Philoponus: On Aristotle Categories 1–5 with Philoponus: A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts 9781474220187, 9781472584106, 9781472584120

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Philoponus On Aristotle Categories 1–5 with

Philoponus A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts

Ancient Commentators on Aristotle GENERAL EDITORS: Richard Sorabji, Honorary Fellow, Wolfson College, University of Oxford, and Emeritus Professor, King’s College London, UK; and Michael Griffin, Assistant Professor, Department of Philosophy, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, Canada. This prestigious series translates the extant ancient Greek philosophical commentaries on Aristotle. Written mostly between 200 and 600 AD, the works represent the classroom teaching of the Aristotelian and Neoplatonic schools in a crucial period during which pagan and Christian thought were reacting to each other. The translation in each volume is accompanied by an introduction, comprehensive commentary notes, bibliography, glossary of translated terms and a subject index. Making these key philosophical works accessible to the modern scholar, this series fills an important gap in the history of European thought.

Philoponus On Aristotle Categories 1–5 Translated by Riin Sirkel, Martin Tweedale and John Harris

with

Philoponus A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts Translated by Daniel King

Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

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www.bloomsbury.com BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2015 Paperback edition first published 2016 Philoponus: On Aristotle Categories 1–5 translation © 2015 Riin Sirkel, Martin Tweedale and John Harris Philoponus: A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts translation © 2015 Daniel King Riin Sirkel, Martin Tweedale, John Harris and Daniel King have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Authors of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN: HB: 978-1-47258-410-6 PB: 978-1-47429-570-3 ePDF: 978-1-47258-412-0 ePub: 978-1-47258-411-3 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Acknowledgements The present translations have been made possible by generous and imaginative funding from the following sources: the National Endowment for the Humanities, Division of Research Programs, an independent federal agency of the USA; the Leverhulme Trust; the British Academy; the Jowett Copyright Trustees; the Royal Society (UK); Centro Internazionale A. Beltrame di Storia dello Spazio e del Tempo (Padua); Mario Mignucci; Liverpool University; the Leventis Foundation; the Arts and Humanities Research Council; Gresham College; the Esmée Fairbairn Charitable Trust; the Henry Brown Trust; Mr and Mrs N. Egon; the Netherlands Organisation for Scientific Research (NWO/GW); the Ashdown Trust; the Lorne Thyssen Research Fund for Ancient World Topics at Wolfson College, Oxford; Dr Victoria Solomonides, the Cultural Attaché of the Greek Embassy in London; and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. The editors wish to thank Michael Chase, Christophe Erismann, Barrie Fleet, Pantelis Golitsis, Sebastian Brock, and Jonathan Barnes for their comments; David Robertson for preparing the volume for press; Alice Reid, Commissioning Editor at Bloomsbury Academic, for her diligence in seeing each volume of the series to press; and Deborah Blake, who has carefully read every volume since the first. Series: Ancient Commentators on Aristotle Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk Printed and bound in Great Britain

Contents Conventions On Aristotle Categories 1–5 Translated by Riin Sirkel, Martin Tweedale and John Harris Introduction Richard Sorabji Textual Emendations Translation Notes English-Greek Glossary Greek-English Index Subject Index A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts Translated by Daniel King Introduction Daniel King Abbreviations Translation Notes English-Syriac-Greek Glossary Syriac-English Index Subject Index

vi

1 3 35 37 119 143 149 163

167 169 191 193 208 215 219 221

Conventions [. . .] Square brackets enclose words or phrases that have been added to the translation for purposes of clarity. (. . .) Round brackets, besides being used for ordinary parentheses, contain transliterated Greek words.

Philoponus On Aristotle Categories 1–5 Translated by Riin Sirkel, Martin Tweedale and John Harris Introduction by Richard Sorabji

Introduction Richard Sorabji

Date of Philoponus’ commentary and relation to Ammonius I believe this is a comparatively early commentary of Philoponus. Questions of dating have been transformed by Pantelis Golitsis, who made use of the titles given to Philoponus’ commentaries on Aristotle by the best manuscripts. I plan elsewhere to assess how far we can take this useful evidence.1 Golitsis suggested that of the seven commentaries on Aristotle attributed to Philoponus (an eighth on Porphyry’s Introduction (Isagôgê) to Aristotle is lost) four could be dated to Philoponus’ student days under Ammonius between 510 and 515 AD, and that we could infer from their titles that they were records of Ammonius’ own lectures. The four are said to be commentary notes from the meetings (sunousiai), i.e. seminar sessions, of Ammonius, but with Philoponus’ name or other designation coming first. The four are in An. Pr., in An. Post., in DA and in GC. The last three of these four are described as containing further reflections (epistaseis) by Philoponus. The remaining three of Philoponus’ commentaries on Aristotle are not ascribed to the seminars of Ammonius. Golitsis inferred that the commentaries whose book titles refer to Ammonius’ seminars were written first and commissioned as editions of Ammonius’ lectures as they were delivered in the order of the standard curriculum between 510 and 515. Philoponus’ commentary on Aristotle’s Physics, which contains a lecture dated to 517, is not connected in its book titles with Ammonius’ seminars; moreover it contains open disagreement with Ammonius. It will therefore reflect courses that Philoponus himself had been asked to give. This series will have included, again in the order of the standard curriculum: on the Isagôgê, and on Aristotle’s Categories, then on the eighth book of his Physics, which is shown by back-­reference to precede lectures of 517 on the Physics. Finally, the commentary on Aristotle’s Meteorology is not connected by any

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Categories 1–5

titles to Ammonius and does not appear to reflect teaching, and so was written after Philoponus had stopped teaching courses on Aristotle. In forthcoming work, which he has been kind enough to discuss, Golitsis takes the first four commentaries to be largely the work of Ammonius. There are also commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories and Prior Analytics anonymously drawn, according to their titles, from the voice of Ammonius. These differences of title might be taken to suggest, although this is an over-­simplified extrapolation from Golitsis’ hypothesis, that a commentary anonymously derived from Ammonius would be a close student record of Ammonius. When the recorder’s name appears first, but without warning of reflections added, as with Philoponus’ version of in An. Pr., the commentary might be slightly divergent from Ammonius, but not as divergent as commentaries whose title warns of the recorder’s reflections. But how divergent are these last? The attention which Golitsis has directed to titles has further consequences of the highest value. It makes us question more than before, although this has already occasionally been questioned, how much is Philoponus’ own and how much a record of Ammonius. This in turn makes it important to query the current practice of citing without warning commentaries drawn anonymously from the seminars or voice of Ammonius, as by Ammonius. I shall here instead speak of the commentaries anonymously drawn from the voice of Ammonius as ‘Ammonius in Cat. Anon.’ and ‘Ammonius in An. Pr. Anon.’ With Philoponus’ commentaries drawn from Ammonius’ seminars, I think it is worth giving the title in full to encourage looking for evidence on who is responsible for what. When the title does not mention Ammonius at all, and Philoponus’ name comes first, on the present line of thinking, we might expect Philoponus to have diverged considerably from Ammonius. This is an extrapolation from Golitsis’ hypothesis, close to, but not exactly the same as, his formulation, and it will turn out that it does not fit the facts, as I will claim in my forthcoming paper. Notably, Philoponus’ commentaries on Aristotle’s Physics and Categories make no reference to Ammonius in their titles, so on the suggested extrapolation should be written by him at a more advanced stage, more divergent from Ammonius and plausibly on the basis of reflections inspired by lecturing himself. But for quite different reasons, I think other parts of his Physics commentary besides that on book 8 are early, and so

Introduction

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is the Categories commentary, which is the one most relevant to the present subject. I shall also mention below a doubt about the relative dates of Philoponus in An. Pr. and in Cat., but in this case to dissent only from the extrapolation, not from Golitsis’ formulation. Disagreement on details is in any case a fruit of the all-­important attention he has drawn to the meaning of the titles. I believe there are signs of earliness in Philoponus in Cat. For one thing, over long stretches it is extremely close, even in wording, to Ammonius in Cat. Anon., which it appears to have copied. But this observation needs to be tempered, since Philoponus’ commentary in Cat. (as possibly also Asclepius from the voice of Ammonius in Metaph.) includes a substantial number of additions to that earlier commentary.2 As regards Philoponus’ additions, Adolf Busse claimed in the preface to his edition of the anonymously edited commentary three places at which Philoponus in Cat. included Christian ideas, which the anonymously edited version omitted. The most plausible is at 169,19, where Philoponus qualifies the denial in Ammonius in Cat. Anon. that a blind person could see again, by adding, in reference to Christ’s healing the blind, ‘unless by divine power’.3 I think that Philoponus, as a Christian addressing pagans, would have had a good motive for adding the qualification in reference to Christ’s healing the blind, whereas for a pagan like Ammonius, it would have been pointless or even provocative to lengthen the account by referring to pagan divine powers, and against the grain to acknowledge Christ’s. Concetta Luna has found Philoponus making a much larger number of additions, thirteen by my count, to the earlier Ammonius in Cat. Anon. in a mere twenty-­one pages,4 none of them presented as objections. Apart from an opening section missing from Ammonius (25,27–27,9), the thirteen additions in Philoponus’ commentary are: 1. It gives extra explanations (27,11–27). 2. It adds an excursus on what types of contrary will make an exhaustive division (29,22–30,24). 3 and 4. It twice offers a solution different from that of Ammonius in Cat. Anon. (33,20–31; 34,16–35,8). 5. It inserts an extra problem and solution (33,32–34,7).

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Categories 1–5

6. It replaces a two-­fold division in Ammonius in Cat. Anon. with a four-­ fold division (31,19–26). 7. It gives a different account of what is being divided in another pair of divisions (43,3–9). 8. It adds extra evidence (36,6–11). 9. It gives a distinction with three examples absent from Ammonius in Cat. Anon., separates it from the Anonymous’ context of solving an objection to Aristotle, and extends the discussion to grammarian’s items: disyllable and trisyllable (38,28–39,15). 10. It adds a section explaining things said (legomena), and includes, unlike any other commentary, grammarian’s items: conjunctions, prepositions and articles (43,17–44,2). 11. It substitutes a list of items of interest to Philoponus as omitted from the Categories, viz.: point, instant (now), unit, privations, negations, movements, changes, in place of Ammonius in Cat. Anon.’s list of point, privation, matter, form (46,14–48,27). 12. It gives the right reference to Aristotle, when Ammonius in Cat. Anon. does not (27,27–31). 13. It includes a Christian reference, shortening Ammonius in Cat. Anon.’s ‘divine substances’ to ‘the divine substance’ (29,14–27). Luna infers from the closeness in wording in other passages to the anonymously recorded version that someone, and this surely must be Philoponus,5 was making additions to a written version (her p.  354), the only known written version being the anonymous recording, in one or other of its manuscripts.6 It is striking that the additions by Philoponus turn out to be only reflections (epistaseis), not objections (enstaseis), and this will be true of other additions cited below. It is true that the word epistaseis, besides meaning reflections generally, among which objections can be included, also occasionally has the narrower meaning of criticisms alone.7 But that narrower meaning would at best be optional and Philoponus in Cat. reveals that it does not correspond to Philoponus’ practice. He would be most unlikely to confine himself elsewhere to criticisms, when here he has so many non-­critical observations to make. There is another sign of the comparative earliness. Philoponus’ Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima has the putatively early hallmark of being drawn from

Introduction

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the seminars of Ammonius, albeit with reflections of Philoponus’ own. But at 391,32 it refers back to, and improves on, a theory given in Philoponus’ own commentary on Aristotle’s Categories, as if Philoponus in Cat. were earlier. It makes no difference to the comparative earliness whether the improvement was a reflection added by Philoponus or recorded by him from Ammonius. Philoponus’ own Categories commentary had required an apple’s fragrance to be inseparable from (bits of) it, and so it allowed the bits, and hence the substance of the apple, to reach all the way to the organ of smell. But in reflecting on On the Soul’s requirement that the sense of smell should act at a distance from what is perceived, Philoponus, or Philoponus reporting Ammonius, later offered a different view and said at 391,32ff. that what needs to reach the organ of smell is not the fragrance after all, but the activity (energeia) of the fragrance. This meets the requirement of logic that the fragrance does not get separated from the bits of apple, and also the requirement of psychology that the bits act at a distance from the organ of smell. The reference back suggests that Philoponus in Cat. was written earlier than the comparatively early Philoponus from the seminars of Ammonius in DA. There is also reason to think that Philoponus in Cat. is earlier than his commentary from the seminars of Ammonius on An. Pr., which by the extrapolated hypothesis, though not by Golitsis’ own version, would be placed very early, as not warning of added reflections. Golitsis avoids this mistake by assuming that Philoponus’ four early editions of Ammonius would have followed the order of the standard student curriculum in which Aristotle’s Categories would be studied before his Prior Analytics. I shall give reasons in my forthcoming discussion for not relying on the curricular order corresponding to the order of Philoponus’ writing. But the reason for thinking Philoponus in Cat. earlier than his in An. Pr. drawn from the seminars of Ammonius is possible references back to his own in Cat. from his in An. Pr. pp. 1, 40 and 273.8 Below in the discussion of universals, I shall argue that Philoponus in Cat. also innovated over Ammonius in Cat. Anon. by giving concepts a larger role. What we predicate and what we define are only concepts. Further, when Philoponus in Cat. 133,1–4, comments on Aristotle’s recommendation to explore puzzles, his comment looks much closer to his own attitude than to Ammonius’ harmonising of disagreements, when he says that Aristotle

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Categories 1–5

recommends such exploration because he wants us not to rest content with Aristotle’s words, but ourselves to investigate such things as self-­propelling agents. My conclusion both for Philoponus in Cat. and for certain parts of his in Phys. which I shall discuss elsewhere, is that both are early, but that Philoponus had already begun to add his own reflections early and surprisingly soon even objections. If so, the presence of some objections is not on its own reliable evidence of lateness, although the extent of the objections and the vehemence of expression may be.

Revised history of universals from Aristotle to Philoponus and Simplicius The most interesting issue in the commentary translated here on the first five chapters of Aristotle’s Categories is the status of universals. Philoponus (490s–570s AD) came at the end of a long tradition of discussion, in which I had previously seen the Aristotelian and Stoic schools from 300 BC to after 200 AD and then the Neoplatonists as downgrading universals.9 Certainly, Aristotle, the Aristotelian Boethus and the Stoics downgraded them. But the Aristotelian Alexander of Aphrodisias (fl. c. 205 AD), and after him the Neoplatonists, treated different types of universal differently, and, while some universals were downgraded, others may have been rehabilitated to some extent. The understanding of Alexander’s position was transformed in 1984 by Martin Tweedale,10 one of the present translators of Philoponus’ later text. There had been earlier contributions,11 and there have been more since, including one by the organiser of the present translation group, Riin Sirkel.12 To start with Aristotle, the Stoics and the Aristotelian Boethus, Aristotle in the fourth century BC spoke in his Categories of individuals like Socrates as the primary substances, and the universal genera and species under which they fell as only secondary substances. Later in the Metaphysics he even said that neither universal nor genus is substance.13 Aristotle thought that Plato’s Forms or Ideas were universals, and complained that, being changeless, they could not then act as causes of things coming into being, on the grounds that a cause of change needs a triggering change, Metaph. 1.9, 992a24–6.

Introduction

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Of later followers of Aristotle, Boethus in the late first century BC, the founder of line-­by-line commentaries on Aristotle, is reported as saying that the universal is not even an existent (en hupostasei) according to Aristotle,14 and not a genuine subject of predication.15 As regards the Stoic school, on one view, its founder in Athens in 300 BC, Zeno of Citium, treated universals as mere concepts, not in the sense of thinkings, but in the sense of concepts thought (ennoêmata).16 But (again on one view), the third head of the Stoic school changed to treating them as sayables, lekta, that is as predicates which serve as the contents of thoughts. On this account, they are below physical objects which have being (onta), but they are allowed the intermediate status of somethings (tina), unlike Plato’s Forms which are not-­somethings, or nothings (outina). But the texts are confusing as to whether universals are spared relegation to this outer darkness.17 To turn to Alexander of Aphrodisias, head of the Aristotelian school in Athens from about 200 AD, Riccardo Chiaradonna has presented him as reinstating universals,18 in contrast with my own previous view.19 But I am now inclined to suggest a more nuanced interpretation: Alexander recognised, like the Neoplatonists after him, at least two ways of being universal, and more than one role for universals, and the difficult question is how to see these views as compatible with each other. After saying what these different viewpoints are, my main task will be to see how they may be compatible. Alexander, like the Stoics, refers to the mind. He even appears (although I shall later explain how to avoid that appearance) to turn universals into something mind-­dependent. But this is only one of the viewpoints he entertains. There are, first, universals as abstracted by the mind from the particular material circumstances in which natures or forms have their particular existence. But then there are universals existing as similar in all the varied material circumstances of members of an eternal species. Moreover, to certain universals, certainly not the abstracted ones, a number of causal roles are ascribed. Alexander appears to turn universals into something mind-­dependent, when he speaks as if an enmattered form or nature (eidos, phusis), which is not in reality (en hupostasei) or in its own nature (kata tên hautou phusin) universal (katholou) or (equivalently) common (koina), can become (ginesthai) common and universal by being thought or constructed (suntithenai) by a conceptual

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Categories 1–5

separation (têi epinoiai khôrismos).20 The separation seems to be from the material circumstances of the enmattered form or nature. Examples of these enmattered forms or natures in individual humans, or in individual animals, are mortal rational animal, and animate being with sensation.21 Alexander says that when the nature is thought of separately from the things with which it exists (huphistanai), it is thought of not as it exists.22 As Sirkel has pointed out, Boethius in the sixth century AD (not Boethus the Aristotelian) expanded this point, when he interpreted Alexander as meaning that the thought of a form or nature as universal is not of the form or nature as it really is, because the material circumstances have been ignored, but it is still a useful thought. Boethius compares how a line cannot exist apart from matter, but it is still useful that mathematical thought considers it in abstraction from body.23 Being abstractable in thought is the first of Alexander’s viewpoints on universals. But two problems must be solved before moving to the second viewpoint, if a clash is to be avoided between them. First, why does Alexander twice say that what is universal or common becomes common or universal when it is thought?24 The word ‘becomes’ may seem to imply that it is not common outside of the mind. I suggest it will help to reconcile the two viewpoints if what Alexander means instead is that in the mind what is common becomes nothing but common or universal, but, as I shall explain below, outside the mind the form or nature is (if not particular) at least not common or universal in its relation to a particular set of material circumstances, although there is also a way in which, if it exists in more than one particular, it is common or universal. The second potential clash arises from the appearance that in On the Soul 90,2–8, Alexander implies that universals exist only in thought. The text moves from saying that the things that are universal and common have their being in the enmattered particulars to saying that if their being lies in being thought, they perish when separated from the intellect, and that if they are not thought, they are no longer. But not only is this unwanted conclusion dependent on the italicised ‘if ’-clause; the italicised ‘if ’-clause is also a shorthand re-­phrasing of the more qualified ‘if ’-clause earlier in the same six lines: ‘if their being intelligibles has its being in their being thought’. In other words, according to the second reinterpretation, it is not they but their intelligibility that depends on thought.

Introduction

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On this interpretation, Alexander is not saying, like the Stoics, that universals are merely noêmata, thoughts. Much less is he making the different claim that they are merely names, although before Tweedale he had been described as a nominalist. But against that, when he says that the genus taken as genus is a mere name, not a thing that underlies names,25 I suspect he may be moved by the sort of objection raised against Aristotle by Nicostratus, the Platonist of the mid-­second century AD, and discussed by Alexander in his commentary on Aristotle’s Categories (preserved only in Armenian), then by Porphyry and later by Dexippus. The objection is that, even if we can say that man is an animal, and animal is a genus, we cannot say that man is a genus. Porphyry answers the problem by saying that to be a species or genus is not in the essence of man, but a sort of accident.26 Porphyry could also have dissolved the puzzle by drawing on his idea that ‘genus’ is a name ‘of second imposition’, merely the name of a name. At any rate Dexippus and Boethius, who both draw on Porphyry, use this solution.27 If something like this puzzle is motivating Alexander, it could well lead him to say that genus is a mere name. I now come to Alexander’s second viewpoint on universals, according to which they exist independently of the mind in particulars. But first, something must be noticed about form or nature. As existing independently of the mind, the form or nature seems to exist in two different ways, only one of which is universal. In relation to the material circumstances of a single individual like Socrates (or to the material circumstances of a unique individual like the sun) it is non-­universal. Marwan Rashed has pointed out that Philoponus reports Alexander as speaking of an individual form (atomon eidos) of Socrates. He says that even if, as some think, the heavenly bodies returned to the same configuration and the same matter with the same efficient cause produced the same things, it would not be the same Socrates that came into being, because after the time gap, his individual form would not remain (ou gar menei to atomon eidos).28 I take it that this follows Aristotle Phys. 5.6, which denies that we would have the same walking or the same health after an interruption. Alexander is reported elsewhere as saying that such a form is perishable in number, by which he means that numerically the same form cannot recur, but that, on the other hand, it is imperishable in species (eidei),29 and this last points to his further view that in relation to the material circumstances of all the humans there are over the whole of time, the form (eidos) is common or universal.

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Categories 1–5

For a form’s universality outside the mind Alexander makes a stronger requirement than Aristotle, that it be not only shareable, but actually shared by more than one individual. Alexander makes the requirement especially when he is thinking of a universal as a genus or species. For animal or human to be universal, or a genus or species, is for there to be more than one species under the genus, or specimen under the species, which has the appropriate form or nature. In the natural world, there is usually more than one specimen, but there is only one sun, and it is accidental to the particular form or nature whether there is more than one.30 Alexander here requires that for there to be a universal like animal or human, the form or nature be actually shared. Aristotle’s more modest requirement that it be shareable, more exactly of a nature to be shared (pephuke katêgoreisthai), is expressed in Int. 17a39–40. Alexander’s stronger requirement of more than one specimen recurs frequently in contexts where he is arguing that an individual can exist without having a genus or species under which it falls. It can do so if, like the sun, it is the only specimen of its kind, so that its form is not shared by at least two specimens. By contrast, on this view, a genus cannot exist if there are no species, or no specimens under it.31 The individual’s priority in being able to enjoy independent existence from a universal genus is a different kind of priority, of course, from an explanatory priority such as the form or nature is said to have over the individual. Universality turns out not even to be essential to definition. For definitions are not of what is common qua common, but of the form or nature to which it is an accident to be common. If there were only one human, the definition of human would still be of the nature or form. Of course this does not happen, but it shows that although definitions are of the form or nature that is common, they are not of it because (hoti) of the commonness.32 It is true that intellect contemplates not a particular piece of bronze, but the essence or form of bronze, which is said by Alexander in another passage to be universal, but in view of the present passage, I take it that it need not contemplate the form of bronze qua universal, if universality is taken in the sense that requires more than one instance. Alexander’s two ways of being universal, through abstraction by the mind or location in more than one specimen outside the mind, were already seen by Tweedale as clashing. I think there is a way of squaring them. When Alexander applies to universals his requirement of more than one member, he is thinking

Introduction

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of a universal in one way, as a form or nature shared by more than one specimen. The other way of thinking of them as abstracted by a mind is compatible, because that concerns universals only as separated in thought from the material circumstances that differentiate the members.33 I now turn from Alexander’s two kinds of universals to the causal roles which he gives to one of the kinds. In its capacity as common, a given form or nature is required not only to be the same in many particulars but also to be eternal and to bestow likeness on the particulars. Perhaps it bestows likeness on the different particular things, because it is itself alike in each of them. This is an issue again brought into prominence, with extra texts, by Marwan Rashed, and I shall cite the texts he brings in evidence.34 Alexander puts his view in two ways. Sometimes he insists that natural forms or natures are eternal and imperishable, sometimes that they are common or universal. The form is perishable in number, as each individual perishes and loses its form, but it is not perishable in species (eidei).35 Form is a substance and an eternal, unitary (aïdios, monadikê) substance.36 Aristotle is said to take it rightly that, as matter is eternal, there must also be some form that is eternal. It is not the form that comes into being in matter that has to be this, but rather the productive (poiêtikon) form, which, if it is to be like the form being produced, will need to pre-­exist it in a way.37 In this passage, the form is again said to be eternal, although it is not clear whether the productive form that pre-­exists in a way is the eternal one, or the particular parental form.38 But even the particular form in the father is allowed by Alexander elsewhere to produce something similar in species to itself, i.e. something human,39 and so it ought to be regarded as the same in species as other human forms. Whether or not it was the eternal form that was called productive, Alexander does think in terms of productivity when he speaks of what makes things similar to each other. In Alexander Quaestio 1.3, features that are common and correspond with each other (pros allêla) and that are common in things and invariable (adiaphora) in their own nature are said to be causes (aitia) in all the things that have them of their being similar (homoia) and of the same nature. The common features are what remain similar and the same in the coming into being of all the particulars,40 and they evidently cause similarity amongst particulars, even though on the next page he says, probably thinking of biological species, that the common things owe their imperishability throughout eternity to something else: to the

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Categories 1–5

succession of the particulars in which they are.41 Could it be that the supposed eternal succession of the human species is due to the biological form or nature, qua common or shared? The same context recurs in another text which says that nature and divine providence are directed to the generation of the substance of things down here, to their differentiation and to the form in them.42 So the ultimate aim of nature is not to produce individuals, but apparently their (common) form. It appears that Alexander may be offering one more causal role to the form or nature insofar as it is specifically the same in different individuals. However, I had previously agreed with A.C. Lloyd to reject the relevant text as inauthentic.43 I had come to think of it as an addition made at the end of a text by someone in the tradition of Porphyry, the first of the Neoplatonist commentators on Aristotle, for whom what is common may be a ‘completive’ part of the individual. This passage was already emphasised by Tweedale. It comes in the last two lines of Alexander’s Quaestio 1.11, at 24,21–2. The first half of 1.11 reports what Alexander had said in his commentary on Aristotle’s On the Soul, which unlike his own treatise On the Soul, is lost. The second half of 1.11 is a reprise which looks like a revised report of what Alexander’s commentary had said. The last two lines take it to have said that what falls under (hupo) what is common depends for its existence on what is common, and that its being consists in (to einai en) possessing what is common in itself. The claim about what its being consists in was absent from the first half. The term ‘under’ suggests that the common or universal is being considered as a genus or species. The desiderated universal evidently needs to have enough reality to bestow being on what falls under it. This second causal role does not seem to fit very well with Alexander’s idea that what bestows being on Socrates is the particular enmattered form or nature, mortal rational animal, rather than a genus or a species under which the particular falls. Simplicius also reports a causal role which he thinks inconsistent in Alexander. Alexander is said to claim that ‘individuals are constituted (huphestanai ek) out of the common feature (to koinon) and the differences.44 So the surviving evidence on Alexander seems to have offered such a causal role to the genus not once, but twice. Perhaps the idea of bestowing being needs to be differentiated further than Alexander differentiates it. It would be possible that the genus or species explains Socrates being the kind of substance that he is, but his father’s

Introduction

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particular form generates him, while his mother supplies the matter that differentiates him as the individual that he is. It is time to reassess the question how far Alexander downgrades universals. He thinks they can be viewed in different ways. As objects dependent for intelligibility on the mind, and also as entities to which it is a mere accident that they have more than one member, their status remains low. Of course, Aristotelian form had a very high status in Aristotle, once he introduced it, but he did not introduce it in the elementary Categories and so the Aristotelian Boethus in the first century AD denied that it was substance, since he followed the criteria for substancehood of that work.45 Alexander restores the status of Aristotle’s form in opposition to Boethus, when he makes it substance and a cause of being to individuals and to species. So when he allows the form in individuals to be a universal and a universal, of course, not dependent on the mind, the universal gains importance from the importance of form. The genus, another universal, also gains some status, since the genus animal enters into the form rational mortal animal. The species, another universal again, also retains importance from its place in cosmology as what divine providence protects, notably in biology. On the other hand, it makes no difference to the form outside the mind whether it is universal, as is emphasised by Alexander taking universality outside the mind (or being shared) to be no more than accidental to the form. Since definition is of form, it makes no difference to definition either. And it makes no difference in astronomy, where the sun is eternal without depending for vicarious eternity on a species with successive members. Moreover, biological and other species protected through the universality of form are, of course, in the physical world. Nor has Alexander restored universals to the status of Platonic Forms to which Aristotle saw Plato as raising them. However, to this extent and in these respects, Alexander has restored their importance. To move forward from Alexander to the Neoplatonists, in one way they gave universals a lower status than, in Aristotle’s view, Plato had intended. For Aristotle took Plato to regard his transcendent Forms as universals. The Neoplatonist response to Aristotle’s criticism of treating universals as causes answered by insisting that the Platonic Forms were only causes, not universals. They were not universals because their character was not truly shared by the genera, species or individuals that participated in them, but at best only, as we

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shall see, in an equivocal sense. That they were not viewed as universals has been argued for two late Neoplatonists: Simplicius (wrote after 529) and Proclus (c. 411–485) by Sorabji and for the two earliest Neoplatonists, Plotinus (c. 205–260) and Porphyry (232–c. 309), by Chiaradonna.46 But Plato’s Forms seem to have been contrasted with universals even earlier than Neoplatonism, because Alexander already thought before the Neoplatonists that Plato regarded definitions as defining not universals, but certain natures which he called Forms, as Riin Sirkel has pointed out.47 Moreover, some still earlier texts fail to mention universality as a feature of Plato’s Forms, although I have not seen equivocation cited before Proclus and Simplicius as the reason for Plato’s Forms not being universal. If Neoplatonist Forms were not universals, it may be wondered how Proclus could institute talk of one class of universals as ‘before the many particulars’, distinguishing them from those which were at lower levels ‘in the many’ or ‘after the many’.48 For if it was Platonic Forms that were considered to be in this way prior to the many particulars, why are they still described as universals?49 The answer later on for Simplicius is clear. He says Platonic Forms are universal only as a universal cause, not as a shared nature: ‘The common cause is common as a cause, but not as a common nature.’50 With Proclus too the picture of the Platonic Form as sharing its own nature universally with the particulars is qualified. The Form must not be synonymous (share the same definition) with the particulars under it; rather, a particular human has only a derivative character (pros hen), as human, without any universal human character being shared with the Form.51 Even in his other text, where he describes the Form as a universal before the many particulars, Proclus qualifies this at the same moment by saying that this universal affords to the particulars a variety of ways of sharing in itself (poikilas methexeis). Proclus’ justification for still talking of universality may lie in Aristotle’s idea, which he cites, of pros hen derivation. In an example of Aristotle’s, ‘medical’ has no single meaning, but a medical man and a medical instrument are both called medical because of their different relations to a single thing (pros hen), to the medical art, as practitioner of it or instrument for it.52 Similarly for Proclus the derivative character of particulars relates in each case to the Form, even though it is not the same as the Form’s character. The Form is in a much reduced sense universal, because particulars universally have their various relations to it, even though

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they do not share its character. They do not even share with each other their diverse relationships. Such a view has been attributed to Eustratius in the twelfth century.53 But the answer made in the sixth century by Simplicius is simpler and clearer. While qualifying the universal character of Plato’s Forms, these Neoplatonists still regarded genera and species as existing at different levels. Plotinus, whom we classify as the founder of Neoplatonism, criticised Aristotle’s theory of categories in which he discusses genera and species, and preferred the Five Great Genera described in Plato’s Sophist. These were regarded by Plotinus as belonging to the intelligible world, and as being the creative principles with the most extensive reach.54 Porphyry (232–c. 309 AD) was the pupil and editor of Plotinus in Rome. His discussion of universals is often couched in terms of genera. Genera and species are universals, not particulars, and Aristotle’s ten categories (katêgoriai) are genera that can be predicated (katêgoreisthai) of the species or individuals below them. Many ancient commentators say that Porphyry took the genera in Aristotle’s Categories to be treated as concepts. Genera are universals, not particulars, and his discussion of universals is often couched in terms of genera. Aristotle’s ten categories (katêgoriai) are genera that can be predicated (katêgoreisthai) of the species or individuals below them. Thus, according to Ammonius in Isag., Porphyry says in Isagôgê 3,19 that he has given a sketch of the concept (ennoia) of the genus, which by a dubious but influential interpretation Ammonius takes to mean the conceptual genus (ennoêmatikon genos).55 Ammonius’ pupil Philoponus says that Porphyry thought Aristotle’s treatment in his Categories of the ten genera was only about genera in our thought (dianoia), hence about concepts (noêmata), not about words or things. He supposed Porphyry was confused by Aristotle saying at Categories 11b15 that he had spoken enough about the genera when he had only talked (for beginners) about conceptual genera (genê ennoêmatika).56 This causes Philoponus to say that it was not Porphyry, but Iamblichus, the critical auditor of Porphyry’s classes, who said that Aristotle’s Categories was about spoken sounds signifying things through the medium of concepts (peri phônôn sêmainousôn pragmata dia mesôn noêmatôn).57 Iamblichus’ addition of ‘concepts’ was to be celebrated again later. But in fact Porphyry had omitted only the explanation that signification is achieved through concepts. He did

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still say that Aristotle’s Categories was about all three, (i) spoken sounds insofar as they (ii) signify (iii) things.58 Another pupil of Ammonius, Simplicius, ascribes this interpretation of Aristotle’s Categories as having a three-­fold subject matter, generic sounds insofar as they signify beings, to no fewer than seven thinkers, starting with the Aristotelian Boethus in the first century BC, including Porphyry and describing Iamblichus as merely adding his vote. 59 He goes on to say the Categories is about simple and primary spoken sounds that signify the primary and most generic of beings through the medium of simple and primary concepts (noêmata).60 He also reports Boethus as saying that for the past masters of his time (arkhaioi), including Aristotle, the only things signified were thoughts (noêseis).61 But Simplicius comments that the three-­ fold formula is better: the categories are expressions (lexeis) that signify things through the medium of concepts (noêmata) and that are distinguished according to each genus and that cover the categories.62 Ammonius’ next successor but one in the chair at Alexandria, Olympiodorus, gave a much fuller account, but contradicted Simplicius’ claim of uniform agreement, and switched the purely conceptual interpretation to Alexander of Aphrodisias, while assigning Porphyry to the camp which made Aristotle’s Categories to be only about spoken sounds. Olympiodorus further cited evidence partly from Aristotle’s wording, on which he maintains each of these exclusive claims was built. Alexander is said to have backed concepts (noêmata) for two reasons. First, they alone both announce things and are announced by words. Secondly, Alexander is imagined as having anticipated the Neoplatonic distinction ‘before, in and after the many’, and as saying that what a logical work like the Categories can discuss is genera after the many particulars, i.e. concepts (noêmata), whereas it takes theology to discuss genera before the many, and physics to discuss genera in the many. In fact, says Olympiodorus, agreeing in this with Philoponus, Iamblichus was the one who got it right, by insisting that Aristotle’s Categories is about all three.63 In Olympiodorus’ school, Elias redistributes the allegiances, restoring Porphyry to the camp of concepts and Alexander to that of things.64 Like Olympiodorus, he then follows Philoponus in praising Iamblichus for the all-­inclusive formula, and concludes that the Categories is about spoken sounds signifying things through the medium of concepts.65 What evidence is there that Porphyry did construe Aristotle as treating genera and other universals too in the Categories as concepts? Porphyry says,

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addressing beginners in his Introduction (Isagôgê), which on one view is an introduction to Aristotelian logic, that for them he will not discuss the issues about genera and species themselves, but only how the past masters, especially the Aristotelians, treated genera and species in a logical way.66 ‘Logical’ has been taken by one interpretation to mean that genera will be treated as semantic entities. Elsewhere in the surviving shorter of his two commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories, Porphyry says that it is beyond the preparation of introductory students (eisagomenoi is connected with his other title, Isagôgê) to recognise that whereas certain other things have being (estin), for something to be (reading: to) designated universal (katholou) is not a description of reality (en huparxei), but is a designation up to the level of our conception (epinoia).67 This probably explains why the conceptual level of universal is not very clearly explained in the text. Again Porphyry says that it is from all of the particular humans that is conceived (epinoeisthai) the human that is predicated (katêgoroumenon) in common, and from all the particular animals that we think (noein) the animal that is predicated in common. Hence the particulars are the cause of the being of what is predicated in common. That is why Aristotle calls individual substances prior.68 The interpretation of Porphyry as treating genera as concepts, or occasionally as spoken words, was influential on the Latin Middle Ages, as Sten Ebbesen has brought out,69 and I have cited good reasons for the standard modern interpretation in Ebbesen and in Jonathan Barnes,70 which follows the ancient majority in taking Porphyry to treat genera in the Categories as concepts. But an important rider has recently been argued by Riccardo Chiaradonna and Christophe Erismann, who see further levels recognised. According to Chiaradonna, even in his introductory works of logic, Porphyry evinces belief in levels of genus not dependent on the mind. He does so when he addresses the concern why Aristotle’s treatment of substances in his Categories took individuals like Socrates as primary substances and species and genera as only secondary substances. He addresses it in his commentary on Aristotle’s Categories 90,12–91,12. Since Aristotle is there talking about significant expressions and these apply primarily to perceptible things, Aristotle was right, he says, to claim that individuals are prior to species. For the human species would not exist if there were no individual humans. This is not to deny that the human species can survive the loss of any one individual like Socrates. The text

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goes on to discuss a still higher level of priority and ask why Plato’s intelligible Forms and God are not called the primary substances. The answer recognises Plato’s Forms, but says that although these are indeed prior by nature or in relation to nature (91,24–5), they are once again not the present topic of discussion. Here Porphyry seems to recognise two further levels of reality beyond concepts. One is the species, which is in one way prior to the individual, and so is surely a species different from the concept, since that depends on abstraction from individuals. The other is the Platonic Form, which, however, he declares not a subject for the beginner. Of these three levels of reality the Form is already not regarded as universal, on Chiaradonna’s interpretation. But two of Proclus’ three levels of universal will have been recognised, even if not by the names ‘in the many’ and ‘after the many’: namely, universal concepts and the universals prior to individuals. That there are such genera and species prior by nature to individual substances is recognised by Porphyry again in his Isagôgê 17,8–10. Erismann adds to these passages cited by Chiaradonna some further texts where Porphyry emphasises a perspective that seems opposite to Aristotle’s.71 Genus, he says, is prior to species and genus and species to individual, and prior in nature,72 because individual humans could not exist if there were no human genus or species. The test of what could exist without what had also been used by Alexander, but the test produces different results according to whether one thinks of genera as requiring at least two particulars and so being dependent on them or as being merely capable of belonging to more than one particular. It also matters whether genera are being compared with the totality of species or individuals falling under them, or with a smaller selection, and it matters again whether genera are thought of as making individuals what they are, and so having them as dependents. In this last connexion, Porphyry’s Isagôgê appeals to the idea of an origin (arkhê), which is sometimes applied to Plato’s Forms in their role as the causal origin of things in the perceptible world, although, as Chiaradonna stresses, he is not here talking about the level of intelligible Forms. He nonetheless says that the genus is the origin of species and individuals below it, perhaps because it makes them what they are,73 since the human, both common and particular, is constituted (sunestêken) of genus and differentia.74 This view of Porphyry’s is repeated in the fourth century by Dexippus, who in his Commentary on Aristotle’s Categories 44,31–45,31 was following both

Introduction

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Porphyry and his own teacher, Porphyry’s pupil Iamblichus. Dexippus adds to Porphyry’s comment that in his Categories Aristotle was treating the things that are called substances in common parlance and that in relation to us and for purposes of semantics, sensible particulars are indeed primary substances. But by nature, priority belongs to universals, causes and suchlike. He insists that the essence of a particular human is completed by something common or universal in it, because a particular human is also human. Chiaradonna accepts that Porphyry also has a conceptual account of universals, but looks for it in a different direction, not to his logical works but to the treatment of abstraction in his Commentary on Ptolemy’s Harmonics.75 The text in Düring’s edition is difficult because it seems to give at least two different explanations, and because some of the time Porphyry is following a much earlier Platonist, Thrasyllus. At Düring 13,21–14,6, sections  24–9 in Harold Tarrant’s translation,76 he speaks in a more Aristotelian way of the form being disengaged in our soul from its material embodiment. The result is a concept (ennoia, repeated), and when the concept is confirmed, we have knowledge (epistêmê). At Düring 14,6–30, Tarrant sections 30–9, the soul uses imagination (phantasia) to get a more detailed and accurate picture of the form, and then via the concept passes to the universal (to katholou, mentioned only here) and the form is stored free from material embodiment. By a further act of concentration (epibolê) the knowledge (epistêmê) is supplemented by understanding (nous). And now we hear for the first time that the concept is a concept of, or is accompanied by understanding of, the immaterial Platonic Form (eidos) which had in the first place endowed matter with form, like the impress from a signet ring (Tarrant sections 30–5). What the soul has done is to make the form disembodied again, and when your voice articulates in speech the image (eikôn) that the soul contains, it makes that image conform both to the archetypal Form and to the embodied form (Tarrant sections 36– 9). No comment is made on whether or not the Platonic Form is universal, although the soul has acquired a universal and the image it has acquired conforms to the Form. After Porphyry, Iamblichus (c. 250–before 325), who had attended Porphyry’s lectures, and Dexippus, Iamblichus’ pupil, both wrote commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories. Simplicius tells us that Iamblichus for the most part followed Porphyry right down to the letter, and Dexippus added virtually

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nothing to the considerations of Porphyry and Iamblichus, except that Iamblichus added an intellective (noera) theory.77 This theory went beyond Porphyry in maintaining that Aristotle’s categories are relevant to the Platonic world of intelligibles because they apply to that world by analogy.78 Simplicius further reports Iamblichus as saying that when we say ‘Socrates is a human’, we are not saying that he is the generic Human, but that he participates in the generic Human, i.e. in the Platonic Form Human, which is genus in the proper sense. He seems to go on to say that the genus, a human, that he has just treated as an improper genus, is for Aristotle a universal, and that Socrates and this genus can both be described as human in the same sense. The Form Human, by contrast, the proper Genus, is not by participation Human, so is not like Socrates’ humanness a participatory universal.79 When Proclus’ pupil, Ammonius (between 435/45–between 517/26) wrote a commentary on Porphyry’s introductory Isagôgê, he had learnt from his teacher Proclus’ threefold distinction between universals before the many, in the many and after the many particulars.80 But the distinction really came down to a twofold distinction in Proclus and Simplicius, as perhaps earlier in Plotinus and Porphyry, because Platonic Forms were not regarded, at least by the later two, as universals. In Simplicius, they were universals only as causes. Ammonius in two commentaries, one anonymously reported in a commentary ‘from his voice’ and his own pupil Philoponus, in a commentary drawn from Ammonius’ seminars, call it a distinction among universals (katholou), common entities (koina), genera (genê), species (eidê), or forms (the same word eidê again), and another pupil, Simplicius, speaks the same way.81 But Ammonius in his Commentary on Porphyry’s Isagôgê, 41,21–42,7, treated the highest level of genera, species and forms, those before the many particulars, differently from his teacher Proclus. They are not transcendent Forms, as they had been for Proclus, existing outside a mind, but are something that the divine creator of the world, the demiurge of Plato’s Timaeus 39E, has beside him (para) and in him (en), not as his thinking, but as objects of his thought (noêta) and as models (paradeigmata) for creating the world. The idea that Plato’s Forms are in the mind of his Demiurge-Creator was already known in the first century AD from earlier Platonists to the Stoic Seneca, Letters 65.7. It was these forms, species or genera in the divine mind that Ammonius assigned to the highest of the three levels of universal or form, putting them

Introduction

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before the many particulars embedded in matter, rather than in the many or after the many.82 Even though Ammonius treats the highest genera differently from Proclus as only in the Creator’s mind, he does speak about genera at all three levels. The second set of forms, species or genera is in the many, and Ammonius says that the Aristotelians speak about this kind, the Platonists about the first kind. He explains that it is these genera, species, forms and universals (he uses all these terms) in the many that depend for their existence (as Alexander had said) on there being more than one particular. This requirement of more than one does not apply to the intelligible universals before the many. Rather, says Ammonius, Porphyry was speaking of the higher intelligible universals when he said in his Isagôgê 15,18 that in principle a genus could exist even on the hypothesis that there was not even one species.83 The third common entity is merely in our soul. Such genera are conceptual (ennoêmatika) as being in our thought (dianoia). This is where Ammonius interprets, as we saw, Porphyry’s ‘sketch of the concept (ennoia) of the genus’ as a sketch of the conceptual genus. What we do is define a thing like human in accordance with our own concept (ennoia) and thought (dianoia), and following that analogy, say that human is a mortal rational animal.84 Throughout Ammonius is trying to connect the threefold distinction with Porphyry, even though Porphyry never explicitly offered a threefold classification. Ammonius in Cat. Anon. puts the same question as Porphyry before him, why Aristotle in the Categories calls particulars the primary substances, universals only secondary substances, and he has more than one answer, some of them anticipated by Porphyry.85 First, what are primary to us, because we know them first, are substances like human, not things prior in nature like matter and form or the common (i.e. universal) elements, although these are prior by nature. Secondly, Aristotle was addressing an introductory class of students (eisagomenoi – again the echo of Porphyry’s title, Isagôgê), and to them what is nearest is clearest. Thirdly, however, it should be noticed that Aristotle applies the term ‘primary’ in this way only with reluctance. For at Cat. 2a11–13 he says not that particulars like a human are primary, but that they are said to be (legomenê) primary. And Ammonius tries to make another point about the use of ‘said’ in Aristotle’s standard expression here and at Cat. 2a34–5, according to which the allegedly primary particular substance is said

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(legetai) of no subject. Admittedly universals differ in needing particulars so they can be said of them, but not in order to exist. Ammonius’ pupil Philoponus was eventually in his theological works to take a very startling new view of universals. But in his commentaries on Aristotle, he recognises all three of Ammonius’ types of universal, and even uses the nomenclature of their being ‘before’, ‘in’ or ‘after’ the many particulars. But there are some differences from Ammonius and from Ammonius as anonymously reported, and some of these differences, we shall see, already give concepts a slightly greater importance. Philoponus twice speaks of the idea sponsored by Ammonius that there are creative principles (dêmiourgikoi logoi) separated from matter in the mind of the divine Creator, and he calls them, like Ammonius, genera ‘before the many’.86 In one of these passages he is commenting on Aristotle’s saying that we must ask whether there is a single definition of soul corresponding to a single definition of living being or of any other common items predicated (katêgoreisthai), or whether there is a different one for horse, dog, etc., so that the universal living being is either nothing or posterior. Philoponus’ comment is that the downgraded universal is not the genus before the many particulars, such as the creative principles, because those cannot be defined. Rather, Aristotle’s talk of what has a definition must refer to conceptual entities (ennoêmatika) which are posterior, since what we define is the concept (ennoia) that we have of things.87 Here Philoponus refers both to the universal before the many and to the posterior universal regarded as conceptual. Further, his claim that we define the concept goes beyond Alexander, who thought that we define a form such as mortal rational animal, and Ammonius, who thought that we define human as mortal rational animal in accordance with our concept.88 There are three other commentaries in which Philoponus compares two levels of universals, the conceptual and those in particulars. In one text he says that the existence of universals is in particulars, but when the universals are taken as universals, they come to be in the soul.89 In another, he says that nature never makes what is common and indiscriminate, but only what is particular and articulated, and universals arise only then out of the collection of particulars, whereas we start by applying indiscriminate universals.90 In a third commentary Philoponus discusses whether universals or particular individuals are prior. He expresses, like Ammonius, a firm view on this in his in Cat. In

Introduction

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nature, genera, species and universals are prior and particulars depend on them.91 But like Porphyry and Ammonius before him, he presents a defence of the opposite priority, not based on nature, which appears in Aristotle’s Categories. Aristotle there makes individual substances such as Socrates prior to universals like human or living being. Talking of universal substances, Philoponus defends Aristotle partly by saying that universals and common items like animal in the many particulars do indeed depend on the particulars, because if there were no such thing as a human being, or Plato (and similarly for other species), there would be no such thing as animal. On the other hand, he also criticises the particular form of argument ascribed to Aristotle, according to which the universal or common item animal depends on particulars without which there will nothing of which they can be predicated. Philoponus replies that what is predicated of individuals is not the common items existing in the many particulars but concepts and the conceptual which are after the particulars. Nonetheless, Aristotle is still right, because there would be neither the animal in particular animals, nor animal as a concept, if there were not individual animals.92 Neither this defence of Aristotle nor the criticism, is in Ammonius, or in Ammonius as anonymously reported. Moreover the defence is comparatively substantial, rather than being in terms of Aristotle’s limited pedagogic purposes. There is such a defence in Ammonius in Cat. Anon., which concedes, unlike Philoponus, that universals need particulars in order to be said of them. But the plea on Aristotle’s behalf, we saw, is that they do not need particulars in order to exist.93 It is hard to see how Aristotle could regard this as compatible with his views, and it is not explained why he would. There are, then, already differences from Ammonius. But in later works of Christian theology Philoponus makes a far more radical break with Ammonius and the tradition by upgrading the role of concepts very much further. In his theological work Arbiter (or Diaitêtês) of or just before 553, Philoponus insists that in particulars, natures are not common or universal, but particular (idia), and further accepts universals only in the mind. The relevant passage survives not only in Syriac, but in excerpts from the original Greek in John of Damascus in his On Heresies, and it has been highlighted by Ebied, van Roey and Wickham and by Erismann.94 Here Philoponus refers to Alexander’s common nature of man, rational mortal animal, but says twice that as it exists in particular men,

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it is not common: ‘Now, this common nature of man, in which no one man differs from any other, when it comes into being in any one of the individuals, then comes into being particular (idia) to that one and not common (koinê) to any other individual, as we set forth in chapter four. Thus that rational mortal animal which is in me is common to no other animal.’95 And again a few lines further: ‘Thus that rational mortal animal which is in me is not common to any of the other humans. Nor would the nature of animal in this horse come into being in any other, as we have just shown.’96 These two unqualified statements claim that each nature, as it exists in an individual, is unique like the individual form (atomon eidos) which Philoponus elsewhere ascribes to Alexander,97 and not common or universal. This goes closely as part of a single view with Philoponus still treating, like Alexander as interpreted above, a nature like mortal rational animal as common or universal in the mind. Indeed he insists it is universal only in the mind. To see this, we need to look at his statement sandwiched in between the two particularising statements cited by Erismann. The sandwiched passage issues a warning that there are two perspectives and he starts by talking about the universal in the mind. ‘Therefore each nature is said to be what it is, not in one way but in two: in one way when we consider the common account (logos) of each nature by itself, for example the common nature of human or of horse coming into being in none of the individuals.’ Here Philoponus recognises a universal perspective, because he distinguishes the nature as abstracted by the mind from any of the individuals, and so as truly common or universal. In returning, however, to what is outside the mind in particulars, he reverts to his individualistic perspective. Philoponus repeats the idea of a universal existing only in the mind in later theological works, when arguing that the Christian Trinity is not three persons, but three substances, and even godheads. In Against Themistius and On Theology, he says that if there is only one God, it is a universal existing only in our minds.98 I have concentrated on the treatment of the universal and the background to it in the commentary on the first five chapters of Aristotle’s Categories. But these chapters address many other issues as well. Philoponus’ edition of Ammonius asks where the differentiae that differentiate species fit into Aristotle’s scheme of categories.99 Can one fit into the categories such entities as points, instants (nows) or units,100 or privations and negations,101 or motions and changes?102 Does the definition of primary substance apply to intelligible

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beings, whether angels, or to other intelligible entities?103 There is also the problem mentioned above, a problem not resolved until Philoponus’ commentary, which I believe to be later, on Aristotle’s On the Soul: since Aristotle’s Categories requires that the fragrance of a particular apple cannot exist in detachment from (bits of) the apple, does this imply that the sense of smell does not operate at a distance but only by direct contact with bits of apple?104 But these issues will become clear from the translation, unlike Philoponus’ relation in time and dependency to Ammonius, and his adherence to and divergence from earlier treatments of universals, which I have sought to interpret here.

Notes 1 P. Golitsis, Les commentaires de Simplicius et de Jean Philopon à la Physique d’Aristote, Berlin: de Gruyter 2008, pp. 23–7. R. Sorabji, ‘Dating of Philoponus’ Commentaries on Aristotle and of his Divergence from his Teacher Ammonius’ in a sequel to Aristotle Transformed, forthcoming as Aristotle Re-Interpreted: New Findings on Seven Hundred Years of the Ancient Commentators on Aristotle, London: Bloomsbury, 2016. 2 Additions to Ammonius’ lectures are possible also in Asclepius’ Commentary from the voice of Ammonius on Aristotle’s Metaphysics. That commentary includes 252 extracts from Alexander’s commentary and plenty from Syrianus, according to Concetta Luna, Trois études sur la tradition des commentaires anciens à la Métaphysique d’Aristote, Leiden: Brill 2001, Appendix 6 for Alexander, pp. 142–86 for Syrianus. This is a higher rate of extract than we find in the one commentary (on On Interpretation) that was apparently written out by Ammonius himself, judging from the editor Busse’s index of Ammonius’ cross-­references to other commentators. On the other hand, for Ammonius being cited by Simplicius in Phys. 192,22–3; 193,4–5, as making the same point on a certain issue as Alexander, see P. Golitsis, Les Commentaires de Simplicius et de Jean Philopon à la Physique d’Aristote, p. 61 n. 82. 3 I agree with Marwan Rashed, who kindly explained his doubts about Busse’s other examples. 4 C. Luna, Commentaire sur les Catégories d’Aristote, Chapitres 2–4, Paris: Les Belles Lettres 2001, pp. 147–8, 151–3, 186, 208, 219–25, 280–5, 288–9, 332–58; 422–3, 545–51, 847–57.

