo chiamare queste figure complementari «sovrani minori». Ma  questa cifra di sei sembra essere stata estratta, per ragioni di simme¬  tria, da un sistema più breve di quattro dèi sovrani, in cui il sovrano  «vicino agli uomini» Mitra, aveva solo due assistenti, mentre Varuna  rimaneva solitario nelle sue lontananze. I nomi e le distribuzioni di  questi Àditya primitivi sono: I ) Mitra + Aryaman + Bhaga; 2) Varuna.  Il principio della stretta associazione di Aryaman, Bhaga, Mitra, pro¬  vato dalle statistiche delle menzioni simultanee, è semplice: ognuno  di questi dèi esprime e precisa lo spirito di Mitra su ognuna delle due  province che i nteressano 1 ’ uomo, quelle che il diritto romano ritroverà  con un altro orientamento, più individualista, distinguendo le perso-  nae e le res.    93     Sotto Mitra, il cui nome e il cui essere definiscono il tono e il  modo generale d’azione che si conosce (giuridico, benevolo, regolare,  orientato verso l’uomo), Aryaman si occupa di preservare la società  degli uomini ari a cui deve il suo nome, mentre Bhaga, il cui nome si¬  gnifica propriamente parte, assicura la distribuzione e il godimento  regolare dei beni degli Arya.   6. Aryaman   Aryaman protegge l’insieme degli uomini che, uniti o no politi¬  camente, si riconoscono Arya in opposizione ai barbari, e li protegge  non in quanto individui ma come elementi di un insieme: gli aspetti  principali del suo servizio multiforme sono i tre seguenti:   1 ) Favorisce le principali forme di rapporti materiali o contrat¬  tuali tra Arya. È il «donatore», protegge il «dono» (il che lo obbliga a  interessarsi alla ricchezza e all’abbondanza) e in particolare l’insieme  complesso delle prestazioni che formano l’ospitalità. P. Thieme (Der  Frenullinx im Riveda, 1938) ha messo in risalto questo punto col torto  di farne il centro di ogni concetto divino e di dedurne o negarne tutto il  resto. Infatti Aryaman non c meno primariamente interessato ai matri¬  moni: c pregato come dio delle buone alleanze, scopritore di mariti  (subandhùpativédana: A V, XIV, 1,17); cerca un marito per la fanciul¬  la giovane o una donna per il celibe (A V, VI, 60,1 ). La sua preoccupa¬  zione per i cammini e per la libera circolazione (c àtùrtapanthà, «colui  il cui cammino non può essere interrotto»; RV, X, 64,5) non deve esse¬  re negata o minimizzata come è stato fatto da B. Geiger, H. Giintert c  P. Thieme: tutto ciò risalta da un gran numero di strofe di inni e da un  lesto liturgico che lo definisce come il dio che permette al sacrificante  «di andare ove e^li desidera» e di « circolare felicemente » ( Tait-  tir.Samh., II-, 3, 4, 2).   2) La sua cura nei riguardi degli Arya ha anche un aspetto litur¬  gico: nei tempi antichi è lui che ha munto per la prima volta la Vacca  mitica e di conseguenza, nel corso dei tempi, si tiene a fianco  dell’officiante e munge la Vacca mitica insieme a lui (RV, 1,139,7, col  commento di Sàyana). A lui si domanda anche (RV, VII, 60, 9) di  espellere sacrificalmente dall’area sacrificale, tramite delle libagioni  (uva-yuj-), i nemici che ingannano Varuna. Poco curiosi dell’aldilà, gli autori degli inni non parlano di  un’altra forma di servizio che è, al contrario, la sola di cui l’epopea con¬  servi un ricordo molto vivo e che è sicuramente antica. Nell’altro mondo  Aryaman presiede il gruppo dei Padri, sorta di geni il cui nome chiari¬  sce abbastanza l’origine: sono infatti una rappresentazione degli ante¬  nati morti, e Aryaman è il loro re, che prolungano così nel posl-mortem la  felice promiscuità e la comunità degli Arya viventi. Il cammino che  porta presso i Padri, riservato a quelli che durante la propria vita hanno  praticato esattamente i riti (in opposizione agli asceti e agli yogin), è  chiamato «il cammino di Aryaman » (Mahàbhdrata , XII, 776 etc.).   7. Bhaga   Bhaga si occupa fondamentalmente della ricchezza ed è a lui  che ognuno - debole, forte e il re stesso - si rivolge per averne una par¬  te (RV , VII, 41, 2). Un esame completo delle strofe vediche che lo no¬  minano o che impiegano il termine bhd^a come appellativo, ha per¬  messo di constatare che questa parte è dotata di qualità richieste alla  metà dell’amministrazione sovrana che spetta a Mitra: essa è regolare,  prevedibile, senza sorprese, giunge a scadenza perlina sorta di gesta¬  zione (il bambino pronto perla nascita «rut> giunge Usuo bhd^a»: RV,  V, 7, 8); essa è il risultalo di un’attribuzione senza rivalità, implicante  un sistema di distribuzione (verbi; vi-bhaj-, vi-dhr-, day, cf. il greco  Sou|.iov); infine è acquisita e conservata nella calma, è la retribuzione  degli uomini maturi, assennali, seniores, opposti agli iuvenes (RV, I,  91,7 ; V, 41,11 ; IX, 97, 44). L’altra varietà della parte, imprevedibile,  violenta, «varunica», che si conquista con la battaglia o con la corsa, è  designata da un’altra parola che sin dai tempi indo-iranici aveva una  risonanza combattiva e che ha giustamente fornito ai teologi vedici il  nome del «sovrano minore varunico» simmetrico di Bhaga, Amsa.   8. Trasposizione zoroastriane di Aryaman e Bhaga: SraoSa  e A$i   Abbiamo la certezza che questa struttura era già indo-iranica:  come in Iran la lista degli dèi canonici delle tre funzioni è stala subli¬  mata dallo zoroastrismo puro in una lista di Entità che gli corrispondo¬  no termine per termine (vedi II § 8); così gli dèi sovrani minori asso-    95     ciati a Mitra hanno prodotto due figure complementari non comprese  nella lista canonica delle Entità, ma vicine, le cui statistiche dei ruoli  mostrano l’affinità esclusiva dell’una rispetto all’altra, e di tutte e due  rispetto a Vohu Manah (sostituito di *Mitra); e anche nei testi in cui  questo dio ricompare, in relazione a MiGra, mentre niente lo lega ad  Asa (sostituto di *Varuna). In più, per il loro nome come per la loro  funzione, queste due Entità - Sraosa, VObbedienza e la Disciplina , e  Asi, Retribuzione - sono ciò che ci si può attendere da un Aryaman o  da un Bhaga ripensati dai riformatori. E facile vedere punto per punto  che Sraosa è per la comunità dei credenti ciò che Aryaman era per la  comunità degli Arya, la chiesa che rimpiazza la nazionalità.   1) H. S. Nyberg ha potuto vedere in Sraosa la personificazione  «derfrommen Gemeinde», il termine «genio protettore» sarebbe più  esatto ma i 1 punto di applicazione è noto: Sraosa che è «capo nel mon¬  do materiale come Ohrmazd lo è nel mondo spirituale e materiale»  {Greater Bundahisn, ed. e trad. B. T. Anklesaria, 1957, XXVI, 45, p.  219) presiede all’ospitalità come già faceva l’Aryaman vedico (e già  indo-iranico; cf. persiano èrmdn, «ospite», da *airyaman), quando è  concessa, si sa, all’uomo buono, allo zoroastriano (Yasna LVII, 14 e  34).   Se non lo si vede più occupato, specialmente delle alleanze ma¬  trimoniali e della libera circolazione sui sentieri, nondimeno la sua  azione sociale sulle anime è precisata: egli è il patrono della grande  virtù della vita in comune, di quella che assicura la coesione, cioè la  giusta misura, la moderazione ( Zdtspram , XXXIV, 44); è anche il me¬  diatore e il garante del famoso patto concluso tra il Bene e il Male  (Vasi XI, 14) e il demone che gli è personalmente opposto è il terribile  Aesma, il Furore, distruttore della società ( Bundahisn XXXIV, 27).   Rimane una precisa traccia mitica della sostituzione di Sraosa a  un dio protettore degli Arya: secondo il Menók iXrat, XLIV, 17-35 è  lui il signore e il re del paese chiamato Eràn vèz. (avestico Airyanam  vaèjò), quel soggiorno degli Arya da cui, dice l’A vesta, sono venuti gli  Iranici ( Vidèvdat , I, 3).   2)11 ruolo liturgico di Aryaman si è naturalmente amplificato in  Sraosa: Yasna LXII, 2 e 8, dice che fu il primo a sacrificare e cantare  gli inni e tutto l’inizio del suo Yast (XI, 1-7), unicamente consacrato    96     all’elogio della preghiera e all’ esaltazione della loro potenza, si giusti-  fica per questo ricordo.   Simmetricamente, alla fine dei tempi, al tempo del supremo  combattimento contro il Male, è Sraosa che sarà il sacerdote assistente  nel sacrificio in cui Ahura Mazda stesso sarà l’officiante principale  (.Bunclcihisn , XXXIV, 29).   3) Infine, come l’Aryaman dell’epopea indiana è il capo della  dimora in cui vanno - attraverso «il cammino di Aryaman» - i morti  che hanno correttamente praticato il culto arya, così Sraosa ha un ruo¬  lo decisivo nelle notti che seguono immediatamente la morte: egli ac¬  compagna e protegge l’anima del giusto sui sentieri pericolosi che la  conducono al tribunale dei suoi giudici, di cui egli stesso è parte  {Dùuistun-TDénTk XIV, XXVIII, etc.). Asi è sempre una «distribuzio¬  ne» come lo era Bhaga ma la nuova religione, che conferisce più im¬  portanza all’aldilà che al mondo dei viventi, gli domanda soprattutto  di vegliare sulla giusta «retribuzione» post-mortem degli atti buoni o  cattivi dell’uomo. Tuttavia anche nelle Gàthà, c palesemente nei testi  post-gathici, pur badando in avvenire al tesoro dei suoi meriti, non di¬  mentica nella vita terrestre di arricchire l’uomo pio c di riempire la sua  casa di beni.  L’analisi di questa concezione, già indo-iranica, della sovranità  che non altera la grande bipartizione ricoperta dai nomi di Mitra e Va-  runa, ma dona solamente a Mitra due assistenti che l’aiutano a favorire  il popolo arya, illumina una particolarità della religione romana di Ju-  pitcr che sfortunatamente è conosciuta solo nella forma capitolina di  questa religione. Jupiler O.M, in cui si concentra tutta la sovranità, sia  quella «diale» che quella propriamente «gioviana» (vedi sopra § 3),  ospitava in due cappelle del suo tempio due divinità minori, Juvenlas e  Terminus.   Una leggenda giustificava la coabilazione singolare di questi  tre dèi facendola risalire alla fondazione del tempio capitolino, ma  questa leggenda (che utilizzava del resto un vecchio tema legalo al  concetto di Juvenlas) non prova evidentemente che l’associ azione  fosse più antica. L’analogia indo-iranica ci incoraggia a considerarla  come preromana.    97     Infatti, secondo degli slittamenti tipici della società romana, Ju-  ventas e Terminus giocano a fianco di JupiterO.M. dei ruoli compara¬  bili a quelli di Aryaman e Bhaga che affiancano Mitra. Juventas, dice  la leggenda eziologica, garantisce a Roma l’eternità e Terminus la sta¬  bilità sul suo dominio: anche Aryaman assicura alla società arya la du¬  rata e Bhaga la stabilità delle proprietà. Ma prese in se stesse, fuori da  questa leggenda, le due divinità romane sono molto di più di tutto que¬  sto: Juventas è la dea protettrice degli «uomini romani» più interes¬  santi per Roma, gli iuvenes, parte essenziale e germinati va della socie¬  tà; Terminus garantisce la spartizione regolare dei beni, dei beni  sopratutto immobili, catastali, appezzamenti di terreno, non delle  greggi erranti che presso i nomadi indo-iranici o tra gli indiani vedici  costituivano la ricchezza essenziale. Nel mondo scandinavo un tale schema di sovrani minori non si  è ancora lasciato identificare, al momento. Non è che intorno a Ódinn  non vi fossero degli dèi che, secondo il poco che si sa di loro, non aves¬  sero avuto l’incarico di esercitare dei frammenti specializzati della so¬  vranità, ma queste specificazioni e l’analisi della funzione sovrana  che suppongono sono originali e i loro rappresentanti non hanno omo¬  loghi indo-iranici e neppure romani. Vi è Hoenir, riflessivo e prudente  e che secondo la fine della Vòluspó è proiezione mitica di una sorta di  sacerdote; vi è Mimir, consigliere di Ódinn, ridotto a una testa che ri¬  mane pensante e parlante anche dopo la sua decapitazione; oppure  Bragi patrono della poesia e dell’eloquenza.   Ho pensato un tempo ai due fratelli di Ódinn, Vili e Vé, sicura¬  mente antichi poiché l’iniziale del loro nome non si allittera in scandi¬  navo che con una forma preistorica del suo nome (*Wòt>anaz), ma si  conoscono troppo pochi dati per interpretare questa triade e tutt’altra  soluzione sarà proposta più avanti.   11. Condizioni dello studio teologico della seconda e   TERZA FUNZIONE   I procedimenti di analisi e di statistica che hanno permesso di  dispiegare e di esplorare la sovranità - nell’India vedica inizialmente e    98     poi progressivamente nell’organizzazione intema della teologia della  prima funzione - non sono applicabili agli dèi delle funzioni inferiori e  al momento non si è riusciti a trovare un punto di contatto. Senza dub¬  bio questa differenza è propria della natura delle cose; per i suoi stessi  concetti (i nomi dei personaggi divini sono in gran parte etimologica¬  mente chiari e molti sono delle astrazioni animate) la prima funzione  si prestava facilmente alla riflessione psicologica e non bisogna di¬  menticare che i primi filosofi, appartenenti al personale di questa fun¬  zione, erano dei sacerdoti e non potevano evitare di applicarvi con pre¬  dilezione la loro analisi. La controparte è che nel Rgveda questa  teologia così ben sviluppata non si raddoppia in una mitologia ricca in  proporzione: di Mitra non è quasi «raccontato» niente; di Varuna si  dice molto di più, ma la lista delle scene in cui interviene è ridotta e in  generale si tratta di potenze e qualità degli dèi sovrani più che della  loro storia, del loro tipo d’azione piuttosto che di azioni precise com¬  piute da loro.   Al contrario, la funzione guerriera e la funzione di fecondità e  prosperità si basano in gran parte su immagini: più che grazie a dichia¬  razioni di principio, è il ricordo inesauribile delle imprese o dei famosi  benefici che provano l’efficacia di un dio forte o dei buoni dèi tauma¬  turghi. Così queste due province divine sono più adatte a degli svilup¬  pi mitologici che a una messa a fuoco teologica; o forse è meglio dire  che la dottrina si abbellisce, si dissimula e si altera sotto il rigoglio dei  racconti.   Per il comparatista questa differenza comporta grandi conse¬  guenze. Senza che questo fatto capitale sia stato ancora pienamente  enunciato, il lettore ha già potuto osservare che è il confronto delle re¬  ligioni vedica e romana il più adatto a stabilire o suggerire, grazie al  conservatorismo della seconda, dei fatti indoeuropei comuni, mentre  la religione scandinava non interviene che a titolo di conferma dopo  che il percorso comune è già stato riconosciuto e assicurato.   Ora, allo stato delle nostre conoscenze, la religione romana pre¬  senta ancora una teologia ben costituita: nel raggruppamento «Jupiter  Mars, Quirinus» o nel raggruppamento trasversale di «Jupiter, Juven-  tas, Terminus», essa ha registrato coscientemente delle articolazioni  concettuali molto chiare. Sfortunatamente bisogna altresì aggiungere  che la religione romana non è più che una teologia: per un processo radicale che caratterizza Roma, i suoi dèi - e questa volta non solo gli dèi  sovrani, ma anche Marte, Quirino, Ops, eie. - sono stati spogliati di  ogni racconto e limitati asceticamente alle loro essenze, alla loro pro¬  pria funzione. Se dunque (per la determinazione del quadro generale  tripartito e per l’esplorazione dei primo livello) il confronto di una teo¬  logia vedica facilmente determinabile, e di una teologia romana im¬  mediatamente conosciuta, ha permesso i risultali netti coerenti, c sem¬  pre più completi che si sono appena letti, la stessa cosa non avviene  quando si passa ai due livelli seguenti.   India o i Nàsatya vedici non esprimono le sfumature della pro¬  pria natura che mediante delle avventure alle quali Marte e Quirino  non corrispondono, se non per mezzo della loro scarna definizione c  per ciò che è possibile intravedere dalle dottrine e dai culti dei loro sa¬  cerdoti: i documenti e i linguaggi delle due religioni che sono i princi¬  pali sostegni del comparatista non si combinano più.   12. Mitologia ed epopea   La difficoltà sarebbe probabilmente irriducibile senza un altro  fallo, ancora più importante per i nostri studi, di cui i precedenti capi¬  toli del presente libro hanno già discretamente fornito qualche esem¬  pio. Le idee di cui vive una società non danno luogo solamente a delle  speculazioni o a immaginazioni relative agli uomini. La teologia e la  mitologia sono raddoppiate dalle «storie antiche», dall’epopea in cui  degli uomini prestigiosi applicano c dimostrano dei principi che gli  dèi incarnano e dei comportamenti che dipendono da loro.   Certo, ben altri fattori contribuiscono alla formazione dell’epo¬  pea di un popolo, ma è raro che questa non abbia avuto, in alcuni dei  suoi grandi temi c dei suoi primi moli, un rapporto essenziale con  l’ideologia che dirige le rappresentazioni divine dello stesso popolo.  Per i nostri studi comparativi indoeuropei questa felice circostanza  gioca a nostro favore in due maniere: la seconda è stata da me ricono¬  sciuta nel 1939, mentre la prima è stala scoperta nel 1947 dal mio col¬  lega svedese Stig Wikander.   Da una parte, la più grande epopea indiana, il Mahàbhcirata,  sviluppa le avventure di un insieme di eroi che corrispondono parola  per parola ai grandi dèi delle tre funzioni della religione vedica e pre¬  vedrà, di modo che l’India presenta, con questo enorme poema c col   Riveda, lina doppia edizione rispondente, a due differenti bisogni e  con sensibili varianti, alla sua «ideologia in immagini». Dall’ altra par¬  te, se Roma ha perduto tutta la sua mitologia e ha ridotto i suoi esseri  teologici alla loro scarna essenza, ha conservato al contrario, per costi¬  tuirla in seguito, la storia meravigliosa e ragionevole delle proprie ori¬  gini, un antico repertorio di racconti umani, colorati e molteplici, pa¬  ralleli a quelli che avrebbero dovuto essere in tempi meno austeri le  raccolte mitiche degli dèi.   Quest’epopea è l’antica mitologia romana degradata in storia  da Roma stessa? Oppure essa prolunga direttamente un’epopea prero¬  mana e italica, coesistente con una mitologia che Roma avrebbe per¬  duto senza traslazione e senza compensazione? L’una e l’altra tesi  possono trovare argomenti nel dettaglio dei fatti, ma per il comparati¬  sta questa discussione non incide: in ogni caso, il primo libro di Tito  Livio contiene una materia ideologicamente conforme al sistema de¬  gli dèi romani e drammaticamente comparabile all’epopea e alla mito¬  logia dell'India. Per tentare di guadagnare qualche chiarimento sui  dettagli delle rappresentazioni indoeuropee della seconda e terza fun¬  zione è dunque necessario introdurre questi nuovi elementi nel lavoro  comparativo.   13. Il fondo mitico del Mambhjrata secondo S. Wikander   Nell’immenso conllilto dei cugini, che riempie il Mahàbhdra-  ta, i personaggi simpatici c infine vittoriosi sono un gruppo di cinque  fratelli, i Panda va o «figli di Pàndu», che fra i molli tratti notevoli pre¬  sentano quello di avere in comune una sola sposa per lutti c cinque,  Draupadl. Consideralo dal punto di vista dei costumi, questo regime di  poliandria, così contrario agli usi e allo spirilo degli Arya ma attribuito  qui agli croi che glorificano l’India arya, ha costituito per più di un se¬  colo un enigma irritante. Nel 1947 Wikander ne ha fornito la soluzione  soddisfacente, scoprendo allo stesso tempo la chiave di tutto l’intrigo  del poema.   In realtà i «figli di Pàndu» non sono i suoi figli. Sotto il peso di  una maledizione che lo condanna a morte nel momento in cui compirà  l’alto sessuale, Pàndu si assicura una posterità con un procedimento  eccezionale. Una delle sue mogli, KuntI, in seguilo ad un’avventura  giovanile, aveva ricevuto un privilegio inaudito: le era sufficiente in-    101     vocare un dio perché questo sorgesse immediatamente davanti a lei e  le donasse un figlio.   Dietro preghiera di suo marito invoca dunque in successione di¬  versi dèi dai quali concepisce tre figli. Questi dèi sono Dharma, «la  Legge, la Giustizia» (entità in cui si ritrova il vecchio concetto del giu¬  rista Mitra), poi Vàyu, dio del vento, e infine Indra.   I tre figli sono rispettivamente Yudhisthira, Bhlma e Arjuna.  Suo marito la prega quindi di beneficiare Madri, un’altra sua moglie,  di questa fortuna: KuntI accetta ma per una sola volta e così Madri  prende dalla situazione la parte migliore e chiede che vengano evocati  i due inseparabili ASvin: dagli ASvin concepisce due gemelli, gli ulti¬  mi dei cinque «figli di Pàndu», Nakula e Sahadeva. Wikander segnalò  ben presto che la lista degli dèi padri - Dharma, Vàyu, Indra e gli ASvin  - riproduceva nell’ordine gerarchico la lista canonica degli antichi dèi  dei tre livelli, ringiovanita e depauperata al primo livello (Dharma che  rappresenta solo Mitra, senza un corrispettivo di Varuna), mentre al  secondo livello conferiva a Indra uno degli associati che aveva ancora  più frequentemente nel Riveda, Vàyu. La diversità armonica dei padri  doveva, in una certa misura, comandare sia il carattere che le azioni  epiche dei figli, come in effetti accade.   Yudhisthira è il re, mentre gli altri Pàndava sono solamente de¬  gli ausiliari; un re giusto, virtuoso, puro e pio - dhurmuruju - senza  specialità o virtù guerriere, come si conviene a un rappresentante della  «metà di Mitra» della sovranità.   Bhlma e Arjuna sono i grandi combattenti dell’insieme. Quanto  ai due gemelli, sono belli ma sopratutlo umili e devoti servitori dei  loro fratelli, come nella teoria delle classi sociali: infatti, la grande vir¬  tù dei vaiSya del terzo livello è quella di servire lealmente le due classi  superiori. L’enigma della loro unica sposa si risolve immediatamente  in questa prospettiva. Non si tratta dunque di un’usanza aberrante ma  della trasposizione epica della concezione vedica, indo-iranica e pri¬  ma ancora indoeuropea, che completa la lista degli dèi maschi, tra i  quali si analizzano e gerarchizzano le tre funzioni, con una dea unica  ma plurivalente, meglio ancora trivalente, come la vedica Sarasvatl  che comprende in se stessa la sintesi delle tre funzioni.   Sposando DraupadI al pio re, ai due guerrieri e ai due gemelli  servizievoli, l’epopea mette in scena ciò che RV, X, 125 formulava quando faceva proferire alla dea Vàc (tanto vicina a Sarasvatl): «Sono  io che sostengo Mitra-Varunu, che sostengo Indra-Agni e che sosten¬  go i due Asvin», o che ancora si ritrova nella triplice titolatura (con  un’ulteriore specificazione della terza funzione) della principale dea  dell’Iran, «l’Umida, la Forte, l’Immacolata». Questa scoperta è stala il punto di partenza di un’ esplorazione  di tutto il poema, soprattutto dei primi libri (che precedono la grande  battaglia) ed è stata certamente chiamata a rinnovare i nostri studi: per  la sua abbondanza, la sua coesione e la sua varietà, la trasposizione  epica permette, partendo dal sistema trifunzionale, da ogni funzione e  dalle molte rappresentazioni connesse, uno studio più profondo e più  avanzato di quanto non lo permettesse l’originale mitologico cono¬  sciuto sopralutto dalle allusioni dei testi lirici. D’altra parte, sin dal suo  articolo del 1947, Wikander ha stabilito un punto molto importante: la  struttura mitologica trasposta nel Mahàbhdruta è sotto molti aspetti  più arcaica di quella del Rgveda poiché conserva dei tratti sfumali in  questo innario ma che le analogie iraniche provano come fosse in¬  do-iranica. Per tale ragione uno dei primi servigi apportati da questo  nuovo studio è stato quello di rivelare nella funzione guerriera una di¬  cotomia che il Rgveda ha quasi completamente dimenticato a tutto  vantaggio di Indra.   Infatti, come è già stato dimostrato da lavori anteriori della scu¬  ola di Uppsala, Vàyu c Indra erano i patroni, nei tempi prevedici, di  due tipi molto differenti di combattenti i cui figli epici, BhTma e Arju-  na, rendono possibile un’osservazione dettagliala e certamente una  parte dei caratteri fisici dell’Indra vedico devono essere restituiti a  Vàyu per un periodo più antico. Questi due tipi sono facilmente defini¬  bili in qualche parola.   L’eroe del tipo Vàyu è una sorta di bestia umana dotato di un vi¬  gore fisico mostruoso, le sue armi principali sono le sue braccia, pro¬  lungale talvolta da un’arma che gli è propria: la clava. Non è bello né  brillante, non è molto intelligente c si abbandona facilmente a disa¬  strosi eccessi di furore cieco. Infine, opera spesso da solo, fuori  da\Y équipe di cui è tuttavia il protettore designato, per cercare  l’avventura e per uccidere principalmente dei demoni e dei geni. Al contrario, l’eroe del tipo Indra è un superuomo, un uomo  compiuto e civilizzato, la cui forza è armonizzata; maneggia delle  armi perfezionate (Arjuna è notoriamente un grande arciere e uno spe¬  cialista delle armi da lancio); è brillante, intelligente, morale e soprat¬  tutto socievole, guerriero da battaglia più che cercatore di avventura e  generalissimo naturale dell’armata dei suoi fratelli. Questa distinzione è conosciuta anche dall’epopea iranica, nel¬  la persona del brutale Kó>rasàspa armato di mazza e legato al culto di  Vàyu, oppure nel tipo dell’eroe più seducente come ©raètaona.   In Grecia ricorda l’opposizione tipologica di Ercole e Achille,  ma soprattutto permette di dare una formulazione più precisa, in Scan¬  dinavia, ai rapporti tra Ódinn e Pórr e più in generale a quelli della pri¬  ma e seconda funzione. E stato segnalato, nel secondo capitolo, che  Ódinn si era annesso una parte importante della funzione guerriera.  Vediamo ora che si tratta principalmente (senza che la discriminazio¬  ne sia rigorosa: è Pórr che al pari di Indra rimane il dio tuonante dello  sconvolgimento atmosferico) della parte che presso gli Indo-Iranici  era sotto il magistero di *Indra, mentre la parte di *Vàyu era piuttosto  quella di Pórr, il brutale picchiatore e l’avventuriero delle spedizioni  solitarie contro i giganti. Tuttociò appare ancora più chiaramente se si  considerano nell’ epopea gli eroi che corrispondono a ciascuno di que¬  sti dèi: gli eroi odinici come Sigurdr, Helgi e Haraldr sono belli, lumi¬  nosi, socievoli, amati e aristocratici, mentre l’unico «eroe di Pórr» co¬  nosciuto dall’epopea, Starkadr, appartiene alla razza dei giganti, un  gigante ridotto da Pórr a forma umana, arcigno, brutale, errante e soli¬  tario, vera replica scandinava di Bhlma o Ercole.   16. Caratterizzazione funzionale dei Pàndava   Nei primi libri del Mahàbhàrata i poeti, sicuramente consape¬  voli di questa struttura, si sono cimentati nel dare delle rappresentazio¬  ni differenziate dei cinque eroi, dettagliando le loro diverse maniere di  reagire a una stessa circostanza. Ne citerò solo due. Nel momento in  cui i cinque fratelli lasciano il palazzo per un ingiusto esilio che avrà  fine solo con la formidabile battaglia in cui otterranno la loro rivincita,  il pio e giusto re Yudhisthira avanza « Velandosi il volto col suo abito  per non rischiare eli bruciare il mondo col suo sguardo corrucciato».  Bhlma «guardale sue enormi braccia» e pensa: «Non vi è uomo ugua¬  le a me per la forza delle braccia »; egli « mostra le sue braccia, inor¬  goglito dalla forza delle sue braccia desidera fare contro i nemici  un 'azione pari alla forza delle sue braccia ». Arjuna sparge la sabbia  «raffigurandovi l'immagine di un nugolo di frecce scoccate contro i  nemici». Quanto ai gemelli, la loro preoccupazione è un’ altra: Nakula,  il più bello tra gli uomini, si cosparge tutte le membra di cenere dicen¬  do: « Che io non possa mai trascinare sulla mia strada il cuore di una  donna!» e suo fratello Sahadeva allo stesso modo si imbratta il viso  (II, 2623-2636).  All’inizio dei libro IV (23-71 e 226-253), i cinque fratelli scel¬  gono un mascheramento per soggiornare in incognito alla corte del re  Virata: Yudhisthira, eroe della prima funzione, si presenta come un  brahmano; il brutale Bhlma come un cuoco-macellaio e un lottatore;  Arjuna, coperto di braccialetti e orecchini, come un maestro di danza;  Nakula come un palafreniere esperto nella cura dei cavalli malati,  mentre Sahadeva come un bovaro, informato di lutto ciò che riguarda  la salute e la fecondità delle vacche.   Queste due specificazioni, diverse ma simili, dei gemelli sono  interessanti: se i 1 Rgvedu permette di notare qualche fugace distinzio¬  ne nella coppia indissolubile dei loro padri, Wikander ha sottolineato  l’importanza del criterio qui rivelato.   Sempre restando prima di tutto degli abili medici che ignorano  l’agricoltura (il che ci porta a far risalire indietro di molto questa con¬  cezione), Nakula e Sahadeva si dividono le due principali province  deH’allevamento, riservandosi rispettivamente l’uno la protezione  delle vacche e l’altro quella dei cavalli, che nel Rgvedu forniscono  loro il loro secondo nome collettivo, Aévin, un derivato di àsva, «ca¬  vallo».   Abbiamo così il primo modello delle formule che si osservano  anche altrove a proposito degli omologhi funzionali dei Nàsatya  -ASvin: tra Haurvalà(e Amar3tà( ad esempio, entità zoroastriane sostituitesi ai gemelli, la ripartizione si compie all’interno del genere «sa¬  lubrità», sotto le acque e le piante; così pure, almeno parzialmente, tra  il Njòrdr e il Freyr degli Scandinavi, la distinzione nell’uniforme be¬  neficio dell’«arricchimento» si compie secondo le due fonti della ric¬  chezza, il mare e la terra.   Si nota qui chiaramente come la considerazione dell’epopea  metta in risalto dei tratti strutturali e suggerisca inchieste feconde. Il  travestimento di Arjuna non è strano a un primo approccio, poiché è  arcaico e di un arcaismo che è conosciuto dal Riveda, in cui Indra è il  «danzatore» e i suoi giovani compagni la banda guerriera dei Marut  che si adorna il corpo di ornamenti d’oro, braccialetti e anelli da cavi¬  glia che li fanno apparire come dei ricchi pretendenti. Comune alle più  vecchie mitologie c alla sua trasposizione epica, questo tratto è certa¬  mente da riconnetlerc all’insieme del «Mànnerbund» indo-iranico. E  forse, nello stesso ordine di idee, la trasposizione epica lascia intrave¬  dere un aspetto che gli inni fanno passare in silenzio e che riguarda la  morale particolare di questi gruppi di giovani, quando essa insiste sul  carattere «effeminato» del travestimento scelto da Arjuna.   18. Pàndu e Varuna   Progressivamente sono stale individuate altre corrispondenze  tra l’intrigo del Mahàbhàrata e la mitologia vedica c prevedica, sem¬  pre con lo stesso vantaggio che l’epopea, narrazione ampia e continua,  facilita in ogni caso l’analisi che, al contrario, c infastidita dal lirismo  degli inni c dalla loro retorica dell’allusione.   Ho così potuto dimostrare come Varuna non sia assente dalla  trasposizione; solo si trova nella generazione anteriore, inattuale,  morta, quando il corrispettivo di Mitra, il figlio di Dharina, diviene re.  Pàndu, il padre putativo dei Pàndava, anche lui re prima del suo figlio  maggiore Yudhisthira, presenta in effetti due caratteri originali e im¬  probabili che i libri liturgici e un inno attribuiscono anche a Varuna; a  uno di questi caratteri deve il suo nome: pàndu significa «pallido, gial¬  lo chiaro, bianco», e infatti un incidente di nascita, o meglio, del con¬  cepimento di Pàndu, ha fatto sì che avesse la pelle insanamente pallida  o bianca. Ora, Varuna è rappresentato in certi rituali come sukla «bian¬  chissimo» e atigaura «eccessivamente bianco». L’altro aspetto c di  più ampia portata: Pàndu c condannalo all’equivalente dell’impotenza sessuale, condannato a perire (e così in effetti perirà) se compie  l’atto d’amore; ugualmente, Varuna in circostanze diverse ( AV , IV, 4,  1 : rituale della consacrazione regale) è presentato come uno divenuto  momentaneamente impotente, devirilizzato (evirazione che si fa a  vantaggio dei suoi parenti; il che ricorda il mito importante del greco  Urano castrato dai suoi figli).   Il lavoro insomma è appena cominciato. Sia io che Wikander  speriamo di estrarre da questa riserva importante del materiale abbon¬  dante e abbastanza chiaro per delucidare molte incertezze e difficoltà  che sono ancora irrisolvibili sul piano degli inni e per fornire alla rico¬  struzione indoeuropea degli elementi privi di ambiguità.L’epopea romana ha utilizzato in altra maniera l’ideologia delle  tre funzioni insieme alle loro sfumature. Gli eroi che l’incarnano non  sono più dei contemporanei, dei fratelli semplicemente gerarchizzati;  essi si succedevano nel tempo e progressivamente costituiscono  Roma. Non si succedono però nell’ordine canonico ma in un altro or¬  dine: 1) gemelli pastori (terza funzione); 2) sovrano «gioviano» se¬  mi-dio, creatore ed eccessi vo (pri ma funzione del tipo di Varuna) e poi  sovrano «diale», umano, pio, regolatore (prima funzione del tipo Mi¬  tra); 3) infine, un re strettamente guerriero (seconda funzione). In più,  il sovrano gioviano non è altro che uno dei due gemelli sopravvissuto  alla coppia ma profondamente trasformato. Questa doppia singolarità  schiude nuove prospettive all’inchiesta comparativa ma inizialmente  considereremo i rappresentanti delle due prime funzioni che non  implicano problemi inediti.   20. Romolo e Numa e i due aspetti della prima funzione   Nella tradizione annalistica i due fondatori di Roma, Romolo e  Numa, formano un’antitesi abbastanza regolare, sviluppata nello stes¬  so senso di quella di Varuna eMitra nella letteratura vedica. Ogni cosa  si oppone nel loro carattere, nei loro fondamenti e nella loro storia, ma  in un’opposizione senza ostilità: Numa completa l’opera di Romolo  donando all’ ideologia regale di Roma il suo secondo polo, necessario  quanto il primo. Quando nel VI canto d t\VEneide, negli Inferi, Anchise li pre¬  senta tutti e due in qualche verso al suo figlio Enea (vv. 777-784 e  808-812), definisce Romolo come il bellicoso semidio creatore di  Roma e, grazie ai suoi auspici, l’autore della potenza romana e della  sua Crescita continua (et huius, nate, auspiciis illa inclita Roma impe-  rium terris, animos aequabit Olympo)\ poi Numa come il re-sacerdote  portatore di oggetti sacri, sacra ferens, coronato di olivo che fonda  Roma donandogli delle leggi, legibus.   Tutto si ordina intorno a questa differenza - «l’altro mondo e  questo qui» - in cui i sacra, i culti in cui l’uomo ha l’iniziativa, equili¬  brano eccellentemente gli auspicio, in cui l’uomo non fa che decifrare  il linguaggio miracoloso di Giove.   Si verifica istantaneamente che l’opposizione tra i due tipi di  sovrani ricopre punto per punto quella analizzata nel caso di Varuna e  Mitra (vedi III, § 2). Ugual mente importanti, sia l’uno che l’altro nella  genesi di Roma, Romolo e Numa non sono posizionati nella stessa  metà del mondo.   Ingenuamente Plutarco mette nella bocca del secondo, quando  spiega agli ambasciatori di Roma le motivazioni del rifiuto del regno,  una osservazione molto giusta (Numa, 5,4-5): «Si attribuisce a Romo¬  lo la gloria di essere nato da un dio, non si finisce di dire che è stato  nutrito e salvato nella sua infanzia grazie a una protezione particola¬  re della divinità; io, al contrario, sono di una razza mortale, sono sta¬  to nutrito e allevato da uomini che voi conoscete».   I loro modi di azione non differiscono di molto e la differenza si  esprime in maniera sorprendente in ciò che si possono chiamare i loro  dèi prediletti.   Romolo stabilisce solo due culti che sono due specificazioni di  Jupiter - quel Jupiter che gli ha donato la promessa degli auspici - Jupi-  ter Feretrius e Jupiter Stator che si accordano nel fatto che Giove è il  dio protettore del regnum, ma relativamente ai combattimenti e alle  vittorie; e la seconda vittoria è dovuta a una prestidigitazione sovrana  di Giove, a «un cambiamento di vista» contro il quale nessuna forza  può niente e che capovolge l’ordine normale e consueto degli avveni¬  menti. Al contrario, tutti gli autori insistono sulla devozione particola¬  re che Numa rivolge a Fides. Dionigi di Alicamasso scrive (II, 75): « Non vi è sentimento più  elevato e più sacro della buona fede, sia negli affari di stato che nei  rapporti tra individui; essendosi ben persuaso di questa verità Numa,  il primo fra gli uomini, ha fondato un santuario della Fides Publica e  istituito in suo onore dei sacrifìci ufficiali come quelli delle altre divi¬  nità». Plutarco {Numa, 16,1) dice similmente che fu il primo a costrui¬  re un tempio a Fides e insegnò ai Romani il loro più grande giuramen¬  to, il giuramento di Fides. Si vede bene come questa distribuzione sia  conforme all’essenza delle due divinità sovrane antitetiche, Varuna e  Mitra, Jupiter e Dius Fidius. Il carattere dei due dèi si oppone allo stes¬  so modo: Romolo è un violento, descritto dagli annalisti come un ti¬  ranno, secondo il modello greco ed etrusco, ma con dei tratti sicura¬  mente antichi: « Vi erano sempre vicino a lui - dice Plutarco ( Romolo ,  26, 3-4) - quei giovani chiamati Celeres a causa della loro prontezza  nell'eseguire i suoi ordini. Non compariva in pubblico che preceduto  dai littori armati di verghe, con le quali respingevano la folla, cinti di  corregge con cui legavano sul posto quello che lui ordinava di arre¬  stare». A questo sovrano, così materialmente «legatore» come Varu¬  na, si oppone il buono e calmo Numa, la cui prima iniziativa una volta  di venuto re fu quella di sciogliere il corpo dei Celeres e come seconda  di organizzare ( ibidem) o creare (Tito Livio, I, 20) i tre flamines maio-  res. Numa è privo di ogni passione, anche di quelle sti mate dai barbari,  come la violenza e l’ambizione (Plut. Numa, 3, 6).   Di conseguenza, le affinità dell’uno sono tutte per la funzione  guerriera, quelle dell’altro per la funzione di prosperità.   Anche nel suo consiglio postumo, Romolo, il dio dei tre trionfi,  prescrive ai Romani: rem militarem colant (Tito Livio, I, 16, 7).   Numa si assegna il compito di disabituare i Romani alla guerra  (PI ut. Numa, 8, 14) e la pace non è rotta in alcun momento del suo re¬  gno (ibidem, 20, 6); offre un buon accordo ai Fidenates che compiono  razzie sulle sue terre e istituisce in questa occasione, secondo una va¬  riante, i sacerdoti feziali, per vegliare sul rispetto delle forme che im¬  pediscono o limitano la violenza (Dionigi di Alicamasso, II, 72; Plu¬  tarco, Numa, 12, 4).   Distribuisce ai cittadini indigenti i territori occupati da Romolo  «per sottrarli alla miseria, causa quasi necessaria della perversità, e  per spingere verso l ’ag ricoltura lo spirito del popolo, che domando la terra si addolcirà»-, divide tutto il territorio in vici, con ispettori e com¬  missari che lui stesso controlla « giudicando i costumi dei cittadini in  base al lavoro, premiando con onori e poteri coloro che si distinguono  perla loro attività, biasimando i pigri e correggendo le loro negligen¬  ze» (Plut. ibid. 16,3-7). Limitiamo a ciò la comparazione che potrebbe  comunque proseguire dettagliatamente, poiché è evidente che gli an¬  nalisti si sono ingegnati a spingere in ogni direzione l’opposizione tra i  due re, l’uno iuvenesjerox, odioso ai senator es (e forse ucciso da que¬  sti) senza bambini etc., mentre l’altro è un senex tipico, gravis, sepolto  piamente dai senatori, antenato di numerose genti.   Delle pretese gentilizie, o l’imitazione di modelli greci, hanno  potuto introdurre più di un dettaglio e in di verse epoche in queste «vite  parallele inverse» e sicuramente in quella di Numa.   Ma è chiaro che queste stesse innovazioni si sono uniformate a  un dato tradizionale, la cui intenzione era di illustrare due tipi di re,  due modelli di sovranità, quelli stessi conosciuti dall’India sotto i  nomi di Varuna e Mitra.   21. Tullo Ostilio e la funzione guerriera   Dopo la funzione sovrana la funzione guerriera, dopo Romolo e  Numa, vi è Tullo Ostilio, che Anchise presenta ad Enea ( En . VI, 815)  come colui «che riporterà alle armi, in arme, i cittadini divenuti casa¬  linghi e disabituati ai trionfi». Arma, come auspicia e sacra per i suoi  predecessori, segnala qui l’essenza del suo carattere e della sua opera:  militaris rei institutor dirà Orosio e prima di lui Floro: «La regalità gli  fu conferita in base al suo coraggio: è lui che ha fondato tutto il siste¬  ma militare e l'arte della guerra; di conseguenza dopo aver esercitato  in maniera sorprendente la iuventas romana osò provocare gli Alba¬  ni».   22.1 miti di Indra e la leggenda di Tullo Ostilio   È in questo caso che il confronto tra l’epopea romana e la mito¬  logia ha dato ( 1956) i risultati più inattesi e ha permesso di ampliare lo  studio dettagliato della funzione guerriera indoeuropea, il cui solo  confronto della teologia esplicita non lasciava intravedere che i mag¬  giori aspetti: nelle loro «lezioni» ma anche nelle loro affabulazioni, i due episodi solidali che costituiscono la «storia» di Tulio - la vittoria  del terzo Orazio sui treCuriazi e il castigo di Mezio Fufezio che salva¬  no Roma del pericolo che correva il suo nascente imperium, uno per la  subordinazione di Alba, l’altro per la sua distruzione - rispecchiano da  vicino i due principali miti di Indra che la tradizione epica presenta  spesso come conseguenti e solidali, cioè la vittoria di Indra e di Trita  sul Tricefalo e la morte di Namuci. Non è possibile qui che mettere in  un quadro schematico le omologie, pregando il lettore interessato di  riportarsi al libro in cui gli argomenti e le conseguenze sono lunga¬  mente esposti.   A, a) (India). Nell’ambito della loro rivalità generale coi demo¬  ni, gli dèi sono minacciati dall’imbattibile mostro a tre teste che è tut¬  tavia il «figlio dell’amico » (nel Riveda) o il cugino germano degli dèi  (nei Brahmano e nell’epopea) ed inoltre, brahmano e cappellano degli  dèi: Indra (nel Rgveda) spinge Trita «il terzo» dei tre fratelli Àptya, a  uccidere il Tricefalo e Trita in effetti lo uccide, salvando gli dèi. Ma  quest’atto, morte di un parente, di un alleato o di un brahmano, com¬  porta un’impurità che Indra scarica su Trita o sugli Àptya che la liqui¬  dano ritualmente. Da allora gli Àptya sono specializzati nell’eli¬  minazione delle diverse impurità e in particolare, in ogni sacrificio, di  quella che comporla l’inevitabile messa a morte della vittima.   b) (Roma). Per regolare il lungo conflitto in cui Roma e Alba si  disputano Vimperium, le due parti convengono di opporre i tre gemelli  Orazi e i tre gemelli Curiazi (l’uno dei quali è fidanzato a una sorella  degli Orazi e che, anche nella versione seguita da Dionigi di Alicar-  nasso, sono cugini germani degli Orazi).   Nel combattimento ben presto non rimane che un Orazio, ma  questo «terzo» uccide i suoi tre avversari dando Vimperium a Roma.  Nella versione di Dionigi questa morte dei cugini rischia di produrre  un’impurità, ma una nota del casista la evita: poiché i Curiazi hanno  accettato per primi l’idea del combattimento, la responsabilità cade su  di loro. Ma 1 ’ impurità generata dal sangue famigliare è ripartita subito,  trasferita, su un episodio che non ha paralleli nel racconto indiano: il  terzo Orazio uccide sua sorella che lo ha maledetto per la morte del suo  fidanzato. La gens Oratia deve dunque liquidare quest’impurità e  ogni anno continua a offrire un sacrificio espiatorio: la data di questo  sacrificio, all’inizio del mese che pone fine alle campagne militari (calende di ottobre), suggerisce che queste espiazioni riguardavano (da là  la leggenda di Horatius) i soldati che ritornavano a Roma, macchiati  dalle inevitabili morti della battaglia.   B, a) (India). Il demone Namuci dopo leprime ostilità conclude  un patto di amicizia con Indra che si impegna a non ucciderlo «né di  giorno né di notte, né col secco né con l'umido ». Un giorno, approfit¬  tando a tradimento di un momento di debolezza, in cui Indra è stato  messo dal padre del Tricefalo, Namuci spoglia Indra di tutti i suoi at¬  tributi: forza, virilità, soma, nutrimento. Indra chiama in suo soccorso  gli dèi canonici della terza funzione, Sarasvatl e gli Asvin, che gli ren¬  dono la sua forza e gli indicano il sistema per mantenere la parola data  pur violandola: egli non deve che assalire Namuci all’alba (quando  non è né giorno né notte) e con della schiuma (che non è né secca né  umida). Indra sorprende così Namuci che non sospetta c lo decapita in  maniera bizzarra, «burrificando» la sua testa nella schiuma.   b) (Roma). Dopo la disfatta dei tre Curiazi, il capo degli Albani,  Mezio Fufezio, si pone in Alba sotto gli ordini di Tulio, in virtù della  convenzione. Ma segretamente tradisce il suo alleato e durante la bat¬  taglia contro i Fidenati si ritira con le sue truppe su un’altura, scopren¬  do il fianco dei Romani. In questo pericolo mortale Tulio fa dei voti  alla divinità della terza funzione, Quirino, e diventa vincitore. Benché  al corrente del tradimento di Mezio, finge di lasciarsi abbindolare e  convoca al pretorio, per felicitarsi, gli Albani che non sospettano. Là  sorprende Mezio, lo fa afferrare e lo condanna a una pena unica nella  storia di Roma, lo squartamento.   23. Rapporti della funzione guerriera con le altre due  Attraverso questi miti e queste leggende è tutta una filosofia  della necessità, dell’impeto cdei rischi della funzione guerriera, che si  esprime, come pure una concezione coerente dei rapporti di questa  l’unzione centrale con la terza, clic mobilita al suo servizio; e con  l’aspetto «Mitra-Fides» della prima che tuttavia non rispetta affatto e  che non può rispettare poiché, impegnata nell’azione e nei pericoli,  come potrebbe mai accettare che la fedeltà ai princìpi invalidi questa  azione disarmandola di fronte ai pericoli? Anche i rapporti di Indra e  Tulio Ostilio con l’aspetto «Varuna-Jupiler» della funzione sovrana  non procedono senza scontri: abbiamo già ricordato gli inni vedici in     cui Indra sfida Varuna, vantandosi di sconfiggere la sua potenza (e gli  Hàrbcirdsljód d tWEdda allo stesso modo oppongono Ódinn e Pórr in  un dialogo ingiurioso). Quanto aTullo, egli è a Roma uno scandalo vi¬  vente, il re empio e la fi ne della sua storia non è che la ten ibile vendet¬  ta che Jupiter, maestro delle grandi magie, si prende contro questo re  troppo guerriero che l’ha ignorato per lungo tempo.   Un’epidemia colpisce le sue truppe da lui obbligate tuttavia a  continuare la guerra, sino al giorno in cui egli stesso contrae una lunga  malattia; dice allora Tito Livio (I, 31,6-8):   «lui, che fino a questi tempi aveva creduto che niente è meno  degno di un re che applicare il proprio spirito alle cose sacre, improv¬  visamente si abbandonò a tutte le superstizioni, grandi e piccole, e  propagò anche fra il popolo delle vane pratiche... Si dice che il re stes¬  so consultando i libri di Numa vi trovò la ricetta di certi sacrifìci se¬  greti in onore di Jupiter Elicius. Egli si appartò per celebrarli. Ma sia  all’inizio che nel corso della cerimonia commise un errore rituale, di  modo che, invece di veder comparire una figura divina, irritò Jupiter  con un'evocazione mal condotta e fu bruciato dalla folgore, lui e la  sua casa»   Queste sono le fatalità della funzione guerriera. Se Indra, il  grande peccatore Indra, non perviene a questa drammatica fine è per¬  ché egli è un dio e in ogni caso la sua forza e i suoi servigi sono ciò che  più interessano gli uomini. Quanto ai gemelli - che Roma nel Lazio non era l’unica a onora¬  re, poiché la leggenda prenestina poneva una coppia nei tempi delle  sue origini - l’epopea romana li mette al posto d’onore nella persona di  Romolo e Remo. Vi è una differenza totale tra il Romolo re, che abbia¬  mo visto opposto a Numa nella seconda ed ultima parte della sua car¬  riera, e il Romolo prima di Roma, il Remo cumfratre Quirinus. Questa  differenza risalta in effetti a proposito della stessa fondazione, nella  disputa degli auspici e nella morte d i Remo: Romolo cessa allora di es¬  sere «uno dei due gemelli», il socio fedele e senza contesa di suo fra-    113     tello, per diventare il re prestigioso, creatore, terribile, tirannico e isti¬  tutore di quegli uomini che portano davanti a lui delle corde, pronte a  «legare» nel senso letterale del termine, al pari del suo omologo del  pantheon vedico, Varuna, armato di lacci.   La corrispondenza tipologica dei gemelli dell’epopea romana e  degli dèi gemelli, Nàsatya-ASvin, che terminano la lista trifunzionale  indo-iranica, è precisa. Sino alla loro dipartita da Alba, e alla fondazio¬  ne dell’Urbe, sono della terza funzione: pastori allevati da un pastore,  vivono una vita esemplare da pastori messa in risalto solo da un gusto  marcato per la caccia e gli esercizi fisici. In questa definizione pastorale  l’evoluzione della proto-civilizzazione romana (scomparsa del carro  da guerra) ha eliminato la «parte del cavallo» (in evidenza nella parola  ASvin), non rimane quindi che la «parte del bue e del montone», per si¬  tuare maggiormente Romolo e Remo nell’economia rurale.   I Nàsatya, come si ricorderà, sono inizialmente tenuti a distanza  dagli dèi perché troppo «mescolati agli uomini» ( Éat. Brùhm ., IV, 1,5,  14, etc.) e nella letteratura posteriore saranno considerati come degli  dèi Sfldra, dèi di ciò che vi è di più basso e fuori-casta, in rapporto alla  società ordinata.   Così vivono, pensano e agiscono Romolo e suo fratello. Non vi  è in essi niente di «sovrano», nessun rispetto per 1 ’ ordine. Devoti ai più  umili, disprezzano gli intendenti, gli ispettori e i capi del bestiame del  re (Plutarco, Romolo, 6, 7). Il gruppo che li seguirà nella loro rivolta  sarà un gruppo di pastori (Tito Livio, 1, 5, 7) o un’assemblea di indi¬  genti o schiavi (Plutarco, Romolo , 7, 2) prefiguranti l’eterogenea po¬  polazione dell’Asilo ( ibidem , 9, 5).   Sono raddrizzatori di torti: come i Nàsatya passano il loro tem¬  po a riparare le ingiustizie degli uomini o della sorte. Essendo sempli¬  cemente degli dèi i Nàsatya compiono le loro liberazioni, restaurazio¬  ni e guarigioni per mezzo di miracoli, mentre Romolo e Remo non  possono ricorrere che a mezzi umani per proteggere i loro amici contro  i briganti, ristabilire nei loro diritti i pastori di Numitore maltrattati da  quelli di Amulio e, finalmente, punire Amulio. Uno dei più celebri ser¬  vigi dei Nàsatya, origine della loro fortuna divina, è stato quello di  aver ringiovanito il vecchio decrepito Cyavana; la grande impresa di  Romolo e Remo, origine della fortuna del primo, fu allo stesso modo quella di aver riabilitato il loro vecchio nonno che era stato privato del¬  la regalità di Alba.   I due Nàsatya nel Riveda sono quasi indivisibili, agiscono in¬  sieme ma tuttavia un testo segnala una grave disuguaglianza che ricor¬  da quella dei Dioscuri greci: uno di essi è figlio del Cielo, l’altro è fi¬  glio di un uomo. La disuguaglianza dei gemelli romani è differente ma  considerevole: uguali per nascita, uno solo di essi proseguirà la sua  carriera diventando un dio - il dio canonico della terza funzione, Quiri¬  no -1’altro perirà precocemente non ricevendo più che i soli onori abi¬  tuali attribuiti ai morti eminenti. Ovidio potrà dire di loro {Fasti, II  395-6): « ut quam sunt similes! At quamformosus uterque! Plus tamen  ex illis iste vigoris habet ...»   Certe azioni estranee ai Nàsatya - mal conosciute come tutta la  loro mitologia - sembrano ricordare dei tratti della leggenda di Romo¬  lo e Remo, talvolta solo con una inversione (protettori e non protetti)  che testimonia come essi siano degli dèi e i gemelli romani degli uomi¬  ni. Uno dei servigi frequenti dei Nàsatya è di fare cessare la sterilità  delle donne e delle femmine; ora, Romolo e Remo sono i primi capi  dei Luperci, un compito dei quali è di rendere madri le donne romane  con la flagellazione (una leggenda eziologica, che pone l’origine di  questo rito dopo la fondazione di Roma c il ratto delle Sabine, dice che  è stato destinato inizialmente a far cessare una sterilità generale).   In tutto il Rgveda il lupo è un essere mal visto, è il nemico;  l’unica eccezione si trova nel ciclo dei Nàsatya: un giovane uomo ave¬  va sgozzato cento c un montoni per nutrire una lupa e per punizione  suo padre lo aveva accecato. Dietro preghiera della lupa i gemelli divi¬  ni resero la vista allo sfortunato. Nella storia di Romolo e Remo, c solo  in essa a Roma, non è più in quanto nutrita ma come nutrice che la lupa  occupa il posto eminente che ben si conosce. Nei riti e nelle leggende  dei Luperci (Ovidio, Fasti, II, 361-379), nel racconto sulla giovinezza  di Romolo e Remo (Plutarco, Romolo, 6, 8) le corse giocano un ruolo  considerevole; ugualmente le corse in carro ncl4 mitologia degli  ASvin.   Un aspetto sfortunatamente oscuro della festa rustica di Palcs  (il «cavallo mutilato», curtus equos), come pure il concetto stesso del¬  la dea «Pales», così strettamente legato a Romolo e Remo e alla fonda¬  zione di Roma, ricordano la leggenda in cui i Nàsatya rimettono in for-     ze la giumenta detta «Pula del w.f» (vis, principio della terza funzione  e anche «clan») che durante una corsa si era spezzata le gambe. Questo  confronto sommario è sufficiente a stabilire che, nella loro carriera  «preromana», Romolo e Remo corrispondono così precisamente ai  Nàsatya come Romolo, divenuto re, e il suo successore Numa corri¬  spondono a Varuna e Mitra e Tulio a Indra. Quando Romolo muore  verrà deificato sotto il nome del dio canonico della terza funzione,  Quirino, ritornando quindi al suo valore primigenio e, sia dello di  sfuggita, questa notevole convergenza spinge a rivedere l’idea gene¬  ralmente ammessa che l’assimilazione di Romolo a Quirino sia secon¬  daria e tardiva.   25. La terza funzione, fondamento delle altre due   Riguardo l’ordine di apparizione delle tre funzioni nell’epopea  delle origini romane - 3, 1, 2 - c la trasformazione dello stesso Romolo  da «Nàsatya» in «Varuna», queste non sono senza paralleli c rivelano  un aspetto della struttura trifunzionale che ancora non abbiamo avuto  occasione di segnalare. Vediamo qui come una conferma del fatto cer¬  to che, se è vero che la terza funzione è la più umile, nondimeno essa è  il fondamento e la condizione della altre due. Come vivrebbero maghi  e guerrieri se i pastori-agricoltori non li sostenessero? Nella leggenda  iranica, Yima al pari di Romolo diviene un re prestigioso e eccessivo  sfidando Ahura Mazda - dopo essere stato differenzialmente, nella  primaparte della sua vita, un buon «eroe della terza funzione» dai ric¬  chi pascoli, sotto cui la malattia c la morte non affliggevano ne l’uomo  né la bestia né le piante ( Yust , XIX, 30-34). Nell’epopea osscla (vedi  sopra I § 4), i due gemelli /Exsaert e /Exsaertacg, dei quali il secondo uc¬  cide il primo in un eccesso di gelosia, genera poi la famiglia degli  i£xsaertaegkalae (la famiglia dei Forti, dei Guerrieri) che sono usciti se¬  condo certe varianti dalla razza di «Bora», cioè dai Boratae (una fami¬  glia di ricchi).   È la stessa filosofia che si esprime nei rituali indiani sulla stessa  area sacrificale: devono essere riuniti tre fuochi corrispondenti alle tre  funzioni; un fuoco che trasmette le offerte agli dèi, un fuoco che difen¬  de contro i demoni e un fuoco padrone della casa; ora, quest’ultimo  presenta i caratteri di un «fuoco vatéya» che è il fuoco fondamentale  acceso per primo e che serve per accendere gli altri.     26. Sviluppo della ricerca   Il lettore è stato quindi introdotto non solo nel deposito in cui  sono classificati i risultati ma, per la teologia e la mitologia di ognuna  delle tre funzioni, e notoriamente della seconda e della terza, lo si è l'at¬  to penetrare nel campo degli stessi scavi in cui il comparatista si batte  ancora con la sua materia. Il lavoro continua, con le sue procedure or¬  dinarie che non sono solo ritrovamenti nuovi ma anche delle correzio¬  ni, delle reinterpretazioni dei dettagli alla luce dell’insieme meglio  compreso e generalmente delle riflessioni critiche sui bilanci anterio¬  ri. Prima di prendere congedo la guida deve ricordare che, per impor¬  tante o centrale che sia l’ideologia delle tre funzioni, essa è ben lungi  dal costituire tutta l’eredità indoeuropea comune che l’analisi compa¬  rativa può intravedere o ricostruire. Un gran numero di altri cantieri  più o meno indipendenti sono aperti : sugli «dèi iniziali», sulla dea Au¬  rora e su qualche altro, sulla mitologia delle crisi del sole, sulle varietà  del sacerdozio, sui meccanismi rituali e sui concetti fondamentali del  pensiero religioso, la comparazione, e specialmente la comparazione  dei fatti indo-iranici e romani, ha già permesso c permetterà di ricono¬  scere delle coincidenze che è difficile attribuire al caso.    Note ai paragrafi    § 2. La struttura bipolare della sovranità è l’argomento di MV; il capitolo  III di NA studia i fatti iranici (Vohu Manah c Asa). A proposito di questi ulti¬  mi la critica di W. LENTZ, «Yasna 2<f», Abh. Ak. tV/'.r.r. li. Ut. Mainz.., 1954, p.  963, non regge; non più dei poeti del Riveda per Mitra e Varuna, quelli delle  Gàthà avevano la preoccupazione, in tutte le circostanze o in molte circostan¬  ze, di caratterizzare differenzialmente Vohu Manah c Asa; questo è vero per  lo Yasna 28 in cui ogni strofa nomina contemporaneamente le due Entità  esattamente come RV, V, 69, in cui ogni strofa nomina simultaneamente i due  dèi senza cercare di distinguerli. Per Vohu Manali vedi G. WlDENGREN, The  f>reai Vohu Manah and thè Apostle ofGod, 1945. Per Mi9ra e Ahura Mazda  nella nuova prospettiva vedi MV, cap. V, § v (da correggere dopo WlDEN¬  GREN, Numen, I, 1954, p. 46, n. 148); J. DUCHESNE-GUILLEMIN, Zoroastre ,  1948, pp. 87-93; da S. WlKANDER, Orientalia Suecana, I, 1952, pp. 66-68  (sul Mesoromazdés di Plutarco). L’importante affinità del Varuna vcdicocon     F oceano, f ortemente marcata da H. LUDERS, Varuna , I ( Varuna linci die Was-  ser), 1951, sarà esaminata ulteriormente i n un quadro comparativo.   § 3. MV, cap. IV.   § 4. MV, cap. VII: si hanno ora le esposizioni di J. DE VRIES, Altgerm.  Rei. -Gesch., Ir, 1957, §§ 409-412 e di W. BETZ (vedi sopra, nota a II, §§  19-20) «Die altgerm. Religion», col. 2485-2498.   § 5. Le troisième souverain, essai sur le_ clieu indo-ircuiien Aryaman,  1949; DIE, pp. 40-59. Su Aditi, madre degli Aditya, in quanto «madre e fi¬  glia» di uno di essi, vedi Déesses latines et mythes védique , 1956, cap. III. Ri¬  fiutando e caricaturando in ZDMG, 117, 1957, pp. 96-104 la rettifica che  avevo proposto alla sua interpretazione (1938) di ari (non importa quale  «Fremdling», ma già con una nota di nazionalità, l’insieme o un membro del  mondo arya - alleato o avversario), P. THIEME compie il tour de force di di¬  scutere senza menzionare il mio libro su Aryaman, che è il contesto naturale  di questa rettifica, e mi attribuisce non so quale metodo sintetico, intuitivo,  etc. No: il mio studio su Aryaman procede per una analisi completa e detta¬  gliata dei testi vedici in cui è menzionato. Esaminerò successivamente questa  curiosa risposta nel JA e spero che P. Thieme userà più fair play nello studio  che sta preparando, mi dicono, su «Mithra e Aryaman», (vedi l’Appendice).   § 6. DIE, pp. 50-51, riassumendo Le troisième souverain.   § 7. DIE, pp. 51-52. Sugli Àditya Daksa e Amsa, ihid., pp. 55-58.   § 8. DIE, pp. 59-67; K. Barr, Àvesta, 1954, pp. 184-185, 193, 215.   § 9. DIE, pp.68-75. Per Juventas è stato segnalalo un notevole riscontro  nel mondo celtico: come Juventas rifiuta di lasciare il colle capitolino in favo¬  re di Jupiter O.M., che è obbligato ad ospitarla per sempre nel suo tempio,  così l'irlandese Mac Oc («il Giovane Figlio»), antico dio protettore della gio¬  ventù, si impone nel tumulo in cui vive il vecchio dio sovrano Dagda e si fa  concedere «un giorno e una notte », poi arguendo che il giorno e la notte fanno  la totalità del tempo, rifiuta di uscire e resta maestro del luogo («Jeunessc,  éternité, aube», Annales d’histoire économique et sociale , 1928, pp.  289-301.   § 10. DIE, pp. 76-77.   § 11. Vedi la prefazione di Aspects...   § 12-24.1 servigi che bisogna richiedere alla pseudo-storia delle origini  romane comparata con la mitologia indiana o scandinava, sono stati ben pre¬  sto riconosciuti: JMQ, cap. V; Horace et les Curiaces, 1942, pp. 65-70; Ser-  vius et la Fortune , 1943, pp. 112-119; riassunto in L’hérìtage..., cap. Ili e in  «Mythes romains», Revue de Paris, die. 1951, pp. 105-118. Sull’epoca in cui  I’affabulazione definitiva degli antichi miti si è prodotta (senza dubbio tra il  350 e il 280 a giudicare dagli anacronismi che vi sono inseriti), vedi  L’héritage..., p. 181, n. 49.   § 13. L’interpretazione dell’intrigo del Mahcibhàrata è stata data da S.  WlKANDER in un suo articolo fondamentale, «Pandava-sagan och     Mahàbhàratas myliska fòrutsattningar», Religion neh Bibel, VI, 1947 pp.  27-39, in gran parte tradotto e commentato nel niio JMQ IV, pp. 37-85; cf.  WlKANDER, «Sur le fonds commun indo-iranien des épopées de la Perse et de  l’Inde», NC, VII, 1950, pp. 310-329. Nel dominio germanico un caso paralle¬  lo (il trasferimento su Hadingus della Mitologia di Njordr) è stato studialo in  La saga de Hadingus (Saxo Granunaticus, I, V-VIII), du mythe au roman,  1953. Mentre il presente libro era in stampa, in Orientalia Sue vana, sotto il ti¬  tolo «Nakula e Sahadeva». WlKANDER faceva considerevolmente avanzare  l’analisi dei gemelli epici e divini (vedi sotto § 24).   § 14. Su Vàyu-Indra, vedi «Pàndava sagan...», pp. 33-36; è il risultalo dei  lavori diH.S. NYBERG, Die Reli gioiteti des altea Iran, 1938, pp. 75, 300, 317;  di G. WlDENGREN, Hochgattglaube ini alten Iran, 1938, pp. 188-215; di S.  WlKANDER, Vayu, I, 1941, V.I. AbaEV ha riconosciuto il dio indo-iranico  * Vayu nel nome generico dei «giganti» (f orti, catti vi, bestie) presso gli Osse-  ti, weijug (da *Vayu-ka-), Trudy lnstituta Jazykaznanija, VI, 1956, pp.  450-457, che io ho commentato in «Noms mythiqucs indo-iraniens dans le  folklore des Osses», JA, CCXLIV, 1957, pp. 349-352.   § 15. Aspects..., pp. 9, 70, 80.   § 16. JMQ IV, p. 56.   § 17. «Pàndava-sagan...», p. 36; JMQ IV, pp. 59+60, 67-68.   § 18. Pandu come trasposizione di Vanina, vedi JMQ, IV, pp. 77-80. La  trasposizione di un mito vedico (duello di Indra c del Sole, la ruota del carro  del Sole «infossata») è stata riconosciuta nel racconto della morte di Karna,  fratello uterino e nemico dei Pàndava, figlio del Sole come essi lo sono degli  dèi delle tre funzioni: «Karna et Ics Pàndava», Orientalia Suecana, III ( =Do-  num natal. H.S. Nyberg), 1954, pp. 60-66. Una trasposizione (dei passi di  Visnu al servizio di Indra) è segnalata in «Les pas de Krsna et l’exploit  d’Arjuna», Orientalia Suecana, V, 1956, pp. 183-188; e altri due (i sovrani  minori Aryaman e Bhaga, trasposti in Vidura c Dhrlaràstra) in una conferen¬  za fatta all’Università di Copenhagen nel nov. 1956, pubblicala quest’anno  nell’ Inclo-1 ninian Journal («La transposilion des dieux souverains dans le  Mahàbhàrata»), Il personaggio di Bhlsma sarà ulteriormente studiato nella  stessa prospettiva.   § 19. Le leggende romane sugli inizi della Repubblica presentano due croi  che ricordano, per la forma e il senso delle mulilazioni, il dio cieco monco  della mitologia scandinava, cioè i due dèi sovrani Ódinn e Tyr: questi sono  Orazio Coclite («il Ciclope») c Muzio Scevola («il Mancino»), i due salvatori  di Roma nella guerra contro Porsenna; la comparazione è stata sviluppata in  MV cap. IX e ripresa diverse volle, specialmente ne L’heritage..., pp.  159-169 c Loki, 1948, pp. 91-97. Sui primi redi Roma vedi il riassunto degli  studi anteriori in L’heritage..., pp. 143-159; un notevole «ritocco» parallelo  al «ritocco» zoroastriano degli dèi trasporti in Entità della tradizione romana  nel De Republica di Cicerone, è stato studiato in «Les archanges de Zoroastrc  et Ics rois romains de Ciceron», JP, XLIII, 1950, pp. 449-463.    119     § 20. Su Romolo e Numa vedi MV, cap. II; L’héritane..., pp. 146-154.   §21. Horate et les Curiaces, 1943, pp. 79-88; L ’héritage..., pp. 154-156.   § 22. Aspetta ..., pp. 15-61: «La geste deTullus Hostilius et les mythes de  Indra»; cf. pp. 3-14 dello stesso libro, studio dell’Indra vedico come «solita¬  rio» a dispetto dei suoi associati ( ekci -) e come «autonomo» (sva-). La biblio¬  grafia degli studi comparativi sullasecondafunzioneèdatain DIE, pp. 38-39  e completala in Aspetta..., p. 1.   § 24. Sui gemelli Romolo e Remo come corrispondenti ai gemelli Nàsa-  tya indo-iranici, vedi G. WlDENGREN, «Harlekintracht...», Orientalia Sueca-  na , II, 1953, pp. 96-97; Aspetta..., pp. 20-21. Non ho ancora pubblicato su  questa interpretazione dei gemelli romani il libro preparato nel 1951-1952; è  comparso solo un frammento: «Le turtus equos de la fète de Pales et la muti-  lationde lajument ViSpala», Ercinos, LIV (=G. Bjiirck meni. Saturni), 1956,  pp. 232-245. Altre corrispondenze tra dèi ed eroi gemelli dei diversi popoli  indoeuropei sono state segnalale in La saga de Hadinf>us, 1953, pp. 114-130,  151-154.1 Dioscuri greci sono solo parzialmente comparabili. Sembra che  altri aspetti della terza funzione (massa popolare; sviluppo della ricchezza e  del commercio; piacere) abbiano ispirato i racconti sul quarto re di Roma,  Anco Marzio, successore del guerriero Tulio; vedi Tarpeia, III («Jactanlior  Ancus») e la discussione con J. Bayet in JMQ IV, pp. 185-186 (dove impor¬  tanti questioni di metodo sono toccate).   § 26. DIVINITÀ: sugli «dèi iniziali», vedi «De Janus à Vesta», Tarpeia,  pp. 31-113 (=JMQ it., pp. 287-353), DIE, pp. 84-105; in Rituels..., pp. 33-39,  sono state rilevate delle concordanze tra il culto di Vesta c imiti vedici di Vi-  vasvat; in Déesses latines et mythes védiques, 1956, dei dati indiani hanno  chiarificaio e giustificaio le rappresentazioni di Maler Maluta (cf. Usas; vedi  anche RENOU, Études védiques et pcuiinéennes, III, 1957, 1: Les Hymnes à  l'Aurore du Riveda, pp. 1-104, specialmente pp. 8-9,10, 65), della silenziosa  Diva Angerona, dea degli angusti dies del solstizio d’inverno (cf. Atri opero¬  sa con la preghiera silenziosa nella crisi del sole), della Fortuna Primigenia  prenestina, madre e figlia di Jupiter (cf. Aditi, madre e figlia del sovrano  Daksa), di Lua Mater (cf. Nirrti). RITUALI in «Suouetaurilia», Tarpeia, pp.  115-158 (= JMQ it., pp. 355-388) si è stabilito lo stretto parallelismo di que¬  sto sacrifico triplice, offerto a Marte, con la sautrànicuiT indiana (sacrificio di  un loro, di un montone c di un capro a Indra «Buon Protettore»); in Rituels in-  doeuropéeus à Rome (oltre a qui sopra, I, § 21), i Fordicidia sono stali resi  chiari, nei dettagli dei riti, dal sacrificio vedico della «Vacca dagli otto pie¬  di»; l’opposizione del santuario rotondo di Vesta c di templi quadrati, orien¬  tali, è stala riavvicinata all’opposizione tra il fuoco rotondo (di riserva e di  accensione, «fuoco del padrone di casa», attaccalo alla terra) e il fuoco qua¬  drato (che dirige verso gli dèi le offerte degli uomini) sull’ara sacrificale ve-  dica; i rapporti rituali degli equidi, c in special modo del cavallo, con  ciascuno dei tre livelli funzionali, sono stati riconosciuti come idèntici sia a  Roma che nell’India vedica; in «Quacstiunculac indo-italicac, 1-3» (da pub¬  blicarsi in REL, XXXVI, 1958) il tulmen inane fabae della fumigazione dei    120      Parilia, i pisciculi vivi gettati nel fuoco durante i Volcanalia e la prescrizione  bigarum victricum clexterior del Cavallo di Ottobre sono chiarificati dai dati  vedici. SACERDOZIO (oltre a qui sopra, nota a I, § 1, per Jlamen-brahman ):  «Meretrices et virgines dans quelques légendes politiquesde Rome et des pe-  uples celtiques», Ogcnn, VI, 1954, pp. 3-8; «Remarques sur le ius feriale »,  REL, XXXIV, 1956, pp. 93-111; REL, XXXV, 1957, pp. 126-151, contiene  uno studio su augur, inaugurare, augustus. NOZIONI: «A propos de latin  ius». RHR, CXXXIV, 1947-48, pp. 95-112; «Ordre, fantasie, changemente  dan les pensées archaiques de l’Inde et de Rome, à propos de latin mos»,  REL, XXXII, 1954, pp. 139-160; in «Maiestas elgravitas, de quelques diffé-  rences entre les Romains et les Austronésiens», RP, XXVI, 1952, pp. 7-28 e  XXVIII, 1954, pp. 9-18; queste sono invece due nozioni prettamente romane  che sono state analizzate contro la scuola primitivista; su gratus, gratin emi¬  nentemente spiegate con un usovedico della radicegurC^V, Vili, 70,5), vedi  L.R. PALMER, «The Concept of Social Obligation in Indo-European», Coll.  Latomus, XXIII ( =Homm. M. Niedennann), 1956, pp. 258-269. E. BENVENI-  STE ha delucidato comparativamente un gran numero di nozioni religiose e  sociali, vedi in special modo «Symbolisme social dans les cultes gré-  co-italiques» RHR, CXXIX, 1945, pp. 5-16 (vedi una conferma di un dato  importante nel mio Rituels...)', «Don et échange dans le vocabulaire in-  do-éuropéen», L'Année Sociologique, 1951, pp. 7-20 e «Formes et sens de  pvaopai», Sprachgeschichte uncl Wortbedeutung (= Festschr. A. Debrun¬  ner), 1954, pp. 13-18.      Storia degli Studi e bibliografìa    Dopo lo scacco del saggio intelligente ma prematuro fatto dalla  scuola di Adalbert Kuhn (1812-1881) c di Friederich Max Miiller  ( 1823-1900) teso a ricostruire la mitologia comune degli Indoeuropei,  l’impresa fu per un certo tempo dichiarata illusoria. Daunaparte, sotto  l’influenza di Wilhelm Mannhardt (1831-1880), gli studi si spostaro¬  no sui rituali e le credenze agricole, popolari, di un tipo abbastanza  uniforme per tutta l’Europa e ci si applicò a ridurvi, senza pretendere  di stabilire filiazioni né parentele particolari, un gran numero di culti e  miti delle diverse religioni e in special modo quelle dei popoli classici.  Da un’altra parte, per effetto della crescente settorializzazione delle  specialità, gli studiosi dei diversi domini, indiano, greco, latino, ger¬  manico, etc., rifiutando ogni considerazione comparativa, costruirono  per spiegare la genesi e lo sviluppo delle religioni da loro studiate delle  ipotesi che presero sovente per dati di fatto e che non si accordavano  che per un punto: la riduzione a poche cose, per non dire a niente,  dell’eredità conservata dal passato comune indoeuropeo. Rari autori  continuavano a parlare di «religione indoeuropea» come ad esempio  A. CARNOY, Les Indoeuropéens (1921) p. 154-240.   Tuttavia nel secondo quarto di questo secolo si produssero delle  reazioni. In Germania bisogna citare prima di tutto: H. GUNTERT, Der  Arische Weltkonig und Heiland (1923); R. OTTO, Gotlheit und Got-  theilen derArier (1932); F. CORNELIUS, Indogermanische Religion-  sgeschichte ( 1942) e tutta la serie, che prosegue brillantemente, degli  articoli c dei libri di F.R. Schroder.   A partire dal 1924 e nel corso di dodici anni io stesso ho fatto un  primo sforzo di revisione della «mitologia comparata», ma con dei    123     mezzi filologici insufficienti e rimanendo prigioniero, per la spiega¬  zione, delle concezioni mannhardtiane e frazeriane {Le Festin d'Im-  morIalite 1924, Le crime des Lemniennes 1924 e qualche articolo di  cui non vi sono grandi cose da ritenere; il Leproblème des Centaures,  1929 e Flamen-Brahman, 1935, i cui frammenti rimangono utilizzabi¬  li). Non è che a partire dal 1938 che, inizialmente solo e poi, dopo il  1945, raggiunto e spesso superato da altri ricercatori, spero di essere  riuscito a delineare dei tratti importanti della struttura dell’eredità in¬  doeuropea comune, in una coscienza più chiara delle condizioni c dei  mezzi deH’inchiesta. Quest’inchiesta non si riporta ad alcun sistema  preconcetto di spiegazione, ma utilizza gli insegnamenti della socio¬  logia e dell’etnografia, come pure il ricorso all’analisi linguistica dei  concetti.   Essa ha due postulati: ammette che tutto il sistema teologico e  mitologico significa qualcosa, aiuta la società che lo pratica a com¬  prendersi, ad accettarsi, ad essere fiera del suo passato, confidante nel  presente e nell’avvenire; ammette anche che la comunità di lingua,  presso gli Indoeuropei, implica una misura sostanziale dell’ideologia  comune alla quale deve essere possibile accedere grazie a una varietà  adeguata del metodo comparativo.   Una circostanza, sulla quale un articolo di J. Vcndryes aveva at¬  tirato l’attenzione sin dal 1918, ha dato il via all 'inizio di molte ricer¬  che: il vocabolario religioso degli Indo-Iranici da una palle c quello  dei Celti e degli Italioti dall’altra presentano un gran numero di con¬  cordanze precise e che sono loro proprie. Un articolo-programma del  1938 «La préhistoire des flamines majeurs», RHR, CVIII, pp.   1 88-200 ha dimostrato che questa parentela prossima non si riduce al  vocabolario ma si estende alla struttura della religione. E dal 1938, in  ogni tipo di materia, è in effetti la comparazione dei dati vedici o in¬  do-iranici e dei dati romani che ha fornito i primi risultati precisi sui  quali è stato possibile fondare delle comparazione più vaste.   Così illuminati, i fatti germanici (benché il vocabolario religio¬  so sia interamente differente) si sono ben presto rivelati anch’essi no¬  tevolmente fedeli al passato indoeuropeo.   Benché conformandosi ai grandi quadri indoeuropei, il domi¬  nio celtico pone ancora, in seguito allo stato della documentazione, un  gran numero di problemi irrisolti. La Grecia - per effetto senza dubbio    124     del «miracolo greco» e anche perché le più antiche civiltà del Mare  Egeo hanno troppo fortemente segnato gli invasori venuti dal Nord -  contribuisce poco allo studio comparativo: anche i tratti più conside¬  revoli dell’eredità sono stati profondamente modificati. Quanto agli  altri popoli del mondo indoeuropeo, in special modo i Baiti e gli Slavi,  non si è ancora riusciti a utilizzarli pienamente. 1 principali lavori in  cui è stata progressivamente analizzata l’ideologia tripartita degli  Indoeuropei che il presente libro espone sono i seguenti':    Mythes etdieuxdes Gennains, essaid’interprétation compara¬  tive 1939 (citato MDG)   Mitra-Vurunu, essai sur deux représentations indoeuropéen-  nes de la souveraineté 1940, II ed. 1948 (citato MV)   Jupiter Mars Quirimis, essai sur laconception indoeuropéenne  de la société et sur Ics origines de Rome, 1941 (citato JMQ)  Naissance de Rome (=JMQ II) 1944 (citato NR)   Naissance d'Archanges, essai sur la formation de la théologie  zoroastrienne (=JMQ III), 1945 (citato NA)   Jupiter Mars Quirinus IV, 1948 (citato JMQ IV)   L ’heritage indoeuropèe !? à Rome, introduction aux séries  «JMQ» et «Mythes Romains», 1949   Le troisième Souverain, essai sur le dieu Aryaman, 1949  Les dieux des Indoeuropéens, 1952 (citato DIE)   Rituels Indoeuropéens à Rome, 1954   Aspects de lafonction guerrière chez les Indoeuropéens, 1956  Déesses latine set mythes védiques. Coll. Latomus, XXV, 1956    Una traduzione italiana di una versione migliorata in diverse  parti di JMQ e di NR e di frammenti di Tarpeia (1947) e di JMQ IV, è  stata pubbl icata nel 1955 a Torino sotto il titolo di Jupiter Mars Quiri-   I Attualmente sto preparando un rimaneggiamento unitario di JMQ. NR. NA ehc  sarà pubblicalo, come questi tre libri, presso Gallimard. Aspettando, l’edizione  italiana dei primi due Corniscc un’idea delle correzioni giudicale necessarie: le  parli che non sono state tradotte sono da eliminare.    125     ìtus (citato JMQ it.) 2 . Delle questioni di metodo, che io qui non affron¬  to, si trovano discusse nelle prefazioni della maggior parte di questi li¬  bri e, più sistematicamente, nel primo capitolo de L’heritage ...  («Materia, oggetto e metodi di studio»).    2 AUre abbreviazioni: AV= Atharvaveda; BGDSL = Beitrage zur Geschichte der  Deutschen Sprache und Literatur: FFC = Folklore Fellows Communications; J A  = Journal Asiati que; JAOS = Journal of thè American Orientai Society; JP =  Journal de Psichologie: NC = la Nouvelle Clio; REL = Revtte des Etudes Lalines;  RHA = Revtte Hittite et Asianique; RHR = Revtte de l ’Histoire des Religions; RV  = Riveda; RP = Revtte de Philologie. RSR = Recherches de Science Religieuse;  SBE = Sacred Books of thè East; SMSR = Studi e Materiali di Storia delle  Religioni ; TPS = Transaction of thè Philological Society; ZCP = ZeitschriJ't fìir  Celti sche Philologie; ZDMG = Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenlàndischen  Gesellschafl.    126     Appendice    Aryaman e Paul Thieme    Mentre correggo le seconde bozze di questo libro (maggio  1958) è uscito quello di Paul Thieme annunciato qui sopra (nota al  cap. Ili § 5), ma egli non risponde affatto alle ingenue speranze che  esprimevo. Cito dunque qui (I e II) due estratti dell’articolo del JA,  concernenti Aryaman e il metodo di Thieme, menzionato nello stesso  paragrafo e vi aggiungo (III) qualche riflessione provvisoria su Mitra  and Aryaman. Per non creare confusione lascio alle note di I e II i nu¬  meri che avranno nel JA. Abbreviazioni: F. = P. Thieme, Der Frem-  dling im Rig Feda, 1938; S = il mio Troisième Sauveraine, 1949; Z =  P. Thieme, Ari, «Fremder», ZDMG, 117, 1957. pp. 96-104.   I   Ma è soprattutto nei confronti del dio vedico, e prima ancora in¬  do-iranico, Aryaman, che il saggio di Thieme rivela la sua debolezza.  In virtù dell’ipotesi {ari = «lo straniero», qualunque sia) c del senso  che ne risulta per aryó («l’ospitale»), Aryaman non può essere che il  «dio dell’ospitalità)). È così?   E ancora, sarebbe necessario che negli inni o nei rituali questa  definizione si verificasse sul suo centro, intendo dire, in occasione del  ricevimento di un ospite designato come tale. Ora, non soltanto non vi  è un testo rgvedico che riunisca il nome dell’ospite, àtithi e quello di    127     Aryaman, ma, salvo ignoranza da parte mia, Aryaman non è né invo¬  cato né menzionato ritualmente all’arrivo di un visitatore. Non biso¬  gna concludere un’assenza dal silenzio: è tuttavia curioso, se il concet¬  to di ospitalità è stato sentito tanto importante da essere personificato  in uno dei due dèi sovrani, e nel più considerevole dopo Varuna e Mi¬  tra, che questa origine non abbia avuto nessuna occasione per espri¬  mersi chiaramente. Mitra, il contratto personificato, è certo come dio  molto più del contratto, ma si trovano dei testi in cui questo legame è  manifestato e sottolineato con delle parole senza ambiguità.   Inversamente, l’Aryaman vedico e il suo corrispondente avesti-  co Airyaman, intervengono in circostanze che, salvo violenza, sono  irriducibili all’ospitalità. Ne ricorderò solo due.   Prima di Thieme molti vedisti avevano notato, con delle con¬  clusioni talvolta eccessive o errate, i rapporti tra Aryaman e il matri¬  monio. 1 testi allegati sono abbastanza numerosi". Per piegarli alla sua  tesi, Thieme è stato indotto a far loro subire dei trattamenti poco racco¬  mandabili. In tutto il dossier vedico vi sono dei documenti più chiari e  più netti, altri più oscuri o più indeterminati. Il metodo ordinario è  d’informarsi all’inizio sui primi e con questi chiarificare o precisare in  seguito i secondi. Per il caso di Aryaman si ha, chiara e netta in A V, 1,  60, la formula destinata a procurare un coniuge, la descrizione che fa  di Aryaman la prima strofa:   tiyùm Ci ycity arycimà pura staci visitastupah   asyci icchcinn agruvai pettini utd jàyàm ajànuye   «Ecco arrivare Aryaman con i riccioli sciolti, cercando per  questa fanciulla un marito e una moglie per chi non è sposato».   Non meno esplicito vi è in/l V, XIV, 1, inno rituale del matrimo¬  nio, la strofa 17 che riguarda la giovane donna:   aryamdnam yajcimahe subanclhum pativédanam   urvàrukcim iva bàndhanàt prétó muncumi nàmùtah    11 I lesti sono riuniti in A. HlLLKBRKNDT, Vedische Mytalogie, II 2 ,1927, pp. 74-76,  seguiti da un'interpretazione di Aryaman come «Feier», sicuramente errata. «Noi sacrifichiamo ad Aryaman (il dio) delle buone alleanze, il  trovatore dei mariti. Come unazuccadalsuo legame io ti libero da qui  (= dalla tua casa di ragazza), non da laggiù (= dalla casa coniugale)».   V icino a questi testi ve ne sono altri che riguardano ancora siala  «ricerca della sposa» che diversi episodi precisi del rituale delle noz¬  ze, nei quali Aryaman interviene sempre, ma associato ad altri dèi e di  conseguenza con un ruolo non immediatamente identificabile. Ciò  che in questi casi incerti può orientare l’interpretazione è evidente¬  mente la descrizione e la definizione che su di lui hanno dato i testi  espliciti del dossier: egli cerca da ambedue le parti gli elementi delle  coppie coniugali e fa delle buone alleanze matrimoniali.   Thieme procede all’ inverso cominciando dalla seconda cate¬  goria di documenti. Consacra cinque pagine per citarli in esteso e per  tradurli inserendo tra parentesi, a favore della loro indeterminazione,  la sua concezione di Aryaman («die Gastlichkeit», «der Gott der Ga-  stlichkeit», «der Gott gastlicher Aufnahme») e in seguito, in dieci ri¬  ghe che conclude allusivamente, pretende che ciò che dice sui testi  meno determinati permetta-infine! - di ridurre alla loro «vera» porta¬  ta questi testi la cui precisione lo imbarazza 13 :   «Von hier aus wirdes nun erst mòglich, die Verse A V. 6.60. 1,  14.1.17, Mp. 1.5.7, die H1LLEBRANDTan die Spitze seiner Untersu-  chungdes Verhàltnisses zwischen Aryaman und E he gestellt hat, in ih-  rer wahren Bedeutungen zu wùrdigen. Als einer der Genien des Hau-  shalts, der auch bei der Eheschliessung mitwirkt, wird Aryaman als  «Gattenfìnder» (A V. 14, 1.17) und Ehevermittler (A V. 6.60.1)  schlechthin in Zauberspriichen genannt, die anscheinend durch die  Erwàhnung eines so vornehmen Gottes, der im R Vin der Gesellschaft  des Mitra und Varuna aufzutreten pflegt, wirken wollten.»   Al di fuori dello stesso procedimento che consiste nel masche¬  rare ciò che è chiaro con ciò che non lo è, tutto nell’ultima frase è ten¬  denzioso: questi Zauberspriichen, uno dei quali appartiene al rituale  del matrimonio, non meritano alcun disprezzo c sono sicuramente    12 F„ §§ 118-124; S. pp. 73-79.   13 F„ § 124.  adatti a chiarire la funzione del dio che essi mobilitano. Pretendere che  Aryaman non vi figuri in qual ità, ma semplicemente perché è un « gran  nome» della mitologia, è una spiegazione che generalizzata permette¬  rebbe all’esegeta di sopprimere in ogni maniera le testimonianze im¬  barazzanti. Infine, la definizione di Aryaman come «einer derGenien  des Haushalts», è stata utilizzata, pefitio principii, usando la libertà  fornita dai testi meno determinati. Bisogna aggiungere che alcuni di  questi testi resistono al senso che si vuole loro dare. Quando Aryaman  ad esempio è pregato, ancora in un inno di matrimonio, «di ungere  (forse la novella sposa) fino alla vecchiaia» (o «affinché ella non in¬  vecchi»)' 4 , Thieme, ricordando che «in ogni paese del mezzogiorno» 15  il bagno di ospitalità comporta un’unzione d’olio, traduce intrepida¬  mente: «Mòge Aryaman (als der Gotigastlicher Aufnahme) [Dich=  die Braut ] inir der Ólsalbung schmiicken; auf dass du nicht altseist ( =  inJugendschònheitglànzest)». Le giustificazioni di questa traduzione  sono leggere: suppone un aspetto non attestato del rituale d’ospitalità  e il dativo d’intenzione àjarasàya è volto in un senso inattendibile;  come si può mai dire alla giovane sposa: « Che il dio dell 'ospitalità ti  unga con olio affinché tu non abbia l'aria invecchiata »? Viceversa se  si vede in Aryaman il protettore del rapporto che si forma, è naturale  che egli sia pregato di garantire alla sposa lunga vita o vigorosa vec¬  chiaia.   E non è tutto. Thieme assimila costantemente l’ospitalità e il  matrimonio, l’accoglienza che riceve l’ospite e quella che riceve la fi¬  danzata. Ora, le due cose sono differenti: a dispetto del riferimento a  Mrs. Stevenson 16 , l’atto della donna che entra in casa di suo marito per  rimanervi, può identificarsi, nei riti, con l’atto del visitatore che dopo  essere entrato straniero se ne andrà, benché incaricato del dovere di  contraccambiare, ma sempre straniero? L’accoglienza fatta alla futura  madre può forse essere più ospitale, nello spirito e nei riti, delle ceri-   14 RV, X, 85, 43:   a nati prajath janayatu prujàpatir   àjarasàya sùm anaktv aryamù...   Geldner: «Pràjapati soli uns Kinder erzeugen, bis zurhohcn Alicr soli nns Arya¬  man verschinelzcn».   15 Nell'India vedica?   16 F., p. 125, n. 1.    130     monie che in seguito legalizzeranno il neonato come membro della  stessa famiglia? Se bisognasse avvicinare ad altre cose questa proce¬  dura sui generis del matrimonio, non si dovrebbe pensare piuttosto  all’adozione che all’ospitalità?   Le nostre parole «accoglienza, Aufnahme», creano un’ambi¬  guità che senza dubbio un Indiano, non più di un Romano, non rischia¬  va di sentire vivamente. Io resisto particolarmente all’interpretazione  datadaThiemead AV, 14,1,39-sempre riguardo il rituale nuziale 17 :   aryamnó agnini pàryetu pùsan [var. ksiprdm]   prdtiksante svasuro devaras cu.   «Sie umschreite das Feuer des Aryaman (der Gastlichkeit), o  Pùsan'*, es sehen entgegen Schwàher und Schwager.»   Sono certamente meno ben informato di Thieme sui rituali ve¬  dici: quando un ospite entrava in una casa gli si faceva fare anche que¬  sta circumambulazione del focolare, che trova il suo esatto corrispon¬  dente, come molti altri tratti, nel matrimonio romano (dove ha valore  di rito d’incorporazione) e non nell’ospitalità romana? Se è così  m ’ inchino. Altrimenti, messa in luce dai testi precisi sul ruolo di Arya-   17 F„ § 122.   