De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, Book IV (De arte dialectica), part 1 of 3 (about §§ 327-364)
She too, who binds up her chatter in twisted knots, and without whom nothing follows and nothing is repugnant, coming into the assembly of the gods, brought the beginnings of speech, and set up the school axiom, recalling that the voice consists in ambiguous words, and thinking nothing regular unless it be associated. But although Aristotle himself, pale, at last turns over in distress the ten modes he has declared, though the Stoic sophisms circle round and play with the lost senses and never bear horns on their brow, though Chrysippus heaps up his own pile and completes the heap, and Carneades wields a power equal to hellebore, no height so great, with so many descendants of men, ever befell any, nor did so fortunate an honor of lot fall to you; among the temples of the gods it is right for Dialectic to speak, and with Jove looking on, you act by the right of one who teaches.
Accordingly she came in, summoned by the Delian god: a woman somewhat paler, but with a very keen gaze and eyes that quivered with constant mobility, whose hair seemed twisted and curled in a becoming bend, and plaited; yet, drawn down in certain successive steps, it so circled the shape of her whole head that you saw nothing lacking and found nothing superfluous. She wore a cloak and the dress of Athens, but what she carried in her hands was unexpected and wholly unknown to all the gymnasia. In her left hand was a serpent wound in huge coils; in her right, certain formulae skillfully shaped in wax of flowering color and varied charm, held within by the fastening of a hidden hook. But since her left hand hid under her cloak the viper’s snares, it was her right she offered to all. In short, if anyone took one of those formulae, he was at once caught by the hook and drawn into the venomous circles of the hidden snake, which, soon emerging, first afflicted the man with the poisoned point of its thorny teeth in constant bites, then, wound about him in manifold coils, constrained him to the conditions proposed. But if no one wished to take any formula whatever, she occupied him with certain questions put in his way, or secretly goaded the serpent to creep at them, until the plaited embrace choked the surrounded ones at the questioner’s pleasure. The woman herself seemed of a rather contracted body and of dusky bearing, but rough with thorny brambles, she was saying in common speech something inexplicable. For she asserted that the universal affirmative could be turned obliquely into the particular negative, and both reversed, by joining equivocals to univocals, and she spoke with the confidence, as it were, of a prophetess that she alone discerned what is true and what is false. She said that she had been brought up on the rock of the Egyptians and from there had passed to the school of Parmenides and to Attica, and that there, with a calumnious purpose of changeable study, she had also made herself the slave of the greatness of Socrates and Plato. As she, always crafty with deceitful argument and boasting of the many she had circumvented, was being approached, the Cyllenian’s caduceus, a twin serpent, rose up and tried to lick the woman with frequent flickerings of tongues, and then the Gorgon too hissed at Tritonis with a kind of joy of recognition. “No doubt,” said Bromius, who is the wittiest of the gods, “and she was utterly unaware of it, this woman is brought from the sands of panting Libya, as her tangled hair teaches, and her friendship with poisons, or else we must trust that she is a druggist of the Marsian nation. For thus she is charmed by a viper’s recognition and the blandishment of snakes. And if this is not so, it is gathered from the fraud of that hook that she is a most seductive mountebank and inhabitant of the Marsian rocks.” When at this saying many of the gods smiled as far as was fitting, Pallas, somewhat shaken, checked the joke as it arose, reminding them that this woman was altogether sober, which has been quite denied to some gods; and that among sisters those should be approved who are keener, and that she, when she had put forward her assertions, can be laughed at by no one. Then she bids her deliver what she had brought for the proof of her viperous assertion and keenness, and prepare herself for the bearing of insinuating skill. Then, while Grammar, who after the insinuation had been completed was standing nearby, feared to take the circled coils and gaping mouths of the slippery snake, they were entrusted to the goddess herself, who had even tamed Medusa’s hair, together with the alluring figures and those hooked formulae. Thus, by the ornament of her hair, she was approved as purely of Cecrops’ city and of Attica, and chiefly because the people of the cloaked and the chosen Greek youth followed her, wondering at the woman’s prudence and genius. Jupiter, however, judging that for the judging and fulfilling of virtues Greek levity came after Romulean virtues, ordered her to bring forth whatever she knew in the Latian tongue. And soon Dialectic, though she was thought to be little able to speak Latin worthily, with readier confidence and with eyes narrowed by a certain quivering of the gaze, formidable even before words, began thus: “If the learning and industry of my Varro, celebrated among Latian glories, did not stand by me, I, a woman of the Doric nation, might be found among the swarms of the Romulean voice either quite rude or fairly barbarous. For after Plato’s golden river and Aristotle’s faculty, the diligence of Marcus Terentius first drew me into the Latin voice and procured for me the possibility of speech through the Ausonian schools. In obedience to these precepts, then, striving to comply, I shall neither abandon the Greek order of discussing