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5 The alternative that the someone who made additions was not Philoponus, but Ammonius, as recorded in some unknown record subsequently used by Philoponus, seems to me to run into many difficulties. Not only does it multiply hypothetical records beyond necessity, but also the additions 9, 10, 11, 13 and the other Christian references supplied by Busse all smack of Philoponus. Another addition is traced by Luna (op. cit., p. 345) to Porphyry and Iamblichus, and could have reached Ammonius, she thinks, at best only orally from Proclus. 6 The manuscript M is fuller than F and suggests to Luna that it may represent another written version besides that of manuscript F, but its extra information was not used by Philoponus, so is not an alternative source for him. So Luna, op. cit., pp. 355–6, 422–3. 7 I owe this observation to discussion with Golitsis, who will supply two examples in his forthcoming ‘John Philoponus’ Commentary on the Third Book of Aristotle’s De anima, Wrongly Attributed to Stephanus’, in the sequel to Aristotle Transformed: R. Sorabji (ed.) Aristotle Re-Interpreted, London: Bloomsbury 2016. Marwan Rashed, on the other hand, has in correspondence cited for the meaning of reflection Philoponus in GC 271,25–6. In the last passage, if the word ekeino refers forward to a criticism, we are told two things about that criticism, first that we should know it (isteon), and secondly that it is worthy of epistasis. What does epistasis mean here? Not that the criticism deserves to be criticised, but (I think) that it deserves to be reflected on. Liddell and Scott also give opposing and reflecting as two distinct meanings of the related verb ephistanai, ephistasthai. This too suggests that the reflections called epistaseis are not always criticisms. 8 So R. Sorabji, ‘John Philoponus’, ch. 1 in his (ed.) Philoponus and the Rejection of Aristotelian Science, London: Duckworth 1987, n. 263. 9 My earlier view was in ‘Universals Transformed: The First Thousand Years after Plato’, in P.F. Strawson, A. Chakrabarti (eds) Universals, Concepts and Qualities, London: Ashgate 2006, ch. 7, pp. 105–25. On interpretations of Stoic downgrading, see pp. 106–8. 10 M. Tweedale, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Views on Universals’, Phronesis 29 (1984) pp. 279–303. 11 Shlomo Pines had raised some important issues in ‘A New Fragment of Xenocrates and its Implications’, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, new series vol. 51, pp. 3–95, repr. in S. Pines, The Collected Works of Shlomo Pines, vol. 2, Leiden: Brill 1961, pp. 3–95. A.C. Lloyd’s important study of Aristotle drew attention to Alexander, Form and Universal in Aristotle, Liverpool: Francis Cairns 1981, pp. 49–61, but did not raise the problems addressed by Tweedale. Sten Ebbesen, ‘Porphyry’s Legacy to Logic’, in the first edition of R. Sorabji (ed.)

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Aristotle Transformed, pp. 141–71, considered universals in the context of Porphyry’s commentary on Aristotle’s Categories. 12 R. Sharples, culminating in ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Universals: Two Problematic Texts’, Phronesis 50 (2005) pp. 43–55; R. Sirkel, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Account of Universals and its Problems’, Journal of the History of Philosophy 49 (2011) pp. 297–314; C. Erismann, ‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, pp. 143–59; C. Erismann, L’homme commun, Paris: Vrin 2011; R. Chiaradonna, ‘ “Alexander, Boethus and the other Peripatetics”: The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, in R. Chiaradonna, G. Galluzzo (eds) Universals in Ancient Philosophy, Pisa: Edizioni della Normale 2013, pp. 299–328. 13 Aristotle Metaph. 8.1, 1042a21. I owe the reference to Christophe Rappe. 14 Simplicius in Cat. 50,5–8, cf. Dexippus in Cat. 22,32–3, discussed by R. Chiaradonna, ‘The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, pp. 299–328. 15 Anonymi in Aristotelis Categorias Commentarium, p. 3, lines 16–26, ed., tr. and discussed by R. Chiaradonna, M. Rashed and D. Sedley, ‘A Rediscovered Categories Commentary’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 44 (2013) pp. 129–94. 16 A.A. Long and D.N. Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1987, vol. 1, ch. 30. 17 V. Caston, ‘Something and Nothing: The Stoics on Concepts and Universals’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 17 (1999) pp. 145–213; sketched in Sorabji, ‘Universals Transformed’, pp. 106–8. 18 Chiaradonna, ‘The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, pp. 299–328. 19 R. Sorabji (besides ‘Universals Transformed’, pp. 105–26), The Philosophy of the Commentators, 200–600 AD: A Sourcebook, vol. 3: Logic and Metaphysics, London: Duckworth 2004, 5(e), pp. 149–56, where translations are assembled, and addendum in ‘Tribute to Bob Sharples’, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 55 (2012) pp. 5–18, at p. 10. 20 See Alexander On the Soul 90,2–11 (cf. Quaestio 1.3, 8,3–4); Quaestio 1.3, 8,17–22; Quaestio 2.28, 79,16–18; Quaestio 2.28, 78,18–20. 21 Another example is footed biped animal, and I take it that the essence of bronze residing in a piece of bronze is another example of form or nature in Alexander On the Soul 87,8–16. 22 Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 8,19–20. 23 Boethius, Second Commentary on Porphyry Isagôgê, in Patrologia Latina, ed. Migne, vol. 64, cols 84B–85A, cited by Sirkel, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Account of Universals and its Problems’, p. 311.

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24 Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 7,28–8,5; On the Soul 90,5–6. 25 Alexander Quaestio 2.28, 78,18–20. 26 Alexander’s discussion recorded in German by E.G. Schmidt, in ‘Alexander von Aphrodisias in einem alt-­armenischen Kategorien-Kommentar’, Philologus 110 (1966) pp. 277–86, at pp. 280–2, as noted by Chiaradonna, Rashed and Sedley, ‘A Rediscovered Categories Commentary’, pp. 145, 176. Nicostratus’ earlier objection and one of Porphyry’s discussions are in (Porphyry?) Anonymi in Aristotelis Categorias Commentarium, p. 2, line 13–p. 4, line 12, ed. and tr. with comments, Chiaradonna, Rashed and Sedley, ‘A Rediscovered Categories Commentary’, pp. 129–94; Porphyry discusses the issue also in his shorter in Cat. 81,3–22; Dexippus in his in Cat. 26,13–27,2. Porphyry in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, p. 237. 27 Dexippus in Cat. 26,23–27,2, and Boethius in Cat. 176D–177A, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 48 (Brandt). (See Ebbesen, ‘Porphyry’s Legacy to Logic’, p. 383 and, without reference, ‘Philoponus, “Alexander” and the Origins’, p. 457.) For second imposition see Porphyry in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, p. 237. 28 Alexander ap. Philoponus in GC 314,16–22, cited by M. Rashed, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Particulars’, in R.W. Sharples (ed.) Particulars in Greek Philosophy, Leiden: Brill 2010, pp. 157–79, at p. 162. 29 Alexander ap. Simplicius in Phys. 234,13–19, cited by Rashed, Essentialisme, p. 237. 30 Alexander Quaestio 1.11, 23,25–31; in Top. 355,18–24. 31 Alexander concerning the sun, ap. Simplicius in Cat. 85,13–17; Elias in Cat. 167,1–2; Alexander Refutation of Xenocrates, tr. from surviving Arabic by S. Pines in his Collected Works, vol. 2, p. 10; Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 8,8–17; Quaestio 1.11, 21,22–9; 22,6–9; 24,8–16, and in order to explain why Aristotelians make individuals like Socrates primary substances and genera secondary substances, Dexippus in Cat. 45,19–22; Simplicius in Cat. 82,26–8, although Chiaradonna, ‘The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, pp. 299–328, would differentiate Alexander from Boethus. Sharples suggests that Alexander occasionally forgets his requirement of more than one, because in the natural world ‘singletons’, as Sharples dubs them, are very much the exception, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Universals: Two Problematic Texts’, Phronesis 50 (2005) pp. 43–55. 32 Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 8,7–17. It is true that intellect contemplates not a particular piece of bronze, but the essence or form of bronze, which is said by Alexander in another passage to be universal, Alexander On the Soul 87,16, but in view of the present passage, I take it that it need not contemplate the form of bronze qua universal, if universality is taken in the sense that requires more than one instance.

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33 Alexander does not say, like Elias at the end of the sixth century AD in Alexandria, in Cat. 167,2–5, that one type of universal is the totality of members. That is also how Boethus is interpreted by Chiaradonna, as above. 34 Rashed, Essentialisme, pp. 102, 237–60. Rashed recognises Alexander’s two different kinds of genus and species in ‘Priorité de l’eidos ou du genos entre Andronicus et Alexandre: vestiges arabes et grecs inédits’, Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 14 (2004) pp. 9–63, at p. 34. 35 Alexander ap. Simplicius in Phys. 234,17–18. 36 Alexander in Metaph. 214,27–9. 37 Alexander in Metaph. 215,16–18. 38 Particular parental has been suggested to me by Tomasz Tiuryn. 39 Alexander ap. Simplicius in Phys. 311,12–17. 40 Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 7,31–2. 41 Alexander Quaestio 1.3, 8,22–3. 42 Alexander On Providence, tr. into French from the Arabic by Rashed, Essentialisme, p. 253. 43 A.C. Lloyd, Form and Universal in Aristotle, Liverpool: Francis Cairns 1981, p. 51. Paul Moraux had earlier rejected the entire reprise in the second half of 1.11 as the work of a student, Alexandre d’Aphrodise: Exégète de la noétique d’Aristote, Liège and Paris: Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres de l’Université de Liège 1942, pp. 22, 53. 44 Alexander ap. Simplicius in Cat. 83,16–20, cited in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 6(b) (2), p. 166. Marwan Rashed takes Alexander to claim similarly that the genus helps to constitute the species, when he says that the genus is in the species in a text of Alexander surviving in Arabic that he calls T2 (‘Priorité de l’eidos ou du genos entre Andronicus et Alexandre’, p. 15). 45 Chiaradonna, ‘The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, pp. 299–328; Anonymi in Aristotelis Categorias Commentarium, ed. and tr. with comments, Chiaradonna, Rashed and Sedley, ‘A Rediscovered Categories Commentary’, pp. 129–94. 46 Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 5(a); id., ‘Universals Transformed’, pp. 105–26; R. Chiaradonna, ‘Universali e intelligibili in Plotino’, in V. Celluprica, C. D’Ancona (eds) Aristotele e i suoi esegetici neoplatonici, Naples: Elenchos 2004, pp. 1–35; id., ‘Porphyry and Iamblichus on Universals and Synonymous Predication’, Documenti e studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale 18 (2007) pp. 123–40. 47 Alexander in Metaph. 1,50,7–15, cited by Sirkel, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Account of Universals and its Problems’, p. 305. Chiaradonna additionally cites texts earlier again in which universality is silently omitted from the characteristics of Plato’s Forms: Seneca Letters 58.16; Cicero Topics 31.

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48 Proclus in Eucl. 1,50,15–51,9. 49 I thank Michael Chase for raising this question. 50 Simplicius in Cat. 83,10–12. 51 Proclus in Parm. 880,3–11, tr. in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 5(a)(3). 52 G.E.L. Owen called this focal meaning and supplied the references, ‘Logic and Metaphysics in some Early Works of Aristotle’, in I. Düring, G.E.L. Owen (eds) Aristotle and Plato in the Mid–Fourth Century, Göteborg: Almqvist & Wiksell 1960, pp. 163–90, repr. as ch. 10 in his collected papers, Logic, Science and Dialectic, London: Duckworth 1986, pp. 180–99. 53 By A.C. Lloyd, ‘The Aristotelianism of Eustratios of Nicaea’, in J. Wiesner (ed.) Aristoteles Werk und Wirkung, Berlin: de Gruyter 1987, pp. 341–51. 54 Plotinus Enneads 6.2.[43]2, select passages translated in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 3(r). 55 Ammonius in Isag. 68,25–69,11. Compare with ‘sketch of the concept’ Simplicius in Cat. 213,8–28: Aristotle’s account of the category of quality in his elementary Categories is a conceptual account (logos ennoêmatikos), the substantial (ousiôdês) account being reserved for his Metaphysics. 56 Philoponus in Cat. Prooemium 9,3–12. 57 Philoponus in Cat. Prooemium 9,12–15. 58 Porphyry in Cat. 58,4–7. 59 Simplicius in Cat. Prooemium 13,11–18, citing also the Aristotelians Alexander of Aigai, Herminus, his pupil the great Alexander of Aphrodisias, and the Neoplatonists Syrianus, Ammonius and possibly Damascius. 60 Simplicius in Cat. Prooemium 13,18–21. 61 Simplicius in Cat. 41,28–42,2. 62 Simplicius in Cat. 42,2–7. 63 Olympiodorus in Cat. Prolegomena 18,23–20,12. 64 Elias in Cat. Prooemium, 129,10–130,13. 65 Elias in Cat. Prooemium, 130,14–131,14. 66 Porphyry Isagôgê 1,9–16. 67 Porphyry in Cat. 75,25–9. 68 Porphyry in Cat. 90,33–91,3. 69 Sten Ebbesen, ‘Porphyry’s Legacy to Logic: A Reconstruction’, ch. 7 in Richard Sorabji (ed.) Aristotle Transformed, London: Duckworth, 1990, 2nd edn Bloomsbury 2016. 70 J. Barnes, Porphyry Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2003. 71 Erismann, L’homme commun, pp. 96, 98, 103, citing Isag. 14,10–12; 15,12–13; 15,18–19; 17,9–10.

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72 Isag. 17,9–10. 73 Isag. 2,7–13; 5,9–12; 6,6–7. 74 Isag. 11,15–17. 75 R. Chiaradonna, ‘Porphyry’s Views on the Immanent Incorporeals’, in G. Karamanolis, A. Sheppard (eds) Studies on Porphyry, vol. 98 of the Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies of the University of London: Supplement, 2007, pp. 35–49, at pp. 45–8. 76 H. Tarrant, Thrasyllan Platonism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press 1993, ch. 5. 77 Simplicius in Cat. 2,9–14, 26–9. 78 See J. Dillon, ‘Iamblichus’ noera theôria of Aristotle’s Categories’, Syllecta Classica 8, 1977, 65–77. 79 Simplicius in Cat. 53,9–12, 18–27; Chiaradonna, ‘Porphyry and Iamblichus on Universals’, pp. 136–7. 80 Proclus in Eucl. 1,50,15–51,9. 81 Ammonius in Isag. 41,2–42,26; 68,25–69,11; 104,28–31; Ammonius in Cat. Anon. 41,3–11; Philoponus in Cat. 58,13–59,1; 67,19–24. The distinction is recorded by Ammonius’ pupil, Simplicius, as a distinction among common entities (koina), Simplicius in Cat. 82,35–83,20, cf. 69,19–71,2. 82 Ammonius in Isag. 41,20–42,7; 42,16–20. Marwan Rashed has raised the question in discussion whether it is an interpolation by Philoponus that draws attention at 42,22–6 to an apparent disharmony between Plato and Ammonius over the latter’s conception of Forms as being no higher than something in the Creator’s mind. But Rashed points out that the text immediately replies that Aristotle is giving a physicist’s treatment of Forms, Plato a theological treatment, cf. 43,25–44,4. 83 Ammonius in Isag. 104,28–31; Ammonius in Cat. Anon. 41,3–11. 84 Ammonius in Isag. 68,25–69,11. 85 Ammonius in Cat. Anon. 36,2–21; 40,19–21. 86 Philoponus Commentary from the seminars of Ammonius on Aristotle’s De Anima 38,13–15, 58,9. 87 Philoponus Commentary from the seminars of Ammonius on Aristotle’s De Anima 38, 13–17 on Aristotle De Anima 1.1, 402b5–9. 88 Ammonius in Isag. 68,25–69,11. 89 Philoponus Commentary from the seminars of Ammonius on Aristotle’s De Anima 307,33–4. 90 Philoponus in Phys. 14,3–17; 15,20–4. 91 Philoponus in Cat. 50,6–9; 53,11–13; 53,28–9. 92 Philoponus in Cat. 58,7–59,2. 93 Ammonius in Cat. Anon. 40,19–21.

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94 R.Y. Ebied, A. Van Roey and L.R. Wickham, Peter of Callinicum: Anti-Tritheist Dossier, Orientalia Lovanensis Analecta, vol. 10, Leuven: Peeters 1981, p. 26; Erismann, ‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, pp. 143–59, from John of Damascus On Heresies, in Patrologia Graeca, ed. Migne, vol. 94, col. 748A; cf. col. 744C. 95 Philoponus Arbiter 7 = John of Damascus Book on Heresies 83.52–5 (Kotter). 96 Philoponus Arbiter 7 = John of Damascus Book on Heresies 83.59–68 (Kotter). 97 Philoponus in GC 313,16–22. 98 Philoponus Against Themistius, and two other texts, fragments tr. from Syriac in Ebied, van Roey and Wickham, op. cit., 51,5–9, 31–2; On Theology, tr. into Latin from Syriac by A. van Roey, ‘Les fragments trithéites de Jean Philopon’, Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica 11 (1980) pp. 135–63. I have benefited from discussion with Mossman Roueché in treating the theological works. 99 in Cat. 64,9–68,9. 100 in Cat. 46,15; 66,30. 101 in Cat. 48,7. 102 in Cat. 48,13. 103 in Cat. 52,4–53,13. 104 in Cat. 35,16–36,13.

Textual Emendations The following textual changes have been adopted in the translation: 31,17: Supplying phêsi gar kath’ hupokeimenou tinos legetai with Busse. 39,5: Inserting dia touto to men empsukhon kai to aisthêtikon katêgoreitai tou anthrôpou, ouketi de to genos ê to disullabon with Busse. 44,10: Supplying to sôma gar ekhein legetai hoplon ê himation with Busse. 49,21: Inserting ouk before anankê (see note ad loc.). 68,16: Adding leukotês thermotês with Ammonius in Cat. 46,24–25. 71,10: Replacing hê with alla in accord with MS C. 78,24–5: Transposing epeidê kai tais diaphorais after monêi with Busse.

Philoponus On Aristotle Categories 1–5 Translation

John Philoponus’ Scholia on Aristotle Categories 1–5

Just as when we started on Introductions,1 we spoke about the things that pertain to the whole of philosophy and then defined the aim (skopos) of the book before us, so now as we begin on this Aristotelian work let us state the things that pertain to the whole of Aristotelian philosophy and then in the same way demarcate the aim of the book before us, Categories. Now there are ten main topics (kephalaia) that should be taken up in advance.2 First, in how many ways are the schools of philosophers named, so that [knowing this] we may know from which school the Philosopher came. Second, [matters] concerning the division of the Aristotelian works. Third, whence should one start the Aristotelian works? Fourth, what is the goal (telos) of Aristotelian philosophy? Fifth, what is the path that leads to this goal? Sixth, what style does Aristotle use to express himself? Seventh, why did he make a practice of being obscure? Eighth, what sort of student is required? Ninth, what sort of commentator is required? Tenth, for each Aristotelian treatise, how many main topics should be discussed in advance?3 These, then, are the main topics that ought to be examined. We should also examine why we examine only these [topics] and neither more nor less. We might learn the reason clearly by using division to get a grasp of the account . . .4 The schools of philosophers get their names in seven ways: either from the leader, as in the case of the Platonists and the Pythagoreans, or from the leader’s home country, as the Cyrenaics from that of Aristippus and the Megarians from that of Euclides, or from the place in which he taught, as the Academics from the place in which Xenocrates5 taught and the Stoics from the one in which Zeno of Citium taught, or by the mode of judgement they used in philosophising, as those called the suspenders of judgement (ephektikoi),6 or from their form of life, as the Cynics who were led by Antisthenes, or by the goal of their philosophy, as Epicureans [are called] Hedonists, or from an

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accidental feature, as the Peripatetics [are so called] from [something that featured accidentally with] Aristotle. Hence, the suspenders of judgement were so called for the following reason. Pyrrho, the leader of the school, used to say that there was inapprehensibility (akatalêpsia) in the things that are, and he used the following example: just as, he said, it is impossible to wade into the same river twice (for it has already flowed on before you go into it a second time), so too it is impossible to assert anything clearly about things since their nature is flowing, that is, they have their being in coming to be and passing away. Thus, when they were asked a question, they only nodded yes or nodded no, thinking that things have already changed before they give an answer. His pupil Heraclitus, carrying the absurdity to an extreme, used to say that it is not possible to wade into the same river even once, since before your whole body has dipped down in it, most of the water will have already flowed on.7 This is what they take to be the case with the nature of things as well, for all things have their being in movement and flow. And that is the reason they are called ‘suspenders of judgement’, just because they withhold answers about things. In refuting this belief with many arguments, Plato inflicts, among many others, this refutation on them as well: ‘Did you people, who say there is inapprehensibility, apprehend that there is inapprehensibility or not? If you did apprehend it, then there is apprehension. But if you did not apprehend it, we could not possibly believe you, because you have not apprehended that there is inapprehensibility.’8 The Cynics (kunikoi) were so called on account of their outspokenness and love of refutation; after all, they say,9 there is something philosophical and discriminative about dogs (kunes), since they bark at strangers and fawn on people familiar to them. So too they welcomed and embraced the virtues and those living in accord with virtue, but they attacked and barked at the passions and those living in accord with passion, even if they were kings. The Hedonists were so called because they took pleasure as their goal; not, however, bodily pleasure, but rather the calm and tranquil condition of the soul which accompanies the life in accord with virtue. But they spoke incorrectly when they took what is an indication or shadow of virtue as their goal. The Peripatetics were given this name for the following reason: Plato held conversations with his followers while walking about for the sake of exercise, a

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practice which Aristotle adopted and got named after that activity or accidental feature.10 Come, then, and let us divide the Aristotelian works. Of the Aristotelian works, some are particular (merika), such as his letters, some are general (katholou), e.g. Physics, On the Soul, etc., and some are in between, as Constitutions and Investigations about Animals.11 Again, of the general works, some are reminder notes (hupomnêmatika), while others are fully arranged treatises (suntagmatika).12 Of the reminder notes, some are uniform (monoeidê), while others are diverse (poikila): uniform are those he wrote on a single theme, and diverse are those he noted down about several matters. Of the fully arranged treatises, on the other hand, some are in the first person (autoprosôpa) and these are called ‘esoteric’ (akroamatika), while others are in dialogue form and are [called] exoteric (exôterika).13 Of the esoteric ones, some are theoretical, others practical, and still others instrumental. Of the theoretical works, some are on natural science, others on mathematics, and others on theology. Of the practical works, some are ethical, others economic, and others political. Of the instrumental works, some treat matters prefatory to the method of inquiry, others treat matters concerning the method itself, while still others treat matters that contribute in other ways to the method. Particular works, then, are those which he has written to someone personally, e.g. the letters, or those he wrote in response to questions by Alexander of Macedon about kingship and how to found colonies. General ones are, for example, Physics or On Generation and Corruption, for in treatises of that sort he discusses general matters. And there are those in between, like On the Generation of Animals, for one [of its parts] includes general remarks about animals, while another treats the particulars of each generation [of a sort of animal] taken on its own.14 They call ‘reminder notes’ those jotted down to prompt one’s own memory; for the ancients, when reading the written works of their predecessors, were accustomed to jot down the opinions of their predecessors on each matter and the arguments that served to establish these opinions. They jotted down not only those but also frequently their own opinions as an aid to memory, so that, if they were ever going to compose a work on something, they would have at hand the opinions of the older thinkers on the subject in question to serve as material for their own treatises. Of the reminder notes, those they called

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‘uniform’ are ones in which they jotted down notes on just one matter, e.g. on the soul or on the heaven, or on something else, whereas ‘diverse’ are ones in which they jotted down notes on several matters. They call ‘fully arranged treatises’ those that have a style fitting for a treatise and a well-­arranged division of main topics (kephalaia).15 Of the fully arranged treatises, some are dialogues and others are in the first person. The latter are those in which he developed his teaching as originating from his own person, and these are the ones they call ‘esoteric’ because the talk is directed to genuine students. They call ‘dialogic’ those which he composed, not as originating from his own person, but in the way Plato represented other persons [as characters in his dialogues]. These are the ones they call ‘exoteric’ because they were written for the benefit of ordinary people, and in this respect the dialogues differ most from the treatises in the first person. For, since in these treatises he directs the discussion to genuine students, he expresses his opinions and backs them up with the most accurate arguments which ordinary people are not able to follow. But because the dialogues were written for the common benefit, i.e. the benefit of ordinary people, he expresses his opinions, not by means of demonstrative arguments, but rather by means of simpler [arguments] which ordinary people can follow. The treatises in the first person are divided into the theoretical, the practical, and the instrumental, for philosophy is also divided into these two: the theoretical and the practical.16 The theoretical ones are those in which he investigates truth and falsity, while the practical ones are those in which he investigates the good and the bad. Since there is a great deal of disagreement among people concerning the good and the bad, and truth and falsity, and one person considers one thing to be good or bad, true or false, another something else, he stood in need of an instrument for distinguishing between them, and that is demonstration. But a demonstration is nothing other than a demonstrative syllogism; for as a carpenter uses a plumb-­line as a tool for judging the crookedness or straightness of pieces of wood, and similarly the housebuilder judges with a square whether or not walls are perpendicular, so philosophers have demonstration as the infallible standard for judging things that are. They divide the theoretical works into the natural, the mathematical, and the theological. Now, the theological ones are those placed by him after the

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treatise Physics, and so he called them ‘Metaphysics’ (Meta ta phusika) (for it pertains to theology to provide instruction on all the things that are beyond the physical realm). The physical works are, for instance, those very ones that are called Physics, On Generation and Corruption, and the like, whereas mathematical objects are in between these, being in one respect separable from matter and in another respect inseparable, for he even drew some lines.17 The practical [works are divided] into the ethical (for they contain the treatise Ethics), the economic, and the political. Of the instrumental works, some concern the principles of method, like Categories and On Interpretation, as well as the two books of Prior Analytics; others concern the method itself, like Posterior Analytics, in which he provides instruction about demonstration. Topics, Sophistical Refutations, Rhetorical Arts, and, as some say, On Poetics, do not by themselves contribute to the method, but they cooperate with demonstration by explaining the ways in which fallacious reasonings come about. The third and next topic is where to start in the Aristotelian works. Boethus of Sidon18 says it is necessary to begin with Physics because it is more familiar and well-­known, and it is always necessary to start from things that are clearer and well-­known. But his teacher, Andronicus of Rhodes,19 examining the question more accurately, said it was necessary to begin with the logic, which is the one concerned with demonstration. Since, then, the Philosopher used the demonstrative method in all of his treatises, we have to first master this so that we might follow more easily his other works. But some say it is necessary to begin with the ethics, for first we have to set our characters in order and in that condition embark upon the other treatises, so that by having our reasoning capacity undisturbed by passions we do not make inaccurate judgments about things. But if some were to say that we should start rather with the logic, so that we might know through demonstration the things that lead us to the principles and what is the character of true virtue, we say that we ought to first know this by reliance on right opinion, and then later by reliance on demonstration. Thus, even if we do not follow the demonstrations, we have to first live in accord with those final results of ethics that we learn by reliance on right opinion, and then later apply the demonstrative methods.20 Now, what is the goal of Aristotelian philosophy? We say that it is the knowledge of the principle of everything, i.e. the creative cause of all things,

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the one which is always just the same as it is. For he demonstrates that the principle of all things is one and incorporeal, and all things come forth out of it.21 What leads us toward this goal? We say that it is instruction about the things that exist in time and are subject to change. Such are the things that exist in the realm of generation and destruction. From these we lead ourselves through the intermediaries of mathematical objects to the things that are always just the same as they are (such things are the heavenly bodies), and so after incorporeal substances on to the first cause of all things. For, since every motion is either in respect of substance or quantity or quality or place, the things in the realm of generation and destruction are moving with every sort of motion, but the heavenly bodies move only with motion in respect of place. For this reason it is necessary to travel in an orderly fashion from the things that move with all sorts of motions to those that move with just one sort of motion, and in this way arrive at the immovable principle that is always just the same as it is, and avoid transgressing against the oracle.22 For if we decided to approach the first principle of everything from bodily things all at once, we would think that it too is a body which has been shaped. It is for this reason that Plotinus says: ‘We should hand over the mathematics to the young as a way of getting them used to incorporeal nature.’23 The style of the Aristotelian works is everywhere precise in its use of words (for the Philosopher always shuns rhetorical flourishes and concerns himself solely with presenting the nature of things), yet frequently [his style] is compressed and obscurely expressed, not on account of the nature of the writer but rather by choice (for instance, his discussion is clear in Topics, as well as Meteorology and [some] others).24 He engages, then, in obscurity on account of his readers, in order to make them more skilful at understanding what is said in an orderly manner, and to turn away the careless students right from the start. For in the case of genuine students, the greater the obscurity of what is said, the more eager they are to prevail and reach for depth. So he used obscurity as a curtain, having shrouded the holiness of things in [a cloak of] obscurity on account of the uninitiated. Now the student should be just, clever in thinking, good at arguments, moderate in character, and orderly in everything. The commentator should neither, on account of good will, try to prove what is badly said as though

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receiving it from a tripod,25 nor should he, out of enmity, take in a bad sense what is said beautifully. He should rather try to be a dispassionate judge of what is said, and first clarify the thought of the ancient philosopher and expound his opinions, and then go on to give his own judgement. For each of Aristotle’s treatises, there are six things that need to be specified in advance: the aim, the utility, the reason for the title, the order in which they are to be read, the division into main topics, and whether the book is a genuine work of the Philosopher. The aim captures the nature of the treatise and provides the reader with something like a competence in how he should think about each thing, for he contrives to adjust each thing that is said toward the aim of the treatise. A person who does not know the aim is like a blind man who does not know where he is being led, and he will think that everything that tends toward the aim has been said in vain by the ancient philosopher.26 As to the utility, it imparts zeal and eagerness to the student, for the person who is about to begin something must first learn the utility that comes from it, i.e. how it benefits him. As to the reason for the title, since in the case of some of his works the title is obscure, it is sometimes necessary to ask for what reason they have been so entitled, as in Categories and On Interpretation and others as well. In the case of On the Heavens or On the Soul, there is no need to seek the reason for the title, for it is self-­evident. We also inquire whether the book is genuinely by the author. There are three occasions on which the works ascribed to Aristotle may come to be considered spurious. One is homonymy of the authors (for there have been other Aristotles, whose works some thought to be by Aristotle on account of the homonymy). The second is the homonymy of works (for his pupils Eudemus, Phanias and Theophrastus,27 in order to emulate their teacher, have written their own Categories, On Interpretation, and Analytics). The third is of the following sort: Ptolemy Philadelphus,28 they say, was very enthusiastic about Aristotle’s works, and other works as well, and he gave money to those who brought him books by the Philosopher. As a result, some people, out of a desire to make money by giving titles to writings, added on the Philosopher’s name. At any rate, they say that in the great library forty books of Analytics and two of Categories were discovered. The commentators judged this one, of Categories, to be genuinely by Aristotle, and four books of Analytics. The

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judgement was made on the basis of the thoughts expressed, the expressions used, and by the fact that the Philosopher in his other treatises always makes reference to this book. Further, we inquire into the order in which the treatises are to be read, lest we, being ignorant of what we already need to know, tackle first the greater ones, which can only be understood after the other treatises have been grasped. As to the division into parts, [we inquire into this] because the person wanting to learn accurately the nature of a whole should investigate accurately the parts of that whole. For example, the person who wants to know accurately a human being needs to know his head as well as his hands and feet and similarly the rest. In the same way, then, it is necessary to first know the parts of each work, and into how many and what sort of parts it is divided.29 It should also be known that it is not necessary to seek all these things in every case, but rather in those where clarity is hidden. For frequently the utility appears right along with the aim, as in On the Heavens or On the Soul, where the aim, the utility, and the title are obvious. But in Topics not even one of these is obvious; for even when the aim is known, the utility is not immediately apparent right along with it. His aim in Topics is to hand down to us the dialectical method, and dialectical, as he defines it, is ‘a method that constructs syllogisms from received opinions about any problem set before us’.30 But if it deals with any problem set before us, and not only truths but also falsehoods are set before us, then where is the utility there? Would it be knowing a method through which we also reason to falsehoods? But as he continues, he himself uncovers its utility for us by saying that the treatise is useful for three things: for intellectual exercise, for casual encounters, and for the methods appropriate to philosophy.31 In Categories and On Interpretation, however, the utility appears right along with the aim, as we will show next. These comments apply to Aristotelian philosophy as a whole. Now let us say also about the present book, Categories, what is the aim and the utility and the reason for the title, and the order in which it is to be read, and whether the present book is a genuine work of the Philosopher, and the division into main topics. For these, as was said before, must be discussed in advance for each Aristotelian treatise. Certain people, then, have quarrelled over the aim of Categories. Some have said that the aim concerns only

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expressions (phônai), others that it concerns only things (pragmata), and still others that it concerns only concepts (noêmata). Those who say the aim concerns only expressions, as did Alexander,32 were misled by Aristotelian passages saying ‘Of things said, some are said with combination, others without combination’.33 If things said (legomena), they say, are expressions, then his aim obviously concerns expressions. Those who supposed that the aim concerns only things, as did Eustathius,34 say that the Philosopher makes a division of things when he says ‘Of entities, some are said of a subject’.35 If entities (onta), they say, are things, then his aim concerns surely only things. Those who held that the Philosopher discusses only concepts, as did Porphyry,36 say that his discussion (logos) is about the ten genera; these are, however, considered after the many (epi tois pollois)37 and are later in origin, having existence in our thought (dianoia). Aristotle’s discussion in Categories is, then, about concepts. He, too, was led astray by Aristotle’s words near the end when he says: ‘About the proposed genera, then, enough has been said.’38 But everywhere Aristotle says genera are after the many and conceptual (ennoêmatika). Now, those who speak more accurately, one of whom is Iamblichus,39 say the discussion is neither about concepts alone nor expressions alone nor things alone, but rather the aim of Categories concerns expressions that signify things through mediating concepts. We may learn that the writers mentioned earlier did not define [the aim] correctly in the following way. Since some things are in bare thought, like a hippocentaur or a goat-­stag, whereas others exist in reality (huphestôta), let those who say that he deals with things alone come forward and say which sort his discussion is about. It is clear that they will say it is about real things. So does he, having earlier grasped the concept of these things, teach us about them by means of expressions? They will surely and entirely agree, for it is impossible to signify things otherwise than by means of expressions through mediating concepts. Therefore, his discussion will also be about all [three]. Since some expressions and concepts signify something, whereas others have being as far as language (phônê) and thought go, let those who say that he deals with expressions alone or concepts alone come forward and say which of these he aims to treat. They will surely reply those which signify things, for philosophers have nothing whatsoever to say about expressions or concepts that are without signification. Therefore, in treating expressions that signify

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things, he also grasps them through mediating concepts, and in discussing the concepts that signify things, he will discuss them by means of expressions which explain the concepts. For if souls were bereft of bodies, they would encounter thoughts alone; but now as they are enclosed in bodies they are not able to convey their thoughts to one another in any other way than by means of expressions.40 And since, when it comes to things, some are simple and others complex (a simple thing is Socrates, while a complex one is walking Socrates), and so too some concepts and expressions are simple and others complex (a simple expression is simply ‘Socrates’, and a simple concept is about Socrates; a complex expression is one which says [e.g.] ‘Socrates runs’, and a complex concept is about Socrates running), does he treat here simple things and expressions, or complex ones? We say that [he treats] the simple ones. For this reason too, in defining the aim of Categories accurately, we say that he treats here simple expressions that signify simple things through simple mediating concepts. Let us now add something further to clarify what we mean. Philosophy is, as we said, [divided into] theoretical and practical, and the goal of theoretical philosophy is to know the truth and that of practical philosophy is to attain the good, and existing along with both are their contraries, with truth [its contrary] falsehood and with good [its contrary] bad. Our soul, however, inasmuch as it is incomplete, often chooses the false instead of the true, believing that to be true, and the bad instead of the good, believing that to be good. Hence philosophers needed an instrument for discriminating truth from falsehood and the good from the bad. What is this? Demonstration. For whatever is demonstrated to be good, necessarily is good; and whatever is demonstrated to be bad, [necessarily] is bad. And similarly with truth and falsity. For just as a carpenter uses a plumb-­line and a housebuilder uses a square for judging what is straight and what is not, so also the philosopher uses demonstration for judging truth and falsehood, and the good and the bad. Now demonstration is a scientific syllogism. But the syllogism simpliciter (haplôs) includes more than the scientific syllogism.41 For when the material that is infallible, steadfast, and always just the same as it is, is combined with the syllogism simpliciter, it produces the demonstrative syllogism. But since in fact he could not teach about demonstration without first teaching what is a

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syllogism simpliciter, just as one could not write a nominative or an inflected form unless he has previously learned simply to write, so too it is impossible to give a syllogism simpliciter without premises (for a syllogism is made up of these, being a collection (sullogê) of several statements, as also its name indicates), and premises without nouns and verbs (for premises are made up of these), and nouns and verbs without simple expressions (for both a noun and a verb are expressions that signify something). Therefore, he rightly discusses simple expressions first. For, in general, the end of theorising (theôria) becomes the starting point (arkhê) of action (praxis), and, conversely, the end of an action becomes the starting point of theorising. For instance, a housebuilder who is ordered to build a house says to himself: ‘I am ordered to build a house which is a shelter preventing rain and burning heat, but this would not come about without there being a roof.’ Theorising starts from here. As he proceeds, he says: ‘But this would not come about without there being walls, and these would not come about without laying the foundations, and foundations would not be laid without digging up the earth.’ Here the theorising ends. So from here begins the action: he first digs up the earth, then lays the foundation, then erects the walls, and, finally, sets the roof in place, which is the end of the action. In this way, then, the starting point of theorising becomes the end of the action, and the starting point of the action the end for the theorising. The Philosopher proceeds in the same way: wishing to give a demonstration, he says to himself ‘I want to speak about demonstration, but since a demonstration is a scientific syllogism, it is impossible to say anything about it without first saying what is a syllogism simpliciter, and we would not learn [what is a] syllogism simpliciter without first learning what is a premise. But a premise is a sort of statement, and a syllogism is a collection of such statements. Hence, it is impossible to get to know a syllogism without knowing the premises (for a syllogism is made up of these), and neither [is it possible to get to know] a premise without [knowing] nouns and verbs, out of which every statement is composed, nor nouns and verbs without [knowing] simple expressions (for each of these is a signifying expression). Therefore, it is necessary first to talk about simple expressions.’ Here, then, the theorising ends, and this becomes the starting point of the action. For he first discusses simple expressions in Categories, then nouns, verbs and premises in On

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Interpretation, next syllogism simpliciter in Prior Analytics, then demonstration in Posterior Analytics. Here, then, is the end of the action, which was the starting point for the theorising. Therefore, he is right to treat here simple expressions first, for after humans banded together in society, they assigned among themselves a particular name to each thing, concerned as they were only to signify things to one another by means of expressions, and not to say, however, what is a noun or a verb. He discusses these, then, in Categories. But since he does not discuss expressions without signification (for philosophers have nothing to say about these), it is clear that [he discusses] expressions that signify concepts. For it is necessary that once there is a thing, there also be a name for it, and prior to that a concept that we have of the thing. For example, the expression ‘Socrates’ is the name of Socrates, and the thing is Socrates himself, and the concept we have in the soul is the cognition about Socrates. Therefore, Aristotle’s aim is to talk about simple expressions that signify simple things through simple mediating concepts. So much about the aim. It is clear from what has been said that the book is useful for both the theoretical and practical branches of philosophy, since even demonstration, as we have shown, is not to be known without simple expressions, and since he treats the common things into which are divided all the entities. The reason for the title is the following: the book is entitled ‘Categories’, not because he deals with accusations of the courts of justice (for his project is not public speaking).42 Rather, as we learned from Introductions,43 there is a distinction between two kinds of genera. Some are most generic and nothing else but genera, while others are subordinate and these are called both genera and species; they are species in respect of those that precede them, and genera in respect of those that come after them. And the most generic ones are only predicated, while subordinate ones are subjects for those that precede them and are predicated of those that come after them. Now here he discusses the ten most generic genera, those that are only predicated, and never serve as subjects. This is the reason, then, he entitled the book ‘Categories’, as if to say ‘On the Genera that are Predicated Only’. The order in which it is to be read is clear from the aim: for, as we have said, one must begin the action where the theorising left off, and that what is simpler must precede what is complex. And the teaching of the ten categories is simpler,

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because, as we said, it deals with simple expressions that signify simple things through mediating simple concepts. Everyone confirms that this book is a genuine work of the Philosopher. This is evident from the use of words, and from the fact that the Philosopher made reference to this work in his other treatises. Two books of Categories, as has been said, were found, which are more or less similar in all respects, as well as in respect of the preface itself (for the other book has the beginning ‘Of things that are, some are homonyms, others synonyms’,44 which is more or less the same as it is in the book before us); [of these two,] this one has been judged to be a genuine book by all commentators. The book is divided into three main topics, for it is divided into the ‘pre-­ categories’, the categories themselves, and the ‘post-­categories’.45 In the first section, he provides instruction about those things that are useful for his teaching of the categories. For just as geometers are accustomed to give preliminary instruction about things that are useful to the study of theorems, e.g. what is a point, what is a line, and what is a circle, so that they would not be forced in the middle of their exposition to use unfamiliar words, or be diverted by teaching something about those things and thus break the continuous flow of matters at hand, so here also the Philosopher, since he is going to mention in his teaching of the categories some words and expressions that are unknown to us, gives preliminary instruction about them, so that he would not appear to confuse the discussion. In the second section, he provides instruction about the categories themselves. In the third section, in turn, he discusses certain expressions that he mentioned in his teaching of the categories, such as ‘simultaneous’, ‘prior’ and ‘having’. Why didn’t he teach all of these at the same time before the categories? We say that some of these expressions are unknown to everybody, e.g. ‘homonym’ or ‘synonym’ (for an ordinary person has no concept of these), while others are well­known from ordinary usage, although in need of some articulation, e.g. ‘simultaneous’ and ‘prior’. Thus he placed, of necessity, these expressions that are completely unknown to everybody before his teaching of the categories, for not knowing these, we are not likely to understand things said about the categories (for he uses them in his teaching of the categories). Now the remaining ones, I mean those [expressions] that we know indistinctly, he teaches after the categories, so that he would not make the preface long,

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and so make the secondary work longer than the work itself. This division into parts was invented to make the writing clearer: for having learned how many topics the book has, and which [topics] he discusses, we will most easily follow what is said, and not understand it in a confused and indistinct way. 1a1 Things are called homonyms.

When our souls were bereft of bodies, they were able to indicate things to one another by means of thoughts. But since they became bound up with bodies, which like a cloud envelop their intellective faculty, they stood in need of names, by means of which they signify things to one another. We must realise, then, that we indicate things to one another either by names (onoma) or by definitions (horismoi), as we signify a human being both by the expression ‘human being’ and by the definition saying ‘mortal rational animal’. But whenever we signify a human being by the expression ‘human being’, we make known its nature all at once, whereas whenever we signify human being by its definition, we consider each of the components that belong to human being. Of things, then, some share with one another a name but differ in definition and these are called homonyms, while those things that have in common a definition but differ in name are called polynyms. Those things that have in common both a name and a definition are called synonyms, while those that differ both in name and in definition are called heteronyms. But it should be known that that being different (heteron) is not the same as being a heteronym. Heteronyms are things considered in relation to one and the same subject (hupokeimenon), but partaking in a different name, as the ascent and the descent in the case of a ladder. The ascent is defined differently than the descent, and the names are different: ‘ascent’ and ‘descent’. So these things [i.e. the ascent and the descent] are properly called heteronyms, whereas things that are different are entirely other, both in subject and in name, such as human being and horse. Aristotle provides instruction only about homonyms and synonyms, since he needs only these in his teaching on the categories, emulating the teaching of geometry in this as well, as they [i.e. geometers] are accustomed to treat beforehand only those things that are helpful to them in the book or theorem

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at hand. In another way of putting it, Aristotle, being always the lover of concision, teaches through these [i.e. homonyms and synonyms] potentially also about the others [i.e. polynyms and heteronyms]. For once the former are known, the remaining two will be known too, since they are their opposites, and opposites are known by the same knowledge. In knowing what is a homonym, one will also know its opposite, I mean a polynym. For if a homonym is that which shares its name but differs qua thing, as mus is an aquatic animal [i.e. the mussel] and a terrestrial animal [i.e. the field mouse], then polynym is its opposite, being the same qua thing but differing in name, as in the case of ‘sword’, ‘scimitar’, and ‘blade’. Similarly, knowing what is a synonym, namely, that which shares its name and definition, e.g. Socrates and Plato are each a human being, one will also know what is a heteronym, namely, that which differs both in name and qua thing, e.g. the ascent and the descent. For they differ both in name and qua thing, even though the subject for both things is the same: just as what it is to be a grain is not the same as what it is to be a seed or a fruit, so also what it is to be a ladder is not the same as what it is to be an ascent or a descent.46 These names [i.e. ‘ascent’ and ‘descent’] are indicative of a certain relationship, i.e. the activity with regard to a ladder. In his teaching, Aristotle placed homonyms before [synonyms] because homonyms are simpler in that they have in common just one thing, their name, and because they are prior by nature to synonyms, for being (to on) is predicated of the categories homonymously, not synonymously. Now, if all these things did not concur, there would not be a homonym: same name, same accent, same genus, same inflection, same breathing, and same ending. For if the name is different in each case, then it is clearly not a homonym. If the name is the same, but the accent is different, then it is not a homonym either, e.g. Árgos and argós [idle]. The former is a paroxytone47 and signifies [Odysseus’] dog, while the latter is an oxytone48 and means a sluggish person. If it were masculine, it would signify, as is said, the dog of Odysseus, or it would be the name of a hero; if it were neuter, it would be the name of a city.49 Similarly with bíos and biós: the former is a barytone50 and means life, while the latter is an oxytone and means bow. Again, if they are the same but the inflection is different, we do not have a homonym, e.g. ho elátês and tês elátês. The former is in the nominative case and means a charioteer or some other driver, and is in the masculine

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gender, while the latter is in the feminine gender and in the genitive case (for hê elátê, tês elátês), and is the name of a tree [i.e. silver fir]. The breathing must be the same, too. For if the breathing is different, we do not have a homonym, as in the case of oios. It means ‘the only’, and it means ‘of what sort’, for the word with rough breathing [hoios] means ‘of what sort’, while the word with smooth breathing [oios] means ‘the only’. Also the ending needs to be the same. I imagine this is evident: for elátês and elátê, differing in ending, are not homonyms. Some ask why he did not say ‘homonym’ but ‘homonyms’. We say that the homonym is not one thing (for nothing is said to be a homonym to itself) but many things (for one thing is a homonym to something else), and for this reason he used the plural form. Again, some puzzle over why he said legetai, and not legontai.51 We say that this is because homonyms, although they are many things, nonetheless are one qua homonyms52 (for a name predicated of many things is one). That is why he used the singular form legetai, for legontai is plural. Furthermore, it is customary among the Greeks to use in the case of neuter nouns the third person singular, instead of plural, as ‘children run’ (trekhei ta paidia), ‘books are mistaken’ (esphaltai ta biblia), ‘trees did not grow’ (ouk eblastêse ta dendra). Let the grammarians explain the reason. Thus, in this case as well, a singular verb legetai has been joined to a nominative plural, I mean ‘homonyms’ (ta homônuma). We must realise that these three are different from one another: homonyms, homonymy, and homonymously. Homonyms are things themselves, while homonymy is the relation itself in virtue of which the things share a name, and homonymously is the predication itself whose subjects are things. Now, we must realise that Aristotle announced the aim of the book right at the beginning, for he says ‘things are called homonyms’. For by saying ‘homonyms’ he indicates things, and by ‘are called’ he indicates expressions, and we consider things through mediating concepts. 1a1 Things are called homonyms.

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the Macedonian is ‘Alexander’; and some are by choice, i.e. thought. Of these, some are [named] in memory of another, as when someone calls his own son by the name given to ancestors; others in hope, as when someone calls his own son ‘Plato’ expecting him to be a philosopher (and frequently [homonymy] in hope is combined with [homonymy] in memory of another, as when a grandfather is discovered to have engaged in the sort of practice in question), and still others by analogy, as when we call something by analogy with something, e.g. the foot of a bed and the crest of a mountain (for the relationship that a foot has to a person, the foot of a bed has also to bed). Further, some are ‘from one thing’ (aph’ henos), as when we take something as our starting point, we call everything which comes from it by its name, e.g. a scalpel is called medical, and a drug is called medical.54 But others are ‘toward one thing’ (pros hen), as when looking toward some goal that is about to come to be, we call something by the name of its goal, e.g. a gymnasium is called healthy, and food is called healthy.55 This differs from [homonymy] ‘from one thing’ because the latter is so called from some origin, while the former looks toward some goal. Among homonyms ‘from one thing’, some get their name from the paradigmatic cause, e.g. a human being in a picture [gets its name, ‘human being’] from some real human being; others get their name from the productive cause, e.g. as when a scalpel [is called] medical. It should be asked which of these meanings of homonyms Aristotle has in mind here in his teaching on homonyms. We reply, then, that he has in mind [homonymy] ‘toward one thing’ and ‘from one thing’, for the human being in the picture gets its name from the real human being. Some have inquired why he did not use [homonymy] by analogy, which seems to be even better. We say that analogy is seen as involving at least four things (for we say, for instance, that two in relation to eight bears an analogy with ten in relation to forty, since each is related to the other by being four times the other); homonyms, however, involve two things. So he rightly omits discussing homonyms by analogy. Now some56 say that he did not mention polynyms because homonyms are found to be the same in respect of the name and different in respect of the definition, while polynyms are just the opposite. Since the Philosopher is discussing things, he had but slight regard for names, for they are fitting for the grammarians to investigate. Besides, and this is something I already mentioned,

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he is now taking up in advance only those things that are useful to him in teaching about the categories. 1a1 Are called.

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‘Things’ has to be understood here so that it reads: ‘Those things are called homonyms of which only the name is common.’57 When he says ‘are called’ he indicates that the word [‘homonyms’] occurs also among the ancients, and that this coinage of the word is not his. For Plato, too, mentions them [i.e. homonyms],58 and so does the Poet, speaking about the Ajaxes, ‘we, who have the same name (homônumoi), the same spirit’.59 Whenever he coins a word, he says ‘I call’, for example, in Analytics: ‘I call a term’,60 and in On Interpretation: ‘Let this be called a contradiction’.61 1a1 Of which only the name is common.

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Is there, then, no homonymy in verbs? But indeed there is, for we say erô and it means both ‘I will say’ and ‘I am in love’.62 Why then does he say that things of which only the name is common are [called] homonyms? We will reply to this that ‘name’ is said in two senses: in one sense it is contrasted with verbs, but in a general sense it applies to any word. In this sense, every meaningful expression is called a name, as he says in On Interpretation: ‘When said just by itself, a verb is a name, and signifies something.’63 Thus, here he calls a name, not what is contrasted with verbs, but what is predicated in common of every meaningful expression. Therefore, erô, which means ‘I will say’ and ‘I am in love’, is a homonym, since erô has a common name but a different definition. Consequently, there is homonymy also in verbs. 1a1 Only . . . common.

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‘Only’ is said in two senses: either [it means] unique, as when we speak of the only sun or the only moon, or what is contrasted with what is paired together, as when we say: ‘I was left in the battle with only a spear.’ Even though nothing prevents me from having both sandals and a coat, the contrast is with a shield or some other armament. Also, [when we say:] ‘I had only bread for breakfast’, the contrast is with [other] food, although nothing prevents me from having a coat as well. Here, then, he uses ‘only’ in contrast with what is paired together; I mean [the contrast is with] the definition.

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‘Common’ (koinon) has four senses: (1) what is shared indivisibly, as when we say a slave is common (for he is indivisible in respect of substance (ousia) but divisible in respect of use), (2) what is shared divisibly, as when we say a lunch is common and a field is common (for we do not all share the whole but rather each person shares a part), (3) what is reserved in advance, as a seat in the theatre is common (for it goes to who reserved it in advance), and (4) what is shared equally by those sharing it, as the voice of a herald is said to be common (for everyone hears it equally, i.e. this person does not hear this syllable and that person that syllable), and human nature is [said to be] common to everyone sharing it, for all of us, particular humans, share it equally. Here he took ‘common’ to refer to what is shared equally.

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1a1 But the account of substance (logos tês ousias) in accordance with the name is different.

After having said what belongs to homonyms, he now adds what does not belong to them, so that we may be able to distinguish them not only by commonality but also by difference. It should be asked why in the world he did not say ‘[those things are called homonyms] of which only the name is common, but the account of substance is different’, but [rather said] ‘the account of substance in accordance with the name is different’. We say that homonyms may also be synonyms in different respects. For the Ajaxes, insofar as they are humans, are synonyms (they share both the name and the definition of a human being, for each of them is a rational mortal animal). But insofar as they are Ajaxes, they are homonyms. Lest we select just any definition rather than the one in accordance with their shared name, he was right to say ‘account in accordance with the name’. For the Ajaxes have this name [i.e. ‘Ajax’] itself in common, but the account in accordance with this name is not the same. One [of the Ajaxes] is from Salamis, Telamon’s son, who fought Hector in single combat; the other is Oileus’ son, from Locris, the fleet-­footed archer. 1a1 The account in accordance with the name.

Why in the world did he not say ‘the definition (horismos) in accordance with the name’, rather than ‘account’? He says [‘account’] because we do not have definitions of all things; rather, sometimes we use descriptions (hupographai)

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since we are at a loss to present things through definitions. It is at any rate impossible to give a definition of the most generic genera. For every definition is composed of a genus and constitutive differentiae, but a genus higher than these [i.e. the most generic genera] is not to be found, so as to define them through this [i.e. the higher genus] and differentiae. Consequently, it is necessary to present them through a description. This is why he did not say ‘the definition in accordance with the name’, since that would have left out things signified by description. For it is possible to use a description in all cases, given that we get the description from what belongs to things accidentally.64 But I say that in these cases where things are presented through definitions, it is superfluous to give a description. Why, then, did he not say ‘the definition or description in accordance with the name’? We say that, being a lover of conciseness, he used the term which is predicated in common of both of them, and that is ‘account’, for both the definition and the description of substance are called an account. Then isn’t there homonymy also in accidents? And in fact we see just that, for [e.g.] ‘sharp’ (oxus) is predicated of a flavour, as well as a sound and an illness and a mass.65 We say a flavour is sharp, a sound is sharp, an illness is sharp, and a mass is sharp. Similarly also ‘deep; heavy’ (barus) is predicated of a sound, as well as a mass, and a character of the soul, as we say ‘a stern (barus) person’. Why, then, did he say ‘of the substance’? We say that Aristotle recognises two senses of ‘substance’ (ousia); in one sense it is contrasted with accidents and means self-­ subsistent (authupostatos) (while accidents have being in something else, I mean in a substance). In another sense, he calls a substance everything that simply exists, and it is in this sense that he used the word ‘substance’ here, so as to include accidents as well. But why in the world did he add ‘of the substance’ at all, rather than say ‘the account in accordance with the name is different’? We say [that he added it] lest someone who gives the definition of an expression says that homonyms are synonyms. For it is possible to give of the expression ‘Ajax’ a definition or a description by saying that Ajax is an unaspirated barytone two-­syllable expression that ends in a pure ‘ax’,66 and in accordance with this, Ajaxes will be synonyms. Because of this he accurately adds ‘the account of substance in accordance with the name’, i.e. the substance that is signified by the name.