18 Piuttosto, secondo la variante «schnell». In S., p. 78, vi è una cantonata nella tra¬  duzione che dopo dieci anni non so ancora se la devo attribuire a un’ inavvertenza  del mio manoscritto o delle mie correzioni delle bozze: ,f vósuro devàsra.ica è reso  con «i suoceri e i cognati» invece de «i7 suocero c i cognati» il plurale della secon¬  da parola avendo determinato meccanicamente, da me o dal tipografo, il plurale  della prima. Questo testoche sotto la protezione di Aryaman f a intervenire dopo la  giovane sposa il padree i fratelli dello sposo, prova che nel matrimonio Aryaman  si interessa a ben di piti che l'unione tra due esseri: l’intera famiglia è interessata  da questo nuovo membro che le procura un’alleanza con un’altra famiglia (cf.  Aryaman qualificato suhandhù, alla strofa 17 dello stesso inno). Alla pagina 119  di S. ho commesso una svista più umiliante ma senza conseguenze per i miei pro¬  positi, considerando svasurah di RV, X, 28, 1 come padre della moglie (possibile  nel sanscrito classico ma non nel vedico) emettendo la strofa in bocca al marito. E  l’inverso. La moglie parla e si sorprende che il padre di suo marito non sia venuto  al festino preparalo, mentre vi.ivo... anyó arlh «ogni altro ari, tutto il resto  dell'insieme ari » (e non facendo sparire la parola essenziale «altro», « jederunde-  re, niimlichjeder ari», Thieme) è pervenuto. Il commento che ho fatto di questo  testo, per i rapporti di ari e di .ivù.iurah, sussiste interamente a condizione che si  rimpiazzi «genero» con «nuora» (e co.si « prendere moglie» con « prendere mari¬  to » e «ha scelto la jigliadel suocero» con «è stato scelto dai figli del suocero»).  man nel matrimonio, l’espressione «fuoco di Aryaman» per designare  eccezionalmente qui il focolare intorno al quale si forma il legame mi  sembrerebbe fare semplicemente riferimento a questo ruolo. Sono  queste le principali ragioni per le quali non mi è possibile dedurre il  ruolo di Aryaman nel matrimonio a partire dalla definizione che esige  l’ipotesi di Thieme.   L’Airyaman avestico è invocato ( Yasna 54, 1) per sostenere  «gli uomini e le donne di Zoroaslro» e il Buon Pensiero; è detto dotato  di forza offensiva, distruttore di ogni resistenza, vincitore dei nemici  (ibid. , 2); la preghiera che è invocata dopo di lui è onnipotente e guari¬  trice (Yast III, 5); Aryaman stesso è l’eroe di una scena mitica in cui  questa preoccupazione di guarigione è al primo posto: quando Angra  Mainyu creò, contro la creazione di Ahura Mazda, le 99.999 malattie,  il gran dio dopo uno scacco subito da ManGra Spanta (la «Formula  Efficace»: l’agente della maggiore delle tre forme di medicina) si av¬  vicinò ad Aryaman che subito riuni gli clementi di quella che doveva  divenire in seguito una delle purificazioni rituali del mazdeismo 19 .  Come derivare questi uffici dall’idea di ospitalità? Thieme non tenta  la scommessa ma lascia intendere che tutto questo è un’innovazione,  un uso fuori dal dominio di un dio sentito come importante: «Man hai  also von Airyaman dhnlichen Gebrauch gemacht wie der AV von  A/yaman», dice lui facendo allusione alla fine del § 124 che ho cita¬  to 20 Temo che questa sia una maniera troppo rapida per eliminare un  elemento preciso del dossier. La stessa cosa avviene per altri aspetti di  Aryaman e per i suoi rapporti con le strade, ad esempio, strumento  utile di comunicazione sociale 21 : ci si riferisca all’analisi del mio Troi-  sième Souverain. Ciò che precede è sufficiente per far capire che  Aryaman è fondamentalmente più di un dio dell’ospitalità. Infatti  nell’ ospitalità senza dubbio, ma anche nella conclusione dei matrimo¬  ni, l’Aryaman vedico patrocina i rapporti sociali all’interno di un  gruppo di uomini in cui bisogna che non solo l’ospitalità ma anche il  matrimonio siano possibili.    19 F. § 126-128; S„ 81-83.   20 V. qui sopra n. 13.   21 S., p. 141-149. Per il trattamento insufficiente di altri aspetti di Aryaman in F.,  vedi S., p. 137-139.    132     L’Airyaman iranico protegge in una maniera più ampia e fino  alla sanità l’insieme di uomini e donne della «buona società», definita  dopo la riforma zoroastriana solamente in base alla religione e non alla  nazionalità.   Bisogna dunque che il concetto di arya - nel nome di Aryaman  sia altra cosa rispetto a quello detto da Thieme: minore in estensione,  poiché il matrimonio non è possibile con alcun ospite, ma più ricco in  comprensione, poiché oltre all’ospitalità comporta altre forme di lega¬  mi e in special modo l’attitudine a contrarre il matrimonio. Si è così  costretti a introdurre in questo arya-e quindi in ari, un valore di nazio¬  nalità.    II   Se il valore limitato e orientato di ari che io ho proposto [in S p.  113-127] (Icariano», collettivamente o genericamente), rende conto  di tutti i derivati e si adatta senza difficoltà a tutti i passaggi ai quali si  adattava il valore generale («der Fremde, der Fremdling») di Thieme,  rende inoltre conto di un testo che resisteva a quest’ultimo. Il dossier  di ari contiene in effetti almeno un testo che direttamente impone una  traduzione limitata e mi sorprende che Thieme non l’abbia riconside¬  rato nella difesa che mi oppone. Questo è RV, IX, 79, 3:   uta svàsyd ardtyd arir hi sa   utdnydsyd ardtyd vrko hi sah   La costruzione e il senso sono limpidi:   «[Proteggici] dalla nocivitàpropria:poiché è l’ari.   [Proteggici] dalla nocività aliena: poiché è il lupo.»   Questi versi simmetrici presentano, distribuiti in due rapporti  equivalenti, quattro termini, tre dei quali sono conosciuti e forniscono  di conseguenza un’eccellente equazione per determinare l’incognita,  ari : vi è l’opposizione usuale tra svàeanyà, il primo designa ciò che è  proprio, imparentato o alleato, mentre il secondo ciò che è altro, este¬  riore, straniero; vi è anche l’opposizione tra an e vrka, in cui vrka designa l’uomo che merita di essere chiamato lupo poiché il suo comporta¬  mento è selvatico. Così ariè. precisato negativamente come un tipo di  nemico distinto da questo nemico selvaggio ed esterno che è posto al  di fuori del gruppo i cui membri sono degli svà\ positivamente ari è  definito come intemo a questo gruppo. La traduzione e il commentario  fatto da Thieme a questo passaggio devono essere citati per intero 12 :   «/ Schutze] vor eigener, voranderer (i.e. vorjeglicher) arati; sie  (oder: das, was die arati ist) istjaderFremdling (der den Frieden be-  droht), sie istja der Wolf... ».   Ich habe in der Ubersetzung vonab au/Nachahmung der Spre-  izstellung der Satzglieder verzichtet. Dies e kannja sehr wohl nurstili-  stischer Art sein. Ich willjedochdie Mòglichkeit nicht in Abrede stel-  len, dass wir zu sagen hdtten: «vor eigener arati- sie ist ja ein  Fremdling (der ins Haus aufgenommen den Frieden bricht), vor an-  derer drdti-sie istja ein Wolf».   La prima interpretazione, quella che l’autore preferisce poiché  sopprime le difficoltà, fa una violenza inammissibile all’ordine e al  rapporto delle parole: mantiene come tale una delle due opposizioni  equivalenti ma sopprime l’altra volgendola in solidarietà; riducear/e  vrka a un’unità (non essendo vrka che un rinforzo del «cattivo» ari) di  cui svà e anyà sarebbero lesuddivisioni. La filologia non hatali diritti.   La seconda interpretazione orienta l'opposizione tra svà e anyà  in un senso che non è il suo: svà non si applica a ciò che è presso me  temporalmente e accidentalmente senza essere a me, ma segna un le¬  game permanente ed essenziale con me. In più, questa traduzione sup¬  pone, dalla parte àeW'ari nemico, un comportamento speciale, quello  dell’ospite che una volta ricevuto in casa si comporta male e « minaccia la pace » come dice Thieme. Certo, l’ospitalità ha i suoi rischi ma  questi rischi si realizzano raramente e in ogni modo nessun testo del  RV vi fa allusione: sarebbe molto strano che fossero qui l’oggetto di  una preghiera e che, in questa preghiera, fossero messi sullo stesso    32 P. 27, già II, 1956, p. 109. Se, come io penso, ari ha già il valore etnico («ariano»),  si concepiscono gli impieghi elogiativi, sottolineati da Renou, che vanno nella di¬  rezione «élite», «capo», etc.    134     piano, in contrapposizione, i rischi costanti che fa correre il vrka bar¬  baro e brigante.   Questo testo è dunque decisivo contro il senso troppo esteso di  ari e impone un senso ristretto. Nei suoi Etudes védiques et pàninéen-  nes. III (1957), L. Renou mi sembra abbia ben riassunto l’insegna¬  mento del testo nella formula: «.vrka il nemico straniero, ari il nemico  interno». Questo delimita ari, sia il buono che il cattivo: amico, ospite,  sposabile, correligionario, rivale, nemico, Vari porta alla considera¬  zione di chi lo menziona, la nota svà, che esclude la nota anyà n .   Ili   Mitra and Aryaman è in gran parte un pamphlet contro di me:  fornisco perfino il titolo di un capitolo. Mi limiterò qui ad alcune os¬  servazioni che faranno vedere a quale livello si situa il dibattito.   Prima di entrare nella materia, e per togliere ogni credito ai miei  argomenti, Thieme incomincia a dimostrare, secondo tre punti, che io  commetto molteplici e grossolani errori di grammatica utilizzando gli  inni vedici. Lo credo volentieri, ma vediamo che cosa mi rimprovera   (pp. 12-16):   a) Io tratto dei duali come dei plurali. Si tratta di due testi in cui  si incontra la sequenza, del resto frequente, dei tre principali dèi sovra¬  ni, Varuria, Mitra e Aryaman e dove, a causa di un verbo o un aggettivo  che sono appunto al duale, Thieme vuole fondere Mitra e Aryaman in  un solo personaggio mitico che chiama «Freund, Gasljreund» (nel  1938) e che ora preferisce chiamare «The contract (God Contract)  which is hospitality (God Hospitality )». È nel riconoscere questo mo¬  stro, di cui non vi sono altre tracce nella letteratura vedica, che mi sono  rifiutato, nel 1949 (S., pp. 42-47). Non ho cambiato parere: è inverosi-    33 Questa definizione di art come sva basterebbe (vi sono altre ragioni) per fare scar¬  tare il paragone etimologico con diana (l'opposto di svà) che è stato portato in ap¬  poggio alla tesi di Thieme da F. Spechi, «Zur Bedeutung des Ariernamens», KZ,  68, 1941, pp. 42-52. D’altra parte, il fatto che RV, VI, 15,3 invita Agni ad essere  ùryi'ih pùrasyàntarasya lùrusah, «il vincitore dell'un lontano e vicino» dimostra  che lo svà di IX, 79, 3 non deve essere compreso in un senso stretto né senza dub¬  bio locale. Il concetto di nazionalità suggerito dai derivati soddisfa la doppia con¬  dizione: Vari per «un» ariano è sia svà che para.    135     mile che in questi due soli passaggi la triade ceda il posto a una coppia  «Varuna e Varyamàn Mitra» o a «Varuna e il mitra Aryaman».   Uno di questi testi è RV, V, 67, 1: varuna mitrdryaman  vdrsistham ksatrdm àsiithe, «o Varuna, Mitra e Ai'yaman, voi avete ot¬  tenuto la più alta sovranità». Perché si dice che il verbo è al duale? Il  poeta vuole sottolineare la stretta affinità di Mitra e Aryaman (che è  fondamentale come spesso ho detto) nei confronti di Varuna, di modo  che si debba tradurre «o Varuna, o Mitra e Aryaman»? Non lo so, ma  la soluzione meno accettabile è di fondere in un solo essere Mitra e  Aryaman, poiché la strofa 3 dello stesso inno enumera nuovamente i  tre dèi al nominativo e questa volta con due aggettivi e due verbi che  sono correttamente al plurale. Noto che K. Geldner comprende come  me: «ihr habt die hòchste Herrschaft erreicht, Varuna, Mitra, A rya-  man» - i tre vocativi essendo esattamente paralleli, come Thieme mi  rimprovera di avere detto.   L'altro testo è RV, Vili, 26, 11 : vaiyasvdsya srutam narotó me  asya vedathah/sajósasd varuna mitrò aryamd. La prima parte non è  ambigua: «Ascoltate, o voi due eroi (= gli Asvin) [la parola] di Vai-  yasva e conoscete questa [parola] mia». La seconda è meno chiara,  un aggettivo al duale (sajósusà, «in accordo») precede i tre nomi di¬  vini.   Geldner risolve la difficoltà attaccando l’aggettivo non a ciò  che segue, ma come attributo a ciò che precede, ai due Asvin: « Horet  aufden Vyasvasohn, ihrHerren, und seid meiner hier ein^edenk, ein-  miitig, (und mit euch) Varuna Mitra Aryaman». Non so se ha ragione o  se si può trovare una giustificazione più sottile, ma come lui penso che  gli dèi dell’ultimo verso, qui come altrove, siano ire.   b) Tratto dei plurali come dei duali. Si tratta di RV, III, 54, 18,  aryamd no dditir yajmydsah, «Aryaman, Aditi [sono] degni (plurale e  non duale!) dei nostri sacrifici, dobbiamo sacrificare ad Aryaman, ad  Aditi». Thieme consentirà forse a credere che ho consultato la tradu¬  zione di Geldner: «.Aryaman, Aditi sind uns anbetun^swert», con la  nota corrispondente: « Den Plur. yajnfyàsah, weil der Dichter an die  iibriffen Àditya ’sdenkt». Ma ciò che più m’interessava perii mio argo¬  mento (S., p. 68) è che in questo lesto della «terza funzione» (la fine  della strofa domanda abbondanza di bestiame e di bambini), il gruppo  degli dèi sovrani distacca, in qualche modo come i suoi soli delegati  espliciti, la loro madre e Axyaman. Non prevedendo Thieme non ho  preso la precauzione di ripetere in termini di grammatica una precisa¬  zione che ogni vedista conosce. Il mio commento si è limitato a dire:  «Sembrerebbe che ancora qui sia l’iniziativa di Aryaman che orienta  l'azione collettiva degli Àditya verso questa grazia speciale». Non è  abbastanza chiaro?   c) Tratto un singolare come un duale. Si tratta del lapsus segna¬  lato più sopra (n. 18) che, in A V, XIV, 1, 39 (S, p. 78, 1.8 e 11 ) mi ha  fatto scrivere e non mi ha fatto correggere «i suoceri» invece del «suo¬  cero», come traduzione di svdsurah. Thieme finge di credere che io  abbia pensato ai «due suoceri». Mi reputa così ignorante da poter cre¬  dere che io abbia preso un nominativo in -ah, pur nella sua forma in -o,  per un nominativo duale? La stessa parola, sotto la stessa forma non è  forse correttamente tradotta la seconda volta che la si incontra (S, v.   1 19)? La spiegazione che mi parrebbe più plausibile è che, essendo  poco leggibile il mio manoscritto, il compositore abbia congetturato i  «suoceri» secondo i «cognati» che seguono immediatamente, o che  meccanicamente abbia messo allo stesso numero queste due parole  così analoghe [pères e frères nel testo. N.d.T.]. Può anche darsi che il  lapsus risalga al mio manoscritto. Mi dispiace molto ad ogni modo che  nella sovrabbondanza di correzioni che ho dovuto fare sulle bozze  quello mi sia scappato e che l’errore mi sia saltato agli occhi solamente  qualche mese dopo la pubblicazione. È in maniera sleale che Thieme  orchestra questo scandalo in due pagine e anche il mio errore su  svdsurah, suocero dell’unica moglie e non del marito. Nondimeno  Thieme dimentica di dire l’essenziale, cioè che per il mio argomento  la menzione del suocero e dei cognati (della moglie) in A V, XIV, 1,39  e quella del suocero {della moglie) opposti al «resto dell’ari» in X, 28,   1 conservano tutto il loro valore dimostrativo, com’è stato mostrato  qui sopra a n. 18, poiché l’uno conferma che Aryaman, nel matrimo¬  nio, non si interessa solamente ai giovani sposi, ma ai parenti per  l’alleanza che la loro unione stabilisce e l’altro indica (cosa ammessa  da Thieme nel 1957; Z, p. 213!) che le alleanze matrimoniali si com¬  piono all’interno dell’insieme ari. Insomma, Thieme grida «all’in¬  terpretazione errata!» per mascherare il gioco di prestigio altrimenti  grave fatto da lui stesso all’insegnamento di tutti i testi che stabilisco-    137     no il vero ruolo di Aryaman nel matrimonio (vedi sopra 1 )'. Il libro è in  seguito infiorito di notae censoriae. Alcune mi sono sembrate giuste  ed utili e ne terrò conto, senza che nessuna cambi niente alle figure e ai  rapporti degli dèi. Molte sono, bisogna dirlo, un puro bluff poiché  Thieme denuncia come antigrammaticale, errata o sprovvista di sen¬  so, una traduzione possibile ma che non ha il suo favore 2 , caricaturan¬  do le mie esposizioni 3 e inventando delle contraddizioni peravere un  motivo di risentimento in più 4 , etc. etc.    1 L’obiettivo di questo triplo assalto grammaticale si scopre a pagina 17: «IJ'eel il  my duty to warn especially Lutinists, who cannai be expecled lo judge on thè me¬  riti of Dumez.il' s indological araumenti, agama trusting hispresentation oflhe  Jacts oJ'Vedic religion loo confidently, andagainst believing ihal only his "expla-  naiions" need be discussed». Non ho questa pretesa. Domando solo senza grandi  speranze che latinisti o indologi, di St. Andrews o di Yale, che vogliano discuter¬  mi lo facciano lealmente.   2 P.es.,pp. 10-12;/?V, I, 141,9; p. 41 : /?V, X. 136,3;p. 62: RV, X, 89,9; ctc. p. 67, in  RV VII, 82, 5, Thieme rende correttamente duvasyatil Ha sicuramente ragione,  ad ogni modo, a rimproverarmi la riga di S., p. 40 («Mitra offre dei sacrifici a Va¬  nirla), in cui ho esagerato la frase, in se stessa eccessiva, di Bergaigne(La religion  védique, III, p. 138: «In un passaggio in cui né Mitra né Varuna sono del resto  esplicitamente identificati ad Agni, il primo è opposto al secondo come il sacer¬  dote al dio che onora»): duvasyati significa sempl icementc «rendere gli onori do¬  vuti»; bisogna correggere in que.slo senso Les dieux des Indoeuropéens, p. 42,  1.27: in RV, VII, 82, 5, Mitra non è come un sacerdote di Varuna.   3 P. cs. pe>. 19-20, ciò che ho detto dei rapporti tra il contratto e l'amicizia, Mitra-  Varuna', 1948, pp. 79-83, non è compreso. Non ho fatto la lezione a Meillet; ho  semplicemente utilizzato i progressi che, dal suo articolo del 1907, i sociologi  hanno fatto compiere alla teoria del contratto presso i popoli semi-civilizzati. Allo  stesso modo, p. 82, la mia concezione dei rapporti tra i diversi dèi sovrani si è de¬  formata: che si confronti il capitolo II di Dieux des Indoeuropéens. L’etimologia  dei nomi divini (Varuna, Marut, il secondo elemento di Aryaman, etc.), salvo  quando è evidente (Mitra, etc.), mi interessa sempre meno (vedi Déesses latineset  mythes védiques, 1956, p. 117): qualunque sia quella di Varuna (e non credo mol¬  to a quella adottata da Thieme) ciò che conta è, studialo direttamente, l’insieme  del suo comportamento e il suo rapporto con le altre figure divine: un dio non c  prigioniero del suo nome.   4 P. es., p. 74, n. 54, Thieme segnala una contraddizione in S., tra la pagina 63 e 136,  a proposito della sua traduzione di salpati: si verificherà facilmente che essa non  esiste. P. 76, n. 54, è con Panini che sono messo così futilmente in contraddizione.  P. 86, n. 60, sono accusato per due parole di «mislranslations, wich might have  been avoided by looking up thè PW or any other good dictionary » ; Thieme vorrà  rifarsi a A.B. Keith, HOS XVIII, p. 167-168, di cui ho adottato la traduzione (e vi  sono ragioni per preferire questa interpretazione a quella di Thieme). P. 9; Thieme non tiene conto della differenza d’intenzione tra  Mitra-Varuna e Le Troisième Souverain. A dispetto del suo titolo in¬  diano il primo libro non tratta un soggetto indiano 1 ; si propone di di¬  mostrare che presso gli altri popoli indoeuropei, a Roma e fra i Germa¬  ni in special modo, esistevano delle coppie di dèi o di eroi della prima  funzione la cui articolazione è omologa a quella che A. Bergaigne ha  scoperto per Mitra e Varuna nel RV e che i Bràhmana illustrano con  una campionatura abbondante. Non avevo dunqueintenzione di stabi¬  lire «gli insegnamenti degli inni stessi» e dei Bràhmana - che altri  (dopo Bergaigne e H. Glintert) avevano sufficientemente stabilito. In  Le Troisième Souverain, al contrario, con Aryaman abbordavo un pro¬  blema specificatamente indo-iranico e poco trattato: ho dunque dovu¬  to riprendere tutti i testi, discuterli e organizzare il dossier. Non vi è da  scrivere sul mio libretto da scolaro, di questo scolaro che sono felice di  essere e di rimanere, né contraddizioni né progressi nel metodo: a dei  soggetti, a dei bisogni diversi, a dei gradi ineguali di maturità della  materia hanno corrisposto dei procedimenti differenti.   Quanto alle tesi stesse di Thieme, le esaminerò nella Revue de  l'Histoire des Religions e mi sforzerò di rispondere con un’argomen¬  tazione serena a questa scherma da gladiatore. Enumererò gli apporti  positivi poiché ve ne sono. E dimostrerò come sotto le apparenze del  rigore filologico Thieme misconosca costantemente le prospettive,  ignori i dati statistici più evidenti e distrugga i rapporti più probabili e  sulla via così sgombra si avanzi con una sovrana fantasia verso le pagi¬  ne sorprendenti che terminano il suo libro.   In attesa, a coloro che sarebbero impressionati da questo mec¬  canismo, non posso che consigliare di rileggere, circa i grandi Àditya,  l’ammirevole esposizione di Abel Bergaigne, certamente vecchia su  molti punti, ma attenta sia al dettaglio dei testi che alle strutture del  pensiero, onesta e intelligente.    I J.C. Tavadia si era inizialmente sbaglialo ma fece in seguito I a più leale riparazione.   L’editoria italiana ha accolto con favori e fortune alterne l’opera di un  autore tanto discusso, controverso e innovativo, quale fu Georges Dumézil,  persona acuta, intelligente e ironica, spirito polemico e non di rado pungente  ma sempre pronto a rimettersi in discussione, mano a mano che l’inchiesta  scientifica progrediva, grazie anche ai suoi avversari oltre che ai colleghi che  accolsero positivamente il suo metodo. Il lettore nostrano troverà di piacevo¬  le lettura la traduzione della intervista francese: Un banchetto dì immortalità.  Conversazioni con Didier Eribon , Guanda, Milano 1992.   Spetta alle Einaudi l’esordio di Georges Dumézil nel panorama edito¬  riale del nostro dopoguerra, all’intemo di quella “collana viola” che non sen¬  za travaglio di intelletti e di coscienze (si legga il carteggio C. Pavese - E. de  Martino, La collana viola. Lettere Bollati Boringhieri, Torino a c. di P. Angelini) ha contribuito a diffondere autori importanti come  C.G. Jung, K. Kerény,L. Frobenius, G. van derLeeuw, M. Eliade. Il libro Ju-  piter, Mars, Quirinus, Torino 1955, è una traduzione di parti dell’originale,  più capitoli di altri volumi come Naissance de Rome, Naissance  d'Archanges, e Jupiter, Mars, Quirinus IV, 1948. Il catalogo della Ei¬  naudi ritornerà solo tardivamente, nel decennio degli ’80, a rioccuparsi di  Dumézil, traducendo Mito ed Epopea. La terra alleviata, 1982 (= Mythe et  epopee f) e Gli dei sovrani degli Indoeuropei, 1986.   Spetta alla Adelphi (Milano) la maggiore percentuale di libri tradotti,  a cominciare dalla raccolta di storie e leggende del Caucaso: // libro degli  Eroi. Leggende sui Nani, 1969 (ristampato nei tascabili economici della  Bompiani, Milano 1976), fino a Gli dèi dei Germani, 1974; Matrimoni Indo¬  europei, 1984; Le sortì del guerriero. Aspetti della funzione guerriera presso  gli Indoeuropei, 1990 (una prima traduzione di questo libro, condotta sulla  precedente edizione di Hetir etmalheur duguerrier, 1969, si deve ai tipi della  Rosemberg& Sellier: Ventura e sventura del guerriero,Tonno 1974). E infi¬  ne bisogna ricordare anche «...Il monaco nero in grigio dentro Varennes»,    141     1987 che è però un divertissement enigmistico-letterario sulle profezie di  Nostradamus.   Il catalogo della Rizzoli (Milano) si è arricchito di due opere importanti e poderose, oggi purtroppo introvabili, come La religione romana arca¬  ica, 1977 eStorie degli Sciti, 1980; mentre II Melangolo (Genova) ha tradotto  due volumi quali Idee romane, 1987 e Feste romane, 1989. Recentemente le  edizioni Mediterranee (Roma) hanno tradotto La saga di Hadingus. Dal mito  al romanzo. Fra le poche opere italiane su questo autore ricordiamo Rivière,   Dumézil egli studi indoeuropei. Una introduzione. Il Settimo Sigillo, Roma. Per una bibliografia completa delle opere di (e su) Dumézil  cf. la rivista Futuro presente 2/1993 diretta da Alessandro Campi (numero  monografico “Georges Dumézil e l’eredità indo-europea”): oltre a un dibatti¬  to su Dumézil in base alle aree storico-geografiche consuete nella sua ricerca  (Roma, Indo-Iranici, Caucaso, Germani), vi è un interessante articolo di Grisward sulle persistenze del modello trifunzionale nella società medioeva¬  le - suddivisione in oratores, bellatores, laboralores - e la traduzione di un ar¬  ticolo di Dumézil in risposta alle critiche di una versione francese di un saggio di Ginzburg (“Mitologia germanica e Nazismo”, apparso su Quaderni  Storici, ristampato in Id., Miti, emblemi, spie, Einaudi,  Torino) su un argomento, le presunte simpatie per la cultura nazista, già  affrontato da A. Momigliano, Rivista storica italiana. Sulle implicazioni politiche e razzistiche degli studi indoeuropei cf.  A. Piras, “Georges-Dumézil e iproblemi dell’Indoeuropeistica ”,/Quaderni  di Ava/lon e “Indoeuropeistica e cultura europea”, in  L 'Europa di fronte all'Occidente, Il Cerchio, Rimini. Per uno studio comparato delle istituzioni sociali, religiose, economi¬  che, amministrative, giuridiche, delle diverse culture parlanti idiomi indoeu¬  ropei, cf. E. Benveniste, // vocabolario delle istituzioni indoeuropee, I-II, Ei¬  naudi, Torino 1979 (e più edizioni); si veda anche E. Campanile, “Antichità  indoeuropee”, in A. Giacalone Ramat& P. Ramat(a c. di), Le lingue indoeu¬  ropee, Il Mulino, Bologna 1993, pp. 19-43 e J. Ries (a c. di), L 'uomo indoeu¬  ropeo e il sacro, Jaca Book-Massimo, Milano 1991.   Un argomento dibattuto da decenni come la nozione di “lingua poe¬  tica indoeuropea” (che consente di rintracciare nelle diverse letterature -  Edda, Beomtlf, poemi omerici. Veda, Avesta - elementi di una fraseologia co¬  mune ed ereditaria) è stato di recente affrontato in un libro eccellente di G.  Costa, Le origini della lingua poetica indeuropea, Leo Olschki, Firenze. Ries   La riscoperta del pensiero religioso indoeuropeo  L’opera magistrale di  Dumézil. Le tre funzioni sociali e cosmiche. Le teologie tripartite.  Le diverse funzioni nella teologia, nella mitologia  e nell 'epopea   Storia degli Studi. Aryaman e Paul Thieme  Bibliografia italiana di Dumézil. Emanuele Castrucci. Castrucci. Keywords: sul conferimento di valore,  il guerriero indo-germanico – Pound, conferire valore, implicanza pragmatica, l’implicanza di speranza, l’impieganza di speranza, Apel, prammatica.; Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Castrucci” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Catalfamo: all’isola -- l’implicatura conversazionale e la metafisica della libertà – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Catania). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Catalfamo; his ‘metaphysics of freedom’ is better than anything that soi-dissant Dame Mary Warnock wrote on ‘existentialism’! Catalfamo, like most Italian philosophers, take, as Strawson and I do, the concept of a ‘person’ seriously – indeed, so seriously that he, along with a few other Italian philosopher, turn it into an –ism: his is a critical personalism, though, best defined as an expansion from scepsis to hope. Della corrente del "personalismo storico o critico".  Si laurea in Pedagogia e in Scienze Politiche. Prima assistente volontario di Galvano Della Volpe (che definisce unico filosofo a livello di Croce), poi discepolo di Vincenzo La Via (che si era formato alla scuola di Gentile, del quale era stato assistente), e suo collaboratore dal 1946, diviene libero docente, incaricato di Pedagogia e infine ordinario di Pedagogia. Fonda e diviene direttore dell'Istituto di Pedagogia all'Messina.  Il suo pensiero si snoda in quattro fasi: dell'epistemologo, del personalista storico ed antidogmatico, dello scettico, dell'uomo di fede. La formazione filosofica (fu Assistente di ruolo di Filosofia e scrisse sulla rivista "Teoresi", fondata dai suo maestro La Via) traspare nel suo pensiero pedagogico, concepito, e nel tempo modificato, all'insegna dell'apertura e dell'innovazione anche didattica. Nel suo personalismo, che ha come principi critici la storicità, la trascendenza e la problematicità "egli rintraccia nuovi aspetti... e incomincia a fare i conti con la storia e le sue fenomenologie", " il personalismo... lentamente ma inesorabilmente si qualificherà come «storico»; la persona assume una significanza fenomenologica di unità... in costruzione", "Catalfamo collega l'esserci e il farsi della persona al flusso della realtà oggettiva, nel doppio senso: nell'influenza e stimolazione di questa verso quella e della trasformazione della realtà oggettiva ad opera della persona". "L'uomo come soggetto agente impedisce che l'esperienza sia un limite, cerca di oltrepassarla vedendo in essa quello che non è e quello che potenzialmente è. La persona, dunque, è una realtà trascendente". L'aspetto problematico del suo pensiero, infine, fa riferimento alla "posizione stessa della persona, la quale, costituita nell'esperienza, è radicata nella problematicità di essa, perché "il mondo per la persona è sempre un problema, così come un problema è il suo essere nel mondo".  Catalfamo è stato fondatore e direttore della rivista "Presenza" assieme al prof. Gianvito Resta; fondatore e direttore di "Prospettive pedagogiche". Prorettore dell'Messina. Gli è stata conferita dal Presidente della Repubblica, la Medaglia d'oro al merito della Scuola, della Cultura, dell'Arte. La Giunta del Comune di Messina gli ha intitolato un tratto di strada nei pressi dell'Università, all'Annunziata alta. Più recentemente, a Messina, si è tenuta una solenne cerimonia, nel corso della quale è stata scoperta una targa commemorativa, che riporta una sua rilevante riflessione, e gli è stato intitolato un Istituto Comprensivo.  Altre opere: Kant, Lezioni di pedagogia, Ed. Messina Empirismo pedagogico e filosofia, "Teoresi", anno IV, nn.1-2 Pedagogia e Filosofia, "Biblioteca dell'educatore", AVE, Milano Marxismo e Pedagogia, Avio, Roma Il fondamento della pedagogia. Disegno di una pedagogia personalistica, Sessa, Messina Personalismo pedagogico, Armando, Roma La pedagogia contemporanea e il personalismo, Armando, Roma L'educazione fondamentale, Armando, Roma I fondamenti del personalismo pedagogico, Armando, Roma La pedagogia dell'idealismo (corso universitario), Providente, Messina Elementi di psicopedagogia e pedagogia sperimentale (corso universitario), Providente, Messina Storia della pedagogia come scienza filosofica, Barbera, Firenze Criteriologia dell'insegnamento: la didattica del personalismo, Bemporad Marzocco, Firenze Personalismo senza dogmi, Armando, Roma Giuseppe Lombardo Radice, Ed. La Scuola, Brescia La pedagogia marxista sovietica (in collaborazione con Salvatore Agresta), Edizioni dell'Istituto, Messina La filosofia contemporanea dell'educazione, Istituto di Pedagogia, Messina Compendio di psicopedagogia e pedopsichiatria (in collaborazione co Vitetta), Parallelo 38, Reggio Calabria L'individualizzazione dell'insegnamento (in collaborazione con Agresta), Peloritana editrice, Messina Lo spiritualismo pedagogico, EDAS, Messina Introduzione alla psicologia dell'età evolutiva (in collaborazione con L. Smeriglio), A. Signorelli Editore, Roma Ideologia e pedagogia, EDAS, Messina La pedagogia del personalismo storico, EDAS, Messina L'ideologia e l'educazione, Peloritana, Messina Aspetti della socializzazione, Peloritana, Messina Le illusioni della pedagogia, Milella, Lecce Fondamenti di una pedagogia della speranza,La Scuola, Brescia L'educazione politica alla democrazia, Pellegrini Editore, Cosenza Educazione della persona e socializzazione, EDAS, Messina Preliminari ad una dottrina dell'apprendimento, Catalfamo e il personalismo critico. "Nuove Ipotesi" D.U.E.M.I.L.A., Palermo. Il personalismo Catalfamo, Accademia Peloritana dei Pericolanti. Di qui ap-  punto si può anticipatamente scorgere, che le dif-  ficoltà più profonde incluse nel concetto di liberta,  si potranno risolvere coll’ idealismo in sè preso,  tanto poco quanto con qualunque altro sistema  parziale. L’ idealismo invero porge, della libertà,  da un lato il concetto più generale, dall’altro  quello meramente formale. Ma il concetto reale ’e  vivente è, che essa consista in una facoltà del  bene e del male.   Questo è il punto della difficoltà più grave, che,  in tutta la dottrina della libertà, è stata da lungo  tempo avvertita, e che tocca, non solo questo o  quel sistema, bensì, più o meno, tutti 1 : nel modo  più spiccato di cerio il concetto dell’immanenza;  poiché, o si ammette un male reale, e allora è  inevitabile collocare il male nell’ infinita sostanza o  nell’ originario volere stesso, con che si distrugge  interamente il concetto di un essere perfettissimo;  o bisogna negare in qualche maniera la realtà del  male, e con ciò svanisce insieme il concetto reale  di libertà. Non minore è l’intoppo, anche se inten-  diamo nel modo più esteso la relazione tra Dio e  gli esseri mondani; poiché, dato pure che essa  venga limitata al cosiddetto concursus, o a quella  necessaria cooperazione di Dio all’ agire delle crea-  ture, che dev’ esser accettata grazie alla essenziale  dipendenza loro da Dio, anche se vuoisi del resto  affermare la libertà: in tal caso però Dio apparirà  innegabilmente come cooperatore del male, giac-  ché il permetterlo in un essere in tutto e per tutto  dipendente non vai meglio che il contribuire a  produrlo; o anche qui, in un modo o nell’altro,  dovrà esser negata la realtà del male. La propo-  sizione, che tutto il positivo della creatura venga  da Dio, anche in questo sistema dev’essere affer-  mata. Ora, se si ammette che nel male vi sia al- Schlegel ha il merito di aver fatto valere  questa difficoltà specialmente contro il panteismo nel suo  scritto sugl’ Indiani e in parecchi luoghi; ma è a deplorare  soltanto che quest’ acuto erudito non abbia creduto oppor-  tuno comunicare la sua propria veduta sull’ origine del  male c sul suo rapporto col bene. cunchè di positivo, anche questo positivo deriverà  da Dio. Qui si potrà opporre: il positivo del male,  in quanto positivo, è bene. Con ciò il male non  viene a sparire, benché non venga neppure spie-  gato Infatti, se ciò che nel male sussiste' è bene,  donde mai nasce ciò, in cui questo sussistente è,  la base, che forma propriamente il male? Tutta  diversa da quest’affermazione (sebbene spesso,  anche di recente, confusa con la prima) è 1’ altra,  che nel male, in ogni caso, non vi sia nulla di  positivo, o, per usare un’espressione diversa, che  esso non esista affatto ( neppure con e in un altro  elemento positivo), ma che tutte le azioni siano  più o meno positive, e che la differenza tra loro  consista in un semplice plus o minus di perfezione,  con che non si stabilisce alcuna opposizione, e  però il male svanisce interamente. Sarebbe questa  la seconda possibile ipotesi in rapporto alla propo-  sizione, che tutto il positivo scaturisca da Dio.  Allora la forza, che si mostra nel male, sarebbe  sì, al paragone, più imperfetta di quella che appare  nel bene, ma, considerata in sé, o fuori del para-  gone, sarebbe una perfezione pur sempre, la quale  dunque, come ogni altra, dev’ esser derivata da  Dio. Ciò che noi in tal caso chiamiamo un male,  è solo il minor grado di perfezione, il quale però  solo per il nostro bisogno di comparazione appare  come difetto, mentre nella natura non è punto. Che  questa sia la vera opinione di Spinoza, non è  possibile negare. Qualcuno potrebbe tentare di  sfuggire a quel dilemma, rispondendo: che il  positivo derivante da Dio sarebbe la libertà, la  quale è in se stessa indifferente verso il male e  il bene. Ma, se egli concepisce questa indifferenza,  non in modo puramente negativo, bensì come una    1 Nel testo: « Seietide. »    vivente e positiva facoltà di determinarsi al bene  e al male, non si vede come da Dio, che vien  considerato come pura bontà, possa mai seguire  una facoltà di eleggere il male. È evidente da ciò,  per dirla di passaggio, che, se la libertà è real-  mente quel che in conformità di questo concetto  deve essere (ed è immancabilmente), non si può  essa giustificare con la già tentata derivazione  della libertà da Dio; poiché, se la libertà è un  potere di far il male, essa dovrà avere una radice  indipendente da Dio. Così incalzati, si può esser  tentati di gettarsi in braccio al dualismo. Ma questo  sistema, se dev’ esser concepito effettivamente come  la dottrina di due principii opposti e tra loro indi-  pendenti, non è se non un sistema del suicidio e  dello sconforto della ragione. Se poi il principio  cattivo è pensato come dipendente in un certo  senso dal buono, tutta la difficoltà della deriva-  zione del male dal bene è certo concentrata in  un solo essere, ma viene così ad essere accresciuta  anziché diminuita. Anche supponendo che questo  secondo essere fu dapprincipio creato buono e per  propria colpa si staccò dall'essere originario, resta  sempre inesplicabile in tutti i sistemi, che si son  avuti finora, la prima facoltà di un atto di ribel-  lione a Dio. Perciò, anche se noi finiamo col  sopprimere, non solamente l’identità, ma ogni le-  game degli esseri mondani con Dio, considerando  la loro esistenza attuale e quella del mondo con  essa come un allontanamento da Dio, la diffi-  coltà è solo spostata di un punto, ma non tolta.  Infatti, per potere scaturire da Dio, essi dovevano  già esistere in un certo modo, e non si potrebbe  menomamente opporre al panteismo la dottrina  dell’emanazione, presupponendo essa un’originaria  esistenza delle cose in Dio e quindi naturalmente  il panteismo. A spiegare quell’ allontanamento, si  potrebbe solo addurre quanto segue. O esso è    involontario da parte delle cose, ma non da parte  di Dio: e allora, siccome esse da Dio furono get-  tate nello stato d’ infelicità e di malizia, Dio è  1’ autore di un tale stato. O è involontario da ambe  le parti, cagionato forse da esuberanza dell’ essere,  come alcuni affermano: rappresentazione insoste-  nibile affatto. O è volontario da parte delle cose,  uno svellersi da Dio, dunque la conseguenza di  una colpa, alla quale segue una sempre pivi pro-  fonda caduta: e allora questa prima colpa è già  per se stessa il male, e non dà alcuna spiega-  zione dell’ origine di esso. Senza un tale espe-  diente poi, che, se spiega il male nel mondo,  estingue viceversa, e interamente, il bene, e invece  del panteismo introduce un pandenionismo, sva-  nisce precisamente nel sistema dell’ emanazione  ogni proprio contrasto di bene e male; il Primo,  si perde per infiniti gradi intermedii, mediante un  graduale attenuarsi, in ciò che non ha più alcuna  parvenza di bene, suppergiù allo stesso modo in  cui Plotino, 1 con sottigliezza bensì, ma senza  lasciar appagati, descrive il transito del bene ori-  ginario nella materia e nel male. Invero, da un  costante processo di subordinazione e di allonta-  namento, vien fuori un Ultimo, di là dal quale il  divenire è impossibile, e questo appunto (ciò che  è incapace di produrre ulteriormente) è il male.  Ovvero: se qualche cosa è dopo il Primo, dev’ es-  serci anche un Ultimo, che del Primo non ha più  nulla in sè, e questo è la materia e la necessità  del male.   Dopo tali considerazioni, non sembra giusto  rovesciare tutto il peso di questa difficoltà su di  un solo sistema, specialmente se ciò che di più  alto si pretende di opporgli, è così poco soddi-    1 Ennead. I. L. Vili, c. 8.    sfacente. Anche le generalità dell’ idealismo non  ci possono dare qui alcun aiuto. Con dei concetti  lambiccati di Dio, come /’ actus purissimùs, del  genere di quelli che stabiliva la filosofia antica, o  di quelli, che la moderna cava fuori pur sempre,  con la preoccupazione di tenere Dio a gran di-  stanza dall’ intiera natura, non si riesce a nulla  di nulla. Dio è qualcosa di più reale che un sem-  plice ordinamento morale del cosmo, ed ha in sè  ben altre e ben più vive forze motrici di quelle  che P arida sottigliezza degl’ idealisti astratti gli  attribuisce. L’orrore per ogni realtà, quasi che lo  spirituale possa contaminarsi in ogni contatto con  essa, deve naturalmente produrre anche la cecità  per l’origine del male. L’idealismo, se non ha per  base un realismo vivente, diviene un sistema altret-  tanto vuoto e lambiccato, quanto il leibniziano, lo  spinoziano, o qualunque altro sistema dogmatico.  Tutta la nuova filosofia europea dal suo principio  (con Descartes) ha questo comune difetto, che la  natura non esiste per essa, e che le manca un  vivo fondamento. Il realismo dello Spinoza è per-  tanto così astratto, come l’idealismo del Leibniz.  L’idealismo è l’anima della filosofia; il realismo  n’ è il corpo; solo tutti e due insieme fanno un  tutto vivente. Il secondo non può mai offrire il  principio, ma bisogna che sia la base ed il mezzo,  in cui quello si realizza, prendendo carne esangue.  Se ad una filosofia manca questo fondamento vivo,  il che d’ ordinario è segno che anche il principio  idea'e aveva originariamente in essa una debole  efficacia: essa verrà a perdersi in quei sistemi, i  cui distillati concetti di aseità, modificazioni ecc.  stanno nel più acuto contrasto con la forza vitale  e la pienezza della realtà. Dove poi il principio  ideale è fornito davvero e in alta misura di forza  operativa, ma non può trovare una base di conci-  liazione e di mediazione, produrrà un torbido e selvaggio entusiasmo, che finirà nella macerazione  di se stessi, o, come accadeva ai sacerdoti della  dea Frigia, nell’ evirazione, la quale in filosofia si  compie abbandonando la ragione e la scienza.   È parso necessario incominciare questo trattato  con la giustificazione di concetti essenziali, che  da lungo tempo, ma in particolare ultimamente,  sono stati ingarbugliati. Le osservazioni fatte si-  nora debbono perciò considerarsi come semplice  introduzione alla nostra indagine vera e propria.  Noi l’abbiamo già dichiarato: solo con i prin-  cipii d: una vera filosofia della natura si può  svolgere quella veduta, che dà completa soddisfa  zione al tema che ci proponiamo. Noi non ne-  ghiamo perciò che una tale esatta veduta sia stata  già da lungo tempo anticipata da alcuni intelletti.  Ma erano anch’ essi appunto quelli, che senza te-  mere gli epiteti ingiuriosi di materialismo, pantei-  smo ecc., usuali da un pezzo contro ogni filosofia  realistica, cercavano il principio vivente della na-  tura, e, in contrapposto ai dogmatici ed agl’idea-  listi astratti, che li respingevano come mistici,  erano filosofi naturali (nell’ uno e nell’altro senso).   La filosofia naturale dei nostri tempi ha per la pri-  ma volta introdotta nella scienza la distinzione tra  l’essere, in quanto esiste, e l’essere, in quanto  è semplice fondamento di esistenza. Tale distin-  zione è vecchia quanto la prima esposizione scien-  tifica di essa. 1 Nonostante che proprio in questo  punto essa diverga nel modo più reciso dalla via  di Spinoza, pure in Oermania si è poiuto fin adesso  affermare che i suoi principii metafisici siano tut-  t’uno con quelli di Spinoza; e sebbene quella distin-  zione appunto porti nello stesso tempo la più recisa    1 Si veda nella Zeitschrift tur spekul. Physik Bd. II,  Heft 2, § 54 nota, [IV, S. 146], inoltre nota 1 al § 93 e la  spiegaz. a p. 114 [S. 203).  distinzione della natura da Dio, ciò non ha im-  pedito che la si accusasse di confondere Dio con  la natura. Poiché sulla medesima distinzione si  fonda la presente ricerca, sia detto quanto segue  a fine d’ illustrarla.   Non esistendo nulla prima o fuori di Dio, con-  viene che egli abbia in se stesso il fondamento della  sua esistenza. Cosi dicono tutti i filosofi; ma  essi parlano di questo fondamento come di un  puro concetto, senza farne alcunché di reale e di  effettivo. Questo fondamento della sua esistenza,  che Dio ha in sé, non è Dio assolutamente con-  siderato, cioè in quanto esiste; poiché esso non  è se non il fondamento della sua esistenza, esso  è la natura in Dio; un essere inseparabile, è  vero, ma pur distinto da lui. Questo rapporto si  può chiarire analogicamente con quello tra la  forza di gravità e la luce nella natura. La forza  di gravità precede la luce, come suo eternamente  oscuro fondamento, il quale per se stesso non è  actu e si dilegua nella notte, mentre la luce  (l’esistente) sorge. 11 suggello, sotto cui essa è  chiusa, non è sciolto interamente neppur dalla  luce. ' Appunto perciò essa non è nè l’ essenza  pura nè l’essere attuale dell’ assoluta identità, ma  non fa se non seguire dalla sua natura;* * o essa  è, considerata in altri termini nella potenza deter-  minata: poiché del resto, anche ciò, che relati-  vamente alla forza di gravità appare come esistente,  in se stesso poi appartiene al fondamento, e la  natura in genere è pertanto ciò che rimane di là  dall’essere assoluto dall’identità assoluta. 3 Per  quanto del resto concerne quella precedenza, essa  non è a concepirsi nè come precedenza di tempo,  nè come priorità di essenza. Nel circolo, da cui  ogni cosa deriva, non v’ è alcuna contradizione  ad ammettere che ciò, da cui 1’ Uno è prodotto,  sia alla sua volta prodotto da esso. Non v'è qui  un primo ed un ultimo, perchè tutto si presuppone  a vicenda, nessuna cosa è 1’ altra e tuttavia non è  senza l’altra. Dio ha in sè un intimo fondamento  della sua esistenza, che in questo senso precede  lui come esistente; ma Dio a sua volta è del pari il  Prius del fondamento, giacché questo, anche come  tale, non potrebbe essere, se Dio non esistesse actu.   Alla medesima distinzione porta la riflessione  scaturiente dalle cose. Primieramente è da lasciare  affatto in disparte il concetto dell’ immanenza, in  quanto esprima per avventura una morta compren-  sione delle cose in Dio. Noi riconosciamo piut-  tosto, che il concetto del divenire sia l’unico ap-  propriato alla natura delle cose. Ma queste non  possono divenire in Dio, assolutamente conside-  rato, mentre sono tato genere , o per parlare più  giusto, infinitamente diverse da lui. Per essere  staccate da Dio, occorre che divengano in una  base differente da lui. Ma nulla potendo essere  fuori di Dio, la contradizione si scioglie solo am-  mettendo, che le cose abbiano la loro base in ciò  che in Dio non è Egli stesso ', ovvero in ciò che  è base della sua esistenza.   Se vogliamo accostare maggiormente quest’ es-  sere all’ intelletto umano, possiamo dire : che egli  sia il desiderio, che sente l’Eterno Uno, di generare    1 È questo l’unico vero dualismo, cioè quello che nello  stesso tempo concede un’unità. Più su era in questione il  dualismo modificato, secondo cui il principio malvagio è, non  coordinato, ma subordinato al buono. C’e appena datemere  che qualcuno confonda il rapporto stabilito qui con quel  dualismo, in cui il subordinato è sempre un principio es-  senzialmente cattivo, e appunto perciò rimane totalmente  incomprensibile nella sua origine da Dio.  se stesso. Non è l’Uno stesso, ma pure è coeterno  con lui. Vuol generare Dio, cioè l’impenetrabile  unità, ma in questo senso non è in se stess’o an  cora V unità. È dunque, considerato per sè, anche  volere; ma volere in cui non c’è intelligenza, e però  anche, non autonomo e perfetto volere, perchè l’in-  telletto propriamente è il volere nel volere. Tuttavia  esso è un volere che si dirige all’ intelletto, cioè  desiderio e brama di esso; non un conscio, ma  un presago volere, il cui presagio è l’intelletto.  Noi parliamo dell’essenza del desiderio in sè e  per sè considerata, che dev’essere ben tenuta  d’occhio quantunque sia stata da gran tempo sop-  piantata dal principio superiore, che si è elevato  da essa, e quantunque non possiamo afferrarla  sensibilmente, ma solo con lo spirito e col pen-  siero. Secondo l’eterno atto dell' auto- rivelazione,  tutto invero nel mondo, come lo scorgiamo adesso,  è regola, ordine e forma; ma nel fondo c’è pur  sempre l’irregolare, come se una volta dovesse  ricomparire alla luce, e non sembra mai che l’ or-  dine e la forma siano l’originario, ma che qual-  cosa di originariamente irregolare sia stata solle-  vata ad ordine. Questo è nelle cose l’inafferrabile  base della realtà, il residuo non mai appariscente,  ciò, che, per quanti sforzi si facciano, non si può  risolvere in elemento intellettuale, ma resta nel  fondo eternamente. Da questo Irrazionale è,- nel  senso proprio, nato l’ intelletto. Senza il precedere  di questa oscurità, non v’è alcuna realtà della  creatura; la tenebra è il suo retaggio necessario.  Dio solo — egli medesimo l’Esistente — abita  nella pura luce, poiché egli solo è da se stesso.  La presunzione dell’ uomo si ribella assolutamente  a quest’origine, e anzi va in cerca di principi!  morali. Tuttavia non sapremmo che cos'altro po-  tesse maggiormente spinger l’ uomo a tendere con  tutte le sue forze verso la luce, che la coscienza  della profonda notte, da cui egli è stato tratto al-  l’esistenza. I lamenti feminei, che in tal modo si  ponga F inintelligente come radice dell’intelletto, la  notte come principio della luce, si fondano in  parte su di un’equivoca interpretazione della cosa  (in quanto non si capisce, come con questa ve-  duta la priorità dell’intelletto e dell’essenza secon-  do il concetto possa tuttavia sussistere); ma essi  esprimono il vero sistema degli odierni filosofi,  che volentieri produrrebbero fumum ex fulgore, al  che non basta la potentissima precipitazione fich-  tiana. Ogni nascita è nascita dall’ oscurità alla  luce; il seme dev’essere profondato nella terra e  morire nelle tenebre, affinchè la bella e luminosa  forma vegetale si aderga e si spieghi ai raggi del  sole. L’uomo vien formato nel corpo della madre;  e dal buio dell’irrazionale (dal sentimento, dalla  brama , 1 splendida madre della conoscenza) germo-  gliano i luminosi pensieri. Noi pertanto dobbia-  mo rappresentarci la brama originaria, come diri-  gentesi verso l’intelletto, che essa non ancora  conosce, così come noi nell’aspirazione aneliamo  ad un bene ignoto e senza nome, e agitantesi pre-  saga, come un mare che ondeggia e ribolle, simile  alla materia di Platone, secondo una legge oscura  ed incerta, senza la capacità di formare qualcosa  che duri. Ma, rispondendo alla brama, che, quale  fondamento ancora oscuro, è il primo segno di  vita dell’essere divino, si genera in Dio stesso  un’ intima riflessiva rappresentazione, mercè la  quale, poiché non può avere altro oggetto che  Dio, Dio contempla in una immagine se stesso.  Tale rappresentazione è la prima forma in cui si  realizza Dio, assolutamente considerato, benché  solo in lui stesso ; è in Dio inizialmente, ed è Dio    1 Nel testo: « Sehnsucht ». stesso generato in Dio. Tale rappresentazione è  ad un tempo l’ intelletto — il verbo di quell’ aspi-,  razione,* e l’eterno spirito, che sente in ih il  verbo e insieme l’infinita aspirazione, mosso dal-  l’amore, che è egli medesimo, esprime il verbo,  che oramai, accoppiandosi l’intelletto all’aspira-  zione, diviene volontà liberamente creativa e onni-  potente, e nella natura, dapprincipio sregolata, pro-  duce come in un suo elemento o strumento. 11  primo effetto dell’ intelligenza in essa è la separa-  zione delle forze, potendo egli solo così dispie-  gare l’unità che vi è contenuta inconsciamente,  quasi in un seme, eppur necessariamente, a quel  modo stesso che nell’ uomo la luce s’ insinua nel-  l’oscuro desiderio di cercare qualcosa, per il fatto,  che nel caotico tumulto dei pensieri, che tutti  s’intrecciano, ma ognuno impedisce all’altro di sor-  gere, i pensieri si scindono e sorge l’unità, che è  nascosta nel fondo e che tutti li comprende sotto di  sè; o come nella pianta, solo nel rapporto del di-  spiegarsi e propagarsi delle forze, si scioglie l’o-  scuro vincolo della gravità e viene a svilupparsi  l’unità nascosta nella materia distinta. Poiché in-  vero quest’essere (della natura primordiale) non  è altro che l’eterno fondamento dell’esistenza di  Dio, perciò deve contenere in se stesso, benché  chiara, l’essenza di Dio, quasi un lume di vita  risplendente nell’oscurità. II desiderio poi, eccitato  dall’ intelligenza, tende ormai a conservare quel  lume di vita che ha accolto in sè, e a rinchiudersi  in se stesso, per rimanere pur sempre come fon-  damento. Quando perciò l’intelletto, o il lume  posto nella natura primordiale, spinge alla sepa-  razione delle forze (all’abbandono dell’oscurità) il  desiderio che si ritira in se stesso, facendo sor-    1 Nel senso in cui si dice: la parola dell’enigma.    gere, appunto in questa separazione, l’unità in-  clusa nel distinto, il nascosto lume di vita, nasce  in tal modo per la prima volta alcunché di com-  prensibile o di singolo, e in verità, non per via  di rappresentazione esterna, bensì di vera imma-  ginazione , ' poiché quel che sorge nella natura è  figurato di dentro; o, più esattamente ancora, per  via di un risveglio, in quanto che l’intelletto fa  sorgere l’unità o l’idea occultata nel fondamen-  tale distinto . 1 2 Le forze separate (ma non comple-  tamente staccate) in tale distinzione son la materia,  onde poi è configurato il corpo; invece il legame  vivente che nasce nella distinzione, e però dall’imo  fondo naturale, come centro delle forze, è l’ani-  ma. Siccome l’intelletto originario trae l’anima,  come elemento interiore, da un fondo indipen-  den e da esso, rimane perciò anch’essa indipen-  dente, come un’essenza speciale e sussistente di  per sé.   È facile vedere, che nella resistenza del desi-  derio, necessaria alla perfetta nascita, il legame  strettissimo delle forze si scioglie in uno svolgi-  mento che avviene per gradi e, ad ogni grado  della separazione delle forze, sorge dalla natura un  nuovo essere, la cui anima sarà tanto più perfet-  ta, quanto più contiene distinto ciò, che negli  altri è ancora indistinto. Mostrare come ogni suc-  cessivo processo venga ad avvicinarsi sempre  più all’essenza della natura, finché nella massima  separazione delle forze si schiude il più intimo  centro, è ufficio di una perfetta filosofia della  natura. Per lo scopo presente è essenziale quanto  segue. Ognuno degli esseri, sorti nella natura    1 Nel testo ; Ein-Bildilng, onde un gioco di parole intra-  ducibile nella nostra lingua. Alla lettera; « nel fondamento distinto »; in dcm geschie-  denen Grande. (N. d. T).  secondo la maniera indicata, ha in sè un doppio  principio, che è uno e identico in fondo, ma si-  può considerare sotto due aspetti. Il primo prin-  cipio è quello, per cui essi son distinti da Dio,  o per cui sono nel solo fondamento; ma, siccome  tra ciò, che è esemplato nel fondamento, e ciò,  che è esemplato nell’intelletto, ha pur luogo una  originaria unità, e il processo della creazione tende  solo a trasmutare internamente o a rischiarare  nella luce il principio originariamente oscuro  (perchè l’intelletto, o la luce introdotta nella na-  tura, cerca in fondo propriamente la luce affine,  rivolta a loro): così il principio tenebroso per sua  natura è appunto quello, che è insieme rischia-  rato nella luce, ed entrambi, sebbene in determi-  nato grado, son uno in ogni essere naturale. Il  principio, in quanto nasce dal fondo ed è oscuro,  è il volere individuale della creatura, il quale però,  in quanto non è ancora assurto (non comprende)  a perfetta unità con la luce (come principio del-  l’intelletto), è mera passione o brama, ossia vo-  lere cieco. A questo volere individuale della crea-  tura si contrappone l’intelletto come volere univer-  sale, che si serve del primo, subordinandolo a  sè come semplice strumento. Se infine, proce-  dendo la trasformazione e separazione di tutte le  forze, è messo in piena luce il punto più interno  e profondo della primordiale oscurità in un es-  sere, allora il volere di quest’essere è bensì, in  quanto esso è un individuo, egualmente un vo-  lere particolare, ma in sè, o come centro di tutti  gli altri voleri particolari, è uno col volere origi-  nario o coll’intelletto, cosicché di entrambi si fa  ora un unico insieme. Quest’elevazione del più  profondo centro alla luce non accade in nes-  suna delle creature a noi visibili fuorché nel-  l’uomo. Nell’uomo è tutta la potenza del principio  tenebroso e ad un tempo tutta la potenza della luce. In lui è il più profondo abisso e il più alto  cielo, o entrambi i centri. Il volere dell’uomo è  il germe occultato nell’ eterna brama di un Dio  esistente ancora nel fondamento; il divino lume  di vita chiuso nel profondo e che Dio vide, quando  concepì il volere di crear la natura. In lui soltanto  (nell’ uomo) Dio ha amato il mondo; e la brama  accolse nel suo centro appunto quest’immagine  di Dio, quando entrò in conflitto con la luce.  L’uomo per ciò, che egli scaturisce dall’ imo fondo  (è una creatura), ha in sè un principio indipen-  dente per rapporto a Dio; ma per ciò, che sif-  fatto principio — senza cessare tuttavia di essere  tenebroso nel suo fondo — è chiarificato nella  luce, si schiude insieme in lui qualcosa di più  alto, lo spirito. Infatti l’eterno spirito esprime  l’unità o il verbo nella natura. 11 verbo espresso  (reale) poi è solo nell’unità di luce e tenebre  (vocale e consonante). Ora in tutte le cose vi  sono bensì i due principii, ma senza piena conso-  nanza, a causa della manchevolezza di ciò che è  elevato dal fondo. Solo nell’uomo dunque è piena-  mente espresso il verbo, che in tutte le altre cose  è ancora arrestato e incompiuto. Ma nel verbo  espresso viene a rivelarsi lo spirito, cioè Dio, esi-  stente come actu. Essendo poi l’ anima identità  vivente dei due principii, essa è spirito; e lo spi-  rito è in Dio. Ora, se nello spirito dell’ uomo  l’identità dei due principii fosse altrettanto indis-  solubile che in Dio, non vi sarebbe alcuna diffe-  renza, cioè Dio, come spirito, non si rivelerebbe.  Quella medesima unità, che in Dio è inseparabile,  deve essere adunque separabile nell’ uomo, — ed  ecco la possibilità del bene e del male.  libertà Capacità del soggetto di agire (o di non agire) senza costrizioni o impedimenti esterni, e di autodeterminarsi scegliendo autonomamente i fini e i mezzi atti a conseguirli. La l. può essere definita in riferimento a tre elementi: il soggetto o i soggetti di l. (chi è libero), i campi entro cui essi sono liberi (definiti dai vincoli), gli scopi o i beni socialmente riconosciuti che si è liberi di perseguire (che cosa si è liberi di fare). Come vi sono vari tipi di agenti che possono essere liberi (persone, associazioni, Stati), così vi sono molti tipi di condizioni che li vincolano e innumerevoli generi di cose che essi sono liberi o non liberi di fare. In questo senso esistono molte l. diverse (morale, giuridica, politica, religiosa, economica, ecc.). Di conseguenza, quando cerchiamo di definire stati di l., abbiamo a che fare con questioni relative all’identificazione di chi, sotto quale descrizione pertinente per il riconoscimento collettivo, è libero di fare che cosa, rispetto a quali vincoli, entro quale campo di azione e significato sociale. La riflessione sul tema della l. accompagna tutta lo storia del pensiero filosofico, dall’antichità all’epoca contemporanea, con accenti e approcci diversi.   Il tema della libertà nella filosofia antica. Nel pensiero di Socrate hanno un grande rilievo i due motivi, strettamente connessi tra loro, della involontarietà del male e dell’attraenza del bene. Socrate è convinto che nessuno fa il male volontariamente, cioè per il gusto di fare il male, e che ognuno agisce sempre in vista di quello che egli crede sia il bene e il meglio per lui. Se per questo verso Socrate resta all’interno del cosiddetto soggettivismo dei sofisti, nel senso che anche per lui non è mai possibile uscire dall’ambito delle valutazioni, dei gusti e delle preferenze individuali, tuttavia questi vengono continuamente giudicati, criticati e discussi attraverso il διαλέγεσϑαι («il disputare») e ciò permette di ritrovare criteri comuni e validi universalmente. Fare il male, per Socrate, vuol dire seguire un bene apparente invece del bene reale; infatti, se uno conoscesse il bene, lo farebbe anche, perché il bene è tale che, una volta conosciuto, attrae irresistibilmente la volontà dell’uomo e si presenta senz’altro come ciò che è preferibile. Di qui l’equazione socratica di scienza e virtù, strettamente connessa all’eudemonismo che caratterizza tutta l’etica socratica. Di qui, implicitamente, una concezione della l. come meta raggiungibile attraverso la scienza. Questa concezione ritorna anche in Platone, sia pure all’interno di una prospettiva escatologica: si pensi al mito di Er (Repubblica,X), il guerriero che ha passato dodici giorni nell’Ade e che può ricordare ciò che ha visto. L’anima, che è immortale, deve reincarnarsi ciclicamente per espiare i peccati che ha commesso, e poiché essa ricorda le sue vite precedenti, può scegliere fra vari «modelli di vita». Ciascuna anima è responsabile della propria scelta, «la divinità non vi ha minimamente parte», e ognuna avrà, per guidarla nella sua vita, il demone che si sarà scelto. Una volta avvenuta la decisione, non ci sarà più possibilità di sottrarvisi. Ma solo chi ha ascoltato la filosofia sa riflettere con discernimento: se la scelta, dunque, è libera, di questa l. è possibile fruire nel migliore dei modi solo attraverso la filosofia. Anche in Aristotele troviamo il consueto rapporto greco tra l. e conoscenza. Secondo l’analisi svolta nell’Etica nicomachea (III, 1), involontarie sono quelle operazioni «che avvengono per costrizione» o «per ignoranza»; la costrizione ha luogo ogni volta che «il principio dell’azione sia esteriore, di modo che l’agente, o paziente, non vi contribuisca per nulla». Quanto alle azioni commesse per ignoranza, l’involontarietà deriva dal fatto che «ogni malvagio ignora ciò che si deve fare e ciò da cui ci si deve astenere». Pare dunque, conclude Aristotele, che «sia volontario ciò il cui principio si trova nell’agente che conosce tutte le circostanze particolari dell’azione». In questo modo Aristotele congiunge strettamente la l. del volere alla scelta volontaria. Un’ampia analisi dei problemi connessi con la libertà ci dà Plotino nelle Enneadi (VI, 8). Egli si chiede «se sia qualche cosa rimessa alla nostra libertà», e poiché moltissime sono le passioni che ci trascinano, «noi ci domandiamo perplessi», dice Plotino, «se non siamo, per avventura, altro che nulla, e nulla sia rimesso alla nostra libertà». Plotino riconduce la l. del volere non a un impulso sensibile, bensì «al retto ragionamento e alla giusta tendenza»; è necessar io, insomma, che «la ragione e la conoscenza si rivolgano proprio contro l’impulso e lo vincano». Perciò esse devono rifarsi a un principio non-sensibile, a una non-sensibile tendenza al bene. Coloro che sono guidati da impulsi sensibili, non potremo considerarli, sostiene quindi Plotino, «compresi sotto un principio di l., perché anche agli incapaci, che agiscono per lo più in quel modo, non riconosceremo mai l. del volere: a chi, invece, per la virtù operosa del suo intelletto, è immune dalla passionalità del corpo, attribuiremo veramente la libera indipendenza». Cristianesimo e Riforma. Sul concetto di l. influisce in modo profondo l’avvento del cristianesimo. Hegel osservava a questo proposito (Enciclopedia delle scienze filosofiche in compendio, 482) che intere parti del mondo, l’Africa e l’Oriente, non avevano mai avuto questa nuova idea della l.; i Greci e i Romani, Platone e Aristotele, e anche gli stoici sapevano solo che l’uomo è realmente libero in virtù della nascita (come cittadino spartano, ateniese, ecc.) o in virtù della forza del carattere e della cultura, in virtù della filosofia (lo schiavo, anche come schiavo e in catene, è libero). Ma una nuova idea di l. si afferma per opera del cristianesimo; per il quale l’individuo come tale ha valore infinito, ed essendo oggetto e scopo dell’amore di Dio, è destinato ad avere relazione assoluta con Dio come spirito, e a far sì che questo spirito dimori in lui: cioè l’uomo in sé è destinato alla somma libertà. Se il concetto di l. del volere diventa centrale per il cristianesimo, perché senza la l. dell’uomo non sarebbe concepibile il peccato, e dunque non avrebbe senso alcuno la redenzione, tuttavia il concetto di l. deve congiungersi strettamente a quello di grazia divina, a un qualcosa cioè di esterno e indipendente. Agostino sente la necessità di affermare la responsabilità umana e insieme un prestabilito disegno divino. A Pelagio, che asseriva che il volere umano, dopo il peccato, può anche volgersi al bene, Agostino risponde che certamente «può»; ma la maniera in cui riesce concretamente a volere quel bene che «può» volere è che le reali forze di volerlo gli siano date da quello stesso vivente Bene a cui volse le spalle. E a Giuliano d’Eclano Agostino risponde che la predeterminazione divina non annulla ma include il libero arbitrio umano e le sue scelte, e che, se Dio concede il suo aiuto a chi vuole, ciò non toglie che con un volere libero, sebbene ridestato dall’aiuto divino, l’uomo riesca a volere il bene, sicché un reale merito, per quanto reso possibile solo dalla grazia, è premiato con la salvezza. Tommaso, a sua volta, sostiene che il poter fare il male proviene sì dalla l., ma da un suo difetto, non da una sua perfezione: «che il libero arbitrio possa scegliere oggetti diversi rispettando l’ordine delle finalità, appartiene alla perfezione della l.: ma che scelga alcunché travolgendo tale ordine – ciò che è peccare – questo appartiene a un difetto di libertà» (Summa theologiae). Dopo il Medioevo, nel quale la soluzione agostiniana è accolta da taluni con più intensa accentuazione dell’onnipotenza della grazia nel volere umano, da altri con maggiore preoccupazione di mostrare che il libero arbitrio non è tolto neppure dall’onnipotenza della grazia, il Cinquecento è il secolo nel quale la questione è ridiscussa interamente. Da un’interpretazione di Agostino sorgono le dottrine di Calvino e di Lutero, entrambe negatrici di ogni libero arbitrio umano, entrambe affermatrici di una l. nel bene che coincide con la più rigorosa necessitazione del volere umano da parte della grazia. Per i rifor- matori la l. cristiana è una realtà ‘spirituale’: essi avversano con decisione la sua interpretazione distorta in termini politici. Se Lutero, tornando a un’interpretazione di Paolo, si impegna a fondo nella critica della l. cristiana come libertas ecclesiae, che nient’altro diviene se non l’insieme dei privilegi, delle immunità e delle rivendicazioni dell’istituzione ecclesiastica, Calvino sottrae al regimen politicum o all’ordinamento civile il concetto della l. cristiana, che viene invece ascritto all’ambito autonomo della teologia. La tesi della l. della coscienza vincolata soltanto alla parola di Dio, in quanto tale non sottoposta ad alcuna autorità ecclesiastica o secolare, e l’aperta protesta contro una simile coartazione della coscienza, il rigetto delle pretese mondane di potere della Chiesa e della sua sovraordinazione all’ambito statuale-secolare prepareranno la strada alla concezione moderna della l. e al dibattito sul suo significato politico-giuridico.   Il dibattito su libertà e necessità. Nel Seicento, Spinoza ripristina il concetto stoico dell’universale necessità e il concetto parimenti stoico di una l. che non presuppone, anzi nega il libero arbitrio, ed è fatta consistere nel riconoscimento e nell’accettazione della necessità universale stessa. Nel secolo seguente abbiamo la concezione di Kant, con la sua distinzione tra leggi della necessità, che regolano i fenomeni dell’Universo naturale, e le leggi morali o leggi della libertà. Per «l. morale» si deve intendere, secondo Kant, la facoltà di adeguarsi alle leggi che la nostra ragione dà a noi stessi. Noi possiamo dunque scegliere tra il seguire la causalità empirica, che rende il nostro volere eteronomo, e l’obbedire alla legge morale che, esprimendo l’essenza più profonda del nostro Io, rende il nostro volere autonomo e, così, libero. E come l’essenza profonda del nostro essere è la l., così all’origine dell’intero Universo che alla scienza si presenta determinato, è il libero volere di un Essere intelligente, che ordina teleologicamente ciò che alla conoscenza scientifica appare invece meccanicamente causato. La l. come autonomia morale dell’uomo e sua intima dignità è il grande concetto che Fichte svolge, riprendendolo da Kant. Al concetto, elaborato da alcuni scolastici, di «l. o arbitrio d’indifferenza» (facoltà di volere, immotivatamente o indifferentemente, l’una o l’altra di due cose contrarie o anche nessuna delle due), che, non sapendo o non potendo risolvere la propria indifferenza, resta in fondo un’inerte possibilità d’azione, Hegel oppone un concetto più concreto della l., quello della l. come autodeterminazione e intima spirituale necessità. Al determinismo positivistico reagiscono tutte le filosofie del «ritorno a Kant», intese a salvare la l. della condotta morale. E, nel quadro del ritorno all’idealismo classico dei primi decenni dell’Ottocento, i movimenti neohegeliani insistono sulla hegeliana coincidenza di l. e necessità, rinnovando la polemica contro il mero arbitrio o l. d’indifferenza. Il rifiuto della concezione hegeliana della l. come processo speculativo della ragione universale distingue invece il pensiero di Marx, che identifica la l. con un processo di liberazione economica, politica e sociale volto ad affrancare l’uomo dal bisogno e dalla lotta di classe e a creare le condizioni per una concreta autorealizzazione materiale e spirituale. Per tutt’altra via passa l’opposizione all’hegelismo intrapresa dal contingentismo, per il quale nella l. è da vedere anzitutto indeterminazione; e spontaneità, piuttosto che autodeterminazione, cioè autonomia, è la l. per la filosofia dello «slancio vitale» (Bergson). Nell’esistenzialismo la l. viene a coincidere con la stessa necessità della situazione, di fronte alla quale l’uomo non ha altra scelta che accettarla consapevolmente o piombare nella «esistenza inautentica», come in Heidegger. In L’essere e il nulla Sartre sostiene che l’uomo è «essenzialmente» libero di scegliere, in quanto sua caratteristica è la «mancanza», il «nulla» di essere, ed è perciò continuamente teso alla scelta di possibilità esistenziali. L’equivalenza, di qui derivante, di tutte le scelte viene tuttavia eliminata nelle opere successive.   Il dibattito contemporaneo. Il significato politico-giuridico del concetto di l. è al centro del dibattito contemporaneo. Particolarmente influente è stata a questo riguardo la distinzione espressa da Berlin fra l. negativa e l. positiva, fra l. da e l. di: la prima concerne l’area entro la quale una persona è o dovrebbe essere lasciata fare o essere ciò che è in grado di fare o essere senza interferenze da parte di altre persone. La seconda riguarda l’area in cui si situa la fonte del controllo e dell’interferenza che può determinare che qualcuno faccia o sia una cosa piuttosto che un’altra. La l. negativa corrisponde alla l. dei ‘moderni’ di Constant, che ne definisce appunto il senso e il valore nella celebre contrapposizione con la l. degli ‘antichi’; essa è l’indipendenza individuale difesa da J.S. Mill: il soggetto della l. negativa è l’individuo, e l’arena della l. negativa è circoscritta da un confine che, per quanto mobile e variamente tracciato, separa la sfera ‘privata’ dalla sfera ‘pubblica’, la sfera individuale da quella collettiva. L’assenza di vincoli o interferenze va quindi interpretata principalmente come assenza di vincoli o interferenze da parte dei detentori di autorità legittima, che è tale se e solo se non viola o viola il meno possibile l’autonomia individuale. Contro la distinzione analitica dei due concetti di l. si è espresso Rawls nella sua teoria della giustizia come equità. La l. o, meglio, il sistema delle l. è oggetto del primo principio di giustizia. Esso prescrive che il sistema delle l. sia per ciascuno il più ampio possibile, compatibilmente con il sistema delle l. di ciascun altro. Nella prospettiva di Rawls, la massimizzazione del sistema delle l. individuali è prioritaria rispetto a quanto prescritto dal secondo principio di giustizia, il cosiddetto principio di differenza, che deve modellare le istituzioni responsabili della distribuzione di una classe particolare di risorse, considerate come beni sociali primari spettanti a tutti i cittadini. Accettare la priorità dell’eguale sistema delle l. implica accettare un principio di equità nella distribuzione dei beni sociali primari, in quanto un eguale sistema di l. non ha, di regola, eguale valore per individui diversamente dotati. Proponendo un ordinamento fra l. ed equità, espresso dalla priorità del principio di l. sul principio di differenza, Rawls ha di mira la soluzione di un conflitto fra la l. e un altro valore sociale quale l’uguaglianza. A questa prospettiva, e ai suoi importanti sviluppi ad opera di Sen e di Dworkin, si contrappone radicalmente la tesi sui diritti negativi propria della teoria libertaria. In partic., Nozick ha confutato la pretesa di teorie della giustizia distributiva di proporre criteri o modelli di distribuzione giusta. Se ci si basa sull’assegnazione di valore intrinseco alla l. individuale, qualsiasi precetto distributivo è inaccettabile perché non può che violare la l. individuale stessa. Nella più recente controversia nell’ambito della teoria normativa, il conflitto distributivo ha finito per lasciare spazio ad altro tipo di conflitto, il conflitto di identità o conflitto per il riconoscimento. E questioni relative all’assegnazione di valore alle l. si sono così connesse a questioni di riconoscimento di nuove identità o di identità prima escluse, a questioni di inclusione in o esclusione da comunità di ‘pari’ dai differenti confini.Elzeviro Catalfamo. Il personalismo di Catalfamo. Giuseppe Catalfamo. Keywords: metafisica della libertà, il concetto di persona, la transubstanziazione dell’umano nella persona, identita personale, il concetto di persona, pronome personale, la prima persona duale --, il ‘noi’ -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Catalfamo” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Catena: l’implicatura conversazionale della logica matematica -- logica arimmetica – la base arimmetica della metafisica – filosofia veneziana -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Venezia). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Catena – of course he thought he was being an Aristotelian – and the confusing title he gave to his philosophising – Universa loca Aristotelis’ would have you think that – but he is a thorough Platonist – consider ‘pulcher’ as applied to Alicibiades – but ‘pulcher’ gives ‘pulchrum,’ an universal --!” Precursore della rivoluzione scientifica rinascimentale, indaga i rapporti tra matematica, logica e filosofia, occupando la stessa cattedra in seguito occupata da Galilei. Filosofo, eccellente conoscitore del latino. Lettore pubblico di metafisica a Padova. Gli succedettero Moleti, poi Galilei.  Pubblica a Venezia “Universa loca in logica Aristotelis in mathematicas disciplinas” -- la raccolta dei brani delle opere aristoteliche che riconoscevano il prevalente carattere speculativo del sapere matematico, tema a cui dedicò anche un'altra opera. Altre opere: “Super loca mathematica contenta in Topicis et Elenchis Aristotelis”; “Astrolabii quo primi mobilis motus deprehenduntur canones” (Padova, Fabri); “Oratio pro idea methodi” (Padova, Percacino). Agostino Superbi, Trionfo glorioso d'heroi illustri, et eminenti dell'inclita e marauigliosa città di Venetia, per E. Deuchino. Domus Galilæ Biografia universale antica e moderna; ossia, storia per alfabeto della vita pubblica e privata di tutte le persone che si distinsero per opere, azioni, talenti, virtù e delitti; Catalogo breve de gl'illustri et famosi scrittori venetiani (Rossi); Le filosofie del Rinascimento, B. Mondadori); Alle radici della rivoluzione scientifica rinascimentale: sui rapporti tra matematica e logica. Con riproduzione dei testi originali, Domus Galilæana. On this subject, Catena writes two works, in one of which, Universa Loca in Logica Aristotelis in Mathematicas Disciplinas (Venezia), he tries to supply the lost mathematical basis for Aristotle's theory of demonstration as explained in the Posteriora Analytica. Dizionario biografico degli italiani.  Della sua vita si conoscono pochissimi elementi: nacque a Venezia nel 1501; lettore di matematiche presso l'università di Padova (la stessa cattedra che occupò più tardi Galileo Galilei). Morì di peste a Padova. L'importanza storica del C. consiste nel fatto che egli fu uno dei primi, nel sec. XVI, a porsi il problema della valutazione formale ed epistemologica della matematica euclidea, naturalmente dal punto di vista della logica e della filosofia aristoteliche, inserendosi in tal modo autorevolmente nella quaestio de certitudine mathematicarum che a metà del Cinquecento impegnò noti autori dell'università padovana, come Francesco Barozzi ed Alessandro Piccolomini, nell'ambito del più vasto dibattito europeo sulla methodus delle scienze.  ADVERTISING A questo riguardo assumono particolare importanza tre sue opere: Universa loca in Logicam Aristotelis in mathematicas disciplinas (Venetiis); Super loca mathematica contenta in Topicis et Elenchis Aristotelis; Oratio pro idea methodi (Patavii). Nelle prime due il C. svolse un'analisi formale della matematica euclidea attraverso la quale concluse per una sua differenza strutturale, e quindi per una sua autonomia logica ed epistemologica, nei confronti della logica sillogistica aristotelica, basandosi principalmente sulla constatazione che le dimostrazioni matematiche non appartengono al genere tradizionale delle cosiddette demonstrationes potissimae, e giungendo ad affermare decisamente che la scienza matematica si differenzia nettamente da qualsiasi scienza di tipo aristotelico. La differenza metodologica che distingueva la matematica euclidea dalle restanti scienze in uso nel Cinquecento venne posta in rilievo dal C. nella terza opera, ove affermò chiaramente il legittimo costituirsi della matematica come metodo scientifico autonomo, intervenendo così costruttivamente nel dibattito sulla methodus, che ancora si trascinava in quegli anni, e contribuendo soprattutto alla creazione di un clima culturale favorevole alla rivoluzione scientifica galileiana con l'ampliare notevolmente la prospettiva gnoseologica tradizionale.  Oltre alle citate, il C. scrisse diverse altre opere: Astrolabii quo primi mobilis motus deprehenduntur canones (Patavii), che costituisce una correzione ed un aggiornamento di un'altra opera anonima, che fu pubblicata a Venezia, e che tratta dell'uso pratico del noto strumento astronomico; Sphaera (Patavii), un trattato di astronomia, redatto probabilmente ad uso degli studenti, in cui viene esposto il sistemato tolemaico, e che, pur basandosi naturalmente su trattati analoghi, allora notoriamente numerosi, rappresenta l'opera astronomica più compiuta del C.; Procli Diadochi Sphaera (Patavii), traduzione del noto trattato del matematico e filosofo neoplatonico; De primo mobili librum singularem; Ephemerides annorum XII; De calculo astronomico libros II; queste tre ultime sono citate dal Papadopoli e dal Poggendorff senz'altra indicazione e non se ne è rintracciato alcun esemplare.  Nel corso della sua attività accademica, il C. trattò successivamente del primo e del settimo libro degli Elementi di Euclide, della Sphaera del Sacrobosco. della teoria dell'astrolabio, della geografia di Tolomeo, dell'astronomia del sistema tolemaico, e, probabilmente delle "meccaniche" di Aristotele, come viene affermato da Baldi, che fu suo allievo, e da lui stesso in una sua opera (Universa loca); Papadopoli, Historia Gymnasii Patavini, Venetiis; Cinelli Calvoli, Biblioteca volante..., Venezia; Riccardi, Biblioteca matematica ital. dalla origine della stampa, Modena; Favaro, I lettori di matematiche nell'univers. di Padova…, in Istituto per la storia dell'Università di Padova, Memorie e docum. per la storia della Università di Padova, Padova, Giacobbe, La riflessione metamatematica di P. C., in Physis; Id., La riflessione epistemologica rinascimentale: le opere di P. C. sui rapporti tra matematica e logica, con riproduzione dei testi originali, Pisa; Ch. G. Jocher, Allgemeines Gelehrten-Lexicon, ad Indicem; Nouvelle Biogr. Universelle, ad Indicem;Biogr. Universelle; British Museum, General Catalogue of Printed Books; Poggendorff, Biogr.