nor delay the chatter of Laurentine assertion. And first I want this to be understood by me: that the Romans and the toga-wearing people have not yet been able to renew my name, and that Dialectic, as I was wont at Athens, is so called, and that whatever the other arts proclaim is wholly of my right. For who doubts that neither the Grammar which your ears approved, nor the other, the glorious faculty of opulent speech, nor that one which draws the diverse forms with rod and dust, can be explained without my reasonings? Indeed, in my dominion and right stand six norms, of which the other disciplines consist. The first is on speaking, the second on expressing, the third on proposing, the fourth on the sum of propositions, the fifth on judging, which pertains to the judgment of poets and songs, the sixth, which has been lent to the rhetoricians for speaking. In the first part it is asked what a genus is, what a form, what a difference, what an accident, what a property, what a definition, what a whole, what a part, what the mode in dividing, what in partitioning, what is equivocal, what univocal, what, so to say, multivocal. You ought indeed to bear with the strangeness of the discourse, you who have compelled me to discourse of Greek matters in Latin fashion. What words, then, belong to things, which are foreign, and in how many ways they are foreign; what is substance, what quality, what quantity, what relative, what of place, what of time, what position, what habit, what to do, what to suffer; which are opposite to one another and in how many ways they are opposed: these are examined in the first part of our work. In the second, which I called on expressing, it is asked what a noun is, what a verb, what is joined from these, what part of the sentence is the subject, what the declarative, what the mode of the subject is, what of the declarative, how far a noun is taken, how far a verb, how far a sentence is perfect so that it can be a proposition. The third part, on proposing, follows this. In it it is asked, so far as the brevity suitable to today’s purpose suffices, what the differences of propositions are in quantity, what in quality, what is universal, what particular, what indefinite, which are affirming, which denying, what force each has and how they are related to one another.
From here she proceeds to the fourth part, which we said is on the sum of propositions. In it it is asked what is a premise, what an inference, what a syllogism, what a symperasma (conclusion), what is a predicative syllogism, what a conditional, and what lies between them; how many forms there are of the predicative kind and what they are; whether they hold a certain order and, if they do, what the reason of that order is; how many modes each has and whether these modes hold a certain order and, if so, what the reason of that order is; then, of the conditional syllogism, how many modes are first and necessary, what their order is, and how they differ among themselves. These are the things which I think suffice for present knowledge and assertion. What a genus is, then, going back to the beginnings from which I shall run through the whole, I shall first set forth. A GENUS is the embrace of many forms under one name, as animal; its forms are as man or horse and the rest. But sometimes some forms are so subject to a genus that they themselves can be genus to others placed under them, as the genus of men, which is a form of animal, is genus to barbarians and Romans. A thing can be a genus until, dividing its forms, you come to some individual. As if you divide men into male and female, again males into boys, youths and old men, again boys into infants and speakers, again if you wish to divide the boy into Catamitus or some other boy of a certain person, that is not a genus, since it has now reached an individual. We ought, however, to use that genus which is nearest to the present business, as if the question is about man, we ought to take as his genus animal, which is nearest to him. For if we should say substance, as far as reason goes it is true, as far as need goes it is superfluous. FORMS we call the same as species. Forms, then, are those which, subject to a genus, keep its definition and name, as man, horse, lion: since they are forms of animal, man and horse and lion can be called animal, a name and a body sharing in a soul, which is recognized as the definition of the genus.
A DIFFERENCE is a distinction sufficient for what you have undertaken, as if it is asked what lies between a man and a horse, it is enough to say that a man is two-footed, a horse four-footed. We ought to notice, however, that since there are many differences in single things, we can divide any one thing in different ways, whenever we can find in it one difference after another. For if we wish to divide animal, we can divide by sexes, because some are male, others female; by ages, because some are newborn, others young, others old; by sizes, because some are small, others large, others medium; by varieties of motion, because some walk, others creep, others swim, others fly; by diversities of dwellings, because some are aquatic, others terrestrial, others aerial, others, as some say, fiery; by the sound of the tongue, because some speak, others groan, others bark, others howl. Let us know, however, that each division is complete and that all are found in single ones. For male animals can be newborn and small and walking and terrestrial and two-footed and speaking. Therefore, though we may use any, you ought to use the one that is suited to the business undertaken. For if you must speak in praise of men, it will be right to divide into rational and foolish, so that by it it may be easily understood how much nature has valued men among all animals, to whom alone she granted reasoning in order to know herself.