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Some say that perhaps even homonyms [themselves] are synonyms, since they share with one another both the name and the definition, i.e. the definition of homonym. For ‘homonym’ itself is also predicated of the Ajaxes, and not only that, but also the definition of homonym, given that each is said to have in common with the other only a name, whereas the account of substance in accordance with the name is different. In this way it was shown that even homonyms are synonyms. What, then, shall we say? First, there is no absurdity if the same things are homonyms in respect of something and synonyms in respect of something else; rather, this is necessarily the case. For the Ajaxes, insofar as they are humans, are synonyms, but insofar as they are Ajaxes, they are homonyms. Similarly in this case: insofar as they are Ajaxes, they are homonyms (for they share only the expression ‘Ajax’ but differ in definition in accordance with that expression), but insofar as they are homonyms, they are synonyms, for they share not only the name ‘homonym’ but also the definition of that name. But in another sense it is not possible to say that these are synonyms, for the name and the definition are predicated of synonyms in common, as something each has as its own (idiai hekastou) and unqualifiedly. For example, ‘animal’ is predicated in common of everything that falls under it and as something each has as its own (for we say Socrates is an animal and a horse is an animal). But also the definition, sentient living substance, which is the definition of animal, is predicated of all particular animals in common and as something each has as its own; for Socrates is a sentient living substance, and so is the horse. This, however, is not true of homonyms. It is not possible to predicate either the name [‘homonym’] or the definition as something each has as its own and unqualifiedly. For Ajax is not said to be a homonym in virtue of himself (kath’ heauton), but neither does he share this name alone [in virtue of himself] while the account of substance is different. Rather, he is said to be a homonym in another sense, i.e. the name ‘homonym’ will be predicated of at least two things, since it is possessed by things in a relationship. So homonyms are not synonyms.67 Now, it is possible to divide homonyms not only according to the division given above, but also more finely according to the division to be given below. Homonyms are either by chance or by thought. They are by chance, as when it happens in Athens that some people have the same name. They are by thought,

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as when thought, looking toward some aim, imposes [the same] names [to different things]. Of those that are by thought, some are homonyms with each other and paronyms with what they come from (aph’ hou), as medical instruments are called [medical (iatrikos)] from medicine (iatrikê) (for they are called paronymously from medicine, while being homonymous with each other); some are both homonyms with each other and also homonyms with what they come from, as when someone calls his children or descendants by the name of the father.68 Of those that are homonyms with each other and paronyms with what they come from, some get their name from a productive cause, and these are said to be ‘from one thing’, as instruments are called medical from medicine (for they are called paronymously from this). Others get their name from a goal, and these are said to be ‘toward one thing’, e.g. food, a diet, and a gymnasium [are called] healthy, for they look toward a single goal, health. Among those that are homonyms with each other and with what they come from, some are temporally the same (isokhronos) with one another and with what they come from, while others are temporally the same with one another but differ temporally from what they come from. Among the former, some are called by similarity, while others are called by analogy, as we speak of the crest of a mountain and a foot of a bed, for the relationship that the feet have to the whole animal is just like that which the lower parts have to the bed. Further, among those that are called by similarity, some are called by [the similarity of] the activity (energeia), as when on account of the similarity to the activities of the father, we go and call someone by that person’s name. Others are called by [the similarity of the] form (morphê), as when we go and call the image of Socrates by the name ‘Socrates’. Of those that are temporally the same with one another but differ temporally from what they come from, some are called in hope, as when some people call their sons ‘Platos’ hoping they will become like Plato, whereas others are called in memory of another, as when some call their son by the name of his grandfather in order to preserve that man’s memory. Which of these meanings of ‘homonym’, then, does Aristotle employ here? It is [homonymy] by the similarity of the form. Now some say69 that is [homonymy] ‘from one thing’, since the image gets its name from the human being as a cause. Both are true.

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1a2 For example, both a human and a picture are animals.

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Now, these have a common name (you call each of them an animal), but the definition is no longer the same. For in defining the former, you will say ‘sentient living substance’, while in defining the latter you will say ‘copy of a sentient living substance’. 1a4 For if one is to say what it is to be an animal for each of them, one will give distinct accounts for each.

Given that there are the following three things: matter, form (eidos), and the composite of both, we get the definitions of things sometimes from their matter, sometimes from their forms, and sometimes from the composite.70 For example, Aristotle defines anger sometimes in terms of matter, sometimes in terms of form, and sometimes in terms of both. In terms of matter he says that anger is a boiling of the blood around the heart (for this is the matter of anger). In terms of form he says it is ‘a desire to retaliate’, and in terms of both, ‘a boiling of the blood around the heart due to a desire for retaliation’.71 The authoritative [definition] is the one in terms of form, for the matter is a cause of commonality in things, while the form is a cause of difference. But by the definitions we want to discriminate things from one another. This is why Aristotle, wishing to give a definition of these things in terms of form, does not say ‘what being an animal (zôion einai) is for each of them’ (for this signifies the composite, i.e. the matter and the form). Rather, he says ‘what it is to be an animal (zôiôi einai) for each of them’, i.e. what it is in virtue of which each of them is an animal, so as to make it clear that the definition is of form, for they are animals in virtue of this [i.e. form].72 So if someone is to say in virtue of which each of these is said to be an animal, ‘one will give distinct accounts for each’, as we said above.

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1a6 Those things are called synonyms which have a common name and the account of substance in accordance with the name is the same, e.g. both a human being and an ox are animals.

After completing his account of homonyms he next turns to a discussion of synonyms. His teaching of synonyms is clear from [what he said] about homonyms. For all the same things must [be said about synonyms] which were said about homonyms, since synonymy occurs not just in the case of names

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but also in the case of verbs, and synonymy is also found in accidents. For the verb ‘to alter’ is a synonym, since both the person brightening and the person darkening are said to be altering. And they both receive the same definition, for when we define that which alters, we say that it is that which has in itself the principle productive of change in something else qua something else. It will be appropriate to say this both of that which brightens and of that which darkens, for each of the ones altering has in itself a principle productive of change in things altered, while it is something else in respect of the things altered. If it had not been something else, it would not have been altering; it is for this reason that the expression ‘qua something else’ was added. The same pattern is suitably used also for ‘animal’. He showed that it is possible for the same thing to be a homonym with respect to one thing and a synonym with respect to another. For ‘animal’ is a homonym with respect to the real human being and the pictured one, and a synonym with respect to a human being and an ox. 1a12 Things are called paronyms when one gets its name from something, with a difference in ending.

After his teaching about homonyms and synonyms he appropriately discusses paronyms, as in their case the combination is less straightforward. Homonyms have only the name in common but differ in definition, and synonyms have in common both the name and the definition. But these [i.e. paronyms] neither completely agree nor completely differ in name, and likewise also with respect to the definition they agree in something and differ in something. So these are not reduced to the combination of the aforementioned four pairings; I mean [those given for] homonyms, synonyms, polynyms, and heteronyms. For these are characterised either by the commonality in name and definition, or by the difference in both, or by the commonality with respect to the one but difference with respect to the other. But in the case of paronyms there is neither complete commonality nor complete difference with respect to both. Rather, they do not exactly agree with respect to the one and differ with respect to the other, but with respect to both they agree in a way and differ in a way. Some73 think that these [i.e. paronyms] should be placed between homonyms and synonyms, for homonyms have only the name in common but differ in definition, and synonyms have both in common; while these do not have fully in common either the name or the definition. However, it is better to place

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them between synonyms and heteronyms. For paronyms, given that they in a way agree and in a way differ with respect to both, are somehow between those that agree with respect to both and those that differ with respect to both. In the case of paronyms the following four things must be present: commonality in the thing and difference in the thing, as well as commonality in the name, and difference concerning the last syllable. If one of these [four things] is missing, you will not have paronyms. Suppose there is commonality and difference with respect to the name, and suppose that there is also commonality but no difference with respect to the thing. I say that in this case you will not have paronyms, as in these cases: platanos (plane) and platanistos (plane), or parthenos (virgin) and parthenikê (virgin), for both signify the same thing, and parthenikê and platanistos are poetic, while platanos and parthenos are prosaic. Again, suppose that all the others are present, but there is no commonality with respect to the thing; then, similarly, they will not be paronyms, as in the case with Helenês and Helenou.74 Again, suppose that all the other things are present, but there is no difference in the last syllable, as in the case with mousikê (the art of music) and mousikê (woman musician). These are homonyms, not paronyms. Again, suppose that the other things are present, but there is no commonality with respect to the name; then, too, there will not be paronyms, as with aretê (virtue) and spoudaios (virtuous). For enaretos (virtuous person) is not so called from aretê, because the ancients did not think of this possibility, even in their wildest imaginings; rather, the poets know the name as having the opposite and derogatory sense.‘O you of fearsome bravery (ainaretê), what will you profit someone else born after you?’ says Homer,75 instead of saying, ‘O you who have aretê in wickedness’. Neither, however, does spoudaios (virtuous) come from spoudê (seriousness), which is used both in the case of wickedness and in the case of virtue;76 but only the virtuous person is called spoudaios. Thus, spoudaios comes from spoudê in respect of the expression, but not in respect of what it signifies; rather, as far as the latter goes, it comes from aretê. . . . 77 [T]hrough saying ‘gets its name [from something]’ he made clear the commonality with respect to the name. Further, having said ‘from something’ he made clear the commonality and difference with respect to the thing. For if [it gets its name] from something, it is evident that it has some commonality with that thing. In general, if [it gets its name] from something, it is evident

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that it differs from it as well. For if it did not differ, then it would not be said to be from something but rather [it would be said to be] that very thing. And when he says ‘with a difference in ending (ptôsis)’,78 he indicates that there is a change in the final syllable. Aristotle provides instruction about paronyms as being useful for instruction about the categories. 1a16 Of things said, some are said in combination, others without combination. Examples of those in combination are ‘a human being runs’, ‘a human being wins’, and of those without combination ‘human’, ‘ox’, ‘runs’, ‘wins’.

Here he launches into instruction about the categories. But since the word ‘category’ is said of both things, concepts and expressions (for the thing itself is said to be a category, as well as the concept of the thing and the expression itself), he first gives a division of expressions. Supposing that here he discusses expressions, namely those that are not without signification, and a little later things, when he says ‘of things that are, some are said of a subject’,79 it is clear that he makes his discussion to be also about the mediating concepts. So the aim of the book is evident also from what is said [here]. Now, he divides expressions into those that are simple and those that are complex. He calls simple expressions those which signify a simple thing, either a substance or an activity or a passivity, and complex ones those which signify something complex and combine a substance with an activity or a passivity, e.g. ‘Socrates runs’ (for this is complex) and ‘Socrates’ or ‘ox’ (these are simple). However, not every simple expression signifies a simple thing, nor does every complex expression signify something duplex. For example, the expressions ‘Areios pagos’ (Hill of Ares) and ‘Korakos petra’ (Raven’s Rock) are complex, but the thing signified by them is simple. On the other hand, the expressions like ‘trekhô’ (I run) or ‘trekheis’ (you run), and all the forms of the verbs in the first and second person, as well as those in the third person which refer to a definite person, e.g. ‘brontai’ (it thunders), ‘astraptei’ (it lightens), and ‘huei’ (it rains) (for [in these cases] Zeus is indicated), all these are simple expressions which signify something complex, for each signifies some substance combined with an activity. They say that in the case of the third person [forms of the verbs] the substance is not fully indicated on account of the indefiniteness of the verb,

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and for this reason they accepted only the ones that signified a definite person. But even if the third person forms of the verbs do not signify a definite substance, they do indicate in a general way some substance that is acting or being acted upon. Thus, in a general way the third person forms of the indicative verbs are simple expressions signifying something complex. For he who says ‘trekhei’ (he runs) or ‘nikai’ (he wins) indicates that he predicates winning and running of someone. In a general way, then, even in the case of the third person forms the substance is co-­indicated, albeit indefinitely. Nevertheless, because the substance is not indicated in a definite way, Aristotle treats such verbs as simple. But strictly speaking, simple verbs would be those which indicate only the activity or the passivity without an active or passive subject, e.g. ‘tuptein’ (to strike) or ‘tuptesthai’ (to be struck). One should, then, judge things to be simple or complex, not on the basis of the complexity or simplicity of the expressions, but rather on the basis [of the complexity or simplicity] of what is signified. For even if the expressions are complex but signify simple things, they should be called simple; likewise, the simple expressions [should be called] complex if they signify something complex. For if we were discussing just the expressions and the quantity of their syllables, we would appropriately define the complex expressions in terms of quantity, as do the grammarians. But if we discuss them as signifying something, we must distinguish between them in terms of what they signify. For ‘horseman’ does not indicate something simple; it signifies the horse and the person seated on the horse, as well as the art of horsemanship. Consequently, the expression [‘horseman’] should not be called simple but complex, as also ‘New City’ (Neapolis), since it signifies some one thing, should not be called complex but simple. Now, ‘is said’ applies to things as well as to concepts and to expressions. For even things are said ‘to be said’ but as being signified, and concepts too [are said] ‘to be said’ but as being expressed; and expressions are said ‘to be said’ but as being referred to. For what reason does Aristotle place those [said] in combination before those [said] without combination? We answer that it is agreeable to human nature to proceed from what is less complete and complex to what is simpler and more complete; for what is complex is more familiar and well-­known. In any case, even a child knows how to form a sentence and say ‘Socrates is

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walking’, and how to analyse this into the verb and the noun, and these into syllables, and these finally into letters. So too, when we see a walking human being, we first recognise the whole, the walking human being, and thus analyse it into a substance and an activity. Why, then, did we say earlier80 that it is necessary to start from what is simpler, for if the simple is not grasped, the complex will not be grasped either, and therefore it is necessary to take up the instruction of the simple expressions before the instruction of syllogisms? We answer that in cases where the simple and the complex are equally unknown, one must start from what is simpler. While there the syllogism and the simple expressions were equally unknown, here the more complex is better known; for this reason one must begin the instruction with what is better known. Thus, there we said that one begins with what is simpler as far as instruction is concerned, while here one begins with what is more complex as far as understanding is concerned. There is still another reason for placing here the complex before the simple. He is about to divide those [said] without combination, and it is for this reason that he mentions them last, so that he can straightaway develop his teaching about them. He is about to divide them, when he says ‘[examples] of those said without combination’. He purposefully gives as examples two nouns and, after them, two verbs, so that later no one will misunderstand him. 1a20 Of things that are (onta), some are said of some subject but are not in a subject.

Although he is going to give us a tenfold division of things, he first puts forth a fourfold division of things. For having first divided the expressions into two,81 he appropriately proceeds to this fourfold division: the number two multiplied by itself makes four. After this division he will give a tenfold division: when one begins with the number one and keeps adding [numbers] up to four, one gets ten: 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = 10. Here he produces the division of things differently, by combining (for he combines universal with substance and accident, and particular (merikos) with the same ones), but there82 he makes the simplest cut at the joints without combining anything with anything, but rather explaining for each what its nature is like, what substance has as its own, and what each of the accidents has

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as its own and not in common. Since the division of things that are arises from different conceptions, so too arise different cuts of the division. Thus, the proposed division of things that are is the following. Of things that are, he says, some are substances and others accidents, and again, some of them are universals and others particulars. So six pairings are generated from the combination of these four sets of things joined together in pairs. Two are nonexistent, as they pair together opposites, but the remaining four do exist. For of things that are, some are universal substances, while others are universal accidents, and some are particular substances, while others are particular accidents, as is shown in the diagram above. Now if Aristotle had used these expressions, what he said would have been clear; but he, being deliberately obscure for the above-­mentioned reason,83 used different words, ones that pertain more closely to the nature of the things signified, while being unfamiliar to the common run of people and therefore less clear. He calls accident ‘in a subject’, substance ‘not in a subject’, universal ‘of a subject’, and particular ‘not of a subject’. It is evident why he calls accident ‘in a subject’ (for it is not capable of existing (hupostênai) in virtue of itself, but needs something else for its existence (huparxis), namely a substance), and [why he calls] substance ‘not in a subject’ (for it does not require something else for its existence). The universal [he calls] ‘of a subject’, because it needs particulars, not for its existence, but for its predication (katêgoria) (for if particulars did not exist, universals would not be able to be predicated of anything), and the particular [he calls] ‘not of a subject’, because particulars are not predicated of anything else.

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But if substance is a subject for the existence of accidents, why did he call substance ‘not in a subject’ rather than calling it ‘a subject’? Our answer to this is that, first, not every substance is a subject. The divine substance is surely not a subject, for nothing belongs to it accidentally, and therefore it would not be called a subject. So if he had generally called substance a subject, he would not have included the divine substance. But there is another reason and by far the most important one. Among divisions into opposites (antikeimena), some are not exhaustive (phuktai) and others exhaustive (aphuktoi),84 and those that are not exhaustive are divisions into contraries (enantia), and exhaustive ones are divisions by contradiction (antiphasis). Given that some contraries admit of intermediates and others do not admit of intermediates, it is necessary that the division into contraries that admit of intermediates is not exhaustive.85 Contraries that admit of intermediates are, for example, white and black, healthy and sick. For between white and black are grey, red, and all the other colours, and between healthy and sick there is what among physicians is called neither of the two; for the recoveries from sickness they call neither healthy (for the features of healthy people are not [yet] actualised) nor sick (for those who are recovering have been freed from the cause of their sickness). Therefore, recovery is an intermediate state between sickness and health. Odd and even, on the other hand, do not admit of intermediates; as contraries, they are completely opposed to one another (for we showed that they are not contraries in all respects).86 Again, rational and irrational are opposed to one another without admitting of intermediates; these [too] are not contraries. So all contraries, in the strict sense, admit of intermediates. If, then, someone were to divide things that are into contraries by saying that some of them are white and others black, he would necessarily exclude all the intermediate colours, and not only these, but also substances not admitting of colours, e.g. air, soul, and angel.87 But even the divisions into other kinds of opposites, with the exception of those by contradiction, are not exhaustive, as when someone would say that, of things that are, some are right and others left, some masters and others slaves, some fathers and others sons; for there are things which are neither of these. But neither is the division in terms of privation and possession [exhaustive], as when someone would say that, of things that are, some are blind and others seeing, some wise and others unwise. For we talk

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about possession and privation only in the case of things capable of taking on [the state in question], but what is not naturally capable of taking on the possession is not said to be deprived of that possession. So possession and privation do not divide all things that are, unless in some cases they might be equivalent to a contradiction, as it is in the case with bodied and disembodied; there is nothing between these, as disembodied is equivalent to the negation, not-­bodied. Consequently, only division by contradiction includes all things that are, as when someone would say that, of all things that are, some are white and others not-­white. For grey is also not-­white, and likewise yellow and red; but even soul and angel are not-­white, since they naturally lack the capacity to receive colours altogether. Plato, too, sings praises of the method of division which comes about by contradiction: nothing, he says, boasts of escaping it.88 This is why Aristotle, once he had called accident ‘in a subject’, signified substance through its negation, calling it ‘not in a subject’, so as to include all substances. Regarding these points we say that ‘subject’ is used in two ways: subject for existence, and subject for predication. Substance is a subject for existence (it serves as a subject for accidents for their existence), and particulars are subjects for predication: they serve as subjects for universals, not for their existence, but for their predication. For universals do not need particulars in order to exist, but in order to be predicated of them. Particulars, by contrast, need universals for existence, not for predication; for if there were no human being simpliciter, there would be no Socrates and Plato. Among those that are subjects for predication, some are substances and others are accidents. As we said, the particular substance serves as a subject for the universal substance for its predication, e.g. Socrates [serves as a subject] for human being simpliciter and animal simpliciter. And the particular accident [serves as a subject] for the universal accident, e.g. the white in this stone for white simpliciter and for colour [simpliciter]. For we say that the whiteness of this stone is white, and whiteness simpliciter is a colour. Since, then, both are called subjects in the same way, if he had said ‘of things that are, some are in a subject and some are subjects’, he would have included even the particular accidents, whichever of them are themselves subjects,

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although not for existence but for predication. But by calling subjects for existence ‘not in a subject’, he intends to refer to substances and set them apart from accidents. Of these two divisions, one is in terms of existence, while the other is in terms of predication. The division in terms of existence is the one saying that of things that are, some are in a subject and some are not in a subject. The division in terms of predication is the one saying that of things that are, some are said of a subject and others are not said of a subject, for he says that some are predicated and some are subjects for predication. And consider Aristotle’s precision, how he used ‘is’ in the case of the division in terms of existence, but ‘is said’ in the case of the division in terms of predication. [For he says ‘is said of some subject’]89 instead of ‘is predicated’, and ‘is not in any subject’ instead of ‘does not exist in something else’. Of these four pairings,90 he puts first the universal substance as the most worthy because we obtain knowledge through universals.91 For as far as particulars go, we do not differ from irrational animals; rather, in the case of some of them, the senses through which particulars are perceived are sharper than ours. After the universal substance, he places its opposite, i.e. the particular accident, for accident is opposed to substance and particular to universal. Then he gives precedence to the universal accident over the particular substance because discourse among philosophers concerns universals. 1a24 But I call ‘in a subject’ that which is in something, not belonging as a part, and cannot be separately from what it is in.

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Since the Philosopher was well aware that he was using expressions unfamiliar to us from ordinary usage, i.e. the expressions ‘of a subject’, ‘not of a subject’, ‘in a subject’ and ‘not in a subject’, he wanted to give us some further instruction about them. But he does not explain all of them but just two, i.e. ‘in a subject’ and ‘of a subject’, for once we understand these, the meaning of others will be clear too. For knowing what is ‘in a subject’, one will also know what is ‘not in a subject’, and having understood ‘of a subject’, he has also understood ‘not of a subject’. First he instructs us about ‘in a subject’, and he does so by giving a definition, for, as we have often said, definitions set before us the nature of things. Since

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a definition consists of a genus and constitutive differentiae,92 Aristotle uses here ‘in something’ as analogous to a genus and the rest to differentiae. ‘In something’ is said in eleven ways:93 (1) as a part in the whole, as it is said that a hand is in the whole body, or (2) as a whole in its parts, as it is said that the whole body is in the head, arms and other [bodily parts] (but the whole is not said to be in a part, but rather in the parts, because the whole is not observed in a single part but in them all; at least once one of the parts is eliminated the whole is maimed and would not be called a whole), or (3) as a species in a genus, as we say that human being is in animal, or (4) as a genus in a species, as we say that animal is in human being (but here it is not necessary to say that the genus is in its species [in plural], as we said that the whole is in its parts, for the whole has not been extracted from the parts but has its existence (einai) in them, while the genus has its being (ousia) extracted and gets to be a whole in each species),94 or (5) as in a time, as we say that the events of Iliad took place in that particular time, or (6) as in a place, as we say ‘in the Lyceum’ or ‘in the marketplace’, or (7) as in a container, as wine is in a carafe or grains of wheat in a bushel basket (place and container correspond, in a way, for you say that a place is an unmovable container and a container is a movable place), or (8) as form in matter, as the form of the statue in the bronze, or (9) as what pertains to those ruled is in the ruler, as we say that the affairs of the citizens lie in the ruler,95 or (10) as in a goal, as we say that the physician has hope in the art of medicine, or a soldier [has hope] in his army, or (11) as in a subject, as an accident is in a substance. Thus, Aristotle takes ‘in something’ as a genus said of many things. He puts forward what comes next as differentiae, in order to distinguish it from things of which ‘in something’ is predicated. By saying ‘not belonging as a part’ he distinguishes it from [what is in something] as a part in the whole, or as a species in a genus. (For this [i.e. human being] seems to be like a part of the whole animal, and animal seems to be a sort of whole. Also Porphyry said in his Introductions96 that among these three entities, i.e. the most generic genera, the most specific species and the subordinate ones, the most generic genus is only a whole, the most specific species is only a part, and the subordinate is both a whole and a part, but a part [is a part] of something, while a whole is, not of something, but in something.) And by saying ‘cannot be separately from what it is in’, he distinguishes it from the rest.97

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Now some people criticise this definition, some for covering too much and others for covering too little. For it is a defect of a definition not to be convertible with what is being defined but to include either too much or too little. Those who claim it covers too much say that the definition includes not only accidents but also bodies. For they say that Socrates, being in a place and time, is in something, and not as a part in the whole (for he is not a part of the place or time) and he cannot be separated from either place or time. We reply, then, that this example is not apt. For an accident cannot be separated from what it is in, but its separation means instant destruction. Bodies, however, even if they were separated from every place, would be (einai) nonetheless. For a body, insofar as it is a body, does not need either a place or a time for its own subsistence (hupostasis), but rather has these as concomitants (parakolouthêmata) like a person walking in the light has his shadow as a concomitant that contributes nothing to his being (ousia). In contrast, bodies contribute to the subsistence of accidents, for, without bodies, accidents would not subsist.98 Furthermore, it is not even necessary for each body to be in a place, since Aristotle shows that the sphere of the fixed stars is not in a place. For a place is the limit of the container by which the content is contained, as the carafe is a place in which the wine sits, and [the wine is not contained] by the whole itself but by the interior surface which is the limit (note that if the outside [surface] were engraved, the carafe would nonetheless contain the wine, seeing that it is a place solely in virtue of the interior surface). So if a place is what we just said it is, and Aristotle shows that there is nothing outside the sphere of the fixed stars by whose limit it might be contained – no place, no time, no body or void, nor anything else –, then the sphere of the fixed stars is not in a place. Therefore, it is not necessary for every bodily thing to be in a place; rather, as we said, place and time are more like concomitants of bodies. They raise this difficulty too: how come the definition does not include [what is in something] as a whole in its parts? For a whole is in something (for it is in its parts), not belonging as a part, and it cannot be separately from what it is in. We reply that even if it has something in common [with the defined ‘in something’], still this does not mean that it is ‘in something’. For a whole is not said to be in something (for a whole is not in a part), but in some things, for it is in its parts.99 That is why Porphyry said: ‘A whole is

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not in some other thing, but in some other things’,100 for a whole is in its parts. Even if we were to include what is [in something] as a whole in its parts (but not in a single part) among those signified by ‘in something’, we would say that it is among those ‘in something’ only in the sense that it does not exist in virtue of itself. Further, some also raise this difficulty about what has been said: the definition includes [what is in something] as form in matter. They say that form is in matter, and is not part of matter and cannot be separately from matter. We reply, then, that even if the form is not part of the matter, still it is part of the composite. In this way we also say that the hand is not part of the rest of the body but rather of the whole [body]. Further, the form is completive of the substance of each thing and when it is destroyed the subject is destroyed too. But the accident does not complete the substance of the subject, and when the accident is destroyed the subject suffers no harm.101 Furthermore, we say that Aristotle’s aim here is to treat things that are, not qua things that are, but qua referred to by ordinary people, and not to discuss them as he held them to be. That this is true he himself shows clearly in his discussion of substance, where he says that substance concerning individuals is primary and substance concerning species and genera is secondary, which is the reverse of how things really are. For it is the substance concerning species and genera that is primary, given that it is the cause of individuals, and incorporeal and always just the way it is, whereas substance concerning individuals is secondary as being caused. But since ordinary people are familiar with this [i.e. the particular substance], for this reason he said it was primary when he developed his teaching to suit the opinion of these people. Ordinary people, then, do not have any concept of form and matter but know only that which is composed out of these as a single thing. For this reason, Aristotle, even if he had listed things signified by ‘in something’, would not have mentioned [what is in something] as form in matter, given that the discussion is about things that are, not qua things that are, but in accord with how ordinary people take them to be.102 For the geometer, who is defining a point, says that a point is that which is without parts, and this definition includes not only points but also the unit and the now (nun) (for each of these is without parts), and no one would censure the geometer for including in the definition of point these as well (for he will say generally that even if the unit

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and the now are without parts, still of the things I have put forward only points are without parts). So also Aristotle, in accord with the aim of his present teaching, does not consider what is in something as form is in matter, for the ordinary person has no concept of this. As we said, he wants to discuss things that are, not qua things that are, but qua signified by expressions which are in accord with the opinions of ordinary people. These [comments] are directed against those who say the definition covers too much. Those who said the definition covers too little claim that the definition does not include all accidents but only the inseparable ones. For he said, they claim, that accidents cannot be separately from what they are in, but separable accidents, they say, can be separated, and necessarily so. What, then, do we say to this? We say that if he had said ‘cannot be separated’ (adunaton khôristhênai), they would have said well. But as it is he says ‘cannot be separately’ (adunaton khôris einai) in place of ‘exist’ or ‘subsist’, for even the separable accidents cannot exist without substance serving as their subject.103 Further, some raise a difficulty by saying: ‘Why does he say that the accident cannot be separately from what it is in? Note that a scent is an accident and yet is separable from its subject. For frequently the fragrance of an apple far away from us travels to us; therefore, the fragrance of an apple, even though it is an accident of it, can be separately from the substance of the apple. And likewise in all the other cases that are like this.’104 We solve this difficulty in two ways. First, [we say] that Aristotle did not say ‘in which it was’ but ‘in which it is’. Thus the fragrance cannot be separately from the apple in which it is, for it is either in the apple or in the air. Further, [we say] that not only does the fragrance of the apple travel to us, but it comes with some fine particles of the substance of the apple. This is evident from the following: frequently when passing by some foul-­smelling place, we breathe the air while protecting our nostrils with a garment (for it is impossible not to breathe the air). We do not take in the foul smell because the substance that is streaming off is of coarser particles than is the air, and cannot get through the openings in the garment, but the air does get through because its particles are finer. But if perhaps after a while, even though the garment is still in place, we do take in the foul smell, that is no wonder; probably the garment in its position has got displaced and has allowed a way in for the coarser particles of the substance, and at the same time in many

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instances the substance is scattered by the motion and becomes finer and manages to get in; doubtless in many cases what has become scattered and divided into finer particles gets in. The surest sign that it [i.e. the smell] emanates together with some substance is that after some time the apple shrivels up, since its substance, in which the fragrance exists, has been dispersed. This is also shown by the vapours given off by incense, which impinge on our senses there and then on account of the coarseness of the substance that underlies them. For this reason we often move our hands to shove the air toward our nostrils, since the vapour given off by the incense is composed of coarser particles and so does not easily reach our sense organ. We would not need to do this if the qualities coming from the incense had spread through the air in an incorporeal way; we certainly do not do this in the case of noises. But if someone were to say: ‘Why, then, when the apples are on the tree, do they still send us a smell but do not undergo any diminution?’ We reply that in this case the inflow and nourishment is greater than the dispersal. 1b6 Simply (haplôs), things that are individual and one in number are not said of any subject, although there is nothing to prevent some of them from being in a subject, e.g. this knowledge of grammar is one of the things in a subject but is not said of any subject.

He just said that particular substances are not said of a subject, stating that ‘some are neither in a subject nor said of a subject, e.g. this human being and this horse’, but not only particular substances but also particular accidents are not said of a subject. For this reason he here makes a general statement and says ‘simply’ (i.e. ‘speaking generally’) all individuals, those one in number, whether they are substances or accidents, are ‘not said of any subject’. ‘Simply’ is said in three senses: [it means] either (1) in general (katholou), as we say ‘simply every human being’ instead of ‘in general’, or (2) unambiguously (monakhôs), as [we say] ‘the story that renders the truth is simple by nature’ instead of ‘not ambiguous’, or (3) strictly (kuriôs), as when we say ‘virtue simply’ instead of ‘virtue in the strict sense’. ‘One’ is also said in three senses and, on the whole, it means either sameness or difference. For we speak of some things (1) being one in genus, e.g. human being and horse, or (2) being one in species, e.g. Socrates and Plato, or

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(3) being one in number, e.g. Plato, for Plato is something that is one in number. Things are also different (hetera) in these three ways: we say [that they differ] (1) in genus, as horse and fig tree, or (2) in species, as horse and human being, or (3) in number, as Plato and Socrates. Here he uses ‘one’ to mean ‘one in number’. Now one should note that it is possible for things that are different in number to be one in genus and in species, e.g. Socrates and Plato. However, those that are different in species are also completely different in number, though they are not always different in genus, but sometimes the same, e.g. horse and human being; and those that are different in genus are also completely different in species and in number, e.g. horse and fig tree, or human being and whiteness. ‘There is nothing to prevent’, he says, ‘some of them from being in a subject.’ Because he made a general statement when he said that none of the individuals, i.e. those one in number, are of a subject, and not only the particular substances but also the particular accidents are individuals, e.g. ‘this knowledge of grammar’, as he himself says, he made a further claim that nothing prevents some of them from being in a subject, where he clearly means the particular accidents. 1b10 When one thing is predicated of another as of a subject, all things said of what is predicated will be said of the subject also.

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Now that he has discussed ‘in a subject’, he turns to instruction about ‘of a subject’, and says, in a way, that to be predicated of something is not the same as to be predicated of a subject. It is an attendant feature of being predicated of a subject that everything that is said of what is predicated is said of the subject also. For example, human being simpliciter is predicated of Socrates as of a subject, and animal is predicated of human being simpliciter. Therefore, animal will also be predicated of Socrates; for human being simpliciter carries, through itself as the middle term, the predication of animal over to Socrates.105 What does he mean by ‘as of a subject’? [He means] essentially (ousiôdôs) and really (pragmatikôs). If something is predicated of the thing predicated accidentally, it is not necessarily said of the subject as well. For example, human being (anth-­rô-pos) is predicated of Agamemnon really and as of a subject, and animal is predicated of human being essentially, but trisyllabic [is predicated

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of human being] accidentally. This is why animal is predicated of Agamemnon, whereas trisyllabic is not.106 Again, living and sentient are predicated of animal (zôi-­on) as of a subject and as of some real thing (hôs pragmatos), but genus or disyllabic are predicated of it accidentally and relationally (skhetikôs) [for living and sentient are predicated of human being, whereas genus and disyllabic are not].107 The same applies also to accidents. For a number (a-­rith-mos), if you will, is predicated of three really, and quantity of number really, but trisyllabic [is predicated of number] accidentally. For this reason number is predicated of three, but trisyllabic is not. So he said ‘as of a subject’ to signify that which is predicated essentially and as of some real thing. For disyllabic is predicated of animal, not as of a subject, but as of an expression and of the quantity of its syllables, and genus [is predicated of animal] relationally. So whenever, he says, one thing is said of another as of a subject (i.e. as of some real subsistent thing), all things said of what is predicated (here one must understand ‘as of a subject’) will be said of the subject also.

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1b16 The differentiae of disparate genera, not subordinate one to the other, are themselves different in species.

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He makes certain assumptions in advance which will be useful to him for the proposed instruction. Since the categories are also the most generic genera, and in each case he offers a downward series of subordinate genera, the Philosopher gives us here a rule for discriminating between completely different genera and the subordinate ones. He says that in the case of different genera, also the differentiae (both constitutive and divisive ones) are entirely different, as in the case of animal and knowledge.108 For the constitutive (sustatikai) differentiae of animal are living and sentient, while divisive (diairetikai) differentiae are rational and irrational, mortal and immortal. The constitutive differentiae of knowledge might be infallibility and certainty of statements, insofar as things subject to knowledge are always just the same as they are, while divisive differentiae are theoretical and practical. Thus, the differentiae are different when the genera are different. But ‘different genera’ is said in many ways, for genera said to be different are either (1) those completely distinct from one another, e.g. substance and quantity, or (2) those that are not completely separate but are nonetheless marked as distinct members of the genus in the same division, e.g. winged and aquatic,

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for they have animal as their common genus. But also (3) genera of which one is subordinate to the other are said to be different, e.g. substance and body. This is why he says ‘and not subordinate one to the other’, for those genera [which are subordinate one to the other] can have the same differentiae, as in the case of animal simpliciter and rational animal. The constitutive differentiae of both are the same, for their constitutive differentiae are living and sentient, but also their divisive differentiae are the same, mortal and immortal. Of genera that are not subordinate one to another but are different, however, neither the constitutive nor the divisive differentiae are the same, as we said in the case of animal and knowledge. Of genera subordinate one to the other, as we said, the constitutive differentiae are entirely the same, while the divisive differentiae are not entirely the same, but can be different, as in the case of animal and rational animal. For, as we said, their constitutive differentiae are the same but the divisive ones are not the same; of animal simpliciter [the divisive differentiae are] rational and irrational, mortal and immortal, while of irrational animal they are winged, aquatic, and terrestrial. The same account will hold also in the case of the genera marked as distinct members of the genus, for their constitutive differentiae are the same while the divisive ones are different. Of irrational animal [the divisive differentiae] are the ones mentioned, while of rational animal they are mortal, immortal, heavenly and earthly. He was right to add ‘in species’, i.e. in respect of the thing, for different genera can have the same differentiae by analogy. For we call some utensils ‘footed’ and others ‘footless’; footless are a censer, a pestle and the like, while footed are a chair and a bed. But we also say of animals that some are footed and others footless. Nonetheless, these differentiae are not constitutive of the species (eidopoioi), for human being is not characterised by being two-­footed. But even if the differentiae seem to be the same in expression, it does not follow that they are the same in species, e.g. the feet of a bed and the feet of an animal are not of the same species, since not even their function is the same. The similarity, if any, is by analogy. For the lower parts functioning as supports of both the animal and the bed are called feet: as feet relate to an animal, the bedposts relate to a bed. However, they do not exhibit other uses of feet: walking, say, or carrying the body and other such things from one place to another by their own motion. Thus, these are not the same in species but rather in expression and by analogy.

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1b18 For the differentiae of animal are, for example, terrestrial,109 winged, two-­footed, and aquatic.

The differentiae of genera can be divided in many ways. For example, the essential (ousiôdês) differentiae of animal are rational and irrational, but [they can also be divided] on the basis of the duration of life, as mortal and immortal; on the basis of place in which they spend their time, as winged, terrestrial, and aquatic; on the basis of the parts of the body, as footed and footless; and from other features belonging to them there are still other differentiae. Now Aristotle uses as examples differentiae based on place, but he deliberately throws in an example drawn from another division based on the parts of the body, wishing to show that taking other differentiae of genera under consideration makes no difference. For disparate genera have nothing in common with one another either in respect of the first division, or the second division, or in respect of any division whatsoever.

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1b20 But there is nothing to prevent genera subordinate one to the other from having the same differentiae.

Aristotle was right to say ‘there is nothing to prevent’, for it is not necessary that the differentiae of genera subordinate one to the other are the same, just as we have said. However, it often happens that they are the same. The constitutive differentiae are always the same, even if they are not the only ones (for the differentiae of the lower genera are greater in number), and sometimes also the divisive differentiae [are the same], as we said above. 1b25 Each of the things said without any combination signifies either substance or quantity or quality.

Once Aristotle presented the twofold division of expressions into the simple and the complex, he wanted to produce in the same way a division of things corresponding to each cut in the division. Having given us earlier the fourfold division of beings as complexes, he now presents a tenfold division of beings as simples.110 First he gives us a sort of outline by means of examples, in order to give us some notion of them, but later he will teach us about each in detail. But why did he say ‘without any combination’? Why indeed? Are there many combinations? We say yes. For either (1) the expression is simple while the

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thing signified is complex, e.g. ‘trekhô’ (I run), or (2) the thing signified is simple while the expression is complex, e.g. ‘Areios pagos’ (Hill of Ares) and ‘Korakos petra’ (Raven’s Rock) and also definitions and the things defined,111 or (3) both the thing signified and the expression are complex, as when I say ‘Socrates walks’, or (4) both are simple, as the categories. Here, then, he produces a division of things said without any combination, i.e. of things that are not complex either with respect to the expression or the thing signified. He was right to say ‘said’ on account of conjunctions, connectives, and prepositions, which are not said by themselves or signify something of their own, but rather are simply expressions which are uttered together with other expressions, and in this way together with them signify things. Here, again, the aim of the book is clear: ‘Each of the things said without any combination,’ he says, ‘signifies either substance . . .’. Thus, he treats expressions that signify things, and it is clear that he treats them through mediating concepts, and that he treats the simple ones, for he says ‘Each of the things said without any combination’. 2a3 Examples of having are wearing shoes and being armed.

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Some people wonder why on earth he does not treat this case here in just the way he opposed being affected to acting, and posited being affected as one category and acting as another. For being had (ekhesthai) is opposed to having (ekhein), but he only speaks of the category of having, and not of the category of being had.112 We reply that this, I mean being had, can be subsumed under [the category of] being positioned (keisthai), for we say that what is somewhere positioned is being had, as trees in a garden, say, or a weapon or a cloak on a body. [For a body is said to have a weapon or a cloak],113 so he would say that these are had by it; and a garden is said to have trees, and thus these are had by it. But we say that they are also positioned, as was said. So often in this way we say that such-­and-such a person is wearing (perikeitai) a cloak or is carrying (perikeitai) a weapon.114 Hence, as in the case of acting and being affected both the categories are the same with respect to the subject, but differ with respect to the relation (for when we take as our starting point that which is acting, then we speak of acting, but when we take as our starting point that which is being acted upon, then we speak of being affected); so also here having and being positioned, i.e. being had, are the same

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with respect to the subject, but differ with respect to the relation. For when we take as our starting point that which is having, we speak of having, but when we take as our starting point that which someone is said to have, then we say that it is positioned, i.e. had. 2a4 Each of the things mentioned above said just by itself is no affirmation or negation, but the combination of these with one another does give rise to an affirmation or a negation.

Hereby he distinguishes the aim of the book before us from the one that follows, I mean On Interpretation, for in this book he teaches about the simple expressions, while in the latter [he will teach] about affirmation and negation. He makes the distinction by using the syllogism in the second figure, taking the middle term to be truth and falsity. For he says that ‘every affirmation and negation signifies the true or the false, but no simple expression signifies the true or the false, and consequently no simple expression signifies an affirmation or negation’. For even if I say ‘human being; human being’ ten thousand times, I will not say anything true or false. Likewise, if I say ‘walks; walks’ ten thousand times, I will not say anything true or false. But someone might object that if one were to say ‘[I] walk’ (peripatô),115 he would say something true or false (for if he happened to be walking, he would say something true, and if not, he would say something false). We reply that the person who has said ‘[I] walk’ potentially included the ‘I’ (egô), as if he were saying ‘I walk’ (peripatô egô). Consequently, everyone who says ‘[I] walk’ potentially includes the ‘I’ as the ground (hupostasis) for truth and falsity and does not use a single category by itself, nor a simple expression. We have already said that one should not judge what is simple and what is complex by the expression alone; rather [we said] that complex expressions are simple if they signify something simple, and some simple expressions, if they involve a complex concept and not a simple one, are complex. Therefore, ‘[I] run’ is not simple, since not even the thing signified is simple. Now Aristotle, by way of rebutting this very difficulty in advance, stated ‘of things said without any combination’, i.e. of things not composite even with respect to the thing signified. Thus, we have already said that the simple expressions, when said by themselves, do not signify anything true or false, but every affirmation and

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negation always signifies either something true or something false. For example, if I said ‘Socrates walks’ and he happens to be walking, then I said something true, but if he is sitting, then I said something false; and, again, if I said ‘Socrates is not walking’ and he happens not to be walking, then I said something true, but if he is walking, then I said something false. The categories, then, as was said, are simple expressions and hence they do not signify anything true or false, but when they are combined they form, with respect to each other, an affirmation or a negation in which there is truth and falsity. For example, ‘human being runs’ is an affirmation formed from a substance and acting, but when the affirmation adds in its middle the negative particle it becomes a negation, for example, ‘human being is not walking’. 2a5 [Each of the things mentioned above said just by itself] is no affirmation or negation.

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The majority of manuscripts (bibliôn), and they seem to be correct in this, do not have ‘or negation’, but rather just ‘no affirmation’. For if none of the categories signifies an affirmation, then a fortiori none signifies a negation, for it would need a negative particle, and one would suspect that affirmation rather than negation signifies acting or one of the other categories. Some people116 wonder under what category we should place the point, the now (nun), and the unit. It is not possible to place them under substance, for a substance is something self-­subsistent, but none of these has its own subsistence. For a point has its being in a line, since it is the end and the beginning of a line, and a now [has its being] in a time, since it is the beginning and the end of a time, and not a time (I mean by ‘now’ a moment and do not use it in its extended sense), and the unit is the beginning of a number but not in any way a number. Consequently, the unit is not itself a number but rather has its being in a number, for it is a beginning but the beginning has its being in those things of which it is the beginning. However, it is not possible to call them quantities either, for it is distinctive of quantity to be equal and unequal. But to what could a point, or a now, be equal? A point is not said to be equal to a point, or a now to a now, but also a unit is not equal to a unit insofar as it is a unit. We call things equal when they have the same quantities as well as the same parts, but these things are not

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quantities and they are without parts. Even if one would allow us to speak about equality in their case, it is not possible to speak of inequality. For a time is either equal or unequal to a time, and a number to a number, and a line to a line, since they are quantities (for we say they are equal or unequal according to the sameness of their parts), but these, since they are without parts and are none of the aforementioned [i.e. times, numbers, or lines], escape comparison with other things. Alternatively, [we can say] that some quantities are continuous and some are discrete, but these things [i.e. points, nows, and units] are neither continuous nor discrete since they are without parts; for we call continuous what has its parts in unity, and discrete what has separate parts. One should know that some people117 want to place these things under the category of relatives (ta pros ti) and say that they are the beginnings of what comes after them, a point is the beginning of a line, a unit of a number, and a now of a time. If then the beginnings are the beginnings of something, they are relatives (for a father is a father of a son, and a half is a half of a double), and thus these things should be placed under the category of relatives. But we say that things in the category of relatives, as he himself says below,118 are simply certain relations (skheseis) and do not have subsistence of their own, but have their being in the other categories. For [they have their being] either in substance, or quantity or quality or in some others, and hence they bear a comparison with epiphytes, which have their being in other plants. Certainly it is possible to view relatives in all the categories. When I said ‘a father is a father of a son’, I spoke of a relative in [the category of] substance; when I said ‘a half is a half of a double’, I spoke of a relative in quantity; and when I said ‘what is whiter is whiter than white’, I spoke of a relative in quality, and so on for the other categories. It is necessary to say, then, what these things are by themselves and under which category they fall, and what relationship they bear to one another. What, then, will we say? [We say] that in truth these things are placed under none of the categories, so far as the aim of the work presently before us is concerned. As has often been said, he is concerned with treating things that are, not qua things that are, but qua signified by the kinds of expressions [used] by ordinary people. Herein he wants to provide instruction about things that are familiar to ordinary people, and ordinary people certainly have no familiarity with these

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things [i.e. points, nows, and units]. Hence, even if it were possible to place them under a single category (I mean in the category of quantity, saying that of quantities, some are without parts and others are divisible into parts, and of the latter, some are continuous and others discrete, and these things fall under the subclass of quantities that are without parts), he did not so place them because the instruction on these things is not included in the aim of the present book. Also, it is clear that he did not want to treat things that are qua things that are, because having given in the lecture on Physics119 the threefold division of substance (one in accord with the matter, another in accord with the form, and still another in accord with the composite of both), he nowhere considers here the matter by itself or form [by itself] to be worth calling a substance, since ordinary people have no concept of these considered on their own, but they are familiar only with the composite of them. Some people120 wonder under what category we should place privations and further also negations. We say that these, most of all, are not to be subsumed under any of the categories, since they do not even indicate anything definite, whereas the categories are indicative of definite things. But if we absolutely must place them under a category, then privations will go under the same category as possessions, and negations under the same category as affirmations; for opposites belong to the same genus, as do white and black, hot and cold, and the like. Further, they ask121 under what category we should place motions and changes. I say ‘under none’, for the categories contain subsistent things and things that have fully received their forms, but every change is something incomplete. For a change is a passage toward the form and the being, not the being itself. Above all, it is not even possible to place every change under a single category, since they are found in many [categories], as he himself will explain.122 For in the category of substance, we have generation and destruction; in quantity, increase and decrease; in quality, brightening and darkening; and in place, ascent, descent, and rotation. Thus, changes are passages leading toward the categories [they are placed under], different changes toward different categories, and they do not themselves bring completion to a category. For motion and change in general will be placed under the category of acting, while being moved and being changed in general under the category of being

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affected; but the motions and changes themselves, since they are passages and routes of a sort toward the categories mentioned, will in no way be placed under them.

On Substance

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2a11 A substance which is called [a substance] most strictly, primarily and most of all is that which neither is said of any subject nor is in any subject, e.g. this human being or this horse.

Having mentioned what contributes to his teaching of the categories and instructed us recently in rough outline and by means of examples about the categories themselves, he now turns to the detailed explanation of them and treats substance first. Substance has first place among the categories and for this reason he naturally esteems it above the others. For it is brought along with (suneispheretai) the others (no matter what kind of accident there is, in all cases there will be a substance to which it attaches as an accident), but it does not bring along the others (for even if there is a substance, it is not always the case that there is each of the others); and it does away (sunanairei) the others along with itself, but is not done away with [along with the others]. But what does away but is not done away with, and is brought along but does not bring along, was agreed to be prior by nature. Thus substance is prior by nature to the rest [of the categories].123 In another way of putting it, some things are said by themselves (kath’ hauto), others [are said to be] in this (en autôi), and still others concerning that (peri ekeino). What is [said] by itself is substance itself, while in it is quantity and quality (for they are found in substance), and the remaining seven concern that.124 To put it yet another way, substance is self-­subsistent and does not need others for its existence (huparxis), while the others have their being (einai) in it. For if substance exists, it is [not] necessary that there are the other categories; but if it does not exist, the others could not exist either.125 Some substances are simple, others composite. Of simple substances, some are inferior to the composite, others superior. Human being and things of that

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sort are composite substances. Simple substances that are superior to the composite are the angelic, the spiritual, and the like, while simple substances that are inferior to the composite are prime matter and form.126 But here Aristotle is not discussing the simple substance that is superior to the composite (for doing theology is not his present task), nor does he discuss the simple substance inferior to the composite (for doing natural science is not his task either); rather he is discussing only the composite substance.127 He says of this [substance] that some are primary and some secondary, calling the particular (merikos) primary and the universal (katholou) in the sense of species and genera secondary. As has often been said, he is not treating things that are qua things that are, but rather in accord with the sort of meaning ordinary people give to each of the categories. For if he were following the nature of things, he would have called genera and species primary and individuals (atoma) secondary, since the former is the cause and the latter the caused, and the cause is superior to the caused and the universal to the particular. In another way of putting it, things prior by nature are secondary to us and things prior to us are secondary by nature. Now since his discussion is aimed at beginners, he reasonably said that the particular substance is primary (for it is more evident to sense perception), and the substance in the sense of genera and species is secondary. For it is from particulars that we are led to universals after reason (logos) has shone out within us.128 It is because he does not go along with this opinion (dogma) that he does not say ‘that which is [substance] most strictly, primarily, and most of all’ but rather ‘that which is called’. In order to make what is said clearer, we might transpose the words in the text so as to say: ‘it is that which is called substance most strictly, primarily, and most of all’, i.e. that which is so-called among ordinary people. Indeed, wherever he is expressing in the discourse his own opinion, he does not use ‘is said’ (legetai) but rather ‘is’ (estin). He says ‘that which neither is said (instead of ‘predicated’) of any subject nor is in any subject’, and he does not say ‘nor is said [to be] in any subject’, because he himself goes along with that opinion.129 Aristotle shows clearly that he recognises also substance grasped by intuitive thought (noêtos) that is superior to composite substance both in Metaphysics, On the Heavens, and in the eighth book of Physics,130 where

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he says that it is necessary for the self-­moved [substances] to exist before those that are set in motion by something else, and for motionless [substances] to exist before those that are perpetually in motion. For if there were not something motionless causing what is perpetually in motion, the latter would not remain perpetually moving or, as I say, in motion. He shows that this [motionless cause of motion] is incorporeal, without parts, and non-­extended by the following sort of argument (for perhaps there is nothing unreasonable in mentioning this argument by way of a digression). He says that this cause is infinite in power (apeirodunamos). But if this is the case, then it is entirely incorporeal. For every body, as he himself showed at the end of the eighth book of Physics,131 has limited power. If it had infinite power, then let it be assumed, he says, that it is infinite. Now since every body is divisible, let us divide, he says, this given body into three, as it might be. Does each of the cuts have infinite or limited power? If it has infinite power, then the part is equal in power to the whole, which is absurd and impossible. But if it has limited power, then it is evident that the sum of the limited powers together is itself entirely limited. Consequently, the power of the whole body will also be limited and not infinite. It follows that no limited body has infinite power. Further, no body is infinite in size (for this is also something he showed in Physics), and thus no body has infinite power. If this is so, it follows that whatever has infinite power is not a body. Therefore, the primary substance is incorporeal since it is also infinite in power. Further, he recognises not only substance grasped by intuitive thought as superior to composites but also substance grasped by discursive thought (dianoêtos), and he shows this in Apodeictics.132 For he says that sense perception relates to sense objects in just the way that demonstration relates to the demonstrable. Therefore, it is also the case by crossing [the terms of the proportion] that sense perception relates to demonstration in just the way that sense objects will relate to the demonstrable. If, then, sense perception is inferior to demonstration because sense perception concerns particulars while demonstration busies itself with universals, it follows that sense objects are also inferior to the objects of knowledge. Consequently, he did not consider only those [substances] grasped by intuitive thought to be superior to composites, but also those grasped by discursive thought. But here, as we said,

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he calls what is secondary primary for the reasons that have been frequently stated. 2a12 That which neither is said of any subject nor is in any subject.

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Some people question why Aristotle defines the more worthy of the categories, namely substance, through negations, given that we take negations to be less worthy than affirmations.133 We reply that it is rather the opposite, and definitions through negations much more dignify their subject. At any rate, when we want to indicate the divine, we do not affirm something of it, as says the divine Plato, but rather proceed with negations.134 For when Socrates asked Timaeus what is god, he replied that he knew what it is not, but did not know what it is; for while he knew that it is neither a body nor a colour nor an angel nor anything like those but is superior to them, he did not know what it is. Thus, definitions of this sort more honour the subject since they separate it from all that is inferior. Also, they are accustomed to define matter through negations, saying that it is neither a human being nor a stone nor fire nor a body in general, but something inferior to those. Therefore, they say that matter is likened without likeness to the divine, ‘likened’ because both are indicated through negations of other things, ‘without likeness’ because we deny everything of what is superior to everything else, while we deny everything of matter because it is inferior to everything else.135 It should be asked whether this definition [of substance] fits also the intelligible (noêtos) substances, such as an angel and the like, for it is possible to say that these are neither in any subject nor are said of any subject. So in a way the account (logos) does seem to fit them. But we say that it does not fit them. The negations included in the definition indicate not just a denial but also an affirmation, for they are said in contradistinction (antidiastolê) to other things. For ‘not in a subject’, i.e. substance, is used in contradistinction to ‘in a subject’, i.e. accidents, and ‘not of a subject’ is used in contradistinction to ‘of a subject’. Just as there are two meanings for ‘light’, one in contradistinction to ‘dark’ (I mean the one in the air), and light in an unqualified sense which has no opposite (e.g. sunlight), so also here we will sometimes use negations said by themselves and not in contradistinction, and sometimes in contradistinction to their opposites. If, then, here the negations are not used in contradistinction

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to their opposites, it makes sense to say that the definition applies also to the intelligible substances because they neither exist in any subject nor are predicated of any subject. Now, if the negations are used in contradistinction to their opposites, we naturally honour the particular substances by this definition, since by ‘not in a subject’ we separate them from accidents, and by ‘not of a subject’ from what is of a subject. We thereby confer the place of honour on them by saying that they perform a service (khreian parekhein) for others but stand in need of nothing (for universals need the particulars for predication but the particulars do not in turn need them [for predication]). But we do not confer any worth on the intelligible substances by these points. It does not much matter if we were to say that they are not in a subject, since there is no accident that is set in opposition to them, for they are in general not even capable of receiving accidents. What am I to say about intelligible substances, given that the account does not fit even the soul alone, when we examine it as freed from the relation to the body, being like to god, and watching over the cosmic good? But when it is examined in its descent as bound up with bodies, then the definition does fit, since the soul serves as a subject for accidents; for it is a subject for philosophy or grammar or any other knowledge which happens to occur to it. Of the two things included in the definition, one is prior by nature, the other by instruction. For given that there are substances and accidents, both universal and particular, substances are prior by nature because they are selfsubsistent while those [i.e. the accidents] have their being in it. But with respect to the aim of the present instruction the particular is prior, for in fact the universal is prior by nature. Of the things included in the definition, then, one is prior with respect to the nature of things, while the other is prior with respect to the aim of the instruction.136 As regards the aim, he did not put forth the preliminary instruction about ‘of a subject’ and ‘in a subject’ in vain, for the definition will remain unclear to us when we are not familiar with the expressions included in it.