-Lit. Handw. z. Gesch. d. ex. Wissensch., ARTIVM ET THEOLOGIAE DOCTOR, PROFESSOR PVBLI. CVS ARTI VM LIBERALIVM IN GYMNASIO PATAVINO, SVPER LOCA MATHEMATICA contenta in Topicis et Elenchis Aristotelis nunc et non antea, in lucem ædita. ka CVM PRIVILEGIO, LOLOTILLON 0 V ENETIIS Apud Cominum de Tridinum Montisferrati. C. DOMINICO MONTE. SORO DOCTORI MEDL song CO EXCELLENTISSIMO OPICORVM libri din Elenchorum Aristotelis quædamloca obscuriuſću la contincbant qnæ apud Gręcos philofophos erant in primis clara, & per ea co tera loca maiori difficulta ti inherentia declaraban tur, ob id autem illis con tingit, quod veritatis amatores & philoſophiæ principes videri apud exteras nationes cupiebant, quod & re ipfa tales exiſtimarentur, niſi furto å Caldeis, egiptijs, & alijs abſtuliſſent, id autem, alįe na ſua feciſſe, vitio non omni ex parte abeſt, La tini vero quidam auaritiæ fine præſtituto(latinos hoc loco voco cos qui litteris illisRomanis, vel voce, vel etiam fcriptis ſuos conceptus explicant) philoſophiæ extremis partibus ita incumbunt A vt ſemper lutuoli,verlantesin excrementa naturæ appareant, quod quidem laude dignum effet,fi vt præclară prolem, quemadmodú boni viri faciunt aliqui egros inuiſerent, quo igiturme uerterem in inuio, non erat conſilium,ničí Reuerendus domi nus Laurentius Venetus ex nobis familia foſca. rena Canonicus Veronenſis, virum Dominicum Monteſorum Gręca ambitione & auaritia immu nem oftenderet, cui hæc noſtra loca immo Ari ſtotelis declarata dedico, quæ fi Aristotelis fco pum attigerint, vt exiſtimo & tibi fore grata co gnouero ad reliqua philoſophiæ Ariſtotelis loca declarandanon piger animus noſter erit, quod fi minus,cenſoriam amicorum virgam nonfugiet hæc noftra expoſitio,interimmegratum habeas. Vale. IN PRIMO CAPITE PRIMI LIBRI TOPIC ORVV M. I DETV Ř autem hic modus differre à dictis ſyle logiſmis nequeenim ex veris, &primis ratioci natur pſeudographus,neque ex probabilibus, nem in deffinitionem non cadit; neque enim quæ omni. bus videntur accipit, neque quæ plurimu i,neque qnæ fapientibus, & his neque omnibus neque plu. rimum, neque probatiſſimis; ſed ex proprijs quidem alicuiſcientie fumptis,non tamen veris ſyllogiſmumfacit,nam vel.eo quod femi circulos deſcribit non vt oportet, vel eo quòd lineas aliquas dicit non vt ducendæ ſunt paralogiſmum facit. VNC textum declarant Greci, & Latini vſque ad locum illum quo Ariſtoteles exemplo vtitur Geometrico,ad quem locum pręclari expoſitores cum per uenerint Tantis Tinebris vinctum loris, & funibus reliquerunt Ariſtotelem, vt ab Alexandri tempore(vo reor) vſque modo, omnes qui illas preclaras interpretationes legea rint, illius loci notitia priuati fint, quos prçclaros expoſitores pro prio ſuo citarem nomine, vt amatores Aristotelis eos cauerent vt infames ſcopulos acróceraunię, fed eos prçtereo vt in hacparte inu liles, line Geometria logiculos, legantfine liuore & vafricia expo fitores illius lociomnes, & has noftras declarationes non quidem criſpis naribus, ſubinde iudicent,fi intellexerint, quanti ingenö fuit, ficut in cæteris ipſe Aristoles, hæc citra in Alatas buccasdixiſſe ve lim, quiſquevt intelligat, fed vt litterarum aliquando illuſores re primantur pariterque eorum indocta audatia, fufcipiatur igitur recta linea, a bquę feccetur quomoçunque contingat in puncto c, & ſuper vtranearī a ccb, ſemicirculus,non vt primīī petitū docet, facto d centro vnius & e alterius deſcribatur perperā ſemicirculus a h c,alter chb, quiſeſe Tangantin puncto h ſuſcipiaturque centrū huius ſemicirculiah cipſum d, illius autem ch b ſit centrum e, a punctis igitur d; & e,ſemicirculorum centris ducantur duæ lineæ ad h contactum, & intelligatur Triangulus d he, quoniam autem 3 5 dur'lineædc & dhexeunta centro ad circunferentiam ipfæ per dif finitionem circuli funt æquales, pariter per eandem definitionem duæ lineæ ec & ehſunt æquales, duæ igiturdc & ce duabus d h & eheruntæquales, duæ autem ille dc, ceſuntvnum latus trian guli dhe,ergo vnum latus d e trianguli d heeft æquale duobus la ceribus eiuſdem triangulidh & e h,quod eſt impoſsibile contra vi gefimam primi elemērorum Euclidis,duo enim latera omnis trian guli quomodocunque ſumpta, ſunt maiora reliquo & non æqua lia, vtpſeudographo ſyllogiſmo machinabátur proteruus,hocau. cem vitium non ex coprouenerat qex falfis fyllogiſmus fic con fectus,quia ex veris, & immediatis, & exeodem ſcientię genere, vt ex definitione 17 primi elementorum ſyllogiſthus affectus eſt,ſed error atque peccatum proceſsit ex co ofemicirculos defcribit non vt oportet, quod notauit nobiliſsimus geometra Ariſtoteles, fic 1 a 6 etiamhi qui falfo fyllogizant,vnum fatus trigonimaius eſſe duo bus reliquis trigoni lateribus, no vt oportet femicirculos diſcriben tes, fic.n.linca a b & puncta in ea ſuſcipiantur cd & circa vtranq ac, &db, rectam ſemiciruli deſcribantur fe inuicem tangentes in puncto e alter a ec cuius centrum f,reliquus bed cuius centrum g, &a centro fprotrahatur recta fe fimiliter a punctog protraliatur gerecta, tunc triangulusfe g habebit latus f g maius duobus lateribusfe, & ge, quod fic perſuadetur,lineafc eft æqualis lineæf e cum vtraque exeat,a centro ad circunferentiam, fimiliter linca g deft æqualis geeadem ratione, fi igitur c d linea addatur lineis fc, & dg, equalibusfe & gcefficiunt linea fg latus trigoni fe gma jusduobus lateribus fe, & ge quod eſt impoſsibile per 20 primi clemcntorum,vel eo q lincas aliquas ducit non vi ducendæ funt d g paralogiſmum facit, ſi ducatur linea a centro fad centrum g, illa non tranfibit per contactum e,vtin hac fecunda figura apparet, ve linea abf,in g,non tranſit per punctum e vt oporteret, per xi tertij clementora Euclidis, fi duo circuli fe contingunt & acentro ynius ad centrum akerius recta ducatur linea illa de neceſsitate applicabi tur contractui, ex mala igiturdeſcriptione attulit Ariſtoteles exem plum de ſyllogiſmo falſigrapho, qui oſtenſiuo fyllogiſmo oppo. Situs eft. Similiter vero e ſi cubilali magnitudinepoſita dixe rit, quod ſuppofitum eft cubitalem magnitudinem ere, eo quid eft dicit, & quantum fignificat. RES duorum generum propinquorum continuiatas diſcre. ti vnius tamen generis remoti &analogi, quantitatis videlicet, in vnacubitali magnitudine continetur,obid, duodicit, qui magnicu dinem cubitalem,effe magnitudinem duorum cubitorum, &quid, quando dicit magnitudinem, et quantum, quando dicit,cubitorum duorum, hinc manifeftum eft in ynoquod prædicamento reperiri quid,vthoc Ariſtotelis exemplo patet demagnitudine,aliud eft no tandum, quomodo vnum accidens,vt duorum,quod ad Arithme ticam pertinet,accidere magnicudini,quod ad Geometriam attineta. QVAEDAM enim statim &nominibus alia ſunt,vtacu to in voce contrarium eſt graue, in magnitudine autem, acuto, obtufum contrarium est. Multiplicita - tem huius vocis # (acutumdemon Itrat Ariſtoteles, quia et angulum norar, & vocem, # US Angulus accutus rectominor & contrarius eft obruſo, &voxac cuta graui vociopponitur, et graui contrariatur accutum in voce, leue in ponderibusgraui oppugnāt. Sed dubitatur,cum quantitati nihil fit contrarium, quo pacto acuto angulo obtufus contrarius fit? Dico quod angulus noneft quantitasfed ex quantitate quan. titati adiuncta proueniens accidit quãtitati vt fit accata vel obtuſa pariterque pondus &lauitas funt quidem magnitudiniadiuncta, fed no eſ pondus,et leuitas, quatitas, ſi contraria fint leue et graue. cantus IPSIvero queà conſiderando eft, quòd diameter cofta incom menfurabile, nihil. DEincommenfurabilitate coſtæ cum diametro abunde faris in pofterioribus declaraui,quantum vero adhunc locumattinet, Art ſtoteles inquit, non effe quippiam oppofitum ipfi incommenſura bilitaci,vrpura commenfurabilitas, inter coftam atque diametrum quadrati nihil contrarij eft,dubitatur,cum in præcedenti textu, ſit de terminatum,& ea quęaddita eránt magnitudini, vt pondus & leui tas contrariarentur,hæc autem quæ magnitudini coſtę & diainetro, vtincommenſurabilitas, non contrarietur commenſurabilitati? Reſpondeo, prius dicta cótraria pondus et leue in naturalibus reppe riebantur,hæcautem incommenſurabilitas in abſtractis geometria cis; Præterea, nonfuit dictum omnia quæ in magnitudinibus re periuntur eſſe contraria,Pręterea & li opponanturcommenſurabi liincommenſurabile,non tamen contraria ſunt, vel etiam fi contra ria fint,non tamen ratione ſubſtractorum,quçſuntquantitates,co fta & diameter, contraria effe dicuntur, potus enim fitinon eft nifi quodammodo contrarius, delectatio autem, quæ ex potu prouenit opponitur contrarie triſtitiæ, quæ prouenit ex fiti, Præterea graue & leweſuntabſoluta quædam in diuerfis ſubiectis poſita ſeorfim, incommenſurabilitas autem relatio eft; quæ indiſcriminatim funda tur in coſta,ad diametrum & in diainetro ad coftam. CON SIMILITER autem et acutum,nam non eodem mo do in omnibus idem dicitur,nam vox acuta quidem velox,quemad modum quidem dicunt ſecundum numeros armonici. NOTA dignnm eft hocloco conſiderandum, a vox hoc lo co non accipienda eft pro humana voce tantum, ſed pro ſono, qui quidem fita cordulis inſtrumentorum, nam gratilior corda fitan gatur plures aeris percuſsiones facit quain crafsior cordula, fiea dem vi moueatur, modo inter percuſsiones multas aeris cordulæ gratilioris ad percuſsiones cordulæ craſsioris fi inultitudine repere ris duplam,diapaffon, fi fefqualteram, diapente, fi vero epitritam diateſaron, vt aiunt Armonici continentiam inuenies, quia tamen Ariſtoteles de generatione animalium libro quinto capite feptimo pucat concinentiam fieri ex alia caufa quam ex proportione illo, rum ſonorum numeratorum ad alios fonos numeratos,vt pytha. gorici volunt, ideodicit quemadmodum quidem, vt dicuntarmo nici, quia fententia Ariſtotelis alia atque diuerfa eft ab illis armoni cis, qui Pythagoræ affentiri videbantur. ET quòd pun&tusin linea do vnitas in numero, nam vtrun. que eft principium. PRÍNCIPIV M lineæ punctus, principium autem nu merivnitas eſt, ſed punctus non componitlineam alős punctis ap pofitus,vtin pofterioribus demonftraui,vnitas vero cuin alñs vni tatibus numeruin conftituunt atque componunt, principium tamé lineç atque finis,punctus eſt ex cuius fluxu linea fit vt Ariſtoteles in mechanicis & ego in diſcurſu geminico determinaui, non tamen linea ex punctis conſtat, VEL duplicis & dimidij. AN ſit ne eadein diſciplina duplicis atque dimidă conſiderare oportet, quod profecto allerere videtur ex capire de relatiuis, cum nemo ſciat duplum,niſi cuius ſit duplum ſciueric, quod diinidium eft, fi pro relatiuis vtrunque ſuſcipiatur. HOC autem non ſemper faciendum, fed quando non facile pojumus communem in omnibus vnam rationem dicere, quemad modum Geometra quòd triangulus duobus rectis æquos isabet tres angulos. NVLLI id in controuerſiam venit, an omnis triangulus ha beat tres angulos duobus rectis æquales, ſed illud dubium eft,an id quod rectilineumeft,habens angulos duobus rectis æqualis,trian gulus ſir, velquid horuin in plus fe habeat, & non fit vtrunque ſe cundum q ipſum, ſed vniuerſalius fit, habereangulos duobus reo Ctis æquales, atque comunius,an potius triangulum effe, ad quam dübitacionein, dico quod duobusrectis pates habere angulos, eſt quid communius, quam efſetrigonum, id autem inanifeſtum eſt de pentagono, cuius quodlibet latus, duo ex reliquis lateribus fec cat latera, id autem per primam partem 32, primiElementorum bis fumptam & per fecundam partem eiuſdem zz. ſemel ſum pram, vt in figura ſubſcripta deduci facile eft, & fi habere tres çqua les duobus rectis conuertatur cum trigono,non tamen habere om nes angulos equales duobus rectis,conuertitur cum effe trigonuir. Dico igitur, quod habere omnes angulos equales duobus rectis,co mune eſt ipſi trigono, & pentagono, cuiusvnum latus ſeccat duo ex reliquis latera, habet tamen penthagonus quinque equales tri bus, qui tres duobus rectis pares funt, & fic figuramihabentem B omnes angulos duobusrectis pares communius eft, quam fit trian gulus, non igitur eſt affectio trianguli neque angulorum triangu. li, fed quid communius trigono, vel tribus angulis trigoni, non eft igitur eius proprium,quod videturfoluere dubium fuper textu mo tum,fed affectio trianguli eft habere tantum tres equales duobus rectis,velęqualitas duobus rectis, conuenit tribus angulis figuræ triangulari, & non omnes angulos, elle çquales duobus rectis. VEL pt buius a fecundum lechu ius ſecundum acci dens, vt fecundum Se quidem quòd tri angulus duobus re b Etis æquales habeat tres angulos, ſecun. dum accidens autē, quòd æquilaterus, quoniam enim acci dit triangulo,& qui. laterum effe trian gulum, perhocco gnoſcimusquòdduo bus reétis habeat internos. QVIDAM interprætes fic perperam exponunt Ariſtotele, quod habere tres duobus rectis pares,ipfi triangulo per ſe infit,ipfi vero Iſoſcheli cõuenit quidem habere tres duobus rectis parcs, ſed non per ſe,ſed per accidens, fic vt hæc predicatio, Iloſcheles habet tres duobusrectispares, ſit accidentalis,hec quidem ſua interprę. tatio & nulla eſt, &nullo modo ad Ariſtotelis textum facit, quod nulla fit, & falfa, manifeſtum eſt ex capite de per fe in poſteriori. bus, quia quod enim ſuperiori per fe ineft &inferiori pariter per ſe ineſt, ineſt tamen ſuperiori perfe & primo, inferioriautem, per ſe fed non primo. Aliter igitur exponendus venit is textus, primo igitur aduertendum quod circa idem ſubiectum fit prædicatio per fé & per accidens, vtpura circa triangulum, per fe quidem fic, tri angulus habet tres duobus rectis pares, per accidens vero ſic, trian gulus eſt Iloſcheles; vbi aduertendum,vtin præcedentibus libris declarauit Ariſtoteles,omne inferius ſuo ſuperiori accidens eſt,cum abeffentia fuperioris omnino fecludatur inferius, & vt alienum a fui natura ſibi conueniat. SIQVIS infecabiles ponens lineas, indiviſibile genus earum dicat eſſe, nam linearum habentium diuifionem non eft quod di Etum eſt genus, cumſint indifferentes ſecundum ſpecicm, indiffe-, rentes enim ſibi inuicem fecundum fpeciem rectæ lineæ omnes. TRACTATVS quidem de lineis infecabilibus extat,e greco latinitati donatus quem Ariſtotelis quidem effe exiſtimant, tametfi Georgii pachimerñ nonnulli effe dicunt, quod, quia cuiuf cunque fuerit,non facit ad expofitionem litteræ affequendam, me rito prætermitto auctorem fore inueſtigandum,vt Ariſtotelis decla rationi infiftamus, pro quo in memoriam reuocandī eft id, quod Porphyrius habet, ſuperius genus de inferioribus ſpeciebusneceſe, fario predicari, quod fi de illis non prædicauerit,neque ad illas, illud eſſe genus manifeſtum erit, quapropter fiquis inſecabiles poſuerit lineas,atque ad illas genus id, quod eft indiuifibile,effe dicat,ftatim in contradictionem reducitur,ob id, quia,diuiſibile,genus eſſe ad li ncas conſtat,modo lineas omnes eandem deffinitionem ſuſcipien. tes,eiufdem ſint fpetiei, fieri autem nequit, vt aliqua eiuſdem ſint ſpeciei, & genere fint diuerfa, quod quidem contingeret, fi indiuifi bile,ad lineas aliquas, genus effe diceretur,tunc enim indiuiſibile di ceretur de lineis infecabilibus p hypothefim cũ fic ſupponatur (fal ſo tamen ) ad illas eſſe genus, & etiam de alñs, quæ per 10. primi Elementorum ſecabiles ſunt cum etiam adillas ſit genus, quod qui dein efle, nullo modopoteft, propter contradictionem, ET ſi differentiam ingenere poſuit tam quimſpeciem,vt im par quidem numerum, Differentia quidem numeri, impar, & non ſpeties eſt, neque videtur participare differentia genus,nam omane quod eft, genus, velfpeties, vel indiuiduum eſt, differentia autem, neque fpeties, neque indiuiduum, manifeftum igitur quoniam non participat genus differentia, quare neque imparopetieserit, fed differentia quoniamnon participat genus. B ñ 9 tra NVMERV S quieſt ex vnitatibus profuſa multitudo,paro; titur in numeruin imparem, &in numerum parem, vel perhas differentias diuiditur, quę ſunt, paritas, & imparitas, quarum neu includit numerum, qui genus eſt ad omnes numeri ſpecies,& fi ifta vera fic,rationale et animal, quando ly rationale accipitur pro Specie, quæ homo eft, & non pro rationalitate in abſtracto, qux eſt hominis conſtitutiua differentia,eodem modo, & numerus prædi catur de pari in concreto & non de abſtracta paritare, hęcenin & fimiles illi, ſunt ſemper falle, paritas eſt numerus, vel imparitas eſt numerus,quodquia oinnia manifeſta, & nora Ariſtoteles cíle vo. luit, exemplo arithmetico declarauit, A 11 PLIVS ſi genus in petie pofirit, vt contiguitatem id ipſum quod eſt continuitatem, non enim neceſſariuin contingui. tatem continuitaternelle, led e conuerſo, continuitatem contigui tatem non enim omne contiguum continuatur, led quod cortina tür contigurn eft. CONTINVVM illum effe dico cuius partes copulantur ad terminuin vnum communem, qui quidem terminus elt tantuin potentia inter illas partes ipſius continui, nõ etiam actu, &opere, vt linea lineæ continuatur per punctum, qui non actu exiſtit, ſed tantum potentia inter illas duas lineas, velinter duas partes linex, quod & de partibus ſuperficiei, quæ per lineam in potentia copu lantur, &corporis partes, per ſuperficiem in potentia, Contiguum autein illud effe dico, quod alteri applicatur & iungitur non per mediuin potentia exiſtens,fed per mediuin quod actu & opere exi 1tit, vt manifeſtum eſt de cæleſtibus orbibus, concaua eniin ſuperó ficies ſuperioris orbis augem defferentis, & fuperficies connexa or bis differentis epy ciclum ſunt due ſuperficies actu exiſtēres inedia, per quas continguantur adinuicem illi orbes, non tamen continu: antur adinuicem: Cælum primū continuum quoddam eſt, & con. tiguaru: Cælo nono ſecundum fuperficiem concauam ipfius pri mi mobilis actu exiſtentem,non tamen fequitur, primum mobile eſt contiguum cum nona ſphera, igitur continuum eſt cum nona iphera,quemadmodī non fequitur, quinque digiti adinuicem funt contigui, igitur quinque digiti ſunt continui, ſed bene ſequitur, quinque digiti ſunt continui, igiturquinque illi digiri ſunt conti gui, vt quando clauditur manus, vel manus aperiatur quinæ digi zi aeri ſunt contigui,vel aquç contigui, li in anforæ aquam inanum ponas, vel etiain cirotececontiguantur, & ratio eft, quia vnum quodque naturale corpus, alteri contiguatur, ne vacuum daretur in natura. CONSIDERAN DV M autem eſt, fi quod translatiue. dictum eſt, ut genus aſsignauit,vt temperantiam, confonantiam, nam omnegenus proprie deſpeciebusprædicatur,conſonantia ve. ro detemperantia,non proprie,fed translatiue, omnis enim confo Wantia in ſonis eft. CONSONANTIA eſt diſsimilium vocum acuti gra. uiſque in vnum redacta concordia, quæ fine ſono, quę aeris percuſ fio eft fieri nullo modo poteſt, illa autem confonantia quæ transla tiue dicitur, quæ effrenatam libidinem moderat, non quidem a ſo no, quæ eft aeris percuſsio, fed illa quidem eſt, quæ a concordia diſsimilium dicitur, hæc autem non neceſſario in Conis reperitur, vt eſt illa ſupercæleſtis Armonia, quæ nil aliud eſt, quam coeleſtium motuumdiuerſorum,in vnam munditotius conſeruationem apta concordia, quam celebrant quidem illi ſapientes pythagorei, quos gratis in libris de cælo redarguit Ariſtoteles, quam armoniam di ces illam effe de quaMarcus Tullius in 6 derepublica, cui de ſoin. no Scipionis nomen indidit, docte meminit, hanc quidein dico nul lo modo conſtare in fonis, ſed illam quam libro primo capite deci mumtertio & in hoc capite tetigit Ariſtoteles. AVRSV M ji non ad idem dicitur fpecies 2 ſecundum ſe, da fecundumgenus, vt fi duplum dimidiy dicitur duplum o multi plum dimide oporter dici, li autem non, non erit multiplam genus cupli, abundansſimiliter cicitnr ſimpliciter ſecundum om. nia fuperiora genera ad dimidium dicetur. ABVNDANS numerus is eſt, cuius partes omnes fimul additæ in vnum exuperant totum illud cuius partes erant, vt duo, cenarius eſt abundans, quia 6,4, 3, 1, ſiin vnum aggregentur 16 coinplent maiorem numerum duodenario, de quo quidem abun. danti, qui eſt fimilis centimanugiganti, non loquitur Ariſtoteles hoc loco, fed abundansillud eft, quod ſuperius eſt ad multiplum, ad ſuperparticularem, & ſuperparrienrem, abundans præterea,vthic accipit Ariſtoteles,eſt ad aliquid, quod etiam de multiplici, at& lu perparticulari, & ſuperparrienti, &de omnibus ſub illis contentis, dicitur,duplum igitur triplum,quadruplumque cummultiplun lit & pariter vnumquodq; abundans erit, fi igitur abundansnon eſt, non eritmultiplum,neque etiam duplum, itaque abundans vniuer lale magis quam multiplum eft. 1 era QVONIAM autem muſicum, qua muſicum eftfciens,elle muſica ſcientia qua eft. MVSICA enim quathenusmuſicũ effe facit, nõ quathenus cantorem, qualitas eſt de prima qualitatis fpecie,quathenus autem ſcientia eft, &fciens facit, relatiuum quidem eft, vt in capite ad ali quid fuit in prædicamentis determinatum. NVMERVM diuiſibile,e conuerſo autem non,nam diuifibi le non omne, numerus, DIVISIBILITAS non modo magnitudini ſed etiam numero conuenit, non tamen omni numero, ſed numero tantum pari,impari autem ob vnitatis interuëtum nequaquam, Veletiam melius erit dictu, diuifibilitas in duo æqualia, numero tantum pari conuenire, diuiſibilitas autem fimpliciter omni numero conuenire, id quod Ariſtoteles hoc loco velle videturdicere, ſeu in duo æqua. lia,vel in duo inæqualia numerus ipfe diuidatur, fic vtdiuiſibilitas in partes integrales cuilibetnumero conueniat, non diuiſibilitas in partes aliquotas omni numero, ſed tantum numero pari conuenire eft neceffe, aduerte etiam quod ipfinumero primo conuenit diuili. bilitas in tot partes, quot vnitates habet;in plus igitur ideft,quod diuiſibile eft, quam id,quod numerum eſſe, quia diuiſibile, eſt com mune ad diſcretum, quod in partes aliquotas &in partes integran tes diuiditur etiam ad continuum,ſequitur igitur recte,numerus eft, igitur diuiſibile, ſi diuiſibile accipiatur commune ad id, quod in ali quotas & integrantes diuidatur partes, &non econuerſo, vt diui fibile eft, igitur numerus, LOGICVM problema. PROBLEMA apud Euclidem eſt propoſitio,in qua vnum datur, & aliud (vt in pluribus) quæritur, vt ſuper datamrectam li neam triangulum collocare, linea quidem datum eſt, quefitum au tem ef trigonum ipſum conftituendum ſuper lineam datam, ſem per enim problema verſatur circa praxim,quapropter, problema Geometricum,eftpropofitio practica, Theoremavero Geometri. cum,eſt ſpeculatiua propoſitio,modo Ariſtoteles non ingnarus hu. ius duplicis fignificationis problematis Geometricc, & logice,pro pofitionem dubiam ad vtráque partem, dixit problema logicum, &non Geometricum debuifTe intelligi, inquit enim, logicum au tem eſt problema,ad quod rationes fiunt, &crebræ quidē, & bong ERIT enim ſecundum hoc bene poſitum humidiproprium, vt qui,qui dixit humidiproprium, corpus quod in omnem figuranı ducitur, vnum aßignauit proprium, o non plura,erit fecundum boc bene pofitum humidi propriuns. FIGURA hicaccipiatur in corpore locante humidum,humi. dum enim cum corpus fluxibile atque dilatabile fit, ſuſcipit quan cunque figuram a re locànte, quæ figura, feu natura, fiue etiamarti ficis opere introducta fit, in illo vaſe locantehumidum, accipere igitur hocmodo figuram a re locante, proprium eft ipfius humi di, & non alterius cuiuſque, NON omne ſenſibile extra ſenſum faftum,immanifeftum eft, latens enim eft, fi adhuc ineft, eo quòd fenfu folo cognoſciiur, erit autem verum hoc,in his, quæ non ex neceſitate ſemper conſequun tur, vt quia, qui pofuitſolis proprium, aštrum quod fertur fuper terram lucidiſſimum, tale vſus eſtin proprio (ſuper terram in, quamferri) quod ſenſu cognoſcitur, non vtique erit benefolis af fignatum proprium immanifeſtum enim erit cum occiderit ſol, si adhuc ferratur fuper terram, eo quòd nos tunc deſeruimus fenfium. CECVS enim huius quod eft, folem fuper terram ferri,nul. lam habet ſenſationem,ſed videns, illius ſenſationem habet quan do folem ſuper terram in die artificiali conſpexerit, quam primum autem fol occiderit, & fub orizonte conditus fuerit, definit ſenſus percipere folem fuper terram ferri, fi igitur illud proprium eſſet folis, illo deficiente, (quod contingeret nullo conſpiciente ſo lem ferri ſuper terram ) proprio, & Sol, effe defficeret, quod quia abſurdum, non igitur proprium eft folis eum videri ferri fuper terram, licet femper Sol ſuper terram fereatur, id etiam, haud folis proprium eft, cum fyderibus omnibus, Igni, Aeri ſem per conueniat, id autem quod proprium eſt, conuenit omni foli & femper,inodo fecunda particula, (quod eft foli) non conue nit foli, fed etiam alijs a ſole, & a fyderibus, & elementis, conuenit; Præterea folem femper ferri ſuper Terram, & fi proprium ſolis ef fet,illud tamen non eſt ſenſibile, led immaginatum,perceptibile,vel intelligibile, particula tamen illa aftrum lucidiſsimum, ipfi tantum foli conuenit, CONSTRVENTI vero, fi tale aßignauerit proprium, quod non ſenſu est manifeſtum, aut cum ſit ſenſibile ex neceſsitate ineſe manifeftum eft,hoc benepoſitum proprium, vt quia, qui po fuit fuperficieiproprium quòd primum coloratum eſt, ſenſibili qui dem aliquo vfus eft (coloratum eſſe inquam) tale quidem quod ma nifeſtum est ineſſe ſemper, erit fecundum hoc, bene aſsignatum fit perficiei propriim. IMMEDIATVM ſubiectumn coloris fuperficies eſt, ſub. ftantia enim colorata eſt, quia corpus coloratum,etideo corpus co loratum eft, quia ſuum extremum eft coloratū, extreinum autem, ſeu terminus, ſub quo corpuscontinetur ſuperficies eft, in qua im mediate color fuſcipitur, iſtud autem proprium,non ex natura ſu perficiei profluit, fed extrinſece aduenit color ipſi ſuperficiei, quæ quantitas quidem eſt, color, autem qualitas, fed cum ſenſibili per fenfum percipiatur, & fecundum apprehenſionem fiat exiſtimatio, et quia ſuperficies omnis,affecta ſit colore, ſequitur quod recte pro prium afsignabit ſuperficiei, fiquis dixerit eain effe coloratam & erit proprium ſuperficiei, proprium quidem ſenſibile,non tamen ex intrinſeca natura ſuperficiei. PRIMVMergo deſtruenti quidem, infpiciédum eſt ad vnum quodque eorum cuius proprium aßignauit, vt ſi nulli ineſt; aut fi non fecundum boc quidem verificatur, aut fi non eſt proprium c18 iuſ que eorumſecundum illud cuius proprium aſsignauit; non enim erit proprium,quod pofitum eſt elle proprium, vt quia de Geome tra non verificatur indeceptibilemeſe ab oratione (nam decipi tur Geometra cum pſeudographiäfacit ) non erit hocſcientis pro prium, non decipi ab oratione. HIC locus videtur opponi ei quod Ariſtoteles determinauit de Geometra primo poſteriorum,vbi ait Geometram non mentiri concipientem 9 concipienten lineam bipedalem, quæ tamenminimebipedalis eſt, fed fiquis recte inſpiciat,nulla certe oppoſitio apparebit, fed vtera quelocorum mutuo ſeſe alternatim declarabit, cuinam in dubium illud venit,fępemens ynī interne concipere, quod falax manus ex trinſece, illud peruertit: hoc quidé prothagoręfæpe contigiffe reffe runt, vt aprehenfo, ad ſcribendum calamo,id ſcripfiffe quod men ti fuę opponeretur, & id vitii non ſolum manui, fed linguæ ſæpe etiam contingit, quis enim id in feipfo non eft expertus. vt quan doque ynum ex inſperato lingua profferat, Q tamen aliter mente prius conceperat,id autem etiam cuidam Geometræ, ſi contingar, vt perperam ſemicirculos deſcribat veltrahat lineas,non vt opor tet (vt interiusprius mente concepir) ficut primo topicorum capite primo fuit declaratuin,non tamen id proprium eft Geometræ,cum non ſemper vnicuique Geometræ conueniat, ſed raſo etiam vni accidat. SIMPLICITER igiturnotius, quod prius eſt poſteriore, vt punctum linca, o linea ſuperficie, & ſuperficiesſolido, quem admodum vnitas numero prius enim &principiã omnis numeris. VIDETVR hic textus contra determinationem philoſophi primo de phiſico auditu capite de primo cognito, vbi determinat de circulo p priino cognoſcitur, quam quod fit figura plana vna linea contenta: pro cuius loci huius &illius intelligentia, fcire debes deffinicum cum ignotum ſit, per deffinitionem explicatur,ipſa vero definitio per ea quę nota ſunt, ingnotum definitummanife ftum facit, quod Euclides,vbilineam rectam deffinit primo Elemē. torum prius punctum explicuit,quiin deffinitionem lineæ ponere, tur, vt furt declaratum capite de per ſe,primopofteriorum fubinde lineam per punctum, & fuperficies per lineam, & tandem libro 11, corpus per ſuperficiem deffiniuit, quo autem modo diuerſo ſe ha heat punctus in linea ab eo modo, quo vnitas in numero,id in na lyticis capite de per ſe fuit manifeſtīt, ſed id in dubiữ verticur, quo nam modo corpore ſuperficies, & fuperficie linea, &linae punétus noctiora fint:'cīí hæc omnia apud Geometrā, & ftereometram ab ſtracte conſiderentur. Dico quod cum abſtractione in his omnibus minor & maior fimplicitas repperitur,vt in puncto quam in linea &fic deinceps, Adid autem de primo phiſicorum de circulo nulla videtur oppofitio in Ariſtotelis verbis, ibi enim de vniuerfali con fufe aprehenſo hicauté de ſinipliciori dictincte concepto loquitut C 1 pro no OPORTET autem non latere quædam fortaſſe aliter deffi niri non poffe, vtduplum, line dimidio. ID notandum euenit hoc loco, quod Ariſtotiles capite de ad ali quid poft multa examinara ibidemn determinauit,quodad aliquid non eft, cuius effe fit elle alterius, fed cuius eile eft ad aliud quodam modo refferri, vt dupli efTe, fic eft, vt abfque relatione ad illud cu ius eft duplum minimne poflit percipi, licet non cognoſcat illud fub nomine & natura dimidii,ſed tantum quathenus duplationen ter minat, quę fundatur in eo, quod illa duplatione duplum eft. OPORTET autem ad deprehendenda talia fummere mine orationem, vt quod, dies, eſt ſolis latio fuper terram. QVI deffiniet diem artificialem (qui incipit ab emerſu ſolis ſu pra orizontem vſquequo accidat ) ponit in definitione lationem ſtelle apparentis fuper terram (qui fol dicitur )nam qui die vtitur & ſole vei neceffe eft, acquiſolem deffinir, ſtellam in die apparentem dicit, in qua deffenitione alterius,alterum ponit eo modo quo ea, quæ ad aliquid deffiniuntur, RVRSVS fieo quod e diuerſo diuiditur, id quod e diuerſo di uiditur diffiniuit, vt impar eſt qui vnitate maror eſt pare, fimul enim natura, quæ ex eodem genere e diuiſo diuiduntur, impar au. tem & parediuerſo diuidunt,nam ambonumeri differentia. PRETER eas quas Euclidesin elementis & Boetius primo Arithmeticæ deffitiones de impari atque,pari numero dederunt,hęc Vna eít,qua in comparatione & non abfolute imparemnumerum in ordinead parem deffinit fic vt neuter abfque altero intelligi que at, & alter indeffinitione alterius ponatur,vtocto par, vnitatem imparem feptem ſuperet, & hic fenarium parem eadem vnitate maior euadat. Duo enim funt quæ diuidunt e diuerſo ipſum nume rum par, & impar, & in deffinitione alterius alter ponitur,cum ad feinuicem rellatiue conſiderantur & non abfolure, SIMILITER autem & fi per inferiora ſuperiora deffiniuit, pt parem numerum quibipartiteſecatur, name bipartite ſuma ptumest à duobus quæ paria ſunt. HIC textus obfcuriuſculus redditur in littera,ſenſus tamen fa. cilis eſt, ſuperius enim fi per ſuum inferius deffinitur, vt notius fia at, fuperius hic eft quod, bipartire ſecatur,inferius autem numerus eſt par,optime enim fequitur, hic numerus par eft igitur, bipartite fecatur,fed fi arguas bipartite ſeccatur igitur numerus eft,incõftans eft ifta argumentatio, neque y ſquam valida eft, nifi intelligatur 1 numerus in confequente pro numéro numerato, vt funt etiam ma. gnitudines, quæ nuineri ſunt, vt in pofterioribusdeciaratum eft per me, ita vtin conſequente accipiatur numerus pro quodam comu. ni ad numerum numeratū &ad numerum qui eſt ex vnitaubus profuſus aceruus,fic enim quod bipartitīī par numeruseft, & ficin deffinitione ſuperioris, quod eſt bipartiri veimur oumero pari,qui inferior eſt ad bipartiri ſimauis, bipartiri,a binario numero capias qui binarius inferioreſtad numerum parem,cum quaternarius, & ali quam plurrimi fint pares numeri,modoqui in deffinitione nu. meri paris vtitur bipartiri, ille quidem in ſuperioris definitione Vtitur ſuo inferiore, AVT rurſum qui deffinit noĉtum umbram terra. TERRA eniin cum ſit opacum corpus radë Colaresnon pof. funt illud ingredi & vltra progredi (quod in traſparenti aericone tingit,) ſed impediuntur a parte terræ, quæ pars ad folem reſpicit, ex alta autem terræ parte,luminis priuatio contingit, quæ priuatio luminis folaris fuper terram nox appellarur & cft liquis igitur no Etem definiat, fic inquiens nox eft priuatio luininis folis ob er iæ opacitatem proueniens, fimiliter terram quis deftiniens dicet, terra eſt corpus ex cuius opacitace nox fit, vide quo pacto &ter am in deffenitione noctis, & noctem in deffitione terræ & vtrun que in vtriufque deffinitione ponitur, fequuntur quædam Ariſtore lis verba in textu de multiplici & ſubmultiplici, atque de duplo & dimidio, quæ quia alias declarata ſunt pretereunda duxi, fed id no. tandum eft quod in deffinitione priuatiui, vtputa noctis, ponitur poftiuum, vtputa terra, quod etiam in multis eft aduertendum, quia non ſolum ponitur pofitiuum,fed etiam priuatiuum, vtly pri uatio lurninis. Si autem aliquurum complexorum aßignetur terminus, con fiderandum eft aufſerendo alterius eorum, quæ comple & tuntur ora tionem, fi eft & reliqua reliqui, Nam fi non,manifeftum quonia, neque tota totius, vtſi quiſpam deffinit lineamfinalem rectam fic nem plani habentis finis, cuius medium ſuperaditur extremis, ſi finalis linca ratio est,finis plani habētis fines recte oportet effe re liqui, cuius medium fuperadditur extremis,fed infinita,neque me dium neque extrema habet, re &ta autem est, quare non est relo qua reliqui oratio. ст · AVTEM quain ad expofitionem textus deueniam primo liç terai Ariſtotelis in tralatione Argyropili et in textu Auerois cor rigendam puto de mense Ariſtotelis ex Euclide iuxta cheonem, le gitur enim in vtroque textu cuius medium ſuperadditur extre mis, vbi legi debet, cuius mediuin ' non reſulta ab extremis 86 Aueroes in expofitione fic interpretatur,cuius inedium non occu. lit duo extrema, & videtur afſentiri ipfi Platoni deffinienti rectă, recta inquit linea eſt, cuius medium non obumbrat extremna, cæ, terīt mens Ariſtotelis eſt, quo pacto complexum deftiniatur often dere, vt fi homo gramaticus deffiniatur,hæcenim erit ſua deffini tio, fíue terminus,aninal rationale mortale recte legens atque ſcri bens, tota quippehec ratio, huic toti coplexo, nempe, homo gram maticus,conuenit,modo liably homo, ly gramaticus aufferatur, &ab ly animal rationale mortalely recte legens atque ſcribens, vt fic dicatur, homo eſt aniinal rationale mortale, &gramaticus eft recte,legensatque ſcribens, peroptime data erit deffinitio primo ipſius complexi,homo gramaticus,quod Ariſtoteles in Geometria exemplificat,iminaginans (de mente aliorum,) planum efle infini tum ſecundum longitudinem tantum, finitum ſecundum latitudi. nem, quod quidein terminatur linea recta, quæ eius finis ſecundū latitudinem ellet, modo ſiquis definiret lineam finalem rectam die cens,effe finem planihabentis (ſecundum latitudinem ) fines,cuius (quidein finis) medium non relultat ab extreinis,hæc particula, fi nes plani habentis fines, in definitione pofica recte conuenit lineæ finalis, fed hæc particala, cuius medium non reſultat ab extremis, nonconuenit illi particulæ pofitæ in complexo, quæ eſt ly recta, velly linea, quia non conuenit niſi recrę lineç finicę, & non infi nitę, quęinfinita, vt fupponebatur, non habet medium, neque ex. trema,ideo deffinitio ipſius totiuscomplexi minime recte data erat quia ficut vna ablata particula in deffinitione conueniebat ablatę particule deffiniti, non fic reliqna particula deffinitionis conuenit relique particule complexi deffiniti, $ I autem differentia terminum alignauit confiderandum, fi eg alicuius numerun comunis est aſſignatus terminus, vt cum imparem numerum aliusmdium habentcm dixerit, deter minandum est, quo pacto medium habentem, nam numerus qui dem, comunis in vtrique rationibus eſt, imparis autem coaſſum pta eſt oratio, habent autem &linea & corpusmedium, cum non fintimparia, quare non vtique erit deffinitio hæc imparis. 12 IMPAR numerusin duoæqua dicendinequit ob vnitatis in teruentum medium indiuilibilis denumerantis totum numerum cuius illa vnitasıncdium eft, linea autem & corpus & ſi medium habeat,linca quidem punctum medium, quod per 10 primielemen torum inuenitur fi diuidatur, & fuperficies medium habet diame trum, illa tamen media,vt nec punctum lineam,neque linea ſuperfi ciem dimittuntur, neque illa componunt ea, quoruin media ſunt, determinatū igitur eft, quo pacto numerus medium habet, & quo pacto linea atque ſuperficies, & hoc de numero iinpari intelligas, cuius inedium interduas partes æquales,vnitas eſt, & non de pari, ficut etiam Ariftoteles ait in textu, ex eis QV AE DA M enim ſic ſe habent ad inuicem, vt nibil ex fiant; vt linea numerus. LINEA in lineam fiducatur vt 45 primielementorum Eucli dis docet & prima et ſecunda; ſecundi elementorum fuperficies pro ducitur, pariterque numerus, ſi in numerumduxeris,numerus pro ducetur, vt ex ſeptimo elementorum manifeftum eſt, non tamen idem prouenit per additionem, quia linea lineæ addita non facit ſur perficić, &fi hoc milliesmillienamillia addieris adinuicemlineas, non reſultabit ſuperficies, neque fi puncta ad fe inuicem addideris linea vnquam reſultabit, vnitas tamê li vnitatibus, velvnitati,nu. merus (tatim reſultabit, qui acccruus eft ex vnitatibus protufus, vt etiam in prædicamento quantitatis fuit declaratum. Avr fi eodem ab vtroque ſublato, quod relinquitur eſt alte rum, vt ſi duplum dimidi, co multiplum dimidij idem dixerit elje, fublato enim ab vtroque dimidio, reliquu oporteret indicare, non indicant autem, nam duplum &multiplum non idem fignificant. VLTRA cà quæ de duplo & multiplo libro quarto capite quarto ibi dicta ſunt,vnum illud conſiderandum eſt, quod a nega. tionc dupli ad interremptionem multiplex fiquis argueret commit teret conſequétis falatiam vniuerſalius enim eft ipfum multiplum ipfo duplo, vt eft animal equo vtrunque tamen ad aliquid eft, & duplum ad dimidium, &multiplum ad ſubmultiplum. VIDET V R autem &in diſciplinis quædam ob definitionis deffe &tum, non facile deſcribi, vt quoniam quæ ad latusſeccat planum linea,fimiliter diuidit &lineam &locum, definitione au tem di&ta ftatim manifeftum eft quod dicitur,nam eandem ablatio nem babent.loca d linea, eft autem definitio eius orationis hac. DEFFINITIO ſecunda tertń elementorum intellectum prebet huius deffinitionis pofitæ ab Ariſtorele, definitū eft ly linea fec cās planum, definitio eft ly linea fimi a Jiter diuidēs lineam &lo ct, fic enim Jittera ordi netur, linea quæ ad latus ſeccat pla num, eft li. nea diuidens lineam et locuni terminatum ab ipla linea recta, fieri enim non po teft, vt linea ſecet planum terminatum linea, quin il.. la linea terminans planum ſeccetur ab eadem feccante linea, id autē manifeſtum g eft ex fecunda, tertia, & quarta definitione tertń elementorum Euclidis, & alisexipfo tertio elemen forum, & xi fecundi, ly li. mea quæadlatusfeccat pla num,vocatAriftoreies orationem in hocloco, vbi ait, oautem: deffinitio eius orationis, hæc, id etiam dignī notatu cum deffinitio per genus, & differentiam detur,loco generis in hac definitione, eſt ly linea diuidens lineam, inodo cum linea prior fit plano, manife, ftum eft,quodde genere dicendum erat in hac definitione, SIMPLICITER autem prima elementorum, pofitis qui dem definitionibus (vt quid linea vel quid circulus) facillimum oftendere, verum non multis ad vnumquodque eorum eft argumen tari, eo quòd nonſunt multa media, ſi autem non ponanturprinci piorum definitiones,fortaſſe autem omnino impoßibile. PRIM A elementorum hoc loco,non ſunt intelligenda princie pia, quæ definitiones,petita,& animi conceptiones ſunt, ſed princi, pia ipſa,ſunt propoſitiones,quæ in probleniata & theoremata diui duntur, quæ prima elementorum, ideo dicunturcum per ipfa, quæ proponuntur in alís ſcientñs probentur, vt quid fit linea,videlicet longitudo illatabilis, & quid linea recta,cuius mediñ ſua ex æquali interiacet figna,tunc ſuper datam lineam rectam triangulum colo care proponit prima, primi elementorum, & pofita definitione cir culi per ipſam probatur triangulum ſuper datam lineam colloca. tum effe æquilaterum, & folum perilla media videlicet definition nem circuli 17 & primam animi conceptionem primi elemento rum, quæ definitio, & animi conceptio fi prius non ponantur diffi cile erit oftendere, fortaſſe omnino impoſsibile, quod triangulus conftitutus fuper datam lineam ſit æquilaterus, 1 SIMILITER autem his & in his quæ funtcirca orationes Je habe nt; non igitur latere oportet, quando difficilis argumenta bilis eft poſitio,quòd eft aliquid eorumquæ di&ta funt. LINE A quidem, atque circulus ſunt quædam incomplexa quæ diffinibantur ab Euclide deffinitione tertia & 17 primi ele mentorum,fed linea quæ ad latus ſeccat planum, fiue linea ſeccans planum ad latus, id totum complexum eft,atque compoſitum, & licut fieri non poterat, vt oftenderetur æqualitas laterum trianguli, abſque definitione incomplexicirculi, fic etiam fieri non poterit, vt quippiam de quopiam demonftretur, quando in demonſtratione ingreditur aliquod extremum complexum, quia tunc vtimur toto iſto tanquam principio,ly linea leccans ad latus planum, nifi prius ipfius complexi atque orationis præierit deffinitio, quę eſt,ly linea fimiliter diuidens lineam terminantem locum &locum, ita vtpar. ticula illa circa orationes non intelligatur yt gramatici, & rhetores intelligunt orationes, fed oratio, pro quodam intelligatur comple xo indiſtantitamen, hoc eft fine copula, & verbo principali,parti cula illa, pofitio, cum inquit Ariſtoteles quãdo difficilis eſt pofitio, non intelligitur pro petitione, feu petito, quia petitum non eft argu mentabile,hoc eſt per argumentum probabile,neque difficile, ne facile, cum ſit primum principium &non probetur, fed petitio in hoc loco accipitur pro ipfa propoſitione, quæ probanda venit, ſeu fpeculatiua,vel etiain practicafit, feu problema, vel etiam theore, ma fuerit,et tunc talis propofitio difficile argumérabilis eft, quando inter probandam ipſam,contingit aliquod deffiniendī, quod com plexum fit, quod nifi delfiniatur,difficilis argumentabilis eſt propo ſitio, & fortaffe omnino inpoſsibile, quando id quod dictum eſt contigerit,videlicet quod complexum deffiniendum interueniat, ly fortaffe autem omnino impoſsibile in præcedenti textu non dubi tatiue ſed magis comprobationis particula accipienda eſt. VELV T Zenonis quòd non contingitmoneri, neque ſtadium pertranfire. PROTERVI Zenonis eft fententia dicentis ftadium, quod octaua pars milliaris eft,pertranfiri non polle, inter genera menſu. rarum quæ magis notæ ſunt,ftadium numeratur,quod iuxta Ptho. Jamei ſententiã primo Geographiæ eft milliaris Italici pars octaua. OPORT ET autem eum quibene transfert diale &tice,& non contentioſe transferre, vt GeometramGeometricæ,fiue falſum fiue verum fit; quod concludendum eft. DIALECTIC A trallatio eft,quæ apparens quidem eft,et conuenientiam habet ad illam remi fecundumquam trallatio facta eft, & non debet effe dubia,contentiofa, & fophiſtica, ſed magis ad inſtar geometræ, qui nõ errat aliquo pacto circa ſuam materiam er formam, vt primo poſteriorum declaraui, vel etiam quitransſeng hanc vocem triangulus, a ternario numero, et quadratum a nunc ro quaternario propter ternarium, & quaternarium numerum vel æquicrus a duobusæqualibus tibás, vel gradatus propter tria 1112 - qualia latera, quæ vt gradus concipiuntur, 2 CAPITE QVINTO. AXT fiquis corum qua ſequuntur ſeinuicem ex neceſſitateal Strumpetat vt latus incomenſurabile cle diametrofi oportet dia meter lateri. PRIMO pofteriorum fuit declaratum & demonſtratū quo pacto diameter quadrati coftę fit incommenſurabilis, quantum autem ad hunc locum attinet, non ſemper per ca que ſe conſequun tur immediate,probatio fieri debet, fed medium debet effe aliquo modo idem cū extremis,&aliquomodo diuerſum, vt in 10 clemë torum de diametro, &cofta eftmanifeftū,Prçterea,non eft proban dumaliquod ingnotum per equc ignotum, quod fi alterum peta tur in alterius probatione, nil penitus demonſtratur, IN PRIMO ELENCORVM. CAPITE PRIMO, POSTQVAM enim ipſas per ſe res in difputationem alla tas vfurpare dicendo non eſt, ſed vocum veluti nutibus,rerum die ce primur, ſiquid in id incidit vitij,in ipſis eſſe rebus, nõ in vocibus putamus,quod vfu venire his,qui calculisrationem ineunt, ſolet. CALCULATORES noſtri temporis characteribus caldaicis vtuntur, per quos, in numerorī cognitionem trahuntur, ficut per voces in rerum cognitionem ducimur, IN TERTIO CAPITE, DIVISIONE vero,vt quoniam quinqueſuntduo et tria, fieri vt paria fint imparia, & maius fit æquale. SI diuiſim ſummas3.& 2. nunquam, quinque faciunt, ſecue autem fi coniunctim, &ceffatomnisinftantia. Neque dixit terna fium, & binarium, quia due ſpecies numeri, non componunt terº tiam fpeciem numerorum,ſed quinque vnitatcs pro materia quiné sii accipiuntur. VD ANTVM vt quale,quale vt quantum. IN primo pofteriorum in de triplici errore circa vniuerfale fuit oftenfum,proportionem proprie circa quantum &non circa qua le effe, ita vi ſiquis pPomba proportionem proprie eſſc circa quale, is quale pro ipſo vretur quanto vitioſe. IN QVARTO CAPITE. AVT quod idem eiuſdem duplum, & non duplum, duplum quidem in longuni, non duplum antem inlatum. CVM dederic eiufdem ad diuerfa: vt duo ad uſum &ad tria dat deinceps exemplum eiuſdein ad idem fecundâ diuerfa tama, Vt linca a b quatuoc,ad lineam a cduo actu dupla eft,no autem dú pla in latū immo quadrupla elt a badac duo quod eft effe fuũ in potentia, quod manifeſtuin eſt, in triangulo a bccuius ca b'rectus eft, id autem manifeftum eft ex 46 primi Elementorum, Eucli dis, vel dicas ab duplam ad a cin longitudine, non autem in latiu dine, qua caret, eft dupla 1: 6 . NEQYE ſi triangulusduobus rečtis tres æquoshabet, & ei. velfigură,del primum,vel principium eſſe dicit;quod velfigura, del primum, vel principium eſt triangulus eft, nam non quathe nusfigura del primum pel principium, ſed quatbenus triangulus demonftratio erat. TRIANGVLVS enim rectilineus figurarum rectilinea. sum prima eſt,ita vt fic & figura, & prima, & principium,vt qui buſdam placet omnium figurarum rectilinearum,non tamen id ve tum eft fecundum Euclidis fcicum; vtAs primi clementorum dos cet, &vt Amonius determinat capite deſpecie ſupra porphirit, ſed hoc loco famoſe loquitur Ariſtoteles, & determinat quod no con uenit criangulo habere tres duobus rectis æquales, ratione corum quæ de eo dicta funt, fed ratione ſui ipſius,non aucem quathenus,fi gura,vel primī, & principium neque etiam fi ifta fuſius accipian tur,figura,primüm principium inferunt triangulum efle, arguere. tur enim ex conſequente ad antecedens, & exmagis vniuerfale ad minus vniuerfale,ex ſuperiorique ad inferius, figura enim nedum triangulo conuenit, ſed pentagono &alijs multis,primum nedum figuræ, fed etiamnumero principium quoque in naturalibus, & his quæ arte fiunt repperitur, nedum in figuris cöpofitis (vt ais. bant ex triangulo ſape ſumpto, Hoc autem ab accidente differt, quoniam accidens quidem 1 I 1 in uno ſolo ſummere eft, vt idem,elle flauum of melse album ege cygnum,quod autem propter confequens in pluribusſemper opora tet,nam quæ vni & eidem funteadem er fibi ipſa poſtulantur elle eadem propter quodfit ea quæ propter conſequens eft redargutio, eſt autem non omnino verum, viſifit album ſecundum accidens, nam &nix cygnusalbedo idem,autrurſum Melyſji oratio, ide elle poftulat,fa &tum eſſe, &principium babere', autæqualisfieri Geandem magnitudinem accipere,quoniam enim principium ba bet quodfa &tum eft.co quod factum eſt, babet principium,fa &tum elle postulatstam quam ambo eadem fint eo quod principiū fa &tu elle finitumquc habent, ſimiliter auto e in his que æqualiafa &ta Junt, ſi eandem magnitudinem & vnam ſumendo æqualia fiunt, et quæ æqualia faéta funt eandem dim onam magnitudinem ſum munt, quare conſequens ſummit. TRES modos errandiin falatia conſeguentis adducit philofa phus, primade accidente, ve de albo,aiebant quidam cõſequencia hác valere, cignus eft,igitur album eſt, & econuerſo,album eft,ige tur cygnus eft,determinat Ariſtoteles, quod album elle,vniuerſali us fit,quã effe cygnum, a magis comune ad minus comuneargud do cõinictitur fallacia cõrequêtis,albedo enim nedum eft in cygno, fed etiã in niue, & alñs reperitur: Secundo vt Melyflus aiebat, hæc duo videlicet, ly factum efle, & ly principium habere, vt recte fer quebatur fecundum Melyſſum factum eft, igitur principiñ habet, principium habet igiturfactum eſt, principium enim habere, vni uerfalius eft quam factum effe cælum enim principium habet, ma teriain ſuam ſcilicet &formam, attamen, non eft factum, quia fer cunduin falſam Ariſtotelis opinionem ſemper fuit, principiữenim.comune eft & ad id quod materiam &formă haber, & adid quod cæpit efle, in tempore modo a magis comune ad minus comune arguendo committitur error confequentis, Tertio loco, aduertic Ariſtoteles quod eadem magnitudo, &æqualis magnitudonon couertuntur,in plus eniin eſt æqualia effe,quam cadem effe,fiquis igitur inferat,magnitudo magnitudini eadem eft,igitur magnitudo 'magnitudiniæqualiselt,recte quidem intulit, vi in probatione ſce cunde partis quintæ lib. primi Elementorī vna &eadem linea di fit balis in duobus triangulis eft, fibiipfi æqualis & in quinta & ſexta terti Elementorum vna &eadé linea a centro exiens ad cor cunferentiam (quæ duabos lineis ali comparatur )elt æqualis fibi, fed non omne quod eft æquaļe alteri,elt fibi ipfi idem, vipatet, in 1.. tertia primi, Elementorum,cuin de longiori æqualis breuiuri ſinex linea feccacur, ob id Euclides, In quinto Elementorum propofitio, ne 11.propoſuit probandum,quod quæ vni ſunt cadera &libica: dem ſunt,quod fi principiuin primafuiſſet, licuti eft, quæ vni ſunt E qualia inter ſe ſunt equalia, non propoſuillet illud in quinto eile probandum,quod Ariſtoteles confiderauit. QVARE manifeftum eft, quodeo demonſtraționes redargu. tiones funt &veræ quidem,nam quæcunque demonftrare licet, ca Gredarguere eū,qui contradi tione veri ponet,licet, vtſicomen furabilem diametra pofuerit;redarguatquis demonftratione, quod incomenſurabilis;quare omnium oportet efle, nam alia quidem ea quæ in Geometriaſunt principia eorumque concluſiones &cæt. SIQ VIS diametrum commenſurabilem coſtæ ponat redar, guitur ab Euclide lib, 10 elementoruin propoſitione 115, vel leo cundum campanuin, per illam demonſtrationem, quæ ibi adduci. tur,quæ demonftratio,redargutio eft ipfius proteruiafferentis con. trarium, fic vt pro declaratione huius textus fatis fit, quod ipía de monſtratio veri,redargutio eft falli allerti,vel afferendi a proteruo, NAM ſecundum vnamquanque,artem ſyllogiſmus falfus est, vt fecunlum Geometriam Geometricus, " VIDETVR ex hoc textú quod geometra paralogizet quod oppoſitum eft ei, quod determinatum eſt in poſterioribus, Geometram videlicet non paralogizare, Dico Ariſtotelem loqui non de Geometrico fyllogiſmo in quo,neque circa materiam nec circa formam error contingit, fed de fyllogiſmo in quo terminus, ſeu vox aliqua repperitur Geometrica, contraria lux fignifica tioni a Geometra pofita, vt quod triangulus pro circulo accipia tur,vel error paratur in conſequentia,vt fi triangulus, igitur dua. bus lineis clauditur, & vtroque modorum erit pfeudogeometri cus fyllogifmus, vt fi quis pſeudogeometra per numerum inipa sem æqualem pari fyllogizer diametrum commenſurabilem effe ipfi coſtr,hoc ſuo fyllogilino non falſum redarguit, quin potius fal fum ingerit, de quo fyllogiſmo pſeudogeometrico, hic Ariſtoteles Intelligatur, & non de Geometrico, vt in pofterioribus determi, nauit philoſophus, & per me fuit declararā, quo modo Geometra non paralogizat lad ſyllogizat, & id, hoc loco in memoriam reuo candum eft, quod in prioribusde prima figura dictum fuit, quo nam pacto Geometra illa vtatur, IN NONO CAPITE. ET la cuis viletur plura ſignificare triangulus, deditque, nos, vt cam figuram de qua concludebat quòd duo re&tis, verum ad in telle &tum illius difputauit,hic an non? TRIANGVLVS enim eft figura plana tribus rectis li. neis contenta de qua Euclides ſecīda parte 32.primi elementorum demonſtrat quod habet tres angulos duobus rectis equales, modo fiquis immaginaretur quod triãgulus aliquid aliud fit, a tali figura (qui triangulus eſt ) propter id quod omnes anguli ipfius figuræ fint etiam duobus rectis æqualcs, vtoninesanguli pentagoni,cu. ius vnumquodque lacusſeccat duo ipſius reliqua latera, talis pro fecto non diſputabit de triãgulo, quiaad intellectuin triangulinon reſpicit,fed ad aliud, vt ad talem pentagonum, no enim neceffe eft, vequicquid habet angulos duobus rectis pares, fit triangulus, nes quod habent tres duobus rectis pares, fed quæ figura habet tan tum tres angulos duobus rectis pares,ille triangulus eſt. VNITATEs binarijs in quaternzrijsæquiles efle,at binse rij hic quidemſic infunt illiautemſecus, SIQ VIS ex illo principio, quæ vni & eidem ſunt æqualia, inferre tentauerit quod binarij fint quaternarii, hoc medio, omnes vnitates ſunt ęquales vnitatibus binarë,omnis numeri quaternarij vnitates ſunt æqualesvnitatibus binarë, iglur omnes vnitates quaternarñ ſunt æquales Vnitatibus binarij,igitur quacernarius eft binarius,ad maiorem & minorem prime coufequentiæ dicendum, quod fi vnitates ſingulę & diuiſion accipiantur concedendæ ſunt vtræque & confequentia prima, fed fecunda confequentia interris matur, fi vero vnitates in maiori & minori acceruarim ſuſcipian, tur vtraque præmiſſarum eft falla & fequitur conclufio falfa, & les cundę conſequentiæ anteccedens eft falluin, & conſequentia fequi tur, & conſequens etiam falſum eſt. NEOVE liquod pſeudographum circa verum eft vt Hyppo cratis quadratura que per lunulas, ſed qualiter Brifo circulã qua, drauit,tametficirculus quadretur,tamen quis non ſecundum rem ideo ſophiſticus est, quare etiam qui de bis apparens ſyllogiſmus cft,oratio plane eſt contentiola. / ! HYPPOCRAS tentauit circulum quadrareper lunulas et reduxit lunulam deſcriptam ſuper coſtarn quadrati inſcripti in ciro culo ad figuram rectilineam &exiſtimauit omnem lunulam redu ci poffe ad rectilineam figuram, ob id fuppofuit lunulas deſcrip tas fuper latus exagoni circulo inſcripti,poffe reduci adrectilineam figuram ex quo ſuppoſito non demonftrato, progreſſus eſt ad cir. culi quadraturam &variauit diagramma,tranfiens à quadrato ad exagonum, & tranfiens a lunula exiſtente ſuper lacus quadrati in fcripti circulo ad lunulam deſcriptam fuper lacus exagoni inſcripti in circulo, & fic preudographus factus eſt, Briſo fimiliter errauit circunſcribens circulo & infcribens circulo quadratum,vterque fo phiſtice proceſsit,et fyllogizarunt contētiofe, fed alter in diagrāma te vt Hyppocras, reliquus vero in principäs proprös neque in illa rione, reliquus autem in conſequentia, & quia vtebatur principös coinmunibus, & fi circulus quadretur fophiftice, tamen non fecun dum rem, vt non per principia propria, neque per deſcriptionetti diagramatum,hoceft per cõſtructionem debitam figurarum,nec ex neceffaria cófequutione principiorum ad conclufionem ex illis principñsneceffario illatam, fyllogiſinus igitur quo Hyppocrates & Briſo fyllogizabant quadraturam circuli, contentioſa erat al tera,vt quæ Brilonis, non contentiofa vero reliqua, vi hyppocra. cis,vti Ariſtoteles inferius in hoc capite declarat inquiens, CONTENTIOS A vero quodam modo ſic ſe ad dialetti cam habet,quemadmodum pleudographa ad Geometriam, namex eiſdem, diferendi modo,captiose & pſeudographa Geometrice de cipit,fed hæc quidemnon eſt contentiofa,quia ex principys & con clufionibus quæ funt fub arte pſeudographa facit,quæ autem ex his eftquafuntfub diale & tica,circa alia quide contentiofam efle mani feftum eft,vt quadratura quidem, quæper lunulas non contentio Sa, Brifonis autem contentiofa eft. ILLA ars quę falſum cöcludit vel potius artifex ille,an potius pſeudoartifex qui ſyllogizat falium ex principiis veris vel ex theo rematibus probatis, vt fecit Hyppocras in quadratura circuli,non contentioſe procedit, quia ex propriis principiis & theorematibus Geometriæ,Briſo autem proceſſic ex his, quæ nedum Geometria, fed etiam aliis diſciplinis applicari poffunt, vt, quæ vni & eidem funt æqualia inter fe æquaha effe conftat,quod principium et Geo metriæ Arithmeticæ ſtereometriæ &ei quæ de ponderibus tractat diſciplinæ applicari poteft, pariter ratio Antiphontisde quadratu. G 16 ra contentiora eft, qua negat principium Geometriæ, quod eft fe cundum theorema certii elementorum Euclidis, & negat etiam li. neain poffe in infinitum diuidi, & dicit rectum eſſe curuum, & cur uum rectum, & dari duo puncta inmediata in linea circulari, quæ omnia fequuntur ex conſtitutione hilochilium triangulorum qui conſumunt lunulam contentam a circunferencia circuli & recta linea. VT impar numerus ejt medium habens, eſt aut numerus im par, eft igitur numerus, numerus medium habens. IMPAR numerusa pari differt vnitatis incremento vel im minutione, vt quinarius a quaternario, & ſenario, in his igitur vo cibus, ly numerus & ly impar committitur vitium nugationis, quale committitur in his quæ ad aliquid dicuntur, vt fimitas naſi quidem curuicas eft,modo fic ordineturfyllogiſmus, Omnis impar eſt numerus habens medium. Sed numerus eft impar Igitur numerus eſt numerus habens medium Ecce quod bis numerus reppetitur in concluſionc, inaniter factum. ACCIDIT autem quandoque ficut in mathematicis confia gurationibus, vt illic quæ foluimus quandoquecomponcre iterum non queamus. OVADRATVM, penthagonum, & cæteras figuras re. etilineas reſoluimus in triangulos,non tamen ex triangulis quadra tum fit ſed ex dacta linea recta in fe ducta deſcribitur&, 45primi clementorum Euclidis, & cæteræ figuræ, vt ex quartolibro elemen torum Euclidis patet,fed per id non videtur factum effe fatis textui Ariſtotelis,nifi dixeris, quod non ea facilitate idem componimus, qua facilitate ſoluitur in triangulos, vel etiam dicas quodin Geo metria abſolute non componitur figura ex triangulis, & fi omnia figura rectilinea in triangulos refoluatur, fecus auteminri athmetica de mente pythagoræ, tefte Boetio libro fecundo Arithmetices immo vnaqueque figurarum ſpecies, componitur ex præcedenu fpecie et triangulo,vt eo loco demonftratur, vel meliusex tot vni tatibus, quotpræcedensſpeciesconſtat, & vnitatibus triangulorum, vt illis declaratur locis. VNIVERSA LOCA IN LOGICA M A R то тв LIS IN MATHBMATICAS DISCIPLINAS HOC NOVVM OPVS DECLARAT. сум PRIVILEGIO. aistas f 4 VBNBTUIS IN OFICINA FRANCISCI,COLINI GROENIGLICHEN AD LECTORES. Primum limen huius ingreſſus eft in hunc librum,utintel ligat lector Euclidein citatum eſſe fecundum Theonem & fecundum Campanuim indiſcriminatim. Pretcrca illud aduertendum eſt quod Textus Ariſtotelis partiti funt fecundum Ioannem Grammaticum, & nume rus alius, cui præponitur ly aliàs, aut ly uel,in fronte ca pitis denotat partitionein Auerois in Paraphraſi, Tertio loco numerus denotatpartitionem commentationis mas goæ Auerois, Illustriſsimo Venetorum Confilio cautum eft, ne quis hoc Opus imprimere audeat ante decenniuń, fubpena Ducatorum centum, áammißionis librorum; ut in Priuilegio conceſſo Domino Presbitero Petro Cathena artium & facræ Theologie Doétori, pro feßorique publicoliberalium artium in Gymnaſio Paduano: LASERLICH HOFBIB WIEN L MARCOLINI GROENIGLICHEN AD LECTORES. Primum limen huius ingreſſus eft in hunc librum,utintel ligat lector Euclidein citatum eſſe fecundum Theonem & fecundum Campanuim indiſcriminatim. Pretcrca illud aduertendum eſt quod Textus Ariſtotelis partiti funt fecundum Ioannem Grammaticum, & nume rus alius, cui præponitur ly aliàs, aut ly uel,in fronte ca pitis denotat partitionein Auerois in Paraphraſi, Tertio loco numerus denotatpartitionem commentationis mas goæ Auerois, Illustriſsimo Venetorum Confilio cautum eft, ne quis hoc Opus imprimere audeat ante decenniuń, fubpena Ducatorum centum, áammißionis librorum; ut in Priuilegio conceſſo Domino Presbitero Petro Cathena artium & facræ Theologie Doétori, pro feßorique publicoliberalium artium in Gymnaſio Paduano: LASERLICH HOFBIB WIEN LCOLINI GROENIGLICHEN AD LECTORES. Primum limen huius ingreſſus eft in hunc librum,utintel ligat lector Euclidein citatum eſſe fecundum Theonem & fecundum Campanuim indiſcriminatim. Pretcrca illud aduertendum eſt quod Textus Ariſtotelis partiti funt fecundum Ioannem Grammaticum, & nume rus alius, cui præponitur ly aliàs, aut ly uel,in fronte ca pitis denotat partitionein Auerois in Paraphraſi, Tertio loco numerus denotatpartitionem commentationis mas goæ Auerois, Illustriſsimo Venetorum Confilio cautum eft, ne quis hoc Opus imprimere audeat ante decenniuń, fubpena Ducatorum centum, áammißionis librorum; ut in Priuilegio conceſſo Domino Presbitero Petro Cathena artium & facræ Theologie Doétori, pro feßorique publicoliberalium artium in Gymnaſio Paduano: LASERLICH HOFBIB WIEN LIOTHEK PETRVS CATHENA VENETÝS PRESBITERORVM OMNIVM MINIMVS REVERENDISSIMO DOMINO MARCO LAVRETANO EPISCOPO NONENSI AC PATRONO S V O COLENDISSIMO. S. P. மரா NTER munera,quæ diuiniore calculo benigna humanitatis arti fex natura nobiscontulit, uirtu tum de litterarum facratiſsime antistes, ad poftremum haud quaquam adducitur ipſa ratio, nempe ad quamomnia prope quæhumana addicuntur ſubstan tiæ ad unum adhæferunt, cuius munere ſi quis minime recte ufus fuerit ipſum naturæ aduerſari, atſi bonis artibus que de periere iam &deciderunt, quippiamſplendoris &utilitatiscor rogauerit & farcuerit, illum rationismunereperfunctumeſſe ne mo nefciat, hac de caufaconſiderans hominum mentes eodem effe quo arua fato, quæ ſi excolantur bona ſinegligantur mala perfe runt germina,uidiſſem multos, qui philofophi nominari uolunt prepoſteris imbutos litteris,quorum mentes ſentes alunt Gmon stra, quibusuellicandisne unus quidem Herculesſatiseffet, uin Etum in inestricabiles laberinthos quin potius in carcerem te terrimum Aristotelem ut ciuimilites traxiſſe,qui inutilibus que stionibus &Græcis tenue intincti literis, bomis artibusnegletis, fimiles factifunt oculo, qui quòd in tenebris fit lucem flocifecerit Aij decreuiquoingenijuires,etiam fi exignas(nam apprime noui quàm fitmihi curtaſuppellex ) expenderem in eruendo Ariſtotele ex illo obfcuro, id autem tam comode quàm apte fieri putabam ſi Mathematica exempla ſua expreſsiora redderem, quibus in ex plicandis Logicis ufusfuit ipſe prefertim hoc tempore qua publi cis lectionibus Mathematicis in PaduanoGimnaſio incumbebam, ad huius etiam clariſsimi Philofophi elucidationem accedebat hor tatio iuuamen ReuerendissD.. Ioannis Marie Piſauri Epiſco pi Paphenſis &mecenatis optimi cuius expenſis opus imprimeba tur, hortabaturque me ille, ne opus hocpermiterem ex ire in ho minummanus fine duce aliquo cumpreſertim milta, &fere difi cilima hac tempestate contineret, que aut ab interpretibus uniuer fis omiffa, autoppoſita his effent que interpretati ſunt. Te igitur patronum Dominum meum delegi,qui & Ariſtoteleam Philo ſophiam uniuerſam cales, &qui has liberalesartes Latinis duri bus inuulgauit. Itaque ea. Aristoteles loca qua potui diligentia il lustraui, & quæ lucem claritatemque deſiderare uide bantur, curſimebreuis annotamenti lumine perui afeci, qua in reſi effe cerim quod uoluizesło iudex &cenfor. Has autem primores inge - ný nostri fæturastuo nomini Reuerendiss. Domine eam ob rem dicatas uolui,quo plane intelligeres noftri animigratitudinem pro innumeris quibus me in dies cumulare deſideras beneficijs, eoque quod aliter non datur temeum reuerear benefactorem; neque ob aliud ſanete reuerear quàm quòd omni laude digniſsimum: Vale præfulum decus. ed RE agat, ueletium num in ſemen uiri, uelmulieris, uel inmatricem, { OTS PORPHYRII DE GENERE PETRI CΑΤΗΕΝΑ PRESBITERI VENETINOVA INTERPRETATIO. IcetVR & alio modo genus uniuſcuiuſque principium or tus, tam ab co, qui genuit, quám a loco in quo eft quiſ piam ortus. Dicitur quòd locus, os pater cauſe funteffè &trices genis ti, diuerfimodetamen,quippe pater aétiua fit caufa, locus uero conſer uatiua tantum,que ad cauſam effe's Etricem non immerito reducitur,aps te magis quàm adquodcunque aliud cauſé genus. Dico tamen quod, & locusnedum conſeruatiuum prin cipium est, fic ut genitum folummodo conſeruet poftea quam genitum ipfum acquiſiuerit effe fuum,ſed etiam adiuuin principium eſt ipſe locus affe Ausrefpectu geniti accidentiumſententia est ipſius Ariſtotelis, quòd per acceſjum atque receſſum planetarumſub circulo obliquo fiunt in hæc inferioragenerationes atquecorruptiones, folis igitur, e planetarum aliorum lumine, ac motu, affectus locus, aštiue agit hoc pacto adgenera = tionem, atque parentes, fi fecus quis audiuerit, tunc sol, & pater non generarenthominem cum Sol non niſiſuis radijs reétis reflexis autfrae étis alterando aerem agatin ipſum, ca in contentum, quo autem pacto age quodmodo eidemſimili,quo etiam in uiſcera terre producitmineralia, o interræ fuperficie plantas. PORPHY RIVS DE SPE. DE SPET I E. VLCR A Fucies, debita parilitate demiſſa,coloria bus lineamentiſuć luculenter affecta,fpetiesà Pors phyrio in prima ſpetiei ſignificatione uocatur., ut Facies priami dignaeſt imperio, ad cuius fi militudinem, ill. est, quefub aßignato generepoa nitur, curus pulcritudo, est differentia fpecifica, qua pulcritudine informe genus contrahitur, atque pulcrumfit. Et Trianguluun, figuræ fpetiem ſimili modo ſignificat,fie gura rectilinea genus est ad triangulum, non figura in uniuerſum quamſic fufamfiguram Euclides primo Elementorum partitur in eam, que una clauditur linea, & in eam quæ pluribus lineis continetur, qui Triangulus Axties fitfigure reftilinee per hanc ſpecificam différen tiam qua est, claudi tantum tribus reftis, qua etiam differentia pula crum redditur figure genus. Indiuidua funt'infinita. Non intela ligas hoc uelim, niſi potentia,qua infinitatis affectione etiam numerus ita intelligatur; ſed modo quodam diverſo, numerus enim, quicunque fit, aexiſtat, finitus eſt, terminatus,ſic pariter indiuidua on nia, quæ exiſtunt finita funt, sed que preceſſerunt omnia,o que futu rafunt ex utraqueparte infinita diceret Ariſtoteles, numerus uero cum statum ad unitatemhabeat duplici modo finitus eſt,« actu, o deſcenden do,uerum indiuidua duobus modis dictis funt infinita, unico autem modo ut quæ præfentiafunt, finita etiamfunt. IN PREDICAMENTA ARISTOTELIS. DE QVANTITATE. ENARAI numeri partes, ut quinque, & quinque. Animaduerſione dignum exemplar hoc in loco pofuit Ariſtoteles, cum dixit quinque,& quin que partes eſe denarij numeri, non enim dixit quis narium, oquinarium denarium numerum compone re, quia nulla numerorun fpeties componitur ex di uerfisſpetiebus,neque etiam ex unis indiuiduis eiufdem fpetiei,ut diuerfa fpeties fiat, ex unis ternis uel quaternis, ant quinnis numeris nonfitfe nariusuel oftonarius aut denarius, ex unitatibus tamen quinis o quinis que materia eft. Cuiuslibet numeri, denari fpeties conflutur, eas ſententia Euclidis, Nichomaci, atque Boetij. Similiter & in cor pore fuimere aſsignareque lineam fuperficiemuè comu. nem terininun potes, quo partes corporis copulantur. Punctum esse lincæ terminum, or lineam ſuperficiei, e ſuperficiem corporis nemo neſcit, niſi qui Euclidis doctrina dignus est, ſed illud unum maiori egeret indagine, quo nam pa&o lineaſitforſan etiam ima mediatus corporis terminus,ne id Ariſtoteles aſſerens, quippiam affe rat contra Euclidis fcitum, prima enim deffinitione undecimi Elementorum inquit ille, corpus ſiue ſolidum est, quod longitudinem latitudia nem ocraßitudinem habet, folidi uero terminus fuperficies est, uide ergo quod ſolidi terminusnonſit linea ipfa, ut Ariſtoteles aſſerit. Ves rum quòd linea terminusfit corporis manifeſtum est, fi idquod Euclides ait deffinitione nona undecimi elementorum non ignores, solidus (inquit) angulus est, qui ſub pluribus duobus planis angulis comprehenditur non exiſtentibus in eodem plano, ad unum ſignum conſtitutis, plurium linearum igitur contactus (nulla ſuperficierum habita conſideratione) qui estfolidus angulus corpus terminat,fub illis igitur lineis angulusfox Tidus contentus, terminusest illius folidi, ville lineæ termini ſuntnes dum illarum ſuperficierum corpus ambientium, quin etiam inmediati terinini funtillius corporis, cum linea continentes illos angulos in puran Etum unum concurrant. Preterea idipſum Euclides afferit de angulo, quod fit immediatus terminusfolidi problemate tredecimo, libri tredeci mi Elementorum, & in fequentibus quatuor problematibus idem uit,in quibus docet conſtruere corpora regularia, queſuis angulis tangant ſu perficiem concauam circumſcribentis pheri, qui quidem uniuerſi angis li ſub tribus ad minus &pluribus tribus rectis lineis ad unum pun &tum concurrentibus continentur, &punctus ille, nedum est linearum terris minus, fed etiam regularis corporis finis,cum ſit terminus omnium linearum, quo termino tangit fphærum,patet igitur id, quod Ariſtoteles dixit de lineis nedum ueritatem habere, ſed ut etiam pun tusſit terminus ips fius corporis, ſecundum Euclidis ſcitum, perinde dicendum eft de ſuper ficie, quòd non tantum lineis, ſedetiam ipſis pun tis terminata fit, fide ea, quæ rectis lineis claudatur fermofiat, øde corpore Iſoperimetro, fiue quod pluribus re&tis fuperficiebusclauditur, hocquod dictum est in telligatur. Adid uero, quod Euclides primo Elementorum ait deſuper ficie fiuefigura rectilinea deffinitione uigefima, refponde, quod uerum dicit, figura rectilinea, inquit, contineturfub lineis reftis, enon die cit contineturfub punctis, agequod contineriſub pun &tis diuerfum eſt, ab terminari punctis. Ariſtoteles hoc uidens, dixit corpus lineis termia narinon tamenfub illis contineri,quod deſuperficie ſimiliter eft dia cendum. Vel etiam reétè dices, fi ita fenferis, quòd figura in uniuer. ſali, linea claudatur, neque una,neque pluribus, & corpus in uniuer far liambitu ſuperficie claudatur, neque itidem una aut pluribus, o neua tra deffinitio fic in uniuerfum accepta habet exclufiuam particulam,cum autem ad circulum uel ſpherum defcenderis,unum linea una clauditur re liquum uero una tantum fuperficie ſcias elſe claufum,reliquæ uerofigur re rectilineæ non deffiniuntur cum particula exclufiua abEuclide,vel di cas, quòd in littera Ariſtotelis, eſt fua met interpretatio, ubi enim dixe rit, in corporefumere aßignarequelineam comunem terminum, statim correxit ſe, dicens fuperficiem eſſe comuném terminum corporis et Euclides non dixit quòd punctus, ſed quod angulus tangat fphærum. Rurſus in pago quidem, multos homines, Athenis au tem paucos dicimus eſſe, qui tamen funt illis plures, & in domo quidem multos in theatro uero paucos,qui quidem & ipfi multo funt illis plures.Aduertas Ariſtotelem utroque exi emplo, o paucos & multos dixiſſe, comparationem faciens hominum ad loca in quibusfunt, non habens rationens hominum ad homines, ut fimile exemplun daretur ſiquis dicat pauciaurcifunt in arca, @mule ti in crumena, fi in crumena eſſent tantum fex, decem in arca, DE HIS QVÆ AD ALIQVID. VADRATIONIS enim circuli, & fcibilis eſt, ſcientia quidem nondum eſſe uidetur eft autem fcibilis ipſa. Quadam libertate hoc lo co loquutus eſt Arift.afferens id quod ignorauit, quia ſi non ignoraſcet eam,habuiſſet illiusſcientiam, o non dixiſſet (niſi forſan mendatio) ſcientia quidem now dum eſſe uidetur,fciens etiam quod nullus adtempus uſqueſuum proprijs principijs quadraturam inuenerit, nequecitra ad hanc ufq; horam,quis oftenderit,nififorſan quibufdamſuppoſitis,quu,et ipfa non minoriproba tione egerent quàm ipſa circuli quadratio,fedquidper iftud exemplum utilitatis Ariſtot. attulerit, illud effe puto, ut ammoto fcibili, oſcien tia ARISTOTELIS. tia eiusremoveri neceſſe eſt, ut putacaufa nunquam cauſante nuſquam effectus erit, quadratio igitur circuli cum non ſit, nequefcientia de ip. fa quadratura circuließepoteft. Quid nam antiqui de quadratura ſe na ferint in fractionibus Mathematicis declarabitur. DE QVALITATE. VARTVM qualitatis gen'us eft figura & ca quæ circa unumquodque eft forma, & in fuper rectitudo, & curvitas, & quicquid eſt hiſce fimile. De figura fcias Ariſtotelem lom qui, non ut de ea Geometrica abſtracte conſiderata, Jed de figura in re figurata exiſtente,ueluti in fubie & o, idem de forma, rectitudine, atque curuitate intelligas. Aduere tendum tamen ordinem quendam feruaffe hoc loco Ariſtotelem in his que proponit, à ſimpliciori ad magis compoſitum. Primo enim defi gura,quæ linea, uel lineis clauditur, fecundo de his, quæ ſimplici bus lineis, aut ſuperficiebus uniformibus, nempe uel tantum re tis, aut tantum curuis, uelſolummodo conuexis,aut etiain tantum concauis continentur, modus iſte ſecundus à primo non nihil differt, in hoc differentia est inter utrumque, quia primomodo de co quod planum eft, ueluti ipſa papyrus, ſecundo modo, de eo quod corpus, utmons, ficuti uulgus,quodfubtile eſt (ut papyrus) planum uocat, quod autem eft ualde craſſum, corpus appellat, ut montem, a facilioriperſuadens tya runculis ea,quæ etiam à uulgo principium cognitionis ſumunt. Triana gulus autem & quadratum cæteræque figuræ, non uidens tur talem rationem ſubire. Ariſtoteles parum ante dixit, que: nam ſint et, quæ magis, minufue ſuſcipiunt, ut puta qualia ipſa, gridus fufcipiunt intenfionis,modo uides quod neque trianguliis,nequequadras tum,qualia ſunt, fed quanta, que intenſione remißioninonſunt apta. Nam ea, quæ trianguli rationem circulinefuſcipiunt,trians guli fimiliter, aut circuli ſunt oinnia. Senſus huius eft, quòd triangulus. quilibet, uel omnia que triangula ſunt, niſi id quod tribus clauditur lineis,aliud non eſt, a circuli omnes, nil aliud funtquam und çlaudi linea, in cuius medio punctus eſt quod centrum dicitur, à quo oma. nes recte linea uſque ad circunferentiam ductæ inter fefunt cquales.com hoc nihil aliud quàm circulus eſt,nõ enim triangulus circulus,neque cira B 10 IN PREDICAMENT A culus triangulus eft, neque utrunque aliquid unum eſt, licet utrunque figura ſit,ſed hoc æquiuoce, & non uniuoce eſt. Neque te turbet hoc quia Ariſtoteles prius de triangulo, « quadrato propoſuit,c finit ſena tentiam de triangulo, e circulo, & non de triangulo, quadrato, quia de triangulo o quadrato dicens, ſubiunxit cæteræque figuræ quo uerbo etiam circulă intellexit, de quo ultimo loco explicite loquitur. Eorum uero, quæ rationein hanc, non ſuſcipiunt, nihil alio magis minúſie tale dicetur,non enim quadratum ma gis quàm altera parte longius circulus elt, quippe cum neu trum circuli fubeat rationem atque fimpliciter. Si non fubeat propoſiti, in quofit comparatio rationem, alteruin altero magis tale mi nuſueminimèdicetur. Quadratum neque circulus eſt, nec etiam altera parte longius circulus eſt,cum igitur propoſiti circuli rationem neus trum ſuſcipiat, neque quadratum circulus eft,nec etiam quadratum mas gis quam altera parte longius circulus est, idem age de altera partelons giore. Atquefimpliter pro hoc uerbo, ſcito Ariſtot.ſententiam hanc eſe, o ſi quadratum, &altera parte longius circulus eſſet, atque in eo conuenirent, quia tamen neutrum eorum, atque circulus, non eft qualis tas, fed quantitas,ideo à quadrato, o abaltera parte longiori, lymas gisminúfue,ſecludenda funt.Expoſitio hæc uidetur contra id, quòd Aris ſtoteles determinauit in capite de quali oqualitate, quo loco ait quara tum qualitatis genus eft figura,ad quodfoluendum, dicas figuram capi uno, atquealtero modo,primo figura conſideratur in ſe abſtracta aſus bie &to quocunque, cmſic quantumfeu quantitas eft,o non qualitas,nec etiam in quarto qualitatis genere, alio autem modo conſideraturfigura in refigurata, cui largitur tale eſſe, or ſicfigura in fubieéto aliquo,quam. litatis naturam non refutat. Neque musica, cuiuſpiam musica, niſi generis ratione ad aliquid, & ipsa dicatur. De uniuersali Aristoteles,& non para ticularimuſica loquens, ſiue humant uoce uel inſtrumentis praxis fiat, uel Theorica ipſa intelligatur, biffariam eam conſiderat, quatenus à fubieéto uel obiecto ſeu genere ipſo caufetur,et quatenus cauſata in ſubie eo quopiam eſt, primo modo ad fubie &tum quod genus uocat, tan quàm ad effectricem caufam reffertur, ut ad ſonum numeratum, non due tem ad Platonem in quo recepta est, relatiue dicitur. Vel etiam dicas, quòd refertur rationefuigeneris, ut quatenus scientia adfcibile. ARISTOTELIS. IL DE MODIS PRIOR IS. HR N DEMONTSRATIVIS scientisprius eſt nimirum atque pofterius ordine, Elemen ta nanque deſignationibus ordine priora ſunt. Scito elementa, ut deffinitiones, petita, animi conceptiones precedere ipfis propoſitiones in ſcientijs, id quod in Euclidis methodo patet,proa poſitio nem ſubſequitur expoſitio, quam expoſitionem statim deſigndz tio diagrammatisconſequitur, hancdeſignationem (que beneficio petia torum tantun fit) determinatio, determinationem demonſtratio, ſexto loco epilogus, ſiue propoſitionis repetitio. Vel dicas elementa,ipſatana tum eſſe petita reſpectu deſignationis tantummodo. Elementa etiam non tantum principia,utdeffinitiones,petita, & conceptiones animi, reſpectu propoſitionum, que per ea probantur dicuntur, fed ipſa propoſia tiones probatæ, quatenus ad alias fequentes propoſitiones probandas fumuntur, dicuntur elementa, hac de caufa, quidam uolunt libros quindecim Euclidis uocari elementa, alij nero non ob id, quindecim libri dicuntur elementa,ſed quia fingulis libris fua affiguntur principia, ut apud Campanum, ſed neuter modus dicendi placet, quin potius elea menta dicuntur oinnia, quæ in illis quindecim libris continentur, nedum propter deffinitiones, petita, Oʻanimi conceptiones,ut iſti, neque prou pter hoc, quòd alique prime propoſitiones, que demonſtratæ funt, fint pro alijs propoſitionibus fequentibus probandis principia, &elea menta,ut illi dicunt, quia tunc ultima propoſitio noneſſet elementuin ad. quippiam, cum ipſa ultima eſſet, ſed elementa, atque principia omnia illa dicuntur, reſpectu omnium propoſitionum per ipfa probandarum infcientijs fubalternatis ad illos quindecim libros. IN PREDICAMENTA DESPETIEB.V.S. MOTVS. i bЬ & CRET 10 ', alteratio non eft. Hoc perſuaa det Ariſtot. exs * emplo Geometri co (quod etiam multis modis in Arithmetica Boetius docet)Gnomon quidem,ut in fecundo clementorum deffinitione ſecunda ha betur,figura eſt ſex laterum,compoſi ta ex uno quadrato conſiſtente circa diametrum, « ſuplementis duobus, quefigura ab Euclide primo elemen torum propoſitione tirgeſima quar ta habetur, quæ est 6, quam fi huic addideris quadrato a, quadratiſpe ties minime alteratur, licet fiat acre tio quantitatis, ſic ut in hac figu ra ab, quod una diuerfa peties alteri fpetiei addita non uariet fpes tiem,exempla plus centum in tabule Pythagora, apud Nicomachum, Boetium,in numeris inuenies, ut pu ta ex duobus longilateris altrinfecus ad quadratum pofitis, bis medio fumpto quadrato, quod fit, quadra = tumest,licetfacta ſit acretio, ut ex duobus, fex, vbis quatuor, ut ofto, ſexdecim exoritur,qui etiam quadratus eft, pari modo,ex duo bus quadratis, er bis fumptomedio longilatero, nempe ex quatuor, e nouem,bisfumptoſenario longilate ro, uiginti quinque quadratus ortus alb ARISTOTELIS.i. 13 est, que intelligas uolo ex in ateria primi quadrati, atque longilateri, ut ex ipſis unitatibus, ego non de numeris tūlis formaliter fumptis, cum prius corrumpaturſpeties preceden tis quadrati minoris, atque longilas • teri, in aliam petiem maioris quas drati, qui ex illis oritur, acretio. igitur ubique facta eſt, nulla intera ueniente alteratione in fpetie ipſius quadrati, licet e gnomonis atque longilateri apertiſsime facta fit alte ratio. Aduertas tamen, ad id quòd Ariſtot. ait in hoc exemplo de addia • tione gnomonis ad quadratum, ſic, utfpetiesquadrati nõ alteratur.licet • fiat acretio, in Geometria uniuerſali ter ueritatem habet, fed non eſt ita planum in Arithmetica, niſi intelles Xeris de fpetie ſubalternāte,quòd ip fa non uariatur, uaristur tamen qua dratiſþeties ſubalternata, oſpetia liſsima,quòd patet ex eo quòdſi nu mero quadratoſexdecim,addus gno monem uiginti, statim ex pariter paa ri, ut puta ſexdecim, fit impariter par, uidelicet triginta fex, quorums uterque, o fifit quadratus, diucrfarum tamen fpetierum funt, ut ex libris Euclidis de Arithmetica mani feftum eft,quod exemplo fubſcripto manifeſtatur fatis, quapropter uni uerfaliter Ariſtotelem intelligas de quadrati, quatenus quadratum eft ', Apetie, hoceſt de fpetie quadrati in uniuerfum, non de quadratiſpe= tie ppetialifsima. vel etiam dicas quòd Ariſtoteles intelligit exemplifia cari in Geometria uniuerfaliter non autem uniuerfaliter fimpliciter, hoc oft non in omnibus difciplinis. 11 14: IN PRIMVM LIB. IN PRIMO PRIOR V M AN T E SECVNDVM SEC.TV M. n A M fine uniuerſali nô erit fyllogiſmus aut non ad pofitum aut quod ex principio pea tetur,ponatur enim mulicam uoluptatem & c. Sed magis efficitur inanifeſtum in de ſcriptionibus, ut quòdæquicruriæquales, quiad baſin, ſintadcentruin ductæ a,b, fi igitur æqualem accipiata, c, d, angulum, ipſib, d, c,non omnino exiſtimans æquales, qui ſemicirculorum, & rur. fus c, ipfi d,non omnem aſunens eum qui ſeçti. Amplius ab æquis exiſtentibus, totis Angulis, & ablatorum, æqua les eflc reliquos e,f; quod ex principio petet, nifi acceperit ab æqualibus æqualibus demptis,æqualia dereli nqui. Plaa num igitur quòdin omni oportet uniuerſale exiſtere. Si dubitaret quis,an. ſemicirculi eiuſdem ornnes anguli ſint equales, ſic perfuaderi uidetur, b omnes diametri eiufdem circuliſunt æquales per primam deffinitionem tertij elementorum,peripheria eiuſ de circuli uniformis eſt per xv. def finitionem primi elementorit, o me dietas circunferentiæ est æqualis al teri medietati eiufdě circunferentia cumque omnes recte à centro ad cir cunferentiam du &tæ fint æquales,fe quitur igitur, quod duo anguli a, c, d,cb, d, c, ſemicirculorum eiufdem circuli a, b, c, d, ſint ad inuicem æquales, hæc perfuafio fiat ei, qui non omnino exiſtimat æquales, qui ſemicirculorum, rurfus inquit c, ipſi d, angulus uidelicet uterý; minoris portionis æqualis eft alteri,nonaccepto toto angulo, ideſt,toto angulo ſemicirculib, d,c, e a cd, quod ſic perſuadetur, árcus c, d, eiuſdem est peripherie, que unir formis eſt, c, d, eſt unice, om eadem re&ta,ſi igitur utrunque angus lorum minoris portionis ab utriſque ſemicirculorum angulis detraxeris, qui anguli reininent uidelicet e, of, erunt æquales æquicrurus igitur. PRIORVM ARISTOT. 15 triangulus habet ad bafim poſitos æquales angulos, quod demonſtratum fuit,ſumpta iſta uniuerſali, ſi ab equalibus æqualia aufferantur, reli qua æqualia remanent, IN PRIMO PRIOR VM ANTE TERTIVM SECTV M. ECVNDVM uero unumquodque entium elia gere, ut de bono,aut fcientia,priuate auten fecundum unamquainque, funt plurima quare principia quidem quæ ſecundum unu quodq; funt,experimenti eſt tradere,dico au tem,ut Aſtrologicam experientiain aſtrolo gicæ ſcientiæ, acceptis enim apparentibus fufficienter, ita inuentæ funtaſtrologicæ demonſtrationes, &c. Compertum eſt aſtrolabio ſolem plus temporis conſumere à principio Arietis ad uſas finem Virginis, quam à principio Libre uſque ad Piſcium fines,idquod o hiſtoria traditum eft, propter hoc etiam Hiſtoria dereli&tum est Solem tres habere orbes, quorum medius,eccentricus eſt. Quibus habis tis apparentibus, facile eftdemonſtrationes de Sole concludere,oſimili ter in unaquaque diſciplina, prima principia hiſtoria data, &dereli Eta ſine probation funtpofteris, quibus principijs tanquàm uerisſupa poſitis (hiſtoriæ enim proprium eft ueritatem narrare) demonſtratio nes fiuntſi autem de principijs aliquafiat demonſtratio,illam « impro priain, a poſteriori, feu à ſigno eſſe, nemoeſt quineſciat. ANTE MVT V AM SYLLOGISMO RVM RESOLVTIONEM. On oportet autein exiſtimare penes id, quod exponimus, aliquid accidere abfurdum nis hil cnim utimur eo, quod eft hoc aliquid elle ſed quemadınodum Geometra, pedalem, & rectam hanc, fine latitudine dicit, quæ non ſunt: Textushic exponitur primo pofteriorum T. 52 fed hic tantum dubitatur,quo pacto intellectus ea poſsit ſufficienti appres henſione capere, quenon funt, ut quæ nunquam, fub fenfu fuerunt? 16 IN SECVNDVM LI B. Adfecundum refpondeo, quod animam eſſe, intelligit intellectus, quam tamen nunquam uidit oculus, aut manus tetigit. Ideo multa intelligit ins telle &tus,quorum nunquamſenfus ſenſationem habuit. Ad primum dico, quodficut intellectus concipit coclearem artem abſtraftam, quætamen kon eſt, niſi indeterminatis, ſingularibus hominibus, fic etiam li ncam ſuperficie?n intelligit, que tamen non ſunt, niſi in linea atrd. mento picta, o ſuperficie, in corpore naturali, IN SECVNDO PRIORVM CAPITE DE PETITIONE PRINCIPII. - o cautem eft quidem fic facere,utſtatim cens ſeat quod propofitum eſt, contingit uero, & in alia tranſeuntes apta nata per illud mon ſtrari, per hæc demonftrare quod ex princie pio,uelutiſi,a, monftretur per b,b autein per C, c autem natun efſet monitrari per a accidit cnim ita ratiocinantes ipſum a,per ipſuninet a monſtrare, quod faciunt, qui coalternas putant fcribere latent enim ipſi ſeipſos talia accipientes, quæ non eſt poſsibile monſtra: re non exiſtentibuscoalternis, quare accidit ita ratiocinans tibus unumquodque eſſe dicere, fi eft unumquodque, ſed ita omne erit per feipfum cognoſcibile, quod impoſsibile eft.Si propoſitum ſit probare, quod e ſit a, &id oftendatur per mes dium b,c fieret talis fyllogiſmus (e est b, beſt a, igitur e eſt 4. Pros batio primæ minoris uidelicet quæ eſt hæc, e eſt b, fit per hoc medium f, ut in hoc Syllogiſino (e eftc, c, eſt b, igitur e eſt b) Cuius minor, uis delicet hæc, & eft c,fiprobetur. Tunc reſumitur prima concluſio pris mi Syllogiſmi,quæ à principio probanda erat, ut in hoc Syllogiſmo e eſt 4,4 eſt c,igitur e eftc) &fic e eft a,quia e eſt a, Ofic error ijte uerfatur in probanda minore primi Syllogiſmi per plura media per c, oper a, propoſitio uero que probanda proponebatur, hæcuidelicet,e eft a, per tria media per b., perc, & per a, probatur, ſimiliter errant illi, qui nituntur probare parallelas effe per hoc, quod Triangulum habent tres æquales duobusreftis, quod quidem hoc probaretur modo, ſit triangu = lus a, b, c. cuius latusbc, ſi protendatur,caufabitur augulus d, c, d, exterior equalis duobus angulis a, b, intrinſecis ex oppoſito colla * catis PRIORVM ARISTOT. 