An ACCIDENT is what happens to the same form but not always, as rhetoric happens to no one but man, yet it may also not happen to him, so that although someone is a man, he is not an orator. A PROPERTY is what happens to the same form and always so that it distinguishes any one thing from the community of all, as laughter in man. For no one can laugh except man, nor can man, when he wishes, so far as it is in his nature, fail to laugh. And a difference is distant from a property in this, that a difference distinguishes any one thing only from that from which the question arises, but a property from all. For when, wishing to distinguish man from lion by a difference, we say that the lion is wild but man is gentle, we seem to distinguish only what pertains to the business undertaken. For in saying “the lion is wild, man gentle,” we have separated neither man from other gentle animals nor the lion from other beasts; but when we have said “man is a laughing animal,” we have thereby distinguished him from the generality of other living creatures.
A DEFINITION is when the enfolded knowledge of any one thing is openly and briefly explained. In this, three things are to be avoided: that nothing false, nothing more, nothing less be signified. It is false in this way: “man is an immortal animal.” For no man is immortal, and therefore it is false. More is said in this way: “man is a mortal animal.” For this too, though briefly said, is more, because it pertains to all animals. Less is signified in this way: “man is a grammatical animal.” For although only man is a grammatical animal, yet not every man is grammatical. A full definition is thus: “man is a rational mortal animal.” For by adding mortal we separated him from the gods, by adding rational we separated him from the beasts.
A WHOLE is that which, having two or more parts placed in itself, does not always admit a name, but never admits a definition. And this is found only in individuals, as if we designate a man and make his single members his parts, we understand that this very thing is a whole, because we have set up a certain man, and that the definition and name of the whole itself cannot fall upon the parts. For we shall not be able to call the arm alone or the head a man, nor do single members receive his definition. But it must be observed that sometimes we can say “all” for “whole,” but with a different understanding. For “whole” is recognized even in single things, “all” in many. For when we say “man Cicero,” because he is one, the whole is understood in him; but “man,” because there can be unskilled and skilled, male and female, we take better as “all.”
PARTS are what are understood to be in the whole and of which the whole consists. TO DIVIDE we ought until we come to the individual, and this is done when, through differences, we reduce genera to a small number and subject forms to them in such a way that they themselves singly can also be genera to others placed under them. As animal, if we wish first to divide it briefly, we can do so by differences, because some walk, others creep, others swim, others fly. Hence again, that is, from single forms we can make genera, so as to say that walking animals are a genus and subject forms to it, because some are human, others wild. And from these there can be other forms, through which, if necessary, one can arrive at the individual. But this need not be done in every assertion, but in some subtle disputation. Then in an oration we can divide in this way when the obscurity of the cause demands it. But if the cause is not obscure, the principle of division should indeed be present and be handled, but ought not to show much.
The differences of PARTITION do not occur frequently, and so without them partition can be endless if we wish to reach the individual. For if we say a certain man for the whole and wish to gather his parts briefly, differences of parts are not at hand, and we shall be forced to use the names of certain parts, so as to say head, feet and the rest, which, if we wish to embrace briefly, since differences are lacking, we cannot gather single ones, because they are many and it will be either impossible or long. There is this difference, however, between division and partition: in division we run through the forms, in partition the parts. Forms are those which are subject to a genus and can keep its definition and name. Parts are those which are in the whole and can never receive the definition, but sometimes the name, of the whole. We can, however, take one and the same thing both as genus and as whole, but with a different force. As man: if we wish to divide him into youth, old man and boy, he is a genus and these are his forms. If we wish to partition him into head, feet and hands, he is a whole and these are his parts, because youth, old man and boy, which we said are forms, receive both the name and the definition of man, so that the old man too is called man, a rational mortal animal, and the boy and the youth. But head and feet, which we said are parts, can receive neither the definition of man nor the name, because neither can the head be called man, a laughing animal, nor the feet nor the hands.
EQUIVOCAL is when many things have one name but not the same definition, as leo. For as far as the name goes, a real lion and a painted and a heavenly one are called lion; as far as the definition goes, the real one is defined one way, the painted another and the heavenly another. UNIVOCAL is when two or more things have one name and definition, as vestis (garment). For both the cloak and the tunic have the name of garment and can receive the definition. This univocal, then, is understood in the series of the genus, which gives both name and definition to its forms. MULTIVOCAL is when one thing is called by many names, as a sword. For ensis and mucro signify the same. To things belong their own words, which we call natural and also proper, as stone, wood and the rest.