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2a14 Are called secondary substances.

It is worth investigating here what manner of division Aristotle is using in the case of substance. For of things divided, some are divided as a genus into species, e.g. animal into rational and irrational, others are divided as a whole

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into parts, e.g. the body into hands, feet, head and the rest, still others as a homonymous expression into different things signified, e.g. ‘mus’ into the aquatic animal [i.e. the mussel] and the terrestrial animal [i.e. the field mouse]. Let us see, then, whether it is by means of one of these divisions that he divides substance into primary and secondary. We reply first that the division is not of those which are divided as a genus into species. On this sort of division it follows that when one species is done away with, the others are not done away with along with it. When human being is done away with, the other animals, those that are species of animal, are not done away with along with it. Yet, here, when the secondary substances are done away with, the primary substance is done away with along with them; for if the genus and the species did not exist, neither would the individuals.137 In another way of considering it, no species can contain another species where they are oppositionally divided from one another by the same division, for human being does not contain horse, given that animal is divided into these, nor again does rational animal contain irrational or vice versa, when the division of animal is made into these. In general, it is not possible to divide in such a way that one is contained in the other, e.g. animal into irrational and horse; for horse is contained in irrational, since the one contained is not oppositionally divided from the one that contains. We say that some animals are irrational and others rational, since in the case of things separated from the genus by equal distance neither is contained in the other. Yet here secondary substance contains the primary, for the species, and even more so the genus, is apt to contain the individuals. So, he did not divide substance into primary and secondary as a genus into its species. Moreover, neither is it a case of dividing a whole into its parts, neither into parts that are alike nor into parts that are not alike. For in the case of this division it is not possible to oppositionally divide the parts from the whole; rather, the parts [are oppositionally divided] from the parts. We do not say: ‘Of the hand, one [part] is the hand and another the finger.’ For the finger is contained in the hand. But here the part is oppositionally divided from the whole, for secondary substance is also contained in primary substance.138 In another way of considering it, in the case of wholes divided into parts that are not alike, the whole does not share its name with its own part, as we see in the case of the face, for its part, say, a mouth, is not called a face. But here

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each of the parts is called by the name of the whole, ‘substance’. Again, wholes that are divided into parts that are alike take on both the name of the whole and its definition, as in the case of flesh. For any part of flesh is called in like manner flesh and receives the definition of flesh. Here, however, even if primary substance shares with secondary substance its name, it definitely does not share the definition. You will not give a single definition of animal or human being, and of Socrates, since in general there is no definition of the particular (kath’ hekaston), while there is a definition of human being and of animal. Consequently, substance is not divided as a whole into parts, neither into parts that are alike nor into parts that are not alike. Neither is it the case of dividing a homonymous expression into different signified things. For such a division shares only the name of the homonym with the divided bits [i.e. things signified], but it does not share the commonality with respect to the thing, as for example ‘human being’ [is divided into] the real one and the pictured one. But here there is a certain commonality between the primary and the secondary substance even in definition, for it is common to both not to be in a subject. What then are we to say? That what is presented to us here is not a division at all, but rather just an arrangement (taxis) of enumerated things. It is as if someone says that, of the principles of the sentence, some are letters, others syllables, and still others nouns and verbs, or of some people sitting one after the other, one is first and another second. This sort of thing is arrangement, not division.

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2a14 The species in which the things called primary substances are [are called secondary substances].

Why did he not say ‘genera and species, the universals, are called secondary substances’, but rather said ‘species in which the things called primary substances are (huparkhein) [are called secondary substances]’? We reply that this was said with complete accuracy. For if he had said ‘genera and species’, then since there are genera and species also in the other categories (e.g. in the [category of] quality, colour is a genus and white and black are species), we would have to grant that there are secondary substances even among the accidents. This is why he did not speak of just any species, but of the species in which primary substances are found.

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It should be noted here that when he is not putting forward his own opinion, he uses ‘are called’ (legontai) (for he says they ‘are called’ secondary substances; he does not say ‘are’). But when he expresses his own opinion, he does not say ‘are called’ but rather ‘are’. For he says that ‘the species in which the things called primary substances are’ (and he uses ‘are called’ not just in the case of secondary substances but also in the case of primary ones, for he says, ‘the things called primary substances’). He is of the opinion that the primary substances are in the species and genera as in what is more universal, even though it is possible to also take the genera and species as being in individuals. For whenever we grasp them as commonalities, then they are more universal inasmuch as the individuals are contained in them, but whenever we grasp a genus or species in Plato or Socrates, then we grasp them as elements (stoikheia) of individuals and say that they are contained in the individuals as parts in wholes. 2a19 It is clear from what has been said that if something is said of a subject both its name and its account are necessarily predicated of the subject.

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He wishes here to sing the praises of primary substance and to show that it is correctly said to be substance primarily, most strictly and most of all, because it does not need any of the things that come after it but all the things that come after primary substance need it, some for their existence, others for their predication. This, then, is his aim. But he assumes in advance certain things in preparation for what is presented. He says that it is clear from what has been said that if something is predicated of a subject both its name and account are necessarily predicated of the subject. What sort of things ‘have been said’? It is clear that these are things he said earlier about what is [predicated] of a subject, where139 he said that ‘when one thing is predicated of another as of a subject, all things said of what is predicated will be said of the subject also’. Wishing to sing the praises of primary substance, as I said, he assumes in advance the following: that things predicated of a subject share with their subjects both their name and their definition, while things in a subject have their being in them and share with their subjects either their name alone, or neither their name nor their definition.

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Now everything else besides the primary substance is predicated of it. Therefore, primary substances perform a service for all the other things, for some with respect to their existence, for others with respect to their predication. For all the things other than primary substance either140 are said of it as a subject, and these share with it both their name and their definition, as do the genera and species; these are predicated of it synonymously, for the primary substance shares [with them] the name (Socrates is called both a human being and an animal) and the definition (for he is both a sentient living substance and a mortal rational animal). The rest of the things besides primary substance, I mean the accidents, which are in a primary substance as in a subject, never share with it their definition, but sometimes just their name. For whiteness is in body and never shares its definition with body (we would not say that the body is a colour penetrative of sight; if we are going to say anything, we would say that it is a three-­dimensional object receptive of a colour penetrative of sight). But it does share its name, for we do say that a body is white. Virtue (aretê), on the other hand, shares neither its name nor its definition with a subject, for the person who shares in virtue is not called virtued (aretaios) but good (spoudaios).141 Of those that share their name, some do so homonymously, and these are rare, others paronymously. Examples of sharing homonymously are grammatikê gunê (grammatical, literate woman), which comes from grammatikê (grammar), and mousikê (woman musician) from mousikê (art of music). Examples of sharing paronymously, which occur for the most part (epi to polu), are andreios (courageous person) from andreia (courage), grammatikos (grammarian) from grammatikê (grammar), leukos (white) from leukotês (whiteness), and others such as these.

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2a34 [All the other things] either are said of primary substances as subjects.

He was right to say ‘are said’, for universals do not need particulars in order to exist but rather in order to be predicated of them. 2a35 Or are in them as subjects.

He was right to say ‘are’, for accidents have their being in particular substances. 2a35 This is clear from an examination of particular cases.

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He wants to persuade us by means of induction, as he could not do this by means of a general argument (logos), that all the other things besides primary substances either are said of a primary substance as of a subject or are in a primary substance as a subject. He does not prove this by constructing an argument for species (it is evident to everyone that these are predicated of individuals, although no doubt there are cases where we are at a loss for the proper name and give individuals themselves a name drawn from the species, as when we say: ‘Call that “human being” ’). Rather, he constructs the proof for genera by using species as middle terms. For it has been shown that in the case of things predicated of something as of a subject, whatever is said of the thing predicated as of a subject is also said of the subject for that predicated thing. But the species is predicated of the individual as of a subject, and again the genus of the species, so it has to be admitted that the genus will be predicated of the individual as well. For example, if human being is predicated of Socrates and animal of human being, then animal will also be predicated of Socrates. He proceeds in a similar fashion also in the case of accidents. He does not show that whiteness is in bodies, or blackness is in bodies (for this is obvious), but that colour is in body. If it is agreed that all colours have their being in body, then it will be agreed that they are also in particular bodies. For body simpliciter is predicated of particular bodies; so if colour is in body, and body is predicated of particular bodies, then colour will also be predicated of particular bodies, because in all the cases of things said of a subject, whatever is said of the thing predicated will be said of the subject for that predicated thing as well.142

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You see how reasonably he made these earlier claims because he wants to privilege primary substance. Since all the other things besides primary substance, he says, are either universal substances or accidents, primary substance performs a service for them all, as has often been said, and if it is done away with, all the other things are done away with along with it. For once primary substance is done away with, accidents are done away with along with it, since there is nothing in which they can exist, and similarly also universals

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[are done away with along with it], since there is nothing of which they can be predicated.143 But we say that, generally speaking, it is not what is prior to the many (pro tôn pollôn) or even what is in the many (en tois pollois) which is predicated. For these [in the many], as was agreed, are done away with along with primary substance; there does not exist animal by itself which is neither a human being nor Plato nor any of the particular humans, for common things (koina) are found in the many, i.e. particulars.144 However, these [in the many] are not customarily (eiôthasi) predicated of individuals (for nothing is predicated of itself).145 Rather, only what is after the many (epi tois pollois) and conceptual is customarily predicated of the individuals, because we customarily predicate the concepts we have of things. These too are done away with once the particulars are done away with, for if things did not exist, the concepts of them would not exist either.146 Consequently, if there were no particular substances, there would neither be universals nor accidents. It is reasonable, then, for the particular substances to be called primary. Again, he was right to insert ‘are said’ in the case of the universals and ‘are’ in the case of the accidents.

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2b7 Of secondary substances, the species is more a substance than the genus.

He compares secondary substances, species and genus, to each other, and says that the species is more a substance than the genus. He shows this by means of two arguments: one is based on the relationship to primary substance, i.e. on the proximity to it, and the other is from analogy. The argument which is based on the relationship to primary substance [says] that the species is closer than the genus to primary substance, i.e. the individuals. The argument from analogy [says] that just as the primary substance is to its species, so the species is to its genus. For given that we called it primary because it performs a service for everything else – for some with respect to their existence, for others with respect to their predication – it is reasonable that the species will be called more a substance than the genus as it is a subject for genus with respect to predication. For if the species did not exist, the genus would not be able to be predicated of anything, since it is predicated even of the individuals through it [i.e. the species] as the middle term.

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2b8 For if someone gives an account of what the primary substance is, he gives what is better known and more peculiar to the substance by giving the species rather than the genus.

This is the argument based on the relationship [to primary substance]. He says that if we give an account of what Socrates is, we will speak soundly by giving ‘human being’ as well as ‘animal’, but answering ‘human being’ is more peculiar (oikoioteros) to him than [answering] ‘animal’. For when we say ‘animal’ we do not indicate whether [we meant] rational or irrational, mortal or immortal, but when we answer ‘human being’ we say what is closer to his nature. 2b12 For the former is more distinctive of the particular human, while the latter is more common.

To be a human being is indeed more distinctive of Socrates, whereas to be an animal is more common, for it is [predicated] of many other species. 60,1

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2b15 Further, it is because the primary substances are subjects for all the other things and all the other things either are predicated of them or are in them, that they are called primary substances most of all. But just as the primary substances relate to all the other things, so the species relates to the genus.

This is the second argument, the one from analogy. For just as, he says, the primary substances relate to things other than themselves, serving as subjects for the existence of some and for the predication of others, so the species relate to genera, serving as subjects for their predication, while the genera do not serve as subjects for the species. Consequently, it is reasonable for the species to be more a substance [than the genera]. He added accurately: ‘and all the other things either are predicated of them or are in them’, since the primary substances serve as subjects for them all, but not in the same way; for some, i.e. the accidents, they serve as subjects for their existence, while for others, i.e. universal substances, they serve as subjects for their predication. But someone might wonder why he did not say that the species is a secondary substance and that the genus is tertiary. We reply that he calls them secondary substances for one and the same reason, I mean on account of their

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needing primary substance for predication, and he did not want to make a further division of them. Rather, he was satisfied to make a comparison of them and say that one is more and the other less a substance. 2b20 But of the species themselves, among those that are not genera, none is more a substance than any other.

Having produced a vertical division of substances, i.e. the one that goes from individuals to species and from species to genus, and having said that the former are primary and others secondary, and that of secondary substances, the species is more a substance and the genus less a substance, he now makes a division and comparison of them horizontally, I mean a comparison of a species to a species and of an individual to an individual. He was right to say that ‘those that are not genera’ so that we should not compare subordinate species with the most specific ones, e.g. animal with human being. Rather, he says that one should compare species that are removed from genera or from individuals by equal distance, e.g. human being with horse or ox. In the case of these, he says, ‘none is more a substance than any other’, for they are at an equal distance from the genus. For rational and irrational animal are placed directly under animal, and under these are placed, say, horse, human being, and ox. Just as animal is predicated of horse, so it is also predicated of human being and ox. In the same way, plant is predicated of grape vine and olive tree, since it is their proximate genus, as animal is the proximate genus of horse and the others. Therefore, in all these cases one is not more a substance than another, for the proximate genus is at an equal distance from them, and directly under them are placed individuals. In the case of individuals too, he says, none is more a substance than another, for all of them are in the same way subjects for the species and the genera for their predication, and for accidents for their existence. The same relation (logos) that holds between human being and the particular human being also holds between horse and the particular horse. For in predicating human being of Socrates, you would not predicate anything more peculiar to him than in the case of predicating horse of Xanthos and dog of Argos.147 From this it is clear that Aristotle is giving instruction directed at what is familiar to ordinary people. He says that one individual is not more a primary substance than another, this ant, say, or this star are all substances

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in the same way, for the ordinary person knows that each exists in the same way. For this reason he too called them substances, following popular opinion. 2b29 It is reasonable that, after the primary substances, their species and genera should be the only other things called secondary substances.

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Now he states the reason why the genera and species are called secondary substances, but he does not say that accidents are tertiary substances. This again he establishes in two ways: (1) from the relationship to primary substances, and (2) from analogy. The [argument] based on the relationship [to primary substances says] that when we give an account of primary substance, we give an account that is peculiar to it by giving just the genus and the species. For having said that Socrates is a human being or an animal, we will be giving an account that is peculiar to him and [makes him] better known. But if we should say he is white or runs or something of that sort, we would be giving an account that is not peculiar to him and [leaves him] unknown. It is reasonable, then, that we call the species and genera secondary substances, since they alone indicate the primary substance, while we say that accidents are not substances at all, since they do not reveal the primary substance. 2b37 Further, the primary substances are called substances most strictly because they serve as subjects for all the others.

This is the second argument, the one from analogy. He says that just as primary substances serve as subjects for all the other things, so also secondary substances serve as subjects for accidents. For just as we say that Socrates is a philosopher, so we also say that a human being is a philosopher and an animal is a philosopher. Thus, secondary substances too serve as subjects for accidents, i.e. accidents are predicated of them. However, accidents are principally predicated of the individuals, as also Porphyry says,148 while on a second account, they are also predicated of the species and genera. But accidents never serve as subjects for substances. For it should be noted that of things predicated, some are predicated in accord with nature, some contrary to nature, and others accidentally. Accidents, then, are predicated of substances in accord with nature, e.g. Socrates is a philosopher or bald or snub-­ nosed, or something similar; for usually the substance naturally serves as a

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subject for accidents, and accidents are predicated of it. But also universals are predicated of particulars in accord with nature, as animal of Socrates, for particulars are naturally suited to serve as subjects for universals. Contrary to nature is a predication which reverses the order and predicates a substance of an accident, as one which says that this philosopher is Socrates and other cases of that sort (for accidents are not by nature able to serve as subjects for substances), and further a predication which predicates a particular of a universal [is contrary to nature], as one which says that this human being is Socrates or the colour is white. Accidental is a predication which predicates an accident of an accident, one of another, I mean one kind of accident of another kind of accident. For example, one which predicates the philosopher in Socrates of the snubness or baldness in that same person, or even says, conversely, that this snub-­nosed is bald, if you will, or that this bald is a philosopher, and other cases of that sort. It is said to be accidental, for given quite a few different kinds of accidents being found round the same subject and149 not being by nature suited for predication one of the other, one is predicated of the other on account of their relationship to a subject and not on account of any kinship with each other. For snubness is not by nature suited to serve as a subject for baldness, for each belongs to a different genus, one to quantity and another to quality. But we do not say that this kind of predication is contrary to nature because, in general, an accident is suited by nature to be predicated of an accident, [namely] the more universal accident of the more particular one.150 It is reasonable, then, that he did not call accidents tertiary substances given that they do not serve as subjects for anything with respect to existence, and indeed when a substance is predicated of an accident, we say that such a predication is contrary to nature. 3a7 Not being in a subject is common to all substances.

Having divided substance into primary and secondary and compared them to one another, he proceeds in an orderly fashion and now wants to give a definition of substance. But since substance is the most generic genus, it is not possible to give its definition through drawing [the defining features] from genera and differentiae; a genus for substance as such is not to be found

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because, as we said, it is itself a most generic genus. On account of this, then, he gives its distinctive feature (idion), for this resembles a definition.151 For just as a definition belongs to all and only that of which it is the definition and is convertible with what it defines, so also a distinctive feature belongs to all and only that of which it is the distinctive feature, and they are convertible with one another.152 This, then, is the reason he wants to give a distinctive feature of substance. However, he does not immediately give the distinctive features acceptable to him, but rather those that someone might suspect to be distinctive features, lest someone later be able to say that these are the distinctive features of substance. Now wanting to give a distinctive feature, he has stated something common, for he says that ‘not being in a subject is common to all substances’. What then shall we say? We respond that it is absolutely necessary that two things belong to a distinctive feature: belonging to all and only that of which it is the distinctive feature. Consequently, by saying ‘is common’ he meant that this belongs to all substances. For a distinctive feature must belong to only those things of which it is the distinctive feature, and it must belong to all, as capable of laughter belongs only to humans and to all of them. So, he says, ‘not being in a subject is common to all substances’. He does not think it worth proving that primary substance is not in a subject, as this is self-­evident, for Socrates does not have his being in something else. But he does prove that secondary substances are not in a subject, and he proves this by using the following syllogism in the second figure: secondary substances share their name and definition with their subjects, but things that are in a subject share neither the name nor the definition with the subject or share just the name; therefore, secondary substances are not in a subject. 3a21 But this is not a distinctive feature of substance; rather, differentiae too are among the things that are not in a subject.

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distinguishing them from substances. But on the other hand, in saying that differentiae too are said of a subject but are not in a subject, he puts them together with substances. He says153 that things that are not in a subject share both their name and their definition with those things of which they are said as of a subject; but such, he says, are also the differentiae. For terrestrial, two-­footed, and rational share with human being not just their name (for human being is said to be a terrestrial animal, and two-­footed, and rational), but also their definition, in whatever way one might give the account of each of these. But this feature is distinctive of things predicated essentially of primary substance. Thus, again, from the above he wants differentiae to be substances. In the face of this, some consequently allege that there are three species of differentiae: some of them are more substances than they are accidents, others are more accidents than they are substances, and still others have an intermediate status because it is unclear whether we say they are more accidents than they are substances.154 For example, the more substances than accidents are rational, irrational, and the like (they are more substances because they are completive of the underlying species, and more accidents because they are predicated in answer to ‘What sort of thing is it?’ just as accidents are). Now, the more accidents than substances are the white in a swan or in a Scythian and the black in a crow or in an Ethiopian (for a Scythian differs from an Ethiopian by being white, and an Ethiopian from a Scythian by being black). They are accidents because they come and go separately from the destruction of the subject, for if its wings are taken away, a crow will nonetheless be a crow, and if you should imagine a Scythian becoming black, he is nonetheless a human being and a Scythian. But on the other hand these sorts of differentiae seem somehow to be substances, because black belongs to every specimen of crows and Ethiopians, and likewise white to swans and Scythians. The qualities in the elements have an intermediate status, e.g. hot and dry in fire, and cold and wet in water. In order to make the things said about these matters clearer to us, I mean what concerns the differentiae in the elements, let us carry on the discussion a little further. The philosophers say that prime matter is incorporeal and by its very definition utterly formless, without size, and separated from all qualities.155 That it is without form is clearly shown by the fact that it is receptive of all

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physical forms. For just as wood, taken as having the character of matter for utensils, is lacking in every form that is observed in utensils (for it has neither the form of chair nor of plank nor of any other such thing), so also matter is a base (hupobathra) that is receptive of all the forms that are observed in bodies and will not have even a single form of its own. Once it has been swelled up with the three dimensions it makes, according to Aristotle,156 the second subject, i.e. the qualityless body. For since the qualities were not capable of existing on their own (for every quality has its being in a body), they were in need of the body which by its very definition is qualityless, so that they might exist in it. So adding the quality hot and dry to one part of this [qualityless body] made fire, and adding the quality cold and wet to another made water, and again the quality dry and cold to another part made earth, and the quality hot and wet to another part made air. We are not saying that the incorporeal matter or the qualityless body ever exist in actuality; rather, we say these things by way of noting the well-­ordered generation of beings, dividing in thought what is inseparable in nature. The qualities which supervene on the body, I mean the secondary subject, are accidents insofar as they supervene on the qualityless entity itself, and are substances insofar as they are completive of fire and water and the other elements. For the quality hot and cold has supervened on fire as a body, whereas these are not said to supervene on fire but rather complete its substance. Thus these have an intermediate status, being no more substances than they are accidents. For they attach as accidents to body simpliciter, I mean to the threedimensional, but to the elements they belong essentially because they are completive of their substance. Since, then, they say, there is not just a single species of differentiae, as was shown, Aristotle, in paying attention to the whole breadth of differentiae, puts forth the differentiae neither as simply substances nor as [simply] accidents. What then do we ourselves say on these matters? We say that these people spoke cleverly, but not entirely truthfully. If Aristotle had wanted the differentiae to be intermediate between substances and accidents, he would have had to create an eleventh category, which would have been intermediate between substance and accident, and put the differentiae into this category. Given that there is no other [category] besides the ten, and that one of these is substance while all the others are accidents and there is

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nothing intermediate in between, it is necessary that all beings are either substances or accidents and there are no intermediates. That the differentiae are admittedly substances is evident from their being completive of species and being predicated of them essentially. For given that they complete substances, it is evident that they are substances, for accidents are not completive of substances. Also, it is clear that Aristotle himself believes them to be substances for he wants them to be parts of substances when he says: ‘We need not worry [that we might have to say that] the parts of a substance [are not themselves substances since they are in a subject, i.e. the whole; for when we spoke of things in a subject we did not mean things that are in something as parts].’157 Again: ‘It belongs to substances and differentiae that they are said synonymously of everything they are said of.’158 And it is also evident from what Porphyry said, for he, in giving a treatment of these matters that accords with what the Peripatetics believe, says: ‘The differentia is that by which the species exceeds the genus.’159 But every [species] exceeds [the genus] by its part, and therefore the part is a substance because the species is. Consequently, Aristotle, both from his own statements and from what Porphyry has said in following what Aristotle believed, wanted differentiae to be substances. Why, then, does he say that ‘this is not a distinctive feature of substance but belongs also to differentiae’, as though it was evident that the differentiae were other than substance? Our response is that we noted in the case of the unit and the point and the now that Aristotle did not place them in any of the categories on account of their not being comprehended by ordinary people (for it was possible to place even these in quantity and say that of quantities some are indivisible and others divisible, and of those that are divisible some are continuous and others discrete; nevertheless he did not so place them because, as has been often said, he is treating here things that are, not as things that are, but as ordinary people believe them to be). So also now he knows that the differentiae are substances, but he does not place them in the category of substance because ordinary people do not recognise them. If someone were to say that ‘in fact the differentiae do happen to be evident to the many, for they say that the human being is rational and mortal’, we reply that the concepts they have of differentiae do not concern simple things, e.g. the rational or the irrational, itself by itself, but rather concern composites. For

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they know the whole rational animal as some one thing, and irrational [animal] in the same way. We said also earlier160 that while some substances are simple and others composite, and some simple substances are superior to the composite and others inferior, Aristotle treats only composite substances, i.e. the ones seen as genera, species and individuals. And so in comparing substances to each other, he compares only genera and species, and further the individuals, since it is only these that he aims to explain. Of differentiae he took no note, since they are simple. It is for this reason, then, that Aristotle says that this is not a distinctive feature of substance, [meaning] not simply of all substance, but rather of composite substance. For not being in a subject belongs not only to composite substances but also to simple substances, i.e. to the differentiae.161 Given the earlier fourfold division of things that are, one needs to ask under which section of the division the differentiae must be placed. We answer, then, that if we take those differentiae that are prior to the many, they must fall under the first section, consisting of the things [said] of a subject and not in a subject (for these are universal substances). But if we take those that are in the many, we say first that these are not even called differentiae, just as neither is the animal in them [called] a genus. For if a genus is predicated, in answer to ‘What is it?’, of many things which differ in species,162 and the animal in Socrates is not said of many, then it would not be a genus. Likewise, the species that is in the individual would not be called a species, given that a species is predicated, in answer to ‘What is it?’, of many things which differ in number.163 So also the rational that is in Socrates no one would, strictly speaking, call a differentia, for a differentia is predicated, in answer to ‘What sort of thing is it?’, of many things which differ in species.164 But the rational in the individual is predicated of that individual alone, and thus it would not be a differentia. Rather, we say that these are parts of the individuals; for just as the genus and the differentia are parts of the species, so also the animal and the rational in the individual are parts of that individual. For this reason, as individuals, they do not fall under a definition, for Aristotle says in the Apodeictics that there is neither definition nor demonstration of individuals. Given that a definition consists of genera and differentiae, but in individuals there is no genus or differentia, it is evident that there is no definition of them either. And if there is no definition, neither

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is there any demonstration, for demonstrations arise out of definitions. But if someone were to deem these worthy to be called differentiae, we would not call them differentiae simpliciter, but rather differentiae as they are in an individual. In virtue of these differentiae this human differs from this horse and from this angel. Consequently, we will place them in the fourth section, consisting of what is neither [said] of a subject nor is in a subject, just because they are substances completive of the individual, and are particular for they are not predicated of any subject.165 3a29 We need not worry that we might have to say that the parts of a substance are not themselves substances since they are in a subject, i.e. the whole [substance].

In anticipation of the very point that was likely to be brought up as a difficulty against Aristotle, he himself raised and solved it. For someone might have raised the following difficulty: ‘Since the parts of substances are in something (for they are in substances) and accidents are in something (for [whiteness or heat]166 are in a human being), the parts of substances will therefore be accidents, which is absurd.’ By way of solving this he says that it has been explained in what sense we have stated that an accident is in something, [namely] not belonging as a part of the subject but not being capable of subsisting without that subject.167 Differentiae, on the other hand, perform a service for the whole and are completive of the subject. Thus, even if they have in common [with accidents] that they are in something, still there is this difference between them: differentiae complete the subject and are inseparable from it, while accidents neither complete nor always co-­exist (sunaparkhein) [with the subject]. Now, some commentators think that this passage should be placed before the one about differentiae which says: ‘But this is not a distinctive feature of substance; rather, differentiae too are among the things that are not in a subject.’ They say that he needed to show through these [words] that no part of a substance is in a subject, and the differentia too is a part of a substance, and thus to lead to the conclusion that not being in a subject is not a distinctive feature of substance, since it also belongs to the differentia. But this placement (taxis) cannot be correct; for having shown that neither species nor genera nor differentiae, which are parts of substances, are in a subject, he needed to

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produce some general argument that absolutely no other part of a substance is in a subject. His argument seems to concern parts, I mean the hand, the head, and the foot, as well as to treat intelligible [parts], rational and mortal; for some parts are perceptible and others intelligible. However, he is now dealing with intelligible parts. Therefore, the placement of this observation is appropriate. For after saying that not being in a subject is not a distinctive feature of substance, since differentiae too are among the things that are not in a subject, lest someone think he meant by this that the differentiae are not substances (for they are indeed substances in the strict sense), for this reason he says: ‘We need not worry that we might have to say that the parts of a substance are not themselves substances since they are in a subject, i.e. the whole [substance].’ The inclusion of this observation would seem inappropriate unless we realise that he is speaking about the intelligible parts, rational and mortal. These parts distinctively belong to human being, since human being is [constituted] of them. 3a31 For when we spoke of things in a subject we did not mean things that are in something as parts.

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In other words, although we did say that accidents are in something, we did not mean as parts in the whole. If everything that is in something would necessarily be in a subject, then even the parts of substances, as they are in something (for they are in the whole), would be in a subject. But in fact, of things that are in something in the broader sense, some are in something as in a subject, others are in something as a part in the whole, and still others are in something in some other sense of ‘in something’. 3a33 It belongs to substances and differentiae that they are said synonymously of everything they are said of.168

He passes on to a second attendant feature (parakolouthêma) of substance, having rejected the first. But he is still searching for the distinctive feature of substance in the strict sense; and straightaway he rejects this one too. This is clear from his inclusion of differentiae, so as to make it evident that it belongs not just to substances alone. But while the first [feature] was thrown out as belonging to all substances but not only to substances, this one is thrown out

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as belonging neither only nor to all [substances]. For it does not belong to primary [substances] (since they are not able to be predicated of anything) nor does it belong only [to substances] because it also belongs to differentiae. 3a34 For all the predicates arising from them are predicated either of individuals or of species.

First he explains what are the things that receive their predication from substances and differentiae, and then he connects them in the following way with synonymous predication. He says that individuals are not said of any subject, while species are said of individuals, and genera are said of both; in the same way also differentiae are said of species and of individuals. And these things are said synonymously of the things of which they are predicated. For Socrates is a human being and a rational mortal animal, as well as a sentient living substance. But he also takes on both the name and the account of differentiae; he is said to be rational, which is the name for the differentia, and he receives the definition of the rational, for the rational is what makes use of reason, and Socrates too takes on this account. Likewise, the genus and differentia are predicated synonymously of the species. As is abundantly clear, whatever is said synonymously of what is predicated will also be said of the subject. It is reasonable, then, that the genus and the differentia which are predicated synonymously of the species, are also predicated of the individuals of which the species are predicated. But the species is predicated only of the individuals, while the individuals are not predicated of anything because there is no subject for them. Note here how his teaching about synonyms has become useful for him, as he himself clearly said that ‘synonyms were those things which have a common name and of which the account is the same’.169 Note here, too, how he explicitly says that differentiae are substances. If things that are in a subject share just their name [with their subject] or share neither their name nor their definition, and differentiae are predicated synonymously of species and of individuals, then it follows that the differentiae are substances and not accidents. For it belongs to things predicated essentially that they share with their subjects both their name and their definition. Why, then, does he seem to distinguish differentiae from substances in the above, while in what follows he puts them together [with substances]? It is on account of the oft-­mentioned reason, namely, that his aim here is not to treat all

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substances but only composite ones, which are familiar to ordinary people. For ordinary people know Socrates not only as Socrates but also as a human being and an animal. They refer to all particulars in common by the name ‘human being’, and similarly to humans, horses, and other animals by the name ‘animal’. But they have no concept of rationality, itself by itself; rather, even if they speak of the rational, they mean the composite, for they are familiar with rational animal as a whole. The same holds for irrational and the rest of the differentiae. Consequently, here he does not say outright that differentiae are substances, but he intends them to be substances, and he reveals this intent everywhere. But [he does not intend them to be] composite substances, and these are the subject for his present discussion. So, having mentioned in Physics170 the threefold division of substance: substance in the sense of matter, in the sense of form (by ‘in matter’ I do not mean what is prior to many but rather171 what is in the many), and further in the sense of what is composed of both matter and form together, he here mentions only the composite substance and not the matter nor the form, since his discussion is not about the simple [substances]. 3b10 Every substance seems to signify this something (tode ti).

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Having tossed aside the first two attendant features, i.e. not being in a subject and that they are said synonymously of everything they are said of, he has turned to a third distinctive feature, i.e. ‘signifying this something’. ‘This’ (tode) signifies for him the subject (for this is associated with pointing), while ‘something’ (ti) signifies the particular.172 So through both together, he signifies the particular subject, e.g. this human being or this log. In these cases Aristotle always uses ‘this’, I mean in cases of observable and perceptible individuals, for these alone admit of being pointed to and these alone are subjects for all [other] things. But he condemns this distinctive feature too as not attending on every substance, although it does attend only on substances. He says that although species and genera seem to signify this something on account of the singular character of the expression,173 they rather signify a plurality and commonality that embraces a number of things, i.e. a certain quality (poiotêta tina). However, he does not mean a quality of the sort that acts as an accident; for this [sort of quality] does not, when added to a subject, contribute anything, nor, when

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taken away, does it destroy anything. But genera and species are completive of those things of which they are said to be [the genera and species] and of which they are predicated. As he himself says, they ‘determine the qualification (poion) of substance’,174 i.e. they determine this or that sort of substance, and both define and discriminate what is combined, all the while keeping pure the essential quality of each substance. For since substance contains body and non-­body, and these are mixed together and not discriminated, the division of these species determines the quality of each. Again, since body contains a number of things (namely, living and non-­living), they discriminate things combined together and determine the distinctive feature of each. Likewise, since living contains a number of things, its species determine the distinctive feature of each. And so it is for the rest of the cases. For, since animal and plant, while being placed under living things, are genera of things [that are placed] under them, they determine through themselves the essential quality for their own species. How is it, then, they ask, that Aristotle, after saying that genera and species are predicated in answer to ‘What is it?’, now says that they determine a qualification of substance? We reply that they are said to determine a qualification of substance insofar as the species share in differentiae in actuality, and the genera either in potentiality (according to the Peripatetics) or in actuality (according to the Platonists).175 For differentiae are predicated in answer to ‘What sort of thing (hopoion) is it?’ We should inquire why he says that substance signifies, as it is rather the case that the substance is signified and does not signify. We respond to this that Aristotle’s task, as we have often said, is to treat expressions, things, and concepts. Now substance as an expression signifies and is not signified (for expressions are suited to signify things). But substances as things are signified and do not signify, since things are signified by expressions and are not themselves suited to signify anything else. Just as names are by themselves suited to signify things, but when joined to some part of speech they are rather in a way signified by that [part of speech], so it is also here. For example, when I say ‘Socrates’, I indicate the substance of Socrates through that name, but when I say ‘Socrates the philosopher’ or ‘Socrates the one walking’, then the name does not signify but rather is signified by ‘the philosopher’ or ‘the one who walks’, and it does not itself signify but rather something else does. So,

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then, also here the reality of substance taken by itself does not signify anything, but whenever it is combined with an expression then it is signified by that expression. 3b21 The determination by means of the genus covers more than that by means of the species; for one who says ‘animal’ includes more than one who says ‘human being’.

In other words, although every secondary substance determines the essential quality of things, still the genus discriminates the more universal and the more common quality than does the species, while the species discriminates the more particular [quality]. 3b24 It also belongs to substances that nothing is contrary to them.

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He has now passed on to a fourth attendant feature after rejecting the third as belonging only [to substances] but not to all. This feature is that there is no contrary to a substance. For there is nothing contrary, he says, to Socrates or any other individual. But neither [is there any contrary] to a secondary substance. Is there anything contrary to human being or animal? Suppose someone asks: ‘Why say that? Isn’t fire opposed to water and earth to air?’ We reply that these are opposed to one another, not insofar as they are substances, but insofar as they are endowed with qualities, for the quality hot and dry in fire is opposed to the quality cold and wet in water. But perhaps someone will press the point, and we will then say that water is not opposed to fire even with respect to qualities, for the contraries exist in the same subject and thus they take up arms against each other, each of them hastening to seize hold of the subject and driving out the other. So if fire does not serve as a subject for heat and cold, neither will we say, in the strict sense, that anything is opposed to the heat in fire, even if the opposites, as we said, contend for the same subject. But he rejects this feature too as not belonging to substances alone, although it does belong to all. He says that nothing is contrary to a quantity, e.g. ten or two-­cubits. What would be contrary to them? Four-­cubits is not contrary to two-­cubits, for contraries destroy each other, but here four-­cubits is an increase over two-­cubits. ‘Unless,’ he says, ‘someone were to say that many is contrary to few, or large to small.’176 But not even these are contrary quantities, and he will

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show a little later that they are not quantities but are relatives. Nevertheless, even if by way of concession, he says, someone were to grant that they are quantities, this makes no difference to us. For us it is sufficient to prove that having no contrary does not belong to substances alone, if at any rate this feature belongs also to determinate quantities. They call determinate quantities those that have some definite quantity and are not so called in virtue of a relation to something else.177

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3b33 It seems that substance does not admit of a more or a less.

He crosses over to a fifth attendant feature, I mean that substances do not admit of a more or a less. This feature follows from the previous one and originates from this (i.e. the one which says that there is no contrary to a substance), for a more and a less naturally occurs in those things in which also contrariety is found. But this is not so unqualifiedly; not all contraries whatsoever allow for a more or a less, but only those that are naturally liable to be mixed with each other. For although even and odd are contraries, they do not admit of a more or a less, since they are not naturally liable to be mixed, for one even [number] is not more even than another, nor is one odd [number] more odd than another. But one white thing is said to be more white than another, since white is naturally mixed with black; the more something deviates from being black, the whiter it is said to be, and that which receives a blend which brings it closer to black is said to be less white. Also, something is said to be whiter than itself, for something that is now white becomes whiter than itself when the black that is mixed is separated off. And the same applies to other cases. Now if it is not the case that all the contraries admit of a more and a less, but rather just those that are naturally liable to be mixed, then it is certainly not the case that those having no contrary at all admit of a more and a less. 3b34 But I am not saying that one substance is not more a substance than another.

Since earlier he said that the primary substance is more a substance than the secondary substance (for ‘a substance,’ he says, ‘which is called [a substance] most strictly, primarily and most of all . . .’),178 and that among the secondary substances the species is more a substance than the genus (he says,‘of secondary

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substances, the species is more a substance than the genus’),179 he reasonably raises a difficulty of how, saying earlier that one substance is more a substance than another, he can now say that ‘it seems that substance does not admit of a more or a less’.180 By way of solving this difficulty he says that there the more and the less were not said with respect to the same thing, but here this is not the case.181 For there he was examining a vertically descending comparison and arrangement of substances, and said that the primary substance is more a substance than the secondary one, as it is more recognised by ordinary people, and that among the secondary substances the species is more [a substance] since it is closer than the genus to the primary substance. But here he is making a comparison horizontally, and says that an individual is not more or less a substance than itself or some other [individual]. For someone would not say of Socrates himself that he is more or less a human being than himself or that Socrates is more a human being than Plato. Moreover, neither is a species more a substance than itself or something else, e.g. a horse is not more a substance than a human being. And it is the same in the case of genera. Now this distinctive or attendant feature belongs to all substances but not to substances alone. For quantities also do not admit of a more or a less, since they have no contraries, and neither do even and odd [admit of a more or a less], since these are not naturally liable to be mixed. But why did he not do here just what he did in the case of other distinctive features where he said at the end that ‘this is not a distinctive feature of substance, for even if it admittedly belongs to all substances it does not belong to them alone, or it belongs to them alone but not to all’, and say that this is not a distinctive feature of substance since, even though it belongs to all substances, quantities too do not admit of a more or a less? We say that he omitted this because it is obvious from what was said earlier. Since, as I said, the attendant features are connected, and not being more or less of something follows from not having a contrary, and since he showed a little earlier that nothing is contrary to a substance or a quantity, he left it to us to put these points together and implicitly understand that not admitting of a more or a less belongs not just to substances but also to quantities. 4a10 What seems most of all to be a distinctive feature of substance is being receptive of contraries while being the same and one in number.

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He has offered us this as a sixth distinctive attendant feature that belongs to substance, and one that does indeed set it apart from the others, I mean [the feature of] being receptive of contraries while remaining the same and one in number. For Socrates, while remaining one and the same, is sometimes warmed up and sometimes cooled down, and it is likewise the case with other qualities and the rest of accidents. But although this feature belongs only to substances, it does not belong to them all. Nothing other than substance is naturally liable to be receptive of contraries while remaining the same and one in number, and here I mean the accidents. For everything other than substance is an accident, and an accident is completely unsuited to serve as a subject for an accident with respect to its existence: white is not a subject for black or hot or anything of this sort. The same account holds also for the other accidents. Surely, then, accident is not receptive of contraries. Thus, this feature belongs to substances alone, but nonetheless it does not belong to all substances. It does not belong in any way to secondary substances since neither a genus nor a species is, in the strict sense, the same and one in number. For being one in number is, in the strict sense, seen as belonging to individuals. And even if the genus would be one in a different sense, it would not be receptive of contraries, for it is not a body that might take on heat or cold or any such things. Likewise, neither is a genus [receptive of contraries]. If anything, they are said to be productive of contraries or to be divided into contraries, I mean mortal and immortal, rational and irrational. Yet, if one examines the matter more carefully, these are not contraries, for contraries are destructive of one another, but these ground rather than destroy each other’s reality; for what is unqualifiedly rational and immortal grounds the reality of the irrational and the mortal. If then it does not belong to every substance, why on earth does he say that it is a distinctive feature of substance most of all? To this we say that of these six features that he presented as distinctive features of substance, the first, fourth and fifth belong to every substance but not only to substance. I mean the feature of not being in a subject, which also belongs to differentiae, and the fourth, not having anything contrary to itself, which also belongs to quantities, and further the fifth, I mean the feature of not admitting of a more or a less, which again belongs to quantities. Now the second feature, which was that of being said synonymously of everything it is said of, does not belong to

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substances alone, since it also belongs to differentiae, nor does it belong to all substances, for it does not belong to primary substances.182 But the third, signifying this something, and in addition the sixth, I mean being receptive of contraries while remaining the same and one in number, belong only to substances, although not to all. Of the four not even one plausibly sets substance apart, because they do not belong to substances alone. For no one would say that what belongs to something else as well, even if it is attached to the entire subject, was a distinctive feature of something; rather [he would say that] what belongs only [to that subject], even if not to all [is a distinctive feature of that subject]. But why of the two – the third and the sixth – does he prefer the sixth? This is because the former, I mean signifying this something, i.e. something singular in number, seemed to fit secondary substance in virtue of just the expression, while the latter seems to fit in virtue of the thing itself.183 Consequently, in order that we may show that the proposed distinctive feature fits every substance, by altering a little what was said before, we say the following: ‘What seems most of all to be a distinctive feature of the category of substance is that the individuals falling under it are receptive of contraries taken in turn.’ In this way this distinctive feature will be predicated of substance as a whole, and will fit none of the other [categories]. For neither the individuals in the category of quantity, e.g. ten, nor those in the category of quality, e.g. the white in this stone, are receptive of contraries taken in turn. 4a10 What seems most of all to be a distinctive feature of substance is being receptive of contraries while being the same and one in number.

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[He says] ‘one in number’ so that the same subject is preserved, and ‘the same’ so that it does not change in respect of its subsistence. For when a colour comes to be black from white, it changes with respect to its subsistence (it has its own subsistence by being white, so that when it changes to black, it changes with respect to its subsistence), but Socrates sometimes comes to be warm and sometimes cold while remaining one and the same; and it is in the same way for other cases. [He says] ‘receptive (dektikon) of contraries’ in order to point out the capacity for taking on contraries in turn. He did not say ‘receives contraries’ (since then there would be conflicting [features] in the same thing)

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but rather ‘receptive’ in order to point to the capacity, as we said. No such feature appears in the case of the other categories. But perhaps someone will say: ‘What about this? Is this crow also receptive of whiteness or this swan of blackness? Why then did he say they are receptive of contraries?’ We reply that if he had said that every substance is receptive of every set of contraries, the difficulty that arises both for the crow and for countless other things would be well grounded. For not even does white lead become black while remaining white lead, nor is fire receptive of cold or wetness while remaining fire, nor water of dryness, nor earth of lightness. But in fact he did not say ‘of all [contraries]’ but simply ‘of contraries’, and consequently, given that the crow does not receive whiteness and the swan blackness, still they do receive warmth and cold and other contrary qualities. Also, although fire does not receive cold and wetness or any of the qualities contrary to it, still it does receive downward movement imposed by force while tending by nature to move upward. What would we say about the sun and the moon and the heavenly bodies in general? Each of these, while being the same and one in number, is nevertheless not receptive of contraries, unless someone brings up opposed motions, because they are moved up from the east with the motion of the whole, while moving in the opposite direction in virtue of themselves. It is also possible to bring up, in the case of the seven planets, the motion from south to north, and, again, to bring up their shifting to the south, and the opposition of their motions away from the earth and toward the earth, as well as their conjunctions and separations, and in the case of the moon its illuminations and eclipses, so that only the fixed stars seem to be unreceptive of contraries. Returning to the previous way of considering this, we said that this feature belongs only to substances but not to all, for it does not belong to species and genera, but to individuals falling under them. But the unique things are not at all the kind of individuals that belong to genera or species, as the sun and the moon, and the entire heaven is something unique. Hence, Aristotle’s statement is not refuted even if the heavenly bodies were not receptive of contraries, for his statement concerns the individuals that fall under genera and species, and not all substances. And this feature belongs only to substances, although not to all, even if it does not belong to every individual [substance].

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4a22 Unless someone might object and say that a statement and a belief are of this sort; for the same statement seems to be both true and false. For example, given that the statement that someone is sitting is true, when that person stands up this same statement will be false.

He poses a certain difficulty for himself, one which it would be reasonable for someone to raise, and he solves it to the extent possible. For someone might wonder why he says that being receptive of contraries while being the same and one in number is a distinctive feature of substance alone. For obviously both an uttered statement and a belief, while remaining one and the same, are receptive of truth and falsity in turn. The statement which says ‘Socrates is sitting’, given that Socrates happens to be sitting, is true, but once he stands up the same statement is false. Likewise, the belief about Socrates’ sitting, given that he happens to be sitting, is correct, but once he stands up the same belief is false. Consequently, the same statement and the same belief, while remaining one and the same, are receptive of truth and falsity. He resolves this difficulty in two ways, by means of what is called the counter-­objection and by means of the objection. The counter-­objection is to concede the difficulty but to show that even if things are this way, this does not invalidate what was said. The objection is not to accept the difficulty at all but to refute it [by showing] that things are not as stated. He first resolves it by counter-­objection and says the following: ‘Even if one were to grant this, still there is a difference in the way [contraries are received]. For in the case of substances it is by themselves changing that they are receptive of contraries. For what has become cold from being hot has changed (it has been altered), and also [what has become] black from being white, or good from being bad. Similarly in other cases too it is by itself undergoing change that each [thing] is receptive of contraries. But statements and beliefs themselves remain completely unchanged in every way; rather, it is because the thing [itself] changes that the contrary comes to belong to them.’184 Even if we agree, he says, that the statement is receptive of contraries, still it will not receive contraries in the same way as a substance. For the substance becomes cold from being hot, and black from being white, by itself changing, and this holds also for the other contraries. But the statement, while remaining unchanged, received truth or falsity by the change of the thing [referred to].

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For when Socrates is sitting, the statement that he is sitting becomes true, but once he stands up it becomes false. Thus Socrates is the one who undergoes change, while the statement remains unchanged. This is all quite reasonable, for truth and falsity are neither in statements alone nor in the things alone; rather, they are in the fitting of statements to the things. For just as the act of strapping on a shoe is observed neither in the foot alone nor in the shoe, but rather in the fitting of the shoe to the foot, so also truth resides in the fitting of a statement to the things. We will say the same about beliefs, for also this belief, while remaining unchanged, is said to be true or false by the thing undergoing change. Consequently, in this manner this is a distinctive feature of substance, for a substance is receptive of contraries in one way, and a statement and a belief in another way. 4b4 Even if one were to grant that statements and beliefs are receptive of contraries.

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And this is the way it goes when approached through counter-­objection. Now he sets about to solve the difficulty through objection in the following way. 4b5 However, this is not true.

That is, it is not true to say that either statements or beliefs are receptive of contraries, for neither the statement nor the belief are changed in any way by anything. Consequently, they would not be receptive of contraries, for a substance is changed by a qualitative change in receiving contraries, while neither of these is changed by something else. The statement is not responsible for the thing’s changing (i.e. its being changed into contraries) nor does the thing, by being changed, change anything about the statement, for the statement, being unchanged, stays the same, since it is not affected by anything. For what receives contraries is affected (for a change to a contrary is an affection), and what is affected is changed, for affection is a change. If, then, an uttered statement does not persist but rather is destroyed at the very same time it is spoken, it is evident that it is not changed either (for how will what does not exist be changed?). If it is not changed, neither is it affected, but if it is not affected, neither does it receive contraries. If anything, we will say that it is the statement that is the same in form, which receives the contraries, and not the one that is the same in number. And we will say the same in the case of a belief.

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4b17 Thus the distinctive feature of substance would be that what is the same and one in number is receptive of contraries by virtue of a change in itself.

Through the discussion of these things, where he shows that a statement is not receptive of contraries while remaining one and the same, he draws the conclusion that this feature belongs to substance alone. And he has correctly added ‘by virtue of a change in itself ’, for those things [i.e. statements and beliefs] do not receive contraries by virtue of a change in themselves but rather by the thing’s changing, while a substance comes to be receptive of contraries by itself undergoing qualitative change.

Notes Some notes were supplied by Richard Sorabji, and some by the readers thanked in the Acknowledgements for offering comments on the translation. The majority were supplied by Riin Sirkel in consultation with her fellow translators. 1 Philoponus refers to his now lost commentary on Porphyry’s Introduction (Isagôgê). As to what Porphyry’s Introduction is introducing, Philoponus would presumably give the same answer as Ammonius (in Isag. 20,15–21; 22,23–4; 24,16–17): it is an introduction to Aristotle’s Categories. So why does Philoponus speak of Introductions in the plural? He might be referring to an introduction to philosophy as a whole, which introduced his commentary on Porphyry’s Introduction. However, Philoponus refers to this work in the plural also at 12,19 and 32,32 (‘Porphyry says in Introductions . . .’), so this might be the way he refers to Porphyry’s work. 2 Similar lists of questions recur, with differences in order and emphasis, in other Neoplatonic commentaries on the Categories. Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 1,3–12; Simplicius in Cat. 3,18–29; Olympiodorus Proleg. 1,15–24; David (Elias) in Cat. 107,5–23. For a further discussion, see I. Hadot, Simplicius. Commentaire sur les Catégories, Leiden: Brill 1990, ch. 1. 3 Philoponus does not refer here to the main topics he has just listed, but to another list of main topics to be discussed prior to each of Aristotle’s treatises. As Philoponus explains at 7,1–3, these topics are six in number: the aim of the treatise, its utility, the reason for its title, its place in the order of reading, the division into chapters (or rather into main topics discussed in the treatise), and the authenticity of the treatise. Thus, he uses the term kephalaia to refer to the tenfold list of main topics that pertain to the whole of Aristotle’s philosophy, as well as the sixfold list of main topics that pertain to each of Aristotle’s treatises. 4 Here there is a lacuna in the text. 5 According to Philoponus, then, the Platonists get their name from Plato, whereas the Academics get their name from the place where Xenocrates taught, sc. Plato’s Academy. It is a little odd to say that the Academics were named after the place where Xenocrates taught, since Plato obviously taught there as well. But presumably the emphasis is on the Academics’ being the followers of Xenocrates, who, then, taught in Plato’s Academy. See also n. 10.