19 [ b N catis, ut patet ex prima parte tri q geſimæſecunde primi elementorun Euclidis, à punéto c, parallela dua catur ipſi b, a, quæ fitc, e, patea bit per ſecundam partem eiufdemn tri geſimæſecundæ primi elementorum, - quòd triangulus a, b, c, habebit tres duobus re&tis æquales. Si aus tem fumatur probandum quod b, a, uc, e, fint parallelæ, per hoc medium, quia triangulus b, a, c, habeat tres duobus re&tis æqua. les, ideo ipſe parallelæ ſunt, ſic, exterior æqualis eft duobus intrinſe cis ex aduerſo poſitis, qui exterior angulus a, c, d, in duos pars titur angulos in a, c, e,we, c, d,, c, e æqualis eſt b, a,, ere, c, d, eft æqualis a,b, c; quorum utrunque probatur per lis neas eſſe parallelas,ut per uigeſimamnonam primi elementorum,feques retur igitur, quod a,b,oc, e, parallelæ funt,quia parallelæ ſunt,ut b, a,oc, f, parallelæ funt,quia triangulus a, b, c, habet tres duoc bus rectis equales, fed a, b, c, triangulus habet tres Angulos duos bus reftis equales, quia a, b, & c,e, parallelæ ſunt,igitur a, b,a col, parallele ſunt,,quia parallelefunt, quod uanum eft, oprobare quipe piam prius per aliquod pofterius, quod pofterius æget illo priori adſui probationem. Aliter exponatur Textus,ut fiintentü fit defcriberec, d, queſit parallela ipſi a, b, per uiges ſimamtertiam primi Elementorum d fiat angulus e, c, d, æqualis angulo 4,6,6, & argue poſtea,quod d, 0,4, ſit æqualis angulo b, a, 6, quod eſſe non poteſt, niſi b, d,egu c, d," parallele fupponantur, fic b connectatur inductio, quia Trian gulus a, b, c, habet duobus reftis æquales,parallelæ funt a,b, c,d, &quia paralellæ funt, ideo Triangulus habet duobus rectis æqualis, igitur paralella funt, quia parallele fit. a: í с 18.INSECVNDVM LIB. DE EO QUOD NON EST PENES HOC. VONIAM idem utique falſum per plures fup pofitiones accidere, nihil fortaffe inconue niens, ueluticoalternas coincidere, & fimas jor eft extrinſecus intrinſeco, & fi triangu lus haberet plures rectos duobus. Quod autem parallela a, b, c, d, coincidunt fic perſuaderiui. detur Angulus extrinfecus e, 8, 6, maior eft angulo intrinſeco g, b, d, (quod quidem ſummitur falfum, pe nes quodſequitur impoſsibile ) ſed 9 4,8,6,6,8, ho per xiij.primi a -b Elementorumſunt æquales duobus re&tis igitur b, 8,5,64,6,8, erunt d minores duobus reftis per illam igi tur communem fententiam, ſi una f recta ſuper duas rectas ceciderit at que ex una parte cadėtis linee duo anguli intrinſeci fuerint minoris duobus reétis, illas duas reétas ad pars tem illorum angulorum concurrere neceſſe erit, fi protrahantur. Et fi triangulushaberet plures rectos duobus. Duo Anguli g, h, k,68, k, h, ſuntmaiores duo. bus re&tis, multo magis igitur b, h, k, d, k, h, ſuntmaiores duos, bus rectis,igitur duo a, h, k, k, h, ſunt minores duobus res a. h b & is, quia omnes quatuor 6, h, k. a, b, k. d, k, h. @c, k, h. og ſunt æquales quatuor reftis per des cimamtertiam primi Elementorum bis fumptam,igitur b, a, d, c, f adpartem a, c, protracte concurs rent, per illam animi conceptionem,fire &ta ſuper duas reétas cadensfes cerit duos angulos'ex una parte minores duobus reétis, illa duæ lineæ ad illam partem protracte neceſſario concurrent. ! Co Cс PRIORVM ARISTOT. IN DE DECEPTIONE QVÆ FIT SECVNDVM SVSPITIONEM. ELVTI fia, ineft omnib, buero omni c, a omni c inerit, fi itaque quiſpiam nouit quòda ineſt omni, cuib, nouit & quòd cui c, fed nihil prohibet ignorare c, quòd eft, ut ſia duo recti, in quo autem b, triangulus,in quo uero c, ſenſibilis triangulus, fufpicari nanque poflet aliquis non eſſe c,fciens quod omnis trian gulus haberet duosrectos, quare fimulnoſcet,& ignorabit idem. Textum ſimilem habes in pofterioribus in principio primi,preu ter ea, quæ ibi dicentur pro nunc ad explanationem huius Textus, prie mo littera exponatur, omne b eft a, omne c eſt b, igitur omne ceſta, uel omnis triangulus habet tres duobus rectisæquales, qui conſtitutus eſt in tabula est triangulus, igitur qui conſtitutus eft in tabula habet tres: duobus reétis æquales,ſed ſimul dicas o charateres terminos,omne, b trigonum eſt habens tres angulos duobus rectis æquales, omnec fen. fibiletriangulum eſt triangulum, igitur omne c ſenſibile triangulum habet tres angulos æquales duobus re &tis. Cum teneret quis hanc uni uerfalem, omnis triangulus habet tres angulos æquales duobus reétis nondum fciebat, quòd ſenſibile triangulum effet huiuſmodi, quòd han beret tres, uidelicet duobus re &tis æquales, niſi potentia, non autem actu; quàm primum autemfyllogizauit ſubſumptaminore, statim intua. lit, «cognouit, quod ſenſibilis triangulus, tres duobus rectis pares haberet. Cum autem ait ſuſpicarinanque poſſet aliquis, non eſſec, non eft intelligendum, ſic ut Græci, o omnes exponunt, quaſi quod ignos retur an fit c, fed hoc non uult Ariſtoteles dicere,ſed cum inquit fufpicari nanque poſſet aliquis non eſſe c, hoc intelligas modo, quod stante prima uniuerſali, poterit ignorare anc, habeat tres duobus re &tis equales, licet non ignorauerit c effe, fed ignorabit c eſſe huiuf modi, utputa, quod habeat tres duobus rectis æquales; ſcietigitur po tentia in uniuerſali propofitione, Waétu ignorabit in particulari ante quàmfiat fyllogiſmus. Syllogiſmo autem fačto,feu fa & ainduftione Geos trica de qua inprimo posteriorum Textufecundo)a & tu ſcit, quòdfenſis bilis triangulus duobus re&tis tres pares habeat,nihil igitur prohibetfi. Cij 20 IN SECVN. RIO. ARIST. mulſcire, ignorareidem ſecundum diuerſa, ut ſcire potentia iniſud uniuerſali, & antequam fiat inductio, oignorare ſimpliciter, ut pus ta in particulari. DE ABDVCTIONE. UT Rurſus fi pauca ſint media ipſorumb, c, nanque & fic proximius ipfi cognoſcere uelutiſid eſſet quadrati, in quo autem e,re etilineum, in quo uero z circulus, fi ipfius é z ſolum eſſet medium,hoc, quod eft cum lunulis, æqualem fieri circulum rectilineo ce ſīpoflet prope ipfum cognofcere. In predicamento ad ili quid circa quadrare circulum fuit determinatum quantum fiebat fa tis ad Ariſtotelis intentionem, e de quadratura fuſius in fragmena tis noftris, fuper Logicis, multa declarabo, quo ad preſentem te - xtum Ariſtoteles facit fyllogifmum, cuius minor, cumſit dubia e oba ſcura, dicit unum eſſe medium ad probandam illam, arguit e, rectilis neun, d quadratur, ſed z, circulus fit reetilineum, igitur circulum quadrari,poſſet quis eſſe prope cognoſcere, minorem tentauit Antipho, Hypocrates chiusprobare per id medium, quod lunulas ad rectilis neas figuras nixi ſunt reducere, diuerſis tamen medijs, alio enim mos do tentauit Antipho, o aliter Hypocrates chius, qux figure reetilis neæ reducebantur poſtea ad quadratum, eo artificio, quo Euclides docet ultima ſecundi Elementorum, oſyllogiſmus connectatur ſic, ut fimul dicam characteres, me terminos Ariſtotelis, e, rectilinea figura, d quadratur, fed z circulus e figura rectilinea facta est, igitur zcirculus, d, quadratur. IN PRIMVM LIBRVM POSTERIORVM ARISTOTELIS, PETRI CATHENÆ NOVA INTERPRETATIO. TEXTVS SECVNDVS. VPLICITER autem neceffarium eft præ cognofcere, alia nanque, quia ſunt prius opinarineceffe eft,aliaueroquid eft, quod dicitur intelligere oportet, quædam autein utraque, ut quoniam omne quidem, quod eſt, aut affirmare, aut negare uerumeſt quia eſt, Triangulum autem quoniam hoc fignificat; ſed unitatem utraque, & quid ſignificat, eſt quia eft, non eniin fimiliter horum unumquodque manifeftum eſt nos bis. Græci omnes, pariter & Latiniuniuerſi confuſione plenum rede dunthoc in loco Ariſtotelem, nedum qui ſcripſerunt, fed etiam recens tiores, quihac tempeſtate eum interpretantur, & priuatis colloquijs, epublicis etiam lectionibus. Anſammultorum errorum pofteris omnis bus prebuit. Ioannes Grammaticus Cognoinento Philoponus, ſuper hoc Textu in cuius expoſitione plufquain errorum mille contra Ariſto telis ſententiamfcripſit, qua decaufa, ipfa ueritate fretus, &uniuers fæ logicorum utilitati conſulens, lucidum, facilein, atque clarum Aris stotelem in hac parte reddere decreui, o inſaniam ignorantiæ depri = mere, ne etiam in futura tempora amplius à forticulis doctrina tamclan rißimiPhilofophilabefactetur, ſcito in primis, tres eſſe modos pres cognofcendi, quos Aristoteles ponit, in hoc Textu, unicuique hos rum modorum aptißimum,atquefacilimum exemplum poſuit, feruans exemplorum ordinem cum ordine modorum precognofcendi, ſic, ut primo precognofcendi modo primum exemplum aptet,ſecundo modoſe cundum, atque tertium tertio. Nequete perturbet, quod Ariſtoteles IN PRIMVM LIB. ait, dupliciter fit neceſſarium præcognoſcere'. Tripliciter autem dixes rim ego, primo autemmodo, opus eft præcognoſcere, quia eſt tantum, alio autem modo, quid eft id, quod nomen dat intelligere folummodo quos duos modos ab inuicem ſeiunctos, in tertio modo in unum aggregat uerum methodum compoſitiuam ſeruans. Duo igiturfunt modi precos gnoſcendi, alter quidem in parte oſeparatim, reliquus uero in totum, oin parte quidem biffariam. Vnus tantum quia eft,reliquus uero tans tum quid ſignificet, in toto uero ille eft modus, qui horum utrunque in ſe comple &titur. Exempla Ariſtotelis multos Geometric ignaros turs batosego stupidos reliquerunt, qui ab Apoline reprehenfi, &fpreti à Platone, uagantes fomniauerunt, hoc in loco, tria attůlliſje Ariſtotes lem exempla, in ſcientijs diuerſis. Nempe Methaphisica,Geometria, O Arithmetica, quod chimericum eſt, ex ipſa uunitate magis uanum, fi enim ueftigijs fapientum Methaphiſices,Geometrie, & Arithmetica, prima limina attigiſſent, non incidiſſent in hasſuas philoſophicas furias, dicunt enim, quod artificio, id Ariſt. fecit,ut de demonſtratione agens, que inſtrumentum uniuerſale est, tria exempla (ſuam oftendensfacuns diam ) in ſcientijs tribus fpeculatiuis, &uniuerſalißimis attuliffe, ſic, uttandem concludant in ſua expoſitione Ariſtotelem uoluiſſe equinam ceruicem humano capiti iungere, &uarias plumas diuerſarum ſcien tiarum inducere, ut tandem tria formoſa, &pulcru exempla deſinant in nihil dicere. In una demonſtratione, datum eſſet unitas, queſitum triangulus, e principium Methaphiſicum, ualeat pereatque cim ins terpretibus hæc interpretatio. Non est Ariſtotelis confuetudo, exeine pla afferre (aliter effet edire &to contra exemplorum naturam ) niſi,ut do&trina, que aliquatenus non innitiatis uidetur obfcura, atque diffi cilis, fole clarior, atque perfacilis omnibus reddatur, quid rogo cons fufius, quàm in una re logica explicanda, tria exempla mutila, o tim diuerfa afferre? ut in unotantum quia,in alio exemplo,folum quid,c. in tertio exemplo, ey quia, &quid, ut tandem in piſcem definat fora mofa demonſtratio. Dico, omnia tria exempla attulliſſe Ariſtotelem in unica atque determinata Arte; uel diſciplina Geometrica, quicquid Niphlus fentiat & fequaces, ex nulla eſt alia ueritas in hoc Ariſtotelis Textu, neque uerus fenfus, qui ad Ariftotelem faciat preter hunc, quem fubfcribo, uelint nolint omnes atque uniuerſi, qui philoponifena tentie initi uidentur, quem nullo modo ipſemet nec alij recteintelligunt, fcito primum, quod de lineis re&tis a centro ad circunferentiam du &tis POSTERIORVM ARISTOT. Veruin eſt dicere quod ad inuicem funt æquales, uel non equales, ut etian de quolibet quidem quod est,aut affirmare,aut negare ucrum est,quia eſt, fimiliter,quòd quæ uni og eidem funt æqualia interſe funtæqualia,uel in terſe nonſunt æqualia, uerum est dicere quia eſt,ſed alteram partem hu ius diſiun £ ti fummit Geometra deffinitione xv. primi Elementorum, cum Similiter alterum alterius diſiunéti partem prebet prima animi conceptio primi elementorum, &hoc est uerum, quia est linearum à centro ad circunferentiam protractarum, ut adinuicem ſintequales, « prima ani mi conceptionis,utſiab æqualibus equalia auferantur remanentia æqua lia erunt. Secundo loco exemplum poſitum est,quid hæc uox, Triangulus ſignificet,quod etiam fupponit Geometra deffinitione xxi. primi Elemen torum, ex ſignificatfiguram tribus re &tis lineis contentam,ſiue illud actu ſit ſiue actu non ſit, Quatenus tamen quæritur,nondü habetur,poteft tas men eſſe. Tertio loco ponit Ariſt.unitatem,quæ quidem unitas, a quid ſignificet, quia eft,utrunque habet. Hanc ego unitatem contra oma nes loquentes, « ad Ariſtotelis ſententiam aio, eſſe non eam, qua unaquaque res una dicitur,ut ea quæ eft principium numeri, ſed eſtres queuna ab illa unitate, quæ eſt principium numeri dicitur, nempe una linea recta data ſuper quam triangulum collocare oportet, ſiue ille fit æquilaterus, ut Euclides proponit, uel iſoſcelesaut gradatus, ut Arisſtoteles querit in uniuerſum, quod quidem Proclum diadocum,& Cam panumfuper primum primi Elementorum, non latuit, quæ unitas linea feu quæ linea una concluditur in decimaquarta primi Elementorum, tàm quàm queſitum, in qua quidem decimaquarta primi Elementorum ni hil de unitate, quæ fit principium numeri, ſed, una linea concludi tur, quæ linea una eſt datum inprimo problemate primi elementorum Euclidis, de qua lineæ unitate precognoſcitur, quid, utſit a puncto in punctum breuiſsima extenſio per diffinitionem tertiam primi elemehtoa rum, precognoſcitur etiam, quia est,cum ipfa detur in prima pros poſitione primi elementorum. Ab Euclidis igitur methodo non recedens Ariſtoteles facilitat, declarat exemplis ubique locorumfuam do&tria hæc igitur uera atque germana Ariſtotelis interpretatio eft, alia, ut dixi nulla, fomnia igitur quæcunque diluantur, putas ne Arie ftotelem afferre illud Methaphiſice principium, nullo modo ad artem ali quam peculiarem contractum, uni Tirunculo in Logica inſtituendo? ubi Methodus? que maior ordinis peruerſio? quis nam in Logicum eua dere poterit niſi prius Methaphiſicis inniciatus fit? hec omnia uanis 11 nam, IN PRIMVM'LIB. 2 tate plena ſunt, non faciunt niſi ad buccas inflandas. De unitate aus temdicit Ioannes ſic Ariſtotelem intelligere, ſicut docet Euclides pros poſitioneſextadecima ſeptimi Elementorum, fi unitas numeret quemli bet numerum, quoties quilibet tertius aliquein quartum, erit quoque, pernutatim,ut quoties unitas numerabit tertium, toties ſecundus quar tum numerauerit, datum inquit Ioannes, eſt unitas, quæ eft principium numeri, de qua habetur &quid, & quia eft, o ſi hoc exemplo uidea tur Ioannes ueritatem quidem dicere, licet non ad mentem Ariſtotelis. Dico tamen quod Ariſtoteles neq; exponitur, & quòdfalfum eft,id quod Ioannes dicit,ut quod unitas,quæ eſt principium numeri, fit datum,non enim eſt unitas datum in ſextadecima ſeptimi Elementorum, fed unitas cum refpeétu ad numerum aliquem, quem numerat, eſt datum, que = ſitum autem eſt, ut ipfa tertium numerum numeret, ut ſecundus nus merus numerat quartum, quemadmodum amplius declarabitur in de tris plici errore circa uniuerſale.Preterea dignitas ſiue premiſſa in hac loan nis indu &tione eſt duodecinaſeptimi Elementorum, que probatur per precedentes, onon eſt immediatum principium,exponitigitur Ariſtoc telem per unam demonſtrationem, quæ non procedit per immediata prin cipia, quod non eſt imaginandumin hoc propoſito, preualet igitur ex poſitio de unitate lineæ, quia ibifit deductio per immediata principia ut per xv.deffinitionem,& prima animi conceptionem primi Elementorum Ecce quàm aliena est loannis expoſitio ſuper Textum Ariſtotelis. Die co igitur datum, eſſe unam rectam lineam, quæſitum, ut ſuper ipfarn trigonum conſtituatur, &quod, id conſtitutum, ſit trigonum, probas tur per decimamquintam deffinitionem, vprimam animi conceptionem primi elementorum. TERTIVS TEXT V S. ST autem cognoſcere alia quidem prius cognofcentem. Aliorum vero, & fimul notitiam capientem, ut quæcunque, con= tingunt eſſe ſub uniuerſalibus quorum haa bent cognitionem; quòd quidem omnis triangulus habet tres Angulos æquales duobus rectis præfciuit, quòd uero hic, qui in ſemicirculo cft, triangulus fit, fimul inducens cognouit. Duos modos ſciendi POSTERIORVM ARIST. ſciendi hoc textu tangit Ariſtoteles, primus, qui eft per reminiſcens tiam,de quo nondubitarunt antiqui. Alter uero, es ſecundus est, quo de nouo aliquid ſcimus, qui fuit alienus ab antiquorum mentibus, ſur per hocſecundo, ſit noſtra expoſitio. Ioannes Grammaticushanc para ticulam, fimul inducens cognouit, interpretatur fic,ut per inducen tem intelligat eum, qui habens triangulum in ſemicirculo pićtum, ofub penula abſconſum, oftendat eum triangulum eſſe, quaſi abijciens penus lam, ey aperiens manum obijciat ipfum triangulumoculis uidere uolens tium, &Latini omnes fimiliter,& Aueroes fequuntur ipſum in hac interpretatione. Non poſſum non mirari hominisiftius alias doétißimi expoſitionem & omnium fequatium,que quidem interpretatio, fi ads mitatur,statim uidetur, quod Ariſtoteles uanus ſophifta effectus, id do ceat, quod ipſe reprehendit contramale foluentes,ubiinquit in fequenti textu,Nemoaccipit talem propofitionem,oinnis triangulus quem tu ſcis eſle triangulum,quod utique illi agebant de dualitate abſconfa inmanu,quòd neſciebant eameffe parem, quouſq;nonuiderent quòd illa eſſet dualitas. Ioannes &omnes interpretes Ariſtotelis allucis nati ſunt, putantes quod illa littera Ariſtotelis ſic debeat legi, quod ues ro est in femicirculo triangulus fit, fimul inducens cognouit;cognouit quidem quodfit triangulus, per induétionem, id eſt per oſtenſionem ad oculum, aperta manuin qua abfcondebatur, ſic ut illa induétio certificet de eſſe triangul, quod ridiculum est, o uſque ad hæc tempora, falfum pro uero habitum,henuga deſtruunt Ariſtotelis ſententiam; non enim Ariſtoteles de trigono in ſemicirculo defcripto dubitat an trigonum ſit, neque igitur estopus, ut dubium remoueatur per oſtenſionem ad oculum quòd trigonum ſit, quia ut dixi, hoc non reuocatur in dubium, ſed has bita, hac uniuerſali,omnis triangulus habet tres æquales duobus res Etis, dubitatur an qui in ſemicirculo eft triangulus, &qui quidein a &tu uideturſit huiufmodi, utputa, quòd habeattres angulos equales duo bus rečtis, quod quidem manifeftatur non per ſenſitiuum indu &tio s nem, quia per illam oftenditur tantum quòd fit triangulus, ut illi mda li interpretes exponunt. Neque id oftenditur per inductioncm Topia cam, que à particularibus ad uniuerfalem procedit, ocontrariatur huic poſterioriſtico proceſſui, quifit ab uniuerſali ad particularia, rea ftat igitur declarare quæ induétio fit illa de qua loquitur Ariſtoteles, quam dicunt aliqui elle ſenſitiuam, aliter tamen ſenſitiuam quàm loans nes Grammaticus intelligat, dicunt enim quod talis fenfitiua oftenfio 1 1 D IN PRIM VM LIB. couptatur in Syllogiſmoſic, omnis triangulus habet tres angulos equat les duobus rectis, ſed hic qui in ſemicirculo, eſt triangulus, igitur hic qui in ſemicirculo, habet tres duobus rectis aquales,ecce inquiunt,quos modo minor eſt ſenſitiua, quia ponitur illud pronomen oftenfiuum, isti funt in errore maiori forſan quàm precedentes, putant eniin quod illud pronomen, &fimilia pronomina ſint oſtenſiua ad fenfum, quid igitur dicendum erit de hisloquutionibus,hic Apolo eſt cui barbam abraderefe cit Dioniſius, huic Apolini coronam Papus, iufsit fieri, & iſte Aurifexfædauit aurum; ueletiam iſte est Euclides,quem Plato in theetes to commemorat, non ne omnia ifta pronomina oſtenfiua, funt ad intela lectum, & ſi quandoque per accidens ad ſenſum ſint oſtenſiua? ideo pronomen in iủa minori, ſiper accidens oftendatad ſenſum, oſtenſia uum tamen precipue eft ad intellectum, aliter cecus non poffet illum Syla logiſmum efficere, quòd manifefte falfum eft, ueritas non eis obuiam uenit ſic interpretantibus.Laborant adhuc dicentes,quod ila inductio nil aliud est quàmfubfumptio huius minoris, fed hic qui inſemicirculo est triangulus, fub illa uniuerſali nota, omnis triangulus habet tres angulos æquales duobus reétis, illam quidem diſpoſitionem premijarum in figus ra &modo, uocant inductionem, hoc autem non facit fatis ad Ariſtotea lis litteram; quia ante quam inferatur concluſio, neſcitur de triangulo conſtituto inſemicirculo quod tres habeat duobus reftis æquales niſi po= tentia, poſt quam autem illatafuerit concluſio,fcitur a &tu, o noi ama plius potentia, quòd uult Ariſtoteles,ut poſt quàmfactus fuerit ocoma pletus ſyllogiſmus, fimpliciter ſcitur,quod qui in tabula,habet tres æqua, les duobus rectis. Agamus igitur & nos,o. Ariſtotelis litteram prius diſponamus, ſubinde ſententiam exponamus.. De triangulo uero in feinicirculo conſtituto fimul inducens cognouit. Simulcum uniuerſale triangulo ſcit ipſum particularem trianguluna, quòd habet tres æquales duobus rectis, &hoc,inducens, uerbum hoc inducens du asinductiones ſignificat. Alteram Geometricam,reliquam ſyllogiſticam, quæ etiam ordine ponuntur in littera Ariſtotelis dicentis,antequàm in duétum ſit,uelfactus fuerit fyllogifmus, quæ duo uerba, non ſunt fynow nima, ita ut und &eadem res per, utrunque uerbum, inductum ſit, uel fa& usfuerit fyllogiſmus ſignificetur, quia in doctrinis,non utitur termin nis ſynonymis,neque Ariſtoteles multiplicat uoces, terminos ean dem rem ſignificantes. Dicendum igitur, quod aliam rem uox hæc indue dio, &aliam ifta uox,fyllogiſmus,ſignificat, non gūteſt indu &tio aliqua POSTERIORVM ARISTT. prediétismodisfupra citatis, ut probatum fuit, relinquitur igitur, ut inductio per quam ſcimus,quodtreshabeat æquales duobus reitis is,qui infemicirculo defcriptus est,nulla alia fit,neque excogitari poſsit quàm Geometrica induétio. Ila autem huiufmodi est, fuppofita deſcription per trigeſimamprimum primi Elementorum, Angulus c b d eft æquas lis ang ulo & c b, per primam par tem uigeſimenos lice primi Ele - mentorum Euclia dis, &Angulus dibe equalis eft ang ulo cab per fecundam partem uigeſimenone primi elementorum, totus igitu * cbe, eſt æqualis duobus angulis cøa, fed cbre, cum c b a per xiij. primi Elementorum equiualet duobusrectis, igitur angulia, cum eodem c b a, funt equales duobus reétis,quod inducendum erat, de triangulo ac b in ſemicirculo deſcripto,qui triangulus non erat abſcon fus immo ante oculos offerebatur, tamen illa oblatio,non erat inductio de qua Ariſtoteles intelligit, quam inductionem quis unquam utcun queetiam intin &tus litteris dicet, unum eſſe fyllogifmum? quofyllogif mounico (it inferius declarabo) poteratidemfyllogizari, neque enthis meina unum eft, cum ibi multe ſint conſequentie, Enthimemaautem und tantum conſequentia eft, quòd neque Topica, inductio, patet; quia ibi à ſingularibus ad uniuerfalem progredimur,in hac autem induétioneper decimamtertiam Guigeſimănonam primi Elementorum,quæ uniuerſales magis funt quàmſecunda pars trigeſimæfecundæ primi Elementorum per quam patet intentum de triangulo in tabula conſtituto. Neque mi reris quod in hacinduétione non fumitur illa maior, omnis triangulus habet tresangulos æqualesduobus re&tis, quia illa fumiturin inductione fyllogiftica, in inductione uero Geometrica, fumitur decimatertia,cui gefimanona primi Elementorum, in utraque induktione cumGeometri ca,tum etiam fyllogiſtica fit proceſfusab uniuerſalı ad particulare,uel ad minus uniuerſale, Syllogiſtica uero induétio,ex duabus premiſsis, illa ta concluſione conſiſtit, quafyllogiſtica indu &tione fæpeutitur Ariftoteles ut Tex.xciiy.Secundum partitionem loan.Grammatici,uel Textu trigeſi monono in paraphraſi, in magna, pero expoſitione Tex.clxiij.prima Dü IN PRIMVM LI B. poſteriorum, & alibi, habita o ſcita hac uniuerſali, omnis triangulus habet tres equales duobus reétis,fatur modo aliquo idem de conſti tuto in ſemicirculo triangulo, ſimpliciter autem non fcitur,ofacta ine duftione ſyllogiſticaſimpliciter ſcitur, quod qui in femicirculo eft triane gulus, ſit huiuſmodi, ſicut ſcita decimitertiaeuigeſimanona primi elee mentoruin ſcitur potentia, quod qui in ſemicirculo eſttriangulus, duo bus rectis tres habeat pares,licet nefciat, an qui in ſemicirculo,fit triana gulus,ut Ariſtot,ait Tex.101. uel 169.a{tu autem, o ſimpliciter fcitur per Geometricam induétionem, quæ ſemper ex ueris, primis, caufis ila latiuis conclufionis, ex magis notis procedit, non autem ex immediaa tis ſemper, nequc ex cauſis quedant eße, fed ex his tantum, quæ dant propter quid iŪationis, tale inſtrumentum quod induétionemGeomes tricam uoco,non est una conſequentia, fed plures, ut plurimum, neque per immediatafemper procedit,fedalternatim per immediata, oper ea que probatafunt procedit,inmediata autem, uoco propoſitiones per fe notas, etiam illas propoſitiones demonſtratas,quæ immediate proz bant fequentes, de hoc quidem toto inſtrumento non aliter Ariftoteles traftauit, nifi per particulas illas, utſupra commemoratas, ut ex ues ris Oc. Tractauit tamen de fuis partibus, ut de enthymemate, quòd pluries fumitur in tali induétione Geometrica,o de fyllogiſmo, ad quem reducitur talis inductio,non tamenadunun tantum,ſed ad pluresfyllogif mos, neque uelim dicas propter hoc, quod Logica, Geometriam debeat precedere,utplacet nonnullis niſi deLogica,que natura nobis ſuccurrit. Quorundam enim hoc modo diſciplina eft, & non per inedium ultimum cognofcitur, ut quæcunque fingularia jamelle contingit, uec de fubiecto quoppiam. Hunc locum Ariſtotelis extorquent penė.omnes,uerum quidemdicunt, ſed in fua ues ritate duo errores continentur, primus eft, quod interpretatio non est ad propofitum, fecunduserror, quia id quodaiunt contradicit huicloa ÇO Ariſtotelis, inquiunt enim, quod per medium, ſcitur ultimum, hoc est, quod ultimum. Nempe maior extremitas concluditur per medium de ipſa extremitate minori. V.ideas quanta fit horum hominum uanitas, Ariſtoteles negatiue loquitur. Et non per medium ultiinum cox gnoſcitur. Ipfi autem uani exponunt, per medium ultimum cognofcia tur, aduertendum quod medium in propoſito intelligit Ariſtoteles,quod non tantum fitu,medium intelligas, quod bis in premißis capitur, fed me dium hoc loco,nil penitus aliud est quam, quodquid eft ipſius rei, ut POSTERIORVM A R IST. fparfim in primo poſteriorum, e in ſecundo manifeftuin eſt, in pri moenim, Textu 201. Juxta partitionein philoponi, uel 39. uel Textu 169. iuxta aliain partitionem; ait Ariſtoteles, quod uniuerſale mon ſtratur per medium, &non particulare; uerbi gratia,hic non per mea dium,omnis homoest riſibilis Socrates eft homoigitur Socrates eſt riſi bilis, ly enim hono, non eft quodquid est, ſed eſt ſubiectum, hic uero per medium, omne animal rationale eſt riſibile, omnis homoeſt aniinat rationale, ergo omnishomo eft riſibilis, ibi enim animal rationale eft mes dium, fi inftes fic,omne animal rationale eſt riſibile Socrates est animal rationale,igitur Socrates est riſibilis. Dico quòd hoc non eft per fe,eta primo de Socrate, quòd fit animal rationale, nec etiam riſibile per ſe, & immediate,argués igitur fic,omnis triangulus habet tres æquales duo bus rectis,fed qui in ſemicirculo, eſt triangulus, igitur qui in ſemicir= culo habet tresæqualesduobus rectis. Ibi enim triangulus non eft quot quid eſt, ſed potius ſubie &tum, feu genus, ibi igitur non eſt demonſtras tio, licet fit fyllogifmus, &fi adhuc inftetur,quod per decimumtertiam &uigefimamnonam prini,demonftretur quòd qui in femicirculo, ha beat tres equales duobus rectis, igitur ei qui in ſemicirculo eſt, non con uenit; quia triangulus;fed per decimamtertiam euigeſimamnonam pris mi Elementorum. Dico quod in inductione Geometrica, qua de triana gulo in ſemicirculo cöftituto oftendebatur,quod habet tres æquales duos bus rectis per decinătertiam (uigefimamnonam primi, id immediate nõ conuenit triangulo quatenusſit in femicirculo deſcriptus, fed ut trian. gulus eſt, ut oſtenditur ſecunda parte trigeſimeſecunde primi Elemen torum,fecundoautem, &per fe non immediate,omnibus alijs triangulis. Quorundam igitur ſingularium (quorum quodque non predicatur de ali quo ſubiecto, quiafingularenon predicatur deſubiecto aliquo, ut in pre dicamentis determinatum est ab Ariſtotele ) diſciplina est, non per medium, ultimum cognofcitur, cognofcitur quidem ultimum nempe mie iorem extremitatemineſſe minori,fedhoc non permedium, id est non per quod quid est. Si vero non eft ita,quæ in Menone contin. get dubitatio, aut enim nihiladdiſcet feruus Menonis,aut quæ prius nouit addiſcet non eniin iam ueluti quidam ni. tuntur foluere dicendum eft particula illa. Si uero non eſt ita,videlicet fi non eft fcire de nouo,ab uniuerſali ad particulare progre diendo; tunc, quæ in Menone eſt, contingit dubitatio, particuld illa: Non enim iam. Yerbum illud iamfuturi temporis eſt, fic utfit ſens I N P R IM VM LIB.ſus habita mea doctrina,omodo quo dixi, nos fcire de nouo,quod id addiſcimus, quod tamen aliquo modo fcimus, non foluas poſt hac, eo modo, quo illi nitebantur foluere, fed eo palto ut predocui, it de omni dualitate fciens quod par ſit, de abfconfa in many dicas, quòd etiam de ea fcis potentia, quodſcit par. Veluti quidam nituntur ſoliere dicendum eſt. Exponunt Latini &Græci,hunc locum fic,quidam Platonici dicentes, nos nihil fcia rede nouo,fed fcire noſtrum eratreminiſci arguebant illos, qui dices bant quod de nouo fcimus, &nitebantur Platonici ducere eos in contra dictionem,hoc argumento interrogatiuo, aiunt enim Platonici ipſi jos ne omnem dualitatem eſe parem, nec ne anuunt quidam dicentes nos de nouo ſcire, ita eſſe, ſübinde atulerunt Platonici dualitatem dicentes, igitur fciebatis etiam hanc dualitatem, quam manu tegebamus eſſe pas rem, quod tamen effe non poteſt, quia nefciebatis ipſam eſſe dualitatem ecce contradictio, prius fatebantur ſeſcire omnemdualitatein eſſe par rem, &tamen neſciebantdualitatem hanc parem eſſe, quod manifeſtum contradictorium eft, reſpondebant autem illi, qui dicebant nosfcire de nouo, quod interrogati de omni dualitate, an par effet, reſponderunt non de omni dualitate abſolute, fed de dualitate quam utique dualitatem effe ſciebant, modo de illa, quæ abfconfam tenebant, oque non erat fibi nota, ut eſſe dualitas, non fatebantur illam eſſe parem, quia neſciebant illam effe dualitatem, ita ut hec expoſitio, eotendat, ut Ariſtoteles res prehendat illos, qui dicebant nos ſcire de nouo, quia male foluebant Argumentum Platonicorum, xnihil dicat Ariſtoteles contra Platoni. Cos. Expositio autem mea, e directo opponitur, huic omnium expofie tioni, ſic ut Ariſtoteles arguat Platonicos male foluentes argumentum dicentium nosfcire de nouo, & contra hos dicentes, quòd fcimus deno uo, nihil in hoc Textu dicit Ariſtoteles. Pro cuiusfententia declaranda, Queritate, est in primis aduertendum, quod in hoc textu, quoſdam in telligit Ariſtoteles dicentes, quòd de nouo nos fcire contingit aliquid, quod tamen etiam preſciebamus in uniuerfali, oiſti inquiſitiuo argu mento probant intentum contra tenentes, quòd ron ſcimus quippiam de nouo, quorum negantium de nouofcire reſponſionem redarguit Ariſtoa teles, einterargüendum, peccant og errant in perſuadendo id, quod probare nituntur, quem errorem, &peccatum dicentium nos de nouo ſcire, non redarguit Ariſtoteles propter duas cauſas, altera est, quia eft adeo manifeftus, ut fine reprehenſione à quolibet cognofcatur pre POSTERIORVM ARIST. meil, habita intelligentia primi textus huius primi, reliqua caufa quare: non eos redarguit est, quia primo textu feclufit fuam perſuaſionem, dicens omnis doétrina, o diſciplina intellectiua a diſcurſiua, ex præexiftens ti fit cognitione, ex preexiſtenti non quidem ſenſitiua, quia illa à Singue laribus ad uniuerſalem, hæc uero poſterioriſtica e contrario, ab uniuer ſali ad fingulare procedit, ideo eos non reprehendit Ariſtoteles, quia, quifq; per fe intelle &to primo Tex.cognoſcit; quo modo errabat ilii inter arguendum. Inquiunt enim arguentes, noftis neomnem dualitatem effe parem necne? afferentibus Platonicis attullerunt eis quandam dualitas tem, quam non exiſtimabant eſſe, quare neque parem, en dicebant iſti arguentes, ſciebatis in uniuerſali, quod omnis dualitas est par, otas hoc, ideſt paritatem de hac dualitate, qua manu abſcondebatur neſciebatis, quiaignorabatis quid eſſetin manu, num dualitas,uel quips piam aliud, autnihil, « nunc uos fcitis iam per apertionem manus prius eam tegentis, in particulari hanc determinatam, & particularem dualitatem eſſe parem, ecce quomodo ab uniuerſalicognitione deuentum fuerit in cognitionem particularis, quod prius dubium apud uos erat. isti ſic arguentes peccant contra primum textum, utſupra dixi, ocon tra Tex. 112. Neque per ſenſum eft fcire, putabant autem isti ars guentes illam intuitiuam ſenſationem eſſe doctrinam ſeu diſciplinam. Quia tamen cum Ariſtotele in intentione, quod de nouo fcimus, & quia etiam error in perſuadendo manifeſtus eft, ut predocui, de intelle &tiua quidem & diſcurſiua diſciplina loquitur Ariſtot.ut de uirtute in uniuer ſali etiam in Menone erat ſermo ideo modo Ariſtoteles dimittit illos,tam quàm non concludentes propoſitum, quodfatebantur, & diuertit ſe ad Platonicosmale foluentes argumentum,tenentes quod id quodaliquo mo do ſcimus non poſſumus de nouo addiſcere, uel quòd nostrum ſcire,fit re miniſci, foluunt argumentum ſic, non enim fatebantur Platonici ornem dualitatem eſſe parem, neque dixerunt ſeſcire omnem dualitatem eſſe pa rem,ſed dixeruut dualitatem, quam utique nouerunt dualitatem effe, mo do cum neſciuerint, an id, quod manu tegebatur effet dualitas, neque ali quo pacto fciebantipſam eſſe parem uel etiam imparem,quiaſic aiebant, prius,debemusſcire,an fit dualitas,&poſted,an parfit,uel etiam impar, ita ut quandointerrogati fuerant,an omnem dualitatein ſcirent eſſe parë uel imparem reſponderunt utique de dualitate hoc ſcire, quam quidem dualitatem eſſe nouerant, uerum eſſe, ſed de dualitate in manu abſconſa, nihil fciebant, nec quippiam deea aliquo modo fciebant, ideo nefciebant IN PRIMVM LIB. 3 idem uno modo, ut in uniuerſali de illa dualitate,quòd effet par, u idem ut quod effet par ignorarent in particulari, atqui ſciunt cuius des monſtrationem habent, & cuills acceperunt. Acceperunt autem non de omni, de quo utique nouerint; quòd triangulum aut quod numerus ſit, ſed fimpliciter acceperunt; illi arguebant deomni numero duali, atque triangulo,&c. Similiter reſponderunt illi, quod ſciebant omnem dualitatem efle parem. Verba hæcfunt Ariſtotelis contra tales reſpondentes,nullus enim propo nitſeu interrogat, aut nulla propoſitio accipitur talis, quòd quem tu. noſti eſſe numerum dualem, nofti ne eſſe parem? aut quam noſti rectili neam figuram eſſe triangulum, quòd habeat tres æquales duobis reétis? ſed accipit de omni numero duali, ede omni figura rectilinea trilatera, quis enim proponeretſuo tam inerudito colloquio fic,nunquid nofti oma nem dualitatem quam eſſe dualitatem nofti, quòd par fit,autnon?ines ptam igitur, contra loquendi modumfolutionem reprehendit Ariftot. reprehendens quidem Platonicos malefoluentes, cui non illos de nouo fci re dicentes perperam arguentes; &modum fciendiquo de nouo fcimus fimpliciter id, quod potentia ſciebamus epylogando dicit, Sed nihil (ut opinor) prohibet, quod addiſcit aliquis ſic in particula ri, ante ſciuiſſe in uniuerſali, & in particulari priusignos raſſe, abfurdum enim non eft,fi nouit quodam modo, quod addiſcit, ſed ita eſſet abfurdum, ut inquantum ads diſcit, co pacto ſciat. Idem diſcurſus &expoſitio fiat ſuper Textu fecundo priorum, in capitulo de Deceptione ſecundum fufpitionem, qué etiam Textum perperam interpretātur pſeudo philofophi. De dualitate autemſiquis nunc interrogaretur, noſti ne omnem dualitatem eſſe parent nec ne? annuat quod ſic, o ſi offeratur abfconfa in manus dualitas, dia cat quod etiam ſcit eam in potentia parem effe, licet neſciat a & u, quod dualitas ſit,e eft fententia Ariſtotelis Textu 101.0 in hoc Textuhas bita una atque altera interpretatione, cui dubium eft fecundam eſſe pres ftantiorem prima?niſi quis dicat primam eſſe preſtantiſsimorum philo fophorum tàm ueterum Græcorum quàm Latinorum omnium prefertim iuniorum mentem Ariſtotelis interpretantium, fecunda uero interpre tatio noua est, o hominis uniusfolius,quæ nullo modo preualere poteft contra tam preclariſsimosphilofophos, quihæc uerba, &fimilia proa ferunt ex Macrologia loquuntur,non ualentes intelligere nifi ea, que auctoritate proponuntur, fpreta ueritate ege ratione, quis iam tam inerudit POSTERIORVM ARIST. neruditus est, quipPomba Platonicos, qui ætatem confumpferunt in fua opinione de reminiſcentia, argumentari contra Peripateticos, niſi a Peripateticis prouocati ſint? &quomodo prouocari poſſunt niſi exci tentur? quo pa &to excitabuntur, nifi co argumenti modo, quem in ſecunda interpretatione narrauimus? deinde quare magis redarguit Ari ſtoteles ſemiperipateticos illos, qui conueniebantfecum in concluſione, quàm illos, quie diametro cpinabantur contra ipfum? depoſitaigitur emulatone iudicet id quiſque, quodmagisueritatem ſapit, uerum eſſe, O rationi magis conſentaneum, & erit,fifecunde interpretationi be rebit, primafpreta, &neglecta omni ex parte. TEXTVS NON VS. ERA quidem oportet eſſe,quoniam non eſt fcire quod non eft,ut quòd diameter fit fie meter. De diametro, coſta pluribus locis Arifto telesſermonemfacit, utinprioribus, & in Methaphy: ficis, quapropter, hoc loco declarabo eius fententiam, ut poſteafit omnibus in locis clara, primoſcire debes, quod uera eſſe oportet ea, quæ fciuntur, ita ut ueritas ſuſcipiatur pro illa ueritate que est in concluſione, &non pro ueritate, quæ in prins cipijs est, a hoc probat indire & te, quia fi falfum ſciremus, utputa quod diameter eſſet commenfurabilis coſte, tunc imparia æqualia paribus fierent, o e conuerſo, ut ſi paria equalia imparibusfunt, igitur diame ter eft coftæ commenfurabilis, quod estfalfumſi igitur hocſciremus,ſci remus utique quippiam ex non ueris, fed pofuit, quòd fcire ex ueris fit, igiturſciremus ex non ueris &ex ueris, quod eſſe non poteft per immea diatam contradi tionem.Diametrum igiturincommenfurabilem cofte ef ſe noſcimus, quia impar pari æqualisnon eſt,in qua re,talis eſt demons ftratio ſecundum Euclidis ſcitum in decimo Elementorum, qua ducitur ad hocincommodum, pofita iſta, quòd diameterſit commenfurabilis co ftæ,fequitur, quod numerus impar eſſet par, quod eftcontra primum principium ab Euclide poſitumfeprimo Elementorum ſexta &feptima deffinitionibus,uel etiam nono Elementorum prima &ſecundafecundum Campanum. In quare demonftranda fit diameter a b commenfurabis lis lateri a c (li ponatur) erit per quintam decimi Elementorum ab ad ac, ficut aliquis numerus ad alium numerum, quia illa communis, mene Б IN: P R I MVM LIB. b Cee '. fo... h............. g k.... ei6 fo L. m 64 kıż8 h 81. a. fura,fehabebit ad illas duas lineds, diametrumfilicet, &coſtam a bigo á c, ficut unitas ad unum atque ad alium numerum,unitas enim ut duos numeros illos metitur, ſic illa communis menſura diametrum, o coſtam dimetiretur,cuius rei ſenfus eſt iſte, quòd quoties continebitur in uno ats que altero numerorum unitas, toties illa communis menfura, quæ linea eft, continebitur in diametro, atque coſta, fint ergo numeri e @ f, qui ſint minimi in fua proportione, eritque ob hoc, alter eorum impar, quod fic probatur, fi enim uterque eorum effet par, non eſſent iammis nimi in fua proportione, ſi enim par uterqueſit,uterque biffariam die uidi poſſet, outraque mediet asunius ad utramque alterius medietatem eandem haberet rationemficut totum ad totum,quorumfunt medietates, ut patet de octonario atq; ſenario, cuius medietates ſunt quatuor, & qut tuor, atque tria etria,eadem enim fexquitertiaest,octo ad fex, qua tuorad tria, ſic e ofnon eſſentminimi inſua proportione quod est contra aſſumptum, quia fuæ medietates effent minores, quadratiigitür illorum minimorum e « f, ſint ge h, ſi ergo e eſſet impar, a f par, erit quoque per trigeſimam noni Elementorum g impar, fit itaque k duplus ad h, eritque k par,ex deffinitione prima noni Eleinentorum, quia igitur a b ad a c, ut e -ad f, erit per decimamodtauam fexti, ego decimāprimam octaui Elementorum, quadratum ab ad quadratum ac, ut g ad h, eſt itaque g duplus ad h, ſic enim est quadratun a b ad quadratum a c per penultimam primi Elementorum, quia ita k, etiam dupluseft ad h per affumptum,ſequitur per nonam quinti Elemen torum, ut g numerus impar,ſit equalis K numero pari. Quod fi e fit par, f impar, erit proportio f ad dimidium e, quod fit L, ficut POSTERIORVM ARIST. 4 c ad dimidium ab, quod ſit ad, o ideo erit quadrati a c ad quadratum a d, ficut proportio numeri h, quieſt impar per trigeſi mamnoni Elementorumadquadratuin numeri L, quifit m, cui K poa natur effe duplus, eritque K per deffinitionem primam noni Elemento rum par, at quia quadratum a c est duplum ad quadratum a d per penultimam primi Elementorum, erit h duplus ad m. Cumque Kſit etiam duplus ad m, erit per nonam quinti, impar b, aequalis K nus mero pari, quod impoßibile à principio proponebatur demonftrandum C f............ go!" k...... A Et ſi diceretur, quòd uterque eorum, quiſunt in fuaproportione mis nimi, ſit impar, ut quinque ad tria, ut ſcilicet e ſit quinque, ef tria quadrati illorum fint go b, eritigitur utraque eorum quadra= ta inparia per trigeſimam noni Elementorum, ſit itaque K duplus ad h, eritque k par ex deffinitioneprimanoni Elementorum,quia igis. tur a bad a c, ut e ad f, erit per decimamoctauam fextielementorum vundecimam octaui,quadratum ab ad quadratum a c, ut g ad h, eſt. itaque g duplus ad h, fic enim est quadratum a b ad quadratum ac, per penultimam primi elementorum, & quia etiam k duplus est ad h.. per affumptionem fequitur, per nonam quinti elementorum, ut g numea rus impar ſit, æqualis k numero pari, quod est impoſsibile. Illatum, ſeu concluſio habita per hanc induftionem Geometricam eft,quod impar par ſit, Ariſtoteles autem dicit, quòd diametrum effe comenſurabilem coft.e non ſcimus, quia ita non est, ſic ut illud fit conclufum, wnor af fumptum, ut in predi&ta indutione fa& um est. Vt autem fiatconcluſio Bij 336 " IN PRIMVM LIB. “, id, quod aſſumptum fuit, aduertendum, quod ut Ariftoteles in prima Poſteriorum determinat, Geometra non parallogizat, fed tota illa Geo metrica inductio est conſequentia formalis,quæ in omnibustenet, cs.com cludit,nequeinquit, parallogizat Geometra, ut textus 62 probat Arift. ſubinde aliud etiam eſt aduertendum, ut in Topicis determinatAri ſtoteles, oſparſim in Logica fua, quod illa formalis eſt conſequentit, quando ex oppoſito confequentis infertur antecedentis oppoſitum, mos do cum ex contradiétione poſita, ut diametrum cofte eſſe commenfuram bilem,ſequutum fit quòd impar numerus fit par, exoppoſito igitur con ſequentis, ut per numerus eft æqualis impari, igitur diameter coms menſurabilis ex coſte, id autem fequitur ex falfo poſito, ut quod ime parſit æqualis pari,igitur id quodſciretur, non eſſèt ex ueris, ſedpoſie tum fuit quod ex ueris oportet eſſe, igitur manifeſta eſt contradi&tio,res linquitur igitur,quód diameter, nullo modo eſſet coſta commenſurabilis, eft igiturfalfum, igitur nonſcitur, quia uera effe oportet,quæfcim us TEXTV EODEM VEL TEX. V. OSITIONIS autem, quæ quidemeſt utram libet partium enunciationisaccipiens,ut dico aliquid effe,aut no elſe, fuppoſitio eft, quæ ue ro ſine hoc,deffinitio elt; deffinitio enim pofi tio eft.Ponit enim Arithmeticus unitatem in diuifibilem effe fecundum quantitatem, lup pofitio enim non eft. Quid enim eſt unitas, & eſſe unitaté, non idein eſt. Deffinitio inquit Ariſtot. non ponitur, altero membro contradicéte reiecto,utfit in fuppoſitione accipienda,fed deffinitionis na tura talis eft, ut ad hocquod ipfa intelligatur aget docente, eſt tamen & ipfa deffinitio,poft quam intellecta ſit,etiam poſitio,cõmuni uoce diéta,et legatur textus fic paulatim,ponitenim Arithmeticus unitatem, utſiArithmeticum quis interroget, an unitas fit, uel non fit? annuat quòd ipſaunitas fit,indiuiſibilem autem fecundum quantitatem ſuppoſia tio noneſt,ſed definitio, os exponitur àdocente, quia numerus quilibet diuidi poteſt, cumautem ad unitatem, ex qua numerus cöponitur deuen tum ſit, impartibilis omnifariam reperitur, ut poſito quocunquenumes ro, ut ternario, ocirca ſe, ex utraque parteſuper ſe numeri,esſuper illos, alij circumponantur, id toties fieripoterit,quousq; ad unitate dem POSTERIORVM'ARIST. 37 SH it 13 uentum fuerit,at ubi ad ill.im deuentum erit,non fit ultraproceffus,ut cir ca tres,quatuor,& duo,etfuper hos,quinq; c unum,medium horū aggre gatorī erit ternaris, hoc exemplari 1 2 345 signum eftigitur unitate eſſe principium impartibile omnium numerorīt, ut Boetius in Arithmetica, docet,modo, exſententia Ariſtotelis, non eſt idem,unitatem fupponere, oipſam deffinire, quæ deffinitio eſt, unitas eft qua unumquodque unum effe dicitur, uel eft principium numeri, uel eſt indiuiſibilis, ex quo tamen indiuifibili, diuiſibilis numerus componitur, ad differētiam indiuifibilium fecundum magnitudinem, quæ indiufibilianon componunt diuiſibile ali quod. Age igitur,ut Ariſtoteli placet, quòd non eſt fatis ad demonſtratio nem procedere ex fuppofitionibus, etiam immediatis, fed opus eſt etiam ex immediatis dignitatibus, que etiam dignitates improprie poſitiones funt, ideo in precedenti declaratione concludebatur,numerū imparé eſſe parë,quia ex poſitione, quod diameter.eſſet commenfurabilis coſte, pros cedebatur, &non ex dignitate &deffinitione intelle &ta,atque poſita. TEXT. DECIMUS ALIAS QVINTVS, CH fi re Lisa co UE ofi 18 ар 3 VONIAM autem oportet credere & ſcire ré, in huiuſinodihabendo fyllogifmum, quē 110 cainus demonſtrationein. Eft autem fic, eò quod ea ſunt,ex quibus eft fyllogiſmus,necef ſe eſt, non folumpræcognoſcere prima, aut omnia, aut quædain ſed etiam magis. Quico gnoſcit quòd Triangulus habeat tres equales duobus rečtis, prius nes ceſſe eft,ut cognofcat XIII. ey xxIx. primiElementorum actu, non autem ufqueaddeffinitiones fit refolutio pro illa x xXJI cognos feenda, omniaautem prima cognofceremus,ſiuſque ad deffinitiones ago Elementa, ad que illius XIII. XXIX. primireſolutio fieret, que &fifitfactibilis, tedio tamennosafficeret, fi femperfieret ufqueadele mentaiſta reſolutio, fedfatis,quod hoc fieri poßit,ideo dicit Ariſtoteles neceffe eft præcognoſcere prima,aut omnia,aut quçdam, Sed etiam magis aduertendum, ut declarabo fuſius Tex. 108. huius primi,quòdquanto notitia eft deſimpliciori, illa, certior eft, quam que compoſitioriseft.Cum autem principium fit minus compoſităipfa concluſione, neceffe eft, ut &fua notitia ſit magiscerta, quam conclue fionis notitia,ideo XIII, XXIX. per quas probatur fecunda pars IN PRIM VM LIB. trigeſimeſecunde primi Elementorum, ſunt magis nota, oſcite,quàng illa fecunda pars trigeſimæfecundæ primi. TEXTVS XI. ALIAS V. MA 1 AGIs enim neceſſe eſt credere principiis, aut oinnibus,aut quibuſdam quam cons cluſioni. Aduertendum quòd magis credere,fine pluri, nempe faciliorem effe credentiam aliud eft, à credere per demonſtrationem, & propter quid, fe ptima, atque octaua propoſitiones quinti Elementos rum, primo intuitu quando inſpiciuntur, facilius eis adheremus oafa ſentimur, quàm aſſentiamur deffinitioni fextæ,atque o &taua eiufdé quins ti. Ecce quod non magis illis principijs credimus primointuitu, quins conclufionibus per ea principia demonſtựatis, ideo Ariſtoteles ait, aut: quibuſdam, non ſemper omnibus primo intuitu. Debentem autem habere ſcientiam per deinonſtrationé, non ſolum oportet principia magis cognoſcere, &, magis ipfis credere, quàm ei quod deinonſtratur. Sed & cete. Ada uertas quod & finotitia principiorü uideatur diſtantior intellectui quàm notitia concluſionis, tamen non poteſt uniri intellectui concluſionis notis tia,niſi per notitiam principiorum,quæ uidebatur ab intelle &u remotior, ut in illis concluſionibus, &principijs que precedenti comento citaui. TEXT. XVIII. AVT VIII. I ſiin omnilinea punctum finiliter eſt. Proprie hoc in propoſito de linea recta intelligas, que atu punéta habet terminantia, ficut homoactu eſt animal, o fi etiam de circulari intelligi poßit quæ in puncto à linea recta tangitur, fedde circulas ri expoſitio uideturfuperftitiofa, aliena à nas tura exempli, quia exempla per magisfaciliadantur, ita quòd, dequoa cunque uerum eſt dicere, quod fit linea recta, de co uerum eft dicere, quod in co eſt punctus. POSTERIORVM ARIS T. TEXT. XIX. VEL IX. 5, Elle P feo to oft 45 oné, 2015 Ado quan ER ſe autem funt, quæcunqueſunt in co, quod quid cft, utTriangulo ineſt linea, &: punctum lineę, ſubſtantia enim ipforum ex his eft, & quæcunqueinſunt in ratione di cente quid eſt. “ Philoponus & parum dicit ſuper hoc textu, uel étiam id quod dicit non facit ad propo ſitum Ariſtot. declarandum, uidetur enim quod tex. his contradicat que: determinat Ariſtoteles contra Platonem, uidelicet quodlinea non compo natur ex punctis, præcipue ſexto phiſicorum, primo de generatione, tertiometaphiſice,ubiex fententia concludit lineam non poſſe ex punétis componi, quid autem ſuper hoc textu, qui uidetur oppofitus locis ſupras dictis dici poßit notaui in prædicamétis, capite de quantitate, uerba aus tem illa, quia ſubſtantia corum ex ipfis eft, intellige terminatiue, ut linea terminat ſuperficiem triangularem ', pun &tum lineam termis nat, o nullo modo intelligendñ eſt compoſitiue, ſic ut puncta lineam com ponant, nec etiam linea triangulum, tametfi aliter ab indoctis intelligas tur, quiafi aliter textus hic concipiatur, ftatim fequitur, utſi linea ex punctis componeretur, quod diameter o coſta eiuſdem quadrati eſſent comenſurabiles, quod textu nono, eſſe falſum « impoßibile oſtējumeſt, quia utrumque per comunem menfuram dimetiretur, nempe per pū &tum, quod eft contra Ariftot. sententiam, & contra Euclidis ſcitum. Preterea tot puncta eſſent in coſta,quot in diametro, &ſic pars effet æqualis toti, ut coſta ipſi diametro, pro cuius indu &tione, ſit quadratum a b cd, cuius diameter a d, Cofta uero a c, in qua fuſcipiantur duo puncta e, f, immediata ſi poßibile ſit, ut aduerfarius ueritatis diceret, cum com ponatur ex punétis,à quibus, e, of, pun &tis duæ lineæ rectæ aufpicens tur innitia tranfeuntes per diametrū uſque ad aliă coſtum e regione pri me coſte collocatam,certü eft, quòd hæ duæ lineæſecabunt ipſam diame trum in duobus pun &tis, quæ etiam puneta in diametro immediata erunt, propter hoc quia lineæ protracte ex hypotheſiſunt immediate, igitur ſi recte lineæ tot protendantur à coſta in coſtam oppoſitam,quot pū &ta fue rint in ipſa coſta, per tot etiam punéta in diametro poſita tranſibūt eedë linee, nec erit in diametro punétum aliud per quod non tranſiuerit lined aliqua fic protracta ab immediatis pun&tis ipſius coſte, in puncta imme motia tunin eſt. Uligas, o achi poßit rcula à ma eguna dicera IN PRIM VM LIB. diata alterius coſte, ut patet in hac a. figura ficut f, immediatum eft ipfi e, fic etiam &, ipſih, ſi l, fit immedias tum ipſi m, patet propoſitum,fi au tem interl,om, intercipiatur pū Aumfitque illud K; ab illo per xxxi. f primi elemétorum excitetur paralles lus K, o, ipſif, 8, uel ipſie, he tunc ipſa cadet inter gb, ut in pun Eto, o, igitur g h, non erant imme diata,quod eſt contraaſſumptum,uel extra utrumqueg,oh, uerſus b, ueld, & tunc k o, neutri linearū f8, web, erit parallelus,quod eſt contra conſtructionem, patet igitur quòd tot eſſent in diametro quot in coſta pun&ta. De circulari autem linea, quod non componatur ex pun ftis, fic demonſtratur per tertium petitum primi elementorum, fuper centrum a, deſcribatur circulus d minor, ocirculus bc, maior,ficira cunferentia maioris componatur ex punétis,duo immediata puneta fi gnentur b @c, &per primum petitum eiufdem primi ducatur recta alla a ad b, &ab aad c, hæduæ lineæ tranſibunt per circunferentiam mino ris circuli, ſecabunt igitur circunferentiam in uno,uel in duobus pūétis, ſi in duobus, tot punčta erunt in minori circulo, ficut in maiori, fed ima poßibile eft, duo inequalidcomponi ex partibus æqualibus numero, ou magnitudine,punctusenim unus non excedit alium punctum in magnitudi ne,en tot funt in minori peripheria puncta quot ſunt in maiori, igitur pe ripheria minor eft æqualis maiori peripheric,igitur pars æqualis eft toa ti,quod pro impoßibile relinquitur, b ſi autem due recte linee a, b, 4, C, ſecent minorem circunferens tiam in eodem puncto, fit ille d, ſu = per illam a c, erigatur linea recta perpendicularis per xi.primi Elea mentorum ſecansſilicet eam in pun. &to d, quæ fit d e, que erit contina gens minorem circulum ex corrolda rio x vtertij elementorum, iftad, c.cum linea 4 b, ex xIII. primi Elemens POSTERIOR V MARIST. 2 d IN Elementorum conftituit duos angulos rectos, aut æquales duobus rectis, @ed cum linea a c facit duos angulos rectos ex conftru &tione, duo igitur anguli a de, obde, funt æquales duobus angulis a de, cde per tertiam petitionem prini Elementorum Euclidis, dempto igis tur communiangulo a d'e, reſidua eruntæqualia, igitur angulus b.de erit æqualis angulo c d é, &pars toti, quod eftimpoßibile. Adiſtud diceret aduerfarius, quod db, odc, non includunt ali = b. quem angulum; quia poſſet tunc illi angulo bafis ſubtendià puncto bad punétum c, quod est oppoſitum po ſiti, quia b c, poſita ſunt ima mediata, quando igitur diceretur, quod angulus c de, estmaior an gulo b.de negaretur ab aduerſa rio, quia per angulum b d c, nihil additur in angulo c d e, quia inter bec nihil mediat, e in concurſu bdoc din d, non est angulus. ifta reſponſio oſi ex ſe ipſa uideatur ua na, negandoangulum, ubi duæ rectæ line: bd, cd, concurrunt quæ expanduntur in eadem ſuperficie, oapplicantur non directe, o fit contra deffinitionem anguli, deffinitione ſexta primi Elementorum, negando etiam à b inc poffe duci lineam, neget primum petitum primi Elementorum, tamen quia aduerſarius non putaret iſta inconuenientia, quia ſequuntur ad id, quod ipſe dicit, ideo contra reſponſionem aliter ar. guo, angulus c d e includit totüm angulum b de, oaddit ſaltem pun Aum ſuper b de, o ſiproteruias quòd non addat angulum, & puns Etus per te, eſt pars, igitur c d e addit ſuper 6 d e partem aliquam, igitur c d e eſt totum adb d e. Aſſumptum patet, uidelicet quòd c de addat ſuper bd e, quia ſi angulus dicatur fpatium interceptum inter lineas non includendo lineas,ut Ariſtoteles concipit in queſtionibus meca nicis, queſtione octaua, tunc pun &tus primus lineæ b d extra circunfes rentiam minorem nihil erit anguli bde, o eſt aliquid anguli c de, igitur c d e maior est b de, a probatum fuit, quòd æqualis, igi tur aperta contradi&tio, fi autem angulus ultra ſpatiuin inter duaslie neas,includat lineam includentem,fpatium tunc primus punctus lineæ cd extra circunferentiam minorem nihil erit anguli b de, e est aliquid ans F ino tis 0 th I N PRIMVM LIB. guli c d e, addit, igitur utroque modo angulus c d e punctum fuper angulum b de, patet igitur ex principali demonſtratione & folutionis bus ad inſtantias, quod linea non componatur ex punétis, neque recta; neque circulari, ſubſtantia igitur lineæ ex punétis est terminatiue, o non compoſitiue, ut in principio expoſui vel dicas quòd Ariſtoteles famoſe, oexemplo loquitur de cauſa quæ dat eſe, vel etiam dicas, quod punétus,in deffinitione Geometrica ponitur, onon Methaphyfice conſiderata. TEX. X X. ALIAS I X. T rectum ineſt lincæ & rotundum. Verbum il lud rotundum legit Aueroes circulare, o melius, ut ali bi Ariſtoteles rectum ineft linee o circulare, ſic ut pro uerbo rotundum,legatur circulare,ratio quia circula re lineæ est proprium,quod uult Ariſtoteles in princis pijs mechanicarum queſtionum inquiens:In primis enim lineæ illi, que circuli orbem amplectitur,nullamhabenti latitudinem contraris quodam modo ineſſe apparent, concauum ſilicet,&conuexum. Rotondum uero proprie corpori conuenit, non lineæ, ut etiam placet Ariſtoteli libro fecundo Cali capite primo, quæ lectio non uidetur difplicere etiam Ioan ni Grammatico, &quodſit iſta mens Ariſtotelis, utfic legatur manife ftum eſt, per ea, quæ textu decimo ait, non enim, contingunt non ineſſc aut fimpliciter, aut oppofita,ut lineæ rectum aut obliquum,capiens ob liquum pro circulare. TEXT VSvs X. T par & iinpar numero. Par quidem ille eft, qui ab impari unitate differt cremento uel diminue tione, ut quinque à quattuor, uel à fex unitate, Vel par eſt, qui biffariam ſecatur, impar uero, qui ne in duo æqualia diuidatur, impedimento eft unia tatis interuentus. POSTERIOR VM AREST. Τ Ε Χ. XXV. ALI AS XI. NIVERSALE autem dico, quòd cum fit de omni, & per ſe eſt, & ſecundum quod ipfum eſt. Ioannes Grammaticus & fequaces determinant, ut hæc tria inter ſeſint diſtincta, fic quod id, quodper ſe eſt inſit abſque eo, quod fecundum, quod ipſum eſt, 1/oſceli quidem per ſe ineſt habere tres æquales duobus reétis,non tamen ineſt ei (inquit Ioannes).ſecundum quod ipſum, quia fecundum quod ipſum ineſt triangulo. Aduertendum quod famoſa doctrina (qua etiam fæpe Ariſtoteles utitur ) perſe Iſoſceli inefthabere tres æquales duobus reftis non tamen ſecundum quod ipſum. Alio autem modo per fe,id dicitur alicui conuenire, quod etiam conuenit ſecundum quòd ipfum, ita quod, id quod non conuenit ſecundum quod ipſum non etiam conueniat perſe, niſi quodam modo, fic quod perſe non immedia = te, oſecundum quod ipſum, diſtinguntur tanquam magis &minus uni uerfale per fe autem immediate, &ſecundum quod ipſum, hec quidem non diſtinguntur,ita ut unumſine alio poßit ineſſe eidem, Peccauit igitur Joannes ofequaces determinantes uniuerſaliter id, quod particulariter uerum est, uniuerfaliter autem falfum, Triangulo igitur immediate, cu per ſe, o ſecundum quod ipſum conuenit habere tresduobusre&tis æqua les, quodam autem modo non per ſe ipſi iſoſceli conuenit habere tres duobus rečtis equalis. Vt Ariſtoteles ſententia, hæc ſit, quòd per ſe immediate, ſecundum quod ipſum, idem fint, neque ab inuicem in aliquo diſtinguuntur, per le autem non primum, “ſecundum quod ip fum, hec duo uere diſtinguuntur, ut Ioannes ſuisexemplis, immo Ari ſtoteles in Texu,exemplomanifeſtat. HET luben 10a TE X. X X VI. ALIAS XI I. ## ling PORTET autem non latere, quoniam fæpe numero contingit errare, & non eſſe quod demonſtratur primum uniuerſale, ſecundum quòd uidetur uniuerſale demonſtrari primū, aberramus autem hac deceptione, cum aut ni hil ſit accipere ſuperius,peti fingulare, aut Fij 44? IN PR ÍMVM LI B. ſingularia. Aduertendum Ioannem Grammaticum & uniueros Ario ſtotelis interpretes, ſiue Greci, Latini, uel Arabes fuerint perperam eſſe interpretatos hunc Ariſtotelis Textum, &tres ſequentes textus @rita male fenferunt de Ariſtotele, quòd litteram pariter & fenfum omnem peruertunt &corruinpunt. Circa Ariſtotelis litteram, an tequim ad eius interpretationem acMilani, falſit as loannis, oſequa tium est hoc loco non pretereunds. Primo circa hunc textum, loans nes adfert exempla multa quorum neque unum tantum facit pro textus declaratione, ait enim Ariſtoteles. Cum nihil fit accipere fupes rius. Nihil fit, neque uox quidem, utputa nomen aliquod fictitium,& acceptum,cui tamen in re nihil refpondeat ut eſt hoc nomen chimera, cui nomini nihil extra in re conuenit,fic tandem, ut neque res ſi aliqua fie ue ens aliquod, ita ut nulla ſit res, neque ſit nomen aliquod ſignifi cans illud non ens. ipſe autem loannes explicat Ariſtot. litteram cirs ca illud, cui eſt accipere fuperius, &circa illud, cui nomen impoſitum eſt,ut est, Terra,' Sol, øMundus, &triangulus, horum omnium ex tant nomina, ut manifeftum eft; o ſingulum ſuperius est ad ſua indiuis dua, nempe ad hancterram, ad hunc Solem, ad hunc mundum, ad -Scalenonen, perperam igitur interpretatur loannes hunc textum cum ipfe adferat exemplum de eo, cui ſit accipere fuperius, cui nomer impofitum eſt, Textus autem Ariſtotelis dicat, cum non fit accipere fuperius. T E X. XXVII. i VT fi quid eft, fed innominatum fit in difo ferentibus fpetie rebus. Ioannes Toto errat Cees loo.fequentes ipfum, circa litteram e doctrinam Ari stetelis,textusfic habet. Si quid eft,illud tamen innominatum fit in differentibus fpetie res bus. Ioannes inquit, non exiſtente commune aliquo de quo non exiſtente, prebet exempla deexiſtentibus, contra feipſum V etiam de nominatis in differentibus petie rebus, contra Ariſtotelis textum, ait enim Ariſtoteles. Sed innominatum ſit in differens tibus fpetie rebus, exempla adfert Ioannes de Triangulo, qui nominatur, eft in pluribus fpetiebus differentibus, ut in Iſopleuro Iſoſcele, Scaler.one, o fimiliter de quanto prebet cxemplum loane nes, quod nedum nomen habet, fed in differentibus fpetie pluribus est POSTRIO RVM ARIST. par A @ etiam in pluribus generibusdifferentibus eft, neque mireris uelimſi Joannes ocæteri expoſitores aliò pedem retullerint, cumfaltus aſperie tatem ſenſerint &iuerit uſque Gorcie inficias, obfcurans Ariſtotelem Platonicis ſuadelis. Ut contingat eſſe ficut in parte totum in quomonftratur his enim quę funt in te, ineft quidem demonſtratio, & erit de omni, ſed tainen non huius erit primi uni uerfalis demonftratio, dico autem huius primi, ſecundum quod huius demonſtra tionem, cumfit primi unirerfalis. Bonus Ioannes ofequaces prefertim Niphus fueſſanus medices Neapolitanus philotheus Augu ftinus philoſophus, og fequaces multi fimiles ſine nomine, pleni nominis bus, quos in interglutiendam uniuerſam Ariſtotelis philoſophiam, os ho rum textū ſuffocauit, cū ad exempla deuenerint,quibus Ariſtoteles cla rum reddit id, quod in tribus modis errandi circa univerſale dixit, loan nes (eg peius cæteri) circa finem comenti huius textus fic ait,in reliquia trium modorum exempla per bec exponit, uerū non utitur ordine exem plorum cum ordine modorum errandi, propofitum enim exemplum ters tij eſt modi, Dico philofophum fummoartificio ordiri otexere modos errandi cum exemplis, ſicut modo cuique errandi correſpondeat pros prium &peculiare exemplum, ut quemadmodum tres numerauerit ers randi modos circa uniuerfale, tria exempla, ipſis correſpondentia fubiecit, ſic ut primum exemplum primo errandi modo, fecundum exem plum; ut in littera Ariſtotelis ponitur fecundo modo errandi correſpon deat, otertium exemplum ipſi tertio modo errandi apte conueniat, quo ordine confuſionem omni ex parte inter cxempla os modos errandi fuæ giens, in primis ſuo artificio, modum errandi &exemplum fibi corre fpondens notificauit circa id quod debet effe medium demonſtrationis, ſe cundus errandi modus &exemplum fibi correſpondens, cõcernitfubies Sum demonſtrationis, tertius modus errandi circa uniuerfale cum exem plo ſibi coherente, concernit totam demonftrationem, feu arguendi mo dum qui dicitur permutata proportio, errauit igitur Ioannes v omnes alij, qui aliter quam ut hucufque dixi extorquent Ariſtotelis textum, non intelligentes. I N P R I M VM LIB. Pro declaratione igitur uigeſimi fexti textus, fit hæc noftra prima ina ter expoſitores dilucidatio uel ſi difpliceat, dicas eam eſſe ſecundam,uel etiam millefimam. Primī modum errandiexpono ſic, ſcias quòd de duas bus lineis reétis, tanquam de ſubiecto, concluditur hec paßio, nempe quod non intercidant; uidelicet quòd parallelæ ſint ſeu equidiſt antes, per hoc, tanquam per medium, quia linea recta ſuper duas line as rectas cadēs eſt poſita in omnibus quatuor angulis rectis, ideo ille due recte parallelæſunt, oetiam per hoc me dium, quod cum linea recta ſuper duas lineas rectas cadensfecerit an- A. 6 gulos quomodolibet æquales, utputa alternos acutos ſibi inuicem æqua- c. d les, uel alternos obtufos ſibi inuicem equales, illæ duæ lineæ funt æquidis ftantes, iterum per hoc medium quãdo linea recta cadens fuper duas alias rectas lineas fecerit exterio rem angulum æqualem interiori ex eadem parte, ille duæ lineæ paraller le ſunt, &adhuc per iftud medium, ut fi linea recta cadens ſuper duas rectas lineas, fecerit duos intrinſecos angulos æquales duobus reftis,ut probant X X VII. XXVIII. primi elementorum quod adhuc illæ due recte linee parallelæ ſunt. Modo ſi Geometra putaret demonſtras, tionem factam per ſingulum mediorum di&torü,eſſe uniuerſalem,erraret primo errore circa uniuerfale,quia nullibi medium eſt uniuerſale et unī; nulla enim natura, nec res aliqua eft cómunisad omnes quatuor angulos rectos, ad binos acutos, binoſque obtuſos,ad intrinſecum et extrinfecum ex eadë parteſumptos, et ad duos intrinſecos ex eademparte acceptos, niſi quis uudeat dicere,quòd quædam cõmunis natura,eſt ad omnes pres nominutos angulos, utputa æqualitas angulori, quæ quidem angulorum equalitas,ratio eſſet, ut cõcludas lineas eſſeparallelas, iſtud ſomnium,ul tra quodfit falfitate plenum, eft etiam nimis procul ab apparenti mena dacio, non ne etiam in concurrentibus lineis repperitur æqualitas angu lorum? ut puta in his angulis qui ſunt ad uerticem poſiti, cauſati à linea cadenteſuper duas rectus lineas,illa enim cadens cum utralibet earumf1. per quas cadit, caufat uerticales angulos æquales ut ſunt anguli a gd, @ b8f, uel anguli c fe, em gfb, ſtatim hoc reiciet dicens,quod de al 1 POSTERIORVM ARI'S T. ternis angulis intelligenda eſt illa equalitas, ut natura illa communis tantum ſit equalitas coalternorum, hec reſponſio eft uana cũ illa equa a litas ſitequiuoca, uel dicas analo gam, ad equalitatem retorum, acu torum, obtuforum angulorum, @etiam dico, quod totã hoc,& qua litas angulorum,non eft und abſolu = ta naturd,una abſoluta (utputa) eſt unus atq; alter angulorum, reliqua natura eſt reſpectiua et ad aliquid, ut æqualitas inter utrumq;, ſi diceret quod accipitur pro medio, tantuin equalitas in omnibus illis fine pluri,dico quòd per æqualitatem non con cluditur, quod lineæ parallele ſint,niſi per æqualitatě talium angulorī, Et dico etiam quòd non tantum per equalitatem coalternorīt, ſed etiam per æqualitatë extrinſeciad intrinfecum, et per duos intrinſecos,quorīt alter acutus reliquus obtufus,qui equalesfunt duobus re & tis, quæ omnia non habent unum ſuperiusuniuocum, igitur non eft aliquid accipere ſus perius ad hæc omnia, igitur petimus tunc ſingularia media in propoſito concludendo, &ſicerramus, ſi nobis uideatur uniuerſale demonſtrare primū. Error igitur iſte circa uniuerſale,eſt circa medium demonſtratio nis quod quidem medium uniuerfale, cum non fit, fingularia media peti mus, ſimile habes huic per XXVII (XXVIII primi Elementorū, Euclidis per quas Ariſtoteles manifeſtat propoſitum. Itidem fimile per quintam, fextam, a ſeptimum fextiElementorum,quibus probat Eucli des per diuerſa media ſingularia, o non per unum uniuerſale medium, triangula eſſe equiangula. Aliud etiam in Euclide habes xui primi Elementorum « in ſexto Elementorum propoſitione xxx, quibus lo cis ſimile huic probat, quod duæ lineæ,in dire&tum cõiun&tafunt et lines und, ohoc per ſingularia odiuerfa media, quibus non eft aliquid unis accipere fuperius. Vigefimiſeptimitextusſit hec mea declaratio, immo.eft ipſius Ariſto telis ad unguem, quam Ioannes grammaticus, neque nouus aliquis, ſiue antiquus etiam interpres, non percepit, hoctextu affert Ariſtoteles les cundum errandi modum, à primo modo errandi longe dißimilem, atque diuerfum, in primo modo errandi nulla natura communis accipiebatur IN PRIM VM LI B. 1 fuperior, neque nomen aliquod, ſeu quæpiam uox habebatur, in hoc aue, tem ſecundoerrandi modo, natura ipſa communis eft, o inſuper nomen. ei impoſitum eſt. Verum quia natura illa non habet ſub ſe plures fpe=; cies, ideo illa, &fi fit, anominata ſit, in pluribus tamen differentibus fpecie rebus, innominataeſt, ob defficientiam ipſarum ſpecierum, quiail Leſpecies non ſunt, ut folis, terre, mundi natura, eſt innominatain plu ribus ſpeciebus terre, quia plures ſpecies terre nonſunt, fi igitur quiſ piam demonſtrationemde cælo tentaret, & quodfit dextrum in ipſo com cluderet, &putaret quod eſſet ſuademonſtratio uniuerſalis, quia no eft aliud primum cælum,erraret quia non de hoc cælo, primofitdemöſtra tio, fed de natura coeli, ut eft quid uniuerfalius ad hoc primum cælum, ſeu de cælo, fine contratione ad hoc ſingulare cælum, quam doctrinants Ariſtotelesſuis mathematicis exemplis, &quidem aptißimis, fole cans didiorum reddit; inquit enim in exemplo fecundo, quod quidem fecundo errandi modo correſpondet, oſi triangulus non effet aliud quàm 1f0a) ſceles, ſecundum quod Iſoſceles eſt. Videretur utiqiie ineſſe primo,has bere tres æquales duobus rectis, cum nullus effet alius triangulus,uel nul la alia eſſet ſpecies trianguli quam fofceles, &tunc error ſecundo mos: do contingeret. Explico Ariſtotelis ſententiam. In primis eft aduerten dum, quòd triangulus re ipſa hubet ſub ſe tres ſpecies triangulorum, fo pleurum, iſoſcelem oScalenonen, quod ſi tamen per imaginationem ponamns, quod non haberet ſub ſe ljopleurum, neque Scalenonen, per ſecluſionem illarum duarum ſpecierum, tantum haberet ſpeciem unā, ut iſoſcelem, eſſet tunctriangulu: innominatus in Scalenone atque Iſos: pleuro, quia fi in illis ſpeciebus triangulus nominaretur, ut fic,Scalenon eft triangulus, Iſopleurus eft triangulus, iam illæ ſpecies duæ triangu. lorum effent, quas ſuppofuit Aristoteles, ut non eſſent,ut ſuum oſtendat. propoſitum. His ſuppoſitis, ſiquis de foſcele concluderet; quòd tres haberet æquales duobus reétis,o putaret quòd uniuerſalis effet bec des monftratio, quia nullus eft alius triangulus, quam foſceles, crraretſes. cundo errandi modo, quia Iſoſceles habet fuperius o uniuerſalius fe, nempe triangulum, de quo primo concluditur talis affectio, & talis era, ror multa diuerſa à prinoerrandi modo habet,quorum unum eft, ut pri mus modus errandi,ſit circa.medium, & iſte ſecundus modus errandi fit. circaſubiectum demonſtrationis. Aliud, ut in primo nonſitfuperius ali quid nec etiam nominatum, In hoc ſecundo eſte ſuperius og nominas, tum, ut triangulus, Tertio illud innominatumſit in pluribusmedijs, hoc. autein? POSTERIORVMARIST DS autemfecundo modo innominatumfit in duabusfpeciebus tantum, uideli cet in Iſopleuro w Scalenone, Ibi ut in omnibus fit innominatum, Hic aue tem nominatum ſit tantum in una ſpecie, ut triangulus in 1fofcele. Advigeſimum octauum textum cã acceſſerit philoponus ad orchos in greſſus, non potuit ex inextricabılı labirintho egredi, ita ut ea, quæ pue rilia ſuntin interpretatione, perperam ej tortuoſe ſit interpretatus,vt puta uerbum hoc, aliquando, non temporaliter,inquit,audiendü eſt, ſed quaſi diminutius ut ait ipfe, non exacte fit audiendum, fimili modo ergo ijtud uerbum, Nunc,haud,inquit,temporaliter audiendum eſt, quin po tius, exacte, o ſecundum Methodum demonftratiuam, Pedagogorā mo dum inſequutus, qui quattuorgrecis litteris intineti temerario aufu, ſi ne quacunquefcientia aut liberaliarte ad explicandum Ariſtotelem uens toſi cum accefferint ipſi implicati non ut loannes plicis binis uel ternis terminos exponit, ſed denis centenis atq; millenis epiſtolis ſuos codiculos imptent promittunt etiam multis nobilibus ſe expoſituros Ariſt.uocantų; fepe illos nobiles nominatim ut teftes tādem ſint ſue infanie, et ut uidean tur etiam ipſi aliquid in Ariſtotele ſuo chere illuſtraſſe, cum nondum pri ma philoſophie elementa fufceperint, Pereant ipſi cum ſua ignorantia, uelfuis fericis ueftibus addifcere poft multa těpora incipiant,oſiferico indueti,atque equoinfedentes, o rabini facti addiſcere uerecundantur. fufcipiant eam quam decet philofophum, ueftem, o Euclidis honeſtate accedant ad Socratem; ne fintpoſt hac, fomenta praua difpofitionis preſtantißimæ iuuentuti in celebratißimis terrarum gymnaſijs. Qui dam alij interpretes quorum eſſe nefcio, quia ſuum eſſe nihil eft, neq; fuit unquam abradunt ly nunc, & locofuo,legunt, non, &ly aliquando,fo litarie fine fenfu relinquunt, quibus expofitionibus uel potius torturis iam iam incipiat Ariſtotelis lamétatio, Abigatur igitur cum mufcis afta bulòunaatque alteru interpretatio, feu magis Ariftotelis deprauatio, et legatur textus ut lacet in greco, quitextus græcus habet has particulas, aliquando, et nunc, que uerba temporaliter onullo alio modo intelligan tur, neque intelligi aliter poſſunt, onon legatur, loco de ly nunc, non, ut quidam facit hoc tempore, quenſcies, ſi tua ſcripta ab ipſo accepta le geris, Pro declaratione igitur uera, queunaſola eft, quă inferius fübi ciam, et nulla alia ab ifta uers effe poteft, ad Arijtotelem redeundo, textum expono. Proportionale, quod commutabiliter eſt. Aduertendū quod iftud de proportionale, exemplum, eft tertij modi, pro cutus declaratio 03 of 21 that * MA es G so IN PRIMVM LIB, ne dico Ariſtotelem proprium quantitatis determinaffe in fine predicar menti quantitatis dicentem; Proprium autě quantitati cft maxi. me çqualitas & inequalitas,reliqua uero queno ſunt quan ta no proprie æqualia ac inęqualia eſſe dicuntur, Velutidiſpo ſitio,uel etiam habitus æqualis, inequalisue non omnino propriedicitur, fed familispotius,atá; dißimilis, & album itidem æqualeinæqualeue non onnino dicitur, fed fimile dici atque dißimile dicifolet, Proportio ſeu ratio, ut ab Euclide deffinitur in quintoElemětorum eft duarum quantæcunquefint eiufdem generis quantitatum alterius ad alte ram habitudo quædam, ex Ariſtotele igitur habetur, quod proprium eft ipſi quantitati, esſe quale aut inequale. Ex Euclide uero quòd propora tio eſt quantitatumfolummodo, ex utroqueuero, quod tantum in quana titate proprie reperitur proportio, quæ quidem eſtæqualitatis, in equalitatis; inequalitatis uero proportio biffariamſecatur fecundum Boetium in primo Arithmeticæ in inequalitatem maiorematque minoa, rem,equalitatis proportio eſt quandofundamentā et terminusfunt æqua lia, ut duo ad duo, inequalitatis uero proportio eft quando fundamenti eſt maius, terminus autē minor, et hæceft maior inequalitas.uerominor eft,quando fundamentum eftminus terminus uero maior,ut sunr ad 21, maior,et 11 ad 1 1 1 1 minor, Præter hæc ſcito, quidam modiarguenda quibusmathematici utuntur(de quibusEuclides in quinto) indifferenter applicatur quantitatibus eiufdem, fiue etiam alterius generis, dummos do bina ſintuniusgeneris et bine alterius, ut in equaproportionalitate patet, hic autem modus-arguendi qui dicitur commutata proportio non niſi quantitatibus, quæ eiufdem generisſunt attribuitur. Quibus pras intelectis o declaratis, uides Platonem improprie applicuiffe uirtutia bus in Gorgia cõmutată proportionalitaté, quibus etiã qualitatibus,pro portio nonconuenit, ex deffinitione proportionis fuperius data,quapro, pter non eſt propria rerum natura, neque uera e propria Ariſtotelis ſententia,aliena docirina perturbanda. Vbienim ait Ariſtotelesloquens de tertio errandimodo,aut cótingit efle, ficut in parte totūztoti hoc loco,uniuerſale intelligendum eft,partem uero inferius ad ipfum uni uerfale, Mododico,quòd antiqui philofophi qui precefferütEuclidem Ariſtotelem ſæpißime errauerunt hoc tertio errandi modo, putantes de toto, feu uniuerfalemfacere demonftrationem, que tamen erat in par te demonstratio,hoc eſt particularis &non univerſalis, ideoait philoſos plus quemadmodum demonftratum, eft aliquando, uidelicetabantiquis POSTERIORVM ARIST. philoſophis, qui tempore Ariſtotelem,atque Euclidem preceſſerūt,quia ipfi non aduerterunt quod quantum, eſt id (id eſt natura aliqua) quod fum perius accipitur, nominatum eft in pluribus differentibus fpecie res büs, differt igitur iſte modus à primo, quia ibi non erat accipere aliquid ſuperius, o etiam differt àſecundo, quia in fecundo illud fuperiusnon erat nominatuin in pluribus differentibus ſpecie rebus, hoc autem, quod hic conſideratur, eft in pluribusſpeciebusnominatum, & comune,atque uniuerſale onnibus quantis, fiue illa diſcreta, ſeu cötinua ſint, quorun effe fucceßiuuki, feuetiam permanensſit, ut numeri ſunt,lines, folida, tempora, &alia huiufmodiſpecie differentia, feorfum ab inuicem ali quando acceperunt antiqui deſingulis demonſtrationemfacientes. Nunc uero, inquit,philofophus uniuerfale demonftratur, fenſus, uniuerſali ad hæc omnia,modusiſte arguëdi imediate et perſe attribuitur, ut ipſi quan titati, quatenus tale. Nunc dico, nedum in eo Ariſtoteleo quidem tempo të, & à philofophis reéte fapientibus, ſed etiam oprimo abEuclide; cuius clarißimi philofophi beneficio habetur demonſtratio uniuerſalis omnibus quantis, ut fuo quinto libro Elementorum docet, propoſitione fextadecima, Errabant igitur antiqui aliquando, arguendo permutatim in numeris ſeorſun, in lineis feorfum, cæteris feorfum, nunc au = tem non contingit iſte error his, qui ſequuntur Euclidis ſcitum, quia nunc, ideſt poſt Euclidis fcripta uniuerſaliter demonſtratur, hoc eſtmo:. dusiftearguendi primo per fequantitati conuenit, quægenuseft ergo üniverſale adomnia quanta, hæc autem eſt mea interpretatio, uera og germanaipſi Ariſtoteli, ut etiam ipſe ſuis uerbis manifeftat Text. 93. ubi apertißime declarat propoſitum. Propter hoc nec fi aliquis monſtret, unumquēque trian ĝulum demonſtrationeaut una, aut altera quod duos re čtos habet unuſquiſque Iſopleurus feorfum & Scalenon,& Iſoſceles, nondum cognouit triangulum, quòd duos rectos habet, niſi ſophiſtico inodo,rieque uniuerfaliter triangu huum,ne quidem fi nullus eſt, pręterhæc triangulus alter,no enim fecüdum quod trianguluseft cognouit,neque fi om= nem triangulum,ſed quatenus ſecundum numerum, ſecun dum autem fpeciem no omnem, & fi nullus eſt, quem non nouit. Non eſt ſurdaaure pretereundum artificium fummum, quod in hoc exemplo Ariſtoteles docet, fcias hoc exemplo de triangulo, comple &ti duos errandi modos, vel facerepro duobus modis, errandi, ſecun Gij sa IN PRIMVM: LIB. do, atque tertio, cum primum defingulo modo, fecundo &tertio, fe. paratim exempla aptißima e peculiaria pofuit, ftatim attulit aliud exemplum utrique, ſecundo uidelicet,atque tertio modo feruiens, Com. poſitiuam methoduin etiam in exemplis feruauit. Littera autem per particulas, ſic declaratur; inquit enim, demonſtratione aut una aut al tera; una enim demonſtratione numero fieri-non poteft, ut deIſopleuro folcele, C Scalenone, concludatur quod tres equales duobus reftis habeat, uia igitur fpecie demonſtratio erit, qua de his tribus triangu lorum fpeciebus demonſtrabitur, quod tres habeat æquales duobusree Atis, ideo dixit Ariſtoteles demonſtratione aut una aut altera; ac fi dices ret pluribus numero demonſtrationibus, de tribus ſpeciebus illis cons cludi, quod tres duobus rectis pares habeat hæc autem demonftratio, nullo modo intelligi potest, quòd fyllogiſtica ſit, quia tuncmaior pre. miſſa acciperet de uniuerfalitriangulo, quod haberettres equales duo bus reftis,ſic fyllogizando, omnis triangulus habet tres angulos æquam les duobus rectis, ſed Iſoſceles, uel Iſopleurus, uel Scalenon, eſt triangulus, igitur foſceles, uel Iſopleurus,uel Scalenon habet tres, æquales duobus rectis, Sic igitur fyllogizando uel particulatim abſque illo diſiunto, fed uno tantum affumpto triangulo, non ne, ſcio de triangulo uniuerſaliter, in maiori aſſumpta quòd triangulus habet tres æquales duobus reftis? quod e diametro opponitur ei quod Arift. ait,ut et fi de Iſopleuro, et cæteris fciuero,quòd habeat tres æquales duo bus,nondūſcio de triangulo,niſiper accidens,per accidés dico quatenus in ferius omne, ſuperiori accidit,modus igiturilledicendi, quein uidentur omnes latini atque greciſequi, non poteſtſtarecum Ariſtotelis ſentena tia, quia iam priusſciretuniuerſale in maiore fumpta et per uniuerſale in cognitionem particulariñ deueniretur,qui error non eſt, ſiquis autem di ceret, ut fic intelligi debeat demonſtratione,aut una fyllogiſtica, aut alte ra Geometrica, dico quod nullo modode ſyllogiſtica poteft intelligi, quia ſequeretur idein incommodum eo modo arguendiſyllogistice,contra dos Arinam ex litteram Aristotelis, ut fupra dixi, quia tunc per cognitio nem uniuerſalis deueniremus in cognitionem particularium quod ex ſi id uerum ſit, modusquo ipſe textu Il docet, quo modo de nouoſci mus,non hoctamen in hoc textu pertractat, ſed agit,hoc textu,& in hoc, exemplo, de errore, qui opponitur uero modo ſciendi,onon de mo: do, quo de nouofcimus quippiam. Niſi quis de ſyllogiſtica demonſtratio neintelligensafingularibus ad uniuerſale progredereturfic, omnis 1 / 0 POSTERIO RVM 'ARIS T. ſceles habet tres equales duobus rectis,fed triangulus iſoſceles est, igis tur triangulus habet tres duobus rectis pares, &de alijs fpeciebus limie liter, & tunc fciret iste ſecundum numerum i particulariſubiecto I fofce le ad uniuerfalem triangulum progrediendo,quod no diſplicet, et ſic una fpecieſyllogiſtica concluderetur de uniuerſali per particularia, uel etiã altera,nempe Geoinetrica. Pro cuius ellucidatione, eft fciendun; ultra ea, quæ de Geometrica demonſtratione dictum eſt in textu tertio, quod Euclides ſecunda parte trigeſimeſecunde primi Elementorun demonſtrat quod triangulus qua. tenus triangulus est, habet tres angulos æquales duobus-rectis, fi quis modo, utcunque intructus bonis litteris (non dico Ariftelis deuoratos, res uel potius carnium «acephalorum ſeptem, unis bycis uoraces, quiafi uerbauinitateplena habeant non tainen Aristotelis do& rinam tenent,quam falſo profitentur)iſus fuerit illa. demonftratione oſtendens de 1fofcele, quòd habeat tres e qualesduobus reftis per decimamtertiam O vigeſimumnonam primi Elementorum, aut altera numero, eadem ta menſpetie de Iſopleuro & Scaleno.ne idein oftendat, ita quòd de ſingus lis trianguloruin þetiebus inducat, quod habeat unaqueque ſpecies triangulorum tres equales duobus, nonduin cognouit inquit, triangus lum quòd duobus reftis æquales habet, niſi ſophiſtico modo, neque uni uerſaliter trianguluna effe huiufmodi, ne quidein fi nullus eft, preter, hec, triangulusalius, non enim quod triangulus eft huiufmodi cogno uit, nequeſi omnem triangulum, hoc habere contingut, utputs duobus reftis æquales,ſed quatenusfecundum numerum, ideft fecundum nume rumfpetierum triangulorum, ſecunduin autein fpetien, in uno uidelicet uniuerfali, non omnein ca ſi nullus eft fecundum ſpetiem, id eſt ſe cundumnumerum trium triangulorum petieruin, ſeparatim,quem non nouit. Erraret igitur duplici errore ille, qui putaret eße unia uerſale fubie&tum, & totum, id quod effet particulare fubieétum, parsfubieétiut, quia tunc acciperet in parte totum, id eft partem, to tum effe exiftimaret. Si autem triangulus immaginetur faluari in unica tantum fpetie, ut in iſoſcele, tunc exemplum intelligatur, aptari feo cundo modo errandi tantum, non etiam tertio. Vides igitur amice, quod Ariſtoteles modos tres attulit errandi circa uniuerfale,quorum cuique proprium, &peculiare exemplum aptauit. Neque legas poſt hac lyaliquando, prominus exacte, nequely nunc,pro exacte ita,ut neutrum,tempusſignificet, fed utrunque temporaliterlegatur, neque 1 i IN P R I M V M L I B. legendum eſt ly nunc pronon, ut quidam, qui nullus homo est facit. Ad id autem quod Ioannes de Gorgia tetigit, aie quod quantitas, natura ipſa, qualitatem precedit, fic ut quantitas, fit prior ipſa qualitate non dico tempore necetiam natura ſed ordine, oid quod propriumquan titati eſt prius est proprio qualitatis, fimiliter et modi,quiſunt ipſiquãti tati proprij, ut eſt proportio, & modus arguendi, qui dicitur permu. tata proportio, funt hæc quantitati propria oſibi primo conueniunt, deinde etiam qualitatibus ſecundario « improprie attribuuntur. Quem admodum etiamSyllogiſmus, qui omnibus philoſophiæ partibus eft com munis per attributionem, de eo tamen primo oproprijsſime Logicafa cultas agit, quòd ſi ſubſtantijs quantitate prioribus, quis tribuat come mutabiliter proportionari, tunc uniuerfaliter reſponde, quod omnibus entibus poteft attribui commutabiliter proportionari improprie tamen, oper quandam attributionem fecrındariam, quatenus omnia entia,has bent quantitatem molis, aut uirtutis in ſe,o ſic Plato attribuit in Gori gia commutabiliter proportionari illis qualitatibus improprie, opro ut ille qualitates includunt quantitatem uirtutis, quæ funtgradus pera feftionis. TE X. XXIX. ALIAS XIIII. VANDO igitur non nouit uniuerſaliter, & quando nouit fimpliciter, manifeftum eft utique. Quoniain, li idem erit triangulo eſſe & Iſopleuro, aut unicuique,aut omnibus fi uero non idem fed alteruin & cætera. Littera ſic exponatur, fi eadem deffinitio quæ trianguli est, cſJet ipſius etiam Iſopleuri propria o peculiaris, aut unicuique 1fos pleuro iſoſceli o Scalenoniſeparatim, aut etiam omnibus fimul in com muni à quanon ſit alia deffinitio ipſis conueniens, ſi uero non idem, id est finon est eadem unica deffinitio, quæ bis omnibus æque primo conue ! niat, fed alterum, id eſt diuerfum nempe deffinitio trianguli est figura tribus lineis rectis claufa, fed iſopleurus est figura tribus lineis rectis æqualibus claufa, iſoſceles est figura tribus lineis duabus nanque æquae libus, una inequali claufa, gradatus eſt figura tribus lineis inæquae libusclaufa, ecce modo, quàm diuerſa ſint deffinitiones, fi ineſt igitur tres habere his omnibus, hoc quidem eft unicuique, fecundum quod eſt triangulus, uelfecundum quod eft figura tribus rectis claufa, o non POSTERIORVM ARIST. has pro eta quia illis lireis equalibus, uel inequalibus claudatur. Vtrum autem fecundum quod eft triangulus, aut fecundum quod Iſoſce les infit, & quãdo ſecundum hoc, eſt primun, &uniuerfale, cuius eſt demonſtratio, manifeſtūeſt, quando remotis infit primo,ut Iſoſceli, æneo remoto,triangulo infunt duobus rectis pares, fed æncun eſle remoto, &Ifoſceli etiam remo to infunt tres duobus rectis pares, fed non inſunt tres duo bus rectis pares figura & termino remotis, quia etiam ipfis inſunt duobus rectis tres æquales, fed eis non primo, ut fi gura que clauditur termnino uel terminis, quo igiturprimo reinoto, cui priino conuenit; remouetur, & habere tres, fi itaque triangulus remoueatur, remouebitur & habere tres duobus rectis pares, & ſecundum hoc igitur, id eft few cundum triangulum ineſt, & aliis per ipſum & huiuſmodi trianguli uniuerſaliter eſt demonſtratio. Littera fic ordináta, artificiun Ariſtotelis est conſiderandum, in hac regula, quam prebet ad cognofcendum, quando erit uniuerfaliter demonſtratio, ego exem plum eft contraſecundum modum errandicirca uniuerſale,ſic,utſeruans hanc regulam,non errabitſecundo modo errandi circauniuerfale,& pri mo,remotis accidentibus indiuiduorī,utremoto ere,non remoueturaf feétio uniuerfalis ut habere tres duobus reétis pares, as enimfeu aneum effe,non conuenit fpeciebus triangulorum, niſi quia indiuiduis triangulis conuenit remota,fubinde fpecie trianguli, ut Ifofcele remoto, non pro pterea remouetur affectio uniuerſalis, quæ eft habere tres duobus reétis pares, quia in alijs fpetiebusſaluatur natura,cui primo conuenit habere tres,ut in ſopleuro,e Scalenone ſaluatur naturatrianguli,cui prinoco uenit habere tres,tertio remouet genus ad cuiusremotionem remouetur villa affeétio,ut remotafigura, &tres habere duobus re &tis pares remo uetur, Quarto cultimo remota deffinitione generis, ut remoto termino figura enim eſt, que termino uel terminis clauditur, remouetur og illa affectio ſed non primo, primo enim conuenit ipſi triangulo, triangulo igitur remoto, statim remouetur & illa affectio, habere tres duobusre Atis pares, demonftratio igitur qua concluditur quòd triangulus habet tres angulos equalesduobus reātis, eft uniuerſaliter. & eft Te i IN PRIMVM LIB. TEX. XXXVII. ALIAS XX. Pro quo VORVM autein genus alterum eft, ficut Arithmeticæ, & Geometriæ,non eft enim Arithmeticam demonftrationem accom modare ad inagnitudinum accidentia niſi magnitudines numeri fint. Gnarus Ari ſtoteles Geometrie & Arithmetica non dubitanz do loquutuseft inquiens,niſi magnitudines numeri fint, fed fuæ regulæ uniuerfalis exceptionem faciens, niſi inquit magnitudines numeri ſint. aduertas magnitudines nunquam fieri numeri nifi numeri nuo merati, o adhuc numeri illi numerati non fit diſcreta quantitas, ſic ut illinumerati numeri, non copulentur ad aliquem communem terminum, ſicut numeri, ofillabe, no:1 ad terminum copulantur communem,fed ad comunem terminum copulantar ille magnitudines que numeri funt per folum tamen intellectum à fe inuicem feparatæ intelliguntur ille quidem magnitudines quæ numerati numeri,Sunt non quod intellectus aliter quã ſint, eas percipiat oppoſito modo, fed eas tantum conhder atparticunt Latim, no intelligendo eas niſi priuatiuenon effe coniunctas,non tamen in telligendo eas negatiue, non effe coniunétas, ut pro exemplofufcipiatur id,quod Euclides proponit propoſitione quinta deci f mi Elementorum commens ar d ſurabiles magnitudines,ad inuicem rationem habent quam numerusad numeră be cuius deinonftratio talis est. Sint due inagnitudines a b communicantes, dico quod earum pro portio eft,ſicut alicuius numeri ad alium numerumfit enim maxima quan titas c cõmuniter menfurans a ®b, reperta ut docet xiij. Elementorum quæ inenfuret a fecundum numerum d, o b fecundum numerum e, erita; a ad c, ut d'ad unit atem eo quod ſicut a eft multiplex Citad eſt multiplex unitatis, at c adi b, ut unit as ad e, quoniam ſicut c eft ſubmultiplex b, ita unitas eſt ſubmultiplex e, igitur per aquam propor tionalitatem a adb, ut d ad e quod eft propoſitum, Ecce quod f linea fecans a lineam in puncto F, non ſeparatprima partē linet a, à fecunda parte CH POSTERIORVM ARIST. st n parte linee a, quis, punctus copulansprimam partem lineæ & cum fes cunda parte, manet idem, immo eſt communis punétus &ipfi lined a & ipſi f, intelle &tus tamen intelligit primam, atquefecundam partem li nea 4, abſque quòd conſideret,ut ad comunem punétum f copulentur. Ecce uides quomodo Euclides utitur medio Arithmetico,ut puta nume ro in constructione, «æqua proportionalitate ad probandam affeétio nëdemagnitudinibus, In vis uel 1 x propoſitione decimi utitur uns decima octaui, tamquam principio Arithmetico in concludenda affe ftio ne de magnitudinibus, hocfepißimefacit in toto decimo libro Eles mentorum Magnitudines, numeri funt, quando ille habent communem menfuram qua communiter dimetiantur, diameter igitur quadrati, Oſuacostanunquam funt, neque dicentur quod ipfæ numeriſint,de ma gnitudinibus etiä que numeri ſunt trattat Euclides in ſecundo Elemento rā à prima propoſitione ufq; ad undecimãexclufiue, Ecce quo pacto utis mur arithmetico principio,circa Genusgeometricã, quod græciala - tini non aduertentes prætereunt exponentesregulam Ariſtotelis uniuerfaliter, quãipſe uult intelligi cumparticula exceptiua, In hac parte ex= ponenda Aueroesimperitißimusfuit, ita utſua littera e directoſit con tra Ariſtotelis fenfum, inquiens &propterea demonſtratio, quæ eft de queſito computatiuo, non poteft trăsferri in aliam à computatiua,quem uirum clarißimum non miror, ſimendacium hoc dixerit in ifta re parut ſed magis,eum admiror quòd cum aliàsdiſciplinas mathematicas inuen taspropter ingenij exercitationem, &quia etiam philofophus dixerit eas puerost adipiſci, ipſumuero Aueroin,neque pueritia,necſuafeneétu te eas fuo ingenio intellexiſſe, niſi dixeris, quòd ipſe elleuatus in eſtaſi intelligebat omnia per intellectum in actu, quo multa peruerſo modo,e ordine intelligebat ſicut quædam fui fequaces Aueroico uerbo cupientes Aueroiſtas dici, ignorantes tamen que Ariſt. mathematicis explicanda propofuit, de quo intellectu poßibili, qui nihil eft eorum quæ uere ſunt ante quam intelligat,utproponit philoſophus,aliquando