FOREIGN words are those borrowed by some reason, either for necessity or for ornament. For necessity, as we say that vines bud (gemmare), that crops are glad (laetas). Here, since the proper word is lacking, we have used a foreign one. For neither can we say of vines anything other than gemmare, nor of crops anything other than laetas. For ornament, however, we say that the crops wave (fluctuare). For we could say that they are otherwise moved, but since it is not ornate, we use the foreign. FOREIGN words are made in three ways: by likeness, by contraries, or by differences. By likeness, as those that are counted among the tropes of grammar, as this very thing I said, the crops wave. Of this kind are also those that signify the part from the whole or the whole from the part, in such a way that they have a becoming nearness of words; for it pleased to include these under the kind of likeness. Words are said by contrary when they are taken contrary to what we say, as we call the Fates Parcae (sparing) though they do not spare, and a grove lucus though it does not shine (luceat). Grammarians call this kat’ antiphrasin. By difference, foreign words are those that are taken from others without any reason, as if we should call a man who is neither hard in body nor dull in mind a stone. But it is not fitting to use these; for it is foolish to utter words that signify nothing or are too foreign. But it is right to use proper, similar and contrary words.
Before I speak of this, certain things must be taught. Everything we say is either a subject, or of a subject, or in a subject. THE SUBJECT is the first substance, which itself happens inseparably to no other, though other things happen to it, as Cicero is not a name but that which is signified by that name. OF A SUBJECT is what is said of the subject itself and gives it both its definition and its name, as man. For Cicero is both man and rational mortal animal. So both name and definition, which is of the subject, have come to the same subject; and therefore what is said of a subject is found in genera or forms. IN A SUBJECT is what gives the subject neither name nor definition, but is understood to be in the subject itself so that it cannot be without it, as rhetoric. For the subject can receive neither its name nor its definition. For rhetoric is not Cicero, nor is the science of speaking well Cicero; but it is understood to be in him, since he himself cannot be so called.
To be of a subject is one thing, to be in a subject another. Discipline is in a subject. For the same is of a subject in respect of rhetoric, and in the subject in respect of Cicero. The first substance, then, is the subject; the second, that which is said of the first itself, so that Cicero is the first substance, man and animal the second. Now all the following predications are understood to be in a subject; so let us look at each. What is quality? QUALITY is that according to which we say of what sort a thing is, as whiteness. And from this it may be understood that quality too is in a subject, since whiteness is necessarily in something, without which it cannot be: and surely that something in which it is, is the subject. What is quantity? QUANTITY is that according to which we say how great a thing is, as two feet long. This too must be understood to be in a subject. What is the relative? THE RELATIVE is what they call “toward something,” as father, brother. And these too are in a subject. For it is necessary that all these be toward something, and if there are some of which they are said, those which are said will be seen in the mind. What of PLACE? That is, what we say, at Rome: Rome is a substance, this happens to Rome itself. What of time? As yesterday, recently, in the evening. Those by whose motion time is understood are substances, as the sun, by whose course we understand time, and those that produce in us some understanding of delay. What of POSITION? As, he lies, he sits. What of HABIT? As shod, armed: man is a substance, and these happen to him. What of doing? As to cut, to burn. What of suffering? As to be cut, to be burned.
THE FIRST SUBSTANCE is that which is neither inseparably in a subject nor predicated of any subject. “Inseparably” is added to the definition for this reason, that every first substance, though it be in some place, can yet be separated from it and move away, as Cicero is understood to be in the senate-house in such a way that he can depart from there somewhere; and a part of the first substance, although in the whole, is not inseparably so: for the arm can be separated from our body, either in fact or in thought. But rhetoric is so in the mind of Cicero that even if by some chance it should cease to be, it is not understood to migrate, since neither when it began to be is it understood to have come. THE SECOND SUBSTANCE is that which is predicated of the first, as has been said, as man of Cicero, and animal of man and Cicero. And whatever is genus of the first substance is understood to be second substance. This, then, is common to all substances, not to be in a subject. The first substance is neither of a subject nor can be intensified or lessened, that is, receive more and less. And indeed no one is more man than another man, nor will one and the same man be more a man tomorrow than he was today; and among different things a horse is not more a horse than a man a man. This is to be observed in substances among their fellows, that is, so as to compare first with first, second with second. For if you compare second with first, the first is more substance than the second. For the first shows the thing more, but the second has a certain ambiguity of community. For when I say Cicero, I signify something individual and certain; when I say man, since all of us are subject to this appellation, it is uncertain whom I mean. Thus it comes about that the first substance is more substance than the second, because it shows the thing more certainly. More and less, then, substance does not receive among its fellows. Likewise substance has nothing contrary. For nothing is contrary to man or horse. But if someone says that Clodius was contrary to Cicero, he understands that the substances themselves were not contrary but the qualities which were in them, as malice to goodness, or vice to virtue, or injustice to justice. It seems, however, proper to substance that one and the same is capable of contraries by a certain change of itself, as a stone, while it is the same, can be now white, now black, and yet does not cease to be the same stone; and Cicero, first foolish, afterwards wise, yet does not cease to be the same Cicero.