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6 As Philoponus indicates at 2,19–20, the word ephektikos derives from epekhein, ‘to withhold (sc. one’s judgement)’, and so ephektikoi may be translated as ‘the suspenders of judgement’. S.M. Cohen and G.B. Matthews (Ammonius: On Aristotle Categories, London/Ithaca, NY: Duckworth/Cornell University Press 1991, p. 10) translate ephektikoi as ‘undecided’, and M. Chase (Simplicius: On Aristotle Categories 1–4, London/Ithaca, NY: Duckworth/Cornell University Press 2003, p. 19) leaves the term untranslated. The ephektikoi, as well as the Academics, are the Sceptics, and the following discussion suggests that Philoponus includes among ephektikoi Pyrrho and his followers, as well as Heraclitus and his followers. See also Hadot (Simplicius. Commentaire sur les Catégories, p. 58), who groups under ephektikoi also the followers of the sophist Protagoras. 7 Philoponus makes a mistake here. Heraclitus of Ephesus (c. 540–500 BC) could not be the student of Pyrrho of Elis (c. 360–270 BC). Further, the claim he ascribes to Pyrrho is traditionally ascribed to Heraclitus (Plato Cratylus 402A), and the claim he ascribes to Heraclitus is traditionally ascribed to Cratylus (Aristotle Metaph. 1010a13). See Hadot (Simplicius. Commentaire sur les Catégories, p. 58), who ascribes this mistake to Philoponus’ inattentiveness when taking notes from Ammonius’ lectures. 8 This is not a citation from any surviving passage in Plato’s dialogues. Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 2,10ff. and David (Elias) in Cat. 109,24ff., who also criticise the Sceptics. As Chase explains, the reason why the Neoplatonic commentators subjected the ephektikoi to criticisms and refutations may be that ‘the view was still current in the Commentators’ period . . . that Plato himself had held Ephectic views, as was argued by the Middle Academics; our Commentators are anxious to destroy this view by showing Plato’s opposition to their tenets’ (Simplicius: On Aristotle Categories 1–4, p. 98 n. 44). 9 See Plato Republic 376A. 10 Aristotle’s followers, the Peripatetics (Peripatêtikoi), are said to have discussed philosophy while walking about (peripatein) with him in the garden of the Lyceum, a practice which Aristotle, as Philoponus says, adopted from Plato. Ammonius gives a more detailed explanation: ‘The schools are also named after something accidental, as with the Peripatetics. For since Plato walked while he taught, wishing to exercise his body, lest its deterioration be an obstacle to his mental activities, his successors – that is to say, Xenocrates and Aristotle – were named Peripatetics. Of these, Aristotle taught at the Lyceum and Xenocrates at the Academy. But later on, the place was omitted and the followers of Aristotle were called Peripatetics after the activity of their teacher, whereas in the case of the followers of Xenocrates, it was the activity

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that was omitted and they were called Academics after the place’ (in Cat. 3,8–16, tr. Cohen and Matthews). 11 Investigations (historiai) about animals presumably refers to Aristotle’s biological works, e.g. History of Animals, Generation of Animals and Parts of Animals. 12 As Chase explains, ‘a hupomnêma, as its name implies (mnêmê being the Greek word for “memory”), is something written as an aide-­mémoire; it can vary in extent from notes to extensive commentaries’, while ‘a suntagma (from the verb suntattein “to arrange, draw up in order”) was a book or treatise; thus the adjective suntagmatikos means “having the nature of a (publishable) treatise” ’ (Simplicius: On Aristotle Categories 1–4, pp. 99–100 nn. 54, 56). Philoponus does not give us examples of ‘reminder notes’, but since he says (at 4,3–6) that these notes serve merely as an ‘aid to memory’ in composing one’s treatises, he would presumably agree with Simplicius (in Cat. 4,17–18) that they are not worthy of our attention. 13 According to Philoponus (in Cat. 4,15–22; in Phys. 705,17–23), the distinction between exoteric and esoteric writings is one between works intended for ordinary people (non-­philosophers) and those intended for the members of the school. Accordingly, akroamatika could be translated as ‘school works’, i.e. works directed to genuine students (‘listeners’), and exôterika could be translated as ‘popular’. Philoponus, like Ammonius, wants to reject the view (presumably Alexander’s) that in exoteric works, i.e. dialogues, Aristotle does not express his own views; they say that he does, but more superficially and without relying on demonstrative arguments. Ammonius is very explicit about this: ‘Some say that dialogues are also called popular because Aristotle does not openly exhibit his own aim in them but rather models his discussions after those of other people. But this is false. They are called popular because Aristotle wrote [them] for those who understand superficially. The philosopher deliberately used a clearer style in these works and his proofs are not so much demonstrative as they are plausible, [deriving] from received opinions’ (in Cat. 4,20–5, tr. Cohen and Matthews). 14 Presumably Philoponus means that On Generation of Animals both treats animals in general and also deals with the particulars of how each of them is generated. So the contrast hê men . . . hê de might refer to different books in what we now know as On Generation of Animals. 15 See n. 45. 16 Logic is not treated as part of philosophy, but rather as an instrument (organon). This also explains why Philoponus calls logical works ‘instrumental’. 17 Philoponus is here illustrating the claim that mathematical objects are inseparable from matter, and so we can employ visual diagrams and drawings. So although

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geometry treats lines regardless of what matter they appear in, still they do exist in matter. 18 Boethus of Sidon, student of Andronicus of Rhodes and presumably his successor as the head of the Peripatetic school in Athens, was active in the second half of the first century BC. 19 Andronicus of Rhodes, who was active in the first half of the first century BC, is credited with producing the complete edition of Aristotle’s works. The ordering, which Andronicus made of Aristotle’s works, appears to be the one which forms the basis of our present editions, and in his ordering the logical works come first. For a further discussion, see M. Griffin (Aristotle’s Categories in the Early Roman Empire, Oxford University Press, forthcoming), who argues that Andronicus played something of an original role in asserting the importance of logic in Peripateticism. 20 Philoponus’ own view on the order in which Aristotle’s works should to be read is not entirely clear, but he seems to think that we should begin with the logical works, after we have set our characters in order without the aid of ethical works. That is, some sort of ethical training is required before delving into logic, but it does not require reading ethical treatises. For all of Aristotle’s treatises, Philoponus says, use demonstrations, but setting our characters in order does not require familiarity with demonstrations (it can be accomplished through ‘right opinion’). Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 6,1–9 and Simplicius in Cat. 6,1–2, who claims that preliminary ethical instruction should be provided ‘through habituation and non-­technical exhortations’. 21 Philoponus refers here to the Neoplatonic First Principle, which is commonly identified as the One, the Good, or God, although strictly speaking it can be described only through negations, see 51,26–9. In the following paragraph, Philoponus associates it with Aristotle’s unmoved mover. 22 This is an allusion to the Chaldean Oracles, fr. 176, literally ‘don’t leap over the threshold’. It is used by the Commentators to warn against missing a step or stage in an orderly procedure, particularly in the context of philosophical education. 23 Philoponus quotes a part of the sentence from Ennead 1.3.3. This quotation is common among the Commentators, e.g. Proclus in Eucl. 21,21; Ammonius in Isag. 12,24; Philoponus in DA 3,12. 24 In fact, obscurity was also used by the Commentators as an argument for authenticity. For example, Olympiodorus (in Meteor. 4,16–18) responds to those who argue that Meteorology could not be a work of Aristotle because of its clarity by noting that there is a great deal of obscurity in this work and so it must be Aristotle’s. 25 The reference is most likely to the Delphic oracle.

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26 Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 7,17–20: ‘For just as an archer, for example, has a mark toward which he shoots and which he wants to hit, so also a writer has some end in view, which he is eager to attain’ (tr. Cohen and Matthews). 27 Eudemus of Rhodes, Phanias, and Theophrastus (both of Lesbos) were immediate students of Aristotle in the second half of the fourth century BC. Aristotle chose Theophrastus as his successor at Lyceum, where he presided until his death in 287 BC. Eudemus returned to Rhodes after Aristotle’s death, where he founded his own school, while Phanias does not seem to have founded a school of his own. 28 Ptolemy Philadelphus (308–246 BC) was the second post-Alexandrian ruler of Egypt. He was the founder of the famous library at Alexandria, and was not always scrupulous in the way he obtained books for it. 29 Simplicius explains this analogy in greater detail: ‘The division of books into chapters (kephalaia), which cuts up [a work], as it were, according to its articulations, imitates the anatomical theory [in use] among doctors. Just as anatomy uses dissection to discover the usefulness which each limb contributes to the whole, providing us with more accurate knowledge of the composite whole by laying bare the simple [parts], so dividing a work brings the whole better into view, and presents the usefulness of each element toward the overall goal’ (in Cat. 8,25–30, tr. Chase). See also Ammonius in Cat. 8,6–11; David (Elias) in Cat. 128,28–129,1. 30 Aristotle Top. 100a18–20; 100b18. 31 Aristotle Top. 101a25–8. 32 The Commentators offer similar versions of the three interpretations of the aim of Categories, i.e. the aim concerns either expressions or things or concepts, but they confusingly assign different sources for the different interpretations. Philoponus ascribes to Alexander of Aphrodisias the view that Categories is about expressions, whereas Olympiodorus (in Cat. 18,31; 19,17ff.) ascribes to Alexander the view that it is about concepts – a view that Philoponus attributes to Porphyry. Simplicius (in Cat. 10,8–19) ascribes to Alexander a ‘more complete’ view that the aim concerns things, expressions, and concepts – a view that Philoponus attributes to Iamblichus. On Alexander and his influence, see the Introduction above. 33 Aristotle Cat. 1a16–17. 34 The view that Categories concerns things alone, which Philoponus ascribes to Eusthathius, David (Elias) (in Cat. 129,11–130,8) ascribes to Herminus. That Categories is about entities (ta onta) was also the view of Plotinus (Enneads 6.1–3), which underlies his criticism that Categories is incomplete in that it does not include intelligible entities, e.g. Platonic Forms. Porphyry addressed his teacher’s criticism by arguing that Categories is not supposed to be a classification of entities

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as such. Rather, it concerns ‘simple significant expressions insofar as they signify things’ (in Cat. 58,3–6), and the things primarily signified by expressions are not intelligible entities, but sensible ones that we encounter in perception (in Cat. 91,7–9). On Porphyry’s view, see G. Karamanolis, Plato and Aristotle in Agreement? Platonists on Aristotle from Antiochus to Porphyry, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2006, pp. 312–18. 35 Aristotle Cat. 1a20. 36 Ammonius (in Cat. 9,7–15) and David (Elias) (in Cat. 129,10–11) also ascribe to Porphyry the view that Categories is about concepts alone. Simplicius, on the other hand, says that in his question-­and-answer commentary on Categories (as well as in his now lost commentary To Gedalius), Porphyry says that Categories is about ‘simple words significant of realities (pragmata), qua significant, and not qua simple expressions’ (10,22–3, tr. Chase). 37 For the meaning of ‘after the many’, see n. 146. 38 That is, near the end of Aristotle’s discussion of the categories, at Cat. 11b15. 39 Porphyry emphasises that Categories concerns expressions that signify things, while his student Iamblichus is reported (Olympiodorus in Cat. 28,25–8) to have made the qualification that signification works through concepts (noêmata). However, this qualification is implicit already in Porphyry (in Cat. 57,8–58,20), and Simplicius (in Cat. 13,12–18) ascribes to Porphyry (as well as to Iamblichus and Alexander) the view that Categories is about all three, i.e. things, expressions, and concepts. 40 Bodies impede communication with other minds. Cf. Philoponus Against Proclus 77,15–24; Augustine On Genesis against the Manichaeans 2.21.32; Augustine City of God 22.29. 41 In other words, every scientific syllogism is a syllogism without qualification, but not vice versa. 42 Katêgoriai means, literally, ‘the predications’, or ‘the predicables’. But it also has a pre-­philosophical meaning, ‘accusation’. 43 Porphyry Isagôgê 7,8–19. 44 As Cohen and Matthews note (Ammonius: On Aristotle Categories, p. 20 n. 18), this is a running together of the opening of Categories with 1a20ff. As Chase further explains (relying on P. Moraux), the second Categories might be a paraphrase of some first-­century BC scholar, who had been displeased at the abruptness of the discussion of synonyms, homonyms, etc. at the beginning of Categories, and tried to provide a more satisfactory introduction to this discussion (Simplicius: On Aristotle Categories 1–4, p. 111 n. 210). 45 It is reasonably clear that Philoponus does not use here kephalaia to refer to the chapters of the book (as does Simplicius in Cat. 18,22ff.), but to the main topics

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discussed in this book (to what Simplicius calls at 19,9 a division into ‘large parts’). This tripartite division was popularised by medieval authors, who called these three parts praepraedicamenta, praedicamenta and postpraedicamenta. 46 The ascent and the descent are considered in relation to the same ladder, and the seed and the fruit are considered in relation to the same grain. The ascent and descent as examples of heteronyms goes back to Clement of Alexandria, and started out as a reference to Heraclitus B60. See J. Pépin, ‘Clément d’Alexandrie, les Catégories d’Aristote et le fragment 60 d’Héraclite’, in P. Aubenque (ed.) Concepts et catégories dans la pensée antique, Paris: Vrin 1980, pp. 271–84. 47 A paroxytone is a word that has an acute accent on its penultimate syllable. 48 An oxytone is a word that has an acute accent on its last syllable. 49 Argos is the name of Odysseus’ dog (Odyssey 17.292), and of several characters in Greek mythology. Philoponus might have in mind the son of Zeus and Niobe from whom the country afterwards called Argolis and all Peloponnesus derived the name of Argos. It is also the name of the city in Argolis (to Argos), the domain of Diomedes (Iliad 2.559; 6.224; 14.119; Odyssey 3.180; 15.224; 21.108). 50 A barytone is a word that has the last syllable unaccented. 51 Legetai is the third person singular, and legontai is the third person plural of the verb ‘to call’. 52 That is, they are one insofar as they have the same name. 53 Aristotle’s teaching of homonyms proceeds in terms of expressions ‘only’, ‘common’, and ‘name’, which are all said in many senses. 54 The scalpel and drug are called medical (iatros) after medicine (iatrikê [tekhnê]). 55 The gymnasium and food are called healthy because health is their goal. 56 See Simplicius in Cat. 23,13–20. 57 The contrast here is with expressions. Philoponus makes it explicit that for Aristotle homonyms are things, not merely expressions. 58 Plato Sophist 218C. 59 Homer Iliad 17.720. 60 Aristotle An. Post. 24b16. 61 Aristotle Int. 17a33. 62 Or, more literally, ‘I am erotically affected’. 63 Aristotle Int. 16b19–20. 64 According to Philoponus, we can describe things through their accidental features, and that is why we can describe all things. Definitions, on the other hand, are more demanding. They proceed in terms of genus and differentiae, so when one of these components is lacking (as in the case of the highest genera which cannot be subsumed under a higher genus), we cannot give a definition. See also Ammonius in Isag. 54,23–55,2.

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Notes to pages 58–63

65 Cf. Philoponus in GC 211,22ff., which suggests that onkos is likely to mean ‘mass’ here (but it can also mean ‘barb’). 66 A word contains a ‘pure’ (katharos) syllable when the penultimate syllable ends in a vowel and the following syllable begins with a vowel, e.g. Aias (Ajax). 67 In the paragraph that precedes this one, Philoponus showed that in respect of the name ‘Ajax’, Ajaxes are homonyms, and in respect of the name ‘homonym’, Ajaxes are synonyms. So homonyms are sometimes synonyms. Now he shows that in another sense homonyms are never synonyms. A name and definition that are predicated of synonyms belong to them in virtue of themselves (as something of their own). Given this restriction, Ajaxes are no longer synonyms in respect of ‘homonym’, since neither the name ‘homonym’ nor its definition hold of them in virtue of themselves. Rather, they hold of a given Ajax only in virtue of a relationship he bears to something else (namely, the other Ajax). 68 The difference between these homonyms and those that are paronyms with what they come from is that in the former case homonyms get their name from something that bears the same name (e.g. someone called ‘Plato’ gets his name from Plato), while in the latter case there is a difference in the final syllable between homonyms and that from which they get their name (iatrikos is named after iatrikê [tekhnê]). 69 Philoponus himself made this claim at 17,12–13. 70 Aristotle does not draw the form-­matter distinction in Categories, and it is far from obvious how definitions in terms of (matter and) form relate to definitions in terms of genus and differentiae. 71 Aristotle DA 403a29ff. 72 The distinction between zôion einai and zôiôi einai marks a distinction between the being of an animal (to be an animal is to be composed of matter and form), and the formal cause of being an animal (form is that in virtue of which an animal is an animal, what makes an animal to be what it is). 73 This is Simplicius’ view at in Cat. 37,1ff. 74 These two forms do not indicate Greek woman and Greek man, but are genitive cases of Helénê, Helen of Troy and Hélenos, the son of King Priam of Troy. The genitive case is chosen to equalise the accents. 75 Homer Iliad 16.31. 76 It is used in both cases because both wicked as well as virtuous people can be serious. 77 Here there is a lacuna in the text. Olympiodorus adds the following: ‘Through these words Aristotle hinted at [these] four things: through saying “from something”, he indicated to us the commonality and difference with respect to the thing (for what comes from something necessarily agrees with, and differs from,

Notes to pages 63–70

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that from which it is), through saying “with a difference in ending” he indicated to us the difference with respect to the name, while through saying “gets its name [from something]” he made clear the commonality with respect to the name’ (in Cat. 40,17–24). 78 Ptôsis can mean any grammatical modification, or, more specifically, the case endings of nouns and adjectives. Philoponus says that Aristotle uses the word to indicate change in the final syllable. Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 23,22–4: ‘What the Philosopher calls ptôsis is the variation of the last syllable and not, as the grammarians [use the term], the difference between the nominative and the genitive and dative’ (tr. Cohen and Matthews). 79 Aristotle Cat. 1a20. 80 See 10,25ff. 81 Namely, those said in combination and those said without combination. 82 Philoponus is referring to the tenfold division of categories in Categories 4. The fourfold division is produced by combining ‘(said) of ’ and ‘in’ relations, while the tenfold division involves no such combining. 83 See 6,20ff.; cf. 4,9–22. 84 Aphuktos, literally, ‘from which there is no escape’. 85 Philoponus’ discussion of two kinds of contraries follows (though also goes beyond) Aristotle’s discussion in Categories 10. 86 On the one hand, odd and even are not contradictories, for it is not the case that everything is either odd or even (only numbers are odd or even). On the other hand, they are not contraries either, at least in the strict sense, since they do not admit of intermediates. Cf. 75,19–22, where Philoponus says that although odd and even are contraries, they do not admit of a more or a less. Here he seems to want to reserve the term ‘contrary’ for those admitting of intermediates. 87 Adolph Busse, the modern editor of the anonymously edited commentary in Cat., says in his introduction (CAG vol. 4) that, since only the divine is mentioned but never angels, Philoponus must be adding something. 88 Plato Sophist 235C. 89 Supplying phêsi gar kath’ hupokeimenou tinos legetai at 31,17, as Busse suggests. 90 That is: (1) of a subject but not in a subject, (2) in a subject but not of a subject, (3) both of a subject and in a subject, (4) neither in a subject nor of a subject. 91 Aristotle mentions first at 1a20 the universal substance man, because it is more worthy and is the object of knowledge. This is a Platonist interpretation of Aristotle, and does not represent Philoponus’ own view of universals as existing only in the mind, for which see the Introduction above. Dexippus in Cat. 45,3 read priority for common items (koina) into Aristotle Phys. 184a23. Even though Neoplatonists were rejecting Aristotle’s view, of Metaph. 987b1–10, that Plato’s

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Notes to pages 70–71

Forms were universals, Philoponus’ teacher Ammonius, at in Isag. 41,21–42,7, understood that universals exist in the guise of genera and species, in the mind of the divine creator of the world, the demiurge of Plato Timaeus 39E. So he still felt a need to offset Aristotle’s claim in his Categories that individuals are the primary substances by suggesting that Aristotle offers a different view elsewhere. The idea that Aristotle elsewhere puts the universal first recurs in 50,4–14 and 52,4–53,13 (see n. 128), and will have been part of Ammonius’ teaching to Philoponus.   Alexander was already aware before the Neoplatonists that Plato’s Forms were no longer regarded as universals, in Metaph. 1,50,7–15, as R. Sirkel has pointed out, ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Account of Universals and its Problems’, Journal of the History of Philosophy 49 (2011) pp. 297–314, at 305. On Neoplatonist hedging about universality of Forms, see the Introduction above and R. Sorabji, The Philosophy of the Commentators 200–600 AD: A Sourcebook, London: Duckworth 2004, vol. 3, 5(a); id., ‘Universals Transformed, the First Thousand Years after Plato’, in P.F. Strawson and A. Chakrabarti (eds) Universals, Concepts and Qualities, London: Ashgate 2006, ch. 7; R. Chiaradonna, ‘Plotino e la teoria degli universali. Enn. VI 3 [44],9’, in V. Celluprica and C. D’Ancona (eds) Aristotele e i suoi esegetici neoplatonici, Naples: Bibliopolis 2004, pp. 1–35; id., ‘Porphyry and Iamblichus on Universals and Synonymous Predication’, Documenti e studi sulla tradizione filosofica medievale 18 (2007) pp. 123–40; id., ‘ “Alexander, Boethus and the Other Peripatetics”: The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, in R. Chiaradonna and G. Galluzzo (eds) Universals in Ancient Philosophy, Pisa: Edizioni della Scuola Normale Superiore 2013, pp. 299–328. 92 Constitutive (sustatikai) differentiae. Cf. 68,8: ‘Differentiae are completive (sumplêrôtikai)’, i.e. complete the substance. Their status is discussed by Philoponus below at 64,9–67,17, on which see n. 161. The passages urge that Aristotle considered the differentia of a substance to be itself a substance, but although the differentia that differentiates one species from another completes the species, in the individual a completive quality is a part of a substance, not a differentia of it. Porphyry in Cat. 95,17–20 had been inclined to classify differentiae as substantial qualities (ousiôdeis poiotêtes, for which see F. de Haas, John Philoponus’ New Definition of Prime Matter, Leiden: Brill 1997, pp. 223–37), without denying that they were substances. R. Chiaradonna points to a basis for Porphyry’s substantial qualities in Aristotle Metaph. 1020b13–17, and shows that Plotinus was much more undecided than his pupil Porphyry on how to classify differentiae. He points to J. Ellis, ‘Alexander’s Defence of Aristotle’s Categories’, Phronesis 39 (1994) pp. 69–89, for the idea of completive already being known to Lucius, a critic of the Aristotelians in the first century BC.

Notes to pages 71–72

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93 For Aristotle’s discussion of the many ways ‘one thing is in another’ (allo en allôi), see Phys. 4.3, 210a14–24. Cf. Philoponus in Phys. 526,10–529,18. 94 Philoponus’ reason for holding that the genus is not in the species in the same way as the whole is in its parts is that the whole depends for its existence upon all of its parts (when even one part is eliminated, the whole is maimed), whereas the genus does not depend in the same way upon the species for its existence. From this it follows that the genus can exist without any given species (it does not face an existential crisis when one of the species is eliminated). Does it follow that the genus can exist without any species whatsoever? This would require an additional argument which Philoponus does not here provide. Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 29,19–21: ‘[A] whole is not preserved without all of its proper parts, whereas a genus is preserved when even one species or one individual is preserved’ (tr. Cohen and Matthews; my emphasis). In what sense, then, is genus in the species? As Philoponus explains in Phys. 528,25–529,7, the genus is in the species in the sense of being included in the definition of the species, e.g. animal is included in the definition of a human being, for a human being is defined as a rational mortal animal. 95 In other words, the rulers have power or control over their subjects. Cf. Philoponus in Phys. 529,8–9: ‘for the ruler is the productive (poiêtikos) cause of political affairs’. 96 Porphyry Isagôgê 8,1–2. 97 These so-­called differentiae (‘not belonging as a part’ and ‘cannot be separately from what it is in’) distinguish the intended sense of being ‘in something’, namely the eleventh one (being ‘in a subject’), from all the others. Philoponus claims that the first differentia (‘not belonging as a part’) distinguishes (11) from (1) and (3), and the second differentia (‘cannot be separately from what it is in’) distinguishes (11) from the rest. However, as we will see, to distinguish (11) from (2) and (8), as well as from (5) and (6), is a little more complicated than Philoponus’ confident claim might lead us to expect. 98 Philoponus’ response to this objection is quite interesting. He does not reply by pointing out that Socrates can exist without being in a place in which he is, in that he can move to another place and still exist (for this response, see Porphyry in Cat. 79,20–2; Ammonius in Cat. 27,21–3). His response is more subtle. He admits that bodies like Socrates do not exist without being in some place or another (place and time follow Socrates around like shadows). Yet, he insists that being in a place or time does not contribute to Socrates’ subsistence, whereby he seems to have in mind essential being. Socrates can be what he is (sc. mortal rational animal) independently of being in a place or time (these are irrelevant for his subsistence). Accidents, on the other hand, cannot be what they are without bodies. This

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Notes to pages 72–74

suggests that ‘cannot be separately from what it is in’ does not simply mean ‘cannot exist separately from what it is in’, but also ‘cannot be what it is separately from what it is in’. If so, then this requirement (or ‘differentia’) would help to distinguish (11) from (5) and (6). 99 Philoponus emphasises again that the whole is in all its parts together, and suggests that this is why the definition of being ‘in a subject’ does not apply to ‘whole in its parts’. Aristotle says that what is in a subject is ‘in something’ (en tini, where tini is singular), whereas whole is in some things (en tisin, where tisin is plural). So, strictly speaking, ‘whole in its parts’ should not be included among the ways of being ‘in something’ at all. Philoponus grants this and says that it is included only because the whole cannot exist without its parts (i.e. it is among the things that ‘cannot be separately from what it is in’). 100 Porphyry Isagôgê 8,2. 101 To reiterate, the objection is that this definition of being ‘in a subject’ applies also to form because form is in matter, not belonging as a part, and cannot be separately from it. On this definition, then, form turns out to be an accident. Philoponus’ response is that although form is not part of the matter, it is nonetheless part of the composite, enmattered thing. This response suggests that Philoponus associates being ‘in a subject’ with being in some composite thing; cf. 50,1. If so, then we can say that this definition does not apply to form because form is part of the composite (i.e. it fails to satisfy the requirement of ‘not belonging as a part’). Further, Philoponus says that form completes the substance of each thing, which, in turn, suggests that he associates completing the substance of each thing with being a part of that thing. For this suggestion, see M. Chase (Simplicius: On Aristotle Categories 1–4, p. 129 n. 484). 102 Aristotle lists ‘form in matter’ as one of the ways in which ‘one thing is in another’ in Phys. 210a21. Philoponus is saying that if Aristotle had given a similar list in Categories, he would not have mentioned ‘form in matter’ because in this work his concern is with composite substances as these are most familiar to ordinary people. 103 In other words, although the existence of separable accidents is not tied to one particular subject, they cannot exist without any subject whatsoever. In what follows, Philoponus gives fragrance as an example of an accident that is considered to be separable from its subject, but one might think that all universal accidents are of this sort. 104 Here Aristotle gets into a clash between his logic and his psychology. His logic here at Cat. 1a25 requires an apple’s fragrance to be inseparable from (bits of) the apple, but the psychology at DA 2.7, 419a25–35, wants the sense of smell to work at a distance, without bits of apple reaching it. Philoponus’ in DA is later (see the

Notes to pages 74–80

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Introduction above), referring back to his in Cat. at 391,32. It recognises Aristotle’s requirement that smell should work at a distance (‘incorporeally’), 391,38–392,3. So what happens to the earlier in Cat. solution that bits of apple reach all the way to the organ of smell? Ingeniously, Philoponus in DA says that what needs to reach the organ of smell incorporeally is not the fragrance, but the activity (energeia) of the fragrance, which can presumably happen, whether or not bits of apple have reached the sense organ. See J. Ellis, ‘The Trouble with Fragrance’, Phronesis 35 (1990) pp. 290–302; R. Sorabji, ‘From Aristotle to Brentano: The Development of the Concept of Intentionality’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy (suppl. vol. 1991) pp. 227–59, at 234–5. 105 Philoponus envisages the following syllogism: (1) A human being is an animal; (2) Socrates is a human being; so (3) Socrates is an animal. Here ‘human being’ is the middle term, i.e. the term shared by the premises. 106 Philoponus may have in mind the following example: if trisyllabic is predicated of human being, and human being is predicated of Agamemnon, then trisyllabic is predicated of Agamemnon. This is obviously false, and thus the principle ‘when one thing is predicated of another as of a subject, all things said of what is predicated will be said of the subject also’ does not apply to just any predication, but only to essential predication. This is what Aristotle wants to emphasise, Philoponus says, by adding ‘of a subject’. Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 31,2–12; Simplicius in Cat. 51,30ff. 107 Inserting dia touto to men empsukhon kai to aisthêtikon katêgoreitai tou anthrôpou, ouketi de to genos ê to disullabon at 39,5 as Busse suggests. 108 The disparate (heterogenê) or completely different (pantêi hetera) genera have no genus in common and are not subordinate one to the other. For example, animal and knowledge are not species of the same genus, and neither is the species of the other. The constitutive differentiae constitute the genus (e.g. living in the case of animals), and divisive differentiae divide the genus into species (e.g. rational and irrational). For this distinction, see Porphyry Isagôgê 10,3–21. 109 To pezon, walking or footed, differentiates terrestrial animals from birds and sea creatures. Philoponus takes to pezon to be a differentia derived from the place of living (rather than from bodily parts), and thus it would be more appropriate to translate it as ‘terrestrial’ (rather than ‘footed’). 110 Aristotle arrived at the fourfold division by combining ‘(said) of ’ and ‘in’ relations, whereas his tenfold division of categories does not involve any combination. 111 The definition of a human being, as any other definition, proceeds in terms of genus and differentiae, e.g. mortal rational animal. So the definition is complex, while the thing defined is simple. Cf. 14,10.

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Notes to pages 80–85

112 Cf. Simplicius in Cat. 64,13–18. He treats it as one of the objections against Aristotle’s categories, namely, that the number of categories is deficient, and says that this objection was raised by the followers of Nicostratus. 113 Supplying to sôma gar ekhein legetai hoplon ê himation at 44,10, as Busse suggests. 114 Philoponus sees ‘being had’ (ekhesthai) and ‘being positioned’ (keisthai) as synonymous, e.g. to say that a cloak is had by someone and that it is positioned in a certain way on someone (i.e. someone is wearing it) is to say the same thing. Thus there is no need for a separate category. 115 Peripatô, first person singular, meaning ‘I walk’. In Greek, person and number of verbs are indicated by their inflection, and pronouns are not needed. 116 See Dexippus in Cat. 33,21–34,2; Simplicius in Cat. 65,13ff; also Philoponus at 66,30. For unit and point not being an actuality or nature, cf. Aristotle Metaph. 7.3, 1044a5–9. 117 Simplicius ascribes this view to Alexander of Aphrodisias in Cat. 65,17–18, but then at 65,24ff. he reports that for Alexander ‘it is possible to posit the unit as a part of the quantified’. See also Dexippus in Cat. 33,27–8, who ascribes to Alexander the view that the unit should be placed under the category of quantity. 118 Aristotle Cat. 8a32. 119 See n. 165. 120 See Dexippus in Cat. 33,8–21; Simplicius in Cat. 65,2–13. 121 See Plotinus Enneads 6.3.21,3–9. For Dexippus’ and Simplicius’ solutions, see in Cat. 66,16–67,8 and in Cat. 34,3–24, respectively. 122 Aristotle Cat. 15a23. 123 Aristotle’s criterion for the primacy of the category of substance is the one-­way dependence of other categories on it, not of it on other categories. This is put in terms of its being co-­introduced by the other categories (since they presuppose it), and co-­destroying the other categories (since they cannot survive if it is destroyed). See J. Barnes, Porphyry: Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2003, pp. 248–53. Dexippus in Cat. 45,12–31, following Iamblichus, criticises the use of this criterion by Aristotelians to argue also for the priority of particulars over universals. See Chiaradonna, ‘The Theory of Universals in the Aristotelian Commentators’, pp. 299–328.   The co-­destruction test evidently produced different results according to whether one thought of universals as requiring at least two particulars and so being dependent on them, or as being merely capable of belonging to more than one particular, or as being causally responsible for particulars and so having them as dependants. It also mattered whether universals were being compared with the totality of species or individuals falling under them, or with a smaller selection.

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124 Contrary to the implication here, Alexander, in his lost Physics commentary, re-­discovered in substantial fragments by Marwan Rashed (Alexandre d’Aphrodise. Commentaire perdu à la Physique d’Aristote (livres IV-VIII), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2011), denies in the case of a form’s being in something that that this inherence disqualifies it from being a substance. See his ‘Boethus’ Aristotelian Ontology’, in M. Schofield (ed.) Aristotle, Plato and Pythagoreanism in the First Century BC, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2013, pp. 53–77. 125 Philoponus does not add ‘not’ (ouk) before ‘necessary’: ousias gar ousês anankê tas allas einai katêgorias, mê ousês de adunaton esti tas allas hupostênai. But if he intends to say that ‘if substances exist, it is necessary that there are the other categories’, then this conflicts with his previous claim at 49,10 that substances do not need others for their existence. For now he seems to be saying that substances cannot exist without accidents either (i.e. it is necessary that if substances exist, accidents do). Further, Philoponus’ formulation is extremely close in wording with Ammonius’, which includes ‘not’ before ‘necessary’: ousias gar ousês ouk anankê tas allas einai katêgorias, tautês de mê ousês ou dunaton tas allas hupostênai (in Cat. 35,15–16). All things considered, it is probable that the omission of ouk was an error or carelessness on Philoponus’ part. 126 For further discussion of prime matter, see 65,10–25 and n. 155. ‘Form’ refers to an enmattered form, i.e. a component of the composite substance. As is explained by Ammonius in Cat. 35,22–4: ‘These latter [i.e. prime matter and form] gain recognition on account of the composites, and things recognised because of something else are always inferior to that on account of which they are recognised’ (tr. Cohen and Matthews). He then goes on to say that matter and form are inferior in relation to us, for we recognise the composite substance first. 127 For the claim that Aristotle is not treating the substances of theology, cf. 52,9ff., where it is said that he is not discussing angels. But neither is he discussing the divine intelligence or intelligences that move the stars. He is discussing only perceptible substances that are compounds of matter and form. This is explained by what comes immediately next, and is repeated for a different purpose at 67,8–17. 128 Cf. 52,4–53,13. This is a major concern, discussed in the Introduction above. Neoplatonists want to explain why Aristotle calls particulars ‘primary substances’, and universals (genera and species) only ‘secondary substances’. For Plato’s Forms were the primary substances for him, but had been treated by Aristotle as universals, even if (n. 91 above) the Neoplatonists were heavily qualifying their characterisation as universals. The explanation of Aristotle’s decision given here had earlier been put by Porphyry in Cat. 91,19–27 and Dexippus in Cat. 44,31– 45,31, who was following Porphyry’s pupil Iamblichus. For teaching beginners,

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Notes to pages 86–90

Aristotle is not treating things as they are, but rather in accordance with common parlance. If he had been following the nature of things, he would have called species and genera, not particulars, primary, because (but this is not the view Philoponus comes to) they are the true causes. Philoponus at 31,19 above had said that Aristotle mentioned first the universal substance as worthier.   To a large extent Iamblichus had agreed with Porphyry, but Iamblichus had gone further in his intellective (noera) interpretation, according to which Aristotle’s categories do apply by analogy to the intelligible world. See J. Dillon, ‘Iamblichus’ noera theôria of Aristotle’s Categories’, Syllecta Classica 8 (1977) pp. 65–77. 129 Philoponus seems to be saying that Aristotle would have expressed his own view if he had said that the primary substance neither is [or is predicated] of any subject nor is in any subject. By using ‘legetai’ (‘neither is said of any subject . . .’) he indicates that he is putting forth the opinion of hoi polloi, while his own view is (or so Philoponus maintains) that the primary substance, the universal, is [or is predicated] of some subject. 130 The references may be to Aristotle Metaph. 3.2, 997a34ff.; Cael. 1.9, 277b30ff.; Phys. 8.5, 256a4ff. 131 Aristotle Phys. 8.10, 266a24ff. On the infinite power argument, see R. Sorabji, Matter, Space and Motion, London: Duckworth 1988, ch. 15. 132 Aristotle An. Post. 2.19, 99b35ff. 133 Philoponus is using the words ‘define’ and ‘definition’ loosely here, for, as he said at 19,25–9, definitions proceed in terms of genus and differentiae, but categories are themselves the highest genera. So we cannot define them, but we can describe them. On the question about definitions through negations, cf. P. Henry, ‘Trois apories orales de Plotin sur les “Catégories” d’Aristote’, in E. de Strycker (ed.) Zetesis, Antwerp: De Nederlandsche Boekhandel 1973, pp. 234–65, at 236–40. He proposes that this aporia derives from Plotinus’ oral teaching. 134 Cf. Plato Timaeus 28C; Phaedrus 247C. 135 Cf. 49,27–50,1. 136 Cf. 50,4–14. 137 53,24–30 says that the priority test (for which see n. 123) would actually give the opposite result to the one Aristotle intends by making the genus primary substance. ‘For if the genus [and species did] not exist, neither would the individuals.’ The Aristotelian Alexander of Aphrodisias would have denied this, insofar as he treats a genus as existing only if there is more than one individual with the relevant nature or form, for example with the form mortal rational animal. But the correct interpretation of Alexander is controversial. See the Introduction above for further aspects of his view and the literature cited

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there. Although Alexander, speaking of the genus as universal, says that the genus taken as genus is a mere name, not a thing that underlies (pragma ti hupokeimenon), Quaestio 2.28, 78,18–20, which sounds like nominalism, Martin Tweedale inaugurated a deeper level of analysis, when he showed that Alexander’s view was far more complex than that, in his ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias’ Views on Universals’, Phronesis 29 (1984) pp. 279–303. 138 Cf. 55,16–22 and 32,12–17. 139 Aristotle Cat. 1b10. 140 The êtoi (‘either’) here is not followed by another êtoi (‘or’) later on, but it cannot be omitted, since Philoponus wants to contrast things said of primary substance with those in primary substance. 141 The adjective corresponding to the noun arête is spoudaios, usually translated as ‘virtuous’. However, this translation would hide away Philoponus’ point, so we have translated spoudaios as ‘good’. Following Cohen and Matthews (Ammonius in Cat. 40,17), we have translated aretaios as ‘virtued’ so as to preserve the odd sound that Philoponus intended it to have. 142 This inference is puzzling. Philoponus might have in mind the following syllogism: (1) body is coloured, (2) particular body is a body, and so (3) particular body is coloured. However, as he has said before (38,22ff.; 56,5ff.), the principle under discussion applies only to essential predication, but these premises do not express essential predications. Perhaps he thinks that predication can be transitive also in some cases in which one thing is predicated of another (though not ‘as of a subject’ or essentially). 143 Philoponus invokes the ontological priority test depending on co-­destruction (see n. 123) to say that universals in the many particulars are ontologically posterior to particular individuals; only universals before the many are prior. 144 Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 40,26–41,6. Here we find an important difference between Philoponus’ commentary and the commentary from the voice of Ammonius. In the latter, universals which are predicated of particulars and which are done away with along with particulars are identified with universals ‘in the many’, whereas Philoponus is going to identify them with universals ‘after the many’. 145 ‘Nothing is predicated of itself.’ This is explained as follows by C. Erismann, ‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, in J. Zachhuber and A. Torrance (eds) Individuality in Late Antiquity, London: Ashgate 2014, pp. 143–60. He takes the common entities in the many to include something explicitly spelled out by Philoponus not here, but in his later theological work, Arbiter 7 (= John of Damascus Book on Heresies (Kotter) 83,52–68). On this view, Philoponus here too has one type of common entity particularly in mind: Alexander’s common

136

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nature in the individual, e.g. mortal rational animal in Socrates. If one tried to predicate of Socrates the common nature in him, one would be trying to predicate something of itself. But one can avoid predicating anything of itself when one says ‘Socrates is a mortal rational animal’, because one is really predicating of Socrates not the common nature that is in him, but only a concept (ennoia).   C. Erismann (‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, pp. 143–60) has made a case that the discussion here speaks against Philoponus’ authorship of in An. Post. 2. For it ascribes to Aristotle the idea that when we have a sense image of an individual, the image contains something of the universal features of human. This, C. Erismann argues, is incompatible with Philoponus’ more usual insistence (see the Introduction above) that the nature that exists in particulars is not truly universal. 146 Prior to the many, in the many, after the many. This distinction is found in Proclus in Eucl. 1,50,16–51,9 and in Ammonius in Isag. 41,17–20 and 42,10–21, from the latter of whom Philoponus will have learnt it. It is used already above at 9,7.11 of genera, which are universals, and here of universals, although below at 67,18–68,9, it will be applied to differentiae.   (1) Universals prior to the many. That Platonic Forms are universals existing before, or ontologically and causally prior to, the many particular individuals was a view ascribed to Plato by Aristotle Metaph. 1.6, 987b1–10. In fact the Neoplatonists had hedged (n. 91) about the universality of Platonic Forms. But Ammonius in Isag. 41,21–42,7 understands that universals exist in the guise of genera and species, in the mind of the divine creator of the world, the demiurge of Plato Timaeus 39E, and that it is these that are ‘before’ the many particulars embedded in matter. As the Introduction explains, other Neoplatonists had also considered that there were universals with a higher status than the many. Plotinus so treated the Five Great Genera of Plato’s Sophist. Even if his pupil Porphyry sometimes treats universals as concepts, he goes beyond this for example in his Isagôgê, as Erismann has shown in L’homme commun, Paris: Vrin 2011, at pp. 96, 98, 103. Porphyry there treats some universals or genera as existing independently of, and being the source (arkhê) of, both species and individual. (On the genus as causative in Neoplatonism, see also R. Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 5(h).) Porphyry’s pupil Iamblichus thought the whole scheme of Aristotle’s categories with its species and genera applied by analogy to the intelligible world which is prior to the world of sensible particulars.   (2) Universals in the many. On this there were different views. See the Introduction above for Aristotle’s defender Alexander, last commentator in the Aristotelian school, who prefers to think that what is in a particular individual

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such as Socrates is a form or nature, mortal rational animal, which is not in itself universal. The Introduction suggests that it is non-­universal in relation to any one particular (or in exceptional cases to the only particular) in which it inheres, but universal in relation to many such particulars. But Alexander further adds that it becomes universal as abstracted in thought from the material circumstances in which it exists. The Introduction interprets this as meaning that it becomes nothing but universal, as so abstracted. It also argues that Philoponus recognises in his in DA 307,33–4 two of Alexander’s views, both that the subsistence (hupostasis) of universals is in particulars and that they can exist as universals also when abstracted from particulars in the mind. But the recognition of subsistence in particulars is extremely brief, and C. Erismann (‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, pp. 143–60) has argued that elsewhere in DA and in Phys., Philoponus recognises only that universals exist in the mind, and that the same is true of Philoponus’ subsequent theological works, where he says that the common nature, or mortal rational animal, in me is not in fact common to any other animal or man.   (3) That universals exist after the many, in other words as ontologically posterior to particular individuals, is the view that Philoponus finds in Aristotle’s Categories. At 58,20 Philoponus treats universals after the many as concepts (ennoiai). That is not far from, but also not quite the same as, the Stoic view that universals are noêmata. For their noêmata, see V. Caston, ‘Something and Nothing: The Stoics on Concepts and Universals’, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 17 (1999) pp. 145–213. This may sound like the view that Alexander takes of universals in certain passages which say that forms or natures become universal and do so when taken in thought as separate from their material circumstances. But the Introduction argues that Alexander may rather mean that they become nothing but universal when so abstracted by the mind, whereas outside the mind, they are universal in relation to many particulars, but non-­ universal in relation to any one particular (or in exceptional cases to the only particular) in which they inhere. Alexander may also mean only that universals depend for their intelligibility on thought: On the Soul 90,2–11 (cf. Quaestio 1.3, 8,3–4); Quaestio 1.3, 8,17–22; Quaestio 2.28, 79,16–18; Quaestio 2.28, 78,18–20. Nonetheless, Philoponus interprets Aristotle as treating universals as concepts in his in DA 307,34–308,1, when he interprets Aristotle’s comment, ‘They speak well who say that the soul is the place of forms’ (Aristotle DA 3.4, 429a27). Philoponus says that this may be because, although the reality (hupostasis) of universals is in particulars, when they are taken as universal and common, they are in the soul, since their being common exists in their commonness being thought, and thoughts (noêmata) are in the soul.

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Notes to pages 95–101

  One conclusion that C. Erismann draws from Philoponus’ preference for universals in the mind is that on this subject there is no shift from an early view to a later anti-­pagan view such as had been postulated for other topics by K. Verrycken, ‘The Development of Philoponus’ Thought and its Chronology’, in R. Sorabji (ed.) Aristotle Transformed. The Ancient Commentators and their Influence, London: Duckworth 1990, pp. 233–74. Erismann cites theological fragments from Philoponus On the Trinity, frr. 1 and 2, in A. van Roey, ‘Les fragments trithéites de Jean Philopon’, Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica 11 (1980) pp. 135–63 and fr. 18a of Philoponus Contra Themistium preserved by Peter of Callinicum, in R.Y. Ebied, A. van Roey and L.R. Wickham (eds) Peter of Callinicum: Anti-Tritheist Dossier, Leuven: Peeters 1981. To the references from Philoponus’ present commentary in Cat., he adds Philoponus in Phys. 14,3–17 with 15,20–4. 147 Xanthos (‘Blondie’) was Odysseus’ horse, and Argos his dog. 148 Porphyry Isagôgê 13,20. 149 We have translated Greek ê as ‘and’ rather than ‘or’. 150 For example, when we say ‘white is a colour’, we predicate a more universal accident of the more particular one. 151 Aristotle typically means by definition (horismos) the definiens (e.g. ‘rational mortal animal’) rather than the statement that includes both the definiendum and definiens (e.g. ‘human being is rational mortal animal’). I follow the custom of translating horismos as ‘definition’ throughout, although here it would be more revealing to translate is as definiens, as he is saying that the distinctive feature resembles the defining feature. On distinctive features (idia, often referred to by their Latin name propria), see Aristotle Top. 1.5, 102a18–30 and Porphyry Isagôgê 12,12–22. In short, idia are features which are distinctive of their subjects (they belong to all of their subjects and to them alone) but are nonetheless non-­essential. Philoponus’ notion of idion is wider than Aristotle’s or Porphyry’s, for they never speak of idia of the categories. 152 Cf. Aristotle Top. 1.7, 103b6–20, where he says that convertibility characterises idia and definitions, but not the components of definitions (i.e. genus and differentia) taken by themselves, e.g. we can say that whatever is capable of laughter is human and vice versa, but we cannot say that whatever is animal is human. 153 Aristotle Cat. 2a19. 154 See Porphyry (in Cat. 95,10–96,1), Dexippus (in Cat. 48,20–49,25), and Simplicius (in Cat. 97,24–100,13), who all defend the view that differentiae have an intermediate status between substances and accidents. See also n. 161.

Notes to pages 101–104

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155 Prime matter is the supposed first or basic subject, sketched in Aristotle Metaph. 7.3, which receives all quantities and qualities. In that role, it has no quantities or qualities of its own, or it would obtrude them on the ones that it receives. Once it has three-­dimensional quantity, it is a second subject and suited to receiving qualities within the three dimensions received. Later in his Against Proclus On the Eternity of the World, Philoponus suggests that the three dimensions could themselves better play the role of prime matter, as the basic recipient of all qualities. See R. Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 2, 17(h), at pp. 264–7. 156 Cf. Aristotle GC 2.1, 329a33. 157 Aristotle Cat. 3a29. 158 Aristotle Cat. 3a32. 159 Porphyry Isagôgê 10,22. 160 See 49,24ff. 161 Where do the differentiae of substances (for example of the species human being) fit into Aristotle’s scheme of categories? Aristotle does not say. See R. Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, pp. 111–20 for an earlier version of what follows. It was said in n. 92 that Porphyry in Cat. 95,17–20 had been inclined to classify differentiae as substantial qualities (ousiôdeis poiotêtes, for which see de Haas, John Philoponus’ New Definition of Prime Matter, pp. 223–37). But Ammonius thought this compatible with classifying them as substances, in Cat. 45,21–46,19, and his pupil Philoponus here classifies them as substances too, in Cat. 66,13–25, often using nearly the same wording. The Aristotelian Alexander had also earlier maintained that the differentia of living being is a substance, Quaestio de differentiis specificis 11 (Dietrich), translated from Arabic in R. Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 3, 3(w)(6), and see M. Rashed, ‘Boethus’ Aristotelian Ontology’, pp. 64–7. Differentiae were seen by Dexippus in Cat. 49,4–6 and Simplicius in Cat. 99,3–9, following Iamblichus or Porphyry, as something intermediate between substances and accidents. Ammonius in Cat. 46,11–19 and in our text Philoponus in Cat. 64,22–65,7 report that some had thought there would even be three degrees of intermediacy. Ammonius in Cat. 46,11–19 and his pupil Philoponus here at in Cat. 66,7–10 complained that if they were intermediate, rather than being substances, they would constitute an eleventh category beyond the ten that Aristotle allows. Both Ammonius in Cat. 46,5–10 and Philoponus in Cat. 66,26–67,8 ask why Aristotle seems at Cat. 3a21 to distinguish differentiae from substances as if they were an additional item. Both reply that Aristotle is speaking to pupils who recognise as substances only compounds of matter and form, so for their sake he speaks as if differentiae were distinct from substances, which he does not believe they are. This leads him to repeat at 67,8–17 the point

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made at 49,27–50,1 that in the Categories Aristotle sometimes confines himself to substances which are compounds of matter and form. 162 See Porphyry Isagôgê 2,15–16; Aristotle Top. 102a31–2. 163 See Porphyry Isagôgê 4,11–12. This account confines ‘species’ to what are traditionally called lowest species, infimae species. 164 See Porphyry Isagôgê 11,7–8. One would expect ‘in number’ here, rather than ‘in species’. But ‘in species’ is found also in Porphyry, and implies that the differentia need not be unique to a given species, but may belong to more than one species. 165 ‘Prior to the many, in the many, after the many’. The distinction was applied to universals at 9,7.11 and 58,13–59,7. See the explanation in n. 146. The differentia of the species human being that differentiates it from other species of animal is rationality. Philoponus starts by considering this differentia as if it were a universal substance prior to the many. His teacher Ammonius thought that universals prior to the many existed in the mind of Plato’s creator-Demiurge. But instead of repeating this, Philoponus here treats this universal as something that we predicate, and he has already stated his view in 58,13ff. as being that the universals we predicate are concepts after (i.e. derived by us from) the many particulars. He goes on to give his view about rationality in the many individual humans. The rationality that is in an individual, as rationality is in Socrates, is in him not as a differentia of him, but as a part of him. Indeed, an individual cannot be defined, as Aristotle says in An. Post. 1.8 and Metaph. 7.15, because the differentia in him is not his own differentia, but only a part of him.   Philoponus adds that the genus and differentia that define a species are also parts of the species. This fits with certain other interpretations of Aristotle, because we saw the differentia (n. 161) interpreted as a substance, and Aristotle’s remark at Cat. 3a29–33 that the part of a (composite) substance is a substance was picked up by Alexander and applied beyond compounds of matter and form to other substances including differentiae. So M. Rashed, ‘Boethus’ Aristotelian Ontology’, pp. 64–7. 166 To be added according to Ammonius in Cat. 46,24–5. 167 Aristotle Cat. 1a24. 168 Or, more literally, it belongs to them that ‘everything is called after/from them synonymously’ (panta sunônumôs ap’ autôn legesthai). If human being is predicated of me (i.e. if I am called human being), then it is predicated of me synonymously (i.e. I am called human being synonymously), for I share with the species both the name ‘human being’ as well as its definition. 169 Aristotle Cat. 1a6. 170 See Aristotle Phys. 2.1, where Aristotle takes matter, form, and the composite to be ‘natures’. The division that Philoponus finds in Physics is more clearly expressed in Metaph. 7.10, 1035a2, and DA 2.1, 412a6–9.

Notes to pages 108–116

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171 Replacing hê with alla in accord with MS C. 172 Cf. Ammonius in Cat. 48,15–16: ‘ “This” (tode) signifies a pointing out (deixis), and “something” (ti) signifies a substance in the sense of a subject.’ 173 That is, their grammatical character of being nouns that are singular in number. 174 Aristotle Cat. 3b21. 175 According to Philoponus, then, the Aristotelians hold that the genus shares in the differentiae potentially, whereas the Platonists hold that the genus shares in differentiae actually, i.e. as independent Forms. For the former view, see Porphyry Isagôgê 11,1–5; and Barnes, Introduction, pp. 187–91; for the latter view, cf. Simplicius in Cat. 104,19ff. 176 Aristotle Cat. 3b31–2. 177 Cf. Aristotle Cat. 5a11ff., where Aristotle defends the view that a quantity has no contrary by distinguishing definite quantities from (e.g.) large and small, which are not quantities but relatives (something is small in relation to something else). 178 Aristotle Cat. 2a11. 179 Aristotle Cat. 2b7. 180 Aristotle Cat. 3b33. 181 That is, Aristotle is not saying that one substance is not more or less a substance than another kind of substance, but that the same kind of substance does not admit of a more or a less. 182 Transposing epeidê kai tais diaphorais after monêi at 78,24–5 with Busse. 183 This claim is puzzling, for Philoponus has just said that this feature (sc. being receptive of contraries) does not belong to secondary substances. Cf. Simplicius in Cat. 113,34–114,2: ‘The secondary substances also seem to be receptive of contraries, for as Socrates is foolish and clever, so is human being and animal. But if human being and animal are [receptive of contraries] because Socrates is, this does not belong to them per se but accidentally, because it belongs to what is ranked under them’ (tr. de Haas and Fleet). 184 Aristotle Cat. 4a28-b2. * Riin Sirkel is grateful to the Killam Trust for granting the Izaak Walton Killam Memorial Fellowship at the University of Alberta which made the translation possible, as well as to Justin Zylstra, Jacques Bailly, Christian Lee Gonzalez and Travis Lynch.