aperiam,quòd non de ſeparato illo chimerico intellectu ex littera cmente Aristotelis, debemus intelligere,ut quidã Aueroiſta perperăget fequaces peßime in= terpretantur, pertranfeo tamëhæc inpræfentiarü,et quia non eft hiclo cusdifferendiillud, et utfic docentes falfo,reſipiſcăt, et ueritatem Arifto telicăianiam incipiãt et intelligeret &alios post millenos annos docere. Hoc autem quemadmodum contingit in quibuſdam, po fterius dicetur. littera fic intelligi debet, magnitudines quando ſint 1 1 H S8 IN PRIMVM LIB: 3 numeri in quibufdam,nempein temporibus, ideft quádo ipfa tempord, ut numeri concipiuntur, Poſterius dicetur,ut in libris de philoſophia et de anima.Hoc loco habemus artificium ab Ariſtotele, quoGræcorumexpo fitorum abufius mille,o latinorü millies millena millia errorum cognoſci mus,De interpretibus uero noſtri temporis,ſierrent,non dico,fed intelli gas uelim, ut quot uerba proferunt, tot mendacia contra Ariſtotelis or dinem ýmethodum committunt. Quis enim legit Grecos, Latinos, o noftri temporis expoſitoresAriſtotelis, non uideret conſiderauerit, illos ſepe, & fepe fepius adducereloca odoctrinam datamin philofo phia uniuerſá, in libris de anima, methaphiſicis, pro declaratione lo coruin logices, quis modus iſte obfcuritatis eſt, per ignotißima declarda re ea, quæ aliquo modo ignota funt? eper ea quibus accommodantur principia, ipſaprincipia uelle declarare, oper poſterior aignota decla rare ipſum prius, ſic utfupponant iſti declaratores,hominem eſſe philoa fophum, animaſticum, & methaphiſicum antequàmfiat logicus,utille no Ater bonus homo docebat, quòd Ariftoteles attulit tria exempla in fecun do textu,in tribus ſcientijs,ut ibi notaui ha,ha,pereat modus iſte contra Ariſtotelis doctrinam,qui poftquàm exceptuationem uniuerſalis regulæ fue fecit, inquit, hoc autem, quomodo contingit, posterius dicetur, fic ut id,quod inphilofophia dicit, nonreuocetin logicis declarandis, fedt diuerſo,exceptione qua in hoc locofacit,Pombaur tanquam nota in philofo phia, ut ex notis ad ignota o utex uniuerfali ad particularia tēpora procedat,perfuadeturigitur illa exceptio exx. libro Elementorū ut des claratum eft, & non ex philofophiæ locis, vt proMilanius utpúta ex his, quæ in Geometria notafunt, ad ea declaranda, quæ inlogicis traa & antur, ut uera methodo, à notis diſcuramus adignota, fed fi idem in theologos ſacrosobijcias, qui indiſcriminatim ad declarındas theologia cas queſtiones loca uniuerſalis philofophiæ adducunt, igitur ipficra rant,refpondeo, In thcologia cui omnesſcientic &tota uniuerſalis phi lofophia ancilantur tanquam ſcalares gradus non inconuenit philofoe phic eliberalium artium theoremata adducere, quia proceditur à nos tis ad ignota declaranda. Ita ut ultra modum quo intelligimus Sacran do&trinam per reuelationem, ſunt quidam alij modi intelligendi, ſuppoſia ta tamen reuelatione primo, unus eſt modus deuotionis fpiritalis, quo particulariter dominusfuisfanétis, licet alias indoctis tribuit intelligere, ut Petro intelligebat ea,quecontinebantur in epiſtolis fratris noftri Pau li, quæ indocti deprauant ad fuum fenfum, non intelligentes, Alius mo POSTERIORVMARIS T. 0 4 Ac LE FO r dus intelligendi facras litteras prouenit ex ingenij uiuacitate tantum, qui modusmultas hærefes attulitfidelibus. Tertius eft modus intelligendi beneficio naturalis philoſophic, &hic etiam decipit innaniterfideles nis fiunctione fanétifpiritusmoliaturfua duricies, hoc quidem tertio modo non intelligit aliquis facras litteras, niſi inſtructus illis difciplinis, que precedunt ipfam reginam theologiam, valeant igitur, eantuna oma nes ad olas carnium, nonadScotia Thome libros, qui, his artibus &philofophia non callent, non peccant igitur Theologitertio modo di di, copeccato, quo multiGræci, Latini, &præfertim noui interpretes in Ariſtotelem peccant,confundentes docendi ordinem. Videtur hæc ex poſitio, Ariftoteli oppugnare, ubi inquit Ariſt. pofterius dicetur, ut in libris philofophiæ, dixi tamen ego ex decimo Elementorum. Dico Arie ftotelem promittere quomodo continuum diſcretum căcipiatur, fed Eye clides quo modo per principium Arithmeticum de magnitudineaffeflio demonſtretur atq; concludatur. • Ex codem enim genere cft, extrema & mcdia eſſe, fi namqucnonfunt per ſe accidentia erunt, propter hoc Geo metrię non eft demonſtrare, quod contrariorum eadein eſt diſciplina, ſed neque quòd duo cubi ſunt unus cubus, ſit heclitteræ expofitio, ut media oextrema debeant effe eiufdemgeneris, media intelligas, feu in conſtructione medium, ſeu medium ad probadum, quod eft, aut principium, uel etiam propoſitiopredemonftrata,que fus mitur ad probandam aliam, propofitionem; extremorum autem nos mine (ubiait extrema) intelligende funt ipſa concluſiones, utfitfenfus facilis, premiſſão concluſiones ex codem genereeſſe debent. Sed ne que quòdduo cubi unus cubus fit, Quomodounus tantum cus buserit,cum duo fint?duo prius feparatim erant,quiſi in unum redigan tur, unum tantum efficiunt,ut due lincæ etiam una linea tantum efficis citur, utdocet XIIII primi Elementorum xxx ſexti Elementos rum,vltra aduertendum quod cötrariorum cadem eſtdiſciplina,ſed hoc non probat Geometra ſimilitcr duo cubiunus cubus eft,quod etiam Geo metra non probat, his habitis odeclaratis., ſtatim perit declaratio. cus iufdam philoſophi noui qui maiorigrauitate quàm pondere utitur; dicit enim illa ſua innani interpretatione, duo cubi in Arithmetica non faciunt ynum cubum, quod eft di&tu, quod duo cubi numeri nonfaciunt unum cu bum numerum,ifta interpretatio opponitur littere Ariſtotelis; li ttera anim affirmatiuc loquitur, quòd duo cubi unumfaciuntcubum,oiſte no ни ex 46 in is hi De IN PRIMV M LIB. ) uus philofophus exemplificat negatiue, quo mododuo eubi non faciunt unum cubum; reiciatur igitur ſuainterpretatio, & Philoponi expoſitio ſuſcipiatur, quæ hoc in loco fatis conſiderata eft, atque docta;Ratio enim quare non demonſtrat Geometra,quòd duo cubi unum cubum far ciunt, eſt quia non uerſatur Geometra circa genus folidorum, ut circa ſuuinſubiectum, fed uerſatur tantun circa planorum genus, ut circa proprium ſubiectum, Stereometra autem habet demonſtrare, quod duo cubi adinuicem aditi cubum unum cõficiunt, ut ftatim explicabo inferius, cum de duplatione are delorum, & in fragmentis logicis de triplatione, quadruplatione, quincuplatione, fexcuplatione, eptuplatione, es dein ceps demonſtrationes fecero. In qua re ut Ioannes refert Apolonij peri gei talis eft demonſtratio ab innumeris mendis purgata, opermepri ſtino candori redita cum Euclidis propoſitionibus in locis fuis,utdecet appoſitis, ac ſiab Apolonij manibus nunc procederet. Pro cuiusdemonſtrationis notitia, aduertas quòd Art Delio Apoli ni dicata, eſto ſiuis ut trium eſſet pedum, quando Apolo imperauit dea lijs peſte laborantibus, eiuſdem Are duplationem, qui Geometrie impe riti (ut peneſunt in preſentiarum omnes totius orbis Gymnaſiste )adide runt alteram tripedalem Aram prime are, etſicturbata,atý; corrupta forma cubica are primæ,dederunt are duplate formă trabis, fic ut fex pedű extendereturlongitudine, latitudineuero & craſitie trium pedum extenſa eſſet Ara, forma in qua complacebat Apolo deperdita,fþreti igi tur propter hoc delij ab-Apoline, & graue peſte adhuc laborantes, ad Platoně confugerunt,qui eos redarguens, utGeometric imperitos tana dem eos adhuc dubios reliquit dicens eis, ut duas lineas medias inter exa tremas inuenirentſecundum eandem proportionem continuam. Et tunc ſcirent duplare Aram, formam habětem cubicam, In qua re plurimigre corum laborauerunt tandem unus Apolonius perigeus, duas inuenit lia neasillas medias Oſummo artificio duplarunt Aram delij,fubinde ad peſte quieuerunt. Dátis igitur duabus lineis inæqualibus, quarum altera ſit longitudo Ar & primo fabricatæ triumpedum, fecunda uero lineaſit ed, que deno tet longitudinem trabis quamcompoſuerunt delij, &eſto pedum fex,ina ter has duas reperiendæ funt duæ alia medie in continua proportionam litate,quod in numerisfieri neutiquam eſt poßibile, fint igitur duæ data, primafit b c, quæ erat longitudo prime Are, e a b.longitudo tras bis, &ponatur per undecimam primi Elementorum uel per uigeſima POSTERIORVM ARIST. tertiam eiufdem primi, ut rectumangulum contineant,eum uidelicet qui füb a b c o compleaturparallelogrammum bd; per tertiam atque tri geſimamprimam primi Elementorum;qg diameter ipſius per primum po ſtulatum primi Elementorum ducatur a c o circa triangulum ac di per quintam quarti Elementorum deſcribatur circulus a d.c, os produ catur linee b a,b c, per fecundum poſtulatum primi Elementorum in directum ufque ad fe 8,0 per primum poſtulatum coniungan tur f &, per lineam f g tranſeun b tem per punétum d, ita ut fe, æqualis fit lineæ e g, hoc enim tan quàm petitum ſummitur indemons Äratum. (De quo, forſan poſterius noſtra palade non nihil dicetur) ma nifeſtum utique eſt, quod ex fe æqualis eft ipfi dg per hipoteſim, @primam animi conceptionem. f a f 6 f 6 6 G gд g fil 6 g ď 6 6 egg f fa d Б6 c 1M14 8 с C f f a d AB Xa -f MC À с a TE lik mo Ma Quoniam igitur extra circulum a dc punctum fumptum est feab ipſo dufte linee rette f b, feſecant circulum ad punéta a v d, quod igi tur fit ex bf in fa, per trigeſimamquintam tertij Elementorum,æqua le eſt ei, quod fit ex ef, in fd, ac eadem ratione, &quodfit ex b & in c g æquale est, ei, quod fit ex dg ing e, aquale autem eft id quod fitex dg in g e, ei quodfit ex e f in f d, utraque enim utrij que equales funt, e f ſilicet ipſi d 8, og f d, ipſi eg, igitur, ego quòd fit, ex bf in fa, æquale eftei, quod fit ex bg ing c, eſt igitur, 62 IN PRIM VM.; L 1 B. ut fb ad b & perfecundam partem decimequinteſexti Elementorum, ita g c ad f a,fed ut fb adb 8, fic es fa ad ad per iij.fextiEleé mentorum, igitur per xi. quinti Elementorum g c ad f a,ut f a ad ad, fimiliter per eandem xi. quinti Elementorum, ut dc adc 8, fic cg ad fa, quia utraqueeft,ficutea, que est fb ad b 8, altera per fecundam partem xv. reliquaper quartam fexti;ut d.c.ad cgpro pter fimilitudinem triangulorum, est autem dcdqualisipfi ab,04 d, ipſi b c per xxxiij. primiElementorum, igituraut ab ad cg ita f a ad ad, erat autem, out f bad bg, ideft ut a bad c g,fic cg ad fa, igitur out ab adog, fic oipfacg.ad fia, o ipſa fid, ad b c, quatuor igitur rectæ linea 46,8c,fa,bc, inuicem prom portionales funt,o propter hoc erit; uta bad b c, ita quifit ex 4 b cubus, ad cubum, qui ex g cega qui ex g c, ad illum qui fit ex f a, e qui ex fa, ad illum qui ex b c ex corrolario xxxiij. undecimi Elementorum, igitur ut a b ad b ©, ita cubus quiex f a ad cubum qui ex b c, fed a b dupla fumpta fuità principio, ipſius b.c, eft igia tur cubus, qui exfa, duplus ad cu bum, qui ex b c, quod demon - g strandum errat. Berlin. g c.8 F G f 6 f 6 6 a. 6 6 G 8 6 g ggġ Ġ gofa dic figffa d. o ga a 6 2. BВ POSTERIORVM ARIS T. Eleg TEX. XLI. VEL XXII. F G ta 16 ORVM quæ ſæpe fiuntdemonſtrationes funt & fcientiæ, ut lunæ deffectus, Quee dam noua queſtio à quodam nouo interprete moues tur, circa particulas in textu poſitas, unde eft, quòdfæpefiat demonſtratio of ſcientia de lune men ſtruo? Cumſit, quod luna nonſemper, nequeſe pe eclypſetur, neque meſtruum patiatur? Queſtio mota fuit ex dus plici ignorantia queex duplici menſtruoſitate contingit, uidelicet Solis Lune, quia ille, qui eam mouerit, neque in die, neque nocte uidet, quid uelit Ariftoteles, ſi tamen alta uoce Ariſtoteles streperet in huius doctoris aures, hoc apponeretforſan miringam, ſın ditë, ſurdus ipſeerit ideo ille bonus homo,qui quidam homo erat,fed nunc nefcio an aliquis ho mo ipſe ſit, monſtruoſamde lunæ menſtruo folutionem,uel potius ligas mina tribuit auditoribus centum. Videas, ſepeenim inquit nofter nos uus interpres, fit Lune eclipſis, quia quandofit,tunc orientalibus quar ta hora, occidentalibus autem hora tertia, magis autem occidentalibus hora ſecunda noctis &alijs etiam ad indos magis tendentibus prima non & is hora apparet luna menſtrua:a, ecce inquit ille interpres do&tus,quid ſepefit, ut puta intot horis noftis, utfecunda&tertia atque alijs plu rimis. Quemirabilis doctrina @ſcientia, in dialogis &fabelis, quas apud ignem raulieres habentreponenda magis, quàm àuiro quoquo moa do etiam docto redarguenda eft, uel etiam à quouis audienda. Litteraſic ordinetur, eorum demonſtrationes & fcientia ſunt, eorum dico, que fæpefiunt. Dico igitur lunc deffe tusſæpe, atque ſemper fieri in plenie lunio, quum terra diametraliter ponatur inter Solem Lunam, quod quidemnon in omni plenilunio contingit, fed cum sol in capite, & Lue na in cauda draconisfuerit, quod Plato explicans ait linea re& ta eft cu ius medium obumbrat extrema, quamfententiam non intelligens quidam alius potius paraſcitus quàm doctor, &ille est, quem ſuperius dixi hae, bere grauitatem maioren, quàm pondus, redarguebat in quodam cons uiuio deffinitionem quam Paduano Gymnaſio in primis meis le &tionibus publicis dederam, explicans deffinitionem lineæ rectæ, que eft, à pun Ao in punctum breuißimaextenſio, aut cuius medium ex æquofua inter 1 incet ſigna, hoc eft, cuius medium non reſultat ab extremis, ſic explis IN PRIM VM LIB. cabam per fenfitiuam & materialem lineam, ut facilius ipfa Geomes trica linea à tirunculis intelligeretur, linea recta eft, cuius medium non obumbrat extrema, neque eſt hæc mea explicatio rectæ lineæ, Contrda ria illi à Platone datæ, cum hæc in Geometria, illa uero Platonis in Aſtronomia accomodanda ſit, neque in hoc ignofeendum erat, quia igna rus Grecarum litterarum eſſem, ut ille efuriens greculus non lingua ne que natione, fed apparentia tantum, Tipto propter tiptis duo agebat dicens mefalfam le&tionem Latinam vidiffe, qua legeram in Platone, lie nea recta eſt cuius medium non obumbrat, cum Græcus textus, affira matiue legatur fic cuius medium obumbrat extrema, mitto hæc in Cora bonam, oad propoſitum à quo uidebar digredi redeo, Cauſis igitur illis commemoratis concurrentibus, femper & ſaepe fit Luna defectus, de qua Luna menſtruata habetur ſcientia, per medium illud, quæ eft ter re interpoſitio inter Solem atque Lunam diametraliter, que cauſa pro pria, & propinqua eſt ad Eclipfim de Luna concludendam, modo anfe pe fiat demonſtratio uelfepe habeatur fcientia de Eclipſi Lune, hoc non tangit Ariſtoteles., quia ly ſæpe eſemper, non determinant ly demon ſtrationes, olyſcientia,fed determinantlydeffe &tusLune; illis igia tur cauſis contingit Luna deffeétus fæpec ſemper,non autem illis quas commemorauit ille phantaſticus, ſecunda uel tertia hora noétis. TEXTVS XLII ALIAS XXIII. VONIAM autem manifeftum eft, quod unữ. quodque demoſtrare non eſt, ſed aut ex uno. quoque principiorum, fi id quod demonſtra tur, ſit,ſecundum quod eft illud, non eſt ſcire hoc quidem fi ex ueris & indemõſtrabilibus monſtretur, & inmediatis, eſt enim ficmon, ſtrare, ficuti Briſon Tetragoniſinum,per commune enim demonſtrant rationes huiuſmodi, quod & alí ineſt, unde & alíjs conueniunt hæ rationes non cognatis, Quicquid anti qui dequadratura circuli fenferint, dicam quid fenferim ego, habita prius notia littere, &cognito textusſenſu, li ex ueris premißis, oins demonſtrabilibus, immediatis, fiat demonſtratio, non autem fiat ex præmißis proprijs, opeculiaribus illi generi,de quo fcientia queritur, ex illa demonſtratione per talia principia primadi&ta non habeturſcien tid POSTERIORVM ARIST. 6 tla,immoneq; illa erit demonftratio, quia per principia fieret talis pros ceſſus, que non tantum arti Geometrie, fed alijs difciplinis accommo dari poffunt, quo errore Brifo.crrauit tentans reducere aream circuli ad figuram rectilineam quadratam, quæ t alia erant principia datur max ius, datur minus, igitur datur æquale, quidamſciolus laborat, ut hæc principia uniuerfalia,propria fiant ipſiGeometric,dicens,daturquadra tum maius circulo, datur quadratā minus circulo, igitur datur quadras kun sequale ipſi circulo, et gloriaturinnani, & hoc fuum chimericâ con tulerit cum yno do&tißimo huiys noftri Gymnasij, qui non folum perfua fionemualidam, fed et demonftrationem eam effe affirmauit; fcito enim, quòd os folidis, e linels, o numeris coaptatur iſta dedu &tio, ut datur numerus maior denario eminor denario, igitur datur equalis nume rus denario, es ſic in alijs plurimis, dico tamen quod huius fcioli do&to ris contra tio in propoſito nulla eft ad oſtendendum intenti, quia ultra quod Briſo errans,proceßit per comunia principia,errauit etiam errorç peßimo in conſequentia,ut ex his quæfuperquintadecima terty Elemen torī Euclidis demonſtrantur &fuper trigeſima ciufdem,Ariſtoteles au tem folum redarguit ipfum in co, quod egit contra regulam de proprijs principijs,quicquid de confequentia fitprætermittens tanquam non res Marguendum, ut oppoſitum ſuedat& regul«. De quadratura, errore Brifonis, Anthiphontis, Hipocratisc Boetij atque iuniorum trattabo in fragmentis mathematicis ſuper live bro pofterioruin. TEXTVS XLV ALIAS XXIII. ED demonftratio non.conucnit in aliud nus, aliter quàm ut dictum eſt, Geometricæ in mechanicas, aut perſpectiuas, & arithme ticæ in harınonicas. XXXVII textu determis nauit Ariſtoteles quòd ad Geometram non pertinet de BRAVAS PRINT monſtrare quod duo cubifaciant unum cubum, ratio, ut ibi declarani aßignabaturquia Geometra O stereometrauerfantur cir ca diuerſagenera, alter circa planum, & reliquus circafolidum, hoc au fem textu dicit, quod geometrice demonftrationes conueniunt in genus mechanicum, ait enim geometrice in mechanicas, pro qua apparenti contradictione, eft aduertendum quòd Stereometrica per principia Gear I IN PRIMVM.LIB. metric probantur quia in terminis corporis, qui ſunt ſuperficies, ille geometricæ demonſtrationes attribuuntur, ideodemonftratio Geometri ca hoc modo in mechanicas,conuenit, o ſinon fint circa idem genus, necfubfe inuicem diſcipline. TEXTVS XLVI ALIAS XXIIII. VID quidem igitur fignificent, & prima, & quæ ex his funt, accipiendum eft, quòd au: tem ſint principia quidem, eft accipere, Alia uero demonftrare, ut unitas, & quid rectum, & quid triangulus,effe autem unitate accipe re & magnitudinem,altera uero demonftra re. Dedatoibi quid fignificent de dignitatibus ibi & priina. De que fito ibi, & quæexhisfunt. Exempla omniafunt in boc textu dedato; primum eft in decimaſextaſeptimi elementorum ubi de unitate,que ſe ba bet ad aliquemſecüdum numerum, ficut quilibet tertius adaliquem quar tum,concluditur q, ipſa unitas, itafe habebit ad tertiã numerum, ſicutfc cãdus numerus ad quartum,fecundã exemplum eftde data linea in prima propofitione primiElementorum,de qua demonſtratur quàd fit æqualis, welminor cæterisduabus lineis re&tis continentibus,Iſopleurum, uel ifo feelem, uel Scalenonem,uel etiam exemplum hoc apparet indecima pri mi Elementorum ubi concluditur de linea recta, quòd ſit biffariamfe &ta, Tertium exemplum de dato, eſt in xxx 11 primi Elementorum, ubi de dato Trigono concluditur. habeat tres angulos duabus re&tis paresnon tantum, quid ſignificentoportet preaccipere, fed etiam iſta effe, vt tan dem de dato nonfolum quidfignificet, quod etiam eſt queſiti,preaccipes re, fed eo quidſignificet effe, vtrumque fupponendum ſit (licet non femper,)ut quid ſit unitas,et unitatem effe,quemadmodum ſecundo textu predocuit Ariſtoteles, uerbum hoc, magnitudinem, intelligendum eſt, rectam lineam,ut decima primi elementorī,et triãgulum,ut trigeſima ſe cīda primi elemétorum,quem triangulum,et reetū, explicite protulit ab unitate,inquiens alia uero demonſtrare, ut quid unitas, quid rectiem, Oquid triangulus fignificet, elle autem unitatem accipere & magnitus dinem, hoc loco aduertendum est Ariſtotelem, ſeiunctam poſuiſſe unita tem à refto trigono, quæ duo nempe reétum & trigonum amplexi fuifſe in unico uerbo hoc, magnitudinem, propter hoc ut intelligenda POSTERIORVM ARIS T. effet unitas de qua hic loquitur principium numeri feu multitudinis, de. qua quidem unitate alia affe&tio concluditur, quàm de unitate linee, de qua loquebatur in fecundo textu huiusprimi, wratio interpretationis apparet exlittera, quia de quolibet dato. feparatim concluditur pro prium queſitum, ut hoc textu declaraui. TEX. XLVII VEL XX IIII & 24 Allia 721, pe Court Alle Blato che * with rima alis -life pri eld Side Vntautē quibus utimur in demonftratiuis ſciētíjs alia quidē propria uniuſcuiufq fcič tiæ, alia uero cómnunia, comunia autemfer cundum Analogiă, quoniam utile eft,quá. túeft in eo (quod eft fub fcientia ) genere, propria quidem, ut lincã elſe huiufinodi. &rectum, De dignitatibus hoc loco loquens, exempla de dignitatis bus prèbens ait. Alia quidem propria uniuſcuiuſq & c.Propria Geometrie ſunt ifta, utlineam elfelongitudinem illatabilem or ſine pro fonditate,hacde caufa dixit lineameſſe buiufmodi,id efthabere banc defa finitione, & reétum, vt puta recta linea est, que ſua ex æquali intera iacetſigna,uel linea recta eft à punéto in punctum breuißima extenſio, non intelligas lineam, &rectum, Jolitarie o incomplexe,quia hoc loco de dignitatibus,que complexa funtloquitur: non de incomplexis utde linea tantă, ca de recto tantum ſed, dehoc cöplexo linea est longitudo illa tabilis; ¢ linea recta eſt,quæ ex æquali ſua interiacet ſigna,de linea in uniuerfali, fubinde de contracta uſpecificalinea recta exempla explicăs, Communia autein ut æqualia ab æqualibus ſi auferas,quòd æqualia reliqua ſunt. Aliqui indoctirelatores interpretum et inter pretes Arifto, non intelligentes hunc locum; naturam Geometrie ſcien tie perdunt, dicentes Geometram per principia communia procedere, id autem eft contra ueritatem ex parte rei econtra Ariftotelis do &tria nam. Pro cuiusdifficultatis nodo extricando, aduertendum quod princi pium iftud,de quolibet ente,uerum eftdicere quodeſt,uel no eſt tale, nun quam in demonftratione ponitur, nec eo utimur niſicontrate, oquae dam determinationeadgenus aliquod terminatum, er pro altera diſiuna Eti parteaccepto,nulli enim fcientia eft, aut diſciplina, que utatur illo principio pro utrag; diſiunéti,fed pro altera tantū parte, Sinile de hoc (& alijs huiufmodi) principio, fi ab.equalibus æqualia auferas, que re MON jpes non exti ell I i IN PRIM VM LI'B. Manent,æqualia funt, audiendum eft, nulla quippe diſciplinaest, que es utatur niſi contracte, fic quòd Geometra nunquam eo ufus eft præters quam inhisquæ circa planum uerfantur, utfi ab equalibus lineis,uel fu perficiebus,aut angulis,equates lineæ, uel fuperficies aut anguli deman tur, quæ remanent lineæ,uel fuperficies,aut anguli funtæquales,quão primum autem principium hoc contrahitur, non eft amplius commune Guniuerfale, fed fit proprium illius generis fcientiæ ad quod contrahis tur, quod uerohæc noftra declaratio fit ad Ariſtotelis mentemmanifes. ſtum eſt ex predicamento quantitatis ubi de diſcreto econtinuo agens, determinat quod utrique proprium eft peculiare fecundum eamæqua leuel inæquale dici, ſi inſtetur ex menteAriſtotelis dicentis, principiunt. - iſtud effe commune, inquit enim,cõnunia autē &c. Dico illud prin cipium eſſe commune, ſi non contrahatur, quàmprimim uero contrahi tur non eftcommune amplius, ftatim enin fequeretur contradi&tio, quod eſſet commune ono commune, doétrina hæcmeacoheret his,quæ Aucroes commentationemagna affentiriuideturfuper hoc textu, o his que Ariſtoteles hoc loco dicitinquiens;fufficiens eft autemunumquoda que iftorum quantum in genere eſt,hoc eft quatenusad determinatū get nus contrahitur, de principijs loquens,ubi de datis dixerit, & tertio lo co de queſitis, ibi quodautē ſint demóftrant, o fi adhuc inftes e Theon &Campanus non contracteinquatuor primis libris Elemento rum, a quod Euclides affixit illud principium primo libro, dico quod Căpanus &TheonbreuiloquioStudentes accipiuntipſum principiū fne Contractione, femper tamen op ubique uolunt ipſum intelligi contra &te cum determinatone ad illud genus ad quod-co utimur, aliter. errarent, Euclides autem primo libro affixit, quid utitur ipfo con tracto in primis quatuor libris, Adhuc fi fortiuscontra hanc expo fitionem precipue inſtetur quod fiquid ueritatisſaperet, statim haberea tur circuli quadratura per hæcprincipia contra&ta, datur quadras tum maius circulo, datur quadratum minus circulo igitur dabitur quadratum æquale circulo, refpondeo, quò du os errores commiſit Briſo, o talis argutus doctorolus inter arguendum, primo quia Brie so per principia comunia, iſte audem do&tor per contra &ta illa princi pra, feduterque in æquiuocisarguebat, circulus enim et quadratum equi uoce funt figuræ altera enim curuilinea reliqua uero re&tilinea eft, hunc errorem fecundum non inuenies in mea hac expoſitione,&contra ipfam inftantianulla est, de crrore autem Briſonisfuſius in noftris fragmentis POSTERIOR V MARIS T. 3 Logicis. Idem enim faciet & fi non de omnibus accipiat fed in magnitudinibus folum, Arithmeticæ autein in numeris. Diuinus Philoſophus quàmprimum explicuerit, quæ namfunt propria per duplex exemplum uniusfeientia Geometria, linee uidelicet, &lia neæ recte, •fubiunxerit, que nam ſint communia principia exent plum prebens tale, nquit, ut æqualiaab æqualibusfi auferas quod æqua lia ſint remanentia, ſubiunxit quomodo hoc principium &fimilia cone trahantur ad proprium genus ſcientiæ &propriafiant dicens, ſuffia ciens eſt,unum quodque iſtorum, quantum in genere est, fufficiens quie dem acſi peculiaribus atqi proprijs principijsuteretur Geometra uteng iſto principio, æqualia ab æqualibus ſi auferas æqualia remanent, non quidemſi de omnibus accipiat, non quidem dico demonstrabit Geometra: fi fic de omnibus & uniuerfaliter ſine contractione utatur, fed demon, ſtrabit quidem, inquit Philofophus,ſi in magnitudinibus folum, id eſt contracte o determinatim,eo ufus fuerit.Vtfic, fi ab æqualibus lineis ſuperficiebus, angulis, Arithmeticus, fi ab æqualibus numeris æqua les lineas ſuperficies angulos uel numeros auferas quod æquales linea fuperficies anguli onumeri remanebunt. Tunc uult Ariſtoteles quód iftud principiumſic contractumreddatur propriumipſi Geometra, og Arithmetico &unicuique artifici in fua arte, ac fi peculiari epros prißimo uteretur, non procedit igiturGeometra per communia prins cipia neque ob id, quia per cominunia procedit Geometria, ideo non fit dicenda ſcientia ipſa Geometria, ut quidam ingeniofus noftri teme poris immaginatur. Sunt autem propria quidem & quæ acci piuntureſſe, circa quæ, fcientia fpeculatur, quæ ſunt per le, ut Arithmetica unitates, Geometria autem figna & lineas. Euclides in Arithmeticis ab oskaud propoſitionenoniElemene torum uſque ad tredeci mam incluſiue accipit unitates, ſed ſigna id eſt punta accepit in ſecunda wtrigeſima prima primi Elementorum, lie neas uero in primt, ſecunda,& tertia primi,atque in undecima undecimi Elementorum. Hæc enim accipiunt eſſe, & hoc eſſe, idemo dixit in principiofecundi textus,ut de dato precognoſcatur utrunque &quid &quia est, accipiunt eſſe,id est deffinitionemſeu deſcriptionem welquid per nomenfignificatur, ex hoceffe,nempeactueſſe, uel mente oaštu.confideratiuo effe, id quod concipiunt, quod eſſe potentia,uel effe aptitudinedicunt. Horum autem pafsiones funtper fe quid quidem figni IN PRIMVM L'IB. ficet unaquæque accipiunt, ut Arithmetica quidem quid par, Sicut uigefimaquinta noni Elementorum, aut impar, ut trige fimanoni Elementorum, Aut quadrangulus,ut xxxvi. noni Ele mentorum, &quilibet numerus à duobus duplus,ut xxxv. eiufdem, a eut declaraui ſuper textu xx. de altera parte longiori, Aut cubus ut quarta noni Elementorum ſic intelligantur termini exemplorum in Arithmetica;Geometra uero quid irrationale,ut XI. X. Elementorum, aut inflecti per contactum in unico puncto ex xij.ex xv.tertij Elemen. aut concurrere, ut xv.xi. Elementorum oprima Elementorum Geo metrie Vitellionis. Animaduerſione dignum est hoc, quod Geometra nunquàm hanc affectionem, ut irregularitatem deunica lineafola con = fiderat, neque etiam de una tantum linea id concludit, quicquid Cama panus ſentiat, fed id de linea una ad aliam comparata atque relata, cum qua non habet uliquam communem menſuram, ut est diameter wcofta quadrati. Inflexio uero in una atque eadem linea circulari eft, quætan gat aliam rectam lineam uel alium circulum interne, uel etiam exterins, in unopuncto tantum, quia inflexa non fecat nequere & amlineam, nes que etiam circulum, quorum utrumlibetfaceret linea recta, eifdem ! recte linee 6 circulo non contingenter neque in directum applicata. Quod autem fint paſsiones per fe demonſtrant per coin munia & ex his quæ demonftrata furt & Aftronomia funi liter. De datis dequibusaccipiebamus quid fignificarent &effe, de monſtrant artifices Arithmeticus OGeometra per communia, idef per uniuerſalia principia (que tamen unius generis ſint) v ex his etiam propoſitionibus, quæ prius demonſtrata funt, affectiones illas predis Etas, ſicut etiam aſtronomus facit, utper ea quæ in Geometria probas ta ſunt, etiam per propoſitiones probatas in Aſtronomia concludat etfiEtionesfequentrum Theorematun. TEX. XLVIII. ALIAS X XV. VASDAM tamen fcientias nihil prohibet quædain hortin defpicere, ut genus non ſupponere effe, & fit manifeftum quoniam eft,non eniin ſimiliter manifeftuin eft,quo niam numerus fit, & quoniam calidur, & frigidum fit. Natura enim &per fenfum notum POSTERIO RVM ARIST. $ 200 ill 0 si est, quonian calidum eft, ideo non eft opus precipere mente o ſuppoi fitione aliqua intellettuali, «quadamſcrupuloſa indaginefuum quiade calido, quando calidum eſt ſubiectum ſeu datum uel genus, hoc cafu, quandoeft notum quia est dati, deſpicitur præcognoſcere mentis inda gatione de dato, an fit? Quod noncontingit ſimiliter de numero, quans donumeruseft datum, de eo enim eft necefſe mente e intellectuali acte preaccipere quia numeri, Videlicet quod numerusaétu est mente con: ceptus, ac fiexifteret aétu, uel aptitudinem ad exiftendum habeat, en hoc quidempropter hoc, quod numerus neque nataraneque fenfu aetud liter percipiturquòd fit, fed tantun intelleétu dignofcitur, @ hæc duo exempla de dito prebetnobis Ariſtoteles,ſubinde de queſito feu paßione facit exceptionem dicent, & paſsiones non eft accipere quid fi gnificent ſi fint manifeltæ, ut puta ſi fit notiſsimum quodtale no men -notifsimam rem ſignificet. Tunceo cafu non prerequiritur indas gando quid fignificet illud nomen, quia iam notum eſt. De dignitatibus.au tem idein excipit ab uniuerſaliregula,qua dixit fecundo textu, alia nana que quia funt prius opinari neceſſe eſt,utomne quidem quod est,aut affir mareaut negare uerum eſt, quia eſt, o textu xlvi.aliud prebet exem plum, utæqualiaab æqualibus fiauferas, quòd æqualia reliqua ſunt, de his communibus principijs non eft preſuponerequia eft. Cum ipſorīt ugritas quafi natura nota fint, quaſi natura dico, utputa quia notis ter minis ipſarum dignitatum, statim notum est, quia est ipſarum dignitatum fecus autem eft de dignitatibus proprijs cuique arti,quia tunc non est,fa tis,quid fimplices terminiſignificent preaccipere,fed opus etiam eſt pré cognofcere copulationem terminorū effe neceffariam, ueram,ut quòd circulus fit figura plana unicalinea contentain cuius medio punctus est à quo ad circunferentiam omnes recta linea duétæ funtæqualesfecludit, igitur ariſt.àfubie&to ipſum quia quandoipſum eſſe,manifesti est,non ſecludit ipfum quid est, ut exponit loan.Gram. Alexander, A queſito ſecludit aliquádo quid eft,era comunibus dignitatibus ipſum quia,quando notumeft quid queſitumfignificet, &quando ueritasdignitatum eſt mani feftifsima quod autem hæcde datofeuſubiecto expoſitio ſit germanatex. Ariſt.ut uidelicet excludat àſubiecto ipſum quia,& non ipſum quid,mani feſtă eſt in littera,ubi ait,Genus non fupponere efle fi fitmanife ftūquoniã eſt non dicit Arift.genus no ſupponere quid ſitexemplü de queſito,quandonon accipiturquidſignificet est propoſitione xiiij.primi: Elemen.quod est,indiređã linea una,quod quidē quid ſignificet non tung OI MI deo per da Jet OB um 10 & IN PRIM VM LI B. preaccipitur,cumfit notum ex deffinitione quarta primi Elementorum, quodnon queratur, quia eft, quando est notum,id apertißime dicit philofophus textu fecundo ſecundi Poſteriorum,inquit enim,inuenien tes autem, quia deficit pauſamus, & fi in principio ſcirc mus, quia deficit,nó queremus utruin, cum autem fcimus ipſum quia,ipſum propter quid querimus & c. TEXTVS LII ALIAS XXV. EQYEGeometra falſa ſupponit,ſicut qui dam affirmant dicentes, quòd non oportet falſo uti, Geometram autem mentiri, dis centem lineam eſſe unius pedis,quę unius pedis non eft, autrectam lincam, non ree &tam cxiſtentem, ut in prima propoſitione prin mi elementorumfuper datam rectam lineam triangulum collocare, etiam in decima primi Elementorum datam lineam rectam, eum biffaria diuidere iubet Geometra, os ſiilla linea, que atramento pingitur, uel penna aut ſtilo protrahitur reta non fit, non ob id tamen dicendum eft, Geometram errare, quia non ad id intentionem dirigit Geometra quod oculis fubijcitur, fed ad id potius, quod intus animo concipit, dirigit intentionem, ideo non contingit Geometram circa aſſumptam materiam errare et mentiri, Geometra enim nihil concludit fecundum hanc lie neam pitam, quam ftilo pinxerat, fed fecundum intus conceptam lie neam, demonſtrationem percurrit,idem habet Ariſtoteles primo priorã ante mutuamfyllogifmorum reſolutionem non errat etiam Geometra cir ca formam fyllogiſticam, ut textu 59 62, ait Ariſtoteles, igitur cer tißimefunt diſciplinegeometria, et non quiafenfatæ fint, ut falfo quis dam dicunt, Quia intus concipiuntur. TEXTVS LIX ALIAS XXVIII. VONIAM autem ſunt Geoinetricæ inters rogationes non ne funt & non geometri. cæ? & in unaquaque fcientia,fecundü qua lem ingnorantiam funt Geoinetricæ? & utrum quiſecundum ingnorantiam fyllo giſmus eft, fit qui ex oppoſitis fyllogifo mus, POSTERIORVM ARIST. 3 dis 2018 pria vik est 200 gt mus; an paralogiſinus? In unaquaque fcientia contingunt fieri in terrogationes, ficut in Geometria, In geometria autembiffariam contin git interrogatiofieri, uno quidem modo,ut nihil fapiat de illo, quod inter rogat, ut fiquis querat an icoceruus habeat tres æquales duobus rectis, ignorans omnifariam &quidfit Icoceruus, & quid ſithabere tres duo bus reétis æquales, hic interrogans habet ignorantiam fecundum nega. tionem, quia omnis habitus negatur in eo de illa re, quam querit. Altero autem modo, ut interrogās ſciat quippe partim de illo, quod querit, par tim uero non, ut adinuicem parallelas concurrere,fciat nanque que nani lineæ rectæ fint, oſcit quòd in utranque partem protrahuntur, ſcit etiam, quisnam ſit duarum linearum concurſus, &quatenus iſta nouit et interrogat,Geometrica queſtio atq; Geometrica interrogatio eft, quate inus autem opinatur an parallelæ in infinitum protrate concurrant,hac ex parte,non eft Geometrica quæſtio, et habet hic ignorantium habitus, idest fecundum habitum, quo fcit lineas rectas, ceas in infinitum pro trahi polle, et concurſum linearum effe in eadem ſuperficie, cum illo qui dem habitu, ſtat hec ignorantia, ut ne ſciat quòd etiam ſi in infinitura protrahantur, non căcurrunt. Errore hoc peßimo in interrogatione er rauit Pſcelus Grecus, quifuitilla tempeſtate quorundain Grecorum ho minum, qui præter uoces re ipfa nihil penitusaut parum doctrinæ has bebant, in quam calımitatem credo plurimosnoſtri temporis Græculos incidiſſe, Tentauit ipfe diuidere tonum, qui fexquioctaua proportione co ſtat accipiebatô; neruos duos, qui tacti, interuallum foni haberent, quos rum utrumlibet biffariam diuidebat, fubinde arguens agebat, totus ners uus maior ad totum neruun minorein habebat toni ratione, igitur medie tas nerui ad nerui alterius medietate,ut medietas toni ad toni medietaté, poyo fic putabat dimidium Toni, hoc eſt ſemitonium uerum adinueniſſe, ignorans pauper, quod proportio totius nerui ad totum neruum eadem eft, que dimidij nerui ad dimidium alterius nerui per decimamoctauam @decimamnonam ſeptimi Elemětorum, erat igitur non Armonica quæa ftio, qua quærebat, an tonus dividi biffariam poſſet? Verus autem Geo. metra ille eft, qui non habet ignorantiam neque ſecundum negationem, neque fecundum priuationem, «ille non facitinterrogationes non geo metricas, neque interrogationes partimgeometricas opartim non geo métricas, ſed interrogationesfacit omnifarians geometricas, ut, an trian gulus cõſtitutus in tabula, habeat tres æquales duobus reitis pares, Geo metra non errat, circa uffumptam materiā,ut tex. 52. determinauit phi lik line et K IN PRIM VM LIB.. lofophus,non errat circa interrogationes, ut hoc textu patuit, neque era rat in forma, in ſua induftione, ut demonſtrat Ariſtoteles in textu. 62. nullus igitur error in Geometria contineri poteſt ex mente Ariſtotelis, hanc eandemfententia habet Galenus in de erroribuscognoſcendis et cor rigendis, quo loco innumeras Geometrie utilitates narrat. TEXTVS LXII ALIAS XXIX. ONTINGIT autem quofdam non fyllogi. ſtice dicere propter id quod accipiunt ad utraque conſequentia, ut & Ceneus facit, quod ignis in multiplicata analogia fit. Scito Ariſtotelem Cenei mentē recte intellexiſſe, que quia in formafyllogiſtica errabat parallogizădome rito eum redarguit, ut Joannes exponit,ſed aduertendum eſt in materia parallogiſmi, quo modo id cita creſcat in multiplicata analogia, quia ut Alexander errauit in hac expoſitione quëadmodum Philoponus ei ima ponit non minustamen & ipfe etium loannes grammaticus grauiter era rauit aliter exponens quàm Alexander,oſi fuam expofitionem confir met Procli diadochi auctoritate, qui Proclus, ſi ita fenferit, ut ioana nes refert, perperam hunc locum interpretatus eſt,«mentem Cenei nõ intellexit,inquit Ariſtoteles de mente Cenei, quod in multiplicata analo gia creſcit, id cito creſcit, non autem ait, quod in multiplicationetermi porum analogia creſcit, id cito creſcit ſicut ipſe loannes & Proclus terminos analogie multiplicentfic, 1,2,4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, $ 12, 1024, 2048. Egouero aliter de mente Ariſtotelis Cenei dico ex doctrina Eucli dis deffinitione undecima quinti Elementorum, &ex deffinitione primi Geometrie uitellionis ubi quantitates denominantes ipſas proe portiones multiplicantur non termini, ut loannes Proclus facies bant,arguebat ſic Ceneus,quæcung cito creſcit augentur in multiplicata Analogia, ſed ignis augetur in multiplicata Analogia, igitur ignis cito creſcit,ubi maior &minor in ſecundafigura ſunt affirmatiua. Talis au tem error parallogizando à Geometra non committitur, igitur certiſie ma, ca in primo certitudinis gradu Geometria reponitur, POSTERIOR VM ARIST. 248 2 3 3.2 ov 4 64 16 1 2 8 16 2 S6 256 S 12, 1 256 65536 4 0 24 2 048 ei ad CI, C. qué mee erit 4096 8 1 9 z 1.63 8.4 32768 6 ss36 Julia ima 1 eta infor TEXTVS LXIII ALIAS XXIX. ină Tomi club = 56 wich ro cies ONVERTVNTVR autem magis, quæ funt in mathematicis, quoniam nullum reci s piunt accidens. Secunda pars trigeſimaſecunde primi Elementorum eſt, quodomnis triangulus duos bus rectis paret habeat, id autem probat prima pars trigefimaſecunde,& ſecunda, o prima pars uigefi menone, &tertia decima primiElementorum, quæ omnes propoſitio nes concurrunt ad probandam illam conclufionem, quæ conclufio ſi in fua principia illatiua reſoluatur,non niſiin illareſolui poteſt, que ſupra commemoraui, ubi cernis &compoſitiuam methodum, ab illis principijs ad illam illatam conclufionem, reſolutiuam methodum ab illa conclus fione ad illa principia regrediendo, quihabitus reſolutiuus altißimus eft, e profecto ſignum eft re &te fapientis. Cumautem conclufiones in mathematicis fequantur ex determinatis principijs, tunc ibi facie lior eft reſolutio à concluſione in principia quàm in Topicis, ubi ex uagis, ofolum apparentibus, quandoque etiamfufpeftis odiuerſis, cito # Bie Kij 7.6 IN PRIMVM LIB. @non ex unis principijs concluditur quippiam de hac re, abundantius infragmentis nostris mathematicis fuper Ariſtotelis loca dicturus fum. TEXTVS LXIIII ALIAS XXIX. & fit par eſt ers VGENT VR autein, non per media, ſed in aſſamendo, ut a de b, hoc autem de c, rurfus hoc de d, & hoc in infinitum. Et in Iatus, ut a de b, & de e, ut eſt numerus quantus, uel infinitus,hoc autem fit in quo eſt a, nunerus impar quantus in quo b, numerus imparin quo c,eft ergoade c, & fit quantus numerus, in quo d par numerus in quo e, go a de e. Exépla duo attulit primo in poſt ſumendo,ſecüdo in litus ſu mendo, primo exemplī prebet in numerisin poſtfumendo,ut a numerus, de b numero impari, et b,de numero c primodicitur igitur a numerus de c numero primodicitur, In latus ſumendo numero pariter exemplificat, pro cuius notia, imaginare arborem porphirianam,cui fimilē in numeris finge, &numerum quantū,qui etiam potentia infinitus eſt, loco ſubſtans tiæ apta; infinitus ait propterhoc, quia omnes imparis atque paris nu = meriſpecies,quæ in infiritum crefcunt,potentia continet,ſicutſubſtan = tia fuas inferiores potentia fpeties continet, his autem numerus non po teft effe aliquis determinatus quantus, quia quicunque daretur, aut par effet, aut impar, qui non poteft effe communis pari &impari, fed talis debet eſſe numerus uniuerſaliter ſumptus, noluit autem uti iſto uer bo, uniuerfaliter, quia non eſt terminus Arithmeticus,ſedſpectat magis ad dialecticuin, ideo loco debito ufus eſt proprio uerbo hoc, uidelicet, ins finitus,quæ uox numero conuenit, ſicut incremento creſcat in infinitum inſuis fpetiebus, & numerus fic acceptus diuiditur in imparem, atque pa rem, &imparis numeri diuiſio est, in primum numerum,ocompofi tum, prinus autem numerus dicitur in fui natura, &ſine comparation, ne ad alium quemcunque numerum,o ille eſt quiſola unitate metitur,ut. 3, 5, 85" 7, 13. Compoſitus numerus eft, qui alio numeroaf e,oo ab unitate diuerſo, dimetitur, ut 9, aut 25, à ternario, & à quinario dimetiuntur, is compoſitus diuiditur in parem, atque imparem, et par quidem numerus ille eſt,qui biffariam ſecari poteft, ohic partitur in pariter parem, qui in duo æqualia fecantur, partes eius, quoufquc POSTERIORVM ARIST. 1 ad unitatem uentum ſit, ut trigeſima. In pariter imparem qui quidem in duo equalia partitur, partes in duo æqualia non fufcipiunt ſectios niem,ut quatuordecim. In impariter partem, qui quidem in duo æqualia diuiditur partes ſimiliter in duo æqualia, fed hæc partitio, uſque ad unitatem non peruenit, ut trigintaſex, de quibus Euclides libris ſeptia mo o octauo, nono Elementoruin, Nicomacus atque Boetius primo Oſecüdo Arithmetice, Quo autem ad Ariſtotelis textī attinet, manife ftum erit exemplumſuum, numerus infinitus fiue quantusſit a numerus autē quantus &determinatus ſub ipſo ſit b, numerus alius nempe infes rior ad b ſit cog,par autem numerus quantus ſit d, qui trifaria ſeca tur in e k l, ut dictum fuit fupra, eft ergo a ded, &etiam de e k lo In latus autem dixit,quiane dum per rectam lineam arboris, fed ex utra que partefumptio facta fuit. ES 11 in Exemplum in poſt.fummendo. 5, Exemplum in latus fummendo. 11: 111erus 111: 11CTUS -is 14 impar primus 13 50 ut impar 6 d par ed S A i primus compofitis. 16 14 pariterper impariterpar pariter impar. 12 is 14 inte Aduertendumquod exemplum in numeris eſt contractius, quàm prius propofuerit per litteras,ideo ne labores in numeris tot numerosfübfea inuicem poſitos, quot litteras, ibicommemorat, exempla duoin numeris appofui ut alia ipſe in textufecit, ne alia aliterdefiderentur. mo. 6 8 IN PRIMVM LIB. > TE X. LXIIII. A LIAS X X X. Iffert autem quia & propter quid fcire primo quidem in eadem ſcientia & in hac dupliciter uno quidein modo, ſi non per immediata fiat fyllogiſmus, non enim accipitur prima cau fa, quæ uero fcicntia proprer quid, per pri mam caufam eft. Hoc quidem primo modo non prebet exemplum aliquod philofophus, quicquid Aueroes, Philopou nus, fequaces fentiant, fed exemplum profecundo modo appofuit unicum folummodo pro quia, de ſintillatione planetarum, de rotons ditate autem Lune dedit etiam exemplum,pro fecundomodo quia,quo ta men exemplo declarat etiam quo pacto fieret propter quid demonſtratio O ob id imminutus aut ſuperfluus non fuit, quia primo modo textus est clarus ſatis, c profecundo modo quia,duo exempla prebetin diuers ſis ſcientijs, utrunque exemplum est in ſcientijs medijs, alterum est in optica, reliquum est in Aſtronomia, &quia textus est ſatisclarus in duobus exemplis quantum ad inductionis modum. Primo declaro prie, mum modum, quo, quia à propter quid differt de quo primo modo,quo, quia a propter quid differt nullum dat exemplum,ubi ait uno quidem modo,fi non per immediata fiat fyllogif. ita habet textus Philo ponio Aucrois Argiropilus autě habet, uno quidē modo fi ratio tinatio non per ea, quę uacant medio fiat,utloco uerbiſyllogiſ. legatur ratiotinatio, omelius meo iudicio, cum illud uniuerſalius fit uer bū, fenfus tamen ille est, utfi fiat deduétio, non per immediata,erit demon ſtratio quia; ut fide homine concludatur reſpiratio, eo quod ſitanimal, ſi uero de homine concludatur quòd reſpirat, eo quòd pulmonem habet, eritdemonſtratio propter quid, oin utroque modo,concluditur res spiratio follogifmo ut omne animal reſpirat,cæt.velomne habens pul: monemreſpirat & c. Si uero lectiofiat ſecundum Argiropilum,Olegatur ratiotinatio, Tunc exemplum dari poteft pro primo modo, quando non per immediata fiat inductio, ut prima pars xxxij. primi Elementorum probatur per uigefimamnonam primi elementorum, & non per immes diata principia, fic ut fenfus fit, quod illa que probantur per alias pro poſitiones probatas prius, talia quidem probatione quia probataſint illa uero queprobanturper immediata principia propter quid demonftrens POSTERIORVM ARIST. zmo citer fiat maus prio DOM -cpon cofuit bton uo ta cratio extus iuers mes: FUS IN • prie quo, dem philo atio ogil uer tur, ut eſt queſitum primi, ſecundi, atque tertij problematum primi Elea mentorum,que quæfita per immediata principia demonſtrantur, facta prius deſcriptione, ut conuenit, neque dicendum est, ut quidam exiſtie mant,quod eafit propter quid,quando perimmediataspropoſitionesfiat deductio imediationem illam tribuentes adſitum propoſitionū ut fecundit pars xxvIII. per primam partem illius, oprima pars uigeſimeoctaua per uigefimumfeptimam primi Elementorum,fed hoc loco, non imme diata accipit Ariſtoteles, omnes propoſitiones probatas,uel etiam, quæ per prima probare poſſunt, cum demonftratio fiant ex primis, & im mediatis, oppungat,ut immediatafint, o non fint primaabſolute. Et in Geometria etiam alio modo quia eſt, differt à propter quit, ut quando ab effeétu ad caufam progreffus fit, neinpe quando per æqualitatem an = gulorum concluditur equalitas laterum,ut fexta primi Elementorum Eu. clidis proponit.Propter quid autem eſt,quádo à caufa ad effectum proces ditur, utputa quando ab equalitate laterum trianguli infertur æqualitas angulorum illa latera reſpicientium, ut prima pars quintæ elementorum Euclidis proponit. Atio autemmodo per immediata quidem non auteng percauſam, ſed per notius eorum que conuertuntur, ut lucidum non ſcintillare,o prope eſſe, fimiliter, creſcere per rotunda incrementa luz. cida, ceſſe rotundum æqualiter defe inuicem prædicant,notius tamen eft, non ſcintillare, quàm prope effe, &notius eſt creſcere per increa menta lucida rotunda, quàm eſſe rotundum, & primum eft per fenfum per induétionem in fingulisplanetis notummagis, non tamen caufa eft quare planetæ prope ſint, fed econtrario.Secundum etiam, ut quod incremento creſcere,non eſt caufa rotunditatis, licetfit notumfolummo do per ſenſum, non autem per inductionem à pluribus determinatis ſie mul exiftentibus, quia hoc tantum de unico incremento creſcente certi fumus, *cum per ipfa, fiunt inductiones, quòd planeta propefint, aut quod Luna rotundit ſit, talis utriuſque inductio eſt quid, quod fi ccontra riofieret, tunc propter quid, anon quia, erit demonſtratio, ifti igitur duo modi à fe diuerſi ſunt, eo quod primus, per priora quidem, non tas men immediata procedit. Alius autem per immediata non tamen per priora, fed ea quæeſt propter quid colligit utraque, & quod ex prio ribus fit, atque ex immediatis. Amplius quare planetæ, haud fcina tillare uideantur fuſius ſuper problemateultimo quintadecimæfectio nis problematum Ariſtotelis fiet per me declaratio, quæ etiam faciet fatis huic textui, eft tamen hoc loco aduertendum Ioannem dicere fira MON mal, het, pw atur non ros illa IN PRIMVM LIB. tillationem prouenire, quod protendentes uifus ufque ad aſtra fixa de biliores fiunt, quaſi quòd uiſio fieret per extramißionem radiorum, ut Thimeo &Empedocli placituin erat, quos Ariſtoteles reprehendit capi te ſexto De Senſu &ſenſili. In hac igitur parte reiciendus est Philopo nus, niſi exemplo loquatur famoſo. Alterum De rotunditate Lune fus per problemate oftauo eiufdem feftionis aperietur, ubi querit Ariftote les unde eſt, quòd Luna uideatur plana, cum fit rotunda. TEXTVS LXV. ALIAS X XX. MPLIVS in quibus inedium extraponitur etenim in his nó propter quidſed ipfius, quia demonſtratio eft, non enim dicitur caufa, ut propter quid non reſpirat paries, quia eſt ani mał. Tertium modum quo quia in eadem ſcientia à propter quid differt, nunc affert Ariſtoteles inquiens amplius eft, que quando neque cauſa probat 1,ut primus modus effe&tum infert, neque est,quando ex effectu caufa infertur, fed quando ex nega: tione pene cauſe infertur ipſius effe &tus negatio, feu etiam econuerfo, ut quia non funt parallele, ideo alterni anguli non funt æquales, opdo ri modo, quia extrinfecus angulus non eft æqualis intrinſeco'ex eadem parte, igitur parallele non funt; oeſt hic modus tertius, quo quia à propterquid differt in eadem ſcientia, dixi quando ex negationepene caufe, oc. Quia parallelas effe,non eft caufa ut alterni anguli ſintæqua les,nifi fuper ill. linea recta ceciderit, que propinqua caufa eft, quod al terni anguli fintæquales,ficut animal quidem longinqua caufa eft refpira di, propinqua eſt pulmo, totalis autem eſt animalhabemus pi Imonem me dium enim ad probandă affeétionem in perſpectiut accipitur extra perſpe fiuã, utputa in Geometria & Mechanica ad Stereometriam.ld no tißimum erit pariter v iocundum, fi id quod ait Ariſtoteles in ques ſtionibus mechanicis questione x l'intelligatur,onera qua mouentur ſua per ſcytalas facilius mouentur, quam fi ſuper plauftra mouerentur,ultrd rationes illas Phiſicas quas ibi Ariſtoteles adducit, etiam ratio propter quidſummitur ex primoſtereometrie Euclidis deffinitione decimao taud uel undecima ex Theonis littera, Q * tertio Elementorum deffinitione fez cunda, minus enim offenfant ſeytale, quam plauſtrorum rote, quia ana gulus fcytalarum longe maior eft, quàmfit angulus rotarum plauftrorit ut angulus POSTERIORVM ARIST. 1 unt 41 utangulus rota a fe, uel etiam a fd longe minor eft quàm angulus fcytale af c, & ideo minus ad planum af b offenſat ſcytala quam rota,quidfcytals,que in uſu noſtro tempore eſt, in questionibus mechaa nicis declarabo, pro nuncfcito illas eſſe ftangulas,quibus utuntur lapi cide in trahendis magnis lapidibus, f & Harmonica ad Aritmetica a -6 Tonum in duo equalia diuidiſemito nia minime poteſt,quod muſicus dea terminat, ut Boetius re&te fentit lis bro tertio capite primo muſices, le quicquid Pfelus Greculus ſentiat, fedfecaturin apothomen eſemi tonium minus, huius autem propter quid ratio, ab Arithmetico reddia tur, quiafuperparticularis propor tio non poteſt diuidi in duo equalia, ut Boetius in Arithmeticis docet. Tonus autem cum in ſeſquioctaua ſonorum proportione conſiſtat in duo equalia ſemitonia diuidi haud quaquam poteft. & Apparentia ad Aſtronomiam. Apparentia, ipfa eft phenomena de qua Euclides, e Aratus poeta agunt, atque VergiliusAgricolas docens tempus quo mila lium feminaredebent, ait in Georgicis loquens de occafu hellaco, Candi dus auratis aperit cum cornubus annum Taurus, oaduerfo cedens cda nis occidit aſtro,rationemſiqnis agricola deſideret, cur eo tempore cda nis, qui et Alabor dicitur, occidat beliace,id totum ab aſtronomo petat, qui rationem propter quid redet; Sol enim in orbe eccentrico à propria intelligentisex occidente in orientem motus, quicquid fomnietAlpetra gius Fracaſtorius, & fequaces,accedit annud orbita ad illud fydus, quod eft in geminis &fuo maximofplendore, non finit illud uideri, id autë fit cum Sol diſcurrës perſignum Tauri, attingit extremam partem Tauri, tunc enim canis perdit lumen ſuum, non uidetur amplius, propter So lis ad ipſumſydus uiciniam, quouſque iterum per motum eccentrici ab co fydere ellongetur Sol, quod iterum oriri heliace incipit; hi ſunt igitur modi quatuor, quibuspropter quid, à quia differt, tres quidem funt in eadem ſcientia fubalternante,oquartus, quando id quoddemon ſtrandum eft inſcientia media,per ea quæ in ſubalternante ſcientia nota funt, probatur, in quo quarto modo, funt plures demonſtratiomisgraa dus fpeculandi, quos quia Ariſtoteles non tangit,præterco. L Me hen 1 1 IN PRIMVM LIB. -7. Sunt autem hæc quæcunque alterum quiddam exiſten tia ſecundum fubftantiam, utuntur fpeciebils, Mathenati cæ enim ſecundum fpeciein funt, non enim de ſubiecto alia quo,fi cnim & de fubiecto aliquo Geometrica funt, ſed no quatenus Geometrica,de fubiecto funt. In præcedenti particu la huius textus dixit de ſcientia quia, quód fenfibilium eft, inquiens,Hic enim, ipſum quia ſenſibilă eft fcire, de fcicntia uero propter quid,quòd uniuerfalium ejt, per caufas habetur,ait,propter quid autem mathemde ticorum, hi enim habent caufaruin demor.ſtrationes, ofrequenter neſci unt ipſum quia, ficut illi uniuerſale conſiderantes, fepe quædam ſingula rium neſciunt propter id, quod non intendunt; Ecce quantimathematis cos ficiat philofophus, dicens eos noningnaros illorum, que uulgus tra Etat, fed Socratico more, ea non intendere quæfumuno ſtudio, amplectun tur uulzures, Differentia igitur ipſius,quiu à propter quid,adhuc magis explicans,ait, funt autě ip / e quidemfcientiæ, quia quecunq;,utuntur ſpe ciebus (fenfibilibusuidelicet, alterã quiddam fecundum fubjtantiam pecu lantes, alterum quiddam non folum fecundum ſubſtantium,fed etiamaltes xum quiddamn in exiſtentia,hoc eft in ſubiecto materiali exiſtens, Mathem matice enim, nempe quæ propter quid fient, circa fpccies ſunt, dubita. tur hocloco, cum ſcientia quia utatur fpeciebus, o ſciétia propter quid circa ſpeciesſit, quo nam puto, in quia, & quo modo in propter quid fpecies intelligatur. Dico, quod quia ſenſibilium eſt, ut ait Ariſtoteles, utitur, quia ſpeciebusſenſibilibus,quarum beneficio fenfus ſenſata perci piunt, fed propterquid,utiturfpeciebus abftractis àſubiecto materiali, ut ſuperficie, linea, puncto, &ſimilibus, quatenus affectiones aliquas de ipſis inipſis cognoſcit demonſtrator,non tamē circa hæc uerſatur Geo metra quatenus in ſubiecto funt,ſed preciſius abſtractione, ea conſides rat, fi talia nufquam, ſine fubiecto ſint. Habet autem fead perſpectiuam, ficut hæc ad Geome triam, & alia ad iftam, ut id quod de, iride eft. Traslatio Ar giropoli in hac, precedenti particula facilior,atque candidior eft, quàmfit textus Philoponi, ne uidear tamen in precedenti particula, e hac preſenti, litteram ſequi, quam pedagogio neoterici non doctores, ut fe præferunt, fæpe encruat; loannis textum in utraque particula ex pono, quo etiam plura uirtute continentur quam, contineat textus, Are giropoli tum etiam, quia accedit ad hæc Procli interpretatio, ut teftatur loannes, ſcientiasigitur quas in præfenti Ariſtoteles cõmemorat,fub ale POSTERIORVM ARIST. terno quodã ordine pofitæ funt;primo Geometria,cui imediate perſpecti ua,perfpe & iue autē ſpecularia &huic ſpecularie, ea ſcientia, quæ eft de Iride in qua, quæponuntur,perfpecularia probantur&, quæ in peculi ria, per ea quæ in perſpectiua funt notamanifeſtantur, qu: autê in pera fpectiua, per ea quæin Geometrianoșa, fuerunt, ut quòd iris ſit tricos lor,oquòdnunquamplures duabus Iridibus appareant; et quòd denigs Rõ fit nidor femicirculo, per fcientias ſuperiores, hee omnia probatur. Multæ autein & non fubalternarum, ſcienriarun fe has bent fic, ut medicina ad Geometriam, q eniin uulnera, cir cularia tardius fanentur medici eft fcire quia, propter quid autein Geometræ. Parum ſupra in anteprecedenti particula dixit philofophus,qu& namfcientiæ effentfere uniuoce inquiens, fere autem uniuocefunt hurumſcientiarī alique,ut aſtrologia ' et mathematicaet na ualis, o harinonica quae mathematica, oque fecundum auditum, in hac autem particuladeterminat de his fcientijs que nullo modouniuoce funt. ut Geometria os medicina que etiam fubalternate non funt, he enim due non ſubalternantur inter ſe, quia ſubiectum Geometrie eſt, id quod circa planum uerfatur, medicine uero ſubiectum eſt corpus jarabi le,id, eft, quod proponit; ut quod in alterafcientia proponitur,probatur per ea,quæ in alia fciētia nota funt; non tamen hæ fevětiæ funt uniuoce, neque fubalternatæ,ut in chierurgia,que pars eft medicina proponitür uulnusrotundum, difficultate fanari, ut canumexcoriatoresteftantur. Geometria autem nobilis fcientia reddi propter quid, primo Elemento * rum deffinitione decimaquinta, quia exomni parte æqualiter diftat cas o, ficut ibi acentro ipfa circunferentia. ly tie 20 SMS TEXT VS L XVII ALIAS X X X. 170 ot cs, tro autem modo, differt ipſum propter quid ab ipfo quia, quodelt, peralia fciené Stianu nrruinqué, ſpeciilari, Huiuſmodi au Matem funt, quæcunque fic fehabent, utals terum fub altero fit, ut perſpectina ad Geo metriani. vbi ait, per aliam ſcientiam fic intellis gatur per altam magis uniuerfalem et fubalternantem in aliam minus univerfalem. Vtrunquefpeculari, utrunque dixit refferens &propter. quid, quia, alia enim fcientia fpeculatur propter quid, c alia fpecus Ljj 84 IN PRIMVM LIB. 1.3 latur ipſum quia, ut Geometria proprer quid, perfpeétiuauero, quia, inquitenim Ariſtoteles. Hæ enimipſum quia, fenfibiliumest fcire, prom pter quid autem mathematicorum. Verbi gratia,oculus exiſtens in a uidens cd, uidet ipfam quantitatens minorem, quamſi idein oculus fiat in b, quia inquit perfpe&tiuus,uide tur ca ſubmaiori angulo ab oculo exiſtente in b, quam ab eodem oculo in a exiſtente,& quód angulus dbc ſit maior da c, Geometra id demon ſtrat primo Element propoſitione xxi. Dubitatur circa hoc, quod di cebatur de mente Ariſtotelis in dia & o exemplo perſpectiuo, quodne que percurrendum eſt ſicco pede,ut indoctifaciunt no intelligétes bonas artes, quicum ad Mathematica ex empla accedunt,pedem referunt,dia centes non eſſe uim ponëdum in illis. Ego autem econtrario dico, totum neruiim rei, eſſe in exempli intelles ione, ubi ait, quod perſpectiuus oftendit maius uideri id, quod de prope eft, demonftratione quia, o Geometra, idein propter quid, demonſtrat in vigeſimaprima primi Ele mentorum, qua uigefimaprimaprimi Elemen.non propter quid demon ſtratur, fed demonſtratione quia, ut demonftratio quia diſtinguitur, a propter quid primo modo, ficut textu 64. declaratumfuit, quòd illa des monftratio, quæ per mediata a probatas propoſitiones procedit, eft demonftratio quia, diftinguiturab illa ineadem ſcientia, quæ proces dit per immediata principia,quæ demonftratio propter quid dicitur,mo do ex fexagefimoquarto textu,determinatur quòd demonftratio uig eſi miprima primi Elementorum eſt, quia, hoc autem exemplo perſpectis uo dicit, quod eft propter quid, contradictio igitur manifeſta uidetur. Dico de mente Ariſtotelis hoc loco,&eft etiam loannis Grammatici ins tentio fuper textu fexagefimoquarto,dicentis. Quodammodo autem in precedéribus dicebamusquod ipſum quia eſt primomado,permediata mo firare, cum fecundo modo ipſumquia per immediata,ſimiliter w propter quid, unde aduertendum, quod demonftratio, quæfit fuper uigeſimam primam primi Elementorum,que per uigefimam decimāfextam primi elementorum procedit, fi ad demonſtrationem prime propoſitionis Elc. POSTERIORVM ARIST. es mentorum, quæ per immediataprincipia procedit comparetur demon Atratio quia, merito dicitur, ſi mero comparetur adperſpectiuam demone ftrationein, tunc propter quid dicetur, quia perſpectiuus pier eam pros bat intentum, u ſictricic apparentis argumenti explicite funt,fc cundum philofophiſcitum. TEX. LXVIII. ALIAS XXXI. IGVR A R v M autem faciens ſcire maxime pri ma eſt, etenim Mathematicæ fcientiarum per hanc demonſtrationes ferunt, ut Arith metica, & Geometria, & perſpectiua, & fes re (ut eſt dicere) quæcunque,quæ ipfius pro pter quid faciunt conſiderationem,aut enim omnino,aut licut frequentius, & in plurimisper hanc fi guram (quieſt propter quid fyllogifmus) fit, Textus hic uis detur edirecto contra expoſitionem nouam factam permeſuper iỹ. tex tu de inductione illa Geometrica, que tanquam fictitium quoddam, uanißimum, &nullo Greco & Latinoexpoſitore do&tißimoexcogitatū, inquit enim Ariſtoteles, etenim Mathematicæ ſcientiarum, per banc primam figuram demonſtrationes ferunt, non igitur Mathematic & fea runt demonftrationes per illam Geometricam inductionē, utibifuit des terminatum. Inftantia hæc,eft hominisuaniloqui,qui ea profert& fcri bit; quæ nonfunt notæ earum, quæin anima paßionumſunt, cum non folumanimamtanquàm abraſam tabellam habeant, fed potius tanquam ficcamcucurbitain, in qua nonniſi uentus reperitur, quia tamen nonfo lummodo fapientuin habenda eft ratio, stultis etians atque infipientibus pariter reſpondendum effearbitror, ne in fua ignorantia glorientur ua ne. In hoc textu Ariſtoteles nil aliud determinat, niſi quod preſtantior est prima, quàm fecunda & tertis figuræ,&quód Mathematica hac fepe utuntur, &hoc quidem quandofyllogiſtica arguunt, ut ait in tex. dicens, oin plurimis per hancfiguram, que eſt propter quidfyllogif mus fit, modo quid refert, ſi Geometra, utatur fyllogifmo, non nece ibi in tertio textu fuit declaratum, quo modofyllogiſmo utitur Geomes tra, &quomodo inductione Geometrica?fimodo quis ex hoc textu uca lit inferre, quod illa indu&tio Geometrica non detur, ipfe faciet mendas cem Ariftotelem, dicentem in tertio textu, quòd nedum fyllogifmo fed 70 IN PRIMVM LIB., oinduétione, ſcitur quòd triangulus in femicir culo conftitutus, habeus tres angulos æquales duobus reitis. TEX. LXXXVII. ALIAS XXXVI. EMONSTRATTO enim eft ex his, quæcun queipſa quidem inſunt, fecundum ſeipſa rebus, ſecundum feipſa uero, dupliciter, quæcunque enim in illis infunt in co quòd quid eft, & in quibus, ipſa in eo quodqınd eft inſunt ipſis, ut in numero, impar, quod ncit quidem numero, eft autem ipfe numerus in ratione ipfius, & iteruụn multitudo,aut diuiſibile in ratione nua meri, horum autem neutrum contingit infinita eſſe,nec ut impar numeri, Secundum fe ipſum bipartitur, ut quando prie mum deffinitio de deffinito predicatur. uel etiam quädo deffinitum de def finitione, ut numerus est multitudo ex unitatibus aggreguta, ut Euclia des ait fecundadeffinitione ſeptimi Elementori,et etiam multitudo ex unii tatibus agregata numerus est: impar nuſquà inuenitur in deffinitione nu meriupud Arithmeticū, neq; etiä numerusin deffinitione paris, quid igi tur uelit Arift. hoc exemplo noſatis à Græcis etLatinis explicatum est, puto tamen egoquod ficut in deffinitionibus, quædum fecüdum quod ipfa inueniuntur,pariter etiam id in diuiſione fit, ut fi quippiam, nume rus eſt, id quidem impar uel par statim eſſe dignoſcitur,oſi quid ims par uel parfit illud tale numerumeffe patet, ſic ut exempluinprimum Ariſtotelis, ſit circa diuiſionem, fecundum exemplum de deffinitios ne, quia tamen addit, aut diuiſibile in rationenumeri, nullibi apud Eus clidem reperitur quod diuſibile in numeri ratione ponatur, quatenus nu merus eſt, fed in deffinitione numeri paris; recteponitur, ut diuidatur in æqualia, ut primadeffinitione noni Elementorum manifeſtum eſt, par numerus eft, qui in duo æqualia poteſt diuidi, & quicquid in duo equa lia diuiditur, id numerus effe patet, fiueboc de numero, quo numerisa mus, feude numero numerato, hoc intellexeris, ueritatemhabet. Meto dumdiuifiuam, in his exemplis ſeruauit Ariſtot. primo enim in diuiſione ſubinde in deffinitione,et tertio loco infpecie contenta, fub deffinito ufus eft exemplo,Numeriigitur primadiuiſio eſt in imparem atqueparem; ut Boetius docet capite tertioprimi Arithmetica, definitio estſecunda septimi Elementorum, deffinitio autem paris; patet ex prima definitione noni Elementorum. Horum autem omnium nullum contingit infinita eſſe, numerus enim in imparem atque parem, impar in primum, compoſia tum, compoſitum in quadratun, o non quadratum, igitur quadratus compoſitus impar numerus eft, onumerus, eſt impar compoſitus qua dratus, feu numerus eft impar prinus, er prinus, impar numerus eft, ſicuti status eſt innumero,ut tandem ſit ultima particulaque à par te fubieéti ponatur, ſiiniliter ſtatus erit in alijs particulis, que ponun tur à parte predicati, quando ipfe numerus àparte ſubiecti pofitus erit neque igitur inſurlum,ncque igitur in deorſum infinita pre dicantia contingit eſſe in demonſtratinis fcientís, de quiz bus intentio eft, in furfum ait deffinitionem refpicientes, neque in deorfum diuiſionein feu partitionem animaduertit. d ac 38 mi TEX. LXXXVIII ALIAS XXXVII. for ONSTRATJslautem his, &e. Non te prea terit, quòd habere tres duobus reétis equales conie nito Joſcelio Scalenoni, neutri tamen per alte, rumconuenit,fed utriqueperhoc, quodfigurarea Eilinea trilatera eft, idfæpe fuit in precedentie bus declaratum exfecunda parte trigeſimeſecunda primi Elementorum.. other VA 16. TEXTVS.XCI. ALIAS XXXVIII. M ST autem inuin cuin iinmediatun fiat & una propoſitio ſinplex eft immediata & queinadınodum in alís eſt principium fimplex, hocautem non idem ubiqueeſt, fed in graui quidem untia, in melodia,alle tem diefis, aliud autein in alio, fic eft in fyllogitno unum, propofitio immediata, Secundum antiquos rumfcitum, ut Campanus refert ſuper oriaus xiiij. Elementorum unumquodqueintegrum in xij.partes æquales per rationen og intelle Etum diuiferunt, ipſum totuin fic diuifum in partes illas, aſſem uoc4 = werunt, undecim earum dixerunt deuncem, decem dextantem, nchem IN PRIM V M. LIB: dodrantem, o &to beſſem, feptem ſeptuncem, fex uero partes femiffen, quinque quincuncem, quatuor trientem, tres quadrantem, duas ſexa tantem, unam autem appellauerunt unciam, quam unciam in minorafra gmenta nonfecat philoſophus, quia eft ultimum fragmentum integri à quofuum initium fumit ipfum integrum, tanquàm ab immediato prins cipio,ex quo,fumiturfimile, quod in fyllogifmo etiam est ipſa immediata propoſitio, ultra quam nonfit refolutio in terminos,ſicut etiam ultra un ciam non fecit conſiderationem in minoresminutias, licet hoc fieripoßit, ficut propoſitio in terminos etiam quandoquidem refolui poterit. In melodia autem dieſis, Non eſt pretereundum filentio id,quod hoc loco Ariſtoteles tangit, id autem eſt, quod qui Logicam ipſiusprofi tetur quiſquis fit ille,omnibus diſciplinis Mathematicis debetin primis fſe inſtitutus,aliter enim euenietei, ut in adagio dicitur, operam fimul ooleum perdet, quid per dieſim intelligat, notum erit fitonum ſimpli cem, interuallum integrum, nondum ad armoniam pertingens diuidi in duas equus partes eſe impoßibile quis prius perceperit, ut etiam in tex. Lix. prædemonftratum eft, duas tamen in partes inæquales diuidi, quarum altera maior eft, quæ apothomen, ſeu ſemitonium mas ius, reliqua uero eft minor, quæ minusfemitonium nuncupatur, oip fum minus femitonium in duas partes æquales diuiditur, quartum utras que dieſis appellatur à uetuftioribus muſicis, ut Boetio atque Nicomas co primo libro Muſicæ,capite xxi. placet,idprincipium toni eft, quid minimum. Practici uero Muſici dieſim uocant inciſionem duarum linearumfuper alias duas ſic *quam incifionem fignant ipfi practici Cantores, ſuper eam notam, ſub quain deſenſus toni, faciunt defen fum ſemitonij, ſed id cantoribus relinquatur, prima dieſis acception Ariſtotelis ſententiam explicat, quia dieſis in illa acceptione, eft minia mum conſideratum à mufico, fiue id, quodminimum eſt in concinentia conſideratum, ſicut uncia in ponderibus oimmediata propofitio in de monſtrutione fyllogiſtica, o boc intelligas de minutijs integri, non de minutiaruin minutijs, de quibus phylolaus apud Boetium libro tera tio capite octauo agit,quiabec ad Ariſtotelisfententiam non faciunt pretermito. MAGIS tur POSTERIOR VM ARIST. 89 TEXTVS XCII. ALIAS XXXIX. AGIs autein ſeiinus unumquodque, ciim ipfum cognoſcimus ſecundun ipſum, quam fecundum aliud,utmuficun Coriſcum,quá do Coriſcus muſicus eſt, quàm quod homo muſicus fit, Hoc loco tentat Ariſtoteles elencho ar gumento probarequod particularis demonſtratio ſit uniuerfali potior. Quis nam fit muſicus aperit Nicomacus atque Boes tius primo libro muſices capite xxx111. ille quidem eft, quinon ex eo quod manu cytheram pulfat, fed ille qui rationis imperio cantillenas rum distonice, cromatice,atque enarmonice ratum, atque firmum ſta tum agnoſcit diiudicat, atque imperat, qua re intellectu,quærit Ariſto teles,num illa demonftratio, qua Coriſcus muſicus, an illa, qua homo mu ſicus co:rcluditur, quod eft, an particularis, uel ipſa uniuerfalis fit pos tior, Cui rationi reſpondendum; ut Ariſtoteles innuit per interemptios nem, negando quodCoriſcusſit muficus per fe, fiue quòd ifta cognofca tur per fe, Coriſcus eft muſicus. BI 74 1 142 ca TEXTVS XCIII. ici ha 10% OTior autem eſt, quæ eſt de eſſe quain de non eſſe, & propter quam non errabi tur quàin proptcr quam crrabitur eſt au tem uniuerſalis huiuſmodi, procedentes enim demonſtrant uniuerſale, quemadmo dum de eo quod eſt proportionale,ut quo = niam quod utique fit talc,erit proportionale, quod ncque linea; neque numerus, ncque ſolidum, neque planum eft, fed præter hæc aliquid. illud idem totum quod text. xx v di& um fuit, hoc loco repetatur, ubi Ariſtoteles text. xx v dixit hæc uer ba, nunc uniuerſalemonſtratur,hoc textu, magis aperit dicens, proces dentes enim demonſtrant uniuerfale, quod neque lined, &cæt. fed pre ter hæc aliquid, quod quidem eſtipſum quantum, quatenus quátum eft, quod uniuocum eft omnibus quantis, neque illudeſſe tale immagineris, quod oquanto &quali communefit,ut immaginabatur,lo4nnes gram M IN PRIMVM LIB. maticus afequaces, quia illud,analogum eſſet, quod à propoſitoſecludit Ariſtotelesnonagefimo quinto textu reſpondens ad fecundam difficulta tem. TEXTVS XCIIII. S IGIT VR triangulus in plus eft, & ratio eadem, & non fecundum æquiuocationem, conuenit triangulo & Iſoſceli, & ineſt oinni triangulo duobus rectis æquales,non utique triangulus ſecundum quod eſt Iſoſceles, led Iſoſceles ſecundum quod eft triangulus,ha bet huiufmodi angulos. Concludit Ariſtoteles hoc textu uniuers falem demonſtrationem particulari demonſtratione potiorem eſſe, o eft quando per rationem uniuocam concluditur affectio de ipſo uniuerfali, eper eandem uniuocam rationem concluditur eademet affeétio de par. ticulari aliquo, ut habere tres æqualesduobus reétis, probatur infecun da parte x x x 11primi Elementorum de triangulo primo, deinde de iſopleuro, ſoſcele, oScalenone non primo, fed quatenus trianguli ſunt, &hoc idem de illis concluditur perfyllogifmum, uel etiam per ean dem induétionem trigeſimæ ſecñde primiElementorum Eft in hoc textu non minima conſideratione dignum, quod etiam non eft prætereundura immobili calamo, Ratio enimtrianguli uniuoca eſt, quia o nomine for rede uniuerfali triangulo ode particulari Ifofcele prædicatur, utpuu tafigura,quæ tribus reétis lineis clauditur, non tamen per ipfam ratios nem, cõcluditur de Trigono uel iſoſcele habere tres duobus reftis equa les, ſed per primam partem trigeſimæ ſecunda, eper uigeſimā nonam Otertiä decimă primiElementorum, quapropter non uidetur quod exemplumſit ad propoſitum regulæ Ariſtotelis,de ratione uniuoca,Di cendum, quod naturaexemplieſt, ut non conueniat. Cum re in omni mor do,quia tunc non eſſet exemplü rei, ſed eſſet res ipſa.Dico fecundo quod memoria eſt dignum cum præfertimà nullo fit hucuſque perpéfum,quod nulla demonftratio mathematica eſt potißima, & ob idmathematicæ nul leſunt ſciētie ſiſtetur in doétrina Aristotelisratio,quia in nulla conclu ditur aliqua affectio deſubie &to per deffinitionem fubie &ti,quod tamen uo lunt uirigraues de mente Scoti, neque etiam per deffinitionem paßionis ut alij determinant de mente Thomæ, Modo dicas,quod quando per cane dem deffinitionem,fiue uniuocam rationem, demonſtratur affectio aliqua POSTERIORVM ARIST. ineſſeſubie o uniuerſali, &eadem ineſſeparticulari per eandem deffini tionem, quòd de uniuerſali, immediate & per fe,de particulari autem non immediate, neque per ſe, ſed per uniuerſale concluditur, ideo uniuer. falis ipſa particulari demonſtratione potior, atque præftantior est, ut fi per rationale mortale, concludatur de homine riſibilitas, &deinde per id, de Socrate, quod fit riſibilis, illa in qua de homine, quàm illa in qua de Socrate demonftratio, eft potior, ſicuti de triangulo uerbigratia,in fecunda parte trigeſime ſecunde primi Elementorum, &etiam de 1foſce le, probatur habere tresæquales duobus reftis, illa tamen inductio,que probat de triangu o potioreſt illa industione, quæ de iſoſcele idem cons cludit, quia primo de triangulo uniuerſali, ſubinde de particulari trian. gulo concluditur, hoc pacto Ariſtotelis regula o exemplum intel ligendafunt. TEXTVS XCVII. fed 72 th po 1 MPLIvs uſque ad hoc quæriinus propter quid, & tunc opinamur ſcire, cum non fit aliquid aliud propter quid fciamus, quàm hoc, aut quòd fiat, aut quòd fit, & cetera uſque ibi, Cum igitur cognoſcamus quidē, quod quiſunt extra æquales funt quatuor ſcétis, quoniam æquitibiarum,adhuc decft propter quid, quia triangulus, & hoc, quia eft figura rectilinea, ſi aus. tem hoc, non amplius propter quid aliud, tum maxi mc ſcimus & uniuerſale, tunc uniuerſalis itaque eft. Hoc tex tu Ariſtoteles determinatquòd, tunc arbitramurſcire cum ufque ad ul timas cauſas procedit nofter reſolutiuus diſcurſus, ait enim cum igitur cognoſcamus quidem quod, hi, quiſunt extra æquales ſunt quatuor rea &tis, o redit rationem, quoniam equitibiarum, ſed quia æquitibic figu ræ funt etiam quadrilatere, pentágone, adiecit proximiorem cau Jam dicens, quia triangulus, quia tamen trianguli diuerfa funt latera,ut curua, conuexa, conuexa o curua, curua Qrecta,conuexa a recta,ut omnia hæc excludat ait, qui eſt figura re{ tilinea, que cauſa magis udhuc proxima eft, quæ quidem ultima& propinqua cauſa, cumfucrit inuens taoaßignuta, non amplius propter quid aliud querimus, pq tunc mas xime fcimus, uniuerſale, o cæt. Quantum autem ad id, quod exem = plo, Ariſtoteles ait, paucis explicetur in fubie&ta figura a bc, cuius 1 1 Mij IN PRIM VM LIB. mnes extrinfecos angulos, quatuor reétis æquales effe dico, protrahan tur enim omnis latera a b, br, ca, uſque add, e, f, eritqüe per tertiã decimam primi elementorum duo anguliad c, pofiti æquales duobusrex & is, eadem ratione duoilli ad a, o reliqui duo ad b ſimiliter equales duobus re& tis, itaque omnes fex intrinfeci uidelicet,o extrinfeci,ſunt æquales ſex reftis, fed per fecundam partem trigefimæ fecunde prie mi Elementorum, tres intrinfecifunt æquales duobus re&tis, igitur tres reliqui extrinſeciſunt quatuor reftis equales,quod demonſtrandū erat. Non enim omnis triangulus uni uerfaliter fumptus, hahet tres an gulos duobus reétis equales, ſed ali quis habet duos angulos rectos, tertium acută, et quidam triangulus eft qui habet tres angulos rectos, ut Ptholameus cap. x. ſecüda dictionis magnæ cõſtructionis theoremate pri G mo, e ſequentibus manifestum faa cit, neque tamen id cötrariatùr pro poſitioni xyli primi elementorum, Euclidis ut quod duo anguli cuiusli bet trianguli fint minores duobus rectis, nec etiam eſt contra fecundam partem xxxl primi Elemen. Euclidis, quòd uidelicet omnis triangulos, habet tres duobus reftis æquales, ratio, quòdnulla inter hos fapientißia mosſit contradictio, eſt, quia de rectilineis Euclides, de fphelaribus ues ro Ptholameus & curuilineis triangulis agit, quod aduertens Ariftotea les adiecit, quia est figura rectilinea; ut fit abſolutus fenfus, quod equis tibia figura trilatera rectilinea, habet extrinſecos angulos quatuor ree Stis equales. TEXTV S CI. I MPLIV's autein & fic, uniuerſale enim ina. gis demonſtrare eft, co quòd eſtper medium demonſtrare, cuin propius fit principio, pro xime autem immediatum eſt, hoc autem eft principium;fi igitur quæ ex principio eſt, ea quæ non eft cx principio, quæ magis ex prin POSTERIORVM ARIST. cipio, ea quæ minus eft, certior eft demonſtratio. Hoc textu Ariſtoteles apponit extremammanum determinans,quòd uniuerfalis ſit particulari demonfiratione dignior, in quo quædamnon conſiderata à grecis,neque à latinis., difta tamen ohic ab Ariſtotele tertio tex tu, ibi, quorundam enim hoc modo diſciplina eſt, onon permedium ube timum cognoſcitur, ut quæcunque iam fingularia eſſe contingit, nec de fubiecto quopiam, ubi aduertit quod quidammodus est, quo fciuntur af fertiones deſingularibus, onon per medium,modus etiam est quo affea &tiones fciuntur de particularibus per medium, fed non primo de eis, ut declaraui in textů tertio 'nonageſimoquarto huius, affectiones uero que de uniuerſali cognofcuntur, he quidem per medium cognoſcuntur, hac de caufa uniuerfalis demonſtratio, eſt ipſa particulari potior, quia particularis non per medium, uniuerfalis uero per medium demonftrat, ut ait, uniuerſale enim magis demonſtrare est,eo quod eft per medium de monstrare,id autem Geometrico exemplo-manifeſtat dicens,quod ſi quis cognouit, quia omnis triangulus habettresduobus rectis æqualesfciuit, quodammodo, & quod ifcoſceles duobus reftis tres pares habet,utputa potentiafcit, quia uniuerfale fciens aetu, potentia etiam fcit. ea, quæfub. ipfo continentur, &ſi non cognouerit 1fofcelem quòd actu,oper aper tionemmanus (ut Philoponus tertio textu ofequaces interpretabane tur) triangulus ſit, hanc habens propoſitionem,hæcparticula legenda eft, cum particula aduerfatiua fic,hanc autem habens propoſitionem, nempefciens tantum potentia quod Ifoſceles habet tres duobus rectis pa rés, uniuerſale nullo modo cognouit, ut quòd triãgulushabeat tres equa les duobus rectis, neque potentia, neque actu, non quidem potentia, quia Iſoſceles non eſt uniuerfale ad triangulum,uniuerſale enim potentia ſua inferiora continet. Accedit ad hoc etiã, quia ſi non fcitur uniuerſale atu, non ſcitur potentia fuum particulare, fi igitur particulare non ſcie tur actu, ſed potentia tantī,quifieripoteft,ut propter id,ſuū uniuerſale potentia fciatur? non etiam actu fcitur uniuerfalepropterea,quòd fuum particularefcitur potentia, quia ex ſcibile potētia, non inferturſcitum actu. Exhoc textuę precedentibus quibus determinat Ariſtot.uniuerſa lem demonftrationem esſe potiorem demonftratione particulari habetur de particularibus difciplinam eſſe, particularem eſſe demonſtratioa nem quæcunquefit illa,aliter enim nulla effet comparatio Ariſtotelis in ter uniuerfalem o particularem demonſtrationem. Preterea etiam nos tatu dignum habetur, contra omnes interpretes, id autem eft, quod ali IN PRIMVM LIB. quatenus ij. textu ta&tum fuit, ubi determinat quod de nouo quippians ſcimus, introducit eos, qui tenentes quòd de nouo fciebamus interrogae bant Platonicos tentantes oſtendere ipſis Platonicis, quod de nouo ſci mus inquiunt enim, noftis ne quod omnis dualitas par ſit,nec ne? Vel etiam, quòd omnis triangulus tres duobus re & tis æquales habeat, annuen tibus autem Platonicis attulerunt dualitatem, uel triangulum manu aba fconfum dicentes, ecce quomodo uos de nouoſcitis, hanc dualitatem eſſe parem, quia priusneſciebatis hanc eſſe dualitatem Neotericies antiqui expoſitores inuoluunt locum, ſic ut nedum ipſi intelligant, fed eshi qui cos audiunt ita faſcinentur, ut nedum Ariſtotelem fed & feipfos pers dant. Dicunt enim ſine propoſito, quod prius non poterantfcirede dua litate in manu abfconſa, ueltriangulo conſtituto in tabula quod eſſet par, uel duobus rectis æquales haberet, quia neſciebant illam eſſe dualitatem, vel illum effe triangulum, putant iſti exponere Ariftotelis"doctrinam fic dicentes, anon aduertunt, quòd id dicunt quod Ariſtoteles reprehens, dit, quod illi qui dicebant de nouo fcire, male tamen perſuadentes per oſtenſionem ad fenfum, egr reſpondentes perperam, dicebant fe nonſcia re eſſe purem, niſi quam dualitatem eſſe ſciebant,apertißimehic Aristo. teles dicit, quòd qui ſcit omnem dualitatem eſſe parem, uel quòd omnis triangulus tres duobus re &tis pares habet, fcit quòd dualitas ſitpar, quod Ifofceles, tres duobus reftis æquales habet potentia, licet neſciat a &tu perſenfum, quòd iſoſceles triangulus ſit, quem locum à me notae tum inter cetera pulcriora exiftimo animaduerſione dignum propter fal fos Ariſtotelis interpretes ad hanc ufque noftram etatem. TEXTVS CVII. ALIAS XLII. T ca certior quæ non eſt de ſubiecto, ca quæ eſt de ſubiecto, ut Arithmetica armo nica. Numerus, ſubiectum eſt in ipfa Arithmetica qui quidem abſtractißimus est, nullum materiale ſubie &tum concernens, Armonica, uero de nume ro ſonoro, uel magis, de ſono numerato, quod magis concernitmateriain, ut fonum ipſum., qui fonus numeratus, ſub iectum in armonia eft, ut Boetio placet libro primo muſices, modo Arithmetica cum circa ſubiectum minus immerfum matericfit, certior POSTERIORVM ARST. estquamſit ipſa Armonia, quæfubie£tum conſiderat magis immerſum ipſimateria, eftigitur alia certioraltera propterſubiecti maioremabe ſtractionem? TEXTVS CVIII. T quæ eft ex minoribus certior eſt, & prior ea, quæ eft ex appofitione, utArithmetica Geometria. Dico autem ex appoſitione,ut unitas fubftantia eft fine poſitione, pun. tum autein fubftantia pofita,hoc autem eft ex appoſitione. Hoc in primis conſiderandum eft, quod hoc textu non loquitur Ariſtoteles de ſubie&to fcientiæ.,ſecundum quòd magis og minus abſtracteconſideratur, quia id in precedenti tex. determinauit; una enimſcientia determinat de abſtracto numero, reli qua uero defono numerato, unitas enim de qua hoc textu loquitur, non est ſubiectum in Arithmetica, niſiforfan in aliqua particularidemonftra tione, utin 15 ſeptimi ElementorumEuclidis,in quibuſdam alijs des monſtrationibus trium librorum Arithmeticæ Euclidis. Dico autem,ut unitas, ſubſtantia eſt, fine appoſitione, punetum autemfubftantia poſia ta, hoc est ex appoſitione,Nicomacus,Boetius, Tonſtallus Anglus,Lu cas Paciolus, in primis lordanus, o Euclides recte interpretarentur huncAriſtotelis textum ſiadeſſent, quem locum obſcurant rabini cum * ueſtra excellétia ex appoſitione nominati,heu me, in manusquorü inter pretum incidifti Ariſtoteles? quæ hominum dementia te torquet: erant ne ſimile hominum genus tuo tempore, ita inſipidi atque macrologia op preßi, qui Platonem, quique te audirent, expoliati Geometricis, &dis fciplinis orbati?ut funthoc tempore nedum iuuenes non recte imbuti lite teris, fed magis ſeneſcentes in fua, non tua philoſophia homines, exurs gant Romani uiri, liberalibus diſciplinis præditi, quorum bonarum are tium hereditas, negligentia pofteritatis, uerfa eft ad extruneas nationes o inter Barbaros fruftratim etiam dilaniatur, eo locum hunc inter pretentur. Non eget unitas ipſa;ut ſit in ſua natura,quod fit puncto affe & a, uellined, uelalio quoppiam alieno, fed punctus, uel linea', ſeufuæ perficies, uel etiam corpus,impoſsibile eft, quod ſit,quin pun &tus unus, uel una ſuperficies, aut corpusunum, uel plurafint: Plura autem pun & a, eſſe non poffunt, niſi prius punctum unum,uel unafuperficies,aut corpus unumfit, minus igitur eft unitas, quim punétum unum, Pombaiam IN PRIMVM LIB. ipfa uocemanifeſtum eſt.Vnitatem Arithmetica conſiderat: non ut fuum fubie &tum, fed ut id, quod adſuum ſubie tum quodam ordine attribuia tur tanquàm pars ad ſuum totum. Vnum pun &tum, feu lineam unam, uel etiam unum corpus Geometra, atque stereometraconſiderans appos nit lineam,pun & um &corpus ipſum unitati, uel illis unitatem appos nens, ex pluribusfacit fuam conſiderationem,quàm fit illi Arithmetici, qui unitatem conſiderat abſtractiſsime, nulli reiappoſitam. Ex hac declaratione patet id quod Ariſtoteles ait primo de anima in principio, quòd fcientia de anima nobiliſsima, eſt, duabus de cauſis prima ex nobi litate ſubie &ti, ſecunda ex certitudine, ex certitudine dico, non ut quis dam inueterati in philofophia craſſa exponunt, uidelicet ex demonſtra tionis certitudine,ſedcertior dico, quia exſubiecto ſimpliciori eft, que anima eſt, atque minus compoſito, quàmſint ſubiecta librorum,librum de anima precedentium, ex precedentis textus, atque huius expoſis tione id totum colligas uelim, ex precedenti, ſi de anima, ex præfens ti autem ſi de anime particula, loca libri de anima intelligantur. Claret etiam, ex hac noftra interpretatione,quod Mathematicæ diſcipline non ideo dicendæfunt non ſcientia, quia non funt circafubftantias, ut ans tiquusætate indostus quidam in hac parte, philoſophus non erubes fcitaſſerere', ofequaces,quia illas inquit merito dicendasſcientias los quitur, quæ tantum circa fubftantiasfunt; non autem que circa accia dentia, ut funt Mathematicæ, quod apud Ariſtotelem nunquam legitur Dico quòd Mathematice uere e in primis ſcientie, ſecundum nos & re ipfa funt, ex fententia doétifsimi Boetij in principiofue Arithmeticæ,ubi ait, ſcientiæ atque ſapientia uerehe funt, quæſunt circa res, quæ nunquàm mutantur, fed fua natura femper funt,utſunt fubftantia,a quantitates; quo nammaiore auctore hec noſtra ſentens tia corroboratur, quàm ſitipſemet Ariſtot. in hoc præexpoſito textu ! qui in fua doctrina conftans, punctum ſubſtantiam appellit, itidem unitatem ſubſtantiam dicit, ſi igitur fole ille ſint ſcientiæ, quæ circa fubftantiasfunt, in primis Arithmetica atque Geometria merito (quics quid balbitiant alij) ſcientiæ appellande nedum nomine, fed natura digna funt. Quia tamen de mente Ariſtotelis teneo Mathematicas diſciplinas, non eſſe ſcientias, non ob id, quia de accidentibus ſint,neque ex eoquod percominunia principia procedunt, ſed quia affectiones que in ipſis con cluduntur, non perdemonſtrationem, quemfyllogifmum ſcientialem Ariſtoteles uocat, concluduntur ut declaratum fuit textu nonageſia men, mo POSTERIORVM ARIST. moquarto,merito ſcientia non funt, ſiſcrupulofa indagine ſcientiæ not men indagari, quis uelit. TEX. CXII. ALIAS XLIII. 