Aristotle maintained that anger was good for virtue and reason. He believed it indispensable to politics in wartime and to the government of the family in peacetime. “One must,” he said, “use it in war, not as a good captain, but as a brave soldier.” That, Father André said, was pleading the cause of human nature.
It even appears, from what Aristotle says of anger, that the Greeks were a naturally moderate and placable people. The Romans were much less so. The affair of the lamprey would never have happened in Athens, even had she been all-powerful. In everything, Aristotle is a thousand times more sensible and more a man of the world on this subject than Seneca, who speaks only as a declaimer and a man of the school.
This geometry of beauty (one does say line of beauty?) so well known to the ancients.
December 23.
The soul must touch there (at every point in a work).
They sometimes say, speaking of musical works, the air of..., the chorus of..., the overture of... Every work must also have its airs, its choruses, its overtures.
... sings for himself; and that is what one must not do, sing for oneself.
To have done with anger, it is not bad in the blood (and in the place where nature has put it). But it is worth nothing in the mind, where reason cannot endure it and where it is truly out of place.
December 24.
Legion of Honor. (literally) the distinction of not belonging to it.
December 25.
— who are willing to let their sorrow be glimpsed, but do not want its bounds to be seen.
The young girl’s death. “It is because God had need of her,” said good mother L-m-c. [Lemoce?]
December 26.
“That paints, but in the wrong direction, — arresting the mind on a point of description that is not in its place,” says Ch. D. very well (Mercure of Saturday, December 24, 1803). It is putting the background in the foreground.
December 28.
(In the hut.) When the soul speaks to itself and makes a spectacle of its own thoughts for itself, it clothes them in figures, it speaks to itself in images. It speaks in this way even to God. This language is truly intimate.
It seems to me that the pure mind and the language it speaks to itself is neither the soul nor its language. The pure mind that the Malebranchists have recommended again and again is only an extreme attention that strips what occupies it of its dough and its colors, to represent to itself nothing but the driest lineaments.
It is the art of neurology, the art of the camp planner, of the surveyor, the art of the mere maker of plans. The soul does not stop there. It paints everything for itself and paints it. The pure mind is only one of its helpers.
And let everything come from the entrails, everything down to the slightest expression. It is perhaps a disadvantage, but it is a necessity: I undergo it.
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The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert, Volume I · Book Mode · Diotimos