English-Greek Glossary accident: sumbebêkos account: logos action: praxis activity: energeia actuality: energeia affected, to be: paskhein affection: pathos affirmation: kataphasis aim: skopos analogy: analogia angel: angelos argument: epikheirêma, logos attendant feature: parakolouthêma be, being: einai belief: doxa belong: huparkhein bring along: suneispherein body: sôma capacity: dunamis category: katêgoria cause (n.): aitia, aition change (n.): kinêsis, metabolê change (v.): kinein, metaballein character: êthos; kharaktêr combination: sumplokê commentator: exêgoumenos, exêgêtês common: koinos commonality: koinônia complete (v.): sumplêroun complete (adj.): teleios

144

English-Greek Glossary

completive: sumplêrôtikos complex: sunthetos composite, composed: sunamphoteros, sunthetos concept: ennoia, noêma conceptual: ennoêmatikos concomitant: parakolouthêma constitutive: sustatikos continuous: sunekhês contradiction: antiphasis contradistinction: antidiastolê contrast: antidiastolê contrary: enantios convert: antistrephein define: aphorizein, horizein definite: hôrismenos definition: horismos, horos, logos demonstration: apodeixis demonstrative: apodeiktikos description: hupographê destroy: phtheirein destruction: phthora determine: aphorizein different: diaphoros, heteros differentia: diaphora difficulty: aporia discrete: diôrismenos discriminate: diakrinein discussion: logos distinctive feature: idion distinguish: diakrinein divide: diairein divine: theios division: diairesis divisive: diairetikos do away with (along with): anairein, sunanairein element: stoikheion equal: isos

English-Greek Glossary esoteric: akroamatikos essential: ousiôdês ethics: êthikê example: paradeigma exist: huparkhein, huphistanai existence: huparxis exoteric: exôterikos expression: phônê, phrasis false: pseudês falsity: pseudos familiar: gnôrimos, sunêthês form: eidos, morphê general: katholikos, katholou generation: genesis generic: genikos genuine: gnêsios genus: genos goal: telos good: agathos, spoudaios heteronym: heterônumos homonym, homonymous: homônumos homonymy: homônumia human being: anthrôpos incorporeal: asômatos individual: atomos indivisible: ameristos inferior: kheirôn infinite: apeiros inflection: ptôsis inseparable: akhôristos instruction: didaskalia instrument: organon intelligible: noêtos intermediary: mesos irrational: alogos

145

146

English-Greek Glossary

knowledge: epistêmê known: gnôrimos letter: stoikheion limit: peras living: empsukhos logic: logikê main topic: kephalaion matter: hulê mean (v.): sêmainein meaning: sêmainomenon, sêmasia mediating: mesos method: methodos middle (term): mesos name (n.): onoma, onomasia, prosêgoria naturally: phusikôs natural: phusiologikos nature: phusis necessary: anankaios, anankê need (v.): dein negation: apophasis noun: onoma number: arithmos obscurity: asapheia opinion: doxa opposite: antikeimenos order: taxis ordinary people, the: hoi polloi (anthrôpoi) paronym: parônumos part: meros, morion particular: kath’ hekaston, kata meros, merikos passion: pathos peculiar: oikeios place: topos possession: hexis

English-Greek Glossary potentially: dunamei power: dunamis predicate (v.): katêgorein predication: katêgoria premise: protasis primary: prôtos principle: arkhê prior: proteros privation: sterêsis productive: poiêtikos quality: poion, poiotês qualityless: apoios quantity: poson, posotês real: alêthinos reason: aitia receptive: dektikos relation: logos, skhesis relative: pros ti reminder notes: hupomnêmatika school (of philosophy): hairesis scientific: epistêmonikos secondary: deuteros self-­subsistent: authupostatos sense (perception): aisthêsis sentient: aisthêtikos separate (v.): horizein, khôrizein separately: khôris service: khreia share (in): metalambanein, metekhein signified: sêmainomenon signify: sêmainein similar: homoios simple: haplous simpliciter, simply: haplôs soul: psukhê species: eidos

147

148

English-Greek Glossary

specific: eidikos statement: logos strict: kurios subject, to be a, to serve as a: hupokeisthai subject: hupokeimenon subordinate: hupallêlos subsist: huphistanai, sunistanai subsistence: hupostasis substance: ousia superior: kreittôn suspenders of judgement: ephektikoi syllogism: sullogismos synonym, synonymous: sunônumos synonymy: sunônumia teaching: didaskalia theological: theologikos theoretical: theôrêtikos theorising: theôria thing: pragma things that are, beings: ta onta this something: tode ti thought: dianoia, epinoia, noêma true: alêthês truth: alêtheia unchanged: akinêtos universal: katholou unknown: agnôstos useful: khrêsimos verb: rhêma virtue: aretê virtuous: spoudaios whole: holos without parts: amerês without signification: asêmos word: lexis, onoma

Greek-English Index adêlos, obscure, 7,12; unclear, 64,25 adiarthrôtôs, indistinctly, 13,27.33 adiastatos, non-­extended, 50,29 aeikinêtos, perpetually in motion, 50,26–8 agathos, good, 4,27.28.29; 10,12–24; 53,3 agnoein, be ignorant of, not know, 7,7.33; 13,25; 27,21.23 agnôstos, unfamiliar, 31,29; 53,16; unknown, 13,15–23; 61,27 aisthêsis, sense, 31,22; 36,5; sense perception, 50,12; 51,14–18 aisthêtikos, sentient, 21,4.6; 22,18; 39,4; 40,9; 41,10; 56,20; 70,9 aisthêtos, perceptible, sensible, 51,19; 69,2; 71,21 aitia, cause, 5,35; 6,7; 22,7; 29,29; 34,23; 50,8.27.31; reason, 1,16.17; 2,8; 3,4; 7,2–15; 8,24; 12,17; 13,19; 16,8; 27,10.27; 29,2.20; 51,21; 60,16; 63,21; 67,14; 70,30 aitiatos, caused, 34,24; 50,8 aition, to, cause, 17,8; 21,24; 22,13; 50,8 aitios, responsible, 82,14 akatalêpsia, inapprehensibility, 2,8.22.24 akhôristos, inseparable, 5,6; 35,11; 65,27; 68,22 akinêtos, motionless, 50,26.27; unchanged, 81,20.26.29; 82,1.16; unmoved, 6,12 akouein, hear, 19,1; understand, 6,24 akroamatikos, esoteric, 3,15.16; 4,12 akroasis, lecture (of Aristotle), 48,2 akroatês, student, 1,13; 4,13.17; 6,24–9; 7,9 alêtheia, truth, 4,26.28; 10,12–23; 37,15; 45,12–31; 46,2.3; 81,3–33 alêthes, to, truth, 10,20; 45,21 alêthês, true, 4,29; 8,16; 22,14; 34,19; 80,21–82,10

alêtheuein, be true, 81,5; say something true, 45,15–34 alêthinos, real, 17,9.13; 24,2; 54,28 alloioun, alter, 23,23–30; 81,17 alogos, irrational, 29,32; 31,21; 40,10ff. amerês, without parts, 34,34; 35,2.3; 46,26–47,30; 50,29 ameristos, indivisible; 18,26; 66,32; without parts, 47,31 ameristôs, indivisibly, 18,25 amesos, (in pl.) not admitting of intermediates, 29,23.30 amesôs, without admitting of intermediates, 29,32 amphisbêtêsis, disagreement, 4,27 anabasis, ascent, 14,20.21; 15,5.9; 48,21 anagein, lead, 50,13; place (subsume), 46,14; 47,8–32; 48,8–27; 66,10–33; 67,1.19; reduce, 24,12 anaginôskein, read, 4,1; 6,23; 7,5 anagnôsis, reading, 7,2.31; 8,25; 12,28 anairein, do away with, 53,26–8; 58,10.22 analogein, to be analogous, 32,6 analogia, analogy, 16,29; 17,14–16; 22,2; 41,23; 42,4.9; 59,9.11; 60,6; 61,23; 62,3 analuein, analyse, 27,14.17 anankaion, necessarily, 32,14; 35,13; 55,24ff. anankaios, necessary, 20,29 anankê, necessary, 12,5; 19,28; 29,23ff. angeion, container, 32,19.20.21 angelikos, angelic, 49,26 angelos, angel, 30,4.19; 51,31; 52,10; 68,6 antistrephein, be convertible, convert, 33,7; 63,19.20 anthrôpeios, human, 19,2 anthrôpinos, human, 27,11

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anthrôpos, human being; 2,21; 8,3; 11,34ff.; person, 17,1; 20,9; 27,3 antidiairein, mark as distinct (members of the genus), 41,3.19; oppositionally divide, 53,31; 54,3.10.13 antidiastellein, contrast, 18,11.18; 20,10; set apart, 31,8 antidiastolê, contradistinction, 52,14–25; contrast, 18,7.20.22 antikeimenos, opposite, 14,30.31; 15,1; 29,20; 30,4; 31,23; 52,19.21.22; 74,26 antikeisthai, be opposed, 29,31.33; 31,24; 44,4.6; 74,17–26; 80,5 antiparastasis, counter-­proposal, 81,9.10.14; 82,7 antiphasis, contradiction, 18,1; 29,22; 30,5–20 anupostatos, non-­existent, 28,20 aoristia, indefiniteness, 26,19 aoristôs, indefinitely, 26,26 apathês, dispassionate, 6,33 apeirodunamos, infinite in power, 50,30; 51,12 apeiros, infinite, 50,1.2; 51,4–11 aphairein, eliminate, 32,11; take away, 65,1 aphorizein, define, 1,3; determine, 73,5–20; 74,8; 75,8.9 aphormê, occasion, 7,16 aphuktos, exhaustive, 29,21.22.24; 30,5 apodeiknunai, demonstrate, 6,1; 10,19.20; show, 12,14; 33,21 apodeiktikos, demonstrative, 4,21.31; 5,22.32; 10,27 apodeiktikôs, by reliance on demonstration, 5,30 apodeiktos, demonstrable, 51,15.17 apodeixis, demonstration, 4,30–5; 5,10–30; 10,19–28; 11,17–31; 12,14; 51,15–18; 68,1.3; proof, 57,19 apodidonai, give (an account or definition), 19,25–33; 20,16.17; 22,20; 23,9.15; 54,22; 59,18–25; 63,13–24; 64,20; present, 19,24–32; 78,18 apoios, qualityless, 65,19–29 apokrinein, answer, 2,14; 59,23.25 apokrisis, answer, 2,20 apophainein, assert, 2,12; put forth, 66,4

apophasis, negation, 30,15.23; 45,6–31; 46,3–13; 51,25–9; 48,8.12; 52,3–26 aporein, be at a loss, 19,24; 57,17; puzzle over, 16,2; raise a difficulty, 33,32; 34,8; 35,16; 68,14; 76,6; 80,24.25; wonder, 60,14; 80,25 aporia, difficulty, 45,27; 68,13; 79,21; 80,24; 81,9–12; 82,8 aposêmainein, jot down, 3,29; 4,1–8 aptaistos, infallible, 4,35; 10,26; 40,11 aretê, virtue, 2,27.28; 3,3; 5,29; 25,6–14; 37,16.17; 56,27.28 argos, idle, 15,19 arithmos, number, 28,6.8; 37,1.11; 38,1–12; 39,6.8; 46,20; 47,1–10; 67,28; 77,26–33; 78,6–33; 79,8.9; 80,4; 81,1; 82,23.25 arkhaios, ancient (philosopher), 6,34; 7,8 arkhaioteroi, hoi, predecessors, 3,29 arkhê, beginning, 13,3; 46,17–22; 47,9.10; origin, 17,7; principle, 5,8–35; 6,1–14; 23,26.28; 54,33; starting point, 11,5–33 arkhesthai, start, begin 1,2–10; 5,15–24; 7,10; 11,9.13; 27,18–26; 28,8; to rule, 32,23.24 arthron, connective, 43,18; joint, 28,12 artios, even, 29,31; 75,19.21; 77,13 asapheia, being obscure, obscurity, 1,13; 6,22–8; 29,2 asaphês, obscure, 6,25; unclear, 29,4; 53,15 asaphôs, obscurely, 6,20 asêmos, without signification, 9,27; 12,4; 26,4 askhetos, unqualified, 52,19 askhetôs, unqualifiedly, 21,2.8 asômatos, disembodied, not-­bodied, 30,14.15; incorporeal, 6,1–16; 34,23; 50,28.31; 51,12; 65,10.25; non-­body, 73,8 asômatôs, in an incorporeal way, 36,9 atelês, incomplete, 10,14; 48,16 athanatos, immortal, 40,10; 41,11–21; 42,14; 59,24; 78,11.14 atomos, individual, 34,20–4; 37,1.11; 38,11.13; 50,7; 53,30; 54,7; 55,18–22; 57,17–24; 58,18.19; 59,11.17; 60,23–9; 61,5.13; 62,8; 67,10–35; 68,1–8; 70,1–26; 71,21; 74,16; 77,4; 78,7; 79,2.5; 80,14–19 atopon, to, absurdity, 2,15; 20,28

Greek-English Index atopos, absurd, 51,5; 68,16 authupostatos, self-­subsistent, 20,11; 46,16; 49,19; 53,9 autokinêtos, self-­moved, 50,26 autoprosôpos, in the first person, 3,15; 4,11–23 barutonos, barytone, 15,22; 20,18 bebêlos, uninitiated, 6,27 dein, need, require, 13,22; 14,4; 29,8.9ff. dektikos, capable of receiving, receptive, 30,11; 52,34; 56,25; 65,13.16; 77,26–33; 78,4–27; 79,3–23; 80,5.17; 81,2–23; 82,3–28; 83,4 dêlôtikos, be indicative of, 15,10; 48,10 dêmiourgos, creative, 5,35 deuteros, second, 1,9; 2,10; 26,15; 42,21; 45,11; 55,1; 60,6; 62,3.9; 64,3; 65,18.28; 69,22; 78,23; secondary, 34,20.24; 50,2–12; 51,21; 53,17–29; 54,6–30; 55,4–15; 59,3.5; 60,15.24; 61,19–28; 62,5.7; 63,12; 64,2–6; 74,7.16; 76,2–5; 77,1.2; 78,5.32 diairein, divide, 4,23–35; 8,6; 12,16; 13,6; 21,14; 26,7; 27,29.30; 30,1.13; 42,12; 51,2; 53,19–26; 54,1–25; 63,12; 65,27; 78,10 diairesis, division, 1,9.18; 3,8; 4,10; 7,3; 8,1.26; 9,2; 13,6.29; 21,15; 26,3; 28,3–17; 29,20.23; 30,5–16; 31,9; 41,4; 42,18.21; 43,3–7; 53,18–31; 54,1–31; 55,1; 60,22.25; 67,18.19; 73,9 diairetikos, divisive, 30,20; 40,8–13; 41,9–20; 42,28 diakrinein, discriminate, 10,17; 23,8; 73,6.11; 74,9; distinguish, 32,28.29; 45,8.10; 64,10.13; 70,29; judge, 4,33; separate, 75,26 diakrisis, judgement, 4,32.25; 10,22.23 diakritikos, discriminative, 2,26; 40,5; distinguishing, 4,30; penetrative, 56,24.25 dialambanein, discuss, 3,26; 13,17; deal, 9,17.24; 12,18.31; 69,3; treat, 9,26.28; 10,5.7; 11,34; 12,15; 34,16; 43,23; 47,25; 48,2; 50,4; 66,21.34; 67,9; 69,1; 73,24

151

dialegesthai, discuss, 9,5.22.30; 11,4.28; 12,3–24; 13,31; 17,18.23; 24,6; 26,3.34; 27,1; 34,18.30; 35,7; 38,19; 49,27 dialektikos, dialectical, 8,12.13 dialogikos, dialogic, 4,13, dialogue 4,10–19; in dialogue form, 3,15 dianoêtos, grasped by discursive thought, 50,13.20 dianoia, thinking, 6,29; thought, 6,34; 9,8; 21,16–24 diapherein, differ, 4,16; 14,12–33; 15,2–6ff. diaphora, difference, 16,22; 19,8; 23,7; 24,15–31; 25,2; 53,22; 54,26; 68,21; differentia, 19,26.27; 32,5.6.28; 40,2–11; 41,1–26; 42,2–25; 63,15; 64,7–23; 64,9; 66,2–27; 67,1–33; 68,1–30; 69,5–28; 70,4–26; 71,5.6; 73,18.21; 78,20.25; distinction, 12,20 diaphoros, different, 14,19.21; 15,18; 16,22; 18,14; 28,15.16 diarthrôsis, articulation, 13,23 didaskalia, exposition, 13,11; instruction, 6,3; 14,24; 25,22.27; 27,21–6; 38,20; 40,3; 47,32; 53,8–15; 61,12; study, 13,10; teaching, 4,12; 12,31; 13,8–26; 15,11; 16,20; 17,11.25; 23,21; 24,6; 27,30; 34,26; 35,4; 49,5; 70,20 diôrismenos, discrete, 47,5–31; 66,32 diorizein, demarcate, 1,6 dipous, two-­footed, 42,1.11; 64,17.19 dogma, opinion, 50,14.22 doxa, belief, 2,20; 80,20; 81,2–20; 82,1.4; 82,5–23; 83,3; opinion, 4,2.5; 34,26; 50,19; 55,11 dunamei, in potentiality, 73,19; potentially, 14,29; 45,19.20 dunamis, capacity, 79,15.16; power, 50,1–11 eidikos, specific, 33,1.2; 60,28 eidopoios, constitutive of the species, 42,1 eidos, form, 2,5; 22,21; 23,1–13; 32,22; 34,8–29; 35,5; 48,3–17; 49,27; 65,12–17; 71,10–13; 82,22; kind, 30,5; species, 12,21; 32,12.13–30; 33,1; 34,21.22; 38,1–9; 40,2; 41,22; 42,3.9; 50,3–13; 53,19–30; 54,7.8; 55,3–21; 56,17; 57,16–22; 59,3–29; 60,5–27; 61,6–27; 62,9; 64,23; 66,2–23; 67,10–33; 68,29;

152

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70,2–26; 72,1; 73,3–18; 74,4–9; 76,4.6; 77,2–7; 78,6; 80,13–18; specimen, 65,4 eidos tês apangelias, form of expression, i.e. style, 1,12; 6,17 einai, to be, being, 2,12–22; 4,30; 6,4ff.; existence, 32,16 eisagomenos, beginner, 50,11 ekhein, have, 2,13.18; 4,4.9.35; 5,26ff.; 13,19.21; 44,3–9; 45,1.4 elenkhein, refute, 2,20 elenkhos, refutation, 2,21 elenktikos, loving of refutation, 2,25 elleipein, cover too little, 33,7; 35,10 elpis, hope, 16,26.28; 22,8; 32,25 emmesos, (in pl.) admit of intermediates, 29,23.24; 30,1 emphainesthai, to be indicated, 26,19.27 empsukhos, living, 21,4.6; 22,17.18; 39,4; 40,9; 41,10; 56,20; 70,9; 73,10–14 en psilêi epinoiai, in bare thought, 9,17–18 en tois pollois, in the many, 58,14.17; 67,22; 71,11 enantios, contrary, 10,13; 29,21–30,1; 74,11–75,30; 77,12–83,18; opposite, 25,7; 28,20; 48,12; 51,26 enantiotês, contrariety, 75,17 enaretos, virtuous, 25,6.12 endoxos, received opinion, 8,14 energeia, activity, 3,7; 15,10; 22,5; 26,8–28; 27,18; actuality, 65,25; 73,18.19; function, 42,4 energein, act, 26,22.29; actualise, 29,28 engutês, proximity, 59,8.10 ennoêmatikos, conceptual, 9,11; 58,20 ennoia, concept, 9,20; 12,6.8; 13,21; 34,27; 35,5; 43,24; 48,5; 58,20.23; 67,5; 71,3; notion, 43,8; opinion, 61,17 epagôgê, induction, 57,13 epekhein, withhold, 2,19 ephektikoi, suspenders of judgement, 2,4.7.19 epi tois pollois, after the many, 9,7.11; 58,19 epiballein, apply, 5,32 epigignesthai, supervene, 65,28.29 epigraphê, title, 7,2–15; 8,10.24; 12,17 epigraphein, entitle, 7,13; 12,17.26 epikheirêma, argument, 4,2.18.21; 59,7; 60,6; 62,3

epinoein, imagine, 65,2 epinoia, thought, 9,25; 65,27 episkeptesthai, investigate, 4,25.26; 8,2 epistêmê, knowledge, 14,30; 40,8–12; 41,13; 53,6 epistêmonikos, scientific, 10,25; 11,19 epistolê, letter, 3,10.22 epitêdes, deliberately, 42,18; suitably, 23,31 erastês, lover, 20,2 ergon, work, 13,28 êthikê, ethics, 5,24.31 êthikos, ethical, 3,18; 5,7 êthos, character, 5,24; 6,30; 20,8 eukherês, easy, 5,22 eunoia, good will, 6,31 euphuês, clever, 6,29; skilful, 6,23 eutaktos, well-­arranged, 4,10; well-­ordered, 65,26 eutaktôs, in an orderly fashion, 6,10; 63,13 eutheôs, straightaway, 27,29 euthus, immediately, 8,11; 16,15; 63,22; straightaway, 69,23 ex anankês, necessarily, 10,19; 42,25 exairein, extract, 32,15.16 exêgeisthai, explain, 31,32 exêgêsis, explanation, 49,3 exêgêtês, commentator, 7,28; 13,5; 68,13 exêgoumenos, commentator, 1.14; 6,31; 10,14 exôterikos, exoteric, 3,16; 4,15 exumnein, sing praises, 30,20; 55,26; 56,7 genesis, descent, 53,3; generation, 3,28; 6,4.9; 48,19; 65,26; origin, 75,15 genikos, generic, 12,20–4; 19,25; 33,1.2; 40,4; 63,14.17 genos, gender, 15,16.25.26; genus, 9,6–11; 12,20–6; 19,25–7; 32,5–33,1; 34,21.22; 37,18; 38,3–8; 39,4.11; 40,4–7; 41,1–23; 42,21–6; 48,13; 50,3–12; 53,19–29; 54,5.8; 55,4–21; 56,16; 57,19.23; 59,4–20; 60,5–61,28; 62,10; 63,4–17; 66,22; 67,10–26; 68,1.2.29; 70,6.14.16; 72,2; 73,3–19; 74,4.8; 76,5.6; 77,3.9; 78,6.9; 80,13–17 geômetrikos, of geometry, 14,26 gnêsios, genuine, 4,12.17; 6,25; 7,3.16.29; 8,25; 12,34; 13,5

Greek-English Index gnôrimos, familiar, 47,26; known, 14,29; 27,24; 59,19; 61,26; well-­known, 5,17.18; 13,22; 27,13 gnôsis, cognition, 12,9; being familiar, familiarity, 34,25; 47,28; 61,12; 70,32; knowing, 10,12; understanding, 7,32; 27,27 grammatikos, grammarian, 16,9; 17,24; 26,35; 57,4 grammê, line, 5,6; 13,11; 46,17; 47,2.9 gumnasia, exercise, 3,5; intellectual exercise, 8,19 gumnos, alone, 9,32; bereft, 9,31; 14,2 hairesis, school (of philosophers), 1,8.19; 2,8 haplôs, fully, 24,23; in general, 80,3; simpliciter, 10,25–31; 11,20.30; 30,32.34; 31,1–3; 38,25.27; 41,8.17; 57,30; 65,34; 68,4; simply, 9,2; 10,30; 37,1–16; 43,19; 66,4; 67,15; 79,24; taken on its own, 3,27; without qualification, unqualifiedly, 75,17; 78,14 haplotês, simplicity, 26,30 haplous, simple, 4,22; 9,34.35; 10,1–8; 11,3–33; 12,10–32; 15,12; 26,7–27,28; 28,12; 37,15; 43,3–15; 44,1; 45,9–46,1; 49,23–9; 63,16; 67,5–17; 71,13 hekastos, each, 18,28 hekousiôs, by choice, 6,21 hermêneuein, explain, 9,31; expound, 6,34 heterogenês, of different kinds, 62,24.28; of disparate genera, 40,1 heterokinêtos, set in motion by something else, 50,26 heterônumos, heteronym, 14,15.17.22; 15,4; 24,14.24 heteros, different, 14,17.22; 19,6–11; 20,15.26; 21,10; 29,3; 38,2–8; 40,1–13; 41,23; disparate, 42,22; other, 20,26; 42,16–20; 44,5; 52,14; 53,30 heterotês, difference, 25,16; 37,18 hexis, competence, 7,4; possession, 30,9–13; 48,11 hêdonê, pleasure, 3,1 hippokentauros, hippocentaur, 9,18

153

hippos, horse, 14,23; 21,3.6; 27,2; 37,8; 38,1–9; 49,3; 53,32; 54,2; 60,30–3; 61,2–11; 68,6; 71,2; 76,8 historia, investigation, 3,11 holos, whole, 2,16; 8,2; 18,28; 22,3; 27,17; 32,7–34,5; 51,5.7; 53,20; 54,9–24; 55,22; 66,3; 67,7; 68,11.19; 69,8–18; 71,4; 80,15 holôs, absolutely, 48,10; 68,31; in general, 47,23.24; 52,4.34ff.; on the whole, 37,17 holotês, the whole, 32,9.10.15 homoios, similar, 22,13; apt, 33,13 homoiôs, similarly, 8,4; 25,1ff. homoiotês, similarity, 22,2.4; 42,5 homônumia, homonymy, 7,18–20; 16,12; 18,4.15; 20,4 homônumos, homonym, 13,3.21; 14,1–22,12; 23,19–31; 24,2–20; 25,4; homonymous, 16,20.21; 53,21; 54,26 homônumôs, homonymously, 15,14; 16,12.13; 21,21; 56,29; 57,1 hôrismenos, definite, 26,15.20.21.27; 48,9.10; 75,9 hôrismenôs, in a definite way, 26,27 horismos, definition, 14,6–15; 15,3; 17,21; 19,13–32; 20,1–21,22; 23,8–25; 24,9–23; 32,3.4; 33,6–32; 34,8.32; 35,9.11; 43,13; 51,27; 52,1–15; 54,19–30; 56,9–27; 63,13–19; 64,4–19; 67,34.35; 68,1–3; 70,11.25.28 horistos, what is being defined, 33,8; 63,19 horizein, define, 8,13; 9,16; 10,6; 14,20; 22,17; 23,25; 26,34; 34,32; 51,25; separate, 51,2; 52,27 horos, definition; 18,14; term, 18,1; 45,11 hugeia, health, 21,27; 29,25–30 hugieinos, healthy, 17,6; 21,26 hulê, material, 4,5; 10,26; matter, 5,5; 22,21.22; 23,2–11; 32,22; 34,8–30; 35,5; 48,3.4; 52,2.5; 65,13–25; 71,10–13 hulê prôtê, prime matter, 49,27; 65,10 hupallêlos, subordinate, 12,21.23; 33,2.3; 40,5.7; 41,5–13; 42,23.26; 60,27 huparkhein, belong, 19,7.8.31; 31,27; 32,29; 33,34; 34,9; 42,17; 63,18–30; 65,5; 66,1.19; 67,16; 68,17; 69,20–7; 70,27; 74,11.28; 75,8.9; 77,10–32; 78,4.5.16; 80,13–19; 83,1; exist, 6,4; 31,18; 35,14; 36,4; 50,26; 52,24; 58,15.23; 61,15; be,

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6,29.33; 16,4; 32,30; 41,1; 42,27; 47,4; 55,3–18; 57,26.29; 67,15, 69,13 huparxis, existence, 20,13; 29,8–15; 30,25–31; 31,7–16; 49,20; 55,29; 56,14; 58,15; 59,14; 60,7.13; 61,7; 63,8.14; 78,1 huphistanai, exist, 29,8; 30,15; 34,7; 35,15; 49,22; 57,8; 58,11; 65,19.21; 74,22; exist in reality, 9,18.19; ground (the reality), 78,14; subsist, 48,15 hupobathra, base, 65,16 hupographê, description, 19,24–33; 20,1.3.18 hupokeimenon, subject, 9,3; 14,18.23; 15,6; 26,5; 28,1.2; 29,5–18; 30,22–6; 31, 4–32,26; 34,14.15; 35,18; 37,2–12; 38,10–39,15; 44,14; 45,1; 49,2–22; 51,22.27; 52,1–33; 53,14.15; 54,31; 55,23.25; 56,1–27; 57,6–23; 58,1–6; 59,15; 62,28; 63,1–64; 65,1.18.28; 67,16.21; 68,7–69,18; 70,5–28; 71,15–22; 73,2; 74,22–7; 78,19.29; 79,9 hupokeisthai, be a subject, 12,23; 29,15; 31,8; 40,12; 60,1; 61,6; 78,2; serve as a subject, 12,25; 30,27–33; 35,15; 53,5; 60,7–12; 62,1–20; 63,3.7; 74,24; 78,1; to be given below, 21,15; 28,23; underlie, 35,6; 64,28 hupomnêmatika, reminder notes, 3,12.28; 4,6 hupomnêsis, memory, 3,29 hupostasis, ground, 45,21; subsistence, 33,16.19; 46,16; 47,14; 79,10.11.12 hupostatikos, grounding, 78,13 husterogenês, later in origin, 9,7 husteron, finally, 11,14; last, 27,32; later, 5,30.32; 26,4; 27,29; 43,9; 63,23 husteros, secondary, 50,10 iatrikos, medical, 17,4.10; 21,20.25 idion, to, distinctive feature, 63,17–64,20; 66,26; 67,15; 68,24.27; 69,4.23; 71,17; 72,1; 73,11.12; 77,10–27; 78,17.29; 79,1–7; 81,1; 82,2.24 idios, distinct, 22,20; 23,14; distinctive, 46,23; 59,26.28; one’s own, 9,34; 16,25.26; 21,2–7; 28,13.14; 42,8; 46,16; pertaining to, 5,3

idiôs, distinctively, 69,10; personally, 3,22; properly, 14,22 isokhronos, temporally the same, 21,28; 22,1.7 isos, equal, 18,30; 19,1.3.5; 46,23–5; 47,1.3; 54,5 kakia, defect, 33,7; wickedness, 25,11 kakos, bad, 4,27–9; 10,14–24 kakôs, badly, 6,31; incorrectly, 3,3 kanôn, rule, 40,5; standard, 4,35 kata alêtheian, in truth, 47,23 kata meros, particular, 14,10; 19,3; 21,5; 29,13; 31,20.22; 57,29–31; 58,1.16; 71,1 kata phusin, in accord with nature, 62,11.12.16 kata sumbebêkos, accidentally, 19,31; 38,29; 39,1.4.7; 62,12.22.27; 73,1 katabasis, descent, 14,20.21; 15,6.9; 48,21 katagignôskein, reject, 74,13.27 katagônizesthai, prevail, 6,26 katakosmein, set in order, 5,24 katalambanein, apprehend, 2,22–4 katalegein, to end, 11,12.27; leave off, 12,29 katalêpsis, apprehension, 2,23 katalêxis, ending, 15,16.30.31 kataphasis, affirmation, 45,6–31; 46,3–12; 48,12; 51,25 kataskeuastikos, serving to establish, 4,2 kataskeuazein, prove, establish, 63,32; 64,1.2 katêgorein, to predicate, 12,23–7; 15,14; 16,4; 18,12; 20,2–24; 21,1–11; 26,25; 29,13.14; 30,30; 31,14.17; 32,29; 38,16–39,13; 50,21; 52,25; 55,24; 56,3–18; 57,8–30; 58,1–21; 59,16.17; 60,2.11.33; 61,9.10; 62,8–25; 63,1–8; 64,21.29; 66,14; 67,25–31; 69,27; 70,2–27; 73,4.16.21; 79,4 katêgoria, accusation, 12,18; category, 12,31; 13,7–27; 14,25; 15,13; 17,25; 25,21–8; 26,1; 40,4; 43,15; 44,5.7.14; 45,21; 46,10–14; 47,14–29; 48,7–26; 49,5–21; 50,5; 51,24; 55,7; 66,8.29; 67,2; 79,17; predicate, 70,1; predication, 16,14; 29,11; 30,26–34; 31,7–17; 38,28; 46,1.12; 52,31; 55,29; 56,14; 59,14.15;

Greek-English Index 60,8–17; 61,7; 62,7.23; 63,5.9; 70,4.5; 79,2 kath’ hauto, by itself, 43,19; 45,5.22.30; 47,21; 48,4; 49,16.17; 52,20; 58,15; 65,19; 67,5; 71,3; 73,28; 74,1; in virtue of itself, 29,8; 34,6; 80,7 kath’ hekaston, particular, 54,23; 57,12; 58,17 katholikos, broad, 69,17; general, 3,25; 37,9.10; 38,11; 57,13; 68,31; universal, 50,9; 53,9; 55,17.19; 63,6; 67,23; 74,8 katholou, general, 3,10.11.24; in general, 3,27; 11,5; 37,13; 58,13; universal, 28,11.18.22; 29,6–12; 30,28–34; 31,1–26; 50,3.13; 51,18; 52,30; 53,11; 55,5; 57,7; 58,8.12.24; 59,1; 60,14; 62,15–21 keisthai, be positioned, 44,8.9.12; 45,1.4 kephalaion, main topic, 1,7.15.16; 4,10; 5,15; 8,26; 13,6.30 kephalê, head, 8,3; 32,9 kharaktêr, character, 72,3 kharaktêrizein, characterise, 24,14; 42,1 kheir, hand, 8,4; 32,7.9; 34,12; 36,6; 53,21 kheirôn, inferior, 49,24–9; 51,17.19; 52,4.8; 67,9 khôris, separately, 31,28; 33,4.34; 34,10; 35,12–23; 65,1 khôristos, separable, 5,5; 35,12.15 khôrizein, to separate, 33,5–15; 35,12–18; 41,3; 46,7; 65,11 khreia, service, 52,29; 56,13; 58,9; 59,13; 68,19; use, 42,7 khrêsimeuein, to be useful, 17,24; 25,21 khrêsimos, useful, 8,18; 12,12; 13,8.9; 40,3; 70,20; to khrêsimon, utility, 7,2.9.10; 8,9–24 khrêsis, use, 18,26 khrêsmos, oracle, 6,13 khrêsthai, to use, 2,9; 4,32; 5,21; 6,27ff. khrôma, colour, 29,26; 30,3.19; 31,2.3; 51,31; 55,8; 56,25; 57,27–31; 62,22; 79,10 khronos, time, 6,4; 32,17.18; 33,10–31; 42,13; 46,18; 47,1.10 kinein, change, 81,21–9; 82,1–21; move, 6,9.11; 36,7; 48,23.24 kinêsis, change, 82,13.18; motion, 6,8–11; 42,8; 48,14; 80,6; movement, 2,18

155

klimax, ladder, 14,19; 15,9.10 koinêi, in society, 11,34 koinônein, agree, 24,10–26; have in common, share, 14,11–32; 15,3.12; 16,13; 19,16; 20,22–32; 24,8–23; 34,1; 42,22; 54,21; 68,20 koinônia, commonality, 19,8; 22,7; 24,15–35; 25,5–17; 54,28.29; 55,19 koinos, common, 4,20; 17,28; 18,3–19,26; 21,9; 22,16; 23,16; 41,5; 54,30; 58,17; 59,27.29; 63,10.24.27; 70,21; 74,9 koinôs, generally, 29,18; in common, 18,12; 20,2; 21,1–5; 28,14; 71,1; in general, 18,8 koinotês, common (thing), 12,15; commonality, 72,4 kôluein, prevent, 18,20.22; 37,2; 38,10.14; 42,23.25 kreittôn, superior, 49,24–8; 50,8.23; 51,13.20.32; 52,7; 67,9 krinein, distinguish, 27,1; judge, 7,28.29; 13,4; 26,30; 45,23 krisis, judgement, 5,26; 6,35 kritês, judge, 6,33 kuôn, dog, 2,25; 15,19 kurios, important, 29,19; proper, 57,17; strict, 49,1; 50,15.17; 55,27; 62,2; 76,3 kuriôs, authoritatively, 22,6; strictly, in the strict sense, 26,27; 29,33; 37,16.17; 69,7.23; 74,25; 78,5.7 legein, call, say, speak, 1,2; 2,7–21; 3.1ff.; to (give) name, 1,19; 3,5 lexis, word, 9,9; 13,14; 18,8 logikê, logic, 5,20.27 logikos, rational, 14,8; 19,14; 29,32; 40,10; 41,8.17.20; 42,13; 53,20.33; 54,5; 56,20; 59,24; 60,32; 64,19.26; 67,4–34; 69,1.10; 70,9–12; 71,4; 78,11.14 logikotês, rationality, 71,3 logistikon, reasoning capacity, 5,26 logos, account, 1,18; 19,6–22; 20,2–26; 21,10; 22,20; 23,14.17; 41,18; 52,12; 53,1; 55,24; 56,3; 62,9; 64,20; 70,10.13.22; 78,3; argument, 2,20; 6,30; 57,14.16; 68,31.32; book, 5,9; 50,32; character, 65,13; definition, 65,10.21; discourse, 31,26; 50,19; discussion, 4,13.17; 9,6–19; 13,16; 23,19; 26,6; 34,19; 50,10; 65,9;

156

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71,9.13; 82,27; reason, 50,13; 70,12; relationship, 17,1; 22,3; 61,7.8; sentence, 27,14; 54,33; speech, 73,29; statement, 11,1–25; 37,10; 38,11; 40,11; 66,24; 80,16–23; 81,2–34; 81,20; 82,4–22; 83,2.8 mathêmatika, ta, mathematical objects, 5,4; 6,5 mathêmatikos, mathematical, 3,17; 4,36; 5,4 merikos, particular, 3,9.22.28; 28,11–23; 29,6–12; 30,28–33; 31,1–25; 37,5–9; 38,12–14; 50,3–13; 51,18; 52,26.30; 53,9.11; 57,7.10; 58,21–4; 62,16–21; 63,6.8; 71,18.19; 74,9 meristos, divisible, 18,27; 47,30; 66,32 meristôs, divisibly, 18,27 meros, branch, 12,13; part, 8,2–5; 18,28; 22,4; 31,27; 32,7–34,32; 46,26; 47,3.7; 50,5; 53,20; 54,9–24; 55,22; 65,22; 66,17–23; 67,32–4; 68,10–32; 69,2–18; 73,29 meson, to, middle term, 57,19; 59,16 mesos, between, 5,5; intermediary, 6,5; 29,30; 30,2; mediating, 9,15.22.29; 10,8; 12,10.32; 16,18; middle, 38,27; 46,5 metaballein, change, 48,23.24; 79,10–12; 81,16.17; 82,14; 83,3.4 metablêtikos, productive of change, 23,26.28 metabolê, change, 6,4; 48,14–25; 81,19; 82,18.25; 83,1.2 metekhein, partake in, 14,19; share (in), 18,28.30; 19,3.13; 56,18.19.28; 73,18 methektos, shared, 18,25.27; 19,5 methodos, method, 3,19.20; 5,8–33; 8,13.17.19; 30,20; way, 5,14 mnêmê, memory, 4,3; 16,25.27; 22,10.11; mention, note, 67,13 mnêmoneuein, mention, 13,14.18; 37,5 monadikos, unique, 18,17; 80,14.16 monakhôs, unambiguously, 37,14 monas, unit, 34,33; 35,2; 46,15.19.25; 47,10; 66,28 monoeidês, uniform, 3,13; 4,6 morion, part, 8,1; 13,29; 42,15.19; particle, 46,5.11 morphê, form, 22,6.12

noein, think, 6,14; 7,5 noêma, concept, 8,29; 9,4–31; 10,1–8; 12,5.10.32; 16,18; 25,28; 26,1.5; 27,6.8; 73,24; thought, 7,30; 9,32.34; 14,3 noêtos, grasped by intuitive thought, 50,23; 51,13.19; intelligible, 52,9–34; 69,1–10 notheuein, consider spurious, 7,17 nun, the now (the present) 34,34; 35,2; 46,15–24; 47,10; 66,29; 67,1; 68,3; 69,23 oikeios, one’s own, 3,29; 4,5.11.13; 33,16; 47,13; 50,19; 54,15; 55,11; 65,10–24; 66,23; 73,14; 79,11; particular, 12,1; peculiar, 59,19.23; 61,10; pertain closely, 29,3 oikonomikos, economic, 3,18; 5,7 onoma, name, 7,26; 11,1; 12,1.6.7; 14,5–33; 15,1–27; 16,5–25; 17,21.23.28; 18,3–14; 19,6–29; 20,1–26; 21,1–22; 22,6.7.11; 23,16–22; 24,5–23; 24,28.30; 25,5.8.15; 54,15–21; 64,3–18; noun, 11,1–29; 12,3; 16,6; 27,15.31; 54,33; 55,24; 56,3–29; 57,17; 70,10–28; 71,1; 73,28–32; word, 13,12; 17,29.30; 20,14; 25,28; 29,3 onomasia, name, 22,16 onta, ta, beings, 43,6; 66,12; entities, 9,3; 12,15; 33,1; 65,29; things that are, 13,3; 26,4; 28,1ff. organikos, instrumental, 3,17.19; 4,24; 5,8 organon, instrument, 4,30; 10,17; 21,20.25; tool, 4,32 orthodoxastikôs, by reliance on right opinion, 5,29.32 orthôs, correctly, 81,6 ourania, ta, heavenly bodies, 6,5.10 ouranos, heaven, 4,7 ousia, being, 32,17; 33,18; substance, 6,7.8; 18,26; 19,6–11; 20,3–26; 21,4.6.10; 22,17.18; 23,17; 26,8–27; 27,18; 28,11–23; 29,5–19; 30,3–34; 31,8–25; 32,26; 34,13–20; 35,16–34; 36,1.6; 37,5–11; 38,12; 41,3.6; 43,2.23; 46,4.15.16; 47,15.18; 48,2.5.19; 49,1–25; 50,11.17.23; 51,12.13.24; 52,10–31; 53,1–29; 54,6–30; 55,3–29; 56,8–21; 57,6.10.14; 58,4–24; 59,3–18; 60,1–31; 61,3–30; 62,1–20; 63,7–31; 64,2–30; 65,3.30.33; 66,2–27; 67,1–23; 68,8–31;

Greek-English Index 69,4–26; 70,3–31; 71,6–14; 72,1; 73,4–30; 74,1–27; 75,8–15; 76,1–10; 77,1–32; 78,16–34; 79,2–21; 80,12.18; 81,1.16–24; 82,2–28; 83,3 ousiôdês, essential, 42,13; 73,6.15; 74,7 ousiôdôs, essentially, 38,29.32; 39,9; 64,21; 66,1.14; 70,27 oxutonos, oxytone, 15,19.23 palaios, ancient, 3,29; 17,29; 25,7; old, 4,5 para phusin, contrary to nature, 62,11.17; 63,4.9 paraballein, compare, 60,27.28; 63,12; 67,11 paradeigma, example, 2,9; 42,17.19; 43,7; 49,2; pattern, 23,30 paradeigmatikos, paradigmatic, 17,8 parakolouthein, attend, 72,1; be an attendant feature, 38,22; 75,13; 77,10.19.27; follow, 4,19.22; 5,23.30; 13,31; 53,25; understand, 27,32 parakolouthêma, attendant feature, 69,22; 71,15; 74,13; concomitant, 33,17.18.30 paralogismos, fallacious reasoning, 5,14 parapetasma, curtain, 6,27 parastasis, presentation, 10,10 pareinai, be present, 24,27 parekhein, perform, 52,30; 56,14; 58,9; 59,13; 68,19; provide, 7,5 parergon, secondary work, 13,28 paristênai, to present, 6,19; set forth, 32,4 parônumos, paronym, 21,19.23; 24,4–31; 25,1.4.5.20 parônumôs, paronymously, 21,20.25; 57,1.2 paroxutonos, paroxytone, 15,19 parrêsiastikos, outspoken, 2,25 paskhein, be acted upon, 26,22.29; 44,16; be affected, 82,16–21; being affected, 44,4–16; 48,25 pathos, affection 82,17.18; passion, 2,28.29; 5,26; passivity, 26,9.10.28 peras, end, 46,17.18; limit, 33,22.24.28 periekhein, contain, 53,30–3; 54,2–13; 55,20.22; 73,7–12; embrace, 72,4 perilambanein, include, 30,17.24; 31,5; 33,8.9.32; 34,5.8.33; 35,1.10; 45,19.20; 74,5

157

peripatein, walk, 3,5; 10,1; 27,9.17.18; 43,15; 45,16–34; 46,6; 73,32.33 perittos, odd (uneven), 29,30; 75,19.21; 77,13 pezologos, prosaic, 24,34 pezos, terrestrial, 42,10.15; 64,17.18 pharmakon, drug, 17,4 philosophein, philosophise, 2,4 philosophia, philosophy, 1,2.5; 2,6; 4,24; 5,34; 8,19.22; 10,10; 53,5 philosophos, philosopher, 1,8.9.19; 4,34; 5,21; 6,18; 7,3.26.31; 8,25; 9,2.5.28; 10,17.22; 11,17; 12,5–35; 13,13; 16,27; 17,22; 31,26; 62,5–26; 65,10; 73,31.33; philosophical, 2,26 phônê, expression, 8,28–33; 9,13–33; 10,1–7; 11,3–33; 12,2–32; 13,15.17.20; 14,7.9; 16,17.20; 18,9.12; 20,16–31; 25,12; 26,1–33; 27,1–23; 28,5; 29,1; 31,29; 35,7; 39,11; 42,2.9; 43,3–23; 45,10–29; 46,1; 47,26; 53,22; 54,26; 72,3; 73,24–7; 74,2; 78,32; language, 9,25; sound, 20,6.8; voice, 19,1 phrasis, expression, 7,30; style, 4,9; use of words, 6,18; 12,35 phthartikos, destructive, 78,13.14 phtheirein, destroy, 33,14; 34,14.15; 75,2; 82,20 phthora, destruction, 6,5.9; 48,20; 65,1 phuktos, not exhaustive, 29,21 phusei, by nature, 49,15; 50,9.10; 53,7.9.11; 65,27 phusikos, physical, 5,3.17; 65,12 phusikôs, naturally, 62,14 phusiologikos, natural (on natural science), 3,17.36; 4,36 phusis, nature, 2,12.18; 6,16.19.20; 7,4; 8,2; 14,9; 15,12; 19,2; 27,11; 28,13; 29,3; 32,4; 50,6; 53,13; 59,25; 62,20; physical realm, 5,3 pleonazein, cover too much, 33,6.8; 35,8 pneuma, breathing, 15,16.27 poiein, acting, 44,4.5.14.16; 46,4.12; 48,24; build, 11,7; carry out, 16,20; construct, 57,16.19; create, 66,8; develop, 4,12; 27,29; 34,26; direct, 4,13.17; 61,12; do, make, 3,8; 9,2; 26,6 ff.; form, 46,2; found, 3,24; give, 11,17; 14,24; proceed, 11,17;

158

Greek-English Index

57,26; 63,13; 22,22; produce, 10,27; 28,10; 43,5.16 poiêtikos, poetic, 24,33; productive, 17,10; 21,24; 78,10 poikilos, diverse, 3,13.14; 4,8; not ambiguous, 37,16 poion, to, quality, 6,8; 43,2; 47,15.20; 48,20; 49,18; 55,8; 63,4; 79,5; qualification, 73,5.17.20 poios, what sort of, which of, 1,8.13.13; 8,5.16; 9,18.25ff. poiotês, quality, 36,9; 65,6–31; 72,4; 73,1–15; 74,8–21; 77,31; 79,26 politikos, political, 3,19; 5,7 polloi, hoi, the ordinary people, an ordinary person, 4,15–22; 34,17–18; 47,26.27; 48,5; 50,5.18; 61,12; 70,32; common run of people, 29,4; the many, 61,16; 67,4 poluônumos, polyonym, 14,13.32; 15,1; 17,20.22; 24,13 polus, many, 2,20ff. polus anthrôpos, ho, ordinary person, 13,21–2; 34,25.27; 35,5–6; 47,28; 61,15; 66,30.34; 67,2–3; 77,1–2 poson, to, quantity, 6,8; 26,34; 39,7.11; 41,3; 43,2; 46,22–6; 47,2–31; 48,20; 49,18; 63,4; 66,31; 74,28; 75,5–9; 77,11.21.24; 78,21.22; 79,5 posos, how many, 1,7; 8,5; 13,30 posotês, quantity, 75,10 pous, foot, 8,4; 17,1.2; 22,3; 42,4–7; 53,21; 69,1; 81,32 pragma, (in pl.) affairs, 32,23; matter, 3,26; 4,2.7.8; reality, 74,1; real thing, 39,3–13; 81,21.26; 83,3; thing, 2,11.14.18.19; 5,26; 6,19.28; 8,29; 9,1–35; 10,5.8; 12,2–32; 14,3–33; 15,1–7; 16,12.14–18; 17,22.27; 19,23–32; 21,11; 22,22; 23,7.8; 24,28–35; 25,16.19.28; 26,1–32; 27,6.7; 28,3.10; 32,4; 34,21; 35,3; 40,13; 41,22; 43,5.20.23; 48,10; 49,16; 50,6; 53,13; 54,27; 58,20.22; 63,29; 73,10–27; 74,7; 78,34; 81,30–34; 82,1.15 pragmateia, treatise, 1,15; 3,25; 5.1–25; 7,1.4.30; 8,18.27; 12,35; 47,24 pragmatikôs, really, 38,29.31

praktikos, practical, 3,16.18; 4,23–6; 5,6; 10,11.12; 12,13; 40,13 praxis, action, 11,5–32; 12,29 pro tôn pollôn, prior to the many, 58,13; 67,20; 71,10 problêma, problem, 8,14.15 prodidaskein, give preliminary instruction, 13,10.15 prohairesis, choice, 16,24 prolambanein, assume in advance, 40,3; 56,1.8; grasp, 7,33; put forward beforehand, 53,14; take up in advance, 1,7; 17,25; treat beforehand, 14,27 prooimion, beginning, 16,15; preface, 13,2.28 pros ti, relative, 47,8–19; 75,6 prosêgoria, name, 17,3; 20,33; 21,12; 24,5; 25,14 prosekhês, proximate, 61,2.4; close, 59,25 prosôpon, person, 4,11–14; 26,15–23 protasis, premise, 10,31; 11,1–30 protassein, place before, 13,24; 15,11; 27,10.27; 68,23; put first, 31,19 proteron, earlier, 9,15.19; 43,6; first, 5,19–31; 7,10; 8,5; 10,29; 11,4–28; 26,2; 27,16; 28,4.5; 32,2; 43,7; 49,8; previously, 10,30 proteros, first, 69,23.25; 71,15; prior, 13,18.23; 15,13; 50,9.10; 53,9–12 prôton, beforehand, 7,33; first, 5,29; 7,32; 11,33; 29,16; 35,22; 53,24; 55,1; 67,22; 70,3; 81,13 prôtos, first, 6,7.14.34; 26,14; 42,21; 49,8; 67,21; 78,18; primary, 34,20–6; 50,2–11; 51,12.21; 53,24.29; 54,7–29; 55,3–26; 56,8–21; 57,6–15; 59,1–18; 60,1–24; 61,13–30; 62,1.4; 63,12.31; 64,21; 69,27; 76,2.10; 77,3; 78,24; prime, 49,27; prior, 49,15; 53,12; 53,8 prôtôs, primarily, 49,1; 50,15.17; 55,27; 76,3 pseudein, be false, 81,5; say something false, 45,15–33; 46,1 pseudes, to, falsity, 10,21; 45,21 pseudês, false, 4,29; 80,21.23; 81,28; 82,2 pseudos, falsity, falsehood 4,26.29; 8,16.17; 10,14–23; 45,12–31; 46,2.3; 81,3–30 pseudôs, falsely, 81,7 psilos, bare, 9,17

Greek-English Index psukhê, soul, 3,2; 4,7; 9,32; 10,14; 12,9; 14,2; 20,8; 30,4.18; 53,1 psukhikos, spiritual, 49,26 ptôsis, case, 15,26; grammatical form, 24,5.19; inflection, 15,16.23 rhêma, verb, 11,2–30; 12,3; 16,10; 18,4–24; 26,15–28; 27,10.32; 54,34 rhêtorikos, rhetorical, 6,18 rhoê, flow, 2,18 saphes, to, clarity, 8,8 saphênia, clarity, 13,29 saphênizein, clarify, 6,34 saphês, clear, 5,18; 10,9.10; 29,1; 50,16; 65,8; evident, 7,15 saphôs, clearly, 1,17; 2,11; 6,21; 34,19; 50,24; 65,12 sêmainein, indicate, 14,3.6; 16,16; 51,28; 52,6.13; 59,24; 61,28; 73,31; mean, 15,20–9; 17,11; 18,5.13; 63,27; note down, 3,14; refer to, 34,17; signify, 9,15–33; 10,7; 12,2–32; 14,5–9; 15,19–21; 18,10; 19,30; 23,11; 24,33; 25,13; 26,8–35; 27,1–8; 29,3; 30,23; 34,5.29; 35,7; 39,9; 43,11–23; 45,13–31; 46,2.10; 47,26; 53,22; 54,26; 71,14–19; 72,3; 73,22–33; 74,2.3; 78,25.33 sêmainomenon, meaning, 22,12; 50,5; sense, 20,9.13; signified, 20,21; 26,31 sêmanktikos, meaningful, 18,9.12; signifying, 9,24; 11,4.26; 73,27.28 sêmasia, meaning, 31,34; sense, 34,6 sêmeion, point, 13,10; 34,32.33; 35,1.3; 46,14–24; 47,9; 66,27 skheseôs, hôs, relationally, 39,12 skhesis, relation, relationship, 15,10; 16,13; 21,12; 44,15; 45,2; 53,2; 59,7.9.21; 47,13.22; 61,22.23; 63,1; 75,10 skhetikôs, relationally, 39,4 skia, shadow, 3,4; 33,18 skopein, consider, 31,15; examine, 76,10; note, 70,19.23 skopos, aim, 1,3.6; 7,2–8; 8,8–33; 9,1.4.14; 10,6; 12,9.11.28; 16,15; 21,18; 26,7; 34,16; 35,4; 43,21; 45,8; 47,24; 48,1; 53,10–14; 56,1; 70,30

159

sôma, body, 2,17; 6,15; 9,31.32; 14,2.3; 30,14.15; 32,8.9; 33,10–31; 34,12; 41,6; 42,8.16; 44,10; 50,32; 51,2–31; 52,4; 53,2.4.20; 56,23–6; 57,26–31; 65,16–34; 73,8.10.14; 78,8 sômatikos, bodily, 3,1; 6,14 sperma, seed, 14,8 spoudaios, good, 6,29; 56,28; 81,18; virtuous, 25,6–13 spoudazein, be eager, 6,25; be enthusiastic, 7,23 spoudê, seriousness, 25,11.13; zeal, 7,9 sterêsis, privation, 30,8–13; 48,7.11 stoikheion, element, 55,21; 65,6.9.30; 66,1; letter, 27,15; 54,33 sullabê, syllable, 19,2; 24,29; 25,3.20; 26,34; 27,15; 39,11; 54,33 sullogê, collection, 10,32; 11,22 sullogismos, syllogism, 4,31; 10,24–32; 11,18–31; 27,21.23; 45,11; 64,2 sullogistikos, syllogistic, constructing syllogisms, 8,14 sullogizesthai, to reason, 8,17 sumbainein, attach as an accident, 49,11; 66,1; belong accidentally, 29,17; happen, 42,26; 53,6 sumballein, contribute, 5,13; 73,2; be helpful, 14,27 sumbebêkos, accident, 20,4.11.14; 23,23; 28,11–23; 29,4.7.15; 30,22.27.33; 31,1–25; 32,26; 33,9.13.19; 34,14; 35,10.17.20; 37,9.11; 38,13.14; 39,5; 49,10; 52,16–34; 53,5.8; 55,9; 56,21; 57,10.25; 58,9.11.24; 59,2; 60,13; 61,7.21.29; 62,5–28; 63,5–8; 64,24–32; 65,29.34; 66,5–16; 68,15–17; 69,14; 70,27; 77,31.34; 78,1–30; accidental feature, 2,6; 3,7 sumplekein, combine, 26,9.18; 28,9.10.13; 46,2; 73,29; 74,2 sumplêrôtikos, completive, 34,13; 64,27; 65,29; 66,1.13; 68,8.20; 73,3 sumplêroun, complete, 34,14; 48,23; 65,32; 66,15; 68,21.22 sumplokê, combination, 8,32; 24,7.12; 25,23–5; 27,10.28.31; 28,20; 43,1–22; 44,1; 45,7.28 sumptôma, indication, 3,3