3 EYE per fenfum eft ſcire id, Exemplis duobus. Altero Geometrico reliquo, Vero Aſtro Nnomico, declarat Ariſtoteles, ſi enim ſenſus uifus uideret id, quod intellefius percipit fecunda par te trigeſimæſecundeprimi Elementorum,quód trian gulus. uidelicet, habet tres duobus rellis pares, non tamen propterea uidens illud diceretur fciens, fed ut fciensfieret ad huc demonſtrationem quereret,o huius rationem reddit dicens, necef= feenimquidem eſt ſentireſingulariter, ſcientia autem eſt in cognoſcen= douniuerfale, unde eſi ſupra Lunam eſſentus, utputa inſupremo orbe defferente augem Lune, uel in orbe defférente caput draconis,uel etiam in cælo Mercurij, uideremus Lunam ingredi umbram terra, e par timenftruum non propter hoc diceremur fcientes, quia illud, quod uiá deretur,effet ſingulare, &cum ſcientia ſit circa uniuerſale diſcurrene do, o per intellectionem ipſius uniuerfalis, ſequitur, quod per ſenſum non eft fcire. Aliter etiam exponaturſic, ut ſi eſſemusſuper planetum, qua Luna est, &in illa parte planete que terram, & centrum uniuerſi confpicit, &foc'es noſtra uerſus idem centrum mundi,quod.eſtterre cen trum ſentiremusquidem per ſenſum uifus, quòd deficeret Lund tunc, fed non propter quidomnino,quiaſenſus non plures percipit ecclipſes ſimul neque actu,neque potentia,fed unam tantum,necobid tumen ſcientes dice remur, non enim uniuerfalis est ſenfus, fed particularis ut ait, ex conſi deratione multotiesaccidente univerſale uenantes demonſtrationem ha bemus, non ſecludit hoc loco Ariſtoteles ſcientiam de purticularibus, ut Tex. iij. fuit determinatum, fed ita intelligas, quod ſenſus eft tantum particularium, intellectus autem utriuſque, Sunt tamen quædam reducta ad fenfus defeétum in propofitis & c. · In hac particula huius textus, idem perſuadet diuerſo exemplo, quòd. videlicet neque per ſenſum eſt ſcire, in prima huius textus particulas Exemplum attulit in phænomena eGeometria, in hac autem particula exemplum est in perſpectiua, eft etiam quoddam aliud diuerfum, quia precedensexemplumeft,de unica wſingulari eclypſi. In hac auten pars N IN PRIM VM LIB. ticula exemplum præbet de multis illuminationibus faétis per uitra pera forata, ſiue foraminailla ſint pori uitrorum, feu etiam foramina ſint ma gna,artificio quodam facta, que fenfusuifus in multis uitris confpiciens, compertum haberet, &manifeſtum eſſet, & propter quid illuminat, id eft,propter,quid illuminationes multæ fierent,quoniam, ut inquit,uis deremus quid ſeparatum in unoquoque uitro, id est foramina multa, per qua radijtranſeuntes illuminationes multe fierent in pariete e re gione collocato, uel in pauimento domus,quapropterſi plures eclypſes ſimul perciperet fenfus uifus,quodtamenfierinequit, &uideret etiam hoc euenire ex obiectu terræ inter Solem of Lunam, illud de Luna ex emplum nullo modo diuerfum eſſet ab iſto de uitris perforatis, niſi quod alterum in Phænomena, reliquum eſſet in perſpectiua; Ne.credas tam men propter multas irradiationes a uiſu ſimulperſpectas, Q uiſis etiam fingulis foraminibusſimul, uel poris in uitris per quos radiationes fica rent, quòd quis ob id diceretur fciens,ſed ex his fingularibusfenfu pera ceptis unum uniuerfale intellectus intelligens,deeo.fcientiam generaret qua poftea merito quis diceretur fciens, illud autem uniuerfale non cola ligebatur, ab intellectu ex unica tantum eclypſi uiſa, fed ex pluribus die uerſis temporibusobſeruatis,Ex hoc loco habetur quod non est ſatisad demonſtrationem habere propter quid., niſi propter quid habeatur, per difcurfum (fenſus autem non difcurit ) ab uniuerſalibus ad minus uniuer ſalia, ſenſusenim percipiebat quod multæ illuminationes propter multa foramina fiebant, nulla tamen erat ibu demonſtratio. TEXTVS CXIIII. IRCA Textus particulam illam, Aut æquale maius, autminus, Scire eſt, quod primi Elea mentorum eſt conceptio animi apudEuclidem, ut fi una quantitas comparetur ad aliam eiufdem genes ris, aut erit ei æqualis, aut eadem maior, uel e46 dem minor, ut quatuor, ad quatuor, uel ad tria, aut ad quinque,ſi comparentur, fieri nequit, quod eadem quantitas qus tuor,ad quantitatem unam di &tarum comparata, fit æqualis, a maior minoreadem,statim enim fequitur contradictio,fedfi ad diuerfas quan titates comparetur, verumquidein poteft effe, quòd unaſit maior emi nor & equalis,ſi non ad unicam tantum, fedfi ad plures fit comparata, POSTERIORVM ARIST P TEX. CX V. ARTIC VI. A huius Textu, Neque omnium. uerorum principia funt eadem, neque con ueniunt,ut unitates punétis non conueniūt, læ quidem enim non habent poſitionein,illa autem habent, Deappoſitione in punétis, eo pacto intelligas, ut tex.108 declaraui. Exemplo enim loqui tur de principijs,non quidem ex quibus inferatur conclufio, fed ex qui dus compoſitumfit, quia ex unitatibus pluribus ſimul coaceruatis com ponitur numerus, ex pluribusautem punctis non componitur quippiam ut terminaui tex. xix.huius, ſimpliciores ob idfunt ipſe unitates, que funt numerorum principia, quamfint puncta,que lineas terminant, uni tas enim,uel etiam unitates non ſupponunt punétum,uel punéta,punétus 'tamen uel puncta eſſe non poſſunt, quin uel punctum unum,uel plura pun & ta fint,non igiturconueniunt inter fe propter appoſitionem unitatis pñ to appoſite, wepropter non appoſitionem, puncti ipſi unitati, unitas enim non ideo unitus est, propter unum punétū,ſicutpunctum unum eſt, propter unitatis appofitionem, ®ultra ait, quòd diuerſafuntgenere, ille enim in diſcreta, hecuero in continua conſiderantur quantitate: TEX. CXX. ALIAS XLIIII. VONIA'M autem idein multipliciter dicitur eft autem, ut non commenfurabilein enim eſſe diametrum uere opinari inconueniens eſt, ſed quia diameter (circa quam ſunt opi. niones) idem, fic eiufdem eſt, ſed quod quid erat eſſe unicuique,ſecundum rationem non eſt idem, Circa eandemdiametrum ſcientia poteſt eſſe, opinio per media tamen diuerſa, falfam quidem opinionem habet ille qui diametrum commenſurabilem coſte eſſe ſentiet, ueram autem obtinebit ille qui Eucli dis demonftrationibus inftrúctus diametrum inconmenſurabilem coſte efje protulerit in qua re tex: 1x. huius determinatum & demonſtratum fuit, quod ipſe diameter incommenſurabilis eſt ipſi coſte,aliter enin, par numerus, impar effet, Circa idem igitur contingit diuerſitas, feu idem multipliciter dicitur, ut quòd diameter ſit commenfurabilis &inz commenfurabilis cofta. Nij IN SECVNDVM LIBRVM POSTERIORVM ARISTOTELIS, PRESBITER PETRVS CATHENA: V ENETV S. ** 3 TEX T VS II ALIAS I. TEATRI V M enim utrum hoc infit, aut hoc, quærimus in nume rumponentes,ut utrum deffi ciat Sol, uel non, ipſuin quia quærimus. Luna enim defficit in ſe a lumine, a patitur menſtruum, propter interpoſitam terram diame traliter inter Solem u Lunam, Sol autem non defficit lumine unquam in ſe, fed tantum non illuminat, quana do in capite uel cauda draconis res peritur fimul cum Luna hoc quidem prouenit, ex eo quod inter afpes Eum noſtrum o corpus folare interponitur Lund, quæ cum ſit core pus denfum, coppacum magis quàm alia pars fui orbis impedit fo lares radios, enon finit eos ad afpe&tum nostrum protellari. Dubita tur circa id quod fuit di&tum paruin ante,o quód fæpißimeait Ariſtote les, præfertim in ſequentibus,ufque ad textum nonum an Luna defficiat penitus lumine, quando patitur menftruum, quod eſt querere,an Luna habeat aliquod lumen àfe, uelſi non àfe, an conſeruet lumen in ſe imbis bitum tamen à Sole, utfomniat Aueroes, propterea quod, quandotota eclypfatur uidetur non nihilhabere luminis, apparere fubnigra, etiam apparet uideri eius rotunditas extra plenilunium, ad quod reſõſio abſolutißimafit,quod Luna nullum habet lumen,niſi à Sole ſecundoquod non imbibit lumen, quemadmodum ſpongia liquorem aquæum, cauſaaus të apparitionis luminis tempore eclypſis, uelfuæ rotunditatis antequam POSTERIOR V MARIS T. fit in oppoſitione Solis eft, quă ſtatim declarabo quibuſdam paucis pres intellectis, cum ipſa ſint corpus denfum &politum quemadmodum cæte ra fydera, radijſolaresquifortes ſunt, cuin ad ipfam pertingunt non talentes ultra penetrare propter denſitatem ad terram reuerberantur, Tempore autem eclypſis, radij ſolares impediti a terre occurſu nõ attın gunt lunam, ſed tunc radij aliorum fyderum, qui debiliores ſuntſolaribus radijs, pertingunt corpus lunare, &fua tenui uirtute Lunam illuftrat, ob id Luna uidetur habere nõ nihil luminis tempore ſuæ eclypſis, et pro pter hanc eandem caufam dicatur quod eius rotunditas apparet citra ple nilunium. TEXT VS I x. + 1 1 + VID conſonantia, ratio numerorü,in acu to & graui, & propter quid conſonat acue tum graui, propter id, quòd rationem has bent numerorum graue & acutum, utrum eſt conſonare acutum & graue, utrum ſit in numeris ratio corum,accipientes autem quia eſt, quid igitur eſt ratio querimus. inter ea quæ elucidan da funt in hoc textu, idin primis occurrit, notatu dignum; graue enim Cum motum fuerit, citius ad quietem redit quam leue æquali pulſumo tüm, Aliud etiam eft animaduerſione dignum hic notandum quòd neruus cumpellitur ininftrumentis non unumfolummodo ſonum efficere ſedmul tos, quiquidem multi à feinuicem distinti non percipiuntur, ut diſtins Eti, propter celeritatein unius poſt alium, Exemplum præberem de Tur bone,uiride, aut rubra linea lineato,qui propter celerem motumtotus ui deretur uiridis, aut rubcus, ſunt igiturmulti foni à grsui corda effceti ad quos, fi foni illi, qui leuiori neruo procreatifunt,comparentur has beanto ad illos ratione, ut quatuor ad tria,tūc diateſſaron cõfonantiaria minimam efficient, fi ueroeam quæ eſt nouem adſex diapente, odiapaf fon fi illam efficient, quæ quatuor ad duo, que concinentie, cum ſint ſimplices; exipſis aliæ que compoſitæ funt generantur,tanquam ex ſuis proximis elementis, ut eft diapentediapaffon,o biſdiapaſſon, quæ ome nia ex Boetio clara habentur, o ſibi do toresqui Calepino student, in declaratione Ariſtotelis hec gratis prætereant, Alia exempla à tertio textu uſque ad undecimum,que Ariſtoteles præbetfua Palade in mathea 1  IN SECVNDVM Ľ IB maticis, quæ quiaaliàs in præcedétibus dilucidata per mefuerunt,nunc conſulto pretereo, fed quæ di&ta funtfuper hoc textu non plane ſatisfae ciunt nostre menti,ubi enim nonfuerintplures pulfus ad pa uciores com parati, ut in humand uoce, căcinentia quidem reperitur inter re, ala licet nõ niſi ſingula,&fingula uox emittatur,non igitur interfonos paus ciores tantum, eu plures concinentia, ſed primo inter graue ego acutum reperitur, quæ autein uocum diftantia inter ſe reperiatur, ut debita; fiat concinentia, tum ex hominum ufu ab inſtrumentis accepto, cumetiä per ea que Boetius tractat manifeſtum est, ſed'in dubium occurrit illud, quod muſicifaciunt, quando fuper breuem ſillabam, plus temporis cona ſummunt, quim par ſit, eſuperfillabam longam, breui temporis notu la festinant, ita ut ea,quæ naturaſunt breues, fiant longe, &quæ longe ſuntſillabæ,breuesfiant, ſic ut'nonmodesta &doctaſit ipfa muſica, fed Barbara o contra ufum loquendi appareat, Ad quod dico, ſequen tia dubia quæ funt,an concinentia proueniat ex mouente, ut Aristoteles in libris degeneratione animalium, uel ex motis rebus, ut in rethoricis, an exnumeratis pulſibus, ut hoc textů tangit, quòd in nostris fragmens tis logicis hæc omnia clarafient, fed pro declaratione littera, huius tex tus,uideturexpoſitio feciſſe fatis. TEXTVS XIX. ¿ ALIAS II: MPLIvs omnis demonſtratio aliquid de aliquo demonſtrat, ut quia eſt, aut non eft, in deffinitione autem nihil alterum de altero prædicatur, ut neque animal de bis pede,neque hoc de animali,neque de plano figura, non eniin planum figura eſt, neque figura planum eft. Euclides póst quam deffinitionem plani dederit in primoElementoruin deffinitione quinta, ſtatim de angulis planis, e de fiquris planis adiecit deffinitiones, que figure ideo planæ dicuntur, quia in plano picte ſunt,feu quia in ſuperficie plana ſunt deſcripte, fi gura plana, hefunt due particulæ deffinitionis, quarum altera deals tera non predicatur, quia id quod planum, & id que in plano figura fit, 11on idem eft, demonſtratio uero cõcludit, quia eft hoc de hoc, ut de trian gulo, quod tres duobus rectis equales habeat, et q latus trigoni, quod fubtendien maiori angulo, nõ eft minies lateri fubtenſo minori angulo. POSTERIORVM ARIST. TEXTVS XLIX ALIAS X I. V ANIFEST VM eft autem & fic, propter quid rectus eſt, qui in ſemicirculo eft, quo exiftente rectus eft,fit igitur rectus in quo a, inediun duorum rectorü in quob, qui eft in feinicirculo in quo c, eius igitur, quod eſt a rectum inelle c, qui eſtin ſemi circulo caufa eft b, hic quidem ipfi a æqualis eft, c autem ipſi b, duorum enim rectorum dimidium eft b, igitur exia ſtente dimidio diiorum rectorum a, ineſt ipſi c, hoc autem erat in ſemicirculo rectum eſſe. Euclides xxx tertij uniuerſa lius proponit id, quod Ariſt. hoc loco ait magis contracte, ut ſecundum Ariſtotelem conſtruatur fic, ſit ſemicirculus a b d cuiuscentrum c, quo perpendicularis excitetur per undecimā primi Elementorum cd, ſecans arcum a b in puncto d, à quo, duæ lineæ protrahantur ad ter minos diametri dia,db, ſequiturper quintam primi angului a dc, bdc effe medietates reéti,quæ ſimulmedietates additæ faciunt angų lum a d bre&tum,ficut duæ unitates bi narium numerum, quia tamē non uide tur quòd philofophus particulariter proponat id, quod uniuerfaliter Eucli des docet, ut uidelicet quod perpendi çularis à puncto c excitetur, &quòd folus angulus,qui fit in puncto de deter minato, ubi perpendicularis ſecat ar cum, re & tus ſit, licet illa due medietates formaliter ſint unius re &ti, fina gulađ; dimidium refti, quæ pro materia recti accipiuntur, ficut due uni tates materia numeri binarij, Ideo aliter declaro & litteræ philoſoa phi magis cohærebit non in figura præfcripta,ſit angulus rectus a datus, b autemfit medietas duorum rectorum, c uero in ſemicirculo conſtitus tus, ſit æqualis b, quæ uero uni veidēfunt æqualia inter ſe funt æquae lia, cum autem a ſit æqualis b, quia uterqueeſt medietas duorum res. & orum, or ſimiliter c qui in ſemicirculo eſt ſit eidem b æqualis, c ipfi a equalis erit, a quippe rectus eſt ex dato igitur c, in ſemicircula conſtitutus rectus eſt, quod propoſuit Ariſtoteles, quis ſit angulus rer IN SECVNDVM L I B. Aus patet per deffinitionem octauam primi Elementorum, quod autem b in quocunque puncto peripherie femicirculi fit medietas duorum rectos rum, patet per trigeſimam tertij Elementorum, quodetiam omnis alius angulus in quocunque puncto arcus ſemicirculi fit æqualis 6, utputa 0, patet per uigeſimam tertij Elementorum, qubi in priori expoſitione di cebatur,quòd duæ medietates erant materia totius relti anguli, hic dica's tur,quòd illiduo partiales anguli b, ſunt materia torius anguli recti, fic ut demonftretur, quod angulus, qui in ſemicirculo conſtitutus, eſt re ctus, per materialem caufam, quæ materialis caufa, ſunt iple partes recti anguli ipſum integrantes. TEXTVS LIII. ONTINGIT autem idein & gratia alicuius eſſe, & ex neceſsitate, ut propter quid pe netrat laternam lumen, etenim ex neceſsitas te pertranſit, quod in parua eft partibilius, per maiores poros fiquidein lumen fit per tranſeundo, Minutiſsimæenimſunt; aut potius fub tiliſsime ſpecies uiſibiles ignis,quæ propter ſubtilitatem ſuam per poros uiri in quofranguntur exeuntes clarum iter oſtendunt, ne adlapidem pe: des offendamius, exemplum eſt in optica,inaterialis caufa eft uitrum, fi nalis,neolfendamus; fornalis eft illa compago uitrorum,lignorumq;, effi ciens autem,eſt ipſe luterne artifex,quantum ad matheſimſpectat non eft niſi materialis cauſa in conſideratione, o radios fractos ipfius ignis in corpus disphinum, per quos illuminationes fiunt. TEXTVS LVI. ALIAS XII. CLIPSIS Lunæ futura, preſens, atque prete rita,medio interpofitionis terre, diametraliter in ter Solem & Lunam,nunc, olum, & in futurum con cluditur, cumfuerit Luna in capite uel cauda dras conis uelprope, o ſub'nadir Solis. SICVT POSTERIORVM ARIST. 105 TEX.LVII. ALIAS XIIII. IGVt ergo non funt puncta, adinuicem co pulata, ticque, quæ facta ſunt, utraque enim indiuifibilia funt. Puncta enim fiadinuicem copula rentur, statim haberetur, lineam ex pun &tis componi quod impoßibile effe demonftratum eft in primo, textu Wdecimo octauo. TEXTVS LX. ALIAS X VII. I co autein in plus ineſſe quæcúque, infunt quidem unicuique uniuerfaliter,Atuero & alij,ut eft aliquid quod oinni Trinitati, in eft fed & non Trinitati, ficut ens ineft Trini tati, ſed & non numero, numerum quemlibet ex materia oforma conſtare nemo eft qui neſciat, aliter cnim numerorumſpecies noneſſent numerofinitæ, potentia ueroinfis nite per unitatis additionem, fpecies autemexgenere odifferentia con ftat, genus uero materia differentia autemforma eft in numero, materia numeriſunt ipfæ unitates, ut in ternario numero, tres unitates materia eft numeri ternarij,formaautem eft ipfa Trinitas, ens inquit ineſt Trinita ti népe ternario numero,o hoc prædicatū, ens, extra genus arithmetică eft, quod quidem ens, alijs multo diuerſis genere à numeroconuenit. Impar uero & ineft omni Trinitati& in plus eſt. Etenin ipſi quinario ineft, fed non extragenus, ens quidem alijs ab arithmetico genere conuenit, imparuero nullis alijs niſi his, quæ infra arithmeticum genus continentur cõuenire poteſt,utquinariofeptinario &alijs multis. Huiufmodiigitur accipienda funt uſque ad hoc quouſ: que, tot accipiantur primum, quorum unumquodque qui dem in plus ſit, omnia autem non in plus. inquit quouſque tot dccipiantur primum, uerbum hoc, primum intelligatur ex æquo, feu ad equate, ut tot uenetur quis particulas deffinientes,quòd non fint ſuper abundantes, neque diminuteparticule, ſed ad idtendat, ad quod ille,qui tetragonicum latus alicuius figuræ quærit, utin libris de anima iubet phi bofophus. Duo præterea funt hic notanda precepta,ut unumquodquefit LO 6 IN SECVNDVM LIB. cum non in plus, nempeunaqueque particula deffinitionis uniuerſalior ſitdeffini to, ut animal,rationale,mortale,capaxbeatitudine, que omnes particu ie, in hominis deffinitione ſuntpofitæ, cunaqueque uniuerſalior eft ip sohomine, omnesautem fimul fumpte,nihilaliudnifihomo funt,Dubie tatur, an illa, quae in Elementorum Euclidis libris deffinitiones poſite funt, utunapromultis fimilibus excogitetur hæc,triãgulusredilineus, eft figura, plana,claufa,tribuslineis re&tis,fit conftituta ex omnibus par ticulis deffinientibus,quarū una,et altera,atqueſingulaſit uniuerſalior, ipſo triangulo rectilineo? Dicendum confequenteradAriftotelem pro pter particulam illam, tribus lineis reftis, illam non eſſe deffinitionem, fit uniuerſalior ipſo triangulo rectilineo, quapropter ſunt ma gis dignitates appellande, quàm deffinitiones,nifidixeris, quodAriſtote les intelligit de his particulis definientibus, quæ recto cafu, & non oblis quo explicantur, & fic proprie dicerentur deffinitiones, que interpreta tio qualiſcunque fit,non habetur ex Ariſtotelis littert, neque tamen ual de difplicet. Hanc enim neceſſe eſt fubftantiam rei eſſe, ut trinitati in cft oinni,numerus,impar, primusutroque modo, & ficut non menfurari numcro, & licut non componi ex numeris, hæ duæ particulæ,numerus,impar,nõ patiuntur, difficultaté,quinipſo. ternario uniuerſaliores ſint, ſed particula iſta primus utroq; modo,decla ratur ab ipfo Arift. quod fit uniuerſalior ternario numero,propter altes rī modorū, quonumerus primus dicatur eſſe ut unitatefola metiri poßit, multis conuenit numeris, ut quinario, ſeptenario,atque ternario, et alijs multis non cõponi ex numeris pariter multis cõuenit, ut ternario, qui ex binario ounitate conſtat, ſimiliter binario,qui conſtat non ex pluribus numeris,fed ex binis unitatibus, Ex hoc locohabeturnefcio quid contras Etius,quàm Euclides proponat,in feptimo Elementorü deffinitione x 15, XIII, quibus ait, quod primus numerus eſt, qui fola unitatemetie tur, Compoſitus autem eſt, qui dimetitur alio à fe ego ab unitate numero, quo loco uidetur quòdaliud fit dimetiri numero; &aliud numeris dia uerſis componi, ut ſeptenarius, nullo alio número ab unitate dimetina tur eſi componatur ex diuerfis numeris,ut ex binario o quinario,c. ex ternario &quaternario, primo enim modo aliquis poterit effe pris inus, qui compoſitus erit fecundo modo ut-XI, 0 X111, atque alij, quos vagu VI, VITI V Componunt nullus tamen eorum dimetia tur eorum alterum, var vi nullo modo dimetitur XI, VIII pariter POSTERIORVM ARIST.to v nullo modo dimetiuntur x1, cum neuter fit alicuius maioris pars, ut ex prima deffinitione quinti, &tertia deffinitione feptimiEle.. mentorum Euclidis manifeſtum eſt,hoc igitur loco dico, quod Ariſtotea les non loquitur fecundum Euclidis ſcitum,fed famoſe, ut philofophoa rum quorundam aliqui, Vbifecundum Ariftotelem tam partes aggregae tiua, que c irrationales, e integrantes dicuntur, quàm partes ali quote,qua rationales, odimetientes, dicuntur numerum compone re, ſed ſecundum Euclidis fcitum, non niſi partes proprie fumpte, que aliquotæfunt, numerum componunt; quod etiam Nicomachus & Boce. tius in arithmeticis aſſentiuntur, niſi dixeris quod etiam fecüdum Euclia dem,non omnem numerum,qui alium componit compoſitum dimetiri, fed ubi hoc Euclides fomniet non uidi. TEXTVS LXXVIII ALIAS XXV. ARTICVLA difficultatis ſe offert in hoc textu, quam Grecio Latini pretereunt, Aueroes tamen magna comentatione tangit nefcioquid, fed fcopum rei non tetigit iudicio eorü qui Ariſt.et Euclidis inſe quuntur,ueſtigis, Textus Ioannis grāmatici etArgi lopili obfcurăt aliquo modo primo intuitu pulchram Ariſtot.doctrinam, quam aperit textus Aucrois, ſiue Abramum, ſeu Bu, rinam inſpexeris, ipfius Aucrois interpretes, qua Ariſtotelis doctrina ex Aueroico textu bahita, illam poſtea ex loanne grammatico, Argi ropilo uidebis neceſſario effluere, loannis textus ita habetur, fi uero ficut in genere, finiliter fe habebit,ut propter quid con mutabiliter, Analogum eſt. Alia enim eit cauſa in lineis, & in numeris, & eadem, inquantum quidem lineæ, alia eft,in quantuin nero habens augınentun tale, eadem eſt, fic in omnibus, Argilopilus ſichabet fi fint ut in genere, medium ha bebunt finiliter,ueluti propter quid etiam mutato ordia oc, funilitudinein ſubeunt rationum, eft enim alia caufa in lincis, & in numeris, atque eadem alia quidem eſt, ut linea rum rationem fubit,eadem autem, ut tale habet incremen tum, & codem in omnibus modo; Aueroes fic habet commentar tionc magna,li autem fuerit fecundum modum generis,eft eis. affection IN'SECVNDVM LI B. uinum fimilitudine, uerbi gratia, cur quando permutantur: fint proportionalia, huius cnim caufæ in lineis & numeris ſunt diuerfæ, qua autem addit, hac ſpecie additionis, hoci modo eft una per ſe in omnibus,hoc textu nõ minus laboris fum pſi propter uarietatem textuum, quam etiam ob id, quod interpretes: non ita interpretari uidentur, ut textui Ariſtotelis cohæreant fue interpretationes aut nug & potius, præter Aueroin, qui magna come mentatione, confuſo tamen ordine dicit aliquid, faciens ad Aristotex: lis ſententiam, non tamen aperit uerum fenfum littera Ariſtotelis Pro vera igitur Ariſtotelis ſententia, in primisſcire debes, quod mas gnitudines ſeu continue quantitates, &multitudines feu quantitates die ſcrete omnes, uerfantur circa unum genus quanti, omnes enim quane titates funt, quæ antequàm permutentur, proportionalia eſſe debent, ut affeétio hæc,permutata proportionalitas,ſeu permutatim proportios nari, concluditur de quantitatibus proportionalibus, ratio autem qua concluditur hoc; de lineis, fuperficiebus,temporibus, vt corporibus, eadem de numeris concluditur, primum demonftratur propoſitione dea cimafexta quinti Elementorum Euclidis per alia principia, opropos ſitiones diuerſas ab his propoſitionibus &principijs, quibus de nume ris eadem permutata proportio concluditur in feptimo Elementorum, propoſitione decimatertia uel decimaquarta. Ecce igitur alia ratio in li neiseft,quia diuerſa e uniuerſalior, atque per diuerſa media, à ratio: ne qua idem de numeris concluditur, huius enim caufæ in lineis &nume ris ſunt diuerfæ, cauſas has, eas uoco, quæ folum dant propter quid & de his cauſis, que etiam dant eſſe, hoc loco minime intelligas uelim, quia tamen dicebam,quòd non concludebatur hæc affe &tio,permutata pro portio niſi de proportionalibus quantitatibus. Si modofieret queſtio, o cauſainueftigaretur,quare quantitates dicantur proportionales, uel que nam ſint quantitates proportionales, aut quando proportionales funt, Ariſtoteles dicit unam eſſe cauſam in omnibus, cum difcretis tum etiam continuis, quæ eft ex additione fimili utrobique pro cuius notitia mania feſta deffinitio ſexta quinti Elementorum, minime negligenda eſt, oeft Quantitates quedicuntur eſſe fecundum proportionem unam, prima ad fecundam vtertia ad quartam ſunt, quarum prime otertiæ æques multiplices, ſecunde «quarte equemultiplicibus comparat &, fimiles fuerint uel additione, ueldiminutione,uel æqualitate,eodem ordinefum POSTERIORVM ARI T. 10% ple. V'nica eſt héc caufâ, ut quantitates feu difcrete ſint, feu etiam continuefuerint,héc uidelicet fimilis additio,ueldiminutio,feu æquatio inter equemultiplicia,hoc autem eſt.quod ait in textu Ariſtoteles, in quantum uero habens augmentum tale, eadem eft fic in omnibus,hac igi: tur ſpecie additionis est una pér fe caufa in omnibus. Similem autem eſſe colorem colori, & figuram figuræ, aliam efſe alñ æquiuocum enim eft fimile in his. Hic quis dem eſt fortaſsis ſecundum analogiam habere latera, & æquales angulos. Figuræ rectilinee funtfimiles ex prima deffinitione fexti Elemen.quæ habent angulos omnesæquales, es latera illosæquales angulos continentia proportionalia,ſimilitudo igitur,non habet commus nefiguris ocoloribus, niſi nomenclaturam, non autem rem naturam unam, in coloribus enim non concernes, neque latera, neque angulos. Habent autem fe fic propter conſequentiam ad inuicem caufa, & cuius caufa,& cui eſt cauſa, unumquodque tamen accipienti, cuius eſt. cauſa, in pluseſt, utquatuor rectis æquales, qui funt extra plus ſunt, quàm triangulus, aut quadrangulus, in omnibusautem æqualiter. Quæcunque eniinquatuor rectis equales,qui ſuntextra,textus hicdeffétis uus eft, & mutilus apud Ioannem Grammaticum & Argiropilum, ma. gne commentationis textus est clarior, ſed non ad plenumfacit fatis,ut mens Ariſtotelis, fatim appareat. Caufe illationis, ſeu conſequentie, que mutuæ funt, feinuicem inferunt pro cuius exemplo, ad ea, quæ pri mo libro tex. xcvij. di &ta fuere inſpiciendum eſt, oultra aduertas quod uniuerſaliuseft habere omnes angulos extrinfecos æquales quatuor res Ais,quàm eſſe triangulum,uel quadrangulum,aut pentagonum,uel exago num, aut quippiamtale feorfum, fi autem accipiatur fic reétilineum est, igitur omnes anguli quiſunt extra, funt equales quatuor re& is, oecon uerfo, fic infertur, omnes anguli quiſunt extra funt æquales quatuor rectis,igiturid cuiusfunt anguli extrinſeci accepti, rectilineñ eft,quo uet bo, re &tilineum, comprehenduntur nedum triangulus, quadrangulus,co penthagonus, fed omnes figuræ re& ilinec, hoc igitur uult Ariſtoteles quandoinquit, quod habere extrinfecos quatuor re&tis æquales, uniuer Jalius eſt trigono, otetragono, ſi uero hec omuia accipiantur, ut in hoc uerbo, rectilineum, omnes figure rectilineæ comprehenduntur, ajo fic hoc pacto habentſe propter confequentiam,ut ad inuicem caufa «cu us caufa, &cui eft caufa. ilo: CAVSAB IGITVR ILLI SVMMAB SIT ILLS LAVS QY AM LINGVA ET VNIVERSA MENS CONCIPERE POTEST. FINISI RE G I S T R V M.. A B Omnes ſuntduerni. 37 Pac. 4. lined s publicis, à publicis. fac.4.li.6 incumbebam,abſtinere decreui..li.io laberinthos,labyrinthos.li.21 literis litteris ubique. Pd.4 li.3 comode, commode.li. 11 prefertim, præfertim ubique. li.12cales, calles. li. 16 Ariſtoteles, Ariſtotelis. Facis li.24 age, aie. Fac. 6.li. 2 pulcra, pulchra ubique. li, z fpetie, fpecie percubique. li. 32. quinnis, quinis. lin. 3 3 unis,pluribus ubique. Fac. 7 lin.6 neſcit, fcit.Fa.8 li.25 comunem,communem ubique. F2.13 li. 3 precedentis,precedentis ubique F &c.14 li.9 affumens, afſummens ubique. li.16 ſempliciter, fimpliciter. li. 12 equales æqualesubique. Fac.15.li.20 probation, probatione. Fa. 26 li. 26 reſumitur, reſummitur ubique. Fd. 19.3 1 Geotrica, Geomes trica. fac.20 li. o quadrati, quadrari. li. 10 e e Spoffet, effe poffet. li. 20 eeſſ;eſe. Fac.22 li. 10 A poline, A polline. Pac. 23 li. innitide tus,initatus. Fac.30 li. 12 fcit,ſit.fac.31.li.12 atulerunt attulerunt. fa. 3 2.li.27 manus, manu. fac. 34.li.7 ſilicet, ſcilicet ubique. fuc.36.li.4 Textus, Textu. li.25. aget, & get. fac.41. li:3 2 queſtione, queſtione ubique. fac.4.3 li. 25 texu, textu.fa. 48 li.34 prinus, primus. Fac.49 li.16.fue, ſua. fac.49.li.20 induéti, induti. fac. stili. 12recte,recti. fac.53 li. 11 A'riſtelis, Ariſtotelis.fac.53 li. 12 bucis, buccis ubique. li. 6 nltera, altera. fac.54.li.2.ie, git. fac. 57 li. 24 puerost, pueros, li. 25 illeuatus, eleuatus. fac.59 li. 7 olas, ollas. li. 3i ſimilitcr, ſimili ter. li. 3 4.innani,inani ubique. fac. 60 li.z eubi,cubi. li.25. apolini, apollini per,, ubique.lin. 28 pret, preti.fac.61.li.14.palade,pallade, li.24 filicet, ſcilicet ubique.fac.62 li. 23 rrrat, erat. fac.64. lin. 31 nos tid, notitia.fa.67 li.14 prebens,prebens.li.16.profonditate,profundis tate. fac. 68 li. 20 queſitis, quæfitis.fa, 9.li.6.nquiinquit. fac.75 li. s. paret, pares. fac. 76 li.16.notia.notitia. fac. 8 2.li. 13 ingnaros, ignaros.li. 27 preciſiua, preciſiua. li. 31. preedenti,precedentiubique fac. 83. li. 8.ſcienriarum, ſcientiarum. lin. 21.chierurgia, chirurgia. fac. 86 li. 10. neft, ineft.li. 17.angregata, aggregata. fac. 88 lin. 10 pretereundum, prætereundum.fac.91.li. 10.triangu o, triangulo. li.28. redit,reddet.fac.95li,31. eget,eget.fac.96.li.20 fequacea, fequaces. li. 32, balbitiant,balbutiant.fac. 104.11.18.uirum,uitrum. Et fi qua alia (que non funt pauca ) pretermiffa funt, diligens le& tor surum colligat &mufcas abigat.Grice: “The motivation behind my Immanuel Kant Lectures, Aspects of reason and reasoning, was to shed light on what Catena calls ‘demostrazione potetissima’.” Grice: “The Latin language – and the Italian language to some degree – allows for some fine inflections: there’s potius, which when cmbined with esse, gives posse, or potere – the ‘t’ is sometimes inarticulated as a ‘d’, as in ‘poderoso’, which goes for potius. Now, the interesting thing about potius, as Ross, and Mansel, and Aldrich and some Italian semioticians have found out – dealing with Roman law – is that a demonstrazione cn be ‘able’ (potis), in the positive degree. When it becomes comparative, the demonstrazione becomes ‘dimonstratio potior’, i.e. not able, but abler not capable, but capabler. Finally, if it’s the ablest or capablest, it’s demostrazione potissima, or demonstratio potissima. The ‘scuola padovana’ goes on to qualify ‘dimonstrazione potisima’ into two types, ‘dimonstrazione potissima affirmative,’ and ‘dimostrazione potisima negativa’. These are higher types of demonstration than the ‘demonstratio potior affirmativa’ and ‘demonstratio potior negativa’.” Petrus Cathena. Petrus Catena. Pietro Catena. Keywords: logica matematica, logica aritmetica, logica arimmetica. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Catena” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Catone Maggiore – Roma – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza.

 

Grice e Catone: Minore – Roma – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza  (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Marco Porcio Catone -- M. Porcio Catone il Giovane ha come maestri due stoici, Atenodoro Cordilione -- che si reca a visitare a Pergamo perchè lo seguisse a Roma ove lo tenne come ospite -- e Antipatro di Tiro. In Sicilia Catone Uticense conosce l’accademico Filostrato. Nei suoi ultimi giorni in Utica, Catone Uticense ha vicino a sè lo stoico Apollonide e il liceale Demetrio. Catone Uticense e questore e pretore.Catone Uticense i oppose ai triumviri e nella guerra civile si schiera con Pompeo. Dopo Tapso, Catone Uticense si reca a presidiare Utica, ove si uccide.Catone Uticense coltiva con molto successo l’eloquenza e si compiace di introdurre discussioni filosofiche nelle orazioni. Catone Uticense scrive anche giambi. Cicerone chiama Catone Uticense perfettissimo stoico e nel "De finibus" gli assegna l'esposizione delle dottrine etiche di quella scuola di cui aveva studiato intensamente le opere. A statesman and a philosopher, he studied the philosophy of the Porch. He was a pupil of Antipater of Tyre and later befriended Apollonides and Demetrius the Peripatetic, and looked after Athenodorus Cordylion. A staunch republican, he committed suicide when he believed the ultimate victory of Giulio Cesare in the civil war was inevitable. He was much admired by Cicerone and many regarded him as an embodiment of traditional Roman values, just as his great-grandfather, Cato the Censor, had been before him.

 

 

Grice e Cattaneo: l’implicatura conversazionale longobarda -- Vico e la sapienza italiana – il dialetto milanese e il sostratto latino -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Milano). Filosofo. Grice: “I like Cattaneo; in fact, I LOVE Cattaneo; he is so much like me! I taught at Rossall, and he defended the the teaching in what the Italians (and indeed the ‘Dutch’) call the ‘gym’ not just of Grecian and Roman, but Hebrew – He famously claimed to know Hebrew when he interviewed for a job as a librarian! – From a semiotic point of view, he saw semiotics as the phenomenon the philosopher must consider when dealing with communication – he explored semantics, but also ‘sintassi’ in connection with ‘logic,’ and obviously, pragmatics – He was interested in comparing systems of communication in Homo sapiens sapiens and other species – and being an Italian, he was especially interested in how Roman became Latin – he opposed the Tuscany rule!” --  Grice: “Only a philosopher like Cattaneo is can understand Cattaneo’s contributions to semiotics!”. Figlio di Melchiorre, un orefice originario della Val Brembana, e di Maria Antonia Sangiorgio, trascorse gran parte della sua infanzia dividendosi tra la vita cittadina milanese e lunghi e frequenti soggiorni a Casorate, dove era spesso ospite di parenti. Fu proprio durante questi soggiorni che, approfittando della biblioteca del pro-zio, un sacerdote di campagna, si appassioa alla filosofia, soprattutto dei classici della filosofia romana.  Il suo amore per le lettere humanistiche classiche lo indusse a intraprendere gli studi nei seminari di Lecco prima e Monza poi, che avrebbero dovuto portarlo alla carriera ecclesiastica, ma già all'età di diciassette anni, abbandonò il seminario papista per continuare la sua formazione presso il Sant'Alessandro di Milano e in seguito al ginnasio e liceo classic di Porta Nuova dove si diploma. La sua formazione filosofica fu plasmata, durante gli studi superiori, da maestri quali Cristoforis e Gherardini, i quali gli aprirono le porte del mondo filosofico milanese. Grazie a queste opportunità, oltre alla passione per gli studi classici, Cattaneo inizia a nutrire interessi di carattere sstorico. Sempre in questo periodo furono fondamentali per la sua formazione filosofica le letture presso la Biblioteca di Brera e il contatto con il cugino paterno, direttore del gabinetto numismatico, era anche un importante esponente del mondo filosofico milanese. Altro punto chiave per il percorso formativo degli suoi interessi furono la frequentazione assidua dell’Ambrosiana, grazie alla sua parentela materna Sangiorgio con il prefetto Pietro Cighera, e della biblioteca personale dello zio. La Congregazione Municipale di Milano lo assunse come insegnante di latino e poi di umanita nel ginnasio comunale di Santa Marta. Approfondizza le sue frequentazioni con gli filosofi milanesi, entrando a far parte della cerchia di Monti. Di questi stessi anni sono le sue amicizie con Franscini e Montani. Dopo aver iniziato a frequentare le lezioni di Romagnosi nella sua villa, ne divenne presto amico e allievo. Si laurea Pavia con il massimo dei voti.  Risale il suo saggio dato alla stampa e apparso sull’antologia, si tratta di una recensione all'assunto primo del concetto di “giure naturale”. Saggio sulla Storia della Svizzera italiana. Convinto sostenitore di richieste di maggiore autonomia del regno lombardo-veneto dalla corte di Vienna, pensava di puntare su una politica non violenta per avanzare tali richieste. Il motivo del suo rifiuto nei confronti della violenza si può comprendere da questa affermazione poco conosciuta del filosofo milanese che al tempo stesso lascia trasparire cosa egli ne pensasse di un'annessione al Regno di Sardegna. Siamo i più ricchi dell'impero, non vedo perché dovremmo uscirne. Ottenne alcune concessioni dal vice-governatore austriaco, subito annullate dal generale austriaco Radetzky.  Purtroppo l'evoluzione tragica delle Cinque giornate di Milano, degenerate in violenza, fecero capire a C. che un dialogo tra la nobiltà lombarda e la corte di Vienna e effettivamente difficile, stessa impressione che curiosamente ebbe anche Radetzky che nel periodo del suo governo nel lombardo-veneto punta a cercare il favore del volgo. C.  e i suoi amici parteciparono quindi e contribuirono alle cinque giornate di Milano, senza agire con azioni di violenza gratuita. Ma dopo di esse, rifiuta l'intervento piemontese. Considera il Piemonte meno sviluppato della Lombardia e lontano dall'essere democratico. Presidente del Consiglio di guerra di Milano, che governa insieme al Governo provvisorio fino alla caduta di Milano al ritorno degli austriaci. Dopo una serie di moti popolari, nel frattempo, viene proclamata la repubblica romana, guidata da un triumvirato costituito da Mazzini, Saffi ed Armellini.  In seguito alla conclusione dei moti ripara nella ivizzera e si stabilì a Castagnola, nei pressi di Lugano, nella villa Peri. Qui ebbe modo di stringere maggiormente la sua amicizia con Franscini, potente filosofo ticinese, e di partecipare alla vita filosofica del Cantone e della città. Fonda il liceo di Lugano, che volle fortemente per creare un'istruzione pubblica laica libera dal giogo del papa, al fine di formare una generazione liberale e laica che era alla base dello sviluppo economico del resto della Svizzera. Amico di Manara, anda a Napoli per incontrare Garibaldi, ma poi tornò in Svizzera, perché deluso dall'impossibilità di formare una confederazione di repubbliche. Pur essendo più volte eletto in Italia come deputato del Parlamento dell'Italia unificata, rifiuta sempre di recarsi all'assemblea legislativa per non giurare fedeltà ai Savoia. Viene ricordato per le sue idee federaliste impostate su un forte pensiero liberale e laico. Acquista prospettive ideali vicine al nascente movimento operaio-socialista. Fautore di un sistema politico basato su una confederazione di stati italiani sullo stile della svizzera. Avendo stretto amicizia con filosofi ticinesi come Franscini, ammira nei suoi viaggi l'organizzazione e lo sviluppo economico della Svizzera interna che imputa proprio a questa forma di governo -- è più pragmatico del romantico Mazzini -- è un figlio dell'illuminismo, più legato a Verri che a Rousseau, e in lui è forte la fede nella ragione che si mette al servizio di una vasta opera di rinnovamento della communità. Pur essendogli state dedicate numerose logge massoniche e un monumento realizzato a Milano dal massone Ferrari, una sua lettera a Bozzoni, consente di escludere la sua appartenenza alla massoneria, per sua esplicita dichiarazione, sovente in quel periodo tenuta segreta e negata.  Per lui scienza e giustizia devono guidare il progresso della communità, tramite esse l'uomo ha compreso l'assoluto valore della libertà di pensiero. Il progresso umano non deve essere individuale ma collettivo, comunitario, attraverso un continuo confronto con l’altro. La partecipazione alla vita della communita à è un fattore fondamentale nella formazione dell'individuo. Il progresso può avvenire solo attraverso il confronto collettivo comunitario. Il progresso non deve avvenire per forza o autoritarismo, e, se avviene, avverrà compatibilmente con i tempi: sono gli uomini che scandiscono le tappe del progresso. Nega il concetto di “contratto” comunitario o sociale. Due uomini si sono associati per istinto. La comunita, la diada, la società è un fatto naturale, primitivo, necessario, permanente, universale -- è sempre esistito un federalismo delle intelligenze umane -- è sorto perché è un elemento necessario di due menti individuali.  Pur riconoscendo il valore della singola intelligenza monadica, afferma però, che più scambio, conversazione, dialettica, e confronto ci sono, più la singola intelligenza monadica diventa tollerante dell’altro nella diada. In questo modo anche la società e la comunita diadica e più tollerante. Le due sistemi cognitivi dei individui della diada devono essere sempre aperti, bisogna essere sempre pronti ad analizzare nuove verità.  Così come le due menti si devono federare, lo stesso devono fare gli stati europei che hanno interessi di fondo comuni. Attraverso il federalismo i popoli, le comunita, possono gestire meglio la loro partecipazione alla cosa pubblica. La communita, il popolo deve tenere le mani sulla propria libertà. La comunita, il popolo non deve delegare la propria libertà ad un popolo lontano dalle proprie esigenze.  La libertà economica è fondamentale per C. -- è la prosecuzione della libertà di fare -- la libertà è una pianta dalle molte radici. Nessuna di queste radici va tagliata sennò la pianta muore. La libertà economica necessita di uguaglianza di condizioni. La disparità ci saranno ma solo dopo che tutti avranno avuto la possibilità di confrontarsi nella conversazione aperta. E un deciso repubblicano e una volta eletto addirittura rinuncia ad entrare in parlamento rifiutandosi di giurare dinanzi all'autorità e la forza del re. Viene richiamato quale iniziatore della corrente di pensiero federalista in Italia. Fonda il periodico Il Politecnico, rivista che divenne un punto di riferimento dei filosofi lombardi, avente come intento principale l'aggiornamento tecnico e scientifico della cultura nazionale. Guardando all'esempio della Svizzera cantonale (improntata alla democrazia diretta), define il federalismo come "teorica della libertà" in grado di coniugare indipendenza e pace, libertà e unità. Nota al riguardo che abiamo pace vera, quando abiamo gli stati uniti dell’Europa, alla svizzera. Cattaneo e Mazzini videro negli nella Svizzera l’unico esempio di vera attuazione dell'ideale repubblicano. Federalista repubblicano laico di orientamento radicale-anticlericale, fra i padri del Risorgimento, e alieno dall'impegno politico diretto, e punta piuttosto alla trasformazione culturale della società. La rivista Il Politecnico fu per lui il vero parlamento alternativo a quello dei Savoia.  In accordo con il Tuveri redattore del Corriere di Sardegna, intervenne in merito alla questione sarda in chiave autonomistica locale. In tal senso, denuncia l'incapacità ed incuranza del governo centrale nel trovare una nuova destinazione d'uso al mezzo milione di ettari (più di un quinto della superficie dell'isola) che avevano costituito i soppressi demani feudali, sui quali le popolazioni locali esercitavano il diritto di ademprivio, per usi civici.  A lui è dedicato l'omonimo istituto di ricerca. Altre saggi: “Scritti filosofici”; “Interdizioni israelitiche”; “Psicologia delle menti associate” – questo saggio – associazione -- non è stata completata e rimane allo stato di frammenti. Il tema de saggio sarebbe dovuto consistere nel cercare un'interpretazione sociale – diadica -- nello sviluppo dell'individuo o monada. La città – cittadino – cittadinanza -- considerata come principio ideale delle istorie italiane; Dell'India antica e moderna; Notizie naturali e civili su la Lombardia Vita di ALIGHIERI (si veda) di Cesare Balbo Il Politecnico, Repertorio mensile di studi applicati alla prosperità e coltura sociale e comunitaria; Dell'Insurrezione di Milano e della successiva guerra. Rapporto sulla bonificazione del piano di Magaldino a nome della società promotrice, In Lugano, Tipografia Chiusi. Le cinque giornate di Milano di Carlo Lizzani -- interpretato da Giannini. C. e le cinque giornate di Milano  Secondo una tesi, non comprovata e non accolta dai dizionari biografici, C. sarebbe nato a Villastanza, frazione del comune di Parabiago in provincia di Milano. Certamente più antica è la Villa prospiciente la Chiesa, sulla piazza ed attualmente in proprietà del signor Luigi Gagliardi, cui è giunta per eredità dagli avi. Un'insistente tradizione vuole che in questa casa, abbia avuto i natali nientemeno che C.. Ma C. deve aver passato qui soltanto alcuni anni della sua infanzia, ospite nei mesi estivi della famiglia amica ai propri genitori. Si veda, a tal riguardo, “Storia di Parabiago, vicende e sviluppi dalle origini ad oggi, Unione Tipografica di Milano. (Tortora), da Filosofico (Fusaro)  Arch. Fant Milano  Bertone, Camagni, Panara, La buone società: Milano industria. Almanacco istorico d'Italia, Battezzatti. C. genealogy project, su geni_family_tree. Il Famedio, su  del Comune di Milano; Lacaita, Gobbo, Turiel La biblioteca di C., Le riforme illuministiche in Lombardia, articolo dal saggio introduttivo a Notizie naturali e civili della Lombardia, come riportato da Pazzaglia in Antologia della letteratura italiana,  Il monumento milanese che lo raffigura reca l'iscrizione, A C.  -- La massoneria italiana, Mola, Storia della Massoneria italiana dalle origini ai nostri giorni, Milano, Bompiani. Fonte:// manfredi pomar.com/.  l'Enciclopedia, alla voce "Politecnico", in La Biblioteca di Repubblica, POMBA-DeAgostini; Petrone, Massoneria e identità, Taranto, Bucarest; Fiorentino, Non proprio un modello: gli Stati Uniti nel movimento risorgimentale italiano; Teodori, "C., Garibaldi, Cavallotti": i radicale anti-clericali, anti-papa, in Risorgimento laico. Gli inganni clericali sull'Unità d'Italia, Rubbettino; M. Politi, D. Messina, G. Pasquino, Teodori, Dibattito "Risorgimento laico". Presentazione del saggio di Teodori, su Radio Radicale, Milano, Fondazione Corriere della Sera. Tuveri, in Rassegna storica del Risorgimento; Ambrosoli (scelta e introduz. di). C. e il federalismo, Roma, Ist. Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato, Archivi di Stato,  Bobbio, Una filosofia militante: studi su C., Einaudi, Torino; Campopiano, "C. e La città considerata come principio ideale delle istorie italiane", in "Dialoghi con il Presidente. Allievi ed ex-allievi delle Scuole d'eccellenza pisane a colloquio con Ciampi", M. CampopianoL. Gori; Martinico, E. Stradella, Pisa, La Normale. C. e Tenca di fronte alle teorie linguistiche di Manzoni, in «Giornale storico della letteratura italiana; Colombo, Montaleone, C. e il Politecnico, Angeli, Milano, Frigerio, dir. de Rougemont, Bruylant, Bruxelles, Fubini, Gli scritti letterari di C., in Romanticismo italiano, Laterza, Bari. Lacaita, L'opera e l'eredità di C., Feltrinelli, Milano. Puccio, Introduzione a Cattaneo, Einaudi, Torino); C. nel primo centenario della morte, antologia di scritti, edizioni Casagrande, Bellinzona, Antonio Gili, Pagine storiche luganesi, Arti grafiche già Veladini, Lugano; Lacaita, Economia e riforme in C., Ibidem; Cotti, C. in una lettera inedita di Lavizzari, C.: studio biografico dall'Epistolario»; opera di  Michelini (Milano, NED), C. scrittore, in Manzoni e la via italiana al realismo, Napoli, Liguori, Cattaneo una biografia. Il padre del Federalismo italiano, Garzanti, Milano; Il ritratto carpito di C., Casagrande, Bellinzona; Cattaneo federalista europeo, in «Il Cantonetto, Lugano, Fontana Edizioni SA, Pregassona,  L'istruzione educante nel pensiero di C., Carlo Moos, Carlo Cattaneo: il federalismo e la Svizzera, Mariachiara Fugazza, Una lettera inedita di Cattaneo a De Boni. La Repubblica Romana, Ibidem, Moos, C.  in Ticino, Bollettino della Società Storica Locarnese, Tipografia Pedrazzini, Locarno, Michelin Salomon, C.. Una pedagogia socialmente impegnata, Messina, Samperi; Mario: C. Cenni. Cremona. Cantoni, Il sistema filosofico di C., Milano; Torino: Dumolard, Matteucci, Romagnosi Cinque giornate di Milano Federalismo in Italia, Ferrari (filosofo) Liceo di Lugano Stati Uniti d'Europa Sostrato (linguistica) Università Ca. C. su Treccani Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. C. in Enciclopedia Italiana, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana.  C., in Dizionario di storia, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. C., su Enciclopedia Britannica, C. in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. C., su siusa. archivi. beniculturali, Sistema Informativo Unificato per le Soprintendenze Archivistiche.  Opere C., su open MLOL, Horizons Unlimited srl. Opere C., su storia.camera, Camera dei deputati. Raffaelli, C., in Il contributo italiano alla storia del Pensiero: Economia, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana,  Colombo, C., in Il contributo italiano alla storia del Pensiero: Filosofia, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, Opere Scritti di C. in classicis; Scritti di C.: testi con concordanze e lista di frequenza Indice Carteggi di C. Altro Cronologia della vita di C. su storia dimilano. C. Il contemporaneo dei posteri a cura del Comitato nazionale per le celebrazioni del bicentenario della nascita  Filosofia Letteratura  Letteratura Politica  Politica Risorgimento  Risorgimento Categorie: Patrioti italiani Filosofi italiani Politici italiani Professore Milano Lugano Scrittori italiani Personalità del Risorgimento Positivisti Insegnanti italiani Filosofi della politica Repubblicanesimo Linguisti italiani Sepolti nel Cimitero Monumentale di MilanoPolitologi italiani Federalisti Deputati della VII legislatura del Regno di Sardegna Deputati dell'VIII legislatura del Regno d'Italia Deputati della IX legislatura del Regno d'Italia. Linguaggio e ideologia: la posizione di C., Comitato di Redazione matania edoardo ritratto di c.  xilografia, Matania, Ritratto di C., xilografia, di Prato  La centralità della figura di C. nell’ambito della cultura italiana  giustamente ricollegata al suo pensiero liberale e laico, agli studi giuridici che hanno contrassegnato l’intera sua formazione, all’interesse verso l’etnografia e la psicologia sociale. La sua personalità di studioso poliedrico e sfaccettato, fortemente influenzata dalla cultura classicista e dalla filosofia dell’illuminismo, si è concretizzata in varie forme tutte di grande rilevanza: il filosofo, l’economista, il critico, lo storico, lo scrittore politico, il fondatore della rivista Il Politecnico e, non da ultimo, il linguista.  Nel quadro di questa ricerca intellettuale così ricca e variegata un posto rilevante assumono i suoi studi etnico-linguistici di impianto storico-positivo e i suoi progetti politici orientati sul concetto di “nazionalità”. Con questo termine egli si riferiva allo stesso tempo sia alla più alta e unitaria aggregazione culturale, sia alla diretta partecipazione popolare allo sviluppo della società civile.  Proprio sugli interessi linguistici di C. concentreremo la nostra attenzione mettendo in evidenza l’impulso che egli ha dato alla costruzione dell’italiano come lingua comune che riflette il nesso tra la vitalità della lingua e la vitalità culturale della nazione di cui la lingua stessa è «il vincolo unitario in senso geografico e sociale» (Vitale), perché è da essa che dipende la possibilità per gli italiani di partecipare al progresso della cultura del proprio Paese. La forte coscienza del carattere comune della lingua faceva sì che C. potesse prescrivere la rinnovabilità della lingua – rifiutando quindi le angustie del purismo, i grecismi e i particolarismi provinciali – e sostenere anche un’opposizione recisa, basata su una coerente visione culturale di impronta europea, sia al neotoscanismo e al fiorentinismo manzoniano, sia all’accademismo della Crusca, in nome di un principio di unità di cultura e di vita civile nazionale.  Questa impostazione spiega poi la sua duplice posizione rispetto ai dialetti: da una parte riproponeva in termini nuovi, non antitetici,  i rapporti fra i dialetti e la lingua, riconoscendo la validità dei dialetti in quanto depositari di un patrimonio storico da preservare, apprezzando i valori riposti nelle culture popolari e sottolineando anche il valore della letteratura dialettale; dall’altra però considerava i dialetti come elementi superabili nel processo dialettico fondativo della lingua comune, essendo consapevole che il coinvolgimento dei parlanti nella lingua comune poteva avvenire nella misura in cui essi riuscivano progressivamente ad abbandonare l’uso esclusivo del dialetto.  Il primo scritto di linguistica di C. è quello sul Nesso della nazione e della lingua Valacca coll’italiana, pubblicato come parte di un lavoro più generale che riguardava l’influenza delle invasioni barbariche sulla lingua italiana e che non venne mai condotto a termine. Si tratta di uno studio sul passaggio dalla società tardo romana a quella feudale e poi comunale, condotto sulla scia dell’insegnamento di Romagnosi ma con una sostanziale differenza: mentre Romagnosi tendeva a ridurre la storia della civiltà in storia degli istituti giuridici e solo marginalmente si interessava di questioni linguistiche, C. già in questo primo scritto – il cui carattere storico generale è evidente – metteva al centro della sua trattazione il problema linguistico, considerando la lingua come espressione della nazionalità e testimonianza delle vicende della storia dei popoli.   La funzione sociale e in senso lato politica della lingua viene così enfatizzata con la finalità di studiare le interconnessioni tra le cose, cioè gli anelli che compongono le catene sociali che tengono uniti gli individui in quanto membri di una comunità: le parole, che sono ricche di sottili significati, possono essere comprese pienamente solo se situate in un contesto sociale più ampio di quello del loro svolgersi immediato (Lewis). Il nucleo che tiene insieme le memorie individuali e collettive è insomma costituito dalla lingua e l’esercizio della lingua rafforza tale nucleo dal quale poi dipende in buona parte l’identità di un popolo, la sua coscienza storica. In questo caso C. non si riferiva alla lingua solo come insieme di regole sintattiche e di etichette fonologiche, ma anche come modalità socialmente e regionalmente differenziata, dunque non la lingua come sistema, bensì come norma e istituzione: «è nelle parole della lingua che si condensano i path, i “sentieri” della memoria propri di ciascuna comunità» (Mauro).  Poli C. mostrò fin dagli anni giovanili grande interesse per l’opera di VICO, anche grazie all’influenza che ebbero su di lui le opere di Romagnosi e Ferrari che la interpretavano alla luce dell’antropologia laica dell’illuminismo. Proprio dal saggio di Ferrari, Vico e l’Italie uscito a Parigi, egli prese spunto per un saggio Sulla scienza nuova che pubblicò sul Politecnico nello stesso anno. L’interesse per le età primitive e per la vita collettiva dei popoli, il rapporto tra lingua e nazione denotano la presenza di motivi vichiani, con i quali C. corresse certi eccessi del razionalismo settecentesco, senza mai però rinunciare all’idea di progresso, e allo stesso tempo senza farsi influenzare dagli aspetti teologici della filosofia di Vico. La sua formazione illuminista lo portò a non condividere nessun mito del Risorgimento romantico e spiritualista, a celebrare come maestro Locke contrapponendolo alle fumosità dell’idealismo, ad avversare le posizioni di Rosmini, Gioberti e anche Mazzini.  L’illuminismo nella sua opera «si rivela sotto il carattere di una radicale antimitologia» (Alessio). Rispetto al Romanticismo la posizione di C. è contrassegnata da una sostanziale estraneità: giustamente Timpanaro osserva che parlare – come spesso si è fatto – di un romanticismo di Cattaneo può essere giusto se ci riferiamo al romanticismo come una categoria spirituale generale, definendo romantico ogni forma di interesse per le età primitive, per le tradizioni popolari e per il nesso lingua\nazione. Ma questo non ci deve far dimenticare che per il Romanticismo inteso come movimento culturale storicamente definito Cattaneo – come del resto anche Leopardi – mostrò sempre un atteggiamento critico e distante motivato dalla sua avversione al medievalismo, a quella concezione religiosa della vita che i romantici – sia pure con sfumature diverse – condividevano e al modo ambiguo con cui veniva da loro esaltato lo spirito popolare, inteso più come attaccamento alle tradizioni locali e forma di ingenuità, che come aspirazione democratica.  Sui rapporti tra romani e barbari e sulle origini della lingua italiana C. tornò diverse volte in altri scritti successivi quel saggio, sostenendo la derivazione dell’italiano dal latino volgare e limitando al massimo l’influsso delle lingue dei barbari sulla formazione dell’italiano, tanto più che secondo lui il numero dei barbari dominatori era stato assai esiguo contrariamente a quanto pensavano molti storici. Per valutare al meglio questa continuazione dell’italiano dal latino volgare per C. era necessario tener conto anche dell’influsso esercitato dalle antiche lingue dei popoli italici conquistati dai romani (etrusco, umbro, celtico ecc..).  Questa è l’importante teoria del sostrato senza la quale è difficile ad esempio spiegare la varietà dei dialetti italiani e che coinvolge soprattutto la fonetica piuttosto che il lessico: non si tratta quindi di una generale mescolanza di lingue, ma della stessa nuova lingua pronunciata in modo diverso in base ad abitudini fonetiche precedenti che rimanevano vive perché radicate dall’uso dei parlanti. Gli studi sull’origine dell’italiano sono importanti anche per spiegare la posizione che C. ha assunto nel dibattito sulla questione della lingua, che ha avuto del resto una grande rilevanza nella cultura italiana del tempo. C., infatti, non vedeva una scissione tra il suo impegno di linguista militante e i suoi studi di linguistica storica, al contrario riteneva lo studio storico delle lingue come la base, e dunque il fondamento, della linguistica normativa. Di fronte al problema di come la lingua italiana avrebbe dovuto essere formata e regolarizzata, egli sosteneva una rigorosa battaglia antitoscana, svolta su due fronti essenziali. Il primo era diretto – riprendendo una polemica che era stata inaugurata dagli illuministi lombardi del Caffè – contro il modello arcaico e passatista dell’Accademia della Crusca, che sosteneva una concezione immobilistica della lingua, estranea a ogni innovazione e fondata sulla netta scissione tra lingua e cultura. Il secondo fronte riguardava il modello certamente più moderno e funzionale del Manzoni, ma che ai suoi occhi risultava troppo accentrato e basato su un concetto di popolarità che egli non condivideva:  «la dottrina della popolarità da cui primamente si presero le mosse, oramai non significa più che si debba agevolare l’intendimento e l’arte della lingua agli indotti: ma bensì che si debbano raccogliere presso uno dei popoli d’Italia le forme che, più domestiche a quello, riescono più oscure a tutti li altri. Si intende un’angusta e inutile popolarità d’origine, non la vasta e benefica popolarità dell’uso e dei frutti» In alternativa, C. opponeva una forma di lingua che costituisse un punto d’incontro delle varie tradizioni dialettali italiane in maniera da poter svolgere veramente una funzione unificatrice della nazione. Una lingua, allo stesso tempo illustre, «insieme austera e moderna» (Timpanaro), adeguata non solo alla cultura letteraria, ma anche a quella scientifica e filosofica. Fin da quel primo articolo, cui abbiamo già fatto riferimento, C. dimostra inoltre di avere due maggiori capacità rispetto ad altri autori italiani suoi contemporanei. La prima era quella di saper andare al di là dei ristretti confini nazionali, interessandosi ad esempio delle lingue germaniche e del romeno. La seconda consisteva nell’avere ben presente il principio che la comunanza di origine tra due lingue è dimostrata dalla somiglianza delle strutture grammaticali, più che dei vocaboli – principio che ricavava dalla nuova linguistica comparata di Bopp e dei fratelli Schlegel che, proprio in quegli anni, erano diventati per lui importanti interlocutori anche polemici e avevano impresso nuovi sviluppi alle sue idee linguistiche. Biondelli pubblica sul Politecnico una serie di articoli sulla linguistica indeuropea, recensendo anche importanti opere dei comparatisti, informando così il pubblico italiano sui risultati scientifici da loro raggiunti. Questi articoli hanno indotto C. a prendere una posizione critica di fronte a questa corrente di studi e a scrivere il saggio Sul principio istorico delle lingue europee.  In questo saggio C. critica l’idea che dall’affinità delle lingue fosse possibile ricavare una comunanza d’origine dei popoli, perché era invece convinto che non ci fosse una connessione essenziale tra affinità linguistica e affinità razziale e che la linguistica e l’antropologia andassero attentamente distinte; inoltre credeva che si fosse troppo insistito sull’unità dell’indoeuropeo, trascurando le differenze tra le varie lingue dovute al sostrato. Guardava con sospetto l’esaltazione orientalizzante che costituiva forse la conseguenza più effimera e fuorviante del comparatismo indoeuropeo (Marazzini). Per Schlegel il sostrato svolgeva soprattutto una funzione negativa corrompendo la perfetta forma del sanscrito; per C., al contrario, la commistione del sanscrito con le lingue europee primitive ha dato luogo a un innesto fecondo perché il sostrato «rappresentava appunto il principio della varietà linguistica, non cancellata dall’azione unificatrice esercitata dal popolo colonizzatore» (Timpanaro). La parentela linguistica non è quindi nel sistema di C. identità di origine, bensì il risultato di un lento e progressivo avvicinamento delle popolazioni, dovuto all’istaurarsi fra di esse di rapporti politici, economici e culturali. Non si tratta, quindi, di un punto di partenza, ma di arrivo:  «Le lingue vive d’Europa non sono le divergenti emanazioni d’una primitiva lingua comune, che tende alla pluralità e alla dissoluzione; ma sono bensì l’innesto d’una lingua commune sopra i selvatici arbusti delle lingue aborigene, e tende all’associazione e all’unità. Se una volta in diverse parti d’Italia e delle isole si parlò il fenicio, il greco, l’osco, l’umbro, l’etrusco, il celtico, il carnico, e Dio sa quanti altri strani linguaggi, come tuttora avviene nella Caucasia, la sovraposizione d’una lingua commune avvicinò tanto tra loro i nostri vulghi, che ora agevolmente s’intendono tra loro. Il tempo che cangiò le lingue discordandi in dialetti d’una lingua, corrode ora sempre più le differenze dei dialetti; e lo sviluppo delle strade e la generale educazione promovono sempre più l’unificazione dei popoli.  Non è che una lingua madre si scomponga in molte figlie; ma bensì più lingue affatto diverse, assimilandosi ad una sola, divengono affini con essa e fra loro; e per poco che l’opera si continui, o a più riprese si rinovi, divengono suoi dialetti e infine mettono foce commune in lei. (C.) Sulla base di queste considerazioni, C., nell’ambito dell’acceso dibattito sulla monogenesi o poligenesi del linguaggio, sosteneva una posizione particolare: rifiutava evidentemente il primo, ma allo stesso tempo era anche distante da quel particolare tipo di poligenismo sostenuto da Schlegel, che consisteva nel separare nettamente pochi tipi linguistici originali dai quali sarebbero derivate tante lingue cosiddette “figlie”. Per lui invece esistevano tante lingue primitive originarie che si erano ridotte di numero, via via che le tribù avevano cominciato a unirsi in aggregati più ampi. Non esistevano quindi – come per Schlegel – delle lingue perfette fin dall’inizio (le lingue flessive); tutte le lingue avevano origini umili o, come scriveva lui stesso, “ferine”. I modelli di questo modo di intendere il poligenismo linguistico sono Epicuro, VICO e Cesarotti Sempre contro Schlegel, rivendica la giustezza della teoria agglutinante secondo la quale anche le forme flessionali più perfette e sofisticate derivavano dall’agglutinazione di monosillabi che all’origine avevano una funzione autonoma. E in quel articolo osserva infatti che le declinazioni della lingua latina e greca potevano derivare da semplici nomi con un articolo affisso (C.).  Psicologia delle menti associate carlocattaneoeditoririuniti La polemica con Schlegel riguardava anche la questione dell’origine del linguaggio: mentre per il primo la flessione indoeuropea era dovuta sostanzialmente a un intervento divino, per Cattaneo, l’origine del linguaggio non poteva che essere umana, e su questo avrebbe mantenuto una posizione coerente anche negli scritti successivi come le Lezioni di ideologia, dove, ad esempio, confutava il sofisma di Bonald che negava all’uomo la facoltà di costruirsi un linguaggio. Su questo tema come per tanti altri Cattaneo è vicino alla grande tradizione della linguistica illuminista che con Locke e Herder aveva respinto recisamente la concezione delle idee innate e l’origine divina del linguaggio (Prato) ed è del tutto immune dalla concezione misticheggiante della linguistica tanto cara ai romantici.  Proprio nel Saggio sul principio istorico delle lingue europee, C. si propone di verificare il rapporto tra fenomeni linguistici e tradizioni culturali, considerando la ricerca linguistica in stretta correlazione con una riflessione propriamente filosofica. L’analisi dei fenomeni linguistici non si riduceva per lui solo a una raccolta estemporanea di dati ma si traduceva in una vera e propria scienza sociale. Alla filosofia analitica degli Idèologues – che era rappresentata per gli scrittori italiani soprattutto da Condillac e Tracy – egli riconosceva senz’altro il merito di aver esaminato con acume e precisione i problemi del linguaggio, inserendoli in una prospettiva il più possibile concreta e razionale. Allo stesso tempo era tuttavia consapevole anche dei suoi limiti, che consistono nell’aver indicato come proprio oggetto di riflessione una figura di uomo dai caratteri astratti e indipendente dal rapporto con i suoi simili. Proprio «la famosa ipotesi della ‘statua’ condillachiana gli appariva emblematica di un concetto destorificato della natura umana» (Gensini). Non a caso alle conferenze tenute presso l’Istituto Lombardo di Scienze e Lettere, C.volle dare il titolo di Psicologia delle menti associate, dove il termine di “psicologia sociale” è inteso appunto in senso antropologico sia come riflessione sull’uomo a partire dai rapporti che lo legano agli altri suoi simili, sia come ricostruzione delle mentalità e dei sistemi simbolici quale risultato di mediazioni sociali. In queste lezioni Cattaneo osservava che il lievito che fa fermentare le idee non si svolge in una mente sola perché «la corrente del pensiero vuole una pila elettrica di più cuori e di più intelletti. (C.). La genesi delle idee, che Locke aveva dimostrato scaturire dal linguaggio, in questa nuova prospettiva aperta da C., non può che radicarsi nella pratica sociale: «Nel commercio degli intelletti, promosso da felici condizioni, si svolgono le idee, come nel mondo materiale, al contatto delli elementi, si svolgono le correnti elettriche e le chimiche affinità. (C.) Il linguaggio stesso è la società (C.), ed è proprio su questo terreno che l’ideologia – ovvero l’analisi delle idee – iincontra la linguistica. Ideologia è del resto il titolo di una parte del corso di Filosofia che C. aveva tenuto presso il liceo di Lugano.  Non a caso aveva scelto questo titolo se consideriamo che per la sua chiara derivazione illuminista, l’ideologia rappresentava la sola reale forma di opposizione al conformismo della cultura del suo tempo perché l’ideologia era «un’arma efficace per una filosofia democratica, atta ad opporsi alla marea montante della filosofia restaurata, allo spiritualismo eclettico in Francia, all’ontologismo cattolico in Italia» (Formigari). I principi che contrassegnano l’intera ricerca di C. e che spaziano dal riconoscimento del valore del pensiero scientifico, alla negazione della metafisica e alla difesa della laicità, la rendono insomma pienamente aderente ai problemi e alle esigenze del nostro tempo, oltre che aperta a ulteriori forme di sviluppo e approfondimento.    Dialoghi Mediterranei.  Per un ritratto complessivo di C. e dei rapporti con i suoi contemporanei rimandiamo a Alessio e Mazzali. Studiati in particolare da Timpanaro. Si veda anche Gensini; Benincà; Geymonat. Negli Annali universali di statistica, si leggono ora in C. Si trova in C. [Anche per Giordani la lingua è il vincolo di una comunità che si identifica con la nazione (Cecioni). Per esempio nella recensione alla Vita di Dante di Balbo pubblicata sempre sul Politecnico(ora in C.) di cui viene criticato il contenuto religioso e metafisico e la difesa del neo-guelfismo. Questa teoria del sostrato come è noto verrà ripresa da Ascoli nei suoi celebri scritti linguistici. Sul rapporto tra Cattaneo e Ascoli rimandiamo alle dense pagine di Timpanaro e Timpanaro. Qui lo scrittore lombardo riprendeva un’idea ben radicata nella cultura italiana e che risaliva al De vulgari eloquentia di Dante. Su questo si può cogliere l’eco della Proposta di alcune correzioni ed aggiunte al Vocabolario della Crusca del Monti che Cattaneo del resto aveva letto fin da giovanissimo con passione e interesse. Sulla linguistica dei comparatisti si veda Morpurgo Davies.  Sulla funzione positiva svolta da Biondelli per lo sviluppo degli studi linguistici in Italia vedi De Mauro. Per esempio la Deutsche Grammatik di Jacob Grimm. Pubblicato sul Politecnico è certamente il suo scritto linguistico-etnografico più ampio e originale. Qui C. fa riferimento a Uber die Sprache und Weisheit der Indier, Sulle idee filosofico-linguistiche di Schlegel vedi Timpanaro; In particolare su Cesarotti e sul suo Saggio sulla filosofia delle lingue, che è stato per Cattaneo una lettura importante vedi Gensini. Pubblicate postume da Bertani nella raccolta di Opere edite e inedite, ora in C. Ideologia è del resto il titolo stesso di una parte del corso di Filosofia che aveva tenuto presso il liceo di Lugano: si trova ora in C.; Alessio, C. illuminista”, in C.; Benincà, “Linguistica e dialettologia italiana”, in Lepschy; Bobbio,  “Introduzione”, in C., Scritti filosofici, Firenze, La Monnier, C. Scritti letterari, artistici, linguistici e vari, a cura di A. Bertani, Firenze, Le Monnier. C. Scritti filosofici, letterari e vari, a cura di F. Alessio, Firenze, Sansoni; C., Scritti filosofici, a cura di N. Bobbio, Firenze, Le Monnier. C., Scritti su Milano e la Lombardia, a cura di E. Mazzali, Milano, Rizzoli. Cecioni, Lingua e cultura nel pensiero di Pietro Giordani, Roma, Bulzoni. Mauro, Idee e ricerche linguistiche nella cultura italiana, Bologna, Il Mulino. De Mauro, Il linguaggio tra natura e storia, Milano, Mondadori Università. Formigari,L’esperienza e il segno. La filosofia del linguaggio tra Illuminismo e Restaurazione, Roma, Editori Riuniti. Formigari, L. e Lo Piparo,  a cura di, Prospettive di storia della linguistica. Lingua linguaggio comunicazione sociale, Roma, Editori Riuniti. Gensini, Volgar favella. Percorsi del pensiero linguistico leopardiano da Robortello a Manzoni, Firenze, La Nuova Italia. Gensini, Cesarotti nei dibattiti linguistici del suo tempo”, in Roggia; Geymonat; C. linguista. Dal “Politecnico” milanese alle lezioni svizzere, Roma, Carocci. Lepschy, a cura di, Storia della linguistica, Bologna, Il Mulino; Lepschy, “Presentazione”, in Timpanaro; Lewis, Prospettive di antropologia, Roma, Bulzoni. Marazzini, Conoscenze e riflessioni di linguistica storica in Italia nei primi vent’anni dell’Ottocento”, in Formigari e Lo Piparo, Mazzali, Introduzione”, in C.  Morpurgo Davies, La linguistica, in Lepschy; Prato, Filosofia e linguaggio nell’età dei lumi. Da Locke agli idéologues, Bologna, I libri di Emil. Roggia, a cura di Cesarotti. Linguistica e antropologia nell’età dei lumi, Roma, Carocci. Timpanaro, Classicismo e illuminismo nell’Ottocento italiano, Pisa, Nistri-Lischi. Timpanaro, Sulla linguistica dell’Ottocento, Bologna, Il Mulino. Vitale; La questione della lingua, Palermo, Palumbo. Almagià, Anghiera, Pietro Martire d’, in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Roma, Istituto della Enciclopedia italiana; Baldi, L’origine del significato romantico di ‘ballata’, in Id., Studi sulla poesia popolare d’Inghilterra e di Scozia, Roma, Edizioni di storia e letteratura. Biondelli, Atlante linguistico d’Europa, Milano, Rusconi-Chiusi. C., Epistolario, raccolto e annotato da Caddeo, Firenze, Barbèra. Id.; Gli antichi Messicani, in Id., Scritti storici e geografici, a cura di Salvemini e Sestan, Firenze, Le Monnier; Tipi del genere umano, in Id., Scritti storici e geografici, a cura di Salvemini e Sestan, Firenze, Le Monnier, Lezioni, in Id., Scritti filosofici, a cura di Bobbio, Firenze, Monnier; On the origin etc. Sulla origine delle specie con mezzi di scelta naturale, ossia la Conservazione delle razze favorite nella lotta per vivere, di Darwin, Londra, in Id., Scritti letterari, a cura di Treves, Firenze, Monnier; Id. Carteggi, serie I. Lettere di C., a cura di M. Cancarini Petroboni e M. Fugazza, Firenze-Bellinzona, Monnier-Casagrande. Id.; Carteggi, sLettere dei corrispondenti, a cura di C. Agliati, G. Albergoni e R. Gobbo, Firenze-Bellinzona, Le Monnier- Mondadori-Casagrande. Cella, I gallicismi nei testi dell’italiano antico, Firenze, Crusca. Cortelazzo; Zolli, Dizionario etimologico della lingua italiana, Bologna, Zanichelli. Cotugno, «Rinascimento» e «Risorgimento», in “Lingua e stile”; Ancona; Carteggio,  D’Ancona-Mussafia, a cura di L. Curti, Pisa, Scuola Normale Superiore; Filippi, L’uomo e le scimie, in “Il Politecnico”; Forcellini E. Totius latinitatis Lexicon, Padova, Tipografia del Seminario, Bettinelli. Foscolo, Epoche della lingua italiana, in Id., Opere, a cura di Puppo, Milano, Mursia, Fugazza. C., Scienza e società, Milano, Angeli. Galton F., C., Osservazioni meteorologiche sincrone fatte in Inghilterra e ridutte in forma di mappa dal Sig. F. Galton di Londra, in “Il Politecnico”; Geymonat, C.  linguista, Roma, Carocci, C.  prepara le Lezioni di Ideologia a Lugano, in “Nuova informazione bibliografica”; Gherardini, Voci e maniere di dire italiane additate a’ futuri vocabolaristi, Milano; Bianchi. Id., Supplimento a’ vocabolari italiani, Milano, Bernardoni. Giovannetti, Nordiche superstizioni. La ballata romantica italiana, Venezia, Marsilio. Lacaita, Gobbo, Priano., Laforgia (a cura di), Il Politecnico” di C.. La vicenda editoriale, i collaboratori, gli indici, Lugano-Milano, Casagrande; Marazzini,  L’ordine delle parole. Storia di vocabolari italiani, Bologna, il Mulino. Mussafia, Reihenfolge der Schriften Ferdinand Wolf’s, Wien, Hof- und Staatsdruckerei. Ramusio, Navigationi et viaggi, Venezia, Giunti, vol. III Ranalli, Vite di uomini illustri romani dal risorgimento della letteratura italiana, Firenze, Pagni. Romanini, Se fossero più ordinate, e meglio scritte. Ramusio correttore ed editore delle Navigationi et viaggi, Roma, Viella. Rusconi, Sopra i lai o canti degli anglo-normanni, in “Giornale dell’I. R. Istituto Lombardo di scienze, lettere ed arti o Biblioteca italiana”; Delle Lezioni tenute al Liceo di Lugano tra anni Cinquanta e Sessanta, si analizzano le versioni preparatorie di un paragrafo dedicato all’originarsi della poesia da canti e balli popolari, con particolare attenzione alla cosiddetta ballata. Ciò consente di riconoscere in Cattaneo, che in quel periodo ha ripreso l’attività di studio e divulgazione, il perdurare d’interessi terminologici e il legame con dibattiti che avevano coinvolto suoi maestri, colleghi e amici. Curiosità e passioni s’intrecciano con letture, alcune delle quali avranno eco nella seconda serie de "Il Politecnico", altre rimarranno limitate alla pratica didattica e si possono in parte scoprire grazie agli appunti preparatori. Indice del saggio su C. linguista – recensione Resurggimento.  Anche  il  latino  è  lingua  di  tutta  Italia,  ma  gl'Italici  non  sono tutti  romani. I dialetti  ne  sono  testimonianza.  La  serbata  integrità  nativa  delle  molteplici  favelle  del  Caucaso di  fronte  alle  indo-perse  riflette  l'imagine  di  quelle  che  popolano  l'Italia  innanzi  che  la  copre LO STRATO LATINO. Ne  invasioni  armale,    importazioni  di  civiltà,  ne  sovrapposizioni di  lingue  alterarono  i  confini  etnografici  dei  tusci,  dei  liguri,  dei  cisalpini,  dei  veneti  e  d'ogni  altra . Non  conosciamo ancora  le  svariate  forme  naturali  del  nostro  paese,  e  nemmeno  i  nostri  dialetti  e  le  riposte  loro  derivazioni. Non  conosciamo  i  secreti  nessi  che  collegano  questa  lingua nostra  alla  civiltà  precoce  della  Persia  e  dell'  India,  e  alla  lunga  barbarie  dell'  antico  settentrione. La  filologia  puo classificare  le  duemila lingue  e  dialetti  morti  e  vivi  in  famiglie,  come  si  costuma nelle  faune  e  nelle  flore.  La  scienza  della lingua  è  luce  aggiunta  alla  scienza  dei  luoghi,  dei  tempi  e  dei  monumenti, a  rischiarare  il  buio  della storia.  Per  lei  si  scoprono  le  cause  onde  i  popoli  comunicarono  tra  loro  con  certi  modi  peculiari  i  propri  pensieri. Per  lei  si  rileva,  da  lieve  indizio  di  scrittura  salvata,  una  gente  ignota  alla  storia. Si  sorprendono sorelle  nazioni  che  l' idioma  apparentemente  diverso  inimica e  in  un  dialetto  si  palesano  segni  di  origine  disforme e  di  ANTICHI ODII IN NAZIONE STIMATA OMOGENEA.  Per  lei  si  assiste  al  ritorno  su  straniere  labbra  d'un  vocabolo  esulato dalla  patria  in  età  remota. Per  lei  si  rintracciano  in  una  valle  le  reliquia  di  una lingua  fuggita  dalla  pianura  negl’ attriti  del  commercio  o  della  conquista. Per  lei  si contemplas  il  transito d'una  favella  celebrata  da  una  letteratura e  l'ascensione d'oscuro  dialetto  del Lazio a  dignità  di  idioma  illustre  in  compagnia della  fortuna  militare del popolo romano. Per  lei  rilucono  le  affinità  e  le  diversità  delle  lingue  tutte. La  nostra  lingua italiana  ha  una  nota  affinità  primamente  col  latino -- e  colla  altra  lingua  dal  latino  derivata: il francese. Queste  lingue  viventi  e  li  innumerevoli  loro  dialetti  si  classificano  dai  linguisti  sotto  il  nome  commune  di  lingue  romane  o  romanze  o  latine. Come  una  famiglia, si  deduce  che  i  dialetti  e  pronuncie  provinciali  sono  fili  conduttori  ad un’origine  prima. Si  deduce  che  la  varietà dei  dialetti,  delle  pronuncie  e  dell'aspetto  degl’italiani trova  esplicazione  e  commento  nella  varietà  delle  stirpi  e  di quella lingua  dei romani. Si  deduce  che  l'azione  cementatrice  della  lingua dei Romani  s’ è  compiuta  soltanto  sovra  popoli  barbari, e  tali  sono  gl’ europei  alla  comparizione  delle  caste  asiatiche;  che  avendo  raggiunto  un  certo  grado  di  coltura,  ì  baschi  RESISTENO alla  lingua  dei Romani. Quando  noi  troviamo  nel  tedesco  e  nel  gotico  la  radice  della  parola  latina  iraesagus,  dobbiamo indurre  che  qualche  antichissima  relazione  vi  fu  tra  li  avi  dei  Romani  e  li  avi  de' Goti.  Nello  stesso  modo  in  cui  possiamo  riferire  l'italiano ed il  francese – o lingua gallica, come preferisco -- alla  commune  loro  madre,  la  lingua  latina, o dei romani, come preferisco,  possiamo  riferire il  latino,,  il  greco,  il  sanscrito,  il  zendo  ad  una  commune  origine  celata  nella  notte  dei  tempi. Se  si  paragona  la lingua dei romani alle  due lingue  sue  figlie, l’italiano e il gallico, si  trova  che  queste,  cioè  le  lingue  moderne,  hanno  maggior  copia  di  voci  astratte.  La lingua dei romani  ha  la  voce  “fortis” -- ma non  ha  la  voce  “forza.” Da  vir  abbiamo  della lingua dei romani la  “virtus”,  l'italiano  e  il  francese  virtù,  vertu. Ma  l'italiano e  il  francese  hanno  inoltre  le  parole  derivate  “virtuoso”,  :virtuosamente”,  vertueux,  vertueusement;  e  il  francese  ha  inoltre  il  verbo  évei^tuer.  Le  voci  italiane  ente,  entità,  essenza,  essenziale,  essenzialmente,  se  vengono  ricondotte  alla  forma  della lingua de romani: ens,  entitas,  essentia, essentialis, essentialiter, non  si  trovano  mai  nei romani antichi ,  ma  solo  in  quelli  dei  bassi  tempi. L’'inglese,  che  per  una  metà  de' suoi  vocaboli  deriva  dall'antica  lingua  anglo-sassone e  per  l'altra  metà  dalla lingua dei romani. Nelle  lingue  indo-europee  la  radice  è  quasi  sempre  unisillaba.  Una radice  bisillaba  -- come  animo,  columna,  vidua,  susurrus,  titubare,  vacillare,  oscillare tentennare,  dondolare --  si  puo  considerare  o  come  raddoppiamento  o  come  derivazione  di una voce  semplici  più  antiche. Nella lingua dei Romani, un  verbo  semplice  p.  e.  mitto,  fero,  traho  colle  sue  inflessioni  di  persona,  di  numero,  di  tempo,  di  modo,  e  coi  diversi  casi  de' suoi    participj. produce  nella  sola  forma  attiva ,  circa  un  centinaio    inflessioni  -- mitto,  mittis,  mittens,  missuriis  etc.  etc. -- coir  aggìuiìta  delle forme nella voce passiva  -- mittor,  mitteris,  missus,  mittendus -- e  dei  nomi  ed  aggettivi  verbali  -- missio,  missilis y missivus --  ne  forma duecento.  Questo  numero  può  ripetersi  tante  volte  quanti  sono  i  verbi  derivati  e  composti,  p.  e.  mittito,  AD-mitto,  A-mitto ,  eie.  epperò  dalla  sola  radice  unisillaba  di  mitt-o  possono  diramarsi  tremila  suoni  piu  o  meno  diversi,  ciascuno  dei  quali  esprime  un'idea  in  qualche  grado  modificata  e  distinta. P.  e. , nelle  tre  voci  mitto,  misi,  mitfam,  vi  è  per  lo  meno  la  differenza  del  tempo; nelle  voci  missuris  e  mittendis  sono  espresse  tutte  quelle  idee  che  in  italiano  significhiamo  con  dire:  a  quelli  che  manderanno ,  ovvero  a  quelli  che  devono  essere  mandati.  Cosicché  qui  tre  sillabe  della lingua dei Romani  equivalgono  da  sette  a  tredici  sillabe  nella lingua degl’italiani. Codesti  tremila  vocaboli  nell’  idioma  primitivo  sono  rappresentati  da  una  sola  sillaba:  “mit.”  È  come  la  quercia  rappresentata  da  una  ghianda.  Qualunque  sia  dunque  la  dovizia  delle  forme  nelle  lingue  derivate, abbiamo  questa  legge  di  linguistica  che  le  lingue  veramente  primitive  hanno  potuto  consistere  in  poche  centinaia  di  radici  monosillabe. È   un  fatto  linguistico che  la lingua dei Romani, la  lingua madre,    nel  propagarsi  di  paese  in  paese  e  nel  venir  adottate  da  numerose  persone,  hnnno  perduto  gran  numero  delle  loro  inflessioni.  La lingua degl’italiani  paragonata  alla lingua dei Romani, non  ha  più  i  verbi  passivi,    i  participi  futuri,    i  partecipali,    il    genere   neutro,  e  le  declinazioni  dei  nomi  sono  ridutte  a  due  sole  desinenze: singolare  e  plurale.  Per  rilevare  le  affinità  non  basta  paragonare  isolatamente  una  lingua  con  un'altra,  ma  è  necessario  ravvicinarla  a  tutta  la  serie  delle  lingue  della  stessa  famiglia. A  prima  vista  non  appare  similitudine  tra  il  vocabolo dormire  e  il  tedesco  traumen,  che  vuol  dire  sognare. Ma  appare  di  più  nell’  inglese  “dream”,  che  ha  le  stesse  consonanti  della lingua dei Romani e  lo  stesso  senso  del  tedesco. Inoltre  nelle  due  voci  della lingua dei Romani, somniis  e  somnium,  e  nelle  italiane  “sonno”  e  “sogno”  si  trova  il  doppio  senso  di  dormire -- e  sognare. La  pronuncia  della lingua dei Romani e della lingua degl’italiani proviene  dalle  loro  origini, ossia  dal  genio  imitativo  più  o  meno  delicato,  dalli  organi  vocali  più  o  meno  flessibili,  e  dalle  abitudini  passate  in  tradizione.  E  più  facile  mutare  il  VOCABOLARIO dagl’italiani,  dargli  una  nuova  lingua,  che  mutare  la  sua  pronuncia.  Questa  pronuncia sopravvive  nei  dialetti,  anche  dopo  che  le  lingua e mutata.  Ancora  oggi,  la  pronuncia e  il  dialetto  segnano  in  Italia  precisamente  i  confini  antichi  della  Gallia  Cisalpina  e  della  Carnia  con  la  Venezia ,  la  Toscana  e  la  Liguria. In  Italia, due  soli  dialetti  hanno  aspirazione:  il  toscano  e  il  bergamasco.  I  due  dialetti  più  dolci  (forse) sono  il  veneto  e  il  siciliano,  alle  opposte  estremità dell'Italia. VICO rinvenne  nelle  radici  latine  le  vestigia  d'una  antica  sapienza italica e fa  essendo  a  quei  tempi  ignota  ancora  la  scienza  linguistica  e  non  osservata  la  consonanza  della lingua dei Romani col  zendo  e  col  sanscrito,  Vico  attribuì  quella  sapienza alli  aborigeni  dell'Italia,  e  perciò  scrive  il  De  antiqiiissima  Italorum  sapientia  et  latinae  linguae  originibus  emenda, a correttamente! Carlo Cattaneo. Keywords: cinque giornate, community, communita, diada, monada, associazione, contratto sociale, conversazione, psicologia filosofica, psicologia, sociologia filosofica, ego e alter ego, logica e linguaggio, il latino, l’italiano di lombardia, il natale di Cattaneo – regione Lombardia – provincia -- – Milano. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cattaneo” – The Swimming-Pool Library.