160

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sunamphoteros, composite, 22,21; 23,1–10; 34,11; 48,4; composed, 71,11 sunanairein, do away with (along with), 49,13.14; 53,26–9; 58,10–22 sunanaphainein, appear right along with, 8,8.12.21 sunaparkhein, co-­exist, 68,23 suneispherein, bring along, 49,10.11.14 sunekheia, continuous flow, 13,13 sunekhês, continuous, 47,5.6.30; 66,32 sunergein, cooperate, 5,13 sunerkhesthai, concur, 15,15 sunêtheia, ordinary usage, 13,22; 31,30 sunêthês, familiar, 5,17; 27,12 sunistanai, compose, 11,25; exist, 28,21; prove, 6,32; subsist, 33,20; 35,15; 68,19 sunkeisthai, be made up, 10,32; 11,2.24 sunkekhumenôs, in a confused way, 13,33 sunônumia, synonymy, 23,22.23 sunônumos, synonym, 13,4.21; 14,14.24; 15,3.13; 19,11.12; 20,17–34; 21,12; 23,16–24; 24,1–23; 70,20.21; synonymous, 70,6 sunônumôs, synonymously, 15,14; 56,17; 66,19; 69,21; 70,8–25; 71,16; 78,23 sunousia, conversation, 3,6 suntagma, treatise, 4,5.9 suntagmatikos, fully arranged treatise, 3,12.14; 4,8.10 sunteinein, pertain, 1,3.5 suntelein, contribute, 3,21; 10,9; 33,18.19; 49,5 sunthesis, complexity, 26,30.35 sunthetos, complex, 9,35; 10,2–30; 12,30; 26,7–33; 27,4–28; 43,11–14; 45,23.25; composed, composite, 34,28; 48,6; 49,23.24–9; 50,1.24; 51,13.20; 67,6–16; 70,31; 71,4.8.12 suntomia, concision, 14,28; 20,1 sustatikos, constitutive, 19,26; 32,5; 40,8–11; 41,9–19; 42,27 suzugia, pairing, 24,13; 28,20; 31,19 suzugos, paired together, 18,18.23; 28,20 tattein, place (in order), 5,2; 24,19.24; 60,32; 61,5; 73,14

tautotês, sameness, 37,18; 47,2 taxis, arrangement, 54,32; 55,1; 76,10; order, 7,2.31; 8,24; 12,28; place, placement, 49,8; 68,29; 69,4 tekhnê, art, 27,3 teleios, complete, 27,12 teleiôs, fully, 48,16 teleutaios, last, 24,29; 25,2.20 telikos, pertaining to the goal, 21,26 telos, end, 9,9; 11,5–32; 50,32; 77,14; goal, 1,11.12; 2,5; 3,1.4; 5,34; 6,3; 10,12; 17,5.8; 21,27; 32,19 teuxis, attainment, 10,13 theios, divine, 29,17.19; 51,27.28; 52,5 theologikos, theological, 3,18; 4.36; 5.1 theôrein, conceive, 78,7; concern, 34,20.22; consider, 9,7; 14,11.18; 16,17; examine, 53,1.3; find, 48,19; 49,18; 58,17; note, 65,26; observe, 32,11; 47,17; 65,14.17; 81,32; see, 17,15; 67,10 theôrêma, argument, 50,29.30; observation, 69,3.9; theme, 3,13; theorem, 13,10; 14,28 theôretikôs, theoretical, 3,16.17; 4,23.25.36; 10,11; 12,12; 40,13 theôria, theorising, 11,5–29 theos, god, 51,30; 53,3 thesis, affirmation, 52,14; coinage, 17,29; position, 35,33 thnêtos, mortal, 14,8; 19,14; 40,10; 41,10.17.21; 42,14; 56,20; 59,24; 67,4; 69,2.10; 70,9; 78,11.15 thumos, anger, 23,2.3.4 timios, worthy, 31,19; 51,24 tmêma, cut, 28,16; 43,5; section, 13,8.16; 67,19.21; set, 28,19; subclass, 47,31 tode ti, this something, 71,14.17; 72,2; 78,25.32 tonos, accent, 15,15.18 topos, place, 2,2; 6,9.10; 16,22; 32,18.20.21; 33,31; 35,27; 42,14.18; seat, 18,29 tragelaphos, goat-­stag, 9,18 tripous, tripod, 6,32 tukhê, chance, 16,22; 21,16 tuphlos, blind, 7,7; 30,10 xenos, unfamiliar, 13,11

Greek-English Index zên, live, 2,28.29; 5,32 zeugnunai, pair together, 28,21 zôê, life, 2,5; 3,3; 15,22; 42,14 zôion, animal, 3,27; 14,8; 19,14; 21,2–5; 22,3–19; 23–31; 24,2; 31,1.21; 32,13.14.31; 38,26.28;

39,1.3.10; 40,8.9; 41,5–26; 42,4–13; 53,20–33; 54,2–24; 56,19.20; 57,25; 58,15; 59,23.29; 60,28–33; 61,3.25; 62,6.16; 64,19; 67,6–33; 70,9.33; 71,2.4; 72,2; 73,13; 74,5.16

161

Subject Index References are to the page and line numbers of the CAG edition, given in the margins of the translation. Academics, the, 2,2 accident, sumbebêkos homonymy in accidents, 20,4–9 ‘in a subject’, see under subject needs substance for its existence, 29,7–9; 33,13–20; 34,14–15; 35,15–16; 49,5–22; 57,10–11; 58,10–12 particular and universal, 28,9–29,13; 31,1–4; 31,23–6 why accidents are not called tertiary substances, 61,20–63,9 account, logos, 1,18; 19,6–22; 20,2–26; 21,10; 22,20; 23,14.17; 41,18; 52,12; 53,1; 55,24; 56,3; 62,9; 64,20; 70,10.13.22; 78,3 includes both definition and description, 20,1–3 activity, energeia, 3,7; 15,10; 22,5; 26,8–28; 27,18 actuality, energeia, 65,25; 73,18.19 aim, skopos, 1,3.6; 7,2–8; 8,8–33; 9,1.4.14; 10,6; 12,9.11.28; 16,15; 21,18; 26,7; 34,16; 35,4; 43,21; 45,8; 47,24; 48,1; 53,10–14; 56,1; 70,30 Alexander of Aphrodisias, 8,30; see also Introduction, esp. pp. 9–15 Alexander of Macedon, 3,23 Andronicus of Rhodes, 5,19 Aristotelian works division of, 3,8–5,14 order of study, 5,15–33 style and obscurity, 6,17–28 topics to be discussed in advance for each of Aristotle’s works, 7,1–8,21 Aristotle, 2,7; 3,6; 7,1–29; 9,8.9.11; 12,9; 17,11; 20,10; 22,11; 23,1.9; 25,21; 26,26; 29,1; 30,22; 31,15; 32,6.27; 33,21.27; 34,16.28; 35,4.22; 42,17; 45,27; 49,27; 50,23; 61,11; 65,18; 66,3–30; 67,14.35; 68,13; 71,20; 73,17.23;80,16 Philosopher, the, 5,21; 6,18; 7,3.25.26.31; 8,25; 9,2.5; 11,17; 12,34.35; 13,13; 17,22; 31,29; 40,6 body, 2,17; 6,15; 9,31.32; 14,2.3; 30,14.15; 32,8.9; 33,10–31; 34,12; 41,6; 42,8.16; 44,10; 50,32; 51,2–31; 52,4; 53,2.4.20; 56,23–6; 57,26–31; 65,16–34; 73,8.10.14; 78,8

Boethus of Sidon, 5,16; see also Introduction, pp. 9, 15, 18 Categories, Aristotle’s work aim of, 8,27–12,11; 16,15–18; 26,3–7; 43,21–44,2; 45,8–10; 73,23–4 authenticity of, 12,34–13,5 division into pre-categories, categories, and post-categories, 13,6–32 order of study, 12,28–33 reason for the title, 12,17–27 utility of, 12,12–16 category, katêgoria said of things, concepts and expressions, 25,7–26,2 tenfold division of, 28,3–9; 43,7–48,27 cause, aitia, aition, 5,35; 6,7; 17,8; 21,24; 22,7.13; 29,29; 34,23; 50,8.27.31 common, koinos, 4,20; 17,28; 18,3–19,26; 21,9; 22,16; 23,16; 41,5; 54,30; 58,17; 59,27.29; 63,10.24.27; 70,21; 74,9 four senses of, 18,25–19,4 concept ennoia, 9,20; 12,6.8; 13,21; 34,27; 35,5; 43,24; 48,5; 58,20.23; 67,5; 71,3 noêma, 8,29; 9,4–31; 10,1–8; 12,5.10.32; 16,18; 25,28; 26,1.5; 27,6.8; 73,24 contrary, enantios division into those that admit of intermediates and those that do not, 29,22–30,4; cf. 75,19–22 nothing is contrary to a quantity, 77,11–24 nothing is contrary to a substance, 74,14–75,30 substance is receptive of contraries, 77,27–83,4 Cynics, the, 2,5.24–9 Cyrenaics, the, 2,1 definition, horismos composed of a genus and differentiae, 19,25–6; 32,4–5; 68,1 definition and account, 20,1–3 definition and description, 19,23–33 definition and name, 14,5-11

164

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definition in terms of (matter and) form, 22,21–23,15 why one cannot define substance, see under genus: the most generic genera cannot be defined’ demonstration, 4,30–5; 5,10–33; 10,19-28; 11,17–32; 12,14; 51,15–18; 68,1.3 differentia, diaphora division of, 42,12–17 divisive and constitutive, 40,7–42,2 prior to the many and in the many, 67,18-68,9 (see also n. 165) status of, 64,9–69,11 (see also nn. 92, 161); 70,23–71,9 distinctive feature, idion belongs to all and only that of which it is a distinctive feature, 63,19–30 of substances, 63,21–83,4 resembles a defining feature, 63,17–20 (see also n. 151) Epicureans, the, 2,6 esoteric, 3,15.16; 4,12 Eusthatius, 9,1 exoteric, 3,16; 4,15 expression, phônê Categories is about expressions that signify things by means of concepts, 9,14–15; 10,7–8; 12,9–11; see also under Categories: aim of simple and complex, 10,1–4; 26,7–27,32; 43,11–15; 45,22–5 simple expressions do not signify anything true or false, 45,12–46,6 form, eidos, 2,5; 22,21; 23,1–13; 32,22; 34,8–29; 35,5; 48,3–17; 49,27; 65,12–17; 71,10–13; 82,22 genus, genos disparate and subordinate, 40,4–41,21; 42,20–9 the most generic and subordinate, 12,19–25; 32,32–33,4 the most generic genera cannot be defined, 19,25–30; 63,14–17 why species and genera are called secondary substances, 61,20–62,10 goal, telos, 1,11.12; 2,5; 3,1.4; 5,34; 6,3; 10,12; 17,5.8; 21,27; 32,19 Hedonists, the, 2,6; 2,29–3,4 Heraclitus, 2,15 heteronym, 14,15–23; 15,2–6; 24,14.24

Homer, 25,10; Poet, the, 17,30 homonym, 13,3.31; 14,1–24,2; 24,6–20; 25,4 division of, 16,22–17,10; 21,14–22,11 in which sense homonyms are synonyms, 19,11–20; 20,16–21,13 Iamblichus, 9,12; see also Introduction, esp. pp. 21–2 individual, atomos, 34,20–4; 37,1.11; 38,11.13; 50,7; 53,30; 54,7; 55,18–22; 57,17–24; 58,18.19; 59,11.17; 60,23–9; 61,5.13; 62,8; 67,10–35; 68,1–8; 70,1–26; 71,21; 74,16; 77,4; 78,7; 79,2.5; 80,14–19 main topics, kephalaia, 1,6-16 (see also n. 3); 4,10; 7,1–3, 8,26ff.; 13,6.30 matter, hulê, 5,5; 22,21.22; 23,2–11; 32,22; 34,8–30; 35,5; 48,3.4; 52,2–8; 65,13–25; 71,10–13 prime matter, hulê prôtê, 49,27; 65,10–17 Megarians, the, 2,2 name, onoma account in accordance with the name, 19,6–20 definition and name, see under definition two senses of, 18,6–10 paronym, 21,19.23; 24,4–25,20 particular, merikos, kata meros, kath’ hekaston most familiar to ordinary people, 34,25–6; 48,5–6; 61,11-17; 70,30–71,5; 77,1–2 needs universals, not of predication, but for existence, 30,30–1 no definition of the particular, 54,21–4; 67,35–68,3 not said of a subject, 29,12–13; 37,5–38,15 subject for predication and existence, see under substance: primary substance serves as a subject for all the other things Peripatetics, the, 2,7; 3,4–7; 66,21; 73,19 philosophy division into theoretical and practical, 4,24–5; 10,10–13; 12,12–13 goal of Aristotelian philosophy, 5,34–6,16 schools of philosophers, 1,19–3,7 Plato, 2,20; 3,5; 4,14; 17,30; 30,20; 51,29 Platonists, the, 1,20; 73,20 Plotinus, 6,15 polynym, 14,12–13; 14,31–15,2; 17,20.22; 24,13 Porphyry, 9,5; 32,32; 34,3; 62,9; 66,20.24; see also Introduction, esp. pp. 17–21 Introductions, Porphyry’s work, 1,2 (see also n. 1); 12,19; 32,32

Subject Index predication, katêgoria accidental, 38,28-39,8; 62,22–63,6 essential predication is transitive, 38,19–39,15 (see also n. 106); 56,2–28; 57,20–5; 70,5–19 in accord with nature and contrary to nature, 62,10–22 principle, arkhê, 5,8–35; 6,1–14; 23,26.28; 54,33 Pyrrho, 2,8 Pythagoreans, the, 1,20 quality, to poion, poiotês, 6,8; 36,9; 43,2; 47,15.20; 48,20; 49,18; 55,8; 63,4; 65,6–31; 72,4; 73,1–15; 74,8–21; 77,31; 79,5.26 quantity, to poson, posotês, 6,8; 26,34; 39,7.11; 41,3; 43,2; 46,22-26; 47,2–31; 48,20; 49,18; 63,4; 66,31; 74,28; 75,5–10; 77,11.21.24; 78,21.22; 79,5 relative, pros ti, 47,8–19; 75,6 sense perception, 31,22; 36,5; 50,12; 51,14–19 Socrates, 51,29 soul, 3,2; 4,7; 9,32; 10,14; 12,9; 14,2; 20,8; 30,4.18; 53,1 species, eidos more a substance than the genus, 59,5–60,19; 77,2–3 no species is more a substance than any other species of the same genus, 60,20–61,17 why species and genera are called secondary substances, 61,20–62,10 Stoics, the, 2,3 subject, hupokeimenon ‘in a subject’, 32,2–36,13; 69,14–19 ‘(predicated) of a subject’, 38,19–39,15 two senses of, 30,25–6 substance, ousia division of, into matter, form, and composite, 48,1–6; 49,23–7; 71,9–11 intelligible, 50,23–51,21; 52,9–34 ‘not in a subject’, 29,9–10; 29,14–31,9; 51,22–52,8; 63,30–64,6 particular and universal, 28,9–29,13; 50,2–22; 53,10–12; 58,34–59,1 prior by nature, 49,8–22 (see also n. 123); 53,8–10; 58,7-13

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primary and secondary, 34,19–24; 50,2–22 (see also n. 128); 53,18–55,22; 58,8–59,1; 61,18–63,9 primary substance serves as a subject for all the other things (though in different ways), 52,29–31; 55,26–9; 56,13–14; 57,7–11; 58,8–59,1; 59,12–14; 60,7–14 secondary substances are completive of primary substances, 73,3–7; 74,7–8; cf. 66,13–16; 68,8.21 self-subsistent, 20,11; 29,9–10; 46,16; 53,9–10 simple and composite, 48,1–6; 49,23–50,1; 50,23–51,21; 52,9–53,6; 67,7–10 two senses of, 20,10–13 suspenders of judgement, the, ephektikoi, 2,4 (see also n. 6), 2,7–24 synonym, 13,4.21; 14,14.24; 15,3.13; 19,11.12; 20,17–34; 21,12; 23,16–24,3; 24,6-23; 70,20.21 Theophrastus, 7,21 things that are (beings), onta Aristotle discusses things that are, not qua things that are, but in accord with how ordinary people refer to them, 34,15–18; 34,30–1; 35,6–8; 47,24–6; 48,1–6; 50,4–6; 66,33–67,1; 70,30-1 fourfold division of, 28,3–31,26; 43,6; 67,18 tenfold division of, 28,3–9; 43,7–9; see also under category this something, tode ti, 71,17–74,3; 78,25.32 universal, katholou cause of individuals, 34,22-4; 50,6–9 needs particulars, not for its existence, but for its predication, 29,10–12; 30,29–30; 57,7–8; cf. 53,11–12 prior to the many, in the many, and after the many, 58,13–23 (see also n. 146); cf. 9,7.11; 67,18-68,9; see also Introduction, p. 15ff. the most worthy, 31,19–26 virtue, 2,27.28; 3,3; 5,29; 25,6–14; 37,16.17; 56,27.28 Xenocrates, 2,3 Zeno of Citium, 2.3; see also Introduction, p. 9

Philoponus A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts Translated by Daniel King

Introduction Daniel King

Within the philosophical career of John Philoponus, an early period of commenting upon the works of Aristotle gave way to a period of keen, often polemical, interaction with contemporaries on matters of high philosophical or religious import, whether the opponent was a fellow philosopher such as Simplicius, a Christian theologian such as Cosmas, or the orthodox ecclesiastics of Constantinople. Philoponus wrote A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts in the middle-­to-latter part of his career, probably within a few years either side of 553, and hence this work of philosophy seems to buck the trend just described. We shall indicate in this introduction, however, that A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts does in fact belong to the theological interactions that Philoponus was involved in during those years, although it also draws on the work of his period as a commentator on Aristotle.1 The treatise was preserved only in Syriac and is thus presented here in English translation for the first time.

Parts within wholes: the philosophical background The question specifically posed in the present treatise is whether parts exist within their wholes in actuality, or only in potentiality. In the Metaphysics, both possibilities are in view: ‘The continuous and limited is a whole, when there is a unity consisting of several parts present in it, especially if they are present only potentially, but, failing this, even if they are present actually.’2 A comment in book 7 seems less ambiguous: ‘A substance cannot consist of substances present in it actually (for things that are thus actually two are never actually one, though if they are potentially two, they can be one).’3 So if parts are present in a whole actually, the whole is not really a unified

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substance at all. The discussion of ‘prior and posterior’ at Metaph. 1019a2–14 also presupposes generally that parts have only potential existence within the whole.4 Alexander of Aphrodisias, as so often, attempted to clarify the peripatetic position. His lengthy commentary on the Metaphysics deals frequently with the issue of potentiality and the status that it confers on existents.5 The parts are prior to the whole when they exist potentially but posterior to the whole when they exist actually (i.e. when they are separated off and thought of by themselves). Alternatively, we can say that both are prior in different respects; the part is potentially prior and the whole is actually prior because ‘what actually exists is being in the primary sense and it is the whole that actually exists’. Philoponus’ treatment of the subject is not abstract ontology, but is closely connected with the discussion in Aristotle’s Physics and de Generatione et Corruptione about change and about mixture and combination.6 After discussing how we might meaningfully talk of generation and corruption in terms of accidental change, Aristotle does suggest that another way of considering the question would be to speak of potentiality and actuality (Phys. 191b27–9). Nonetheless, it was at GC 1.10 that he used the same notion to hypothesise that true combination is possible within a non-­atomistic physical theory so long as one deploys the idea that things can exist in potentiality. By the device of saying that ingredients were present in a combination only ‘in potentiality’, Aristotle was able to hold onto hylomorphism and that matter when truly combined (rather than only juxtaposed) changed into a tertium quid, while also asserting that the qualities of the initial ingredients of the combination were retained. Philoponus’ discussion presupposes this background, although he found (in GC 270,31–271,24) that he needed to qualify the theory by defining more varieties of potentiality than did Aristotle himself.7 He also qualifies (in GC 270–2) the argument that the qualities of the combinables are preserved in a combination. He can say that ‘the purely hot qua purely hot’ has been destroyed in the compound and that, since fire is the purely hot, the fire too is present only potentially. The compound is, then, potentially fire according to first potentiality, but potentially purely hot in accordance with third potentiality (i.e. it exists in a ‘restrained’ way).

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As well as relating back to his commentary on de Generatione et Corruptione, Philoponus also bases himself on ideas worked out in his commentary on Physics. This includes discussions of the potential status of the parts of a continuum (see ch. 4) and the non-­identity of parts and elements (see ch. 3). Another problem he seeks to address is whether the analysis of parts and wholes is ultimately the same as the analysis of species and genera. Aristotle had said (Phys. 184a25–6) that ‘a universal is a kind of whole, comprehending many things within it, like parts’.8 The implication is that as one moves down the Porphyrian tree of being from genera to species, or from universal to particular, one is equally moving simultaneously from wholes to parts. Alexander of Aphrodisias made the same identification,9 from which we may conclude that it was an established usage that Philoponus sought to overturn.10 Philoponus is attempting, in his own work, to exclude the study of logical part-­ hood from that of the ontological status of real, physical parts.11

The background in Christian theology Although the emergence of sophisticated Christian theologies in the third and fourth centuries was in many ways related to Middle and Late Platonist ideas, the relationship between philosophy and theology remained an uncertain one throughout that era. The trinitarian theology of the Cappadocian fathers was couched in terminology drawn from philosophical discourse but was hardly controlled by its definitions, and any direct connection between Aristotelian logic and Christian dogma was likely to be taken as a sign of pagan interference, and hence of heresy.12 When Christian authors use the term ‘philosophy’ in a positive manner, this is usually in reference to the so-­called ‘new philosophy’, the anchoritic movement of the Egyptian desert fathers. Ecclesiastical authors frequently appropriate the term ‘philosophy’ to refer to this exalted way of life in contrast to the sophistical mind-­games of pagan lecturers. The same attitudes may still be found widely held among those fifth century theologians who debated the number of natures that existed in the person of Christ.13 Only in the era of Justinian (527–65) did theologians of the church begin to take more serious note of logical theory and to take pride in the coherence they could demonstrate between logical definitions and some

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particular dogmatic position. What has sometimes been called ‘scholastic theology’, this new departure in modes of discourse, was set against the background of the intra-­ecclesiastical debates over the person of Christ in the wake of the oecumenical council of 451 held in Chalcedon, at which an imperially-­sanctioned decision was made that the person of the Saviour was a single concrete existence (hypostasis), but constituted out of two natures (phuseis), the human and the divine.14 From this point on, those who continued to insist, following Cyril of Alexandria, that there was but a single nature in Christ are known as miaphysites;15 dyophysites are those who followed the Chalcedonian formula, though the term is often used polemically to refer to Nestorianism, the dogma of not only two natures, but also two hypostases, or even two persons (prosopa). The Chalcedonian council solved little. For many decades the bishops and theologians of the eastern provinces were split on whether to accept it or not, and Emperors tried in vain to come up with face-­saving solutions that would allow dissenters to agree verbally to the formula without feeling committed to a dualist Christology.16 While Zeno and Anastasius were known for their conciliatory policies towards the hardline anti-Chalcedonian bishops (the so-­ called miaphysites) in Egypt and the Eastern border provinces, Justinian brought to Constantinople a stronger line on uniformity. Despite his consort’s own miaphysitic tendencies, Justinian’s era brought pressure to bear upon these dissidents, increasingly seen as politically, and no longer merely religiously, schismatic.17 The Emperor’s failure to heal the schism by cajolery led inevitably in the end to the convocation of a new oecumenical council, to be held in the capital city in 553. Philoponus’ engagement with the Christological problem, including the present work on part-­whole relations, stems from the run-­up to this council.

Are the divine and human elements in Christ like parts in a whole? The idea of using part-­whole relations to express the manner of the union of the humanity and the divinity in Christ goes back at least to Apollinarius, the fourth-­century theologian accused of heresy for robbing the Word of God, the

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second person of the Trinity, of a human soul. Apollinarius pursued a more rigid line in his reading of Aristotle’s theory of combinations than did his opponents, for he insisted that in a combination in which one of the elements predominates the other (as in the case of the drop of wine in the ocean) there can be only a single nature or form, the ‘what it really is’ of the composite substance (cf. Metaph. 5.4). Hence he suggested that the single nature of Christ was constituted out of two incomplete parts.18 The whole Christ is a unified, single substance, but the parts from which he is constituted are neither of them any longer in their original state of perfection in terms of the integrity of their qualities. Although his works were condemned, Apollinarius’ theology survived under orthodox attributions to influence first the anti-Nestorianism of Cyril of Alexandria and later the emerging miaphysite theology of Severus of Antioch early in the sixth century.19 These theologians could not avoid repudiating the Apollinarian heresy verbally (it had been anathematised by oecumenical council) but Cyril could still speak openly of the advantages of Apollinarius’ position for securing the single-­subject Christology that was so crucial to him,20 and he does continue to think in terms of a combination at least of unequal parts.21 Cyril’s opponents (i.e. ‘Nestorian dyophysites’), on the other hand, ‘maintain that one of the parts is completely human . . . while the other one is the Word of God, . . . [but] they never really specify what is meant by the nature of the Word and the nature of the flesh’,22 i.e. they cannot say what a nature could be in such a combination without making it out to be a regular combination of equal parts or a mere juxtaposition of parts that could be easily resolved again into their individual concrete existences (hypostases). The supporters of the one-­nature Christology thus believed they had found a useful ally in an Aristotelian theory of combination and parthood. However, one of the neo-Chalcedonian opponents of miaphysitism, Leontius of Jerusalem, writing most likely in the 530s, rejected as incoherent the idea that the divinity might be thought of as a ‘part’ of the single Christ – for if the Word in Christ is only a part of the whole composite (one-­natured) Christ, then ‘the Word [would be] partial vis à vis natural sonship [and] the Father’s fatherhood will also be partial vis à vis natural fatherhood’.23 In essence, the problem here has to do with mixture and confusion. The Chalcedonian definition spoke of Christ’s natures as existing in an ‘unconfused

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union’. The purpose of this exclusion was to ensure that the properties of the Logos were not thought to have been erased in the incarnation nor ‘mixed up’ with the human properties which might imply that change had occurred within the divine substance. Chalcedonians would often accuse miaphysites of introducing just such a confusion into Christ by failing sufficiently to distinguish the natures or properties, and it was the principal burden of miaphysite theologians, in their turn, to demonstrate that a single-­subject Christology did not entail such a blending of the properties as to be indistinguishable or such as would suggest change in the godhead. The Stoic notion of sugkhusis, in which a tertium quid arises out of the disintegration of the ingredients, was quite unacceptable to all parties. The Aristotelian theory of the potential existence of the original qualities within a combination does not seem to have been the subject of any explicit theological discussion before Philoponus deploys it in his own arguments, as we shall see. This Christological discourse about mixture and confusion forms the backdrop to these sixth-­ century discussions about part-­whole relations.24 Another theologian, also writing in the 530s, did choose to back the idea of using the language of parthood in reference to Christ’s natures. This was Leontius of Byzantium, who in his 30 Chapters Against Severus (of Antioch) explicitly asks, ‘why should not [Christ be described as] parts in the whole; or why should the whole not be in the parts?’25 Similarly, a late sixth-­century collection of ‘syllogisms’ directed against miaphysite doctrine states: ‘If Christ’s hypostasis is a whole [constituted] of natures, then (a) the natures from which the hypostasis [is constituted] are, in a sense, “parts” of the hypostasis; (b) the whole is seen (theôreitai) in the parts and vice versa; hence Christ’s hypostasis is seen in the natures and vice versa.’26 These texts represent an important tendency among imperially-­sanctioned, pro-Chalcedonian theological writings of the era which sought to make use of Aristotelian logic and metaphysics to convince the opposition of the philosophical cogency of official dogma. Perhaps speaking of the whole Christ being seen in its two parts would offer a way forward? In 551, anticipating the oecumenical council, called for 553 with a view to establishing Justinian’s new religious policy, the emperor issued an edict setting out his own views on the person of Christ. This imperially-­authored theology tried, as did the neo-Chalcedonian movement generally,27 to use both the ‘two

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nature’ language of the Chalcedonian formula and the ‘single composite nature’ language of the miaphysite churches of Syria and Egypt. Justinian’s tentative attempt at describing the union in terms of parts in a whole runs as follows: Again in each nature, that is, in deity and humanity, while recognising that the Word of God, incarnate and embodied, is our single Lord Jesus Christ, we do not allow a division into parts or a ‘slicing-­up’ as regards the single hypostasis, although we do acknowledge the difference of natures, out of which he is composed, without [thereby] dissolving the union, since each nature is within him; so once the composition has been accepted, then it is recognised both that the parts subsist in the whole and that the whole [subsists] in the parts.28

Justinian’s language is designed to be acceptable to the miaphysite Christology without yielding on the key Chalcedonian expression ‘in two natures’. Hence he says ‘the whole subsists in the parts’ as a parallel to ‘the hypostasis is seen in the [two] natures.’

Philoponus’ contribution This, then, is the real-­life context in which Philoponus wrote this treatise on part-­whole relations.29 Although he provides no hints of the theological or religious subtext, there is no doubt what he is trying to achieve. The principal assertion of the miaphysite theology was that Christ was a single nature, the nature of the Word of God (Logos) in a state of being incarnate; he constituted a single subject of whom anything could be predicated that could be predicated of either his humanity or of his divinity. His nature was thus a composite one. The problem, of course, was to describe a single composite nature that retained the properties of the combined natures while not defining those natures numerically as if they were distinct parts of a whole. In Philoponus’ discussion of the (merely) potential existence of the ingredients in a compound in his commentary on de Generatione et Corruptione, an obvious solution lay at hand. And it was one he was prepared to make good use of.30 Even a cursory reading of Philoponus’ most extensive Christological work, the Arbiter, will confirm that the author intended to project his theories of combination, parthood, and potentiality onto the Christological scene. In the

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fourth chapter, Philoponus repeats the Aristotelian theory of the priority of the whole over the part, stressing that the oneness of a unified composite does not allow for its division in actuality. The example of the sawn-­up plank is used: The one-­foot planks of wood which are parts of the ten-­foot plank are parts only potentially and cannot be counted as such without already assuming the actualisation of the ten one-­foot planks; furthermore, once one has cut the plank, they are no longer parts of any sort, since there is no longer a whole plank. This is immediately applied to Christ’s single nature which cannot be both one and two.31 Philoponus does make some conciliatory moves: ‘If they say [referring to the imperial edict] that there are two natures of Christ, or that Christ is seen in two natures, in the same way as we say that a whole is seen in the parts . . . perhaps one might allow such a locution.’32 But the acknowledgement masks a serious unease with Justinian’s terminology. Properly speaking, he goes on to argue, the whole is ‘in its parts’ only when we are speaking of parts that are spatially distinct; this language does not pertain when we are speaking of parts that pervade the whole as in the case of matter and form in a body. The problem is that the expression ‘in two [parts]’ might easily be taken as an excuse not to confess the single composite nature, the basic ‘one-­ness’ of the single-­subject Word incarnate: ‘Those who do not confess that Christ is one composite nature . . . must of necessity understand [the phrase] that Christ is in two natures not as [they would understand] a whole to be in parts.’33 While diplomatically avoiding direct criticism of the Emperor’s edict, Philoponus leaves the reader in no doubt that such an inaccurate expression leaves the door wide open for a Nestorian interpretation of the Chalcedonian formula, precisely what the neoChalcedonian movement was trying to avoid.34 Arguments for the ontological priority of wholes and the merely potential existence of their parts offered Philoponus a neat way out of the problem, noted by Leontius of Jerusalem, that orthodox theology could hardly allow that the divine ‘part’ of Christ was not of itself an integral ‘whole’ substance since he constituted one of the distinct hypostases of the Trinity. By returning ad fontes (i.e. to Aristotle) and demonstrating that parts exist in a whole only potentially, Philoponus may have felt that he could allow for a carefully nuanced use of the part-­whole relation to describe Christ on the analogy of the body-­soul relation (as had always been done by his co-­religionists) while at the

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same time maintaining the true one-­ness of Christ’s nature against the attacks of Chalcedonians such as Leontius. However, in contrast to the Arbiter, others of Philoponus’ works are less conciliatory in tone, and assert that the ‘in two natures’ expression is unacceptable. Texts of this ilk include his Letter to Justinian, the First Apology, and Tmêmata Against Chalcedon.35 The issue whether these texts were written after the oecumenical council had failed to deliver on (what Philoponus held to be) its promise of finding a real middle-­ground, or some other reconstruction of the order of the various texts is to be preferred, has not yet been resolved.36 In the sixth chapter of his Letter to Justinian,37 Philoponus rehearses exactly the same argument in, if anything, a manner slightly closer to that of our treatise. He outlines the crucial distinction between wholes that are made of spatially distinct parts (for which one can readily speak of the parts being in the whole) and those that are made of elemental parts that pervade the whole composite (for which one can only speak of the parts as being of the whole and not in the whole). Christ, of course, is taken to be an instance of the latter. We should probably assume that Sergius, the dedicatee of A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts, had read either the relevant chapters of the Arbiter or of the Letter and had asked the philosopher to supply a more complete and philosophically nuanced treatment of the issue, and that is what we find in the present treatise. How one reconstructs the relations between these texts does have an impact on the dating of the present treatise, for it appears fully to reject the key phrase ‘the whole is [seen] in the parts’ and therefore to belong to the hard-­line Philoponus. For this reason, Lang places it after the council (553) and before Sergius’ elevation to the patriarchate of Antioch (557).38 This is only one hypothesis, however, and it remains perfectly feasible that the treatise was written earlier, either to influence the outcome of the council, or else quite independently of the pragmatic attitude demonstrated in the Arbiter, which would be inappropriate for a philosophical work. We do not even know for sure whether our text was intended for the personal use of a colleague, as its dedication suggests at first glance, or to influence public policy. There seems to be some circumstantial evidence that Philoponus’ argument about part-­whole relations hit the spot, for in the canons of the oecumenical council of 553, which placed the Justinianic Christology squarely in the centre of the church, the parallel passage omits the (to Philoponus) offending words,

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perhaps appreciating the apparent contradiction between denying a (Nestorian) ‘division-­into-parts’39 on the one hand while affirming that ‘the whole subsists in the parts’ on the other.40 Philoponus had shown that affirmation of the latter entails affirmation of the former; yet the denial of ‘division-­into-parts’ was a non-­negotiable Christological formula firmly embedded in the tradition; hence the second was tacitly dropped at the council. Philoponus’ victory in this case, however, was a matter of words only, for Justinian’s policy sounded the death knell of miaphysitism’s real contribution to Christian doctrine in Greek. Philoponus’ theses and their application to the Christological problems of his day did not go unnoticed by the miaphysite communities of the eastern provinces who were developing their own church structures and traditions independently of the imperial church. A Syriac scholion on the Isagôgê quotes Porphyry to the effect that ‘the whole exists in the parts’ but goes on to suggest that this only holds when one is taking wholes and parts to be equivalent to genera and species, that in theological matters this parallel does not hold, and that strictly speaking the whole is ‘out of the parts’ and not ‘in the parts’, just as Philoponus had shown.41 On the whole, however, the rigorous application of the principles of logic, or of physics, to theology was welcome among the church hierarchy only so long as the traditional statements of the church councils were not put at risk. When this happened, as in the case of Philoponus’ so-­called tritheism, in which he argued that logic entailed the belief that there were, strictly speaking, three gods rather than three persons in one God, the appeal to Aristotle was swept aside by his opponents as irrelevant.42 Discussion of mereology within the metaphysics of the incarnation has had a long Nachleben. Aquinas made use of a part-­whole model, and even today one finds it extensively used amongst theologians who seek to develop sophisticated Christological models based on the axioms of the conciliar statements of the church.43 The debate between Justinian and Philoponus thus stands at the head of a venerable tradition.

Text and transmission The translation is based on the Syriac text of Šanda (pp.  81–94). Previous (Latin) translations include Šanda (pp. 126–39) and Furlani (pp. 85–102, see

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n. 80 below). In contrast to his extensive commentaries on Aristotle, Philoponus’ more theologically-­oriented works were preserved only in translation into Syriac, within communities for whom they were not heretical and may have been used for engaging in polemic with Chalcedonians and Nestorians. A docket of Philoponus’ works is extant in two ninth-­century Syriac manuscripts, edited by Šanda in 1930. The edition made use of both known copies: BL Add. 12171, dated to 815, and Vatican Syriac 144, undated but perhaps slightly older. There is another copy of our text in BL Add. 14532, where it constitutes one item in a large collection of patristic excerpts. This has been tentatively dated to the eighth century and is thus yet another particularly old and valuable witness to the work.44 Greek fragments of the Arbiter, the principal extensive work in the collection, have confirmed the general reliability of the Syriac text of these manuscripts. The archetype of the extant copies already contained a number of corruptions, many of them deliberate hypercorrections by an uncomprehending scribe, which were subjected to Šanda’s emendations. Furlani’s earlier ultra-­literal Latin version took the text as it stood and hence sometimes makes little sense. Šanda’s emendations and chapter divisions have been followed in the present translation.

A note on the date, style, and lexicon of the Syriac version Techniques of translation between Greek and Syriac varied considerably over time in such a way as to make the dating of texts, within a reasonable margin of error, a real possibility.45 From c. 600 onwards, approaches to translation in Syriac changed somewhat towards a strictly literal and verbatim approach, a characteristic phenomenon that we do not on the whole find in our text. The Syriac translation of Philoponus’ A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts is therefore likely to be nearer in date to the time of composition (in the 550s) than to the terminus ad quem of the oldest copy in the eighth century. The suggestion of a relatively early date for the translation is much strengthened when we consider that the dossier of which it forms an integral part would have constituted a weapon in the interdenominational disputes which were at their peak in that second half of the sixth century. The Arbiter, which forms the bulk of the dossier, had certainly been translated by c. 700 when it is referred

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to in a Syriac source,46 and we may assume that the texts were translated as a group rather than collected later. From every direction, then, a date within a century of composition would seem very likely. Although we lack any Greek original for Philoponus’ A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts, the language of Syriac philosophy was reasonably consistent over a long period and in many cases no problem is encountered in attempting to retro-­translate the key terms. A glossary has been provided on this basis, and many of the Greek terms and expressions found there are paralleled in Philoponus’ other works, especially the commentary on de Generatione et Corruptione. A note of warning, however. Both the retro-­translation of terms and expressions from Syriac into Greek, and the process of rendering the whole text into English, carry the danger of obscuring how the (Syriac) text might actually have been read by those for whom it was intended. For any modern translator who is familiar with the Greek philosophical lexicon, the result could easily turn out as an English rendering of an (imaginary) Greek retro-­translation from the Syriac, into which we have (inventively) reintroduced (Greek) grammatical distinctions which the Syriac had smoothed over or simply ignored. Of course, this is why no translation obviates the researcher’s obligation to go ad fontes. The translator into modern English is forced constantly to compromise between a dynamic approach which enables one to re-­render the text in accordance with the formalities of contemporary English philosophical style and a more formal approach which provides a window onto the original text. Despite the modern predilection for dynamic translation, it is the latter option which often carries the day, even in Greek texts, and more so in a distant language such as Syriac. Take the following example:47 A part [is] different from a whole – e.g. an atom from a compound, given that the former is qualityless while the compound possesses qualities.

And compare: An atom is different from a compound, of which it is a part, inasmuch as the compound possesses qualities which the atom lacks.

The first is a close translation of a line from Sextus Empiricus, the latter a ‘paraphrase’ provided by a modern interpreter who has re-­phrased the sentence

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in accordance with a more ‘acceptable’ syntactical arrangement. Of course, an out-­an-out dynamicist would simply say that the second was a perfectly reasonable translation and the first an unnecessary intermediate; but if the reader is to be brought to the text then the ad verbum translation (which is what the first rendering is) is indeed the point of the exercise, for it provides the reader with a better sense of how the ancients had to read their philosophy, and perhaps suggests some of the difficulties they may have encountered and how problems of understanding and inexactitude may have arisen. The difference between ancient syntax and modern philosophical discourse is all the more marked when we move from the familiarity of well-­worn Greek grammar to pioneering Semitic translators for whom there was no tradition of philosophical writing and whose language worked in very different modes.48

Chapter summary (1)  The basic question is presented, whether the parts exist in the whole in actuality or potentiality. The ‘in actuality’ argument founders on the contradiction that a thing would end up being simultaneously both multiple and single (this presupposes that the whole is the same as the sum of its parts). The ‘in potentiality’ argument falls in turn on the point that the whole and the parts exist in a necessary relationship and this relationship could hardly persist if the whole existed in actuality but the parts only in potentiality. Potential parts could only be parts of a potential whole. (2)  The author reminds his readers that the expressions ‘whole’ and ‘part’ are sometimes equated to ‘genus’ and ‘species’. Although analogous, he says that these terms are not identical. Furthermore, genera and species exist only conceptually, while wholes and parts have to do with the study of concrete particulars.49 Philoponus thus excludes species and genera from his discussion of parts and wholes. (3)  Other philosophers have used the terms ‘part’ and ‘element’ synonymously. This introduces a discussion of the Aristotelian analysis of mixture. Elements

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interpenetrate uniformly within any mixture or composite body (this covers not only earth, air, water and fire within a body, but also e.g. soul in animate things, honey in honeyed wine and even qualities such as hotness within fire), whereas parts do not interpenetrate all of the whole of which they are parts. However, Philoponus believes that his enquiry into potentiality and actuality covers both parts and elements since both are divisible (whether physically or theoretically) from the whole and composite. (4)  Admitting that some elements and parts exist potentially, and some actually, this chapter deals with the former type. This particularly pertains to composite bodies constituted from the basic elements. When the four elements are mixed in a composite their existence and being is destroyed and cannot be said to exist in actuality within the composite (i.e. were they to be removed they would cease to exist at least insofar as they would no longer be numerically identical to the part that had heretofore existed within the whole). The qualities attaching to each are also fundamentally altered. The purity of a quality (e.g. dryness) in a composite is variable; hence the element itself can only be said to exist in potentiality.50 The same holds for parts such as each length of wood within a longer continuous piece. Every continuum is divisible into an indefinite number of potential parts. (5)  This chapter deals with cases in which both whole and parts exist in actuality. This is the case with parts properly so-­called, i.e. such things as the roof and walls of a house. The argument that a whole is nothing but all its parts taken together is refuted on the basis that a conglomeration of parts does not constitute a whole until those parts are formed together in an appropriate way such as to form a particular whole. (6)  A counter-­argument is suggested, that parts, so long as they remain within the whole, can only ever exist in potentiality. It is absurd to suggest that such parts could exist in actuality only insofar as they are objects and not also insofar as they are parts, for if parts were divided off from the whole, they would no longer be parts (and the whole would no longer exist either), hence the conclusion that parts can exist in actuality while remaining united to the whole.51

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(7)  A composite (mixture) of elements is different from this. It is not one in actuality and contains no plurality as such, not even in potentiality. For since all qualities and elements fully interpenetrate within such substances, as soon as one theoretically distinguishes one element or quality from the composite, the composite ceases to exist at all, since it can hardly exist without that element or quality. (8)  Parts of wholes properly so-­called may in theory be considered as separate items. They cannot, however, any longer be divided into a number. Because the parts of a whole are really just its divisions, the two concepts are relative (i.e. depend upon one another for their existence). (9)  He now revisits the question of whether an element is a kind of part, which he previously allowed that it might be (ch. 4). It would be better to reserve the term ‘part’ (he argues) for parts that exist in actuality, rather than for the elements of a composite body. Hence the earth and water that (re)emerge from the dissolution of a composite never were (really) parts and neither are they so afterwards. The term is thus improperly used of them. Philoponus still allows that qualities, such things as heat and rationality, continue so to exist (in potentiality). (10)  If one divides a homoeomerous body, its matter is preserved, as are the qualities mentioned in the previous chapter. Thus all such things are ‘elements’ rather than ‘parts’ and should be treated accordingly. (11)  Hence ‘the whole’ is not equivalent to ‘the form’. While a whole is made ‘out of ’ matter, its relationship to ‘form’ is a relative one. For something to be a whole it must be composed of parts having separate locations. The ‘form’ of a thing is not one of its parts. (12)  An objection is raised from Sergius, viz. in which parts will the whole [be found] to be? This question is dependent on the presupposition that the whole is in the parts (as stated in the Aristotelian commentaries and Justinian’s edict). Philoponus shows the premise to be false, hence the objection is irrelevant.

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(13)  Parts are not even in wholes as such, rather they are parts of wholes. Some people may speak loosely of parts being in wholes, but this cannot be the correct way of putting it for reasons already given. Philoponus will not speak, for instance, of a hand being a part in the body, since it cannot be properly spoken of by itself apart from the body of which it is a part (its existence is potential).

Notes 1 For extensive coverage of Philoponus’ career and bibliography, see R. Sorabji (ed.) Philoponus and the Rejection of Aristotelian Science, 2nd edn, vol. 103 of the Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies of the University of London: Supplement, 2010. The bibliography there missed R. Wood and M. Weisberg, ‘Interpreting Aristotle on Mixture: Problems about Elemental Composition from Philoponus to Cooper’, Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 35 (2004) pp. 681–706, which is important for the background to the present treatise. 2 Metaph. 1023b32–4. 3 Metaph. 1039a3–6. 4 Cf. the similar argument in Alexander de Sensu 116,18ff. 5 in Metaph. 387,13ff. 6 The reason for this is that the discussion about the parts of the single Christ was carried on in the wider context of the discussion about how to secure Christ’s nature as a composite or mixture without being thereby also a confusion (see further below). 7 This is what F.A.J. de Haas (‘Mixture in Philoponus. An Encounter with a Third Kind of Potentiality’, in J.M.M.H. Thijssen and H.A.G. Braakhuis (eds) The Commentary Tradition on Aristotle’s De generatione et corruptione. Ancient, Medieval and Early Modern, Turnhout: Brepols 1999, pp. 21–46) has called ‘third potentiality’. For a different way of categorising Philoponus’ modes of potentiality, see Wood and Weisberg (n. 1 above). For a discussion of the difficulties faced by Aristotle in this matter, R. Sorabji, Matter, Space and Motion: Theories in Antiquity and their Sequel, London: Duckworth 1988, pp. 67–71. 8 The material whole is thus epistemically prior to the part (Metaph. 1035b11–14) just as is the universal in relation to the particular. Cf. Metaph. 1023b18–19: ‘The elements into which the kind might be divided apart from the quantity, are also called parts of it; for which reason we say the species are parts of the genus.’

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9 Alexander in Metaph. 423,33ff. At 425,5ff., dealing with 5.26, the definition of ‘the whole’, Alexander elaborates Aristotle’s idea that universals are wholes in that e.g. dog and man are ‘one whole’ because ‘animal’ is predicated synonymously of them both. The other way of defining ‘whole’ is the (regular) sense of a continuity/ numerical unity of parts that exist in the whole potentially. 10 The problem of mereology, however, continued to interact closely with that of universals into the medieval period. The distinction that Philoponus is making would now be expressed as the difference between integral wholes (e.g. the house that is made up of discrete parts, none of which is the house itself) and distributive wholes (e.g. ‘man’, each of the ‘parts’ of which can also be called a ‘man’) – see D.P. Henry, Medieval Mereology, Amsterdam: B.R. Grüner 1991, pp. 19–20, 38. 11 Simplicius also clearly states that the whole exists in actuality, the parts in potentiality, when dealing with physical theory rather than logic (in Phys. 1109,25ff.). For a general statement that mereology belongs properly to metaphysics, see the words of the thirteenth-century schoolman Boethius of Dacia, cited in Henry, op. cit., pp. 3–5. 12 A famous instance being Basil of Caesarea’s argument that the ‘neoarianism’ of Eunomius was traceable to his reliance on Aristotelian logic. Christian theology belonged properly to a different realm. He quipped, ‘do we really need Aristotle’s and Chrysippus’ syllogisms to learn that the ingenerate has not been begotten either by himself or by another, and is not older or younger than himself?’ (adversus Eunomium 1.5 (PG 29, 516C)). A dialectical approach to theology was attempted by the neoarians Eunomius and Aetius in the fourth century, but it was the rhetorical appeals of the Cappadocian style which rather became the successful norm in the church until the sixth century. 13 For a discussion of Cyril’s relationship to formal logic, e.g. R.M. Siddals, ‘Logic and Christology in Cyril of Alexandria’, Journal of Theological Studies 38 (1987) pp. 341–67. 14 For the growth of Aristotelian scholasticism in theology, and especially its dependence upon the Alexandrian commentary tradition, see M. Grabmann, Die Geschichte der scholastischen Methode, 2 vols, Freiburg: Herder 1909–11, and B. Daley, ‘Boethius’ Theological Tracts and Early Byzantine Scholasticism’, Mediaeval Studies 46 (1984) pp. 158–91, esp. pp. 163–76. However, it was still often enough the case that this ‘scholastic’ theology was a purely rhetorical gesture. A text entitled ‘Syllogisms against the Manichees’, for example, contains only a series of trivial observations; and arguments from tradition generally continue to carry more weight than arguments from logic. The shift from the foregoing period before 451, however, is very marked indeed, as Daley stresses.

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15 In the older literature, the term is monophysites, though this term is generally eschewed as politically incorrect today. 16 For a full theological account of the era, A. Grillmeier, Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche. Band 2/2: Die Kirche von Konstantinopel im 6. Jahrhundert, Freiburg: Herder 1989 (A. Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition. Vol. 2. Pt. 2. The Church of Constantinople in the Sixth Century, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press 1995). 17 The classic account of the gradual breakaway is W.H.C. Frend, The Rise of the Monophysite Movement, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1972. Another useful recent study is that of V.L. Menze, Justinian and the Making of the Syrian Orthodox Church, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2008. 18 H. Lietzmann, Apollinaris von Laodicea und Seine Schule, Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr 1904, p. 187. Philoponus, too, had to meet the objection that his miaphysitism implied that Christ was composed of two incomplete parts. U.M. Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century: A Study and Translation of the Arbiter, Leuven: Peeters 2001, pp. 83–5. 19 The unveiling of the true provenance of the Apollinarian texts was a key part of anti-­miaphysite polemic in the sixth century — see for instance Leontius of Jerusalem’s attack on the use of part-­whole relations as a Christological model at P.T.R. Gray (ed.) Leontius of Jerusalem: Against the Monophysites: Testimonies of the Saints and Aporiae, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2006, p. 123. 20 ‘[The Apollinarians] argue that one should avoid saying that the [flesh] that was united to the Word is a complete man, so that one may preserve the real and absolute nature of the composition that we think of as applying to Christ. And they would, I think, add the following argument as well: If Emmanuel is composed of a perfect man and the Word who is from the Father, then there is a significant risk attached to this; in fact it may necessarily entail conceiving and speaking of two sons, and even of two Christs, even if that is not our intention.’ de Recta Fide, ACO 1.1.1, p. 53,4–10. 21 ‘The parts that were united cannot be said to be confused, but rather the one took the other into itself.’ contra Theodoretum, ACO 1.1.6, p. 112,19–20. 22 de Recta Fide, ACO 1.1.1, p. 45,28–30. 23 Aporiae 19 (text in Gray, op. cit., p. 183). Cf. also Aporiae 44; 58. 24 For a thorough analysis of the problems of applying Aristotelian theories of mixture to Christology in antiquity, H.A. Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Church Fathers, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press 1956, pp. 372–433, and I.R. Torrance, Christology after Chalcedon. Severus of Antioch and Sergius the Monophysite, Norwich: Canterbury Press 1988. 25 PG 86B, 1912C. Again, in his contra Nestorianos et Eutychianos, PG 86, 1281C.

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26 K.-H. Uthemann, ‘Syllogistik im Dienst der Orthodoxie. Zwei unedierte texte byzantinischer Kontroverstheologie des 6. Jahrhunderts’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 30 (1981) pp. 103–12, text at p. 112,74–7. 27 There is some variation in the use of the term neo-Chalcedonian to refer to this variety of theology; for one analysis of the situation, Grillmeier, Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche, pp. 450–5. 28 E. Schwartz, Drei dogmatische Schriften Iustinians, Munich: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 1939, p. 74,16–21 (= M. Amelotti, L. Migliardi Zingale (eds) Scritti teologici ed ecclesiastici di Giustiniano, Milan: A. Giuffrè 1977, p. 132,16–21). 29 Lang (John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century) includes a thorough discussion of his Christology in its context, including brief allusions to our text. For Philoponus’ Christology more generally, T. Hainthaler, ‘Johannes Philoponus, philosoph und theologe in Alexandria’, in A. Grillmeier (ed.) Jesus der Christus im Glauben der Kirche. Band 2/4: Die Kirche von Alexandrien mit Nubien und Äthiopien nach 451, Freiburg: Herder 1990, pp. 109–49. 30 L.S.B. MacCoull, ‘John Philoponus and the Composite Nature of Christ’, Ostkirkliche Studien 44 (1995) pp. 197–204 (repr. in L.S.B. MacCoull, Documenting Christianity in Egypt, Sixth to Fourteenth Centuries, London: Ashgate), suggests that even as early as the commentary on de Generatione et Corruptione Philoponus already had this greater aim in mind. This is possible, though of course not evident directly from the texts. 31 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 187–8. 32 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, p. 213. 33 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, p. 215. 34 Philoponus’ earlier discussion of the language relating to a whole ‘in its parts’ may be found in his commentary in Cat. 33,32–34,15. 35 In the latter of these, our philosopher deployed his new theory of three-­ dimensional extension as prime matter, which combines with form to produce substance, to show that Christ can only be a single substance/nature only if he is a single hypostasis (F.A.J. de Haas, Philoponus’ New Definition of Prime Matter, Leiden: Brill 1997, p. 287). 36 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 28–31. 37 A Latin version of the relevant chapter may be found in Šanda, pp. 178–9.

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38 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 30–1. Although one of the MSS calls Sergius a patriarch this is probably a scribal anachronism, since the other calls him only a priest, hence the pre-557 date. 39 diairesis ana meros. 40 The wording is based on, but self-­consciously different from, that of the edict. It anathematises any sort of division-­into-parts together with the idea of enumerating the natures; but instead of ‘parts in the whole’, it speaks only of ‘one out of both and both through one’. ACO 4, p. 242,1–11. 41 A. Baumstark, Aristoteles bei den Syrern vom 5. bis 8. Jährhundert, Leipzig: B.G. Teubner 1900, p. 240,31–8. An eighth/ninth century Syriac manuscript contains a work in defence of miaphysite doctrine entitled ‘concerning that which is composed into a unity out of distinct realities into a nature that is named from its parts, and each one of these is given its name on the basis of the whole’. BL Add. 12154, fol. 17a. 42 R.Y. Ebied, A. Van Roey and L.R. Wickham, Peter of Callinicum. Anti-Tritheist Dossier, Leuven: Peeters 1981, p. 57. ‘It is totally insane,’ said Philoponus’ own boss Theodosius of Alexandria, ‘to place the holy Trinity beneath philosophical syllogisms and inquiry.’ I.-B. Chabot (ed.) Documenta ad origines monophysitarum illustrandas, CSCO, vol. 17 (tr. vol. 103), Leuven: Peeters 1908, p. 64,26. 43 For Aquinas, see R. Cross, The Metaphysics of the Incarnation: Thomas Aquinas to Duns Scotus, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2002, pp. 51–62; for instances of the mereological discussion among contemporary Christologians, T.P. Flint, ‘Should Concretists part with Mereological models of the Incarnation?’, in A. Marmodoro and J. Hill (eds) The Metaphysics of the Incarnation, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2011, pp. 67–87, and A. Loke, ‘Solving a Paradox against Concrete-­composite Christology: A Modified Hylomorphism’, Religious Studies 47 (2011) pp. 493–502. 44 Descriptions of the MSS may be found in Šanda, pp. 3–4, and Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 15–18. 45 S.P. Brock, ‘Towards a History of Syriac Translation Technique’, in R. Lavenant (ed.) IIIº Symposium Syriacum, 1980: les contacts du monde syriaque avec les autres cultures, Goslar 7–11 Septembre 1980, Rome: Pontificium Institutum Orientalium 1983, pp. 1–14; D. King, The Syriac Versions of the Writings of Cyril of Alexandria: A Study in Translation Technique, Leuven: Peeters 2008. 46 Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 39–40. 47 Taken from J. Barnes, Method and Metaphysics: Essays in Ancient Philosophy 1, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2011, p. 458.