 

Grice e Cattaneo – filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza (Roma). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I love Cattaneo, but then you would, wouldn’t you – He reminds me of H. L. A. Hart, and then *I* am reminded that Cattaneo translated Hart to Italian as a pastime! What I like about Cattaneo is that instead of focusing on “Roman law” and Cicero – he focuses on Pinocchio!”. Si laurea a Milano sotto Treves. Su consiglio di Treves e Bobbio ha soggiornato al St. Antony's, criticando Hart, professore di Giurisprudenza, di cui su suggerimento di Bobbio e Entreves ha tradotto “Il concetto di legge”. Insegna a Ferrara, Milano, Sassari, Treviso. Analizza l'evoluzione storica delle teorie della pena e le opere dei grandi giuristi italiani. Membro della Società Italiana di Filosofia Giuridica e Politica. Altre opere: Il concetto di rivoluzione nella scienza del diritto” (Milano); “Il positivismo giuridico” (Milano); “Il partito politico nel pensiero dell'Illuminismo e della Rivoluzione” (Milano); “Le dottrine politiche” (Milano); Illuminismo e legislazione” (Milano); “Filosofia della Rivoluzione” (Milano); “Diritto liberale” “Giurisprudenza liberale” (Ferrara); “Filosofia del diritto, Ferrara); La filosofia della pena” (Ferrara); Delitto e pena” (Milano); Il problema filosofico della pena, Ferrara); Stato di diritto e stato totalitario, Ferrara); Dignità umana e pena nella filosofia di Kant, Milano); “Metafisica del diritto e ragione pura, studi sul platonismo giuridico di Kant” (Milano); “Goldoni ed Manzoni: illuminismo e diritto penale, Milano); “Carrara e la filosofia del diritto penale, Torino); “Libertà e Virtù” (Milano); Pena, diritto e dignità umana” (Torino); Diritto e Stato nella filosofia della rivoluzione” (Milano); Suggestioni penalistiche”; “Persona e Stato di diritto Discorsi alla nazione europea, Torino); Critica della giustizia, Pisa); L'umanesimo giuridico penale” (Pisa); Pena di morte e civiltà del diritto” (Milano); Terrorismo ed arbitrio, Il problema giuridico del totalitarismo, Padova); Il liberalismo penale di Montesquieu” (Napoli); Dignità umana e pace perpetua, Kant e la critica della politica” (Padova); “L’idolatria sociale (Napoli); “L’umanesimo giuridico, Napoli); Kant e la filosofia del diritto” (Napoli); Diritto e forza. Un delicato rapporto, Padova); Giusnaturalismo e dignità umana, Napoli); Dotta ignoranza e umanesimo” (Napoli); La radice dell'Europa: la ragione, uno studio filosofico-giuridico (Napoli). “Analisi del linguaggio e scienza politica” (Filosofia del diritto); “Il concetto di rivoluzione nella scienza del diritto, Milano, Istituto editoriale Cisalpino); “Il positivismo giuridico e la separazione tra il diritto e la morale” (Istituto Lombardo di Scienze e Lettere, Milano. Richiamo a istituti di diritto privato per la risoluzione del problema dell'origine dello stato, in “La norma giuridica: diritto pubblico e diritto privato, Atti del IV Congresso di Filosofia del diritto, Pavia, Milano, Giuffre); “Il realismo giuridico” in »Rivista di Diritto Civile”; Alcune osservazioni sui concetto di giustizia in Hobbes, in Il problema della giustizia: diritto ed economia, diritto e politica, diritto e logica, Atti del V Congresso Nazionale di Filosofia del Diritto, Roma (Milano, Giuffre); “Hobbes e il pensiero democratico nella Rivoluzione inglese e nella Rivoluzione francese, in »Rivista critica di storia della filosofia”; “Il positivismo giuridico inglese: Hobbes, Bentham, Austin, Milano, Giuffre); Il partito politico nel pensiero dell'illuminismo e della Rivoluzione francese, Milano, Giuffre); Le dottrine politiche di Montesquieu e di Rousseau, Milano, La Goliardica Stampa); Il positivismo giuridico, in »Rivista Internazionale di Filosofia del Diritto«, “Il concetto di diritto” (Milano, Einaudi); “Considerazioni sul ‘significato’ della proposizione, ‘I giudice crea diritto«, in »Rivista Internazionale di Filosofia del Diritto«; Illuminismo e legislazione, Milano, Edizioni di Comunita); Leggi penali e liberta del cittadino, in »Comunita«, Montesquieu, Rousseau e la Rivoluzione francese, Milano, La Goliardica); dispense del corso di Storia delle dottrine politiche, Milano); Quattro Punti, in »Rivista Internazionale di Filosofia del Diritto«, Liberta e virtu nel pensiero politico di Robespierre, Milano-Varese, Istituto Editoriale Cisalpino); Considerazioni sull'idea di repubblica federale nell'illuminismo francese, in »Studi Sassaresi”,Liberta e virtu nel pensiero politico di Robespierre, Milano, Istituto Editoriale Cisalpino); Filosofo e giurista liberale, Milano, Edizioni di Comunita); Filosofia politica e Filosofia della pena, in Tradizione e novita della filosofia della politica, Atti del Primo Simposio di Filosofia della Politica, Bari, Bari, Laterza); Pigliaru: La figura e l'opera, testo della commemorazione tenuta i125 giugno 1969 nell' Aula Magna dell'U niversita di Sassari, in »Studi sassaresi«, Milano); Le elezioni e il liberalismo. Autonomia dell'Universita e neo-corporativismo, in »La Rassegna Pugliese«, Anti-Hobbes, ovvero i limiti del potere supremo e il diritto co-attivo dei cittadini contro il sovrano (Milano, Giuffre); Anti-Hobbes o il diritto co-attivo dei cittadini --; Considerazioni suI diritto di resistenza e liberalismo, in »Studi Sassaresi«, Ill, Autonomia e diritto di resistenza, Milano); La dottrina penale nella filosofia giuridica del criticismo, in Materiali per una Storia della Cultura Giuridica, ICorso di filosofia del diritto, Ferrara, Editrice Universitaria); La filosofia della pena nei secoli XVII e XVII: corso di filosofia del diritto, Ferrara, De Salvia). Discutendo giurisprudenza con Treves, pone il problema che sarebbe stato al centro di tutta la sua vita di uomo impegnato nello studio, nell'insegnamento, nella vita civile. Interrogandosi suI rapporto fra “rivoluzione” e “ordine giuridico”, vale a dire fra “fatto” (de facto) e “diritto” (de iure), giunge alIa conclusione che da un punto di vista epistemico-doxastico-giudicativo-conoscitivo-descrittivo non e possibile distinguere tra ordine giuridico e regime di violenza, autoritatismo, perche il diritto non e giusto per sua intrinseca natura, ma soltanto se e concretamente rivolto ad attuare il valore del giusto e rispetto della persona umana. Il rapporto fra forza autoritaria e la forza della legge, che da il  titolo a uno suo saggio, e la relazione fra diritto o gius come valore, costituisce infatti la questione su cui non cessa mai di interrogarsi, nella prospettiva del fondamento metafisico (escatologico, propriamente) del concetto di ‘giure’ non e riducibile alla volizione o ragione pratica del legislatore propriamente adgiudicato (alla Aristotele). In questo modo, C. indica la ricerca del giusto come compito specifico della filosofia del diritto e  pre-annuncia il suo intero percorso filosofico caratterizzato da un assunto basilaro. La filosofia, come assere Socrate, ha il suo carattere precipuo nel porre un problema piuttosto che nel risolverlo o dissolverlo, e, come nel mito platonico della caverna, l’analisi concettuale si muove suI piano della trascendenza escatologica, diverso e superiore a quello della realta empirica o naturale. Anche la filosofia giuridica, in quanto filosofia, e aperta alla escatologia metafisica e, avendo come base la conoscenza del codice u ordine del diritto romano-italiano *positivo*, pone il problema della sua valutazione escatologica alIa luce del valore della dignita kantiana umana e del concetto di un “stato di diritto”. Compito del filosofo non e dunque *descrivere* il diritto positive fattico empirico esistente, ma conoscerlo per condurne una meta-analisi critica al fine del suo adeguamento al modello ideale platonico socratico di giustizia contro il neo-trasimaco di Hart. Il problema giuridico della rivoluzione.  Il concetto di rivoluzione nella scienza e nel diritto, Milano-Varese. Neokantismo nella filosofia del diritto di Treves, in Diritto, cultura e liberta. Diritto e forza. Un delicato rapporto, Paova. La filosofia del diritto: il problema della sua identita, in Filosofia del diritto. Identita scientifica e didattica oggi, Cattania. IL tema del rapporto tra Diritto e Letteratura è stato più volte trattato dal Prof. Mario Cattaneo che ha pubblicato i seguenti saggi: ”Riflessioni sul <De Monarchia> di Dante Alighieri”, “L’Illuminismo giuridico di Alessandro Manzoni” pubblicato nelle Memorie del Seminario della Facoltà di Magistero di Sassari., “Goldoni e Manzoni. illuminismo e diritto penale” e “Suggestioni penalistiche in testi letterari. Nella Introduzione del volume su Goldoni e Manzoni rileva che i rapporti tra diritto e letteratura e la discussione di problemi giuridici in opere letterarie non sono stati in generale molto studiati; non mancano tuttavia alcune ricerche concernenti soprattutto il diritto nel teatro  Sono stati compiuti degli studi sul significato giuridico di alcune opere di Shakespeare daJhering  e  Kohler ed è stato esaminato il pensiero di alcuni poeti tra cui in Italia soprattutto Dante del quale si sono occupati Carrara, Vaturi , Vecchio, Mossini  e lo stesso Cattaneo.  Vi sono importanti opere della letteratura europea che hanno affrontato problemi giuridici rilevanti come il “Kolhaas” pubblicato da H. von  Kleist  e “Delitto e Castigo” di Dostoevskijj,l’ Autore rileva peraltro che la presenza di temi giuridici nella letteratura è particolarmente rilevante nell’illuminismo data la sensibilità civile di questo movimento. Il volume è dedicato all’esame degli aspetti giuridici – soprattutto di diritto penale – di due grandi autori italiani: Goldoni ed Manzoni.  Cattaneo rileva l’accostamento tra i due grandi letterati deriva da alcuni elementi di contatto: Goldoni passò l’ultima parte della vita in Francia e vide il declino dell’ancien regime francese e Manzoni trascorse parte della giovinezza in Francia nel periodo napoleonico. Goldoni visse gli ultimi anni della sua vita a Parigi nei primi anni della Rivoluzione francese ma non sappiamo come abbia seguito le fasi della stessa mentre Manzoni li seguì e scrisse l’ode “Del trionfo della libertà” che manifesta le opinioni del suo Autore e verso la conclusione della vita scrisse “La rivoluzione francese e la rivoluzione italiana” un saggio che fu pubblicato postumo e che, secondo C.,  è ispirato a sentimenti di libertà  i due scrittori  hanno un orientamento differente Goldoni, bonario ed ottimista,  esamina gli aspetti gioiosi della vita pur con una punta di satira e critica della società mentre Manzoni esamina gli aspetti essenziali e drammatici  della esistenza umana, sotto il profilo religioso Goldoni risulta tiepido ed alquanto indifferente mentre Manzoni nelle sue opere affronta il problema religioso.  Cattaneo evidenzia che l’accostamento tra i due letterati è già stata istituita da alcuni studiosi e cita l’opinione espressa da Ferdinando Galanti che evidenzia che Goldoni diede all’ Italia la nuova commedia, il ritratto della vita sulla scena, Manzoni è importante per la nuova tragedia ed il romanzo lasciando un popolo di caratteri originali, vivi e che rimarranno nella memoria di tutti come figure casalinghe, parlanti, che saranno ereditate di generazione in generazione quale caro tesoro di famiglia. Galanti ritiene che Manzoni abbia continuato, nel cammino della verità, l’opera di Goldoni.  Questo giudizio è ripreso da Federico Pellegrini in uno scritto che indica come elemento comune <il rispetto della natura> e ricorda i giudizi favorevoli di Manzoni su Goldoni in materia di lingua. Pellegrini rileva che nelle Commedie di Goldoni come nei Promessi Sposi l’esuberanza della fantasia non offende la sobrietà dell’insieme e vi è una processione di personaggi buoni e cattivi al di sopra dei quali vi è una idealità: la vittoria del bene sul male, questo è la morale di tutti i drammi. Pellegrini raffronta ed accosta  i personaggi delle opere dei due letterati e conclude affermando che: i geni si incontrano. Il Mazzoleni ha istituito un confronto fra “I Promessi Sposi” e “La Putta onorata”  commedia in cui Bettina, fidanzata di Pasqualino, viene rapita dal marchese Ottavio. Le coincidenze tra le due opere peraltro escludono l’influsso di Goldoni su Manzoni, per cui vi è affinità non dipendenza.  Il Petronio nel suo libro ”Parini e l ‘illuminismo lombardo” mette in rilievo che. “ben quattro volte l’Italia ha tentato una letteratura realistica”: “Una prima volta con l’illuminismo, col Parini e Goldoni; una seconda con il romanticismo lombardo, i tentativi generosi del Berchet nel verso e i risultati luminosi del Manzoni nella prosa; una terza col verismo meridionale e la soluzione geniale ma singolare, senza seguito, del Verga; una quarta in questo secondo dopoguerra” Passarella ha associato Goldoni, Manzoni e Collodi nel suo studio “Goldoni filosofo” ed ha definito i tre letterati “i più grandi umoristi del mondo” scrivendo che “Mentre Manzoni narra di lotte intime di uomini travolti dalla malvagità e Collodi sorride delle cadute e degli sforzi di quel Pinocchio fatto di legno ed emotivo e vivo di tutti gli elementi dell’essere umano, sintesi di tutta l’umanità aggrappantesi sulla ripida china che conduce a essere degni di chiamarsi umani, il sorriso col quale Goldoni guarda i suoi attori dice che il suo problema è la socialità: scontri ed incontri, beffe e incomprensioni, cadute e risollevamento nelle opinioni altrui”   C. evidenzia anche che un breve cenno comparativo tra Goldoni e Manzoni sotto il profilo giuridico è svolto anche daJemolo  il quale scrive a riguardo che Goldoni, che aveva studiato giurisprudenza, cercò nella commedia “L’Avvocato veneziano” di darci una figurazione di avvocato virtuoso, per cui la toga è davvero una divisa di soldato: Manzoni nel mondo del diritto non ci ha lasciato che la immagine imperitura di Azzecca-garbugli, il ricordo caricaturale delle Gride dei Governatori e quello del conte-zio, alto burocrate del suo tempo, il quadro atroce dei giudici della Colonna infame.  Padoan ha rilevato in un suo scritto che anche oggi, e non senza qualche ragione, potremmo indicare in Goldoni una polemica contro l’ozio nobiliare, anteriore al Parini; un atteggiamento di interesse verso il mondo degli umili, che non fu senza influenza sul Manzoni. C. conclude l’introduzione al volume affermando che le citazioni prima esposte sono sufficienti a giustificare la trattazione dei due autori in un unico volume , la sua analisi prende in considerazione la visione del problema giuridico dei due scrittori ed analizza il pensiero giuridico nelle sue premesse di fondo.nelle sue fondazioni filosofiche, nella misura in cui fare questo è possibile; a tal fine ritiene che l’elemento unificatore dei due autori in relazione al diritto, indicato anche nel titolo è l’illuminismo   L’autore evidenzia che nel Goldoni avvocato, difensore della professione forense, che mette in rilievo diversi problemi giuridici in molte sue commedie, si risente, in modo non marcato, l’influenza dell’Illuminismo, che è la radice della sua satira sociale, della sua garbata critica della nobiltà e delle disuguaglianze sociali, come in Manzoni critico della giustizia umana e della incertezza giuridica, che satireggia i pubblici funzionari e  gli avvocati, raccogliendo l’eredità del grande nonno Beccaria. C. ritiene che, oltre le apparenti differenze,.<< sia rintracciabile, nel pensiero di Goldoni e di Manzoni, il filo conduttore dato dai principi fondamentali dell’illuminismo giuridico, principi che si possono individuare essenzialmente nella certezza del diritto e nella dignità della persona umana. L’autore riferisce degli Studi su Goldoni avvocato rilevando che la critica ha tenuto presente in modo primario del significato letterario delle sue opere  un breve cenno agli studi giuridici di Goldoni era stato fatto da un grande recensore contemporaneo al commediografo Schiller nelle due recensioni  alla traduzione tedesca dei “MÉMOIRES.”  nella letteratura italiana Zanardelli, importante esponente dell’Italia risorgimentale, cita Goldoni in alcuni passi del volume “L’Avvocatura”  soffermandosi sulla figura della commedia “L’Avvocato veneziano” delineato come il tipo ideale dell’avvocato. Gli scritti italiani più importanti dedicati a Goldoni avvocato, scarsamente  ricordati nelle bibliografie goldoniane, sono opere di due studiosi parenti di C. Il primo è l’articolo “Goldoni avvocato” di Pascolato il secondo è di Cevolotto, avvocato di Treviso  Pascolato rifiuta la tesi che Goldoni sia stato un dilettante della giurisprudenza ed afferma la reale e profonda cultura giuridica attestata dall’esercizio dell’attività forense a Pisa dove vinse persino tre cause in un mese e che evidenziano il carattere schietto e buono anche in mezzo ai volumi dei dottori; Cervolotto esamina gli studi giuridici di Goldoni di tre anni a Pavia, ad Udine, la sua attività di coadiutore del cancelliere criminale a Chioggia e la sua laurea in legge a Padova. Un capitolo è dedicato alla attività professionale a Pisa dove esercitò più nel criminale che nel civile. Il penultimo capitolo è dedicato all’esame degli aspetti giuridici delle commedie goldoniane specie la commedia “L’Avvocato veneziano” che costituisce una esaltazione del foro veneto e altre note commedie. Cervolotto ritiene che Goldoni fu senza dubbio giurista, oltre che avvocato di valore non certo mediocre o comune evidenziando i buoni studi benché saltuari da lui compiuti e la sua conoscenza di molte questioni giuridiche presenti nelle sue opere. Cattaneo cita anche gli studiCozzi  e di Zennaro  Il secondo capitolo è intitolato “Goldoni, la procedura criminale e Il problema penale”  e C. riporta un passo dei “Mémoires” di Goldoni che tratta il tema della procedura criminale ed è commentato dal Pascolato che rileva che <<quella procedura criminale, colla continua ricerca della verità, coll’assiduo studio dei caratteri, lo aveva ammaliato: è una lezione interessantissima per lo studio dell’uomo. Di verità e di caratteri Goldoni faceva allora provvisione per i giorni, ancora lontani, della sua gloria. E intanto voleva diventare cancelliere  Goldoni sottolinea la presenza nel diritto vigente di limiti posti all’inquisizione dell’imputato, a tutela di questi ma non appaiono nelle sue opere chiari intenti riformatori della procedura criminale. IL terzo capitolo è intitolato “L’Avvocato veneziano: Goldoni fra diritto civile e diritto naturale” C. rileva che Goldoni stesso mette in rilevo i due fondamentali temi della commedia: la difesa della onorabilità della professione forense mettendo in scena la figura di un avvocato onesto ed onorato e la contrapposizione di due sistemi giuridici e giudiziari, quello di diritto comune e quello veneto, dando a quest’ultimo la preferenza;  la commedia come è stato evidenziato da alcuni studiosi, rompe una tradizione letteraria e teatrale di derisione e messa in cattiva luce della figura dell’avvocato, dell’uomo di legge che troveremo invece nella figura completamente negativa del dottor Azzeccagarbugli ne “I Promessi sposi”   Il quarto capitolo si intitola “Il giusnaturalismo illuministico di Goldoni: La Pamela e altre opere”  C. rileva che le radici illuministiche e giusnaturalistiche  del Goldoni si manifestano in rapporto alla procedura penale, al diritto penale, al problema delle fonti del diritto, ai rapporti fra la funzione del giudice e le opinioni dei giuristi. Il giusnaturalismo e l’Illuminismo di Goldoni si manifestano soprattutto nelle opere teatrali aventi come oggetto, o come sottofondo, il tema fondamentale della uguaglianza fra gli uomini, al di là delle differenze fra le classi sociali. Tra le opere significative per questa prospettiva giuridica teatrali emergono “La Pamela”, “Il Cavaliere e la Dama”, “Il Feudatario” “Le femmine puntigliose” il dramma giocoso per musica “I portentosi effetti della Madre Natura” e la tragicommedia (così definita dall’autore stesso) in versi “La bella selvaggia” che trattano il contrasto tra natura e società, infine la commedia in versi “La peruviana” che vengono esaminate negli aspetti più essenzialmente rilevanti sotto il profilo filosofico-giuridico dall’autore   che conclude il capitolo affermando che: “Quando si trattava dei valori supremi, come la pace, anche Goldoni sapeva essere religioso e invocare la grazia del cielo”  La seconda parte del volume è dedicata all’analisi di Alessandro Manzoni.  Il primo capitolo si intitola “Studi su Manzoni e il diritto”  e Cattaneo passa in rassegna gli studi esistenti dedicati espressamente ed esclusivamente o all’idea di giustizia nel pensiero di Manzoni, o agli aspetti giuridici della sua opera. L ‘autore commenta il lungo articolo di Zino, “Il diritto privato nei “ Promessi Sposi”, esamina poi l’articolo di Alessandro Visconti “Il pensiero storico-giuridico di Alessandro Manzoni nelle sue opere”.. Il più importante e più completo studio sul pensiero giuridico di Manzoni è il volume di Roberto Lucifredi. “Manzoni e il diritto”. Tale volume si conclude con alcune considerazioni generali sulla mentalità giuridica di Manzoni e Lucifredi ritiene che Manzoni era molto dotato per lo studio del diritto e sarebbe divenuto un ottimo cultore delle discipline giuridiche, un ottimo magistrato, un ottimo avvocato nel senso più nobile della parola e della funzione.. Nel 1939 Fortunato Rizzi ha pubblicato il volume “Alessandro Manzoni. Il Dolore e la Giustizia”  di cui la terza parte è dedicata al problema della giustizia. Nel 1942 è uscito il saggio di Opocher “ Il problema della giustizia nei Promessi Sposi”  in cui ribadisce che tutto il capolavoro manzoniano è essenzialmente un poema sulla giustizia e conclude affermando: ”I Promessi Sposi non costituiscono soltanto la storia attraverso cui la Provvidenza sana le sofferenze del giusto, ma anche, e vorrei dire soprattutto, la storia attraverso cui la Provvidenza feconda queste sofferenze, facendone lo strumento della redenzione degli oppressori” Nel 1961 il Tanarda ha pubblicato uno scritto “Il diritto nell’opera di Alessandro Manzoni”  in cui ribadisce che Manzoni era cresciuto in una famiglia coperta da una grande aureola giuridica, nipote di Cesare Beccaria, familiare dei Verri, amico di Rosmini; per lo scrittore lombardo l’uso del diritto autentico non può mai contrastare con la morale. Concludo ricordando la  strenna natalizia dell’editore Giuffrè pubblicata in occasione del bicentenario manzoniano con il titolo “<Se  a minacciare un curato c’è penale>”Il diritto nei Promessi Sposi” con saggi di noti docenti quali E. Opocher e Cotta.  In “Valori morali, giustizia, diritto naturale” C. ritiene opportuno esaminare la concezione manzoniana della giustizia, anche nelle sue premesse teoriche sulla base sia di alcuni brani, di pensieri inediti e di scritti di sapore filosofico. Dalla analisi di due postille redatte da Manzoni e da un brano scritto dallo stesso C. deduce che il grande scrittore lombardo esalta la tesi della certezza delle verità morali, tra le quali l’idea del giusto istituendo un paragone tra verità morali e verità matematiche.  Secondo C. questo brano manzoniano è affine alla dottrina platonica delle idee espressa nel dialogo “Parmenide” , vi è inoltre una affinità con Kant che afferma che non è cosa assurda pretendere di far derivare il concetto di virtù dall’esperienza, perché ciò significherebbe fare della virtù qualcosa di ambiguo e di mutevole secondo le circostanza. In realtà è sulla base  della idea di virtù che si giudicano gli esempi empirici di virtù e di comportamento morale.  L’Autore richiama anche la filosofia di Rosmini, il più grande filosofo italiano, la cui filosofia si fonda sull’idea dell’essere e cita un brano del “Nuovo saggio sull’origine delle idee” .Va anche evidenziato che Manzoni ribadisce una sostanziale e piena identità fra morale e religione, come si rileva dalle “Osservazioni sulla morale cattolica “ dedicato alla critica della distinzione fra filosofia morale e teologica. Cattaneo sottolinea che per Manzoni le leggi umane non raggiungono mai la giustizia, viceversa, la religione conduce naturalmente alla giustizia, senza ostacoli, perché si appella alla coscienza, perché porta a dare volontariamente (in vista di un bene futuro), il che non provoca opposizioni, ma solo ringraziamenti e benedizioni.  In “Le gride e l’illuminismo giuridico ne < I Promessi sposi>”.  C. rileva che se il problema morale e religioso della giustizia pervade tutta l’opera di Manzoni, ed in particolare il suo celebre romanzo, Stampa, figliastro dello scrittore lombardo, narra che Manzoni dichiarò che la prima idea del suo romanzo gli venne dalla lettura della grida fatta vedere dal dottor Azzeccagarbugli a Renzo, nella quale sono minacciate pene contro coloro i quali <con tirannide> e con minacce costringono un prete a non celebrare un matrimonio.  Dall’esame dei brani di ”Fermo e Lucia”  e dei “I Promessi sposi” risulta che Manzoni muove una pesante critica al sistema, in quei tempi diffuso, di consorterie e di caste, inoltre, descrivendo criticamente la società e la situazione giuridica di Milano sotto la dominazione spagnola, indica chiaramente il modo in cui le leggi penali non dovrebbero essere e le caratteristiche che le stesse non dovrebbero avere  Il risultato pratico di quella legislazione è da un lato l’impunità del  colpevole e dall’altro la vessazione degli innocenti e dei privati indifesi da parte dell’autorità  Manzoni raccoglie l’eredità dell’Illuminismo giuridico nella critica alla proliferazioni delle leggi e dell’incertezza giuridica, che può sorgere sia dalla mancanza di determinazione precisa delle fattispecie penali, sia dalla enumerazione eccessivamente prolissa dei delitti, a questa critica è connessa la denuncia dell’arbitrio degli esecutori della legge, che possono aumentare a capriccio le pene delle gride ed ai quali è sottoposta ogni mossa dei cittadini  Lo scrittore lombardo critica anche la comminazione di pene sproporzionate, misura considerata ingiusta ed inefficace per la prevenzione dei crimini, l’impunità dei colpevoli è indicata dagli illuministi come il risultato pratico che spesso deriva dalla eccessiva severità o crudeltà delle pene.   Il quarto capitolo si intitola  “La critica dell’utilitarismo e della prevenzione sociale”. Cattaneo sottolinea che la sfiducia di Manzoni nella giustizia penale umana si traduce in un atteggiamento critico verso la prevenzione generale come compito e funzione della pena, che si riscontra in numerosi passi de “I Promessi Sposi”; l’autore cita a proposito il brano del capitolo V in cui è inserita la conversazione alla tavola di Don Rodrigo, a cui assiste Padre Cristoforo, relativa al tema della carestia. Il conte Attilio raccoglie la tesi che la carestia dipenda dagli intercettatori e dai fornai che nascondono il grano e ribadisce che bisogna impiccare senza misericordia tali delinquenti senza processi, in tal modo il grano sarebbe saltato fuori da tutte le parti.. Questo brano rappresenta la mentalità violenta ed aggressiva che sta alla base della teoria della pena come <esempio>, cioè una pena esemplare esorbitante rispetto alla effettiva colpevolezza del reo, mirata esclusivamente a <dare un esempio> agli altri, per uno scopo sociale ed utilitaristico; in tal modo viene peraltro giustificata  la punizione dell’innocente. In altri passi del celebre romanzo manzoniano si rileva un atteggiamento mirato ad indicare non solo l’ingiustizia ma anche l’inefficacia e l’inutilità della prevenzione generale, unitamene ad una condanna della moltiplicazione dei supplizi, che finisce per favorire l’impunità, come messo n evidenza dagli scritti di molti giuristi illuministi. Significativo è a riguardo la conversione dell’Innominato e le ragioni per cui il potere pubblico non intende procedere contro lo stesso per i suoi passati delitti, in al modo viene dimostrata l’inefficacia della punizione nel caso di una persona che ha cambiato vita perché questa potrebbe avere solo l’effetto opposto a quello voluto  Nel penultimo capitolo il commento di Manzoni sulla situazione del bando di Renzo dal Ducato di Milano dopo le vicende della giornata di San Martino denota la tesi dell’impunità come risultato dell’eccessiva proliferazione di minacce legislative e del carattere esorbitante, situazione che porta ad una frattura tra il comando legislativo e l’esecuzione della pena.  C. conclude istituendo un parallelo sostanziale ed oggettivo (se pure a qualcuno potrà apparire sforzato) tra Manzoni e Kant, dato che:  “la visione della morale, nonché del diritto, ed in particolare del diritto penale è svolta in una prospettiva anti-empiristica e ani-utilitaristica, ed è caratterizzata da un <liberalismo cristiano >, vòlto a difendere la persona umana da ogni prevenzione collettivistica e <sociale>”   Il quinto capitolo si intitola“ La storia della Colonna Infame”  L’autore ribadisce che il motivo fondamentale della critica conto la ragione di stato, contro l’utilitarismo sociale, contro il prevalere dell’interesse generale  e sociale sui diritti individuali sta alla base dello scritto “Storia della Colonna Infame”  due anni dopo l’edizione definitiva de “I Promessi Sposi”.. Di recente tale opera ha sollevato critiche severe sotto il profilo storiografico e si è accusato il Manzoni di non essere uno storico, ma di guardare alla storia da moralista, sul modello del cosiddetto <astrattismo> illuministico settecentesco, e quindi di non studiare le vicende storiche con partecipazione e simpatia ma di giudicare i comportamenti umani secondo un codice morale superiore Tale critica è stata formalizzata da Benedetto Croce . Dopo una lunga ed attenta analisi dello scritto e di alcuni dei suoi maggiori studiosi C.conclude che i punti di vista in relazione ai quali il volume manzoniano ha dato un importante contributo sono tre:Manzoni ha dato un contributo alla comprensione della storia, affermandone la non inevitabilità e questo punto ha suscitato le maggiori discussioni interpretative e le reazioni negative dei seguaci dello storicismo. Tale scritto manzoniano, come ha sottolineato Rovani, <non è per nulla inferiore alle altre opere del Manzoni, anzi rivela il suo ingegno e la sua dottrina e la profonda sua acutezza anche nelle materie giuridiche>  Tale scritto è un’opera giuridica, è senza dubbio la più giuridica del Manzoni. Il significato più importante del saggio è quello morale, come rilevato da Tenca, Rovani e Passerin d’Entreves e consiste nella difesa del libero arbitrio, della libertà del volere e nella rivendicazione della responsabilità morale dell’uomo. Libertà interiore dell’uomo, responsabilità morale, dignità umana; questo è il trinomio in cui Manzoni fonda la sua lezione morale o, come potremmo dire, la sua lezione etico-giuridica   Il sesto capitolo si intitola “Manzoni e la criminologia”  L’autore evidenzia che l’analisi della “Storia della Colonna Infame” ha portato a mettere in rilievo l’idea del libero arbitrio dell’uomo quale elemento centrale dell’impostazione manzoniana dei problemi giuridico-penali, della sua condanna dell’operato dei giudici milanesi. Vi sono studiosi come Graf e Sergi  che hanno creduto di vedere in tale opera di Manzoni ed in alcune figure di criminali de “I Promessi Sposi” dei precorrimenti delle correnti criminologiche sviluppatesi nell’ambito della Scuola positiva di diritto penale, che, rileva Cattaneo, ha respinto l’idea del libero arbitrio dal problema dell’imputabilità penale ed ha seguito la strada del determinismo. L’autore esamina in particolare lo scritto di C Leggiadri Laura “Il delinquente ne <Promessi Sposi> rivolto ad interpretare il pensiero manzoniano in chiave naturalistico-deterministica   e lo scritto del Preve “Manzoni penalista” che segue l’interpretazione del Leggiadri Laura e delinea nelle figure dei criminali del romanzo i tipi classificati dalla scienza lombrosiana. Dopo un attento esame critico di numerosi passi delle opere dei due autori prima citati e di altri studiosi  C. conclude che non ritiene valida la concezione di Manzoni come precursore del positivismo penale e criminologico, dato che per i positivisti non è questione di giustizia e di libertà del volere, bensì di determinismo e di difesa sociale. In “Manzoni teorico generale del diritto?”, secondo C.,  la forma mentis giuridica di Manzoni appare evidente anche negli scritti storici e storico-giuridici, in particolare essa si manifesta in modo tipico nel “Discorso sur alcuni punti della storia longobardica in Italia”  oltre che nello scritto postumo sulla Rivoluzione francese. C. mette in evidenza un aspetto meno noto che è peraltro presente nel libro: le osservazioni concernenti il rapporto tra Romani e Longobardi e le leggi regolanti la loro convivenza, osservazioni che sono di natura di una teoria generale del diritto. Le osservazioni riguardano  in particolare la concessione data agli Italiani di vivere secondo la legge romana che fu considerata dal Muratori <un bel tratto di clemenza, e una prova, fra le mole, della dolcezza e saviezza dei conquistatori longobardi> Manzoni dimostra una sensibilità moderna perché si preoccupa secondo C. di rendersi conto di come fosse strutturato l’ordinamento giuridico sotto i Longobardi e evidenzia la <struttura a gradi> dell’ordinamento giuridico, per dirla come Kelsen  e definisce alcune norme <leggi costituzionali>, le leggi così designate sono le <norme di competenza> di Ross  e le norme secondarie di Hart, cioè le norme che conferiscono il potere di emanare, modificare, abrogare le altre norme, concernenti direttamente il comportamento dei cittadini. Manzoni si preoccupa di esaminare quali fossero le norme di statuto, di competenza o secondarie, espressione del potere longobardo, le quali regolavano la permanenza delle leggi romane, che regolavano il comportamento dei cittadini di origine romana.  L’ottavo capitola si intitola “Manzoni e la Rivoluzione francese”  Il rapporto tra Manzoni e la Rivoluzione francese durò in varie forme per tutta la vita del letterato lombardo. Questi visse molti anni in Francia nel periodo napoleonico,  scrive il “Trionfo della Libertà“ un poemetto di sentimenti giacobini ed anti-monarchici  con la condanna delle spietate repressioni penali. Nel ”5 Maggio” Manzoni fornisce un giudizio equanime su Napoleone  dapprima glorioso e poi rapidamente caduto e rileva la caducità degli idoli umani  Nel dialogo “Dell’Invenzione” Manzoni  esamina la figura di Robespierre ed abbandona il cupo giudizio di <mostro> del politico francese pur non abbandonando la tesi di una responsabilità avuta da Robespierre nel Terrore ridimensionata dalle moderne storiografie  Lo studio che esprime nel modo più chiaro il rapporto di Manzoni con la Rivoluzione francese è il saggio pubblicato postumo a cura di Ruggero Bonghi “La rivoluzione francese  e la rivoluzione italiana”   I motivi su cui si basa La critica di Manzoni alla Rivoluzione francese sono  La mancanza di un giusto motivo per la distruzione del governo di Luigi XVI e di una autorità competente nei deputati del Terzo Stato che ne furono gli autori. Questa distruzione avvenne indirettamente ma effettivamente in conseguenza dei loro atti. Il nesso di queste cause con gli effetti indicati Le riforme legittime, sentite dal popolo francese, avrebbero potuto avvenire per vie pacifiche e legali;  Manzoni peraltro non si rende conto che la sua critica non tiene conto della situazione dell’ancien régime, in cui il potere trovava la legittimità dal diritto divino mentre la critica da lui avanzata è accettabile entro i presupposi giuridico-costituzionali creati dalla Rivoluzione francese  Il letterato lombardo sottolinea l’aumento del dispotismo  dal Terrore, al Direttorio, al bonapartismo come risultato immediato degli atti iniziali della Rivoluzione francese. Trattando della “Dichiarazione francese dei diritti dell’uomo” Manzoni discute il suo rapporto con la precedente Dichiarazione americana sottolineando le differenze. Lo scritto di Manzoni ha senza dubbio il merito di evidenziare il contrasto fra gli ideali e le realizzazioni pratiche della Rivoluzione francese, nella sua critica lo scrittore lombardo critica, come in altre opere, il potere politico umano che riveste in forme giuridiche la sostanza dell’arbitrio e della prepotenza ed ad esso contrappone il valore assoluto dell’idea del diritto, che è <una verità>  Tale considerazione induce C. a proporre un altro parallelo fra la posizione di Manzoni e quelle di Kant e Robespierre. Kant ha negato il diritto di un popolo alla rivoluzione ed ha considerato l’esecuzione di Luigi XVI un crimine inespiabile ma nello stesso tempo è stato un convinto sostenitore della Rivoluzione francese; Robespierre <rivoluzionario legalitario, giudicato non equamente dal Manzoni, fu un uomo dal forte sentimento giuridico e, nel momento della sua caduta,pur  proscritto e ricercato all’Hotel de la Ville, benché fosse esortato dagli amici a redigere un appello all’insurrezione popolare esitò e si chiese <Au nom de qui?>   come è attestato dalla sorella Charlotte  Nella lunga ed articolata conclusione  C. ribadisce che il pensiero giuridico di due letterati ha numerosi elementi in comune e svolge alcune considerazioni sul metodo seguito. L’autore evidenzia che il suo saggio ha <un taglio diverso> dagli studi citati sull’attività forense di Goldoni, sul significato riformatore delle sue commedie e sulle implicazioni politiche del pensiero di  Manzoni. Il punto di vista seguito nel volume dal docente è quello della considerazione a un lato del diritto come <categoria autonoma>, dotato delle sue specifiche caratteristiche e dall’altro del diritto inteso come fondato filosoficamente, posto in relazione con problemi storici, politici e sociali. Lo studio degli aspetti giuridici e dei problema del diritto nl pensiero e nell’opera di Goldoni e Manzoni non è stato disgiunto all’esame dei temi della riforma sociale e della riflessione politica nella loro attività letteraria. Il punto di vista seguito sempre dall’autore , come da lui steso dichiarato, è stato quindi¨<quello dell’ autonomia del diritto , ma non inteso secondo una prospettiva meramente logico-formale, bensì basato su una fondazione filosofica, e dotato di rilevanza politica. . L’angolo visuale usato come punto di riferimento per i due letterati è l’illuminismo giuridico. L’illuminismo  è coevo di Goldoni, che anticipa Rousseau nella proclamazione del principio dell’uguaglianza naturale ed è aperto al problema della riforma sociale,come è riconosciuto da numerosi interpreti delle sue opere. I rapporti tra Goldoni e l’illuminismo giuridico sono più evidenti nel passo dei “Mémoires “ sulla procedura criminale e nelle commedie L’uomo prudente e L’Avvocato veneziano . Manzoni è posteriore all’illuminismo ma l’autore ha cercato di indicare la presenza di una eredità Illuministica, con riferimento ai problemi giuridici, ne “I Promessi sposi” e nella “Storia della Colonna infame” dove peraltro sono presenti degli elementi di superamento delle concezioni illuministiche.  Il docente ritiene di rifiutare la tesi diffusa di coloro che interpretano Manzoni esclusivamente dall’angolo visuale della linea agostiniana-pascaliana con venature giansenistiche negando il profondo legame con l’illuminismo, in realtà Manzoni si dimostra erede dell’illuminismo per l’habitus mentale razionalistico del suo pensiero, per la sua considerazione della ragione e per la sua ricerca delle radici razionali della fede; in tal modo il grande scrittore lombardo fa propria l’eredità migliore dell’illuminismo, il filone etico-religioso che si contrappone al filone ateo e materialistico  di alcune correnti.   Ragonese   e Caretti  hanno bene sottolineato i rapporti tra Manzoni  e l’illuminismo. C. conclude il suo saggio ribadendo che il motivo comune fondamentale di Goldoni e Manzoni è il principio cristiano ed illuministico (e kantiano) della dignità umana.  In Goldoni questo principio è meno evidente ma è legato soprattutto all’idea della comune natura umana, al di là delle differenze sociali, che appare in numerose commedie ed opere drammatiche, in Manzoni la difesa della dignità umana è svolta ad un livello di maggior profondità ed è connessa ad una prospettiva religiosa come traspare chiaramente dal testo recitato dal coro de “Il Conte di Carmagnola”   Nella Appendice  viene riproposto lo studio di Pascolato “ Goldoni Avvocato” pubblicato su “Nuova Antologia” Cattaneo pubblica “Suggestioni penalistiche in testi letterari”. Il libro, che  è dedicato alla memoria del Prof. Renato Treves, per molti anni ordinario di Filosofia del Diritto all’Università degli Studi di Milano, tratta le opere di numerosi letterati. Il libro, che si articola in 12 capitoli ed una appendice, tratta di  scrittori  che nelle loro opere hanno affrontato il  tema della pena o problemi di natura giuridica. Il lavoro, rileva l’Autore, non ha avuto una genesi unitaria  Il primo saggio scritto riguardava Parini, un “poeta civile” rappresentante di un Illuminismo cristiano ed equilibrato, è seguito il saggio su Collodi, l’uomo del Risorgimento che ha combattuto a Curtatone e che mostra nel suo aperto scetticismo nei confronti della legge e dell’autorità costituita una opinione diffusa di molti uomini dell’Italia post-unitaria tra cui il grande giurista liberale Carrara..Il terzo saggio è stato dedicato a Foscolo che nello scritto < L’orazione sulla giustizia> ed altri due scritti <La difesa del sergente Armani> ed <una lettera al “Monitore Italiano”> tratta problemi relativi alla pena  Il primo saggio del volume si intitola “Studi Dante e il diritto penale”  Lo studio riguarda il rapporto tra il grande poeta ALIGHIERI ed il diritto penale.. C. rileva che gli studi di storici e filosofi del diritto che hanno trattato il pensiero giuridico di Dante hanno trascurato l’aspetto penalistico. ALIGHIERI non si è occupato di diritto penale ma l’analisi del suo capolavoro mostra un elaborato sistema di rapporti tra colpa e pena. Numerosi studiosi hanno rilevato che le pene crudeli descritte nell’Inferno del poema dantesco sono molto lontane dalle prospettive della legislazione penale moderna anche se occorre distinguere tra la prospettiva morale e religiosa del poema dantesco e le finalità delle legislazioni penali attuali Dante peraltro opera una distinzione tra peccati puniti fuori e dentro la città di Dite che può corrispondere  ad una distinzione tra peccati e delitti, il più rilevante contributo indiretto dato da Dante al diritto penale è il criterio di graduazione delle gravità delle colpe e le corrispondenti pene come è stato evidenziato da Vecchio. Il maggior contributo diretto di  Dante alla cultura giuridica moderna sono l’affermazione del principio di uguaglianza e di personalità delle pene e l’affermazione della volontà del volere dell’uomo quale presupposto della conseguente valutazione del merito o del demerito delle sue azioni.  C. conclude che:” Certamente, fare apparire Dante come un grande giurista, un grande penalista, può risultare sforzato e retorico. Ma nello stesso tempo, non è assolutamente possibile e lecito ignorare il contributo, diretto o indiretto, che Dante ha dato anche al diritto penale; la Divina Commedia è un costante punto di riferimento per qualunque problema, religioso, filosofico, umano;  ricordo che mio Padre diceva che nella Commedia <<c’è tutto>>”  Nella introduzione ho accennato a due recenti approfonditi studi su Dante ed il diritto, un tema caro a molti studiosi  Il secondo saggio si intitola “Giuseppe Parini e L’Illuminismo giuridico”.   C. rileva che Parini, sacerdote non per vocazione ma uomo profondamente credente, fu sensibile a numerosi ideali illuministici di riforma civile ed attraverso una delle sue Odi  riprende le idee illuministiche sul diritto penale, che propugnavano il principio umanitario della doverosità della mitigazione delle pene considerando l’inefficacia di pene eccessive in determinati contesti sociali. Vi è dunque una continuità di principi da Parini, cattolico ed illuminista, a Manzoni e Rosmini, cattolici liberali, una continuità di principi ed ideali umanitari relativi al problema della pena e nell’ode Il bisogno è presente una concezione penale cristiana ed illuminista.  C. conclude il suo saggio affermando che Parini poeta civile e morale interpreta il momento migliore dell’Illuminismo e si fa portavoce dei suoi più significativi valori.  In “Foscolo e la giustizia come forza,” C. rileva che notoriamente Foscolo fu un poeta impegnato nelle vicende politiche del suo tempo segnato dalla rivoluzione francese e dall’epopea napoleonica. Negli scritti di natura penalistica  il poeta accoglie i principi della dottrina giuridica illuministica, come la difesa della certezza del diritto ed il rispetto delle garanzie processuali. Foscolo inoltre critica la teoria della retribuzione morale e quella della prevenzione generale. Il quarto capitolo è intitolato. “Le <veglie notturne> di Bonaventura e la critica dei giuristi”  un libro tedesco poco conosciuto in Italia, opera uscita anonima nel 1805 a Penig (Sassonia) presso il poco noto editore F Dienemann, che l’aveva pubblicata nel suo <Journal von neuen deutschen Original Romanen>. C. evidenzia che nelle pagine dedicate a temi giuridici viene messo in rilievo l’invito a rendere il diritto più umano ed a metterlo al servizio degli uomini. La descrizione del giudice freddo paragonato ad una macchina o ad una marionetta, il rimprovero ai giuristi che si assumono il compito di tormentare i corpi, come i teologhi tormentano le anime, l’uccisione della giustizia da parte dei tribunali, il richiamo al diritto naturale, che dovrebbe essere il vero diritto positivo, la critica di una giurisprudenza svincolata dalla morale  sono chiari segnali di una aspirazione ad umanizzare il diritto, specie quello penale. In “Heine e la satira delle teorie della pena”, C. analizza il breve scritto che Heine aveva aggiunto quale appendice al suo volume “ Lutezia”Lo scritto è dedicato  al problema della riforma delle prigioni ed alla legislazione penale e porta il titolo <Gefaengnisreform und Strafgesetzgebung>.  Il saggio, pur nella brevità, è un esame attento delle teorie fondamentali della pena. C. suggerisce  che l’analisi critica del poeta si traduce in una satira delle dottrine della retribuzione, dell’intimidazione e dell’emenda e coglie i punti centrali di tali concezioni. Heine sottolinea l’ingiustizia della teoria dell’intimidazione generale  ed evidenzia il carattere patriarcale e paternalistico delle teoria dell’emenda. Nell’esaminare il principio di una prevenzione dei delitti commessi con mezzi diversi dalla pena, Heine ritiene che bisogna agire con durezza, reclusione ed addirittura con la pena di morte concepite come prospettiva di difesa sociale. C. rileva che è sempre più chiara e più facile la parte negativa della filosofia penale, cioè la critica delle dottrine sulle pena che la parte costruttiva  cioè l’indicazione di un fine positivo nella funzione penale.  Heine critica inoltre il sistema carcerario filadelfiano e quello auburniano  In “Victor Hugo e la pena come fonte di delitti,” C. rileva che il problema giuridico penale è presente nell’opera letteraria di Hugo con una severa critica del sistema penale dell’epoca e la sua difesa della dignità dell’uomo. Il problema emerge chiaramente nel celebre romanzo “Les Miserables”  e nel suo protagonista l’ex-forzato Jean Valjean. Il romanzo affronta il problema di una pena sproporzionata ed inumana, che è causa di nuovi delitti e di una spirale indefinita di reati e pene successive. Il tema è sviluppato nella figura centrale di Valjean.  Tutte le tragiche vicende del protagonista nascono da un tentativo di furto dovuto alla miseria ed alla fame; a causa del furto di un pezzo di pane,che poi viene gettato via,Valjean è condannato a 5 anni di detenzione e, in seguito a tre successive evasioni di breve durata, la sua detenzione dura ben 19 anni.  Vi è una enorme sproporzione  tra il danno causato dal reato e la pena che trasforma ed indurisce Valjean, la cui psicologia viene analizzata in profondità da Hugo. La pena continua a gravare su Valjean anche dopo la liberazione per cui questi riesce a lavorare solo per una giornata data la sua qualità di ex-forzato. Hugo critica sia l’atteggiamento di diffida e di rifiuto di tutta la popolazione sia la macchia di infamia stabilita dalla legge. C. rileva che è ammirabile la battaglia combattuta da Hugo contro la pena di morte, la sua  denuncia della sproporzione tra la gravità dei delitti e le pene, la critica dell’assurdo criterio nel valutare la recidiva. Queste battaglie  sono importanti contributi all’evoluzione del diritto penale ed alla difesa della dignità umana.  In “Dostoevskij la coscienza e la pena,” C.  evidenzia la centralità del tema del delitto, della colpa e della pena nello scrittore russo, come è stato rilevato nel profondo scritto di Italo Mancini, che ha evidenziato sia la validità di una ricerca su Dostoevskij pensatore e filosofo sia  che per lo scrittore russo < la questione penale non rappresenta solo un contenuto ma il contenuto>. Gobetti a proposito dei personaggi dello scrittore russo ha rilevato che <I suoi personaggi non si sforzano mai di arrivare ad una verità, ma piuttosto di chiarire e capire sé stessi>>  Nel volume “I ricordi della casa dei morti “ lo scrittore russo ricorda l’esperienza personale della prigionia in Siberia e sottolinea chiaramente l’incapacità  del carcere di procurare l’emenda del reo dato che Dostoevskij rileva che nel corso di parecchi anni non ha visto tra quella gente il minimo segno di pentimento, il minimo rimorso per il delitto commesso; lo scrittore russo  indica anche nella solitudine e nella mancanza di privatezza un elemento di particolare tormento della prigione.  Il lavoro nella prigione, rileva lo scrittore russo,  non era faticoso ma era penoso perché obbligato sotto la minaccia di un bastone. Dostoevskij evidenzia anche l’ineguaglianza della pena per i medesimi delitti in relazione alla classe sociale, da cui deriva l’ingiustizia e l’inefficacia della pena. Radicale è la sua critica svolta nei confronti del regolamento carcerario e del comportamento ottuso e crudele delle guardie carcerarie, severo è il giudizio sulla prassi della fustigazione definita una piaga della società> Nel <L’idiota>  lo scrittore russo pone un giudizio duro e severo  sulla pena di morte in bocca al principe  Miskin nelle prime pagine del romanzo. Nel brano Dostoevskij sottolinea la svalutazione del carattere meno afflittivo della decapitazione rispetto ai supplizi accompagnati da tormenti e la sofferenza morale generata dalla attesa della esecuzione, che è peggiore della sofferenza fisica. Nel romanzo “Delitto e castigo”  Dostoevskij evidenzia la tesi della necessità della pena giuridica quale espiazione della colpa e come risultato del rimorso avvertito dal colpevole.  La trama del romanzo mette in luce la progressiva conversione, il rimorso e la ricerca di espiazione del colpevole. Cattaneo sottolinea che il Leitmotiv del celebre romanzo è la ricerca della espiazione sulla base di una spinta interiore e del rimorso e che  tale impostazione pone lo scrittore russo sulla linea del Platone del Gorgia e di BOEZIO nel <Consolatio philosophiae>. La conclusione giuridica processuale del romanzo rileva una sensibilità giuridica moderna che pende in considerazione le circostanze attenuanti, le cause sociali, psicologiche e morali del delitto ed il recupero morale e sociale del colpevole. Il finale giuridico evidenzia la complessità del problema penale e l’interesse di Dostoevskij, spirito umanitario e riformatore,  per la riforma del procedimento penale, d’altra parte, sul piano morale, rileva il  desiderio di espiazione che conduce all’emenda.  Dostoevskij  manifesta l’atteggiamento del cristiano che si sente corresponsabile delle colpe degli altri e riprende le parole di Cristo “Chi di voi è senza peccato, scagli la prima pietra contro di lei” C. ribadisce che per Dostoevskij il punto che più conta è il rimorso per la colpa commessa e la auto-condanna da parte del delinquente. La pena giuridica non ha rilevanza, ciò che conta è il processo di autocondanna, di espiazione e di redenzione che avviene nella coscienza del colpevole. In “Tolstoj e la abolizione della pena,” C.  ribadisce che lo scrittore russo postula una radicale abolizione del diritto penale in una prospettiva di amore cristiano e di non violenza. I temi giuridici vengono affrontati da Tolstoj un due opere “Resurrezione” e la novella “Il racconto di Koni”.  Il romanzo Resurrezione  è fondato su una vicenda processuale, la condanna ad alcuni anni di deportazione in Siberia della protagonista Ekaterina Maslova, diventata prostituta a seguito di tristi vicende. Tolstoj analizza il processo e la successiva pena dei forzati deportati ed evidenzia che negli istituti di pena gli uomini erano sottoposti ad ogni genere di umiliazioni inutili, catene, teste rasate, divise infamanti per cui si inculcava l’idea che qualsiasi violenza, crudeltà e atrocità era autorizzata dal governo per chi si trovava in prigionia nella sventura. Lo scrittore sottolinea il distacco tra la condanna e la concreta esecuzione della pena con le sue brutalità. In Tolstoj il tema fondamentale è l’indicazione dell’ingiustizia dell’intero sistema repressivo-penale e la sottolineatura delle cause sociali dei delitti come Victor Hugo.  Lo scrittore  suggerisce anche la necessità di abolire la pena e sostituirla con il perdono, un ideale sublime ma difficile da realizzare in pratica e che indica tutta la complessità del problema, C. si chiede se si tratta “del sogno di un visionario, una utopia generosa o di un ideale verso cui la società deve tendere.”  In “Pinocchio e il diritto”, C. rileva che l’opera di Collodi è stata oggetto di numerose indagini . Le ricerche sulla natura pedagogica ed educativa sono state sviluppate da Bertacchini, Il testo di Collodi è stato esaminato sotto il profilo filosofico e teologico nei due volumi scritti da Frosini e Biffi . Frosini evidenzia che: << Il mito di Pinocchio si rivela……come un mito  tipicamente risorgimentale,  al tramonto di un’epoca; e anzi proprio di un risorgimentalismo di stampo repubblicano e mazziniano>> basato su principi di umanitarismo positivistico. Biffi sottolinea che Pinocchio fu scritto quando l’Italia era unita politicamente ma non era una nazione consapevole di sé e concorde sui valori che danno senso alla vita. Il Collodi aveva un cuore più grande delle sue persuasioni, un carisma profetico più alto della sua militanza politica, così poté porsi in comunione forse ignara con la fede dei suoi padri e con la vera filosofia del suo popolo. . La lettura di Pinocchio evidenzia interessanti problemi e temi di natura giuridica e filosofico-giuridica e lo scritto di Cattaneo evidenzia soprattutto i temi più rilevanti dal punto di vista penalistico.  Cattaneo sottolinea che Lorenzini (ovvero Collodi) era un fine umorista  che sapeva cogliere il lato ridicolo ed insieme  doloroso della vita umana (opinione espressa anche da Lina Passarella nel suo scritto prima citato su Goldoni filosofo), e cita  ad esempio l’episodio dei pareri opposti dei medici al capezzale di Pinocchio in casa della Fata dal Corvo e dalla Civetta e quello della condanna del burattino derubato degli zecchini dal giudice-scimmione. Pinocchio scappa di casa ed è acciuffato da un carabiniere  per il naso (Cattaneo rileva in tal modo la naturale predisposizione dei cittadini ad essere oggetto delle interferenza da parte del potere); dopo la riconsegna di Pinocchio a Geppetto e le sue proteste il carabiniere, a seguito dei commenti della gente, rimette in libertà il burattino e conduce in prigione Geppetto che piange disperatamente. L’episodio mostra un membro dell’apparato giudiziario che arresta Geppetto sulla base delle opinioni della <voce pubblica> compiendo un atto arbitrario senza motivazioni precise e mostra un innocente debole ed inerme che non riesce a difendersi di fronte all’atto arbitrario del potere.  Un altro episodio interessante è narrato nel capitolo XXVII, dove si descrive la battaglia con i libri di testo fra Pinocchio ed i suoi compagni. Un grosso volume scagliato verso Pinocchio colpisce alla tesa un compagno che cade come morto. Tutti i ragazzi fuggono e rimane Pinocchio a soccorrere il compagno. Arrivano due carabinieri che,dopo un breve colloquio, arrestano Pinocchio malgrado le sue dichiarazioni di innocenza. Il burattino fugge inseguito dal cane Alidoro al quale salva la vita mentre stava per annegare. Cattaneo evidenzia a riguardo che la vittima del potere è l’innocente, l’unico trovato vicino ad Eugenio, che viene arrestato perché le circostanze sono contro di lui La frase dei carabinieri “Basta così” è commentata da Biffi che evidenzia che l’invito a ragionare insospettisce spesso l’autorità, la quale è incline a tagliar corto. In molte vicende giudiziarie si nota che una concatenazione di indizi sfavorevoli dà l’avvio a processi indiziari seguiti da condanne di persone innocenti.  Un altro episodio clamoroso di palese ingiustizia è la vicenda che conclude il rapporto tra Pinocchio ed il due truffatori La Volpe ed il Gatto.  Pinocchio incontra la Volpe ed il Gatto e viene convinto a seminare i 4 zecchini d’oro nel Campo dei miracoli vicino alla città di Acchiappacitrulli. Tale città descritta minuziosamente  da Collodi  è,secondo C., e il simbolo dell’ingiustizia e di un diritto positivo basato sul puro potere politico; tale città esprime in modo chiaro il pericolo del prevalere della politica sulla giustizia  nella amministrazione della giustizia, come dimostra l’episodio giudiziario che riguarda Pinocchio. Pinocchio accortosi di essere stato derubato delle monete d’oro torna in città e denunzia al giudice i due malandrini che lo avevano derubato, ma,invece di ottenere giustizia, è vittima di una tragica beffa.  Il giudice scimmione, al quale Pinocchio si era rivolto,  ordina che il burattino  venga messo in prigione. L’ordine viene eseguito da due mastini che tappano la bocca al burattino, il quale resta 4 mesi in prigione e viene liberato a seguito di una vittoria dell’imperatore della città di Acchiappacitrulli.  Per ottenere la libertà Pinocchio dichiara al carceriere di appartenere al numero dei malandrini e così viene salutato rispettosamente e può scappare. C. rileva che la figura dello scimmione sottolinea la miseria della giustizia umana ed il carattere insoddisfacente dei tribunali umani dove, come scrive Platone, si discute sulle “ombre della giustizia” Biffi nel suo volume rileva dapprima l’aspetto positivo della figura del giudice che è descritto come un personaggio rispettabile, benevolo, attento al racconto del burattino, successivamente Biffi sottolinea che la figura dello scimmione della razza dei gorilla rappresenta la caricaturalità della giustizia terrena rispetto a quella vera, per cui  il giudice finisce con applicare la legge umana che con i suoi meccanismi colpisce il debole anche se innocente. Cattaneo rileva che la situazione proposta da Collodi ricorda quella descritta da Manzoni ne I Promessi Sposi dove i violenti erano organizzati e protetti ed i deboli, non sorretti da consorterie, erano vittime dei soprusi del potere.   La lettura di Pinocchio di Collodi ed in particolare di alcuni brani può dar luogo a considerazioni di natura filosofico-giuridica e giuridico- penale, come suggerisce acutamente  C. nel suo volume. Merito indubbio di Collodi è descrivere alcune situazioni caratterizzate da abuso di potere, oppressione dei deboli e sfasamento dei corretti rapporti stabiliti dagli ordinamenti giuridici, come del resto è stato rilevato da numerosi importanti interpreti. E’ opportuno sottolineare che il capolavoro di Collodi, come molte altre opere letterarie, affronta importanti problemi giuridici tra i quali va segnalata l’importante e costante aspirazione perenne che la legge in essere non sia solo la volontà del gruppo sociale dominante, una forma di controllo sociale, e che inoltre l’ordinamento giuridico tuteli la dignità e le aspirazioni degli uomini come attesta la storia del diritto. Il capitolo decimo è intitolato “Wilde e le sofferenze del prigione”  Wilde in alcune sue opere ha descritto la sua penosa esperienza carceraria ed il clima del carcere., lo scrittore inglese fu condannato a due anni di carcere che scontò interamente.  C. evidenzia che <Wilde fu il tipico capro espiatorio dell’ipocrisia della società vittoriana> Lo stesso letterato nel <De Profundis>,  redatto in carcere, attesta di essere passato dalla gloria all’infamia con un mutamento dell’opinione pubblica dalla esaltazione al disprezzo. Le osservazioni di Wilde sul problema della pena nel suo celebre <De Profundis> e nella accorata <The Ballad of Reading Gaol> hanno fornito un importante contributo alla battaglia per la riforma del sistema carcerario. Il volume <De profundis> fu redatto da Wilde negli ultimi anni carcere. L’opera è redatta sotto forma di lettera all’amico Alfred Douglas <Bosie> e contiene molti rimproveri all’amico per i suoi atteggiamenti durante il processo ed il successivo carcere. L’opera, dopo molte controversie, fu pubblicata definitivamente nel 1949 dal figlio di Wilde Vyvyan Holland. All’inizio dell’opera Wilde rimprovera l’amico Douglas   e soprattutto sé stesso e riflette sul suo stato di persona imprigionata e rovinata <a disgraced and ruined man>   lo angoscia dopo la sentenza e l’esperienza carceraria e e. Lo scrittore inglese rileva che per chi vive in carcere la sofferenza che lo domina è la misura stessa del tempo ed il fondamento del proprio continuare ad esistere  Wilde evidenzia che la terribile esperienza in prigione sia stata per lui più dolorosa che per altri e si e si lamenta per la perdita della patria potestà sui due figli e rimarca l’ingiustizia di tale procedimento che incrina il rapporto familiare. Lo scrittore rileva che per i poveri la prigione è un dramma che tuttavia suscita peraltro la simpatia delle altre persone mentre per gli uomini del suo ceto la prigione li rende dei <paria>, per cui i condannati di ceto abbiente non hanno più diritto all’aria ed al sole,la loro presenza infetta i piaceri degli altri e bisogna tagliare i legami con l’esterno dato che l’onore e la reputazione della persona condannata è leso.   Wilde evidenzia anche che molte persone,quando escono di prigione, nascondono il fatto di essere stati in carcere che considerano una sciagura e, rileva lo scrittore inglese,, è orribile che la società li costringa a tale comportamento. La società ha il diritto di punire i colpevoli ma non riesce a completare ciò che ha fatto e lascia l’uomo al termine della pena, quando dovrebbe iniziare la riabilitazione, sarebbe giusto invece che non ci fosse amarezza o rancore tra le parti (colpevoli e vittime). Cattaneo evidenzia l’ipocrisia che sta dietro l’idea della retribuzione morale  e cioè che subendo la pena il colpevole abbia pagato il suo debito verso la società, se si applicasse tale principio, dopo la fine della pena tutto dovrebbe cessare e non dovrebbero esservi più né fedine penali né casellari giudiziari. Nella realtà comune resta una macchia sulla persona che è stata in carcere, un pregiudizio che la società perpetua e l’onta non deriva dal delitto commesso ma dalla pena scontata. La società riconosce implicitamente l’inutilità della pena perché l’onta del colpevole incarcerato rimane. Analizzando la vita in carcere Wilde sottolinea che le privazioni e restrizioni del carcere rendono una persona ribelle ed impietrisce i cuori dei condannati. L’abito dei carcerati li rende grotteschi come clowns, oggetto di derisione e berlina della gente. Tali sofferenze ed umiliazioni dei condannati sono contrari al principio della dignità umana che Wilde riafferma come profonda esigenza morale della società. Lo scrittore afferma anche che tutti i processi sono processi per la propria vita e tutte le sentenze sono sentenze di morte; spesso anche una condanna alla prigione genera delle sofferenze che conducono alla morte e va rilevato che Wilde stesso morì pochi anni dopo il carcere in Francia . Wilde scrisse anche <The Ballad of Reading Goal> , l’anno del suo rilascio. in questa lunga ballata il poeta inglese descrive le  sofferenze e le crudeltà cui aveva assistito durante la prigionia e dalle sue considerazioni sulla triste sorte dei carcerati risulta un grande senso di pietà per i carcerati ed i condannati a morte. La poesia è pervasa da spirito religioso e Wilde mette in confronto il vero spirito cristiano, la pietà per i sofferenti ed i peccatori con l’atteggiamento chiuso, duro ed indifferente delle istituzioni religiose ufficiali e dei cappellani delle carceri . Cattaneo rileva che la tragica esperienza personale ha portato Wilde ad affrontare il tema della riforma delle prigioni e del sistema penale del quale si era occupato nello scritto “The soul of man under socialism” . Dalle riflessioni dello scrittore inglese redatte nelle opere dopo il carcere si ricava una denuncia della brutalità del trattamento carcerario e della inumanità nell’esecuzione della pena con critiche alla utilità sociale della stessa   In “Gide e il non giudicare,” il problema giuridico-penale è stato esaminato anche da un noto scrittore francese contemporaneo Gide, che lo ha affrontato in tre stimolanti scritti “Souvenir de la Cour d’Assise” che racchiude la sua esperienza quale giurato in alcuni processi penali, “L’affaire Redureau” e “La sequestrée de Poitiers” che poi sono stati pubblicati insieme in una raccolta dal titolo ”Ne jugez pas”  Cattaneo rileva che di tale scritto non si sono occupati molto i critici ed i commentatori, come sempre avviene quando si tratta di problemi giuridici in veste letteraria. L’analisi del volume di Gide è interessante perché il libro è molto rilevante per lo studio di rapporti tra diritto  penale  e letteratura e costituisce delle precise prese di posizione dirette su temi giuridico-penali, desunti dalla realtà della vita. Cattaneo mette in luce l’attenzione, la precisione, la serietà e la preparazione dimostrate dallo scrittore francese nel trattare i temi giuridici, soprattutto per la precisione del linguaggio giuridico. Gide dimostra competenza nel trattare problemi giuridico-penali e probabilmente “l’ indagine di certi casi criminali lo induce all’analisi di talune zone inesplorate della psiche umana”  L’atteggiamento dominante di Gide  è il “favor rei”  che si esprime in due modi o a due livelli: da un lato sul piano processuale lo scrittore volge l’attenzione al rispetto delle garanzie dell’imputato, ad una equilibrata ed equa conduzione dell’interrogatorio, alla escussione di tutti i testimoni, specie quelli della difesa. Lo scrittore francese solleva anche  nei suoi scritti l’esigenza di una riforma del modo di porre le domande ai giurati e di chiarire il loro contenuto. Gide si mostra sempre umano e compassionevole verso i colpevoli, mostra l’esigenza che la pena sia in generale ridotta e che si tenga conto degli elementi che valgono a titolo di difesa, quali motivi di giustificazioni e scuse. Lo scrittore francese si preoccupa che la pena possa causare mali peggiori e cerca di evitare risultati negativi della stessa. C. evidenzia che in sostanza nel libro di Gide “è primaria l’attenzione per l’uomo, la sua complessità e la sua imperscrutabilità psicologica, che porta al dubbio e alla perplessità circa il fatto che alcuni uomini possano giudicare altri uomini, queste pagine sono dunque dominate dal monito evangelico, per cui particolarmente adatto risulta il titolo complessivo della raccolta: Ne jugez pas.”  In “Franz Kafka, la legge e il totalitarismo”   C. ha discusso in molte opere il problema del totalitarismo che è stato analizzato soprattutto nel suo volume “Terrorismo ed arbitrio Il problema giuridico del totalitarismo”  Analizzando le opere di Kafka C. premette che è particolarmente rilevante il pericolo di un forte divario fra la letteratura critica ed interpretativa ed il testo originario dello scrittore per cui ritiene che siano legittime molte diverse interpretazioni dell’opera di Kafka, e molte <chiavi di lettura> ., certamente l’interpretazione più interessante dello scrittore ceco è quella data dall’amico Max Brod,  che evidenzia la religiosità ebraica presente nelle opere di Kafka ed in questa chiave interpreta i brani relativi al problema della legge, del processo e della colpa. Una interpretazione giuridica delle opere di Kafka è stata compiuta da Pernthaler.C. intende esaminare alcune opere di Kafka dalle quali il problema della legge emerge anche dal punto di vista filosofico-giuridico  In tali opere di Kafka ricorre il tema del difficile rapporto dell’uomo con la legge, che è interpretato in chiave religiosa o in chiave psicologica o psicoanalitica ma che può essere analizzato anche dal punto di vista filosofico-giuridico. C. esamina alcuni temi che emergono da “Il Processo”  dall’apologo “Vor dem gesetz”, dallo scritto ”Zur Frage der Gesetze” e dalla novella “In der Strafkolonie” e dall’analisi complessiva di tali opere interpreta Kafka come profeta e critico del totalitarismo che fu instaurato in alcune nazioni dopo la sua morte, lo scrittore ceco delinea situazioni di angoscia, di incertezza, di impossibilità di comunicazione, di errore e di ferocia tipiche del totalitarismo. Kafka collega la burocrazia e l’oppressione del potere sugli uomini caratteristica del nascente totalitarismo . PCitati rileva che <Nel Processo, l’immenso Dio sconosciuto, di cui non ascoltiamo mai pronunciare il nome, ha invece una vita così intensa e un potere così illimitato, come forse non ha ma avuto nei tempi> L’interpretazione di Citati è più psicanalitica che religiosa ma è priva di prospettiva giuridico-politica. Di impronta psicoanalitica è l’interpretazione data da Sgorlon del <Processo> di Kafka  ma la prospettiva giuridico politica, trascurata da questi studiosi, è presente e C.  evidenzia che proprio nel primo capitolo, in cui è narrato l’improvviso arresto mattutino di Joseph K esprime in modo preciso proprio la sensazione del passaggio graduale ed insensibile dallo Stato di diritto allo Stato totalitario .Di seguito le indicazioni che Joseph K riesce a ricevere da parte di vari personaggi connessi al Tribunale concernenti il meccanismo, il funzionamento, l’andamento del processo mettono in luce la totale assenza di garanzie giuridiche e processuali, di tutela dell’imputato, elementi che costituiscono l’esatta antitesi dello Stato di diritto Il tema della inconoscibilità e irragiugibilità delle leggi è ripreso da Kafka nello scritto <Zur Frage der Gesetze> In tale scritto Kafka delle <nostre leggi> che non sono conosciute da tutti, ma sono un segreto del piccolo gruppo della nobiltà che ci domina. Kafka dichiara di non avere in mente tanto gli svantaggi derivanti dalle diverse possibilità di interpretazione, quando questa è riservata ad alcuni e non all’intero popolo, questi svantaggi non sono poi molto grandi. Le leggi sono antiche, secoli hanno lavorato alla loro interpretazione, l’interpretazione è diventata essa stessa legge, e sussistono sempre, benché limitate, alcune libertà di scelta dell’interpretazione  Il motivo dominane l’intero scritto è il carattere inconoscibile della legge, dato che la legge è misteriosa e nessun membro del popolo è in grado di conoscerla per cui è comprensibile che vi sia qualcuno che arriva a negare l’esistenza delle leggi e riconosce peraltro il diritto all’esistenza della nobiltà  La fredda descrizione di uno strumento di supplizio, nell’ambito di un sistema processuale completamente privo delle fondamentali garanzie è il messaggio del racconto <In der Strafkolonie> (Nella colonia penale) e la conclusione della novella di Kafka riflette la logica del totalitarismo per cui quando il viaggiatore comunica all’ufficiale di essere avversario di questo sistema punitivo, l’ufficiale si rende conto di essere rimasto il solo difensore di tale sistema punitivo e libera il soldato dalla macchina del supplizio, si denuda e si pone lui stesso sul lettino al posto del condannato, la macchina del supplizio inizia a funzionare  e l’ufficiale muore senza aver capito il senso del supplizio   come ogni sistema totalitario si autodistrugge e divora i propri figli C. cita la fucilazione dei coniugi Ceausescu operata nell’ambito del totalitarismo comunista. L’Appendice del volume è intitolata “Vaclav Havel e la legge come <<alibi>> nel sistema post-totalitario” Havel, noto scrittore contemporaneo, che è stato Presidente della repubblica cecoslovacca, è autore di numerose opere letterarie e teatrali. C. ritiene che se Kafka rappresenta il tempo del pre-totalitarismo, Havel rappresenta il post-totalitarismo,al quale ha dedicato uno scritto bblicato che l’autore del volume esamina nella traduzione tedesca.  