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48 Cicero had enough difficulties just trying to put the Greek philosophical lexicon into Latin, as he himself tells us. J. Glucker, ‘Cicero’s Remarks on Translating Philosophical Terms — Some General Problems’, in J. Glucker and C. Burnett (eds) Greek into Latin from Antiquity until the Nineteenth Century, London: Warburg Institute 2012. 49 Cf. C. Erismann, ‘John Philoponus on Individuality and Particularity’, in J. Zachhuber and A. Torrance (eds) Individuality in Late Antiquity, London: Ashgate 2014, pp. 143–60. 50 All this is closely related to Philoponus’ commentary in GC 1.10 and 2.7, and the much-­discussed notion of restrained, or third, potentiality. 51 This is a defence of the types of wholes whose parts exist in actuality, described in ch. 5.

Abbreviations ACO = Acta Conciliorum Œcumenicorum BL Add. = British Library Additional manuscripts CSCO = Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium GC = de Generatione et Corruptione PG = Patrologia Graeca (Migne) Šanda = A. Šanda (ed.) Opuscula monophysitica Ioannis Philoponi, Typographia Catholica PP. Soc. Jesu., 1930

Philoponus A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts Translation

A Treatise Concerning the Whole and the Parts, Written for the Priest Sergius

Another treatise of John Philoponus of Alexandria concerning what sorts of parts, or elements, there are, and also how the whole and the parts relate to one another; [written] for the priest Sergius. [1] Your intellectual curiosity and the recollection that arises from your chaste piety, reverend Sergius,1 are once again inciting us to dialectical battles.2 You have asked how we reckon it is that parts exist within a whole, whether it be only in potentiality, just as we say that knowledge of the ideas3 exists in children’s souls insofar as it may come into existence [in actuality] whenever one such soul is receptive to education, or whether it be in actuality, as in the case of one who already possesses learning.4 People are uncertain which of these is true; some people assert that the former is the case, others the latter. Those who reckon that the parts of the whole exist in actuality are contradicted by the defenders of the opposite view who reason that if the whole is single then its parts must be many (i.e. at least two) and if we assert that each of those [parts] exists in actuality this would result in one and the same thing being both many (at least two) and one.5 This would amount to saying that one and the same thing is simultaneously single and not-­single and also plural and not-­plural. This would be a genuine internal contradiction, hence impossible.6 On the other hand, those who maintain that the parts are in the whole in potentiality are opposed by others who say that if the whole exists in actuality then its parts must necessarily exist wholly in actuality as well, for both the whole and the parts must be relative, since the whole is a whole [constituted] of parts and the parts are parts of a whole.7 Whatever may be the status of [the part and the whole], whether it be in potentiality or actuality, the other will also be so necessarily.8 In any case there

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will be someone who defends the following argument: If the parts of the whole, which itself exists in actuality, exist in potentiality rather than in actuality (for everything that is said to be in potentiality does not yet exist as such but has the possibility of becoming so; for example, a child is a grammarian in potentiality, even when he is not yet a grammarian, but has the possibility of becoming one; or something which is hot in potentiality, such as cold water, has the possibility of becoming hot), if, therefore, the parts of the whole are present in it in potentiality rather than in actuality, then they are not yet parts, though they have the possibility of becoming parts. Therefore, neither is a whole a whole in actuality, but only in potentiality. For a whole is [a whole insofar as it is constituted] of parts. For example, in the case of the heat that is in a fire, if one denies that the heat exists in actuality, but only in potentiality, then [it follows that] the fire is not in actuality hot, and thus is not a fire [at all], being not hot, but rather is a fire in potentiality.9 Yet our hypothesis was that the fire exists in actuality. Therefore, one and the same thing both exists and does not exist. If, therefore, the parts of the whole exist in potentiality, and a whole is [a whole insofar as it is constituted] of parts, then the whole cannot exist in actuality. But the hypothesis was that the whole exists; hence the whole will exist on these grounds, but will not be a whole insofar as its parts exist in potentiality. On either side, then, the argument is in a quandary, since the parts can exist neither in actuality nor in potentiality.10

[2] This is therefore how the quandary stands. Since, however, we are complying with your request, we shall briefly set out our own opinion on the question. But 25 it is important for the theory of these things that we first of all explain something and remind ourselves that in former times there were those who often equated wholes with genera,11 e.g. the [genus] of substance (ousia), and the term ‘parts’ was then applied to the species into which [that genus] was divided.12 They would say that the corporeal and the incorporeal were ‘parts’ of 83,1 ‘substance’. On this analogy (that means measurement or correspondence),13 both species and their genera are each of them a part and a whole. For a body is a part of substance, but it is a whole in relation to those things into which it is divided, [i.e.] animate and inanimate. Then again the animate, while it is a part of the corporeal, is a whole in relation to what is beneath it, I mean animal, 5 plant, zoophyte. In the same way, while animal is a part of what is animate and

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corporeal it is a whole in relation to rational and irrational, and so on right down to the individuals, such as Socrates and Plato, which are parts of ‘man’ which is the most particular species of all.14 However, it was frequently the case that these same [philosophers], in the course of their careful investigations, made a distinction between wholes and genera (together with the species that were further derived from them). They argued that wholes are divided into parts analogously to how genera are divided into species. Then there were others who argued that homonymous15 terms were being used with quite different meanings, and hence that the knowledge of genera and species is one thing, knowledge of wholes and parts another. Since, then, this is how those [philosophers] spoke even in antiquity, now we too, although when we divide genera into species and the whole into its own parts we do so in an analogous way, within the present treatise that we are now proposing we shall construct our argument only about the latter [i.e. wholes and parts]; for example, [we will enquire into] how this animal or this plant is divided into its homoeomerous and non-­homoeomerous parts,16 e.g. a particular plank, or water, or fire or, broadly speaking, any such particular. For if no particular [can be called] a genus or a species and a whole exists in relation to its parts, then genera and species cannot rightly be called wholes.17 Their different [modes of] division also demonstrate this. For no [genus] loses anything of its nature when divided, but remains just what it was when it was not divided, as e.g. ‘being’, when it is divided into corporeal and incorporeal does not lose anything of its nature, as neither does ‘animal’ [when it is divided] into rational and irrational. It is the same in the case of species, e.g. man, horse; when they are divided into particulars, into such and such a man, e.g. Paul or Peter, or into such and such a horse, e.g. Pegasus or Arion.18 It is otherwise in the case of a whole, such as Socrates, which when divided into its parts does not remain as it was, and a whole is not in each of its parts in the same way that a genus is in each one of its species and a species is in each particular. For Socrates is a man and an animal and corporeal and a being. So then, if the division of genera and species is not the same [mode of division] as the division of a whole into its parts, then we must refer all such things to the previously established argument.19 We will construct our [present] argument on the basis solely of those things which are wholes and parts strictly so-­called (kuriôs); and furthermore since none of these so-­called wholes, i.e. genera and species, subsist on their own account.

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For Aristotle says that a whole something is either not a ‘something’ at all or it is an ultimate thing.20 Genera and species subsist only in mental conception, since the mind takes particulars and gathers them together into [genera and species], as we have often demonstrated.21 Why should we make empty progress by expending our dialectical skills on discussing things which do not have their own existence, that is to say, which do not subsist in virtue of themselves? We shall construct this discourse, therefore, with regard only to those things that are wholes and parts among the particulars. [3] It may also be useful to recall another issue, namely that people sometimes associate parts and elements (or rather, their different names), sometimes using the term ‘elements’ for both parts and elements, and sometimes using the term ‘parts’ in common for all of them.22 In calling the parts elements and the elements parts, as I mentioned, they are interchanging the names on the basis of some sort of analogy. In fact, however, these two things are quite different from each other. Elements are those things of which no one is separate from the others when they are in a composite, but [rather] they all remain both within each other [i.e. mutually interpenetrating] and within the composite.23 Such is the case with earth, air, water and fire, which are mixed in all sorts of composites,24 [e.g.] nerves, fleshly things, bones, and all body parts, plants and metals. For there is no composite body, even the very smallest member, that does not partake of the four elements. Animate things have both soul and body in just the same way, for if something is composed of body and soul, then every one of its members, whatever and however it may be, will also be animate, seeing as it is soul that brings corporeal things to life. It is the same in the case of honeyed wine, since all of it through and through is a mixture of both the wine and the honey. This is also the case for all the qualities25 that are essential26 to the elements. For all of the fire is hot, dry and light through and through, and water is wet, cold, clear and heavy [in the same manner]. It is the same with air and earth, and it is just the same for all composed things. Wine is white or red (or whatever other colour it may be) through and through, and again it is either dry or sweet, i.e. refreshing, heavy and warm. It is the same with anything of this sort. These, and such like things, are the elements of composites. On the other hand, parts strictly so-­called are all those things that are not within the whole of the compound that arises from them and which do not

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pervade each other,27 even though they are united to the whole, e.g. the walls of a house, its roof and door, or its stones, timbers and bricks, and whatever else may be needed for the house to come into being; or again in the case of what are called homoeomerous in animals – nerves, bones, vessels, and the organs that are [made] of these, hands, head, chest and the like. This is therefore the difference between elements and parts. Although, as I said before, people often 10 use these terms loosely, calling the parts elements and vice versa, I do not think that this has any bearing upon the following argument, since our enquiry into the nature of things such as these, whether it be by potentiality or actuality that they exist within that which is composed out of them, will proceed not on the basis of [mere] names, but on the basis of the things themselves. The parts, therefore, that are within any given individual, or the elements, concerning 15 which we proposed to speak, are all those things that are capable of being distinguished either (a) in real terms, e.g. as the rational soul from the body, or the organs or homoeomers, or (b) in word and concept alone, e.g. as in the case of the life-­principle in irrational creatures and plants, and the bodies that are their subjects.28 For it is not possible for this [life-­giving principle] to exist without any subject, in just the same way as the flames that are extinguished when [the fire] dies out and there is absolutely nothing left,29 as is the case with 20 qualities that subsist in relation to the fire. [4] So of these parts, or elements, there are some that are in the whole in potentiality, others in actuality. Examples of the former are the four elements, viz. water, air, earth and fire, in a body. The substances of these [elements] are destroyed,30 for water is not in actuality [present] in corporeal composites, and 25 neither is earth, fire, or air; rather it is [present] only in potentiality and it is so in such a way that the composite entity could be dissolved into its individual [parts], each in accordance with its own species, yet without their being numerically identical with those from which it was originally composed.31 For how could things that had just been destroyed come back into being? Their 86,1 qualities, namely heat, coldness, dryness and wetness, persist through confusion and mixture within the composite, and therefore their purity decreases, for they are opposites. They act in opposition to each other and because of this, when the purity of each one is reduced,32 one mixed quality arises from them both,33 e.g. different mixtures of white and black may happen to produce 5

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something mottled, or pale, or bright, or some other such thing. But different mixtures of hot and cold produce some intermediate qualities, for which we have no name. This is how it happens also in the case of a mixture of dryness and wetness. Therefore the integrity of qualities that are in composites is destroyed and the elements thus exist merely in potentiality within composites, since it is possible that sometimes one of the opposed qualities will overcome [the other], and it will again become very hot or cold, as it had been originally.34 This is especially evident when the composite is dissolved. It is thus also for dry and wet, and also for things that are continuous, such as a ten-­cubit plank. Its parts are [present] in potentiality, i.e. the ten cubits, each one of which is a part, for the whole continuum35 is divisible, i.e. can be divided even when it is not yet in actuality divided. But if it were divided into ten [separate] feet,36 say, then that one continuum would have been destroyed and a division would have come into being and a plurality, for that single plank came to be from ten planks of one foot each.37 Each one of the ten separate units is a part of the number ten and not of the single continuum that has been destroyed through being divided, for [once this has occurred] there is no longer any single thing, nor are its parts continuous. Since, then, each of the units is a part of the group-­ of-ten and these newly separated parts are parts belonging not to the one nowdestroyed continuum but to its division, it is evident that, before the [continuum] was divided, not only did those ten units belong to it in potentiality [i.e. as its parts], but the whole of them too, that is the group-­of-ten, was itself [present] in potentiality in the not-­yet-divided continuum. Furthermore, there is another point that is also evident, namely that every continuum is divisible into an indefinite number. So a ten-­foot plank, so long as it is not yet divided, could be divided not only into ten parts, but into twenty or thirty or more, if indeed every continuum is divisible into an indefinite number. If, therefore, every continuum is divisible into many indefinite numbers and because of this neither the number ten (nor any other number) exists within the continuum in actuality, then the parts of the plank are not [identical with] this number ten on its own, which is ten feet in potentiality, not in actuality.38 So also the totality of these parts, i.e. the decad, exists within it only in potentiality. For if we have a number that is the sum of the individual [parts] then, when we attach any number to the continuum (e.g. ten, fifty, or a hundred), by calling it a ten-­foot plank (or a hundred, or even a ‘thousand-­unit plank’)39 it is evident that we are

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stating the number of them in potentiality. In all these cases, while we say that it is possible for subjects to be divided, we are not saying that all the parts of such [subjects] exist in actuality. We would never of course imply that ‘being in a state of actuality’ is the same thing as ‘being in a state of division’ or that ‘being in a state of potentiality’ is the same thing as ‘being a continuum’, which are [both] absurd. Therefore, when we state some number with regard to a continuum, whether it be in feet or cubits, we are in some manner dividing it up, since we are putting down a mark for each foot or cubit. This clearly shows both that the parts of the continuum, e.g. of the aforementioned ten-­cubit plank, exist in potentiality,40 and also that the whole [sum] of those parts, i.e the decad, was potentially a great quantity as well as a single continuum.41 [This is generally the case] even though there are existents that are not naturally divisible, e.g. the sun, one of the stars, or any heavenly body. Since these objects are very large they are in theory infinitely divisible, even though one’s mind would never arrive at an end point. This is all there is, then, on the subject of those parts that exist in potentiality, and on those wholes that are of the same sort.

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[5] There are also parts of the whole that exist in actuality, as in the case of 20 those within our bodies, which we may call ‘homoeomerous’, i.e. veins, nerves, flesh and bones, and the organs that are made up of these or of some one of them, i.e. head, feet, hands, heart, stomach; or in plants, [wherein there are] roots, branches, twigs and so forth.42 For it is things that are spatially distinct from each other that are strictly [called] parts; whereas those that pervade the whole composite are elements of the composite rather than parts. Something 88,1 that is composed from objects which exist on their own account is strictly [called] a single thing and is the whole of its own parts. Many parts, however, exist in actuality because the whole [constituted out] of them also exists in actuality. Hence organs are constituted out of homoeomers and the whole animal or plant out of the organs – there is nothing absurd in this, as some 5 people like to think. For it is contradictory for the same thing to be both many and one in actuality – it is an impossibility. But insofar as it is a whole, each and every animal or plant is one and not many, whereas insofar as it is [made of] parts, it is many and not one, for [such parts] are distinct from one another while also being continuous within the whole [that is constituted] from them.

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It is not the case, as some would believe, that a whole is nothing but all its parts taken together.43 We have refuted this elsewhere, and here also we shall say [something of it] very briefly. It might happen that the [various] parts of a bed and a house, i.e. stone, wood and whatever else a house is made of, could by chance come close together and touch each other and yet this does not [constitute] a bed, in the first place, nor a house, in the second; but when the parts match and receive the form of ‘bed’ or ‘house’ then a whole comes to be.44 Before this, just as its parts existed in potentiality, so also did the whole exist in potentiality rather than in actuality. So if we consider again the animal or plant, all the parts [just] placed together may not be called a whole, unless they are placed in such a way as to be in a relationship to one another and there is some connexion between them.45 Such a thing would be the whole neither of an animal nor of a plant, and none of the parts would be carrying out its own function or activity, unless they are matched in the way that is the case later [when it has been formed into a whole]. Therefore, a whole is not really [defined as being] all of its parts together,46 but rather as that which is composed out of all the parts, when they assume a natural position or order that is appropriate for each in terms of their proximity to the others.47 [6] However, someone might contest what I have demonstrated and argue that organs and homoeomers are not in actuality parts of an animal. Rather, these things, [namely] things such as flesh, bones, nerves, head, hands, exist in actuality qua objects, but qua parts of the animal they exist only in potentiality. Likewise also in the case of plants (roots, branches, twigs, innards and so forth). I have heard someone argue along such lines before.48 First of all we would say, what is that division that the Ancients49 clearly made based on the dissimilarity between parts and objects, given that such things are not in actuality parts of the animal. After that [we would ask] whether they are parts of the animal or plant in potentiality rather than actuality, or whether perhaps they sometimes become parts of them, or not. For if they never become parts in actuality, then neither do they really exist now in potentiality, since not one of them is ever making the move into actuality. But if they do at some time become parts in actuality, either while remaining united to the whole animal or plant or having been divided from it, if, in short, they become parts while continuing to exist, then it is clear that they have undergone some change and alteration. For

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anything that passes over from a prior state of being in potentiality to being in actuality does so by a change and a transformation.50 But so long as the animal or plant exists, its parts experience no change of substance, unless it is itself destroyed by some occurrence. But if the parts of the whole are divided from it, i.e. once all [such parts] have been thus divided, then both the parts themselves and also the whole animal or plant would be destroyed at the same moment. What would such dead and dissolved parts be the parts of? And along with them the whole animal or plant was also destroyed, of which they were also called parts before they were separated. If, then, they do become parts of the animal or plant, both [in the case of] the homoeomers and the organs, and so not just in potentiality, as we have demonstrated [that they do], then the remaining conclusion is that parts such as are united to a whole exist in actuality. These [remarks] are about parts that are in actuality in a whole such that the whole is a unity through them while the parts [remain] many. [7] Concerning particulars that are composed from elements, which we also spoke of before,51 within which the elements remain [interpenetrating] each other throughout the whole composite, such a composite, being composed of these [elements], is not both many and one, as was [the case with] the parts and the whole;52 rather that which is [made up] of elements is simply one in actuality and not many, e.g. fire, water, and that which is [constituted] of soul and body, whether it be an animal, a plant, or anything else of such a kind. Alternatively, someone might suggest that things that are [constituted] of [elements] are many in potentiality, not in such a way that they might ever change into actuality, but only insofar as they may theoretically be separated, e.g. as heat, dryness and lightness may [be separated] from fire, irrational life from ensouled beings, and the vegetative faculty from those bodies that are subject to it. For, as I said, none of these [examples] can be distinguished in actuality from [the principle] upon which it is based, as the rational soul is distinguishable from our bodies. However, given that even the smallest part of the fire contains within itself all the qualities that constitute fire, and given that within an ensouled being every single limb is itself ensouled (whether it be a nerve, vein, leg, finger, or head), then tell me how could we imagine counting how many there are in such cases? At the very moment when I theoretically consider the soul and the body separately from each other and then ask, what

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is the nature of each of these, at that very moment I have dissolved, again theoretically, the composition that is made up of those [two], since it is not in one of them on its own account that [the subject] exists but in the very fact of its being composed out of the two of them. Similarly, if I consider, theoretically, the heat of the fire on its own account, and also the dryness and the lightness, then I have, theoretically, destroyed the substance of fire. For none of these things on its own account is the fire. Furthermore, these things undergo no change since they remain interpenetrating within each other and throughout the whole. Every opposing quality is affected by the others when they are mixed together.53 [8] As regards the parts of the whole: since each of them is separate from the others, it is possible for us theoretically to consider each of them on its own account, so long as we do not separate them from the whole nor [thereby] dissolve the composite. For creative nature arranges them in this way, forming for them a cohesion within the whole while still distinguishing them from one another. So, as I have argued with regard to [parts] that pervade the whole, since nature does not distinguish each item on its own account but rather mixes their number into one, so he who afterwards ventures to divide them up into a number, even if he does so only theoretically, in so doing he still dissolves and destroys the whole, given that a plurality, as I said before, is quite alien to the continuum and to one[ness].54 Since this is the case, it is not possible to call instances such as this, strictly speaking, either a whole or a part. The whole and its parts belong to the category of the relative, and for this reason they exist in mutual dependence and are nullified together. For just as a part is a part of a whole so a whole is a whole of parts. The [Greek] word for ‘part’ comes from the Greek word merizô (meaning ‘I divide’),55 since the parts of the whole are ‘divisions’ (psāqē). But if the parts are divisions of some whole, then [the whole] is [constituted] of all the parts, e.g. as in the case of a boundary or a continuum, or anything which holds all its parts within itself. One does not properly call a whole something that is not made of parts, such as a singularity or a point or anything else like this that is without parts. If someone were unreasonably to call either a unit or a point a whole, that does not mean that the very things themselves must at the same time alter their natures, just because words may be used in this metaphorical way.

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[9] So because of this we do not properly call elements parts nor parts elements. For every part is [present] in that of which it is a part either in potentiality, as 15 we have just discussed, or in actuality. Earth and water, and the other two, are not in actuality present in composites, since, as we have shown, they are destroyed. How could what does not exist be a part of what does? It cannot even be so in potentiality, if we think about it precisely.56 For if earth or water came about from the destruction of a composite, it would not be numerically 20 identical to those things out of which [was constituted] the destroyed thing. Therefore, those which come from what does not exist, [viz.] those things which have now come to be of that which was just destroyed, they are not parts. It is not possible for them to be [parts] because numerically they are no longer the same thing. However, when it comes to elements that are not destroyed along with each other in the composite, as heat, dryness and lightness in fire, or as in our rational soul and body and generally anything composed of form and matter, we have already explained above why it is that we do not 25 speak of such things as being parts of the composite but rather as being elements. [10] Further, form is form of matter and exists at a higher level, and matter is also matter of form. Form is not [related to] a whole, nor is matter [related to] any whole. Instead, it is [related to] what is composed of both matter and form. 92,1 For matter and form are elements of the composite rather than parts.57 Elements and parts, then, are clearly distinct. For when something composed of matter and form is divided, as an animal or tree or stone, whether into homoeomerous or non-­homoeomerous parts, or both, then such divisions are called parts of what has been divided, just so long as they preserve the 5 composition of matter and form. For any division that occurs at the level of the fundamental elements themselves, or simply at the level of matter and form, dissolves the composition. Hence the difference between parts and elements becomes clear. [11] For this reason we have denied that a whole is like a form that supervenes58 upon a composition of parts, as some may think, or like a shape that [supervenes] upon a house or ship, or a mixture of elements that [supervenes] upon flesh and bones, as would be natural for forms (adšē), such that I might

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say ‘the likeness (dmūthā) of flesh’ or ‘the likeness of bones’.59 This would be wholly in accord with Aristotle, that the flesh is not the same thing as what relates to the flesh.60 The flesh is what [derives] from matter and such a thing is, I would say, a mixture of elements and the likeness of flesh that relates to it, what is called the flesh’s form. This is not [equivalent to] the whole, but only relates to what is said to be flesh – this is what the form of flesh is. Since, moreover, a ship is something made of wood and other matter and from a shape of some kind, and this shape is related only to the ship [not to its matter], and it supervenes upon its matter. So it is in every other case as well. It is one thing to be the bone, and another thing to be related to the bone, or to be the man and to be related to the man. The form, then, is that which supervenes upon the matter and is not [equivalent to] the whole, but rather this or that form is what is subject to this or that matter, and the matter is [said to be] ‘of the form’.61 It is the same in all cases, both with natural items and artificial ones. A whole, which is [constituted] from all the spatially distinct parts, as well as [requiring] an appropriate and suitable composition, also [requires] a natural or artificial proximity of [the parts] towards each other, as I have said. [12] When you heard all this, pious Sergius, you very rightly came back and posed a problem for us [as follows]: If the whole is not [identical with] the form that supervenes upon the matter, as you have shown, but is rather that which is constituted of all the parts, together with the form that was [found] in the composition of those [parts], then in which parts will the whole [be found] to be, given that there are no other parts besides those out of which the whole is constituted? In refutation of this argument we would argue [as follows]: We have proved that the whole is not [identical with] the form but rather [that it is] that which is composed of matter and form, even though the parts of a house or an animal have the status of matter in relation to the form, the shape that supervenes upon them. This is why the whole cannot rightly be said [to inhere] in the parts, even though this is how the Ancients usually put it.62 What, then, are those other parts of the whole in which what is composed of all the parts is said [to inhere]? They were not in what existed before the composite, for until there was some whole, they were not yet parts of anything. Nor are they in what exists after the composition, for the whole is composed of them. So if it is impossible for anything to be in itself, and thus that in general ‘x is in

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y’ entails that ‘x is not identical with y’63 – as if some matter could be [identical with] that in which it [inheres], or time be in a time or a place in a place, and so on in every case; so it follows of necessity that the whole is not in the parts, else there would be a case of something being in itself. If this is absurd, then we may rule out the argument that any one of those predicates that are [said to be] 15 in something could be a whole just because it is in parts. [This is the case] even though in other matters we have been following the teachings of the Ancients. Since, then, this is the case, parts are not in a whole lest something should again be in itself. [13] [But it is not strictly right even to say that a single part is in a whole. That which lacks a part, in which we would say that it is, is not a whole, since it lacks 20 a part.]64 It is certainly true, then, to say that a part of a whole is a part of a whole and is not in a whole.65 Someone might suggest that it is possible for each part, e.g. hands, feet, heart, etc. to be considered and spoken of appropriately 94,1 on its own account using everyday expressions in each case, while not [thereby] doing away with the whole. However, the whole is not in each one of the parts but rather in the composition and harmony of all of them together. The composition and harmony of all of them [constitutes] the whole. Is it possible, then, to state in which parts this or that whole, which is itself composed of all the parts, exists unless, as I have said, we were to suppose that something is in 5 itself, which is impossible? The end of the logical treatise of John Philoponus to the pious and holy Sergius, patriarch of Antioch.66

Notes 1 Reverend: qašīša, literally ‘priest’. Sergius was later to rise to great prominence in the church as patriarch of Antioch (in exile), hence this text can be dated to his earlier career (see the Introduction). 2 K. Verrycken, ‘The Development of Philoponus’ Thought and its Chronology’, in R. Sorabji (ed.) Aristotle Transformed: The Ancient Commentators and their Influence, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press 1990, pp. 233–74, at 243n.53, sees in this opening sentence evidence for Philoponus’ return from retirement from the genuine philosophical endeavour in which he had engaged as a younger man. The Syriac is rather ambiguous as to just what is meant here. The adverb translated as ‘once again’ applies to the verb (you are inciting) and the semantics of the verb itself do give some credence to Verrycken’s interpretation, as it literally means ‘to awaken someone’ and would thus be rather appropriate if Philoponus’ meaning is indeed that he has been sleeping from ‘dialectical battles’ (i.e. the pursuit of philosophy proper) for a long time. However, as C. Scholten has pointed out (Antike Naturphilosophie und christliche Kosmologie in der Schrift ‘De opificio mundi’ des Johannes Philoponos, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1996, pp. 129–30), this would necessarily imply that the other works written in the years intervening between the Aristotelian commentaries and the present work somehow did not count as dialectical. The term cannot be pushed to be taken in a technical sense, and in fact it would be surprising if Philoponus did not think of those works too as being ‘dialectical’. Evidently the original audience (i.e. Sergius himself) well knew the background to which the author alludes and had no problem understanding his meaning. But the modern reader, without that shared knowledge, really has no access to it through such obscure allusions as this. He could well mean no more than that Sergius and he had enjoyed some philosophical discussions in the past, and that the other is now ‘baiting’ him to yet another. 3 ‘Knowledge of the ideas’: the Syriac just has ‘the ideas’. 4 The Syriac terms are h.ayla and ma῾bdanutha, which are calques respectively on the Greek terms dunamis and energeia. The English terms potentiality and actuality are ultimately (via mediaeval Latin usage) loan translations of just the same sort and thus offer an appropriate way of translating the Syriac terms as well.

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5 This is essentially the ‘pluralising parts principle’ proposed (so as to deny that the One was a whole made up of parts) by Parmenides and Zeno, and refuted by Socrates or at least the characters of these three as they are presented in the Parmenides – see especially the first hypothesis, 137C9-D3, and discussion in V. Harte, Plato on Parts and Wholes: The Metaphysics of Structure, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2002, pp. 55–60 (it was Aristotle who added the language of actuality/potentiality absent in Plato’s discussion). In Koslicki’s view, this is tantamount to the modern ‘Composition-­as-Identity’ position favoured by some philosophers which posits that all objects are mereological sums, nothing but the sum of their parts. K. Koslicki, The Structure of Objects, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2008, p. 94ff. 6 Broadly speaking, Alexander is in the ‘potentiality’ school of thought, following Aristotle, though both allow for the possibility of parts coming into actuality, as later will Philoponus too. 7 Cf. Simplicius in Phys. 92–3. 8 A marginal note attempts to clarify this point: If the whole is in actuality then the parts will necessarily be so as well, and so also in the alternative case. 9 Philoponus shows that he is thinking about elemental combinations, specifically compounds that are constituted of the qualities of the elements, following Aristotle’s discussions of mixture in GC 2.7 and his own comments upon this key text, esp. in GC 271,25ff. 10 This conclusion seems to refer specifically to the argument just expressed which seems to lead to both positions being shown to be impossible. 11 See Cat. 1a24 and the definition of ‘part’ at Metaph. 5.26; the extended discussion of the different senses of ‘one’ at 5.6 presupposes the same definitions. Philoponus pursued this issue in his much earlier commentary on Cat. 1a24 (in Cat. 32,30–33,4). Aristotle does, however, consider (according to 5.26) that universals are called wholes only derivatively. 12 The following discussion will make more sense to the English reader once it is understood that to katholou can be rendered either as the ‘whole’ or as ‘the universal’ (Int. 17a38–40 is the locus classicus) and kata meros as either ‘by parts’ or ‘particulars’ (e.g. An. Post. 86a29–30). These designations are of course standard when dealing with the tree of species and genera. 13 This is the Syriac translator’s attempt to explain the Greek word analogia, which is transliterated in the Syriac with the Greek letters written in the margin. 14 This refers to the standard Porphyrian tree of genera and species – substance is divided into corporeal/incorporeal; the former then into animate/inanimate; animate into plant/animal, etc., so that ‘corporeal’, for example, is both a part (viz. of ousia) and a whole, of which animate and inanimate are parts.

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15 The term damyat bašma was used by Sergius of Reshaina to designate homonyms, although it afterwards fell out of favour in Syriac philosophy. We cannot therefore be certain that this is what underlies the translation here. Philoponus in Cat. 53,18ff. discusses the different ways in which substance might be thought to be divided into primary and secondary substance; he enumerates three such ways, viz. like a genus into its species, like a whole into its parts, and like a homonymous word into its different meanings. Cf. 32,7ff. 16 The calqued Syriac expression is damyat mnawatha (literally, ‘same with respect to parts’). The term was obviously very difficult to translate, as Lucretius found in Latin (in fact, he could only transliterate the term and explain it, de Rerum Natura 1.830ff.). The Arabic tradition developed its own term on the analogy of the Syriac neologism found here, mutašābihi al-­ajzā’, e.g. Ibn Bajja. P. Lettinck, Aristotle’s Meteorology and its Reception in the Arab World, Leiden: Brill 1999, p. 388,1. 17 The arguments here presented for the non-­identity of wholes with universals were repeated many centuries later by Avicenna Metaphysics 5.2.10; whether he had read the present treatise is impossible to tell, although Philoponus did have a significant influence on the great Persian philosopher. 18 The same examples are repeated in de Opificio Mundi (Reichardt), p. 286. 19 It is not clear what this means or which argument Philoponus is referring to here. 20 i.e. a whole is either a perfect universal or a perfect particular, at one end or other of the Porphyrian tree. 21 e.g. Philoponus in Phys. 12,5–26. 22 There is Aristotelian authority for this (Metaph. 5.25). Philoponus had already discussed these questions, in Phys. 7,26–32 and 426,1–3. For discussions of the elements in the commentators, see R. Sorabji’s preface to H. Baltussen (tr.) Simplicius: On Aristotle Physics 1.5–9, London: Bristol Classical Press 2012, pp. 1–2, and e.g. the text of Simplicius in Phys. 233,10–14. 23 Cf. in Phys. 426,2–3. Cf. Aristotle GC 1.10 in which Aristotle first lays out the theory of mixture which will undergird his discussion of homoeomereity in GC 2.7. True homoeomereity, i.e. the true continuity of substances such as blood and bone (which are in turn the parts of animals), is seen as a fundamental doctrine which needs to be fortified against atomism by a solid defence of the notion of a true mixture (the aim of GC 1.10). 24 The term for ‘composed’ throughout is mrakkeb, which would ordinarily align with the Greek term sunthesis. However, it is here used in the loose sense often found in both Aristotle and Philoponus to include mixtures proper as well as mere juxtapositions. 25 The term here translated as ‘quality’ is šūda῾a. Its regular meaning is ‘signification’ and Barhebraeus (E. Bertheau (ed.) Metrical Grammar, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &

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Ruprecht 1843, p. 81) also uses it as a synonym for a ‘predicate’ (haw d-­metqat.rag) that ‘completes/realises’ its subject (i.e. ‘individuates’ it). The marginal note in the Vatican MS, aynayawatha (the term most often used to translate poiotêtes in Syriac philosophical texts) suggests that it here understood to mean ‘quality’, as is clear by the following sentence in which the qualities referred to are the ‘hot’, ‘dry’, etc. 26 I extend my thanks to a reviewer who suggested ‘essential’ here, which is most likely what is meant; the literal meaning of the Syriac is ‘the qualities which fill out (mšmlyn) the substance/essence (ousia) of the elements’. 27 Pervade: šrk, used as an equivalent for the technical use of khôrein, e.g. Philoponus in Phys. 7,30. 28 Philoponus here assumes a psychology in which animals possess irrational soul, inseparably united to the body, while man possesses rational soul that can exist without the body, e.g. Philoponus de Opificio Mundi (Scholten) 6.23. 29 Nothing left: šrk, which may equate to khôrein (see n. 27 above), hence, ‘they [the qualities] no longer pervade [the flames]’ (as G. Furlani, ‘Il trattato di Giovanni Filopono sul rapporto tra le parti e gli elementi ed il tutto e le parti tradotto dal siriaco’, Atti del Reale Istituto Veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 81 (1921–2) pp. 83–105). 30 Philoponus is interacting with Aristotle’s account of mixture/combination (GC 1.10) – the elements are destroyed only insofar as they are (primary) substances in a given case of combination, their persistence as potential existents is not a ‘substantial’ existence. 31 This is Aristotle’s ‘Homonymy Principle’. A hand that ceases to be part of its body is no longer, strictly speaking, a hand (or rather is so called only homonymously). For any essential part of a whole, so long as it remains within the whole, partakes of the form of the whole; its removal thus entails a change of its form, which means a change of identity. See Aristotle DA 412b10ff. (see also Koslicki, The Structure of Objects, pp. 112–13). The upshot of this is that parts of continuous objects in the real world have only potential existence (Metaph. 1023b32–6). This is the position followed by Philoponus here, and used elsewhere, such as in GC 65,22–66,9, quoted at R. Sorabji, The Philosophy of the Commentators 200–600 AD: A Sourcebook, vol. 2, London: Duckworth 2004, p. 291, where a comparable citation from Alexander may also be found. Note also the following argument from the contra Proclum, ‘if none of the elements is present in the composite in actuality, but the form of each has perished when they have been mixed and some other form has supervened upon their mixture and fusion (e.g. the form of flesh and blood), I believe it is clear to everyone that in the composite earth too has changed’ (contra Proclum 462,9–15, cited in de Haas, ‘Mixture in Philoponus’, p. 37).

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32 The notion of reduced actuality/third potentiality may be in view here, but see Sorabji’s Introduction to the first part of the present volume. De Haas, ‘Mixture in Philoponus’, p. 38, suggests this is good for Christology, but would a reduction of the divine qualities in the composite Christ suit Philoponus’ miaphysitism? 33 Cf. Philoponus in GC 202,21–5; 271,3–7. 34 But this does not quite demonstrate why they cannot be present in actuality. 35 to sunekhes. 36 The text switches from speaking of ‘cubits’ to using ‘feet’, but it seems unlikely that Philoponus really meant to be using two different measurements here and we are hardly to imagine a ten-­cubit plank being cut into ten one-­foot lengths! 37 This point is repeated in the fourth chapter of the Arbiter (Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, pp. 187ff.), where it is applied to the question of whether the number two can be stated of the single Christ. Leontius of Byzantium (Solutio argumentorum Severi, PG 86, 1920C) had argued that one could use the notion of ‘number’ rather more flexibly, and that, just as we do, in fact, call the plank ‘ten-­foot’, even without actually dividing it into parts, so we can use the same sort of locution with respect of Christ, counting the natures without dividing the person. 38 i.e. not only are the individual foot-­long pieces only potential parts of the plank, even to say that the plank is ten-­foot long is already to talk about its potential parts. Unstated is the application to Christology: even to think of Christ as if he were ‘two-­somethings’ is to make actual what is really potential and thus to dissolve the actuality of the whole. On such a view, the Chalcedonian two-­natures Christology cannot be defended against a Nestorian division of the one Christ. 39 The Syriac reads, ‘or even a l’awra, that is to say, a thousand’. This strange expression is explained in a marginal note as follows: ‘The plank to which is fixed a piece of cloth which the wind blows, which is called a mast or l’awra and which is measured as a thousand.’ Not a thousand feet, of course, but a thousand units of some kind. 40 Cf. in Phys. 45,25–48,21 for Philoponus’ discussion of the potential parts of the continuum. 41 MS: ‘in actuality’. I have followed Šanda’s emendation against Furlani. 42 Cf. Aristotle Meteor. 4.10, 388a14–21. ‘By homogeneous bodies I mean, for instance, the stuffs that are mined – gold, copper, silver, tin, iron, stone and everything else of this kind and the bodies that are extracted from them; also the substances found in animals and plants, for instance, flesh, bones, sinew, skin, viscera, hair, fibres, veins (these are the elements of which the non-­homogeneous bodies like the face, a hand, a foot, and everything of that kind are made up), and in plants, wood, bark, leaves, roots and the rest like them.’ Homoeomerous stuffs

Notes to pages 202–204

213

are examples of ‘mixed bodies’ in the proper Aristotelian sense. For a basic statement from Philoponus, see in Phys. 157,7–9. 43 The modern metaphysical notion of the ‘mereological sum’ does in fact suggest the thesis here rejected. 44 Cf. Aristotle Top. 150a15–21; 150b22–6: ‘The substance of any compound thing is not merely that it is made from these things, but that it is made from them in such and such a way, as in the case of a house; for here the materials do not make a house irrespective of the way they are put together.’ 45 Philoponus in Phys. 534,5–7: ‘The whole and the parts are not the same; the former is single and unified (there is some relationship pertaining between the connection of the parts and the form that supervenes upon that connection), the latter are plural and differentiated.’ 46 It is a standard Aristotelian position to state that a whole is more than the mereological sum, yet elsewhere Philoponus seems to be taking the opposite position to the present one, e.g. contra Proclum (Rabe) 202,8: ‘The whole is nothing other than all the parts together.’ 47 Aristotle Metaph. 1024a1: ‘As quantities have a beginning, a middle, and an end, those to which the position does not make a difference are called totals (pan), and those to which it does, wholes.’ 48 Barnes, Method and Metaphysics, p. 456. 49 An old Aristotelian term (see Metaph. 12.1) referring to the pre-Socratic philosophers, though Philoponus may be using it with a broader range of meaning. 50 Cf. Philoponus in Phys. 696,4–5. 51 i.e. ch. 4. This chapter is dependent upon Philoponus’ theory of third potentiality, explicated by de Haas, ‘Mixture in Philoponus’; the principal relevant texts may be found in Sorabji, Sourcebook, vol. 2, 20(a). 52 Cf. Aristotle’s conclusion to his discussion of combinations: ‘Combination is unification of the combinables’ (Aristotle GC 1.10, 328b24). 53 The argument that the loss of the ‘purely hot’ within the mixture entails the loss of fire qua fire led Philoponus elsewhere to argue that the qualities are potentially preserved in a mixture in a manner different from the elements themselves – the latter are preserved only in the first sense of potentiality; the former in the special third sense. See in GC, 271–3 and de Haas, ‘Mixture in Philoponus’. 54 Philoponus is now focusing on the composite bodies whose parts exist only in potentiality. These are the ones that interest him most since this is the model upon which the notion of the unity of Christ is based. He has already laid the groundwork for arguing that the parts of such a unity exist only potentially, that they can be divided only theoretically without nullifying the composite, and that

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they cannot therefore be considered numerically distinct (or, in fact, numbered in any way whatever) for fear of the same outcome. 55 This explanation in parenthesis presumably is added by the Syriac translator. In contrast to the Greek etymology, the Syriac term for ‘part’ is derived from the verb ‘to number’. 56 This statement appears to suggest that Philoponus’ theory of third potentiality applies only to mixtures and not to part-­whole relations in general. 57 Cf. in Phys. 94,16. 58 Cf. in Phys. 45,25–48,21. 59 Syriac dmūthā may simply be a synonym for adšā (Greek eidos) since elsewhere it is used in philosophical texts in opposition to hulê (matter); sometimes, however, its meaning is closer to the Platonic idea. 60 Cf. in Phys. 414,20–5. Philoponus may be contesting for Aristotle’s support here, since Aristotle does consider ‘form’ to be a type of ‘whole’ in Metaph. 5.25. 61 For this chapter, compare also Damascius On First Principles 85 (S. Ahbel-Rappe (tr.) Damascius’ Problems and Solutions Concerning First Principles, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2010). 62 This had been a standard expression at least since Porphyry Isagôgê 8,1–3. 63 I have added the variables for clarity, though the Syriac describes the argument in a more laboured way. 64 This sentence probably is an interpolation that interrupts the flow of the argument. If so, however, the Syriac translator was unusually well informed about the contents of Platonic dialogues (Parm. 137C7). 65 Philoponus concludes with a statement of the Platonist principle (cf. Parm. 137C6) of the relative status of parthood. This conclusion has a theological target which is exploited in the closing chapters of the Arbiter. 66 The identification of the addressee as the patriarch of Antioch is found in the subscription of the text in only one of the three extant manuscript copies. Sergius was probably not yet the patriarch when the text itself was written. See Lang, John Philoponus and the Controversies over Chalcedon in the Sixth Century, p. 32.

English-Syriac-Greek Glossary absurd – lā mas.yā – atopos alteration – (ʾ)h.rānyūtā – alloiôsis analogy – ʾanūlūgiya – analogia Ancients, the – qadmāye – hoi archaioi animate, ensouled (adj.) – napsˇānāyā – empsuchos argument – meltā – logos assert – sām – apodidonai body – gūsˇmā – ensômaton boundary – th.ūmā – horos change (n.) – ˇs ūh.lāpā – metabolê commingle – h.lt. – kerannunai common, in – gawwānāīt – koinôs comparison – pūh.āmā – analogia composite (adj.) – mrakkab – sunthetos composite (n.) – mrakkab – suntheton composite, the – hay dmrakkab – suntheton confusion, commingling – h.ūltānā – krasis connection, cohesion – naqqīpūtā – sunaphê continuous – sbīsā – sunekhês contradiction – ʾantīpsīs – antiphasis corporeal, the – gūsˇmā – ensômaton corrupt, destroy – h.bal – phtheirein cut, divide – psaq – diairein definition – meltā – logos demonstrate – h.awway – apodeiknunai dialectical – mlīla – logikos differ – ˇs ah.lep – diapherein dissolve (a compound) – ˇs rā – dialuein distinguish, make distinctions – prasˇ – diakrinein divide (esp. genus into species) – plag – diairein

216

English-Syriac-Greek Glossary

divisible – metpalgānā – diairetos division – pūlāgā – diairesis element – est.ūksā – stoikheion expression – meltā – logos exist, to be found to – ʾesˇkah. – huparkhein fit, be congruous with – lh.em – harmozein form (as opposed to matter) (n.) – ʾādsˇā – eidos form (n.) – dmūta – eidos form an essential part (v.) – ˇs amlī – sumplêroun function, utility – h.ˇs ah.tā – khrêsimon genus – gensā – genos homoeomerous, having like parts – dameyn bamnawātā – homoiomerês homonymous, similar in name – damyat basˇmā – homônumos hypothesis – syāmā – hupothesis in actuality – bama ʿbdanūta – energeiai in every way – men kulprūs – pantôs, kata panta in potentiality – bh.aylā – dunamei incorporeal – lā gsˇīmā – asômatos individual, particular – ʾat.ūmū – atomon infinite, indefinite – dlā sākā – ep’ apeiron knowledge, understanding – īdīʿā – epistêmê matter – hūlā – hulê measurement – sūqāmā – analogia metaphorically – men ˇs (ʾ)īlūtā – metenênegmenôs mind, intellect – hawnā – nous mix (v.) – mzag – mignunai mixture, mixing (n.) – mūzāgā – mixis nature – kyānā – phusis necessarily – men ʾāls.ātā – di’ anagkês, ex anagkês notion, idea – sūkālā – noêton, idea

English-Syriac-Greek Glossary opposite to – saqqūblā – enantios order (n.) – t.aksā – taxis part (n.) – mnātā – meros, morion partake – ˇs awtep – metekhein particular (adj.) – dīlānāyā – idikos, idios particulars, parts – mnawātā – ta kata meros persist – sbal – menein pervade, penetrate – ˇs rek – khôrein predicate (n.) – ˇs ūdāʿā – katêgoroumenon propose – qaddīm sām – protithenai purity – dakyūthā – katharos quality – ˇs ūdāʿā – poiotês, poion quandary – pusˇākā – aporia rational – mlīla – logikos reduced, restrained – mesˇtahāyā – kekolasmenos refute – ʾakkes – elegkhein relative – lwat medem – pros ti remove, do away with – ʾsˇtqel – anairein rightly, strictly (speaking) – kīnāīt – kuriôs separated – mparsˇā – kekhôrismenos shape (n.) – ʾeskīmā – skhêma signifying thing, meaning (n.) – ˇs ūdāʿā – sêmantikon soul – naf sˇā – psukhê species – ʾādsˇā – eidos strictly, properly (speaking) – mārānāīt – kuriôs subject – hay dsām – hupokeimenon subsist – qām – huparkhein subsistence – qnūmā – hupostasis, huparxis substance – ūsiya – ousia supervening, the – hay dsām – epiginomenon theory, mental conception – teāwriya – noêsis, theôria through and through – bkulānayūtā – di’ holou transformation – ˇs ūgnāyā – tropê

217

218

English-Syriac-Greek Glossary

uncertainty, there is an – ʾetpasˇˇs aq – aporei united – mh.aydā – hênômenos universals, wholes – kūlānāywāta – ta katholou whole – kūlāyūta, kūlānāyūta – holon words, expressions – bnat qālē – lexeis, phônai

Syriac-English Index ʾādšā, species, 82,26 ʾādšā, form (as opposed to matter) (n.), 91,24 (ʾ)h‫ ׅ‬rānyūtā, alteration, 89,8 ʾakkes, refute, 88,10 ʾantīpsīs, contradiction, 81,17 ʾanūlūgiya, analogy, 82,27 ʾat‫ ׅ‬ūmū, individual, particular, 83,6 bamaʿbdanūta, in actuality, 81,10 bh‫ ׅ‬aylā, in potentiality, 81,8 bkulānayūtā, through and through, 84,25 bnat qālē, words, terms, expressions, 83,10 dakyūtā, purity, 86,3 dameyn bamnawātā, homoeomerous, having like parts, 83,15 damyat bašmā, homonymous, similar in name, 83,10 dīlānāyā, particular (adj.), 83,7 dlā sākā, infinite, indefinite, 86,23 dmūta, form (n.), 88,13 ʾeškah‫ ׅ‬, to be found to exist, 81,9 ʾeskīmā, shape (n.), 92,9 est‫ ׅ‬ūksā, element, 81,4 ʾetpaššaq, there is an uncertainty, 81,10 gawwānāīt, in common, 84,15 gensā, genus, 82,25 gūšmā, body, the corporeal, 82,27 hawnā, mind, intellect, 84,7 h‫ ׅ‬awway, demonstrate, 84,8 hay dmrakkab, the composite, 84,18 hay dsām, subject, 85,19 hay dsām, the supervening, 92,9 h‫ ׅ‬bal, corrupt, destroy, 85,24 h‫ ׅ‬lt‫ ׅ‬, commingle, 90,17 h‫ ׅ‬šah‫ ׅ‬tā, function, utility, 88,19

hūlā, matter, 91,24 h‫ ׅ‬ūltānā, confusion, commingling, 86,2 īdīʿā, knowledge, understanding, 83,11 kīnāīt, rightly, strictly (speaking), 83,18 kūlānāywāta, wholes, universals, 83,18 kūlānāyūta, whole, 81,4 kūlāyūta, whole, 81,4 kyānā, nature, 83,20 lā gšīmā, incorporeal, 82,27 lā mas‫ ׅ‬yā, absurd, 87,11 lh‫ ׅ‬em, fit, be congruous with, 88,13 lwat medem, relative, 82,3 mārānāīt, strictly, properly (speaking), 84,4 meltā, definition, argument, expression, 82,6 men ʾāls‫ ׅ‬ātā, necessarily, 82,2 men kulprūs, in every way, 82,2 men š(ʾ)īlūtā, metaphorically, 91,12 meštahāyā, reduced, subdued, inhibited, 86,4 metpalgānā, divisible, 86,13 mh‫ ׅ‬aydā, united, 85,6 mlīla, dialectical, rational, 81,7 mnātā, part (n.), 81,4 mnawātā, parts (particulars), 83,8 mparšā, separated, 86,19 mrakkab, composite (adj.), composite (n.), 84,19 mūzāgā, mixture, mixing (n.), 86,2 mzag, mix (v.), 84,19 nafšā, soul, 81,9 napšānāyā, animate, ensouled (adj.), 83,3 naqqīpūtā, connection, cohesion, 88,17 plag, divide (esp. genus into species), 82,26 praš, distinguish, make distinctions, 83,8

220

Syriac-English Index

psaq, cut, divide, 83,21 pūh‫ ׅ‬āmā, comparison, 83,1 pūlāgā, division, 83,19 pušākā, quandary, 82,21 qaddīm sām, propose, 83,14 qadmāye, the Ancients, 89,2 qām, subsist, 84,7 qnūmā, subsistence, 84,6 šah‫ ׅ‬lep, differ, 84,17 sām, assert, 81,11 šamlī, form an essential part (v.), 84,25 saqqūblā, opposite to, 86,3 šawtep, partake, 84,21 sbal, persist, 86,2 sbīsā, continuous, 86,11 šrā, dissolve (a compound), 90,12

šrek, pervade, penetrate, 85,6 ʾštqel, remove, do away with, 94,1 šūdāʿā, signifying thing, meaning (n.), 83,10 šūdāʿā, quality, 84,25 šūdāʿā, predicate (n.), 93,15 šūgnāyā, transformation, 89,9 šūh‫ ׅ‬lāpā, change (n.), 89,8 sūkālā, notion, idea, 81,9 sūqāmā, measurement, 83,1 syāmā, hypothesis, 82,16 t‫ ׅ‬aksā, order (n.), 88,21 teāwriya, theory, mental conception, 82,24 th‫ ׅ‬ūmā, boundary, 91,9 ūsiya, substance, 82,26

Subject Index actuality, 169–70, 176, 181–3, 185, 189, 195–6, 199–204, 208–9, 211–12, 216, 219 Aetius, 185 Alexander of Aphrodisias, 170–1 Apollinarians, 186 Apollinarius/Apollinarianism, 172–3, 186 Aristotle, 169–71, 173, 176, 178–9, 184–5, 197, 205, 208–14 Avicenna, 210 Basil of Caesarea, 185 Cappadocian theology, 171, 185 Chalcedon/Chalcedonianism 172–9, 187, 212 Christ/Christology, 171–8, 184–8, 212–13 Chrysippus, 185 combination, 170, 173–5, 211 compounds/composition, 170, 175, 179–80, 186, 198–200, 203–7, 213, 220 confusion, 173–4, 184, 199, 215, 219 continuum, 171, 182, 200–1, 204, 212 Cyril of Alexandria, 172, 173, 185, 188 Damascius, 214 elements, 171, 172, 173, 181–4, 195, 198–201, 203–5, 209–13 Eunomius, 185 form, 173, 176, 182–3, 187, 202, 205–6, 211, 213–14, 216, 219–20 genus, 171, 178, 181, 184, 196–8, 209–10, 215–16, 219 homoeomereity, 183, 197, 199, 201, 205, 210, 212, 216, 219

homonyms, 210 hypostasis, 172–6, 187 Ibn Bajja, 210 Justinian, 171–8, 183, 186 Leontius of Byzantium, 174, 212 Leontius of Jerusalem, 173, 176, 186 matter, 170, 176, 178, 183–4, 187, 205–6, 214, 216, 219 miaphysitism, 172–5, 178, 186, 188, 212 mixture, 170, 173–4, 181–4, 186, 198–9, 205, 209–11, 213, 216, 219 nature, 172–3, 175–7, 184, 186–8, 197, 199, 203–4, 216, 219 Nestorianism, 172–3, 176, 178–9, 212 Porphyry, 178, 214 potentiality, 169–71, 174–6, 181–5, 189, 195–6, 199–204, 208–9, 211–14, 216, 219 quality, 170, 173–4, 180, 182–3, 198–200, 203–4, 209–13, 217, 220 scholasticism, 172, 185 Sergius the Priest, 177, 183, 188, 195, 206–8, 214 Severus of Antioch, 173–4, 186 Simplicius, 169, 185, 209–10 species, 171, 178, 181, 184, 196–9, 209–10, 215, 217, 219 tertium quid, 170, 174 third potentiality, 170, 184, 189, 212–14 translation techniques, 179–81 tritheism, 178 universal, 171, 184, 209–10