Havel delinea l’opposizione al comunismo, nel suo momento post-totalitario, come tentativo di vivere nella verità; la verità, intesa come opposizione ad un sistema che si fonda e si regge sulla menzogna. Lo scritto ha un carattere etico-politico ma contiene importanti pagine di natura giuridica e di critica dell’ordinamento giuridico proprio del regime totalitario e post-totalitario.  Tale sistema politico è caratterizzato, secondo lo scrittore ceco,  come una dittatura della burocrazia politica su una società livellata. Lo scrittore ceco  elenca le caratteristiche del sistema <post-totalitario> che lo distinguono dalla dittatura tradizionale ed evidenzia che  tale sistema non è delimitato territorialmente ma domina in un ampio blocco di forze ed è retto da una superpotenza  mentre le dittature classiche non hanno una solida radice storica, la radice di tale sistema dono i movimenti operai e socialisti. Tale sistema dispone di una ideologia strutturata ed elastica che ha i caratteri di una religione secolarizzata ed offre una risposta ad ogni domanda dell’uomo in una epoca di crisi delle certezze esistenziali. Alle dittature tradizionali spettano elementi di improvvisazione per quanto attiene alla tecnica del potere mentre lo sviluppo di anni nell’Unione sovietica e di anni nei paesi dell’Est europeo ha dimostrato la creazione di un meccanismo perfetto, che permette la manipolazione diretta ed indiretta della società. La forza di tale sistema è incrementata dalla proprietà statuale  e dalla amministrazione centralizzata dei <mezzi di produzione>  Nella dittatura classica vi è una atmosfera di entusiasmo rivoluzionario, di eroismo, di spirito di sacrificio che sono scomparsi nel blocco sovietico. Tale blocco sovietico, che è un elemento solido del nostro mondo, è caratterizzato dalla stessa gerarchia di valori presenti nei paesi occidentali sviluppati e  sono una forma di società consumistica ed  industriale. Il sistema sopra descritto è designato da Havel come <post-totalitario> perché è un sistema totalitario con caratteristiche diverse dalle dittature classiche e, rispetto al totalitarismo classico, è caratterizzato da una misura più attenuata di terrore ed arbitrio  Havel considera il sistema post-totalitario come caratterizzato dalla menzogna, ciò è un effetto del dominio della ideologia; gli uomini non devono credere alle mistificazioni totalitarie ma tollerarle in silenzio ed accetta, ciò è un vivere nella menzogna  e  lo scrittore insiste sul valore e sul significato morale ed esistenziale della dissidenza. Per quanto riguarda l’ordinamento giuridico nel sistema post-totalitario  lo scrittore rileva  che tale sistema sente la necessità di regolare tutto con una rete di prescrizioni, norme, istituzioni e regolamenti per cui gli uomini sono delle piccole viti di un meccanismo gigantesco.  Le professioni, le abitazioni ed i movimenti dei cittadini e le sue manifestazioni sociali e culturali sono controllate, ogni deviazione viene considerata un passo falso ed una manifestazione di egoismo ed anarchia. Havel rileva che non bisogna prendere alla lettera l’ordinamento giuridico e ciò che conta è< come è la vita> e se le leggi servono alla vita o la opprimono ¸la battaglia per la <legalità> deve vedere questa <legalità> sullo sfondo della vita come è realmente.  Analizzando il rapporto tra la società post-totalitaria e la moderna civiltà tecnologica, con riferimento anche agli scritti di Heidegger, Havel rileva che il sistema post-totalitario è solo un aspetto della generale incapacità dell’uomo contemporaneo di divenire <padrone della propria situazione> e la prospettiva giusta è quella di una <rivoluzione esistenziale> generalmente comprensiva  L’aspetto più interessane di Havel è la delineazione dei caratteri del sistema post-totalitario come fenomeno sorto dall’incontro della dittatura con la società industriale e consumistica.  Per quanto riguarda i problemi giuridici, Cattaneo rileva che Havel sottolinea il significato autentico del diritto, che deve avere coscienza dei propri limiti naturali, il diritto ha un significato esteriore, deve difendere alcune esigenze minime (tutela della convivenza civile dalla violenza e dalle invasioni nei diritti altrui ma non deve pretendere di adempiere a compiti per cui non è adatto  - In tal modo, sottolinea C., il letterato ceco riprende la migliore lezione del liberalismo classico per cui il diritto non è al servizio del potere, ma può essere un valore solo in quanto esso sia un mezzo di difesa e la garanzia della libertà e della dignità dell’uomo   Il grande insegnamento del letterato Havel è la tutela del valore più calpestato dal totalitarismo, la dignità umana che è lo scopo fondamentale ed essenziale del diritto,  dato che diritto e libertà sono collegati ed il diritto ha valore se garantisce e protegge la libertà. DISSERTAZIONÉ • SULL ORIGINE DELL’ANTICA IDOLATRIA E SULLA FORMA DE' PRIMI   IDOLATRICI SIMULACRI   COMPOSTA DALL'ABATE;   Giuseppe luigi traversari   H   Patrizio Ravennate , Canonico Arciprete della Infigne Collegiata di Meldola, e tra gli Arcadi.LANIO' ATENIENSH.     PRESSO GIOSEFFANTONIO ARCHI.  DISSERTAZIONE   SULL' ORIGINE   DELL’ ANTICA IDOLATRIA  E SULLA FORMA DE' PRIMI   IDOLATRICI SIMULACRI. AL NOBILISSIMO CAVALIERE ,   E DOTTISSIMO LETTERATO IL SIGNOR CONTE AURELIO GUARNIERI   PATRIZIO OS1MANO  L’AUTORE. Veneratissimo Signor Conte  fi 'S T fi Aria, intralciata, difficile , e per nju-  /. X no, ch’io fappia, di proposto rifchia-   tt » rata fi è la Queftione , che mi vien pro-   OS A porta a trattare, veneratiffimo Sig. Con-  te ; cioè fe i Simulacri primieri delle pagane divinità fodero lemplici e rozze Pietre, o quadrate, o rotonde, lenza veruna umana, o animalel-  ca ferabianza . Io ricevo con Ibmmo giubbilo per  una parte l’onore de’ voftri cenni, e vi fi) al mag-  gior fegao buon grado per avermeli gentilmente  partecipati . E’ una degnazion Angolare la voftra il  credermi pur capace di l'oddisfarvi in materia di eru-  dizione . Ma per l’ altra ben coaofcendo la pochez-  A 3 za del v/ 6 ' Dksert. sull* Origine   za del mio talento, e la fcartezza di mie cognizioni , provo un eftremo roflòre di non potervi ubbi-  dire in quel modo, che ad un voftro pari, ed alla  qualità dell’ argomento fi converrebbe. Inclinato  per genio all’ amena Letteratura , ma Tempre da im-  pieghi fagri , e da gravi Itudj recinto , e fommer-  lo in occupazioni tutte diverte , lenza tempo , lèn-  za relpiro come potrò teftenere la qualità di Lette-  rato innanzi a Voi , che in ogni maniera di colte  Lettere liete Maeflro ? E ben fapete quanto male in-  contrante a colui , che fu ardito parlar di guerra in-  T 4 nanzi ad Annibaie. Ciò non pertanto , fcnibrando-  mi più teoncia la taccia di malcreato , e di (cono-  fcente , che non quella d’ignorante , e di mal efper-  to , a telo fine di tellimoniarvi per alcun modo la  mia oltervanza , mi farò lecito di comunicarvi i miei  penlamenti. Sarà quindi gentile impiego del voltro  bel cuore infieme, e della vofira dottrina il com-  patirli te rozzi , o il rigettarli fe erranti. Per-  mettetemi però , gentilifitmo Sig. Conte , che io nel  diitenderli mi allontani alquanto dal metodo fecco  e digiuno, che per alcuni fi tiene , e che foltanto  confine nel produrre Autori a rifate , e inzeppar fe-  lli , e affafteflar citazioni. Comecché molto io lodi  la fatica e l’ induftria di chi procede fifFattamente ,  la materia, che abbiamo tra mano, fe io non vò  lungi dal vero , brama di fpaziare in più aperto cammino , « di venir rintracciata da’ Tuoi vetulti principi.  In due parti perciò credo ben fatto il dividere la  prefente Dillèrtazione , che a Voi trafmetto, e cou-  facro . Ragionerò nella prima alcun poco della ori-  gine, delle maniere , e degli oggetti di quella fatale  Idolatria , che a poco a poco lopprimendo i lumi  della natura , della ragione , della Religione , della  lloria , coprì di tenebre , e manommite tutta la faccia  dell’ Univerfo . Difcenderò pofeia naturalmente nel-  la feconda a rendere , per quanto io polla , proba-  bile la opinione, che t primi Idolatrici Simulacri  tollero di quadrata, o rotonda forma, e non aven-  ti figura alcuna o di Animale , o di Uomo . In   questa    dell'antica Idolatria 7   quella guila crederò di potere all* autorità voìtra ,  ed alla mia ubbidienza per alcuna via foddisfare. Si laici a Maimonide ( i J , ed alla Scuola Ra-  binica il fidare lenza prove agli Antidiluviani tem-  pi l’epoca della nafcente fuperftizione. Entrando  nell’argomento, quel che puolli da noi con cer-  tezza affermare fi è, che poco tempo dopo il Di*  luvio s’ intrulè il Politeifmo a pervertir le menti de-  gli Uomini . Il libro di Giosuè f a ) ne avverte ,  che Tare Padre di Abramo , e di Nachor aveva fer-  vito a* Dei menzogneri . Óra la nalcita di Tare ?  fecondo i calcoli dell’ Uflerio, accadde non più di  22 1. anni dopo la generale inondazione del nofiro  Globo . Il libro poi di Giuditta ( 3 ) ci fa lapere ,  che non pur Tare , ma eli Antenati di Abramo fe-  guivano gli empj riti della Caldea adoratrice di più  falle Divinità. Labano chiama Tuoi Dei gl’ Idoli *  che Rachele tua Figliuola gli avea involati (”4), e  Giacobbe prima di offrire un facrificio all’ Altiifi-  mo fa recarli da tutti quelli di fua comitiva gl’ Ido-  li , che ferbavano , e li nafconde (otterrà .   Molto, dagli Eruditi fi difputa qual folle dell*  Idolatria nafcente il primiero oggetto. Pretende  il Clerico ( 5 J elfère fiati gli Angeli adorati lenza  limitazione , e lenza relazione all* Onnipotente.  Volilo d* altra parte lòltiene , che il Dogma  de’ due Principi buono , e cattivo folle dell’ Idola-  tria più antica generatore. Noi non fiamo per di-  partirci dalla fentenza più comune, e più compro-  vata, cioè che gli Altri, e quindi gli < Elementi  follerò i primi a rifcuoter l’ adorazione de’ tralignan-  ti mortali. Fra un nembo di monumenti, e di au-  torità , che in conferma di tale fentenza recar po-   . A 4 * ' trei *   \ r »   ( 1 ) De Idolat. curri Interpr. Dionyfi VoJJìi .   ( 2 ) Cape 24. v. 2. ( 3 ) Cap. p. v. 8.   C4) Genef.cap. 31. v. 19. £?. 30., Cap . 3$. v. 2.   4 * (5 J Index Philolog. ad HiJÌ. Thil. Orienta  in voce Angelus , V Ajlra . ( 6 ) De idolat . lib. 1.      8 Dissert. sull* Origine   trei 3 e che in Macrobio C i ) , in Gerardo VofTio  già citato C 2 )> ne l Le Plucne ( 3 ), nel Bergero ( 4 )  lt polfòno agevolmente vedere , io trafcelgo il folo  Eufebio Cefarienlè , tanto più che in Lui rinven-  go accennata non pur 1 ’ origine , ma V ingànnevol  motivo di quella umana depravazione.' Egli adun-  que colia (corta del gravilTìmo Diodoro Sici-  liano, parlando prima degli Egiziani, poi de’ Fe-  nici , popoli , fra’ quali ebbe forfè 1 ’ Idolatria la fua  culla , e finalmente de’ Greci , dice , che (6 ) ,, i  „ primi Abitatori di Egitto , avendo volti gli oc-  chi a contemplare il Mondo, e con alto ilupo-  „ re coixfiderando la natura di tutte le cole , ili-  3> marono, che il Sole, e la Luna follerò Dei lem-  3, piterni , e primarj , de’ quali per certo rapporto   „ chiamarono 1’ uno Ofiride , e 1’ altra Ilide   ,, infegnando eller quelli due Dei dell’ Univerfo  3, tutto moderatori. Rapporto poi ai Fenicj egli  afferma che • ,, i primi fra loro datifi ( 7 ) a filo-  ,, fofare , tennero unicamente in luogo di Dei il  ,, Sole , e la Luna , e gli altri Pianeti , e gli Ele-   ,, men-  33 . >   (1 ) Saturnale lib. 1. C 2 ) De Idololat. Orig. lib ».  3. per totum . (3 ) Storia del Cielo Tom. I.   C 4 ) Trattat . Storie, della Relig. Tom. 1 .   4 5 ) Yraparat. Evang. lib. I. c. 9.   ( 6 ) Tot* owj xotr A lyuirrov Avd’p'jìTHS ro  7 rcchctiQt ywofJLtviss ccvccfihr^ccvrcce tov xo$[jlov , xou  rlw rctfr oKw xa.rcLT'Kccyv/rcts re xoui  rocrras UTTohccfìett/ uvea Osar otihas re xou irpu-  ru$ vihiW) xou rlw <relwnv y w rov \xiv Osipiv ;  rlw ’Be Kit ovoyxKOA rara? Sé .Tttf Ozag   u<pirrocvr<u rov $i[/,tccvtcc xospLw ì>ioixe*v .   ( 7 ) HA/ok , xcu (reXlw/iv 5 xou r»? Tkoittxs  T rKetfY\rots ctrrepccs , xou rot sto%£cc } xta tvtoìs  nwoufiiy pLQvov lyivwsxov .    dell'antica Idolatria. 9   „ menti in oltre con quanto a !or fi congiunge ,,  Finalmente paHando a far parola dei Greci , reca  il bel palio di Platone nel Cratilo, che in queite  note fi elprime ( i ): ,, A me certamente ralfem-  ,,bra, che i primi ad abitare la Grecia quelli fol-  „ tanto per Dei riputalfero , che dalla maggior  , pane de’ Barbari prefentemente fi adorano , il  ’, Sole cioè , la Luna , la Terra , gli Altri , il Cie-  lo , quali vedendo e.fi con perpetuo corlb aggi-  ,, rarfi , dalla parola ra G«y correre , Aosi Dei li   ,, chiamarono. ,, t   Il lèntimento di Eulebio, o di Diodoro, che  dee chiamarli il lèntimento di tutti gli Storici  più fenfati , potrebbe!! agevolmente con facra au-  torità comprovare. Mosè ( *J, Giobbe (i ) , I*  .Autore del libro della Sapienza ( 4 ) col profcri-  vere il culto fuperltiziofo degli Altri, e degli Ele-  menti , il fuppongono tacitamente come il più an-  tico , perchè il dipingono come il più lulinghie-  j>o , e capace a pervertire l'umano cuore.   Così fu veramente. Il cuore umano aggirato  da un fafeino teuebrofo di licenziole palliont , am-  mollito dal lbverchio amor del piacere , fcollò dal  natio genio d' indipendenza , languido , e indiffe-  rente negli efercizj della Religione , la quale già  inftillata nel primo Padre erafi poi tutta pura da  INoè trafmellà ne' difeeudenti , cominciò palio pal-  io a   ( 1 ) tyojyovTout tj.ot 01 t porrà ruv P 1 tìpuiruv rwv   Trìpi TW EAÀa^a J T 8 TKf ^JjOVtSi Stai «y«>' 6 cU ,   • WiTTlp vuù T0XK01 TVV (locpQctpW , t{KlOV , XOU  xcu ylw, xou carpa , xou tspcaov . art   OVLU tWTOC OpWTK TTOO/TCO OMrl 10 VTCL , XOU   Piovra, j curo tojuths tìk <piKi'j>s rns tu Orir Qks  curasi (tovoijlkìou .   (2) Deuter. c. 4. v. ip. (3) Job. C. 31. V. 16.  1 ( 4 ) Sap. c. 1 3.    Digitized by Google    io Dissert. sull'Origine  fo a perdere la giufta idea del vero Nfume , elio  gli brillava all’ intorno con tanta luce* Un guitto*  e terribil giudizio di Dio medeilmo , il quale, come  avverte S. Agostino , fparge penali tenebre (opra .  le illecite cupidigie , permife nell’ Domo un sì fa-  tale dementamento. Chi fdegnava di rendere al  Facitore 1’ onor dovuto come a Sovrano , meritò  di perder colpevolmente lino le tracce per ravvi-  farlo . Abbandonato così alla stoltezza de' Tuoi pen-  fieri, fcambiò la gloria sfolgoreggiarne, ed  immenia dell' incorruttibile Iddio co'’ limitati river-  beri , che ne vedea nelle Creature. Gli Astri pri- .  ma di tutto a lui parvero contrallegnati co' mag-  giori caratteri della Divinità . Quel movimento •.  loro non interrotto , que’ periodi tempre uniformi ,  quello fplendore Tempre brillante, quegl' in Aulii :  sempre benefìci fermarono il corfo alla di lui am-  mirazione , e riconofcenza , quando pur dovevano  lervirgli di guida per falire ad amar la bontà, a riconofcere la potenza del Creatore . Egli lciocca-  mente impadulò ne’ rulcelli , e dimenticò la lòrgen-  te , e invece di riguardarli come Ministri delle  divine beneficenze, li adorò come Dei. L’ amor  proprio , la fuperbia , la mollezza , il libertinaggio  trovarono il loro conto in fimil delirio. Gli Astri  comparivano Dei benigni, comodi, utili, che nul*  la eligevano, nulla vietavano, per nulla al più cor*  rotto genio opponevanlì , nè mettean freno alle più  torte inclinazioni . Il culto degli Elementi , della  Terra, del Fuoco, dell’Aria, de’ Venti lì congiun-  te ben presto con quello degli Astri, perchè appog-  giato fopra gli stelli principj , e come un palio mal  mifurato lud’un pendio fdrucciolevole cagiona pre-  cipizi Tempre maggiori , fi venne ad attribuire la  divinità alle inlenfibili cole, ed infieme agli utili,  e dannofi animali, agli uni per riconolceili de’ be-  nefizi , che fanno agli Uomini \ agli altri per pla-  carli , e distornarli dall’ infierire . L’ antichiflima   opmio- Afojì. ad Rom, c. x. dell' antica Idolatria . n  opinione de’ due Principj buono , e cattivo ebbe for-  fè gran parte in questi folleggiamenti, eia vera-  ce , ma poi alterata dottrina degli Angeli , de’ De-  moni , delle Anime de’ trapalfati trovolfi molto op-  portuna per dilatarli. Si volle credere tutta la na-  tura animata . Animati lì tennero gli Astri dagl’  Indiani , dai Caldei, dagli Egizj , dai Maghi, da  Pitagora , da Platone , da Cicerone , da Varrone .  Il mare , i fiumi , le fontane , la pioggia , il tuo-  no , le rupi , le caverne , le pietre , i monti , gli  alberi , le piante , gli erbaggi , e tutti poi gli Ani-  mali li coniìderarono come alberghi d’ una infinità  di attive prelìdi Intelligenze producitrici di quelli  effetti or nocevoli , .or vantaggiolt , che feulco-  no il fenlo umano . Le Anime de’ Trapalfati o  dalla riconolcenza , o dall’ amor degli Uomini con-  fecrate ricevettero ben prello 1’ Apoteolì , ed ac-  crebbero il numero delle Intelligenze motrici del-  la natura . Come Macrobio C i ) , e 1’ Abate Le  Pluche ( 2 _),il primo in aria da Filofofo , il fecon-  do in aria da Storico, diffiifamente ci mollrano,  Oliride, Ifidè , Amone,Oro, Serapide degli Egizj ;  Zeus , o Dios Giove , Marte , Saturno , Venere ,  Mercurio , Giunone , Cibele de’ Greci , e de’ Roma-  ni ; Dionilìo, Urotalt ,e Alilat degli Arabi; Marnas  de’ Fililtei; Moloch degli Ammoniti; Adad de’ Sirj ;  Adonai , Achad , Architi , Baelet , Belfamin , Mel-  chet de’ Paleltini , non erano da principio che il  Sole, la Luna, o la Terra, e quindi in progredii  Anime di Principi o Principelle, d’ Eroi o Eroi-  ne ite a regnar nel Sole, nella Luna, negli Altri,  o a preledere alla Terra. Quindi la turba degl’ Id-  dj Confenti o maggiori , degl’ Iddj fecondar) o  minori ; e 1’ altra infinita plebaglia di unte varie  Divinità regolatrici di tutti gli effetti , e di tutti  gli elleri naturali , quale non meno accuratamen-  te, che leggiadramente ci viene dal grande Ago-  stino   ( t ) Saturnal. lib. I. f a J Star, del Ciel. lib. I*  i2 Dissert. sull* Origine   ftino C 1 J accennata . In Quella guifa le due opi-  nioni del Volito, e del Clerico amichevolmente  fi legano colla opinione comune, e tutte unite ci  additano la prima origine del più grande acceca-  mento degli Uomini. ,, Deplorabile acciecamen-  ,, to ! (" concluda quello paragrafo il facro Autore del  Libro della Sapienza ) vana illufione di quelli ,  „ che non conolcono Dio ! Attorniati da’ Tuoi be-  ,, nefizj non hanno veduta la mano, che li dif-  „ fonde ; dalla magnificenza delle opere della na-  ,, tura non ne hanuo faputo riconofcere 1’ Artefi-  ce . Si fono perfuafi , che il fuoco , 1’ aria , i  ,, venti , le llelle. Tacque, il Sole, la Luna fof-   fero i Dei , che reggono il' Mondo Più   „ miferabili ancora , perchè ripongono la lor fìdu-  ,, eia in fimulacri morti , ed inanimati ; elfi dan-  „ no il nome di Dei all’ opera della mano degli  „ Uomini , alT oro , all’ argento indullriofamente  ,, lavorati a figure d’ animali , a pietre modellate   ,, fecondo il gulto di un Artefice L’Uomo   ,, fi forma un Dio d’ un tronco inutile, a cui dà  •la propria forma dia', oppur quella d’ un Ani-  „ male. ,,   Qui però vuole avvertirli , che T ufo de’ Si-  mulacri in figura d’ Uomini , e d’ Animali appar-  tiene bensì a’ tempi della già groil'olana , ed  avanzata Idolatria , ma non a quelli della nalcen-  te . ,, Un Uom fa J , che dritto ragioni f pro-   fieeue    fi) De Civit. Dei lib. V. VI.   ( 2 ) AM' ort y.ev oi rpurrot } koa tMcuot«-   TOl TUV (XV&pWTUJV , «Té VOCUy O/XoBojWfOWf TpO-  tìx.o * , «Té hot# ccipttpufjLcuriv j «tu t ore ypot~  tylXJfc , «Sé xA.afT.XW J yi yAlTTtXW , » « vlpict -  rrOTQITLKH f rCKVYK tpiUpyifAWYIS , 8^£ fJ.IV QLKQÒOUt-  *W, B^é op^iTtKTOVtKVis o-vujKTurrg y ra.ru ry  o ifjca mfaoyityj.(vy ìiyiXov etra*dell'antica Idolatria;.   fiegue il noftro Eufebio, rapportandoli alle telli-  monianze di tutti gli Autori gentili ) può facil-  „ mente rimanere perfuafo , che i primi ed an-  „ tichiffimi Uomini niuna fatica , o Audio ripofe-  „ ro nel fabbricare Templi , ed innalzar Simula-  cri , non etlèndo Aate per anco inventate le  „ Arti della Pittura , della Statuaria , della Scol-  „ tura, anzi neppure 1’ Architettonica . „ Quindi  dopo avere ripetuto il già detto circa la primige-  nia adorazione degli Astri conclude , che „ da  „ principio niuna menzione vi fu di greca , o di  yy babilonica Teogonia , niun ufo di Simulacri y  „ niuna ridevole vanità nella denominazione de-  ,, gli Dei parte mafchj , e parte femmine • fi)  È veramente lembra cofa aliai naturale , che la  fòrgente Idolatria ne' vetustiffimi tempi , comecché  avelie cangiato 1* oggetto della Religion prima e  verace , non giungeiìè però sì tosto a cangiarne i  riti e le cerimonie . Porfirio fcortato da Teo-  frasto , e citato da Eufebio ( 2 J pretende delinear-  ci il religiofo culto innocente degli antichi Poli-  teisti . Ma in verità quell'impostore Filofofo ne-  mico giurato del Cristianefimo nell’ adombrarci ì*  estrinseca religione de’ primi adoratori de’ falfi Dei ,  non fa che prendere in prestito que’ colori , con  cui la Scrittura Santa ci adombra la Religione de’  Patriarchi adoratori del vero Dio. Nulla infatti di  più fèmplice e di più fchietto . Que' fanti IH mi v  Uomini negli efercizj di Religione poco curavanfi  dell’esteriore, e del fasto. Ellì la facev.an confi-  stere in picciol numero di estrinfeche azioni , per-  fuafi , che il vero culto è quello del cuore. L’ in-  nalzamento de’ Templi non oltrepalla per avventu-  ra l’età di Mosè. Un femplice Altare in un luo-  go   ( I ) Oux tstpct ng Iw Qtoyoviccs EXXfuwX'f? , #  fiapGctpiKK rote TaXouTaTOtf f «^6/x »; tcw 7\oy<K y  • bhe &X.0VW ìlpustS y ìtìt Ó c. «   (a} Prjepar. Evang. lib, J,Djssert. sull’Origine   go mondo , e fpartato , lènza statue e lènza figu*  re , lènza adornamenti e lènza ricchezze , in un  bofco , o fovra d’ una eminenza era il luogo dove  Abele , Noè , Abramo , Ifiacco , Giacobbe colle lo-  ro famiglie fi raunavano per tributare all* Altiflìmo  i loro voti ed omaggi . Ivi a Lui predavano le  primizie dell’ erbe e de’ frutti , ovvero il latte , i  «radumi , e le lane degli Animali , che dopo il Di-  luvio cominciarono ad immolarli . Ora fu quelle  medefime tracce di religiofa femplicità io tengo per  certo , che nella fua infanzia procedette la Idola-  tria . Intela a venerar come Dei il Sole, la Luna,  la milizia celefte, gli elementi , le prelidi Intelli-  genze non Teppe sì tofto ufare altra forma di culto ,  fe non fe quella , con cui aveva intefo , e veduto  adorarli da’ Patriarchi fedeli il fommo Conditore  dell’ Univerfo . Niun ulo adunque per anco de’ Si-  mulacri rapprelentanti fiotto animalefica , o umana  lembianza le pretelè Divinità . Niun ufo di quelle  datue , che rozzamente in feguito , e grottefcamen-  te modellate dagli Egizj , ottennero poi e castiga-  to difiegno , e fipiccata *. motta , ed energico atteg-  giamento lotto lo ficalpello indulìre di Dedalo. An-  zi qui dee acconciamente fioggiungerfi , che anche  dopo la coftruzione de’ Templi fi tardò molto prefi*  fo le antiche Nazioni ad ergere in elfi le llatue fi-  gurate ; come degli Egiziani parlando afièrma Lu-  ciano , il quale aggiunge ( i ) d’ aver nella Siria  veduti Templi dell’ antichità più remota lènza im-  magine , o rapprefientanza veruna . Che più? Ro-  ma detta , che in paragon degli Egizj , e de’ Greci  nacque sì tardi, per oltre anni 170. ( come ci atte-  da Varrone citato ( 2 ) da S. Agofiino ) Simulacri  non ebbe ( 3 ) ne’ proprj Templi,, finché Tarquinia   Fri fico   ( 1 } De Dea Syria . ( 2 ) De Civit. Dei lib . 4. c. 3 1.   ( 3_) Dicit eiiam Varrò , antiquos Rcmanos ylufi   quam annos 170. Deos fine Simulacro coluijje .   Qiiod fi adhuc , inquit , manfijjet y caflius Dii ob -  fervarcntur . S. Auguft. citat.    dell’antica Idolatria. t?   Prifco Uomo di Greco , e di Tofcano genio tutta  di Simulacri inondolla . Anzi più didimamente  aflerifce Zonara ellervi date leggi , forfè di Numa ,   £ roibitive a’ Romani di rapprelentare la immagine  livina fotto la forma di Uomo, ovvero di Anima-  le .( i ) Ma l’ Idolatria finalmente è l’opera del-  le tenebre, e per poco crefciuta, non potea a me-  no di non addenfarle nel cuor dell’Uomo. L’Uo-  mo divenuto più empio circa gli oggetti dell’inter-  no fuo culto , non tardò guari a fard ridicolo circa  le maniere di elercitarlo. Egli avea degradata ab-  ballala la fua ragione , adorando come Dei le fem-  plici Creature . Quello medelìmo fpirito di verti-  gine il tratte ben pretto ad avvilirli viemmaggior-  menfe coll’ adorare 1’ opera fletta delle fue mani .  Ei volle oggetti fenfibili e materiali anche all’  •efterno fuo culto. Ei pretefe di circolcrivere li  fuoi Dei per converfarvi più da vicino , ed innal-  zò , e venerò .Simulacri . Or di qual forma erede-  rem noi , che follerò in quello genere le prime in-  venzioni dell’ umana ttoltezza > Quali gli fcogli ,  in cui da quella banda urtarono primamente gli  Uomini deliranti ? Eccomi alla feconda parte della  Dittertazione pervenuto, ed eccomi al punto di nia-  nifeltare la mia opinione .   Io reputo adunque probabiliflìmo , che follerò  in primo luogo i Pilieri , o le grotte pietre qua-  drate , le quau chiamate furon Betilie , e che ori-   f linariamente non erano, che Are ferventi alle rc-  igiole adunanze. Sanconiatone , Scrittore antichit-  fimo delle tradizioni Fenicie , portato da Portino  fino alle ftelle , e da Lui creduto informatilfimo  della Storia Giudaica , come non molto dittante  dalla età di Mosè , nel celebre fuo frammento , là  dove narra le imprefe del Dio Urano , o Cielo ,   affer-   ( i ) At'typvrou$v , xan tyofiop$ov nxwa. tu Sa  eariSTca Pvy.yjois aTe-r/wcoo'. / uuar . Tom. a . y. io-   I  T 6 DlSSEftf. sull* Ortgtné    afferma, che ,, Egli trovò le Betilie ( i ) coftrtien-  „ do con inlolita mirabil arte Pietre animate. ,,  Io non ho letto di tale Frammento fé non la ver-  done greca fatta già da Filone Biblico , e riporta-  ta diftefamente da Eufebio . ( 2 J So, che il Si-  gnor di Gebelin colla fpiegazione di quello antico  irjonumento ha fatto vedere, che il Traduttor gre-  cò ne avea malamente recato il lenfo, e che ridu-  cendo i termini al vero loro fignificato , 1 ’ Autor  Fenicio trovali uniforme al Legislator degli Ebrei.  (3) Checché ne fia , dilHetto non vengami di le-  guir le tracce già legnate dal grande Uezio , e dall*  erudito Calmet , affermando , che Sanconiatone in  quell’ accennato ritrovamento delle Betilie , e co-  struzion di Pietre animate ci adombra , benché in  modo affai alterato , la vera Storia del celebre mo-  numento, o Altare di Giacobbe. Quest’ottimo Pa-  triarca (~ 4 J nel fuo viaggio da Berfabee in Melo-  potamia postoli in certo luogo a dormire fu di un  grande , e ruvido Saffo acconciatoli a forma di guan-  ciale , ebbe la sì nota vifion della Scala corfeggia-  ta dagli Angeli , fu la di cui lòmmità appoggiato  flava 1 ’ AltilTìmo , da cui lènti rinnovarli le grandi  promelfe fatte ad Abramo . Deftatofi egli , efcla-  mò Quanto è mai terribile quello luogo / Vera-  mente non è egli altro , che la Cafa di Dio , e la  porta del Cielo . Diede a quel luogo il nome di  Beth - el , che lignifica nell’ ebreo linguaggio Cafa.  di Dio Conlècrò il Saffo, che la notte lèrvUo  gli aveva di guanciale , verfandovi dell’ Olio , e in  monumento 1 * erefle. Quindi concependo un Vo-  to , il conclufe col dire cs II Signore farà il mi®  Dio se e quella Pietra chiameraffì Cafa di Dio c 5    ( I ) Et/ miwe 0»? Oupcao?    ( 2 ) Pr*p. Evang. lib . I. c. 9. C 3 ) AUeg. Orien-  tai. p. 22. e 9 5. Memor. de V Accad. des Infcrip*  T . 6 1. in 12. p, 24 3. (4) Cenef. 28. 18.    Dalla     V*    dell'antica Idolatria; 17   Dalla Mefopotamia tornando nella Terra di Ca*  naan , giunto allo Stello luogo , e Soddisfar volen-  do al già fatto voto d’ offerire a Dio la decima  de’ Tuoi beni , innalzò fimil mente un Altare di  pietra , e replicò il nome di Beth - el , Cafìz di  Dio. Finalmente di bel nuovo in que’ contorni  felicitato dall’ apparizien del Signore , nove! mo-  numento di pietra cortrulle , d’ olio , e di liba-  zioni Spalmandolo, ed a lui pure comunicando la  denominazione di Beth - el . Io ammetterò , che  quello termine Beth - el dato agli Altari , ed ai mo-  numenti facri , quanto all’ edema efprelfione , fofr  fe uri ritrovamento di Giacobbe; ma follerrò con  egual verità, che quanto all’ idea , ed all’interno  . concetto degli Uomini ei difcendelfè dalla tradi'  zion più rimota. Beth - el , Caja di Dio , potea fi-  milmente confiderai , e chiamarli 1’ Altare nell*  ulcir dall’ Arca edificato dal buon Noè , perchè  ivi 1’ AltiSTimo a lui diede fegni fenfibili di fua  prelenza , e mifericordia . Beth-el per Somiglian-  te ragione potea appellarli 1’ Altare edificato da  Abramo fui monte Moria per fagrificare il Figliuo-  lo; éd egli infatti chiamò quel monte Dominus vi -  debit. Beth-el giuftamente nomar fi poteano tutti  gli Altari innalzati da’ Patriarchi fedeli per ufo an-  tichilfimo, forle dagli antidiluviani fecoli proceden-  te , perchè tutti onorati da qualche' Speciale com-  mercio della Divinità , percnè diftinti da qualche  fuperna verfata beneficenza , perchè in certo modo  protetti , ed invertiti dal Nume , e destinati a tri-  butargli culto , Sacrifizio , e riconofcenza dalle cir-  costanti Generazioni .   Ora da quefti Altari , e monumenti di pietra ,  chiamati da Giacobbe per la prima volta Beth - el ,  cioè Caja di Dio , e già tenuti per tali fino da*  remotiSfimi tempi , chi non conofce ( entra qui  acconciamente il Le Pluche) (i J etìerne derivate  le sì note Betilie , quelle grolle pietre quadrate ,   B che   to Stor. del Cielo , 1 8 D r SSERT. SULL* ORIGINE  che con ol) preziofi , ed aromatiche eircnze irriga-  vano , e che poi furono in tanti luoghi oggetto di  veturtiffima adorazione, come da più Autori , e no-  minatamente da Fozio nella fua Biblioteca dinto-  ftrafi ? Chi non conofce dal Bethel di Giacobbe  C foggiunge opportunamente il Voflìo ) ( i ) deri-  vato il famofò Betilos , quel (allo prelentato a Sa-  turno invece di Giove, come per relazione favo-  lofa Efichio ( 2 ) ci narra , e che ottenne poi tan-  to culto dalla forfennata Gentilità ? Ed io al Vof-  iìo , ed al Le Pluche fottofcrivendomi , concludo :  Chi non conofce in quelti monumenti, ed Altari  il primo inciampo degl’ Idolatri , ed il primo og-  getto fènfìbile , e materiale delle adorazioni fuper-  ìtiziofe ? Mettiamci di grazia in varj punti di villa  naturalismi . Confideriamo il genere umano dopo  la confufion delle lingue , e la differitone delle  .Nazioni già prefo da uno fpirito di vertigine , e  già declinante al Politeifmo . Malgrado le volon-  tarie tenebre , che incominciano ad acciecarlo et  l'erba tuttora nel cuore il fème della religion pri-  migenia ; e nella memoria i fagri riti, e le reli-  giofe cerimonie dal Patriarca Noè tramandate .  Egli perciò innalza, e confagra in ogni luogo pie-  tre modellate a fòggia d’ Altare per onorarvi la  Divinità : ei vi ft proftra all’ intorno: ci vi ce-  lebra le religiofè adunanze : ei vi prefenta i Tuoi  Sagrifizj , comecché forfè non più al folo , e vero  Nume, nta agli altri ' ancora , agli elementi, agli  fpiriti . Ei fa però , ed una tradizione non rimo-  ta glielo rammenta , che il primo Riparatore de-  gli Uomini dopo il Diluvio ergendo un limile Al-  tare , il vide torto adombrato dalla fènfibil pre-  lenza , e maeftà dell’ Altiflìmo difeefo in atto di  ricevere , e di gradire placabilmente i fuoi Olo-   caufti .   CO De PhU. ChriJIUn. C? Theol. Gent. Vib. 6. t. :p.   ( 2 ) BatTuho? «toj fjtocXe-fTO o AtGo; to>   K poeti) cari &ios ,    Dell* antica Idolatria;   taufti . Comecché la Scrittura noi dica , io noa  credo temerità 1* aderire , che limili degnazioni  compartifle talvolta il Signore anche ai Figliuoli,  o ai Nipoti di Noè , che fi mantenner fedeli pri-  ma d' Aoramo. Ben il vecchio Sacerdote, e Re  di Salem Melchifedecco ne avea tutto il merito.  Checché ne fia , certamente il genere umano  non può non confiderar quelle pietre , od Altari ,  che qual cola rilpettabile , e (anta. Fi le vede  fèrbate ad un culto Speciale della Divinità , e ad  un peculiar commercio col Cielo : ei le vede in-   nalzate o per rinnovar la memoria d' alcun luper-  no ricevuto favore , o per invitar gli animi ad una  fedele riconofceitza : ei le vede anche ufate per   edere teftimonio , e monumento durevole delle al-  leanze , de' patti , delle folenni prometle , e de' giu-  ramenti , ne’ quali s’ interpone il tremendo nome »  e la Maeftà Divina. Gli efempli , che fu di ciò  abbiamo nella Scrittura , non fanno , che dinotarci  una vetuftidìma poftumanza. A tutto quello s' ag-  giunga 1' opinione già di fopra accennata , e che fi-  no dai primi tempi fi propagò fra i mortali , cioè  che tutto ripieno folle d’ Intelligenze regolatrici  degli elleri , e degli effetti della natura . Con-  nettali pure l’altra opinione d’ antichità non mi-  nore da S. Agoffino rammentataci ( i J colle pa-  role del celebre Mercurio Trifmegifto , cioè che  per certe conlecrazioni rimanellèro li Simulacri  non pure inveititi , ma realmente animati dalli  Dei venuti ad abitarvi , affin di nuocere, o d?  giovare più da vicino ai loro adoratori . Ciò , che  forfè adombrar volle Sanconiatone con quella ef-   preffione di 7 ^ 0 ^$ Pietre animate. Con-   siderando noi il genere umano in tali profpetti ,  qual cola più probabile, e naturale a concluderli,  eh' egli , parte abufando delle antiche tradizioni  veraci , parte ingannato dalle nuove folli perlua-   B 2 fioni,   C t J De Civit. Dei lib. 7. e. 23. e 24*    f    2 o Dissert. sull* Origine   fioni j e già rilbluto di voler oggetti fenfibili al  proprio culto , cominciale ben pretto a venerare  quegli Altari , que’ monumenti di pietra , quelle  Eetilie , .riguardandole o come Alberghi della Di-  vinità , o come fimboli della prefenza divina , e  finalmente , tempre più creteendo 1* accecamen-  to , come tanti veraci Iddii ? Se il genere umano  è pure intefiato di adorare l’opera delle tee ma-  ni , qual cofa più reverenda , e più degna di culto  ai di lui occhi pretentali , che i mentovati Altari ,  o monumenti , o Betilie ?   Qui vorrà alcuno per avventura obbjettarmi ,  che quando trattali d’antichità olcurilfima , più che^  col raziocinio , voglionfi colla fioria , e co’ fatti  fiabilir le opinioni j ed io non fono per conten-  derlo. Forte però, che l’opinione da me propo-  sta non li deduce naturalmente in gran parte dai  Libri Storici di Mosè , i quali ( lanciando anche  ftare quella ifpirazione divina , che li confacra, e  mirandoli tei con occhio di Filotefo non tumido  per alterezza , nè da paliioni alterato ) ben va-  gliono aliai più, che tutti li Vedam de’Bramini,  gli Zend di Zoroaftro , i Kinghi di Confucio , e  di Se-ma-fiien, ed i racconti favololi di Erodo-  lo ? Pur i*on fi creda , che io voglia in quella ma-  teria lafciare affatto il mio Leggitore digiuno di  monumenti , e di autorità .   Il Volilo C i ) rapportaci , che il Beth - el , o  Pietra di Giacobbe , di cui tanto abbiamo parlato ,  fu a fomiglianza del Serpente di bronzo , per lun-  ga età foggetto di fuperfiiziofa adorazione a molti  Giudei , finché da’ veri Ifraeliti prete giuftameu-  te in abbominio , gli fu cambiato il nome di JBef/i-  el % Cafa di Dio, in quel di Beth - ave , cioè Cafa  della Menzogna .   Quali poi furono i primi Simulacri degli Ara-  bi , tra i quali i Moabiti , e gli Ammoniti fi com-  prendevano? Gli Autori antichi, a’ quali rappor-  tali    i ) lai’, d. r. 2p.   dell’ antica Idolatria. 21'   tali il Calmet , e che ci parlano delle prime  Divinità di que’ Popoli , le defcrivono come fem-  pjici Pietre informi, o fcalpellate, ma non con  umana forma. ,, Voi ridete, dice Arnobio, (2)  „ che ne’ vetufti tempi gli Arabi adoraflero una  ,, Pietra informe . „ Malììmo Tirio ( 3 ) o di que*  ito , o d’ altro Arabico Simulacro parlando il chia-  nia Tfrrpxyjìm Pietra, quadrangolare. Ed Eu-   timio Zigabeno nella fua Panoplia ragionando  co’ Saraceni : ,, Ed in tjual modo , efclama , voi ab-  ,, bracciate la Pietra di Brachthan , e la baciate ?  ,, Alcuni rilpondono : Perchè Abramo fopra di efc   „ fa eboe il fuo primo commercio con Agar. Al-  ,, tri poi : Perchè ad ella legò il fuo CameTo quan-  ,, do fu per lagrifìcare Ilàcco . f 4 ) „ Non pen-  io di meritar la taccia di capricciofo , fe giudico  quelle Pietre adorate in feguito nell’ Arabia nuli*  altro elfere fiate da principio, che vetulte Beti-  lie , o rozzi Altari fors’ anche al vero Dio confe-  crati . Certamente Mosè , ("5 J in ciò ieguendo   S er avventura la tradizione , e il più vetullo co-  ume , prefcrive , che di rozze Pietre dal ferro  non tocche , e informi fallì , ed impoliti follerò  gli Altari , che dopo il patlàggio del Giordano fi  volelfero al Dio d’ Ifraello innalzare; e nuli’ al-  tro , che grandi Pietre fpalmate alquanto di calce  folfero i monumenti defiinati. a fcrivervi lòpra le  parole della legge. Temette forfè il grande Le-  B 3 gisla-   ( 1 ) 7 efor. cP Antich. tratto dai Coment, del Cal-  met T. 2. ( 2 J Lib. 6 . C 3 J Sermon. 3 8.   ( 4 ) Ili* VfJUHi TposrpiQtsrt toj ?u 9 u» t ts  Bpxyficxv j xou tpiKsirt raro» ; kou tiiik j aa>  ewrw tpctti y %tQTi tir coki) aura s trasloca rn Ay cefi  0 Afipaont. AÀA01 ?>£ ori rpotilìiKur carro» thv  xxiju iXov , fJ.iKho»r (jusai rov I sotux. .   C s ) Deuter. 27. 5.22 Dissert. sull’Origine   gislatore , che fé tali monumenti , ed Altari fi f 0 f.  fero con più eleganza collutti , divenilfero più fa-  cilmente al rozzo fuo Popolo, e vacillante pietra  d’inciampo, e fomento d’idolatrica fuperllizione .   E qui , giacché dell’ Arabica fuperllizione ho fatto  parola , voglio avvertire, che della per lungo tem-  po mantenne!! nella lua primigenia feniplicità.   Giobbe Arabo, o Idumeo , forfè contemporaneo , le-  non anteriore a Mosè, accenna lenza meno l’ Ido-  latria del fuo Pael'e. Or ei non parla nè di lla-  tue , nè di figure . Indica fidamente 1’adorazione , ed il faluto del Sole , e della Luna, che poi Uroralt, ed Alilat furono nominati . Se-  gno manifelto, che fra que’ popoli non fi era introdotto per anco quel lopraccarico di moftruole  follie, con cui dalle Scolture Egiziane rimale ag-  gravata l’ Idolatria. Che fe non pertanto gli Ara-  bi ab antico proltravanfi a Pietre informi , o qua-  drate , quali io reputo Betilie , ed Altari , ben con-  cluder potrai!! , che quelli follerò il primo. fco-  glio, e il primo fcandalo al/ materialifmo de’ più  antichi Politeilli . Teltiinonio ne facciano i primi Abitatori del-  la Germania . Colloro finché rimaforo nella vern-  ila loro rozzezza, finché la fuperllizione fra eli!  col commercio delle arti Greche , e Romane non  giunfe a farli più vaga infieme , e più llolta , al-  tri Simulacri non ebbero, come Tacito ( a J av-  verte , che folli informi di legno , e di rozze pie-  tre . Erano quelle le forme degl’ Iddii , che por-  tavanocon elfo loro alla guerra , penlando , che  folle un offendere la Divinità il rapprelèntarla  fotto umana fembianza . Ciò , che pure da molti   altri  C. 31. v. 16. ( 2 J De Morìb. Germart. Sta-   tua ex stipitibus rudibus , i? impolito lapide effi-  gi e s , CP Jìgna quxdam detracia luci s in prxlium  ferunt . Nec cohibere parietibus Deos , ncque in  ullam humani oris Jpeciem affimilare ex magni-  tudine cotlejìium arbitrantur. altri Popoli di non peranche ingentilito collume ,  per quanto narrano gravi Autori , collantemente  penfolfi . Ma e dove lalcio la celebre Madre degl*  Iddìi , o fia Cibele di Frigia portata in Roma da  Pelìinunte col miniftero di Scipione Nafica , e da*  Romani ottenuta per mediazione del Re di Perga-  mo al tempo della feconda guerra Cartagine!? ? Livio le dà il nome di fagra Pietra„  Pietra informe la chiama Minuzio Felice . Arno-  bio la defcrive come una Selce non grande  di forco, ed atro colore , e per angoli prominenti  ineguale . Eravi fra quei Popoli tradizione , che  quella Pietra caduta folle dal Cielo, e che ap-  punto da jrK&y cadere la Città Pelfinunte folle Hata  chiamata .   La Grecia ftefTa non fu priva di quelle fog-  gie di Simulacri. Paufania ci attefta, che in una  loia parte d’ Acaja furono da trenta Pietre taglia-  te in quadro , aventi ciafcuna il nome di una qual-  che Divinità , e con fomma venerazione riguarda-  te , fendo llato collume antico de* Greci il prellar  culto a limili Pietre , non meno di quello , che  pofcia faceflèro alle figure, e alle llatue. Mi farà egli difdetto il probabilmente congetturare per  le ragioni di fopra addotte , che quelle , ed altre*  limili Pietre di Grecia nuli’ altro da principio fof-  fero , che Betilie ? Servirono un tempo a niun altro ufo, che agli efercizj delle facre adunanze. L*  Idolatria col farli più tenebrola giunte a diviniz-  zarle . Betilie ùmilmente , o imitazione fenza me-  no delle Betilie pollòno crederli gli Ermi , di cui  la Grecia , e Roma furono ripiene , e che pofcia  ad abellire fervirono fpecialmente le Biblioteche.  Bili non erano da principio , che tronchi informi di  legno , o di marmo , o di pietre tagliate in quadro  fenza mani , e fenza piedi : T runcoque fiinillimus Her-  inu?, dille Giovenale. ("3) Ne* quattro di loro lati  pretendeva!! dinotare o le quattro ltagioni, o le quat-   B 4 tro   ( 1 J Lib. 2$4 ( 2 J Lib . 6 • ("3 ) SiiU 8. 1  '24 Dissert. sull* Origine .   tro parti del Mondo. Si confiderarono poi come  ilatue degli Dei , e di Mercurio principalmente „  Il di lui capo , che vi fi aggiunfe , fu fenza meno  un poderiore ornamento. Anche il Dio Termine  non fu nell* età più vetude rapprefentato , che fot-  to la figura di grolfi Saffi quadrati , cubici , privi   di mano, e di piede : Ttrpctywoi , xuQoziìitls y   K'Xttp&y xou airone? ; quantunque al Dio Termine   pur s* aggiungere la teda umana ne’ fecoli confeguen-  ti . E che non può in quella parte una matta per-  fuafione a poco a poco crelciuta fra i barlumi di  tradizioni parte vere* e parte mendaci? A tutti è  noto , che da molti Popoli fi giunte per fino a ve-  nerare le Montagne , quali grandilfimi Simulacri  della Divinità. Il monte Atlante era il Dio de-  gli AfFricani. Occidentali : un monte il Dio de*  Oappadoci per allerzione di Malfimo Tirio : Moni  a pud Cappadoces prò Deo ejl , prò jur amento , atquc   Simulacrum . Un monte , o fia rupe SxotéA© r y   xoputplw il chiama Stefano , ( i ) rifcoire pure  adorazione dagli Arabi. Giove fi venerava nella  cima de’ più alti monti , come dell’ Olimpo , del  Callo , dell’ Ida ; e il nome quindi ne rifcuotea di  Giove Oljmpico , di Giove Cafio , di Giove Ideo .  Gl’ Italiani ilelfi predarono al monte Appennino  venerazione , come apparifce da una Ifcrizione ri-  ferita dal Matfèi nel tuo Mufeo Veronefe, la qua-  le comincia IOVI APENINO. Ora e per qual ra-  gione crederemo noi , che adorati veniflero tal»  monti , te non per la della , che confecrate avea  le Betilie ? Ce la prelenta naturalmente il Berge-  ro . ( 2 ) Fu fcelta la cima de’ monti per offrirvi   de’ facrihzj , perchè credevano gli Uomini d’ e fie-  re più vicini al Cielo, e conseguentemente agli  Dei, qualora fi adoravano gli Altri. Per tal mo-  tivo   (" i ) In Avsccpq . ( 2 ) Trattai, della vera Relig. ìf  tfvo <i feielfero le pili alte. Tali cime per eli  .«lercizj della Religione confècrare ben predo dir  vennero rilpettabili Immaginoifi , che gli Dei vi  fodero difcefi^ p®* ricevervi T’ incenfo , e gli omag-  gi degli Uomini. Pài non vi volle. Riguardata  prima come abitazione de* Numi , fi confidcrarono  ben predo quai Simulacri immenfi animati dalla  Divinità, ed ottennero una fpecie d’Apoteofi.   . Gon quanto fi è da me finora ragionato, e che,  le il tempo lo permettelle , con altre notizie, e  cagioni facilmente potrebbe!* dilatare, io giudico  refa ormai probabile la opinione di chi accinger  vogliali a fo denere , che. i primi Simulacri delìq  Gentilefche Divinità fodero femplicl Pietre riqua-  drate , od informi, fenza alcuna umana, q anima-  • Jefca fembianza .  Reda ora , che alcuna cola ragionili de* Simu»  * a , cr * ° rot °ndi , o tendenti a rotondità, a cui pre-  ito fuo culto primiero la cieca' fuperdizione , pfi*  ma che folle ai figuri te Statue provveduta.   Io non fono per ripetere quanto di fapra ba*  ftevolmente ti £ detto intorno a| culto degli Adri*  e degli Elementi , degli Spiriti, e degli Eroi. Ag-  giungerò (blamente , che non sdendo per anche  giunto lo fcalpello Adirio , o. Egiziano a rapprefentar le figure degli Uomini, e degli Animali, e  per elprelfioni di Arnobio , ( i J avanti 1’ ufo ,   e U difciplina della fcoltura , già penfato avea 1*  Idolatria a procacciarli , oltre le Betilie , oggetti  temibili alle lue adorazioni. Gonfiitevano quelli  iti certi fimboli q dinotanti, la potenza, e dabi-  hta de’ Numi , o adombranti in qualche modo alcuna or qualità, J Battoni , le Verghe, le Afte,  che al dir di Trago Pompeo (a) furono la prima  “^gna .dei Re, lignificavano il fommo imperio  . de Numi, Le colonne, i cilindri , le pur non erano una imitazione più ‘ ingrandita dei Badoni da  comando, ne accennavano l’ eternità. Gli Obe-   B 5 Ufchi, '   fi) Lib, & (Lib % ultima   t6 Dissert. sull* Origine   lifchi , le Piramidi , i Coni efprimevano i »gg*  «}el • Sole , e delle Stelle , o la natura del fuoco ,  che -in alto vibrava!! acuminato. Menianrto pur  buone a Porfirio ( i ) le interpretazioni sì fatte .  Concediamogli ancora, fe piace , che tali monu-  menti alzati dalla pili vetulla gentilità non fi ri-  guarda fiero da principio , che come fimboli , o  meri Pegni d’ onore . Il Volfio , e forfè con trop-  po impegno, è dello fleflo parere ; ma poi di Por-  firio più ragionevole , perchè non tanto foffifta ,  nè così empio , s’ arrende a concludere , che ben  pretto divennero occafione di lcandalo alla materiale Idolatria , e oggetto furono di profane ado-  razioni . Elfi in una parola ne’ primi tempi flet-  terò in luogo di quelle ftatue figurate, che poi ot-  tenner l’ incenfo dalle corrotte umane generazio-  ni . E qui bramo s’ avverta ? che dove di fopra io  dilli , aver preffo molte nazioni tardato non poco  le ftatue ad innalzarfi ne’ Templi anche dopo la  erezione de’medefimi, io intefi favellar foltanto  delle Statue rapprefentanti le Teodie fotto la forma di Uomo , oppur d’ Animale ; ma non volli  giammai includere i Simulacri , per così dire , fim-  Eolici , e non aventi figura . Quelli fono anteriori , non pure alla ftabil mole de’ grandi Templi ,  ma eziandio a quei Padiglioni, o Tabernacoli, o  Tempietti portatili , con cui gli antichi Idola-  tri ebbero in ul'o di condurre a patteggio i loro  Numi .   Ora di quelli non figurati Simulacri parlando ,  m’aprirò il varco con l'autorità di Filone Bibli-  co ( aj , il quale nel fuo proemio alla interpreta-  zione di Sanconiatone, diftinguendo gli Dei immor-  tali , come il Sole , e la Luna , dagli Dei mortali ,  cioè da que’ Principi , ed Eroi , che per le loro  getta avevano confeguita l’ Apoteofi , ci avverte  «fiere flato vetullo immcmorabil collume , fpecialmente   (ij Apud Eufeb. Trap. Evang. lib, 3. c. 7.   (a) JW. lib. 1. e. 9.   mente degli Egiziani , e Fenici , da’ quali preferì  norma le altre fazioni, d’ innalzare a quelle Chili  d’Iddii Colonnette, o Baftoni , o fia Scettri di le-   • J_ - -t fn..: ninmimpntl il nome di    (cerando. (i),„   Sanconiatone poi nel fuo frammento racconta-  ci fa J, che molti fecoli prima della coftruzione  de’ Templi, e formazione delle Statue Ufoo primo  navigatore avea dedicate due Colonne %uo sTtfKxS   al fuoco , e al vento, e prellato ad entrambe cul-  to , e facrificio col fangue degli Animali. Proiie :   f He indi a narrare , che dopo la morte de primi  roi già divinizzati la grata pofterita onorata avea  la lor memoria , lotto i loro nomi confecrando ver-  ghe , e colonne, e con feftivi giorni , e fagre ce-  rimonie adorandole . Finalmente ci addita , che  dopo lunghiffima età fu innalzata al Dio Agro vera  effigiata Statua nella Fenicia . ..   Giu Teppe Ebreo f 3 ) non diubmigliantl noti-  zie prefentaci , aderendo , che i Tir) da principio  a’ loro Dii fornirono Afte , e Baftoni , poi Colon*  ne , e finalmente le Statue . .Certo nella primitiva Egiziana Scrittura fimbo-  lica ( 4 ) non in altra foggia, che d’ un Bafton da  comando con un occhio efiprimevafi Ofmde , il   S uale originariamente fu il Sole , fignificar volen-  o la fua regale potenza, ed il mirar ch’egli fa  dall’alto tutte le cole. Ed io ben credo efftre  agli Eruditi notiffime le Piramidi , gli Obelifchi ,  ed i Coni dall’ Egitto al Sole innalzati , come per   imitar-   * i   'Tru'Xas rt , xcu pa&lti; aipitpoiw coope-  ro? ccuTiM , xoa rocurot ju.yaAw? , kou   ioprrccs m/J.or carrots Taf pryisrccs.   fi) Apud Eufeb. ibi c. io. ( 3 ) Cont. Apìon.  lib. I. (4J Macrok. SatumaL lib. I.c. ai.    Digitized by Google  aS DisserY. ' suit* Ormine  imitarne I fuqi raggi . Da ciò forfè provennero  quelle corna , d* cui in fedito 1 Egizia bizzaria  li compiacque ornar gentilmente il capo del tuo  Giove Amone, del fpo Apollo d*Eliopoli,e della  fua Ifide. Ove à no\ piaccia di ftare * certe le-  zioni per altro antiche del tetto di Quinto Cur-  zio, CO ammetter dovremo, che 1' Amone ado-  rato da’ Trogloditi , e proceifionalmente a fpalle di  Uomini condotto in una dorata barchetta per aver-  ne eli Oracoli , altra forma non avea , che d un  Goiìò, ó d’ un Ombelico tutto di fmeratdi , e P rc ~  ziofe gemme fmaltato . Almeno rigettar non po-  tralTi 1* autorità di Brodiano,f 2 J il quale ci delcrive il Simulacro del Sole (otto nome di   Elegalu , venerato iq Edeilfo della Siria Apamena •  Di tale Simulacro (e ne può vedere adombrata «.  forma in una medaglia pretto il Vaillant battuta  ali* ùltimo e più pazzo degl’ Imperadori Antonini .  Or ecco la defcrizione di Erodiano, giufta la ver-  fione latina fatta dal ^oliziarfo . „ In Edefla non   v’ ha Simulacro atta Greca , o alla Romana em-  ” «iato fecondo P immagine di quel Dio -, ma un  latto grande rotondo da imo > e , a P oco a P oco  crefcente in punta quali a figura di Cono . Nero  V, è il color della pietra , cui facciano eflere ca-   V, data dal Cielo. ed affermano quella 1   ” fer 1* immagine del Sole no n da umano artificio  3y lavnrata Su tali parole fa una riflettìone op-   /.ante voi* citato G^>     del soie : uiciiuc , 7 - , -, *•   Tentare gl* Iddìi fotto umana fembianza fu de po-  fteriorf Greci, e Romani. Ma gli Afiatici più ve.,  tutti, ecl anche gli Egizj moltq divamente fi *i-   P ° rt Chi °fà pertanto, che, fe ci rimane^ro le me-  rie delle più antiche orientali Divinità , ^noi^noi*    mone Lib. s. (2) Lih 5- CO Uh. 9. c. io >    dell'antica IdoiatrYa. 19   le trovaffimo quali tutte in figura di Colonne , d?  Obelifchi , di Piramidi , o di Coni rappreleutate ?  Certo non fenza ragione i Settanta hanno in co(ìu«  me di traslatar per Colonne la voce ebrea Matgaba ,  che ordinariamente traduce!! per ljìatue ; e come il  Calmet ( t J ci avverte , il nome di Colonne lem-  bra meglio corrifpondere al lignificato del termine  originale. Forfè que’ dottilììmi Interpreti vollero  dinotare la forma antica , con cui 1 ’ Oriente , e la  Terra di Canaan rapprefentar foleva i fuoi Numi ;  E forfè Mosè coll’ imporre , che fi demolillèr tutte  le ftatue delle profane incontrate Divinità , nuli’  altro impofe nella maggior parte , che la demolizio-  ne di Piramidi , e di Colonne . Dilli nella maggior  parte, e non in univerfale, poiché quel Sacrifica-  verunt fiulptilibus Canaan , che abbiamo nel Salmo  105. , mi lece ellèr più continente nelle parole . E  de’ famofi Serafini di Rachele , primo monumento  d’ Idolatria materiale , che s’ incontri nella Scrittura, e degli altri Idoletti elìdenti prellb la làmiglia  di Giacobbe dalla Melopotamia recati, che diremo  noi ? S’ io pretendelfi figurarmeli come piccioli Coni ,  o colonnette , con quai monumenti , ed autorità po-  trei ellère contradetto? Per verità io miro Giacob-  be , che intefo a ripurgare la fua Famiglia , pren-  de , e (otterrà , non folo gl’ Idoli chiamati Dei ftra-  nieri : Deos alienos , ma angora i pendenti , che fi  trovavano all’ orecchie de’ fuoi feguaci Io   non crederò già, che le Pedone della comitiva di  Giacobbe , e malTìme le piilfime Donne Lia , e  Rachele ardlllèro di portare sfacciatamente agli orec-  chi appefe le (lamette, od immagini d’ alcuna pro-  fana Divinità . Primieramente potrebbe!! con tut-  ta ragione foftenere , che di que’ tempi non eranò   peranco T. 2. DiJJìrt. de' Templi degli Antichi .  Genef C. 25. Dederunt ergo ei omnes Dcos  alienos , quos habebant , IP inaures , qua : erant in  auribus eorum. At ille infodit eas subter Terebin -thum .30 Dissert. sull* Origine  perineo in ufo le dame figurate. Le Rabbiniche  tradizioni dell’ arte datuaria efercitata fuperdiziofa-  mente da Tare Padre di Àbramo fono già (eredi-  tate prellò degli Eruditi. La pretefa antichità della Statua di Nino alzata a Belo fuo Padre rella dai  calceli dell’UHèrio fmentita. Nino regnò in Affi-  na parecchj fecoli dopo Giacobbe . All’etàdique^  fio Patriarca il Sole , gli Aflri , e malfime il fuoco  adorati nella Caldea , Affiria , e Mofopotamia probabiliffimamente non aveano che Simulacri fimbolici. Quando pure fenza fondamento ammetter fi  voleflèro le Statue figurate ai giorni dello ftefiò  Giacobbe, io non potrò perfuadermi giammai, che  1’Uom fanto permeili avelie in alcun tempo ne’  fuoi l’ irreligiol'a ollentazione di tenerle appele agli  orecchi, comecché per folo ornamento . Il motivo ideilo, oltre a varj altri, che addurre potrei,  mi trattiene dal fottolcrivermi all’ opinione del  Grazio, e del Wandale , i quali pretendono , che  tali orecchini follerò fuperdiziofi Amuleti . Quale  relazione adunque degli orecchini cogl’ Idoli per  dovere anch’ «Ili meritare il fotterramento ? Se avefi  fi luogo ad edernare un mio non inverifimil pen-  dere, direi , che la relazione confidelle in una cer-  ta edrinfeca fomiglianza colla fimbolica figura degl’  Idoli . Forle l’ ornato di quegli orecchini potea  edere qualche gemma , o preziofo metallo cadente ,  e travagliato a maniera di goccia , di cono, o vergherà, che molto raflòmiglialTe la forma appunto  degl’ Idolatrici Simulacri . Quindi Giacobbe volen-  do abolita per fempre di quedi ultimi la memoria  predo de’luoi, nalcolè unitamente fotterra tutti  quegli ornamenti, che per la loro forma, e lavoro  potuto avrebbero in alcun tempo rifvegliarne la rimembranza. Ma fi torni in carriera , e col Voffio ( i ) ornai  fi rammenti , che non in figura umana , ma bensì  in figura di colonne o piramidi acuminate furono   i Si-   Lib. g. c. 5.  i Simulacri , a cui nei primi , e più rimoti fuoi tem-  pi l’ idolatrante Grecia prodrofli ; che le per con-  ientimentò di tutti gli Autori ebbe la Grecia dagli  Orientali , e dall' Egitto principalmente i fuoi Nu-  mi , e le cerimonie di Religione , farà quella una  riprova novella, che di cilindrica, piramidale, o  conica forma federo i Simulacri almen più vetulli  dall’Oriente, e dall' Egitto inventati.   Ora nuli’ altro appunto , che una Colonna fu  la Giunone Argiva. Ce lo atteda Clemente Alef-  fandrino ( i ) recando alcuni verlì di un vecchio  Poeta Greco in lode di Callitoe prima Sacerdo-  tellà di quella Diva predò gli Argivi . Io mi farò  lecito di darne una mia Traduzione;  Della Donna del Ciel preliede al Tempio  Clavigera Callitoe , che intorno  Di ferti , e bende un dì già ornò primiera  Dell’ Argiva Giunon 1 ’ alta Colonna .   Non altro , che femplici acuminate Colonne , o  Piramidi furono i Simulacri podi ad Apollo , e a  Diana, come lo Scaligero (3 ) dalle antiche me-  morie deduce. Non altro, erte una rozza Colon-  na di legno la Statua di Pallade Attica. ,, Quan-  „ to ( dicea perciò Tertulliano) ( aJ diltinguelt  ,, dallo dipite d' una croce la Pallade Attica , o  „ la Cerere Farrea , che lènza effigie coda d’ un  „ rozzo palo , e d’ un legno informe . Un legno  „ non dolato ( proliegue Arnobio ) ( $ ) adorodì  ,, da que’ di Caria in luogo di Diana : in luogo  „ di Giunone un Pluteo da que’ di Samo ; un’ Atta  „ dai Romani in luogo di Marte , come le Mule   » ài   'Zrpuu.eerwv I  K «XfaQoti cXifjLTtcìbos BajiAtw   H/W fi pryutK W> {Tìia/axsi , XM buiOCVOKl  ripa irti tx.orjj.tKur rtpt tttwx jJMxpw curctsitK .   Ad an. Eufib. 377, f 4 ) AJverf. Cent.   C 5 J Lib. 6. 3 2 Dissert. suix’ Origine   „ di Vairone ci additano. ,, E giacché Arnobio  un Romano Autore ha citato , qui giovi connet-  terne un altro , cioè Trogo Pompeo , o fia il Tuo  Compilatore Giurino ( i ) , il quale d’ Amulio ,~e  di Numitore parlando ultimi fra i Re d’ Alba , in  quella foggia h efprime. ,, In que’ tempi tuttora  ,, dai Re invece di Diadema portavanfi 1 ’ alle »  ,, che lcettri dai Greci furon chiamate. Conciof-  ,, liachè dalla prima origine delle cofe furono ado-  ,, rate 1 ’ Alle in luogo de’ Simulacri degl' Iddii im-  ,, mortali . Ed in memoria di tal religione ai Si-  „ mulacri degl’ Iddii tuttora 1' Alte s’ aggiungono. „  Finalmente non altro , che un rozzo malconcio  legno , e deforme» liccome Ateneo ( 2 ) ne fa fede era il Simulacro di Latoua prello a quelli di Deio y  c per fitìfatta guilà ridevole, che al ibi vederlo  n’ ebbe a icoppiar dalle rifa quel Parmenilco di  Metaponto , che dopo 1 * ufeita dall’ antro di Tri-  ionio non avea rifo giammai. Quindi non ci ltu-  piremo altrimenti al fapere» che un breve defeo  attaccato ad una lunghi ifima pertica folle il Simu*  lacro del Sole venerato da que’ di Peonia ; e che  informi tronchi , maltagliati , e fenz' arte fodero  1 Numi degli antichi Germani » e de’ prilchi Galli , come ne allicura Lucano . ( 3 ) Molto mena  furem meraviglia in vedere queiti primi idolatrici  monumenti di legno più tolto , che d’ altra mate-  ria lavorati . Per poco che fiali nell’ erudizione  verfato » non può ignorarli » che i Simulacri pri-  mieri dell’ ancor giovane Idolatria materiale , giu-  lta il collume degli Orientali pattato nella Grecia »  e nel Lazio, furono quali comunemente d’ argil-  la, o di legno , a cui fuccedè ben prello il mar-  mo » quindi i metalli v e finalmente 1’ avorio .  Non lafcianci dubitarne i be' palli, che abbiamo   in   C O Lib. 43. (z) Mb. 5.   ( 3 ) Simulacraque moejla Deorum   Arte careni , caefisque extant informia truficis .  in Ifiaia ( i ) , in Geremia ( 2 ) in Ofiea (3), e  nel Libro della Sapienza ( 4 ) . Gli eleganti verfi  poi di Tibullo CìJ 1 non Ibi rapporto a quello  capo, ma tutta in generale confermano la mia pre-  fente opinione .   Non di legno però - ma di pietra in figura di  gran piramide , al dir di Pautania , fi* il Simula-  cro fiotto il nome di Apollo da’ Megarefi guarda-  to , e Umilmente una pietra fu la sì celebre Ve-  nere Pafia , il di cui Santuario tanta venerazione  rifico Uè non pur dall’ Ifiola di Cipro , ma dalla  Grecia tutta, e dall’ Alia minore. Venere Pafia,  che ha data occafione , e primo impullò al mio  fieri vere , quella fi a appunto , che ornai gli dia  compimento.   Il di lei Simulacro viene da Maflimo Tirio  ( 6 ) ad una piramide bianca paragonato . Noi  però più efatta ne prenderemo la detenzione da  Tacito ( 7 ) , le di cui parole nel fiuo nativo linguaggio mi fo lecito di produrre : Haud crtt lon-  gum initi a religionis , temyli fitum , formanti Dea 9  ncque alibi fic habetur , vaucis dijjerere. Simulacrum Dea non effigie fiumana continuus orbis , la -  tiore initio tenuem m ambitum , met a modo exurgens , C? ratio in obfcuro - Or di quefia Venere  Pafia noi coi noftri proprj occhi ne potremo facilmente rilevar Ja figura tutta appunto conforme   * alla   C o f. 29. ( 2) I. f 3 ) 4. 12, co «$•   Eleg. 1. lib. I.   O) Nam veneror, jèu Jìiyes habet defertus in agris ,  $eu vetits in trivio florida Certa lapis f  Eleg. io. lib. I..   Sed yatrii fervute lares , coluiflis CP idem  Curfarem veflros cum tener ante lares ;   Kec yudeat yrifios vos ejfe e fliyite faclos ,   Sic veteris JeJes incoluiflis evi .   T unc melius tenuere fidem , cum ytniyere teSÌ 9  l Stabat in exigua ligneus ade Q$us •   (d) Orat. 38. (7) Lib , 2. 54 Dissert. sull'Origine   alla defcrizione di Tacito. Balla oflervar tre Me**  daglie riportateci dal Patino ( i). La prima bat-  tuta dalla Città di Paflo a Drulo Celare ( 2 ) . La  feconda coniata da’ Cipriotti a Vefpalìano  La terza da’ Cipriotti Umilmente dedicata a Tra-  mano C4J • Anzi non l’ Itola lòia di Cipro, co-  me di lòpra toccai , e come attella , e compro-  va P eruditiffimo incomparabile Spanemio (5),  adorò la Venere Pafia . Il di lei culto propagolfi  ancora in altre Nazioni , e Città , le «juali perciò  lì fecero vanto di ornare col di lei Simulacro , e  Tempio i rovefci di lor medaglie . Fede ne fac-  cia la Medaglia di Adriano battuta da que’di Sardi  nell’ Afia minore, e riferita dal Sirmondo (< 5 ) , e  Umilmente un’ altra coniata da Pergameni fpet-  tante ad Euripilo prellò il citato Spanemio ( 7 ) ;  ed anche un’ antica Corniola prodotta dall’ Ago-  ltini , fenza accennare però, le Greca, o Roma-  na ( 8 _) . Ed io lòn di parere , che dal tempo , e  dagli Eruditi altri limili monumenti o fcoperti lì  fieno , o (coprire lì pollano dinotanti la venera-  zione dilatata, in che lì ebbe quella folle Palla  divinità, e infieme comprovanti la veridica deferii  zione , che del di Lei Simulacro Tacito ci rap-  prefenta . Debbo però confettare , che quanto ne*  monumenti addotti io riconol'co per vera ed el'at-  ta la delcrizione mentovata , mi lòrprende altret-  tanto il modo , con cui Tacito la conclude : Me-  t.r modo exurgens , ei dice , i? ratio in olj'curo . Pof-  fibile , che ad un Uom si erudito , quale fu Taci-  to, sì gran meraviglia facelle il mirar Venere Pafia  in figura di un cono , o di una piramide ? Non  dovea egli piuttollo da una tale figura defumere 1*  antichità di tal Simulacro , o almeno la derivazio-  ne di   C 1 J Imy. Roin. Numis . (*2 ) Ibi pag. 80.   C 3 )  (4) Ibi pag. J 3 o. ( $ ) De   Praeft. , t? Ufìi Numism. Dijf. 5. ) Colleg. del-  le Med. del Col. Chiaram. di Parigi . ( 7 ) Ibi .   C»J DiaL 5. pag. 176.    ne di una veturtilfima coltomanza ? Non dovea Ta-  pe re , che ne’ più rimoti tempi, e come Trogo di-  cea , ab origine rerum , altri Simulacri non ebbero  i Numi , che o pietre quadrate , o piramidi , od obe-  lifchi , o coni , o colonne di legno , e di fallo ?  Come ignorar potea il conico Simulacro d’ Apollo  in Megara , e del Sole in Ed e Ila , e gli obelifchi,  è le piramidi al Sole ideilo alzate in Egitto ? Come  gli ufeiron di mente i furti, o colonnette rozze di  legno , e le impolite pietre , che per di lui alfer-  zione rifeuoteano le adorazioni della Germania ?  Come sfuggirono alla di lui maflima erudizione le  due colonne porte a Giove nel Tempio d’ Ercole  in Tiro ; come le altre molte collocate nel Tempio  di Gadi ; come le due confecrate al Sole dal Re  Ferone nel di lui Tempio in Egitto? Tante co-  lonne infine fi J , con cui adombrar (i folevano  e Giove , e Giunone , e Bacco chiamato perciò   TUputiovios Colutnnarius , e Apollo detto Ayiftfs   Compitali , ed Ercole , e Marte , e Bellona , non do-  vevano farlo falire all’ origine delle cole , ai colto-  mi dell’antica, e primiera rozzezza, e deporre la  meraviglia circa la forma del Simulacro di Venere  Pafia ? Ma qual cofa Tacito fi penfaflè in quella Tua  fofpenfione, egli fel vegga, e noi non ce ne brighe-  remo altrimenti.   Raccoglieremo bensì le vele ad una Dillerta-  zione , che in vallo pelago trafeorfe ornai troppo  lungi. Voi, o dottiamo Sig. Conte, farete telfi-  monio o del Tuo felice tragitto, o del Ilio infaufto  naufragio ; e onorar dovrete o di compatimento i  fuoi rilicofi viaggi , o i luoi errori di correzione .  Se 1 amor proprio non mi fa velo al giudizio , ere.   c " e ^ della tratto avelie a qualche porto di  1 ufficiente probabilità 1 opinione da Voi propolla-  ™ l . \ c }°£ che i Simulacri più vernili delle pagane  Divinità follerò di quadrata, o di rotonda figura ,   o al- C O Ue^io Aìnetan. Qjiejì . lib.    3<5 Dissert. SuliTdolatria; (  o almeno tendente a rotonditi . Un più ralente  Piloto e di forze , e di tempo , e di finimenti più  agiato faprà condurla felicemente ad un porto di  fìcurezza . Quanto a me , fe altro non averti po-  tato ottenere , Tarò almeno contentiamo d avervi   f er alcun modo tellimoniata la mia. ubbidienza , alto pregio , in che tengo 1’ autorità voftra , e ij  voltro merito Angolare .   l'idi t prò lUtàe , ac Revino D. V. Domini co  Al archi one Mancinforte Epifcopo F aventino  Albertus Raccagni Farocbus Sanfli Antonini.  Fr. Angelus Maria Merenda Ordinis Predicato-  rum Sacra Scripturx LeElor , ac f^icartus Gg~  neralis SaaEli Offici* F aventi a .  In tale direzione, si riscontra la necessità di condurre la ricerca a un livello sem iotico-sem iosico, ricorrendo alla sem iotica di Peirce, e in particolare alla sua definizione di “interpretante iconico”, segno creativo capace di comprendere meglio ciò che è altro dall’identico, ciò che differisce dal segno “idolo”. Attraverso una semiotica dell’interpretazione, si cercherà quindi di spiegare teoricamente il funzionamento degli elementi che compongono un testo, per una comprensione del concetto di scrittura e le prospettive che questa propone per la costruzione di un approccio critico alla problematica della lettura del testo BACON, LE QUATTRO SPECIE DI IDOLI Bacon espone in queste pagine la sua teoria sugli idola (i pregiudizi) che occupano la mente umana e le rendono difficile “l’accesso alla verità”. Bacon, Novum Organon, Gli idoli e le false nozioni che penetrarono nell’intelletto umano fissandosi in profondità dentro di esso, non solo assediano le menti umane in modo da rendere difficile l’accesso alla verità, ma addirittura (una volta che quest’accesso sia dato e concesso) di nuovo risorgeranno e saranno causa di molestia nella stessa instaurazione delle scienze: almeno che gli uomini, preavvertiti, non si agguerriscano, per quanto è possibile contro di essi. Quattro sono le specie degli idoli che assediano le menti umane. Per farci intendere abbiamo imposto loro dei nomi: chiameremo la prima specie idoli della tribú; la seconda idoli della spelonca; la terza idoli del mercato; la quarta idoli del teatro. Gli idoli della tribú sono fondati sulla stessa natura umana e sulla stessa tribú o razza umana. Pertanto si asserisce falsamente che il senso umano è la misura delle cose ché al contrario tutte le percezioni, sia del senso sia della mente, derivano dall’analogia con l’uomo, non dall’analogia con l’universo. Rispetto ai raggi delle cose l’intelletto umano è simile a uno specchio disuguale che mescola la sua propria natura a quella delle cose e la deforma e la travisa.  XLII Gli idoli della spelonca sono idoli dell’uomo in quanto individuo. Ciascuno infatti (oltre alle aberrazioni proprie della natura in generale) ha una specie di propria caverna o spelonca che rifrange e deforma la luce della natura: o a causa della natura propria e singolare di ciascuno, o a causa dell’educazione e della conservazione con gli altri, o della lettura di libri e dell’autorità di coloro che si onorano e si ammirano, o a causa della diversità delle impressioni a seconda che siano accolte da un animo preoccupato e prevenuto o calmo ed equilibrato. Cosicché lo spirito umano (come si presenta nei singoli individui) è cosa varia e grandemente mutevole e quasi soggetta al caso. Perciò giustamente affermò Eraclito che gli uomini cercano le scienze nei loro mondi particolari e non nel piú grande mondo a tutti comune. Vi sono poi gli idoli che derivano quasi da un contratto e dalle reciproche relazioni del genere umano: li chiamiamo idoli del mercato a causa del commercio e del consorzio degli uomini. Gli uomini infatti si associano per mezzo dei discorsi, ma i nomi vengono imposti secondo la comprensione del volgo e tale errata e inopportuna imposizione ingombra in molti modi l’intelletto. D’altra parte le definizioni o le spiegazioni, delle quali gli uomini dotti si provvidero e con le quali si protessero in certi casi, non sono in alcun modo servite di rimedio. Anzi le parole fanno violenza all’intelletto e confondono ogni cosa e trascinano gli uomini a controversie e a finzioni innumerevoli e vane.  XLIV Vi sono infine gli idoli che penetrano negli animi degli uomini dai vari sistemi filosofici e dalle errate leggi delle dimostrazioni. Li chiamiamo idoli del teatro perché consideriamo tutte le filosofie che sono state ricevute o create come tante favole presentate sulla scena e recitate che hanno prodotto mondi fittizi da palcoscenico. Non parliamo solo dei sistemi filosofici che già abbiamo o delle antiche filosofie e delle antiche sètte perché è sempre possibile comporre e combinare moltissime altre favole dello stesso tipo: le cause di errori diversissimi possono essere infatti quasi comuni. Né abbiamo queste opinioni solo intorno alle filosofie universali, ma anche intorno a molti princípi e assiomi delle scienze che sono invalsi per tradizione, credulità e trascuratezza.     (Il pensiero di F. Bacon, a cura di P. Rossi, Loescher, Torino. The idol fixes one's gaze on itself ; the icon , for its part , demands that one go throughGrice: “Cattaneo’s philosophical background is much stronger than Hart’s! Hart always doubted his philosophical abilities – as he kept comparing himself to me! When Cattaneo was at St. Antony’s, Hart found that he had to play brilliant, since a ‘continental’ was watching! Cattaneo is especially good in the study of Roman-Italian giurisprudenza, from Cicero, Goldoni, Carrrara, and Manzoni, onwards! They don’t need no stinking Hart!” -- M. A. Cattaneo. Mario A. Cattaneo. Mario Alessandro Cattaneo. Mario Cattaneo. Keywords: eidolon, idolo, idol of the market place – bentham -- autorita, autoritarismo, positivismo di H. L. A. Hart, il concetto della legge, filosofia del linguaggio ordinario, scuola oxoniense di filosofia del linguaggio ordinario, il gruppo di giocco di Austin, il primo o vecchio gruppo di giocco di Austin al All Souls, giovedi notte; il nuovo gruppo di giocco di Austin sabato alla mattina. Hart, Hampshire, Grice. Grice, neo-Trasimaco, giustizia, fairness, valore legale, valore morale, le legge e la morale, priorita della moralita sulla legalita, concetti di priorita, priorita evaluativa, neo-trasimaco, neo-socrate, platonismo giuridico, positivismo pre-Kelsen: hobbes, bentham, autin. I giuristi italiani. Storia della giurisprudenza italiana. Goldoni, Carrara, Manzoni, Collodi, Lorenzini, Pinocchio, Foscolo, Perini, Beccaria, Colonna infame, letteratura italiana, fizione italiana, prosa italiana, giurisprudenza italiana, avvocatura ed implicatura. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Cattaneo” – The Swimming-Pool Library. Cattaneo.

No comments:

Post a Comment